#extra large vintage top

[susoriginals]

Vintage Black & White Striped Tunic Top Long Sleeves Button Up Long Blouse w Self Tie Belt 1X Extra Large Only $9

[deliciousangelfestival]

"Darling, bad luck seems endless." - Bucky Barnes

Summary: You've always been haunted by bad luck your entire life, despising it deeply, until you meet someone who finds it amusing.

Character: dark!Bucky Barnes x Female!Reader

Author's Note: Hello, everyone; this story is for the sleepover event hosted by @the-slumberparty. What I chose is a strawberry sundae with gummy bears as the topping.

Chapter 1 , Chapter 2 .

Main Masterlist || support: Ko-fi

Thank you to anyone who gave a like, reblog, and left a comment. It motivated me to write more.

Bad luck.

You always felt that bad luck followed you everywhere. Growing up, you didn't realize it, but it became clear to you after becoming an adult.

There was one time when you had prepared for an exam, but two days before, you got a high fever and had to take the exam all by yourself.

When you got an offer to study piano abroad, your father's business went bankrupt.

Then, when you finally got into your dream college, your father's business went bankrupt. Again.

When you wanted to study and paid for an extra course, the teacher lied and told you to study alone. It turned out you could learn everything from the internet. You were taken in by his sweet talk because of his experience working in the industry.

After you graduated, you went to work at a studio, but it went bankrupt because the owner embezzled the money to buy a Ferrari.

Then, you were introduced by a relative to an investment. Because you saw her enjoying the profit, you put all your money into the investment. For eight months, it went great, but after that, everything went to hell because it was a scam. You lost the money, the money that your father had left you. It still pains you.

Each time it feels like life is going your way, it soon comes crashing down when you face another misfortune.

As a last resort, you went to a priest but received no answers. You visited a shaman but still found no answers. Then, you went to a paranormal who said, “Bad luck fucks you like Zeus fucks his prey.”

‘Well, shit,’ you thought.

Not knowing what life would bring you, you tried to find another way to make money by taking a class in jewelry making. You pretended to hate it and not enjoy making jewelry.

You were scared that each time you enjoyed or liked something, bad luck would come like judgment day with no warning and take all the joy from you.

But bad luck can't be fooled. It appeared again in another form. It turned out the jewelry store owner was actually a gangster in the diamond business. It was a risky job, but it helped to pay the bills.

Sir Galileo, with his grey hair and special glasses that he always wore to appraise diamonds, was an eccentric man. He always dressed as royalty and wore white gloves. He insisted from the beginning that you call him a 'sir.'

He always brought you with him whenever he went to see a client. Specifically, your job was to drive the car, take notes, and design jewelry for clients. The clients were unique, too: mafia, drug dealers, etc.

Of all the clients, there was only one that caught your attention. You liked him because he was a regular customer and always paid upfront.

James Buchanan Barnes, or his nickname ‘Bucky’. You didn’t know much about him, but he was loaded with money. His mansion, his vintage car collection, and the rings he wore on his fingers were all testaments to his wealth.

Every time you met him, it was always at a different place. It was never the same location.

Damn, each gold and diamond in his rings could solve world hunger. Even Sir Galileo respected Bucky.

Today, Bucky called both of you again.

When you both arrived at a new location, another mansion, you couldn't help but be impressed by its grandeur. The sprawling estate was surrounded by lush gardens and towering gates. The mansion itself was a blend of modern architecture and classic elegance, with large windows reflecting the sunlight and intricate details on every corner.

Bucky looked at you while opening his arms wide. “My Da Vinci,” he greeted warmly.

You blushed when he called you that. His nickname for you always made you feel a mixture of pride and embarrassment. You looked down briefly, trying to hide your flushed cheeks.

“I can't wait to see the design you've made,” he said, turning to Sir Galileo. “And I want you to take a look at that ruby stone I got.”

“Sure,” Sir Galileo replied with a nod.

Once everyone was seated in the lavishly decorated living room, you grabbed your tablet and showed Bucky the jewelry design you had created for him. Instead of the usual ring or bracelet, you had designed a watch that fit his character perfectly—sleek, elegant, and powerful.

Bucky inhaled his cigar, examining the design closely. “This is great,” he said, a rare smile forming on his lips.

You felt a surge of pride when your work was appreciated, but you quickly dismissed the feeling. You didn’t want another bout of bad luck to hit you like a truck.

“How did you get this ruby?” Sir Galileo asked, still scrutinizing the stone with his special glasses.

“Tsk,” Bucky clicked his tongue. “Don’t remind me. My man got hurt getting that.”

“Another incident?” Sir Galileo inquired, raising an eyebrow.

Bucky exhaled smoke from his mouth, his expression darkening. “We’ve never had a casualty like this before. I feel like we have bad luck.”

You flinched when you heard ‘bad luck.’ Could it be that your bad luck had moved to Bucky?

You hoped nothing bad would happen to Bucky because you enjoyed working for him.

But once again, bad luck visited you. This time, it came in the form of a bullet shooting through the window. It was a surprise attack.

“Fuck,” Bucky cursed as he shielded you from the bullet and hid behind a chair.

“Are you okay?” he asked, his face close to yours, making your heartbeat quicken.

“I… I'm fine,” you stammered.

Bucky took a peek out the window, his eyes narrowing. “How did they find out my hideout?” he cursed.

You stayed quiet. Could it be because of you?

Sir Galileo, hiding behind a table, said urgently, “We should run.”

“No shit,” Bucky responded. He called his guards to prepare for an escape.

The three of you stayed low until you reached the garage. You all piled into a black SUV, the engine roaring to life.

Never had you imagined you’d be in a car chase. The adrenaline pumped through your veins as the SUV sped down the driveway, bullets ricocheting off the sides.

The roar of the engine filled your ears as the black SUV tore down the narrow streets. Bucky was driving with a fierce determination, weaving in and out of traffic, while Sir Galileo barked directions from the passenger seat. Behind you, the pursuing cars kept gaining, their headlights piercing through the dusk like the eyes of predators closing in on their prey. Bullets shattered the rear window, and the vehicle swerved violently as you tried to avoid the onslaught.

The situation felt hopeless. You could see the grim set of Bucky’s jaw, the way Sir Galileo’s hands gripped the dashboard. They were in danger because of you. You had to do something. You took a deep breath and made a decision.

“Leave me here,” you said, your voice trembling but resolute.

Bucky glanced at you, confusion and anger flashing across his face. “What? You've got nothing to do with this.”

“I think I do,” you whispered, feeling the weight of your bad luck pressing down on you. You reached for the door handle and flung the door open, the rush of wind pulling at you.

“You're crazy!!!” Bucky yelled, reaching for you, but you were already tumbling out of the car. The asphalt rushed up to meet you, and you hit the ground hard, rolling painfully to a stop. Your body ached all over, but you forced yourself to sit up. Through the haze of pain, you saw Bucky’s car speeding away. Relief washed over you, knowing they had a chance to escape.

“Click.”

The unmistakable sound of a gun being cocked froze you in place. You looked up to see several men emerging from the pursuing cars, their guns trained on you.

“You’re coming with us,” one of them said, his voice cold and devoid of emotion.

They hauled you to your feet, roughly searching you for weapons. You winced at the pain but felt a grim satisfaction knowing Bucky and Sir Galileo were getting away. The men shoved you towards one of their cars, and you knew your fate was now in their hands.

🍀🍀🍀🍀

The days blurred together as you sat in a dimly lit room, the only illumination coming from a bare bulb hanging from the ceiling. Your captors had bound your wrists to the chair, and the rough rope chafed against your skin. They had been relentless, taking turns to interrogate you, their questions a mix of frustration and suspicion.

“Tell us about Bucky,” one of them demanded, leaning in close, his breath reeking of tobacco and stale beer.

“I’m just a jewelry designer,” you insisted, your voice hoarse from hours of questioning.

“No. You’re more than that,” he sneered. “Barnes never invited the same person more than twice. You must mean something to him.”

You blinked in surprise. That was news to you. Bucky had always seemed so casual, so composed. You had no idea he had such strict rules.

“I told you, I’m just a designer,” you repeated, trying to maintain your composure.

‘BANG.’

Suddenly, an explosion rocked the hideout. The walls shook, and dust rained down from the ceiling. Panic spread through the room as your captors scrambled, their plans falling apart.

“Fuck! Nothing’s going our way!” one of them shouted, his voice tinged with fear.

You couldn’t help but think that maybe this was your fault, that your bad luck had followed you here and was now wreaking havoc on these gangsters. The thought made your stomach churn with guilt.

Then, you heard gunshots. The sharp cracks echoed through the building, and you instinctively covered your ears, trying to block out the chaos. Moments later, the door burst open, and you saw Bucky standing there, a fierce determination in his eyes. He quickly dispatched your captors with a series of precise shots, his movements fluid and lethal.

“Fuck,” Bucky muttered, surveying the scene before his eyes locked onto you. He holstered his gun and hurried to your side, cutting the ropes that bound you.

Bucky helped you stand up, his eyes searching your face. “I still can't believe you."

“Me?” you began, trying to find the right words.

Bucky cut you off, a rare, almost gentle smile touching his lips. “You’re the only woman willing to sacrifice for me.”

He still can't believe that a girl like you, whom he only knew as a designer, was willing to sacrifice for him. Bucky has been interested in you because of your background, wondering how a good girl like you could end up working with Sir Galileo.

“It’s all…” You started, but then you felt something cold press against the side of your forehead.

'Click.'

You gasped in shock, your heart pounding as you realized Bucky was pointing a gun at you.

Bucky’s smile turned cold and frightening. “Now, dear, tell me why you said it’s all because of you before you jumped off the car.”

“Because I'm bad luck,” you whispered, your voice trembling.

“Huh?” Bucky's eyes narrowed.

“You probably think I’m insane, but I bring bad luck wherever I go,” you explained, your voice shaking.

“Hah!” Bucky's eyes widened for a moment before he burst into laughter. “Hahahaha…”

He laughed so hard that he wiped a tear from his eye. “This is getting more interesting.”

His laughter sent chills down your spine. He found it amusing, but to you, it was a curse. His grip on the gun didn’t waver as he stepped closer, his presence overpowering.

Bucky leaned in, his breath warm against your skin. “We’ll get along just fine,” he said, his voice a low, dangerous whisper.

Taglist:

@thezombieprostitute

@thetravelingtyper

@scott-loki-barnes

@mostlymarvelgirl

@chemtrails-club

@dexter99

@seresingirlie

@missvelvetsstuff

@kjah97

@tfatwsoldir

[kittykatthatbitesback]

Hey! I love your beach head canons, and I would love to see your take on the Hazbin Hotel characters on a road trip/maybe a trip to a theme park? I feel like that would be cute lol.

Yes of course! This sounds so fun but I decided to make it a road trip to wherever the reader decides (Theme park, wherever)! This actually works perfectly as a prequel/sequel to my Beach Trip! Headcanons I've posted. Hope you enjoy!

Hazbin Hotel Road Trip! Headcanons

Characters: Charlie, Vaggie, Alastor, Angeldust, Husk, Sir Pentious, Vox, Lucifer, Adam, and Cherri Bomb

Charlie 🐐🫶

Originally wanted to be the one to drive, but Vaggie figured her inclination to be distracted by anything on the side of the road would cause everyone to crash, so Vaggie refused to let her drive at any point

Doesn’t even have her license so she wouldn’t be able to drive anyways so

“Ugh fine! Well, then, I call shotgun!!”

Went from Princess of Hell to passenger princess hehe

Was upset at not driving but got over it quickly as realizing she enjoys the view more than driving

“Oh my gosh look at those deer! Wait there’s more over there! Wait. Did we just drive past the rest area, I need to pee again!!”

Constantly nags the driver by chitchatting to them, regardless if they’re listening

A bad habit of hers is playfully hitting others when Charlie talks, but she forgets to not do this when driving

A couple of minor accidents nearly occur but she is unfazed

Is so pumped and asks to stop and look at any roadside attraction

It begins to become a bit annoying after a while

Vaggie ❌🥀

Is the one who drives for the most part on this road trip

Is a bit grumbly because she was woken up so early by an eager Charlie to go on this trip and needs her beauty sleep

Is the only one who can handle Charlie’s constant nagging and pushing, and is also the only one with a license out of the whole group, so logically the ex-Angel is the one who drives

Only pays attention to the road and not Charlie unfortunately for maximum safety

Is sipping on a large Circle K cup that she filled with Monster Energy prior to the trip

This just barely wakes her enough to watch the road

Has a bit of road rage but these guys are from Hell, what can you expect

Refuses to waste gas so only stops for gas when the car is literally empty

Empty like everyone else had to get out of the car and push it to the nearest gas station that was three miles away, empty

“Come on guys, we’re almost there.” She’ll say smugly sipping her Monster from within the car in the AC

Alastor ���📻

Was invited on this road trip, but ended up driving on his own to their destination

Yes, he doesn’t have a license, but he’s the Radio Demon he does what he pleases

Mainly decided to drive separately so that he could listen to his radio in peace without complaints or extra unnecessary noise

Is listening to jazz, and keeps on repeating the songs: “Fly Me to the Moon” and “Sing, Sing, Sing”

Also prefers to be alone, he vibes better that way and is more in his element

Drives the coolest, red, vintage pick up truck ever

All the girls and guys at the stop lights are just fawning over him but the Radio Demon can’t see anything past the road in his shades

Drives super fast and only stops for gas, which considering the age of his truck, ends up happening often

Angeldust 🕷️❤️‍🔥

Wanted to get one of those party buses with the strip poles inside but now has to make do with the crew’s giant van

Enough space to do lines of coke so it’s okay

Obviously snuck in drugs and alcohol, this is a given, it’s Angeldust come on

“I call aux!!” and plays his playlist titled Cunty B*tch

It’s a bunch of Ayesha Erotica, Kesha, Lady Gaga, Britney Spears, etc.

Screams all of the songs at the top of his lungs while hanging out of the window

“HE MIGHT NOT LOOK LIKE HE GETS BITCHES, BUT HONEY THAT DICK WAS ELEVEN INCHES!”

Husk has to pull him inside but he’s just having the time of his life

Loud as Hell but provides the entertainment, and Vaggie appreciates his music taste

Has to get Vaggie to pull over and proceeds to violently throw up all the alcohol he chugged earlier on the side of the highway as Cherri films laughing from inside the van

Immediately falls asleep after this embarrassing moment as the aftermath of his “fun” takes a toll on him

Husk 🐈‍⬛🥃

Was planning to catch up on missed hours of sleep by dozing through this entire trip, but Angeldust made this quite hard

Is wrapped up in a blanket, eye mask on, earplugs in, headphones on, neck pillow propped, and stuffed toy snuggled (HE SLEEPS WITH A STUFFED TOY OMG)

It’s a miniature Pegasus he named after his favorite drink: Whiskey

Angeldust, Cherri, and Adam won’t stop making fun of him the entire trip

This, plus Angeldust’s music, Charlie’s nonstop talking causes Husk to EXPLODE

“IF YOU ALL DONT SHUT THE FUCK UP FOR A SECOND!”

But his geared-up sleep ware makes him look a bit goofy as he shouts this, so everyone instead bursts out laughing

The feline just grumbles to himself as he decides to just stare out the window depressingly for the rest of the ride

Gets bored and ends up practicing Poker and Solitaire with the cards he brought

Is also keeping an eye on Angeldust who at first was off the wall

Once Angeldust passes out, Husk covers him with his blanket so he’s not cold (aww)

Sir Pentious 🐍🥚

Actually was the one who designed and crafted the van

The original van wasn’t big enough for the whole crew after Cherri decided to join in last minute, so of course the snake is going to build an ENTIRE new vehicle for his Cherri Bomb <3

Engineered the van for maximum comfort and refused Angeldust’s pleads for strip poles inside; “Thossse would be ssso uneccesssary!”

Instead, he included luxurious feet space, and AC and heater system throughout the whole van, seats with massaging for backs and feet, mini TVs on the back of each seat, and a fancy mini fridge for food

Also built miniature seats for his Egg Bois with built-in heating pads in case they get too cold in the AC

These Egg Bois have a really specific temperature range they can survive in, so those same heating pads were engineered by Sir Pentious to also work as cooling pads

“Anything for my babiesss”

Came extra prepared and was the only one to bring snacks and drinks to put in the cooler

Is constantly offering Cherri a water or coke whenever she is “looking a bit dehydrated”

Which happens to be every 2 minutes according to him

Is trying so hard to flex on her the fact that he built the van

“Ssssoo Cherri, how are you enjoying the back masssssage? I programmed it to perfectly meet the needsss of a beautiful lady like you”

Bro with 0 rizz somehow ends up charming her

Vox 🖥️⚡️

This TV ignores the mini TVs Sir Pentious built arguing they’re “not of top Vox quality”

Tries to hijack them to prove his point, but Sir Pentious is smarter than that and even his mini TVs are Vox-resistant

Ego bruised, now tries to hijack the radio to turn off Angeldust’s loud ass music, but Sir Pentious ALSO came prepared for that

Sir Pentious even shaped his seat and headrest to fit Vox’s big ass TV head perfectly, so Vox isn’t able to complain about anything

Now an upset Vox is left to sit in silence for most of the trip

Will chime in occasionally to the conversations but you can tell his pride was hurt

Spends his hours of silence to brainstorm ways to defeat Alastor

Lucifer 🪽🐤

Brought his rubber duckies to play house with them on the ride

To everyone’s surprise, knows all the lyrics to all of Angeldust’s songs

“What! I enjoy these too!” Proceeds to lip sync them in the most fruity way

Is Lucifer straight or gay? Bi? No one knows.

Is definitely that one person in a car ride to try to start a game of “100 bottles of beer on a wall” or the game of concentration

LIVES for these games

“20 questions” is his favorite

Tries to get everyone involved and yells at Husk once he sees he’s playing his own game of Poker

Husk suggests that Lucifer should play the silent game

Will try to convince the others to play by reciting them old dad jokes

This does not work

Adam 🎸🤘

Will definitely pig out on all of those snack Sir Pentious brought

“YO WHERE THE FUCK IS THE BEER”

Forces Vaggie to stop at a gas station 5 minutes into the trip to buy 3 twelve packs of beer

Is absolutely in his happy place with the massage chair, vast feet space, TV playing “Too Hot to Handle”, chips, and beer

Is the only one who manages to trash his space with wrappers, spills, and crumbs

Does not give a fuck

Has his window down, sunglasses on, and wind blowing in his face while he just yells

Shouts and catcalls to every hot chick they pass by

Brought an air horn to do that more efficiently while on the highway

Is seated next to Vox so is taunting and teasing him about the whole incident earlier

“Hmm not so tough anymore huh? Even these mini TVs are doing a better job than you!”

Is a bit of a menace

Cherri Bomb 🍒💣

Only joined last minute for the trip because she thought it would be lame at first

But Angeldust promised to bring along drugs and alcohol so she agreed

Made a certain snake sooo happy that she decided to come

Is constantly nagged by him throughout this whole trip but she has grown used to it

She even starts to think it’s cute how much he cares

Has to stop to go pee so often because of all the beverages Sir Pentious keeps offering her

Doesn’t wait for a rest area, will pop a squat on the side of the road

Sings along with Angeldust (and Lucifer??) to all the songs

Actually she’s the one who made the playlist and shared it with Angeldust ;)

“Ooh ooh skip this one, the next one’s even better!”

Brought an Erotica novel to read (she usually just skips to the good parts)

Is glad to be sitting next to Angeldust but still films him as he throws up so that they can joke about it later

Passes time with him playing, Fuck, Marry, Kill

She ends up answering Fuck to all the options

[hometoursandotherstuff]

What a pretty 1875, impeccably preserved, Victorian in Troy, OH. 4bds, 4ba, $487,500.

This entrance hall. The doors, ceiling medallion, gorgeous chandelier, and the carving on the newel post are superb.

The first sitting room is stunning. The marble fireplace and insert are gorgeous, but look at the window. Everything in this home is so extra.

The 2nd sitting room across the hall is also lovely. You can see the original flooring and beautiful marble fireplace.

Beautiful large main floor primary bedroom with a sitting area and original fireplace.

Not terribly thrilled with the shower in this bath.

I'm not disappointed in the kitchen. It's adorable and not at all overdone. The peachy cabinetry is so cute and there's room for a table & chairs.

Did you ever notice that people completely gut a kitchen, but the pantries are always original? This is amazing with the completely original cabinets. That counter would have to go, though.

This bath has a vintage/modern look.

The gorgeously curved railings continue upstairs.

Here's another lovely bedroom with a fireplace.

This smaller bedroom has a magnificent chandelier.

This room looks like it may have been a child's.

The house doesn't look like this many floors from the exterior.

Wow, this bedroom has a gorgeous fireplace.

Oh, look. There's an attic apt. up here.

It has a bedroom, bath and a kitchen, all new.

Then, that's not all, there's one more bedroom up on the top floor.

View from the window.

The house is 1/2 block from the Great Miami River.

.28 acre lot.

This is cute- The McCullough Manor.

Beautiful tree in the side yard next to a cement patio.

https://www.zillow.com/homedetails/104-N-Market-St-Troy-OH-45373/206274957_zpid/?

[redesigningxmen]

REDESIGNING MIRAGE

That’s no mirage you’re seeing, that’s our group taking on Dani Moonstar, aka Mirage! One of the New Mutants from the 80s book, Dani has long been that team’s leader and served in different leadership roles. She’s most notable for being one of the X-Men’s most prominent Native American characters. Her identity is so central to her character, she refused to wear the standard New Mutants training uniform without adding pieces from her Cheyanne heritage.

Our team considered both Dani’s unique power - the ability to manifest someone’s greatest hopes or fears into realistic illusions - and her Indigenous background when redesigning her. Taking on a character so strongly rooted in such a specific - and non-White - culture meant approaching the design with respect, and of course always with an eye towards an exciting design!

Give all our talented artists a follow on social media!

Rake | @/pastelrake

"For Dani I drew on two prominent western themed pieces of media from my childhood. Firstly my father's favourite John Wayne film;  1965's The Sons of Katie Elder and secondly, the 1987 ridiculous children's cartoon BraveStarr. Both of these properties, whilst flawed, gave me a love of Americana/ Wild-Western aesthetics. With this in mind, I wanted to create a vintage-style western movie poster that centred Dani as the protagonist. In particular, I imagined her in the recognizable role of Sheriff, given her established characterization as a protector."

SSTArtwork | @/sstartwork

"I did two looks for Dani, one is more of a practical field uniform, with padded armour sections and oversized gloves. I've added an extra skill to her power set, as well as creating arrows and bows, she can now create a psychic vulture, which I envision swooping onto an enemy and ripping at the fears and drawing them out, or the desires, to varying effects. The second look is more Valkyrie based, with more opulent armour and headpieces harkening back to her initial days as a Valkyrie. In this state, all her powers are boosted and her bird becomes much larger, around about the size of a very large condor. She can use the bird as an aid in battle, for gliding, shields etc etc."

Alex Buckland | @/blueromanticss

"Dani's culture has always been really important to her so I tried my best to incorporate that into my design! "

Thwwip Stickers | @/Thwwip_Stickers

Dani is one of my top two most fave New Mutants and a character I’ve always loved in the comics my entire time as an X-Men reader ( since I was 6…I’m old lol)

"I had two Goals with this redesign.

I wanted to move Dani into a cyberpunk futurism feel…as I feel like it’s time for all the X-Men to be ushered into the age of CyberPunk.

I really wanted to grow Dani up. My goal wasn’t to do an entire redesign from the ground up, but rather take what she’s had and mature her. Dani, as well as most of the New Mutants, have a tendency to to revert or be written like teens again and it was high time that we start viewing Dani as the strong, mature, dynamic member of the X-Men she truly is.

I wanted to use style lines and shapes that evoked Indigenous Futurism without (seeing as I am not indigenous) just covering her in a bunch of patterns and regalia that might not be appropriate for Dani as a member of the Cheyenne Tribe. I wanted to really make her seem like a hunter while still honoring her indigenous and mutant roots."

[shabbytigers]

How's the concept of summer menswear treating you?

meh. hay fever is too bad to care much, which is good, because my upper torso is a small in shirts and my pelvis is a size extra large in shirts and i’m never going to be able to buy a shirt off the rack in a men’s store and it’s depressing. in womenswear i can now wear some of the most plainly cut tops, the ones that never would have been plausible in any size before surgery, if i size down to a medium. basically i need to be agnostic about where i shop and just suck it up.

anyway, this summer i’m leaning heavily on vintage half-linen straight or boot lucky brand men’s jeans and some chambray shirts i got in boston last winter that, while technically womenswear, are normal? no knots, holes, peplums, darts, cutaways, epaulets, cropped lengths, flares, weird gimmicky volume cuts, etc, etc, as if satan forgot to tip off the makers that these shirts were for women and must be thoroughly fucked in one way or another before their release into the world. an oasis in the brutal hellish desert of womenswear. nice soft material too. the brand is caslon, and if i see any more of them in july, i’m laying in stockpiles.

[the-east-art]

Fantail Pigeons and Mourning Doves Part 1

Mel sat and stared out the window. The car at pump 6 left. That left two cars at pumps. Three cars parked in the lot. One was Mel’s. The other two would indicate that he should have at minimum two customers in the store, but the gas station remained empty. Mel cast a quick glance, just to double check. From here he should be able to see any adults in the building - their heads usually peak out over the shelves. Designed that way, Mel was sure. Just short enough for him to clock how many people there are. Kids could hide in the aisles though. Usually did - some middle schoolers that drove out with their learner permits and reveled in the fact that they had money they could spend on things like sour gummy worms and large sized slushies. 

He didn’t hear any giggling, so no kids. Mel’s eyes flicked back to the lot. 

A red car slid into pump 7 - the favorite pump. Not on the end, but not in the middle. One of the silver cars - pump 3’s - left. He should probably learn cars types. He wasn’t really interested in them, but some part of him felt a kind of obligation. The same way a child is obligated to eat their vegetable or memorize scriptures. 

The person of red car of pump 7 waited for their tank to fill. They twirled back and forth absently, skirt flaring around their knees. The silver car at pump 1 left. 

Mel felt the end grow closer. 

oOo

Mel was short for Melchior. He knows it sounds like a girl name, but he can’t really bring himself to care too much. Mel is what his brothers and sisters and aunts and uncles all called him. And it wasn’t as stuffy as Melchior. Melchior was a name only called out if he was in trouble, if they caught him staring out the window too long, if his sister Auriel needed something. He couldn’t see the name Mel as a concept separate from his own personhood, so Mel didn’t. He was luckier than Astrophel, whose name was only ever shortened to ‘ass’.

Red blue black. Red blue black. Mel patterened the cheap lighters methodically. Two extra blues. Mel frowned. He wondered if it was worth it to toss them - someone would probably notice though, and he’d get in trouble. He adjusted the pattern, made if so that the two extra were each on one end. Went back to the window. 

A little past midday, and no cars were at the pumps. The only car was his, black and dull in it’s usual spot - tucked off to the side to invite guests into the gas station. Or maybe just so that it had a good vintage point to look out over the lot. The passenger side still had a dent in it from the time he tried to peel out of his spot and had instead very slowly hit the back bumper of a truck. 

Seven pigeons roamed the lot in place of the lack of cars. Their heads bobbed forward and back and forward and back. Alone in the station Mel tried it too. Pigeons communicate through their head bobbing. He had seen, once, a rescued show pigeon. It had been abandoned by its’ owner, and bred in such a way that it’s head was permanently back and chest stuck out. The pigeon had been manufactured in such a way that, when the rescuer had put it with the rest of their flock, the other pigeons didn’t know what to do with it. They steered clear of this strange creature that looked like themselves through a funhouse mirror, that could not bob its’ head. 

The roof over the pumps was covered in sharp points that prevented birds from roosting there. Not for the first time, Mel imagined himself finding a tall ladder. He inserted it there, and saw himself climbing up its’ many rungs. When he reached the top - it would have to be a really tall ladder to get that high, and Mel would probably be scared at that height - he would take off or file down the spikes. Invite the birds to stay. 

Mel absently bobbed his head back and forth until someone came in gave him a funny look. 

oOo

The art of projection was one of Mel’s chief skills. Distinctly different than a simple child ‘imagination’. Or at least, Mel thought so. He knew the things he projected into the world weren’t really there, it was like a child who believed their imaginary friends was really there. It was more of a thought exercise. 

He could be sitting at a register, or a bench, or a pew, and look out a window to somewhere else and simple, project that he was there. A simple mind trick, really. Overlapping what he saw with his eyes with a layer of something he could only see in his head. The idea of seeing a picture without your eyes was strange, but it was there all the same. Mel wondered if he took a cleaver down his skull, cracked open his frontal lobe, if he’d see a little threatre in there was a projector. 

Some people, Mel had read, can’t do that. Raguel couldn’t, when he asked. Didn’t think in pictures, didn’t imagine the scenes in books in his head. Mel didn’t understand that. Wouldn’t that leave the letters on the word flat? The stories muttered over bedtime or against the stained glass window like water slidings down your face when you emerge from the lake? 

In another life, sitting in a pew, making sure to absently nod his head to fake that he was listening, Mel stared out a window. The nodding thing was new - he was hoping he could integrate it in well enough. His knuckles still stung and his knees hurt. 

At the gas station, Mel doesn’t need to do the nodding part. He can just look out the window and project. He takes his sock and shoes off, and he climbs the tree. It doesn’t matter that he probably doesn’t have the upper body strength for it, his projection does it with ease, and Mel can imagine the texture of the bark under his hands and feet. Zeph was good at climbing trees, and used to cajole Mel into trying it with their limited free time. The bite of the trunk had hurt his hands. 

Mel sits ontop of the gas pump roof, and his feet dangle off the side. In his mind, he edits out the anti-bird spikes, and his projection is instead surrounded by feathery friends. They bob their heads at him, and inside the station Mel reflexively bobs his own. 

The door chimes, and Mel pulls himself back to his body. 

He’s lost track of the cars. Casts a quick glance back out - two at the pumps, two parked. The man who walks in is alone, and detours immediately to the bathroom. Mel assumes that will be it - statistically if someone comes in and uses the restroom, that’s all they’re here for - especially if they’re alone. The owner of the place keeps telling him to try and get their attention and start friendly conversation, and then push some product ANY product onto them. Mel thinks he’d rather cut his tongue out. 

The man surprises him by emerging from the bathroom and strolling the shelves. Mel watches carefully. Astrophel said that look was offputting, and he should stop, but Mel doesn’t really know how or care enough to curtail it. And at a gas station far enough from town to be separate from it, there are seldom enough repeat customers for him to worry about making a bad impression. Low stakes. And he likes looking. 

People are more complicated that pigeons. There’s a lot more that goes into it than head bobbing. Body language and tone and gestures and winks. All kinds of things. Mel likes watching families and lovers and strangers come in. Watches their interractions. It’s even more interesting to watch someone alone. What a person does with their body when no one is looking. 

The man adjusts the bill of his ballcap. Snorts - the arid desert air probably getting to him. Or maybe he’s sick. Aunt Apollonia used to snort and cough and blow her nose in a way that seemed like she was commanding attention. It would ring out and drag the attention of strangers on the street, when they went out in public. At home it had become background noise to everyone. Mel had hated it, it made his skin crawl. But no one else commented on it, so Mel had kept his mouth shut. 

Eventually the man gets a lemonade, a soda, and a bag of chips. At the counter he adds a black lighter. Mel is going to need to choose a new pattern now. The back of his mind gets to work on that. The stranger doesn’t smell of cigarette smoke, but sometimes if it isn’t enough of a habit it doesn’t stick to a person quite as much, or maybe it’s for someone he knows. Some people get lighters just for the novelty of having fire at their fingertips - usually the aforementioned teens. If Mel turns his head to the side, he thinks he could see this man being some kind of a pyro. 

“If you get two of these, they’re buy one get one.” Mel gestures to the bag of chips. The man before him starts. He knows this part is hard - suddenly having to talk and act like a human being when you aren’t prepared for it. But if the mans’ getting the one anyway, he might as well snag a second. It doesn’t make sense to Mel - wouldn’t that be a profit loss for the chip company? 

“Oh yeah? I’ll, uh, I’ll be right back then.” The man leaves his collection of items at the register and retreats back to the chip aisle. Mel thinks about business strategies of chip companies. 

The loud sound of a bag of doritos breaks his thinking, and Mel rings it up. The man has brown eyes. 

“Weathers’ nice today.” The man says. Mels’ heart sinks a little - by helping the man gain chips, he has broken the spell of the gas station. He doesn’t mind talking to customers, but he knows they don’t really want to talk to him. Mel knows his body is too stiff and made wrong, and his head angled too far up. He’s used to looking out windows and staring at stained glass. He isn’t used to looking someone in their eyes, or at least at their face. He feels guilt that he has shackled this man to trying to converse with him through the act of goodwill. 

“It is.” Mel replies, because that’s what you do when someone says the weather is nice. There is an awkward pause. The man is waiting for something. Mel does not know what the man is waiting for. He moves his body, and his facial muscles. “That’s going to be $9.47.” That’s not what the space in the air was for, but Mel doesn’t know what else to put there. 

The man pulls out a wallet and several bills. Paying in cash. It’s a surprise. Mel’s face heats up. 

“Oh, sorry, one second.” He has to crane over the counter to get to the card reader, and presses the red button. Nobody really pays with cash these days. The instinct to push the purchase to the reader had been automatic. 

“I can pay with card if you want.” The man offers. 

“Don’t.” Mel winces at his own voice. That came out wrong - too sharp. He used the wrong font - the one he said that with had too many points. He tries again. “I already canceled it. Cash is easier now.” Tone tone tone. Don’t forget the tone. Mel attempts to do something with his facial muscles, he’s not sure what. The man nods a few times and hands over the cash. 

“I like the register here.” The man says as Mel punches in the the information and the drawer pops out. He counts and recounts the change. Tilts his head to the side. 

“You like… the register?” Mel says slowly. One of the mans’ hands is already outstretched, waiting for the money. Mel places the bills first, and then the coins, letting them fall together in a short lived windchime. 

“When you put the order in, it makes the Sonic the Hedgehog sound.” He elaborates. Mel feels lost in the conversation. “Ba-ling! Ba-ling!” Mel usually tunes out the register, but he knows what sound the man is imitating. “When you pick up rings.” The man is waiting for recognition to light up in Mels’ gaze. Mel should fake it, to save face.

“Is it a good show?” He says instead. The man’s eyebrows raise, then he smiles and shakes his head. 

“It’s not a show - well, it had a show at one point - but it’s a video game. A classic.” Mel nods in understanding. Another bit of pop culture that Mel had failed to catch up on. He knows the contents of leatherbound journals, ancient scrolls, writing etched only on walls and forbidden from being transcribed onto paper. He did not know much else.

“I’m sorry,” And Mel really was. “...I’ve never heard of it.” The man moves his body, and his facial muscles, and Mel compares it to his internal reference guide. This means ‘no big deal’ or something to that affect. 

 “Eh, it’s kind of overrated to be honest. Just makes me think of me and my sister plahying it as kids. Nostalgic, ya feel?” The man nods to himself.”I know not everyone grew up in a Sega household.” He’s starting to gather his things up in his arms, and slice of embarrassment runs through Mels’ spine as he realizes he never bagged the items. In a flurry of hands he fluffs a plastic bad and starts shoving the items that hasn’t gathered up into it. 

“I’m sorry, I forgot-” 

“Don’t worry about it.” He’s good natured, and places the other items back down for Mel to grab. “I didn’t mind carrying this stuff. It’s not that far to my car anyways.” Mel nods but finished the task anyways. Make’s sure everything is int he back just right, that once it’s picked up the drinks won’t crush the chips. When he’s satisfied, he pushes the bag towards the customer. 

“Thanks for your help…” The man’s eyes rove around Mel until they finall land on the nametag. “Mel-shy-wah?” He doesn’t stutter the word, but his voice increases in pitch at the end. An open question without words. 

“Mel-key-oar.” The correction is automatic. He’s standing too stiffly, he should do something with himself. His face, or his body maybe. Mel goes for a shrug, raising his shoulders up and down. Tries to copy the movement the man did earlier, when they were talking about the hedgehog. “It’s my job.” 

“Sorry that’s weird - I hate it when customers know my name without me giving it to them.” The man is apologetic again. Mel doesn’t get it - that’s why he wears a nametag afterall. The customer seems to think he has fallen into some kind of fauxpas. The hand not holding the bag sticks out. “I’m Wren.” He says. “There, now we’re on equal footing.” The man’s lips tily up, and even Mel can tell that’s pleased with himself, that Wren feels like he had managed to save the situation, despite the fact that the situation was not in any danger to being with. 

“Wren.” Mel repeats, because he doesn’t know what else to say, and shakes the proffered hand. The grip is calloused and firm, Mel knows his is too limp by contrast but doesn’t really know how to remedy it. The handshake lasts the wrong amount of time, but Mel has a hard time determining if that is too long or too short. Their hands break apart. “Have a good day.” 

The man gives one last grin, big and easy, and leaves. The bell above the door chimes at the exit. Wrens’ green car leaves, and there is now one car parked, and one car at a pump.

[south-sea]

Prompt: Dancing with a partner or by themselves

Metal learns by example. (QPR Metadow)

~635 words

-

In the den sits an old woodgrain CRT TV, vintage yet pristine as if plucked from time itself. On its small screen, an actress dances in black and white with her co-star. He twirls her, and she laughs. The music swells, the two slow to step in time, and she lays her head on his shoulder. The frame cuts—they stand hand in delicate hand.

Shadow is not one much for romanticism in any sense. His definition (or lack of) of his own relationship is not romantic, and he does not seek out media to supplant what he "lacks". The TV had been a gift, the movie one of many along with it—the combination of monochrome and crackling audio a comforting salve to nostalgia. He watches with drowsy half-lidded eyes and a relative lack of investment this late in the evening.

It's noise; a rare way to occupy his time and mind on a night when nightmares are surely all that wait to welcome him in his sleep.

If there is one thing Metal Sonic is not, it is "spontaneous". His moods do not ebb and flow when at rest. He does not consume media and it does not consume him—the moods and atmosphere of what is shown on screen do not affect him. But he watches the framework, the technicalities, the cinematography as a whole, and he observes. He watches the people, and he learns, and he processes, and he calculates. He watches the pattern of the actors' steps, fills in the gaps not shown on screen in descending order of probability, cross-references the information with internal internet searches.

It is called a waltz, he learns. The pattern is measured, precise. Predictable. All things he can appreciate in their relatability.

Shadow draws in a weary breath, runs his paws along his face in the way he does when disquieted with existence at large, and makes to lean into his housemate's side.

Metal does not give him the chance. Before Shadow can fully commit to the lean, Metal is already standing, turned to face him, a hand outstretched with tactile sensors alight and expectant. The look and head-tilt he receives in return is one of curious suspicion, and yet Shadow trustingly places his paw in waiting steel anyway, and allows himself to be pulled to his feet.

The spin to reposition them more safely into the middle of the room is not rushed, the leading steps are not hurried. Metal guides him, takes up that organically delicate paw in his own, places the other comfortably beneath the spines of his now dance-partner's back. Shadow eyes him with a mixture of questioning wariness at first, and then their measured steps aligns his vision with the TV again.

So that's what it is.

The movie's score eases into a melody almost made for the moment. If he didn't know any better, he might have guessed this was planned. But he knows it wasn't, and Metal doesn't pretend it was.

The waltz is intuitive after the first few turns, Shadow finds. Metal's lead is measured, precise, predictable. They fall into a perfect rhythm, and he's lulled into a state of comfort and calm mercilessly different from the tension that came before.

When Metal swings him around with extra vigor bordering on uncharacteristic spontaneity, he can't help but break into an uneven grin.

When Metal does it again, he laughs.

And when Metal meets the top of his forehead with the front of his would-be muzzle, he relaxes into his hold, slipping to the side to rest his head in the crook between Metal's cheek and shoulder pad.

Their already slow steps slow and slow some more, until all that's left is gentle rocking side to side together, hand in delicate hand.

Nightmares wait another day to trouble Shadow's sleep.

[glittervame]

The stars are listening

Small little thing, fulfilling the request of -🌧🛥 Annon

Luke Castellan x M!Reader

The warm evening air was filled with the sweet scent of jasmine as you and Luke Castellan strolled down the sidewalk, hand in hand. The setting sun painted the sky with a canvas of oranges and pinks, setting the perfect backdrop for your much-anticipated movie date. You both had been looking forward to this night out after weeks of juggling your hectic schedules and battling monsters together. The tension between you had grown into something more than friendship, and the chemistry was palpable as you walked towards the cozy little theater that had captured both of your hearts.

The theater was a quaint, vintage gem, with a retro neon sign flickering above the ticket booth. The soft murmur of chatter and the sound of popcorn popping filled the air as you approached. Luke looked at you, his eyes gleaming with excitement, and whispered, "I've heard they're playing a classic tonight."

You nodded, feeling the same thrill. The movie was a romantic comedy from the 90s, back to the future, neither of you were into sifi but you had decided to try something new. As you stepped inside, the cool air from the air conditioning brushed against your skin, a welcome relief from the heat outside. The dimly lit lobby had a timeless charm, with posters of old films lining the walls and a charming concession stand that offered an array of snacks.

Choosing your treats, you both settled on popcorn and soda, with Luke insisting on buying the extra-large size to share.

The theater itself was cozy, with plush velvet seats and a balcony that looked like it was straight out of a fairytale. You found your perfect spot in the middle of the room, close enough to the screen to be immersed in the film but far enough back so you don't have to crane your necks. The lights dimmed, and the screen flickered to life as the opening credits rolled.

As the movie played out, you found yourself laughing at the cheesy jokes and getting lost in the whirlwind romance unfolding before you. Luke's deep chuckles resonated in your chest, and you couldn't help but steal glances at him, his profile bathed in the soft glow of the screen. His strong jawline, the way his hair fell over his forehead—everything about him was utterly captivating.

Literally perfection.

After the move the two of you wandered around until you found yourselves at a playground, the swings gently squeaking in the breeze. The moon had risen high in the sky, casting a soft silver light over the deserted area.

You took a seat on one of the swings, and Luke followed suit, sitting on the swing beside you. For a moment, you both just enjoyed the quiet, letting the comforting sounds of the night wash over you. Then, he looked over, his expression serious. "You know, I've never told anyone this before," he began, his voice low and earnest. "But I've always had a soft spot for these old rom-coms."

You couldn't help but laugh, the sound light and airy. "Really? Mr. Tough Guy has a secret love for romance?"

He grinned, a dimple appearing in his cheek. "Guess I'm full of surprises."

"Fucking dork" You playfully shoved his shoulder, causing him to laugh harder. "Great Idea!" You say perking up, "First one to the top of the play set wins a kiss!"

Without missing a beat, Luke shot out of his swing, his competitive spirit flaring up. You couldn't help but be a little smug as you took off after him, your legs moving swiftly as you climbed the metal rungs.

"That's not fair" You shout after him as he reaches the top first, "You're a demigod!"

"No cheating!" He called down, his eyes sparkling with mischief, "Bow down to me you filthy mortal!"

You flip him off.

Reaching the top and panting slightly, you looking up to see him leaning over the edge, a smug look on his face. You couldn't resist the urge to playfully push him, only to realize he was holding onto the bars, and your push had been a little too strong. He let out a surprised yelp as he lost his balance, but instead of falling, you found yourself catching him, your arms wrapping around his waist to keep him steady.

For a moment, you both froze, your hearts racing from the adrenaline rush and something else—something that had been building between you for quite some time. His eyes searched yours, and you felt the electricity arc between you. Without thinking, you leaned in, pressing your lips gently to his. The kiss was soft and sweet.

When you pulled away, Luke's eyes searched yours, filled with a mix of mischief and desire. "Well, I guess that means I won the bet," you whispered with a smirk.

He chuckled, his cheeks flushing. "I guess I'll have to think of something better next time."

You both sat there for a while longer, legs swinging back and forth, talking about the movie and sharing stories from your past. The night was young, and the stars above twinkled like they were listening to every word you said.

[peachyteabuck]

be careful of the curse (that falls on young lovers)

summary: fallon is one of your clients, but she’s much more to you than just someone who’s purchased several hours of your time

a commission for @cherrysweetdevine​

pairing: fallon carrington x reader

words: 2703

content warnings: vaginal fingering, minor bloodplay, blood drinking, allusions to whorephobia, reader is a sex worker/blood bank for vampires

“Ms. Carrington?” You call out, trembling just a little as you step inside her large mansion. The dress she sent you to hear this week doesn’t leave much to keep you warm in the chilly October weather, certainly. But the fear you’ve always felt stepping through her front door has never subsided. It’s settled into your belly as if you’d grown an extra organ that struggles to find its place among your liver and kidneys.

What you’re wearing certainly doesn’t help your nerves, either.

The dress – some bastardized version of a French maid costume – clings to your breasts. You can imagine this is how cicadas feel when they’re getting ready to shed their skin, desperate for the dastardly exoskeleton to split open and give its host relief. The skirt, blessedly, does not confine you in any sense. It does, however, reveal the matching lace of your panties (that Fallon also purchased for you, and was delivered with the rest of the attire) any time someone so much as whispers in your direction.

Given Fallon’s past requests, you’re very sure that was on purpose. You’re sure it’s the same with the heels – tall, skinny, loud as they clack against the marble floor. As a kid, you once found a collection of your father’s vintage porn magazines hidden behind a stack of quarterly reports from his accounting firm. Those pinups, with their skimpy versions of various professions’ signature outfits, were once your pinnacle of beauty. You studied them like textbooks, watching their garters and fishnets and short dresses and lowcut tops. As an adult, though, as you pulled similar items onto your body, you did  it without any of the childish revere.

Still, you did it anyway. “I wasn’t really feeling it today” doesn’t pay your bills, and plus, you like Fallon. Fallon intrigues you. Most of your clients are people you’d rather never see again; too boring, too annoying, too desperate, too cheap. It’s welcome to be intrigued by her. Your job, while exciting to all those you tell of it, still occasionally is dreadfully boring. Nothing matters as much as Fallon does. It’s dangerous to put her on such a pedestal; your clients are just that—clients. They care about you in the same way one cares about their pets or expensive espresso machines.

The sound of her heels distracts you from your train of thought. As you turn to the source of the sound, you see her and nearly gasp.

She’s gorgeous, the long black dress hugging her body as if it was a second skin. The neckline dips between her breasts, revealing a deep V of pale skin.

You’ve played this game for a while. Her, acting coy and as if she is not a black widow who has murdered more than a dozen men in her hundred-year lifespan. You, acting as though you don’t know her cunning, monstrous ways.

One hand rests on the black barrister, her pale hand contrasting against the dark wood. The other holds a martini glass filled with a dark, thick liquid you know, from experience, is human blood. When you first took this job, her habits petrified you more than anything else in your life had. Now, it’s the least terrifying part of your deeply strange occupation. You’d allowed many a vampire to take from you, sipping from your neck or inner thigh or wrist. Fallon was the only, though, to be allowed to hold you as she drinks from your neck.

“So lovely of you to join me tonight,” she says with a sinister smile. She reminds you of cartoon wolves, or lions advancing toward a limping zebra. When watching nature documentaries, you’d never considered if the prey understood their imminent demise, if they were acutely aware of the danger lurking behind the tall grass. Certainly, the beasts had evolved to stalk quietly, to keep their lips sealed even as they drooled. But did they need to? Do they need to grant their target one last shred of hope, if they will force it to die in equal parts fear and pain?

You try to mask your glee at see her with a sly smile. “I had a hole in my schedule, so I knew I could fit in an appointment, especially for such a lovely customer.”

She smiles back, and you hope she’s bought your nearly translucent cover.

Fallon looks at you for just a moment, examining you from her position—checking, you think, to make sure you wore the outfit she asked for.

“Well, come on up, darling,” she tells you, turning and walking in the direction of her bedroom. Acclimated enough to know her cues, you follow her into the lavishly decorated bedroom.

She doesn’t sleep—none of them do, you’ve found. They have beds, of course. Hard to blend in or entertain guests if you have no beds. But very few of them decorate the way she does. Fallon’s got a keen eye for interior décor that’s also functional, a balance the older men you see rarely seem to strike. She once said she has secret compartments everywhere filled with trinkets she’s collected over her long life, antique jewelry, teeth from humans and animals, first-edition books from before the 19th century. Sometimes, when she’s feeling playful, she’ll pick an area and have you try to find where the objects are hidden. She stands there, watching you like a child at the zoo, sipping from a wine glass filled with a liquid you don’t ask the origin of as you tap against wood and push against books.

The intricate dance between you two begins as you step into the threshold, taking your usual place in the center of the four-poster bed. There, on your back, your upper body propped against well-fluffed pillows, your eyes follow her as she crosses the room to lay at your side.

She can hear your heartbeat, hear the blood rushing through your veins. Like drums in the distance, it thumps in her inner ear as she drags her teeth across the skin of your collar bones. You’ve never been robbed before, certainly never robbed at knifepoint. But every time you’ve seen someone in those black-and-white movies Fallon loves so much backed into a wall with a switchblade, you imagine it feels just like this. Danger so close you can taste it, your life betting on the mercy of a creature you’ve seen rip men’s hearts from their chests with their bare hands.

She climbs on top of you without preamble, stealing the breath from your lungs as her pelvis crashes against yours. Her hands hold your hips in place, her nails perfectly painted and sharpened into points threatening to tear into the cheap fabric of your frilly dress.

Fallon leans closer, and it takes all of your will not to press your warm body against her cold one. That’s another thing Fallon likes—the chase.

“Don’t you want to be a good girl for me,” she moans in her signature fake pout. It’s something you’ve only seen her pull off; that faux-final girl facial expression hiding behind a nearly feral glint in her eye. She could convince you (and, given her history, anyone else) to do anything she wanted with that tone, with her big eyes, with a small bite of her lip.

There’s something almost poetic about it you. The riches she’s gained with the ever-so-subtle touch of one of her nails likely reaches the hundreds of billions, and here she is, using it just for the honor of taking a few pints of blood. The money she takes never returns – lawyers, sex, and shame keep people’s lips sealed. Your blood always comes back, though, so it always feels like you’re getting the better end of the deal.  

(But then again, so did those old, wrinkly-ass men.)

“A-always, Mistress,” you finally stutter out, biting into your bottom lip to keep yourself from moaning. She grinds against you slowly, purposefully. God, she feels good against you.

She leans down, brushing her lips against your ear. It sends shivers down your spine, and once more you struggle not to turn your head and crash your mouths together. “Then give me what I want.”

“Yes, Mistress,” you whimper, turning your head so she has full access to the column of your neck.

Fallon, unlike the other vampires you’ve worked for in your career, likes to take her time with you. The others—possibly still waiting to unwrap the shame around their desires, possibly just not wanting to pay extra—always took what they needed, paid you, and then had you leave without a trace. No small talk, no pleasantries, no conversation, nothing. With merely a nod of acknowledgment, the creatures waiting on the sidelines as you laid on the settee or bed or whatever else they had purchased just so people like you could be comfortable while you were fed upon.

The woman on top of you, grazing her expertly painted lips over your neck, is a nice change of pace from your usual clientele.

It doesn’t hurt, the feeling of her teeth making tiny punctures into your skin. She keeps them sharpened (the term “vampire dentist” feels like the punchline to a bad Halloween joke, but in truth they’re all too real), the enamel filed down to a steep point that reminds you of a toothpick or a razer blade. This doesn’t stop you, though, from gasping just a bit as she drinks from your left carotid artery.

She holds you down, one hand keeping its place on your hip and the other moving to support the back of your neck. The feeling of her tongue over the wound, her light kisses pressed to your neck, her palm holding you at the perfect angle…your head swims as everything converges inside of you.

“You’re so fucking beautiful,” she murmurs, her cold hands tracing up and down your thighs. The threat of her razor-sharp nails is only dulled by her supernatural control over her own movements. With anyone else, you’d be scared. With her, all you can do it watch her as her eyes drag over your body.

Her hand falls below the skirt, brushing her hands over your trembling thighs. Her nails – sharp as her teeth and dark as her lips – trail over the hem of the frilly panties. You imagine they were made for cents on the dollar and would fall apart if you so much as whispered in their direction. Fallon, though, makes you feel as though you’re wearing lingerie made of Mulberry silk.

You know she can smell you; smell your blood as it pounds through your veins, smell your core as it weeps under her gaze. She knows you know this, too, her confessing her supernatural senses after you accompanied her to some grand vampire dinner. Only there, as she pushed you into an empty bedroom and kissed up the column if your neck, did she confess that everyone at the long, oak table knew how wet you were under your blue velvet dress.

“Fuck, you’re wet,” she purrs, maneuvering your panties so the palm of her hand is pressed against your aching clit. “All this for me, baby?”

You moan, the sound so lewd it scares you. “Yes, Mistress, please-“

The word becomes a choked, animalistic noise as she begins rubbing her hand up and down the slick flesh, gathering the wetness at your dripping pussy before grinding the heel of her hand against the most sensitive part of you. She’s barely touching you compared to what you’re used to—no intricate ropes or morphing into fantastical beasts or fucking you with the ride array of strap ons she keeps organized by size in an armoire. This feels even bigger than all of those, though, her guiding you up the mountain of pleasure with a single hand.

The other, still present at the back of your neck, angles your face towards hers. You can see the remnant trails of your blood at the sides of your mouth, but it doesn’t stop you from accepting her deep kisses. The iron and copper taste doesn’t deter you, no, doesn’t keep you from slipping your tongue into her mouth. It also doesn’t stop you from begging for more, more—from pleading for whatever it is she’s willing to give you.

“So cute,” Fallon murmurs, smirking as you pant into your mouth. “Cum for me, baby” she purrs. “Give me what I want.”

It’s easy to follow her command, screaming as you reach your peak. She rubs you through it, only pulling away when your whimpers turn more painful than pathetic. Fallon eventually pulls away, leaving you as she murmurs something about replenishing your body and finding something to drink.

As she exits, you begin to wish you could know her more—wish she’d tell you about what life was like before she turned, how the world had changed around her as she tried to keep her status under wraps. She had only told you she had been the only daughter of a ruthless oil baron, and that the vampire who turned her attacked her outside a busy social club. The mystery person had taken her wallet, her ruby necklace, and her mortality.

The supernatural has always been…a fascination of yours. Ever since you were a child, werewolves and zombies and things that go bump in the night occupied most of your thoughts. Fallon and her mysterious aura had only magnified your desire to learn more, to store information in your brain to ponder whenever you found yourself staring into space, or on a date with a more boring customer.

You train of thought is thrown off the rails as you hear the sound of her heels once more, entering with her butler in tow. An older New Zealander whose perpetual politeness always has you on the offense, he carries a fanciful charcuterie plate and a scowl. Thinly sliced artisanal meats are folded to resemble flowers, bite-sized cuts of cheese are expertly placed to create spirals of various whites and yellows. Fruits—some you recognize, some you don’t—pepper the board. In the center rests a pitcher, already covered in condensation, and a small glass.

He doesn’t like you very much, you think.

Truthfully, you’re not sure he likes you at all, given he’s never spoken a single word directly to you. You’re just happy he only speaks to Fallon, if you’re being honest. Given his brashness with her, you’re just a little scared of what he’d say to you.

He leaves just as he left—silent, and with a slight scour painted over his face. You watch him as he leaves, his rigid posture and squared shoulders never slumping even as he turns the corner, out of Fallon’s eyeshot. She once told you she had superhuman hearing, and knew where everyone at the house was at all times. You wonder if the butler knows that, or if it’s even true.

“Eat, darling,” Fallon tells you, snapping you back to attention. “I can’t have the company forcing me to pay on that insurance clause.”

You know she would be able to afford it, keeping the company from dumping her as a client. Still, it warms your cheeks just enough to keep you from making a witty remark. Everything melts on your tongue, your heart racing at the taste. That’s another part of the reason you adore when Fallon picks up one of your appointments from you; even though she doesn’t eat much human food ever since she was turned, she only keeps sustenance of the best quality under her roof. She’s buys things not just because they’re expensive, but also because they’re good. You’ve had so many terrible steaks and horrible salads because men with no discernable taste believe them to be some of the best.

As you begin to fill your small plate with bits and pieces from the board, taking sips of cold water between bites, you feel her lean down next to you.

“Let me know when you’re full,” she whispers in your ear once more, pressing her hand between your thighs. “I want you nice and comfortable for the rest of our session.”

[susoriginals]

Vintage Orange Floral Tank Top Scoop Neck Pullover Top by Wild Fable Women's Extra Large NOS Only $10

[invisibleraven]

I like your shoelaces for SweetTarts!

If there was one thing to said about Carrie Wilson, was that she knew fashion. All her outfits were the newest designs and latest trends by the biggest names. Even when she was wearing a simple pair of sweats and a top, they probably cost more than was sensible and had a famous name on the label.

However, Carrie was also practical, knowing her friends couldn't afford high end stuff, making do with bargain bin clothes, and when it came to the boys, stuff they found thrifting. She had tried once to bring them shopping for nicer stuff-even offered to pay-but they claimed they were happy enough wearing their 90's style duds and she let it go.

Well, at least until the band made it big-then she dictated their style for red carpets and awards shows, with them being more than happy for her to lend her expertise.

Except Reggie.

Reggie had exactly one suit-a overly large, baggy grey one with a dull tie and a set of black dress shoes to go with it. Which he wore to every formal event.

So days before a big press event, when Carrie asked to see their looks, she knew she shouldn't be surprised to see Reggie in his signature suit. "no," she said, slipped and final.

"Aw come on Care! This suit is classic! Vintage is in!" Reggie protested. "I bet you can find one thing you like about this look."

"I like your shoelaces," she said wryly.

"Thanks, I stole them from the President!" Reggie chirped, but then caught sight of her confused, and unamused expression and turned sheepish. "Sorry, stupid internet meme."

Carrie sighed, rubbing at the bridge of her nose. "Look, you guys refuse to hire a stylist, so I'm what you got, and Reggie, I love you, but that suit ain't it."

"What's wrong with it?" Reggie asked, crossing his arms.

"Where do I start?" Carrie asked, hands on her hips. "It's way too big for you, the colour washes you out, the cut of it is wrong for your body type, the material is way too heavy for LA, and it's boring." She took a hold of Reggie's shoulders then, staring him right in the eye. "And you, Reggie Peters, are not boring."

"It was my Pops' suit," he finally said quietly. "He left it for me when he died, and it was like keeping a part of him with me."

"And that's lovely," Carrie replied honestly. "But he would want you to look your best while honouring him-not dragging his stuff around like you're a kid playing dress-up."

"Okay," he sniffled. "Let's get me a new suit then."

Carrie did a little fist pump at that, commanding Reggie to change and dragged him to an upscale boutique for a fitting. Her treat, and she paid extra for things to be done on time.

Reggie walked away with three suits-a pure black one with a matching shirt and tie, a light grey one that was more the vintage style he was after, and a funky red satin one with black butterflies decorating the jacket and vest.

That was the one he wore to the big press event, Carrie in her signature sparkly hot pink on his arm. And stuffed into the breast pocket was a plain white pocket square-one of several she had made from the lining of his old suit.

And Reggie claimed Pops would have loved that-just as he was sure the man would have loved her.

"I'm sure I would have loved him too," she said, adjusting his tie as the photographers snapped picture after picture. "Almost as much as I love you."

Reggie pulled her in for a kiss then-and that was the shot that graced the news reels of them the next morning. And the one she got a copy of for their bedroom, which stayed there, right alongside their eventual wedding photos, and a frame containing a pair of simple black laces.

[tamapalace]

Tamagotchi x 9090 x Centimeter x Younger Song x HTH Collection

Bandai Japan has announced a new collection in collaboration with four Japanese street wear brands, 9090, Centimeter, Younger Song, and HTH. The collection will be featured at the Diver its Tokyo Plaza 9090 pop-up which is scheduled for Friday, December 8th, 2023. The collection will be available starting on Wednesday, December 6th, 2023 at YZ Store, YZ Store Official application, Premium Bandai, 9090, HTH, and Younger Song stores nationwide in Japan.

There are a total of 9 items in the collection, including hoodies, zip hoodies, sweatpants, and rubber keychains.

First is the 9090 x Tamagotchi Hoodie which boldly expresses the popular Mametchi and NINETY with embroidery. The Tamagotchi logo on the hood, and left cuff is embroiled with a logo that combines the NINETY logo and Tamagotchi. Available in black and gray, sizes medium, large, and extra large. Priced at ¥10,900 including tax.

Second is the 9090 x Tamagotchi Logo Zip Hoodie which includes the popular 90 logo featuring a Tamagotchi silhouette as the zero. The 90 logo is also embroiled on the left upper-right chest. Colors are black and cream, and sizes including medium, large, and extra large. Priced at ¥10,900 including tax.

Third is the 90 x Tamagotchi 9090 Logo Sweat Pants which also including the 90 logo and embroidered 90 logo on the left side of the front pant. The 90 logo is also boldly printed on the back. Available in black and cream, sizes include medium, large, and extra large. Priced at ¥9,900 including tax.

Fourth is the 9090 x Tamagotchi Sweat shirt. Which features pixel graphics of vintage Tamagotchi sprites from P1 and P2 programming with verbiage “Choose your life” on top. Available in sizes medium, large, and extra large, priced at ¥9,900 including tax.

Fifth is the 9090 x Tamagotchi Rubber keychain. Exclusively sold in stores only. Featuring the 90 logo and a Tamagotchi character on a keychain. Colors include Mametchi (cream & navy), Memetchi (red & orange), Kuchipatchi (yellow & green), Furawatchi (sky blue & pink), and Zuccitchi (gray & sumi). Priced at ¥1,500 including tax.

Sixth is the Tamagotchi x Centimeter Collaboration Hoodie. This hoodie represents the Heisei era. Featuring Mametchi, and Kuchipatchi in 8-bit official logo and unique aesthetic. Available in both black and khaki. Sizes included medium, large, and extra large. Priced at ¥9,900 including tax.

Seventh is the Younger Song x Tamagotchi Universal Logo Hoodie. Based on the classic Tamagotchi logo, the back print expresses how Tamagotchi and others came to play in the world of Younger Song. Available in Miku oatmeal, and navy. Sizes available include medium, large, and extra large, priced at ¥9,900 including tax.

Eighth is the Younger Song x Tamagotchi key holder. Based on the original Tamagotchi logo, it is designed as a clear keychain that shows off how Tamagotchi came to play in the world of Younger Song. Priced at ¥1,650 including tax.

Ninth and last, the Tamagotchi x HTH Sweat. This is a collaboration sweatshirt presenting Tamagotchi and HTH. The realistic Tamagotchi is featured in the center and a ball chain with great detail. Priced at ¥8,000 including tax.

[dlifesworld]

Top 7 Living Room Design Trends for 2024

If you’re an interior design enthusiast or a homeowner looking to revamp your living space, 2024 is bringing some exciting changes to living room design. The living room, often the heart of the home, deserves a stylish and functional design. Let's explore the top seven living room design trends our interior designers in Pune compiled to help transform your space into a haven of comfort and elegance.

1. Sustainable Materials

In 2024, sustainability continues to be a key focus in interior design. Homeowners are increasingly opting for eco-friendly materials that are not only beautiful but also kind to the planet.

Recycled Fabrics: Upholstery made from recycled materials is on the rise. Think sofas covered in fabrics made from recycled plastic bottles.

Bamboo and Cork: These materials are not only sustainable but also add a touch of natural beauty to your living space.

Reclaimed Wood: Floors, coffee tables, and shelves made from reclaimed wood bring a rustic charm while promoting sustainability.

2. Bold Colors and Patterns

Say goodbye to neutral tones; 2024 is all about making a statement with bold colors and patterns. This trend is perfect for those who want to inject personality into their living room design.

Vibrant Hues: Deep blues, rich greens, and bold reds are making a comeback.

Geometric Patterns: From wallpaper to rugs, geometric patterns add a modern touch to any living room.

Mixed Prints: Don’t be afraid to mix and match different prints. The key is to balance them with solid colors to avoid overwhelming the space.

3. Multifunctional Furniture

With the rise of smaller living spaces, multifunctional furniture is becoming increasingly popular. Pieces that serve multiple purposes are not only practical but also stylish.

Sofa Beds: Perfect for guests and small apartments.

Storage Ottomans: These provide extra seating and storage space.

Foldable Tables: Ideal for those who need a dining table that can be tucked away when not in use.

4. Biophilic Design

Biophilic design, which focuses on incorporating natural elements into the home, is gaining traction in 2024. This trend is all about creating a connection between the indoors and the outdoors.

Indoor Plants: Adding greenery not only beautifies your space but also improves air quality.

Natural Light: Maximizing natural light with large windows and skylights.

Water Features: Small indoor fountains or aquariums add a calming effect.

5. Smart Home Integration

Technology continues to influence living room design, with smart home integration becoming more accessible and user-friendly.

Smart Lighting: Control the ambiance with smart bulbs and lighting systems.

Voice-Activated Assistants: Devices like Amazon Echo and Google Home make managing your home easier.

Automated Blinds and Curtains: Adjust your window treatments with the touch of a button.

6. Minimalist Aesthetic

The minimalist aesthetic remains strong in 2024, focusing on simplicity and functionality. This trend is all about “less is more.”

Clean Lines: Furniture with sleek, clean lines.

Neutral Palette: Whites, grays, and muted tones create a calming environment.

Decluttered Spaces: Keeping only essential items on display to maintain a tidy look.

7. Vintage and Retro Accents

Adding a touch of nostalgia, vintage and retro accents are making a comeback. These elements bring character and charm to modern interiors.

Mid-Century Modern Furniture: Pieces inspired by the 1950s and 60s.

Retro Lighting: Statement light fixtures that evoke a sense of nostalgia.

Vintage Decor: Incorporating antique pieces like mirrors, clocks, and artwork.

2024 is shaping up to be an exciting year for living room design. Whether you’re drawn to bold colors, sustainable materials, or smart home technology, there’s a trend for everyone. By incorporating these top seven living room design trends into your home with the guidance of a reliable team of interior designers in India, you can create a space that is both stylish and functional.

[hometoursandotherstuff]

This large 1869 Victorian in Evansville, Indiana is a bargain at $449,900. It has so many original features. 5bds,3ba.

I don't even mind that they replaced the wood floor in the entrance with tile b/c it looks so good. The original oak wood is stunning.

The reception room definitely has the original floor and look at that fireplace. The walls are papered and don't need a thing. The extra wide doorway has folding doors.

Beautiful large dining room would look great with a bigger table.

I like the kitchen remodel. This looks good- it's updated, but not over-the-top modern.

The house has a spacious floor primary bedroom and the laundry room is in the en-suite.

Disappointed with the en-suite. They used a vintage dresser to make a sink, but I thought they'd put in reproduction Victorian plumbing fixtures.

This bedroom is lovely. The main family quarters are on the 1st floor.

Smaller bath has a vintage tub.

The stairs have a spectacular view of the main hall.

Very spacious upper floor. It looks like they may have opened up and they were once bedrooms.

It appears to be a separate apt. , but isn't currently used as a residence.

There's a full kitchen.

Cute vintage bath.

These would be 2 bedrooms up here, but they're not being used as such.

The floor above is a huge finished attic. This is a lot with a lot of potential - huge house for under $500K.

Has a nice yard, driveway and garage. Love the iron fence. Look at the church right next door.

[danglovely]

Regrading Taskmaster: S02 E02 Pork is a sausage.

*Score changes noted in parenthesis.

Prize Task: Trendiest Item of clothing.

Richard brings in a t-shirt of the Osmonds but with his face edited over them. It's a clever joke, but a complete whiff on trendiness as the Mormon sing group gradually becomes less and less relevant over time.

Katherine brings in a pair of leggings with a unicorn fighting a robot dinosaur with a rainbow overhead. This actually isn't bad; the 80's aesthetic is pretty bullet proof and it exudes a level of non-sequitarian humor that can be pretty trendy.

Jon brings in a cardigan with a a black waist coat sewn in. He impresses Katherine with it, but outside of cardigans being a decently popular item of clothing, this isn't particularly impressive.

Joe brings in his best tie with his aunt (definitely a lie) and a small vintage car embroidered on it. It doesn't look terrible but he really needed to sell this with a better story.

Doc brings in bright red waterproof converse, or what he calls "wellies with laces." He tries to sell it by saying how ridiculous they are and that's what he finds trendy.

They all sort of whiff on the category to varying degrees. Richard's is the opposite of trendy and Katherine's is the best. The other three are largely dependent on taste.

Doc: 4 (-1) Joe: 2 (0) Jon: 3 (0) Katherine: 5 (+1) Richard: 1 (0)

VT 01: Eat me. Fastest wins.

Theoretically objective task but there is a ton of pedantry involved in how much of an egg one has to consume to "eat it." None of them eat the shell, but it's pretty collectively understood that it isn't included when you say you've consumed an egg.

Doc and Joe appear to completely consume their eggs. Katherine abstains after tasting raw egg and takes a DQ as a result The issue is that Jon and Richard both lose some of their egg to the table because they crack it into the egg-cup and it isn't big enough to hold the contents.

It's not an easy question because interpreting the task to mean consume any of the egg puts Katherine back in the game, but interpreting it to mean the entire egg DQ's Jon and Richard. Greg seems to take an intent-based approach (Jon and Richard didn't mean to lose part of their eggs and consumed as much as they possibly could) and the outcome feels just.

Doc: 4 (0) Joe: 2 (0) Jon: 3 (0) Katherine: DQ (0) Richard: 5 (0)

VT 02: Make the best music video for a nursery rhyme.

Doc's music video for Once I Caught a Fish Alive is so good that I occasionally go back and rewatch it, just because it jams. Jon's horror movie version of Three Blind Mice is a close second.

I'm not sure Katherine actually completed the task because one of the requirements of being a nursery rhyme is that it's traditional and she wrote an original song.

Richard's rendition of She'll Be Coming Round the Mountain while he's generally being mean to people is interesting, if a little confusing thematically. However, I'm actually going to give the nod to Joe, who I think achieved a level of terribleness that brought it back around to good again.

Doc: 5 (0) Joe: 3 (+2) Jon: 4 (-1) Katherine: DQ (-4) Richard: 2 (-1)

Studio Task: Using this camera, take a picture of an inanimate object that looks like you. Closest resemblance wins.

Most of them got pretty close and Richard did deserve top marks here because his is the only object that, if I saw it out in the wild, I would say "that looks like Richard Osman." Doc Brown looks a little more like Marvin Humes than Katherine does the woman on the Spanx box and somehow they both look more like their objects than Jon's 3D print of himself. Joe got two points for bringing in a toaster then dressing up like a toaster. Good bit, but unless he always dresses up like a toaster there's no resemblance.

Doc: 4 (+3) Joe: 1 (-1) Jon: 2 (-2) Katherine: 3 (0) Richard: 5 (0)

VT 03: Order the following pizza for the Taskmaster: Extra large vegetarian pizza with pepperoni and bacon, and without tomato and cheese. You may not use the following words: Extra, Large, Vegetarian, Pizza, Pepperoni, Bacon, Tomato, Cheese.

The task doesn't lay out the winning condition and all of them say one of the forbidden words at least once. They decide in studio that the best pizza delivered wins it. It isn't the fairest way to grade because they all were calling different pizza places and the task specifies that you just have to order the pizza, not receive it. As such, I'll rescore based on violations + the "bubbles" bonus point.

Doc: 2 (-1) Joe: 5 (0) Jon: 2 (-3) Katherine: 5 (+1) Richard: 5 (+4)

Live Task: Using these big chopsticks, get these potatoes into your basket. You must only hold the big chopsticks on the grips provided. The big chopsticks alone may touch the potatoes in turn. Whoever has the most potatoes in the basket after 100 seconds wins.

Richard breaks the rules right off the bat. Jon gets 11/10 potatoes which is great, and within the rules, because "these" could mean any of the potatoes on stage. Doc and Joe take zeroes because their baskets fall off the stage, but they should actually come in joint third unless the task required all 10 potatoes to go in the basket (which would DQ Katherine).

Doc: 3 (+3) Joe: 3 (+3) Jon: 5 (0) Katherine: 4 (0) Richard: DQ (0)

Final

Doc: 22 (+4) Joe: 16 (+3) Jon: 19 (-6) Katherine: 17 (-2) Richard: 18 (+3)

So it seems like Jon was heavily overscored in this episode mostly because the pizza task didn't penalize mistakes. Doc probably should have won the episode where he dropped the amazing nursery rap.