#did i change echo's markings a lil bit because i can do what i want? yes. next question.

[oneluckydragon]

A single layer paint that I tried out ft. my girl Echo. I am very normal about her, I swear.

[laequiem]

Small Claims

/ Lorcan finally tells Elide that he thinks she’s his mate. Claiming follows. Fluff & Smut.

Fandom: Throne of Glass

Characters: LORD LORCAN LOCHAN / Elide Lochan

Rating: Explicit bay-beeeeeee

TW: a lil bit of blood

Lorcan Salvaterre didn't think he had any "firsts" left. Most of them had come to pass centuries ago. First fistfight when he could still count his age on his fingers. First real battle a few years later. First kill in his late teens. Those he remembered clearly. First kiss, first time getting drunk, first fuck—blurry meaningless memories he did not care to untangle.

Listen, my power went out when I sat down to finish this last week, so I decided that it’s cursed and that it needs to get out of my WIPs. So if it’s bad, please send your complaints to Hydro. Thanks.  

read on ao3 • masterlist

Lorcan Salvaterre didn't think he had any "firsts" left. Most of them had come to pass centuries ago. First fistfight when he could still count his age on his fingers. First real battle a few years later. First kill in his late teens. Those he remembered clearly. First kiss, first time getting drunk, first fuck—blurry meaningless memories he did not care to untangle.

In the last few months, he was surprised to experience new "firsts" with this force of nature he now shared his life with. Elide was the first person he cared about, the first person he loved. His first time having sex and feeling something more than pure lust.

And now, Elide Lochan was the first partner he ever had the urge to claim. Lorcan had bitten plenty of females before, but never broke skin. It was a part of his fae heritage that had never surfaced until he started traveling with her. He felt it first when they traveled with the circus and men kept hovering around her tent, trying to gage if they could bed the innocent fortune teller. He pushed the urge down, down into himself, refusing to acknowledge any feeling for her. He kept the urge at bay for long, even making fun of Whitethorn when he noticed the mark he had left on his Queen. But when Elide gave him everything, the need to claim her had flooded Lorcan's senses. It was not the time, though. Not when she was so insecure.

Since then, Elide has grown confident with her sexuality, initiating things even more often than he does. Still, Lorcan has not claimed her. He could not figure out how to ask her. 

His primal instincts are always stronger on mornings like this. When he wakes up and she sleeps peacefully next to him, hair swept away, exposing her throat to him.

"Lorcan?" she asks softly, tentatively, pulling him out of his thoughts.

Elide's voice is not as sleepy as he thought it would be. It sounds as if she has been awake for a while. She shifts to face him, hands coming up to rest on his chest.

"Can humans have a mate?"

Lorcan trails one of his hands up Elide's arm and inclines his head, a silent cue for her to continue.

"I dreamt of Aelin and her mate and I… I was wondering why you didn't have one." Her tone is so sad, Lorcan feels his heart twist. "If it is because you're demi-fae."

He lifts a hand to cup her cheek, his thumb stroking over her cheekbone.

"Not everyone has a mate, Elide. They're rare," she lets a little oh and he continues, "I used to think I couldn't have one. Not because of my human blood, but because of… Who I am. What I did."

"Used to?"

For so long, Lorcan had convinced himself that he didn't even have a heart left. That his power, like it does to his enemies, had rotted his insides to the point of rendering him heartless. Living only to inflict pain and slaughter. Then, he met Elide and his rotten heart had made itself known. Twisting and pulling, accelerating and stopping, until he had to admit to himself that he cared for her. At first, it was an inconvenience, a distraction from his mission and the Queen he thought he loved. When he betrayed Elide and sold Aelin to said-Queen, Lorcan could hardly live with himself knowing she hated him, that he had ruined what they had. Whatever that was.

And now?

"I don't… think that anymore."

"So why then?"

"Why what?"

"Why don't you have a mate?"

Lorcan removes his hands from her and rolls over on his back. He stares at the ceiling, trying to figure out what to say, how to say it. Words have never been his forte. Elide is so good with words, but it seems the talent is not contagious. She inches closer to rest against his side, head on his shoulder. Can she hear his heart thundering in his chest? Can she read the fear on his face? 

He inhales deeply, then exhales slowly.

"I think you're my mate."

There it is, the secret he has been holding for months now. He feels her still against his side and all his repressed worries to come flooding in. 

She doesn't want to be your mate. 

Who would even want that? 

You don't deserve her. 

You don't deserve anything. 

You've killed so much. 

You've brought on so much suffering. 

It would be unfair for you to have a mate. 

All she does, however, is ask, "Why didn't you tell me?"

"I don't… I don't know how any of this is supposed to feel.” He rubs at his face with one broad hand. “I've never loved before, I don't know the difference."

Elide's fingers start tracing the outline of his pecs, toying with the dark hair there. 

"Neither do I. We're learning together."

Lorcan lets out a breath of relief. She isn't mad at him. She doesn't laugh at him. 

"It doesn't have to… change anything," he says tentatively, "I don't want to force this on you."

Elide shifts and leans on her elbow, staring at him with those devastating dark eyes.

"Lorcan, you never forced me into anything. I'm… honored."

He scoffs. As if. He already struggles everyday to remind himself that she does, in fact, love him. Thinking she would see being his mate as an honor was far beyond what he could imagine. She flicks his nose. He is not worthy of her and they both know it, the whole court—

"I'm serious," Elide chastises, "I wouldn't want anybody else."

Elide leans towards her husband and presses her lips to his. 

"Who wouldn't want Lorcan Salvaterre, second in command to Queen Maeve as a mate?" she teases, her hand trailing lower on his chest, "A strong fae male to scare my enemies."

"You're the only female fearless enough to want me," he replies, as serious as ever.

Lorcan shivers as her fingers slipped past the waistband of his underwear.

"Why would I be afraid," she croons, palming his semi-hard cock firmly, "when I have you wrapped around my finger?"

Lorcan snaps and rolls to be on top of her. This kind of talk always got to him. Of course, his wife's body is beautiful and perfect, but it's that cunning mind and sharp tongue that really made him lose his mind.

He nips at Elide’s lower lip and her lips part for him, allowing him a taste. She always tastes so sweet—strawberries and cinnamon, more addictive than any sugary treat. 

Lorcan groans as he witnesses her wide eyes, darkened by lust and need. He lowers his mouth to her neck, kissing and sucking the soft flesh. Her pulse rushes under her skin and his canines are aching to pierce and claim and—

He moves down to her chest before the feral thing inside him can fully surface. He focuses this energy on her breasts, knowing she likes him leaving marks for nobody but them to see. He palms one of her heavy breasts with one hand while the other seeks out her sex. Before he reaches his destination, however, she grabs his wrist and pulls him up to look at her.

"You're holding back," she simply says, "why?"

He must look absolutely savage right now—wild eyes, panting heavily, shaking slightly with restraint—for her to even bring it up.

"I want to claim you," he replies roughly.

Elide lets go of his wrist and for a second, Lorcan fears he drove her away. She understood that he doesn't deserve her and she doesn't want a life shackled to him and—

Her hand moves up to his nape and she lightly tugs on his hair.

"I want everything you can give me." 

Her other hand reaches between them and grasps him again, angling his length to line up with her.

Lorcan's breath hitches, "are you—"

"Yes. I want everyone to know you're mine."

Everyone knows, of course. He does not preside over meetings with her, but everybody notices the armored warrior standing in the doorway, a constant threat of violence etched on his face. The Lady's brute, he had heard some whisper. They're right. Her uncle had called him a brute as well. No amount of gentle kisses and magical braces would erase the centuries of pain he has caused.

Sensing her lover's hesitation, Elide bends forward to whisper in his pointed ear, "claim me."

Lorcan unleashes himself with a feral groan, any semblance of control he once had shattering to give way to the beastial fae half of him. He drives his cock into her heat in a powerful stroke, eliciting a surprised gasp and a giggle from Elide. 

With all his previous partners, Lorcan kept the kissing to the absolute minimum. But Elide's moans were a siren song to his ears, and he wanted nothing more than to drink them all up until he drowned. He claims her lips in a hungry kiss, so raw and unchained that their teeth clinked together.

Even with his lips on hers, his cock in her and a hand grasping her breast, he still needs more, more to touch, more to taste. By the way her hands roam his chest and claw at his back, his wife feels the same.

While he ruts into her, Lorcan reaches between them to toy with her clit, wanting—needing to feel her shatter on his cock.

She's mine, she's mine, she's mine. The words echo in his head with each slap of his hips against hers.

I have a mate.

Clap.

A mate.

Clap.

A mate.

As if she could read his mind, Elide echoes his thoughts in-between two short breaths, "my mate."

A shock passes through their bodies, heightening every sensation. The bond snapping into place, he supposes. It's overwhelming, better than any story Lorcan has ever heard. He feels her emotions, her love for him, as strongly as if they were his. He knows now more than ever that he wants to spend his whole life with Elide Lochan. That, no matter how short their time together would be, he could never live without her.

Lorcan hooks one of Elide's legs around his elbow while his other hand quickens its ministrations on her clitoris. The next thrust is deeper, angled just right, and Elide comes with a scream that will surely wake up the maids. He coaxes her through the waves of her orgasm, his eyes never leaving her flushed face. Beautiful.

As he feels his own release approaching, Lorcan leans towards her and drags his teeth down Elide's neck, inhaling her scent deeply. Just before erupting, he bites down, canines piercing the soft skin effortlessly. 

My mate, my mate.

Lorcan spills in her. Once. Twice. By the end of his climax, he is shaking all over. He finally pulls away from her neck, licking his lips, then running his tongue over the mark. He stares at it for a moment, admiring as droplets of blood start beading out again. Will she want to keep the scar, like Aelin did? The memory of it will live in his mind forever either way, just like their scent will always be intertwined now. The possessiveness is not a part of himself he is used to, and he feels quite ashamed of the primal nature of it all, but faeries are territorial creatures. 

Elide trails a finger up his throat and he leans into her touch.

"Am I supposed to… do it too?"

"Only if you want to," he says, brushing a strand away from her sweaty forehead.

She hums softly, considering. "Your throat does look bare without a scar."

"Do I not have enough scar for you, Milady?"

She laughs and Lorcan wonders if he will ever get used to the sound and how it makes his heart skip a beat. 

"I like your scars."

Elide pushes on his chest and Lorcan pulls himself out and twists to lay on his side next to her. She turns to face him and starts tracing a scar that spans the length of his biceps.

"Do you want one?"

"More than anything."

[panelshowsource]

I throughly enjoyed the new taskmaster episode, maybe it's because of the lack of enthusiasm in the dark void of my current life, maybe because it is good indeed, or even both who knows? I like all the contestants so far, especially my beloved Alan, and I think the series is going to be a good one

let's talk about it!!!

i'm really optimistic about the series based on the first episode! i'll start off with some actual observations and slowly derail into just...all of my thoughts, probably:

victoria coren mitchell

the contestants have a bit of an older average age, interestingly! if you think back to some of the 40-something+ contestants (richard osman, bob, mel, hugh, noel, rhod, mark watson, liza, etc.), they all 1) didn't try too hard and sacrifice comedy in the meantime, and 2) had great, comfortable rapports with greg. their seniority in the industry gives them the confidence to dick about, challenge greg, question the format, flub on purpose or cheat and get away with it — and all without trying too hard. plus, a lot of these comedians know greg and alex from being in the same business for a while. so i've alwaaays loved the more mature contestants, and this season the youngest is 35! i'm so excited about that!! you can tell from the first episode alone they're mostly gonna laugh at themselves, which i love??

on the whole, the tasks weren't overly complicated — BLESS

is there a studio audience or did the editing team just NAIL the laugh track? IT'S SO MUCH BETTER WITH LAUGHS. the dry echoes of s10 (which i just rewatched) fucking scarred me oml i'm so happy with this

i think desiree dressed a little flamboyantly for the recorded tasks, but i'm actually so happy no one wore a totally ridiculous outfit for the duration of the series. it's kind of an worn gag at this point (kudos to the first contestant or two to do it, and phil wang's cock which i'll probably never forget). victoria's outfit? the long skirt with the boots and her lil gloves? so cute ogdkjfghflkdhzk

not to call victoria out but did we not all predict exactly how she was going to be? mocking/question the tasks while also being the most competitive one there? the way MORE THAN ONCE she didn't even digest all of the information on the card to do the tasks correctly yet clearly cared enough to feel a little demoralised at botching them... so victoria. WHICH WAS VERY CUTE ;_:

why is alan already so tired omg LMAO let my man take a nap and get a bonus point for no reason, he's already been through enough IN LIFE!!! also unrelated but his skin is beautiful

guz is the only contestant i wasn't really familiar with before the series but he's already...so funny. i'm CACKLING when he breaks out the pure pakistani accent and his comedic beats are gold. can't yet decide if he's an affable weirdo (à la paul chowdhry) or a lowkey nutcase (mel giedroyc) but i cannot WAIT to find out

"you may buy the tools you need with time" is not shakespeare yes i googled it

guz's fit in the studio was sick. i also love that alan's look was exactly hugh dennis', sean lock's...just. that classic 50yo button-down and kicks. which warms my heart for some reason

greg has had quite a few crushes throughout the series, i'd gander morgana is next on his list but i won't be surprised if it ends up being guz... the absolute slut that man is smh

not to put pressure on myself to make a gifset but to the people who requested it i clocked many alex breaking character moments and they have been DULY noted.......

do you want to hear how fucking delusional i am... i have been contemplating getting a second ear piercing for a couple of years and when i saw victoria laying on the car creeper and clocked her second hole i was like "okay i need to do it"

the hold she has on me...embarrassing

for the live task, i tried to play along by picking a cool hobby, a fun animal, and a famous person, and what immediately popped into my head was "ice skating, emu, david mitchell"... psychologist followers, please analyse me

victoria doing an otter at the end? cosmic hermione energy (a thesis for another time)

more cutesie greg & alex socks~ some things never change AND SHOULDN'T

let me stop here because it's 2:45am and i know i'll have some asks in the ol' inbox tomorrow! and we can talk more!!! anyone who hasn't seen it, it's already up on my drive so please enjoy!

[carnelianns]

(Ikesen and Ikevamp) Sorry if this has been asked before. But how about an MC who went back to her own time only to find out she was pregnant. How would the boys reaxt if she comes back somehow a few years later but with a young child she says is theirs.

im sorry for keeping u waiting this long anon huhu,, i only did the vamps but, if my askbox allows, i’ll come back to do the sen boys too ! i didn’t have a specific gender for their children so jus imagine the lil rascal any way u want

Napoleon Bonaparte

When you come back through that door with a fascinated child holding your hand, it’s him you meet first again, and the tears are already glossing his eyes over before you can say anything.

He literally has no words when you smile gently, saying it’s his. Napoleon swallows the bump in his throat before making his way to the both of you, holding the two of you in his arms for only god knows how long.

“I.. can’t wait to live my life with you both, nununche,” he mumbles into your hair, ears slightly tinged, only causing you to laugh at his adorable antics.

As a father, he isn’t very strict, and he isn’t all that good in child-rearing, either. But he tries — you have to keep reminding yourself of this when you catch them in a compromising position, usually when you see your child holding a foil with a goofy smile.

“Nunuche.. I can explain,” Napoleon says calmly when you first find the two of them — well, three; it seems Jean was in on this little practice, though he quickly bolted when he saw you — parading around the training room with the foils.

“Mamma, papa said he was the King! He teached me how to be King!” Your child exclaims, flailing the weapon around excitedly as your gaze only darkens.

“Well, you see, I meant emperor, but—” his words die down when he sees your unimpressed face practically dripping with the murderous intent he’s so used to fighting against on the battle field

Slowly kneeling down to meet your child’s eyes, you see him whispering something incoherent before the little one nods seriously, slowly putting down the foil.

Then, as if counting down ‘3, 2, 1′, Napoleon immediately hoists your child up in his arms, running out of the room as both his laughter and your child’s squeals echo throughout the halls.

“Napoleone di Buonaparte, get your ass back here right now!” You scream, running after them.

“3, 2, 1 — Vive L’Empereur!” The two of them scream back, before bursting into laughter. They’re always in sync. It’s exasperating.

Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart

“That child is.. mine?” He asks, slightly jaw-slacked, pointing at the child that undeniably looks like him, if the identical beauty mark or violet eyes are anything to go by.

“Do you.. not want—”

“I never said that,” he instantly cuts you off, going over to kneel at the confused child. With a slight smile, in an attempt to hold his tears back, he manages, “So.. how was spending time with that clumsy mother of yours?”

Mozart doesn’t really know how to spend time with his child, though he’s clearly not opposed to carrying the little rascal around on his shoulders, or dragging the child clinging onto his leg around when stubbornness bites.

You often don’t know what he’s thinking whenever he spends time with your child, or the whole situation, but rest assured, he wouldn’t change it for the world, despite how he may look.

A clear example of this is when you once walked into the piano room only to see your little darling on top of the grand white piano itself, snoozing on top of a small comforter whilst your lover plays the soft tunes you’ve grown to love.

Shock holds you captive as you stare at the lovely sight, before finally trailing off, “Mozart..”

Without so much as glancing at you, he replies, voice hushed in a soft tone you don’t hear so often. The blissful smile on his face speaks thousands of words.

“I thought you were the only one foolish enough to let your guard down in front of me… It seems I was wrong.”

Leonardo da Vinci

He had an inkling the moment he saw the child sporting caramel eyes so similar to his own, tawny gaze regarding the large mansion with wonder.

And when you did reveal that the child is actually his, he only pulled you close to his chest, hoisting the little one up with his other arm.

“Papa has a lot of time to make up to you, doesn’t he?”

Leonardo is good with children, if it isn’t obvious. Not in your conventional dad way wherein he brings the child to school — in fact, he probably fell asleep in the hallway just when the two were about to leave — but he's awfully good at keeping his child entertained.

Running around the mansions, creating new inventions, learning a new language — sometimes, you have to remind yourself that this child’s father is literally Leonardo da Vinci.

A position you often see them in, however, is snoozing on the floor, probably near the library, your child a small ball curled into Leonardo’s arms and head in the crook of his neck.

“Again? Really?” You can only huff, though that doesn’t stop the small smile from spreading on your face as you brush the locks of hair out of your lover’s face.

“Cara mia,” he rasps out, cracking a bleary eye open and gripping your wrist softly. Then, he smiles, all sorts of soft and lovely and.. unguarded.

“You two.. are the best things that have happened to me.”

Arthur Conan Doyle

Arthur tries swallowing back the lump in his throat when he sees you standing in front of that damned door, though to no avail as a tear slips.

He starts full-on crying when you say that you’re back for good and that the child is his, and he’ll have to be comforted by yours and your child’s tiny arms before he even plans to stop.

“Ah, crying like that on our first meeting… Don’t you think your fath — I’m a bit embarrassing?” He asks, sniffling as he musters a smile.

Your child giggles, blue eyes crinkling. “No! Mommy told me a whooooole lot about you, daddy!”

He has to stop himself from sobbing again.

Arthur wastes no time in making up for what he’s missed, and every single day is one you’d find the two of them either in town or messing about at home.

If not, then they’re probably just chilling in the comforts of his room, doing god knows what. The day you peek in to see what exactly they were up to was a blessed day.

Maneuvering yourself in a way that lets you see through the tiny crack of the open door, your jaw drops at the adorable sight of your child in a tiny deerstalker and trench coat far too big for his form, Arthur nodding with a serious look on his face.

“So, Watson, do you think crepes make mummy happier?” Your child asks, holding his magnifying glass up — one you’re sure is from Leonardo — like a mic in front of Arthur’s face.

He strokes his chin for a moment, before answering, “Seeing her reaction when we gave her the ones we bought yesterday, I deduce they do, Sherlock.”

“Good dedoo – deduck – deduction, Watson! I thought so too.”

Your heart literally melts. The two are far too cute for you, you having to calm yourself before walking in with the widest smile on your face. Dorks. 

Vincent van Gogh

When you meet those familiar, cerulean eyes from your place in front of the door, they’re already glossy in seconds, a flurry of emotions clear on Vincent’s face, though his smile says it all.

“Is it too much to say I’ve been waiting for you this whole time?”

Vincent would be practically wallowing in regret that he wasn’t able to be a part of his child’s life for the first few years, leading him to do any and everything that will cause his child to smile. In simpler terms, he’s basically wrapped around the little one’s finger.

He’s so adorable and happy that he’s blessed with your lovely child, and there’s an immediate smile on his face when he so much as thinks about the little blondie.

He literally makes the other residents question whether or not they want a child too.

Their bonding time is painting and, more often than not, it ends up with all three of you cramped in the shower, scrubbing furiously at the sticky paint on their skin.

“I’m sorry for having you do this all the time,” Vincent’s soft voice only makes you sigh in relaxation as he massages your shoulders from behind you, causing your fingers to halt in their journey of rubbing some blue paint off your child.

“It’ll take more than that if you wanna make it up to me,” you hum, leaning back into his chest and looking up into his bright eyes.

Your lips were just about to meet, when —

“Mam, I’m not clean yet!”

You groan, Vincent only laughing as you meet the crossed arms of your child pouting child.

“Don’t give your mammie too much of a hard time, okay?” He never forgets to take care of you above all, of course.

Theodorus van Gogh

When he first sees you after years with a child, his child, grasping your hand, Theo has to literally disappear to cool his head off because he’s angry.

Not at you, no, never, but at himself. That he wasn’t there for his child, for you, and god, even if he were, would he have been a good father?

“Hon — Schatje,” he starts, running his fingers through his already messy hair and staring at you with eyes that practically bleed insecurity, his voice breaking. “How am I supposed to take care of a child when I couldn’t even take care of you?”

After many reassuring words and gentle touches, Theo’s finally okay, holding up and scrutinising your child much like how he does a painting. He’s, well, awkward.

Theo is surprisingly very gentle with your child because he honestly doesn’t know what the hell he’s doing.

He’s also very grounded and doesn’t fall for cute little tricks that much either, so out of the residents, he’d be one of the better fathers.

“Nee.” “Papje, pleaaase?” “No. Non. Nee.”

Your lover’s fixed refusal causes you to peek your head into a lovely picture. Theo was holding a chocolate bar high above his head, steely gaze fixed on your young child with his puppy dog eyes in full view.

“Je mama said no chocolate, right?” Your heart warms when you realise he remembered your scoldings, though you can’t help but to feel bad for your whining baby.

“Theo,” you say, both their heads turning towards you. “How about you give the little baby some chocolate and we all enjoy some pancakes, yeah?”

The way both their eyes shine almost identically is adorable.

Dazai Osamu

When you showed up again with the child in hand, one he knows is his, his first thought, first wish, is that for that tiny thing to not be his. Because no one knows how harsh this world is more than the man who wished to end it all, so much more than once.

But Dazai makes up his mind when he sees you and your — his child staring up at him with those eyes that look so much like your own. He makes up his mind, despite his own continuous suffering, that he’ll never let this child go through what he had to.

“Was I staring too much?” He smiles, slightly sad and, well, empty. “I suppose it’s because the little one looks far too much like you.” Bright. Too bright for me.

As a father, he’s surprisingly really good with children? He quite enjoys seeing your child smile more than anything, and one way he knows how to do so is by perching the little one on his shoulders, running around the mansion as his hands intertwine with small, tiny fingers.

You don’t know whether to yell at him and his close-eyed grin, or simply laugh at the resonating giggles of your child. Probably both as you chase the two down the halls.

Dazai often zones out whenever he’s playing with your child, a look you can only describe as pure bliss on those handsome features of his. As you stare up at him, confusion clear on your features, you ask, “Hey, Dazai, why do you.. Zone out so much? Whenever you’re with, you know,” you motion to the snoozing one in between the both of you.

“Why do I zone out, you ask?” He gives you a smile, a real one this time, and gently pokes at the little ones cheeks. “I think.. I’ve found a wonderful reason to live, is all.”

Isaac Newton

“That’s… mine??” “That?” “... It?” “It?” “The.. child?”

Isaac is very flustered, for lack of better terms. He can barely manage the children he and Napoleon go see intermittently, but his own child? Lord, help him.

He gets awfully flushed whenever he’s carrying his child around the mansion because even then, he isn’t spared by Arthur and Dazai’s teasing remarks — in fact, it only seems to have gotten worse.

Isaac is surprisingly good at getting your rascal child to sleep with his bedtime stories, which are usually all his unsaid rambles.

“And did daddy get that bruise on his forehead because he slipped while chasing Uncle Dazai and Uncle Arthur?”

Your child nods, bright eyes sparkling and toothy grin showing. “Daddy also said, ‘Get back here, you devilish imbeciles!’”

Your accusatory gaze turns towards Isaac, who averts his eyes, holding an ice pack to his bruising forehead.

“I-In my defense, they were—”

“One more time, Isaac, and I’m changing this baby’s legal godfathers to the two imbeciles you love so much.”

Gaping, his eyes widen to the size of saucers, “You wouldn’t.”

“Try me.”

He is now a grumbling mess when the two are around his child, but the lack of chasing them around with a stick in hand can be counted as an upgrade.

Jean d’Arc

When you walk through that door once more, nervously telling your lover that this child is his, you’re afraid of his reaction — after all, Jean is, despite his vampiric aging, barely an adult himself.

His jaw drops and he can’t stop staring at you nor the child with his inky locks, and you have to help him sit and calm down.

“Papa?” Your child asks, staring up at the still slightly panicked Jean as you hold your breath.

He stares for a moment, mouth wide, before finally, finally smiling, albeit a little awkward and rough around the edges. “Yes, little one?”

He’s extremely unaccustomed to this whole parent thing and can barely do anything without asking you first, so he feels bad quite often for having to lean on you so much.

Although he barely knows how to handle a sobbing child, nor can he entertain the child very well, you find that the both of them are quite content in each other’s presence as is.

Jean, well, looks ethereal as the sun shines through the windows in his room, a gentle smile gracing his face as he stares at his sleeping child.

He utters your name, causing you to look up, only to find him tracing circles around your child’s soft skin.

“Is this.. how it’s like to be happy?”

William Shakespeare

When Shakespeare wakes up to the news that you are, in fact, back at the mansion with a little surprise, he’s already there in no time.

He didn’t expect the little surprise to be a little child that’s practically an identical copy of him. But he’s always been more of a shoot first, ask questions later type of guy, so he immediately whisks you off to his manor, much to the exasperation of the residents who were surprisingly enjoying their time with the little Shakespeare lookalike.

Except he doesn’t really need to ask questions, because he’s already figured everything out through your soft, slightly nervous gaze, and your lovely little mannerisms.

“Alas, it seems the Heavens were kind enough to grant my wish,” he says as he stares at your child, only smiling to meet your confused gaze. “For I only wished you weren’t too lonely without my presence.”

William is always with his child, whatever the circumstances. Though he quite enjoys showing off his child, he’s also keen on spending his every waking second with the little tyke because he knows how it feels like to grow up lonely, and he wouldn't bestow that upon his own little one.

“Darling, it appears I has’t gotten myself into a slight predicament.”

If you could, you would have snapped a picture of your smiling lover practically itching to get up, yet unable to do so due to the sleeping child in his lap.

“And how did you get yourself into this predicament, my love?” You tease, your own smile on your face. He has a habit of reading his writings aloud, and it seems the little one fell asleep to William’s gentle voice.

“My works seem to be but a mere bedtime story to this little one,” he motions to the child, his smile softening. “I wonder why it does not dishearten me.”

Comte de Saint-Germain

“I was hoping you’d be back, ma chérie.” His perfunctory smile betrays the inner flurry of emotions inside him as he glances towards the child. “With a lovely little thing in hand.”

“Your lovely little thing,” you say gently, and the surprise outlining his normally composed face is something you’d forever save in your mind.

Comte is wrapped around the little one’s finger, his rotten spoiling being the effect of not being in your child’s life for a good while, and, of course, his indispensable regret for having you come back to him.

Many times have you asked Sebastian the whereabouts of your lover and your child, only for him to give you the look, responding that they were out yet again, and are probably not coming back without a few shopping bags in hand.

Then, to finally put a stop to it all, you decided to conduct a harmless experiment.

Placing a few coins on one side of his desk, a toy in the middle, and a beloved fruit on the side. After explaining to him that it’s to see what your child’s fate would be — picking between fortune, fun, and, well, snacks, you think — he simply leans back, interest shining in those eyes of his.

Unsurprisingly for you, your child pushes all these away in a second, opting to hug the wide-eyed man on the soft armchair behind the desk.

“And what.. does this mean, ma chérie?” He asks, honest-to-god confused as his hands slowly wrap around your child’s form.

You smile softly, “Isn’t it obvious, silly? The little rascal loves you more than anything.”

His eyes are suspiciously glossy before he laughs it off, preparing for yet another shopping spree — you regret everything.

Sebastian

He only gives you a knowing smile when you pass through the door with a young child gripping your hand.

“So.. this is the little one, is it?” He asks, tone soft as he walks towards you, wrapping a sturdy arm around your waist and meeting eyes with his child. “I’m a strict father, mind you.”

“Sebastian!” “I was joking. Slightly.”

Despite being a father, Sebastian is as strict and precise as ever around the mansion, rarely having to leave either his work or his family unattended due to his impeccable time management skills.

And if he struggles with both, well, he just has to merge them into one task, doesn’t he? Many are the times wherein the residents catch Sebastian working, his little runt on his tail or on his hip.

“They’re at it again, you know,” Mozart says in passing, only causing you to groan.

“Sebastian! How many times have I told you not in the kitchen?” You exclaim, walking into the kitchen to find your lover and your child tackling yet another chore together.

It seemed to be baking this time, if the flour on both of their faces says anything.

“Mama!” Your child exclaims with powdered hands as Sebastian says blankly, “We’re doing chores.”

You merely roll your eyes, sighing as you walk out the room. Your apology comes later when a sloppy cupcake makes its way into your view.

Your eyes move up to your proud looking child, hair obviously patted down in an attempt to look presentable while your lover sports a tiny grin on his own face.

“We made this for you, mom! Papa said he wanted to make you reaaaally happy.”

Sebastian’s head instantly snaps down, eyes narrowing, “Hey.”

You can only laugh at your two babies, taking a bite of the surprisingly good and sweeter than an average cupcake.

[cruddyborderlandstheories]

I've mentioned this before a few times but seriously imagine if instead of Maya having to die (let's be real), Ava got Tyreen's powers and realizes being a Siren actually isn't as cool as it seems cuz whoops thousands of people are now hunting you for sport or experimentation and you can't touch anyone anymore without accidentally hurting them. You may now regret begging for the siren curse. Also, we'd actually get to see Maya train Ava as a Siren AND see what the phaseleech powers would have been like if they weren't broken between two people and the Phasewalk/lock powers weren't thrown into the mix.

Yes I'm still on this alt. Scenario because I think it would have been really cool and helped develop Ava as a character since her entire thing up until Maya's death was literally just "I'm going to be a Siren Vault Hunter" and then at the end of the story she just gets it without really working for any of it or even being prominent in the plot at all. She shows up, like, twice and then disappears until Troy dies. She literally just shows up at the end of the Troy fight and gets powers for that cutscene. I don't hate Ava but I will admit that was kind of a 'forced' moment for me. I knew what they were trying for, but damn they really missed the mark trying to make Ava Maya's lil trainee cuz we barely see them interact, and Maya isn't even alive long enough after her introduction to have the two of them talk beyond arguing. Im guessing a lot of their interactions were cut, and maybe also because Athenas was only a single map, but still.

And yeah okay for Ava to get powers, Maya dies and I guess that can be considered a drawback for her, but let's be real the issue I truly have with this whole thing is that Ava doesn't even work a BIT on screen to prove to the players she's a good choice (and in fact 2 of her most prominent moments are her disobeying a fan favorite character that then dies- it doesn't help her case). Maya dies, but that's not Ava's fault imo, and so Ava does literally nothing the whole story (I'm down for arguments either way, but the minute Maya decided holding Troy physically instead of using her Phaselock was somehow the better option when she knows at least one of those siblings can give others the deadly suck by physically touching them, my brain just shuts off) and she also learns nothing. If anything, she probably learns that if she just yells it enough at people, she'll get what she wants, cuz that's pretty much the extent of what she does in the main story beyond being sad and lockpicking (u wanna leave Athenas? Okay. You get your wish. You wanna be a Siren? Okay. Here's some powers. You wanna be a Vault Hunter? Okay. Here's the ship. Everything she yells about in the beginning of the game is handed to her just because um. Maya, I guess. She earns none of it herself). If, instead of it being Maya's powers, she got Tyreen's powers as one last "fuck you" to the Raiders, I think it'd make it feel a bit more like she's not just being handed everything she wants without working for any of it or learning a lesson because plot. Her character doesn't really change from the start of the story to the end, except that she's a bit sad that Maya died. It just feels so wrong. Idk. I think it'd be pretty cool if Ava accidentally hurt someone in the Raiders because she couldn't control her new powers so she could have that "oh shit" realization moment that a) being a Siren isn't all it's chalked up to be and b) she's gonna have to work to get her powers under control or risk hurting everyone around her. Her having that hurdle I think would have made a lot more people at the very least appreciate her as a character instead of calling for her death (yikes!)

Uh. Yeah. I have no idea what came over me to write this. I think Ava's biggest flaw to me is that she had Potential to be a good character but the writing fell flat under her. It started a story with her and then dropped it (like another character we know 🤔 his name rhymes with... boy), so she never really develops or learns beyond getting sad that Maya is gone. I don't hate her, but I can see why some people would, tho it's not really "her" fault, it's the writing, if that makes any sense.

Also, interesting note, I do consider Roland's death to be because Lilith ignored Angel's request and showed up, unlike Maya's. I don't think Jack would have shown up in control core Angel unless he thought there was very, very good reason to, and Lilith was Right There for the taking. He seemed to even plan that out, having the collar on him and everything, and Angel knew to warn them specifically because of that. Before that, Angel tells Jack that Maya is incapable of processing eridium like her (either due to ignorance or a desire to stop Maya from having a similar fate to her own) so Jack wouldn't have brought the collar for Maya. That said, it's fully Jack's fault Roland died and the blood is on his hands, I just don't think the situation would have played out the same without Lilith there.

Unlike that, I think the situation in the Vault of the Rampager would have happened regardless if Ava showed up or not. I always assumed the cutscene that happens when you 'leave' the Vault is actually what's happening while you're inside, and when the VHs walk out, Ava is alone.

If that's the case then Maya would have been alone when the twins showed up, and probably would have been done for like Lilith was, as Lilith is supposedly the More Powerful Siren. We'll never know for sure, but I get the feeling things would have played out pretty much the same. It's not like the twins showed up for Ava, they wanted the Rampager, and the Rampager was already dead when Ava made herself known. Maya's alone, against 2 cult leaders with no way of contacting the other VHs cuz they're in the Vault and Tannis is the only one who apparently can (since Maya does not have a freaky live action pop up ad, good for her) and echoing is a no go as it's established connection is awful down below the city. She can only Phaselock 1 person at a time, so she either Phaselocks Tyreen (if she even can) and gets dusted by Troy, or she Phaselocks Troy and gets her powers stolen (and probably killed or left to die by cultist) by Tyreen. No winning for her. It would have happened regardless if Ava was there or not, so people blaming Ava for Maya's death should probably just blame the finalized script.

I don't think it's right to blame either Lilith or Ava for their respective loved one's death. Like yeah Jack wouldn't have gotten that opportunity to kill Roland had Lilith not shown up, but Jack wasn't suddenly forced to pull the trigger because Lilith showed up. He did that all by himself. Similarly, Ava not showing up wouldn't have stopped the twins from attacking Maya. She just changed the topic of conversation a lil bit. And Ava has all the combat ability of thin air at this point, so her appearance or non-apperance made no difference whatsoever when it was Maya vs the twins.

Oh God I've been typing for like an hour BYE bed time for me

[eeveedel]

chubby actor louis (part 3)

hello, lovely people! we have yet another installment, and there’s lots of debauchery in this lil update. includes: weight talk, body image talk, bondage, dom/sub dynamics, stuffing, weight gain kink, and lots and lots of food. I hope you enjoy. mwah! 

part 1 I part 2

--

Bacon, eggs with cheese, and a large coffee with cream and sugar started each of Louis’s days.

He slept in every day, and woke up to his breakfast on a tray next to him. Sometimes there were additions of some changes; sausages instead of bacon, scrambled eggs instead of fried, chocolate chip muffins instead of toast. But his food was always waiting for him, and usually, Harry was, too.

Harry worked out in the mornings, so he was usually sweaty, pink-cheeked, and shirtless, sitting next to Louis in bed when he woke up.

“Morning, sunshine,” Harry greeted him with a kiss, “Are you hungry?”

That was also a now-constant in Louis’s life. Harry always asking if he was hungry, if he needed a snack, if he wanted to try something Harry had been whipping up. And unless he was already painfully full, Louis usually said yes.

He pulled himself up, fluffing pillows behind him so he could sit up and eat his breakfast, the food on his many plates slowly disappearing until he just had empty dishes and a full belly.

He slouched back, lazily sipping his coffee while Harry showered him in his usually string of compliments.  

“Look at your cheeks, sweetheart,” Harry hummed as he cradled Louis’s face, “They’re so round! You look so pretty.”

This is why they worked well together, Louis thought through his post-meal haze. He was a goal orientated person, always ploughing forward to the next task. But Harry took in details, observed both the beauty and flaws in everything, although he was so sweet he usually wanted to notice the former. He was the one who would sit back and soak in the little things, notice the changes in everything.

“I know,” Louis sighed, reaching up to touch his puffy cheeks. He folded his hands down a moment later, running his hands down his stomach and rucking up the edge of his shirt.

“But Harry, look at this,” Louis groaned, prodding at the spot under his belly button. “I have a stretch mark! Look!”

“I see it, honey,” Harry said with an easy smile.

“I have a fucking stretch mark,” Louis moaned, “I’m going to have it forever. I’m going to have to use those lotions pregnant women use. Oh my god, Harry.”

“You’re so dramatic,” Harry sighed, giving him a kiss, “I think it’s cute.”

“Of course you do.”

“What? I do. It just means you’re bursting with the love I’m giving you,” Harry said, “Twenty-three pounds of lovin’ in this belly.”

He gave Louis a little pat on his stomach, and Louis felt the morning tension and grumpiness unspool from his body. He sighed and leaned over, giving Harry a kiss as he placed his hand next to Harry’s on his own midsection.

“Well don’t give yourself too much credit, I did most of the work,” Louis huffed, “You can take more credit when you contribute seven more pounds.”

Harry offered him a wolfish grin, and kissed him hard on the cheek.

“Deal.”

--

Louis couldn’t remember a time he had looked forward to eating this much.

He vaguely remembered a time – now only about a month and a half ago – that he had eaten kale salads with salmon on top and mixed grains for dinner and washed it down with kombucha, where he had told himself that it was worth it for all the vitamins and nutrients and the bragging rights he would have amongst his industry friends for how had the most restrictive diet, but he had never been happy before, during, or after those meals. And he also remembered when he had started preparing for this role, where the thrill of eating to his heart’s desire was quickly chased with anxiety over his softening waistline, the voice in his head that said he was doing the worst thing in the world.

But those voices were gone now. There was just his tongue that craved things, and then his boyfriend that inevitable placed that craving into Louis’s hands within the hour. Poutine, with thick homemade fries, doused in orange curls of cheese and thick gravy, curly ramen noodles with eggs on top and tender pieces of beef soaked in salty broth, homemade banana bread slathered in Nutella. Before bed, ice cream with gobs of cookie dough, brownies with caramel drizzled on top, peach pie with whipped cream. If he was thirsty he was presented with ice cold glasses of grape or cherry soda, vanilla milkshakes, or homemade Frappuccinos.

He ended every day with a tight, gurgling belly, which Harry would happily rub, and in the morning, his boyfriend’s careful eyes and observant eyes put him on the scale and measured every inch of his body.

Three more pounds crept up on Louis’s frame, bringing with it the usual praise from Harry and also more and more of the minute details Louis was noticing more and more. His cheeks pressed hard up into his eyes when he smiled, and he barely had to look down or speak for the double fold under his chin to be noticeable. His biceps had softened and he soft bit of arm jiggled under each arm when he waved. He had to rock a little to get himself going before he got up from the couch, and he caught him breathing a bit harder at the top of their main staircase. More red marks appeared on his hips, stomach, and legs, and his thighs rubbed together hard when he walked through the house. Harry bought him some special powder to slap on his thighs and also a large pair of bike shorts to help the chaffing, but when Louis forgot either of them, he widened his stance a bit into a small, awkward waddle. Once Harry caught him doing it and pinned him against the nearest wall for a mid-afternoon quickie.

Harry told him things that would have scared Louis, once – “You’re going to have to go up another pant size soon” and “You know you’re overweight for your height now” and “You’re really fucking out of shape” – but he said them in a deep, raspy voice that turned those statements into the highest of praise.

Louis knew the impact his body had on his boyfriend, and he carried that with pride.

One evening, Louis half-waddled into the kitchen, delicately holding a hand on top of the curve of his stomach, and saw Harry shirtless, standing at the counter and tossing a salad. Harry turned when he saw Louis, his smile bright.

“Hey, you.”

“Can I have a snack?” Louis said, blushing a little. His stomach was just starting to gurgle again, even though after lunch he had had a whole package of sugary dried fruit.

“You’re in luck, I was about to call you for dinner,” Harry said, “Come see.”

Louis followed Harry into the dining room, his eyes widening when he got there. Harry had apparently chosen a theme of Italian and carbs for the evening, because their dining table had two big pans of lasagna, one filled with beef and marinara sauce and one with layers of cheese and a thick white vodka sauce. There was a big loaf of garlic bread nestled in a wad of aluminum foil, and a small tray with two chocolate lava cakes.

“Oh, fuck,” Louis whispered, moving past Harry to look at the food more closely. He leaned forward, the shelf of his belly pressing gently into the edge of the table, and reached towards the tail end of the garlic bread loaf. It was still a little far away, so he leaned further forward, his ass sticking out further behind him and his stomach harder into the table in a way that made him exhale hard.

Louis tore off a piece of bread and stuffed it into his mouth, and then he looked behind him and saw Harry, his eyes dark, a slight smirk on his face as he leaned on the divider of their kitchen. Louis chewed the bread and swallowed quickly.

“What, babe?” Louis asked, his voice already dropping a bit.

“Just enjoying the view,” Harry offered, the side of his mouth twitching.

“Yeah?” Louis asked. He batted his lashes and leaned further over the table. The pair of briefs he had grabbed were too small, and he could feel them wedging into his ass, showing off more of his cheeks. He bounced a little on his toes, feeling the way it made his behind jiggle, and then he reached a hand behind him, smacking his own cheek. “You like this fat ass, baby?”

“God, fuck,” Harry breathed out. He pushed away from the kitchen and came closer, grabbing Louis around the hips. He shoved himself forward, his jeans grinding roughly against Louis’s ass, and Louis gasped. He tried to stand and twist around to let Harry kiss him. He felt his sides fold into a thick roll, and just the feeling made him moan into Harry’s lips.

“You look so good,” Harry groaned as he pulled back, only to nip at Louis’s lip. “So sexy.”

He rubbed along Louis’s stomach, pressing gently into the softness, and Louis giggled.

“Thanks to you,” he said, “You keep me fat and happy, baby.”

“Mm,” Harry hummed, “You’re happy?”

The question seemed genuine, a little softer, and Louis pulled back.

“Yes,” he said firmly, “I am so, so happy.”

He set his hands on Harry’s shoulders, smoothing his hands along the hard, firm lines under his t-shirt.

“God, I don’t decided if I want to fuck you or have the food,” he groaned. “Can we have both?”

“I don’t want you to choke, honey.”

“Ugh, boring,” Louis moaned, “Always so worried for my safety.”

Harry was quiet, chewing on his lip, and then his eyes brightened.

“I have an idea,” Harry said, “If you don’t like it, we don’t do.”

“Okay,” Louis said slowly, “Tell me.”

“I get a pair of our handcuffs from the box upstairs,” Harry said, “Or rope. Or a scarf. Whatever you want. Tie you to a chair, feed you your dinner. And I’ll untie you when I think you’ve had enough.”

Louis felt a little thrill run through his belly at the idea, and his mouth dropped.

“Oh,” he exhaled, “I – okay.”

“Would you want to try that?” Harry asked. He was trying to keep his voice steady, but Louis could recognize Harry’s eagerness easily.

“Sure,” Louis said, “Sure, let’s do it, yeah.”

“Yeah,” Harry echoed. He took a step back and vaguely gestured behind him, “I’m gonna…get supplies upstairs. What do you want me to tie you with?”

“Um,” Louis said, “Rope?”

“Solid choice,” Harry agreed, “I’ll be right back.”

He seemed to sprint out of the room, and Louis heard him moving around rapidly upstairs, and then, his footsteps were going down the stairs, and soon, Harry was in front of him. He was carrying a soft length of bondage rope, thick and petal pink, and Louis smiled.

“Tell me what you need me to do,” Louis said gently.

“Sit,” Harry breathed out, his voice firm.

Louis pulled out a dining room chair and sat down, and Harry nodded.

“Scoot back, hands behind your hands…there you go.”

Harry moved behind Louis and crouched on the ground, and then tied the rope around Louis’s wrists, and then around the slats at the back of the chair, securing Louis to the chair. Harry put in a couple more ties, his hands sure and well-trained, and he gave them a tug, asking if they were too tight and adjusting the knots. Finally, he stood up and circled around Louis to go to the kitchen, and then returned a moment later with two big glasses of ice water. Then he grabbed his own chair, dragging it forward so he was sitting directly in front of Louis.

Louis watched carefully as Harry picked up a piece of garlic bread, dripping in bright yellow butter. Louis licked his lips and locked his eyes with Harry, his head already growing fuzzy.

Harry pushed his hand forward, holding the bread right next to Louis’s lips.

“Eat,” he said softly.

Louis opened his mouth gladly and bit into the bread, moaning immediately at the taste. He ate happily, swallowed down what Harry gave him and then licking his boyfriend’s buttery, crumb-covered fingers when he was done. Harry reached for another piece of bread and offered it to Louis, smiling as he swallowed it down. Another piece of bread appeared after that, bigger than the first two, and Louis once again ate it quickly, making Harry’s smile grow.

“Good boy,” Harry nodded. He paused just to wipe his hand with a napkin and to pick up Louis’s water, commanding him to take a big sip.  

Next Harry dragged forward a tray of lasagna, the one filled with meat and red sauce. He retrieved a big serving spoon and took a hunk out of the corner of the dish, then held it in front of Louis. He ate, just like he was told, his tongue savoring the soft pasta, the rich sauce, the greasy cheese. He moaned happily and ate from Harry’s spoon, then eating another spoonful afterwards. Harry pet his hair and cooed, picking up more and more for Louis to eat, until there was a big space in the lasagna pan where they used to be food.

Louis’s stomach felt warm and happy, and he wiggled a little when Harry switched to the other pan, how giving him a taste of sharp-tasting vodka sauce that made his tongue tingle.

“So good, baby,” Louis moaned as he ate. He felt some sauce drip onto his chin and Harry didn’t go to clean it up.

“Thank you,” Harry smiled, picking up another spoonful, “Only the best for my boy.”

Louis closed his eyes and kept eating, his mind a haze of cheese and pasta. He only frowned when he felt how tight his stomach was getting. He blinked, looking down. He could his belly was sticking out, perfect round, and he looked up at Harry.

“I’m a little full…” he said, but Harry just blinked at him and dug up another spoonful of lasagna.

“You stop when I tell you to stop,” Harry said simply, “Open your mouth.”

Louis blinked, and then opened his mouth and did what he was told. When he was done with the spoonful Harry smiled and reached out, smacking the side of Louis’s belly and giving it a little jiggle.

“Good boy,” he praised.

Harry’s hand was steady, doling out more pasta, and then more bread, all with little sips of water. Louis took deep breaths, pulling a little at his constraints to get comfortable. His stomach was tighter and heavy, and he opened his legs a bit to give his stomach room. He felt it sag, he felt the elastic of his underwear starting to curl at the top, helpless to the weight of his middle.

“Such a perfect boy,” Harry said, “Eating so well for me. Making me so happy.”

Louis nodded, and opened his mouth at Harry’s next command. More bread. More butter. More calories that would go straight to his thighs and belly and ass. Or maybe his double chin, or his fat arms. It didn’t matter.

His eyes drooped as he ate, and he felt grease and sauce accumulate on his face and chin. His mouth opened less eagerly, but he still ate. He let out a little burp at one point, and blushed, but Harry just patted his gut and gave it a jiggle, telling him it was okay.

“One more bite,” Harry said, holding out more lasagna, “And then dessert.”

Dessert? Jesus fucking Christ. But Louis opened his mouth nonetheless and ate the lasagna.

As soon as he had swallowed, Harry fetched a clean fork and the two lava cakes, holding him out.

“These are for you,” Harry grinned, “Both of them.”

“Both?” Louis asked,

“Try for me,” Harry said, “Come on.”

He gave Louis more water, and then gave his belly a firm jiggle, and then, there was a forkful of chocolate in front of Louis.

His belly said no. But chocolate sounded so good. And Harry was giving him a look where no was not an option.

So Louis sagged forward and welcomed the cake into his mouth.

His brain was floating elsewhere, his mouth was full of chocolate, and Harry was still staring at him, coaxing the food between his lips.

Louis moaned as he finished one lava cake and then another one floated in front of his face. His mouth opened without thought, a robotoic motion of open-close-chew-swallow.

He barely realized the last bite was gone until Harry was kissing him, one hand cradling Louis’s full, tender stomach.

“Oh, good fucking boy,” Harry breathed, “God, look at you.”

Louis could only imagine what Harry was seeing; Louis exhausted, sweating, red-faced, his face covered in food and his soft body spilling out of his briefs. Harry started to clean him, rubbing a napkin on his face, getting some water into his system, and then he untied Louis’s wrists, letting him lean forward and cradle his stomach. The skin was tight and hot under his hands, and he moaned. Harry coaxed him to his feet, and Louis widened his legs, cradling his belly and waddling to the living room, until he could collapse on the couch.

Harry sat by his hip, rubbing his stomach, soothing the aching skin and giving Louis kisses on his face and wrists as he came down from his high. His stomach was screaming, but his head was happy. He was Harry’s good boy, happy and fat, always doing what he was told. That was enough.

As Louis became more lucid, Harry grew a bit quiet, still touching Louis carefully but not offering many words. Eventually, his voice came, quiet and uncertain.

“Louis,” Harry said softly, “Are you really happy?”

“Hm?” Louis lifted his head and looked at his boyfriend, who was looking at him so gently.

“Are you happy like this?” Harry asked, “Like you said earlier?”

He kept drawing circles around Louis’s belly button, but Louis still would’ve understood his question.

“Honestly, I think…I think this is the happiest I’ve been in a while,” Louis admitted.

His skin flushed as he said it, but he was smiling.

“I don’t have to get up early to do work outs I don’t even enjoy and eat food I hate, just for a body I’ll never feel good enough in,” he said. The words were rushed, but he meant them.

“I don’t know if I was happy like that, when we were the fucking ‘fittest couple in Hollywood,’” Louis confessed, “I mean, that was your thing, and I just did it because it was expected of me.”

He blushed, reaching down to squeeze his belly.

“But I feel so…so happy like this. In this body, with you, doing this,” he said, “Like I’m enough.”

Harry nodded, his face soft and content.

“I always had the feeling you didn’t like working out that much,” Harry said, “I mean, you did it, but I always had the feeling you wanted to do anything else.”

“Yeah,” Louis said softly, “And I hated half the food I used to eat. I guess some of it was alright. But I just felt like I had no choice.”

“Well know you can do whatever you want,” Harry said, “Although I will say, I kind of miss you when I work out. I miss having you there with me.”

“Maybe I can hang out with you while you’re lifting? Or on the treadmill?” Louis offered, “I can have a snack and talk to you while you do that.”

“I would really like that,” Harry agreed.

He reached down again to pet Louis’s belly, and Louis looked down at himself, a little lump growing in his throat.

“I’m going to have to lose this eventually,” Louis said sadly, “For my job.”

“Hey,” Harry said softly, cuffing Louis under the chin. “We have four pounds to go, honey.”

He gave him a kiss, holding his lips tight on Louis’s cheek before he pulled away.

“And I plan to make them count.”

--

Ideas sprouted in Harry’s head like weeds in the middle of spring.

For the next few days, he scaled back some of Louis’s meals. Still giving him everything he wanted, just a little less. A dozen buffalo wings instead of eighteen, four red velvet cupcakes instead of six, two calzones but no cinnamon sticks to go with them. Louis questioned him, a little frown forming at each of the meals.

“I’m planning something,” Harry teased him, “Be patient.”

And then one morning Louis woke up to no breakfast platter, and instead, Harry was just sitting next to him, a giant smile on his face.

“Wear something tight for me today,” Harry said, and then got up and disappeared. And Louis realized this was the day, this was Harry’s planning was paying off. And Louis was eager to mind out what it entailed.

Louis went to their closet, rifling the section that had become his out-grown clothes. He hated wearing tight clothes, he preferred his sweatpants and pajamas now above anything else, but if Harry wanted, he could deliver.

He selected a white button-down shirt and a pair of dark jeans, and started the process of doing them up. It was easier said than done, they had been new purchases when he and Harry had visited the mall, but they were already tight. All the buttons on his shirt did up, but the buttons were tight and the fabric stretched taunt on his frame, not hiding a thing. He rolled up his sleeves to his elbows and unbuttoned the first few buttons of the shirt, something that used to show off his delicate wrists and sharp collarbones that had since thickened and softened. He yanked on the jeans, which were snug against his thighs and ass, and he had to suck in to button them and then pull the curve of his stomach out of the waistband, letting it flop over top of his pants and pushing hard against his shirt.

He knew he wasn’t that big, but in this outfit, he felt massive, and it sent a little thrill through him, especially knowing how much Harry would love to see it, too.

He made his way down the stairs, breathing a bit hard at how the buttons cut into him. Harry was waiting for him in the doorway of the kitchen, and he waved his hand towards the breakfast nook, signaling for Louis to sit.

“You look gorgeous,” Harry smiled, “And I like the white shirt, too. You’ll probably get messy today. But maybe that’s good.”

Louis smiled, his stomach fluttering a bit.

“So what are you making me today?”

“Well, just one thing, actually,” Harry said.

Louis’s heart sank a bit. One thing, for the whole day? And then Harry disappeared into the kitchen and came back with a platter holding an enormous cheesecake almost completely covered in Oreos, chocolate sauce, and whipped cream. He placed it in front of Louis with reverence, staring at it for a long moment before turning to Louis.

“I spent all last night making this,” Harry beamed, “It’s around twenty thousand calories.”

The two statements hit Louis one after the other, and he blinked.

“Oh,” Louis stammered, “Oh, wow.”

“Yep!” Harry chirped, “And you’re gonna eat it today.”

He kissed Louis’s temple as the other man just stared at the platter, open mouthed.

“Gonna get you a fork,” Harry said, “Are you hungry?”

“I, yeah,” Louis managed.

“Of course you are,” Harry said, “My baby’s always hungry.”

He disappeared once more, and he returned with a fork. He pressed it into Louis’s hand, and then kissed the top of his head.

“Eat up, gorgeous.”

Louis nodded, staring at the feat in front of him. He wasn’t tied up, like he had been the night of the lasagna, but he felt just as much under Harry’s control.

He took a breath, feeling the press of the buttons into his abdomen. He had all day. He could do this. He would do this.

He reached his fork forward, picking up a bite of the cheesecake and placing it on his tongue. It was delicious, as always, so sweet it made his teeth sing, incredibly soft, and rich enough that he could taste the butter.

He easily ate through a full slice, and then another after that. He loved sweets for breakfast, and Harry had trained him for such indulgences with Belgian waffles and chocolate muffins presented to him quite literally on a silver platter. He even managed to polish off another slice, and Harry praised him with a kiss and a hug.

And so, for the rest of the day, the cheesecake was Louis’s constant companion. Anytime he felt the smallest bit of emptiness in his belly, he was back at the table with his fork, digging into the layers of cookies and frosting, picking away at the mammoth plate. Usually Harry worked up in his studio, but he seemed to be lingering around a lot more, either on his laptop or engrossed in his sketchbook, but still taking time to look up at Louis as he ate.

At lunchtime, a third of the cake was gone and Louis’s buttons were so tight he was gasping. He shoved cake into his mouth and then moved to undo his shirt, but Harry’s voice halted him.

“Leave that,” he said firmly, and Louis’s hand dropped immediately. He went back to his cake, sugar-buzzed and obedient.

He returned only an hour and a half later, eager for a few more bites. He didn’t realize until now how much hungrier he was throughout the day, his body trained for constant snacks. He sat down and picked up his fork, Harry sitting nearby watching.

He only had to reach forward a little before he heard a rip and felt pressure release on his stomach.

Louis blinked and looked down and saw there was a very apparent rip in his shirt, right over his stomach. There was also a bit of a gap at the side seam, and when he shifted, the rip widened. He looked up at Harry, his mouth opened, and his boyfriend’s eyes were dark.

“Eat your cake,” he said, his voice deep, and Louis reached for the fork without question.

As he moved around the house, the gaps in his shirt grew, the rips audible and showing more and more of his skin. He also saw how the white fabric was staining, smeared with chocolate and greasy bits of whipped cream. He would be embarrassed by it, but Harry kept giving him the most satisfying looks.

As dinner time approached, there was still a significant amount of cheesecake left, and Harry clucked his tongue.

“I worked so hard on this,” he said, “It better not go to waste.”

Louis’s fork found its way back to the plate.

Eventually, he decided not to leave the table. His brain was a swirl of black and white sugar, his body felt sluggish. There was a new rip under his right arm, and he had to keep breathing around the buttons, which were nothing short of painful now. He groaned as he took another bite, his body protesting, and he rocked forward a little, a hand cradling his stomach as he tried to sooth himself.

He heard the sound, a pop and then a high little ping on the ground, and then felt his stomach surge. Another pop. Another ping. He moaned, moving to the space where the two buttons had flown off, leaving his pale, soft belly exposed to the cool air.

He looked up at Harry and blinked, his vision blurring.

“I think the shirt’s too small,” he said, and then, his hand scrambled for the fork. More cake passed his lips. Harry groaned.

Louis couldn’t tell the difference between the next seconds to minutes to hours. It was all cake, all Harry’s gaze, all the feeling of his shirt ripping, unable to contain his form. His mouth and hand moved on their own in rhythm, working towards the goal as his other hand rubbed his stomach.

Eventually he blinked and rocked forward, and he felt the thick button on his jeans break, hurtling towards the ground. Louis hiccupped and adjusted his hips, his stomach pushing down the zipper of his pants.

He felt Harry’s hand on his belly and he leaned back, accepting a kiss on the head. He hadn’t even known Harry was there. He was too sugar drunk to know anything.

“I’m gonna pop,” he heard himself moan, and Harry soothed him.

“But you just have a little more,” Harry said carefully, “Please. Come on. Make me proud.”

Make Harry proud.

Louis’s mouth lolled open and stayed at way. A hand that wasn’t his fed him, rubbed his belly, slipped his fingers under Louis’s ripped shirt.

“Good. Good. Perfect,” Harry coaxed, “Just a little more now.”

Louis barely heard Harry when he was done. He collapsed on the table, panting, his shirt ripping even more. He thought he felt a rip along his inner thigh, but he didn’t know. He felt Harry’s hands lifting him up, guiding him to the sofa, offering him water.

“Never make me do that again,” Louis wheezed, and he heard Harry laugh.

“Once is all I wanted,” he heard his proud, proud boyfriend say, “And God, were you absolutely spectacular.”

--

Louis expected a bit more pomp and circumstance, in all honesty.

It still the morning, although Louis had slept in so it was closer to midday. Harry had to shake him awake and Louis immediately groaned and yanked the blankets over his head.

“Not now,” he huffed.

“Up and at ‘em,” Harry said gently, “Come on, honey. Scale.”

“I’m hungry,” Louis protested.  

“I know, honey,” Harry sighed, “But we gotta weigh you first.”

“Can’t it wait?”

“If we weigh you after you eat, it might not be accurate,” Harry said, “Come on. I’ll make you whatever you want.”

Louis considered resisting a bit longer, but he could hear the eagerness in Harry’s voice. It was his favorite thing, to see the numbers under Louis’s feet rise.

So Louis rolled out of bed and followed Harry to the bathroom. At Harry’s instruction he stepped up on the scale, not even looking down to read it. He rubbed at his eyes and yawned, blinking weakly as he tried to wake up. The scale beeped under him, evening out, and he waited for Harry to read him the number like he always did.

But there wasn’t anything.

He turned to his side, seeing Harry was still, just staring down.

“Harry?” he asked, “What is it?”

Harry lifted his head, his smile brilliant.

“179.”

Louis blinked.

“Oh.”

“Yeah.”

“So…I’m…”

“You did it, babe,” Harry said, “Well, you went above and beyond, actually.”

“One pound isn’t above and beyond.”

“It is,” Harry insisted, “It is to me.”

He surged forward, wrapping his arms around Louis and giving him a squeeze that made Louis squeak.

“You’re perfect,” Harry breathed out, “Absolutely perfect.”

Louis could only stare down at the number below him, the reality catching up to him.

He had gained thirty-one pounds. He was out of breath, hungry, and covered in stretch marks.

And he had never felt better about himself in his entire life.

After a moment, he stepped down, and let himself be fully hugged by Harry, snuggling into his chest.

“God, wow,” Harry said again, “I’m – I can’t believe this.”

“I know, right?” Louis sighed, “And hey, you helped with the last sixteen. So you can officially claim most of the credit.”

Harry laughed, shaking his head.

“I mean, I’m kind of…sad that it’s over, to be honest,” Harry said, “This has been so fun.”

“Well,” Louis drawled slowly, “I have a whole movie to shoot. Gonna have to keep this up for awhile.”

He patted his stomach and watched how he jiggled.

“You up for helping me with that?” Louis asked, “Can’t get skinny now.”

Harry’s mouth twitched, and he gave Louis a long look before grinning once more.

“I think I would be interested.”

[legend-waitforit-harry]

The Only One part 16

Hi, guys! This is to distract us from the dystopian reality that we are in right now. I hope this helps you distract a bit. Also sorry for taking forever to post this. Drop by to scold me.

Here’s the masterlist. Happy reading!

You didn’t even know how big the palace was until you decided to avoid a certain someone. And frankly, you didn’t need to work to hard either. Making new acquaintances, doing chores, mending your garden and slipping every now and then out to take a tour around the Underworld with Chiron telling you stories of everyone’s past, perks of living forever, was keeping you busy enough. And rarely you had the time to think about your mother and what she said, or Harry and what he said or anything of those things that you’d be thinking about. Or at least that’s what you convinced yourself on.

With all your running around, you know the Underworld like the back of your hand by now. Every nook and corner being investigated by you with the wise guidance of Nyx and the anecdotes related to those places by Chiron. And out of everything, that one spot in Elysium has become your favourite. So much so that it is now known as Kore’s groves, something that you secretly like though you express it to be a bit exaggerated. By now you have slept under the Tree of False Dreams, which is kind of a trending dare currently, and take on classes from Hekarte on her famous potion making, though you still can’t bring yourself to completely trust her. And just like that, your schedules are fully packed.

But Fates couldn’t let you be in peace for long as one evening after returning from your potions class you stumbled upon Rhea. Not that you’ve been ignoring her. Since you came back you’ve come across her a number of times and have greeted her like any other time. But this time it was different. She wanted to have a talk. And you know that has never turned out to be good for you.

You felt uncomfortable in her chamber. It’s not your territory. But her motherly presence beside you kept you from bolting out any moment now.

You knew what she’d say. That what everyone has told you in their first encounter with you after you came back. It’s good to have you back. Harry has been sad without you. The place is not the same without you.

It has been a series of awkward conversation of these statements and by now you’ve learned to dodge your way out. Though with Rhea it’s hard to do that. As she towers over you with her overpowering aura, you bend over yourself to crouch away from her investigating eyes.

“Look” she commands you, jumping straight to the point. “It might not be my position to tell you this but you need to talk to Harry.”

Your face betrays you as you stare up at her questioningly. Bloody right that she is not in a position to tell you that! Not only is it your personal affair but also Harry doesn’t even accept her as his mother!

She sighs shaking her head. “I know what you’re thinking” your head drops with a bit of guilt spreading up your cheeks. “But think of it this way, you came here to fulfill your duty to the Realm and you haven’t even talked to him yet! What’s the point of your sacrifice if you don’t even own up your role?”

You don’t have an answer. She’s right. As much as you’d like to deny, she is right.

You feel a pat on your shoulder, “Do your duty, m'child. And the Fates will be kind on you.”

“Okay” you murmur with defeat.

You feel her wanting to say something more and you wait for it.

But nothing comes.

She shuffles to her feet and you follow her suit.

You look up to meet her smiling face. “I’ve tried to correct my errors. Alas it is not my will to change the course of destiny. Maybe it is my repeated sins that stained my intents even when it is but pure.”

“What?”

You surprise the both of you with that question. But she smiles at your eagerness.

“You didn’t ever wonder why Nyx betrayed you the day you found your way to Harry’s chamber?”

You frown trying to recall a day that seems eons ago. A day you were guided by the voice of angels that came from Harry’s throat to stumble upon his private chambers. But you did wonder about that. And you scolded Nyx and she apologized…. Or so you thought.

And it struck you then.

It was Rhea who told you about the meeting. It was Rhea who guided you to the chamber. It was Rhea who wanted you to stumble upon Harry. It was Rhea who wanted you to be with him all along.

Her relationship with her son was barely holding on and she hoped that you’d be the ointment to heal it. But it’s not what the fates had approved and here you are.

You find yourself in your chamber staring at the ceiling as you lie awake. Is it really necessary to talk to him? Not that you wanted to ignore him forever. But you are a bit disappointed that he is not the one who came to you first. You kind of hoped that. But anyway, it doesn’t matter either way. Though, since you’ve waited for so long anyway, what’s another day to it.

And so you waited another day. Trying to push it as much as possible.

With the first thing in the morning being your garden. Tending to your garden has always been your first job of the day, seeing how the fungus is still giving you trouble. And then concerting a little tea party with Nyx and Thanatos in that said garden. You’ve come to learn that Thanatos is indeed very funny, with his dry humor. And you thoroughly enjoyed their company.

Then you order Chiron to row you to your potions class to Hekarte followed by being told off by Hekarte the whole day for being a klutz.

As the day closed in you grew more and more nervous. Packing up your things you stumbled your way into Chiron’s boat.

In these few days that you’ve take the liberty to learn Underworld, Chiron has become of the closest people you have here, only second to Nyx. Thus he can see right through you as you fidget around.

“What has got you? Did you sneak up another one those secret potions of Hekarte?”

“No, and I didn’t sneak up anything the last time either!” You whine. “I just confused it for her herbal tea. She conjures up a new recipe for those everyday anyway”

“I just don’t want you to grow any fangs or anything” he has a laugh at your silliness as you huff and puff.

“What is it?”

“What’s what?” You act indifferent.

“What is it that got into your teeny brain making you jitter around in my teeny boat?”

“There’s nothing” you shrug.

“Oh C'mon. Let the old man some peace and spill the beans.”

“Yeah, you’re old.” You say rolling your eyes. “And I’m a wee baby”

“You are, to me”

“Shut up!” His laughs echos making you resonate as well.

There is a pause after your laughter dies down. Only for for the sound of the water against the oars.

“Tell me what is it. You’ll feel better”

You will. You know. You stare at your clammy hands as the playfulness drains your cheeks.

“I have to talk to him”

“Hm you sound determined”

“I have to be”

“Do you want me to join?”

“No, I’ll have to do it alone.”

“You sure about that? Don’t want me to show him the guns? It has been long since I’ve seen him. About time he meets the boys.”

Chiron says kissing his barely existing biceps and you have to laugh your head off at the sight.

“Hey, don’t stress yourself out.” He smiles the way that gets wrinkles by his eyes making him look much older. “He is a bit thick in here” he taps his temple earning a chuckle from you. But then you realize you’ve stopped. You’ve reached your destination.

He helps you out of the boat as usual. But today he smiles at you as he whispers a “All the best”. You nod with gratitude.

~

Your steps fall heavily echoing through the halls. You don’t feel ready but this is it. Your feet carry you to his chamber. Something in you tells you he’s there. And you hope against hope that he is, because if he isn’t then you don’t have the courage to find him or talk to him again on another occasion.  And your prayers are answered as you find the door closed but not bolted.

You knock.

No answer.

You knock again.

Silence.

You take upon yourself to push the door open, or maybe it was the frustration of not being approached first, but either way you step inside with a bang that jolt Harry up from his slumber.

“Who’s that?”

You stare at the puffy eyed Harry with his messy hair staring back at you.

“Oh, it’s you.”

“You don’t sound very glad.”

“Hm I just didn’t expect you.”

Did you ever?

“Are you busy?”

“Just catching a wink. Tell me.”

He gets up pouring himself some water.

“I wanted to join you in duty”

“What?”

“The duty I came to do?”

His face drops at the reminder, it’s the duty you came back for. He nods.

“You’ll need training.”

“Excuse me?”

All these days of just lying around in captivity and it’s now that he remembers about training?

“What? It’s not a child’s play to govern the real of the most notorious. You have to have training first.”

“What do I have to do?”

He think a bit. “Just sit there looking calm and authoritative, mostly”

Your jaw drops. “I need training for that?!” You seethe at him.

“Try being all calm when there are millions of souls at your feet begging for mercy.”

You stay silent.

“Nice save.”

“Thanks” he says plopping himself down beside you.

There’s a pause. You can’t help your mind going back to the last encounter you had with him. Staring at the door you start thinking of excuses to runaway right now. Do you even need excuses now?

“I didn’t know if you want me to meet you”

Another pause.

“I did.”

He nodded, though you didn’t face him you felt it.

“I knew…. Heard about Kore’s groves”

“Do you mind?” You turn to him suddenly remembering his hesitations to let you out in the realm.

“No, I think it sounds nice. You made your mark in your new home”

Your heart warmed up at his words against your will.

“It’d be nice if we could be like before as well”

“Before as in when I was in your captive?”

He froze. “I have only one explanation lil’ one, if you’ll allow me” You don’t say a word. You don’t move an inch. “I chose you. You, in particular, were never gifted to me. Yes, we had a deal. And according to that deal I could have taken anyone of his daughters. But it was you I chose. And I don’t even say that you need to reciprocate. You can choose whoever you want as your consort. But I have chosen to serve you as my Queen forever.”

“Don’t you think that’s a bit unfair?” You look at him from the corner of your eyes, the first time your eyes meeting since you walked in. “It’s pressurising me into choosing you as you’ve already chosen for yourself. It’s like having to choose the last morsel because that’s all that’s left!”

He chuckles, “Never have I ever been compared to the last morsel before. But no. It is not! Fates knows there are so many God’s who take partners for themselves other than their consorts. And being the Queen you’re free to your will. It is just me declaring that I am not to take anyone other than you, even if you don’t take me.”

“That is still not fair.”

“I will never do what’s not fair to you, lil’ one”

“How would I know that after all you’ve done?” You feel anger bubbling inside you.

“I know, it seems far fetched but it was all for you! I’ll never do anything against you is what I mean!”

“You are unbelievable”

“No, you’re not getting it”

“Not getting what?!”

“Leave it.”

“No.” You sit facing him now. Glaring at him with pouting your lips. You’d have thought you must look like a kid right now if you weren’t already this furious. “Tell me. Right now.”

Harry takes a deep breathe. He slowly turns to face you. And when your eyes meet, the spring green of his eyes rimmed by the redness of sleep, it knocks the breathe out of your lungs. But you don’t say anything.

He opens his mouth but only to swipe his tongue over his bottom lip. He doesn’t know how to proceed. And you think if you listen close, you can feel his heartbeat as well. And that makes you nervous.

“What I’m trying to say is… ”

And at last he takes a deep breath in as if he is going to dive into the deep ocean and throw out what he has kept buried in the depth of the abyss of his heart.And then it comes.

“I love you”

[jdiep95]

Mariah Carey: Top 10 Remixes

In continuation of celebrating Mariah season, and “All I Want For Christmas Is You” finally becoming a #1 single, I am sharing with you my “Top” lists of MC songs every Monday and Tuesday up until the 25th. After talking about the Top 10 Most Iconic Mariah Carey songs, it’s time to move on to the Top 10 MC Remixes. Come back next Monday for the Top 10 Underrated MC Bops. All songs mentioned these lists can be found on streaming services (e.g. Spotify, Apple Music). That means deeper cuts, but fan favourites, like the “Someday (New 7” Straight)” remix, the “Never Too Far/Hero” medley, and “H.A.T.E.U.” remix ft. OJ da Juiceman, which aren’t available, aren’t included; the aforementioned remixes are, however, available on YouTube, and they definitely deserve a listen.

You’ve listened to remixes where they’ve brought in a guest rapper, something that Mariah popularized in 1995 as you’ll see below. You’ve also listened to remixes where they’ve brought in a featured singer, something that Mariah had also done in 2000, when she re-released the “Against All Odds (Take A Look at Me Now)” single with Westlife. But you’ve never heard a remix until you’ve heard a MC remix. Somehow we’ve gotten the perception that Mariah is lazy because she doesn’t perform the choreo or doesn’t sing the song — point them in this direction. Up until the 2010s, Mariah insisted doing remixes her way. She’s not just pulling in DJs, or rappers, or featured singers to do all the heavy lifting in remixes, Mariah incorporates new elements, sometimes practically changing up the genre of the song. And she re-records, sometimes new vocals, sometimes the entire track.

Is the list TL;DR? No worries. I compiled each list into a respective playlist, starting from No. 10 and ending at No. 1, so you get to listen to the Top 10 MC Remixes while on the go.

https://open.spotify.com/user/jdiep95/playlist/6UfiZPeq4yA1fq4i87CUwq?si=iHpF9-BAThW8m26GKSKyiA

10. A No No ft. Shawni

Year: 2019

“A No No” is an underrated bop off of Mariah’s most recent studio album, Caution. Caution, like many of Mariah’s comeback, is a testament that she’s still got it; however, unlike the couple of albums before it, Mariah ditches most of the post-production, and delivers one of her strongest albums. “A No No” uses a sped-up sample of Lil’ Kim’s "Crush on You”, with the original mix using excerpts of Biggie’s rap. The remix featuring Shawni drops Biggie’s rap. This isn’t the first time Mariah opted for a female rapper for the remix: In 1999 for the “Heartbreaker” remix, MC dropped Jay-Z for Da Brat and Missy Elliot. “A No No” is a feminist song about cutting off liars and cheaters, and enjoying the single life; Shawni’s contributions add to the latter, admitting: “To all my exes need to tell you that I’m sorry/That I didn’t leave you sooner/I settle for less, and that is exactly what I been getting.” This remix isn’t perfect — the melody and the structure remains the same, and Mariah only records a couple of additional inflections. The best part about this remix, that’s absent from the original mix, is the addition of a series of ascending melismatic whistles near the end. You can’t help but feel like something’s missing from the original mix, and MC lets you know it in the remix.

9. Fantasy (Bad Boy Fantasy Remix) ft. O.D.B., Sean “Puffy” Combs

Year: 1995

Why the “Bad Boy Fantasy Remix” is so iconic was already discussed in the Top 10 Most Iconic list: It introduced the featured rapper formula to pop music, and paved the road for its successors like Beyoncé’s “Crazy in Love” or Rihanna’s “Umbrella”, both of which features Jay-Z. The remix features rapper O.D.B., who, by the time the remix was released, had started a solo career separate from the Wu-Tang Clan. The release of the "Fantasy" remix is entrenched in racial politics. Columbia Records and Sony Music feared the inclusion of O.D.B. would jeopardize the squeaky clean, family-friendly, racially-ambiguous image they had built for Mariah. In the remix, a lot of the pop production is stripped away, leaving the bass beat as the foundation of the song; Mariah sings on top of this. "Fantasy" sampled “Genius of Love” by the Tom Tom Club, and in the remix, the sample is echoed in the bass beat. The bridge of the original mix, which also samples “Genius of Love”, became the remix’s chorus. The structure changed, and “Fantasy” itself became slinkier, less saccharine. The producer, Sean Combs, better known as P. Diddy, recalled working with O.D.B. all through the night to record the rap; O.D.B recorded sentences at a time, whenever the inspiration hit, or whenever he was awake. Regardless, Mariah’s insistence to collaborate with O.D.B, and to release the remix was an industry-changing move.

8. Honey (So So Def Remix) ft. Da Brat, Jermaine Dupri

Year: 1997

The “Fantasy” remix, despite it being iconic and timeless, was mostly work in post, especially trying to piece together O.D.B.’s individual recordings to form an actual rap. The So So Def remix of “Honey” was a completely different affair with the song reworked and re-recorded. The bass line of the original mix of “Honey” samples “The Body Rock” by the Treacherous Three, while the tinkling piano line uses a sample of “Hey DJ” by the World’s Famous Supreme Team. The So So Def Remix foregoes “The Body Rock” sample, and also samples a different excerpt from “Hey DJ”. The accompaniment itself sounds like a midi file off of a video game, but it’s actually the hook from the Jackson’s 5 “It’s Great to Be Here”, Mariah’s first time sampling a another pop song. This “Honey” remix is a novelty. As a critic, you would expect another dance remix or something that really leans into the hip-hop, and instead you receive a feat that reduces the original dance track to 8-bit music with MC’s vocals as the main attraction.

7. My All (Classic Club Remix)

Year: 1998

Have you seen Dreamgirls? In the stage performance, Effie sings “One Night Only” and it shifts immediately into the disco version sung by Deena. I imagine the remix of “My All” draws inspiration from that, especially when they chorus starts chanting, “Just one more night.” In the Classic Club Remix, MC sings on top of a dance beat but it’s a slow burn before it becomes that full on club anthem. The remix isn’t completely re-recorded; it’s her original recording that’s fixed on top of the dance track produced by David Morales, but it’s the last five minutes that she adds on new elements, and finishes out with new vocals, a solo for the latin guitars, and a chorus. Sam Smith might be able to sing any dance song as a ballad, but Mariah is the master of rewriting any torch song into an upbeat track. Try not dancing when Mariah starts going off with the “Feel your body”’s.

6. Through the Rain ft. Kelly Price, Joe

Year: 2002

“Through the Rain” is Mariah’s first comeback single. It hails from Charmbracelet, Mariah’s comeback album after the entire Glitter fiasco. It’s Mariah’s first leading single that failed to crack the Top 5, even “Loverboy” off of Glitter peaked at #2. The inspirational track, which encourages the audience that they will “Make it through the rain”, stalled at #81. The original mix is a slow R&B ballad, one that even I rarely listen to since I almost always opt for the live version she performed at MTV Presents. The remix is more upbeat as a result of changes lyrically and melodically, and by infusing gospel elements, there’s more of a sense of hope than in the original mix. “Through the Rain” didn’t chart well, so why does this remix rank so high among the other remixes? A decade and a half before Kanye decided to bring everyone to church, Mariah brought her listeners to church instead of the club with this remix. For a remix, the sound was new and gutsy, especially for a song that didn’t fair too well, granted she did also release a dance remix. With the remix, MC proved that a song didn’t have to be wildly popular for her to breath new life into it.

5. Unforgettable (Acoustic) ft. Mariah Carey, Swae Lee

Year: 2017

You might be quick to catch that "Unforgettable” is actually a French Montana song, but you might be less familiar with this Mariah Carey remix. The inclusion of MC on this track, and the decision to replace the track with a guitar makes it sound more like a R&B-inspired country song with a rap section than it does dancehall; nonetheless, the remix is incredibly cross-genre. Chances are French Montana didn’t re-record his lines, which is standard, but then some very stylistic choices were made that makes the remix sound like a Mariah duet rather than a MC-guest appearance. These decisions, however, may not exactly be MC-mandated, so let’s talk about two things that were within her control: (1) MC sings throughout the entire track. She doesn’t appear for just one verse then disappears; she injects herself throughout the song by harmonizing with French Montana. (2) MC brings her whistle notes. MC fans stan Mariah’s whistle notes for one very good reason: Mariah uses them with much musicality. It’s less of a garnish where MC goes, “Hey, look, I did that!” because we know she can do those whistle notes. In the “Unforgettable” remix, MC uses her whistles as a base, a broth if you may; in this way, her high notes are instrumental, and she strings them together in a series of legato to create the backing track for which French and her sings on. Mariah’s contribution to this song really makes it ever more unforgettable.

4. We Belong Together ft. Jadakiss, Styles P

Year: 2005

Kelefa Sanneh, a former music music critic for The New York Times, called the “We Belong Together” remix “springier”; I had to quote him because there’s no better way of putting it. The original mix is tear-jerking, but the remix has a bounce to it that captures the hip-hop vibe that MC was looking for. The remix gets pretty close to demonstrating what a perfect balance looks like, and inevitably Mariah sometimes misses the mark — remixes sometimes reduce Mariah to the featured artist, despite it being a Mariah song. She sings along while Jadakiss and Styles P trade lines, emphasizing certain phrases. The remix continues to sample Bobby Womack’s “If You Think You’re Lonely Now”, and uses a longer lyric sample from “Two Occasions” by The Deele. On this list, we’ve seen MC skillfully use instrumental samples, but she is masterful in picking lyrical samples as well. The “Two Occasions" sample, “I only think of you on two occasions/That’s day and night”, contributes to the message of yearning in “We Belong Together”, making it fit perfectly with the mood and the scheme of the song. MC finishes the remix in a way only she could, by showcasing a series of vocal acrobats for the last minute-and-a-half of the song.

3. Always Be My Baby (Mr. Dupri Mix) ft. Da Brat, Xscape

Year: 1996

I know diehard fans prefer Mariah’s Butterfly era, where you had songs like “Honey” and “My All”, but my favourite would still have to be the Daydream era, when MC decided to gift the world with “Fantasy” and “Always Be My Baby”. The Daydream era featured prime Mariah vocals, amazing album cuts, and two of Mariah’s coolest remixes to date. Both the “Fantasy” and “Always Be My Baby” remixes are timeless; the former is so stripped down, but it is the latter that we really need to talk about. It’s timeless in such a sophisticated way that’s so rarely seen in pop music. Don’t agree? But Mariah seems to agree. In the Caution World Tour, Mariah’s most recent tour, she performed this remix instead, when “Always Be My Baby” had almost always been performed unaltered in the original mix. The foundation of the Mr. Dupri Mix samples “Tell Me If You Still Care” by the SOS Band, a slow jam itself which gives the remix its sleek, quiet storm sound that was so popular in the 1980s. MC is an understated music genius: She takes a page from TLC, who had just released their critically-acclaimed hip-hop album CrazySexyCool the year before, by recruiting a female rapper, Da Brat for the remix; this marks the first time MC collaborated with a female rapper. And the rap practically merges with the track; it’s neither out of place nor distracting as Mariah riffs while Da Brat raps. She also melds two supposedly conflicting genres, since younger Black audiences had shifted their attention from quiet storm to hip hop since the beginning of the ‘90s. Whereas the “Fantasy” remix had almost no re-recorded vocals, the “Always Be My Baby” remix received an almost complete makeover, save the melody. Mariah really thins out her voice for the remix and introduces her airy whisper, something she’ll really master in her subsequent albums, which gives a new feeling to the happy-go-lucky vibe on the original mix. The remix is more mature, reflecting Mariah’s real-life desire to bridge pop, R&B and hip-hop.

2. All I Want For Christmas Is You (So So Def Remix)

Year: 2000

As we’ve seen in the Top 10 Most Iconic list, Mariah has released several versions of “All I Want For Christmas Is You”. Certainly, the original mix reigns supreme, but the So So Def Remix comes awfully close, and I will argue that none of MC’s other versions or any other cover of this song, ballad, acoustic or otherwise, comes close to this remix. You might have heard the disconnected intro and skipped the rest of the song, which meant you missed Mariah and producer Jermaine Dupri reworking the song in ways no one else can. The So So Def Remix is an extremely smooth R&B and hip-hop remix, and although this is nothing out of the ordinary for MC, it’s such a smart remix because it’s a Christmas song for anyone who’s tired of listening to Christmas songs; essentially it’s an escape from the original mix. This remix has as much spring as the “We Belong Together” remix, but this bounce is a result of sampling “Planet Rock” by Afrika Bambaataa & the Soulsonic Force. The whistle notes that are seen in the main melody of later versions derives from this remix, and arguably, the whistle notes in the remix’s successors are nowhere as melismatic. You can’t beat a Mariah original, but you also can’t beat a Mariah remix.

1. Anytime You Need A Friend (C&C Club Version)

Year: 1994

“Anytime You Need A Friend” is a deeper cut itself off of Mariah's best selling album Music Box. It’s Mariah’s first US single not to enter the Top 10, peaking at #12. It’s equal parts a love song and a song of encouragement, especially the remix. The original mix of “Anytime You Need A Friend” is a slow ballad, at least “My All” had something sexy about it, so you wouldn’t except Mariah, and producers David Cole and Robert Clivillés to be able to work it into a dance track so well. But without a doubt, it is definitively Mariah’s best remix. The 10 minute song is essentially an abridged version of Mariah’s résumé; you get a glimpse at everything from Mariah’s vocal talents to her songwriting abilities to her musicality. “Anytime You Need A Friend” is a torch song that’s been repackaged with a pounding dance beat. Even if it's from 1994, there’s a certain timelessness to it. Another great thing about most of MC’s remixes is that it doesn’t cut the song short; in the C&C Club Version, the entire song is there. Mariah reworks the part of the original melody, but it’s the last six minutes of the remix, when Mariah goes off, where you can really observe how well she knows music. Can you write this down on sheet music? Or was it improv? To me, the last six minutes was literally a playground for MC to do her thing, whatever she wants. There’s no guest singer or featured rapper, just Mariah. But then this allows her to do something she’s almost never done before or since. At the eight minute mark, the remix enters a jazz breakdown, and Mariah scats, dipping into her lows, belting, and hitting those whistle notes. Simply, this remix is remarkable and breathtaking.

Timelessness is the key word here with MC’s remixes. You may think that the incorporation of samples would date these remixes significantly, but personally it does it complete opposite. Mariah’s remixes transcends eras because of the use of samples. Not only are her remixes cross-genre, they’re also cross-generational. Mariah doesn’t just push out remixes and waits to capitalize on them. If you’re looking for a place to find Mariah’s artistry, look no further than her remixes. She adds new elements and new life to the songs, rewrites them, reworks them, re-records them. Who’s done this recently? In the last twenty years, which artist has consistently given their remixes this kind of treatment?

[do-what-the-knight-tells-you]

Broadchurch: the short story collections. Part 1

Available over here.

The first book contains four short stories, all of which take place before S2, so if you want to read this, it might be nice before re-watching S2.

1- “The End Is Where it Begins”, Ellie, After S1: how she comes to transfer precints and end up as the traffic cop we see in S02E01.

2- “The Letter”, Maggie, a few days before S2: STruggles with Echo finances, works on a story, thinks about resigning.

3- “Old Friends”, Jocelyn, 10-20 years before S1: insight into her past, her career, her character, Jack Marshall, and what was going on in town around the time Danny and Tom were born.

4- “Over the Side”, Tess, months before S1 (three days into the Sandbrook case): a twenty-four hour window into that case, her perspective on the case, her affair, and Alec’s behavior/character/etc at that time. This is the night Pippa’s body is found, from her perspective.

I’ve included summaries, my notes, excerpts, and other Things Of Interest under the readmore. this book was interesting, short, and very worth the read, for me!

1. Ellie- Between S1 and S2.

“Going back into uniform was Ellie's choice, but it usually means demotion. It’s shorthand for disgrace. As far as Ellie is concerned, the uniform helps. Her collar and cravat help her hold he head up high, and she walks easily in regulation flat shoes. This is a move sideways,  not downward; she’s still a Sergeant. Her salary stays the same, and that’s important. Ellie’s staring down the barrel of single parenthood, paying for the childcare Joe used to do for free. Resigning would mean sacrificing her pension, and with a good fifteen years of service left in her, that’s not an option. “But there’s more to it than the money. It doesn’t feel right to go back into CID until Joe’s been sentenced. She’s never told anyone this, but it feels like that way, she’ll be able to put Danny behind her. But going into uniform, that felt right. Ellie understands now what Hardy meant about atonement. [Look! Thinking about him!] by serving another community, she can atone for what Joe did to her own. Leaving the force, taking a sabbatical, all the other things tat people told her to do: none of these was an option. This move is, above all else, a massive /fuck you/ to Joe.  Fifteen years, Ellie's been on the force. When he took Danny’s life, he took Ellie's best friend, their community, and her eldest son. She will not let him have her career as well.”

And in the car with her new loudmouth partner: “after ten minutes she finds herself yearning for Alec Hardy’s brooding and sulks. At least he was quiet. She wonders where Hardy is now: under a doctor’s observation somewhere, she hopes, contemplating the salvage of his own career from the confines of a hospital bed.”

In general her new partner is a bit of a sexist good-old-boy who thinks the problem with youth today is the welfare state... She thinks the problem is lack of outreach and enrichment. She is struggling to get everything in line in her life.

Tom’s voice breaks while they are separated. And her heart breaks to have missed that.

She successfully overrides her partner, follows her instincts, and saves a family, some kids, from a domestic situ while on the job… and then falls to fucking pieces after. Realizes she doesn’t have the emotional fortitude to handle cases without breaking, right now. Calls in sick, and then transfers to traffic.  “She is bitterly aware of the irony that while she has gained her colleagues’ respect, she now understands that she doesn’t deserve it. It’s either this or leave the force, and then Joe’s won. She is hanging onto her career by her fingernails, marking time until his plea next week. “Ellie has always prided herself on putting people before anything else but life as a black rat is about enforcing the letter of the law, or rather its numbers. She’s reduced to the digits and codes of traffic policing: stopping distances, speed limits, milligrams of alcohol and penalty points. Even her fellow traffic officers, infamous for their pedantry, started calling her robocop after he first shift. “Inside Ellie's locker, there’s a photograph of Tom and Fred before the blast. She marks a tally on the picture’s white border, inky scratches in the gloss, to count down the days until Joe stands in the dock at Wessex County court and says the magic word that will give her back her son.”

Aw hell, Ellie.

2- Maggie- A few days before S2 begins. 

Budget cuts are crippling the Echo. Finally, she is ready to submit her resignation in protest, but a story she runs down locally (to do with land use, and, eventually, marijuana), turns out to be leveragable to do some good in town, force some good change, and she figures that's still worth doing, so she'll hang in a little longer.

No mention of Lil, so, still not sure when they broke up/if they are split... oh, and a passing mention of Jocelyn's home. Just, that it is there.

3- Jocelyn- Her story is set farther back, but is fascinating. It's set partially at least twenty, twenty five years pre-S1, and then partially right around the time that Danny Latimer was born. 

It's a little window into who Jocelyn was at that time and what she did. Talks about her outlook on her career, her relationship with her mother, her habit of spending no more than four bank holidays a year in Broadchurch, and staying in London, her preference, her work, the rest of the time.

Also, it turns out she represented Jack Marshall and convinced him to plead guilty so that he would get a shorter jail sentence and get back to the Rowena faster, which he did, and then married her.

Jocelyn was quite reserved even then, but they kept in touch and Jack confided in her after the accident that took his son's life and caused their split, that he needed a new place to go... She suggested Broadchurch because she knew the newsstand was up for sale.

The last scene of the short story is her visiting him at the newsstand. She's noticed her vision is starting to go, she's watching the Latimers with their three-day-old baby boy walk along the beach.

There are references to lots of things and folks there in town, throughout the story, the sea brigade, Oliver, the fact that she's lost touch with Maggie long since and she's a bit grateful for that because otherwise Maggie would surely have sniffed out her connection to Jack and outed Jack's past to everyone. Oh, and Ellie is 10 days overdue and fit to burst with Tom and so Beth (Beth and Ellie had become friends in their pre/antenatal classes) had been dropping by with Danny over there, hoping that holding Danny would maybe induce labor.

... and finally.

4- Tess- Day 3 of the Sandbrook case, well before S1

I didn't look ahead, I totally had no idea that this was coming. But this is Tess' side of a 24-hour period from the Sandbrook case. I'm going to sum some of it, and then I'm probably just going to end up posting big chunks of it. Or you can go read it yourself. That's good too. XD

It's April 2012, day 3 after the Sandbrook girls disappear. She and the other DS she's cheating with were getting it on, for what was clearly not the first time, in the backseat of his car. Made a comment about the fact it next time they would take it back to the hotel, doing it in the car was foolish and uncomfortable. Which also seems to imply that this is a regular thing. Tess thinks a bit on the fact that Dave is present with her in a way Alec isn't, though she feels guilty about all of it.

The cheating is a release for her, like other people might smoke a cigarette or go for a run. She knows Alec is really struggling with how close in age Pippa is to Daisy. 

"Alec works sixteen-hour days, forgets to eat, and gets angry. She hasn’t seen him since they got the shout two days ago. He’s sleeping on the sofa in his office, if he’s sleeping at all. At least Tess got four hours in her own bed last night and a shower in her own bathroom. Daisy was staying with a friend; Tess and Alec rely a lot on the generosity of friends’ parents in the first few chaotic days of a case. The house was too quiet this morning. It’s strange; Alec can stay away for days and Tess feels nothing but relief, but Daisy sleeping somewhere else feels wrong."

Tess knows what Alec is like on these cases. Her affair with what's-his-face went on much longer than the case itself. I’d guess months, at least, prior to this story.

"She hasn’t seen Alec since last night. Tess hopes he’s not in the office. The chances are small; as Senior Investigating Officer, he likes to work the field as much as possible. They used to work so well together – professionally, at least, she’s never been more compatible with another officer, and that includes Dave – but at the moment she can’t concentrate if Alec’s even in the same building. Dave sits opposite her at work, and Alec’s got the corner office just behind them. Every time he walks past, she shrivels with guilt and with contempt for her husband. Guilt over the adultery, contempt that Alec can’t see it.

[Lends more weight to Hardy’s perception of the affair, as we saw it in the S1 novelization-- namely that it was shameful, that he felt ashamed to have been cheated on. I bet she says/said something nasty, along these lines, and he internalizes it]

“If she and Dave so much as brushed past each other at a crime scene, he’d notice. That’s the problem in a nutshell: the tunnel vision that makes him a brilliant detective means he hasn’t seen Tess – really seen her – in years."

[Oh God, I see where this is going. This is the night he finds Pippa, isn't it?]

‘Where’s Alec?’ Tess asks Chrissie, a fellow DS who’s already got three empty mugs on her desk. Chrissie creases her brow. As always, whenever Tess refers to her husband by his first name, it takes her colleague a few seconds to get who she means. But what else can she call him? She can’t call him Hardy and she’s damned if she’ll call him the boss or the guvnor.

[”Guvnor”? is this a British thing, or personal nickname? if the latter, Ellie would laugh herself sick over it, if she ever found out.]

“Chrissie checks a memo on her screen. 

“‘He’s overseeing a fingertip search of the river Sandbrook.’ 

“‘The Sandbrook?’ echoes Tess. It’s right on the edge of their patch, a slow-flowing river with great stretches straying miles from the nearest road and barely accessible on foot. ‘On what basis?’ 

“‘On the basis of it’s the only open space left on our ground that we haven’t covered, and there’s still no trace of either girl,’ says Chrissie grimly, her eyes travelling to the clock. Tess flinches at the reminder of how far behind they are, and boots up her computer, not wanting to waste another minute. When Dave comes in, she looks up with a cool hello...”

She thinks about potential leads in the case, she interacts with Dave a little bit, mostly through facial expressions. And then

“Tess is giving Dave one more warning look when his phone rings. His face loses its colour as he listens; Tess pulls out her earplugs but the call is already over. 

“‘That was the boss,’ says Dave, pushing his chair away from his desk, car keys in hand. ‘They’ve found the body of a young girl in the Sandbrook.’ 

“South Mercia University Hospital is across the dual carriageway from the police station, eight storeys of white concrete and foggy windows. 

“‘I knew it’d be murder,’ says Dave, as they get into a lift marked STAFF ONLY. ‘I knew from the first shout, but it doesn’t stop you hoping, does it?’

“‘You always hope,’ says Tess. ‘But I can’t remember hoping like this for a long time.’ Dave reaches for her hand and circles his thumb on her palm. 

“‘You OK, babe?’ His tenderness melts her, but she can only squeeze his fingers in reply. She can’t afford to soften now. The lift spits them out two floors underground and Tess and Dave walk through a dingy yellow corridor lit with flickering strip lights. It is maybe ten degrees colder here than in the station. This is not the way to the viewing room, where victims’ families see their loved ones still beneath a white sheet. This long walk is for the professionals, the dealers in death. There is nothing beautiful down here: a few laundry bags piled in a trolley, a mop and bucket and a yellow CLEANING IN PROGRESS sign. Tess tries very hard not to think about what gets mopped up down here. 

“‘I don’t understand why it’s just the one body,’ she says. ‘Nothing about this case makes sense.’ 

“‘Just the one body so far,’ Dave corrects her. There’s another fire door ahead; he lengthens his stride to open it for her. Tess isn’t used to these little chivalrous touches. She is astonished to find that she quite likes them. 

“‘Did Alec say if he was staying to continue the search?’ 

“‘He pretty much hung up.’ Dave bites his lip. ‘I’m sure he knows, sometimes, the way he talks to me.’ Tess shakes her head. 

“‘That’s how he talks to everyone.’ But she shakes her shoulders, as though to recalibrate her body language, and by the time they get to the end of the corridor, there’s a big space between her and Dave. When – if – they go public, it must be a long, long time after this case has been put to bed. A technician in mint scrubs is waiting behind a glass door; she punches a number into the keypad to let them in. 

“‘Five minutes,’ says the technician. Her voice is steady but she looks like she’s been crying. ‘Dr Kendall’s just preparing her now. You can wait up here.’ 

“Tess and Dave follow the technician on tiptoe up a short flight of stairs. In the viewing gallery, there’s a row of seats, almost like in a cinema, and the blind is down on the panoramic window so it looks like a blank blue screen. There are a handful of flattened paper bags on the table. Waiting for them is Sanjeev, a newish DC. He’s not long out of uniform so he won’t have worked a case like this before. Tess hasn’t spent much time with him, but she knows Alec really rates him. There’s a weird, stale, boggy smell and for a moment Tess retches, thinking it’s the dead-body-rotting smell she dreads so much. It takes her a few seconds to recognise the smell of stagnant river water, and that it’s coming from Sanj. 

“‘Sarge,’ says Sanj to Tess. ‘How comes you’re not upstairs with the boss?’ Tess doesn’t bother to hide her confusion. 

“‘What’s he doing upstairs?’ 

“‘Don’t panic,’ says Sanj. Immediately Tess starts to panic. ‘It’s just a precaution. He got into difficulties in the water.’

“Tess is bewildered. ‘What was he even doing in the water?’ 

“‘He found her,’ says Sanj, dipping his head. ‘Pippa’s body. He carried her out. You know what he’s like, he stalks off on his own, all impatient, no one can ever work fast enough for him. We didn’t even know he’d gone until he’d got her out. He reckons he went under a few times. He took in a lot of water and they’ve got to be careful about it being in his lungs, or Weil’s disease or something.’ Sanj looks down at his feet; he flexes them, and his shoes squelch. Tess is rooted to the spot, horrified at what Alec must have been through today. She is torn. Instinct urges her to go and check on him; after fourteen years of marriage, you can’t just turn off the concern like a tap. But he’ll be in good hands. He probably won’t even want her, he hates being fussed over. And with him indisposed, she’s the senior officer. 

“She’s still debating with herself when the blinds go up and the theatre is revealed in all its spot-lit, chrome glory, and there, splayed on the slab is— Tess’s vision blurs. There’s a whole team of people, but the pathologist and his team, in their scrubs, are reduced to green blobs. Tess can’t look at anything but Pippa Gillespie’s body. It doesn’t look human. It has been completely bloated by the water; her face is swollen and grey, her limbs pasty and distended. Water has matted her hair and dirt outlines her nails. Tess thinks of the picture they have on the board, that perfect little girl, playing tennis, golden skin, long brown hair, and it is all that she can do to stand. She’s seen bodies destroyed by water before, but never one this young. Tears try to push their way out of her eyes but Tess pushes back harder. She’ll cry later, in front of Dave, but she won’t fall apart in public. She gives silent thanks that Pippa can be identified forensically. Her mother will never have to see her like this. 

“She steps up to the microphone, forcing her voice to hold steady. 

“‘DS Tess Henchard,’ she says. ‘Is there anything you can tell us just by looking at her?’ Dr Kendall looks up to the gallery and nods hello. 

“‘Only that she’s been in the water for at least two days.’ There’s a tenderness in his voice at odds with the gleaming surgical instruments in the tray behind him. ‘So that narrows down your time of death, I suppose. As for the cause … I’ll be frank with you, Sergeant. There’s no obvious wound. Water covers death’s tracks. It gets into the body through the orifices and starts decomposing from the inside as well as out. It affects the tox report. We will work quickly, and to the highest standard, but I can’t guarantee that we’ll find the cause of death. Let’s talk in the morning.’ 

“‘Christ.’ She pushes the heels of her hands onto closed eyes, but the image of Pippa’s face is imprinted on the back of her eyelids. She looks to the door; she ought to check on Alec, for form’s sake as much as anything. Dave doesn’t need to be told what she’s thinking. 

“‘I’ve got this,’ he says. ‘You go to him.’ It is possibly the kindest thing anyone’s ever done for her. He places a hand on her arm, a light gesture but it’s not lost on Sanj. Tess notes his double take, then watches as the horror below wipes the suspicion from his mind, for now at least. She leaves Dave and Sanj to watch the post-mortem. 

“In the lift, her legs go. She has pulled herself to her feet by the time she gets to the front desk. The receptionist points her towards Accident and Emergency. Tess concentrates on putting one foot in front of the other, reading the signs, breathing through her mouth, and trying to close her mind’s eye to the sight of Pippa Gillespie’s body, but the image is imprinted on her for ever. Her badge helps her to jump the queue – she can’t help thinking she gets more respect from the triage receptionist as a Detective Sergeant than she would as a wife – but it still takes her the best part of an hour to find out that Alec has discharged himself. She boils with rage – if he’s gone back to the scene with his health in tatters, she’ll kill him. She asks to see the registrar who treated him; another half-hour wait. 

“She calls Daisy, who’s still at Molly’s. They’re lucky she’s popular. If she has dinner with a different friend every night, that can take them ten days into a case. After that, repeat requests usually get awkward. This time, though, everyone knows the case they’re working on. Friends are falling over themselves to have Daisy for the evening, offering sleepovers, weekend shifts, school pickups. ‘Whatever helps you find those girls’ is the phrase they hear again and again. Tess hopes the goodwill continues into the murder inquiry. Lately, she’s been wondering if the hospitality would extend to a single mother trying to juggle shifts around work and a new relationship. 

“‘It’ll be a little while yet,’ says Tess. ‘Home in time to see you to bed, though.’ ‘Have you found her?’ says Daisy. She has become fixated on Pippa Gillespie; she knows they’re the same age, and she can see what the case is already doing to her parents, three days in. Tess feels a pang for the innocent days when Daisy thought that all they did was direct traffic. Tess and Alec naturally never tell Daisy anything before it’s released to the media. ‘Not yet, sweetie,’ she says. ‘Be good for Molly’s mum.’ 

“Eventually, the registrar comes in, a young man smelling of coffee and sweat. There’s a comet of blood on his white coat. ‘Mr Hardy discharged himself against my recommendation,’ he says. ‘I’m telling you because I’m concerned for his health. Physically, he was fine. I mean, the water doesn’t seem to have done any lasting damage. But he’s suffering from acute stress, and there are more tests we’d like to run. With anyone else I’d recommend that he take time off work, but …’ He spreads his hands. Tess doesn’t know whether he’s implying that the case is more important than one man’s health, or whether he’s simply got the measure of Alec already and knows his advice would fall on deaf ears. 

“There’s a voicemail on her phone from Alec’s second in command, DS Beauman, wishing the boss well and telling him that they’ve got SOCO in now. Alec hasn’t gone back to the crime scene. So where is he? Alec is not at home and he’s not answering his phone. Tess sees Daisy off to bed and opens a bottle of red. She searches Google maps on her iPad, scrolling up and down the length of the Sandbrook looking for patterns, clues, inspiration, until she feels dizzy. 

“She calls the incident room; Sanj answers and immediately asks after Alec. So he’s not there. Dave’s working the scene at the Sandbrook; she texts him to see if Alec’s turned up, then again to see if they’ve found anything new. Both questions come back negative. She deletes the message thread out of habit even though this time there’s nothing incriminating. 

“She’s really starting to worry now. This disappearance is completely unprecedented. She pictures him collapsed behind the wheel somewhere en route to the Sandbrook, and she works herself up into a fury. For all his dedication to his job, he neglects what ought to be his number one priority: making sure he’s in good enough health to do it. There’s real fear under her concern, though, and she’s about to call the hospital when she hears his car on the driveway. It’s 10 p.m. 

“As his key turns in the door, she’s waiting for him in the hall. The sight of him makes her stagger. He’s wearing a grey tracksuit, the police-station-issue kind they give to people whose clothes have been seized as evidence. The trousers are too short and his ankles are exposed, making him look ridiculous. His hair is plastered down.

“She stopped touching Alec a while ago--”

[Oh god, I remember that comment in the first novelization, that Miller is the first person to take his hand in so long he couldn’t remember...]

“-- it started to feel like betraying Dave-- and he doesn’t seem to have noticed, or to miss it.”

[Oh God.]

“She hesitates before going to hug him, and when she opens her arms, Alec folds his and shakes his head. Dave wouldn’t do this, is her first reflex thought. 

“‘Where’ve you been? she asks. It was supposed to come out concerned but it sounds derogatory.

“Alec pinches the bridge of his nose. He closes his eyes nd lets them stay that way. ‘Driving.’

“It’s five hours since he discharged himself from hospital. The thought of him going round and around the ring road in these clothes tugs at the leftovers of her love.

“‘Oh, Alec. What about your clothes?’

“He nods to a clear plastic bag on the doorstep. INside, weeds are wrapped around clothes so muddied that Tess has to think back to what he was wearing when he left for work this morning. His new blue suit. They’ll have to throw it out. Even if the can get it clean, she knows he’ll never be able to wear it again.

“When he pushes past her into the house, Tess can smell the soap from the police station showers on him.

“‘D’you wan to talk about it?’ She pours Alec the last of the wine. He looks into its dark red surface like he’s seeing through it into something else. 

“’I saw her in the mortuary,’ says Tess, ‘It must have been awful for you.’ Alec doesn’t even blink. Dave or no Dave, Tess recognises a man who needs human touch. She puts her hands on his shoulders. When they first got together, she used to massage his shoulder blades at the end of every day, feeling the knots unravel under her fingers.

[An interesting detail.]

“He used to say she had the magic touch, that no one else could relax him like she did. Now, he shrugs her off.

“‘ I’m going to check on Daisy.’

“Tess follows him upstairs and they stand at Daisy’s open bedroom door for a while. She is asleep under a garland of IKEA fairy lights, watched over by a peeling Taylor Swift poster. The tweenage sneer she wears all day has vanished. Her lips are an open rose; her brow is smooth. The difference between their perfect sleeping daughter and the deformed corpse of Pippa Gillespie hits Tess in the guts.

“‘Is she breathing?’ Alec asks suddenly, an octave higher than his usual register. ‘I can’t see her moving.’ Before Tess understands what’s happening, he’s kneeling at Daisy’s bedside. He used to do this when she was a baby, leap out of bed to check she was still alive. Tess had completely forgotten about it until now.

[That’s interesting, does he have past trauma with stuff like that? seems like he already had dead-kid PTSD BEFORE he went into the river after Pippa Gillespie. poor sucker...]

“’She’s not moving!’ He puts his hands on Daisy’s shoulders.

“’Alec, stop it!’ Tess keeps her voice to a whisper even though his was a shout, but it’s too late, he’s already shaking her awake. Daisy’s body flops, but her eyes snap wide.

“‘Daddy, what are you doing?’ She says, as Alec pulls her into a clumsy embrace and buries his face in her nightie.Tess doesn’t have enough hands as she tries to pull him off and calm Daisy at the same time. 

[LET THE MAN HUG HIS DAUGHTER]

“In the end, she has to tug at the collar of his tracksuit top. The pressure on his windpipe seems to knock the panic out of him, and he lets Daisy go.

“‘Out,’ snarls Tess.

“‘I’m sorry, darling.’ Alec walks backwards towards the door. ‘I just needed to make sure you were OK.’

“It only takes Tess a couple of minutes to soothe Daisy back to sleep; she’s confused rather than frightened, still young enough that a few soft words from her mother can chase the monsters away, and Tess hopes that in the morning they’ll be able to dismiss it as a bad dream. She waits until Daisy’s breathing regulates, tucks a stray lock of hair behind her daughter’s ear, and tiptoes out onto the landing.

“Alec sits in the half-dark like a little boy, his knees pulled up to his chest, leaning against the wall as if he has slid down it. Tess kneels next to him on the carpet. His eyes glitter.

“‘I can still see her face,’ he says. He holds out his arms in front if him, palms upwards, elbows bent. ‘I can still feel the weight of her.’ Tess pulls him against her shoulder; he resists for a moment, then collapses and weeps into her neck. This time when she reaches around and starts to work on the muscles in his shoulders, he lets her. His back feels like a sheet of metal; she keeps going until her fingers ache and she starts to feel bone and sinew under his sweatshirt. 

[How is this man constantly portrayed/described as looking like he is shit warmed over, and yet he is one of the most compelling/interesting/attractive characters Tennant has ever played???]

“When Tess shifts position, Alec seems to gather himself, like he’s let out exactly the amount of emotion that was clouding his judgement, and not a drop more. He doesn’t move his head from her breast, but there’s an edge to his voice that almost thrills her.

“‘We’re no longer dealing with a missing persons inquiry. We know where we stand now. We’ll get this.’ Without warning, he leaps to his feet. ‘We know who we’re dealing with now. A monster, someone who can leave a child to rot in a river.’ He starts to pace, his ridiculous bare ankles going backwards and forwards in Tess’s eyeline. ‘This is what we trained for, isn’t it? to get justice for families like this.’

“His new confidence is infectious. Tess often forgets, in all the frustration of living with Alec, what a brilliant detective he is. Or rather, she forgets why he’s so good at his job. It’s the quality that first attracted her to him, that pure, almost old-fashioned belief that good can vanquish evil.

“He is a good detective because, underneath it all, he is a good man.

“It’s going to make leaving him so much harder.”

...

Ouch.

See you next time!

[makeste]

BnHA Chapter 149: Villain Island

Previously on BnHA: Twice confronted Nighteye with a clone of Rappa. Nighteye proceeded to beat his ass using rubber seal stamps, incidentally revealing his surprisingly cut washboard abs. Night then blasted away part of Twice’s mask, forcing Twice to retreat in a panic. His personality disorder started to get the better of him, but then Toga showed up and tied a bandana around the missing part of his mask, and it calmed him down and was also the sweetest fucking thing I’ve ever seen. Twice briefly flashbacked to the League of Villains meeting when Tomura announced that Togawice would be lent out to the Eight Precepts. Twice was against this because it turns out he feels responsible for introducing Overhaul to the League and getting Magne killed (and Compress maimed, but no one cares about him). Toga wasn’t keen on it either, but Tomura somehow won them both over by smiling and making it seem like he had a plan in the works. Whether he actually does is anyone’s guess, but damned if it wasn’t convincing. Anyway, so now Toga and Twice are fed up with the Precepts’ general incompetence, though, and are ready to turn on them. And I’ve never been so excited for a plot twist in my whole damn life.

Today on BnHA: Flashback!Overhaul meets Togawice for the first time and asks them about their quirks. The Precepts then ask if Tomura plans on betraying them, and Twice and Toga are all, “[shifty eyed glance] nope, nothing to see here. no impending betrayals on our end, no sirree.” This apparently is good enough for Overhaul, who asks them to sit tight and wait for further orders. Back in the present, Irinaka makes one last-ditch effort to crush the remaining heroes in his accursed hallway. However, Toga gets him to reveal his true body, and Deku and Aizawa immediately attack. With Aizawa having finally neutralized his quirk, Irinaka is detained. We then cut to Mirio, with time rewinding back to show what happened immediately after he went forward on his own and caught up with Overhaul.

But the real star of this chapter is the omake at the end. Kurogiri takes it upon himself to improve solidarity among the League by taking them all on a mandatory outing to an uninhabited island to engage in a survival trial. Tomura spends the entire time lounging on a couch, Dabi unleashes his inner Bear Grylls, Toga steals a bikini, and tbh I kind of wish we could get an entire manga series of just this. But we’ll just have to settle for these four pages, I guess.

(As always, all comments not marked with an ETA are my unspoiled reactions from my first readthrough of this chapter. I’ve read up through chapter 178, now. If I’d known yesterday’s Superbowl would end up somehow being more boring than this entire arc, I would have never bothered taking the day off. But, well, hindsight.)  

no, I don’t mind at all

by the way what exactly is going on here with Twice and these handcuff-looking things that I’m not actually sure are handcuffs. because that cord looks more like an earjack cord. but why is it coming from the bracelet like that. I basically have so many questions about this image, and am now also more closely examining exactly why Twice chose a skintight bodysuit as his villain costume

(ETA: I have no excuse. he’s fought with them before and everything; I just never noticed.)

more villain flashbacks!!

but this time it’s T&T introducing themselves to the Eights

“I’m never gonna forgive you, so it’s a pleasure to be working with you” ahaha. classic Twice. this is the kind of iconic bullshit that I’m reading this manga for

Overhaul’s apologizing for killing Magne and says he didn’t want to

but if you really felt that way you could have easily put her back together again, you sociopath

oh my god look at this though??!

holy shit. so she really is another canon trans character, and it’s treated seriously too. I mean, obviously it’s not perfect, and it also sucks that she got killed off, but I’m so used to LGBT manga characters being treated as comedic relief at best, so this frank statement of “hey you misgendered my friend, get it right” and it being totally serious is actually really refreshing

also what is Viz going to do when they get to this chapter. most likely change it up entirely I’ll bet. fucking Viz

anyway, so Twice is all “so now what” and Overhaul says he and Toga just have to follow his orders

he’s also asking for the details of their quirks

but Toga is all “we’ll tell you if and when it’s needed because fuck you”, and have I mentioned I love her???

but holy shit though

bud. are you like, okay. jesus christ

so Twice has decided he hates this and he’s not going to say anything

so naturally the very next thing he does is explain his quirk in great detail!!

holy shit this is an unexpected info dump

once again Horikoshi is all “I see your questions and I will answer them in due time.” so it was a tape measure!! has he had these this whole time?

just went back and checked. yes he has. unbelievable

still waiting on an explanation for that skintight bodysuit though

some of this goes against what we previously knew about his quirk, though. this is the first time a two-thing limit has been brought up, and that seems to go against the whole Calvin and Hobbes “I made a bunch of clones of myself” thing that we know he did way back when (and which he’s also referencing here, as I assume it’s the reason he no longer makes copies of himself). maybe the limit only applies to things/people that aren’t him?

this reminds me a lot of Momo’s quirk in that he needs to know a lot about the object before duplicating it. which means he’s definitely a lot more intelligent than he sometimes comes off as

I mentioned a couple chapters ago that Toga is extremely intelligent as well, and now I’m wondering if Tomura realizes just how lucky he is to have all these smart crazy people on his side. we’ve seen the quality of Overhaul’s own followers, by contrast, and the League most definitely has them beat

anyway! so Toga’s staring at Twice in annoyance for going off like that right after she made a big deal of not telling Overhaul anything

she says he made her look stupid

OMG YESSSS so now she’s going into the details of her own quirk after all omggggg

look at the damn hoops Horikoshi’s making himself jump through all because he made the decision not to do any villain bios. well it’s your own damn fault

I’m starting to understand why Deku keeps all these notebooks

the bit about the transformation time being proportionate to the amount of blood she consumes is extremely interesting and relevant, and now it makes sense why she had that weird gizmo to suck as much blood as possible

I would estimate she got maybe a cup of Ochako’s blood, so we can assume she can transform into her for up to 1 day if needed. but as for Deku, we saw in chapter 114 that she only managed to get like a couple drops worth

one drop is about .05 ml, which is about .0002 cups. so she can transform into Deku for .04% of one day unless I fucked that math up (which is highly possible)

what is that, like a couple seconds?? because if so, holy shit but I’ve been vastly overestimating her ability to wreak mindbendy havoc on our heroes

also does she have to drink the blood right before the transformation for best results? if she drinks someone’s blood but then doesn’t transform into that person right away, does she eventually lose the ability even if she doesn’t transform into them? or can she store that “energy” and use it whenever she likes?

basically this is awesome to be getting so much information here, but now if anything I’ve just got more questions

(ETA: for real. either I really did calculate that wrong, or she got more of Deku’s blood than I thought, or Horikoshi is the one that fucked up the math lol. oh well, it’s easy enough to just shrug and go along with it)

anyway! I almost forgot there was still a chapter going on

so now Overhaul’s henchman is casually asking if Tomura is planning to betray them. well duh

very convincing. well done

anyway, Overhaul seems satisfied for the time being, but he’s telling them they’ll have to stay in the underground HQ until they receive their orders from him. so basically house arrest

and now he’s leaving and Mimic is having a total power trip

seriously dude, simmer down

he’s babbling on about the yakuza getting revenge and “taking back society’s reins from the shadows” and fulfilling the dream of their bedridden boss

and now I think we’re back in the present

and this lil fellow is, as you’ll recall, the guy who’s currently controlling all the shifty walls of the underground HQ while all hopped up on quirk-enhancers

Toga and Twice are having a conversation mid-somersault about how they’re gonna let the heroes take out the Precepts for them. I think

meanwhile Aizawa is asking Deku if he also heard the crazy voice coming from the walls which is, as Deku surmises, Irinaka’s voice

ohhhh I see, if they can pinpoint where the voice is coming from then they can find Irinaka’s real body and like punch him until he quits being an asshole and dragging out the arc with his stupid quirk

do you know, I just realized that basically this entire thing is his fault, and just like that he’s my least favorite character. that’s right. you beat out Stain and even Mineta, because Mineta only ever hijacks like a page or two at a time at most. certainly not a dozen chapters in one go

but anyway, the voice is echoing too much for them to pinpoint it

meanwhile the cops are freaking out because they’re about to get crushed

I can’t figure out why Mimic didn’t just actually crush them all to begin with and be done with it. unless it’s just that he didn’t want the full force of the law bearing down on their organization and seeking justice for dozens of cop murders

HOLY SHIT YOU GUYS TOGA IS TAKING MATTERS INTO HER OWN HANDS

NEVER SEND A BUNCH OF SO-CALLED HEROES TO DO A VILLAIN’S JOB

HOLY SHIT WHAT’S HAPPENING NOW. IRINAKA IS SCREAMING INCOMPREHENSIBLY AND DEKU SEEMS TO HAVE HEARD IT AND IS NOW RUSHING TOWARD THE SOURCE OF THE NOISE

AHHHHH DID HE DO IT???

I CAN’T TELL IF HE GOT HIM. SURELY THAT SMASH WASN’T JUST FOR SHOW

OH MY GODDDDD

YESSSSSSSSSSSS

AND T&T ARE WAVING AT HIM GLEEFULLY AS HE FALLS

I LOVE EVERYTHING HOLY SHIT

the amount of relief I’m feeling right now can accurately be described as “overwhelming” and it’s amazing

because he’s SUCH A GOOD FUCKING PERSON, Deku is catching Irinaka as he falls, because this is BnHA where a fall from a great height onto a bunch of rocks actually will kill you

and please tell me the rooms are back to normal now omg

YESSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS

THANK YOU MANGA GODS

HOLY SHIT!!!!!

MIRIOOOOOOOOOO

holy shit. holy fucking shit, finally. finally

FLYING SOLO AGAINST THE FINAL BOSS HOLY SHIT

so is this the part where we find out Mirio is fucking dead omg. holy shit. but you know what, I don’t even care, because we’re finally up to the good stuff and no more bullshit. I feel another binge coming on

  BONUS:

 oho, what’s this? “special jump outing”?

I don’t know where to fucking start omg

first of all, I’ve actually been impressed with their solidarity thus far so this is news to me

second, I can’t with how their idea of team bonding is “let’s build a house from scratch together on an uninhabited island”

third KUROGIRI WHAT ARE YOU WEARING

cutie

I swear to god if they keep up these antics I’m downgrading their name from “League of Villains” to “Villain Squad Jr.”

Tomura is trying to remind us all that he’s For Reals Evil but idk

on the one hand, we actually have seen this guy kill a man with his bare hands. but on the other hand, it was revenge for Magne, and he hasn’t killed anyone else that I can think of, aside from probably his parents by accident

and also my favorite of all the villains is the only one who is for sure a psychotic serial killer, so it could just be that I don’t actually care

so Kuro is telling Tomura to be less strange, and announcing that the first order of business is to secure a water source

are you telling me you came to this random island to build a house and you don’t even know where you’re building it yet

and now there appears to have been some kind of cut, and Tomura is drinking ginger ale. fucking ginger ale. you’re not evil at all, are you

I can’t believe I was actually worried about what these guys might do to Bakugou if they kept him. their idea of torture is probably less fingernail-pulling and more “let’s make him watch a bunch of Kay Jewelers commercials until he cracks.” which to be fair would break me pretty quickly

(ETA: although Tomura did get pretty hardcore there with Overhaul at the end! but I mean, Overhaul was a total prick you guys. that doesn’t count)

and now he’s tied Kurogiri to a tree and is just making him warp over whatever they need

everyone please look at this panel of Dabi wearing overalls

“unexpectedly into it”

this is the most damning evidence yet that he’s definitely related to Shouto

you go Dabi. I feel like he’s learned all about how to survive on a tropical island by like watching Moana a bunch of times or something

consider the coconut, consider its tree, we use each part of the coconut, that’s all we neeeeed

meanwhile Tomura is reading a magazine on a couch on the beach

Toga is wading in the ocean and her overalls got wet so she’s changing into a bikini

did we ever confirm she was really responsible for those serial murders. it could have been someone else. you never know

anyway she stole the bikini and Kurogiri is acting all shocked like “omg this girl really stole a bikini” but like. what else is she gonna do. pay for it like a normal person

don’t tell me you guys were actually legitimately leasing that bar this whole time. Kurogiri probably actually had his liquor license

so Toga is legit frolicking, and Tomura is playing a PSP or something. with the hand still on his face. how can you even see the screen

and now Dabi has caught them all lazing about and he’s throwing a fit

he’s even doing teamwork

now he’s lecturing Dabi on what’s really important

I think they probably would have turned off the Kay Jewelers commercials after like five of them or so and been all “okay I hope you learned your lesson.” and then if he still didn’t want to join them they would have been all “fine then but it’s your loss” and given him a ginger ale and sent him back home

so now Kurogiri is rescinding all rules and letting them all do their thing

Villain Squad Jr. it’s fucking official

and that’s the end of the strip. but the bonus material is still continuing because FA has been doing these translations of the character book! and the next page is amazing oh my god

YOU DON’T UNDERSTAND, IN THE FUTURE WHEN I INEVITABLY START TO WRITE FANFIC ABOUT THIS STUPID ADDICTIVE SERIES THIS IS A FUCKING REFERENCE GOLDMINE

right away I feel like a good 75% of fanfics are slightly off because U.A. has compulsory Saturday classes. say goodbye to your weekend getaway antics

they don’t actually have much homeroom time with Aizawa in the morning. what subject does he actually teach? I need someone to tell me, I refuse to believe Horikoshi hasn’t established this in canon by now. it’s probably somewhere in this very book

(ETA: I STILL NEED TO KNOW THIS. I’M STILL GOING TO INSIST IT’S ART IF HORIKOSHI DOESN’T CORRECT ME)

anyway, that’s it for today, but that was awesome. on I go to chapter 150

[sillylittlelouie]

Shadows Could Talk

Frankenstein hummed to himself impatiently as he waited for night to fall. There was nothing else that he could do to occupy himself, other than looking out at the new bedroom from his vantage point underneath the familiar bed.

And even that got old after a the first few minutes.

He wondered why Raizel had asked him to move to this house. There wasn't even a child in the house, from what he could see.

There had been no tiny shoes in the entryway, when the bed had been carried past the threshold of the house. Nor were there any photographs on the walls or toys on the stairs. There weren't even any personal possessions inside this room that could be attributed to a child.

Still. Raizel obviously had his reasons, and all Frankenstein needed to do was follow the request that had been asked of him.

Please change houses, just for a little while. You can come back, after that. I promise.

There was no way that Frankenstein could refuse a request from Raizel. Not from the child whose childhood he had followed so closely. So he resigned himself to wait for an indeterminate amount of time. Time was something that he had an abundance of, after all.

He entertained himself briefly, with a cotton ball that had made its way under the bed at some point. The brown cotton ball had crusted over, and stank faintly of something that Frankenstein felt he should remember. Other than that, it was just a dirty ball of cotton.

A dirty ball of cotton that gave him something else o focus on, other than his boredom.Frankenstein flicked it away from him, as far as he could get it, without sending any of his extremities out into the waning light of the afternoon. Then, he focused on summoning his Dark Spear. The demented thing resisted him, as it usually did. The presence of daylight however, had weakened it severely, and allowed him to call upon it without too much of a hassle, and minimal cursing on the weapon's part.

Taking a deep breath, Frankenstein forced the malevolent presence down into a concentrated spear and hurled it at the ball of cotton.

Despite the fact that his aim was true, the ball did not move from where it was. Instead, his spear quickly evaporated in the daylight.

Frankenstein nodded, and did it again.

And again.

And again.

He tossed spear after spear at the cotton ball, knowing that none of them would ever touch it. It was just something to occupy him. And it gave him a chance to train, without accidentally harming anyone. Therefore, it was a win-win situation.

He had been at it for less than an hour when the bedroom door finally opened and someone trudged in. Curious, Frankenstein crawled as close as he could get to the light and peered out from under the bed.

He had been expecting it to be an adult human, burdened and weary with the world. Instead, what he got was a human child, slogging along as if they were carrying a heavy burden across his shoulders, and just as world-weary as he had been expecting.

It was not an attractive stance to see on a child.

Frankenstein pulled himself even further, in an attempt to see the child's face. His hands however, touched one of the last vestiges of daylight, and he drew back with a hiss. He tucked his smoking fingers into his pockets as he sullenly stared out at the child, who had stood frozen where he stood. After a while, they walked over to the window with slow steps and eased it open, drawing the curtains and allowing more light into the room. They looked down into the yard below, silently. For a few minutes, that was all they did, giving Frankenstein a chance to examine them further. The child was small and thin, their tattered clothing hanging off of them as if they were a hanger. Their hair was long and unruly, as if the child had never seen a brush in their life. One of their arms rested on the windowsill, the elbow twisted at an odd angle.

"Damned cats," the child, now identifiable as a boy, mumbled, and then turned away. He limped away from the window, and threw himself onto the bed. His filthy, decrepit shoes thumped against the carpet a while later. The holey socks soon followed. Then, a backpack was set down with the utmost care.

The boy sighed, and pages began flipping. The sound of rustling pages stopped, and the scratch of a pencil against paper began.Those two sounds became the only constants in the room. Occasionally, the boy let out a groan, or an animal's cry echoed through the still open window, but those were few and far in between. 

Frankenstein closed his eyes, and imagined that he was back with Raizel. If he let his mind wander far enough he could also see his sons there, in a rare moment of calm, toying with the books on Raizel's bookshelf. It was...peaceful. 

He pulled himself together, just enough to lift the teapot, so that he could pour some tea for Raizel when the window came crashing down with an agonising squeal. 

The sound of it startled Frankenstein so much that he released the teapot. Whirling around, he opened his mouth to berate his sons for causing trouble. Instead, he was met with the feet of a terrified boy. 

A very terrified boy.

He swallowed the names that had nearly slipped past his lips and mentally berated himself for being so careless. 

"Aww hell," the boy was whispering repeatedly, voice trembling fiercely. He paced frantically, then abruptly shoved his meagre belongings under his bed. No sooner than he had done so, did the door fly open, banging against the wall with enough force to crack it.

For the second time in a single day, Frankenstein found himself crawling over to the edge of the bed so that he could see the person that had entered the room.

The newcomer was large, based on the size of his feet alone. When he began walking forward, Frankenstein added angry to his profile of the man.

He stormed into the room, and the child stumbled backwards, scrabbling to get away from him. Frankenstein followed the two humans as they neared the wall furthest from the bed.

The adult, a blonde with greasy hair, shoved the boy up against the wall. "I thought I told you to quit breaking my shit, you lil' brat!" He slammed he boy up against the wall once more. The boy gasped, and curled in on himself once he was released. He fell to his knees, trembling.

"I-I'm sorry, Dad, I-I-I didn't mean to-to let the window slam, honestly!" he stammered. "It- it just...I won't let it happen again, I-I swear!" 

Frankenstein glared out at the scene, then glanced over at the window. There was still too much light outside for him to intervene. He was getting annoyed, not being allowed to stop he sickening scene that was unfolding before him. 

"Like hell it won't happen again, you piece of shit!" the man roared. "I let you live under my roof, I feed your ungrateful ass, and I put clothes on your back, and you repay me by destroying my stuff and running away. You know how that makes me look, huh?"

Like an asshole, Frankenstein wanted to say, buy he kept his mouth shut. He had a feeling that the child would be punished for saying anything, even if he whatever had been said wasn't said in his voice.

"I didn't run away Dad, it was-"

"You talking back to me now brat? Is that it? Is that the level of respect I'm getting from you?" The man grabbed the child by his grey hair and hauled him into a standing position. "Turn around kid, and put your hands on the wall."

"Dad, please," the boy whispered, shaking even harder now. "I-I said I was sorry."

"And I said to turn around and put your fucking hands on the wall." 

The adult was already yanking his belt out of his pants, and Frankenstein could tell where this was going. He wanted to look away from such baseless violence. But, at the same time, he wanted to know just how much pain he should inflict upon this man before killing him. A broken bone for every mark left on the child's body sounded perfect, but he might have to inflate the punishment. Either way, the human was in for a painful death.

Seething, he watched as the boy grit his teeth and turned around, fisting his hands against the wall. The belt whistled through the air, culminating in a whip-like crack against the child's back. The boy gasped and arched his back, but didn't move to get away.

And where would he go, Frankenstein asked himself. It was obvious that the neighbours closest to the house weren't concerning themselves with the abuse going on under their noses. It was ridiculous. It was insane.

No wonder Raizel had requested that he change homes, just for a bit. Again and again, the belt cracked against the child's back. He was sobbing, now. But not once did he cry out. He gasped and whined and choked, but never shouted. Frankenstein couldn't tell if it was bravery, or foolishness.

Brave, because he was so young, yet he chose to stay, rather than run away. Foolish, because he chose to stay, rather than run away. After all, he who fought and ran away, would live to fight another day. While the man who stayed and stood his ground usually left in an ambulance.

Which was what the child needed when the adult finished with him. Instead, the man left the room without another word, locking the door behind him. The child, without hesitation, picked his bloody and battered form off the floor and crawled over to his bed. The springs creaked, and Frankenstein heard the shuddering breaths as the child lay down. Then lights went out, and all was dark.

He sulked until the boy's soft sobs eventually petered out. He continued sulking until the child's  hoarse breathing evened out into the deep breaths that accompanied human slumber. Only when the moon was high did Frankenstein crawl out from his hiding place. He stretched himself as long as he could, and then condensed his shadows. Standing there, at the child's bedside, he examined him in the near darkness.

The boy was thin, and looked to be about the same age that Raizel was, when Frankenstein first met him. However, he had more bones showing than Raizel had, when he had gone through 'puberty'. And that scar across his lips...

Frankenstein was willing to bet that it had been given to him by his father.

Incensed, he leaned over the child and whispered into his ear, "I am the shadow man, and I will never harm the person under whose bed I sleep."

Promise made, he eased open the boy's window and slipped out. 

A few houses down, a dark-haired man opened his window to welcome a shadow in.

[a-splash-of-stucky]

you look so perfect standing there

Pairings: Steve Rogers x Bucky Barnes [Not reader-insert]

Summary: When Bucky steps in a Natasha’s model at a shoot, he does not expect the photographer to be this hot.

Warnings: Bucky in lingerie, Bucky thinking very dirty thoughts about Steve, awkward flirting. No smut, but a lot of smutty thoughts. Language. 

Notes: Written for @wehaveabucky’s writing challenge, using the prompt: Photoshoot.

The author of this fic has a gratuitous kink for Bucky in skimpy underwear. I regret nothing. Also, if you ever want to give me a present, I will never turn down fics/artwork involving Bucky in lingerie. Visual inspiration for look [1] [2] and [3]

Stucky Masterlist

Bucky flops onto his couch with a tired sigh, grateful to be off his feet after spending an entire day chasing after a bunch of hyperexcited pre-schoolers. He loves his job, loves the kids in his class but man -- school trips are the worst. Of course, it’s just his luck that this week he’s had to go on three of them.

Thank fuck for child-free weekends.

Bucky hooks his toes under the lip of his coffee table and drags it over. Of course, he could sit up and reach over for the box of pizza, but that requires too much effort. His phone starts ringing just as he’s about to dig in. Cursing under his breath, Bucky wrestles it out of his back pocket and presses the answer button.

“’lo?”

“Barnes,” comes a crisp voice.

“Romanov,” Bucky replies, as he flips open the pizza box and grabs a slice.

“You’re free this weekend, yes?” she asks.

Bucky freezes, hand poised in mid-air. “Uh…I did have plans,” he says slowly.

Natasha snorts. “Really?” she drawls. Bucky can imagine her pursing her lips.

“Oh yeah,” he agrees, as he stuffs half the slice into his mouth. “M’gonna sleep in, sit on the couch all day, marathon Parks and Rec, eat a shit ton of junk—,”

“Great, you’re gonna be my model,” she announces.

Bucky splutters in surprise. “I’m gonna what now?”

“A model, Barnes. Y’know—,”

“Yes, I know what a model is, Nat,” he snaps, “But why me?”

“Eh, you’ve got a decent ass,” she replies.

Bucky snorts indignantly. “Excuse me, I’ll have you know that my ass is – wait, did you just compliment me? You think my ass looks nice?”

“I said it looks decent,” Nat says, enunciating clearly. “And stop fishing for compliments. Look, you know that I’ve got a new line of lingerie coming out for the store, right? My model cancelled on me last minute, and I needed someone on short notice.”

“I’m flattered to be your plan B,” Bucky says dryly.

“Actually, you’re more like plan E.”

“Oh, fuck you,” Bucky grumbles.

Nat huffs. “So. You in? This Sunday, for a couple of hours.”

Bucky sighs heavily. “Nat. I’m a teacher, I can’t—,”

“It’ll be completely anonymous,” she assures him. “Body shots only, your face won’t be included. And it’s not like you have any identifying marks on your body, so…”

As her voice trails off, Bucky heaves a dramatic sigh. “Okay, fine, but you’re buying me pizza after.”

“Deal. I’ll send you the address in a bit.”

----------

When Sunday rolls around, Bucky is most definitely not nervous. Of course not. That funny feeling in his stomach is just…indigestion. Possibly excitement. No nerves whatsoever.

Maybe he’s a little nervous.

He shows up to the location about ten minutes before he’s expected to be there. Nat’s directions have brought Bucky to an empty loft space in downtown. Bucky can understand why Nat’s chosen to have the shoot here; the exposed brick walls, wooden floors and overall industrial vibe is exactly the kind of aesthetic she tends to go for.

The loft is bustling with activity when Bucky arrives. People are dragging around lights, backdrops and various pieces of furniture. Bucky cranes his head around, looking for Nat. He startles when someone taps him on the shoulder.

When he turns around, his nearly gasps in surprise. His brain descends into chaos as his eyes are confronted the most gorgeous man he’s ever seen; blonde, with bright blue eyes and a disarming smile that Bucky wants to kiss right off his lips. Blondie is built as fuck, his broad shoulders and chest tapering into a ridiculously small waist. He’s dressed in a pair of jeans that hug his muscular thighs and a light blue t-shirt that clings to him like a second skin.

“Hi,” Blondie says, “You’re James, right?”

Oh. Oh, dear God, he’s talking to you – answer him you idiot, ANSWER HIM!

Why does his inner voice sound a lot like Rebecca?

“Uhh,” Bucky says. He mentally face-palms himself and tries not to outwardly grimace.  

Nice going, Barnes.

Blondie quirks an eyebrow, a hint of a smirk tugging on the corner of his lips.

“Y-yeah, I’m James,” Bucky says, wincing internally at his stutter. “But, uh—just call me Bucky. Only my ma’s allowed to call me James.”

“Bucky, huh?” Blondie says, “Nice to meet you. I’m Steve.”

“Steve,” Bucky echoes distractedly, too busy watching the mesmerising movements of Steve’s lips. He really, really wants to kiss them. “Yeah, yeah, it’s uh…nice to meet you too.”

Get it together, Barnes, where’s your game at?

If Steve’s amused by Bucky’s bumbling pleasantries, he doesn’t let it show in his expression. “So, I’m gonna be your photographer for today,” Steve says casually.  

Fucking hell, Bucky is not gonna survive this day.

“Oh,” Bucky squeaks, “That’s great. That’s cool, yeah. Yeah, really excited to work with you, Steve, Nat’s told me about you.”

Steve laughs softly, ducking his head in embarrassment. “What’d she say about me?”

Hngh, how can this man simultaneously be the hottest and also the most adorable thing on this planet? It’s not fucking fair.

Bucky grins. At least, he thinks he’s grinning.

“Only the good stuff,” he replies, “She told me that you’re the only person she’d trust to run this shoot.”

Steve shakes his head like he can’t believe Natasha said that about him. To be fair, that woman does not give out compliments easily. He clears his throat and meets Bucky’s eyes once again. “Okay, well—um, we’ve got a pretty packed schedule today, so if you wanna head to hair and makeup and get changed and whatever…I’ll just…I need to finish setting up.”

“Yeah,” Bucky agrees, “Yeah, see you in a bit, Steve.”

Steve flashes him another one of easy smiles and squeezes Bucky’s shoulder before he walks off. The lingering warmth of his hand sends shivers down Bucky’s spine. As Steve walks away, Bucky takes the opportunity to ogle his ass – those jeans are doing wonders for him. And that shirt? Hello sexy shoulder muscles.

Bucky heaves a shaky breath and runs his fingers through his hair.

He is so, so fucked for this shoot.

----------

“Oh, hey Wanda!” Bucky calls, as he walks into the dressing area. “You’re here to make me look good, I take it?”

“Yup,” she says, “Drop your bag anywhere, then come sit by the vanity. You need all the help you can get, so we’d best get started.”

“Har-har, Wan,” Bucky drawls. He drops the gym bag holding his change of clothes beside the vanity, then plops down in the foldable chair that Wanda pointed to. The surface of the table is littered with an assortment of beauty utensils, and the mirror has huge bulbs built into the frame.

“You look a little nervous,” Wanda comments, as she clips his bangs out of the way and starts to smooth some sweet-smelling cream all over his face. “Why’re you nervous? I know for a fact that this isn’t your first shoot.”

She’s right. Back when Natasha was in fashion school and just launching her online boutique, Bucky had often been the person to model her garments. He’d also done a few other modelling gigs back when he was a broke-ass college student, for some quick cash. He and Wanda had met on one of those gigs; when Bucky introduced her to Natasha, the two of them had hit it off, and now they’re something of a team.  

So yeah, Wanda is correct; this is not Bucky’s first photoshoot.

“’S my first one in lingerie, though,” Bucky mutters. He closes his eyes as Wanda starts to buff some foundation onto his face.

Wanda snorts. “Buck, you’ve done underwear modelling before, right? How’s this any different?”

Bucky shrugs. “Dunno,” he replies, even though he does. This photoshoot is different because the photographer is the most beautiful man that Bucky’s ever seen and Bucky desperately wants to bone him. Or be boned by him, whatever, Bucky’s not picky.

As Wanda picks up her powder, Bucky frowns in confusion, a lightbulb going off in his head.

“Wanda, why the hell’re you puttin’ makeup on me for?” he asks, “Nat said my face wasn’t even gonna be in the shot.”

Wanda pauses, her brush in mid-air. “Crap,” she mutters, “I forgot. It’s like a reflex, sorry. I’ll wipe it off—,”

“Wait!” Bucky blurts. She freezes in surprise.

If he’s going to have any chance at getting into Steve’s pants – or at least, at getting Steve to ask him out on a date so that he can eventually get into Steve’s pants – then he’s going to need every piece of help that he can get.  

“I didn’t say I didn’t like it,” Bucky says, shooting her an easy smile. “I do. It helps me get in the right headspace.”

“Oh,” she says, blinking in surprise. “Oh, okay then, I’ll just…continue on.”

“Please do.”

“But seriously, relax, Bucky,” Wanda says, as she sweeps powder onto his face. “You got this.”

Bucky sighs. “M’ just a lil’ nervous, is all. Haven’t done this in a while, don’t go to the gym as often as I used to.”

“Bucky Barnes? Insecure in his own skin?” Wanda scoffs. “Puh-lease, now there’s a joke if I ever saw one.”

----------

Natasha drops by the hair and makeup area just as Wanda leaves in search of an extension cable.

“Romanov,” Bucky hisses.

She arches an eyebrow at his tone. “Yes, James?”

“Why didn’t you tell me?” he growls, careful to keep his voice down so as to not draw anyone’s attention.

“Tell you what?”

Bucky makes an exasperated noise and gestures towards Steve, who’s setting up some lights with the help of a couple of assistants. Natasha follows his gaze and, when she spots Steve, chuckles darkly.

“Oh, that you’d be parading around in lacy underwear in front of a blonde beefcake?” she asks, folding her arms over her chest.

Bucky rolls his eyes. “Yeah. That.”

“Whoops, it must’ve slipped my mind,” she says innocently.

“Some friend you are,” Bucky grumbles.

She hums thoughtfully as her eyes drift back to Steve. “He’s bi, you know? And single, too.”

“Fuck me,” Bucky groans, his heart doing excited somersaults in his chest.

Nat snickers. “No, but that’s something you might wanna ask Steve about,” she teases.

“Oh, fuck off,” Bucky snaps, turning away from her to hide his blush.

“Who knows, Barnes,” she sing-songs, “Something good could come out of this. Look, you’re gonna be parading in front of him in black lace, so make the most of it, is all I’m saying.”

Bucky snorts. “Would you kill me if I have a boner in like, half the pics?”

She turns on her heel and stalks off, shoulders shaking with silent laughter.

----------

Once Wanda has finished his makeup and arranged his hair into a loose bun, she hands Bucky a pair of black lace panties, which, apparently, constitute his first ‘outfit’.

“Off you go,” she says, ushering him towards the corner of the dressing area, where a privacy screen has been set up. “There’s a mirror behind the screen and there should be a robe hanging off of it.”

Bucky dutifully trots off to get changed. He unzips his hoodie and slides his sweats and boxers down, leaving his clothes folded in a neat pile beside the mirror. The lace is surprisingly soft against his skin and the black compliments his skin tone nicely. He’d been worried that the lace would be too revealing, but actually, the pattern is busy enough to not leave him too indecently exposed. Bucky twists around to check the view from the back and gives himself a pat on the shoulder; his ass looks good.

When he looks at himself dead-on, though, he can’t help but feel a little self-conscious. Maybe he should’ve done some extra crunches when he went to the gym yesterday, or possibly even opted for something other than the greasy Chinese takeout he had last night. Either way, his abs are not as defined as they could be.

Is Steve the kinda guy that likes a toned man? Or, is he okay with a little bit of pudginess? Well, if Bucky’s going to be prancing around in his underwear in front of Steve, he’s going to damn well make sure that he looks smokin’ hot. That means pulling out all the stops.

“Hey Wanda?” he calls.

“Yeah?”

“Can you c’mere for a sec?”

“What’s up?” she asks, popping her head around the side of the screen. When she catches sight of him, she gives a low whistle. “Woah, Bucky, you look nice.”

“Thanks,” he murmurs, flushing hot. “Um—d’you think you could…abs?” he mumbles, gesturing vaguely towards the region of his body in question.

“Abs?” she echoes, confused. “What about ‘em?”

“Could you…make ‘em look more obvious?”

Wanda smirks knowingly. “You want me to contour your abs, Bucky?”

“Yes,” Bucky sighs. “Make me look like I go to the gym five times a week.”

“I mean, yeah, I can do that, but you look great, so I don’t really see the point. What brought this on?” Wanda asks, as she steps around the privacy screen. She pulls out a brush and some contour powder from the utility belt strapped around her waist.

“Nothin’, I just wanna look good,” Bucky says.

She cocks her head to the side. “Look good? But you—oh my god,” she gasps.

“What?”

A maniacal grin stretches her lips. “It’s because of Steve, isn’t it?”

Bucky narrows his eyes at her. “No, it’s not,” he says tersely.  

“It is, it totally is,” she giggles, “Oh, did you know that he’s—,”

“Bisexual and single, yeah, Nat’s already told me that.”

“More importantly, he’s your type,” she whispers contritely, nudging Bucky with her elbow.

“I don’t have a type,” Bucky retorts defensively, “I just go for the nice guys!”

“Uh-huh,” Wanda says, a dubious expression on her face. “The nice guys with blonde hair and thighs that were made for grinding on, am I right?

Bucky doesn’t dignify her with an answer.

(She’s totally right)

“Flex your muscles. Tense up,” she instructs.

Bucky does as he’s told. Wanda dusts contour powder over his body.

“What d’you think about body oil?” she asks, as she moves her brush to his iliac furrow, sculpting out those lines too.

“What do I think about body oil?”

She looks up at him, a mischievous glint in her eyes. “Imagine – glistening abs, glistening shoulders, looking like you’ve just had the best sex of your life—,”

“Sign me the fuck up.”

----------

After making himself look like a vision of sex, Bucky throws on a black silk robe and pads off in search of Steve. Bucky finds him standing beside a pile of white sheets that have been spread out on the floor. They’re piled on top of each other, creating sensual ripples in the fabric.

“Hey, Bucky!” Steve chirps, flashing another one of those killer smiles. “We’ve just finished setting up, you’re just on time.”

“This is the set?” Bucky asks, jerking his chin towards the unassuming mountain of white fabric.

Steve nods enthusiastically. “Yep. We couldn’t find a real bed on such short notice, so we kinda had to make do. The plan is for you to roll around in the sheets, with me standing above you, and then I’ll get a few shots. Sounds cool?”

“Yep!” Bucky replies, voice a little strangled.

Sure. No big deal. He’s going to be rolling around in silk sheets, in his lacy underwear, with Steve standing over him. No big deal.

“Great. So, if you’ll just drop the robe, we can get started.”

Bucky takes a deep, fortifying breath, then unties the sash holding his robe together. He doesn’t miss Steve’s sharp inhale as the silky garment slips off his shoulders. Despite his nerves, Bucky has to bite the inside of his cheek to stop himself from grinning. He hands the robe to an assistant and then crawls onto the sheets. When he’s in the middle of them, he twists around so that he’s lying on his back.

Steve is watching him with an unreadable expression on his face. “If you could just let your legs fall open a little,” he instructs, “Bring your feet in – yeah, just like that.”

Once he’s arranged Bucky to his satisfaction, Steve picks up his camera and stands between Bucky’s legs. The air is filled with the rhythmic snap of the shutter, as well as Steve’s murmured encouragements and instructions. Bucky’s nerves fall away as he gets into the zone. He manipulates his body as Steve directs, arching and flexing and relaxing as required.

The knowledge that his face won’t be in any of the shots doesn’t stop Bucky from giving Steve his best bedroom eyes. Bucky tips his head back invitingly, baring his throat and letting his lids droop half-shut. He parts his lips on an exhale, the corner of his mouth crooked up in a soft smile. He hopes that Steve is picking up his signals.

Steve curses under his breath when Bucky slips his right thumb into the waistband of his panties and tugs them down a little, as if he were about to slip them off. Bucky spends some time teasing Steve like this, sliding his fingers back and forth, and slipping a couple down the front, so that his fingertips are brushing the base of his cock. He arches his back and thrusts his pelvis upwards, his lips parting of their own accord on a silent moan.

“Uh, Bucky?” Steve asks, tearing his eyes away from the camera for a second. His tongue darts out to wet his bottom lip; Bucky notes the flush of colour on his cheeks.

“Could you—um, could you roll over, please? I need to – uh, I need to get some shots of your a—I mean, I need to get some shots of the back,” Steve stutters.

“You wanna get some shots of my ass, Steve, all you gotta do is ask,” Bucky drawls, smirking to himself as he rolls onto his stomach.

He finds himself naturally bringing his knees up under him and pressing his chest to the floor; the position draws attention to his lace-clad ass. Bucky can feel the weight of Steve’s stare, intense and heated, as it rakes over his back. He has half a mind to start grinding against the sheets, humping the floor like he’s some horny teenager.

Once Steve’s gotten all the shots he needs, Bucky gets sent off to Wanda to change into his next set. She’s waiting in the dressing area with a knowing smirk on her face.

“What?” Bucky asks, as he walks past her.

“Don’t ‘what’ me, Barnes,” she says, turning to keep pace with him. “I think the only way you could’ve been more obvious was if you ripped the panties off and flat-out asked him to fuck you. Like, seriously, we all thought we were seconds away from watching you two shoot a porno!”

“Yeah, well,” Bucky shrugs, despite the flush crawling up his cheeks. “Didn’t want to give him any reason to doubt, y’know? If he wants it, he wants it and I’m gonna let him have it.”

“You should’ve seen the look on his face when you rolled over,” she comments, as Bucky steps behind the privacy screen. “I’m pretty sure he was about to have a heart attack.”

“My ass does that to people,” Bucky agrees. Wanda snorts in response.

The next set that Bucky changes into comprises of more pieces. There’s a pair of white thigh-highs with a lace trim, a garter belt to hold them up and some matching lace panties to complete the look. These panties are cut differently to the ones that Bucky currently has on; nearly half his ass is going to be on show.

Luckily, Bucky’s ass is at peak form. All those squats have finally paid off.  

“Hey Wanda?” he calls, as he takes the lingerie pieces off their hangers.

“Yeah?”

“Do I put panties over garter, or garter over panties?”

“Garter over panties,” she replies, “You only do it the other way ‘round if you’re planning to take the panties off, which we’re not doing.”

“But what if I wanna take ‘em off?”

“Barnes, none of us wants to see your bare ass,” Wanda sighs.

“Steve might,” Bucky grumbles.

The garter belt and clips are a little fiddly, but once everything is in place, Bucky has to admit that he looks good. The thigh-highs elongate his legs and the belt emphasises the smooth curve of his waist. His cock is snugly held by the lace panties and the bottom of his ass cheeks look especially perky.

If Bucky were Steve, he’d fuck Bucky.

Bucky slips on his robe and pads back out to the main area, where an assistant points him to where he’s needed. From the looks of it, he’ll just be shot in front of a simple black backdrop – Bucky is thankful that this set-up doesn’t involve Steve standing over him, as he doesn’t think that he’ll survive another round of that. A couple of light boxes cast a warm glow.  

Steve catches his gaze and smiles, gesturing for Bucky to step onto the set. This time, when Bucky drops his robe, Steve is more open with his appreciation; his eyes widen noticeably, and he pulls his bottom lip between his teeth. His gaze roams over Bucky’s body hungrily and, when their eyes meet again, he doesn’t bother to apologise.

“You look good,” he says instead, voice dark and husky.

A rush of heat travels down Bucky’s spine.

The current set-up is more similar to modelling gigs that Bucky’s had in the past, but the fact that he’s strutting around in fancy lingerie is definitely new. He’s also never wanted to fuck his photographer this bad, either.

“Okay, Bucky, if you could just tip your head back and cross one leg in front of the other – yes, hold it, just like that,” Steve praises, peering into the viewfinder as he snaps a few pictures. Steve encourages Bucky to move around and do whatever feels natural, so Bucky finds himself twisting himself this way and that, focusing on creating sinuous, sensuous lines with his body.

“That’s great, Buck, real good,” Steve murmurs, every now and then.

Bucky finds it ridiculously endearing that Steve’s somehow managed to make a nickname out of his nickname. He likes how the syllable sounds as it rolls off Steve’s tongue, the easy familiarity behind it. Bucky wants to find out what his name sounds like rolling off of Steve’s tongue when Bucky’s sucking on his dick or riding his cock, but that’s a mystery to be solved later.

“Turn around for me, please? Great, could you put one hand on the back of your neck and look at me over your shoulder?”

Bucky does as he’s told, craning his neck around until he’s looking at Steve. He notices how Steve’s gaze is appreciative as he casts it over Bucky’s back and ass. When their eyes meet, the corner of Steve’s lip twitches, like he’s resisting the urge to smirk. Bucky wouldn’t call himself vain – well, no vainer than the average person, at least – but he’s looked at the mirror enough times to know that he’s got a little bit of muscle definition going on back there when he flexes. Clearly, Steve likes what he sees.

Bucky makes sure to arch his back so that his ass looks perkier. He tells himself that he’s doing this for the sake of modelling the panties, but really, it’s because Bucky wants to shove his ass into Steve’s face.

Figuratively and literally.

----------

Bucky’s final pair of panties are deep-red and high-waisted, with a criss-cross ribbon design in the back. Wanda also hands him an oversized, white, long-sleeve button-down to wear; it hangs off his shoulders in a sultry manner.

Bucky is accosted by Natasha after Wanda finishes touching-up his makeup and dousing his hair in more texturing spray.

“Barnes,” she says primly.

“Yes, Natasha?”

The smile she gives him doesn’t quite reach her eyes. “You’re modelling for an advertising campaign, yes?”

Bucky nods in agreement.

“Good,” she says, “Keep that in mind.”

His brows pull together in confusion. “What’re you…tryna say, Nat?”

“Stop acting like you’re on a porn shoot.”

Bucky blanches. “Am I…that obvious?” he asks, as they start walking to the next set.

She quirks one perfectly plucked eyebrow. “Look, if you wanna seduce Steve, then don’t let me stop you, just…maybe stop trying to get him to fuck you on the spot?”

“I…make no promises,” Bucky says.

Nat snorts. “Then I retract my promise of buying you pizza.”

Bucky’s eyes land on Steve, who’s conversing with a couple of assistants on the other side of the space. “If I get to have a slice of that beefcake, I think I’ll be okay,” he tells her.

“Oh my god,” Natasha mutters, shoving his shoulder. “That was terrible. I’m leaving you, go away.”

Bucky walks away from her, still cackling.

The final set consists of a chaise lounge that has been positioned in the corner of the space, in front of an exposed brick wall. It’s angled so that it is bathed in the sunlight pouring in from a nearby window. The chaise is upholstered with maroon velvet and sits low to the ground. There are cream and off-white blankets draped over it in a haphazard manner, and someone has piled on some throw pillows.

Steve grins when he spots Bucky, not bothering to hide his meaningful once-over. Because Bucky’s wearing the oversized shirt, Wanda hadn’t bothered to give him a robe. And, since the shirt is unbuttoned, Steve can plainly see the red panties that Bucky is wearing.

“How do I look?” Bucky asks, as he makes a show out of turning around in a circle.

Steve tilts his head to the side, an amused smile on his lips.

“Stunning,” he replies softly.

Bucky swallows, his throat suddenly going dry. Jesus, is this guy even real?

Steve asks Bucky to lie on his couch with his head against the arm rest, legs sprawled out over the blankets.

“I just want you to relax into it, Buck,” Steve says, as he brings his camera to his eyes. “Less posing more…softness. Like you’ve just woken up.”

With those directions in mind, Bucky slouches further into the chaise and brings one knee up, resting his wrist atop it as his shirt pools around him. With the too-big garment constantly slipping down his shoulders, Bucky has multiple excuses to run his hands over his body, under the guise of rearranging the material. The shutter clicks continuously.

Bucky has long recognised the value of having a narrative to use when he’s modelling; if he can become someone, if he can step into a character’s shoes, then it becomes much easier for him to deliver the desired aesthetic. With his skimpy red panties and his oversized shirt, it’s easy for Bucky to imagine that he’s spending the night at Steve’s place, and that he’s borrowed Steve’s shirt so that he’s not totally naked as he lounges on the couch. Oh yeah, that’s a dream he’s happy to entertain – maybe they’ve been seeing each other for a while and this is the first time that Bucky’s spending the night at his place. Yeah, that would explain why he doesn’t have any clothes here.

Or maybe – maybe Bucky’s some sort of kept boy, a sugar baby, perhaps. Steve’s given him these nice panties and has now asked Bucky to model them for him. Distantly, Bucky wonders if Steve would be into that kind of relationship.  

Steve calling his name snaps Bucky out of his whimsical daydream.

“Huh?” Bucky says, blinking owlishly at Steve. Damn, what’d he just miss?

Steve smiles benignly. “I asked if you could get up on your knees so that I could see the back.”

“Oh,” Bucky murmurs, “Yeah, sure.”

He rearranges himself so that he’s kneeling on the chaise, facing the brick wall behind it. Bucky slips the shirt off his shoulders and gathers most of the material in his hands, so that it drapes over the backs of his legs and leaves his ass completely exposed. When he hears Steve’s sharp intake of breath, he smirks – the criss-cross design exposes the top of his crack in a rather scandalous way.

Steve moves around him, taking shots at various angles. Bucky tenses his muscles and flexes his back, contorting his body every way he can, to give Steve some variety to work with.

“That’s good, Buck, that’s real good,” Steve praises, “Could you turn to the right a little – yes, just like that.”

The entire photoshoot is over in a depressingly short amount of time.

Steve calls it a wrap with a booming voice and a loud clap of his hands. Bucky shrugs the shirt back onto his shoulders, but leaves it unbuttoned as he walks back over to the dressing area, unwilling to hide his body from Steve’s appreciative gaze. The man in question gives Bucky a friendly smile as Bucky walks past him. Steve opens his mouth like he’s about to say something, but gets distracted when Natasha calls him.

Bucky grabs the bag that he’d dumped beside the makeup station and brings it to the changing area. He slips out of the panties and the button-down, then pulls on the street clothes that he’d brought with him; CKs, a pair of black skinny jeans and his favourite red pullover. Bucky stuffs the hoodie and sweats that he’d been wearing earlier into his bag, bids goodbye to Wanda and is scanning the studio for Nat when someone catches his wrist.

“Hey,” Steve says breathlessly, when Bucky turns to face him.

“Hey yourself,” Bucky replies.

“I—uh, I just wanted to say that I had a great time working with you today,” Steve says, ducking his head shyly. “Uh—yeah, you were really fun to shoot. It’s always nice to work with someone playful and responsive.”

Bucky flushes, scuffing the toe of his Converse against the floor in embarrassment. “Um—thanks. That’s—yeah, it was real great working with you too, Steve. You—um. You really knew what you were doing.”

Really, Barnes? Can you not handle a compliment or something?

Steve ducks his head in acknowledgement of the praise, a tiny smile on his lips. “Thanks,” he murmurs. Steve opens and closes his mouth a couple of times, as if he were about to say something, but then thought better of it.

“You doin’ anything nice this afternoon?” Bucky asks, as he readjusts his grip on his bag.

Steve snorts. “You, I hope,” he mumbles. There’s a half-second of silence, before his eyes widen and a scarlet blush blooms over the apples of his cheeks.

“I—I mean,” he stammers “I—uh, shit, that’s not what I—I mean, yes, I’d like that but—okay, fine laugh it up.”

Bucky is giggling – giggling, like he’s some sort of schoolgirl – at Steve’s mortified expression. “Well, that’s one way to be direct,” he jokes, as he wipes the tears from his eyes.

If it were possible, Steve’s flush goes even redder. “I—what I meant to say,” Steve sighs, “Was—would you, uh, I mean, are you busy this afternoon?”

Bucky cocks his head to the side and appraises him. “Well,” he drawls, “I did have plans.”

Steve’s face falls. “Oh,” he says quietly. “Oh, that’s okay, I don’t wanna—,”

“I was gonna go home,” Bucky continues, talking over Steve. “Take a bath, order in some pizza, crack open a beer, maybe watch some Game of Thrones.”

He trails off with a shrug. “But, y’know. ‘M open to other suggestions,” he says, knocking his shoulder against Steve’s.  

“Really?” Steve murmurs, a smile gracing his lips. “Well, maybe you’d let me take you out for a coffee?”

Bucky bites his lip and nods. “Yeah, Steve. Yeah, I’d really like that.”

[whoslaurapalmer]

hot takes on ihoso, rife with spoilers, this is a lot of words

in general (a little less spoilery?)

-to me, I think the book is the most fun when it tries to function like the unauthorized autobiography – like, the page of the book about the paltryville fire, part of fernald’s job resume, the full article about the anwhistle aquatics fire, the stuff like that, I loved reading them and it reminded me so much of being like ten years old and reading unauto for the first time, it was a damn delight

-behind the scenes stuff was really interesting, and it was pretty much just, mostly, behind the scenes stuff, which just makes it weird combined with the parts that are more reminiscent of unauto

-but, good behind the scenes content.

-a lot more like, explicit s3 content than I was expecting. we really did pay for a trailer, didn’t we

-although it was kind of nice because I can sometimes hate reading information about things i’ve already seen, I almost missed one of the coded letters at the bottom of a page cause I was like ‘why the fuck do you want me to reread the timeline for an episode i’ve already fucking seen and know from the books?????’ so seeing new content was still………….nice, I guess

-i will give it this. the cover is very nice. book has a nice weight to it. like, you could probably kill a man with it.

notes I made while reading (incredibly spoilery)

-endlessly amused that nph has under his signature ‘actor and count olaf’s legal representative’ -like, what would that be like??????

- “ – and the show’s version of fiona widdershins echoes another morally ambiguous girl searching for her missing father (see: ellington feint, pg 89)” NO I DO NOT WANT TO SEE ELLINGTON FEINT, PG 89 but also I never…….considered fiona and ellington to be similar, but, I mean, I guess??? I mean actually yeah I can sort of see it

-awww booooooooo they cut out a mention of the word hangfire in the wide window

- “but he once had a selfless heroic side, and he feels very loving and protective towards the baudelaires. they’re all he has left in the world, these children that aren’t even his, and I think he wants to see them in a safe place.” patrick warburton you’re breaking my heart -oh he also got the tattoo!!!!! top notch bro

-WOW THE PIC OF LEMONY AND BEA IS JUST SMACK-DAB IN THE BEGINNING OF THE BOOK WITH ALL THE DEDICATIONS AROUND IT, artsy -although honestly I think from behind she looks more like jacquelyn but that could just be the black and white   -also, there’s the wonder taxi again….

-oh, the full page of the paltryville fire book -i always give bea more of the inventing vibes than bertrand although he probably has them too (says a girl who once wrote a scene (and then scrapped it) where bertrand can’t figure out how a radiator works, but that’s neither here nor there) and the idea that he ‘repurposed a large cowbell, a hammer, and a ten-foot pole to create a makeshift fire alarm’ is a DELIGHT   -and the lumbermill photo…. -wow larry is really credited as ‘mr. your-waiter’ - ‘not pictured: dr. orwell’s flamethrower’ good job

-aunt josephine’s ‘chance of survival’ is listed as ‘cloudy’ -aasif mandvi describes playing monty as “a little bit of a cross between a swashbuckler like errol flynn and gene wilder as willy wonka” and you know what???? that’s the most delightful thing i’ve heard in my whole life cause that’s on point

-OH I’M SORRY DID YOU JUST CONFIRM JACQUELYN AS R????? IS THAT WHAT I’M SEEING, PG 42??????????????? -that has honestly been my least favorite theory and I hate it with all my heart and you’ll never get me to accept jacquelyn as ramona, light of my life -also larry is listed as ‘last seen….missing!’ gustav is ‘last seen….DEAD’ which is just, hilarious, and…….yeah whatev re: jacquelyn -although this does make me no longer the only person out there shipping r/olivia considering all the jacquelyn/olivia stuff but i’m. still not happy about it. as previously expressed.

- “kit is a fearless volunteer, a trusted friend, and currently, a very pregnant woman” next to a picture of allison williams looking barely pregnant if at all -ALLISON WILLIAMS JUST SHOOTING OFF DETAILS ABOUT KIT’S OPENING SCENE LIKE WE’VE ALREADY SEEN SLIPPERY SLOPE YOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO -although kit straight-up diving off a mountain while pregnant is still…….pretty kit   - “leaping off a mountain may not be a typical activity for an expectant mother, but kit snicket pulls it off with bravery and style.” bravery? yes! style? no

me: hey mom can I ask you a question mom: sure me: would you say this picture of this woman looks very pregnant mom: yep me: you would???? I mean like she looks a little obviously pregnant but – mom: she does, but….maybe not very pregnant me: I didn’t think very pregnant. mom: i’d say she’s…….six months???? mom: six months. me: thank you for that assessment.

- “dashing and heroic, adventurous and charming” have never been words I have used to describe jacques snicket in my entire life, I have never cringed so hard before -in case anyone was wondering, i’ve based my entire characterization of jacques on basically one single line – “principal predicament: wondering if it’s the right time to step in”

- “while the book’s version of olivia is a veteran agent of dubious morality, the show reinvents her as a noble school librarian struggling against institutional corruption.” because apparently ‘veteran agent of dubious morality’ wasn’t good enough for you, I GUESS

-oh my they have the rhetorical building marked on the ‘admittedly stylish but how many eyes can you really incorporate into geography before lulu vandelay starts to think you’re overplaying this’ city map -also some of these streets are………..very tiny, but they’re all labeled (and named mostly after people involved in the production) but i’m gonna need like a goddamn magnifying glass for this, what the hell -or well there are numbered places on the side but besides the longitude/latitude markings there are, no numbers -but I am dying to know where they’re placing the grotto on this map wtf personally i just imagined........a bigger landscape, especially once they reach the ocean, as perhaps illogical as that truly is 

-okay i’m gonna give them this, the explanation about the trolley/underground tunnel system was, actually, intriguing and fairly on-point. I am, distressingly, impressed.

-thank you, pg 48, for immediately pulling me back to reality by listing the kids as ‘klaus, violet, and sunny’ that was unnecessary and uncalled for, have a hearty fuck you!

-why…….look, “i’d rather eat a bowl of vampire bats than spend an hour with carmelita spats” isn’t from ‘poet unknown.’ isadora wrote that. why put????? ‘poet unknown’????????? cause she’s not!!!! unknown!!!! THIS IS VERY, VERY CLEAR!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

- “there are few things more dangerous than a person armed with a slingshot and a poorly oriented moral compass” thank you for forcing me to relive the memory of stew mitchum while reading about carmelita

-fernald’s education listed as ‘degrees in marine biology and theatre arts’ good on you for keeping that in

- ohhhhhhhhhh re: white faced women “heimlich hospital announces birth of world’s first conjoined triplets” good on you for hopefully not taking away third sibling backstory!!! hadn’t considered them as triplets, though, but I hadn’t considered them as twins, either, so whatever

-awww I wish they’d found a way to keep in the cut song from the end of s2 it looked delightful

-olaf as “alias: DAD” in s3…………….oh boy -“the voice is reminiscent of eugene levy” oh man but i’m here for that

-re: barry sonnenfeld “in the grim grotto he plays the vital role of the missing captain widdershins” well that sentence is like six kinds of whiplash -he makes a good…….sea captain picture though.

-hmmmmm the lil sugar bowl section seems to lean towards the horseradish as the contents…….?

- “the props department created two sugar bowls, including a rubber version that could be dropped for a critical scene in season three.” oh really. oh. really. that better just be someone flinging it out the damn window in the mountains

-the masked ball invitation saying “a safe place that we hope will be much more difficult to burn” right on

-as someone who has frequently wondered how they really use movies for codes considering information can change while making the movie and how would you even decode it anyway, the explanation of pulling a message from existing subtitles based on a changing code number makes sense, but probably still won’t change how I view them making a considerable number of movies on the fly -does remind me, though, of how I put in beatrice the idea of picking up certain props, something that can be easily changed, in order to convey information

-bo welch saying “so I asked barry, ‘this house in season one that olaf lives in, where did he get that?’ and in talking with him, we decided that he probably married or moved in with some wealthy old dowager and then when she died, he kept the house, and of course, he didn’t have the resources and it went to seed.” well that’s…………………...uh………………….one way to think about it I prefer the theory that it’s the remains of his family’s house

-WHO WAS RESPONSIBLE FOR WRITING ‘AND, FUCK YEAH, OTTOMANS’ IN THE SCRIPT ABOUT JUSTICE STRAUSS’S LIBRARY THAT’S FUCKING AMAZING

-okay all the little jokes they have in the scripts are. GREAT

-nathan fillion re: jacques “he’s goodhearted. he’s kind. he’s capable. and he’s dead.”

-wow uh just straight-up revealing the opening theme rhymes for s3. gutsy of you

-you know, I really am sad they cut out widdershins, because i really liked him, and fiona aggressively adopting his mannerisms once he disappears, and i LOVE the scene here she tells the kids why widdershins didn’t go after the kids and how much fiona herself doesn’t know, but, i......guess they could still????? keep that in????? if he said that before he disappeared??? depends on when they have him disappearing, i guess 

i just????? widdershins is the whole reason they don’t show up until they do so how this works out now idk, unless they’re gonna have just fiona actively trying to find the kids (if they go that route, unless they just like, bump into each other?) as a KID trying to save kids does put an interesting spin on it

-THE WHOLE POINT IS THE SECRECY, THOUGH!!! FIONA IS BASICALLY STILL RAISED IN VFD AND SHE HAS NO DAMN CLUE ABOUT IT AT ALL!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! augggggggggggggg

-the anwhistle aquatics article talking about gregor and ike not getting along?????? intriguing - “there are secrets in this world to terrible for decent people to know.” I read that and immediately thought of “mrs. palmer, there are things dark and heinous in this world. things too horrible to tell our children.” but that could just be because my mind pulls up peaks quotes for literally everything

-you know as much as I liked the imagined red vibe of penultimate peril, i’m really digging these set pieces even if they are green

- “several key scenes in the penultimate peril take place in an opulent opera house” are you gonna full flashback to the opera house??????????????? because hmmmmmmmmmm I never wanted to see the whole thing but I HAVE always imagined them as. barely adults when the opera happens, so?? at least there’s that

-still VERY nervous at the idea of the beatrice letters being at the end of the end. no damn clue what i’m nervous about. I already had my say about how I think the beatrice letters goes down. in almost 20,000 words. it shouldn’t matter to me. but. regardless. ……….still nervous……….

-based on the allusions page it looks like this be the verse and the blind men and the elephant will show up?????? they’d BETTER (and if I had to pick, this be the verse.) (my brit lit professor in college took great, great thrill in reading that poem out loud, so much so that when we were studying it, she read it out loud twice. she was a delightful woman.) (but re: the elephant poem that’s just, such a sweet, delightful memory of bertrand ‘sweetest man alive’ baudelaire, and considering all the memories of bea and bertrand they’ve really cut out, I just really, really want that one to stay in…….)

-hey, that final image of the eye-shaped island????? legitimately one of the most terrifying things i’ve ever seen in my life. I hope you’re happy.

-so, missed two words in the telegram code so I did look up what it was, and I was incredibly disappointed that that was all it was

(HOLY FUCK WAIT A SECOND as i’m rereading the beginning of my notes here, the see: ellington feint, that’s the only reference to ellington and she’s not even mentioned on the referenced page because it’s one of the code pages, but if that’s supposed to somehow imply ellington is in the two sets of people the telegram code refers to i’m. not gonna be happy) (unless it was just a reference to how the picture of barry sonnenfeld in austere academy is as the founder of the school, last name feint, and…….they’re just doing something with that, how the hell should I know) well I was disappointed until I got UNNECESSARILY TERRIFIED BY PROBABLY OVER-THINKING IT, gonna forget that ever happened at all, completely anyway, besides that, it’s still………….nothing that really???? doesn’t already go without saying?????? like THAT’S the code you decided to put in this book????? and how does that have any relevance to ‘don’t decode it until after s3’

[writingwitchly]

A piece of the past

Request: JamesxLily and I would love it to have a bit of Sirius and maybe of lil Harry too. But it’s okay with only Jily too. You keep the plot and everything like you want to, I’ll love it anyway! <3 ~ @jily-live-on aka my wonderful S

Ship: Jily A/N: My first request ever! I’m so happy that it was from you, S!  A/N2: Ok, so, I cried. The writing drove me crazy, didn’t feel too confortable using past tense, so if anybody sees a mistake, please let me know! Hope you all like it! Word count: 1,9k

James Potter was not the kind of guy that gets scared easily.

“Hand me the towel. Quickly!”

He had become an animagus during his teen years, without any adult’s help…

“Faster Pads, this is horrible!”

… because he was friends with a werewolf…

“I can’t- Did you find it?”

“I’m not good at doing things under pressure, Prongs!”

… he had fought against Dark wizards...

“Are you sleeping or what? This is getting out of hands!”

“It’s coming! Resist a bit mo-”

Tunk

… dealt with wicked magical creatures during his time at Hogwarts…

“How am I supposed to do this?”

“I don’t know, mate. Let me have a few seconds to recover, I just tripped over a giant lizard and almost broke my teeth.”

… asked Lily Evans out…

“That’s what happens when you don’t watch your steps. Just throw it away. The towel?”

… at least a hundred times…

“The tow- Stop looking at yourself in that mirror, you self-obsessed idiot!”

“I told you I almost got disfigured, you four-eyed moron!”

… he was brave, a true Gryffindor…

“Hand the bloody towel, Pads. And come help me, I can’t hold it much longer!”

“It’s your fight, don’t- What the hell is that?”

… but some things are bound to destabilize a 21-years-old man.

“That’s called a diaper.”

Under Sirius’ curious look, James tried, for the umpteenth time, to secure Harry in his diaper, with no better result than the previous attempts.

When his wife asked him to look after the baby a couple of hours before, James accepted, considering that he had enough experience, now, to deal with the situation. But apparently, after almost a year of being a father, he was no closer to knowing how to take care of his son than Dumbledore to rejuvenate.

“And how do you know which part is the front and which is the back?”

He also thought that Sirius’ help would make it all easier. His plan was to feed the child, put him to sleep, and then play wizarding chess with his best friend. But then again, it was easier for Nearly Headless Nick to enter the Headless Hunt.

“I guess this is the front. I’m 99% sure. Okay, maybe just 98%. Anyway, Lily’ll be up in no time.”

The real reason that had pushed James to be alone with the baby -- because being with Sirius at that moment was as good as being alone -- was because he wanted Lily to have some rest. The loneliness, the pressure, and the sleepless nights were starting to feel heavy on her shoulders.

“Well, I’m telling you, I’m glad to be single.”

Hurried steps coming from the stairs made the young men look up from the changing table. When they heard a series of loud bangs and disgruntled mumbles, their gazes met in a frightened coordination.

“James Potter! Sirius Black!” The cry, echoing from the living room, belonged to a half-preoccupied, half-enraged Lily.

After losing a rock, paper, scissors battle with Sirius, and taking what was left of his courage with both hands, James stepped in the next room, finding himself to be facing nothing but darkness. Remembering that he had closed the curtains in his effort to put Harry to sleep, he took a few steps toward the window, bumping into a pair of boots on the way.

When the feeble sun rays illuminated the interior of the house again, the young man turned over to look at his wife. Her nap did her good, by what he saw, as she looked more fresh than in the past days. But a rested Lily was also a more high-tempered Lily.

“Yes, darling?” James let out in a shy tone.

“James Fleamont Potter,” she said in a shaky voice, probably because she was trying to hold back her anger. “I take a few hours of peace and leave you in charge, and look at the state of the house!”

For the first time in the afternoon, James shot a glance at his surroundings, and he couldn’t help but understand Lily’s mood: Never, in his life, had he seen a more upside down room. Rests of baby food were spread on the couch; Sirius’ backpack laid open on the floor, its content dispersed here and there; there was a jumble of clothes in the middle of the room; something - feathers? - was showing from under an armchair; a broken vase had released its water and flowers everywhere; the big lizard toy on which Sirius had tripped was sticking his tongue out to James, from the corner where it had been dumped after the attempted disfigurment; an odd looking green substance was hanging from the roof; and Lily was blocked behind a mountain of old books, built by the men earlier in their attempt to stop Harry from climbing the stairs.

When James freed her with a flick of his wand, they were both surprised by a rather outraged ginger cat zooming away from the spot.

“There you were, Nuts! You should have told us that you liked to read so much!” joked the man, but his wife’s serious glance made him quiet again. Apparently, she didn’t believe that trapping the cat under the whole content of the bookshelf was a good idea.

“Do I have to worry about my child, or is he still alive?” asked the woman after a pause.

For a response, a disheveled and totally soaked Sirius got out of the bathroom, holding a pink and chubby mass wrapped in a towel. “Hi, Lily, had a nice rest?”

Answering with just a smile, she approached him to take the babbling baby in her arms.

“How’s baby Harry?” she said in the sweetest voice ever heard from her.

A small hand extricated itself from under the cloth to clumsily caress Lily’s face, ending up pulling her nose.

“Mommy loves you too,” laughed the woman, and then she added, “And as you look like you’re enjoying your time with your Godfather, Mommy is going to have a small talk with Daddy in the kitchen.”

Lily didn’t notice, as she was busy kissing Harry’s feet and laughing with him, the silent conversation between the two men.

“You are not leaving me alone with the monster,” mouthed Sirius.

“I’m going to have a worse time than you,” mouthed back James, pointing at Lily with his head.

“You four-eyed traitor,” said the former with his eyes.

“You self-obsessed coward,” glanced back the latter.

Some fog, a gray garden, an empty street, and a lot of rain: That’s all that James managed to see from the window of the kitchen.

“Quite a depressing scene,” he thought.

Then, his gaze went back to the red-haired woman that was standing in front of the stove, stiring some hot chocolate.

“Now, this is a view,” he said to himself.

With her lose hair and sparkling green eyes, she looked as gorgeous as she did during their Hogwarts years. The shadows under her eyes and the preoccupation that contracted her traits were the only proofs that some time had passed since when they were teenagers without a bigger concern than their Potions marks.

James still couldn’t believe that, finally, Lily Evans -- no, Potter, please -- was his wife. And it had been two years or so since the wedding.

After a few seconds, he cleared his throat, recalling the “small talk” she wanted to have, and considering that the sooner it was over, the better.

“Um, darling?”

She turned her head to look at him, apparently lost in her thoughts.

“What did you want to talk about?” the man asked.

An expression of comprehension, soon replaced by a childish grin, relaxed her face.

“Oh, nothing,” she explained, “We’ve been locked in here for almost a year now, but with Harry we barely have time to spend together. I was just taking advantage of Sirius’ presence to be alone with you.”

A rush of deep love toward his wife ran through James’ body, and he moved to hug her, burying his face in her flower-scented, flaming-red hair. For a moment, he wondered whether Harry would have such a strong attraction as him toward redheads, but then he pushed the thought aside: There was just a chance in a million.

Meanwhile, Lily’s hands closed around her husband’s waist, fists clenching the soft wool of his sweater, a Christmas gift by Molly Weasley. She rested her head on his chest, feeling his heartbeat and synchronizing her breathing with his. Her eyes closed, she silently hoped that Harry would turn out to be like him: a handsome, caring, brave man.

Suddenly, she realized something: What if James and her were not there to raise him? What if something happened to them? With their parents gone and Petunia and Vernon not wanting to come any closer than one mile, she felt no support.

“Don’t worry, darling, we’ll be fine,” she heard, “We love each other, we love Harry, and we have friends that love us. Everything is going to be alright.”

It was as if James had read in her mind.

“Do you promise?” she asked in a frightened, naive tone, very unusual to her.

What are promises in times of war? He didn’t want to lie to her, but he loved her so much. He knew he would do anything to keep her safe. To keep Harry, the fruit of their love, safe.

“I’ll do my best.”

He grabbed her chin and pulled her lips toward his, kissing her as he did during their first date: shyly, but pouring all his adoration into this simple action.

During their embrace, they felt plainly happy, forgetting the chaos that was submerging the world and all the difficulties and miseries that were awaiting outside. They were protected by this force that only the pure hearts can produce: the force of love.

Unfortunately, their moment of quiet couldn’t last long.

“My p- Harry! Harry no! Help!”

With a reluctant smile, James and Lily pulled apart.

“Poor Sirius. Harry can’t even walk properly, and his Padfather is already overcome,” remarked James.

“Imagine when he’ll start to talk,” said Lily dreamily.

“When he’ll go to school for the first time…”

“When he’ll have his first crush…”

“When he’ll be in his teenager crisis…”

“Argh! That leather jacket was new!”

“I guess we better go help him,” whispered Lili.

“Yeah, maybe,” answered James, and after a quick kiss on her cheek, he left the kitchen. “Reinforcements are coming Sirius!”

Remaining alone, Lily smiled to herself: This evening, she would have to bear with three children. Then, she stepped in the next room as well, ready to have a pillow fight or whatever else the guys were preparing.

The next hours went by between jokes and laughter. The photo album was commented -- “Sirius! There are more pictures of you at our wedding than of us!” -- and pictures were taken to fill it. Songs were sung -- “Stop singing, James, you’re frightening Harry!” -- and poems were written -- “What do you mean by ‘roses are red, violets are blue, Lily’s cute but not you’?” -- until the four peacefully fell asleep on the living room couches, wrapped by the silence of the night.

Untouched, on the dining table, stood the two mugs of hot chocolate, which, after all, were not needed by the newlyweds to bring back a piece of their past.

[odderancyart]

Happy 1st anniversary, Dreamswap!

Apparently that’s today.

@onebizarrekai I did a thing for it. Thank you for such a great AU. AM (Alternate Multiverse) perhaps.

AO3

6:00

The loud ringing of the alarm clock echoed through the room. Dream blinked as he opened his eye sockets. Yawning, he stretched as he threw his legs over the side of the enormous, golden bed; a luxury he had allowed himself. After quickly changing from nightclothes to daywear, he made his way toward his office to work a little before breakfast.

7:00

Eating breakfast alone was nice. Most of the time he shared his breakfast and lunch with his subordinates so they could utilize the time as much as possible and continue working as they ate. Just for today, though, Dream had decided that he’d enjoy a quiet meal. He turned a page in his book, smiling as the Little Women sisters decided to stop being so greedy and buy their mother Christmas gifts instead of spending their money on themselves. Little Women was one of his favourite books. He had reread it more times than he bothered to count; one of few books he felt a need to read more than once. Taking a forkful of his scrambled eggs, he let himself sink deeper into the book.

8:30

His office usually was full of activity as staff ran in and out, wanting his opinions or signature on something. Dream had been forced to shoo multiple staff members out before his meeting with the director of the JR Orphanage.

“We need more money, my lord,” they said. They bowed down, and reached into their bag. They straightened. A thump was heard as a big stack of papers hit the desk’s surface. “After the children from the destroyed universe came there’s not enough of teachers.”

Quickly he browsed through the papers. They were accounts of the orphanage’s incomes and outgoings; necessities, fun activities for the children and staff, as well as the sizes of the classes. Nodding, Dream looked back at her.

“Of course,” he agreed, and they smiled relievedly. “I will see to it.”

9:45

“HAPPY BIRTHDAY, NERD!”

Groaning loudly, Nightmare trashed as a pillow was pressed into his face. He waved his hands wildly, eventually managing to grab the arms keeping the pillow there. As he removed them and shook the pillow of his face, he found himself staring at the grinning faces of Cross and Error.

“Whyyy,” he moaned, stretching his arms over his head and glaring at them. It was too early for this. He really shouldn’t have stayed up past 2 in the fricking night to play videogames. Even as he glared at his now laughing friends, Nightmare couldn’t help but smile as they each held up a badly wrapped package.

“’cause it’s your birthday, nightlight, however old you are now,” Cross said gleefully, albeit slightly curiously. He shrugged. He’d stopped counting a good while ago. The only one who might know would be his brother. Dream probably knew how old they were, with how disturbingly organised he always had been.

The packages were placed on his bed, and he nodded quickly in thanks. As he quickly tore the paper into pieces he chuckled at Cross’ grimace as the ripping sound echoed through the room. Nightmare’s sockets widened as he held up his gifts. A book with pranks from Swapfell and the latest Mario Cart-game. His grin widened.

Awesome.

10:30

“how come i always loose?” Cross whined as he threw the controller into the couch. It bounced once. Exchanging a gaze, Nightmare and Error laughed.

“iT’s B-beCAuse YoU*re teRRibLe aT tH-thEm,” Error told him as the guardian loaded the game again.

“Let’s go again,” Nightmare said, already for what probably was the twentieth time this morning. Enthusiastic nods answered him.

11:15

Dream didn’t look up as the door was thrown open. Since the newcomer didn’t knock he already knew who it was. The scratching of his pen on paper and the classical music coming from the speakers was joined by heavy footsteps. As he signed a contract the chair on the other side of his desk squeaked and a loud thump signalled that the newcomer had sat down.

“You’re late,” he pointed out, still without looking up. As he added another few details on an email about the upcoming attack on negativity in a Flowerfell the other groaned loudly.

“That’s because you’re making me get up so early.”

“It’s almost noon, Ink,” Dream said flatly, and finally looked at the other. “I don’t know why you’ve been so lazy this week. Normally you would’ve been up a long time ago.”

Ink muttered something inaudible. For a short moment, he thought about asking what the other had said, but then he decided it wasn’t worth it. Most likely nothing of interest.

“Anyway,” he continued, opening a drawer and taking up an envelope with a TOP SECRET-stamp. He reached over the desk and Ink took it, interest finally showing in the objects his eyelights turned into. A star and an expression mark. “I’ve got a new target for you.”

“Ya got it, Boss.”

12:30

The entire kitchen smelled of tacos. Blinking, Nightmare stared at the countertops. They were all covered in tacos, burritos, nachos and every other Taco Bell-meal he could think of. The enthusiastic “ta-daa”’s coming from the other two made him chuckle. Cross threw an arm over his shoulder and pressed a skeleton kiss to his cheek.

Without a word, freed himself from the arm and went to fill up a plate.

14:40

“I said no.”

Dream turned his head over his shoulder and threw his closest employee a suspicious gaze as Ink growled into his phone in the background. He was looking quite irritated. With a sigh, Dream shook his head. Whatever what was going on there, he had no interest in getting involved. Why had he even taken in Ink with him here?

Instead he directed his attention back to the children in front of him. A toddler was once again trying to grab his wings, and with a smile he turned them physical. The excited gasp as the kid managed to tug the feathers made him let out a small chuckle.

The Orphanage was a bright place, filled with colours and laughter. As he waited for a staff member to get him, he watched the excited children who screamed for “Lord Dream, Lord Dream,” to “watch this!”. He applauded as a human girl made a somersault and she laughed.

A door opened, and a dragon monster appeared in the doorway. They looked worried as they waved for him to come. Carefully freeing himself from the kids, Dream followed the male through the hallways of the castle.

“This way, my lord,” the dragon said, voice soft and troubled. “She’s in a bad condition.”

“Don’t worry,” Dream told the other. “I will do what I can.”

The room he was lead to and then left in was dark. The lights were turned off. It was quiet except for a quiet sniffing. As he went in, though, it immediately lit up due to the light his wings always beamed with. A small monster sat in a corner, curled into a ball. She didn’t look up as he came in. With a sympathising smile, Dream went to kneel in front of her, letting his aura shine brightly in an attempt to comfort.

“Hello there, little one,” he whispered.

16:00

Balloons covered the entire floor and videogame soundtracks played loudly in the background. Cross stumbled over them, almost dropping the gigantic cake he was carrying into the floor. Blue strings caught him just in time, straightening both him and the cake up again. Nightmare snorted at the annoyed expression of Error’s face.

“h0nEStlY,” Error said, starting to shove the balloons into boxes. “Y-you*D be SO DeAd wi-wIHTout-Me.”¨

“no one’s denying it, buddy,” Cross pointed out as he put the cake down with a sigh of relief.

“I am!” Nightmare called in protest. “I survived hundreds of years before I met you two.”

“yeah but you didn’t break into your brother’s heavily guarded castle just to play obnoxious music before you met us.”

Nightmare went silent, narrowing his sockets as he stared at his friends. His shoulders sank as he nodded in defeat.

“Fine.”

19:45

Yawning, Dream made his way toward his private quarters. It had been a long day – as always – and now he looked forward to some calm and rest. Guards saluted him and staff greeted him as they met in the hallways and he nodded back. With a tired smile, he unlocked his door. For once he had managed to finish all work in time so he’d get to just enjoy himself for the rest of the evening.

As he opened the door, he rolled his shoulders to relieve them of some tension. Blinking, he stopped abruptly as he stared. His soul speeded slightly. So much for that calm and rest. The entire hall was covered in balloons and a giant cake was standing on a table.

“SURPRISE!” A familiar voice called, and Nightmare jumped out from behind the couch, followed by his two weird friends. Error cheered as well, if a bit more hesitantly, and Cross just glared viciously. Dream gaped at them.

“How did you get in?” he managed to ask, eyelights flickering between all the decorations. “With all of this?

With a wide grin, his twin pointed behind him. In the hallway behind Ink stood leaned toward the wall, legs and arms crossed. He waved slightly as Dream glared at him.

“They forced me. Every night. All week,” was all he said in explanation. “Happy birthday, Boss. Oh, and don’t call the guards please. This took an eternity to set up and I’d like to eat some cake before you have the organizers killed.”

Still gaping, Dream turned back to his ‘visitors’. Nightmare’s grin was just as smug as every time he’d managed to trick or surprise him during their childhood.

“C’mon, lil’ bro. Just this once and then you can go back to trying to kill me once our birthday is over.”

Dream blinked, trying to decide whether this was all some kind of trick or not. Yet, the expression on Nightmare’s face was as sincere as it ever got.  After a few moments of silence, he sighed.

“Fine. Only for tonight.”

“Great! So… how old are we again, Goldilocks?”

Letting out a groan, Dream shook his head in exasperation. He already regretted his decision.

21:00

High above them, two figures rested on the castle roof and watched them through the skylight. The music made the glass vibrate as the sun and sky covered them in the pastel light of sunset. The shorter of the two stared at the celebrating skeletons beneath them, scowling. He turned to his companion, or rather, his henchman.

“how come everyone’s invited except for us?” he asked, glaring through the window. His companion chuckled, and crossed his legs.

“Ya know it’s ‘cause everyone funking hates us, yo. Totes unrad but what can ya do?” he replied nonchalantly, a careless grin on his face.

Without another word, he took his glasses of his face and trailed the edges of the letters writing out YOLO with a phalange. The purple flickering of the now uncovered magic and the breaking soul would’ve made most uncomfortable. Yet Blueberry only threw him a slight glare in reply.

“that hurts, fresh, that hurts. it’s true, but you shouldn’t say it.” he said, tapping the glass lightly and pointing at the ones below accusingly. “and anyway, it’s very rude to invite everyone but one or two. that’s the first thing they teach you in kindergarten.”

“Ya speak th’ truth, homeslice.”

“i know i do, my frenchman.”

[utopianparadoxist]

2. The Neverending Story -  Muse/Lord & The rules of Paradox Space

[Spoilers for The Neverending Story]

I’m not the first to note Homestuck’s references to AURYN, the magical amulet from The Neverending Story. The symbol of the intertwined black and white snakes is directly referenced only twice in Homestuck’s story, and both times it tells us a mind-boggling amount about the nature and function of Homestuck’s universe. 

And even that only scratches the surface. So instead of starting off with Homestuck itself, let me tell you a little bit about The Neverending Story itself.

The Neverending Story is a book split in two. In the most commonly printed version, it comes in Red and Green text halves. The real world, the realm of humans where you and I live--those sections are printed in Red. Fantastica, the world of fiction and stories and all things imaginary, is printed in green.

And as with two sections, The Neverending Story is split into two central figures:

The Childlike Empress, and Bastian Balthazar Bux.

Muse & Lord

In the green-lettered plains of Fantastica, The Childlike Empress rules over all. Although her authority is accepted by even the most evil and mostrous in Fantastica, she never gives orders. Even so, she is both eternal and eternally childlike. Good and evil are equal in her eyes. 

Sometimes called the Golden-Eyed Commander of Wishes, The Childlike Empress’ authority only manifests when she grants her gem of wish-fulfilling powers--AURYN--to another. This other is treated as though the Empress herself were present, and acts as an emmisary for her.

She is the embodiment of Fantasy itself, inspiring others to act out her will. She is a question, a mystery, a wonder. She is, in short...A Muse. 

And she has a direct parallel in Calliope, who similarly draws no distinction between good and evil (people forget that she read what was likely the worst of Vriska without being exposed to her growth, and seemingly wanted to be friends with her anyway)...

And who similarly has absolute power over reality, yet never gives orders, even as the entire narrative is shaped around her. Just as with the Childlike Empress, without Calliope’s existence, none of the other characters in the comic can exist either. 

Everyone is entangled in and created by Lord English’s Alpha Timeline, but that web is Calliope’s as well, and she’s causally entangled in the creation of all four of the universes we follow. 

And again like the Childlike Empress, Calliope who bestows her Symbol on others, granting AURYN to humans--an emblem which endows in the wearer the ability to make any wish come true. 

Hell, Calliope even seems not to grow up normally in Act 7 and [S] Credits. A Childlike Empress indeed. And as for her counterpart? Bastian may not be as much of a jerk as Caliborn, but the parallels between them are even more explicit:

Where The Childlike Empress is a Muse only by implication, Bastian is textually and demonstrably a Lord. 

But let’s back up a bit.

Bastian Balthazar Bux is a little boy who steals a book named “The Neverending Story” from a bookshop and hides in his school to read it in one sitting. His sections, those taking place in the Human world, typically feature text colored Red.

However, around the halfway point of The Neverending Story, he realizes that the story is not only aware of him, but calling out to him. And he eventually finds himself pulled into the realm of Fantastica. 

Bastian is a human, you see, and only humans can create stories--the inhabitants of Fantastica themselves cannot. And once the Childlike Empress is reborn with a new name, Fantastica must be reborn as well. So The Childlike Empress meets Bastian in the void between the two realms of Fantastica, and gives him the amulet AURYN, the symbol of her power. 

And so, she entrusts him with a quest: To fulfill his wishes in Fantastica, and re-create the realm of Fantasy as he goes.

Incidentally, receiving AURYN also changes Bastian’s race. Bastian is explicitly white, but upon arriving in Fantastica transforms into “a young prince from the Orient”. I’m not sure why that even happens, to be honest? Let’s note that this book is from, like, 1979 and definitely not perfect.

Anyway, I only mention it because this lends some credence to my assertion that Trickster Mode’s whiteness is not at all tied to the “actual race” of the kids-- since whatever that race is, changing it would be within AURYN’s power.

To be honest, I should’ve noted that was explicit earlier, since Homestuck all but explicitly states that Tricksterfied Cherubs would look like Lil Cal, which definitely entails a primary skin color swap. And there, as with Humans, the transformation always renders the subject Caucasian-looking.

Now, where were we?

Ah, right. So, the first thing you might notice is that Bastian’s ascent to Lordship also coincides with him leaving the World of Men and entering the World of Fantasy/Ideas. 

Which strikes his first echo with Caliborn. Both characters’ entries into power are marked by changing their text color to Green--the color of their respective Muse figures. And like Calliope dies for Caliborn to Enter, The Childlike Empress disappears from Fantastica as soon as Bastian becomes it’s Lord. 

Bastian spends most of his adventure in the realm seeking to meet her once more, on some level--just as Lord English spends an eternity in the Void, trying to find and destroy the Calliopes.

And during his search, Bastian also accrues subjects and followers who carry out his will. Bastian is adored for his ability to create stories--which instantly become Real-- across Fantastica. With The Childlike Empress’ AURYN around his neck, nothing can resist his will. Bastian becomes, for all intents and purposes, a God. 

Although he loses his humanity little by little with every wish he makes. The memory of being weak, the memory of being ugly, the memory of being scared-- as Bastian travels, he grows more self-satisfied and arrogant, desiring the adoration of others without true regard for their feelings and hearts. 

Until in the end, he’s exploiting those he calls friends through sheer force of will. At this point, Bastian seeks to replace The Childlike Empress entirely, attempting to become the Childlike Emperor--just as Lord English seeks to emulate Calliope through a multitude of stylistic choices in his personal aesthetic. 

I think banditAffiliate puts it well in this forum post:

“Doc Scratch was born to serve as Lord English's other half, replacing the role Calliope served when the two shared one body. From Caliborn's warped perspective, the two share many similarities. They're both wordy, intelligent, and (as Caliborn saw her) quite smug. He scrapbooks with a ~ATH book like she did, and carries her weapon. In addition to being a pastiche of his sister, Scratch is also a symbol of his other weakness, the cue ball. Both are heralded to be the key to his defeat, after all. He does double duty then by killing Scratch, hatching out of his body and growing more powerful (by assimilating Scratch's first guardian powers), "predominating" over him and asserting his dominance over both his vulnerabilities once again.”

And Bastian, well...

Sound familiar at all? 

By the end, Bastian is at risk of becoming what is essentially a Yaldabaoth--an arrogant God with full dominion over his material reality, but blind to the world of ideas outside of him. 

Luckily, Bastian escapes this fate, and goes on to live a happy life, becoming a world-renowed storyteller. His path is not the path of the Lord forever. But that is another story, and shall be told another time. 

There’s one last thing to note about AURYN, because it appears in two places in Homestuck. There’s the Lollipop, yes--and by linking AURYN to the Cherubs, we learn a great deal about both Muse and Lord, Calliope and Caliborn.

But AURYN’s impact is a bit more far-reaching than just them. 

The emblem is also depicted during the mating ritual of Cherubs, remember? And it’s important to view this image in context, because as Aranea tells us...

Mating Cherubs tap into the forces of power presiding over all that is eternal. Cherubs are linked to the primordial forces of reality by their nature. The source of Cherub’s powers is their intrinsic connection to the flow and nature of reality. Which suggests that the principle that AURYN is inscribed with, the principle that guides the power of its magic, is also the fundamental principle of Homestuck’s universe. Cherubs are simply beings with a unique ability to tap directly into it. And that principle is...

“Do As You Will.”

Nothing in Homestuck’s reality happens except by the Will of someone living inside it. Individual will is the backbone of all events and objects, all circumstances and beings, all people and universes in Homestuck. In Homestuck, everybody always gets what they want--one way or another. That is what AURYN-- placed here, at the center of the forces of creation and destruction-- suggests. A good example of this is Lord English’s creation, where Caliborn and Gamzee’s wills to become Lord English meet Arquis’ desire to have a heroic moment of unfathomable impact onto reality:

Thus resulting in a scenario that fulfills all of their desires, and results in the creation of Lord English and Doc Scratch:

I’m not going to list a bunch of other examples because this kind of stuff is literally always what happens in Homestuck. The only thing that trumps a person’s desires in Homestuck is the desires of another willing to undermine or exploit the former.

And that kind of authoritarian behavior is the closest thing to “Sin” Homestuck’s setting has. It always comes with consequences. This is also why Karma exists in Homestuck’s causality, as noted by Latula. This is what the cycle of revenge was about. 

Not even killing someone can truly erase the impact of their will on reality in Homestuck’s universe, and usurping or denying others their wills always comes with a whiplash effect back on yourself. So what does that mean for Lord English, who has so thoroughly usurped and denied the wills of every other member of the cast?

Well that... is another story, and shall be told another time. 

Next time, we’ll talk about the Mother franchise’s two later installments: Mother 3, and Earthbound. There’s much to discuss. Perhaps we’ll even find an echo of Lord English’s karmic punishment there?

Ah well. That’s all for now. 

I hope you’ll check in next time.

[Master Post]

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