#tremolo arm

[distantlonersdreams]

I dreamed last night that I found a guitar with a whammy bar and tried playing Steve Vai's part of Ego Death by Polyphia on it. It sounded surprisingly good considering the fact that I don't know how to play guitar. But there was a really big gap between strums because obviously that was the case when I was trying to learn guitar 2 years ago and my subconscious remembered that. It's interesting how things you don't have experience in are easy in dreams, and things you do have experience in are hard.

[nicoscheer]

[songforaname]

i wonder if i can stick a jazzmaster tremolo on my strat

[sirfrogsworth]

Hard & Soft: An Explanation of Light

I was watching a video from one of my favorite tech YouTubers, Mr. Whose the Boss. He was showing off some of his favorite tech and pulled out this tiny LED light.

And then he placed a diffuser on the front and said this...

"You can equip a softbox on the front which *massively* softens the light on your face."

Sorry, Arun.

No it doesn't.

I sometimes wish I could get a job as a YouTube lighting advisor. So many creators have to set up and use professional lighting but very few actually have an understanding of how their lighting works. And with just a little knowledge they could up their lighting game big time.

If nothing else, I could stop the plague of ring lights.

Ring lights are my nemesis.

*shakes fist at ring lights*

Arun repeated a classic myth. Diffusing a light does *not* make it softer. And despite the name, a softbox is fully capable of producing hard light. Especially if it is only the size of your granddad's wallet.

I'm afraid softboxes are a bit misnamed—much like how the tremolo system on a guitar is technically a vibrato mechanism. Tremolo is a fluctuation of volume, not pitch. Personally, I just stick to calling it a whammy bar because that is more fun anyway. And, like, what does "whammy" even mean in the context of a guitar? I'd rather call something by a nonsensical name than an inaccurate one, ya know?

What the hell was I saying?

SOFTBOXES!

They should probably be called "light homogenizers." Which is a mouthful, but more accurate.

Or, hear me out... WHAMMY BOXES.

Froggie Note: I am trying a color coding technique to help make the most important information stand out. Red means PAY ATTENTION and blue means "do your best to remember this." Let me know if this is helpful or annoying or if a different color combo is preferred.

Hard Light vs. Soft Light

Hard light is a less flattering light source that creates high contrast, sharp shadows, and accentuates texture.

Soft light is a more flattering light source that creates soft shadows and reduces texture like pores, blemishes, and wrinkles.

You can *only* get hard or soft light by changing the apparent size of a light source from the subject's point of view.

If you remember only three things about light, they should be...

Bright light = sharp photos, less noise Hard light = small light source Soft light = large light source

Now, it's important to remember that hard light is not *bad* and soft light is not *good*. In photography, the oft-used parlance "flattering" just refers to the rendering of facial features and blemishes. So you might use a more flattering lens to make sure faces do not distort or a more flattering light modifier to reduce wrinkles.

But there are situations where soft light can be very boring and hard light can be much more dynamic and interesting. But if you have someone who is insecure about their skin or has a lot of blemishes, you can mitigate that by making the light softer. But if you have someone with great skin and a lot of angular facial features, you might use a hard light to show that off.

Which of these do you prefer?

The one on the left was taken with a 7 foot diameter light source and is *very* soft. But the other had a 1 foot diameter and I think it is more dynamic and interesting.

You can also mix hard and soft light. And with something like a parabolic reflector or a beauty dish, you can even modify a light source to be hard and soft at the same time.

This technological terror of a light modifier is sort of like having 24 individual small lights around the edges but the entire surface of the reflector also acts as a single large light source.

And when it isn't atomizing Alderaan, it is taking photos like this...

This creates a falloff of light around the edges of her face, nose, and arms while also reducing the intensity of the shadows. Lenses with longer focal lengths prevent distortion of facial features but also flatten our faces. So a modifier like this can bring back dimensionality.

Neat!

Now I just need $8,000 to buy the Death Star light.

There are a ton of possibilities when it comes to modifying light sources, but most people typically want the main light on the subject to be in the realm of soft and use hard light sources as edge lights.

Also, everything is a spectrum and light is no different. There is a giant space in between hard and soft to play with. In fact, the hardest light possible would be cast on a subject floating in space.

And the softest light possible would be on a planet that has 100% cloud coverage that still allows sunlight to scatter through.

So, I have determined the surface of Venus to be the most flattering light in the universe.

Look at how dark and sharp that astronaut shadow is! And I'm sure Venusian photography would be quite popular if you wouldn't burst into flames.

On planet Earth, noon on a clear day would be the hardest light and a very overcast day would be the softest light.

How can the sun be both hard and soft light?

Well, the sun is quite large, but it is very small in the sky and very far away. It is the only thing humans can observe that is close to a "point" light source—the smallest light source possible that shines light equally in all directions.

But on an overcast day, sunlight scatters through all of the clouds and becomes a HUGE homogenous light source. The clouds become a singular giant light above us. And as you can see, the light is so soft the woman does not have a hint of shadow on her face. And shadows can draw attention to pores, wrinkles, blemishes, and other textures.

But wouldn't the smallest light source be a laser or something?

When photographers refer to a small light source we mean from the perspective of the subject being lit. This is referred to as apparent or angular size.

But you also have to account for the size of the area the light source can illuminate.

This is the area a laser can light up.

And this is the area the sun is able to cats cast light upon.

It doesn't matter if a laser is close or far away, it focuses light onto a very small area. But the sun lights up half the planet. So look at imagine the apparent size of the sun in the sky and compare its size to half of the Earth. In that relative circumstance, the sun is a super tiny light source.

And the sun becomes an even tinier light source on the moon because there is no atmosphere or clouds to scatter and enlarge it.

You can change the apparent size of a light source in two ways...

The physical dimensions of the light and the distance from the subject.

A light with small dimensions can be a large light source if it is close enough and if the subject is small enough. So a flashlight could be a large light source for an ant if that flashlight is directly next to said ant. But a flashlight could never be a large light source to a human.

However, we can enlarge small light sources with modifiers.

A modifier can be a softbox. It can be a piece of paper. A large poster board. A wall or a ceiling. Anything that changes the nature of a light source can be a modifier. But not all modifiers increase the size of a light source.

So, you can take that flashlight, shine it on a wall, and reflect the light to make a giant light source capable of producing softer light.

But what you cannot do is put diffusion material directly in front of a flashlight and make the light it produces softer.

When Arun put that diffuser on the front of that tiny light, he was not making the light any bigger. He was only making the light more diffused.

What does diffusion *actually* do?

Diffusion scatters light. It makes light bounce in all directions and keeps it from being focused. And while this is an important aspect to making a light source larger, it does not change the apparent size of a light source on its own.

Diffused light is homogenous.

A homogenous light source has the same intensity across its entire surface area. And that homogenization is the key to creating a better soft light source. It can *assist* in making a light source larger, but only if you know how to wield that diffusion properly.

When you shine a flashlight toward a wall, you increase the apparent size of the light source.

Fantastic! You now have a softer light. Mission accomplished.

But if you do not diffuse it, you will create a hotspot.

That bright hotspot will reflect more light than all of the other light reflecting off the wall. That reflected light has different intensities across its surface area and you end up creating TWO distinct light sources—one hard and one soft.

This can sometimes be desired if you want to create graduated light that falls off like I showed earlier. But if it is not controlled well with a specialized modifier a hotspot can cause more problems than benefits.

This can reveal unwanted texture, double shadows, cause harsh glare, and it may not achieve the desired amount of soft, flattering light you were hoping for.

However, if you diffuse the light from the flashlight before it hits the wall, the light will scatter and reflect off the wall more evenly. You will create a more *homogenous* light source that acts as a single entity of light.

Diffusion does reduce the overall intensity of the light, but that is usually a worthy trade off for the increased homogeny.

These pesky hotspots are actually a big problem with those cheap softboxes you can buy off Amazon.

Many of them do not have enough diffusion to create a single homogenous light source. So they end up with a hotspot that gives you that double light source effect.

I was able to fix this with my friend Katrina's softbox by adding a layer of tracing paper in front.

You can see the chip clip holding the tracing paper in place on the right side.

Photography is just problem solving all the way down.

A higher quality softbox will have a second layer of diffusion already built in to prevent this, so make sure the softbox has this feature before buying.

Or invest in a roll of tracing paper and some chip clips.

Softboxes are an ingenious light modifier when built properly. They take a small light, diffuse it, enlarge it, and then focus it toward your subject. It's essentially a paradox of scattered & focused light. And since all of the scattering only happens *inside* the softbox, it gives you great control over how that light hits your subject. And you can focus it even more by putting a grid on the front.

This keeps light from "spilling" off to the sides though it can reduce intensity a bit and create unusual looking catchlights in the eyes.

Whereas a cheap shoot-through umbrella kinda "shoots" scattered light all over the place and causes a ton of extra reflections off the walls and ceilings. That may end up giving you unwanted second, third, and fourth light sources contributing to your exposure.

You can see light hitting the left and right walls and the ceiling—those pesky photons are going everywhere! And while it is giving a soft, flattering result due to that umbrella being so freaking big, you have almost no control over the light and how it affects your background.

So, yes, a softbox can make a small light source bigger, but that doesn't always mean you will get "soft" light.

This softbox takes a 10 inch LED panel and creates a 12 inch light source. This is mostly a scam product.

The marketing says it makes the light softer.

And while that is *technically* true, I'm afraid people are going to be disappointed if they think this thing is going to dramatically soften their light. A small increase in surface area like that would only be dramatically different if you were lighting a little toy car or the hypothetical ant friend I mentioned earlier. Something the size of a person is not going to see a difference in softness. Not to mention you are going to decrease the power of your light by adding diffusion and have no softening benefits.

Photography gear companies love taking advantage of new photographers because the desire to buy more gear to improve the quality of photos is quite strong. This is jokingly referred to as G.A.S. or "Gear Acquisition Syndrome." And while there is absolutely gear you can buy to improve your photos (lights, lenses, tripods), knowledge trumps any piece of gear at any time.

So, no, this scam softbox will not make the light appreciably softer. The only way to make this light softer is to find a softbox that enlarges it more than 2 friggin' inches, bounce it off something larger, or bring it closer to the subject. Move your light as close as possible and you will enlarge its apparent size.

Or, conversely, you can move your light farther away to make it hard.

Meaning you can technically make a softbox a hardbox.

Seriously, can we just do the whammy box thing?

So, what have we learned?

Soft light is more flattering to skin and reduces texture and harsh shadows.

Hard light increases contrast, sharpens shadows, and highlights texture.

Neither is good or bad. Soft light can be boring. Hard light can be interesting. A mixture of the two often produces the best result.

The only way to make light softer is to enlarge the light source.

You can enlarge a light source by...

Increasing the physical dimensions with a modifier.

Moving the light closer.

Reflecting the light off a larger surface.

Diffusion alone does not make a light softer.

Diffusion makes a light source more homogenous by mitigating hotspots.

Softboxes create homogenous light that you can direct and focus.

A softbox can still produce hard light if it is really small or really far away.

We should call it a whammy box.

How can you use this knowledge?

Well, the first thing you can do is...

DON'T BUY A RING LIGHT.

YES, I AM RANTING ABOUT RING LIGHTS AGAIN!

That giant hole in the middle of your light is a great spot for extra light.

And as we just learned, a larger light source is softer. So unless you specifically need a ring light and know how to use it (facial close-ups, camera goes in the hole), you are better off getting the biggest light you can fit in your space.

Look at how much bigger this light is than if it were a ring light.

It's like all of these influencers are throwing perfectly good light into the garbage.

Sorry, let's try this again.

Once you avoid ring lights, how can you use this knowledge?

I know a lot of you reading this are not influencers or YouTubers or photographers. And you may be thinking all of this knowledge I just shoved in your dome is useless.

But here's the thing...

We all take photos.

And I think we all want our photos to look their best.

If you start thinking more about light when you take photos, I promise you will be able to improve their quality.

If you are taking a selfie, think about where you can go that has a larger light source. Perhaps you have a large window. Or you have a big overhead light or floor lamp that shines up into the ceiling.

I actually had this idea to create a mega light that could blend in with a house's decor, but secretly be a photography light for taking pictures of people and pets indoors at night.

Secret Photography Light Ingredients Cheap Floorlamp Dual Light Socket Adapter 9000 Lumen LED Bulbs

(Seriously, if you put that together, stick it in a corner, and turn it on when your kids or pets are playing, you will never have another blurry photo from inside your house unless they are going full zoomies.)

If you are outside on a sunny day, don't stand in direct sunlight.

Remember, THE SUN IS ACTUALLY SMALL, angularly speaking. Find a shady spot under a tree. Or put the sun behind you and face a big white wall so the reflected light smacks you in the face.

Walls are light sources!

The ground is a light source!

Remember that moon photo?

You were looking at the sharp shadow earlier because I drew your attention to the sun being a small light source.

But the surface of the moon... HUGE LIGHT SOURCE.

How do you think the front of that space suit is lit when the sun is behind him? Either Stanley Kubrick has a big reflector offscreen or the ground is a soft second light source.

If you can't make it to the moon, just wait to take that selfie on a cloudy day. I think overcast light is a little boring, but your skin will look buttery smooth without using those stupid Facetune apps.

You can also wait for good light. Sometimes sunset has some nice, soft directional light because it has more atmosphere to scatter, diffuse, and enlarge it.

If you are indoors, don't use direct flash on your phone. Never ever use direct flash if you can avoid it. But perhaps you are with friends and they all have phones too. Use one or more phones to bounce the flashlight off a nearby wall. Or open up a paper napkin and hold it just out of frame and shine light through it and diffuse it.

A piece of paper can even work!

Flashlight 3 feet away shining directly onto my face...

Flashlight shining through a piece of paper a few inches in front of it...

Flashlight shining through a piece of paper 2 feet away that is just out of frame...

I started with a small light source.

I then made the light source a little bigger with the paper, but the diffusion was too close and it created the dreaded hotspot of doom.

And then I made the light source as big as I could by moving the paper as close to my face as possible without being in the shot. This also gave the light more room to scatter and diffuse making it homogenous.

Froggie Tip: I was using a pretty powerful flashlight, so with a phone you might get better results *bouncing* the light off the paper rather than shining the light through the paper.

So, before you take a photo, just think about how you can make your light source bigger, brighter, and more homogenous and you might be surprised how much better you look.

ANYONE CAN DO THIS!

[vaaaaaiolet]

It's the RPD's annual Secret Santa, and Leon's at his wit's end finding the perfect gift for his work crush. No competition, of course, except for the part where you make him promise not to bring something lame. Leon's got a week. He can do this. Right?

gn / m, fluff, romance, humor, leon is a SWEETHEART, you guys work at the RPD but you're leon's senior and also love reading??, no outbreak, inspired by the teapot episode of The Office lol, tw: claustrophobia

word count: 1.5k // read on ao3

a/n: vivi try not to mention christmas challenge go!!! @k1ssaphobe this one's for you <3 literally the ugliest effing banner i've ever made i'm SO SORRY but this completely destroyed my writer's block. i had so much fun <3

It’s all been downhill since Leon plucked your name out of a glass jar last week. Shit. Multiply that times three, rain down a couple red and green sprinkles for holiday spirit, and you have a great representation of how prepared Leon feels about being assigned the most crippling crush he’s had since high school for the RPD’s annual Secret Santa: you. 

Shit, indeed.

His hands shake like tremolo as he rereads your name printed on his little slip of paper, and Leon decides right then and there that the best way to go about this is to not go about it at all. Plain and simple. 

“Aren’t you excited?” you gush after your turn to draw from the jar. Poor you, you’d taken his jittery hands as enthusiasm. 

Leon grins tightly. “For sure, yeah, I um… I love Christmas. Really excited. You get who you wanted?” 

“Hey, no cheating. Not even with me, rookie.” You scrunch your face, clutching your paper to your chest. “Secret Santa’s secret. But it’s no secret that you’ve got to give it your all, so no lousy gifts allowed, got it?”

Well, there’s that plan gone. It’s back to police academy basics: Keep It Simple, Stupid. 

There’s nothing to overthink about making a good impression as the newest RPD recruit, Leon gaslights himself while haunting the Target holiday aisle on Monday night. You routinely save him from Irons’ infamous wrath, so it’s only natural that Leon spends all of Tuesday in a stupor at his desk, definitely not thinking of how he could never pay you back the favor with a silly Secret Santa gift. 

Wednesday rolls by and his coffee from yesterday sits in the break room, cold and overstirred next to today’s breakfast crumbs. How many times has Leon watched you sip tea at your desk? Five, six? 

Your eyes sparkle over the rim of your cup when he asks you about your weekend. Really, he doesn’t get the hate for small talk. There’s nothing small about the smile that bunches up your cheeks when he cracks a stupid joke about the weather, and more often than not, Leon finds himself waterboarding his notes app with the names of all the novels you drop mid-conversation so he can binge their Sparknotes over the weekend. So it goes, according to Kurt Vonnegut.

Ugh, he should have paid more attention in English. What the hell is an allegory anyway? Leon spends all of Thursday browsing your Goodreads profile and wracking his head over the hefty price tags attached to your TBR list. His wallet makes for a terrible wingman. 

But really, finding the perfect gift is no sweat at all. Leon is absolutely nonplussed (according to his 50th vocabulary-related Google search) when he steps into the RPD elevator on Friday morning with a clumsily wrapped, candy cane-striped bundle in his arms. 

“Hold it plea- Leon!”  

Liar, liar, pants on fire – he’s totally shitting his pants when you barely make it inside before the doors snap shut. 

“Thanks,” you gasp. 

Leon nods stiffly, his cheeks growing warm, and jams the second-floor button with his knuckle.

As the elevator starts its maddeningly slow climb, you hum, rocking back and forth in your snow boots. You’re cradling a package of your own, something four-cornered and fairly small. Leon, however, feels like he’s holding a bomb, the object of his affections standing less than three feet from his radius of destruction. How are you so carefree right now? You’ve probably got this gifting thing in the bag and he most definitely doesn’t. 

Leon can see everything unfold the moment he enters the office. You’ve had your gift planned months beforehand, his gift is going to be horrifically lame when you open it, everyone’s going to clap politely but you’re going to hate him forev-

And then the elevator plunges into pitch black.

“Oh my god!” 

Who screamed louder, Leon doesn’t want to find out.

The elevator shudders to a complete stop. Leon’s mental spiral of doom helpfully supplies him with an image of you two dangling in midair, suspended on wires. Maybe this is the universe saving him from delivering the worst Secret Santa gift of his life.

Leon blinks in the darkness, waiting for your unflappable voice to cut through the silence and figure a way out, headstrong as always, except you don’t, and Leon strains his ears to hear what’s surely not what he thinks it is, a whisper that sounds an awful lot like: “Leon, I don’t want to die.”

“What?”

“We’re gonna die,” you whimper. “I don’t wanna die.”

Your voice floats up from a lot lower than he remembers your head being, so he crouches down to find you with your arms hugged to your chest. You’re huddled against the wall, breathing all shallow. The package in your arms lies forgotten somewhere in the abyss.

“Hey, hey, nobody’s dying.” Leon reaches out to find your hand. “What’s the matter?”

“I have, cl-clau-”

“Claustrophobia?” He remembers that one well. Wishes he didn’t. 

You nod fitfully.

“The dark doesn’t help either, huh?” he whispers, craning his head to look at the busted bulb on the ceiling. “Damn.”

Your palm grows colder and clammier in his hand by the minute, and the shakiness in your breathing is starting to worry him. Your head pops above your knees when you hear rustling in the shadows, and then the telltale Christmastime cacophony of wrapping paper being torn to shreds. 

“What are you…?”

“Being resourceful,” Leon grits, tearing his Secret Santa gift open. He fumbles with its contents for a second, slipping something into a plastic compartment. “It’s not the best, but…”

The elevator blooms with soft, golden light.

“...it’ll do.”

“What’s this?” you murmur in awe, cupping your hands around the tiny book light Leon holds. 

“My Secret Santa gift,” he chuckles sheepishly. “I kind of, um, blanked. I’m also really bad at giving gifts, so there’s also this,” he says, pulling out a mug from the heap of trashed wrapping paper.

When I Think About Books, I Touch My Shelf, it announces with impunity. 

Leon blushes when you giggle at the inscription. Things always look better online than in person, rookie mistake. But at least you’re breathing better now. 

“This is amazing,” you laugh, cradling the cup like there’s warmth inside. 

“Not so amazing now that I’ve opened all the packaging.”

“Your Secret Santa won’t mind at all, trust me, not with a gift like this- ‘touch my shelf’, you’re unbelievable! Tell me where you got it.”

He shakes his head. 

“Leon Scott Kennedy, if you don’t stop gatekeeping this incredible mug and this super useful book light, by the way, I’m going to tell Irons you spilled coffee all over his desk. I can be very convincing, y’know.” You cross your arms decidedly, waiting. 

“There’s no need for all that!” he protests. 

“That was a promise, Leon, not a threat.”

“C’mon, be reasonable here.”

“You’re still not telling me.” 

“It’s for you, silly.” Leon tilts his head, face heating up faster than the book light bulb, “You’re my Secret Santa.” 

He must be hallucinating the pink in your cheeks.

“Oh,” you breathe. 

“Yes, oh,” Leon teases, scooching to sit next to you. “I couldn’t think of anything,” he confesses, “so I just went with the basics. I know you read and I know you really miss your old tea mug, the one that broke, right? You’re my gifting competition and I got nervy from how sure you were about your person’s gift. So, um, I played safe.” Leon finishes lamely and squeezes his eyes shut, hoping the light doesn’t also illuminate the shame radiating from his body. 

And then he feels the press of an unbelievably soft kiss on his cheek.  

“It’s much better than what I’ve got,” he hears. 

His eyes fly open. Words don’t form right in his throat when you reach out for the package you dropped when the lights went out. Wrapping paper falls apart neatly in your hands (what don’t you do perfectly?) and you unveil a mini waffle iron, proportioned perfectly for somebody always running late without breakfast. Somebody like Leon.

“You keep missing breakfast and Irons is on my ass about saving you food all the time, so I guess took the practical route too,” you shuffle your feet, bashful all of a sudden. “And um, my gift’s kind of useless if we never make it out. Sorry.”

He fingers the tag in wonder. 

Merry Christmas, Leon! There’s a timer so you don’t burn them :) xoxo, your Secret Santa!

You’re so goddamn sweet. You’re perfect and thoughtful and it’s all your fault that Leon didn’t have the faintest clue what to give you. Think, Leon, think. He knows he’s not this stupid. What do you give to somebody who has everything? 

A kiss. One that’s all smiles and just as sweet as the way you kiss him back, because screw Secret Santa.

It’s hard to keep secrets when you’re Leon’s favorite one.

psst, find more of my work here!

comments and reblogs are very much appreciated <3 take care and i love you!

[lipglossanon]

You’re Shakin’ Like Tremolo

:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧ *

{previous installment} || {next installment}

Stepbro!Leon S. Kennedy x fem!reader

Special thanks to 🪷 anon who brought up the idea of needy reader sneaking into Leon’s room 👏 👏 it’s short and sweet (well semi-sweet, it is stepbro Leon 😜) hope you enjoy!! 😘

Warnings: 18+ minors DNI, stepcest, masturbation, dirty talk, Leon calling reader dumb, unprotected sex, incest kink, breeding kink, creampie

Not proofread 🤙

Title from Moving in Stereo by The Cars 💜 please listen with headphones, you will not be disappointed 😉

:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧ *

After finishing a couple episodes of the crime show your moms been raving about, you head upstairs to get ready for bed. Leon bids you goodnight in front of his room, stealing a quick kiss that leaves you buzzing before shutting his door. You do your usual routine of brushing your teeth and putting on your pajamas before climbing into your bed. 

Placing your phone on charge, you settle in your comfy sheets and shut your eyes. After laying there for minutes on end, you huff and flip over on your side. When that doesn’t really help, you lay flat on your back and stare at the ceiling. Shifting your thighs, you softly moan. You bring your hand down and slide it under your shorts and panties, lightly running your fingers over your aching clit. 

Leon ate you out earlier, but you two didn’t get a chance to any further. Your pussy is slick with arousal as you rub your clit in soft circles. Whining, you dip your fingers into your cunt and use your other hand to tease your sensitive bud. You picture Leon’s broad figure hovering yourself and you arch your back with a low whimper and finger yourself faster. 

It’s a slow hot build towards your orgasm, but it seems like you’re just teetering on the edge. You feel tears of frustration bead across your waterline but no matter how much you rub your cunt, you get no closer to cumming. You keep trying but with absolutely no luck so you pull your hands away and wipe your wet fingers across your panties. Standing up, you quickly shed your shorts and tiptoe out of your room to Leon’s next door. 

You lightly tap your fingers against it, but don’t hear anything. Trying the handle and realizing it’s unlocked, you slowly let yourself inside. You close the door and quietly make your way over to his bed. He’s laying on his side, head pillowed on his arm. Taking a second, you admire his cheekbones and strong jawline. You reach out and lightly shake his shoulder.

“Leon,” you whisper, “Leon.” 

He groggily wakes up, eyes squinting at your figure. 

“What?” He reaches over and picks up his phone to see the time, “it’s late as hell, what’re you doing awake?

He raises up a little more alert, “You okay?”

You fidget with the hem of your tank top, “Y-yeah, I just can’t sleep.”

“Can’t sleep? You wake me up cause you can’t sleep,” His deadpan expression is hard to see in the dark but you can still make it out.

Guilt makes you duck your head down, “Yeah, I uh, need help.”

“Help? What—“ he pauses then laughs, low and deep in his chest, “lemme guess, you need big brother to help with your needy cunt?”

He pushes the covers back, revealing his naked chest, and pats the empty space next to him.

“C’mon, show me what your problem is, Princess.”

You whimper and climb into bed with him; the sheets are warm and smell like his cologne, making your pussy dribble slick down your thighs. 

“Leon, please,” frustrated tears slip from your eyes, “I tried and I couldn’t—“

He shushes you and pulls the cover back over both of your bodies. Huffing, you grab his hand and force his palm against your soaked panties. 

His fingers cup you harder as he groans in your neck, “So fucking wet, sweetheart.”

“I need you,” you whisper in the dark, “I couldn’t make myself cum.”

His fingers dip under the band of your panties and his fingers drag over your clit in quick flicks. Your hips buck as you let out a needy whine. 

“Hush, Princess,” he whispers hotly in your ear, “gonna get us busted. And all because you’re being a slutty little sister.”

You bring up your hands to muffle your mouth, eyes rolling as he continues to rub your clit. He pulls his hand away to take off your panties; then, he slips his ring and middle finger in your clenching hole and fucks up hard into your pussy, palm smacking against your clit. 

Forgetting to cover your mouth, you moan, “Big brother, please.”

“God damn,” Leon bites into your shoulder making you roll your hips down into his rough finger fucking. 

“Jerk me off, princess,” he growls in your ear, “fucking get your hands around my cock or I’m not gonna fill this wet little pussy.”

Eagerly, your hand fumbles between you two until you can reach into his briefs and pull out his thick cock. He groans, pressing hot open mouthed kisses along your neck and collar bone. You feel his cock kick and throb in your hand, fingers not able to touch as they wrap around him. 

“Stroke it, sweetheart,” he murmurs, voice smoky, “don’t be shy, jerk off your big brother so he can fuck your sweet pussy.” 

“Leon,” you buck your hips down into his hand and moan as his palm smacks your clit harshly. 

You grasp his dick in your hand and softly start stroking him up and down. 

“Little harder, princess, you can do it,” he chuckles meanly, “I know your hand’s not as good as your cunt, but you can play with my cock a little better than that.”

Your pussy pulses around his fingers, more slick leaking down his wrist. 

“Mm such a dumb little sister,” he sucks a bruise into your neck, “need me to make this pussy cum, huh? Little slutty of you to sneak in here. What if I didn’t wake up? What then?”

“Leon,” you mewl out his name weakly. 

He sucks another bruise into your skin, “Were you going to get me hard and sit on my dick? So when I wake up you’re working that tight little pussy down my fat cock? S’that about it?”

“Noo,” you jerk him off messily, precum oozing over your fingers making your hand sticky. 

“No?” He mocks, “c’mon don’t be dumb baby, I know you would’ve used my dick to get off. S’okay though, don’t think I’d mind waking up buried in my little sister’s tight cunt.”

You feel your orgasm ramping closer with every steady thrust of Leon’s fingers in your aching pussy, “I’m close.”

He pulls his fingers out, and you cry. He kicks off his briefs and tosses them in the floor. 

Your breath hitches, “Leon, please, I need to cum.”

“And you will,” he coos all pouty lips and fake sympathy, “but first, I need to be inside your wet little cunt.”

He moves on top of you, pulling the blanket up against the chill of his room. You wrap your arms around his neck to pull him in for a kiss. He grabs your legs and puts them around his waist right as you press your lips against his. Moaning, you rock down, his dick catching on your dripping hole making you both moan. 

He grinds down on you, cock rubbing against your clit making your fingers dig into his tense shoulders. 

“In me, in me please, Leon,” you beg, voice high and reedy, “please, big brother, need you to fill me up.”

He laughs mockingly down at you, “Okay, princess, take it easy.”

He reaches between your bodies and guides the fat head of his cock into your sopping wet hole. The first few inches glide in easily. He grunts when your pussy walls clamp down on his dick making it harder to thrust deeper into your willing cunt. 

“Ease up, baby,” he pulls his hips back to push in deeper, “can’t fuck you if your pussy won’t let me.”

“C-can’t help it,” you whine, nails scratching his skin, “S’too good.”

“Aww my baby sis getting all dumb from my cock?” He snaps his hips hard, burying the full thick length in your pulsing walls. 

You scream at the sudden feeling and he groans, palm coming up far too late to cover your mouth. 

“Shut up,” he snaps at you, stilling his movement so you both can listen for any sound outside his room. 

After a minute of nothing, he pulls out and thrust his hips deep into your cunt again, keeping his palm over your mouth. 

“Need to keep your fucking mouth shut,” he hisses down at you, blue eyes almost black, “if you want me to stuff that little cunt with my cum, you’ll stay quiet.”

He lets go of your mouth to shift his hands underneath your shoulders to push you down with his thrusts, letting him fuck you deeper than before. 

“S-sorry, Leon,” you slur, tongue feeling heavy in your mouth, “d-didn’t mean t-to.”

“I know, you’re just a little stupid, honey, it’s okay,” he picks up his pace, your pussy squelching loudly even with the blanket cocooning you together. 

“Big b-brother,” you whine, “please.”

“You wanna cum, baby?”

“Uh huh,” you hiccup, trying to keep your voice down. 

“Of course, princess,” his condescending tone makes you clench around his cock, “ready for big brother to give you a nice thick creampie?”

“Yes, yes,” you chant, nails digging into his back, “want you to cum in me, Leon. Always feels so hot.”

“Damn,” he groans, moving his arm between your thrusting bodies to rub and pinch your clit roughly, “cum for me so I can fill you up, little sis. Make that birth control work extra hard tonight.”

“Yeah, yeah, knock me up, big brother,” you gasp, mouth running away from you, “breed my little cunt. Want you to fill me up.”

“Fuck yeah,” he laughs lowly, spreading your pussy with his fingers to tap his thumb against your swollen clit, “gonna fill this little cunt til it’s spilling out, princess. What’ll people think if I knock you up? Knowing you let your big brother fuck you and breed your cute little pussy.”

“Good, so good,” you gasp, eyes rolling back in your head as Leon grinds his cock against your g-spot as his thumb teases over your clit, “want it, big brother, give it to me.”

“Fuck, god, you’re so—“ he grunts and humps his hips down harder into you, skin slapping loudly in the room. 

He roughly pinches your clit and tugs just a little and the knot of arousal inside you snaps; Leon slaps his hand over your mouth as you scream, hips jumping up as your legs and arms thrash. Eyes rolling back in your head, slick coats Leon’s still thrusting cock as your walls squeeze down on him tightly. 

He grunts harder and buries his cock deep, tip grazing your cervix as he pumps you full of thick, sticky cum. You keen high in your throat, walls fluttering and milking Leon as he grinds his dick in your pussy. 

“God, take it, princess,” he grits out, biting your neck, sloppily rolling his hips, “love breeding this needy hole.”

“Leon,” you sigh, thigh muscles jumping around his waist, “so good, feels so good, so hot inside.”

“God damn,” he groans, cock throbbing as more cum spurts from the tip, “little slut likes getting filled to the brim huh.”

He drags his mouth from your neck to kiss you, tongue licking into your panting mouth, spit dripping down your lips. 

You slowly and messily make out as his cock finally starts to soften and he slips out of your wet heat. He pushes the blanket back when he sits back on his haunches. 

His eyes greedily watch as his cum slowly leaks from your puffy cunt, hole obscenely dripping creamy slick. He grabs your panties, from where they were tossed, and work them up your legs. He snaps the band once they’re covering your messy cunt. 

“Should be able to sleep now, princess,” he grins, “especially now that you’re nice and full.”

[bloop-im-a-frog-now]

"Spread The Sculk"

Cub never does something twice. Last time, his little sculk possession had been fun, putting sculk catalysts in everyone’s base, and forcing the others to cure him. The addicting feeling of letting his body being control will never cease to amaze him.

But it’s over now. 

“No more sculk,” he tells himself as he does his usual early season routine.

The last time he told that to himself, he let the hungry desire of diamonds take control of him during a civil war.

He isn’t the weak-minded fool he was before. He can control himself and the itch of letting an entire hivemind take his body as a host and doing their bidding for them. Sculk is very last season trend, and he has no desire to do anything with it again.

It means nothing every time he went mining, he always managed to find some sculk veins or an Ancient City. After all, Cub is able to go back where he came from and leave the place for good. He doesn’t need to block all the entrances to where the sculk is calling him. It isn’t calling him.

Cub sighs. The more he spends in denial, the more his work becomes affected by it. Doing the custom fireworks takes him more time than he planned it to be. All that for satisfying a stupid itch and a growing curiosity of the calls. 

He decides to go down in his mines, one day, silk touch pickaxe and some golden carrots in his inventory. He breaks the stone that blocked the entrance to the Deep Dark and inhales the air. A strong odour of fermented mushrooms takes over his mind, and something Cub thought he had buried deep inside him resurfaces at the smell.

He accidentally places his hand against the wall, and almost jerks his hand away at the feeling of the sculk veins, slimy and cloudy at the same time, like bread covered in jam. 

“Just exploring, okay Cub? You’re just exploring, and then you’ll go back.”

A clicking noise resonated in his skull, and that is when Cub knew he will not just explore.

“Just a taste,” he tries to convince himself. “Just a taste.”

His heart pounds in his head as he walks towards the Deep Dark, towards an Ancient City most likely. He is both frightened and delighted to be around sculk. Last time, it had taken them ages to cure him. The vex had simply stopped pestering his head, though by the way Scar often smirks at him, he has a strange feeling his friend made a deal with them. 

Sculk is both a different infatuation and a similar one. Cub knows the sensation of possession, of giving his free will to a malevolent entity only looking out for itself. Sculk seems to take control of him in a way he isn’t used to.

And that excites him. 

The air he inhales digs inside his lungs, wriggling as if it was a worm looking for a place to plant its eggs. Cub does not feel panic. As he arrives to an open area of the Deep Dark, close to an Ancient City, he realizes his lungs are filled to the brim with not air, but cotton balls clinging to the walls. 

His mind now has one objective, and he welcomes the sculk in his body with open arms. You can never satisfy an itch unless you scratch it until it bleeds.

The tremolo of the sculk sensor sends shivers down each vertebra of his spine. His boots crunch the sculk veins, becoming sparse the more he travels in the Deep Dark. He was in need of a sculk catalyst. 

Sculk sensors click around him. He knows being careless could cost his life. As the shiver spreads to the extremities of his members, as something worms itself in his heart, he grins widely. 

“Missed this,” Cub mumbles to himself, silk-touch pickaxe in his hand. 

He closes his eyes, and hums. The sculk washes around him, like waves against a beach. Slow and mounting, whispering sweet nothing to his ears as he walks on the sculk, a smile growing on his face. 

The sculk calls for him, left and right, and he can only obey to it. He steps on the sculk veins, the clicks of his boots against the stone bricks matches the tremolo of the sculk sensor. 

Cub opens his eyes as a Warden spawns. 

Right in front of him is a sculk catalyst, all alone in the myriad of sculks. 

“Let’s go,” he cheers quietly to himself as he breaks the catalyst with his pickaxe. 

The roar of the Warden echoes in his ears, but he simply closes his eyes once again, and lets the sculk call to him.

He does not need to speak. Something squeezes his heart as his feet walk on their own, triggering more sculk sensors and creating more Wardens. The creatures can not hear him. He grins to himself as he lets go of the control of his body. The sculk silences his breath, slithering to his nose and covering his mouth with its viscous body. 

Cub can no longer breath, but he is not worried. Its tendrils give him the bare minimum of oxygen he needs to survive, but he knows he is much more useful as a host than a body that has free will. His grin doesn’t come undone as the sculk pulls his legs forward, out of the Deep Dark, away from the Wardens searching for who had awakened them from their slumber. 

Sculk has limitations. It can not carry Cub above the mines, but he does not need them to. Determinedly, he walks to the surface, close to his base, and places the sculk catalyst right at his front door. 

“Time to spread it,” he chuckles to himself as he jumps on the catalyst. 

Immediately, sculk veins burst out of the catalyst and turns the grass to sculk. Cub softly laughs to himself as the sculk takes over his legs, over his body and forces him to jump over and over again on the sculk catalyst. 

It will spread to Etho’s base, which will spread to Tango’s base, which will spread to Cleo’s base. 

A tremolo greets his jumping, like a cat purring, but it isn’t a purr. It is a laugh, echoing in Cub’s head, becoming louder and louder the more he jumps. His legs become as heavy as lead. He is no longer the one jumping, but he doesn’t care. His thoughts are swallowed by the laughter, and he pants for air the more the weight of exhaustion crushes his body.

The tendrils in his heart squeeze the organ again, to make it skip a beat before wrapping around his lungs. Cub laughs hysterically.

“That’s it, that’s it,” he wheezes out. “Take me with you.”

His mind flashes memories of the vex possession. The laughter morphs into their cackling, and Cub’s heart wells.

It feels like home.

“Master,” he lets out.

His vision turns black and faintly, he hears something snap, like a footstep breaking a twig. 

With his thoughts no longer existing, he does not become aware the sculk broke both of his legs, letting him lie there in it. The addicting feeling of giving your freewill to a parasite has carved itself a warm hole into Cub’s brain. 

He never left the sculk. The sculk never left him.

[finchesslingshott]

AH YES THE LONG-AWAITED GREAT GATSBY CAST ALBUM NOTES FROM FINCH READ AT YOUR OWN RISK

roarin’ on - 10/10

this song has literally been on loop since it first came out

has zero right to be this much of a banger

lives in my head rent free

oh nick carraway the man you are

“tonight lets misbehaaaaaave” scratches my brain in just the right way

WHERES THE PARTY AND CAN YOU TAKE ME THERE ANDDD WHEN THE PARTYS OVER CAN YOU FIND ANOTHER PARTY SOMEWHEREEEE

harmonies my beloved

“turns out: manhattan is expensive!” nick carraway laugh line era is so good

“with his arms spread to the SKYYYYYYYYY” oh i love tenors so much

nick’s speaking voice is so silly i love it he’s just a little guy

the ensembles little “oh oh oh oh”s make me so happy

ORCHESTRA MARRY ME

NICKS TENOR RANGE GOOD GRAVY IT NEVER CEASES TO AMAZE ME

absolute rose - 7.5/10

the ukulele goes crazy

jordan’s dialogue is so silly what a woman

DAISYS LITTLE GIGGLE IM GONNA DIE

ew tom i visibly frowned

ORCHESTRA I LOVE YOU

tom no one likes you shut your face

oh daisy’s voice what a woman

new money - 8.7/10

OK GET IT THIS BEAT IS SO GOOD WHAT THE HECK

samantha pauly i love you

AAA CHROMATIC SCALE MY EYES ACTUALLY WIDENED

its almost like 80s core as well as having that 20s swing and i love it

WOLFSHEIM!!!! HEY POOKS (my favorite minor character he doesnt get talked about enough)

“who’s the teahcer?” “thats nick carraway”

the rumors section oh my goodness i literally cant ensemble i literally love you

“do you believe thay about mr gatsby?” “WHAAT?”

oh jordan your speaking voice dear

JORDANNNN

for her - 9.5/10

ITS OUR BOY LADS OH MY GOSH

oh orchestra oh lyrics oh jeremy

“daisyyyy” IM CRYING

the smooth switches between falsetto and full chest voice just adds to the emotion

ORCHESTRAAAAAA

OH ITS THE PART FROM TIKTOK

ok enunciation and emotion get it jeremy

LITERALLY IN ACTUAL TEARS OH MY WORD JEREMY

oh strings you and your tremolo are killing me over here

“now she has TOOOOO KNOOOOOOOOOOWWWWWWWW ITS ALLLL FOR HERRRRRRRRRRRRRR”

valley of ashes - 7.5/10

this beat is so cool oh my gosh 

who is this singing??? i cant tell??? 

OHHHH ITS THAT GUY HEY WILSON

talking to the billboard of the doctors eyes is actually a detail i had headcanoned when i originally read the book and this is actually making me so happy

oh wilson and his wife (whos name i forgot)

“youve got the eyes of God / if God needed glasses”

that was actually so cool what

way too short

second-hand suit - 8.7/10

im loving the ukulele content in this musical 100/10

this role is so clarisse la rue from the lightning thief and i love it

the mood and beat change when she starts talking about tom is insane

the drum beat is so cool what

i cant remember her name for the life of me what is wrong with me

I LOVE THIS OMW NEW DREAM ROLE

for better or worse - 9.5/10

oh no oboe (?) solo i know im gonna start crying 

“and to learn that my soldier has returned / its both a blessing and a curse / is it for better or for worse?”

literally just texted my voice teacher demanding (/j) to work on this song 

“and not to thinkkk about the PAAAAAAST”

oh my gosh wow hold on crying what the flip

somehow “once upon a december” coded

OH OH OH OH NO OH NO

i think my soul just left my body

the met - 8.5/10

AWESOME BASS LINE I’M ALREADY SOLD

MYRTLE THATS HER NAME DEAR GOODNESS I THOUGHT IT WAS LIKE MIRIAM OR MARY OR SMTH 

woah mr mckees voice makes him more creepy than he alr was in the book

“i need a dose of culture / and i need a cigarette”

“in the bedroom lighting i’m an eight” is literally insane

WHAT THE HECK IS GOING ON IN THIS SONG

myrtle’s sister ranking different people is literally so crazy calling gatsby a 5 when he’s literally JEREMY FLIPPING JORDAN

katherine’s myrtle’s sister’s name right???? i’m not crazy???

oh nick carraway you and your internal monologue

myrtle and tom’s fight is literally crazy “dAisY dAIsY dAisY” (SMACK)

nick straight up calling tom an asshole is so crazy i love him for it tbh

OH FUNKY BASS LINE MARRY ME

“yes… please connect me with mr. j. gatsby.” BUHM

this was one of my fav scenes in the book and they portrayed it beautifully i’m literally in love

only tea - 9/10

i love a good jeremy jordan meltdown song

“i am not okay.” me too jeremy its ok pookie

“old sport” HE SAID IT HE SAID THE THING I’M GONNA START CRYING

ok the beat yes oh my gosh the goofy little trumpet slides and ukulele my beloved

“i’m gonna walk into the ocean” jay gatsby stop making me kin you

ok ensemble vocals get it

the voice crack on “cASUal” im in love

his voice cracks in general what a man

poor nick man 

i think jeremy’s playing jay to be bipolar and i’m here for it /hj

green light - 10/10

hoooooo boy ok here we go

this is one of the ones i still havent listened to even though it was released early

the falsetto jeremy you’re killing me here

calling her “daisy faye” instead of “daisy buchanan” is so symbolic of him like seeing her as his instead of legally tom’s

oh eva noblezada what a woman you are

the mood/orchestral change when daisy started singing i’m dead

OH THEYRE SINGING TOGETHER IM GONNA DIE

oh theyre definitely kissing why else would they have this random orchestral break thats somehow so similar to “something to believe in” from newsies

the emotion in their voices urhgjgdjdjdjfjfdjdksoaoeokgkf

the harmoniesss

ooh bet theyre kissing again

THE FINAL NOTE OH MY GOSH

the next “something to believe in” i fear

shady - 7.5/10

UH OH IM EXCITED

MORE WOLFSHEIM CONTENT???

his voice is so cool

he’s so tevye coded i cant even explain how or why but he is

AAAAAAAAA DOUBLE BASS I COULD CRY

this instrumental is killing me goodness gravy

“everybodys a little bit shady / the world keeps spinning if you grease the wheel” goes hard

ensemble vocals go harddddd

better hold tight - 8.7/10

more standup bass i could die

“i think i see the stars aligning / or my standards are my declining”

NICK AND HIS VIBRATO I’M SCREAMING

“what you did might be taboo / but i like that look on you” 

i need my next (if any) boyfriend to be a tenor so he can sing this with me

SCREAMING I LOVE THEM

past catching up to me - 9.5/10

oh jerjor your precious little voice can you marry me yet

“she kissed me and swore she’d never stray / then the world got in the way”

this is the new tenor song along with santa fe and great expectations

GET IT DRUMS WOO GO ORCHESTRA

THE KEY CHANGE. OH MY GOSH.

HAD NO RIGHT HITTING ME WITH A C5 (?) JEREMY POOKIE WHAT

ENSEMBLE VOCALS JUST ADD TO IT ALDKGKFKSKSKRKFKDSA

la dee dah with you - 8.5/10

ok just from the orchestral stuff its alr a banger

this is the big tap number right????

whos singing??? this isnt jordan??? is this just an nyc girl from annie type situation?

i’m confused but its a banger so i dont care

oh im so sure the choreo is so impossibly good

YES THE TAPS LETS FLIPPING GO AKDKFLFLSLERLGLDLSKA

AAAAAHHHHHHHHHHH

yep this is it this is what i wanna do with my life

the ensemble hootin and hollerin just adds to it

TOO SHORT.

go - 8.7/10

YAY ANOTHER MENTAL BREAKDOWN SONG!

somehow violet beaudelaire x quigley quagmire core if you know what i mean

“if we wait until we’re ready we’ll be waiting for the rest of our lives” core

them <333333333

ew tom spoke i hate him

“i love you lets go / before i change my mind”

these harmonies ugh

ORCHESTRA ILY

too short again

made to last - 9/10

is this tom?? i cant tell?????

OH IT IS LETS GO

OH MY GOSH ITS THE GATSBY TOM FIGHT LETS FLIPPING GO

i really wanna see how this is staged…

OK SMOOTH KEY CHANGE

the conflicting vocal parts in the argument im gonna actually die

tom desperately trying to win me over with his vocal parts

oh its so “nonstop” coded im gonna actually die

for better or worse (reprise) - 7.5/10

its my pookies oml

oh samantha pauly your voice

they better kiss

TOO SHORT

one-way road - 9/10

MYRTLE??? OH MY GOSH???

“WATCH THE ROAD ASSHOLE”

“wait what if i become her?”

the callbacks to second hand suit make me happy

yeah no this is my role i’ve claimed it now

i swear the amount of mental breakdown songs in this music i live for it

YES MYRTLE POP OFF

God sees everything - 8.7/10

lets go george pop off king

TOO SHORT WHAT THE FLIP

for her (reprise) - 8/10

YES CELLO YEA STRINGS AAAAAAAAAAAA

can someone love me like jay gatsby loves daisy buchanan

new money (reprise) - 8.3/10

ugh this beat kills me every time i cant even

DSGLAFJKLDSKLD ENSEMBLE I LOVE YOU

my fav reprise by far oh my GOSH

dying dead

TOO SHORT WTFFFF

beautiful little fool - 9/10

prepared to cry alr oh gosh

the whispery quality of her voice rn i’m gonna die eva pls

“It’s a girl the nurse said / and i broke, and i broke”

the piano instrumental killing me jeeeeeeez

“the best thing a girl can be in this world is a beautiful little fool” line taken STRAIGHT from the book and it KILLS me every single time i read it sdjadljksdljafdshlsdfjakdshdfask

oh eva noblezada your VOICE

OHHH THE CALLBACK TO ABSOLUTE ROSE I’M DEAD

ORCHESTRA MARRY ME HODSJGKSLAFKDGLJFADKSGLFAKDHGSLJFADHGS

texting my voice teacher rn

finale: roaring on - 9.5/10

YAY NICK HEY POOKS YOU EAT UP THAT MONOLOGUE KING

this is partially taken from the book uihsialfdjsghkfljdg i’m gonna cry

“I can still see gatsby / standing in silhouette” ok homo /pos

YES TENOR NOTE MY BELOVED

“with infinite hope / that made him fool enough to try / that light across the water was always out of reach / so why do we (x3) keep reaching”

OOOO BEAT CHANGE KILLING ME

YAY ROARING ON ODGJSHOAPLSFJDKGSHDLJFADHSGJJLFAD

DIRECT QUOTES FROM THE BOOK HOLY CRAPPPPPPP

WHERES THE PARTY AND CAN YOU TAKE ME THERRREEEEE-

genuinely in tears oh my GOSH

IN CONCLUSION

SURPRISINGLY cohesive to the book which made me so happy - the direct quotes had me SCREAMINGGGGG

phenomenal cast literally would die to breathe the same air as any of them

dream role is myrtle she sounds like a soprano belter sorry i don’t make the rules

JEREMY. FREAKING. JORDAN.

ORCHESTRA. ENSEMBLE. I LOVE YOU.

[vyva-melinkolya]

I haunted a basketmaker's shop

Spending days ripping pictures from magazines

Taping them to the walls of my prison

I remember walking by the sand

Each knob represented a different frequency range

And I remember holding the hand of the skeleton prince

And he swept me into his arms

And he, he had tremolo deep

In the back of his black eye sockets

And he said, "Do you want to come away with me

Into the pitch black pool?"

And I said, "I don't know, I don't know, I don't know"

Photocopied, the wind ripped through the trees

And all the stained-glass windows rattled

I haunted a basketmaker's shop in 1927

And on the beach in the summer there were thunderstorms constantly

And they were unpredictable

Nobody knew when they would come and nobody knew how long they'd last

Sometimes they'd only last five minutes and sometimes weeks

I haunted a basketmaker's shop

Because I had nowhere to go one long weekend

Stained-glass windows turning off and on

And the tremolo in the back dark corners

Cobwebs stripped, mildewed

I remember acoustic guitars and bells

I remember the cathedral

I remember cassettes, cathedral

I remember cassette, cathedral

I remember cassette, cathedral

[stardustlegacy-cosplay]

"Brothers in arms" 💖

Phaser Ryugu: @ wheelerin94 (Insta)

Tremolo Ryugu: me

📸: marciifee & Jasmin

🖌: @ mousie_creative_studio (Insta)

[imbxdateverything]

tremolo

fandom: Malevolent

whumpee: Arthur Lester

word count: 3,097

tags/warnings: hurt/comfort, pre-canon, protective Parker, hurt Arthur Lester, mentions of blood, unconscious, field medicine

read on ao3

—

Parker grinned at the barkeep, an old friend of his named Bobby, as the man relayed a story from his past containing a lovely young lady and a rambunctious gentleman getting into quite a bit of trouble. He sipped his whiskey quietly, seeing no further need to spur on the man's tale as it was given out freely, simply letting himself feel the burn of the alcohol in the back of his throat as it travelled down.

Bobby leaned over the counter to whisper into Parker's face as to how that specific tale ended, a finale that seemed to be quite a promising ending if the gleaming mirth in the man's eyes was anything to go by. But before the man could finish his tale, the speakeasy's door was pushed open with a whine from the old and cracked wooden door.

The barkeep turned to face his new guests, but the easy smile adorning his lips mere moments ago fell into a frown, amused eyes widening slightly. The atmosphere inside the barroom instantly turned ice cold and tense.

Parker watched the differing emotions travel across Bobby's face before turning to see what had the man looking so spooked.

Parker was by no means a pushover, his stature and muscle mass were hints enough for people to know not to mess with him, and he had been known to turn rowdy and unwanted customers away from his regular drinking spot when needed. He turned around, eyebrows furrowed in a way he knew to make lesser men shudder and think twice about approaching, but as he took in the sight in front of him, he could feel his face slacken and his eyebrows shooting up instead.

Not ten steps away from Parker, right on the threshold of the bar's entrance stood his and Arthur's current person of interest; a weaselly man named Donny, grinning wolfishly and seeming more than pleased with himself. Around and behind him were a few of his henchmen double his size that Parker didn't care enough to remember their names. The only information he needed was that they belonged to some gang on the other side of town, and they knew about the services Parker and his partner provided.

Donny took a couple leisurely steps forwards and to the side, and all at once Parker understood why he looked like a predator with its fangs sunk deeply into its prey's soft neck.

Parker's breath caught in his throat as the man moved to reveal none other than Parker's own partner hanging off the loose hold two of Donny's lackeys had on each of his arms.

Arthur didn't lift his head to meet Parker's eyes as he was presented, he made no move to even show he was conscious and fuck, it seemed as if Arthur wasn't even breathing for a few alarming seconds.

The band had stopped playing soon after the men had stepped inside, all conversations seized, and there was nothing to buffer against the too loud slapping of Donny's leather soles as he strode towards Parker, looking for all the world like he had won a competition only he was taking part in.

Parker felt his mind roar at him to grab the man and smash his head onto the counter until it was nothing but a bloody, pulpy mess to be cleaned up and thrown out. It would have been easy, too, Parker knew that, but a glance towards his partner had him glued to the spot, even as a gratingly confident voice called out to him;

"Evening, gentlemen," Donny said, saccharine poison slipping off his tongue, his charm practised and confident and his eyes never leaving Parker's own, "We found this one sniffing around our parts. And I think you know how we feel about strays messing about our block."

Donny had the gall to show yellowed teeth with a smirk as he clicked his tongue; a plain order aimed at his lackeys. The two men holding Arthur up came as close to Parker as they dared before haphazardly dumping Arthur at Parker's feet, letting him fall into a heap.

The itch crawling deep beneath Parker's skin to reach down and make sure his partner was at least breathing was squashed down forcefully as Donny started speaking again, his voice abandoning all the sickly sweet charm it held for an unmasked threat;

"You should really train your mutt to follow orders better, Peter. Be a shame if you had to get a new pet so soon, now, wouldn't it?"

White-knuckled fists formed on each of Parker's sides, and he didn't know how he managed to keep his anger and tongue in check as he glared daggers at the men opposite him. It wouldn't do any good to let himself be baited into a fight with them, not in this place, and certainly not with Arthur in the state he was currently in.

Arthur, who was bleeding by his feet, with his slender limbs tangled when those assholes had practically tossed him, and who still hadn't moved and why hasn't he fucking moved?

Donny was grinning like the fool he was, going against Parker's partner and friend and having the audacity to look like a cat with its canary. Parker flexed his jaw taut, finding it harder and harder to convince himself that smashing that asshole's teeth in right in that moment would be a terrible idea.

His focus shifted when he saw Bobby produce a shotgun from the corner of his eyes, sparing a moment's glance to see the man bringing his weapon to aim at the gang members.

"I think it's time you left." Bobby threatened, and even though he would be hard-pressed to have a shot go off inside a hidden bar, the intruding men weren't quite as stupid as they appeared, so they didn't push the man actively pointing a gun at them.

"Alright, alright." Donny chuckled, bringing his hands up in mock surrender, "We're done here anyway. Just wanted to make sure this little lapdog got back to its owner." He said with an air about him as if he were expecting to be thanked for his kind service.

Parker's fists shook and it took everything in him to not grab the barkeeper's shotgun and empty it into Donny's ugly mug himself. With a final low sneer, the man walked outside with his lackeys following right after him.

As soon as the door closed behind them, Parker sank to his knees in front of his partner, his eyes scanning every blood-covered inch of him.

"Arthur," He called out softly, like he was sharing a secret between just the two of them, his arms hovering in the air undecided.

Parker let a heavy breath rattle his lungs as Arthur grunted before trying to get his arms under his body. It seemed as if time stood still for everyone except the two investigators as Parker watched his partner struggle to push himself up with little success. The trembling in Arthur's arms as they were unable to hold his weight pulled Parker from his trance, and it was like a spell had been broken.

Parker was instantly upon Arthur, helping him right himself and gently pushing him to rest his back against the side of the bar's counter.

Arthur spluttered wet gasps that made Parker wince, and Parker had never been so glad to hear such an ugly sound after the terrifying silence that had sat heavy on his chest.

"Parker," Arthur whispered, a broken cut-off sound that tore Parker's insides to shreds.

"Hey, English," Parker let an empty chuckle fill the space between his breaths lest he allowed panic to truly set in, "Let's get you home, alright?"

He didn't wait for an answer he knew he wasn't getting before he carefully put Arthur's arm around his shoulder to pull his partner up. It was slow going, and Parker had to bend his back low enough to accomodate for his partner's slighter frame and to keep from pulling any of Arthur's multiple wounds.

The silence around them soon turned stifling as all eyes seemed turned towards them, but Parker ignored the gnawing feeling crawling up his spine and turned to the barkeep.

"I'll put it on your tab." Bobby said without any prompting, and Parker hoped he could see the gratitude in his eyes in the low light of the speakeasy.

A few of the patrons moved in front of Parker before he could take a step, opening the door and a couple of them stepping outside while another held it open for him and Arthur to pass through.

Parker took a good look at the men's faces as he passed them, making sure to commit them to memory along with a promise to buy each a few drinks as thanks.

The chilled winter air outside hit Parker full force as soon as he stepped out and he felt Arthur shiver against him, spurring him on to reach their office that much faster.

Their usually short enough journey proved to be arduous as Parker listened to every slight noise Arthur made, every wince, every gasp, every whimper almost making Parker wish he had the courage to take his partner to a proper hospital, even though he knew how much Arthur despised them, how Arthur would hate him for it.

But, the small office they had called their home for the past long months was much closer and required a lot fewer questions than Parker would be willing to answer.

Arthur's right leg had long ago given up on trying to support any of his weight, making their trip that much more taxing, and Parker mumbled a few curses under his breath when he finally managed to half drag, half carry his partner onto the curb outside their rented apartment.

Having to take the stairs up to their office had been a daunting task weighing on Parker's mind the entire way there, and now, as he held onto Arthur's waist to keep him upright, he was finally faced with it.

Walking up those steps had never seemed more difficult, more weighted– even during the worst nights of his partner's insistence on drinking himself half to death, on the nights when Parker could only wonder how the man stumbling and clutching onto him had yet to keel over.

From the moment they stepped inside and onto the first step, Arthur hadn't stopped the low whines and moans from stumbling past his lips, but almost halfway up, he had fallen silent and Parker had almost sobbed as his fears took root behind his ribs.

Parker was panting when they finally reached their door. He managed to fish his keys from his pocket and unlock it without shifting Arthur too much, and still his partner remained quiet, making Parker's head spin in worry.

Parker kicked the door closed behind them as soon as they were through, and made a beeline for the small sofa they kept for any in-office visitors, setting Arthur on it as gently as he could.

The shift in gravity seemed to awaken Arthur from his stupor, making him let out an agonised groan as he clenched his eyes shut. Parker winced at the sound, but he couldn't keep himself from feeling relieved as his partner became aware enough once again.

"I'll be right back," Parker softly promised, knowing that Arthur was still too far gone to process any of his words.

Not waiting for a reply that wouldn't come, Parker locked their door before he set off to retrieve the first aid kit they kept in their too small bathroom, remembering his promise to himself that he'd stock it up after a case they had taken a couple months ago had turned a little too violent for his liking, and how he kept repeating that promise in his head every time his eyes fell on the blasted box.

He remembered, as he bent down to grab it, how Arthur had dabbed away the crusted blood off his knuckles after he had clipped one of their attackers on the side of his head; he remembered doing the same to Arthur's busted lip where a fist had struck him.

Parker returned to the office proper moments later, turning the main light on and dropping once again in front of Arthur. Parker almost lost his nerve as he took a better look at his partner's state under the better lighting; dried blood covered the left side of Arthur's face until only a sliver of too pale skin could be made out, a multitude of scrapes and bruises visible on him from top to bottom, his suit darkened further where it had greedily soaked Arthur's blood.

Arthur's every other breath hitched, making Parker flinch, and every wheezing inhale making bile rise in his throat.

As Parker stared, his eyes jumping on every jagged wound on his partner's body, he suddenly felt a deep, rumbling anger swell inside his chest; he had half a mind to start cursing at the suffering man opposite him when he had told him not to follow up on this case alone, to wait for morning for them to go together, or better yet, let Parker handle it himself.

But Arthur didn't know how these gangs could be. He hadn't lived in Arkham as long as Parker had, hadn't seen how low its people would stoop before letting go of their fragile ego and the power they thought was owed to them. And Parker couldn't fault him for that– especially not when he watched the man suck in harsh gasps, blood bubbling on his already stained lips with each exhale.

Peter closed his eyes, taking a moment to breathe deeply in an attempt to calm himself and steady his nervous hands as he unbuttoned Arthur's shirt.

He picked up a piece of gauze from the kit, soaking it in iodine and leaning closer to Arthur, all the while speaking softly like his partner was a cornered and injured animal, wound up and ready to pounce at any given moment.

Parker telegraphed his every move as he went about treating the wounds on Arthur's face first, the process slow and excruciating and drawing a myriad of strained whines from Arthur's lips. He kept speaking softly to himself, to Arthur, to the damn piano in the corner of the room– a litany of nonsense trickling out of Parker's mouth if only to fill the palpable silence around them with anything that wasn't the agonised groans Arthur let out.

"You're a damn idiot, English, you know that?" He whispered with no real heat and ignored how his hand shook something fierce as he removed pieces of broken glass embedded behind Arthur's ear.

Arthur flinched as the protrusion was pulled free, apologies stumbling out of Parker's mouth immediately at the sorry sight his partner made. Even more falling out, seemingly without Parker's prompting, as he continued his ministrations.

Halfway through setting and bandaging Arthur's broken fingers, Arthur seemed to come back to himself with a startled curse pushing past his bloodied lips.

"It's alright, Arthur," Parker swallowed down his worry and put on an easy smile that he would bet looked more like a grimace; all of it an act for tightly clenched eyes and a mind too addled with pain to make the words stick. "I'm almost done."

Parker kept countering every choked down scream Arthur made with kind words and encouragements that sounded almost foreign spilling from his deep and gravely voice.

It was a long and harrowing two hours before Parker accepted that he'd done everything he could. The cries Arthur had been making during that time had almost driven Parker mad, filling him with an urge to stuff his ears with the discarded cotton haphazardly thrown into the first aid kit's corners, if only to never have to listen to such slurred and mumbled sounds fall out of his partner's lips again.

Leaning back and looking over Arthur once again, Parker let his eyes travel between the cuts he had managed to find the bandages to cover, to the torn skin that he had to leave exposed, making sure he hadn't missed any injuries, and sighed to himself.

Parker didn't think he would be able to get Arthur to the makeshift cot they took turns sleeping in further back into their office– not that it'd be much more comfortable than their worn and faded leather sofa. Not to mention how unpleasantly the thought of trying to move Arthur in his state was stirring in Parker's mind.

While Arthur was valiantly fighting against unconsciousness, Parker got up on unsteady and numb legs to stumble into their kitchenette, filling an empty glass with tap water and pointedly not worrying about how cloudy it was as he took it back to Arthur.

Parker dropped down slowly, a careful hand on his partner's uninjured knee as he presented the water to no-one but himself. He had to coax Arthur into taking small sips, getting him to manage drinking almost half of it before the last sip had turned into a wet cough, water tinted pink trickling down Arthur's chin.

It seemed obvious that Arthur wouldn't be winning against the darkness any longer, so Parker abandoned the glass on the coffee table behind him and attempted to ease Arthur into as much of a laying position as he could, gingerly lifting both his legs onto their small sofa.

Arthur was certainly not the biggest man Parker knew, to put it mildly, but even he was hard-pressed fitting comfortably on the furniture, as the double seat did nothing to help accommodate its current occupant.

After settling his partner down and making him as comfortable as he possibly could, Parker sank stiffly to the floor, his back against the sofa where Arthur's feet were, and his head turned to look at his partner's sleeping face.

Still, even in sleep, Arthur's face was screwed with pain, his jaw tight and his eyes wrinkled, and Parker had to look away. He let his head fall between his knees with a forced exhale, trying to get his jackrabbiting heart under control.

He'll be okay. He'll be okay.

Parker repeated the words in his mind like a mantra, promising that he would make them come true no matter what it might take. He sighed, leaning his head back to stare at the ceiling before he closed his eyes and let the familiar and ever-present ticking of the clock mingle with Arthur's shuddering breaths as he slept fitfully.

He'll be okay.

[cherrylng]

Gears & Analysis - Bomber Manson [STYLE Series #004 - Muse (August 2010)]

Bomber Manson Cold-headed unmatched heavy bomber with metallic armour all over its body.

Introduced in 2003 and used until around 2006. The rounded chrome finish (painted by Martin Sims) and rivets on the body give it the appearance of a bomber, hence the name ‘Bomber Manson’. Its specifications are among the simplest of the models Mr Manson built for Matthew, with no built-in effects. It is said that Matthew originally wanted a model with a tremolo arm, and the main feature is a Floyd Rose-type locking tremolo. The tremolo bridge is an Ibanez ‘Edge Pro’, which is renowned for its ease of operation. The neck is also made from an Ibanez guitar. This may be why the head shape is different from other Manson guitars. However, considering the fact that it does not have a scarf joint, which is a characteristic of Ibanez guitars, it is not certain whether this is true or not. Also, like the ‘Laser Manson’, this model has a MIDI controller on the top left of the body, which can be assigned to the controller of a MIDI-compatible device such as the ‘Whammy’. The back of the unit is also equipped with a mechanism that allows you to adjust the parameters of the ‘Whammy’ from the guitar. Although it has a simpler specification than the other models, it is still a guitar with many possibilities.

Pickups & MIDI Controller The front pickups are Rio Grande's ‘Jazzbar’ P-90 type, and the rear pickups are the ‘Crunchbox’, a high gain model also tuned for heavy rock by Rio Grande. The long, thin device to the left of the pickups is the MIDI controller. The mini-switch under the top left toggle switch (which is a kill switch to cut the sound) is probably the on/off switch for this.

Bridge The tremolo bridge is an Ibanez ‘Edge Pro’. This is a unique construction that does not require the ball end to be cut when changing strings, and is the result of the pursuit of rich sound and long sustain.

Back View The back view shows that the back of the body is also rounded and contoured. The neck is maple with a beautiful bird's eye grain. The ‘Whammy’ parameter adjustment knobs can be seen on the control cavity.

[songforaname]

i wonder if it would be worth it to fill in the bridge cavity of my strat and replace it with a mustang tremolo

[number-1-kuaidul-fanboy]

Mutsuba Town’s Rehabilitated Alien Baking Show

Description: Yuhi hosts a baking contest to clear up all the bad blood between the formerly antagonistic aliens now living in Mutsuba Town.

...Okay so I basically wrote a fic about six major Go Rush villains (Zwijo, The Luge, Phaser, Tremolo, Zaion, and Kuaidul) baking because of a drawing I saw. It's silly. Enjoy.

AO3 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/53050585

Fic Below (This thing got LONG. Like 5K words long)

“Hello!” Yuhi waved to the group of six aliens he’d called in: the six he felt had the most bad blood among them that needed to be resolved.

First off, was Zwijo Zir Velgear. He’d been long since forgiven and spent two years making up for his deeds. However, Yuhi still sensed some tension between him and a certain other someone that needed to be addressed.

Next were the Ryugu brothers: Phaser and Tremolo. They were mostly well-adjusted as well but despite being brothers, seemed rather distant and Yuhi couldn’t help but constantly notice the murderous glances Tremolo often cast at the fourth alien Yuhi had called in: Zaion. It was obvious what THAT had resulted from.

The Luge, the fifth alien Yuhi called in, likely shared that resentment, along with possible resentment towards Zwijo, though he didn’t seem to express it much. Still, Yuhi asked him to attend for good measure.

And finally, the alien with the single most bad blood with everyone: Kuaidul Velgear. Even now, when Kuaidul was doing nothing to provoke them for once, Tremolo, Phaser, Zwijo, Zaion, and The Luge were glaring at him as though he’d put them through complete hell. Which, he had, of course. Kuaidul seemed completely oblivious to this fact, his gaze wandering around the room.

“So…” Yuhi tried to wave to get their attention. “I bet you’re wondering why I asked you all to come here today!”

“Somewhat,” Phaser admitted, folding his arms as he turned to Yuhi. “Will this take long? Since you called both Tremolo and me here, we had to leave Asaka in charge of the MIK.”

“Yes, you’d better have a good reason for wasting big brother’s time!” Tremolo added, mimicking his brother’s folded arms look.

“I have a very good reason!” Yuhi exclaimed, his eyes narrowed in indignation.

“Do you really?” Yuamu muttered in his ear. “I don’t think this plan of yours is a very good idea if you want my honest opinion.”

Yuhi grunted, crossing his arms. “Well, I don’t. And I think this plan is great.”

“I agree!” Yudias agreed, nodding vigorously. “I think a fun activity like this will be just what the six of them need, Yuhi!”

Yuhi smiled and nodded. “Well, at least someone supports my idea. Okay then!” He cleared his throat. “Welcome one and all to Mutsuba Town’s first annual ‘Rehabilitated Alien Baking Show’!” he exclaimed, gesturing to the group of six.

They stared at him with gazes ranging from baffled from Phaser, Zwijo, and Zaion, to a little bit horrified from Kuaidul, The Luge, and Tremolo.

“A baking contest?” Zaion looked disgusted as he muttered. “That’s why he brought us all here?”

“That explains all the ovens,” Phaser mused, looking around the room.

“That sounds…” The Luge fidgeted with his hands.

“Stupid,” Zwijo grunted, folding his arms.

Tremolo raised an eyebrow at him. “Don’t you own a bakery?”

Zwijo opened his mouth to answer but Kuaidul cut in before he could, “He can’t actually bake and only sells curry bread because he hates it.”

Zwijo’s resulting glare was downright murderous, a reaction Kuaidul simply smiled smugly at.

“So… um…!” Yuhi cleared his throat, forcing a smile as he went on. “Better get ready, folks! It looks like it’s gonna be a spicy competition!”

“Yuhi, who are you talking to?” Yudias asked, tilting his head to the side.

“Yeah, we’re not on TV ya know,” Yuamu pointed out, nodding.

“Uh… well…” Yuhi cleared his throat, lifting his chin to try and look dignified. “It’s just… fun to announce like this, that’s all.” He cleared his throat again. “Now let’s meet our six contestants!”

“We all already know each other!” Tremolo exclaimed, his hands on the side of his mouth to make his voice louder. “There is no need for introductions!”

“Uh… well…” Yuhi felt sweat drip down his forehead. “Right, yeah, of course. I guess we did all meet in… uh…” Yuhi trailed off, his gaze betraying him by drifting toward Kuaidul.

“Yes, in hell.” Tremolo’s growl was dark as he glared at Kuaidul.

The Velgearian just shrugged. “If that’s what you want to call it.”

“I’m breaking you all up into teams of two!” Yuhi’s tone was hasty.

“Could’ve just said pairs,” Yuamu commented, looking unamused.

“Um…” Yuhi pointed at the group, his gaze and trembling finger shifting between the six of them.

He paused, biting his lip. Kuaidul had bad blood with just about everyone here so he could be paired with anyone but someone like Zwijo or Zaion only had bad blood with a couple of the others. Yuhi didn’t want to accidentally pair up anyone who didn’t have anything they needed to work out. That would defeat the whole purpose of this…

“Do we… get to choose?” The Luge asked. He turned to Zaion with a smile, who instantly stiffened.

“I… I choose… uh!” Zaion started looking around at the group, panic growing in his red-tinted gaze. The sight of it instantly gave Yuhi an idea.

“No!” Yuhi snapped, stepping forward. “I’m choosing the pairs!” He pointed at Zaion. “Zaion, you and The Luge are team one!”

“Oh?” The Luge smiled. “Okay. Cool.”

Zaion’s jaw dropped, his entire body trembling as though he were being turned to ice.

“Yuhi you… evil…”

“And… um…” Yuhi turned to the other four.

Tremolo’s gaze, shifting between Yuhi and Phaser, held an unmistakable look of longing. Phaser didn’t seem to notice. He was glaring at a still oblivious smiling Kuaidul.

Phaser and Kuaidul… that seemed ideal but that would leave Zwijo with Tremolo. Yuhi doubted there was much hostility between them; he couldn’t even recall them interacting at all, much less negatively.

So that left only one option.

“Tremolo, Phaser.” Yuhi pointed at each of them. “You guys are team two.”

“Yes!” Tremolo hopped toward his brother, a huge smile on his face. “Finally! A chance to spend time with each other, big brother!”

Phaser dipped his head. “Right, yes. This should go quickly and smoothly with the two of us working together.”

“R-right yes…” Tremolo’s smile faded a bit. “Quickly… We… need to get back to the MIK after all…”

“And team three will be Zwijo and Kauidul!” Yuhi pointed at the two blond Velgearians.

“Me and Zwijo?” Kuaidul smiled and raised an eyebrow. “Are you just picking these teams based on our species?”

“Uh…” Yuhi stiffened when he realised it did look like that. “N-no! Not at all!”

Kuaidul looked unconvinced but simply shrugged.

“Let’s just get this over with,” Zwijo’s growl was dark, his fists trembling as he glared at Kuaidul.

“Um!” Yuhi grabbed the papers from his pockets, swiftly unfolding them. “You’ll all be working off the same chocolate chip cookie recipe!”

He rushed up to each group, handing one of each paper to Tremolo, The Luge, and Kuaidul, the ones on each team who looked the least likely to kill him right now.

“There are three ovens for you all and the ingredients are already out!” The words were tumbling out of Yuhi so quickly it was clear he was a bit frantic. “Just follow the instructions on that paper and you’ll be good to go!”

“Then let’s get started!” Tremolo grabbed his older brother’s wrist the way a child would, taking off toward the ovens. Phaser stumbled to keep up with him.

“This seems like a disaster in the making,” Yuamu remarked dryly.

Yuhi glared at her.

“Have you ever baked before, Zaion?” The Luge asked, smiling as he and Zaion walked side by side toward one of the ovens.

“Uh… y-yes sir!” Zaion was repeatedly bowing as his voice and body trembled. “I can bake these for you if you’d like, Great King of Terror, sir!”

The Luge chuckled softly at that. “No need for that. I want to bake together.”

“Ah?!” Zaion flinched. “Oh, of course! Such is providence! I’ll preheat the oven for us!”

He squinted at the recipe paper before charging the rest of the way toward one of the ovens, frantically clicking the buttons to preheat it.

Kuaidul and Zwijo meanwhile hadn’t moved from the centre of the room, with Zwijo glaring off in the distance and Kuaidul frowning in confusion as he stared at the recipe paper.

“Uh…” Yuhi took a step toward them. “Something amiss with you guys?”

Kuaidul turned the paper around, pointing at it. “If these things are called ‘cookies’ why are we ‘baking’ them instead of ‘cooking’ them?”

“Oh yeah!” Yudias perked up, his eyes glowing. “I was wondering that as well!”

Yuhi blinked. “U-uh… well…”

“Because earthlings are weird,” Zwijo grunted, folding his arms. “I’ve learned not to question it.” He snatched the paper from Kuaidul and started toward the ovens. “By the way, I <i>can</i> bake for your information. Mitsuko taught me. So just stay out of my way.”

Kuaidul shrugged and trailed after him. “Okay. Less work for me then.”

Yuhi frowned. “I kinda feel like you’re missing the point of this a little.”

“Told you this was a bad idea,” Yuamu sighed, adjusting her glasses. “I can see those two killing each other sooner than I can see them working together on anything.”

“They won’t kill each other!” Yudias insisted, his eyes wide. “They would never! Well…” Yudias bit his lip. “Not again, anyways.”

And so the baking commenced! 

“Next two eggs…” Tremolo was reading the recipe.

Phaser placed two whole eggs in his bowl of ingredients.

“Hm…” Tremolo squinted at the recipe. “It says they need to be beaten? Beaten in what?”

“Perhaps in a rush duel?” Phaser suggested, raising his duel disk.

Tremolo snorted with laughter. “I don’t think eggs can duel, brother.”

“Oh, of course not.” Phaser smiled, his duel disk retracting. “The eggs need to be beaten, not completely trounced.”

Tremolo chuckled at that. “Can I beat the eggs, big brother? It sounds fun!”

Phaser slid the bowl towards him with a smile. “Go right ahead.”

Tremolo raised his fists, pounding them into the eggs to smash them open, getting bits of yolk and cracked eggshell pieces all over both his hands and the bowl. He beamed ear to ear, cackling with satisfaction.

Phaser smiled proudly. “Good job, Tremolo.” He passed him a napkin and took the bowl back, whisking the ingredients together. “We’ll be done in no time.”

Tremolo smiled as he wiped his hands. “No problem, Phaser! Uh- I mean, big brother!”

The Luge, who’d glanced over at the two brothers with a curious expression, turned to Zaion again.

“Why didn’t you do that for the eggs?” he asked, looking back at his bowl of flour and other dry powdery ingredients. “It looked much more efficient than slowly cracking them.”

Zaion kept his gaze on the milk and eggs he was whisking. “Because that’s not how you’re supposed to do it.” He stiffened before adding. “Um! Sir!” His whisking became more frantic as he went on, “The shell isn’t meant to be eaten. Phaser and Tremolo are going to have some awful cookies.”

The Luge chuckled at that. “I see.”

“Yeah, shouldn’t you have stopped Tremolo from doing that?” Yuamu asked, raising an eyebrow at Yuhi as the two of them passed by.

“Eh.” Yuhi shrugged. “It’s still a competition. I wouldn’t wanna give too many pointers.”

Yuamu rolled her eyes. “Yuhi, they’re going to set something on fire at this rate.”

“No, they won’t!” Yuhi flicked his hands dismissively. “It’s fine! They’ll be fine!”

Teams one and two were chatting happily as they baked, even if Zaion was noticeably on edge every time The Luge spoke. Team three meanwhile…

Zwijo had both the bowl and the recipe pulled close, his sharp gaze fixed on the ingredients he was measuring, whilst Kuaidul leaned against the counter, arms folded as he stared off in the distance.

Yuhi sighed heavily, his shoulders slouching. “Maybe that team wasn’t such a good idea.”

“Nonsense!” Yudias insisted, his eyes full of determination. “It was a great idea! They just need more of a push into getting along!”

Yudias started towards his two comrades but before he could reach them, a tiny figure barrelled past him, knocking Yudias to the ground with a yowl of alarm.

“Lord Zwijo! Lord Zwijo!” A high-pitched voice was exclaiming. “Come quick! It’s an emergency!”

Zwijo looked up from the bowl, turning to Dinois with an unfazed expression. “What is it, Dinois?”

“There’s no time to explain! Just come quick!” Dinois took off out of the building.

Zwijo sighed heavily, putting the bowl down. “She and Muda probably just set something on fire again.”

“Again?” Kuaidul sounded amused at that.

Zwijo nodded. “It happens all the time. I’ll just be a minute.”

“Wha- you can’t just-?!” Zwijo brushed past Yuhi as he started to protest. Then he let out a sigh. “Ah, sorry about this, Kuaidul.”

Kuaidul laughed at that instead of replying, his gaze shifting to the bowl and recipe Zwijo had left behind. He took the paper in his hand. Staring at it for a few moments, Kuaidul put the paper aside and started measuring out ingredients.

“Hey! Shouldn’t you wait for Zwijo-?” Yuhi started to protest.

Kuaidul smiled. “Not if I want to win your little competition.”

Yuhi could feel sweat forming on his forehead. “Oh… yeah… I made it a contest…”

“Heh.” Yuamu chuckled a bit. “See why this was a bad idea now?”

Yuhi’s shoulders slumped as he glared at his sister.

Kuaidul tore the bag of chocolate chips open and gazed at the recipe again. “Measure with your heart…?” He raised an eyebrow.

“Hey, Yuhi!” Tremolo raised his hand. “Big brother and I are confused about that part too!”

“Yes.” Phaser nodded. “How do we measure something with one of our internal organs?”

“Ah?!” Yuhi flinched, a shiver running down his spine. “No, I didn’t mean that literally! I just meant you should add as many chocolate chips as you like!”

“Oh. I see.” Phaser smiled and turned to his brother. “Tremolo, put about a handful in.”

Tremolo saluted him. “Yes, big brother!” He eagerly dug into the bag of chocolate chips.

Kuaidul huffed with laughter. “Just a handful? Pathetic.”

He tipped his bag of chocolate chips over and dumped them all into the bowl. Tremolo and Phaser’s jaws dropped.

“Hell yeah!” Yuhi threw his hand up in the air. “That’s what I’m talking about!”

“Kuaidul, are you insane?!” Zaion exclaimed, his eyes the size of dinner plates.

He and The Luge, who’d used but a single cup of chocolate chips, were now staring at Kuaidul as well.

Yuamu chuckled a bit. “Zwijo’s gonna be upset with you, ya know.”

“Diri don pa, diri don pa, diri don pa.~” Kuaidul was humming to himself as he whisked his bowl of newly combined ingredients.

“Do not worry, Kuaidul!” Yudias insisted, hopping toward his comrade. “I will explain to Zwijo that you were simply trying to assist him!”

“Yes, yes, very good, Yudias.” He nodded, not taking his eyes off the bowl of ingredients he was whisking.

“Well then…” Phaser cleared his throat and turned to his little brother. “I think it’s time we baked these. Tremolo, what does the recipe say for the time?”

Tremolo squinted at the crumpled-up piece of paper. “Fifteen minutes at one hundred eighty degrees Celsius, big brother!”

“Well…” Phaser rested his hand on his chin. “If we put the oven at a higher temperature, it should take less time to bake them. Preheat the oven to seven hundred degrees.”

Tremolo nodded eagerly. “Yes, big brother!”

“Phaser, no!” Yuhi charged toward them. “That’s not how that works!”

Yuamu and Yudias simply chuckled as Yuhi frantically explained to Phaser and Tremolo how an oven worked. Not that proper oven time would save the horror Yuhi saw on their tray. Every cookie was a different shape and size, with a body of patchy brown powder and yolky yellow with eggshell fragments big and small sticking out like glass.

Yudias and Yuamu decided to go check on the second team. Zaion and The Luge were both rolling their cookie batter into neat balls, placing them on the tray one at a time.

“You seem rather eager to make these cookies,” The Luge observed, smiling as he looked over at him.

“Are you? G-genuinely I mean?!” Zaion was frantically rolling each of his bits of batter as quickly as he could.

The Luge frowned in confusion. “Yes? I am curious to try these cookie things. And it’s been fun making them with you.”

“H-has it?!” Zaion stared up at him with wide eyes. “Please tell me the truth! Are you mad at me?!”

“Mad at you?” The Luge tilted his head to the side.

Zaion stiffened. Then all his franticness seemed to fade away in a sigh.

“For turning you into a chair. Are you just… treating me nicely to hide your anger? Because!” Zaion’s franticness returned and he was dipping his head over and over again. “You would be right to be angry with me! And you can express that anger if you wish!”

“Oh, that?” The Luge shrugged and placed the cookie batter in his hand aside. “Nah, I’m not mad anymore.”

Zaion paused, looking up at him. “Y-you’re not?! Really?! But-but everyone else!” He gestured to Tremolo, who was in deep conversation with Phaser and Yuhi about the ins and outs of an oven on the other side of the room. “Tremolo and Dinois were practically bloodthirsty!”

“I see no reason to be upset anymore.” The Luge went back to rolling cookie batter into balls. “I’m not a chair anymore, after all. All is forgiven.”

Zaion looked unconvinced, biting his lip. “Please, believe me. You don’t have to keep your anger under wraps, I know I deserve it.”

“And you have plenty of reasons to be angry at me. Are you?”

“Huh? N-no! Not anymore…! That is…”

The Luge patted Zaion’s shoulder. “This baking thing is fun. Want to finish rolling up these cookies with me?”

Zaion stared at him for a moment, completely stunned.

Then smiled. “Yes.”

“Yes!” Yuhi cheered under his breath, as he rushed over. “I knew something was bugging those two!”

“Ah!” Yudias brightened and nodded. “So that’s why you put them on a team together!”

Yuamu nodded as well. “Yeah, they all made sense going by the logic of ‘making everyone make amends’.”

“Huh?” Yudias turned to her, confused. “Well, maybe those two made sense, and Kuaidul needs to make amends with everyone but…” His gaze shifted to Tremolo and Phaser, the latter of which was pacing in front of the oven. “The Ryugu brothers?”

“What?” Yuhi raised an eyebrow. “You haven’t noticed how anxious Phaser is to leave? And how Tremolo is… well…” He gestured to the two. “The opposite?”

Yudias looked puzzled by this for a moment. “Ah!” He brightened as it seemed to click in his mind. “Tremolo wants to spend quality time with his brother but Phaser doesn’t realise it and it’s hurting Tremolo’s feelings!” He exclaimed a little too loudly.

“Wha- huh?!” Tremolo flinched, his jaw dropping.

Phaser stopped his pacing. His gaze shifted to Tremolo, suddenly filled with concern.

“Tremolo, is that true?”

“I… well…” Tremolo bit his lip, looking away. “It… does feel like it’s been a while since we’ve seen each other.”

Phaser blinked. “But… we always see each other at the MIK?”

“That’s work though. I mean something like… this.” Tremolo gestured to the oven. “Something… fun that lets us just enjoy each other’s company! It feels like… we haven’t done that in years. I know I see you all the time but… it’s not the same as… SEEING you, like this…” Tremolo sighed, his head hanging low. “Does… that make sense, brother?”

“I…” Phaser dipped his head. “I didn’t realise you felt that way. I… suppose I have been busying myself more than usual. I’ve… been trying to make up for… what I did when Kuaidul…”

His eyes narrowed and he glared across the room, where Kuaidul had been humming to himself and rolling up bits of batter. This time though, he seemed to take notice of the glare and matched it with his own glare.

“All I told you was what the Relic could do,” Kuaidul’s tone was blunt. “You were the one who chose to use its power.”

Phaser’s jaw clenched but he didn’t seem to have a reply. “Regardless…” He turned to Tremolo again, his gaze softening. “I hadn’t realised my business was making you feel lonely.”

“I wouldn’t say lonely,” Tremolo chuckled nervously. “I have the girls after all. But sometimes I wanna spend time with you!”

Phaser smiled and dipped his head. “I’ll make a note of that. Would it help if I added time into our schedules for spending time together?”

“Yes!” Tremolo perked up. “Thank you, brother!”

“Well…” Yuhi looked a bit dumbfounded. “That worked out…” He turned to Yudias. “I wouldn’t have uh… announced someone else’s feelings to an entire room of people like that though.”

“Yeah, that can be a little rude,” Yuamu added, resting her hand on the back of her neck.

Yudias let out a horrified gasp. “Oh no! I didn’t mean to disrespect Tremolo!” He rushed over to Tremolo, dipping his head repeatedly. “I am so sorry, Tremolo! I meant no disrespect to you or your feelings!”

Tremolo let out a nervous chuckle. “Oh, it’s no problem, Yudias. Just uh…” His eyes narrowed. “Don’t do it again.”

“Understood!” Yudias dipped his head again.

“So that just leaves Kuaidul and…” Yuhi cast a glance at the door but no one appeared to be outside. He sighed heavily. “Is Zwijo ever gonna come back?”

Yuamu shrugged. “He did seem eager to leave.”

“His loss.” Kauidul suddenly cut in from his spot, sliding the tray into the oven. “These are gonna be great! I’m gonna win for sure!”

“Oh, that reminds me.” The Luge suddenly raised his hand. “Yuhi, is there any sort of prize for winning?”

“Oh… uh…” Yuhi broke into a nervous laugh. “I uh… hadn’t thought that far ahead.”

“The prize is the same as it is in a rush duel: bragging rights,” Kuaidul remarked, leaning against the counter.

“Not a very good prize,” Zaion grunted, folding his arms.

“I’d like to see you come up with a better one,” Tremolo spat as he glared at Zaion.

Zaion looked away with a frown but didn’t object.

“No need to be aggressive, Tremolo,” Phaser insisted, though he was visibly amused.

“Yes.” The Luge agreed. “You’re no longer a kotatsu, so there is no reason to still be angry with Zaion.”

Tremolo folded his arms, pouting. “I guess…”

“Does that logic apply to me and my spacetime?” Kuaidul asked, his smile and tone far too chipper.

The others glared at him instantly.

“Just asking,” Kuaidul chuckled, holding his hands up in surrender.

“How are you so unfazed by their coldness?” Yudias asked, staring at his comrade in wonder.

Kuaidul smiled and shrugged. “I’m just glad to be alive.”

Silence seemed to descend upon the group with those words, silence that lingered until the first batch of cookies was done: Phaser and Tremolo’s. Yuhi, trembling uncontrollably, went over to see them.

“Oh, shoot.” Phaser placed the tray on the stovetop. “I burned them.”

Yuhi felt his face go green. “That’s… the least of the problems…” he admitted, barely able to get his voice to work.

The cookies were dark brown with white splotches and massive patches of black that Yuhi wasn’t sure were very burned batter or clumps of chocolate chips that were probably also burned.

“So uh…” Yuhi took a cookie in his hands, trembling in horror. “I guess… the most fair thing to do would be a…” He gulped. “Taste test…”

“Yuhi, no.” Yuamu put an arm out in front of him. “That won’t just make you sick. That could kill you.”

“Oh, come on!” Tremolo flared up. “They’re not that bad!”

He grabbed one of the abomination cookies and popped it into his mouth. His face turned green immediately.

“BLEH!” Tremolo turned away and spit it out.

Phaser snorted with laughter. “Oh… sorry, Tremolo.”

Tremolo was coughing and wiping the crumbs off his tongue. “Note to self…” His voice was raspy. “Eggshells aren’t meant to be eaten.”

Phaser nodded. “Let’s… remember that next time.”

Tremolo perked up at those words. “Yes! Next time! Let’s bake again sometime, brother!”

“Maybe next time they’ll actually be edible,” Yuhi remarked as he walked away.

Tremolo flared up in anger but instead of an argument, all that came out of his mouth was incoherent and pissed-off babbling.

Yuhi chuckled as he walked away, toward the Zaion and Luge team. The former was taking the cookies out of the oven: theirs were the correct colour, though severely lacking in chocolate chips as well as a bit lumpy-looking.

“Oh, they look good.” The Luge reached a hand out toward the tray.

“Idiot!” Zaion slapped his hand. “Let them cool down first or you’ll burn your hand!”

The Luge looked taken aback for a moment. Then smiled. “They need to cool down first, you say?” He dug through his pockets. “Then I suppose all I have to do is show them-”

“No, no, no, no!” Zaion grabbed The Luge’s wrists.

“They don’t need to cool off quite that much,” Yuamu agreed with an amused smile.

The Luge slipped a hand free and grabbed one of the cookies. It crumbled in his hand. He frowned at the goopy mess in his palm before licking some up.

“They good?” Zaion asked, biting his lip.

“Very crumbly, and a bit gooey,” The Luge remarked, with a shrug. “But pretty sweet.”

“Lemme try!” Yuhi reached out to grab one.

The cookie turned to goopy mush in his fingers but he instantly took the whole thing in his mouth still.

“Yes!” Yuhi exclaimed through a full mouth. “It actually tastes like a cookie!”

“Gross!” Yuamu smacked his shoulder. “Chew with your damn mouth closed, Yuhi!”

Zaion and Yudias were the next to take a cookie, the latter beaming ear to ear as he ate it. Zaion however seemed a bit disappointed.

“These are underdone,” he let out a sigh, his head hung low.

The Luge shrugged. “Oh, well. They were fun to make weren’t they?”

Zaion glanced at him with a smile. “Yeah, I guess.”

The door swung open, catching everyone’s attention. Zwijo was standing in the doorway, his hair singed with soot and sticking out in every direction as though he’d just been electrocuted.

“Zwijo!” Yudias, Yuamu, and Yuhi raced toward him instantly.

“I’m fine.” Zwijo closed the door behind him. “The fire this time was just… very big is all. I must have missed a lot.”

“Yes!” Yudias nodded firmly. “You were gone for so long that Kuaidul kindly decided to finish baking your team’s cookies!”

“Ah.” Zwijo smiled and shrugged. “Well, I didn’t care about winning this silly contest anyway.”

“Then you’re okay with me taking the win, Zwijo?” Kuaidul called across the room.

The four all turned to him. Kuaidul was leaning against the counter, where he’d placed his tray of cookies. Zwijo raised an eyebrow. Without a word, he approached Kuaidul. Kuaidul held his gaze, his confident smirk not wavering one bit, even as Zwijo glared at him.

His gaze shifted to the cookies. They were filled to the brim with chocolate chips but were spaced out in a way that looked like every bite would promise chocolate. Zwijo raised an eyebrow before reaching out to take one in his fingers. It retained a solid shape.

“Are these poisoned?” Zwijo asked, holding up the cookie.

“Kuaidul wouldn’t do that!” Yudias exclaimed, his eyes wide.

Kuaidul meanwhile laughed a bit. “When would I have even had time to do that?”

Zwijo frowned. With a sigh, he took a bite of the cookie. 

“So…?” Zaion was approaching, a smirk on his face. “Are they…? Poisoned?”

Zwijo’s only response at first was chewing. “Don’t seem to be.”

“Ya know…” The Luge approached as well, a look of interest on his face. “Those actually look good.”

“Not as good as ours,” Zaion added, arms crossed. “But… better than Tremolo and Phaser’s.”

“Hey!” Tremolo exclaimed, charging toward him. “You take that back!”

Zaion staggered back, his hands held up. “I-I’m just saying! Kuaidul and Zwijo’s actually look like the picture on the recipe!”

Phaser approached as well, glancing at the cookies. Then at Kuaidul. “I hate to admit it but you did a good job.”

“Well…” Kuaidul seemed taken aback for a moment before smirking again. “Of course. It was just a matter of following instructions.”

“And working with what I already made,” Zwijo added, sharply. He took another bite of the cookie.

“True.” Kuiadul placed his hand on his chin as he gazed at the tray. “These aren’t fully mine…” He grinned. “I should make more on my own!”

“Uh, later.” Yuhi pushed himself through the crowd that had formed around the counter to grab a cookie. “Zwijo can give you baking lessons or something, I dunno.”

“Really?!” Kuaidul was beaming.

“No!” Zwijo snapped, looking outraged. “I’d never associate with you!”

“Oh…” Kuaidul blinked, before breaking into a chuckle. “Okay, that’s fine, I’ll just ask that Dinois instead.”

Zwijo flinched, his eyes wide. “No! No, I’ll teach you! Just-”

“Yes!” Kuaidul had a manic look on his face. “I shall create all of the best cookies!”

“Just don’t bake anyone into your cookies,” Zaion remarked, taking a cookie off the tray.

Kuaidul simply chuckled at that. Phaser and The Luge were the next to reach for the cookies, with Yuhi and Zaion returning for seconds. Even Tremolo eventually took one. His eyes went wide and he instantly snarfed down another bite.

“So it seems like this baking contest thing was a success.” Yuhi’s tone was smug as he bit into his cookie.

Yuamu shrugged. “Yeah, I guess it worked out.”

“Kuaidul, Zwijo, these are so good!” Yudias was exclaiming through a mouthful of chocolate cookie.

Zwijo flicked his hand dismissively. “Don’t talk with your mouth full, Yudias. But yes… they are good.” He cast a glance at Kuaidul. “Even if Proto-Karutamata here went overboard with the chocolate chips.”

Kuaidul was nibbling on a cookie of his own, licking crumbs off his lips. “The recipe said to add as many as I like. By the way…” He turned to Yuhi. “I win right?”

“<i>We</i> win?” Zwijo corrected, eyes narrowed.

Kuaidul chuckled. “I thought you didn’t care about winning?”

Zwijo frowned but didn’t retort.

“Yeah, yeah,” Yuhi was flicking his hand dismissively as he gobbled up his cookie. “You both win your bragging rights. Good job.”

“Wait a minute.” Zaion raised an eyebrow. “Did you just hold this baking competition because you wanted someone to make you cookies?”

Yuhi stiffened. “No… I did it to get rid of all the bad blood between you guys!”

“And to eat cookies,” Yuamu smirked as she punched his side. “Don’t even try to deny that.”

Yuhi’s shoulders slumped. “Okay, fine, I chose baking because I wanted cookies. But I really was trying to help you guys! Honest!”

Phaser let out a fake offended huff. “So you just used us for your own benefit?”

“I’m disappointed in you, Yuhi,” Zwijo’s tone was grave despite the smile twitching up on his face.

“You two act as though we’re not all getting food out of this deal,” The Luge pointed out, grabbing another cookie.

“Heh,” Kuaidul smirked. “Thanks to me.”

Everyone rolled their eyes at that as they continued eating their cookies.

[mimisempai]

Picking up the pace

Summary

When he enters the bookstore, Crowley does not expect to see his angel dancing while dusting. For the first time, he realizes that he's not going too fast for Aziraphale anymore.

Could it be that his angel has finally picked up the pace?

Notes

What if, for once, it was Aziraphale who was going almost too fast?

On AO3

Rating G -  625 words

When Crowley arrived at the store that evening, he hadn't expected to find his angel dusting the store's furniture, swaying gently to the rhythm of the song playing on the old gramophone.

He watched him in silence for a few moments before walking up to him and placing his hands on his hips.

Aziraphale jumped, dropping the duster in his hand.

"Crowley!"

Crowley turned him deftly in his arms and said softly, "Dance with me, angel.

Aziraphale shook his head gently and replied with a pout, "You know I can't dance, I mean that kind of dance."

Crowley took Aziraphale's hands and put them on his shoulders, saying, "Neither can I, but that won't stop me from doing it." 

At first they didn't move as Edith Piaf's voice echoed through the store.

No, nothing at all

No, I regret nothing 

It's all been paid for, swept away, forgotten

I don't care about the past

Then they began to sway gently, eye to eye, and Aziraphale, his cheeks slightly flushed, said with a smile, "I doubt you could call it dancing."

Crowley rolled his eyes and shrugged, "Who cares, it's just you and me."

He pressed Aziraphale against him a little tighter, and the angel naturally wrapped his hands around his neck, resting his cheek on the demon's shoulder. 

Crowley tucked his chin into the curly hair and they continued to sway to the rhythm of the song.

My sorrows, my pleasures

I no longer need them

Swept away the loves

With their tremolos

Swept away forever

I'm starting over

"Yes," Aziraphale breathed against Crowley's shoulder.

The demon frowned and asked, "Yes what?"

"Let's start over," Aziraphale replied softly, still with his cheek on the demon's shoulder.

Crowley stepped back a little, causing the angel to raise his head and ask, looking even more confused than before, "What do you mean?"

Aziraphale raised his hand and placed it gently on the demon's cheek before saying in a confident voice, "Move in with me."

Crowley gasped, "What?"

Aziraphale repeated in the same tone, in an even clearer voice, "Move in with me."

Crowley replied hesitantly, "Yes?"

Aziraphale chuckled softly, "Is that a question or a statement?"

The demon seemed to regain his wits and his lips broke into an open smile as he replied, "Yes. Yes."

Then he leaned toward Aziraphale's face and was about to kiss him when he stopped and said, "But... there's a problem."

It was the angel's turn to be confused and he inquired, "Which one?"

Crowley couldn't hide the playful gleam in his eyes as he replied, "My plants come with me. I can't throw them on the street or leave them in my Bentley."

Aziraphale raised an eyebrow and asked, "Could this be what humans call a package deal?" 

Crowley shook his head, winked, and replied, "It would be more like love me, love my dog. Love my plant, in this case."

Aziraphale smiled gently as he replied, "I don't see the problem with that, my dear."

"Then it's a deal." 

Crowley closed the distance between them, sealing their "deal" with a tender kiss before burying his face in the angel's neck.

Crowley murmured against his skin, "This time it's you who's almost too fast for me."

Aziraphale chuckled softly as he felt the demon's smile against his skin and replied quietly, "And here I was thinking I'd finally picked up the pace?"

Crowley harrumphed against his skin, eliciting another chuckle from the angel. Then they resumed their swaying to the sound of the singer's voice as she sang the last words of the song at the top of her lungs. 

No, nothing at all

No, I regret nothing

For my life

For my jovs

Today

it all starts with you

_________

Still not beta'd

Still not my native language

Still hoping you'll enjoy this story  🥰

Still thanking you for bearing with me 😝

Ineffable Husbands masterlist : here

[extraordinaryhistories]

#10 – 'A Loverless Bed (Without Remission)' (A Sun Came, 1998)

When your lover – the centre of your universe, the one with whom you trust your entire being – betrays you, what are you to do? You could lie there, alone, resigned to your misery; certainly it’s tempting, when you have nobody left to compel you to rise. You could leave your bed and choose to go about your life, which will help things somewhat, right up until the moment when you realise that no efforts of your own could ever restore things to the time where you were happiest. Somehow there is no good option. Your next steps cannot reverse the crushing permanence of that reality: they have abandoned you, forever.

Sufjan opts for the latter, for the former is abjectly self-destructive. He is to ‘put the axle on and roll again’. It is an arduous task – the metaphor conveys the inertia of carrying on after this climacteric, Sufjan being a piece of groaning, rusting machinery compelled to complete a task – but it must be done. I will move on, he resolves. He pushes through to the next day, and the next, and many more besides, but nothing ever changes; if this is moving on, why even bother? Another metaphor now: he is like Saturn, his stormy, roiling eye watching the rings turn and turn and turn, again and again and again, only to end up right there where they started. Days will pass, but his recovery will stay quote the same. A Camus-like absurdity. Nothing ever changes.

Hopeless, helpless, he turns to denial. ‘I close my eyes to everything you’ve rearranged, and I close my mind to everything you’ve kept the same’. If he cannot change reality, he will try to create one all of his own, and hope beyond hope that it will work. Because his partner had really changed everything, hadn’t they? Everything is stained now. Even the few constants in his life – the things that have remained reliable, steadfast – are only so because his partner actively decided to keep them that way. It is a shame that ‘everything reminds me of her’ has become a laughingstock of an expression, because it is really quite apt in describing Sufjan’s headspace here. He views the world as if through a lens, his centre of gravity shifted up and outside of him, to someone who has proved utterly ruinous to him.

Denial ultimately fails. Denial always fails. No matter his best efforts, his love for his partner endures, without decay, without remission. His bed is still ‘[their] space’, no longer his own. And so ‘A Loverless Bed (Without Remission)’ reaches its final couplet, a left-hook-right-hook pair of shocks that redefine the song. The left hook: the narrator is not Sufjan at all, but a ‘woman you’ve turned red again’. Previously assuming the song to be a sincere, revealing account of something highly personal for Sufjan, we are suddenly left doubting. (We are even opened up to the possibility that this song is from the perspective of one of Sufjan’s jilted lovers, making him the cruel, or licentious, or otherwise improper counterpart to the fragile narrator.)

The right hook: she has thrown in the towel. She is going to let her partner back in someday. I interpret ‘when the hairline breaks and lends you in’ to point obliquely at degradation; as her (presumably male) partner ages, mellows, and loses his Samson-like beauty, he will cease to desire anyone but her, and she will embrace him with open arms, her bed once again full and complete. When your lover betrays you, what are you to do? It seems you have no choice but to regress.

‘A Loverless Bed (Without Remission)’ is somewhat unique in the early Sufjan catalogue in that it anticipates much of the work that Sufjan did with trip hop and downtempo in the 2010s, especially with the Sisyphus project. This is an ur-trip hop, mind – it lacks the sophistication and misty production of that project, and seems to be heavily indebted to the 90s Bristol scene, Portishead in particular. (Its resemblance to ‘Mysterons’ – heavily tremolo-ed guitar, close mic-ed vocals, tight hi-hat-based drum loop ending in a snare roll – is especially uncanny.) The major key guitar arpeggios carry with them a honeyed melancholy that nicely complements the tonic-heavy vocal melody, and creates a complete, if perhaps slightly too twee, reflection of the exhausting trials of recovery. Of course, A Sun Came being A Sun Came, the song devolves in the end into a sludgy, atonal mess, full of wailing guitars and haywire electronics. It feels apropos to nothing; it would take Sufjan some time to grow out of that habit.

‘A Loverless Bed’ is far from a career highlight, but if nothing else, it is certainly one of Sufjan’s early lyrical successes, appropriately cryptic without turning to absurdist slurry. In an album that tends to focus on broad, universal experiences – religion, ageing, rejection, nature – ‘A Loverless Bed’ compellingly breaks down one of the more universal of all. Betrayal has never seemed so poetic.