#yes technically i could listen to these all year round

[whumpshaped]

on the upside. christmas means frivvy and gibi singing christmas songs... also if you want mean elf lady using you as a way to advance her elf ear reconstruction science carreer, heres a playlist

[artificial-transmutations]

Moving into the haunted House

The ghost was idly floating in the dusty air of the attic. Well, that was not technically correct. He had fashioned himself a hammock out of his own ghostly glowing ectoplasm in which he was swinging slowly from left to right. The ghost, whose real name had been forgotten by even himself, was reading the latest edition of "Ghost Magazine", the leading periodical of the spirit world.

"Another successful year for our dear readers." the cover read. The ghost flipped through the pages, past the many ads for various ghost products, such as "Ghost Toasters" and "Ghost Bars" (whatever they might be) and went straight to the centerfold. Here was his favorite part: the annual "Ghostly Studs" page. He whistled as he looked at the various ghosts pictured. All were naked, and all were flexing their muscles in various poses, showing off their ectoplasm. Some were glowing with a green light, others blue or orange.

The ghost in the hammock could hardly be called a "ghostly stud". To be quite honest, he was pretty much the opposite. He wasn't very tall but broad in the worst sense of the word: His body was formed like a sack and ended in a comical tip not much below his hefty belly. On top of the blubber sat a fat, bald head, which was sporting an ever present smile, and on the neck, a round, pudgy face, with a button nose. This appearance was what earned him his nickname, Chunker, which was pretty much how the rest of the ghost world called him.

Chunker was a good-natured ghost, who liked to be lazy, eat, read and do not too much else. Of course, that was when he was alone or in the ghostly company of his housemates. In the rare occasions that he was confronted with mortals...

Chunker couldn't finish the thought because a noise from downstairs disrupted the silence: The door of the old house opened with a creaking sound and the muffled voices of some people entering could be heard. What was that? No living soul had entered the haunted house for at least 3 years now!

Chunker got up with some effort and reintegrated the hammock and the magazine into his body. He had to check that out at once! He floated downstairs, following the sound of the voices, and found himself in a dark and dusty hallway. At the end of it, the door to the dining room was ajar and Chunker could see two young adult men entering. Both were dressed in work clothes and were carrying various tools. One of them, a slightly taller brown haired individual, was carrying a ladder, while the other one, who had blonde hair, had a bucket of paint in his hand.

"Are you serious, Finn?", the blonde one asked. "You said your new house needs a bit of tidying up and some paint. This place is a dump!"

"Oh, come on, Brody. It's not that bad." Finn answered.

"I just hope you didn't pay too much for... this." Brody gestured around to the dusty interior.

"No, in fact the previous owner was really glad to be rid of it. Said it was haunted or something like that. So, yes, I got it really cheap!"

"That's something at least. And you said there'll be pizza and beer?"

"Absolutely. Now, let's get to work!"

The two young men began to look around the house. Chunker, meanwhile, had listened with interest. It wasn't the first time a fleshy had bought the house. Usually, Chunker and his housemates got rid of them pretty quickly. What was different this time, however, was, that the other two ghosts were currently on holiday on a Caribbean Island, leaving Chunker to take care of everything. The smile on his face broadened considerably. That meant he got to play with those two meat bags all by himself!

Chunker didn't have to wait too long. It was obvious that the two young men were planning to renovate the whole house and were now beginning with the living room.

"Hey, Finn?" Brody asked. "Could you pass me the paint roller?"

"Sure."

Finn was rummaging in the box they had carried into the room, and pulled out a roller, a tray and a brush.

As they started painting the room, Chunker, who was hiding in the ceiling, was able to get a better look at the two men. They were both in their early twenties and lean, though clearly not working out much. Finn was slightly taller and had an ever so slightly more muscular build, but the difference was not that big. Chunker's gaze lingered a bit on their firm asses. Both had a nice bubble butt. Chunker could tell from the bantering that the two were probably friends, straight friends from what he could tell. Even when Brody climbed up the ladder to paint the wall, Finn didn't seem to be ogling his friend. Chunker grinned and started to think about what to do with the two of them.

About an hour later, he had the perfect idea. He watched as the two men continued their work, occasionally drinking water and chatting. Just when Brody was taking a sip out of the water bottle while still on the ladder, with Finn underneath it, Chunker made his move. There was a tray of paint on the ladder with Brody, near to the edge. All it needed was a bit of a ghostly push to send it down, right on top of Finn, covering the surprised man in a thick layer of white paint.

"Aaaaaahhhh! Fuck! Brody!"

Finn stumbled back in surprise and tripped over the bucket of white paint that had been standing there. He didn't topple it over completely, but another part of his clothing got a new layer of paint, namely his ass.

Chunker, who was floating above the mess, chuckled. The two men were flustered, and Finn was trying to clean the paint off of his face, while Brody was looking on from his vantage point.

"Can't you watch what you're doing?", Finn asked.

"It's not my fault! I didn't even touch the tray."

"Oh, shut up, will you. Of course, you knocked it over with your fat ass."

Brody couldn't come up with another explanation and shrugged. "Well, sorry man."

He climbed down the ladder and watched Finn try to clean himself up with a rag. It didn't really work, and, when he turned around, Brody was unable to hold back a snort of laughter.

"What is it?", Finn asked.

"Nothing. I mean, you are really white now."

"Ha. Ha."

"Seriously, man. It's everywhere."

"Yeah, yeah." Finn said and pulled the wet cloth over his face.

"But seriously, there's no way you're going to get that out when it's dry. Does this house have a shower?"

"There should be. Let's try it."

Brody nodded. "Alright. You take a shower and I try to clean up the mess here."

"Thanks, man."

"Don't worry. But, hey. Try to be quick. I want my pizza!"

"Okay, okay."

Finn made his way to the bathroom which had, indeed, an old shower installed. He carefully closed and locked the door before he started to strip out of his paint stained clothing.

Chunker, who was hovering a bit behind him, was watching. As Finn pulled down his pants, Chunker could finally get a good look at the man's naked ass. He had to admit that it was a fine ass, a tight bubble butt. What really baffled him however was the front department. Chunker hadn't been sure which of the two men would be his main toy, but the size of Finn's manhood made the decision pretty easy.

Finn stepped into the shower and turned on the hot water, which started spraying on him in a nice, strong stream.

"Ahh. That's good."

When Chunker was sure that Finn was busy enjoying the shower, he floated out of his hiding place towards the door. Finn had locked it to have some privacy but as far as Chunker was concerned, Finn should present his assets a bit more proudly. Silently, Chunker's ghostly fingers unlocked the door and swung it open entirely, which would give everyone passing by a real good look on the showering man. Then, Chunker quickly squeezed himself into the pipework and made his way to the shower.

Meanwhile, Finn was enjoying the hot, steamy water. Modern showers didn't get all that hot, but this one here was old and the water temperature was pleasantly high. Some of the paint had already started to dry, so Finn was rubbing his face and hair with his eyes closed and thus did not notice the faintly blue glowing ectoplasm dripping out of the showerhead, somewhat solidifying into Chunker’s massive, yet spectral form behind the young man.

Carefully not to be too obvious, Chunker extended his ghostly arms around Finn's waist and started rubbing his hands over the firm chest, feeling the young man's nipples ever so slightly. Finn didn't notice consciously, but Chunker could feel the man's body reacting under his hands. Slowly, he moved his hands lower. Finn's body was a work of art, a finely crafted piece of art. Chunker took his time feeling the muscles under the wet skin, the firm pecs, the well-defined abs, and then, finally, the pubic hair and, underneath, Finn's large cock.

It took all the self-control Chunker had to only apply the lightest touches to the man's dick, but Chunker had other plans still. So, he only caressed the soft dick very carefully, not strong enough for Finn to be recognizable in the conscious part of his mind, but absolutely enough for his subconscious to notice.

Finn moaned quietly and unconsciously and leaned against the cold tile wall next to him. Meanwhile, Chunker was stroking and tickling the half-hard cock, playing with it and teasing the head, while Finn was still leaning against the wall, his eyes still closed.

The moaning intensified, and soon, Finn's cock was fully hard. Careful not to overdo it, Chunker continued to stimulate the young man, who was now bucking his hips back and forth, his eyes still closed when, just as planned, Chunker heard Brody walk the corridor leading to the bathroom. That was his cue to disappear into the pipes again!

"Okay, I've got the mess cleaned up somewha- woha." Brody had just arrived in front of the wide open door and had a good look on the other man bucking his hips, displaying his erect manhood for the world to see.

"I... oh, ehm. Sorry to interrupt." Brody backed away quickly.

Finn, on the other hand, had been taken aback and his eyes flew open quickly. "Brody! Oh, shit. Sorry, man."

"Yeah, no, it's fine. Just, you know, I can still see you."

Finn scrambled for the towel, wrapped it around his waist and left the shower. "Just a second."

"Sure, sure."

Brody stood awkwardly a few steps down the corridor, just enough to give Finn some privacy despite the wide open door. There was an awkward silence until Brody remarked: "You know, when I suggested you enjoy a shower, I didn't mean..."

"Brody. Don't."

"Right. Sorry."

Most of Finn's clothes were still covered in half-wet paint. There was really no use in putting them on, so, Finn decided to just put on his boxer shorts and carry the rest of his clothes in front of him to hide as much as he could. Not that it was necessary, though. Finn's cock had very quickly gotten soft again when Brody had caught him... doing what exactly?

"I don't think we can do anything more today." Finn broke the tension. "I mean, I need a new set of clothes and all."

Chunker, who was listening in from a wall behind Brody shook his head. No, no, the fun had only just begun. Quickly, he made a noise like a rumbling stomach, just when Brody agreed.

"Oh, right. On the other hand, I still promised pizza and beer, right?" Finn quickly added in reaction to his friends supposed hunger reaction.

"Right! Great idea!" Brody had a tendency to leave the situation as quickly as possible but also didn't want his friend to feel bad. So, he suggested: "Maybe we can watch something on the TV if it still works while eating?"

Finn gladly agreed. That would surely stop any awkward conversation.

Both friends slumped down in the couch in the living room and settled on a rerun of some old Buff the Vampire Slayer episode. They ordered pizza and beer which quickly arrived. Of course, with Finn being half naked, Brody had to go to the door to receive it.

When the two of them were finally relaxing a bit, Chunker, who had floated into the couch could finally make his move. Again, he started slowly. Not unlike before, small tendrils of blue ectoplasm crept into Finn's boxer shorts and brushed ever so slightly against the flaccid man-meat inside.

Finn reacted instantly, just as Chunker had hoped. A tingling sensation spread through his lower body, and a small moan escaped him.

"Everything alright?", Brody asked.

"Yeah, sure." Finn answered and tried to readjust himself without Brody noticing.

Chunker couldn't really see what was going on, but he could feel it. He was faintly stroking the half-hard dick, tickling it and massaging the balls with his ghostly appendages.

Even though Brody tried to focus on the television, it became harder and harder for him to ignore Finn. The other man tried to subtly readjust the contents of his boxer shorts often and even though Brody really didn't want to look, he could see said contents moving and twitching slightly even when Finn did not touch them.

Of course, Finn tried to hide it as best as he could, but certain facts cannot be hidden very well, especially, when the facts are already quite large in their flaccid state. So, not only did Brody notice some twitching in his friends groin but also a growing half-hard boner that made a rather clear outline against the fabric of the shorts.

Chunker knew that now, the real fun would be about to begin. When Finns hand moved for his beer bottle the next time, Chunker quickly squeezed his massive form into the small bottle, ready to start.

"So...", Brody asked carefully. "You okay, buddy?"

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, are you, I dunno, okay?"

"Yeah, sure."

Finn moved the bottle to his mouth to take a big sip, when Brody sighed and spoke again.

"Look, I really don't know how to ask this and I'm sorry, but... Are you, like, gay, Finn?"

Finn spit out his beer - and Chunker, who had just prepared to enter the young man's body with the beer - in surprise.

"What?! No! Why do you ask that?"

"I'm really, really sorry, but, dude, I saw you in the bathroom, and I didn't mean to, but, well, you had a hard on, and, you know, if you need someone to talk to, I'm always here. To talk, of course, not for anything else. And now..." Brody gestured towards Finns crotch but his courage left him again, so he continued: " I'll stop talking."

Chunker, who had reformed in the couch, was laughing his ass off. If only his housemates would have seen this! He would never hear the end of this!

Finn was tomato-red by now and tried to cover himself with his hands.

"Oh god, I'm sorry, I just feel so weird today. But I'm not gay, I promise!"

"Okay. I'm not gonna judge you, okay? You're my best friend, and, you know, I'm cool with it if you're gay or bi or whatever."

"Yeah, but I'm not."

Let's see about that, decided Chunker. He didn't get in the usual way, so he had to take another route. With a sudden push of his ectoplasmic essence, he squeezed himself into the tight virgin asshole of Finn that was firmly planted on the couch.

All of a sudden, Finn, who had felt some unusual sensation on his behind, jolted up. "Brody! Did you just grab my ass?!"

Brody was flabbergasted. "What? No!"

"I just felt... oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck!"

Chunker, who was still not visible, had started to stimulate Finn's prostate from the inside while working his way upward, filling up the man's body with his essence.

"Are you... okay?", Brody asked again.

"I... oh..." moaned Finn again, as his right arm started to act seemingly on its own, spreading out on the back of the couch, around Brody's shoulders.

"What are you doing man?", asked Brody.

"Nothing, I..." Finn started but was interrupted by a sudden sensation of lust and longing. At the same time, his right arm tried to pull Brody in but was met with considerable resistance. Even though Brody was a bit smaller than Finn, he was just as strong.

Chunker, who was almost in full control of Finn's body now frowned. But this wasn't anything a little ectoplasm injection couldn't fix. Brody stared at Finn's arm, transfixed as it started to rapidly grow more muscular, quickly reaching bodybuilder-like dimensions. However, it was only Finn's arm that was changing. At the shoulder, the comically large arm still connected to the same torso. Brody was so enthralled that he wasn't able to react when the now considerably stronger arm pulled him in again. A big fat grin was now plastered on Finn's face, and he said, with a voice that didn't quite seem to belong to him: "Oh, we're gonna have so much fun!"

Before Brody could react, he was pulled into a kiss, too perplex to even struggle. Inside Finn, Chunker prepared for what was to come. He was proud to be pretty good at possessing fleshies, but he had rarely tried two at once. When the lips of the two men locked, Chunker sent a part of his essence into the other man, who was still too surprised to struggle.

Chunker felt Brody's body react to the new sensation. He immediately got into it and Chunker felt the other man's cock growing hard quickly as well. Possessing two people at once was difficult, nearly impossible really. But in this case, the pent up sexual desires of the two made things easier. Chunker just had to give some direction and watch "his boys" go at it full force.

Finn pushed Brody's head down, and Chunker felt the hot, wet mouth enveloping Finn's dick. It was an incredible sensation, the soft lips of the other man and the wetness of his tongue. At the same time, Chunker could feel the somewhat salty and manly precum marinated cock on Brody's tongue as he began to suck. It took all of Chunker's strength to keep the two men under his control and not get swept away.

Finn, meanwhile, was getting lost in the sensation. All his senses were occupied by the blowjob he was receiving and the warm wetness and the incredible feeling on his cock. Even the sounds, Brody's heavy breathing, the moans of the two, the gagging sound as the thick shaft was shoved into his mouth, it was almost too much for the man. However, with a sheer feat of will, Chunker prevented the young man from cumming right here and then. Instead, he made Finn shove Brody's head away and get up.

It almost didn't need any impulse from Chunker for Brody to turn around and stick his bubble butt in the air, offering his virgin ass. Chunker quickly positioned the hard and ready cock of his puppet against the tight entrance and pushed forward, while Finn's hands practically ripped the work pants down.

Chunker couldn't believe how amazing it felt. He was not a virgin by any means, but the tight virgin hole, combined with the hot and tight insides, the incredible sensation on his cock and the moans and feelings of the man taking it was almost too much for him.

"Oh, shit!", Finn groaned. "This is the best fucking thing ever!"

Chunker could only agree. His puppets were fucking each other hard, and the sensations were almost overwhelming him. Straight boys his ass. The two of them were so into it, it was obvious that some unspoken desire had pent up for most of their adult lives.

Finn was pounding into the other man as hard as he could, and Brody was thrusting back, his own dick swinging free and dripping copious amounts of pre-cum on the sofa below. Finally, the two men were at their limit.

"Finn, oh shit, I'm gonna cum."

"Do it, man, fucking shoot it!"

Brody let out a scream and his dick began spurting thick loads of white cum all over the sofa.

"Fuck!", moaned Finn.

And then, the orgasm hit him. He felt his balls contracting and his dick twitching and a huge amount of cum being released from his dick, straight into Brody's ass, who was still thrusting back on his cock, riding out his own orgasm.

With the double orgasm, Chunker couldn't hold on any longer. He was forcefully ejected from two bodies at once, experiencing the intense rollercoaster of emotions as if he just cummed himself.

Before the two men could recover, Chunker flew off to his attic. That had been a great possession session. He just hoped that the two men would return for more.

This is my contribution to the annual great story gift exchange, for @thepossessionmaster.

[bucknastysbabe]

hi cal! i love your page sm. i wanted to request more chubby bucky (i’m so obsessed & haven’t seen him in a min) also make sure to take care of yourself and have a good day/night 🩷

HI!!!! Sorry I’ve been such a spazz and awful about my page and askbox I’m in my new era blah blah but YES! CHUBBY BUCKY! Thanks for the well wishes I’m trying to practice ~self care~ and ~time management~ mwah mwah much love. So let’s say this just in the same universe as Poolside Blues!

Rating: Explicit

Tags: TW: body dysmorphia, obsessive thoughts, negative body talk, Muscle chub Buck, Bucky’s shit self esteem is saved by sunshine gf, holiday weight gain, Bucky being a stubborn mf, switch!Bucky, reader has empathic projection, horny texts, body worship, WE LOVE SOFT PARTS AND STRETCH MARKS ROUND HERE, teasing, sub space, daddy kink, pnv!sex, cuddles and fluff, Bucky is just a big cuddly tiger kitty

“Bucky if you stare at the scale any longer I’m going to break it. Holidays are over, you can get back to being in the gym twenty-five eight.”

Bucky eyed his petite girlfriend, frowning from the doorway to the bathroom. He palmed his stupid fucking gut and sighed, he actually had to suck in to see the number! This is why Bucky hated the holidays. Besides being cold. James Buchanan Barnes very much disliked the cold, one could assume why.

He could handle the residual un-moveable pudge leftover from Hydra’s ever consistent tinkering with his bodily functions. But then it all started with Halloween. Wanda and his girlfriend loved to bake. So he’s getting force fed cookies. Then they need to decorate, go to functions, give out candy. No time for gym.

Bucky grumbled and stepped off the scale, padding to his closet. He grumbled more, “Stupid turkey holiday.” Great yes, the holiday known for feasting. Pumpkin spiced everything in his vision. Bucky had a weakness for pumpkin, his ma made good spiced bread. He took a short vacation with his lovely little angel to the mountains. He tried to rationalize that hiking and marathon sex would make up for the amount of food he had ingested.

Tony Stark of course had a grandiose Thanksgiving celebration. Bucky tried to keep it light, he did, he really did. But every refusal got sad eyes or downright offense. The former winter soldier was belly up by the end of the night, all gym plans out the window.

Christmas fared no better. His best gal absolutely adored Christmas. It was the first holiday she’d experience not as an asset to Hydra, just like Bucky. So instead of RUNNING or LIFTING, the Brunette was shopping and ice skating. He’d already gone up a size in clothes December 3rd to be exact. Bucky correctly guessed he would go up another post-Christmas.

He’d whinge and rant to Steve, the blondie listening and telling Bucky to chill— it’s not like anyone thought it was bad. Bucky exasperatedly shouted, “I’m like a goddamn balloon! I don’t need to be on missions like this! I’m going to Bruce, jerk.”

“Punk.”

Bruce didn’t help either. Just said once he got back into a routine it would come off and he’d be at his regular weight. Refused to give Bucky Ozempic either. Some kinda doctor he was, his patient was obviously distraught.

“Are you dressed yet?,” she hollered.

“Give me a second!,” Bucky pouted.

He was going to pout today. Go to gym, get anger out, and pout. So he shimmied on some catastrophically tight basketball shorts and the biggest shirt he could find. Luckily it covered him up. May or may not have been a panic buy. Bucky cursed some more sitting on his bench to lace up his shoes, stupid gut getting in the way.

Red faced and irritated he snarked, “Happy now princess? I’m going to the gym, nothing is stopping me, I will be going to work out.” She grinned and watched him grab his bag, slapping a round ass cheek on his way out. Bucky shuddered at the wobble. Her familiar rasp rang out, “Nice ass baby! Go get em!”

He was too old for this. Technically his girl was ten years his junior if you took off the cryogenic time. He loved her dearly, always bubbly, somehow remained optimistic after all she’d been through. But the little freak liked Bucky’s pudge, loved it. Always grabbing up on it.

Bucky took the stairs to the gym. He needed it. The brunette thought with a smirk that if he had a nickel for every time he had to remove her hands from his ‘handles of love’ he would’ve been a millionaire back during the Depression. He grimaced at the feeling of his chubby tummy and thick thighs.

Finally. He’d made it. Gym time.

Not a soul in sight, Bucky could just relax and get his frustrations out. With a fuck-ton of a cardio and some toning exercises— really didn’t need any muscle to bulk him out more. He felt a bit peaceful for once, a strange bravado coming over him. The soldier stretched his unused muscles and did a bit of breathing exercises.

God, he already felt lighter. Maybe. Maybe he would take a picture and see if the camera made him look different. Bucky’s therapist already hammered him about his ‘body dysmorphia and negative self-image’.

Taking a peak about and tying his hair half up, Bucky propped the camera at a flattering angle and yanked off his shirt. He refused to look in a mirror for the holidays unless he was clothed. Fiddling with the inane controls, the man finally had the thing on a timer. He pulled off his shirt and tried to pose, straighten up his back again.

The flash went off and he ran to the phone, hit send, then sat down on a nearby bench to look fully. The brunette had to keep his ‘body positive!’ thoughts at the forefront. His chest and legs looked good. Face didn’t look too puffy thanks beard.

Disgust picked the earlier bravado up and hulk smashed it. Buck’s eyes were glued to his rounded belly and fat hips, a muffin over those horrid shorts. There, oh my god, there were stretchmarks on him? Bucky never had stretchmarks! Not the red kind! But there they were— mocking him. Ragged lines on his hips and sections of stomach.

He deleted the picture, feeling horrid. He should run more. But not before the pings blowing up his phone. She was strange and texted in 5 different messages that could’ve been sent in one singular text.

“Babbbbyyyy omg you’re so hot”

“Fuck, I’m getting all flustered in this debrief.”

“Look at that pretty body. Wanna lick those pretty stripes, tiger.”

“I’m so horny lmfao get your ass back to the room in 30. I’m gonna fucking ride you so goddamn hard.”

Bucky blinked a bit, feeling himself perk up. He still was a overblown balloon, but at-least the weirdo he loved enjoyed it. “Tiger huh,” he murmured, scratching at the sensitive marks. Bucky had a time limit now, snatching his gear up and stuffing it into a bag, hustling down the stairs to his room.

“Hey Buck,” Sam’s voice was a blur as Bucky entered his room. He smirked a bit hearing a muffled, “Weird ass.” The super soldier kept his mind on the prize— getting the daylights fucked out of him by his girls. Nope he wasn’t going to pay attention to the chafe on the inside of his thighs one bit. Okay...maybe he’d powder the area after the shower.

All he had to do was wait now. Wait. Not get nerved about his very naked body. He felt like a pile of exposed lard but it’ll be okay. Yep. Bucky would be fine. Pussy would fix his problems. As long as she played nice and didn’t tease. That rendered Bucky into a teary, babbling mess. Either he was always a masochist or Hydra made him into one but God— sometimes when she got mean he saw stars.

The door busted open, Bucky feeling relief at her grinning face. She gently closed it behind her, stripping easily while throwing her panties at him. He caught the material, moaning softly as she growled, “See what you did to me in the middle of that debrief? Had to cut it short my pheromones were so bad.”

Bucky inspected the panties, eyes fluttering at the slick wetting the cloth. He gripped and inhaled, hand flying down to soothe his cock. A lithe body crawled to the end of the bed, the soldier flushing as she seated herself in between his thighs. Keeping him in fucking missionary, her manicured nails spreading him a bit. He gasped, body jolting at the exposure.

Her perky tits heaved as she groped at his thighs and slid down to get handfuls of his round ass. Bucky threw his head back and moaned, “W-What are you up to?” Earlier mentioned pheromones were making his body keyed up and sensitive, pupils likely swallowing up blue eyes. She leaned forward, taught body against his cock.

“Mmm- I don’t know really. You just looked so delicious,” she kissed his belly and cooed, “I know you’re upset with yourself right now, Buck, you’re fucking gorgeous. Holiday weight or not. But I’ll even go to the gym with you, know I’ve been a distraction.”

Bucky slurred a name, hands reaching for her waist, she was so sweet. He sighed, “I enjoyed you as my distraction, best disss-traction everrr. Fuck you’re makin’ me horny babydoll.” She crawled up his bigger body to plant a kiss on Bucky’s swollen lips before sliding back to her place. His cock leaked when she giggled, “I know, poor baby’s all achy for me. But I wanna do something first.”

She slid palms up and down Bucky’s muscled arms, soothing him a little. Then the she-devil gripped his chunky love-handles and shook, watching with poorly-disguised glee. Bucky whined, “Baaaby, stoppp, it’s awful!”

“Think of them as tiger stripes, they’ll fade out when you drop weight,” she dug under where his belly hung a bit and traced at his most sensitive stretch marks. Bucky let out an indecent noise, thrusting up into her sweet touch. The fellow avenger cooed, “S’that feel good tiger? Need some lotion. Pretty boy.”

Bucky outright whimpered when her hand wrapped around his weepy cock, already slick from copious pre. She slowly moved her hand, praising him. Pretty boy, smart, handsome, good, kind, helpful.

He was going to bust a nut before anything happened. Bucky barked, “B-babe, stop! Stop!” Her pretty brows knitted together, hand jerking away as she asked, “What’s wrong bub?” He panted, “Gimme a second, w-wanna fuck you so baaaad.” She gently stroked the outside of thick muscled thighs, padded with love in her opinion.

“Thought I was going to ride you?,” she asked, face beginning to flush.

Bucky shook his head, managing to push himself up to get face-to-face. His soft body filled the tight space between them, making her whimper now. Bucky used one hand to caress the side of her face, the other massaging her pretty tit. Long lashes fluttered, her lips falling open.

Score. He managed to somewhat fumble through the pheromone fog.

Bucky rumbled, “Nuh-uh, all this talk about my body and you don’t want me to pin you down and fill your pretty pussy up? Hm sweetheart?” He punctuated the sentence with a deep kiss, the sweet thing easily giving up to him. It was fun when she played mean but Bucky had more experience— he could play his girl like a fucking fiddle.

“C’mon,” smack, “use your,” smack, “words baby,” smack smack. She didn’t want to stop kissing, sucking on his bottom lip as he pulled away. She blushed, embarrassed on how fast the situation had flipped. His girl whined, “Yeah, c’mon fuck me, fuck me full daddy.” He grinned and laid back, strong arms pulling her atop him.

She squealed, eyes widening. Bucky purred, “You know what to do, Daddy’ll let you on top.” He bit his swollen lip again watching the tip of his clock get swallowed by molten heat, the pair of them shuddering in ecstasy. Her little hands planted on his chest, panting and whining at the fullness. He’d get to work, holding that pretty waist and fucking up into her tight cunt.

It wasn’t long before she was crying out and laying atop his body, gasping, “Y’feel so good! Ah! Soft and oh god s’fucking hard!” Bucky sucked at her neck and thrust into her with downright pornographic slaps. He grunted and gasped, legs wonderfully getting another workout.

He murmured into her ear, a hand stilling all that writhing the poor thing was doing, “Yeah doll? Daddy fucking you good? Feels good to lay on Daddy and get your pussy pounded huh?” She sobbed, clenching and spilling tears on his neck, “Yes daddy! Yes! Don’t stop, fuckfuckfuck, s’rubbing my clit! I love you Daddy!”

Bucky’s eyes crossed for a second. What?

The evil flab that curses his very existence is a free clit rubber? He moaned in delight. Bucky changed their position some to milk out that new fact. Might as well abuse it before it’s gone. His baby was clinging to him now, mewling his name, pussy spasming sporadically. Bucky tilted her head up, melting at her pretty eyes. He rasped, “Come for Daddy baby, know you’re close, let go babydoll.”

He was grinding the tip of his cock into her soft spot while cooing at her. She hiccuped on a sob, the entirety of lean frame tightening down on him. His baby was a lot stronger than she looked. He could feel her core clamp and soak his cock, sending Bucky reeling into his own orgasm with a hoarse shout. He whimpered at the feeling of his balls drawing painfully tight, emptying all he had pent up.

They laid in a pile of sweat and spend, probably love. She was still subbed out, nuzzling into Bucky, only making a soft noise when his soft cock slid out. The brunette guessed it was his turn to return her earlier favor. He felt like the man of the hour. Crazy little kitten thought her geriatric overweight cyborg assassin was hot. Even with the holiday pounds.

So he pressed little kisses, rubbed her back, waxed poetic nonsense of his love for her. Bucky was a lover boy back in the day, just a little rusty, not like his Babygirl was on planet Earth right now anyways. She murmured into his neck with a dopey smile, “Tiger.”

Once again, crazy fellow asset saving Bucky’s wavering self-esteem. How lucky was he?

[blues824]

Hello, hello! Could I request Michael Afton with a super strong yet petite female dhampir reader?

Had to look up what a dhampir was lol.

Michael Afton

You were technically a teenage-hood friend, because he and his friend group when they were younger went to explore a seemingly abandoned mansion. He thought his friends were playing pranks on him because he kept hearing voices: a girl and an older man. Someone in the group suggested that they split up and use their walkie-talkies, so he was eventually separated from everyone else.

He was exploring one of the many corridors, and he saw something like a white nightgown passing around the corner. 

“Hello?” He asked, but he received no response. He followed the figure, but no one was there. He could have sworn someone was there, but he shrugged and turned around, only to be met with the most beautiful girl he had ever seen. He noticed that she had fangs protruding from her lips, and then he realized what she was… he was about to scream when you pushed him to the wall and used your hand to cover his mouth.

“SHH! You can’t scream. When I let go, you are going to take some deep breaths, okay?” He nodded his head, and you slowly but gently took your hand away.

“Who… Who are you?”

“My name is Y/N. Why are you all in our mansion?”

“We th-thought it was abandoned, and we wanted to explore it.” At that moment, one of his friends buzzed in on the walkie-talkie, and you looked at the device in surprise. Michael noticed this, and he asked if you knew what it was. You shook your head, taking it from his hand and looking it over.

“It’s called a walkie-talkie. As long as my friends are within a certain distance, we can communicate with each other.”

Your moment of wonder was cut short when you heard shoes clacking against the floor, and you shoved him into a nearby room. He was surprised by the sheer strength you had, but you let out a shhh before closing the door in front of you. Michael listened in on what was going on outside of the room.

“Y/N, I saw that there were intruders within the house. Go to your room and allow me to deal with them.”

“But Papa-”

“Y/N. Go to your room… now.”

“...Yes, Papa.”

Then the sound of shoes, the teenager did not know whose, started fading down the hall. After a few moments of silence, the door was opened slowly, and you peaked your head in, calling for him with a ‘hey, it’s safe!’

Quietly, he made his way to you, and you told him that he needed to get his friends and leave before your father would kill them. He asked why he would do such a thing, and you said that there was no time to explain and that he needed to leave now. Michael nodded, and he used his walkie-talkie to round his friends up to the foyer so they could exit.

Luckily, they made it out, and as Michael looked back, he saw a brief glimpse of you in one of the many windows.

~~~~~~~~~~~

Years later, he finds himself once again exploring the mansion. He told all of his friends about the girl that he found in there, but none of them believed him. At first glance, he couldn’t see you in the window, which made him doubtful and that he truly had imagined it all.

Upon entering, there was a lot more dust and cobwebs all over the place, but everything still looked the same. The only difference was that there was some old, classical music sounding from somewhere, and so he decided to follow it. The wooden floors creaked with each step he took, and he cringed at each loud echo. After all, the girl’s father might still reside here.

When he got to the source of the music, he got to a door that seemed relatively new… or at least kept clean because the others he had passed had rotted. He leaned his ear against the wood, and he heard a voice humming to the tune that was playing. It sounded like honey, and he gently opened the door.

“Who is it?!” A woman exclaimed, in surprise and fear. Michael opened the door entirely to reveal the woman, wearing a dress straight from the 19th century. You both looked at each other in utter surprise.

“It’s you…” you both said at the same time, and you rushed in to give him a really tight hug. He felt his back pop, but he wrapped his arms around you as well. Your strength still managed to surprise him, but at least his back felt a bit better and less tensed up. After a few moments, you held his face in your hands and they were colder than the air within the mansion.

“I knew you were real!” He exclaimed, much like a young boy rather than an adult man.

“I’ve been hoping you would come back for me, but I was losing hope after a decade.” You said, your face donning a sad smile. You started to bring your arms back to your sides, but he didn’t let you and just held them.

“I’m sorry for not coming sooner. So much has happened, and I was afraid you would think less of me, and…” 

“I don’t even know your name, and I haven’t told you mine.” You stated in realization.

“You’re Y/N. I heard your… father?... say it outside the door of the room you shoved me into.”

At that, you let out a sad sigh as you remembered your Papa. He was gone now, as you tried to escape and ran into the sun. Being a dhampir rather than a vampire, you were only sensitive to the sun. It gave you such a headache, and it dampened your abilities. However, your father ran after you, and he was dissolved.

He would tell you about your mother, and how you reminded him of her. You knew that it wasn’t just love that he held for her, but also an obsession. Much like the man standing in front of you, a woman many moons ago stumbled upon the mansion with a bunch of her friends and caught your father’s attention. Skip a meeting, a marriage, and a bedding later, you were here in a very similar situation.

“Well, you don’t have to worry about him anymore. Now, tell me your name.”

“Michael. Michael Afton.”

“Michael…” You said in thought. The sound of his name on your lips was absolutely heavenly, and he would give an arm and a leg just to hear it again. “Lovely to make your acquaintance.” You curtsied, reminding him of a princess.

“Lovely to make your acquaintance, Y/N.” He bowed, reminding you of a prince.

[nicejewishcharactershowdown]

Nice Jewish Character Showdown -- Round Two Analysis

We're so back. Happy Jewish-American Heritage Month! Here are the characters that got eliminated in Round Two -- and since it's been a minute, I'm linking the polls to the contestant names.

James Wilson Status: Canon Jew Mazel tov to Wilson for making it to round two, a definite improvement from last year. In the past year I’ve actually started watching ‘House’ cause of y’all, so I think this counts as a win. And his initials literally being J.E.W. is fucking iconic.

Libby Stein-Torres Status: Canon Jew I’m so glad that the legacy of iconic Disney Channel Jewish Rep continues into the modern era. What a bop.

Fox Mulder Status: Pretty Much Canon Jew “Scully, you’re gonna wanna see this.”

Sidney Prescott Status: Transitive Jew There’s something so inherently Jewish already about the final girl narrative, especially when it’s one portrayed by a Jewish actor. Especially in the ‘Scream’ franchise, where so much of the narrative revolves around not knowing who you can trust, who’s your friend and who’s your enemy. Might be a bit melodramatic, eh. At least the transitive property can apply here, thank you Neve for this absolutely iconic line — “I am a practicing Catholic, but my lineage is Jewish, so if someone asks me if I'm Jewish, I say yes”

Bugs Bunny Status: Transitive Jew Remember how Bugs once literally saved Mel Blanc’s life when he was in a coma? What a wonderful relationship between creation and creator. We could technically expand the Transitive Property out to the rest of Blanc’s character catalogue, but there’s something so right about identifying Bugs Bunny as the representative for the Mel Blanc set.

Percy Jackson Status: Interpretive Jew This one’s a bit of a brainchild, so stick with me. Is it transitive from the (underappreciated) performance of the ICONIC Logan Lerman? Yes. Is it because of all the world-saving trauma he went through at such a young age? Yes. Is it because of the iconic motif of water in Judaism? YES. Is it the way Percy always gets blamed for trouble, even stuff he had nothing to do with? Yes. But most importantly, the chutzpah. The way he, and his friends, talk back to the Greek Pantheon. The way they question authority, and the way he in particular paves his way against the fate chosen for him. Constantly fighting for a better world, even if it’s gonna put him in more danger by pissing off some powerful people. I could talk about this for hours, so pull up a chair and start listening to the Lightning Thief musical, there WILL be an essay portion to this quiz.

Seymour Krelborn Status: Canon Jew Have you EVER seen a more nebbish horror musical male lead than Seymour?

Sharpay Evans Status: Transitive Jew Once you find out Ashley Tisdale’s Jewish, the Jewish American Princess vibes radiating off of Sharpay Evans become impossible to ignore. You just KNOW she grew up in the same Hebrew School class as Troy (another Transitive Property Jew thanks to the ICONIC Zac Efron!)

[scullysexual]

You're Never Just Anything To Me (2)

@today-in-fic | ao3 | Prev.Chapter.

A look into Mulder and Scully's relationship starting from Millennium going all the way up to Requiem.

II. Rush.

“Would you like to come over tonight?”

“Mulder, it’s a Wednesday,” her voice shrills through the phone.

“Well done, you know the days of the week,” Mulder says with a massive grin, hoping the convey the joke through the phone.

She grows quiet and he thinks for a second that he’s overstepped the mark and offended her but then her voice sounds again.

“Shut up…” she says but he can hear her smiling.

“Seriously, so what if it’s a Wednesday? I miss you.”

“You saw me three hours ago.”

“Yeah, too long ago. What’s wrong with coming over? I stayed over on Monday.”

“Yeah and look at how much scrambling around we had to do to make sure we got to work on time. Separately.”

There was a lot of fumbling. Alarms going off an hour before they usually would. He had to get home, shower, change his clothes, and drive to work. They also kept getting distracted. Well no, he kept getting distracted, trying to convince her to skive off work and stay here and have sex all day. Scully shot that idea down immediately and his distractions had meant he only had an hour to get home, do his thing, and get himself to work.

“Bring some things with you, shower here, and we’ll go to work together.”

She laughs. “Then they’ll definitely know we’re sleeping together.”

A thrill runs through him hearing her say sleeping together. That’s what they were doing after all. Even weeks later from that first night on New Years Day and he still couldn’t believe it. He grins like an idiot.

“They already think we’re sleeping together. Does it really matter if they know?”

“Of course it matters, Mulder. There’s a reason it’s…frowned upon. You know they’ll split us up.”

She’s right. They might even take her away from him. Permanently. No, he couldn’t have that. Will not have that. Not now. Not ever.

Scully sighs. “I think we need some rules.”

“What? Why do we need rules? Rules are boring, they get in the way.”

“And for good reason,” she says. “Workdays are for work things. Weekends are for us. Okay?”

Mulder nods to himself. “Weekends are for us.”

“I’m glad we understand.”

“But does that mean I could, theoretically, invite you around through the week and say I had a case to discuss with you and if one thing led to another we wouldn’t technically be breaking your rules because I invited you around to look at a case?”

He hears her exasperated sigh and smiles. “Mulder, stop trying to find loopholes already. But yes, you could invite me round to go over a case through the week.”

Mulder listens, wanting to hear more.

“But Mulder.”

“Yes?”

“You keep your hands to yourself.”

…

He starts living for the weekend. Starts counting down the days, even hours, till he can have Scully in his arms, her mouth on his, her body beneath him. When Work Stuff melds into Us Stuff.

He finds himself unable to wait until Saturday. When Friday rolls around he can barely contain himself. He glances towards Scully every moment he gets and she does well to ignore him, to get on with their boring end-of-week paperwork unaffected by whatever has affected him.

It's 1:37pm, his lunch half finished on his desk when he finally asks.

“So…” Mulder begins and Scully looks up at him from her salad. “Since tomorrow is a Saturday and not a workday that means Friday nights aren’t school nights.”

“What is it you’re asking, Mulder?”

“Can Friday nights count as the weekend?” he chokes out desperately.

She smiles to herself. “Always searching for a loophole,” she says more to herself than him. Then he watches as she thinks it over. “Yes. Okay.”

“Starting today?” She looks at him aghast. “Please,” he pathetically begs.

Scully sighs. “Starting today.”

Mulder lasts until 4:46pm. Those last 14 minutes are tortuous. He’s stopped typing his report, he can’t remove the images of what he plans to do to Scully tonight from his mind. He looks over at her. Since his question at lunchtime he’s noticed she’s become a bit more restless, her foot tapping incessantly against the footrest of her chair. She remains more focused than himself, still scribbling away at expense reports but the calm, collected, in control person of this morning is slowly starting to unravel.

“Scully?”

She jumps up like she’s been shocked, slamming the accounting book shut with more force than necessary.

“My place,” is all she says.

It’s 4:52pm.

…

They barely make it through the front door.

Scully had wanted to throw the weekend rule away as soon as she mentioned it but listening to Mulder try to loophole is way out of them only made her resolve more certain. Rules were necessary. They needed to not get caught out.

His lips crash into hers and Scully gasps as he picks her up, holding her between her entry way wall and his body. She thought about putting a plant here, the space looked so empty and sad. Now she realises it would just get in the way. The space has a purpose: them.

They don’t even take their clothes off properly.

The waiting, the anticipation, counting down the days and the hours until they could devour each other again had gotten the both of them pent up with energy. It was like all the other years only this time they knew it was going to get resolved and that just made the energy between them stronger.

Scully unbuckles his belt, undoes the button on his pants. Mulder pulls her tights off, pushes her skirt up, and drags her underwear to the side.

He’s thrusting into her with no time wasted. Scully’s head falls slack against the wall, withering and moaning as Mulder ploughs into her at a hurried pace. It’s quick, hard, and slightly erring on the rough side as her lower back is constantly being slammed into the wall by his eager hips. There’s embarrassing wet sound emitting from between her legs but Scully can’t bring herself to care as she crests over the peak. She becomes dead weight in his arm only perking up slightly when she feels the surge of Mulder’s cum rush inside her.

They fall to the floor and don’t move for what feels like hours.

…

Perhaps he could get used to this weekends only thing. It only seems to serve them in the long run.

They had sex three times in about as many hours. Pouring an entire workdays week worth of sexual escapades into one night, probably because they both know it’ll be another week before they can do it again.

Food has been ordered and there’s about an hour delay, not that either of them are complaining. Their night is quite simple; sex, nap, sex, eat, nap, sex, more sex, sleep. They don’t talk about work. They don’t talk about future cases. They don’t talk about what happens if it’s the weekend and they’re on a case and staying in a motel.

Mulder doesn’t ask because it’s a weekend and even if they aren’t at home surely that means this won’t be put on hold.

But looking at Scully, thinking about her rules, there’s a vague thought that it just might.

Scully was hovering somewhere around his legs, near his groin. She had gone to the toilet and he expected her to return to his arms, to continue their post-coital nap. Instead she had disappeared halfway down the bed. He had no idea what she was doing.

“You have a pretty cock.”

Mulder’s eyes burst open. “Excuse me?” Said pretty cock becomes alive.

“It’s pretty,” states Scully doing nothing to elaborate on her original statement.

Mulder swallows as she trails her finger from base to head. Now his dick was really starting to wake up.

“Uh, thanks…I guess?” He’s never had someone compliment his penis before.

“It’s the nicest one I’ve seen,” she mutters to herself.

Mulder doesn’t like to think about Scully having sex with other people, seeing their cocks. It draws up mixed feelings for him. On one hand, the idea of her with anyone but himself as a course of jealously surging through him. On the other hand, it turns him on. A lot.

Then he frowns. “Scully…what are you doing?” Because her hovering her face around his cock had his thoughts going elsewhere.

“Huh?” she asks, looking at him with confusion.

“Why are you just looking at my dick?” He catches a look in her eyes and is quick to placate it. “Not- not that I don’t appreciate you calling my dick…pretty I just…You’re there and…”

“Oh..” it dawns on her then just what is question was. “Well…I was gonna ask because you asked me on New Years Day but then I didn’t know if I needed permission but then what if you didn’t like that and I should’ve asked and…” She was rambling now. Something he’s known her to do when she’s scared or anxious about something. He gently interrupts her.

“Oh I like that, Scully.” She looks at him still unsure. “As for permission…consider it granted. You no longer need to ask from this point forward.”

She smiles, reassured. “Okay.” She moves so she’s between his legs and Mulder waits, holding a breath as she holds him gently at the base.

The first touch of her tongue, the heat of her mouth, has his eyes rolling back into his head. He clenches the duvet so as to stop himself from grabbing her. He let’s her do her thing, explore him with her tongue. The newness in it, the inexperience with his cock in particular spreads a loveable warmth through him. He loves her. He loves her so fucking much.

“Fuck, Scully…” he breathes and Scully hums around him. The vibrations coursing through him. He’s close, so dangerously close. He wants to come in her mouth but it’s their first time and what if she doesn’t like that…Now he was rambling, spiralling, all the while feeling his balls tightening. He’s seconds away from blowing.

His hand unclenches the covers, finding her, tapping her, trying to gain her attention.

“I’m gonna—”

Her eyes widen in realisation. She pulls her mouth off him and pumps him the rest of the way. He finishes it, his cum spilling all over stomach.

Mulder lets his orgasm settle as Scully scampers off into the bathroom. He hears the sound of a faucet and closes his eyes trying to calm himself down.

He jumps at the contact of a warm cloth against his stomach, eyes reopening and finding Scully.

“Sorry,” she apologises shyly but continues to gently clean him up like he usually does with her. His heart grows bigger.

“I didn’t know if you wanted me to…” He coughs trying to find the words. “If I was allowed to…”

She smiles at him sweetly. “Consider this permission to come in my mouth next time.”

Mulder is dumbstruck as she wanders off to the bathroom again. She said it so sweetly, so innocently yet the words that came out of her mouth were not sweet or innocent.

He loves her so much.

He almost says it when she emerges out of the bathroom and climbs back into the bed, snuggling down beside him. He stops himself at the last minute, bites his tongue to keep the words from falling out on their own accord. Instead he squeezes her against him, presses a kiss to her hairline and hopes his actions conveys what he longs to say.

…

“Mulder…” she warns for the third time.

“I’m not doing anything.”

Mulder stands incredibly close to her, the front of his body flush with the back of hers. It’s unnecessary given the amount of space behind him. He’s doing this on purpose.

“I know what you’re trying to do,” she says.

“And what am I trying to do?”

His hands touch her hips, she can feel his bulge pressing into her lower back. He’s doing what he’s been trying to do all week.

“No, Mulder.” She pulls herself away.

“Please,” he begs, desperation on his face. “It’s been a fantasy for so long. Just this once.”

This is what she was worried about. Us Stuff getting mixed in with Work Stuff. They have to keep them separate. They can wait until the weekend.

But it was only Tuesday and even with the addition of Friday night falling into ‘weekend’ it still felt so far away.

This was proving difficult for both of them.

“What if someone comes down here?” she asks eyes straying to the office door.

“Who comes down here?”

“Skinner?”

“Skinner’s been down here once and that was just to throw my resignation back in my face and tell me it was unacceptable.”

“You handed in your resignation?” Scully asks surprised.

“No, I just told you Skinner threw it back in my face.” He shakes his head. “You’re changing the subject. No one comes down here, Scully. No one cares.”

“No, Mulder.” She can’t do it. She can’t let the lines be blurred. “Rule Number Two—”

Mulder let’s out an exasperated groan.

“No sex in the office,” she yells above his groan.

Mulder pulls away from, sitting back down in his chair and looking at her like a child who’s just been denied ice cream.

“It’s my most frequent fantasy,” he mutters with pity to himself.

Scully sighs. “Do you have your report. I’m going to give it to Skinner.”

He yanks the papers from the printer and smacks them down onto her hands looking every bit like a spoilt child.

Scully can’t help her grin at his behaviour.

“Hey,” she says gently and Mulder looks at her with hope in his eyes. “Friday. We can act out any fantasy you’ve ever had.” His eyes light up and he thinks he’s won. Scully quickly adds. “At home.”

She makes her way towards the door, smiling as she hears him mumble and grumble about how “Home isn’t the office now, is it?” She shuts the door behind her, shaking her head but still smiling.

Then a dark thought overcomes her and makes the smile fade. Did he and Diana do it in the office? No! She can’t think like that, it didn’t matter. Diana was gone, 6 feet in the ground, Mulder has made it clear to her that Diana was history.

But still, Scully couldn’t help but wonder if he was constantly comparing herself to the other woman.

[veeluvss]

My Girl, Lily Prentiss (2)

｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆

"Lily Addams," Emily said, clicking the remote. The entire team sat around the round table, concern clear in their faces and expressions. Prentiss could hardly get her words out. Lily was gone. Gone. "Seventeen," Emily said again, clicking on another picture of her. She couldn't tear her eyes away from her, seeing her all grown up. Her smile hadn't changed one bit. The apples of her cheeks kept the pink colour and her eyes still gleamed with happy tears in the situation. Her hair, a mousey brown now, was beautifully waved over her shoulders. Emily could see she kept active, knowing she loved the outdoors. Being deprived of it for so long meant Lily would do anything to be outside all the time. "Prentiss," Morgan said, voice breaking the silence. Emily nodded, tearing her eyes away from the picture. "Yes, of course." She mumbled, shaking her head. "Lily Addams, seventeen. Her parents came to me this morning to report her missing. She's been gone two days, no word, no sign, nothing. We need to hit the ground running and find out what happened." Emily knew she was making no sense and the team were only growing more and more worried. "Emily, what's going on?" JJ asked, sitting up in her chair. There was more silence as Emily tried to find the words.

"She was in protective custody," Emily whispered, taking a seat. She couldn't trust her legs to hold her weight. "Her parents, they, they were con artists. I went undercover to catch them. Lily - she was their daughter. They exploited her, kept her locked up, and hidden and used her whenever they could. They'd lure these women in and use them, rape them, do all sorts and Lily - she would love them with her whole innocent self because she had no idea what they were doing to them. They'd look after her, watch her, care for her. I did too. "I've always had her on my mind, she was like mine. My little girl in the darkest times. She was far too innocent for everything that happened to her," Emily explained. "I've stayed close by to her, following her family around the world. They knew. Every year, I'd send Lily a birthday and Christmas present. But now, she's gone." "And we need to find her," Rossi said. Emily nodded, still not daring to look at anyone. "We need to find her," Emily repeated. "I - I can't live knowing she's hurt and I couldn't help her."

The team jumped into action. Garcia did her tech stuff, trying to find what she could on her last known whereabouts. Emily and JJ spoke to her parents, trying to get to know them as much as they could. Rossi and Morgan and Reid went to the house, trying to find evidence there. Tara headed to her high school to talk to her little sister and Lily's teachers.

"What... what was she like?" Emily asked the parents, Gale and Tori. "Naughty," Gale sighed. JJ frowned. "What do you mean by that?" "She never listened," Tori said. "She was always pushing the boundaries, arguing." Emily could feel the anger in the pit of her stomach. "How was she at school?" "She never went to school. Didn't even know the meaning of the word," Gale scoffed. "Did you help her?" Emily asked. "We did everything we could," Gale said, nodding. "Honestly, Prentiss. If it wasn't for the technicalities of her childhood, we wouldn't have come. We think it's just drugs. Bad crowd," Gale shrugged. Emily walked out then, unable to control her anger. How dare they?

Morgan's eyes were furrowed as he moved around the girl's bedroom. "I don't know about you but if this was my bedroom, I don't think I'd want to stay either." "There's absolutely no personality here," Reid agreed, pulling back the covers of her bed. Then, he saw it. There was a ragged, grey, small baby's blanket tucked under her pillow. Reid pulled it up, inspecting it. It looked old. "Apart from this." He said. Morgan turned around and took it from his hands before quickly pocketing it. "You can't take that from a crime scene-" Reid said quickly, looking between Morgan and Rossi. "It's for Emily," he said simply, pulling back the girls' pillows but then he saw the picture. Under Lily's pillow was an old, faded picture. Morgan recognised Emily immediately, smiling, holding the girl close to her. The blonde hair leaned over and she was kissing Emily's cheek. Morgan had never, ever seen Emily so happy. Rossi looked over his shoulder, sighing. "She hasn't smiled like that with us, ever," Spencer said, looking at it too. "We have to find whoever the fuck took this kid. It'll destroy Prentisss if anything happens to her." Morgan said. He put the picture back and headed out of the room, dialling Garcia's number.

"Hey my chocolate milkshake," she smirked down the phone. "Please tell me you have some sort of lead," Morgan said, all he could feel was hurt for his best friend. Emily may have been his boss but since her first day, she and morgan had been the best brother-sister duo the team had ever seen. Their humour and personalities went together like the north and south end of magnets and Derek knew that without Lily in her life, Prentiss had been missing a big part of herself. He knew she had her secrets, everyone did. But one this close to her, one this personal, meant Emily had never cared about anything more. "I've managed to track some of her online whereabouts and Morgan, it's not pretty." She told him honestly. "Tell me." "She was very, erm, sexual online," Garcia said. "Porn sites, selling her pictures, exchanging messages. She didn't even try to keep it a secret Derek." "Could that be tied to it? Maybe a fan got freaky?" "I'm not sure. She managed to keep her identity pretty covered up. She was good at that, fake identities, and lives. She has whole documents with alternative lives for different people she spoke to. Hannah. Tina. Josie. All with different types of pictures too, different underwear, different roleplays. Derek, as painful as it is for me to say this, she was good at what she did." "Have you spoken to Prentiss?" "Not yet. I don't know how to tell her," Garcia sighed. "She's hurting." "She's just worried baby girl, don't... don't fret. We'll find Lily and get her help."

"What was your sister like?" Tara asked Skyla, Gale and Tori's biological child. "Private," Skyla whispered. "She never spoke to any of us unless it was arguing. She was always in her room, or out. She'd come home early morning and leave again only hours later. I hardly ever saw her." "So you weren't close?" "Not at all. I can hardly even call her my sister," Skyla shrugged. However, she kept her eyes down, avoiding looking up or around the room. "What's life like at home?" Tara asked, probing more. "Normal," she shrugged. "What's normal to you?" "Just," Skyla sighed. "You know, normal." "Your mum told us that Lily misbehaved, and argued," Tara said. Skyla nodded, agreeing. "Did she argue with you?" "No. Only mum." "What did they argue about?" "How quiet she was. Mum used to say she wasn't even part of the family. She.. she said that if they weren't tied by a contract, she'd be gone." Tara nodded. "Lily used to tell Mum that no one loved her, that she was alone." Skyla sighed, feeling bad for speaking badly about her mum. "Mum loved me, Dad did too. I think it hurt Lily, to see the difference. I tried to be mean too, to them to see what they would do but they didn't do what they did to Lily. I don't know why they hated her."

｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆ table of contents

[dustedmagazine]

Dusted Mid-Year 2024, Part II (Lumpeks to Z-Ro)

Rosali

Part two of our mid-year round-up provides a second perspective on albums that at least one Dusted writer loved.  Here we cover the second half, alphabetically by artist, with entries from Lumpeks to Z-Ro. 

If you missed Part I, check it out here. 

Lumpeks — Polonez (Umlaut)

Who nominated it? Bill Meyer

Did we review it? No

Ian Mathers’ take:

I’m honestly not familiar enough with either jazz or traditional Polish dance music to be able to spot or articular exactly where this intriguing and very enjoyable fusion of the two has joined them. There’s a similar feel to other acts I’ve heard that both clearly deeply respect the traditional music they draw on and are unafraid to put their own spin on that source material (both Xylouris White and Black Ox Orkestar came to mind), and as with those other cases the results on Polonez could equally be ancient or brand new. That the quartet’s main instrumentation (which also includes Louis Laurain on cornet, Pierre Borel on alto sax, and Sébastien Belief on double bass) includes steady, deep frame drumming (using a local variation called a bębenek obręczowy) from Olga Koziel (who also sings) gives it plenty of distinct character. And the mostly French group cares enough about actually understanding and respecting that traditional Polish music they made a short documentary about the field research that went into making Polonez. There’s an energetic, joyous swing to both the jazz and folk sides of Lumpeks’ music that makes the result much more than just an academic curiosity.

Mdou Moctar — Funeral for Justice (Matador)

Who nominated it? Jennifer Kelly

Did we review it? No, but we did a Listening Post. In the intro, Jennifer Kelly wrote, “The new record is as sharp and impassioned as any Moctar and his band have done so far, and it is inflamed with political energy.”

Andrew Forell’s take:

Mdou Moctar is an extraordinary guitarist and must be incredible in a live setting. The rhythms, the vocal back and forth and the moments Mochtar sprays power chords and shards of riffs that explode like bombs are all great. You feel his rage and frustration even when you don’t understand the lyrics. But the super intricate, high-speed soloing, whilst impressive, had the same effect on me as listening to electric blues-rock. I’m caught between the passion of the band, the eloquence of their anti-colonialist, pro-African politics, and the technically brilliant guitar noodling. The title track is a fantastic meld and it’s hard not be carried along but I really prefer the slower tracks, particularly “Takoba” and “Imajighen”, which lope along behind the drums while the bass darts around between entwined guitar lines and call and response vocals. Funeral for Justice is an album I admired and enjoyed hearing but, for me, the pyrotechnics get in the way.

Jessica Moss – For UNRWA (self-released)

Who picked it?  Ian Mathers

Did we review it?  Yes, Ian said, “sorrow and elegy and rage and strength all course throughout the piece.”

Bryon’s take:

This is a beautiful album born from an ugly situation.  Violinist Jessica Moss released this Bandcamp-only album to raise money for the UNRWA (United Nations Relief and Works Agency) after nation states halted funding when it was erroneously thought a few of its members were aligned with Hamas.  It’s a 42-minute suite of violin, electronics, and vocals that Moss captured at a live set in Berlin.  As someone who hasn’t had the pleasure of investigating her solo work but is enamored with her contributions to Silver Mt. Zion and other bands, I find this album to be an effective port of entry.  It swells with all the emotions that Ian describes in his review, unfurling with a beauty and grace that at times evokes stillness and at others exudes passionate fervor.  Based on this piece alone, I’ve decided that I need more of Moss’ music in my life.    

NYSSA — Shake Me Where I’m Foolish (Six Shooter)

Who nominated it? Alex Johnson

Did we review it? No.

Jennifer Kelly’s take:

NYSSA gets its kick from the charisma of the eponymous front woman, a wailing, belting, crooning dynamo, whose delivery is part punk, part roots rock, part blues and part adrenalized, corruscating confession. NYSSA’s first album, Girls Like Me, was long-listed for the 2021 Polaris Prize. This follow-up is less synthy and more rock, fleshed out by a ripping band. It’s larger in every way, from the stomping, vibrato-laced rager, “Werewolf,” to the torchy, piano-bar introspection of “Blessed Turn.” “I’m good for nothing but the hell I raise,” NYSSA intimates on the rollicking “Hell I Raise,” but she’s wrong. She’s good at lots of things.

Rosali – Bite Down (Merge)

Who picked it? Jennifer Kelly

Did we review it? Yes. Christian Carey wrote: “Rocking out is on the menu” and “the connections between pleasure and pain seem to coalesce in Rosali’s work.”

Alex Johnson’s take:

It’s a ferocious album, but intimate too. I hear a lot of Christine McVie in Rosali’s vocal. The way her delivery of “I want to feel right at the end of the day/I’m letting things come as they may” on “Rewind” contains warmth and sadness and joy and a sense of power in powerlessness that’s somewhere between cynicism and hope. It’s right out of Rumors. There’s some Fleetwood Mac in the groove of the title track too. But the spaciousness and spontaneity that Rosali and Mowed Sound capture remind me more often of the Oldham family — Will, Ned, et al. — from the raucous and inviting Viva Last Blues of “My Kind” to the clanging Anomoanon-ish country rock of “Hopeless.” 

This is music that not only lets you in but keeps you there. Like how the primordial bass drum in “May It Always Be on Offer” both grounds the rhythm and carves out a space you can practically sit in. The charismatic draw of Bite Down, though, is the guitar work. There’s so much texture and dimension in, say, the fraught duet that rips through “Change is in the Form” or the gravelly solo patched under the strings of “Slow Pain,” echoing the toughness of “maybe I’m just used to it/maybe I don’t give a shit.” With their various yelps and rumbles, the guitar tones that run through “Hills on Fire” don’t so much create the atmosphere as define it, adding a palpable, tectonic heat to the song’s otherwise easy daze.

Bite Down is a big, organic album, full of sensations — heard, articulated, and felt. Someone yells “act natural” as “My Kind” gets revved up — I’m surprised the band needed a reminder.

Thou — Umbilical (Sacred Bones)

Who nominated it? Jonathan Shaw

Did we review it? Yes, Jonathan wrote, “If we set aside Umbilical’s thorny thematics, we still have a superlative metal record, loud, as aggressive as it is palpably aggravated.”

Andrew Forell’s take:

At the end of his typically on point review of Umbilical, Dusted’s Jonathan Shaw pondered whether Thou singer Brian Funck might agree with his assertion that “pleasure isn’t what we need most from culture right now” and asked, “Should we listen to him?”. On the first point, there’s not much pleasure evident on Thou’s new album, which perversely or not appears to be this half year’s metal album de jour with even The Guardian unguarded in its praise. And yes, there are so many reasons right now when pleasure seems futile in the face of No Future. To the second point, a definite yes! Once you acclimatize to Funck’s voice, a dyspeptic shredder of a thing which renders his lyrics nigh indecipherable, the wall of sound coming at you is a caustic bath for the ears. The drums and bass a thumping foundry shaking and burning whilst the guitars surround you like a swarm of rusting chainsaws. Amidst this maelstrom, Funck screams as if his spleen is about to join his word splatter. Now, that’s a t-shirt I’d wear again without washing. Umbilical is a nasty, irate fury that I will be revisiting.

Uranium Club — Infants Under the Bulb (Static Shock)

Who picked it? Alex Johnson

Did we review it? Yes. Alex wrote, “these enigmatic Minneapolitans fling their conceptual heft in a new direction and expand their musical objectives without ceding much, if any, of their signature, careening tension.”

Patrick Masterson’s take:

When I first heard Infants Under the Bulb in the spring, it was with only a cursory commitment; I understood its tinny, furiously strummed contours, but the full thrust of its oddball conceptual heft passed me by. A second, much closer listen for this midyear exchange has proven far more rewarding, and while Alex pretty well nails what makes this record so interesting in his review, what I keep coming back to are the myriad voices across this record. I think core members Brendan Wells, Harry Wohl, Ian Stemper and Matt Stagner all take a turn behind the mic, though liner notes prove frustratingly (appropriately?) limited, and Molly Raben drives the four-part “Wall” sequence. A few points of order unite the Club and its associates — namely, all of them take pointed barbs at contemporary society in different ways, all of them play with noticeable tightness (even Raben in the New Age-y “Wall” songs), and none of them can sing. Musically, “Small Grey Man” might be an obvious single to that effect, but it’s the guitar licks in “Game Show,” “2-600-LULLABY” and “Abandoned by the Narrator” to which I keep returning. More than anything else in Alex’s review, what hits home hardest is very succinctly tucked away in its middle (my emphasis): Chorus of voices aside, Uranium Club has been and remains a great guitar band.

Waxahatchee — Tigers Blood (Anti-)

Who picked it? Christian Carey

Did we review it? Yes, Christian said, “Tigers Blood doesn’t have a weak cut on it. One imagines it will be in heavy rotation for many long after its release.”

Tim Clarke’s take:

Tigers Blood starts out promisingly enough. On opening track “3 Sisters” it’s immediately evident that Katie Crutchfield has an intensely expressive voice, plus the skill to wield it with nuance. There’s plenty of space for her to emote, then when the song takes off, it feels well earned. From there, things start to feel too rote to fully engage. The band is clearly playing in the country-rock pocket, but there are no surprises to be found in the songwriting to capitalize on the promise of that opening song. Ultimately, it mostly ends up sounding a little hokey. A genuine shame, as I had high hopes coming into this one.

Whitelands — Night-bound Eyes Are Blind to the Day (Sonic Cathedral)

Did we review it? Yes, Ian said, “Right from the start, there’s a clarity and focus in the songs here that belies their sometimes diaphanous settings.”

Tim Clarke’s take:

Right from the opening blare of guitars, British quartet Whitelands nail a particular shoegaze aesthetic: Ride’s Going Blank Again. The six-strings are loud, but with enough delay and reverb to create a blurry wall of sound, while the rhythm section keeps things punchy to give the songs plenty of momentum. Can’t say there’s anything here that quite rivals the first wave of shoegazers who combined hallucinatory sonics with catchy songwriting, but Whitelands are clearly tapping into some inspiring sounds, which will hopefully mean their next release will have its own distinct personality. 

Winged Wheel — Big Hotel (12XU)

Who nominated it? Bryon Hayes

Did we review it? Yes, Bryon wrote, “No Island hinted at Winged Wheel’s ability to craft such a sonic space, but that record was merely an appetizer for the hefty dose of momentum that Big Hotel provides.”

Christian Carey’s take:

A collection of artists who also belong to other bands, Winged Wheel coheres far more fluidly than most “supergroups.” On their second recording, Big Hotel, the band recorded in the studio together rather than remotely collaborating as they did on 2022’s Big Island. The difference is palpable, particularly in the power and execution of the rhythm section, which now includes Sonic Youth drummer Steve Shelley. At the beginning of the recording, the one-two combo of the spacy and clangorous “Demonstrably False” and “Sleep Training,” on which Whitney Johnson supplies beguiling singing amid a raft of guitar textures. The songs tend to move directly into one another, underscoring their interconnectivity. Most of them stretch out a bit, clocking in at around the six-minute mark, but “Aren’t They All” and the album-closer “From Here Out Nothing Changes” are both under three minutes. The former is a bustling instrumental featuring oscillating riffs and urgently rendered and foregrounded percussion. The latter begins with a brief, disjunct, nasal wind solo and a discordant guitar duo, that rhythm section punching away. Johnson shares a brief, delicately delivered vocal, which then disappears into a concluding maelstrom.

Z-Ro—The Ghetto Gospel (One Deep Entertainment)

Who nominated it? Ray Garraty

Did we review it? No

Jonathan Shaw’s take: Much contemporary hip hop is lost on me, and The Ghetto Gospel doesn’t do much to convince me that I should be paying more attention. That judgment has little to do with the record’s sonic qualities, which I am in no competent position to evaluate closely; but I like the mix of late-1970s hard funk, R&B swooniness and occasional flashes of (yep) gospel’s dramatics. And Z-Ro’s flow and vocals are pretty great to groove on. His seamless, artful shifts into more conventional singing, especially at some tracks’ refrains, are deft and pleasurable. But the constant focus on money—having it is unassailable proof of virility, craft, power, self-worth; when one’s antagonist doesn’t have it, or doesn’t have as much of it, that confirms he’s a fool and a loser—is by turns tedious and sort of depressing. The just as constant self-aggrandizement, endemic in the genre, is so ever-present that it’s completely unconvincing. When I can tune out the lyrics’ content, The Ghetto Gospel is just fine. Patient, cool, smooth. When, inevitably, I begin paying attention to Z-Ro’s rhymes and their themes and figures, the record irritates me. If I had the savvy to place his performances of black masculinity in hip hop’s regionally or generically specific modalities, I might find them more engaging. But that would require plowing through a lot more music, much of it singing the praises of cash as an end in itself and celebrating “pimpin” as a variety of socially compelling activity. It ain’t for me.

[emilylawsons]

Midnight Polivia Drabbles #1

“That was the stupidest thing you’ve ever done,” she reiterates to him for probably the fifth time that night

The clock on the wall of the hospital room is ticking well past midnight. After hours of pacing back and forth and sitting in uncomfortable chairs, she’d made him scoot over and make room, nestling into the tiny bed next to him on his good side.

She should really call down and see if someone can get her a cot to sleep. She’s not sure she can simply go home tonight.

Peter, still doped up on pain meds, offers her a lazy grin and places his hand over hers on her thigh.

“We caught him, though,” he reminds her, a little too proudly.

He’s not a bit sorry. At least not yet.

Olivia sighs. Yes. Yes, they had caught their suspect. At the cost of a bullet that had barely missed his ribcage. All because he couldn’t let it go. He had to keep pursuing, even after Broyles had warned him to stand down.

She wants to be angry at him. She wants to hate him. They’d talked about this when he stepped up for training to a more active role at the Bureau. They’d made an agreement: no vigilante bullshit.

The problem is, she knows why he did it. She remembers the way she’d had to talk him down the first time they had the guy in custody, before they had any proof. Olivia had interrogated him, a smug son of a bitch with an answer for everything and a lawyer on speed dial. The asshole had put up a wall of defiance, disregarding her at every turn.

Peter had already sat tight, fists and jaw clenched the entire time, his own questions clipped and precise to stay professional.

Then the man dared to tip his head toward Olivia’s prominently round middle and ask, “So, how much longer are they holding out to keep you around without getting sued?”

That had Peter nearly knocking down his chair, sending it sliding halfway across the room. Olivia caught him just in time, before he could round the table and put his hands on the guy. He’d yelled and cursed at the man the entire way to the door as she’d escorted him out.

After that, she’d lost every bit of leverage she might have had. The suspect was let go on a technicality.

Days later, armed with proof and a warrant, they’d gone to arrest him. Peter had set out to make a point.

The call she’d received from Broyles while she waited back at the Bureau had sickened her stomach. She’d been out the door and on the way to the hospital before they could even hang up.

Hours later, here she is. Here they are.

Peter still doesn’t get it, but trying to reason with him right now is about as useful as reasoning with a two-year-old. So, she lies there for as long as they can both tolerate the cramped bed, listening to the beeping of his heart rate on the monitor.

Suddenly, she feels a stirring in her belly.

Olivia presses a hand to her bump to feel. This is the first time she’s moved in hours, and now she’s practicing for what Olivia can only assume will be her future career as a professional soccer player.

Peter, alert at her sudden change, shifts in the bed, wincing at his own movements. He doesn’t ask, and she doesn’t have to say anything.

She simply takes his hand and places it with hers over where their daughter is tucked away safely. The content, dopey smile that spreads across his lips is enough to solidify the impossibility of her being angry at him.

For several minutes, they lie there, simply feeling their little girl move and kick and make her life force known. A reminder of why they do what they do.

And why they don’t take unnecessarily life-threatening risks.

“That really was the stupidest thing you’ve ever done,” she repeats.

This time, Peter can only stare at where their hands are joined, half asleep but still contemplative.

He nods, lifting her hand to his lips.

“I know.”

[idontknowreallywhy]

Ok, I had a couple of hours in a hospital waiting room today so before I forgot the threads of where this story was going, I typed it all into notepad and well here it is, unedited as I think I’m next on the list to be called in and then I’ll have to go back to work and maybe after all that I’ll lose my nerve again.

We’ve not got to the answer yet, but here is some more Virgil pondering / reminiscing along the way…

Ch 2 - Muscle Memory

Virgil was 8-and-three-quarters when he had his first proper piano lesson. It was much too late.

The teacher had lamented it on a weekly basis. It was a such shame, she sighed, that the raw talent Virgil displayed was unlikely ever to amount to anything now. Everyone who knew about such things said all the greats were in formal training from their early years. It was very sad, apparently.

Nearly-9 Virgil didn’t pay all this much heed, he never intended to be a ‘great’ anything. He only wanted to play as many tunes as he could and the only person he truly cared about enjoying it was his Mommy.

Virgil’s only interest in those much vaunted ‘greats’ had been in watching them carefully in online videos to learn how they managed to make the leap from this chord to that melody line or how to adjust his hand position, just… so, in order to play that nippy little counter-melody that his fingers had stumbled over. So it became that, by the age of 10, with little formal training, he was beginning to exceed his mother’s technical ability (albeit he’d allow nobody to make such a comment, not even her).

And anyway, he’d been learning to play his whole life. One of their Christmas traditions, after Virgil had played the variations on carols he’d worked on for the occasion was to play family videos on the holoprojector. Every time, he’d blush as his last festive chord began to fade away because at that moment John would fire up the first one and it was always the same.

Wobbly home footage from the ‘30s showed himself as a round-cheeked 6 month old sat on Mommy’s lap at her piano, mashing the keys with his chubby fists and kicking his little legs in delight, while toddler Scotty squealed “Virgie’s playing Pan-eeeo” in the background and his Dad chuckled fondly from behind the camera. Focussed mainly on the objectively adorable infant, the camera panned up only for 0.87 of a second to show his Mom gazing fondly at the back of his fuzzy head. Yes, he had a screenshot of that moment saved on his tablet for… well, the harder times.

He smiled as he recalled the next part of the tradition - just before they all risked getting melancholy, Gordon would leap on to his lap and impersonate baby Virgil with passionate abandon, while Scott was prevailed upon to do an impression of his squeaky toddler-self (come to think of it, that impression sounded a heck of a lot like present day Alan but best not mention that to the poor kid).

Since that famous moment he and his mom had spent time together by that piano most days, either together, with her initially guiding his hands and eventually simple duets, or each quietly sat listening to the other play.

It was his school teacher, on hearing him practise snippets of a Mozart concerto on the music room piano at lunch times who had suggested the local instrumental teacher - a jack of all trades who could play any instrument decently but clearly wasn’t inspired by her day job. That first teacher didn’t last long in the end, not when her criticisms were overhead by a certain Jefferson Tracy who took exception to anyone who told one of his boys they couldn’t be great at anything they chose to be great at. ‘Proper’ lessons ceased while his parents sought somebody who would be more interested in nurturing Virgil for himself rather than in raising ‘the next great prodigy’. Unfortunately there weren’t many options in the wilds of Kansas so things lapsed for a while and, well, events intervened and everyone lost focus on the fun stuff.

The months after Mom died were quiet. It wasn’t that his family didn’t want him to play. It was just that the sound of the piano was so heavily associated with their mother that inevitably one of his brothers would choke up and rush from the room or Dad would go still and pale. He loved his family dearly and couldn’t bear to hurt them more, even though ceasing the activity they’d bonded over made him feel he was losing her all over again - he couldn’t just… stop.

So he’d skip lunch and monopolise the school piano, stay late some days, sometimes bolt down breakfast to get to school early and squeeze in some precious minutes before slipping into the back of his classroom late when he’d got carried away. But it… it. wasn’t. enough. The satisfaction in his playing was gone. The music itself was somehow gone, replaced by a queasy kind of desperation. He just didn’t have enough time to master the difficult phrases and his hands trembled with frustration and urgency because he only had 20 mins before he had to sit through double chemistry… He was hungry and tired but she’d loved this piece and he just needed to get it RIGHT.

It was Scott who saved him. Aware of Virgil’s frequent absence from the school canteen and not being able to bear the look on his best friend’s face when he forced himself to walk past the piano stool he came up with a plan and raided the savings he’d earmarked for the air cadets trip that summer. One evening when he slunk home late and went to collapse in the room he shared with his big brother he found a small electric piano squeezed into the space at the end of his bed, with a top -end pair of headphones perched on top. Big brother followed him in and watched with a small smile. Virgil had thrown himself at the boy across the room and babbled incoherent gratitude into his chest through oh-so-snotty tears-oh-Scott-your-hoodie-sorry and they’d clung to each other for what felt like hours until Scott had suggested maybe he should actually give the thing a go.

That was the first step in his music returning to him. The second was an unrelated conversation with Gordon.

The kid would ramble on at length about something that had caught his imagination and Virgil was the best at showing an interest which meant he learned a lot more lobster facts than he ever thought he’d need. When Gordon discovered that there were people who did swimming races AS THEIR JOB, Virgil was regaled with the training regimes of famous aquatic athletes and mostly smiled and nodded until one morning at breakfast Gordon started babbling about visualisation and how one could increase fitness and build muscle memory with their imagination.

From that moment, Virgil rarely travelled anywhere without an earbud in his right ear and twitching fingers. In fairness he never got very good at maintaining the “imagination” part… on long trips home in Two when Gordon had dozed off in the co-pilot seat, he’d quietly select a Rachmaninov concerto and ‘play’ it through secretly and silently while gazing out the windscreen. His brother, never a heavy sleeper, would crack an eye and watch with a little smile as his brother would slip into “air piano” at what must have been particularly dramatic moments. The expression of joy on his big brother bear’s face was an immediate antidote to the temptation to tease and Gordon kept it to himself, feeling privileged to have seen his brother entirely care-free.

Virgil didn’t visualise piano while he painted though. You can’t play piano (even in your mind) while holding a brush - he’d tried a few times and ended up dropping it. So when alone in his studio he picked non-piano pieces as a soundtrack to his artistic expression.

So yeah, it wasn’t air-piano behind the paint splatters either. Virgil lay on the floor and stared up at the purple starburst that had appeared at some point over the last 24 hours. He was coming to the conclusion his studio was definitely haunted.

…..

Note: this is what Gordon catches Virg ‘playing’ on long trips home in TB2… initially it’s just the bass notes where he gets a flickr of the left hand little finger but by the time the solo kicks off at 2.15 in, he’s in full air piano mode…

[hyenahunt]

Rouge & Ruby: February's Situation - 1

Writer: Umeda Chitose

Season: Winter

Characters: Nagisa, Ibara

Proofreading: royalquintet (JP) & Skyress (ENG)

Translation: Mirei

Nagisa: … Even if this doesn't count as an apology for that, I intend to go along with whatever plans or other things that you want to do.

[Read on my blog for the best viewing experience with Oi~ssu ♪]

Location: Inside Company Car

Nagisa: …~♪⁠

Ibara: You sound like you're in a good mood, Your Excellency. Did something good happen?

Nagisa: … Not really, nothing much.

… It's just that we will be having work with Eve after this. Perhaps the thought itself has my heart dancing a bit in joy.

Ibara: Is that so?

Nagisa: … Yeah. Ever since the new year, we’ve had tons of work that divides us into Adam and Eve, after all.

… That's why I think it's natural to get excited to be working as Eden.

Ibara: Oh yes, indeed.

Nagisa: … I made Hiyori-kun really lonely because I wasn’t present during the SS qualifying rounds.

… If we only continue to work as Adam and Eve, the time I get to spend with Hiyori-kun is too little. It makes me sad.

Ibara: Is that so?

Nagisa: … To be honest, I would be happier if we could work together more. But according to what I’ve seen on the schedule so far, it seems that we’re still working as Adam and Eve.

… What should I do to make us more likely to work together? If I make a personal request to you, Ibara, would the chances of us working as Eden be higher?

… So instead of giving me that automatic reply, I want to hear a response from you, using your own words and explanations.

Ibara: — Oh. You've called me out before I could even open my mouth..

Nagisa: … If I didn't do that, Ibara would likely say "I wonder..." and just gloss over the conversation.

Ibara: Ahahaha⁠☆ You are right, it does sound like something I’d say.

The thing is, even if you asked me, there isn't much to explain… Technically we still have work as Eden, and it’s not like you can’t afford to spend time with them in private, right?

Although it’s true that Adam and Eve work has increased, as you’ve stated…

Nagisa: …Then at least give me a reason. What are you planning that would make you increase the activity and exposure of these two units now?

Ibara: So, Your Excellency has already decided that I have plans?

Nagisa: … Yes. I'm sure Ibara wouldn't make us do something out of the ordinary for no reason.

Ibara: Well, it does seem quite obvious by looking at the schedule alone, so I guess it's natural that you would question it.

However, before I give my answer, I want you to understand that I have no intention to “divide” Eden, or “force Eden into a fight” in any way, like how that executive once suggested.

Nagisa: … Of course. If I sense anything like that, I would force it out of you, rather than simply ask.

Ibara: Force it out of me, you say. How brutal.

But if we have an understanding, then there won't be a problem. After all…

The reason we are increasing the exposure of both Adam and Eve while continuing to work as Eden is because we are in the middle of an ongoing project.

Nagisa: … Project…?

Ibara: We are planning for a certain event and it is currently in the preparation stages. That’s why our activities are the way they are now…

I suppose both His Highness and even Jun might have the same question as Your Excellency. That's why …

Nagisa: … There is no point in explaining it now?

Ibara: I wouldn't say there is no point. To put it bluntly, doing it twice is just inefficient!

That's why I would rather explain it all when Eden has gathered. That way I can also hear everyone's opinion on it.

Nagisa: …Hmm. If you have your own reasons and are also willing to listen to us, I’ll let you go.

Ibara: Oh. Are you certain?

Nagisa: … It was you who said you'd explain it in our meeting. I'm simply choosing to believe you.

…Besides, because of my own anger and vengefulness, I took away the things that you really looked forward to in SS.

… Lately, you say things like "Love and Laugh~♪ ". But in the end, you didn't get to play your beloved war games.

… Even if this doesn't count as an apology for that, I intend to go along with whatever plans or other things that you want to do.

Ibara: …

— I get that you seem to have learned what “overthinking” is, Your Excellency.

But, perhaps I should say it hardly matters if you suddenly become self-aware of the trouble you’ve caused? Because for me, this isn’t the first time that I’ve been a victim of your whims.

Nagisa: … Did I cause that much trouble…?

Ibara: Argh, this deja vu feeling! This only makes things more difficult for me! Enough of such questions!

Knowing that Your Excellency is willing to go along with my plan is enough.

Nagisa: … Really?

… Then, I'll be good and wait for Ibara's explanation.

Ibara: (It looks like he really is waiting for my explanation as he said. His Excellency… opened the book in his hand again. I suppose that really is the end of our conversation.)

(Although, even with the problems that occurred in SS, I’m already very fortunate that His Excellency has chosen to take the stance of accepting my proposals.)

(… What's left is Eve. I assume Jun wouldn't have a problem with it. The main problem is conveying this plan to His Highness.)

(Well, if anything goes wrong, I’ll figure it out anyway.)

(I'll try to convey with the most convincing words I can muster that this is a project that was created for Eden, to show off Eden's greatness.)

[ ☆ ]

✦✦✦✦✦

← prev ✦ all ✦ next →

[pyropsychiccollector]

Natsu Harem: Fairy GET! 8/14

We're dipping into the delightful second half here~.... (人◕ω◕) You can probably prepare for more references to other girls in the harem by now... You know most of them. (人◕ω◕)

Today's member is... Seilah-chan. Goddess of the Chill Moon. Or Sayla. However you prefer to write it out. ... I'll probably slip into using Sayla, just as a head's up. :3

When did they meet?

This question is... surprisingly tricky. (人◕ω◕) I haven't really talked about this aspect of Natsu's character up until now, but we were bound to get around to it eventually. "Spoiler" alert, but Natsu isn't exactly human... He's technically Etherious. Zeref's greatest creation, his beloved brother reborn... Although to be frank, his origins weren't all that great... As wrapped up in mystery as they are.

Since the series allows me some wiggle room... Let's run with this: For the first while after Natsu was brought back to life, he lived up until young adulthood, mastering his demonic powers. Zeref, of course, was fixated on dying, and Natsu being the bullheaded guy he is... Well, the demonic genes messed with his head. He went berserk like Zeref's other demons, but it was more controlled in Natsu... In END. All he could think about was destruction, especially destroying Zeref, as was ingrained into his very being.

END would go on to round up some of Zeref's most powerful demons. He figured that since he wasn't cutting it on his own in destroying Zeref, some allies would be much appreciated... But END was no fool. Demons don't appreciate being "subjugated", even if it's for the cause that they were all designed for. If they weren't pliable to forming alliances with one another, END asserted his dominance as the greatest among them. He brought Jackal to heel. Tempester. Kyouka. Ezel. Franmalth. Torafuzar. He convinced Keyes to join up... Proved his strength to the proud Mard Geer...

And of course, END won over the femme fatale, Sayla. (人◕ω◕) She had watched him dominate so many demons... Bringing them to form one unit... And Sayla, ah... Pardon the pun, but she was rather horny for END-sama. (人◕ω◕);;;

... Oh yes, they made love. Many, many times. END might have had a one-track mind with destruction, but Sayla certainly brought out a lust in him... Oh yes. (人◕ω◕);;;

Alas, before END could get to the meat of why he established Tartaros, Zeref put his foot down. He saw the mindless destruction and suffering END and Tartaros was creating, and Zeref thought it was counterintuitive to his brother's goal... Not to mention, there was a part of the Black Wizard that was pained at seeing his brother so... evil. So twisted.

Hence, Zeref sealed away Natsu's memories and his demonic powers. Giving him a fresh start yet again, leaving the book that contained Natsu's memories and demonic powers in Mard Geer's care. Natsu still wouldn't listen to him, as a young child... After speaking at length with Igneel, Zeref left Natsu in the dragon's care, hoping that Dragon Slayer magic would bring about a more stable and focused "human being." It made Zeref feel better, watching his brother interact with the other Dragon Slayer children...

Of course, Zeref did nothing about Tartaros. Just let them be as a remnant of END's past... They were given no answers to END's disappearance, and none of them besides Mard Geer discerned why they existed in the first place. Perhaps because he became the keeper of END's book. For her part, Sayla was... devastated with the loss of her END-sama...

But time marched on. Flash forward a few hundred years, and Tartaros formed alliances with Oracion Seis and Grimoire Heart. They were still pretty aimless, save for searching for their Master, END. Eventually they would come into conflict with Fairy Tail... And they would be fatefully reunited with END-sama.

... And they didn't even know it until the war was over.

When did they get closer?

For this question, we'll skim past the Tartaros arc in general. (人◕ω◕) I wouldn't really change much. Tartaros still screwed themselves over, making enemies of Fairy Tail. Especially with the additional members in their midst that have been amassing over time... (人◕ω◕) I suppose you know about Kagura, Simon, and his friends... But more on this later.

The point is, Tartaros really screwed up. ... However... (人◕ω◕) Through a twist of fate, Mard Geer attempts opening END's book once he's defeated, and it gives Natsu some of his memories back. Just enough to know that Tartaros was his guild... And he's not letting Zeref kill Mard Geer or any of them. They're his. And nobody touches what belongs to END. (人◕ω◕) That said, Zeref re-seals Natsu's memories, but agrees to spare Mard Geer and any of the remaining Demon Gates. The Black Wizard just wants to get to that war between him, humanity, and Acnologia.

Mard Geer, Torafuzar, Jackal, Franmalth, and Sayla all survive that war with Fairy Tail. ... And it's not like they can just join up with the fairies, not after everything that happened. But because of what Mard Geer knows, they also agree to still help Natsu destroy Zeref... It's what they were built for. (人◕ω◕) And Sayla in particular, well... She might be stalk- *coughs* tagging along with Natsu during his training trip with the Strauss Siblings while the guild is disbanded. ... Without Natsu knowing, of course. ... It is not stalking. Sayla will eviscerate you if you insult her pride like that. (人◕ω◕);;; She was left in a better state after Erza beatdown Kyouka, so Mira never got to absorb Sayla. ... And, uh. Sayla might or might not be testy about Mira being around END-sama so much... (人◕ω◕);;;;;;;;;;

Regardless! \(人◕ω◕)/ Sayla reintroduces herself to END-sama while the Strauss Siblings aren't around. Sure, he doesn't remember her, doesn't even have the same powers, but that's all immaterial to Sayla. She can tell he's END-sama after being in his presence for prolonged periods, and that means everything to her. Sayla even grows fond of Natsu's... kinder personality. He's destructive still, always itching to fight, but he has so much heart. She can see flashes of END-sama in him... And she's glad that he's become this person. "This" Natsu shows her how to live, and not just to pursue a goal to death. He's not as fond of reading as END-sama... But sometimes, Sayla is lucky enough to rest his head in her lap and read to him. And Natsu rolls with that. (人◕ω◕)

... It does get interesting, though, when the Strauss Siblings inevitably discover her stalk- *coughs* tagging along with them. (人◕ω◕);;; Elfman still isn't happy about being used to make the guild blow up, and Lisanna and Mira don't much like Sayla being so... intimate with Natsu. But Natsu vouches for how she's changed, and she does let Elfman vent on her for a bit... Her actions in Tartaros might not be forgiven, but she's trying to be a better person... despite being a demon.

Mira, though... she's definitely the hardest to win over. (人◕ω◕);;; She repeatedly tries fighting Sayla to exhaustion so that she can absorb the "damned succubus", but Sayla ain't havin' any of that. (人◕ω◕);;;;;;;; Yeah. Mira and Sayla-chan are very fiery rivals. Ahaha. (人◕ω◕);;;

When did friendship turn to something more?

Unsurprisingly, Sayla-chan's feelings have been strong for two of Natsu's "lifetimes". She was devout to END-sama, and though this new Natsu took some getting used to... Put simply, Sayla-chan loves this Natsu even more. Yes, and that is love, not just plain lust. (人◕ω◕) In Alvarez arc, Natsu fights for Sayla's continued life as well... And with August's help, they rewrite her book along with Natsu's. That way, when Zeref is defeated... the only parts of them that "die" are the demonic parts. ... So in a way, Sayla and Natsu are reborn as humans. None of the other demons expressed a desire to keep on living... But Sayla helped spare them anyway, again enlisting August's expertise in rewriting their books. So Mard Geer, Jackal, Franmalth, and Torafuzar all have fresh beginnings. ... As humans. (人◕ω◕) Sayla learned this sense of mercy, compassion, and loyalty from her Natsu, and she wants to enjoy all this new human life has to offer... right by his side.

Natsu still doesn't get his old memories back. But... Sayla still becomes important to him. She really changed for the better, and he does still find her to be very beautiful, even without horns. ... To the annoyance of some people. (人◕ω◕);;;;;;;;;

Sayla-chan did butt heads with Yukino and Sorano in the beginning cuz of their contracts with Celestial Spirits... But once reborn as a human, Sayla-chan became besties with Sorano-chan. ... (人◕ω◕) More on that friendship later. But, uh. Know that they like spoiling Natsu. ... Very, very much. (人◕ω◕)(人◕ω◕)(人◕ω◕) Mira-chan's pissed off she can't absorb Sayla anymore... But if you think this will stop her from trying to blow the former demon away, you're very sorely mistaken. Mira-chan grumbles a lot whenever Sayla's around or when she's a topic of discussion. ... Mostly cuz of Sayla continuously asserting herself as Natsu's true first, and all that fanatical devotion to Natsu........

Yes, Mira-chan has many... many... many... words. (人◕ω◕)

[inkybloom-luv]

Words Unsaid 9, before it starts

♪~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~♪

Hi hi everyone! Today I'm incorporating my fav event! I hope you guys like this as much as I enjoy writing it!! Leave a comment or reblog to tell me what you think! I'd love to hear everyone's thoughts so far!

!!!Spoilers for the Al'ab Nayira event!!!

Part 1 Masterpost Part 8 Part 10

2.4+ k words

♪~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~♪

When Kalim had returned and was wandering through the park to find both Jamil and Inky sitting with one of his tigresses he beamed. They were getting along so well! Inky seemed to be laughing about something and Jamil had a little grin on his face, how lovely!

"Jamil! Inky! Guess what! Al'ab Nayira! The Yasamina River Fireworks Fest! We're hosting this year! And my family says I'll be in charge of making rounds and greeting guests this year!" Kalim said, excitement clearly evident in the tone and slightly higher volume. It startled Inky a little. She blinked, trying to make heads and tails of what Kalim, who came over as well to pet the tigress and love on the old girl a little, had just said before turning to Jamil.

"What festival is that? Is it famous here?"

"Yes, it's a big firework festival and a rather popular tourist attraction, it's held annually and every year the wealthy families of Silk city rotate and someone else hosts, it seems it's the Asims' turn this year."

"Fireworks? Really? Are they pretty? I want to see them one day!" There they were again, the little stars in her eyes that Jamil thought were pretty. He wished in that moment to spend the festival with her, even if he was still in denial about his feelings.

"Very! Oh I know! Inky! Why don't you join us? My family said I can invite guests, so what about you and Grim? I'm sure he'd like it here too, considering there'd be a lot of tasty food and stuff!" Kalim suggested, not a bad idea, but Jamil would have to deal with Grim, though he'd noticeably become milder recently.

Unfortunately for Jamil, Kalim had managed to invite four more people to the festival, technically two, those being Cater and Lilia, but they had received a plus one each. On the day of, Jamil had learned that Cater had invited Trey and that the Malleus Draconia would also be attending, not to mention that apparently Lilia had come down with something after his last meal the night before. He swore under his breath he'd grow grey early, if Kalim hadn't already managed to make it happen and he'd somehow deluded himself into not noticing.

It wasn't that terrible at least, but Grim fell into a Canal among arriving and a small history lesson about the building of Silk City and its economy by Kalim and Jamil ensued. Cater was already snapping pictures as well. Everyone else seemed stunned as well as the conversation drifted to the fact you could see the Asim family's house from where they were.

"Woah! That place is.. totes huge! That's your house Kalim?" Cater asked, more than stunned, which the Asim heir confirmed and Jamil added that it was a landmark of the city and that any taxi driver would know where to go when you told them that the Asim estate was your destination.

"It's kind of unbelievable.. hey prefect, you don't seem all that phased by this, why's that?" Trey said in a low voice, then questioning that Inky, who had been quietly listening, someone not of this world, was so unsurprised.

"Oh that's because I was here last week for an afternoon, Kalim was nice enough to get me some nicer clothes since mine were thrifted and after frequent use.. kinda busted" She answered honestly. "We weren't inside though, I was outside with Jamil when Kalim was talking to his parents"

And that was even more surprising but not dwelt on for long as the cars came to pick them up. Well, it wasn't cars, it was a car, a 15 meter long custom made limousine with massage chairs and fridges apparently.

"Jamil, can I sit next to you during the ride..?" The prefect semi-whispered to the Silk City boy.

"Hm? Oh yes.. sure, if you would really like to, I don't mind.", was his reply, though he sounded more enthusiastic than his quiet wording may suggest. So for their ride they did sit next to each other. Inky, in her comfortably listening to music fashion, slightly leaned on Jamil when the car went around a roundabout and didn't realise she was still leaning his way. And Jamil didn't care to move her since the slight weight didn't bother and she seemed comfortable, kind of like a sliver of that morning last week.

When they arrived at a park, the one with the tigress from, again, the other week, the others were even more impressed. At first it was by the beauty and then it was because it belonged to the Asims. They walked a while until they reached the Asim residence itself. Again, Cater and Trey, as well as Grim and somehow Malleus as well were sort of astonished. Though they did compare the roofs to turnips, onions and pumpkins, and Inky guessed it made enough sense. It was then suggested they go inside and Kalim dropped the bomb on them that he'd had traditional Scalding Sands clothing prepared for everyone in advance. That was a welcome surprise and now everyone was very excited, even Inky was. It showed in the pitch of her voice, as she did speak a little more. She may be on the quiet side but she had a lot of thoughts that she voiced when comfortable and appropriate.

Upon actually going in to change they were greeted by a huge ballroom and Cater immediately took Trey for a spin, though Trey was more just getting flung around slightly they both had fun. Malleus had a grand time watching but left to change first out of them all. Kalim was just outside keeping Grim company as Grim and him had no outfit to change into, as grim was too small and Kalim was to wear his dorm uniform. Back in the little ballroom Inky was watching Trey and Cater and she wanted to twirl around too, though she wasn't all that good at dancing as she'd never done it before. She didn't want to mess up in front of people she liked and thought were cool so she stood and watched with a very obvious expression on her face. After Trey and Cater left to change it was Jamil that cleared his throat next to her, which made her look over. He was holding out his hand for her to take.

She hesitated, "What if I step on your toes or fall?" But Jamil only shook his head at that.

"I don't mind. You.. do want to dance a little.. yes?" He attempted to reconfirm, wondering if he'd read her wrong and his offer was ridiculous, but his thoughts were interrupted when she did take his hand. He pulled her close, beginning to guide her slightly with light squeezes from his hands and vocal cues like which way to step. She was clumsy, but it was nice, and they were so close. She really enjoyed it all. So Inky smiled, right up at him when she had slightly gotten the hang of it enough to not have to look at her feet, only to find he was already looking at her with a small smile, a fond look. And that only made her smile more as they stilled and drew a little closer, blush spreading on Inky's cheeks. She couldn't hide it from Jamil. She didn't need to. Jamil drew closer, they were so very close until the steps of servants approaching echoed and Jamil withdrew, taking a step back but not letting go of her hand yet.

"We should.. we should change" he said in a quiet voice. He didn't want to, not yet when they had been so close. They were so close he could've- no, no he shouldn't think about that right now! He had to change!

"Y-yeah.. we should.." Inky responded, in a sort of disappointed tone. Was she hoping Jamil actually would..? No, can't be, not him. Sure she may still care for him and wasn't scared of him, but love him? After his Overblot? Absolutely not. No way. So begrudgingly they both separated to change into their respective new clothing.

The first to go back outside were Trey and Cater, followed by Malleus who all had only positive things to say about the outfits and their intricate patterning.

Next was Jamil, who had said he felt like he was truly feeling like he was home now that he could wear traditional clothing and he looked incredibly handsome. And then finally Inky emerged in her new attire, silently opening the door and slipping out, clearing her throat gently. "I'm done changing..!"

Inky came out in a more feminine version of what the others wore, silk and fabrics colored in deep blues and purples adorning her body, tied and wrapped to resemble a dress. The silken belt adorned with charms, tassels and bells drew attention to the natural waist, which was a nice detail as her usual clothing hid her more curvy figure. Another fabric was tied around her hips, small coins dangling from it, an intricate firework pattern weaved into the silk made it all the more beautiful. She wore the same type of petal-sleeve vests the guys wore, only smaller and slightly looser. If only to show off the silken tube-top she'd been given to wear underneath, also a deep blue. Under her skirt she was given a similar type of legging to the guys as well, only hers ended slightly higher, around mid-calf. Her shoes were slightly different, they had an actual t-strap to keep them in place and a small, comfortable heel. Anklets adorned her ankles much like the jewels adorning her golden wrist guards and hands. Her hair had been braided and put up nicely in a half up, half down do with the silk head wrap braided into it partly. Her makeup was done too, her eyelids shimmered and her lips were glossed, she looked stunning.

Jamil's eyes widened, this time he stared at her. He couldn't believe that she looked this gorgeous right now. Not that he didn't think she was pretty before but this, this was a whole new level. He was convinced the beautiful princess from the old tale of the Sorcerer of the sands had walked out of the estate. His heart beat out of his chest as the slightest hints of red rose to his cheeks as he absolutely struggled to keep his composure. He swallowed thickly, picking his jaw up off the floor when he noticed she was looking at him with a slightly flushed expression. To the untrained eye she was looking at the whole group but no, she was sort of.. staring at Jamil as well.

"Woah! Prefect! You look, like, totally gorge in that! It looks like it was made for you!" Cater commented, totally wowed by how much she looked like she belonged in those clothes.

"I was under the impression that they *were* made for us.. was I mistaken?" Malleus asked, to which Trey shook his head.

"What Cater means is that there was a lot of care and attention to detail on what would suit her was put into putting that outfit together. It's a compliment to the one who picked it and the one wearing it" He explained, to which Malleus nodded. And Kalim agreed, fangirling over how she looked right at home in those clothes.

"Right Jamil?" Kalim said at the end of his little rant, turning to Jamil who had not said a word. In truth the words were hardly registering in his head but he nodded, still taking in the sight in front of him.

Thanks to the others he was able to actually regain his composure and explain a few things like the history behind the bells on the clothing and how he'd feel more comfortable if he'd had to wear less bits and bobs but he was Kalim's staff and thus had to dress up a bit more.

Eventually they decided to take a photograph together, to give it to Lilia afterwards. Inky moved in with the others, taking her spot next to Jamil. Surprisingly their two outfits went rather well together, it looked like it was almost intended. They all looked wonderful together though.

After that came idle chatter and more surprised classmates as the Asim family had apparently over 10 treasuries, which was quite impressive. Turns out that was where Kalim had gotten his magic carpet, something that was about as valuable as a national treasure. A little later they separated from Kalim, going on their way so Jamil could play tour guide for the day.

The first thing they did was visit the venue for the festival, where Jamil told the legend of the festival. Apparently the princess had fallen in love with a, well, street rat, and that a genie had flooded the skies with lights that flickered and sparkled and burst into colours. The onlookers were so very impressed that they commemorated the day in a festival. In that moment Inky thought. She thought if the fireworks celebrated love between two people, would she have a shot at attending this festival as Jamil's lover one day? Such would be a wonderful dream, to kiss beneath the colourful night sky. She got so caught up in imagining that, she didn't realise Jamil was continuing to speak, or even that they were setting out to leave. It was only when Grim had run back quickly after the group had advanced in their walk slightly she was made aware that they were leaving.

"What was that about prefect?" Cater asked when they were together again. While the prefect did answer, Inky looked sort of flustered about it.

"I have ADD-Daydreaming-Syndrome, sometimes I just fade out and daydream, it can be triggered by a train of thought or just happen randomly. The issue is I can't snap myself out of it and I only know it happened after the fact. Sorry.. it's weird I know." She explained, slightly looking at the floor with pink cheeks.

"No no! It's totally cool! Just didn't know you had it, prefect! Thought something was wrong there for a second..!" Cater said. It was then that they arrived at Camel bazaar, a market full of food stalls and beautiful objects and clothing, it was colourful and it all looked very amazing. Apparently it was busier than usual, so there'd be a high chance to find many nice yet unusual things that day.

♪~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~♪

@krenenbaker

@az-flaming-sword

@azulashengrottospiano

@dove-da-birb

@cy-inky

@leonistic

[bigskydreaming]

Re: that post about Dick and Jason’s similarities in character trajectory and how this reflects in their dynamics with Bruce pre-ADITF, part of why I think its significant that their arcs read more like parabolas to me is because yes, they both started out bitter, angry and untrusting but that was like....in general. At the whole world. After living with Bruce they were able to work through and past that in a lot of ways.....until they both started ‘regressing’ in the sense that they were regularly angry, abrasive with him, constantly questioning or second-guessing his orders.

But the key part of this was THIS WAS NEVER REGRESSION. This wasn’t them reverting to the way they were when Bruce first came into their lives.

BECAUSE THEY WERE ONLY ANGRY WITH BRUCE.

Like, Dick and Jason weren’t running around being aggro-rage maniacs picking fights with everyone they could see. They weren’t regularly having the same fights with him with Alfred as well, Jason wasn’t getting in fights with the pricks at school, no adult heroes Dick interacted with where like yikes, Bruce, what’s up with Kid Numero Uno.*

There was a specific, directed focus to their anger at the tail end of their tenure of Robins, and like, Bruce, honey, that focus was you. YOU were the root common denominator here, you and your approach with them, the way you responded to their attempts to question you or chafed at your directives.

At a certain point, when you’re the world’s greatest detective, you kinda have to apply some of that critical thinking & deductive reasoning here and wonder if maybe just maybe it could be your approach that’s the problem, if you’re the fly in the ointment here. And NOT doing that, at least not on the surface level while your usual self-doubts and insecurities which you try so hard from even your closest loved ones and confidantes run round and round in your head like they’re on a hamster wheel.....ironically leads to YOU being repressed and doubling down on your conviction that you weren’t the problem, at least not the main one, you TRIED, the issue was just.....

Dick should have never been Robin. Jason should have followed orders. They both should have been less reckless. Etc, etc.

When really all along, the chorus resounding in Bruce’s head while his lips shaped accusations at Dick and Jason’s memory, was.....

‘You should have listened to them when it actually could have made a difference, but there’s no point now, we’re past that and there’s only pain left here now.’

*The exception here is Dick, actually, and depends largely on where specifically you focus on canon here because as much as I don’t think I personally ever see it brought into fics from this particular angle - as in, not even brought up for angst but more to examine how this specifically could have eroded his relationship with Bruce - from certain angles, the Church of Blood’s conditioning really could be a factor in the dissolution of his relationship with Bruce between the end of his Robin years and early Nightwing years. 

Thanks to the way the Crisis on Infinite Earth retcons ended up compressing a lot of stuff, technically the brainwashing....which HAS been specifically cited as leading to Dick lashing out around him a lot and being angry and abrasive with his teammates on the Titans while he was under it as well....like, it was stated that the brainwashing happened the first time the Church got their hands on him and the other Titans way back when Terra was still on the team, before The Judas Compact. Aka when Dick was still Robin. 

Now the compression thing matters here because originally, Dick and Bruce were fine when he became Nightwing, it was completely unrelated to them having any issues at all. But by the time NTT brought back the Church of Blood as a major threat and retconned the brainwashing -

- (retconned in the sense that it likely wasnt planned out from that first story about them, since the anger issues they talked about Dick having only started appearing regularly in the six issues or so leading up to the reveal of the brainwashing....so the brainwashing itself wasn’t a retcon, it was a story point with buildup, but it did INVOLVE retconning in the sense that it pointed back to that earlier point in the timeline and used it as an anchor/reference point which retroactively fit everything that happened in between those two points as happening under the umbrella of his brainwashing arc) - 

- anyway, by the time the Church of Blood came back and the brainwashing angle was introduced, Dick and Bruce DID have a much more contentious relationship, as well as different angles to how their partnership dissolved and what their relationship had been like since then, as evidenced in the Batman issue where Dick goes to confront Bruce about making Jason Robin.

Thus, in the same vein that the Church of Blood story adds another layer you can work with if you want, in terms of Dick’s dynamics and interactions with his friends and teammates in the time covered by the brainwashing arc.....it CAN do the same thing with Bruce, its just something I haven’t seen explored often.

But because that covered time period does in fact involve Dick’s departure from Robin and early period as Nightwing, the same story point which claimed that his mind control led to his lashing out at his teammates could also be clamed as a factor in eroding his relationship with Bruce, leading to them fighting more and more until the incident with the Joker happens.

Course, it goes without saying that I’m not at all suggesting that all that be PINNED on the brainwashing arc as like, my biggest contention there has always been the scrutiny placed on JUST Dick and his actions (both by in-universe critics and readers) when so many of the referenced fights were ones we saw happen on the page, with other characters who bring their own issues into the mix, like Bruce and his problems taking criticism, or backing down, or trying to see things from the other person’s POV....like, very much had both parties equally engaged in the fight, Dick AND whomever a specific conflict was with.

That’s why to this day it drives me crazy the way the comics just had the characters ‘forgive Dick’ for his brainwashing and everything he did under the influence of it, because it would be one thing if they were just like okay we GET that there were other factors here and its not like you wanted to do it or it was all your fault, but that doesn’t mean we weren’t still affected and that we don’t have to contend with the fact that for all we knew, it was YOU that was hurting us with those words, etc.....

The problem is, THEY DID IT TOO. But the apologies were entirely one-sided, even though the fights that were referenced were decidedly NOT. And you can’t just sweep it all under the rug and move past it like, phew, glad we finally have an explanation for that, if you were just as guilty of saying and doing shit that had those fights be between equals and not like, Dick going around victimizing his teammates for several years. (Not saying that Dick didn’t start these fights, necessarily, just that once started, if others are the first to throw a punch or hurl a line they DESIGNED to get past his defenses, etc, like, this is not the same thing as in stories like where we see Tynion and Seeley writing Dick’s brothers punching him and he just takes it without complaint. And yet...)

Dick’s famously chafed dynamics with Bruce and most of his teammates during that time period can not be blamed on him and him alone, is all I’ve ever been saying there. Its not like there were concerted efforts to try figuring out what was wrong with him, what led to him lashing out....most of his closest friends just defaulted to a tough love approach, like ‘whatever’s going on with you, snap out of it’ and like, no, that was never the only option available. If Bruce thought his eldest was genuinely being a butthead, he could have put aside his own hurt feelings that his chum wasn’t being his precious, twelve year old self anymore and asked the question WHY.....even to the extent of inquiring around, has anyone else felt that Dick’s acting unusually lately?

Now obviously, due to the retcon element of this story, there was no way to change how Bruce and the Titans had been written engaging in fights with Dick, even if the motivations for those fights, on Dick’s side, were now altered by the brainwashing storyline. Its impossible to write Bruce and the Titans inquiring into Dick’s behavior with the possibility of them uncovering an underlying cause that flat out didn’t exist yet in the writers’ minds, at the time of the earliest stories there.

The problem lies with the aftermath. The way I’ve heard it so often said that the other characters were thrown under the bus by the brainwashing storyline because now they looked bad for fights that Dick was entirely a victim of.

Problem is THIS IS NOT WHAT THE ACTUAL AFTERMATH WAS, EITHER IN-UNIVERSE OR OUT.

Because like I said earlier.....the aftermath entirely revolved just around Dick saying I’m sorry for all that and everyone else just being like okay we forgive you, moving on.

You can’t claim characters were thrown under the bus when literally no scrutiny, acknowledgment or accountability is ever paid to their side of those earlier conflicts. Dick may have ‘reaped all the benefits’ of that storyline but he also reaped all the fall-out, which kinda canceled most of that out. If, as I said earlier, you acknowledge that Dick’s loved ones still have to contend with the hurt he inflicted, even if it hadn’t been his fault.....then the flip side of that is Dick himself still has to contend with everything they said and did in response, entirely of their own free will, and with no apology ever made for any of it.

I’m still desperately waiting for the day SOMEBODY writes a ‘Donna says regardless of what you said to me and why, there is zero excuse for me getting physical with you the way I did in our fight after Tamaran, you do not deserve to be remembered as the bad guy for that fight just cuz I was crying when I threw you through the wall of your own freaking apartment that you’d already asked me to leave’ story

BUT I DIGRESS.

Anyway, I’ve gotten off topic like, multiple times here as I’m wont to do, but to go back to the original point of the asterisk, I’m just saying, technically speaking, if you take non-Batman stories into consideration when writing or headcanoning about the end of Dick and Bruce’s Batman and Robin years, its not TECHNICALLY true that Dick’s anger was focused solely on Bruce. BUT in my mind, that only works if you then delve into the reason Dick was lashing out at everyone else, ie the brainwashing, and thus explore that and the Church’s INTENT to erode his bonds with those close to him, as partly a catalyst for the end of Dick and Bruce’s partnership.....because if you focus on just the Batman stories, then there are no other examples of Dick being angry other than just...at Bruce. Ie that thing where its like he wasn’t being a bitch to Alfred, he wasn’t getting more violent with criminals, etc, etc.

So. Digressions aside. Food for thought I think. I guess? Idk. Do with it what ye will.

[amtrak12]

❤️🧡🤍🩷💜A WLW ASK MEME❤️🧡🤍🩷💜 List the top 10 ladies you’ve been obsessed with Ever Of All Time! Then send this on to 5 sapphic mutuals 👩‍❤️‍💋‍👩

Yes, fun! :D Thank you!!

Okay, I went fictional characters with this because I just don't really get obsessed with RL people outside of like a 5 year period between 2005-2010 where I followed select actors around to other shows. Also, there's only three ladies who I can confirm fit both 'obsessed' and 'ever of all time', so I've trudged through my entire childhood for every fictional lady who's helped shape my personality to round out the list.

In Chronological Order (to me not by air date):

Margaret Houlihan (M*A*S*H) -- Oh MASH reruns on the Hallmark channel, my beloved 💚 Now, I'm primarily talking about the juicy middle seasons after Potter took over command and Loretta Swit was able to wrestle some better storylines for Margaret, but there's some gems in the early years too. I've been drawn back to MASH three times as an adult and each time I get sucked deeper and deeper into both the real life history of the Korean War and the fictional character of Margaret. Do I have a thousand and one headcanons for how she handles life after the war? Yes. Am I obsessed with whatever platonic/sexual relationship she's got going on with Hawkeye? Yes. Have I plotted out what her D&D character might look like? YEP! She's a paladin :P I also believe if you examined her character through a queer lens, you'd find a trans man rather than a queer woman, but your mileage may vary.

AndrAIa (ReBoot) -- Yeah, yeah, yeah it's a cartoon, but bb 11 year old me was absolutely OBSESSED with this show, and AndrAIa was a big part of that. Look at her little capital AI in her name! 😭 25 years before corporate greed ruined the acronym, that AI was adorable!! And very clever given that she was an NPC game sprite who decided to leave her game and live as a real sprite. Her whole existence and vibe was very formative for me. I love her.

Harley Davidson Cooper (Guiding Light) -- Yes, her full name is absolutely necessary, even if no one ever used it. So, I was SUUUCH a CBS soap girlie back around 2000-2002, and I've been very nostalgic for it in the last few years. As the World Turns was my primary soap, so I figured one of my regular blorbos like Rose or Katie or Romana would be the one I miss most. But then Harley's actress Beth Ehlers popped up during my Law & Order SVU watch and I LOST MY MIND!!!!! Her face and voice instantly filled my soul with joy! So Harley gets the trophy. Even if she didn't have any stand out storylines during that era (apart from her and Gus being Very Hot), she was always my favorite character from GL.

Piper Halliwell (Charmed, original flavor) -- Technically, I had Turtle Wexler from the book The Westing Game on this list instead because I didn't remember Piper until after I'd drafted all ten slots :S But listen! That's because health problems have made my memory shitty! It is not because Piper doesn't stand up to the test of time! Ugh, I remember the show never treated Piper like she was the fan favorite and I hadn't discovered online TV forums yet so I felt so alone in my love for her :( But being on lesbian millennial Tumblr makes 14 year old me feel SO validated, because Piper is the only Halliwell sister anyone ever talks about on my dash. 💜 Congrats everyone. We were right all along.

Lorelai Gilmore (Gilmore Girls) -- Yeeeaaah.. we've hit the Big Three that I alluded to earlier. I was very, very gay for Lorelai (and Lauren Graham) in the latter half of my high school years, and I did not realize that until way later. She taught me how to be quicker with the comebacks and, more importantly, to marry someone who could cook instead of learning how to feed yourself. And I really took that to heart. My spouse is a fantastic cook! :) (Don't get scared for me guys! I do actually know how to cook three (3) entire meals now that I'm in my 30s :P lol)

Rose Tyler/Billie Piper (Doctor Who) -- I will list the actress here, because my love for Rose Tyler is probably split 50/50 between the character herself, and Billie Piper's charisma and hotness. She's gorgeous!!! 😍 That seemingly common question in the mid-2000s of 'Who would you kiss if you were gay?' always left me stumped until New Who aired in the states. Then, I was finally able to answer 'Billie Piper' and actually mean it. Because that's what you were supposed to do with that question, right? Take it seriously and not treat it like hyperbole? #totallystraightbehavior #swearsies Alas, it would take me two more girl crushes and interacting with genuine queer women in a femslash fandom before I recognized my feelings for what they were. But Rose was still a very significant step forward!

Myka Bering (Warehouse 13) -- MY GIRL!!! My Lady of all Ladies. I would die for her. I would kill for her. I would kneel and raise my sword and swear fealty to her. MYKA FUCKING BERING, EVERYONE! 👏👏👏👏 Watching her fall in love with Helena made me realize all my girl crushes were real crushes and that I was bi. Bless her. Bless Joanne Kelly. And bless the incomparable Bering and Wells fandom. *kisses everyone on the mouth, sloppy style*

Erin Gilbert (Ghostbusters 2016) -- Look, I know that I can never get away with pretending that Erin isn't my favorite ghostbuster, but I do usually think about her in the context of her relationships! Like 8 times out of 10, when I'm headcanoning, I'm thinking about her and Abby's relationship. And if I'm not, there's a not-so-small chance I'm thinking about her relationship with Patty instead. (RIP to Holtzy who I virtually never think about outside of the foursome. Her fanbase just ruined it for me :S) But um... yeah, Erin's my favorite. I even have Pokemon parties picked out for them all. And their daemons.

Eve (Lucifer) -- Okay so I know it hasn't even been a full high school (aka 4 years) since I met Eve, so I can't really say she's someone I'll stay obsessed with forever and ever and ever. You probably don't even believe I'm obsessed with her at all given the bulk of my Lucifer talk is about Lucifer/Chloe -- but that's just cause that's where the storyline is! Trust me, Eve is my favorite character, even if she was in the least amount of episodes (RIP me). When she pops up in the background of a Deckerstar fanvid, I'm instantly distracted and have to marathon every Maze/Eve vid in my collection. I decided to use a fandom name in the first time, like, ever, when creating my Lucifer-specific Twitter account and I made it Eve themed. She's my favorite, bestest girl who can do no wrong and -- YES! -- that does include accidentally-definitely-on-purpose starting a demon mutiny that led to newborn Charlie's kidnapping. She had never been dumped before okay? First woman to ever exist and she'd never been dumped. Did you handle your first break-up well? No! I didn't think so :P

Alex Cabot (Law & Order: SVU) -- I've only know Cabot for four months, but if anything happens to her, I'll kill everyone in this room and then myself -- OH WAIT! She already left me. 😭 I am in S17 now, which is like ten seasons past when she went into witness protection and barely ever came back, yet there's not an episode that goes by where I don't think about her. So, I say that counts as longevity and am sticking her on the list. This woman has Issues. Plural. Period. She makes me say shit like 'I want to dig into her brain with a fork' and it's actually an accurate metaphor for what I feel. I love her your honor... now who can I sue for emotional damages?

[disneyparksattractionstournament]

Favorite Disney Parks Attraction Showdown: Round 1 - Group D1

Videos and propaganda under the cut!

Jumpin' Jellyfish: California Adventure, Tokyo Disneysea

Propaganda:

"This was my absolute favorite ride as a young undiagnosed autistic little girl. I would make a family member (usually my mom) ride it with me over and over and over and over. I don't know why they put up with it lmao, but Jumping Jellyfish will always hold a special place in my heart because of little like 5 year old me "

Maliboomer: California Adventure (2001-2010)

Propaganda:

"Listen. Yes, I know the vomit/scream shields were gross, but they were part of the charm! This was one of my favorite rides before they tore it down (supposedly for not being "family friendly" enough. Or at least that's the rumor I was told. It could be wrong, but if it's not wrong, it's a really stupid reason. Especially since they replaced it with a smoking park). If you're not familiar with it: you would be strapped into one of 16 seats all placed around a center square pillar. Then the seats would slowly rise up the pillar a few feet, until they would suddenly shoot way up to the top (150 ft tall. It was the tallest ride at the park. I think technically Tower of Terror was taller, but that was the building. Not the actual ride part). Then when at the top, they would free fall back down. This would repeat a couple of times and that was it. It was amazing. When at the very top, right before falling, you would feel like you were floating for a second. I loved it. You also got an amazing view of the city for that brief moment. The best part? It almost never had a line. My siblings and I would always just walk right on whenever we passed by it and the operators would let us ride it again as many times as we wanted. I miss it :( "