1x3 | 3x10

which roy sibling is winning the family wizard competition

to elaborate on the last anon: i'm curious to see how roy would treat leo while prepping for being in hiding (like dying their hair, during car rides, etc) and then also once they're all settled in

“Close your eyes, lion.”

The sharp command made Leo obey almost immediately, swallowing down the intense fear when the mercenary’s hands pushed him down over the sink, not kind nor gentle in the slightest. His mind automatically let out a cruel ‘can you blame him?’ and it only broke him further.

The luke warm water ran over his head, and he felt Roy’s fingers dragging through his hair without a care for his comfort, roughly scrubbing the dye from his locks. He bit the inside of his cheek, not daring to even let a single noise slip from his lips.

Roy had barely spoken any words to him.

Not during the car journey, not even as they found themselves in this strange place. They’d wandered into a completely normal shop, but the mercenary had gone straight for the man behind the counter.

They’d exchanged a few words, something about a TV? It was all gibberish and code to Leo, and the man behind the counter had suddenly turned very serious, leading them down under the shop.

Now he was here - darkening his hair until had turned a dark brown.

When Roy released him, Leo fumbled with stinging water in his eyes, wincing when a towel was thrown at him. He grasped it with shaking hands, desperately scrubbing the water that got in his eyes. He heard a new pair of footsteps, cracking an eye open to see the man behind the counter walking down the stairs.

He barely looked Leo’s way, opting to approach Roy instead.

“We’ve got two and a half hours tops,” the man told him, his voice low. Leo could feel his hair dripping, and scrambled to dry his it before it got everywhere. Roy kicked open a folded chair, sitting down on it with a curt sigh. Leo tried not to look.

“I know, Gary,” he responded, his voice tight. “I’m keeping an eye on the clock. Do you have everything ready?”

The man – Gary – nodded, his expression stern. “Everything’s set up. Just need the pictures and I’ll give you those plane tickets.”

Leo’s stomach twisted into a painful knot. Plane tickets? He suddenly felt very sick. That meant they could be going anywhere in the world, and no one would be able to find him. He really might never see his father after finally being reunited.

A sharp snap caught his attention, his eyes obediently darting to Roy. Sure enough, the man was looking at him with those hardened eyes.

“Over here, lion.”

He grasped the towel, doing as he was told. Leo knows what doing the opposite had done for him - this. Seeing his father’s limp body in the hallway of their home, praying that he made a speedy recovery. He wondered what he was doing now. If Sharpe and Summers were looking for him. If they would ever find him again.

When he was close enough, Roy’s finger dug into the flesh of his forearm without a care, jerking him down to the floor by his feet. He was forced to sit, legs crossed, back to Roy as the mercenary shifted about, the chair creaking slightly.

Gary was watching intently, and it was making Leo nervous. Fingers combed back the damp hair, and the whir of a hairdryer picked up, warm air beginning to blow through his brown locks. Roy wasn’t particularly rough, and it was the nicest he had been since he came to the house to drag his lion back.

Gary was still staring at Leo. It seemed he was trying to get a guage of who he was, and finally, recognition flickered in his eyes, lip quirking with a twitch of a smirk.

“Ain’t he the one that you got in this mess?” Gary murmured, loud enough to be heard over the hairdryer. Leo kept his eyes to the ground, focusing on the feeling of the mercenary’s fingers combing through his hair. “Thought I recognised him from the trial.”

Roy didn’t say anything. He could sense he was still mad that he had succumbed to the pressure from the detectives and thrown him under the bus; it seemed his uncle was always going to pay the bail. He continued to dry Leo’s hair. Gary hummed at his reaction.

“I thought your uncle would have disposed of him.”

Leo’s nails dug into his palms, his expression twisted in discomfort.

“I convinced him not to,” Roy answered curtly, giving the secretary’s hair one last blow over before he was satisfied. The hairdryer was cut off. “For whatever reason, my uncle is fine keeping me happy.”

“Probably trying to sweeten you up,” Gary hummed. “He’ll want you back. I think he always has.”

The mercenary let out a bitter laugh. He rose from the chair, causing Leo’s head to tilt back in confusion, those big blue eyes staring at him quizzically. The mercenary motioned for him to sit on the chair, and he was quick to obey.

“My uncle practically left me to die,” Roy hummed, though his brow was raised languidly, like the topic of discussion didn’t bother him in the slightest. Gary moved behind the chair, tilting Leo’s head back a little bit so it was straight. He heard the snip of scissors. “I don’t need to owe him anymore than I already do for paying my bail.”

Leo wanted to shrink into a tiny ball, feeling Roy’s scrutinizing gaze piercing straight through him.

More snips. The secretary tried not to cry.

“If you say so,” Gary hummed quietly.

Sinking into his mind, Leo tried to focus only on the rhythmic snipping of the scissors, the comb through his hair, the fingers that weren’t intent on hurting him. He tried to pretend he was at the hairdressers, eyes closed as the therapeutic atmosphere overtook him, completely drowning in a reality that wasn’t his own.

When Gary finished, Leo’s eyes cracked open, mourning for a life he wouldn’t get. He wanted to believe that Roy would be kind to him again. Maybe he would, if Leo was good. He really hoped so.

His head felt lighter. His fingers ran over the back of his head, shocked by the lack of thickness he felt. It wasn’t crawling over his neck anymore, most of the loose, fluffy hair on the top, resting in curly loops. The shock must have been evident on his face, because the next thing he knew, Roy’s fingers were gently tapping his chin, tilting his head back.

Leo’s heart lurched into his throat. His skin burned from the contact.

The mercenary observed him for a long few seconds, before his lips finally quirked into a lazy smirk.

“It suits you, lion,” he purred, gently brushing his thumb under the mop of curls. Leo desperately, keenly, almost frantically leaned into the touch, relishing in the kind contact. Roy released a breathless chuckle. “More than I was expecting.”

If Roy liked it, so did Leo. He didn’t even have to see it.

Time passed by quickly enough - Gary took photos, even gave Leo coloured contacts so his eyes were a muddy brown. He gave them both a new ID, handing them over to Roy for him to glance over. He had hummed, smiling, holding the ID up and glancing at Leo.

“Oliver,” he hummed, tilting his head. “Ollie. I like it.”

Leo was picking at the clothes Gary had given him to put on, something baggy and warm. He’d fixed a snug hat on his head too, and Roy pocketed both ID’s, clearly not intent on trusting Leo to take his own. When he stepped up to him, he tried not to flinch back.

“You’ll be a good boy this time,” Roy whispered ever so quietly, just for him to hear, the trill of his low voice making his eyes flutter. “Won’t you?”

Leo desperately nodded his head. He didn’t want Roy to hate him. Didn’t want him to violate him and ignore him and drag him around like he used to. He just wanted everything to go back to normal, swept under the confines of his spell, and it was easy for those feelings of attachment to consume him.

“Yes,” he breathed, barely even able to get the words out. Leo hated that his eyes were filling with tears. He’d caused all this trouble, and for what? None of it had mattered. Roy was never going to let him go. Yet, that was something Leo wasn’t entirely upset over. “I’m sorry, Roy. I’m so sorry.”

The mercenary cooed, stroking the soft skin of his cheek. “I was really hurt, you know.”

Leo hadn’t wanted that. He loved Roy — no, loves him. He never wanted the cold shoulder treatment again, lest it break his heart further than it already had.

“I love you,” Leo sniffled, melting into his embrace when the mercenary finally wrapped his arms around him, tucking him against his body. He slotted in so perfectly. “It was all my fault. I’m so sorry, I’m so...”

Leo’s trembling words were cut off with a kiss to his temple. He practically keened.

“No more groveling. We have a plane to catch soon.”

The mercenary’s thumb gently rubbed along the bottom of his lip, as if he was remembering what he’d forced Leo to do in the home he’d left behind. He briefly wondered if he regretted it.

Still, Leo nodded.

Roy’s eyes crinkled. “Good boy.”

For the words! Pillow, alarm, coffee/food

💚

Coffee - from A Treatment Room Doors Moment Ch4

“Coffee?” Jamie asked as they sat in the living room area of the suite. Phoebe had fallen asleep in the next room almost immediately with no need of story from Uncle Roy. But Jamie had still made himself comfortable, feet up on the foot stool and spread across the settee. “Hell no, not if we want to sleep tonight and you need to hydrate,” Roy scolded, tossing Jamie a juice from the mini fridge and grabbing himself a beer. “Sir yes sir,” Jamie rolled his eyes but it lacked the usual heat that Jamie’s retorts bit with.

Alarm - from The Richmond Job Ch3 (continuation of the scene I posted earlier)

Slowly pushing the door open, Ted could now hear the pants of exertion and the smack of fists on flesh. A pained groan echoed around the high ceilings. Ted paused in place, scared any noise would disrupt whatever this was. He should sound the alarm, they installed the emergency alert feature in the earbuds for this exact reason. Ted reached into his pocket to grab the device but before he pressed the button the fighting inside escalated. “Jesus, fuck,” one of the figures cursed and Ted grabbed something else out of his pocket instead. That was Jamie. Jamie didn’t have time for Ted to wait for others to arrive. Ted threw the door open in a dramatic flourish and stormed into the dark room brandishing his can of pepper spray. The flat was in darkness but the light from outside illuminated sillohettes of one figure on the floor holding his ribs and another stood straight looming over. “Stop where you are, I am not afraid to use this!” Ted screamed, arms outstretched in front of him. “Fuck sake Ted put that away,” the looming figure scoffed. “Roy?”

Pillow - from Maybe Next Time He'll Think Ch3

#1 Roy Kent Fan @RoyKentRichmond6 I mean this whole trial has been a fiasco but bringing in Roy Kent as a bleedin character witness for Jamie Tartt … Kent looks inches away from smothering Tartt with a pillow on a daily basis! That cross exam is going to be SPICY gang!

Thanks so much for tagging me! 💕

Would you like to talk about your Isadora and Phoebe au? What makes it an au as opposed to canonverse?

the basic gist of it is i'm a huge slut for any form of identity shenanigans, even just misunderstandings like "oh, i've been hearing about [x] and it turns out they've also been [y] the whole time" so this entire au is basically just. crimmlet (isadora) is older (hence it being an au) and ends up making friends with phoebe. roy keeps hearing about Isadora's Dad and being like huh he seems like a dork and a good dad and then meets him and it's Trent Fucking Crimm and neither of them were prepared for this interaction. it's like pre-canon/s1. there's a few different iterations/possibilities right now (also see: the flip side of this, trent has been hearing about Phoebe's Uncle and is also wildly unaware that it is Roy Goddamn Kent) but that's the gist of it. roy's niece and trent's daughter being pretty good friends and both of them still being at peak hostile and being forced to acknowledge the other is a good parental figure and possibly even a whole fleshed out person,

a snippet of one of the possibilities (not set in stone lol):

Roy gingerly makes his way through the flat—cluttered and homey, full of books and toys, about what he expected—to the kitchen, where he can hear clattering, and faint music drifting from the doorway. Dora told him that her dad was cooking and that Phoebe wanted to wait so she could have some, too, but dad said that it was up to Roy. But he was making enough just in case, because he was a softie, Dora told him, almost slyly. And then Roy entered the kitchen and there, bustling around the counter, usually artful and streaked with silver hair pulled back in a messy bun, in a terrible apron that had probably been a gift, was Trent fucking Crimm, the Independent, in the midst of cooking something. Dora, love, he’s saying, bobbing to the music, is Phoebe’s uncle outside? Fuuuuuuuuuck, says Roy out loud.

god it's so funny that in this particular version the lead up is so "build up in a rom com" like yeah you're about to meet a dorky cute and gay single dad who gets along with your niece and is really swe--oh what the FUCK trent crimm?????!?!?!?!

Uncredited Photographer     Jello Biafra and Frank Zappa     1985

Frank Zappa's first impact on me was in ninth grade. We'd go to a friend's house near school during lunch hour, and roll on the floor laughing at the Mothermania LP on Verve. The all-too-true satire in the grooves gave us strength--it wasn't just OK to be a mutant, it was damn good fun. Terrorizing normal classmates with my very existence was something to be proud of. In high school, I joined the radio club that broadcast music into the cafeteria during lunch hour. Crushed when people didn't dig the obscure sounds we were trying to turn them on to, we started playing music designed to make them mad. Big band records dug out of the store room got a reaction, but not as much as the jocks storming the barred studio windows over "Brown Shoes Don't Make It." By then the Zappa fans (we all knew each other) had memorized every word on his albums. For drama class, I directed a stage adaptation of "Billy the Mountain." Due in no small part to Frank, my musical horizons expanded too: the avant-electronics on Freak Out, jazz and fusion on Hot Rats and Weasels Ripped My Flesh, symphonic forays on Lumpy Gravy and Uncle Meat, and seamless ventures into funk and progressive by the time of Roxy and Elsewhere. All crowned by Frank's fountain of humor. Those album covers! Those titles! When most rock trailblazers were running out of ideas, Frank had more and more. Without touching drugs, no less. In 200 Motels, he called his work "comedy music," but we knew better. I didn't truly grasp what a brilliant production wizard Frank was in the studio until Dead Kennedys' drummer D.H. Peligro played "Apostrophe" in the van late one night as we crossed the Canadian Rockies in a snowstorm. Here was Frank changing sound and atmospheres every 30 seconds and somehow making it all work--Phil Spector one minute, Roy Thomas Baker the next. I was floored. When Tipper Gore and her Religious Right pals sat across from their husbands and lied at the '85 Senate anti-music hearings, I couldn't believe it. No one fought back. When Frank finally took them on with his wit and fire and intelligence, it truly showed how out-of-it and spineless the rest of the commercial music industry is to this day. Everything Frank predicted about half-hearted '60s idealists in "We're Only In It for the Money" had come true. People thought I was crazy when I said Tipper and the Washington Stepford Wives were a Trojan Horse for the religious right and were out to bust people. Within weeks, it happened to me. Frank called my house (not the other way around) offering friendship and some very valuable advice, 'Remember: You are the victim. When you fight back, do it with dignity.' About the only silver lining from Dead Kennedys' Frankenchrist album obscenity trial was getting to meet Frank and come to his--well, let's call it a lab. Straight from the "True Cheepnis" monster movies he loved, there were loose wires and bits of equipment in the den, creeping out from under the couch. The Xerox machine was in the shower. A piece of metal collage from the Burnt Weeny Sandwich cover hung from a wall. My generation has not produced anyone the caliber of Frank Zappa. I see no one on the horizon even interested in mastering rock, jazz, classical, studio production, and above all intelligence and humor the way Frank did. Unlike most entertainment icons, he wasn't afraid to keep growing. When Czechoslovakia's Velvet Revolution came, Frank was energized. When he announced his candidacy for president to wake up our country, no one claimed it was to further his own career. Could he have been our Vaclav Havel? We need something like that in the worst kind of way. More likely it will take all of us, and a few thousand more, if we ever hope to fill Frank's shoes.

-- Jello Biafra, “Tribute to Frank Zappa”  1997

I am now realizing I don't think I've ever really explained my Succession-Inferno analogy but it is something near and dear to my heart so. Buckle up I guess!

The whole thing is premised on the idea that Logan holds a lot of characteristics traditionally ascribed to the devil in literature. He's an excellent liar (far better than anyone else on the show), he goes out of his way to destroy relationships between other people because he can't stand it when people love others more than they love him, he presents himself as "uncle fun" to outsiders, he actively revels in sowing discord and conflict and betrayal whereas everyone else merely tolerates it. At the same time everyone around him treats him like a god. He deserves all their love, he is The Father who has created all they see, reality is manifested by his will and is simply whatever he wants it to be, he is all-knowing and all-powerful. But because their god is actually. you know. evil. the fruit of his continued power (and their continued worship of him) is nothing but misery and lies.

In Dante's Inferno, Dante goes on a journey through Hell, guided by Virgil. Virgil represents two things: the knowledge of morality necessary to understand what's happening in Hell and avoid being taken in by it, and the moral support and courage necessary to complete the journey. Dante journeys through nine circles that are meant to represent sins of increasing moral degradation. The first is limbo, who's actually just people who weren't bad at all but were never baptized and so can't go to heaven. That's where the pagan moral philosophers - including Virgil - are. After that, it's Lust, Gluttony, Greed, Wrath, Heresy, Violence, Fraud, and finally, Treachery. The order is very intentional, and rooted the belief that the early sins (sins of the flesh) are the easiest ones to fall into and ultimately are not as serious as the others - but, they also serve as gateways to the more serious sins. Each circle has sinners being punished in ways that are metaphors for the impacts of their sins. The devil sits in the ninth circle of hell, Treachery, where everyone (including the devil himself) is frozen in ice. The devil has Brutus, Judas, and Cassius in his mouth, and he chews on them for all eternity. Everyone around him betrayed someone they had an obligation to; the worse the betrayal, the closer to the devil they are frozen. The furthest away are those who betrayed their families (Cain); then those who betrayed their countries (Antenor); those who betrayed their guests and those who sheltered in their homes (Ptolemy); and finally, those who betrayed their masters, lords, and benefactors, which includes the three in Satan's mouth.

If Logan is Succession's Satan, then two things follow. First, Waystar becomes a metaphorical Inferno, where climbing the ranks to get closer to Logan requires climbing through the circles of hell and participating in greater and greater moral degradation. I think the character this most applies to, because we actually get to see his corruption arc over the course of the show, is Tom. And his arc, I think, arguably fits with that journey into hell. Season 1 gives us Gluttony and Greed, especially in 1.06 when he takes Greg to the restaurant and gives his spiel about how great it is to be rich. We also get his general obsession with nice things and with stuff, something which the Roys don't have, and something that seems to fade in Tom as his arc progresses. Season two gives us Wrath and Violence (Safe Room etc.), and Fraud (the cruise line scandal coming out). And then finally, at the end of season 3, we get Treachery. And I find it very very interesting that immediately before committing the act of Treachery, Tom asks Greg if he wants to make a deal with devil - something which turns out to mean both a deal with Logan, but also the act of betraying Shiv. Up until this point, you could argue that Greg had been riding along on Tom's coattails on this journey-through-hell - but the line "What am I going to do with a soul anyways?" means that, for the first time, he's actively consenting to what's happening. Sure, he doesn't know what's going on - but the line itself implies that it simply does not matter to him.

The second thing that follows, though, is that while Tom and Greg and the old guard have journeyed down to where Logan is, his children have been there all along. They grew up in a world characterized by Treachery, Fraud, Violence, Wrath, Greed, and Lust. Their arcs aren't about them becoming corrupted; their arcs are about whether they can escape the corruption they've always lived in. Everyone is frozen in that same ice together, but the ways they got here were very different.

Finally, the Virgil character is very important, because he doesn't have a corollary in the Succession half of this analogy, and that highlights what none of these characters have. None of them have a strong moral compass, and even if they did, none of them have the kind of support and moral courage to resist the allure of temptation. This is far more devastating for the Roy kids, though, because they've never had the opportunity to encounter a Virgil, whereas everyone else had to pass through Limbo - where Virgil is - before they could start going through hell. Or, in other words, with Tom et al. at some point there was an active choice to reject the moral compass and reject the moral support, which the Roy kids never had. But once you reject your moral compass it's hard to get it back again, hence why the further you get from Limbo the harder it is to find your way back.

Some character notes and episode notes for HZ041, writing them down for future reference.

Dot and Murdock were seen together in the kitchen for the first time! Dot hasn't been in the kitchen much so far (I think twice? When she went to fetch the donuts Murdock made for her in HZ008, and when she went to drink juice in HZ030), so it's cool seeing her there with Murdock since he is the cook. Dot also called Murdock by his name for the first time in her flashback with Friede, though she didn't refer to him as uncle yet. I hope it happens eventually.

Dot's mother (Blanca) showed up to take her home. She is completely different from Dot, much more talkative and excited, which Liko notes that Dot seems to be like that when she is streaming (which suggests that Dot seems to take inspiration from her mother, consciously or not, when she puts on a show as Gurumin). Blanca didn't seem to know about Gurumin though and wanted to ask Dot about it, and Murdock tells her that she should bring her donuts since she might open up more easily that way. The Ikkanezumi that Liko saved offer to take the plate of donuts to Dot, and apparently they've been helping out here and there on the ship as thanks for that. It's nice seeing them being active and getting a glimpse of their personalities.

Liko and Roy offer to talk to Dot instead of Blanca. She agrees and gets emotional over the fact that Dot has friends who look out for her. Liko and Roy go to Dot's room and want to know her side of the story and tell her that they don't want her to leave and ask her if she's really okay with it. Dot doesn't answer at first so Liko and Roy pretend to leave and give up on talking, and Kuwassu encourages Dot to chase after them to talk. Dot eventually agrees to talk about herself, and they go somewhere else on the ship to talk (first time Dot does so, since usually they all talk in her room).

Dot begins her story and talks about how she felt like she had hit a wall in the past. She likes looking up interesting things and cultivating her skills but there were things she couldn't experience from her room. She found one of Friede's thesis online once and was impressed by his work. She eventually meets him in the flesh since Murdock told Friede about Dot being good at tech and he came to her place to ask her to fix stuff for him, make an app for the RVTs and join them. I wonder if Murdock was the one who suggested Dot join the ship but asked Friede to extend the offer (Dot might not have been as receptive to it if Murdock had been the one asking her to join?). Dot was a bit overwhelmed by all of this (and embarassed about meeting someone whose work she admired) and she wasn't sure about his offer. She downplayed her skills too (saying that her being good at tech isn't a big deal, she often did that throughout the show) but Friede assured her that it was something special.

As an aside, I like the implication that Friede keeps writing research papers and even publishes them independently. Just because he left his previous job doesn't mean he lost his passion for his field, or that he stopped studying and writing. It seems like he still writes a lot, and even makes distribution maps about Pokemon and is very diligent about all of it. It's a nice character detail.

Dot asked Nanjamo for advice during a stream (similarly to Liko, she freaked out a bit about her question being read). Nanjamo's advice encouraged her to take action and she eventually convinced her mom to let her join the ship on a trial basis. It seems like at that point during the flashback, Dot wasn't friends yet with Nanjamo? Maybe they exchanged contact info and became closer later once Dot joined the ship? I also like the fact that Dot seems influenced in different ways by both Nanjamo and Blanca (who are very different from her in terms of personality).

Blanca eventually came up to Dot and the others, and wanted to ask Dot how she felt about her trial period ending. She was pushy about it, so Dot wasn't necessarily receptive to her words. Liko told Blanca that Dot needed to find the right moment to talk about it, so Blanca challenged Dot to a battle so they could talk openly during it.

As they battle, Blanca told Dot that she knows that she mostly stays in her room despite being on the ship and traveling and asks her why she became a trainer since she was never interested in being one before. Dot tells her everything: that she started appreciating the outside world, that she managed to make friends, and that her life became more exciting thanks to her Pokemon. Even though she was backed into a corner during the battle, she didn't give up (and referred to her and Kuwassu as "we", talking about them both as a team) and thought up of a strategy (targeting Lugarugan's feet) and eventually won. Kuwassu learned a new move, too. Dot immediately knew which move it was. Small moment that shows her knowledge (usually, Friede identifies the moves to tell Liko and Roy about them, it happened when Hogator learned a new move in HZ037 for example).

Dot eventually asks her mother if she can stay on the ship as a full-fledged member. Blanca accepts (she had a feeling Dot would ask that), and seems genuinely happy that Dot is growing and that she is enjoying her time on the ship. She hugs Dot too! Murdock's Iwanko brings Dot a tissue so she can give it to her mom (very thoughtful thing to do). Dot tears up a bit as well since she is happy that her mom accepted her request (but quickly hides her tears and denies needing the tissue when her mom asks w). I feel like we're seeing more sides of Dot lately. Her VA did a wonderful job when Dot was talking about her past too (her voice sounded much softer than usual).

Noting that Murdock remained more reserved than usual in this episode, probably to balance out his sister's personality? (I liked that Blanca had a Lugarugan, contrasting with Murdock's Iwanko, interesting that the younger sibling has the evolved form of a Pokemon) In general, I feel like Murdock takes on more the role of an observer when it comes to Dot. There might be some truth to Blanca's words, that sometimes it can be embarassing to talk to your relatives, so that may be why Murdock observes and reaches out in the only way he knows how (with food, which is how he conveys his love for his niece) and watches over Dot while Liko and Roy befriend her. (There is more to be said about this particularly) Overall, I liked that even though Blanca can be overbearing, she does have Dot's best interests at heart and wants her daughter to grow. Proper communication is how they managed to find a common ground and understand one another.

Before I Was a Gazan by Naomi Shihab Nye

I was a boy and my homework was missing, paper with numbers on it, stacked and lined, I was looking for my piece of paper, proud of this plus that, then multiplied, not remembering if I had left it on the table after showing to my uncle or the shelf after combing my hair but it was still somewhere and I was going to find it and turn it in, make my teacher happy, make her say my name to the whole class, before everything got subtracted in a minute even my uncle even my teacher even the best math student and his baby sister who couldn’t talk yet. And now I would do anything for a problem I could solve.

“Life As a Palestinian Poet,” an interview with Naomi Shihab Nye, former poetry editor for the Texas Observer, with Roy W. Howard investigative reporting fellow Francesca D'Annunzio:

Naomi Shihab Nye is the Texas Observer’s poetry editor emeritus. She is Palestinian-American and grew up in St. Louis, Missouri, and San Antonio. She frequently visited family in Palestine throughout her lifetime, including as a child. Amid Israel’s ongoing bombardment of Gaza, the Observer asked her about how growing up Palestinian influenced her writing. 

What attracted you to poetry?

That was a lifetime, instinctive connection. 

I loved the ways poetry worked on the page and in our brains. I loved the spaciousness about poetry—the space around the lines and room for your own thinking. I love the variety of voices. 

By the time I was in second grade, I already felt like poetry was my land. I was writing my own poems from the age of six, and when I was seven, I started sending them to children’s magazines. It was a world that I entered into out of pleasure. It helped me think, and it gave me space to be in that felt meaningful.

There’s a rich history and legacy of Palestinian poets like the late Mahmoud Darwish and Mosab Abu Taha from Gaza. Are there any Palestinian poets who inspire your work? 

My father would read [the works of poet Mahmoud] Darwish to me when I was a child and translate it because, in those days, there were not many translations of him. My father would read other poetry and translate it for me, and I just loved it. I loved everything about it: the metaphors, the passion, the care, the tenderness, the flowing quality of the lines. I eventually met Darwish, and he would ask me to read his poems in English; he didn’t like to read his poems in English at all. He read in Arabic, and just getting to be with him was such a landmark in my lifetime’s experience. 

I had a chance to be with [Palestinian poets] Fadwa Tuqan or Samih al-Qasim, Taha Muhammad Ali, whom I adored—or just so many people who are now not available to us in the flesh, only through their words. 

I felt them as a wellspring of the spirit of Palestine, and the love and the care for Palestine—that is something that the media often finds easy to overlook. It’s just so insulting—versus the poetry which is so respectful, passionate, loving, and nostalgic.

One of your 2014 poems, “Before I Was A Gazan,” reads like it was written this year. What’s the backstory?

It’s not a new poem. It’s 10 years old. At that time, there were some literacy programs out of Gaza that were inviting me and some other writers I know to be with the children, be with the students, and talk about writing and story, and why we need story, and why we need to believe in our own voices. Shortly after one of my sessions with these beautiful, beautiful kids who never ever complained about anything, there was a horrible, genocidal bombing of Gaza. … I just kept picturing these kids and thinking about their names, and what had happened to them, how many were still living, were any still living, were any of them killed, and I kept trying to get through to their teacher and find out if they were. That poem was from a horrible sleepless night. 

They were just human beings. They were kids; they were proud—just like the boy in the poem is proud of his math homework. I was just thinking how horrific it is that children have to suffer these disasters, and I felt like I needed to write something in their honor. That’s how that poem came to be—but the weird part about that poem is, it’s not obsolete; it’s continued to be relevant all these years. 

As poets, our minds reel and give us images. I just kept thinking, What would it be like to be a child who goes off to school or loses your homework, or something so pedestrian? And then your whole house disappears before you can even get home.

Earlier, you called going to Palestine a “deep experience,” and I noticed in some of your poems, there are these classical symbols and themes about Palestine, like olive trees and figs. How does being Palestinian-American influence your writing?

Oh, that’s so beautiful. It’s just everywhere—it’s my texture; it’s my material; it’s my body of knowledge; it’s my dream field. 

I think we all pull from the world right around us. Palestine, for me, was like the soul place. My father never wanted to stay gone from it long. He always dreamed of going back. He wanted to be on his own land. He wanted to treasure and be in that community that he loved so much. He wanted to die there. 

For me, as a writer, just to have this fabric, this gorgeous fabric like the Palestinian tatreez [traditional Palestinian embroidery], the stitchery, the tiny threads of color traveling through my whole life has been the most important thing to me. 

Palestine has been for so many people an unresolved dream of gravity and beauty. It’s people from Brooklyn who currently have my father’s old home in Jerusalem or did the last time I was there. There’s that sense of unresolvedness when people are haunted by something that’s not right.

Palestinians are all haunted. We’re haunted by what used to be, what could have been, what we dream could be, what we would prefer for all the people who are living there right in the heart of it—and have everything at stake. Everything.

This interview has been edited for length and clarity.

@whomuses gets a ghost for a werewolf

--

Phoebe is a nice kid.

Honestly Cole had no metric for that sort of thing. But it felt nice to have his picture up on the fridge, see her succeed at school, in life in general.

He squatted at the foot of her bed, like a little guard dog, making some pleasant conversation while the radio was playing just above a whisper, though when people did make contact with him, 'pleasant conversation' was more like reading poetry from a mad man. Hearing the door creak, willing himself back into invisibility for a moment he noticed the man.

Uncle Roy was no stranger to him, Phoebe would talk about him from time to time, but seeing him in the flesh made Coles brain rattle. There was something undeniably feral there, But Cole stays, just incase something happens and he has to become a poltergeist. Leaning back back back he stumbles into the radio quickly flicking through the songs until "Werewolves of London" Felt like a good one.

His laughter is loud enough for the man to hear.

　　　—————　　𝚂𝙿𝙰𝚁𝙺𝙽𝙾𝚃𝙴𝚂.𝙲𝙾𝙼/𝕳𝙴𝙲𝚃𝙾𝚁　...

Night was created so the gods had somewhere to hide: their sins; their sins; their sins. And us, made in their image – minus wing or cloven hoof – we follow suit.

— Scott-Patrick Mitchell, from "The Mourning Star," Clean: Faith, Abuse and George Pell

　　——　　𝙵𝙸𝔏𝙴　　𝙽𝙾𝚃𝙴𝚂.

𝚏𝚞𝚕𝚕   𝚗𝚊𝚖𝚎    :        hector jack lance 𝚗𝚒𝚌𝚔𝚗𝚊𝚖𝚎𝚜  :        tor 𝚋𝚒𝚛𝚝𝚑𝚍𝚊𝚝𝚎  :        march 30, 1954 𝚑𝚘𝚖𝚎𝚝𝚘𝚠𝚗  :        las vegas, nevada 𝚙𝚊𝚛𝚎𝚗𝚝𝚜  :        ares (god of war, battlelust, courage, and civil order),　barbara lance (the preacher's daughter who had an affair) 𝚍𝚎𝚖𝚒𝚐𝚘𝚍 𝚊𝚋𝚒𝚕𝚒𝚝𝚒𝚎𝚜  :        telumkinesis (the ability to manipulate weaponry),　odikinesis (the ability to manipulate feelings and emotions of war) 𝚜𝚎𝚡𝚞𝚊𝚕𝚒𝚝𝚢  :        bisexual 𝚌𝚑𝚊𝚛𝚊𝚌𝚝𝚎𝚛 𝚙𝚊𝚛𝚊𝚕𝚕𝚎𝚕𝚜  :        zuko　(a:tla),　ronan lynch　(trc),　james st. clair　(dark heir),　hua cheng　(tgcf),　roman roy　(succession)

　　——　　𝙰𝚂𝚂𝙾𝚁𝚃𝙼𝙴𝙽𝚃　　𝙾𝙵　　𝙵𝙰𝙲𝚃𝚂.

　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　——　　𝚃𝚆　𝙳𝙴𝙰𝚃𝕳,　𝚅𝙸𝙾𝔏𝙴𝙽𝙲𝙴.

grew up in a strict, religious home.　(still can recite too many bible verses by heart.)　his mom had him out of an affair with ares (ig he likes to go after married women) and managed to convince her husband to let him grow up alongside their three children (ruining their perfect family of five).　ran away at the age of thirteen.　punched "dad" on the way out (after he kissed his baby sister on the forehead).　survived thanks to theo, another bastard ares-child, finding him in the streets of vegas and charting their way to camp halfblood.　(coincidence?　never.　however, he has not, and never will, thank ares for sending theo his way.)

only discovered his first name was hector when he laid eyes on his birth certificate for the first time, stolen "just in case" when he ran away.　he started going by it immediately.　still flinches at being called jack.

his first obsession was king arthur; he dreamed of becoming a knight.　later, after his mom secretly gifted him the odyssey for his tenth birthday, it turned into achilles (we love irony).

six years ago, theo died.　hector was the reason they left the safety of camp halfblood; he stormed off, hotly embarrassed, after losing a fight (bringing shame upon his father, himself, and his cabin), and theo, the most loyal dog in their pack, followed him out.　in an attempt to distract himself from his humiliation, he put all of his focus into shaking theo off.　the only good it did was distracting them both from the monster who was tracking their scents, sent by his father as a challenge to prove himself worthy after losing the fight.　he failed.　both as a son and a brother.　by the time hector realized something was wrong and came to fight, theo had delayed in using his gift to summon the dead against the stymphalian bird too long.　hector returned to camp alone - blood, sweat, and tears baked into his flesh like a new layer of skin - a fresh scar running down the left side of his face.　#rip.　theo facts in his honor:　grew up a pacifist (his uncles were all lost to the vietnam war), sparred better with words than swords, chivalry's last soldier, took kitchen knives way too seriously.

he shouldn't go to zoos as often as he does.　any animal in his range of sight goes wild with rage; bar excalibur, his two year old cat.　horses, the natural companions to battle, also calm in his presence.　perhaps a gift from his namesake as well as his father.

visualizes battle maps as he's falling asleep.

he's vulgar and intense, and enjoys the discomfort it brings to everyone around him.　frontrunner for cattiest man in new york.

nine times out of ten, he's wearing black.

his presence has an aftertaste.　like a gas leak.

starts training before a soul is up and goes to bed after everyone's asleep.　has a superiority complex about it.

cannot tan.　do not mention this.

defiance for defiance's sake.

　　——　　𝙿𝔏𝙾𝚃　　𝕳𝙾𝙾𝙺𝚂.

these are just some general ideas i had floating around, merely stepping stones to the real deal <33

a sparring partner　-　the person he goes to when he needs to train hard, whether as a challenge or a distraction.

the bark to his bite　-　he's not not a henchman. i'm joking, but in a totally real sense he is a dog that bites the hand that feeds him, as well as bites others in its service, and that hand needs an owner!! ref.

before　-　before the accident, before the rabid look in his eyes took over.

the kavinsky to his ronan　-　the person who hands him the match to light himself on fire.

his achilles heel (pun intended)　-　that tender spot that makes you ache.

conqueror　-　the person he lost to the night he ran away from camp (aka the night his brother died).

bad influence　-　he tries to make them worse.

Hi, archivist here, I decided to put your submission under a readmore instead of replying afterward like I usually do, due to mentions of potentially triggering topics. Again like I mentioned with the other post, thank you for your submission and putting more detail into your character profile, but I’m marking this as a WIP since just posting OC character art isn’t the point of the submission box–I encourage you to read the About page/FAQ and check out the templates since you have a very fleshed out character and some art already, so I look forward to seeing you in the archive!

PS. About the asks you sent me after the first submissions: I know you sent this post in earlier, but understand that this blog runs on a queue, and only posts once daily. As anons can’t be responded to privately, your questions could take days to be answered/posted as they would only pop up once the queue is through. I recommend getting a tumblr account if you don’t have one, or if you do have one, making one specifically for your OCs to DM me if you have any questions that need to be answered straight away. Thanks!

Marla Pickleson:

Giga Roy and Pink Heart Girl (Roy and Marla Jerome Pickleson)

Giga Roy: Actual name: Roy Quirk: Fist Punch and Smoke Age: 15 Allies: Ross and Robert Relationship: Marla Pickleson (Girlfriend) Strength: Protecting citizens from Villians Weakness: Anger Issues Likes: Hanging out with friends and spending time with Marla Dislikes: Bad people trying to get Marla’s Attention [Including Charles] Hobbies: Singing, Writing, Reading, Baking and Drawing Aliases: “Dude.” (From Ross) Nickname: Big Guy, Big Boy or Babe (From Marla)

Pink Heart Girl: Age: 14 Quirk: Cuteness Overload and Love Interest Relationship: Kevin Kandy (Adopted), Her friends, etc. Allies: Robert and WordGirlRush1992 (Grangris in a Jar) Strength: Motivation and loves being cute Weakness: negative things and giving up Hobbies: Drawing, Singing, Dancing, Baking and Animating Likes: socializing and spending time with Roy (Boyfriend) Dislikes: Being harmed, getting bullied and sometimes bad people catching her attention Aliases: Baby, Cutie Pie, Babe or Chick (From Roy) Nickname: Girl with happy hearts

This is the first time I ever drew these characters in Spooky Month Minus. (Roy’s from Spooky Month of course) Marla is my puffball oc character I drew from a long time ago. It’s a story about two teenagers trying to deal with the dark pasts they have in their backstory. Roy was being abused by his Uncle, and never had any friends to talk too.. Marla was harmed and pushed away by her ex boyfriend named Charles Robinson. He planned to cheat on her by getting a new girlfriend, and managed to leave her out of the existence…. however, they finally met and he never liked her the first time they meet. They became friends after they got to know each other a lot! On the day of Friday, Roy and Marla has found the experience of true love… they both shared their stories of cold blooded memories, and finally made a connection to combine their feelings between him and marla. And together, they’re the cute and the heroic duos to work together, and save the symbol of peace! (I hope my stories made sense to you… :P)

lmao so @willowcrowned and i were discussing how ed would absolutely drag al and roy on a field trip to truth purely to beat old man hawkeyes ass and i was like. eh i dont have plans today so...

Categorically, Alphonse supposed that he and Ed (mostly Ed) had sucker punched the ways of the known universe so many times that standing behind his brother in Truth’s domain for, and he quotes, “fun and bitch slapping” was really…. not… that impossible or implausible or any other word that started with ‘im’ and ended with ‘ible’ (because all of those words tended to apply to Ed at some point or another during the course of every day of their shared life). 

Al wasn’t with Ed the night that Colonel Hawkeye told him about her time in Ishval and how she came to join the military and Roy’s aspirations to become fuhrer, but he’d heard about it enough to form a pretty solid picture in his mind.

Riza, in a soft sweater with her hair down, seated at one side of her kitchen table with a mug of tea and Ed on the other side, probably disheveled and at least a little manic as he tended to be at the best of times.

Ed had told him that her father had tattooed his array on her back and that she’d asked Roy to burn it off of her after the war. Al had been duly horrified, as he supposed anyone with an ounce of compassion would have been, Ed was frothing at the mouth with anger, ready to dig up the man’s body with the sole purpose of yelling at his remains which Al had also been horrified by.

(“Not literally, Al. It’s an exaggeration. Geez.) 

Neither of them, it appeared, had realized the full scope of what it implied until they’d actually seen the scars. Sure, they’d known that some arrays were large, sprawling things that required the better part of a chalkboard to scrawl out fully. They just never imagined that someone’s parent would be cruel enough to ink something that complicated onto their child’s skin.

Ed, who hated needles, was especially incensed the moment he’d seen it. She’d never bared her back around them, before. She wasn’t self conscious of the scar, not in the way Ed tried to cover his automail ports and Roy kept his gloves on throughout the work day and around company. She was simply disinclined to answer the questions that always followed their reveal.

 A diplomatic excursion turned mini-vacation off the coast of Aerugo, six years after the Almost Apocalypse, was the first time they’d ever seen Riza in a dress without a back.

 It was a sundress in a stunning shade of cornflower blue that really brought out her eyes -- Al had stopped at a flower vendor on the side of the main street and acquired several simple, white flowers for her to tuck behind her ear -- and even then it wasn’t until they’d reached the beach itself and she deemed it too hot to keep her hair down any longer and (terrifyingly enough) pulled a soft looking scrunchie from the holster on her thigh to secure her hair into a bun much neater than the disgrace atop Ed’s head that they’d seen it.

Al had gasped, a nearly silent intake of breath that rattled around his lungs in a way that he hadn’t felt since those first few months directly after regaining his body. Ed’s reaction, fittingly, was more physical than his brother’s; his flesh fingers, loosely tangled with Roy’s in the relative anonymity that being out of Amestris and out of uniform granted them, tightened until the pressure exerted could very well have come from his automail.

Neither of them said anything, then. Riza already bared the burden of having the goddamn thing on her body she shouldn’t have to also shoulder other’s reactions. Al recovered first, plastering on a smile and shaking off the shudder that ran down his spine, ignoring the slight shake in his fingers as he grabbed hold of Riza’s wrist and dragged her off towards the water.

Ed followed them with his eyes until they reached the shoreline before turning to Roy, lips pressed together tightly and eyes shining with the kind of righteous fury he only ever seemed to feel on behalf of others. 

Roy remained silent, not waiting to risk being heard by any of the Hawk’s senses, but Ed had long learned to read every micro expression and twitch of the man’s eyebrows. 

He was seriously reconsidering that bit about digging up old man Hawkeye’s grave being an exaggeration. But it wouldn’t be satisfying enough to yell at his corpse; he deserved to hear every terrible thing Ed had to say to him.

Had Al been looking towards his brother at the time, he would have seen the glint in his eye and the slant of his smile and known immediately that some fuckery was a-goddamn-foot.

But he hadn’t been and now he was living with the consequences of leaving his brother unsupervised for more than several consecutive seconds.

Beside him, in the unrelenting white of the Place Beyond Gates, Roy seemed to be experiencing a similar sense of regret. 

Ed, because he was Ed, was in front of them both, flanked by the two people he trusted most in the world, waving the hand that wasn’t on his hip at the literal embodiment of god, completely unimpressed.

“I stopped my evil uncle from eating you!” Ed said, “You owe me. I don’t want to bring the guy back to life, I just want to scream at him a little.”

Truth, for the first time in his eternal life, had no idea what the fuck was happening or how to handle it. “You want me to let you talk to the soul of Berthold Hawkeye?”

“Fuck, is that really his name? Unfortunate. But yes. Consider it payment for saving your ass six years ago.”

“Saving my ass,” Truth repeated, completely monotone. Honestly, Al could sympathize. That was a common, valid reaction to Ed’s… everything.

 “And you don’t want to speak to your mother instead?” Truth asked, because Ed was correct and they were a bastard, “You almost lost everything to bring her back to life--”

“No.” Ed said firmly, with such finality that even Roy looked a little startled; but Al got it, “We’ve made our peace. Our bastard father is there with her and we’ll see her again soon enough; there will be more than enough time for us to talk then. I want to see old man Hawkeye and I want him to be just corporal enough for me to shove my metal foot so far up his ass that he’s gonna choke on my toes. Got it?”

“Yes,” Al said, finally, stepping forward and smiling in the way that promised something painful, slow, and oh-so-terribly unfortunate should the person in question not immediately do exactly what he wanted, “Got it?”

Behind both Elric’s, Roy grinned only a little meanly, clenching and unclenching his fists. He wondered idly if his alchemy would work in Truth’s realm? It would be awfully poetic if it did.

Some Passing Thoughts on the New Miraculous Episodes

Finally got around to watching the fansubs of the Shanghai special and “Truth” (I’m still waiting for the other episodes to come out before watching Furious Fu).

Miraculous World: Shanghai – The Legend of Ladydragon

I have to say, I might change my mind later if the Prodigious proves to be more crucial to the overall lore of the series, but right now? Yeah. This special is a major skip for me. 

I did not connect with Fei the way I fell in love with Jess and Aeon. I am so pissed at the set-up the writers came up with to GET Marinette to Shanghai; her reasoning is the most selfish thing we have ever seen her do and it is such an injustice to her character. Plus, it is like neither Ladybug nor Chat Noir learned anything from the New York trip as they both show up in Shanghai kind of spur of the moment (i.e. didn’t tell the other they were leaving Paris). In fact, Marinette - again, going back to my hatred for the setup to get her to China - didn’t even CONSIDER the fact that Paris would be left unprotected; that Ladybug would be MIA. Granted, it was stated that Hawk Moth was surprisingly inactive, but shouldn’t that put her on hyper-alert; waiting for the other shoe to drop and Hawky to release something big that he was building up to? Instead she just lowers her guard and doesn’t even consider her superhero duties when planning on following Adrien. 

Another annoying thing is that the writers didn’t seem to learn anything from backlash against the episode “Kung Fu.” They just once again have Adrien be the one offering to teach Marinette Mandarin; not her mother (whose Chinese name Marinette never even knew), nor her great-uncle. Another writers flub was in the battle against Roi Argent. Ladybug questions Mei Shi’s suggestion that revenge does not equal justice (if that was translated properly), and... I’m pretty sure Marinette already showcased in previous episodes such as “Silencer” that she very much knows that revenge doesn’t equal justice??? She’s the one who corrected Chat Noir that Silencer coercing Bob Roth to admit he stole from Kitty Section and Marinette isn’t justice; it’s revenge. So???? HUH? NOW she magically feels like Fei’s revenge on Cash is justice for what he did to her? 

If all of that wasn’t bad enough, the pacing of this special was in complete overdrive as well. You didn’t have any of those emotional moments - both heart breaking and fluff-bombs - that you had in the NY special. The focus was largely on Fei, and I didn’t even really like her. She didn’t have the heart and the fully-fleshed characterization that Jess or Aeon had.

I’m also confused about Gabriel spending the past 15 years planning this whole thing. HOW!? WHY!? This is before Adrien was even born, or VEEERY shortly after if we skipped over his 15th birthday in the series. This was LOOOOOOONG before Emilie’s illness, which is presumably why Gabriel started using the butterfly miraculous in the first place (as showcased by Gabe in Origins asking Nooroo to remind him how the powers even work before using them for the first time in a corrupted state on Adrien’s first day of public school). So, if getting the Great Power of the Prodigious was something he was planning on doing literally all of Adrien’s life, why present it as “I found something that can finally give me an edge against Ladybug and Chat Noir”? I mean, what was his original endgame going to be? He couldn’t have possibly known that he’d be in dire need for the cat and ladybug jewels but struggled to take them from two teenage superheroes. It’s like the writers are trying to set him up as some mastermind akin to David Xanatos from Disney’s Gargoyles, but they are failing miserably. The whole Hawk Moth plot just doesn’t make sense to me.

Honestly? The only things that made this special worth it for me were: 1) Finding out a bit more about Sabine and her family (I love that she probably picked the name Sabine because it sounded like the pronunciation of her Chinese name) 2) Seeing Gorilla be his action figure nerd self a bit more (and the action figures of Uncanny Valley and Eagle) 3) Mei Shi in Renling (?) form, who was hella adorable! I need him as a plushie STAT 4) Adrien being the precious bean that he is. Just every moment he’s on screen was adorable (complete with him STILL having the picture of Marinette that was sent to him in “Evillustrator” saved to his baton and using that to try to find her) 5) Seeing the world through the eyes of a kwami for the first time and learning a touch more non-crucial lore 6) Mei Shi in statue form reminding me of the Dragon costume on The Masked Singer.

(I know, seeing them side-by-side now, they really aren’t that similar after all, but it’s been about a year since Dragon was on The Masked Singer, and he’s still what I kept thinking of as I watched Mei Shi on screen)

While I obsessively watched the New York special at least a dozen times, I’m really only seeing myself re-watch this special once more when it’s in English, and maybe whenever I do a full-series binge (which is super rare that I take the time for that).

Not impressed. Sorry.

Truth

“Truth”, on the other hand? Hhhhhnnnnnngggg. My heart! It breaks! Poor Marinette. Poor poor Luka. I mean, silver linings at the end there, but also BIG OOF. (Also, why wasn’t Adrien around at all whenever Truth made people confess that Marinette’s secret was her love for Adrien? xDDD)

I’m also a bit confused about the Adrien pictures. She had them taken down pretty much since “Troublemaker”, and yet her walls are once more papered with Adrien’s likeness now that Marinette is trying to get over him and date Luka? How does THAT make any sense outside of the writers going “we need an awkward phone call between Marinette and Luka. Oh! I know! A picture of her Adrien-covered bedroom walls is accidentally sent to Luka!” >3> Also.... what is UP with Luka’s animation again!? The kid was so pale it’s like they forgot to add any color to his model in this episode. WHY CAN’T THEY JUST ANIMATE MY PRECIOUS SON LOOKING HANDSOME EVER!? FIRST NO EYELASHES, AND NOW NO SKIN TONE!? WHYYYYYYYYY!? Personally, I prefer “Silencer” to “Truth” both in overall story and in Luka’s akumatized form design. Also, side note, did anyone else notice that Ladybug was hit by Luka’s attack and couldn’t speak for most of the battle both times? And that she needed Chat Noir to help her set up her Lucky Charm both times? And that Luka’s drive both times was to get to the truth?

I did still enjoy this episode very much. It showcases the new stresses Marinette has to face (totally unfair; I agree. However, it’s a standard trope in most teenage superhero stories such as Teen Titans and Spider-Man, so I was expecting it). It showcases how hard it is for her to figure out a balance between life and superheroing (again, re: standard teen-superhero trope). The fans get confirmation on a fantheory that’s been circling pretty much since Luka was introduced (ESPECIALLY after the episode “Desperada”). The Ladynoir shippers are well fed, and it’s great to see LB and CN praise each other - including Ladybug’s love of Chat Noir’s humor. 

I hope this isn’t the end of us seeing Luka in the show (that would break my heart even more) and it feels lame to build up the Lukanette “love rival” arc only for it to die off before it really goes anywhere. There was so much story potential there where Marinette could grow to learn what it truly means to be in love, and not just idolize and romanticize someone you’re infatuated with. Instead, all she learned is that she is alone aside from Chat Noir, and I feel like that’s SUUUUPER railroading the Ladynoir ship. And, frankly, I’d much prefer to see the Ladynoir side grow naturally, as it has been, instead of forcing Marinette’s hand because Chat Noir is the only one she can be MOSTLY honest with (secret identities notwithstanding).

It’s been a long hiatus. I’ve spent a lot of time trying to dodge fandom salt, but still get a larger dose than I intended to have in my fandom diet, so maybe my views are a bit tainted from that. However, this special and season premiere feel a bit like the writers are stumbling. I don’t know if the pandemic somehow affected their writing flow, or if they feel pressured by the fans to tell the series’ story a certain way and are scrambling to do so, or if they are rushing to an ending instead of taking their time and letting it naturally unfold as they had with the first few seasons. But, regardless of their reason, I hope they re-find themselves; the ones who told great stories in seasons 1 and 2 and (poor writing for Marinette notwithstanding) really good stories in season 3. I hope they can step up their game for the remainder of season 4. 

It’s been a long break, and we all deserve something good to feed us. We don’t need another GoT or HIMYM final season. Especially when this isn’t even supposed to BE the final season of the series.

Guess it’s time to wait for “Lies” to come out, and hope for the best.

Emma, my dear, If you're looking for ideas how about Chris walking in on Roy and Riza 😈 or just ruining a moment. Poor Roy would never live it down If you feel up to though, another idea (and non Royai) but Elicia and Uncle Roy and a picnic. Just some ideas from my overworked brain

thank you aoife ;;__;; here’s some royai for you and i hope you can find some rest soon <3 another with roy and elicia will come soon!

rated: t | words: 1567

The Madame had insisted on Roy moving back in with her after the Promised Day after he’d lost his vision. His family were overbearing with their worry and concern, but there wasn’t much else Roy could do about it. He told himself to be patient. He’d overthrown the military hierarchy and staged a coup. He could handle his sisters hovering over him at every possible moment.

It helped with some things, mainly moving around the house. He’d stubbed his toe on more doorframes than he could count before Vanessa shoved a cane into his hands. She wouldn’t take no for an answer, and he could feel her glare as she waited for him to accept the help the white cane would provide. With a grumble, he’d accepted.

After Doctor Marcoh had healed Havoc, they waited a few weeks to ensure there were no complications after using the stone. After it all went well, it was Roy’s turn. He batted his eyes open after experiencing a sharp pain. His vision was grey to begin with, however it was still a change from the endless, inky blank he’d seen for weeks before it. Doctor Marcoh told him to blink a few more times, to try clear his vision, and slowly, the one person he’d missed setting his eyes upon the most came into view.

Hawkeye was staring at him worriedly, her expression expectant but anxious. It had taken a few minutes for his vision to return completely, so it was understandable she was concerned that it may not happen.

“Relax, Lieutenant,” he’d chuckled, his expression softening with a smile.

She’d let out a quick breath, giving him a nod, but couldn’t stop her own relief from spreading across her face.

With the return of his eyesight, came a party. Against his wishes, of course. As his sisters suggested it, Roy had rolled his eyes, but quickly winced as they still felt slightly sensitive. So, on Saturday night, his aunt’s new bar was filled with his team and the majority of those who assisted in winning the coup. A belated celebration for all they’d accomplished.

“Are you all right, Sir?” Hawkeye asked as she approached, a slightly concerned look on her face.

His breath caught in his throat as he turned to answer her. He’d been caught off guard by her already tonight, but now, it had happened again. He was a weak man, though, when it came to Riza Hawkeye.

His Lieutenant was decked out in a flattering dress that danced around her calves as she moved. It was the lightest shade of pink, bordering on being completely white. The only thing that gave it away was the pure white of her shoes. The neckline was modest, but it exposed her throat and the elegant column of her neck. Roy swallowed as he stared at it, snapping his eyes up to hers in order to distract himself.

“Fine, Lieutenant,” he replied.

She nodded, pushing no further. He was leaning against the bar, observing the room for a quiet moment to himself, but he didn’t mind that she’d approached him. In fact, he welcomed it wholly. Ever since being unable to see her for weeks, he was desperate for her to be by his side at every opportunity.

Granting his wish, Hawkeye leaned against the bar next to him.

“How are your eyes?” she asked casually, taking a sip of her champagne. He turned to look at her, but his words were halted once more. As she swallowed, the scar on her next moved with her throat. It was fully exposed, hiding from no one.

Roy swallowed. “They get a little sore when I’m in the light for too long, but they’re getting better.”

“Do you have medication for them?” she asked, concerned. Hawkeye turned to look at him as she spoke, focussing her full attention upon him.

He bobbed his head. “Yeah, I’m going to go and put some eye drops in soon.” He laughed to himself. “It can be fiddly, but I manage,” he shrugged.

“Would you like some assistance?” she asked.

He opened his mouth to protest but stopped himself. He could use a break from the party and the constant congratulations, but still wanted Hawkeye by his side. “If you wouldn’t mind?” he asked sheepishly. “I’m still a little clumsy with them.” He held up his scarred palms. “My dexterity isn’t quite what it used to be.”

“Of course, Sir,” she replied. He caught the sad look on her face, but it was brief. He imagined it was the same way he felt upon seeing the scar on her neck.

He led the way to his bedroom, holding the door open for her and then retrieved his medicine. Between them both, they managed to administer it, but then were left, staring at each other in silence in the middle of his bedroom.

Roy watched as her lips parted, either in anticipation or because she was about to speak, but no words left her. In his bedroom, the sound from the party downstairs was muted, a distant hum of noise, but apart from that, it was silent. As he pitched forward, Roy heard the floorboards creak underneath his feet.

The two of them came together. Roy’s hands were lost in her hair. They tangled in the golden tresses, tugging strands haphazardly from the clip that pinned it up. He cupped her cheek, his scarred palm resting against her soft skin like it belonged completely. Hawkeye’s hands gripped his shirt at his waist tightly, pulling it slightly from the waistband of his trousers, but not in the way he wanted her to. Their lips met, and Roy was lost to his desire.

He’d wanted to kiss her for weeks. Life was far too short for him now to not spend it with Hawkeye in the way he wanted to. In this moment of weakness, he gave himself that. As their lips moved together, Roy’s tongue ventured out, brushing along her bottom lip. The whimper that left her mouth was music to his ears.

Walking Hawkeye backwards, they stopped when her back hit the wall beside his door. The hand he’d placed on her waist to steady her as they moved hit the wall beside her ear, steadying him. He felt like he might lose it completely, so that hand saved him in more ways than one.

Roy growled against her, pressing his body slowly against hers, forcing his knee in between her legs, tugging on the skirt of her tantalising and beautiful dress –

“Roy Boy?” Chris called. She knocked, then entered his bedroom, coming to an abrupt stop.

Roy’s head whipped around, but his mind was still kissing Hawkeye passionately. It took him a second to realise what had happened, and what he was seeing, then his face turned bright red.

Chris just burst out laughing.

“Chris,” he barked.

She continued to laugh. “Sorry to interrupt,” she winked. Actually winked. “I’ll leave you both to it.”

“Chris!” he protested, wishing she’d go away and stop talking.

Christmas chuckled to herself. “You’re a grown man, Roy Boy. Relax.” She left the room, closing the door behind her.

Roy groaned, leaning the top of his head against the wall behind Riza. His mouth came to rest upon the flesh that joined her shoulder to her neck, noting that it was incredibly soft and warm underneath his lips. A hand was brought up to the back of his head, Hawkeye’s fingers slipping in between the strands of her hair as she laughed quietly to herself.

“Sorry,” he mumbled against her skin. His body shuddered as her hand slipped down so her thumb could stroke the nape of his neck as a comfort.

“Don’t apologise,” she reassured him, her tone light. It was almost breathless, and he wished they had the guaranteed privacy in order to continue where they’d left off, but the next interruption may be one of his sisters. Roy would never hear the end of it if that happened.

Disappointment filled him, killing the mood they’d built. “We should…” He didn’t even want to finish the sentence.

“Probably go back downstairs,” Hawkeye finished for him.

Lifting his head, he met her gaze and saw the love they shared for one another reflecting back at him. “I don’t want to,” he murmured. His head dipped, pressing a light kiss to her lips. She responded eagerly, then lifted a hand to press it against his cheek.

“I know,” she whispered. From her tone, Roy knew she didn’t want to either. “Ready?”

“No,” he pouted, making her laugh.

Hawkeye patted his cheek then stepped forwards, making Roy push off from the wall. He followed her back downstairs like a lost puppy.

When they re-joined the party, Hawkeye slipped back into mingling with the guests easily, while he moved to the bar to sulk for a while.

“That was quick,” Chris commented, coming to a stop in front of him as she stood behind the bar. Her eyes danced with amusement, matching the smirk on her face.

“Shut up,” Roy muttered darkly.

Chris just laughed, picking up a glass so she could pour him a beer. “Ever heard of putting a sock on the door before?” she asked.

Roy groaned, but took his beer and walked away, the tips of his ears red with embarrassment as his aunt continued to laugh behind him.

An Incestous Party cont.

Chapter 6

Karen was watching everything that was going on in the living room. 'Let David go to his precious mother,' she thought. 'I want to watch a real man in action.'

The movie she had seen had already aroused her body more than she had imagined, and watching her Uncle fuck his boss' wife had been the icing on the cake. Her eyes gaped in delight as she saw the naked form of Larry caressing the nude body of the luscious red-head, fingering in and out of her glistening cunt with his fingers as they stood, pressing their bodies tightly together while they ran their hands along their excitedly thrashing bodies. She was feeling her own vagina start to burn as Susan opened her delicious looking cunt and allowed Larry to fuck his heavily burgeoned cock deeply up into the hotly seething depths, and Karen found that she was pressing her own fingers against her hotly moistening cunt as she watched. She could hear everything as well, and she delighted in the low, panting sounds coming from the living room as Larry fucked his boss' wife in every possible way and they finally brought each other to orgasm.

Karen was amazed that Susan had been able to take the huge size of Larry's cock in her vagina. When her Uncle had first dropped his pants, she gasped at the size of his cock. Susan's cunt looked small and tight, and Karen was certain that the massive hardness would never fit up between her legs. Nevertheless, it had, and Karen found that her own fingers were hardly adequate to match the feeling Susan was getting. Karen wanted to feel Larry's cock ramming and pumping in her own tight little cunt, and she decided that she would, as soon as Susan and Roy left. If Larry was half the man he looked, he would be able to fuck two women, right after another. With nothing short of a violent surge of will, she prevented herself from driving her own fingers into the burning, aching lips of her pussy, wanting to save her orgasm for the feeling of her Uncle's cock plunging in and out of her cunt. She could hear the screams of Susan and Larry as they brought each other to orgasm, and then she heard a long moment of silence that seemed to last forever. She became hot just from watching them, and if something didn't happen soon, she would be forced to resort to her own fingers to fuck herself with after all.

Something did happen. As she watched Larry and Susan get dressed, Roy came down from Ann's room. Karen pressed her ear to the window, straining to hear what they were saying.

"How did you like fucking Ann?" asked Larry.

"Your beautiful little wife is wild once she gets going," was the answer. "But you still have to teach her a few things about doing what you tell her, though."

"Yes," said Larry, a smile on his face." She does have a lot of spirit."

"That she does. And how was your evening?"

"Great, as usual," answered Larry, giving Susan a little wink, which she returned.

"Well, then, said Roy as he put on his jacket and walked to the door with Susan. "I guess we'll be seeing you at the plant tomorrow."

"You and Ann must come up to our place sometime next week," said Susan as she walked out the door. "You might even want to bring Karen and David, and let them have a little tun as well," she continued.

Karen shuddered at the thought of being fucked by her fourteen year old cousin, David, now. She was going to settle for nothing less than that huge, adult-sized cock she knew her Uncle Larry had, and the experience that went along with a man Larry's age.

As she watched Roy and Susan drive away, she looked into the living room to make sure that there was no one else there. God only knew where David was, but she was sure she didn't care. She walked into the room just as Larry was going up the stairs to have a little talk with his wife.

"Where are you going, handsome?" she asked in a seductive voice, leaning against the open door. Larry whirled around and looked at her.

"What are you talking about?" he asked, startled by her sudden presence.

"I saw what you did to that woman, and I want you to do the same thing to me. Right now."

A look of shock crossed Larry's face, and he tried to collect the thoughts her sudden appearance had dispersed.

"You... you were watching, and you saw..."

"That's right. I saw everything, and just from watching it, I'm hotter than a cat in heat. I want you to fuck me as hard as you did Susan."

"Karen, honey, for God's sake, I'm your own UNCLE."

"Big fucking deal. You got a cock and I want it. If you think you're man enough, that is."

Larry reeled as though he had been slapped in the face. This was his own niece talking to him like this. How could he even think of fucking his brother's daughter? Still, there was something very seductive about the way she glided across the floor. He would be the last person to say that she didn't have one hell of a body, despite the fact that she was only a teenager, and from some of the things his brother had written about her, he was pretty sure that she knew how to use it. In fact, she was showing her talents very well right now.

"What's the matter, big boy," she said as she walked across the room and moved closer to Larry. "Afraid that you might not be able to give me what I want?"

"I can give you what you want alright," he answered. Are you sure you can handle it?"

"Why don't you give me a try," she hissed as she brought her arms around his neck and planted her lips tightly against his, driving her tongue deeply into his mouth and pressing the warm, wet organ against the back of his throat. He felt her hands race along his thighs, reaching from his neck down along his body and come to rest against the firm fleshy orbs of his ass-cheeks, pulling him tighter against her slowly gyrating hips.

Her actions made Larry's cock burgeon again, and this right after he had just finished fucking Roy's wife.. It was almost too good to be true, and even though she was his niece, he thought what the hell? A cunt was a cunt, and this little pussy really was hot for fucking. Her ripe young body was molding against his now eager form, and he encircled her curvaceous hips with his own arms, pulling their intertwining bodies tighter and tighter together, their lips brushing against each other, their tongues worming and driving into each other's throats as far as they could reach'.

Larry could feel her supple young tits mash against his chest and her heart was pumping fiercely, sending surge after surge of lust heated blood coursing through her little body. He reached between their tightly pressing forms and brought his hand firmly against her cunt mound, feeling that she had already started seeping through her hot little pussy split. Her skin tight jeans were wetly stained at her crotch, and her loins were warm with the wet juices she was allowing to drip from her eager cunt. He could feel his penis ballooning in his pants, and he shuddered as her hand rested lightly on the growing ridge of flesh jutting down his pants leg.

The shirt she was wearing hardly hid from his hand the luscious firmly curved young breasts, rising and falling as she took deep, lusty breaths, and her nipples were already hard and taut with the anticipation of the fuck she knew she was going to get from the older man. He raced one hand from her fleshy buttocks and placed it firmly against the soft, pliable mound of her breast flesh, kneading and squeezing it tightly, pinching the turgid little nipple forcefully. He felt her quiver and shudder as his ringers tightened around the cherry-sized bud, and she was moving more and more quickly now, her actions rising out of a desperate need to have the raging fires in her cunt fucked to satisfaction by this man. Quickly, she removed the buckle to his belt and opened his pants, pulling them down along his legs and freeing his huge, thick cock from the confinement of his clothing. As she did this, he ripped open her shirt, popping several buttons and listening to them as they hit the floor.

He gaped as he looked at the sensuous beauty of her luscious young breasts. They were apple shaped, young and firm, turning up slightly at her desire-tightened nipples. Her belly was soft and silky smooth, flat and delicious looking, accented by the seductive inward pucker of her belly button. She removed her hands from his pants and brought them to her own, quickly opening the skin like layer of denim covering her shapely thighs and legs. Peeling out of her clothing, she presented her body to him for approval.

Even though he had just finished fucking his boss' wife, Larry was in total awe of the sensual young beauty standing before him. Her pale blue eyes were closed slightly and seductively, her head turned to one side, tossing her ashen hair casually over her shoulder, nearly hiding one apple shaped breast, and not touching the other. Her hips flared outward from her waist, and the hair fringing her cunt was fleecy soft as the hair on her head. She was undulating her hips slowly, revolving her body at the waist as though she were moving to some sensuous song that was running through her mind. She glided across the room like a cat, moving her hips in a swaying fashion as she drifted to the couch. Sitting on the edge, she leaned back and spread her legs wide, fully exposing the palpitating lips of her desire-glistening pussy. She brought her hands along the seething split of her cuntal opening, and she brought her other hand to the luscious young fullness of her breasts, lifting them to her face as she closed her eyes and tossed her head back.

"You want what you see," she said, "you come over here and take it."

Larry was in no mood to argue. His cock was so swollen that it actually hurt. This little bitch, his own brother's daughter, was really asking for it, and she really wanted to give it to him as well. She was hotter than any older woman he had ever seen, and he was anxious to take advantage of what she had to offer. His balls were hurting from just looking at her, and for a moment, he was afraid to move, thinking that this was some sort of dream that he would all too soon wake from.

Clearing his head, he walked across the room, his heavily swollen cock bouncing painfully between his legs as he did, and he stood over her, looking down at the lewdly spread girl sitting on the couch. Her hands were still resting seductively on her cunt and breast, but they did nothing to hide them from his view. In fact, she was making them all the more visible. Her fuck finger was probing delicately into her cuntal slit, opening the hotly seething little crevice to his eyes and she was lifting her breast so that he could better see the well rounded mass of luscious young tit flesh. With a quick motion, he knelt down between her widely spread legs and placed his face firmly against her open cunt, turning his head so that he could engulf the full vaginal region between his greedy lips. Blowing gently into the passion-dilated hole, he felt her spasm and quiver, and she pressed her hips downward against his lips, thrusting her pussy tighter against his mouth as he wormed his thick, love-stiff tongue deeply into the seething gushing chamber, curling it as deeply up into her cunt walls as he could, and came into contact with her lust hard clitoral bud.

Karen convulsed her body and breathed in a deep hiss, arching her head back against the couch and lowering her body still more, driving her lewdly spread cunt harder up against her uncle's eagerly sucking mouth. He reached up with his hands and ran his fingers lightly along the satiny skin of her creamy inner thigh, coming closer and closer to her hair fringed pussy hole. Inch by lasciviously slow inch his fingers darted along her thigh, creeping to her revolving pussy as he opened his hand and encircled her shapely thighs, walking his fingers still closer to her mouth sucked cunt. His tongue was darting in and out of the vaginal split, slurping and licking hotly at the warmly flowing lubrication as it poured from her pussy passage.

Karen was twittering and spasming her body, her mind washed clean of rational through Larry pressed his tongue deeper and deeper into the seething curl-rimmed little opening between her legs. She reached out with her hands and brought them firmly to the sides of his head, holding his tightly in place against her cuntal spread and forcing his tongue deeper and deeper into her burning cunt. She was glad that she had not finger-fucked herself to cumming while watching her Uncle fuck his boss' wife. His tongue lashing was worth all the frustration she had endured, and she was determined that she would make up for those torturing moments with the totality of the fuck she was about to receive. She bobbed his head along her searing young pussy slit, making him move his tongue like a tiny cock, in and out of her hungrily undulating cunt, and she was delighting in the dancing flames he was producing in her vagina. Her whole lower body was on fire, the blazing sheet of flame that seared through her cuntal area waving in ripples through her eagerly grinding young loins. Larry blew gently again into the ecstatically burning hole of her pussy, and again her body spasmed wildly as a million flames lashed through her vagina, burning everything in their path as they raced from her loins to her swollen breasts in a blinding, white hot holocaust. She was panting and breathing deeply as the fires raced through her body, consuming her very being. She had never felt anything like the tongue lashing her cunt was receiving now, and it was wonderful. His tongue was winding and worming through tightly gripping walls of her cuntal maze, reaching deeply into the tender folds of her cum-ladened vagina, the tip running along the walls and sucking hungrily at her juices with loud, wetly slurping gulps.

Larry reveled in the ambrosial delights pouring from his teenaged nieces' seething young cunt. Again and again he lashed into the candied depths of her vagina, drinking her cum as fast as he could, driving his thick hot organ against the sensitive cuntal walls and inhaling the deep, feminine aroma emanating from the valley of flesh between her moisture covered thighs. His hands were against the fringe of thinly curling hairs rimming her pussy, and he pressed his thumbs along the burning cuntal opening, driving them in along with his tongue and spreading the tightly clinging little orifice even more.

Karen made low, throaty mewls as she felt the blazing fires of her cunt reach the point of no return. She was cumming, and she hadn't even had his long, thick cock fucking up inside her cunt yet. She didn't mind being sucked as she was, but she wanted to be fucked more. As though he was able to read her thoughts, Larry pulled his mouth away from her nearly exploding young pussy and stood up, his massive penis bobbing and bouncing like a purple, blood-engorged spear, ready to strike out at the tender and waiting folds of her sensuously grinding pussy. She looked at her Uncle's cock, larger than it had seemed from her view from the window, and she gasped at the size. When she had seen it at first, she doubted that it was possible for it to fuck it up into her vagina, but now she was certain. It was just too big. He would never be able to stretch her tight young cunt walls enough to accommodate that hugely burgeoned cock flesh.

"Come on," he hissed as he watched her stare at his huge cock. "I can't fuck you really good if you're gonna stay on the couch like that. "It's better on the rug."

His words broke the trance she was in, and she looked up at him with her pale blue eyes opened wide in fascination.

"You're too big," she whispered, still unable to believe the immensity of his cock. "You'll never to able to fit your cock in my cunt."

"I'll not only fit it in your cunt," he answered. "I'll ram it all the way up inside that hot little belly of yours."

That was what she wanted. She wanted to feel the steel-hard penis battering all the way up her vagina in her belly, and then some. It was certainly long enough. She slid off the couch onto the floor, her legs still lewdly spread as wide as she could force them. She rested on the backs of her arms, looking up at her uncle as he lowered his naked body to the floor between her trembling thighs, his cock jutting from between his legs like a red-hot torch, the huge rubbery tip glowing with the heated blood of his lust, his face contorted in a lascivious little smile. Placing his hand on her breast, he pushed her back and pressed his body all the way on top of her, his cock pressed between their bellies like a writhing, hot snake, thick, hot and long.

He pressed his face against hers, brushing his lips against her open mouth, and he heard a muffled squeal of delight as he drove his tongue deeply into her throat, ramming the hot, wet organ far back against her tonsils. His body weight had flattened her luscious, well-rounded breasts, and the sex-taut nipples rubbed against the coarse hair of his chest as he tossed and writhed his body on top of hers. Her loins touched his thighs, and he could feel the hot liquid at her vaginal slit brush against his skin, leaving a burning trickle of her juices on him as she rubbed her thighs together in the mindlessness of her passion. Lifting his ass high in the air, he allowed his prick to swing down along the flatness of her belly and rest at the top of her eagerly yearning pussy opening, the rubbery bulbous head barely touching the pinkly quivering young lips.

He lowered his hand and gripped his lust-hardened rod, moving it up and down along the hair fringed split, teasingly preventing it from driving all the way into her cuntal chamber. She bucked and jerked her hips against it, trying to engulf the cunt-wrenching size up into the hungrily burning orifice, but he was in better control than she was, and he barely managed to keep it away from the hotly seething depths. He'd make the hot young teenager beg for it, by God.

She reached out with her hands and pulled down on his naked asscheeks, trying to force his thickly throbbing penis into her, but he was stronger than she was, and nothing she could do would make him force his cock in her cunt until he was ready.

"Oh God what are you doing to me Uncle Larry?" she whimpered, her head thrashing from side to side in the wanton mindlessness of her searing flames coursing through her body.

"Just playing a little, honey," he teased. "Trying to see if you're as much a woman as you think you are."

She couldn't believe that he was holding back, but the fires in her cunt had to be satisfied, and there was nothing she could do about it. Swallowing her pride, she took a deep breath and let her wants and need be known.

"Please, fuck it, Uncle Larry! Oh God, I want to feel your cock fucking my hot little cunt. Fuck it to it now, ooooooh pleeeez fuck it to it!!!"

Larry smiled to himself. No woman was going to seduce him the way this little bitch had. He'd show her who was boss when it came to fucking. He positioned the tip of his massive hardness at the opening of her cunt and, with a sudden inward thrust, plunged the thickness all the way up inside, grinding his sperm-laden balls hard against the wet, now cock-filled little opening of her pussy-hole.

Karen was taken completely by surprise. The size of his cock ripped at her desire-young aching vaginal lips and stretched her cunt walls wide, sending wave after wave of excruciating pleasure searing through her lower body in blissful ripples. It felt as though something inhumanely large had been thrust into her cunt, and the outward pressure against her cunt walls was total and all-encompassing. She cried out as the wild, beautiful torture washed through her body again and again.

"Aaaaaaiiieeeeee. My God! Your cock is beautiful and huge."

Larry smiled to himself as he began a rhythmic fucking in and out of her open cunt, her pussy lips clasping tightly at his heavily slickened hardness.

The pain she had felt was gone in an instant, and as soon as he began fucking into her, she began fucking back, matching his thrusts with violent upward jerks of her hips, slithering her cunt forcefully up around his cock, sucking the turgid member deeper and deeper up into her greedily absorbing belly. She was beyond all conscious thought now, and she was jiggling her hips crazily, moving and thrashing her whole body like a woman possessed, intent on nothing but extinguishing the fires raging out of control deep within the boiling chamber of her aching pussy.

'Jesus, she's tight,' thought Larry as he increased his plunges. 'She's gonna make me blow everything right now if she doesn't slow down.'

"Hey, take it easy," he whispered into her ear. "We've got all night."

His words had no effect on her. She had seen the movie, she had seen him fuck his boss' wife, and she had been hot all day. Nothing was going to make her slow the thrashing of her hips, the gyrating of her cunt, the bouncing of her whole body. She wanted to be fucked, and that was all there was to it. She had to end the searing fires smoldering in her pussy, and she had to end them now. She could feel the building pressures mounting against her vaginal walls, and if she didn't cum soon, she would go insane. His cunt sucking and been more effective than he had realized. He had fucked her nearly to orgasm with his tongue, and she had been truly disappointed when he had removed his mouth from between her thighs. She was not going to be disappointed again. She wanted to cum, and nothing was going to prevent it. This was infinitely better than her fourteen year old cousin's. Larry's cock was easily twice David's size, and suddenly she was bucking and jerking with the thought of two beautifully hardened male cocks ramming into her cunt at the same time.

Her mind was washed away in a blinding sheet of flame, an all consuming fire that was growing more and more powerful with each deep inward thrust of her uncles' cock. Her hands gripped tightly at his fleshy buttocks, forcing him still deeper into the gushy, butter softness of her cuntal passage, and she arched her hips off the floor, determined to wear herself out with the totality of this, the most incredible fuck she had ever experienced.

Despite his will, Larry was feeling the building pressures of her sperm rising along the deeply penetrated cock, and he held his breath and gritted his teeth to prevent himself from cumming. Her cunt was tight, and she was moving it faster and faster with each thrust he made. There was nothing he could do to slow her down, and now it was too late. He knew that no power on earth or heaven could prevent him from flooding her hotly devouring little vagina with the explosion rising rapidly in his deeply pumping cock. The huge, bulbous head was near the bursting point, and as it fucked in and out of her cum-slippery hole, the burning racing to the head of his cock was getting worse. He knew he was about to cum soon, and as she ground her naked young asscheeks faster and faster up off the floor, he could feel his now painfully aching hardness drive deeper into her seething cunt than it ever had.

Suddenly, he knew he was there. Everything in his mind was focused at the tip of his cock, and everything told him he was about to erupt. Lifting his body off hers, he arched his back and rammed his thick, long penis as brutally into her cunt as he could, trying to reach her belly through her vagina as his pubic muscles finally relaxed, and he shot his load of thick white sperm far up into her desperately gyrating pussy, his penis like an active volcano, blazing his lava-like semen into the hot passage of her juicy, wet cunt. He opened his mouth and uttered a groan displaying the totality of his cumming as he closed his eyes and threw his head back, pressing down firmly on the floor as his penis burst far up into her vaginal chamber.

"You're too sucking tight!! I'm ccccccuuuummmmiiiinnnnggg!!"

His whole body seemed to turn inside out and became a liquid mass pouring along the heavily pulsing length of his cock deep in her vagina and filling her whole belly with the fullness of his being. His sperm blasted at the hardened clitoral bud and seemed to push against the underside of her belly. Again and again he jetted his seething, boiling sperm into her hotly thrashing young cunt, pouring the thick, hot cum of his orgasm into her voraciously gripping little pussy in surge after surge of liquid fire.

Karen could feel him summing, could feel his blasting sperm wash against the aching vaginal walls searing in her cunt, and she could feel his hot sperm rush against her cuntal chamber. Sherry could hold her cum in her cunt no longer. As Larry lifted his body off hers, she thrust her body tightly against his driving prick and allowed her vaginal walls to relax, pouring her flood of clear, hot, wet cum wildly out against the rushing surge of his cataractic sperm, crying out in her wanton, mindless abandonment.

"Aaaaaaiiiiieeeeee!!!"

Again and again they thrashed their bodies together, jerking and bucking as they strove to keep their incredible orgasm going forever. Their bodies were on fire with the wildly jetting, flood of their cum, and they tried to merge their bodies together into one totally fucking organism, endlessly cumming and flooding each other with the rivers of their sexual juices. Their violent explosions seemed to go on forever, as time appeared to stop while they erupted again and again, forcing their cock and cunt harder and harder against each other.

Finally, however, it was all over. He had completely emptied his sperm laden balls deep up into the seething chamber of her welcoming young cunt, and her vaginal walls had squeezed all of her hot young cum out against the rushing torrent of his semen. At last he slowed and stopped his movement, allowing his hips to rest on her still quivering thighs as his cock began to shrivel and slip out from the wetness up between her thighs. She was still spasming, but it was clear that her orgasm was over as well, and her. jerks were nothing but the delighting ripples that were coursing through her body in the aftermath of her wildly churning, orgasmic eruption.

Larry rolled his body off of hers and watched her as she continued to writhe and twitter on the floor. Her eyes were closed as she allowed the sweeping after-blazes to sear through her body. She was completely out of her mind with delight, and she rubbed her thighs together, making lewd little sucking sounds with them as she pressed the cum and sperm covered flesh of her luscious legs against each other, her hands running from her breasts to her cunt, inserting several fingers into the still warmly gushing little hole as she attempted to continue her spasming-orgasm. Finally, she was still, her body overwhelmed with the totality of the cunt-sucking and fucking she had received, and she drifted off into a deep, dreamless sheep, even as Larry watched her.

He smiled to himself. She was really an incredible young fuck, be thought to himself, and he was going to make sure that he saw a lot more of her. Between her, Susan and Ann, he was really set for a while.

And speaking of Ann, where the fuck was she? She should have been down stairs long ago. Why won't she here? Roy had told him that she needed some talking to, and he felt that he had better show her her place in the house. She was probably still in her bedroom feeling sorry for herself. Well, that was a lot of bullshit. She was his wife, and it was her place to come to him after their guests had left. He would just have to go upstairs and have a little talk with her. Picking up his pants and shirt, he quickly dressed and walked silently up the stairs.