#I just wanna have fun and catch up leveling my catalog

[thingsmysplattershotjrtoldme]

Squid bagging in the lobby seems to guarantee a reasonably tough battle with people not taking turf war too seriously.

If they don't, 87% of the time they'll just keep you in spawn and shark until you walk by trying to get to mid

[poppy-metal]

POST IT POST IT PLS I NEED EREMIN

okay so.

cw: daddy eren getting put in his place, forced vouerysim, reader being a little shit and armin having balls, smut smut smut.

I've said this already but eren is crazy possessive. Its hot but its also a problem, armin only gets to fuck you when eren is there, how eren wants, and under his control. but eren can fuck you both whenever he wants, with or without the other person present. its weird because he loves you both, he really does. he just can't stop the jealous feeling in his gut, the possessiveness over you both. your pussy is his, seeing armin fuck it always drives him crazy. armins cock is his, seeing it sink between your lips makes him want to bite you.

and a dynamic like that can only work for so long because you and armin are as in love with eachother as you are with eren. you know its his insecurity, his fear that one or both of you will leave him, realize he's no good and it breaks your hearts to know he thinks that, but you also shouldn't need to ask permission, not all the time anyway, to fuck your other boyfriend.

so it all comes down to one night. you tell eren you both wanna please daddy and to let you both take care of him tonight, you're trying something new. eren is suspicious, but he lets his hands be tied up. he starts getting worried when you gag him with your panties, straddling his hips as armin sidles up behind you, reaching his hands up your shirt to cup your tits. "you've been a bad daddy" you tell him, working your hips in small circles over his hardening cock. "not letting your boyfriend and girlfriend play together. s'mean of you"

you smile a little smugly when his eyes blaze with fire, catching on, words muffled by your panties. "oh no" you giggle and crawl off him, flopping beside him as you spread your legs for armin. "see daddy, armin and i-" you break off as armin comes down over you to kiss you, moaning into his mouth when you feel his cock tease your slick entrance. you break apart with a string of spit, turning to look at eren coyly. "-belong to eachother. not just you"

erens fists clench so hard, his gaze promising murder. but his dick twitches traitorously when he flicks his eyes down, sees your folds part around armins cock as he slowly guides it inside. you both moan like whores, armin whimpering, "so tight, angel"

"mm" you moan, lifting your hips, encouraging him deeper. "your cock feels so good-" your eyes flick to meet erens "-sir"

eren is going to murder you both, he swears it. helpless to watch you both rock against eachother, make love to eachother like he's not even there....it makes his gut clench, because you're both so fucking beautiful. armin looks like a fucking ethereal being, with his soft hair mussed up from your fingers running through it, his red bitten lips curling around moans as he fills you over and over, the flush to his skin, the sweet praise he tells you. ",so good, so good, such a good little pussy baby. for me"

and you look so fucking beautiful taking his cock, pussy fluttering and spreading around his girth, sticky lips clinging to him everytime he drags out like you need him back inside. your moans, your cries, the sheen to your skin, the lift to your hips.

its torture but its so fucking hot and he's so fucking hard. he doesn't think he's ever been more turned on watching the two people he loves most in the world make eachother feel good. he starts unintentionally rutting his own hips to match armins pace into you, he wants to demand armin go faster but he can't, forced to take in the slow pace you both have set.

It feels like fucking eons with his dick aching and balls throbbing, when you finally gasp and cling to armins shoulders, "min- min- m'coming!"

"yeah, baby" and armin looks at eren for the first time since he slid inside your warm cunt. "come on daddy's cock"

oh, you fuck. eren fumes. almost creams his boxers when you cry out and cum, armins eyes fluttering shut as he whimpers and fucks his hips hard into yours, stilling as he hunches over you and pumps you full.

the afterglow is silent, you and armin taking your sweet time while eren feels like he's dying. he doesn't know if he wants to kill you both, rip your throats out or hold you and kiss you and pound you and punish you for acting on your own and reward you for being so fucking good together and making him almost jizz himself just by looking at you.

he's still conflicted when you detangle from armin, sweaty and flushed from good sex and squeeze yourself to his side. he's practically pouting when armin crawls to his other side. you take your panties out of his mouth and kiss him before he can speak.

tracing his jaw you tell him. "we don't belong to you, daddy"

armins lips trace the shell of his ear. "you belong to us"

eren gulps. because, in this moment. yeah, that fits.

____

and really he's still mad, but he can deal with that another time. he is still that needy insecure guy after all, but you take care of him and he lets you.

for the first time in a long time he bites down on your shoulder as armin sinks his cock into him from behind. groaning when he feels your pussy clench around him from where you're pinned under his weight. he's too turned on to worry about the vulnerability of it all, how he's clearly not in control when armin grinds his dick into him, moans into his shoulder "daddy, daddy, you feel so good. you're mine. mine"

"mine too" you whimper, leaning up and begging for a kiss which eren gives you, moaning into your mouth as armins pace rocks his cock into your slick walls. "my daddy"

armin reaches around him to interlock his fingers with yours, "my baby" and you squeeze his fingers. "my minmin"

"fuck" eren groans, because he refuses to catalog it as a whimper as armin hits that spot. he eats your lips, "m'yours. all yours. whatever you want just- make me cum, let daddy cum please"

you clench around him. "say your cock belongs to us"

"it does. fuck- i-its yours"

armin nips at his neck, fucking him harder, making eren rock you up the bed. "say you like watching us fuck. say we belong to eachother"

erens is so close to coming his eyes are rolling back. "you- you belong to eachother. oh my god. baby, you're gonna make daddy cum, fuck-" he drops his head into your neck as warm spurts of cum empty inside of you, making you whine happily.

he's so fucked out, he doesn't even react when armin pulls out of him. flops back onto the bed and just moans when you straddle his face, lazily lapping at your oversensitive clit, his own cum dripping onto his tongue as you and armin kiss sloppily, your hand jerking him off, your cunt grinding into his face. armin spills into your palm and you cream all over erens tongue.

the three of you pass out in minutes.

____

when you wake up, you're cuddled next to armin. you blink blearily as you sit up, armin huffing sleepily as he cuddles close.

eren is leaning against the door frame, and he walks towards you when he sees you're awake. you blink at him when he reaches down and traces your cheek. "so, you and armin had fun last night" he says calmly. his dominance is back, you can tell, and you gulp.

"s-so did you" because you won't let him forget that.

he just smirks, crouching down so he's at eye level with you. "mm" he agrees. "I guess i did"

you start to smile "so-"

but his eyes go dark, and he grips your chin meanly "you played a mean game last night, baby. and you were the mastermind, huh? can't imagine armin would have the balls to stand up to me, know matter how much he wants your pussy. but you...." he taps your chin mockingly, "you're a scheming little brat"

you swallow as he stands back up. "what- what're you gonna do..."

he brushes a strand of your hair back from your face, glancing behind you at armin still asleep. he leans forward and pecks you. "go back to sleep" he starts to walk away, stopping at the door and turning to look at you. "you're gonna need alot of rest for the shit im gonna do. gotta show my dear girlfriend and boyfriend what happens when you piss daddy off"

[getinthering]

Taang Week Day 2: Modern AU

“Thursday, never looking back,”

[ @taangweek​ Day 2: Modern AU

After only two weeks of spring semester, Aang is fed up and ready to drop his geology class.]

A/N: i wanna redo this and make it better and i really struggled with the world-building here ngl so I couldn’t really come up with good names for the buildings or profs.  what can you do¯\_(ツ)_/¯  Inspired by tumblr user @rllyjohnrlly’s modern au, specifically this post.

Read on AO3

***

Science, as Aang was learning, was absolutely not what he had thought it would be.  When he was still in high school, he excitedly declared a zoology major on all of his college applications, thinking he would turn his love for animals into a lifelong career.

All it took was his first college-level biology class to quickly bury that idea.  Between that and chemistry for non-majors, he felt resigned to the idea that all science classes were a bad idea for him, and that he’d better just pick the easiest one in the catalog to round out his general requirements.  Which is how he found himself enrolled in the Introduction to Geology class his freshman spring semester.  He’d learned the three types of rocks and the basics in high school, how hard could it be?

(the answer was very hard)

(but slightly less hard than biology)

After the second week of class, he sat on the floor of Katara’s dorm, textbook draped across his lap as she sat at her desk, diligently working on her homework.  She really excelled at the very classes that almost killed him and he admired that about her.

“Ugh!” Aang groaned, slamming his textbook shut and throwing his head back onto her bed.   “Katara, this is awful.” 

She set her pen down and shifted in her chair to face him, the look on her face one of confusion and concern.  “What’s the matter?” 

“I can’t do this!  I hate this class,” he replied, pressing his palms into his eyes.

“Aang, what are you talking about?  You can’t hate a class already, we’re only two weeks into the semester!  What could possibly be so bad about it now?” Katara asked, getting up from her chair and walking over to sit across from him.

He sighed and let his hands fall back into his lap.   He rolled his head to look at her.  “Because it’s awful!  I knew it probably wouldn’t be much fun, but I thought at least it would be pretty easy.  And it’s not!  It’s so hard and so boring and the professor is the most lame professor I have ever met.” 

(she couldn’t help but smirk at that)

“Okay, well, you’re not going to find a class that’s easy, especially in your weakest subject.  It’s just not going to happen.  Maybe it’ll get more interesting after the first few chapters.  Those are always just introductory anyway, they’re way more boring than the rest of the class.” She could see he wasn’t convinced and added, “The drop period was over Friday, anyway, so if you’re going to take a withdrawal, you might as well wait until after the first test.  Maybe it won’t be as hard as you’re expecting.” 

Aang sighed.  She was right.  He hated when she was right.  “Fine.  I’ll stick it out through the first test, but can we please take a study break now?”

***

Thursday morning, Aang walked into the lecture hall, trying his best not to drag his feet.  It took all of his determination that morning to make his way to class instead of staying holed up in his dorm, playing video games until he got hungry.  But he’d promised Katara and he knew he would get an earful if he broke his promise.  Maybe if he just pretended he was Katara for a period, he’d have more ease with the class.  Katara wouldn’t sit in the back, as was his first impulse, she would sit in the very first row.

He compromised and sat about four rows back.  Earbud in one ear, he set his notebook on the table and pulled out his phone, scrolling through the texts from his friends that he’d missed on his walk.  He didn’t notice when a dark-haired girl sat in the seat next to him until she tapped on his notebook.  Startled, he yanked out the earbud and looked at her.  “Um, hello?”

The girl looked at him 

(he couldn’t help but notice how pale her eyes were and the weird quality to her gaze that he couldn’t pinpoint)

and said, “You normally sit all the way in the back.  What are you doing up here now?  We haven’t even had a test.  Did you get in trouble or something?” 

His cheeks felt warm and he knew he was blushing.  “No, I just felt like maybe I’d learn better closer to the front.  This stuff has been kind of hard for me so far, I guess.” 

The look on her face was a little unsettling, like she was staring straight through him.  She finally shrugged, turning away from him.  “What’s so hard about geology?”

“I don’t know.   I guess science classes just don’t come very easily to me.”

“Well lucky for you, geology is, like, as easy as they get,” she said.  He didn’t feel especially reassured, but smiled a little anyway.

“So what you’re saying is you’ll help me study?”  Aang asked sheepishly.

She snorted, but replied, “Maybe I will.  What’s your major, anyway?”  

“Oh, um,” he stuttered, feeling the redness in his face deepening and rubbing his neck in embarrassment.  “I was a zoology major, but right now I’m undeclared.” He wanted to ask her the same question, wanted suddenly to know everything about this brazen, somewhat guarded girl who had sat next to him (and had noticed that it was not his normal seat), but was cut off by the professor calling the class’s attention to the lectern.

***

Seventy-five painstaking minutes of trying

(and failing) 

to pay attention to the powerpoint in front of him instead of the dark-haired girl leaned back in the seat next to him later, the class was dismissed.  The girl had stood, grabbing her bag, and Aang panicked for a moment, trying to think of something to say.  He finally settled on asking if he could walk her to her next class.

She paused, turning her head towards him.  “Well, it’s all the way over in the Humanities building.”

“That’s okay, that’s on the way to my dorm, and I don’t have another class for an hour, anyway.” He swore he saw her smile as she rolled her eyes and said, “Fine.  You can walk with me.” 

They talked the whole way there, never seeming to run out of topics.  He was disappointed at how short the walk felt, having so much more to ask her.  He’d found out she was an architecture major with a lifelong special interest in geology, lived in the freshman dorms by the Physical Sciences lecture hall, and that despite being blind, she was as in-tune with her surroundings as anyone.  It was only after they said their goodbyes that he realized he’d never learned her name.

***

Her name, as it turned out, was Toph.

Every Tuesday and Thursday over the next three weeks, they sat next to each other and Aang walked her to her next class.  He actually found motivation to study his notes for the first time, if only for the fact that the recordings she shared with him featured their conversations in the background of the lecture.  

Once, he had been running late after sleeping through his alarms, and while his first impulse had been to go back to sleep and skip his first class of the day, he bolted out of bed and rushed to get dressed, worrying that someone would take his seat next to Toph.

(or worse, she wouldn’t even notice)

He nearly ran all the way across campus.  Heart pounding, he snuck through the doorway as the professor lectured on and slipped into his usual seat next to Toph.  She lifted her head; something he couldn’t quite place flashed over her face.

(relief?)

“Finally decided to show up, huh?” she whispered.

He started to explain himself, but stopped short, deciding on a better way to embarrass himself.  “Yeah.  I got caught up trying to figure out why you’re so good at this class.” 

“Did you figure it out?” 

“It’s because you don’t take anything for granite.”  He looked over to catch the way the corner of her lips tugged upwards through the taken-aback look on her face.

“That was awful.  Don’t do that again,” she hissed at him.

“Okay, okay,” he conceded, chuckling to himself.  “You know what I would’ve been if I hadn’t shown up today?” 

“What’s that?”

“A skipping stone.” 

The irritated expression she wore intensified, fending off the smile he so desperately wanted to see.  “Seriously, you have got to stop doing that.  I don’t like puns, especially when they’re that bad.” 

“My sediments exactly.”  He almost expected her to hit him, but was delighted to hear a giggle escape.  A warm feeling spread through his chest and he knew then that he would spend every last moment he had for the rest of her life trying to make her laugh again.

***

“You guys!” Aang exclaimed, slamming the door to Sokka’s apartment closed a little harder than he had meant to.  He continued into the living room, all but throwing himself onto the couch next to Katara without so much as a “hello” to her, Sokka, or Suki.  “I had the most amazing date today.” 

Sokka looked up from where he sat, getting his hair braided, between Suki’s legs.  “You had a date?  With who?” 

“Was it that girl from your geology class?” Katara asked. 

“Yes!  Her name is Toph and I finally got her number and we’ve been talking, like, non-stop,” he blurted all at once.

“Slow down!” Katara giggled.  “Are you going to tell us about the date?” 

“Right, so I’ve sat next to her in geology since I’ve been wanting to do better in that class.  That’s been a bad idea as far as paying more attention, but spirits, it’s been the best.  I was almost late this morning because I slept through my alarms.”  Seeing the admonishing look on Katara’s face, he added, “I actually got up as soon as I realized and went to class, don’t worry, Momtara.  Anyway, I got to class just as the prof was starting the powerpoint, and when I first walked in, I was worried someone else might have taken the seat next to her that I’ve been sitting in, but no one had.  And she actually seemed like she was looking for me.  I mean, she can’t see, but still, when I finally got there and sat down, I swear it looked like she was happy to see me.” 

Not leaving room for Sokka to make a disparaging joke, Aang recounted the jokes he’d told her,

(which he definitely stayed up several nights in a row to come up with) 

how she’d acted like she’d hated them, but he’d caught her snickering a few times.  

“So you asked her out after class?” Suki asked.

Aang blushed and ran a hand through his short hair.  “Not exactly.”  He held up his hands in protest of his friends’ exclamations.  “I always walk her to her next class because it’s on the way to my dorm and I always want to keep talking to her.  Well, we get all the way to the Humanities building and she looks at me and says, ‘I don’t really feel like going to this class today.’” 

“She skipped class?” Suki asked with a mock-scandalous tone.  “Maybe you two are meant for each other.” 

“I know!” Aang said, ignoring the jab entirely.  “And, Katara, don’t give me that look.  I would have convinced her to go to class, but the opportunity was there and I couldn’t pass up taking her to lunch.” Grinning, he told them about how Toph had loosened up while they ate, even agreeing to try his favorite vegan restaurant in the main commons, how cute she was when she smiled at him.  She had even agreed to a study date the following night.

He couldn’t wipe the smile from his face when he asked, “So would you guys be okay if she came to hang out with us this weekend?” 

[greekowl87]

Fic: Midnight Blues

Sequel to (Tried and True).  I am tempted to maybe do a small series with this for early MSR since I don’t feel like I write it enough. Anyways, enjoy. Post ‘Beyond the Sea’ and ‘Lazaurs’. Tagging @today-in-fic .

Scully was a forensic pathologist. She studied death. She examined, recorded, and cataloged it. She can give the dead voice. She spoke from beyond the grave when they no longer could. But experiencing death, on a personal level--well, nothing was easy about it. She had hoped her objective, rational scientific views would make the blows easier, waging a war against her own emotions that threatened to swallow her. So far, she had been winning but her defenses were waning.

The death of her father and seeing a vision of him right before the news of his death had been delivered. Jack coming back from the dead not as himself. They were still fresh on her mind, the barest disturbance sending pain through her inwardly. She had witnessed and experienced things she could not understand despite her attempts to explain it through science. Scully was beginning to have a lot of days like that, especially when it came down to working with Spooky Mulder. Except he wasn't spooky or weird. The more time she spent with him as her partner, the more he pushed and challenged her, the more she grew as a person. He respected her and treated her equally. The more she realized the rumors about Mulder were just that: rumors. But after the latest incident of Jack not claiming to be Jack, kidnapping her, that deranged woman, dying...she could not make head or tails of it. Jack's death and also ravaged her still healing grief of the loss of her father. Both weighed heavy on her like the cursed albatross around her neck.

So that Friday, when the clocked ticked to five o'clock on a Friday afternoon with the promise of a case-free three day weekend, Mulder perked up and smiled. "No cases, Scully and a three day weekend!"

"Huh?" She blinked and shifted her focus to him. "Oh yeah. Big plans, Mulder?"

He paused before answering her. Mulder had a lot of difficulties reading Scully. She kept her cards close to her chest and rarely let her emotions show except 'I'm fine, Mulder.' He had glimpsed at the woman named Dana Scully briefly when the FBI SWAT team stormed the building in her rescue but she was quick to recover. "You okay, Scully?"

She forced a smile that could have fooled almost everyone but him. He was slowly learning her tells. "I'm fine, Mulder. Just going to catch up some errands and work on a journal article. You know me, living it large."

Another thing that Mulder had noticed that Scully thought she hid from him was the dwindling social life that she used to have. He was not stupid. He heard things and he could make the connections. His late-night calls and dragging her across the country was beginning to take its toll. Only a month ago they were ready to kill each other over space worms on top of the world and somehow, someway, something shifted and sparked between them, a very primordial trust. Maybe it had been born the night she came to his hotel room in Bellefleur, but something had changed on top of the world and somehow, despite his crusade, she was becoming a very important aspect of his life.

"Nothing with your family?"

"I kind of wanna be left alone," she shrugged. Her blue eyes shifted towards her briefcase. "I have a lot to get done."

"I'm sure," he deadpanned.

"What about you?" There it was. That false cheerfulness.

"Oh you know, hanging out in chat rooms, talking conspiracies and what not."

Scully had finished packing her things. "Well, don't get into any trouble so I have to save your ass. I want a quiet weekend."

"Yes, ma'am." He gave her a playful smile and she returned it with a slight quirk of her lips. "Have a good weekend, Mulder."

"You too, Scully."

She took a deep breath, sighed, and walked out into the hallways, her heels clicking against the sterile floors, each one making Mulder wince as he could only imagine what was going on through Scully's head.

. . . .

Scully had sat in her car in the parking garage beneath the Hoover Building for a half hour trying to decide what to do. She watched random agents pass, even saw Mulder loosening his tie as he jogged to his car, and she sat there wandering her place in the universe. Etha left after her first case and the first late-night call. Probably for the best. After seeing Ellen at her son's birthday and Tom Colton being a prick, what had been her social network absolved into one person, not including herself. Although she was annoyed with the late night calls, she enjoyed them. She enjoyed verbally sparring with Mulder and how he saw her as an equal. She kind of wished that he would call her tonight but she told him not to. But what were the odds he would listen? Then again, he looked awfully happy. Maybe he had a date. She was aware of what the female agents and sectaries said about him. As she shook her head and pinched her nose, the grief came back as a tension headache, like a spike being drilled into her skull as punishment for her father's and Jack's death.

Fuck it. She needed to numb it. She needed to numb those threatening emotions that wanted to drown her. She was going to treat herself tonight.

. . . .

What many people did not know about Dana Scully is that she was a woman of simple taste. Her FBI persona screamed ice queen and her apartment declared itself worthy of a photo shoot in a home decor magazine. But deep down, she liked to be comfortable. Comfortable clothes, comfortable food, comfortable atmosphere.

After she left the Hoover building, she headed home to change into a pair of jeans and sweater. She grabbed her jacket and purse and left her phone. She drove to a dive bar at the other end of Washington near to Alexandria and let herself unwind. It started with a glass of cheap chardonnay in a wine glass that seemed to be made of plastic or cheap glass. She sipped it tentatively, trying to prolong the eventual buzz the alcohol would produce, but she grew hungry instead. Throwing her habit of eating healthy and dieting to the wind, she ordered a burger with onions, bacon, mushrooms, and cheese, and of course, onion rings, the obvious choice. As the bartender took her menu away, she chuckled to herself, imagining what Mulder would say if he could see her at this moment.

She took a deep breath and tried to visualize the moment. Her head was already lightheaded from the wine. The bar was smoky. She could smell someone smoking pot somewhere (those were the college days). The leather stool was too plump and made her feel like a child. She expanded her hands across the grainy, splintered wood of the bar trying to purposely get a splinter and forget at the same time. The grief was too much. To feel was too much. Maybe she should call Melissa tomorrow.

Suddenly there was a chuckle, loud and very familiar. She opened her eyes and clutched the short wine glass and bowed over her drink. She could not let Mulder see her like this, outside her armor and so exposed.

"Scully?"

Shit.

She closed her eyes and straightened her back as she felt a comforting hand graze her shoulder in greeting as he slid into the barstool next to her. She forced a smile and turned to him. Mulder smile faded as he read her face.

"You here with a date," he teased, knowing she was alone.

She swallowed and nodded curtly. "I was but he ran off. Some big meeting or something."

"Those can be annoying."

"They can." Silence ensued and she played with the wineglass uncertainly, fidgeting, something Mulder had never seen before. "I don't want to keep you from your friends."

"They'd understand."

"Mulder!" A short man with glasses called. "You coming, amigo?"

"Come on, Mulder!" A tall lanky man with blond hair and glasses added.

Scully closed her eyes and turned down her head, bowing as if in prayer. At that moment, Mulder still to this day does not know why felt bad...he felt sad...he felt the need to comfort his greenhorn partner who was supposed to spy on him but had, unknowingly, become his friend. She played with the wineglass. "I'm fine, Mulder. Really. Have fun. I'll see you Tuesday." He could hear how her voice strained to keep from breaking. "I'm fine. Really."

Mulder looked to Lone Gunmen and with a simple shake of his head and a frantic wave of his hand, they left grumbling. "You don't seem fine," he stated softly.

"Is that the profiler in you?" She gulped her wine and grimaced. "Am I that pathetic?"

"No," he spoke softly. "You're not."

He rose his hand and ordered a Shinerbock quietly. The bartender asked about food. "I already ordered," she supplied weakly. "A burger."

"You want to halves like we usually do?"

She nodded slightly, unable to keep her defenses from crumbling. Why was she acting like this? She kept quiet, trying to figure out how to regain control of her emotions in as Mulder ordered the fried veggies basket and cheese sticks for them. Why now, she pleaded, was she coming undone? The bartender passed him the beer and walked away. Mulder gazed at the tv, watching the late night basketball scores scroll across the screen. "This seems very unlike you."

She shrugged. "You get to see a side of me that no one usually does."

"Beneath the Ice Queen is a warm center?" She glared him in annoyance and he gave a warm smile. "Sorry but not sorry. It's nice to see you so..."

"Normal?" She sighed in exasperation and rolled her head. "I hate when people automatically assume that I don't have feelings."

"I didn't mean that, Scully."

"I know, Mulder." She sighed. "I just needed to mix things up."

"How so?"

"Are you asking as a shrink or my partner?"

"I'm asking as your friend."

The forbidden word slipped between them like a grain of sand in an hourglass. Insignificant but still so powerful. Scully gulped and cleared her throat. "We're friends?"

"I...I like to think so."

She nodded and focused on her wine. There was a long silence before she spoke again. "It's the deaths. My dad and Jack. I can't...I can't explain it, Mulder. I know I shouldn't feel guilty but I do. I feel like it is my fault." She finished the rest of her wine and Mulder grabbed her wrist lightly. "What?"

"For once, let go?"

"What is that suppose to mean?"

"Don't behind those walls I see every day," he spoke softly. Scully's eyes lingered on him cautiously. She had heard the same voice from on top of the world. "Come on, Scully. I can see every day how much it hurts you."

Fucking alien worms and the top of the world. Scully waved her hand and ordered a vodka soda with an orange slice. Mulder ordered himself a second beer. "You really want to hear what I have to say?"

"I'm better than a preacher," he told her, crossing his heart.

She bit her lip and suddenly just surrendered. She surrendered to her emotions and to feel. She submitted to being the perpetrator of her father and Jack's deaths. "It's my fault that my father and Jack died," she confessed softly. "If I had not joined the FBI my father would still be alive. If I had acted quicker Jack would still be alive." She snorted as her bartender brought her drink. "I'm supposed to be the brave daughter, the dutiful one. Dad had his hopes long ago that I was going to make the family proud and be a doctor at a famous hospital. I shattered him by joining the FBI. Jack. Oh, Jack, what false love." She downed her vodka in a few quick sips that left Mulder stunned. "I've always been attracted to powerful men. And with Jack...I don't know what I felt, Mulder, but I know it wasn't love. I never loved him." Scully had tears in her eyes. "It's my fault they died. If I had done something different, maybe they'd be alive. It's all my fault, Mulder, all of it."

It must have been the alcohol talking, Mulder mused because his Scully would never be this open. But he reached out and took her hand. When was the last time someone had touched her so...purposefully? Intimately? Would she trust him? Not emotionally of course. No, she had built stonewalls that no siege could penetrate around her inner self. However, underneath all that, the warmth between them. But at the base level, her hear knew. The warmth of his hand swallowing hers and vibrating through her entire being spurned a memory and she recalled being held on top of the world. That after everything, she could trust him.  Without thinking or control of herself, Scully threw herself uncharacteristically into his arms and cried. Mulder stood in shock, if he moved, something would go wrong. Not knowing what to do, he patted her shoulder and tried to speak soothingly. It was the briefest minute that seemed to last a lifetime. Quickly, as if coming out from under a spell, Scully reclaimed herself. She wiped her tears and looked embarrassed.

"I'm sorry for my outburst," she eventually admitted as the bartender brought her a third drink, more vodka for the pain and for her embarrassment. She was averting her eyes, fixated on the gnarled wooden bar top. "It's not like me."

He reached out to reclaim her hand and squeezed it quickly, a sign of solidarity. As she shifted her gaze to their joined hands. Mulder coughed and quickly withdrew it in a weak attempt to hide a cough. "Scully, you're okay. What do you say? Stay here a little longer with me? I'm starving and haven't eaten dinner yet. We have all those food coming and I'd hate to waste it."

"I get first dibs on the cheese sticks," she mumbled.

"It wouldn't be right if you didn't."

About twenty minutes later as Mulder and Scully in silence, their food arrived. The scent of greasy and unhealthy foods mixed with the atmosphere of the dive bar caused Scully hummed appreciatively. Without thinking, Mulder plucked one of her onion rings. They continued to ear in silence as the clock ticked and Mulder could really study the rare relaxed and causal Scully.

"You want to talk about it?" Mulder pushed the cheese sticks towards her.

"Not really. I don't want to be reminded how depressing my life has become." She shrugged. She reached for a cheese stick, dipped it in marinara, and took a healthy bite. "Their deaths reminded me how alone I really am. My life is the work and that's it. No time for social lives or anything else. You remember when you were chasing the Jersey Devil and I was on that date? I was hoping that you would call so I could go away. I would rather go chasing monsters with you than some lousy date."

He weighed his words carefully unsure if it was the alcohol or her talking. "I...I know this has taken a lot from you, and I know you consider me a little arrogant."

She scoffed. "A little?"

He gave bet a boyish smile. "A lot." She finished her drink and ordered another one. "I just want you to know I appreciate you and everything you've done."

"What have you done with Mulder and who have you replaced him with?"

"Haha, very funny."

Mulder cut the greasy burger in half without asking and deposited part of it on his own plate. "You really went all out. Mushrooms, onions, bacon, and cheese? I should ask if aliens abducted you?" he chuckled.

Scully was just beginning to feel the warmth in her cheeks, knowing her pale face was already flushed. But sitting her with Mulder, some other warmth was working through her. The way Mulder just reached into her personal space without asking, how normal it felt. Maybe wasn't truly alone. "Do you know the probability of us both being replaced by aliens would be, Mulder? Besides, you know little green men don't exist," she dismissed, reaching for the ketchup.

Mulder paused and smiled slightly as Scully slipped into the comfortable thing they had, whatever it was. "Yes, well, if you are a replacement, your previous version at least knew how to share." He took some of her onion rings as well and pushed the fried veggie basket towards her. "I hope I didn't order this for nothing. You know I only eat the fried pickles."

She smiled softly and picked up a fried mushroom cap. She dipped it into the ranch sauce and took a bite, hissing slightly at how hot the food still was. He chuckled at her and she slapped his bicep. "So, did I steal you from those strange little people?"

"Hm? Oh, the Gunmen? No."

"The Gunmen? Are they a band or something?"

"Something like that," he smirked. He took a large bit of the burger and spoke while still chewing his food. "I'd much rather spend it with my partner anyway."

Scully was surprised by the admission and she knew he was telling the truth. She gave a knowing smile and looked down at her own food. It wasn't one of his late night calls that she got but this was so much better. He looked up to the TV and frowned. "I can't believe they're already talking shit about the Yankees and it isn't even spring training," he cried foul.

"You like baseball?" she asked, wondering what else she did not know about him.

He nodded and flashed her another smile (there are a lot those tonight) and she somehow knew they were just for her. "Yankees fan and Knicks fan are the main two. What about you, Scully?"

She shook her head slowly. "I really never had an interest or time to watch sports, Mulder."

"Really? Huh. Well, maybe we can go to Camden Yards and watch a game this spring." He shrugged absently. "Let's play twenty questions. You asked me one, I'll ask you. Who's your favorite author?"

She blushed and shoved an onion ring in her mouth to give her time to think. "Truman Capote," she said, still chewing the food. She swallowed the onion ring and smiled. "My turn."

. . . .

In a cab, she slept blissfully against him in thanks to the alcohol. It was two a.m. and in a rare change of routines for him. Friday nights, if he was not on a case, were either spent bullshitting with the Gunmen or drinking a local bar alone and passing out. But tonight...there must have been a blue moon or something. When he saw Scully sitting alone at the bar, he had been moved by pity. How many nights had he spent in the same position? So he went to check on her. Then he was moved to make her feel better. Caught between the guilty of death she should not carry and loneliness, he stayed with her. Something must have changed in the few short months between them that he couldn't explain. But he ended up staying, splitting dinner, talking and laughing, learning things about the small redhead agent that was sent to spy on him who he, at the end of this night, considered a likely friend and guaranteed ally in his quest. She only sought to help him and he would return the favor however he could. Right now, that was being the pillow to his drunk and passed out partner.

She murmured something and snuggled against his side as the cab slowed to a stop outside her Georgetown apartment. Mulder quietly paid the cabbie, ignoring the smirkful glares and got out of the car first. He did not have the heart of wake her so he fished for her keys and grasped them lightly in his hand as he bent back into the cab and lifted her easily. She really was small, he smiled slightly. Carefully he maneuvered her up the wake way and down the hall to her apartment. He unlocked the door with some difficult and closed the door with his foot.

Unsure of what to do and spying a blanket on the back of her couch, Mulder carried her into her bedroom and lay her on the bed. This was completely unknown territory for him and also very out of character, but somehow, she was bringing things out in him that he thought he no longer had. He strolled out into the living room, grabbed the blanket, and draped it over her. She murmured something in her sleep and he smiled. Taking a moment to sit on the edge of the bed, his fingers lightly traced the shape of her cheek, and he smiled.

She murmured something, waking up in a haze. The darkness hid their faces but she somehow knew it was him. "Mmph. Where are we?"

"At your apartment," Mulder spoke in a low voice. Scully closed her eyes, remembering when he held her at the Icy Cape and how his chest rumbled when he spoke like that to her. She let the memory wash over her like a wave. "I'm going home. Call me in the morning okay?"

"Mm 'kay," she yawned. "Mulder?"

"Yeah, Scully?"

"Thank you. For everything tonight."

"It's nothing, Scully."

"To me it is." She yawned again. "Not alone. Got you."

"You're talking nonsense."

"'M smarter than you. Know what I'm talking about." She blindly groped for his hand and gave it a quick, light squeeze. "Take my apartment key. I have a copy. Meant to give that to you last week."

Mulder was touched by the additional gateway into her personal space. "Okay. Call me tomorrow when you wake up to let me know you're okay. I'll have a copy of my key for you, Monday."

She nodded. "Call you. Got it." He hesitantly reached for her face again and gently traced her cheek before getting up. "Thanks, Muler. Still got you."

"Always, Scully," he spoke softly. He bowed his head and smiled slightly. Quietly, he left the bedroom door and shut the door behind him.

[sinceileftyoublog]

Makaya McCraven Interview: Changing Structures

Photo by David Marques

BY JORDAN MAINZER

You could call Makaya McCraven a global artist, having been born in Paris, grown up in Amherst, Massachusetts, exemplified the Chicago jazz scene, and collaborated with artists on multiple continents. But as a drummer truly influenced by genres and traditional music the world over, to McCraven, he hasn’t quite reached that designation. His most recent album, the incredible Universal Beings (our #21 favorite album of 2018), is the most “global” album he’s released yet, recorded live in the three biggest U.S. cities and London, each location given its own unique band and section on the album. At only 35 years old, though, and with McCraven’s clear ambition and vision, the possibilities seem far beyond the scope of Western music.

A label that McCraven might agree with is “versatile.” For a number of year’s, he’s played Chicago’s most prominent jazz venues, opened for Kamasi Washington and Lee Fields, participated in multiple “Round Robin” experimental performances with other local artists of all genres, and most recently, played in a tribute concert to J Dilla. We’ll catch him at Big Ears Festival in Knoxville next week. In preview, we spoke to him over the phone earlier this year; we talked about his beginning years, playing live and touring, and the often paradoxical nature of improvisation.

Since I Left You: Do you feel like you came up in the Chicago scene? Or did your pre-Chicago musical endeavors set the bar for you?

Makaya McCraven: All of the above. I had a strong musical career from a young age, and I had very strong mentors and a musician family. I was already on my way. When I came up here with my girlfriend at the time and now my wife, and I started to check out the scene. I felt a certain kinship with where I came from and just in terms of musicians I came up under. I made good relationships. The Chicago scene, and everybody around me here--my collaborators, teachers, mentors--really came to me at a formative time when I was creating my own musical identity, the one bouncing around groups. I had been working with lots of bands for a long time. I was co-creator of a lot of projects since I was a teenager. Chicago definitely has a big part of my creative identity as an artist.

SILY: Over the past few years, I saw you open for Kamasi Washington at the Bottom Lounge and then for Lee Fields at the Pritzker Pavilion. Do you look back at your opportunities to play with other artists as equally formative?

MM: Absolutely. Working with a lot of musicians as a side man and collaborator, a different team under different circumstances, is a big part of my identity and how I came up as a musician. How I worked myself as a human being in the arts. I feel fortunate for that. The crux of my career is being able to work with and be open to working with a lot of different people. Commitment to self-growth is within that.

SILY: Universal Beings is a very global kind of record, and you’ve gotten a lot of opportunity to play globally. Do you still feel pretty embedded in the Chicago scene though?

MM: Yeah, definitely. A lot of the musicians I work with are Chicago-based or from Chicago or come to Chicago. I’ve always worked with a lot of people in and out of Chicago, so that doesn’t feel new, either. Being here, I get to take part in the community and work with the musicians here. I definitely feel part of it. When you’re on the road a lot, it’s not the same as being home. You’re always out at every gig and every spot. It’s definitely different.

SILY: Do you have a favorite place to play?

MM: That’s always difficult. I could point to markets where I have lots of fans--I like to go to London because I get a lot of support and people show me lots of love. But I don’t really like to pick favorites.

SILY: Maybe an easier question: Where haven’t you played that you’re dying to play?

MM: Yeah. The idea that Universal Beings is global is narrowly defined because we visited only English-speaking places during the creation of the record, while we have influences from all over the world. So most of my touring has been in Europe and through North America. We’ve gone to Asia before as well, and I’ve done some traveling on my own. I have yet to travel around Africa. I’d love to go to South Africa, Ethiopia, Ghana, Senegal, Mali. All of these places have such rich musical cultures unique to each place and diverse within each place, as well. South America as well. Again, rich in diverse musical culture. It’s a big world out there.

SILY: Are you playing Universal Beings at Big Ears?

MM: I have no idea. But most likely. That’s the material we’ve been touring on. A lot of the performing I do at festivals, I like to perform a lot of my repertoire, probably from Universal Beings but also throughout my catalog and the music I’m making.

SILY: Who is in your touring band?

MM: The fun thing about my touring band is it kind of rotates between different core musicians. I like that--I like to switch it up and play with different people.

SILY: Both Sons of Kemet and The Comet Is Coming are at Big Ears. Will [saxophonist] Shabaka [Hutchings] be in your band?

MM: No, no, no, no.

SILY: That’s too bad!

MM: It’s fun. Me and Shabaka met on the road 3-4 years ago, and we’d always bump into each other on tour for a while. But playing with each other is a rare occasion.

SILY: How many days will you be at the festival?

MM: Just a couple days passing through. Gotta keep on moving. Too often, there’s a really great festival and we don’t get too much time to enjoy it.

SILY: Are you productive on the road, writing-wise?

MM: It really depends. I’ve had tours where I’ve had a whole stack of work I’ve been able to get through, music and otherwise. Other times, I’m on the road, and I’m just in that zone. I have a lot of responsibilities on the road. I’m the band leader and the tour manager as well. I may have some interviews to do, I have soundcheck, we have pretty intensive travel itineraries. And we have to play shows. And eat dinner and things like that. Maybe general hygiene. When I’m productive, it’s always great. But sometimes, you don’t really have the moment or the mental space.

SILY: A lot of Universal Beings was recorded live. How do you approach playing it live?

MM: I like to think of the writing process--collectively brainstorming with a group of musicians and trying to make some composition sense out of it. Improvisation I like to think of as spontaneous composition rather than non-idiomatic. After going through that process, when I have recordings, that little tune in the sonic space has a “thing.” To represent that thing, I transcribe it onto sheet paper or learn it by ear, and create a form to play it or improvise it as a song structure the way jazz musicians do, because not all jazz is free-form improvisation.

SILY: Do you think when people talk about improvisation they tend not to distinguish between different levels or types of it?

MM: Yeah. I think when we talk about improvisation in music, there are a lot of blurry lines. Somebody asked me after playing a jazz standard, “How much of that was improvised?” And the band leader said, “All of it.” What I loved about that comment was that no matter how much structure we were playing, we were fully improvising in the moment around that structure. We were still fully improvising even within the confines of the structure. This is the natural state of being--interacting with the world in real time. We put structure into our lives, and we still follow it, but we improvise in the way that we have to react and respond in real-time. Playing is the same.

Improvised music also has strong cultural meaning behind where that type of music was started or played. Sometimes it’s about abstraction; sometimes it’s about creating together or avoiding traditional time or within the confines of time. Or, if you wanna have no rules, does that mean if you’re playing with other people, they can make up their own rule because you can’t make a rule that they can’t make up rules? It’s a lot of give and take, improvising with other people. Trying to find common ground in your goals and missions and where the music is taking you.

For me, wanting to re-purpose the music in some way and make some piece out of it born from its roots, I can pick textures I like and edit them or find the right point for something else to come in.

SILY: Do you think the different parts of Universal Beings share the same improvisational philosophy?

MM: With these types of spontaneous compositions, I try to direct the music in some degree with musical action. Being the drummer, I have a lot of power to decide to set a groove or push the dynamics one way or another or do a drum call to cue something that could be an unidentified moment. It’s like, “Hey everybody, we’re gonna do something! Nobody knows what it is, but I’m cuing it.” Usually, in those improvised sessions, I don’t want to drag on things too long. I love trying to get more information out of the musicians, but I don’t like to improvise for a very long time. We play for a while, if something cool happens, we stick on in. Or I might scramble it up with some free play.

SILY: What’s next for you?

MM: I always got a few things cooking. I have a couple projects in different stages of completion. Producing some projects for some other jazz artists. We’re about to tour quite a bit starting in the spring. [doing his best advertiser voice] Coming to a city near you!

SILY: Is there anything you’ve been listening to, watching, or reading that’s caught your attention?

MM: The news?!?

SILY: I meant something positive.

MM: [laughs] I wish I was more engaged. Right now I’m swamped in my work...[pauses to think]...Nothing. I’ve just been deep in these projects I have due. I listen to the radio in the car.

SILY: What station do you listen to?

MM: I listen to Vocalo in the morning with my kids.