#i think this might be a direct quote from the “So Close Yet So Far” heart to heart!

[queerfables]

Notes From The Timeline: Songbird was (probably) not written for Nicole

Only a handful of you know this yet but over the past month or so I've been working on a big project involving putting together a comprehensive, sourced Oasis timeline with a focus on the shifting relationships dynamics between Noel and Liam. This is not even close to finished yet but as it fills out, I've been exploring some of the contradictions in the stories about them.

This particular theory was brought to me by @las-lus who noticed that the timeline on when Songbird was written vs when Nicole and Liam met was somewhat sketchy. Las hypothesised that despite claims in the press that the song was for Nic, it might have been written before they even met. I went on a deep dive to see if I could confirm or refute this and this is what I turned up:

Las mentioned this, and I found it to be the case too: as far as I can tell, there aren't any direct quotes where Liam himself said he wrote it for Nicole. They were together when the song was released and it seems like maybe the media made assumptions.

Songbird was released in 2002 on Heathen Chemistry. But, as is often the case with their songs, it was written a few years prior.

Liam wrote Songbird sometime in April or May 1999. This is when Oasis was in Nice, France, recording SOTSOG. (See the recording info on their SOTSOG Sessions album for these dates)

"I wrote it in France under a tree while we were doing Standing On The Shoulders. It's about a bird who sings. Took ten minutes. Only two chords. Not much going on. What's it about? What do you think it's fucking about? It's about me playing me fuckin' guitar..." (From Q May 2002, quoted here)

"I wrote that as a one off. We were in France. We had this massive fucking mansion doing our album. I went out one day, sat under a tree, had a bit of a biblical moment and that popped up and that was it." (From the Lock The Box video)

Nicole and Liam met in France, on 11 May 1999. She was there for five days with her band, celebrating and promoting the film they had just been cast in, Honest. I arrived at their meeting date by comparing the account in Nicole and Natalie's joint memoir, Together, with the date of the film's publicity shots at the 1999 Cannes film festival.

Since Nicole and Liam met in France, it IS POSSIBLE that Songbird was written for her. At this point, I went back to Las and said "Sorry, hon, I think it was for Nic after all. They met in France, he wrote the song there, it sounds like a Hot Summer of Infidelity track to me."

BUT.

THEN.

For unrelated reasons, I revisited Nicole's memoir a few weeks later, and this time I actually read it instead of skimming for dates.

And look I fully realise that she might be lying, but from her version of events, Nicole and Liam started seeing each other in July 2000, after he'd broken up with Patsy. The book is upfront about a lot of controversial topics, including Nic's sister getting together with her own partner while he still had a girlfriend, and the dust had well and truly settled on Liam and Patsy's relationship by the time it was written. Nicole tells the story of how they got together in a lot of detail, and I can't think of a reason for her to construct such an elaborate lie; I'm inclined to believe her.

According to Nicole, she saw Liam only twice during her stay in France. The first time they didn't talk. The second time they were at a friend's house, and she took him out for a drive on a motorbike.

On their first meeting:

"Liam said hello to Nat [Nic's sister] because he had met her, but he did not look at me once. He stayed away, kept to himself and the people he knew. He was intimidating, impossible to approach. I thought: if he’s not going to talk to me then I’m certainly not going to talk to him."

The next day:

"Dave has six four-wheel motorcycles and Liam wanted to go for a ride. "Take one of the bikes," Dave said. "It’s beautiful up in the mountains." Liam said, "I would, but I can't drive." "I'll take you," I said. Liam climbed on to the bike behind me and we set off up the rocky path. I could tell that he was nervous. For once he was not wearing glasses and a hat and I could see his face. He was cute, very cute in the daytime. Looking back, it was at this point I first felt drawn to Liam. He was shy. He was different, he was something new. The drive took twenty minutes and I swerved and braked and bumped purposely so that Liam had to hold on tight or fall."

Between their France meeting in May 1999 and Liam and Patsy's official split in June 2000, Nicole describes meeting Liam twice more, once in June 1999 and once in October 1999. The second time, she gave him her number and they flirted a little, although he didn't call.

"It had been five months since Cannes and I was frightened I might not see Liam again — I might not get another chance. And then I would never know what his feelings were, if he felt the same way about me. I looked around the room. I needed something to write on. I walked to the bar at the back and found a cardboard box. I ripped off a flap and asked a waitress for a pen. … 'Here's my number," I wrote, 'call me.' It was a big piece of card - the size of a shin pad. As I left, I touched Liam's arm and gave it to him. ‘That’s subtle,’ he whispered, but he was smiling. “Looks like half a tree.’"

Nicole says that about a month after this, in November 1999, her band received an invitation to the first night of Wembley. She attended the gig in July 2000 and this is when she and Liam finally got together. That's an entire story in itself, involving bizarrely performative kissing and some of the lost hours before the infamous second night of Wembley, but I'll save it for another day.

What I'm trying to capture, in broad strokes, is that Liam and Nic just did not have a relationship when Songbird was written. They weren't even really friends. At most, they had a mutual unvoiced attraction based on one real meeting, and didn't get together until a full year later. If Songbird were about pining for or crushing on somebody, I'd think it could be for her. But lyrics like "give her all the love she gives to me" suggest a relationship that's more reciprocal than that. Despite the widespread belief, I'm relatively sure Songbird is not about Nicole.

So. Okay. That's all the actual research I have. From here on out it's speculation. But you all know what I'm going to say. If the song was not about Nicole then... who? Could it be Noel? It's gotta be Noel. I mean. It could be about Patsy. It could be about an affair with someone else. But the lyrics fit Noel too perfectly for me to dismiss it. Noel has always been so effusive with his praise for it, the song has always been special to them both, and it's come up a lot in some of their less explicable fights with each other too. I find it hard to believe it's for anyone else.

But! Even if it's not for Noel, I think it's helpful to know the timeline of when it was written compared to Nicole's account of how her relationship with Liam developed. Because according to that, it seems very unlikely the song was written for her.

[dreamerimpossible]

another jason dean fic or imagine i beg of you🙏🙏🙏🙏

Let's take request! (I'll take them all!)

Listen, I was thinking that of all the unstable men I write for, Jason Dean might be my favorite, because his way of loving is so distorted, obsessive, and possessive that it might scare you, but compared to other "slashers" (in quotes, because he's not a conventional slasher) that I include in my headcanon list, he would never cheat on you. I mean, he might destroy your life and alienate those you love, but hey, on this blog we love that. So, without further ado, here's a little scenario based on this headcanon.

Jason Dean was leaning on the hood of his car, smoking a cigarette. He was still hurt by recent events. Veronica had shown him her loss, in every way. And he wasn't proud of it. But... that's what love was, a constant loss. The only thing he couldn't forgive himself for was not killing her when she left him the first time. Yes, that was his mistake. He trusted her too much and his own ability to bring her back.

He thought about it a little longer, until he saw you from afar.

You were with a boy, laughing. That boy was pulling you towards himself with force and possessiveness, and you seemed to... accept him. Like him, even. It was strange; he'd never met anyone like that before. Not even Veronica, whose name hadn't left his mind this whole time, seemed to enjoy his brazenness and suppressed anxiety. You were different, unlike her. Which made you better. Far better.

The boy walked into the convenience store and left you outside. Big mistake, he thought. You shouldn't leave the girls alone after attracting the attention of a man like him. In fact, he would never leave you alone. Perhaps that was a mistake your pathetic boyfriend should learn from.

He approached you, with predatory steps and a seductive gaze. He leaned against the wall next to you and smiled at you. That smile that erased any sense of morality. You grew uneasy, he could feel it. You were so transparent. He could see right through you. And that...that made it better.

"Hi," he said disinterestedly, exhaling the smoke he'd held in his mouth for seconds.

"Hi," you mimicked, an awkward tone evident in your voice. "Can I help you?"

"Maybe," he replied cheekily, taking out his pack of cigarettes and extending it to you.

You hesitated to take the cigarette. Your boyfriend would get angry, and you'd be in trouble. Jason Dean knew it, perfectly familiar with the constant doubt in your mind, but he didn't hesitate for a moment, showing in his own subtle way how dominant he could be and how unwilling he was to be told no.

"He'll kill me," you said, looking down, embarrassed.

J.D. chuckled. He wondered if you meant it or if it was just a metaphor. He took a cigarette out of his pack and put it in his trench coat. He extended that single cigarette toward you. He wasn't afraid. If your boyfriend wanted to kill you, he could kill him first.

"But with me, you won't feel like accepting cigarettes from others anymore," he said in a sordid, sincere tone.

You sighed, scared. You subtly looked inside the store and, seeing that your boyfriend hadn't come out yet, decided to take the cigarette. You put it in your mouth, and he lit it with his lighter, very close to you.

"And you?" you asked suspiciously. "Will you offer cigarettes to others?"

He smiled. He liked that you were direct. Before, perhaps he would have only thought of Veronica, but when he saw you, so easily controlled and manipulated, the memories of other girls dissipated in his mind.

"I'd rather blow my brains out," he confessed, shrugging.

You looked at him. A shiver ran through you. You didn't know if he was serious or not. But you couldn't walk away. You couldn't, and you didn't want to.

Jason Dean was serious. Although he avoided saying that this would also be your end if you decided to betray him, he felt it wasn't time to say it yet. Maybe you already knew that.

When you winked at him, he knew you were already lost. He would never leave you, you would never be far from him. When he saw your boyfriend heading toward you, he reached into his coat, fondling the gun.

His love really would be God.

[afanofmanyth1ngs]

Yellowjackets/IWTV Fanfic

So, about a week ago I put out a poll about doing a weird IWTV fanfic that's basically set in the Yellowjackets verse... And now I'm doing it... YAY!! but I do just want to come on here to basically throw around some things I'm going to do :P So this is going to be where I update people and just basically talk about how I'm going to do this, what my schedule is going to look like, things I need opinions on. This is more so a motivation thing so IF YOU ARE INTERESTED, please please please comment and follow along. I lose motivation quickly, but this is something I'm pretty dedicated to. but either way THIS IS HAPPENING.

______________________________________________________________

First things first. YES I have started working on it. Im not even close to finished with the first chapter because each chapter is going to be LONG. This is not going to be everything that happens in Yellowjackets happens in here, and not even close. Even as I started it... I will sometimes use direct quotes, but thats only if im stuck and cant figure out what im doing.

NEXT as I said this is not going to be yellowjackets word for word, but I will be using each episode as a starting point. scenes might mirror each other, and I will cut between scenes as they do in the show.

Some things that are automatically going to be different from Yellowjackets:

They will not be on a Sports team of any sorts. The one thing each character has in common, is that they all are passionate about one or more forms of art (ex: Louis: Photography - Lestat: Acting - Madeleine - Sewing and dress making and altering (not the right words sorry lol)) SO im having them go to an art school :P little bit of a long shot but not only is it just convinent for me because of all the art forms they like, but also I think it would be kind of cool for just normal (LMAO) IWTV kids who have never touched a sport in their lives to now have to like hunt and stuff... kind of Lord of the Flies with half of the kids being CHOIR KIDS core.

Theyre all gonna be in High school. i was like well im not aging them up cause what fun would that be, so lets just age them down and keep a whole bunch of that trauma and see what happens... and im not super far into the writing process but its working rn!!

Theyre crashing in the Alps. I have zero knowlege of the Alps whatso ever BUT i know i went over them when i flew to Italy so Im having them go to the Uffizi Galleries!!! and then BAM Alps. so get ready for some major inaccuratcies about that cause im gonna make them how they are in Yellowjackets... just in like Italy. Maybe I'll reasearch a bit more... dw about it its ok :D

As I said before each chapter is going to be LONG. so rn I have around 4ish scenes (ones not finished yet) and by the time I'm finished with those and edit it's going to be close to around 4,000 words I'm estimating... that's 4,000 words for not even a quarter of THE KIDS STORY LINE. on that topic, because each chapter is going to be so incredibly long, I've decided to split each chapter in about half. I was originally planning to do one chapter = one episode of yellowjackets but again it's going to be WAY too long, so kids' storyline, adult story line. I like that a lot too because a big pet peeve of mine is in stories where it keeps switching through times and then i get so lost and have to reread like 10 times to understand... LIKE PLEASE JUST SPLIT IT INTO A FEW CHAPTERS SO IM NOT CONFUSED

Last thing! Most of each character's backstory IS WORKED IN... so for example (A HUGE example) is for at least the first few chapters Armand will be called and referred to as Amadeo. Marius is his adoptive father who rescued him from some sex trafficking scandal or something and renamed him, before he eventually changes his name to Armand while out in the mountains. So, like obviously he's not going to get the name Armand from Santino, but you know... working in what I can :P

OK ACTUALLY LAST LAST THING: I don't know when this will come out... I have a deadline for myself and I'm certain I will get to it, HOWEVER I do not have access to the other Yellowjackets episodes, which is pretty crucial if I want to get into a schedule of posting each week regularly. As of right now I am hoping to get the first chapter out on October 3rd... Yellowjackets will be accessible to me AND then I'll be able to post a chapter on Halloween... YAY!! if that does not work out because the following chapters are taking too long and I release before I can make sure the Schedule is set, it will most likely be one of the Thursdays in October because I REALLY want to get one out on Halloween!!

OK!! hope you guys liked my little rant!! I'll keep everyone who's interested updated on here so if you want to be in the loop follow me (or don't! if you don't you can just check my page!) and again comments motivate me, so if you have any questions or just think it's a cool idea let me know!

[airandyeah]

By The Beach Merman Nanami X Reader pt.3

Part one: Here , Part two: Here Warnings: Mentions of sea witches, not-okay deals, coral reef village, MERMAN GOJO SATORU AND TOJI!!!, princess and the frog song quotes, uh, yeah. :) lemme know if I missed anything I should add <3

Nanami's pov: Third Person- Once he arrived home, he immediately sought treatment and afterwards was sent to see the king and elders. They chastised him... He had gone too far away from their living space, and that's why he got hurt. He told them of that... Woman. Yes, the.... pretty woman. She freed him, but in turn she made him feel like he was on fire, it burned so badly. That was all weeks ago now. He was sat in the small, and only bar they had here. There was a beautiful merwoman playing a song she had picked up from her grandmother, another merwoman who would always get too close to shore, but she learned the humans music that way. He thought about the woman from that day. Her pretty H/C hair, with those soft E/C eyes.... She seemed so upset. He wanted to see her again. She did save him... But how would he do that? He remembered tales of a man around here... a witch. He used to associate with far-away sirens, made friends with murderous merfolk, and finally settled here... Maybe he could make a deal to meet that woman again. Before he could get up to act on his thoughts, he suddenly heard that annoying, no good, motherfu- "Hey, Nanamin!!!", The voice cuts through. Nanami looks up and is met with white hair and the bluest of blue eyes.... Gojo Satoru. The most annoying, no good, mother- "Say Nanamin, you got a lady yet? The lil lady over there', he points in some unknown direction, 'was wonderin' if you were single. She thinks you're pretty... attractive, y'know?", Gojo asks him with that grin of his that Nanami just wanted to punch so badly a tooth or two fell out... "I'm single, but tell her I'm not interested...", Nanami told him. Gojo walks off to leave him alone. And he leaves. ~~~ A few days later he was knocking on the sea witches door. He needed to see that woman. Needed to thank her... in some way. A man answers the door... the witch. He wasn't expecting what he saw... A buffed up man, and where Nanami would normally find a tail, there sat inky black octopus tentacles. The man had black hair, black eyes, and he had a scar run along his lip. He also had a very... odd looking purple eel wrapped around his body. The witch smirks at Nanami and open the door wider to allow him in. Nanami tells the witch about the woman, and how he wants to be a part of the world she lives in... He wants.... Legs. The sea witch told him that he could do it. On the condition that he could make the woman fall in love with him within 2 months, he could keep the legs and stay with the woman. Nanami laughed. This man was joking right? There's no way he could 1. actually give him legs, or 2. expect him to make her fall in love when he can't even speak the same language. "Don't you disrespect me, little man.", The sea witch told him with a growl. "I can make the impossible happen, I promise ya, You're in my world now not your world and I got friends on the other side!", The water stirred around them, it felt dangerous. But Nanami was willing. Nanami nods at the man and he continues "Then sit down at my table, put your mind at ease, If you relax it will enable me to do anything I please", He did as the man instructed and sat at the small table. The witch goes on about the terms of the deal as he writes the terms down he continues talking.... In but a few moments, Nanami signed the papers and the man reached out his scarred hand "Shake my hand, come on boy, won't you shake the poor sinner's hand?", Nanami reached out his hand and clasped it with the witches. The water stirred more violently now, the man was cackling and Nanami felt he might throw up... "You're changin', You're changin', You're changin', all right! I hope you're satisfied, but if you ain't don't blame me!! You can blame my friends on the other side!", The man says, before Nanami's whole world goes black... ~~~ Thoughts????

[waateeystein]

Okay y'all I'm doing it, I'm once again analyzing an out-of-context picture from Guillermo De Toro's Frankenstein movie! I am now donning on my "grad student studying scenography" hat lets fucking go!

First off, What are the giant green vats? Is there a significance to having two of them, what step of the creation process are they related to, what's the deal here??? Everything else I can kind of see what the inspiration or reference is, but these green vats are running a big blank for me. I don't immediately hate them, I'm just mostly curious. They are certainly a vibe!

The next thing that is immediately striking is the massive window, and I'm kind of obsessed with it! From the Vanity Fair article we get this very relevant quote from Del Toro, "Gothic romance was born partially out of the fascination with ruins - Sometimes they’re more beautiful than the building complete because it’s the clash of creation and destruction." We have this beautiful gothic-style window contrasting the massive abandoned structure it seems to be inside of. The architecture of it all reminds me of gothic cathedrals, and I don't want to make a call yet on whether or not Victor has set up shop in an abandoned cathedral or church, but I do think that would be funny if it was the case. A bit of extra research taught me that they did use the Glasgow Cathedral as a filming location, I'm unsure if it was specifically for this scene, but it definitely gives us a sense of direction as far as inspirations for the production design.

What is confusing me about the architecture is the metal grates on the ground. It makes me think sewer grate or basement drainage, but the massive window directly next to it says very high above ground, so I don't know what going on with where exactly in the building we are. It makes sense to have it here from a practical "I have a bunch of oozy body parts on ice in here and those juices need somewhere to go" perspective. Idk, it looks neat and it might just be a suspense of disbelief moment.

Speaking of those oozy bodies, holy shit body parts! I honestly didn't fully process the giant piles of flesh on my first viewing of this picture, but damn those are fucking great! It really puts into perspective the sheer amount of matter that Victor would need to make his creation (I mean look at the blood on those sleeves), and how messy that process is. I feel like a lot of adaptations I've seen don't lean into that gorey aspect of the story, so I really appreciate that they are doing that here. I'm especially a fan of the giant ice block cooling what seems to be a head and torso, I don't know who got that big ass hunk of ice on that table but I'm impressed. The set dressing overall is really fucking impressive and is super effective, I really could dive into the details forever!

There are also a lot of big mechanical things happening here, like the massive wheels by the windows for instance. I'm not sure what these are or what they say about the original usage of the space, I was trying to search for what these might be, but because my personal knowledge on this is very limited, I have no clue what to even search to find more information on them. If anyone has any hints for me I'd appreciate some direction! The other mechanical thing we see is the table that the creature is laying on. Looking at the way it's attached to the ground, and the block at the creature's feet, I'm guessing this table tilts upwards to bring the creature to a full standing position.

On the creature himself, I think this was our first look at the creature design! I am cautiously optimistic about this design, but really I think I need to see his face to make a final call on how positive or negative I personally feel about it. This movie, from all evidence I've seen, seems to have a lot of influence from the 1931 James Whale film, in addition to Mary Shelley's original story. This creature seems to be more closely aligned to the book description, but again I don't think we see enough of him here to make a full judgement call on that. At least he's not green!

Overall, this first look is really cool, I'm really excited to see what production designer Tamara Deverell, set decorator Shane Vieau and costume designer Kate Hawley do with Del Toro's direction! This wasn't the deepest analysis ever, it's hard to do it justice when we know so little and everything we do have is out of context. But I'm excited to get more production photos eventually!

[ronaldono-sense]

Doubts 'bout Cyclonopedia: does these mean anything?

Reza Negarestani's most famous book, Cyclonopedia (2008), is a hard one to get through. Far from impossible, though. Even if you're not following its threads closely, the main theme isn't all that missable—not by a long shot.

Perhaps I'm too invested in the book's world to be able to surmise it neatly; perhaps to do so is against its core message(s). If you have read it already, you can skip this paragraph, but if you're reading this post because you're interested in it, just give it a shot. If the preface (named 'incognitum hactenus') doesn't hook you in, maybe leave it for now. Alas, if you'd still like to be given something to chew on, its premise is that the Middle East, as a geopolitical entity, is alive; its petroil is not only sentient but also the lubrificant that gets the deleuzoguattarian Body without Organs all lubbed up and smooth so the chains flying out of these Lament Configurations called war-machines can have a good time channeling us to the Insurrectionary Other.

If you're familiar with SF at all, you'll excuse Cyclonopedia habit of presenting its terminology and lingo first, with explanations later. But you also can have it as a philosophical treatise, and a serious one at that. It has a credible bibliography, and the book's reinterpretations of its source materials are not unprecedented, either. For example, when it says the Middle East is alive, and all that jazz about oil, it is getting that off of a certain Dr. Parsani, so heavily quoted, matter of fact, you'd think he's not real, but a Theory-Fiction fabrication. But that's just not the case.

I absented myself from doing any 'behind the scenes' research on Cyclonopedia, though. At least, for now. I finished it some weeks ago and am currently past the 200-page mark of Fanged Noumena. But it still has its little mysteries, and I still wonder what these Plot Holes are yet successfully withholding from me. And that's what I need help with.

Assuming you have read it, you know Cyclonopedia doesn't tell you everything. Quick example: 'incognitum hactenus' gives the reader two links, but it doesn't tell what they're for. It matters little, nonetheless: one is a time zone converter and the other is a Not Found page (unless you erase part of it so you're directed to a 'Computer Science student web server'?).

But, of course, there's more. There's the '2th 3St', 2 and S being character's names, but still, it doesn't come up again in this equation form, so what's up with that?

Following, I give the ones that really stuck with me along these weeks I thought I put it to rest. Needless to say, this is a cry for help.

I. This footnote:

II. This other footnote, which might be Persian:

III. Also this one:

IV. On page 39 (and the previous one), you see these strings of 'random' bracketed numbers (the footnote talks about PGPs):

V. And finally, there's a footnote on page 37 where someone (Reza?) is at the hotel room 302, bothered by someone (the preface's author) wearing a DFA 1979 shirt. But if we go back to the preface, it is she who is at the 302 room. There, you read:

// SSS ['S' is the same person Reza? is adressing in the 37 footnote] Try to change my room as 302 is really getting to me. There is someone [Reza?] in the window across the way who keeps looking at me.

//

I'm wondering if this is an overlook (it seems that way), or a time-space shenanigans scenario, since the preface gives us this graph:

I'm sure other minor things could also be adressed, and even these ones shouldn't make too much of a difference, if at all, but—at the same time I don't want to sign up a reddit account to ask this, and will therefore shout into the tumblr void—engaging in a community manner with Cyclonopedia, CCRU or CCRU-adjacent material is, probably, the better way to do it and proceed.

[serialkillerbettycooper]

How would it have changed things for Betty if Alice died suddenly like Fred before the time jump?

I think this depends heavily on whether we're placing this somewhere in the first three seasons and Hal is still alive, or in season four or the first few episodes of season five.

To go with the latter because I think that's what you meant with the wording, with Alice dying right before Betty graduates high school, I think it doesn't change that much at least on a basic sequence of events level - Betty still goes to Yale and then the FBI academy - but she feels more... unmoored, I think. Betty is someone who is so deeply defined by what her parents tried to make her (Hal trying to groom her into serial killing, Alice attempting to counteract it by holding her to extremely high expectations and attempting to retain strict control over her social life and self-expression) and the ways she pushes back against their expectations. That doesn't entirely change with both Hal and Alice dead, but it does mean that the only Hal and Alice left to push back against are the ones who live in her memory. And to quote ITWV, memory is a monster.

Betty feels haunted. I already think a lot about Betty and the rest of the Core Four during the timeskip, in the world outside of Riverdale, about the massive gulf that has to exist between them and everyone who grew up outside of Riverdale. Betty in particular, going by how Alice and Polly describe her as having left and not being a part of their lives during the timeskip, tried to embrace that fresh start and distance herself from Riverdale and everything that happened to her there. (This, of course, doesn't work. She's still pursuing a career in the FBI and Glenn is primarily interested in her precisely because of who her family is). I think a Betty without Alice doesn't go as far in that direction. Betty, no matter how absurdly awful Alice has been to her, always comes back around to wanting to give Alice another chance, to get Alice to let her in, to have a real relationship with her. Even when she was barely in Alice and Polly's lives, I don't think she ever really intended on closing that door permanently. And that's exactly what Alice's death does.

Betty loses the chance of ever reconciling with her, of ever coming to really understand her as she was, of ever getting to have a conversation with her as an adult who has experienced life outside the town she grew up in. And Betty will never get to ask her unanswered questions about her childhood, will never know to what extent Alice knew about Hal and his grooming of Betty. I think Alice's death would be a catalyst to Betty digging deeper into her childhood earlier, trying to understand her and to her remember her and how to feel about her legacy, and thus I don't think Betty distances herself from Riverdale as much. Without Alice, I think she's closer with Polly (maybe not right away, but they'd get there), comes home to visit more often, helps with the twins here and there, maybe even goes to Pop's and drinks a milkshake over a deeply awkward conversation with Jughead (at least if the infamous 'cold fake duplicitous bitch' voicemail hasn't happened yet, I don't think Alice's death would alter the trajectory of Bughead much). It's not enough to change the trajectory of the town, maybe not even enough to change Polly's fate. But it's something. It's there. And god, it makes Polly's disappearance all the more heart-wrenching for Betty.

I genuinely wasn't planning this conclusion when I started writing this, but I think that might really do it, push Betty over the edge into snapping and embracing her 'darkness'. She already spends season five toe-ing the line. I think in this universe she tumbles straight-over it and into cold-blooded murder. And, honestly, could you really blame her?

[uneducated-author]

I know I said I wouldn't talk about it, but since you're wondering, yes the god-like character Dazai came into contact with but didn't nullify is Sigma. The theory I alluded to was that Sigma wasn't just created from the book, but is The Book itself in human form.

[https://www.tumblr.com/vampireonastick/694131792916152320/what-if-sigma-is-the-book?source=share] (The theory is almost a year old but nothing as of yet confirms or denies it)

It does have backing like Sigma being written directly into The Book rather than from a page and that the Decay couldn't have been the ones who created him because him going years being trafficked would have made little sense— especially when they could have written him as perfectly obedient to the ideology of the Decay and wrote him where they could easily locate him.

[https://www.tumblr.com/dazaistabletop/683826086154567680/guildsarchitect-ok-heres-the-sigma-post?source=share]

So if we take this theory and the fact that Dazai danced with Sigma and very much made contact with him but Sigma didn't go poof, we can say that The Book isn't an ability of someone because if it was, touching a creation of that ability would've caused it to cease to be (Like Q's doll). Also, by virtue of it still having anomalous powers of writing and rewriting reality, it's not normal. The Book is said to have every possible outcome that could ever happen that branches off in its own universe (If I remember correctly this is said in BEAST? I have not read nor have interest in reading BEAST so take that with a grain of salt) and something like that is obviously god-like just by existing.

There is also the theory that Dazai's dance with Sigma had an ulterior motive for which I will quote one of the two reasons why:

“2. Dazai wanted to touch Sigma because he wanted to use his nullification ability on him. Knowing Sigma is a product of The Book, seeing if Dazai’s ability has any effect on him could be beneficial to Dazai, especially if he is thinking of using The Book himself in the future.”

As far as I'm aware, the BEAST universe exists because Dazai got his hands on The Book and if Sigma is The Book, well... it's no wonder Dazai of all people got his hands on it if it's that close by. [https://www.tumblr.com/vampireonastick/694165005381287936/im-wondering-if-dazai-had-ulterior-motives-when?source=share]

For my last two points, I want to reiterate about Atsushi being the key to finding The Book as what this whole thing was about since the very beginning. In the Skyfall chapters, when Sigma is about to plummet to what would have been his death, Atsushi grabs him and tries to save him. Not just because they need the page and Sigma is the only one of the Decay they have access to that can give them that information, but because Atsushi empathized with Sigma about how the latter didn't know what his purpose in life was and Atsushi didn't want him to die like that. Sigma freely gave that information to Atsushi rather than take it to the grave (or really just never give it to him since Nikolai saved him) because he was touched by Atsushi's kindness.

When it was said that Atsushi was the key to obtaining The Book— if Sigma is The Book— then at that moment right there we see why. Not only that but, Sigma is similar enough personality wise that Dazai himself literally remarks that Sigma is similar to Atsushi.

So yeah, Sigma might be The Book but it hasn't been confirmed or denied yet but if he is, then he's a god-like being rather than simply an ability user created from The Book with this supported by Dazai's ability not making him go poof and the only other straight up God that Dazai came into direct contact with is Lovecraft because Atsushi's ability, whether a God or not, is still an ability and not immune.

Very interesting! Definitely makes the rampant Atsushi Sigma parallels and comparisons make a lot more sense. I thought Dazai dancing with Sigma was more a manipulation tactic to bring him over to the side of the ADA, but checking if he would discorporate is way more interesting (and low-key horrifying). I love the potential of Sigma joining the ADA as a manifestation of a literal reality altering artefact, and being the LEAST weird person there.

I had assumed then, like how Dazai doesn't disappear the dolls from Q's ability, just their power, he would merely strip Sigma's ability, but now I'm interested in how Dazai would interact with the Sky Casino. He seems (or maybe pretends) to be surprised at the revelation that Sigma and the Casino are written from the book 'can you even call that human?' and I wonder if a secondary part of him motivation for being is Meursalt is because at the time he was unsure on how the Casino would interact with him. It's also interesting that the book has had no real affect on him like it has with the detective agency. They have been posited in the position of killers, made to be suspected criminals with the mind manipulation of law enforcement, but Dazai, partially because he removed himself from the equation, has not yet taken any action under the control of the book.

I love the point you raised about Atsushi being the one to find the book, and how the 'Sigma is the book theory' opens up so many interesting plot points, as well as means that there are such different interpretations of other scenes.

Sigma's repeated self reference to himself as 'an ordinary person' then takes on a whole new light, especially if he's unaware of his... Not quite heritage, but reality. It would also make his working under the decay of angels an incredibly interesting sort of plot point.

Oh and thanks for the link to the fifteen translation. My exams just finished a few days ago, so I should have time to read it! I fear I shall become infuriatingly annoying to my friends as I overanalyse every written word 😅

[serenpedac]

Dear, wonderful friend <3333 This was amazing! Ahhh, I am sitting here with my morning tea and my heart so full. This fic made my heart flutter and made me feel all warm for them. (And please don't sell yourself short; you made this, and it was wonderful when you first showed it to me, and I love the direction you took it!)

There are so many moments I want to mention (as you probably noticed from all the comments I left on the original doc ahaha), because it's wonderful to see these two together. The way you capture their easy closeness, those hints at them both having more feelings for each other. And I adore that Nate doesn't realise what he's feeling, because he has never felt this way before.

Ahh, that moment when Liz sits between his knees!!!! How close they are (no coherent thoughts, really haha). And then that slight uncertainty when she moves away, but there's also a reassuring smile from her, that was very sweet <3

Then, for the second part with them walking home: I really like the slight uncomfortableness here, how neither of them is exactly sure what to do or say. Even here, them knowing each other shines through in how she realises he hasn't forgotten about that moment, in her thought about how he pulls her from her head when she gets too far in.

They are both being careful, Nate not pressing (holding out that bag, waiting for her to come closer!), it feels like something, something has to happen. There's this rising tension that then so beautifully leads to Liz sprinting back to the door and finding Nate still standing there! Ahhhhh, him touching her arms, her struggling to find words!

I am utterly in love with them (and unlike them, I do have self-awareness haha). But for real, I love how you're exploring this route and their dynamic. This was a delight to read and please know that I'm here to read your stories whenever.

Now, I will restrain myself and not leave a comment on every other sentence, but:

Little sentences here and there, just enough to offer a glimpse without giving himself away. She listens, and he becomes lighter.

This might be one of the things I love the most about a friends to lovers route: giving Nate the opportunity to open up (even if it's just a little) before the romance comes into play. You write this beautifully. Liz sharing her stories of the town, of how it shaped her and how she shaped it, and him returning it by telling bits of himself. Most importantly, she listens!

He holds her gaze for as long as she allows, not lost in the depths of those lovely brown eyes, but found.

I had to quote this again, because it's oh-so beautiful, and it fits with the previous comment: Liz listens and sees him and ohh, how much that must mean to him (ahh, this is making me feel all emotional about these two) Also related to this, I love, love the moment when they say each other's names, because of the intimacy of it, how it feels like they know each other, how they want to be known by the other.

Her annoyance fades as she remembers looking at him then, deeming the imperfection worthy if he had been the cause for it.

Okay, okay, okay!! This sentence! First of all, I love how you added a call-back to her getting distracted by him here, but what I might love even more is this acknowledgement that her work isn't perfect (unlike how Nate is swooning over everything she does lol) and that it's because of him. And that that's a good thing. It feels like a parallel to Nate himself, who doesn't want to be called perfect, yet struggles to let other people come close enough for them to see that he isn't perfect. But he is letting her in.

He smiles at her, his beautiful brown eyes impossibly soft as he looks at her in a way that has her wishing he wouldn’t look at anyone else. “I could not think of anyplace better.”

Oh my heart! What a gorgeous ending

In the midst of the crowds, in the shapes in the clouds

Nate x F!MC (Nate Sewell x Liz Langford)

Rating: T

Author's Note: Thank you to the wonderful and amazing @serenpedac for giving me the best writing advice, helping me move this thing forward and actually write a half-baked idea into something more (This was a massacre of a fic, a war crime even until my darling friend stepped in!)

This is the first thing that I have actually completed (oh my God) and even if it's not perfect, I am quite happy with it. Happy reading and thank you to everyone for leaving such lovely comments on the snippets!

Nate is ever-patient and seldom frustrated, but with the situation at hand, he wonders if he's ever truly been tested before. Clumps of discarded and ill-shaped clay lie beside his worktable, a sad and pathetic display of his failures. He lets out an annoyed tch when he notices some of it sticking to his expensive wool-cashmere cardigan, the muddy gray horrendously marring the rich, deep green. Inhaling deeply, he reminds himself that he cannot be good at everything on the first try. No one can—except, perhaps, his enthusiastic partner.

His disappointment dissipates at the sound of Liz's poorly concealed laugh, her eyes betraying her neutral expression as they twinkle with amusement, finding his exasperation humorous. His pout turns into a smile as he turns toward her, watching as she leans over the wheel, brows furrowed in concentration, lower lip caught between her teeth as she begins to shape the vase with delicate, precise movements. Her vase is forming into a lovely shape—the neck long and proportionate, the base symmetrical and simply perfect, just like her smile, not unlike everything she sets her mind to. She purses her lips and pretends not to notice his mock offense, her eyes flitting about before finally meeting his, causing them both to laugh a bit too loudly for the small, cozy studio. A few pointed stares are thrown their way, and they both mumble apologies, as if they’re schoolchildren being chastised.

They return to the task at hand—or at least Liz does—while Nate stares dejectedly at the new piece of clay he’s propped onto the wheel. A small, disappointed sigh escapes him, and he almost decides to give up entirely. Watching Liz do it is far better anyway, but he’s made a promise, and he will not back out now. He takes the sleeves of his cardigan by the tips of his fingers and carefully folds them up to his elbows.

Out of the corner of his eye, he notices Liz struggling with the rim. A small, adorable sound of panic escapes her before she corrects it. He tilts his head slightly in confusion as he catches her looking away from him, eyes pointedly fixating on the wheel.

"Your good luck finally running out, Agent Khan?" Nate teases, though he's probably more relieved than Liz that the vase hasn’t met an untimely demise like all of his did.

"Jealous, Agent Sewell?" she shoots back coyly, a hint of pride in her tone.

He chuckles deeply and hears her heartbeat flutter.

"Not at all. In fact, I am glad your efforts are coming to fruition, dear friend." And it’s true. The failure of his own endeavors does nothing to hinder the happiness he has felt this entire evening. He looks around and takes in the whole room—people like himself and Liz, new and experienced potters scattered across the small, intimate studio, talking about everything and nothing as they work on their respective pieces. Nate takes a sip of his tea from a gaudy mug (he smiles as he remembers Liz taking a picture of his barely concealed disgust at the poor design) and exhales happily. To be in the midst of life, of humanity itself, not as an observer but as an active participant, to have someone to learn new things with, to finally live again—he couldn’t think of anything more splendid.

He turns his grateful gaze toward Liz, who had brought them here to take a class and make some decorations for the warehouse. They’ve been doing things here and there, her spontaneity leading them to places unknown, tiny worlds of wonder hidden in the nooks of this splendid town. They spend hours walking and laughing as if there is nothing to worry about while she tells him stories of this town—stories of her childhood, how she shaped this place as much as it shaped her. And between those moments, he finds himself sharing too. Tales long forgotten by the world, perhaps, but not by him. Little sentences here and there, just enough to offer a glimpse without giving himself away. She listens, and he becomes lighter.

He’s pulled out of his musings when he hears a proud “Ta-da!” and chuckles. Liz looks incredibly pleased, humming in satisfaction as she admires her work, occasionally pouting when she spots an imperfection that he does not see—her gaze analyzing her work just as she would a report. After an inspection she deems "alright," she sets her vase aside and turns to look at his wheel, only to find it empty. A frown of apology crosses her face as she begins to wipe her hands clean, standing up from the small stool and stretching, the pink of her cheeks matching that of her sweater. She looks lovely under the fairy lights strung about the room, her casual appearance and easy demeanor a stark contrast to how she is at work.

"I'm sorry for bringing you here so randomly. I really didn't think to ask if it’s something you'd like to do—"

Nate shakes his head to interrupt, smiling up at her and halting an unnecessary apology.

"I haven’t been able to make much… of anything, really," he chuckles, passing his gaze over the sad line of irregularly shaped blobs of clay, "but I have had the most wonderful time observing you."

At his comment, Liz huffs a little laugh, her cheeks turning a lovely shade of red against her warm, beige skin.

"Aren’t you the charmer?"

"I’m glad you find my honesty charming," he states, a seriousness catching the words he had meant to say lightly. And it's true.

Liz is usually the content observer, sitting by his side (he’s finding it hard to imagine all those years without her soothing presence), watching and asking, delighted by everything he has to show her. Today, he's taken her role—discovering a side of her he hasn’t before. Unguarded yet focused, her delight palpable, her frustration endearing, her small celebratory hums of victory tugging at his heart—life and its vibrancy teeming in her honey-brown gaze.

It makes him feel… He doesn’t know how to put it.

Nate has never been at a loss for words, yet he finds it hard to name this new sense of bliss.

What of the warmth he feels expanding in his chest?

It must be the room, he concludes.

It is warmer here than outside.

"I wanted us to make matching pots. You could keep the one I make, and I'll keep yours. You know, those matching BFF vases?"

He does not know of them, only having learned of this “trend” running around a gram that is instant, apparently. Something like that.

The lovely idea makes that unfamiliar feeling bloom in his chest tenfold, the sentiment touching.

"I’d like that. To keep a piece of you with me so it can keep me company when you are… not present."

His tone is soft, almost velvety, and he notices Liz's gaze crinkling, a beautiful, resplendent smile gracing her lips.

He smiles back and reaches up to wipe a smear of dried clay from her cheek, tucking a loose brown curl behind her ear.

He holds her gaze for as long as she allows, not lost in the depths of those lovely brown eyes, but found.

Seen.

He is seen, and she is appreciative of whatever she finds.

Unlike her vase, he’s not being scrutinized.

Her eyes are tracing, as if they cannot look their fill.

He lets her look, his thumb falling away from the small dot beneath her left eye (a lone star), before his hand drops from her face.

Instead, he lightly grabs her hand, rubbing the skin on her wrist absentmindedly, savoring her sole attention.

He feels like he is basking in the sun—a warmth, a rush pouring over him without hesitation.

The heady feeling flows like warm water cascading down his body gently, feather-light kisses to his being that make his toes curl as she twines their fingers together, moving closer.

"Nathaniel," she breathes, and he likes the way his name makes her voice lilt mellifluously.

Unlike the other times she’s called him that way (a teasing way to chastise him when he’s being a "diva"), she says it like… it’s something else entirely.

As if only she could do his name justice.

"Elizabeth," he answers, with the same reverence.

Someone clears their throat behind Liz as they make to leave and the moment breaks, snapping them back to reality. Nate feels his blood rush to his head and his face and makes to retract his hand before Liz places her other hand, stopping him. Something crosses her eyes, and he wonders if she felt what he did. She seems to debate something before clearing her throat.  "How about I teach you? We can still try," she suggests, her voice slightly husky. Nate’s voice sounds completely foreign to his own ears as he agrees. "I'd love to."

The small space, as well as the even smaller stool he's been given makes it hard for them to find how to work together. He tosses the clay onto the wheel again as Liz watches and guides from his side. He begins to shape the vase and anxiously hopes he does not deform it again. Liz stands behind him, leaning over slightly, watching and throwing encouraging comments, guiding him as best as she can. Nate chuckles at her delight, his progress making him sit taller as he sees the clay finally take form. His excitement is short-lived when the structure threatens to fall over, and his hands hesitate. He takes his foot off the pedal and looks towards her helplessly.

Liz seems to assess the situation, hesitating before pointing to the space in front of him. “May I?” His mouth goes dry before he manages to nod, leaning back a bit as Liz carefully steps over his long legs, the task made harder with the limited space they have to make do with. She trips and flails before he rights her, grabbing her by the waist. She lets out a meek thank you, the expression of gratitude only audible due to his heightened senses. He’s not sure whose heart is beating faster, almost running a hand through his hair before remembering that they are still caked in dried gray clay.

She decides to sit directly in front of him, on her knees, her head coming up to his shoulders, making him hunch over as she grabs his hands by the back. Her smaller hands are warm and he can’t help but stare at the contrast between tawny brown and pink beige skin, his caked with clay, hers clean. She signals for them to start and he presses the pedal again, letting her fingers guide his. "You want to go a bit deeper here..." She whispers softly, ears flushed red as one hand directs his fingers, pushing down to make an opening, the other one keeping his over the base of the vase steady. 

This close, he can smell the deep, jasmine scent she carries, sweet to his senses like honey, entirely consuming and simply intoxicating. He closes his eyes and inhales, before slowly opening them, leaning his head slightly against hers. Her heart beats in tandem with his, the sound and thud of it familiar and welcome. His hands and hers are almost one, tangled and soaked in wet clay, moving together in rhythm. They start moving upwards, along the body of the vase, their pace unhurried and languid as they form the neck from the base, shaping it until it resembles the one she made. He moves closer still and she lets him, settling against him completely, back against his chest, her hair tickling his jaw and neck. 

She grabs his pointer and circles his finger around the rim, none of her nervousness present, a sudden confidence exuding, making it hard to look away from their hands as they work as one. This isn't the first time he's been captivated by the expression she makes when she's entirely consumed by the task at hand, eyes fixated and roaming across a book, fingers tracing each and every word, turning the pages with utmost care. He wonders what it'd feel like to be the subject of such rapt attention. With a final touch, the vase comes to completion and the wheel slows down, coming to a stop. His thoughts are interrupted when Liz turns to him, the completed vase in front of them, no doubt to celebrate. His mind goes entirely blank with her face mere inches from his, her slow breaths teasing the hair he'd meticulously styled this morning. He tilts his head slightly, to take her in better, or maybe to ask a question. He doesn't know what he's asking for, but he knows she'll have the answer for it. Her tongue starts to wet her lips and his eyes track the movement just as fast. She blinks up at him slowly, the warm lights of the room dancing in her eyes, the brown of them swallowed entirely by the black of her pupils. She closes her eyes and inhales shakily, and he shivers. He wants. What does he want? She moves closer just as he does, not even a breath apart, his heart beating loudly in his chest in approval. This, it seems to sing. Then-

He hears her shift, suddenly greeted by cold air. He opens his eyes, Liz farther from what she was in a way his being does not approve of. Liz clears her throat, her fingers flexing against her apron before she stands up rather abruptly, a nervous, breathy laugh escaping her. "I should—um—check when we can bake them." She doesn’t meet his eyes and looks around the room, completely turning away, almost running away, leaving him in a tangle of uncertainty. He watches her disappear into the crowd, his hands still tingling where hers had been, itching to hold them again. The room feels colder without her close. He glances down at their vases, standing tall and proud together, almost identical except for the indents that now mar the neck of the one they just made. His fingers ghost over the faint ridges left behind, tracing them in the air as he wonders what would have happened if she hadn’t pulled away. The knot of uneasiness makes him unsteady and he wonders if he went too far. He’s never felt this way before in…perhaps, forever. All he knows now is he does not want to lose Liz in any way. That he hopes he matters to her just as much as she does to him. 

He turns to look at her, only to find her gaze on him already. A beat of emptiness before she smiles. Featherlight, soft, longing. She waves at him and waits. He waves back. The horrid feeling dissipates and the world starts spinning again. Someone taps her shoulder to get her attention and she turns to them, breaking their shared gaze with much difficulty. 

He stares down and smiles at the vase again. His nightstand would make the perfect place to keep it. 

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The walk back to her apartment was… an interesting experience, to say the least. Nate had tried to make conversation, and she’d tried to respond just like always. After a few failed attempts from both, they’d decided to walk back in comfortable silence. Something lingered in the air, almost palpable, something she couldn’t quite put her finger on. She’d kept on sneaking glances at him as if seeing him for the first time.

His gait had been unhurried, the hand holding the small bag that contained their evening’s hard work swaying gently and carefully. She’d almost been fooled to think he had forgotten had it not been for the slight, worried glances he’d kept throwing her way. His other hand shoved deep into his coat pocket was also a giveaway, his practiced nonchalance a ruse she could easily see through.

Stupid, stupid, stupid her mind chanted, all the way from the studio to her apartment. Nate was kind enough to not question her silence – he never minds when she’s gone too far in her own head, pulling her out before she even knows she’s going the wrong way – and instead chose to focus on the town settling down to rest, tired from the morning, finally retiring as the last rays of dusk disappeared completely, the night sky blanketing and cloaking it in a gentle sleep.

Nate had looked utterly breathtaking in the moonlight and her heart did that funny thing it had been doing a lot more often these past few weeks. 

They now stand in front of her door and she finally turns to him, looking up at him for the first time since…since that moment. His perpetually kind smile – she wonders if he smiles when he’s sleeping too – doesn’t shift. He looks down at her, eyes searching, lips opening to say something before he decides against it. He shakes his head and she takes a step back, a knot of disappointment unfurling within. 

“Well,” she hates how weak her voice sounds with that one word.” This is me.” she points to her door as if he hasn’t been here for almost every day now, fulfilling their little ritual of drinking tea as they read and talk about the stories they hold so close to them, his company and their conversation as impossible to live without as her chai.

Nate smiles uncertainly before nodding. “Yes, it is.” He takes one of the bags from one hand and holds it towards her, letting her make the choice to come close. He watches her carefully, waiting patiently. She knows he’d wait here forever, even if she didn’t ask. Would she ask that of him?

She takes the bag with a grateful nod, the vase inside feeling heavy, almost as if it carries the memories from the hours before. He waits for her to go inside and she closes the door slowly until she gets one final glimpse.

She faces her apartment, sighing heavily as she takes her shoes off and hangs her keys. She carefully sets the bag down on the table, gently unwrapping and placing the vase on her dining table. He’d taken the one they’d both made, so she’s left with hers.

An annoyed sound escapes her when she notices the slightly crooked rim, her hands tracing over it. She’d been distracted. Her annoyance fades as she remembers looking at him then, deeming the imperfection worthy if he had been the cause for it.

She doesn’t know what the fuck is going on but she hates how hollow she feels.

Not thinking, she turns around and runs to the door. She grabs the doorknob and opens the door, almost dying of a heart attack as Nate looks at her with the same shocked expression, apparently not having left. He steps closer, grabbing her by the arms gently, running his hands up and down, worry twisting his features.

“Is something the matter? What’s wrong?” he peers over her head, looking for the non-existent threat. 

“Nothing. Nothing. I just…,” All thought and reason escapes her and she’s embarrassed to have caused him alarm for nothing. She leans forward, knowing damn well he’d hear her all the same if she stood 10 feet away. He doesn’t mind it though; he’s listening carefully, just like always.

“I just wanted to know if…you liked today?” 

He lets out a sound, deep and rich, something joyous. Tender. 

He smiles at her, his beautiful brown eyes impossibly soft as he looks at her in a way that has her wishing he wouldn’t look at anyone else. 

“I could not think of anyplace better.”

[kadoodles-on-ao3]

Artist: mugimugis3 Source: Twitter Archives: Original Post | First Image | Second Image

(Rough) Translation: Shulk: "Even if you're a princess, or even if you were instead a regular girl, you're still Melia. To me, above all else, you're Melia."

[robininthelabyrinth]

For a prompt, what if Wen Xu arrives to burn down the Cloud Recesses while everyone is studying there

Home Alone - ao3

“All right,” Wei Wuxian said, when Lan Qiren announced that the Cloud Recesses would be imminently under attack by Wen Xu and the Wen sect armies, the calm in his monotone voice belied by the wrinkle of concern in his forehead. “We’re going to make that bastard wish he’d never been born, right?”

He was speaking lightly, as he always did, trying to make those around him feel more comfortable, braver, less afraid – his was the language of confidence and arrogance, of never backing down, and he didn’t know how else to speak.

He didn’t mean anything in particular by it, or at least not more than he usually did.

He wasn’t expecting Lan Qiren to look at him and say, “If you have any ideas, now is the time to contribute them.”

-

“So what exactly do you do again?” Wei Wuxian asked, following the older Lan sect disciple around – at least, the man was dressed like a Lan sect disciple, and with a forehead ribbon suggesting that he shared blood with the main clan, too, but Wei Wuxian wasn’t so sure he really was one.

“I blow stuff up, usually,” Lan Yueheng said cheerfully.

That was why Wei Wuxian had doubts.

The man was practically skipping. There was no way he was a Lan.

“Shishu is an alchemist,” Lan Wangji said. His hands were folded behind his back, as always, and he looked tense as might be expected, what with an imminent attack on his home by a colossal army intent on ravaging and destroying everything in its path – but the way he looked at Lan Yueheng was unaccountably fond, as if he were someone he was close to. Wei Wuxian hadn’t known there was anyone other than Lan Qiren or Lan Xichen that Lan Wangji was close to. He was oddly jealous. “Not always successfully.”

“Hey, at blowing things up, I am the most successful!” Lan Yueheng grinned. A moment later, though, the grin faded, and he looked anxious. “Wangji, are you sure you won’t go with your brother?”

“Brother will protect the sect books,” Lan Wangji said solemnly. “I will stay here to defend the sect and the guest disciples.”

Wei Wuxian appreciated that, being one of said guest disciples.

Anyway, it made sense. Lan Qiren had seriously considered trying to send them away with Lan Xichen, saying that their lives were more important than some extra books – other Lan elders hadn’t necessarily agreed, judging by their expressions – but regretfully concluded that adding more people to Lan Xichen’s escape route would do nothing but reveal its existence, dooming all of them.

So they’d split up: Lan Xichen, heading out virtually alone with the most precious Lan sect books, and all the rest of them here to try to resist as much as they could – even Lan Wangji.

Lan Yueheng didn’t try to argue with Lan Wangji, only sighed, sounding as though he’d expected nothing less from him and had only felt the need to make a token protest before accepting it as inevitable. It seemed he really was close to Lan Wangji.

Yeah, Wei Wuxian was definitely jealous.

“All right, then,” Lan Yueheng said, shaking his head and resuming his cheer. “Blowing things up in self-defense plan it is! You’re both talented in music, right?”

“What does music have to do with explosions?” Wei Wuxian asked.

-

The answer, apparently, was a lot – at least when you were an experimental alchemist in a musically inclined sect and you’d developed a way to trigger explosions via certain combinations of musical notes.

-

“So, did you know that Teacher Lan was scary?” Wei Wuxian asked Jiang Cheng, who’d finally returned from helping get all the elderly and children and civilians to evacuate – and refusing to join them, of course, even though he was entitled to go in order to preserve his life, being the heir of a sect and all that, completely typical Jiang Cheng – and was now pacing around, eager for a fight.

“Just because he punished you a few times doesn’t make him scary,” Jiang Cheng said.

“No, it doesn’t,” Wei Wuxian agreed. “You know what does make him scary? Playing music that makes his opponents try to cut their own necks.”

“…what?”

“Apparently he gets really upset when you mess with his students,” Wei Wuxian said wisely.

Unlike Jiang Cheng, he’d had time to adjust to the concept of Lan Qiren being terrifying: they were on the fifth wave of scouts, and this set wasn’t doing any better than the first four, not even when they’d realized it would be better if they stopped their ears with wax before approaching.

That’d only made Lan Qiren shift tactics – and songs.

Some of which had an even wider area of impact.

“Wei Wuxian,” Jiang Cheng said, looking at him suspiciously. “What did you do?”

“I convinced Teacher Lan that guerrilla warfare that destroyed as much of the enemy as possible would be more effective than just trying to defend the sect’s territory, since that was clearly a lost cause,” Wei Wuxian said promptly. “He agreed, but said that he could only do so much since he wasn’t a very good sword fighter. And then I asked him if he knew anything else that could be used as an attack and he said ‘no’ and then he said ‘well, I suppose’ and then he listed off a few things that – according to him – aren’t meant to be used in warfare but, and this is a direct quote, ‘could be put to a destructive use if one so wished it’.”

“And we now ‘so wish it’?”

“Yup. Oh, and watch out for anything that has a Lan sect cloud with a three-looped circle carved into the side of it, and I do mean anything– those explode.”

“Of course they do.”

“Hey! For once it has nothing to do with me!”

-

“I thought you said he said he was bad at swordfighting,” Jiang Cheng said suspiciously.

Wei Wuxian held out his hands helplessly in a ‘don’t look at me’ gesture, trying to defend himself from a sharp and pointy elbow to the side while also not pulling his eyes away from the ongoing battlefield for even a single moment.

“Shufu considers himself to be of average skill at the sword,” Lan Wangji said in the peaceable tone of someone who had been taught the basics of swordfighting by the person in question. The basics of really awesome swordfighting. “His real strength is in music, as you’ve seen.”

“I get that, really, I do, his music is terrifying,” Wei Wuxian said, and meant it completely. Between the two, he’d rather go up against Lan Qiren with a sword, where he’d at least be able to make a decent showing of himself before getting chopped to bits by the man’s fluid and almost seemingly delicate style that was nevertheless highly effective at skewering Wen sect disciples left and right; it would be better than with music, where he might as well just cut his own throat or strangle himself with guqin strings now to save Lan Qiren’s fingers the trouble. “But Jiang Cheng’s still right, okay – why in the world does he consider that to be ‘average’? Who is he comparing himself to?”

Lan Wangji considered the question for a long moment, then finally said: “A statistical outlier.”

-

“I wish we had aerial attacks we could use against the Wen sect’s swords,” Wei Wuxian said wistfully, and next to him Jiang Cheng nodded with a sight of longing – it was so frustrating seeing more and more Wen sect soldiers arriving in groups, like flocks of birds that started to fill the skies because they couldn’t be so easily shot down. “But if we try anything, they’ll just shield against us.”

“Teacher Lan said we can’t use spiritual energy against them, since we’d lose,” Jiang Cheng said, and as much as they all regretted it, Lan Qiren was probably right: they might be better trained than the Wen sect soldiers, might be better cultivators and stronger in spiritual energy individually, but they were young and immature, and at a serious numerical disadvantage.

It would be far too easy for the flying cultivators to stop their flying just long enough to set up a defensive array, block whatever spiritual attack they sent out, and then keep going to find and stab them before they’d even recovered from the energy expenditure.

“I didn’t mean spiritual energy,” Wei Wuxian grumbled. “I just meant, you know, like the explosives we’ve laid in all over the ground – something like that. If we could attach those to something…”

“I don’t think we have anything that flies anyway,” Lan Yueheng said regretfully.

“You have lanterns, don’t you?” Nie Huaisang said, and everyone turned to look at him. “Fill them with something that explodes when disturbed and send them floating into the air. Better yet, write ‘peace’ on the side of them to make it look like you’re making some sort of meaningful gesture designed to shame them. The Wen sect won’t be able to resist kicking them aside as an insult, and that’ll trigger them.”

They all stared at him.

He shrugged.

“We have a lot of defenses set up against invasion, at home,” he said. “And not always the budget to pay for anything fancy, so we’ve come up with some slightly more unorthodox ideas, too.”

“It’s a really good idea,” Wei Wuxian said, suddenly focused on the hitherto ignored Nie Huaisang. Clearly he’d made a tactical error, thinking of himself as the only person who knew how to get up to tricks. “Do you have any other ideas like that?”

Nie Huaisang smiled.

-

“Teacher Lan, I have an idea,” Wei Wuxian said, inserting himself briefly into the clearing near the Lan sect gate where Lan Qiren was sitting to rest in preparation for the Wen sect’s next attack. “But you’re going to hate it.”

“You may proceed,” Lan Qiren said, not looking up.

“Wait,” Wei Wuxian said, blinking. “Really? You’re not even going to ask what it is? Or why you’d hate it so much?”

“There is no time for that,” Lan Qiren said, and finally spared him a glance. He looked tired. “Things will get worse very soon.”

“But we’re winning!”

“No,” Lan Qiren said, shaking out his fingers – even despite occasionally alternating to using the sword when necessary, he’d played his guqin to the point of drawing blood and breaking nails, and was continuing despite everyone pleading with him to stop and swap out for someone else for a while. He’d said that there was no one else on his level, and he was probably right, but still, surely, just for a little… “We are surviving. Do not mistake the two.”

-

“Okay, so,” Wei Wuxian said, rubbing his hands together. “Resentful energy –”

“No,” Lan Wangji said.

-

“Thanks,” Wei Wuxian said to Jin Zixuan, who’d probably just saved his life by stabbing a Wen sect cultivator in the back right before the man had been able to stop Wei Wuxian from activating another series of explosions. “I guess I owe you one?”

“Don’t mention it,” Jin Zixuan said. “How else can I help?”

“I don’t know,” Wei Wuxian said, scratching his head and thinking about Nie Huaisang as precedent. There wasn’t time for schoolyard rivalries right now. “Do you have anything really unexpected that could be used to hurt people? Be creative – they’re guarded against all the usual defenses, so the weirder the better, anything goes. I won’t judge.”

Jin Zixuan thought about it. “I’m pretty sure I have a drug that puts people to sleep?”

“…why do you have something like that?”

Jin Zixuna grimaced. “My father gave it to me along with another one that he said not to use in excess, though I don’t actually know what that one does because that was about when my mom ran in and started throwing things at him. I can’t throw it away because it was a gift from my father, but I put it as deep into my bags as I could so that I’d never have to see or touch it. Ever.”

Wei Wuxian’s nose wrinkled. He’d never before felt pity for Jin Zixuan, but having to put up with Jin Guangshan on a regular basis was pretty bad – much less owing him filial piety.

No wonder Jin Zixuan was so twitchy all the time.

“Okay, so one sleep drug and one…uh…”

“Enhancement. Presumably. Can we throw it at the other side? Maybe turn it into incense and make smoke-bombs or something?”

“You know what,” Wei Wuxian said. “Why not? If nothing else, it’d be distracting, right?”

-

“This doesn’t feel honorable,” Jiang Cheng said, watching the fun. They’d raided the Lan sect’s medicine cabinets and kitchens for other noxious and irritating substances that might make for good smoke-bombs – Jiang Cheng himself had even located a whole patch of something not unlike poison ivy that had been quickly repurposed for the cause. “Strictly speaking.”

“Honor’s overrated,” Wei Wuxian said. “Making the Wen bastards pay for attacking Lan Zhan’s home is what’s important.”

Lan Wangji didn’t smile, exactly, but Wei Wuxian took his expression as a win regardless.

-

It turned out that music could also make plants grow really fast.

According to Lan Qiren, the spell ruined the plants’ nutritional value and made them basically useless.

Well.

Useless if your goal was eating them, anyway.

(First they could grow under their enemies’ feet and attack them, roots and vines twining around them to strangle them, and then they could be used up in the smoke-bombs – two for the price of one!)

-

“Are you sure about not doing the whole resentful energy thing?”

“Wei Wuxian,” Jiang Cheng said. “No.”

-

“Hey, Wei-xiong, do you have or can you create any more papermen?” Jin Zixuan asked.

“Yes, sure, plenty,” Wei Wuxian said. He’d like to say that he’d known he’d one day need such a skill, and that that was why he’d learned the trick so thoroughly, but that was a complete lie. “Why?”

“Nie-xiong, Jiang-xiong and I are going to use them to make a shadow-play to lure a bunch of Wen sect cultivators into another plant-and-explosives trap.”

“…that’s amazing, Jin-xiong,” Wei Wuxian said, marveling. “How do you even think of that?”

“Even I get into trouble sometimes,” Jin Zixuan said, and was startled into an unexpected smile when Jiang Cheng punched his shoulder approvingly.

-

Wei Wuxian was actually having a pretty good time with it all right up until the main force of the Wen sect decided to ignore all their traps and charge straight towards the classroom they’d fallen back to using as a headquarters, and then suddenly he wasn’t having a good time at all.

“Run,” Lan Qiren said, and put down his guqin, drawing his sword once more.

“But we can fight!” Jiang Cheng argued.

“Run.”

“Shufu –”

“Run.”

They ran.

-

“If you don’t come out, I’m going to make him pay,” Wen Xu called.

His fingers were knotted in Lan Qiren’s hair, pulling their teacher’s head back to show how his face was covered in blood, how it was seeping out through his mouth and nose, how one of his eyes was badly bruised and swollen from having been beaten down by sheer force of numbers.

Lan Qiren had made them pay dearly for their efforts to bring him down –

But there were just so many of them.

“How dare he,” Jiang Cheng hissed. “He was once one of Teacher Lan’s students, too!”

Wei Wuxian was holding Lan Wangji back, but only barely; his fingers were starting to go numb from the sheer effort of it. If Jin Zixuan and Jiang Cheng weren’t there to help him hold him down, Lan Wangji would have already given away their position, rushing out to make some futile gesture in his overwhelming rage. Wei Wuxian was focusing with all his being on how much he had to stop Lan Wangji from doing something like that, because if he wasn’t, if he let himself think about anything else for even a single moment, he’d have also run out there, sword drawn, without so much as a care – he hadn’t realized he’d be so angry over it, so furious, so betrayed and horrified by Wen Xu’s cruelty.

Prior to today, he wouldn’t have said he even liked Lan Qiren!

“My students are not so foolish as to fall for so obvious a scheme as that,” Lan Qiren said, his tone as monotonous as it ever was during his lectures – for the briefest moment, Wei Wuxian felt that he was dreaming, that he had merely dreamt everything that had happened: surely it was still yesterday, with Lan Qiren standing tall, safe and healthy, at the front of the classroom, lecturing about one of the Lan sect rules…which one had it been? Shoulder the weight of morality? Have a strong will and anything can be achieved? Be mighty, and others will die for you?

Do not break faith?

Somehow, despite everything that had happened, Lan Qiren’s eyes curved ever so slightly.

“Present company excluded, of course.”

Wen Xu threw him down to the ground, mouth twisting and teeth gnashing with offended anger.

“Beat him,” he ordered his men. “Make it hurt. I want him screaming – let’s see how his precious students like that. Or maybe it’s just that they don’t care?”

-

“Wei Ying,” Lan Wangji said, eyes red with unshed tears and barely swallowed rage. “Tell me your idea about resentful energy.”

-

“Perhaps,” Lan Qiren said, then paused briefly to cough up some blood. His voice, when he resumed speaking, was hoarse. “Perhaps I should have reviewed your idea more closely when you first proposed it.”

“Possibly,” Wei Wuxian said, offering up some cloth to help wipe away the blood. Lan Wangji was busy bandaging his uncle’s injuries up, while Jiang Cheng, Jin Zixuan, and Nie Huaisang hovered by the door, only barely pretending to be keeping a lookout the way they were supposed to. “In my defense, I didn’t quite expect…that.”

Everyone politely did not ask him to elaborate.

The effects had been…well, it turned out using resentful energy the way Wei Wuxian had thought was possible, to say the least, and also that they’d taken down an awful lot of Wen sect soldiers in their defensive efforts.

“You will all have been affected by the resentful energy you used to summon the corpses,” Lan Qiren said. “Although the method you devised appears to avoid the most immediate consequences, which – let me remind you – include qi deviation and death in some instances, there is always the possibility that it has left traces of resentful energy within your meridians. If it is allowed to build up, it will escalate into a backlash that would rip your body and soul to pieces. There are spells and songs that can help clear your spirits and ease the effects.”

“Nie Huaisang has been playing some of them for us, since he can’t fight,” Lan Wangji said. “Nie sect ones – they’re…uh, not especially calming, more of a cleanse-by-force thing, but they seem to be working.”

Jiang Cheng nodded. “We’ll listen to any others that you’d like, Teacher Lan,” he said, anxious, and the rest of them nodded. “Just say which ones. If there’s any array or anything – or if you want us to write an essay about why using resentful energy is dangerous and wrong –”

Even Wei Wuxian nodded at that – even Nie Huaisang nodded, and he hated essays more than anything.

Lan Qiren huffed lightly. “Now you’re all so obedient.”

They all bowed their heads.

“…you did a good job,” Lan Qiren finally said, and they all looked up to stare at him. “You rescued me and repelled the Wen sect, however temporarily. Even though you used demonic cultivation, which is forbidden, you did not purposefully disturb graves, and you can make recompense to the spirits later. It was well done, and I thank you for it.”

He noticed that they were gaping and frowned at them.

“What have I taught you?” he scolded, and he sounded enough like he normally did that Wei Wuxian had the sudden urge to burst into totally inexplicable tears. “The preservation of human life is the priority, always. Why is this a surprise?”

“Shufu is right,” Lan Wangji said, and there was something of peace and calm in his eyes, the foundation of his world steady and unfaltering – he was almost glowing with it, satisfied and happy, and he was so utterly beautiful in Wei Wuxian’s eyes that it was almost blinding. “We acknowledge Teacher’s words.”

“We acknowledge Teacher’s words,” everyone else quickly agreed.

Lan Qiren shook his head, nodding in appreciation. “What is your next step now?” he asked. “The Wen sect was only repulsed, not defeated. They will not be gone long – they are already regrouping outside our gate, and this time they will be prepared for the effects of your demonic cultivation. In the end, they still have the advantage of numbers.”

“I don’t think we got as far as that in our plan,” Wei Wuxian said, rubbing the back of his head.

His thinking had mostly stopped at get Teacher Lan back and make them pay. He was pretty sure the same was true for Lan Wangji, and probably all the rest of the, too.

“Maybe you didn’t,” Nie Huaisang said with a sniff, and damnit, Wei Wuxian really needed to stop underestimating him just because he was a bad cultivator and a bit empty-headed. “I, on the other hand, sent a message back to my da-ge way back when this first started, and he should be here very soon with an army of his own.”

-

There were those in the Jiang sect that liked to mock the Nie sect as being unduly paranoid, always preparing for war and speaking grimly of its inevitability, always training their disciples and soldiers as if each one of them would need to fight five or ten of the enemy at once.

If Wei Wuxian ever met any of those people ever again, he was going to punch them in the face.

“Just be sure to get your sect ready when you get back,” Nie Mingjue advised them all grimly when it was all done and Wen Xu’s head was stuck on a pike at the entrance to the Cloud Recesses as a warning. The Nie sect’s forces were smaller than the Wen sect’s invasion force, but their people were better trained; even after flying all the way from Qinghe, they’d come down on the remaining invasion force like a hammer. “This isn’t over, not by a long shot.”

“We understand. There is still war to come.”

“Not just war, but uneven and unbalanced war, and not in our favor,” Nie Mingjue said heavily. “Understand that even with this loss, the forces of all the cultivation world put together can’t match up to the armies under Wen Ruohan’s command.”

“Actually,” Lan Qiren said, and gave all of his students a pointed look, probably on account of the fact that they all still owed him the essay they'd promised to write, “I think you’ll find that there’s something more that we can add…”

[samswound]

i absolutely love unique tags, and i am desperate to know more about yours 😵‍💫🤲 you mentioned having multiple tags for sam and now for dean. how did you choose them, where did they come from (poems, books, movies, quotes), do you keep a running list to remember them, and which ones are your favorites?

i too adore fancy/unique tags!!! ahhh i apologize if i don't make any sense at all. i don't do meta 😭 i am just. here.

i choose tags based on how its meaning is close to the character. honestly idk what i'm doing, i just venture through poems and songs and even other people's samcore / deancore tags until i go insane. so!

#armed to the teeth but can't make me go to war

from family happiness by the mountain goats (albeit tweaked a little). i stopped using it as much, but it's one of my favorites <3 it's really the most samcoded lyric out of the whole thing, so i ran with it! found it while i was making my sam playlist, which i'm thinking about remaking

#give wings to a stone

from no shade in the shadow of a cross by sufjan stevens! two lyrics from that song are tragically sam coded. </3 this tag is starting to become my general sam tag, but idk. i might need something else. my most favorite :")

#a dark prediction

i don't remember where i got it from ;; maybe i made it up? but it's about how sam feels this overwhelming sense of uncleanness and not feeling pure. the inevitability of something Awful that's going to happen. something like that. <3

#at the altar of god

i made this one up i think? but it's about sam and his faith. idk, it's just very striking. best sam + faith/sainthood tag i could think of. religious trauma and sainthood for this boy forever ^_^

#sacrificial lamb for slaughter

from memory. 🥴 pretty self-explained! second tag related to sam's faith. the jesus parallels...he's the lamb of god!!!!

#only the shadow of a cross

also from no shade in the shadow of the cross by sufjan stevens! THIRD tag related to sam's faith ffs. sam is crucified? oh that's just a normal sunday let's carry on. fav tag as well

#body of proof

i'm not sure where's this originally from, but i took it from the title of THE sam & autonomy fic by askance (doomscountry). if you haven't read it, then do so now!!! altered my psyche. but please, obv, mind the tags. it touches on highly sensitive topics. the body of proof ... the proof of various violations and the lack of autonomy. God.

#bloody and bloodstained

i got it from a post but i LOST IT FFS. basically demon blood addict!sam. i don't really like it jgjfjvjfv it's my favorite arc of him and he deserves something Better

#nothing scares me anymore

direct quote from the show! this tag is about soulless!sam. something about this line struck me so hard. and the way he says it ... idk, it's my most favorite soulless!sam scenes ever.

#they're purifying me

direct quote from the show. obv trials era!sam. i'm thinking about finding another tag for him but argehrghfh. it makes it easier for me to find contents i reblogged of trials!sam.

#he just has strange vibes sometimes

direct quote from the show. psychic!sam!!! thinking about dropping this tag though </3 but he do be having weird vibes

now, off to dean (two tags...sad.)

#god bore you hungry

from belovéd by yves olade. it also applies to sam, actually, but my boy has nothing so </3

#your inside is on your outside

from covet by basement! PLEASE LISTEN TO THAT SONG. it's so samdean coded!!!! but yeah, this lyric is CRITICALLY early seasons dean. love my vulnerable boy who bares his beating heart out to everybody <3 haven't used it yet, but it's my most favorite tag of his so far.

as for me keeping a list, no, i absolutely do not! if i forgot about them or lost them then i'm fucked! i make up new ones! this is a matter of survival! (jk i do lolol)

also, i myself absolutely adore your own tags, so seeing your ask shocked me vjrjfnjejdf

thank you so much for the ask 🍯 ilysm <333 i'm sorry that it took this long ;__; hope this was satisfactory!

[cqlfeels]

@lansplaining encouraged me to finish this random meta nobody asked for, so let's talk about Meng Yao, Meng Shi, and 孟母三遷 (mèng mǔ sān qiān), a proverb about good parenting.

A warning: this is super long (even for me!) and is less quality meta and more my ADHD brain jumping around a maze of loosely related ideas. Proceed with caution!

Let me start by briefly going through why I decided to write this, because it’s important. In haunting Meng Shi’s tag in my starvation for Meng Shi content, I’ve multiple times come across the idea that Meng Shi pushed Meng Yao too hard, that she should’ve been more careful with teaching him to seek his father’s approval at any cost, and that she was too naïve. I’ve never reblogged this kind of post because 1) I personally think it’s rude to go out of your way to ramble about how much you disagree with someone on their own post and 2) if this was an isolated incident I wouldn't care either way, so I didn’t want to direct this rant at anyone in particular. It’s more to do with a tendency, primarily (as far as I can tell) from fans who haven’t had much contact with Chinese culture, to oversimplify Meng Shi and make her relationship with Meng Yao slightly disturbing, and I think part of it is due to CQL basically cutting out her entire storyline (so fans simply don’t have info about her to assess her fairly) and part is due to misunderstanding what a good parent is supposed to act like in the context of Ancient China.

[Of course, Ancient China is not a very useful historical concept, not any more than “ye olde Europe” - things change a lot based on time and place - but you know. It’s fantasy. Extremely broad trends are okay in this case.]

Anyway, the idea behind the posts I mentioned is, basically, that Meng Shi (usually through no fault of her own) is to blame for Meng Yao’s obsession with power, since his desire for approval was inherited from lessons she taught him. Just to start with, I’d argue that Meng Yao isn’t power-hungry as much as he craves security and respect, but that’s a different meta. Let’s assume that she really did teach him to be Like That. Was she wrong to do so? I’m not looking for “does that make for a happy, well-adjusted childhood?” or “would you raise your own son as Meng Shi did?” - I’m trying to figure out, would she have been considered a bad mother in the context of the society she lived in? I don’t think she would’ve.

It is surprisingly hard to find texts about the obligations of parents in Ancient China. Their main obligation is to raise filial children, but I feel like that’s not very useful: whether or not parents are good parents, children are expected to be filial, so a child being filial really says more about the child than about the parent. Maybe the parent completely missed the mark and society at large was what taught the child to be filial!

We can assume, of course, that parents were to raise good people, and that by learning what a good person looked like, we could figure out whether the parent was successful, but once again, I feel like that’s pinning things on the outcome, not on the process - the best of parents can end up with an awful kid and vice versa.

While thinking about all this, it took me a frankly embarrassing amount of time to remember the story of Mother Meng and Meng Zi, but once I did, it wouldn’t leave my mind - in part because the Meng here is the exact same Meng of Meng Shi and Meng Yao (yay! fun if useless parallel!), and in part because this is a story about how a woman can successfully raise a son by herself.

Okay, so important note: one of the most influential ancient Chinese thinkers is Meng Zi (孟子 Mèng Zǐ), who is known in the West as Mencius. If you've never heard of him - he's perhaps second in importance only to Confucius. When Mencius was still a young child, his father died, so he was raised by his mother, who is usually known only as Mother Meng (in Chinese, 孟母 Mèng Mǔ.)

Mother Meng's story is told in Biographies of Exemplary Women (列女傳 Liènǚ Zhuàn), which for around 2000 years beginning around the 18th century BCE, was the most commonly used book used to educate women. The book is divided into sections, each one showing a different way women could be honorable and good. Mother Meng's story is told in the Maternal Models section (母儀傳 Mǔ Yí Zhuàn.) The story has a few parts, some of which I'll quote, always from Kinney's 2014 translation.

Before I go on to quote it, though, I'd like to establish that Mother Meng's story is so, so famous that even if Meng Shi had never read this particular book, I'm almost certain she would've been familiar with at least the outlines of Mother Meng's story. I'm not cherry picking a suitable chapter from the book, I'm literally going with the most famous story in it because Meng Shi would be most likely to know this one if she knew no other story.

Okay, the first part of the tale takes place when Mencius is a young boy and Mother Meng is a widow raising him.

The mother of Meng Ke of Zou [a different name for Mencius] was called Mother Meng. She lived near a graveyard. During Mencius’ youth, he enjoyed playing among the tombs, romping about pretending to prepare the ground for burials. Mother Meng said, “This is not the place to raise my son.” She therefore moved away and settled beside the marketplace. But there he liked to play at displaying and selling wares like a merchant. Again Mother Meng said, “This is not the place to raise my son,” and once more left and settled beside a school. There, however, he played at setting out sacrificial vessels, bowing, yielding, entering, and withdrawing. His mother said, “This, indeed, is where I can raise my son!” and settled there. When Mencius grew up, he studied the Six Arts, and finally became known as a great classicist. A man of discernment would say, “Mother Meng was good at gradual transformation.”

According to the translator's footnote, "gradual transformation" is "a childrearing technique, whereby a child is morally formed through daily exposure to correct models of behavior."

From this story comes the proverb 孟母三遷 (Mèng Mǔ sān qiān) - "Mother Meng moved three times." It's come to mean that a parent - especially the mother of a male child - should spare no efforts to provide an environment that will give their child a good education, paying particular attention to what models are surrounding them.

I'm sure I don't need to say if Meng Shi was at all familiar with this proverb (and she would probably be), she must have been very stressed out over literally raising her son in a brothel. (Here I must mention sex workers in ancient China were often essentially owned by the brothels, so literally "moving three times" wasn't really an option for Meng Shi even if she could miraculously pick up another trade.) Meng Shi did however at least try to surround Meng Yao with the accomplishments appropriate for the son of a cultivator:

Xiao-Meng, are you still learning those things lately? [...] The things your mom wants you to learn, things like calligraphy, etiquette, swordsmanship, meditation… How are those things going? [...] His mom’s raising him as a young master of a wealthy family. She taught him how to read and write, bought him all those swordsmanship pamphlets, and even wants to send him to school.

Meng Yao actually talks a little bit about “those swordsmanship pamphlets” in the only time in canon he directly shares memories about this mother:

Lan XiChen, “Your [guqin] skills are also considered quite fine outside of Gusu. Were they taught by your mother?”

Jin GuangYao, “No. I taught myself by watching others. She never taught me such things. She only taught me reading and writing, and bought a handful of expensive sword and cultivation guides for me to practice.”

Lan XiChen seemed surprised, “Sword and cultivation guides?”

Jin GuangYao, “Brother, you haven’t seen them before, have you? Those small booklets sold by the common folk. First jumbled sketches of human figures, then deliberately mystified captions.”

Lan XiChen shook his head, smiling. Jin GuangYao shook his head as well, “All of them are scams, especially to fool women like my mother and ignorant children. You won’t lose anything by practicing them, but you definitely won’t gain anything either.”

He sighed in a rueful way, “But how could my mother have known this? She bought them no matter how expensive they were, saying that if I returned to see my father in the future, I had to see him with as much competence as possible so that I don’t fall behind. All of the money was spent on this.”

See what’s happening? Meng Shi cannot physically take Meng Yao to cultivators, but she spares no efforts in giving him the closest thing she possibly can -- figuratively, we might say she moved three times.

Of course, these booklets don’t work, but as Meng Yao says, how could she have known this? The cultivation world is very closed off - think of how the entire Mo household gathers to see Lan juniors, and how Wei Wuxian mentions once that “Cultivation families, in the eyes of common folk, are like people favored by God, mysterious yet noble.” Not just noble, but mysterious. That tracks, too - I mean, they live in inaccessible households and mostly leave to night hunt or visit each other, neither of which is an activity that would allow commoners to get much more than an occasional glimpse of them.

Now, if Meng Shi doesn’t even know that a pearl for Jin Guangshan was just a trinket, if she doesn’t know even the wealth of a major sect, how can she read booklets and decide whether that’s genuine cultivation or not? All that she sees is a chance for Meng Yao to be surrounded by the ideas and skills of the people she wants him to emulate - cultivators - and therefore she does everything she can to get him that chance. Mother Meng moved three times.

Okay, but maybe the argument is not “Meng Shi shouldn’t have pushed Meng Yao to cultivation” but rather “she should’ve pushed him, just not too hard." To that, I present another tale from Mencius' childhood:

Once, when Mencius was young, he returned home after finishing his lessons and found his mother spinning. She asked him, “How far did you get in your studies today?” Mencius replied, “I’m in about the same place as I was before.” Mother Meng thereupon took up a knife and cut her weaving. Mencius was alarmed and asked her to explain. Mother Meng said, “Your abandoning your study is like my cutting this weaving. A man of discernment studies in order to establish a name and inquires to become broadly knowledgeable. By this means, when he is at rest, he can maintain tranquility and when he is active, he can keep trouble at a distance. If now you abandon your studies, you will not escape a life of menial servitude and will lack the means to keep yourself from misfortune. How is this different from weaving and spinning to eat? If one abandons these tasks midway, how can one clothe one’s husband and child and avoid being perpetually short of food? If a woman abandons that with which she nourishes others and a man is careless about cultivating his virtue, if they don’t become brigands or thieves, then they will end up as slaves or servants.” Mencius was afraid. Morning and evening he studied hard without ceasing. He served Zisi [a great scholar whose grandfather was Confucius] as his teacher and then became one of the most renowned classicists in the world.

Notice that Mother Meng moved three times to ensure Mencius would have the highest of aspirations - to become a scholar. But just aspiration isn’t enough. Not by any means. Now that Mencius is actually studying, Mother Meng is willing to take an extreme action to ensure he's taking it seriously. Mencius doesn't have a father to smooth his path to success. He has to learn that aspiring to greatness isn't enough. He'll have to put in the effort as if his life depended on it. And if he doesn't persist in his hard work, everything he's done thus far will be useless. Sounds like a lesson imparted on young Meng Yao, doesn’t it?

A lot of fandom rage towards Meng Shi would apply to China's Best Mom Contender, Mother Meng. She gives her son big dreams, and teaches him how to go about achieving them in a society where failing is easier than succeeding. Yes, it's fair to say that Meng Shi taught Meng Yao to refuse to settle for anything less than being “Jin Guangshan's son, a respected cultivator.” Yes, it's also fair to say that she probably didn't allow him much time to play like children his age did. But unfortunately, in the world of MDZS, poor children probably wouldn't get to play anyhow, the difference is that they'd usually be working, not studying. Studying is a privilege! It’s a privilege Meng Yao could not afford but was given to him anyway, through his mother’s many sacrifices. We can even say that while she was alive, Meng Shi was trying to ensure Meng Yao would one day have a better life, at the expense of a fun childhood - and that's very Mother Meng of her, whatever our modern Western sensibilities might have to say about that.

Finally, I’d skip other tales (which show Mother Meng and an adult Mencius) and go straight to the poem that ends the Mother Meng section:

The mother of Mencius

Was able to teach, transform, judge, and discriminate.

With skill she selected a place to raise her son,

Prompting him to accord with the great principles.

When her son’s studies did not advance,

She cut her weaving to illustrate her point.

Her son then perfected his virtue;

His achievements rank as the crowning glory of his generation.

I’d like to focus on the last verse - “His achievements rank as the crowning glory of his generation.” All that Mother Meng wanted was for Mencius to not completely ruin his life, but he became great. You can so very easily see a parallel with how Meng Shi hoped Meng Yao would be a cultivator but he became Jin Guangyao, Chief Cultivator, styled Lianfang-zun, one of the Three Venerable, hero of the Sunshot Campaign.

Of course you can say “Jin Guangyao did many Very Wrong Things to get there, though!” Which, sure, okay, fair point. How many and how wrong depends on which canon we're discussing, and your own interpretation, but there’s no version of the story in which Jin Guangyao is 100% an innocent child uwu. But blaming that on Meng Shi is just... straight up weird? I don’t see anyone going “If Jiang Fengmian hadn’t adopted Wei Wuxian, he’d never have dared become Yiling Laozu!” and that’s pretty much the same logic. Would street kid Wei Wuxian have invented a new type of cultivation if he had never been taken in by the Jiang? Probably not, but raising undead armies is very much not something Jiang Fengmian could’ve predicted. In the same way, how could Meng Shi have predicted that teaching her pre-adolescent son “You are the son of a cultivator, act like one and earn your place in society” would’ve ultimately resulted in innocent deaths? How could she predict “You’re not destined to having the same horrible life I did, you can get something better than this” was a bad thing to teach? I quite honestly don’t know.

Finally, I'd like to point towards a much flimsier evidence that Meng Shi did great as a parent. And that is Meng Yao’s love. Nie Huaisang at some point comments Meng Shi is someone who Meng Yao "cherishes more than his life," and I think his assessment is correct.

Even putting aside the fact he built a whole temple to get his mother to reincarnate into a better life, and even putting aside how he refuses to flee the country without her remains, there's still crystal clear evidence that Meng Shi must've done something right. Because a lifetime of people using his mother to bully him doesn't seem to have made Meng Yao resent her. Had their relationship not have been very strong, odds are he'd feel bitter and/or ashamed of her. That doesn't seem to be the case. He's attached to her even decades after her death.

I want to be very careful with equating mutual affection with good parenting, though. When I was a rather rebellious teenager, my mother (in typical Chinese fashion) used to say that parents and children don't have to love each other as long as they're dutiful to each other, by which she meant that a parent-child relationship isn't informed by warm and fuzzy feelings, but by whether you'd be willing to do anything for each other. Specific to my case, she meant "I don't care if it makes you hate me, you will do as you're told because that's what's best for you." (That may also be the reason why people more familiar with Chinese culture see the Jiang family less as outright abusive and more as #complicated, but that's another meta.)

Whether your kid wants to hug you every time they see you is of no consequence to traditional Chinese thought - raising them to be the best they can is all that matters, because at the end of the day, you won't be around forever, but you can definitely set up your kid's life so that it goes smoothly and virtuously. How that's accomplished varies depending on many factors, but to have the goal be "I want my child to love me" rather than "I want to raise my child right" would've been considered selfish as hell.

So even if all that Meng Shi had given Meng Yao had been stern lessons about the need to go get his birthright, she would've still have been considered a good mother!! In fact, she would've been doing everything she was supposed to do, under extremely difficult conditions! (Remember the importance of environment? That Meng Yao grew up to want to be a cultivator despite having probably never even met one speaks wonders about Meng Shi's childrearing powers!!)

But just based off how over the top Meng Yao's filal dutifulness is, I'd go a step further and say that even as she did the impossible, she was also loving enough to inspire genuine affection. This is complicated because children who have present fathers could expect their mothers to be tender with them. The first century BCE text 禮記 Lǐ Jì or The Classic of Rites says that:

Here now is the affection of a father for his sons - he loves the worthy among them, and places on a lower level those who do not show ability; but that of a mother for them is such, that while she loves the worthy, she pities those who do not show ability - the mother deals with them on the ground of affection and not of showing them honour; the father, on the ground of showing them honour and not of affection.

But when the father figure is lacking for any reason, the mother must abandon her tenderness because someone must guide the child, and without a father, the role falls to the mother. A single or widowed mother had to be very careful to not smother their children with affection and raise useless, spoiled kids, or so it was thought. (The presence of Qingheng-jun and Lan Qiren is why Madame Lan can be so affectionate with the Lan boys, by the way - if she was raising them by herself she would've been expected to be much more practical. AUs where she just gets her kids and runs away could do very cool things with this idea. But I digress!)

Where was I? Oh, okay. Because Meng Yao seems to not just respect, but actively miss her, it seems that Meng Shi somehow managed to deal with her son on the ground of both honor and affection, to paraphrase.

So basically, all things considered, it seems not only would Meng Shi have been considered a great mom (if people could look past her being a prostitute, anyway) but she also went above and beyond the bare minimum. She truly spared no efforts on any front to make sure her son had everything your average gongzi would have - someone to teach him and someone to love him, access to education and confidence in his birthright. That she couldn't actually make him a cultivator, that she couldn't actually raise him in a proper home with no one being cruel to herself or him - that's immaterial. Even Mother Meng couldn't control what her neighbors did, only what she taught her son! The key point is Meng Shi tried. She did everything she could to educate her son right. You couldn't ask more of her, and quite honestly, you should probably be asking less.

Of course we can't err on the other extreme and say she was Perfect. Given MXTX only ever writes flawed characters, we can safely assume that if we'd known more about Meng Shi, we would've seen many flaws. Indeed, just the fact she didn't teach Meng Yao the guqin when he apparently wanted to learn it might point to some conflict we don't know enough to speculate about (maybe she focused too much on cultivation when Meng Yao's interests lay elsewhere? Maybe she wasn't able to sufficiently shelter him and he felt it'd be a burden to ask her to teach him anything? Maybe maybe maybe, go wild with your fics.) Nevertheless, I would never hold a female character to a higher ideal than a male character - if the male cast of MDZS can be a hot mess and still be admirable for what they're trying to do, then so can Meng Shi.

At the end of the day, when I look at Meng Shi - and I've made myself a document with all the references to her in the novel canon so I could easily contemplate her life and character - all I see is a woman every bit as determined and resourceful as her son, willing to do everything it took to raise her little boy into the sophisticated and ambitious man he became.

Finally, here's a fun little parallel that I'm 100% sure was unintentional but I still love. I said Meng Shi couldn't have moved three times. She couldn't, but I think maybe she taught her son he was worth moving three times for. Qinghe Nie. Qishan Wen. Lanling Jin. Isn't that super fun to think about?

Alternatively, tl;dr: Oh My God I Can't Believe We're Blaming Women For The Actions Of Their Adult Children In The Year Of Our Lord 2k21, Meng Shi Was Doing Her Best, Chill!

[zombee]

I've got an AU idea if you're still looking for any: newbie director Stede ends up working with big Hollywood star Blackbeard. It can be a bit meta inspired too (like maybe Ed has lost his passion for acting but found it again, just like Taika did with OFMD).

thank you so much for this prompt! i wrote it on a translatlantic flight on my phone and it kept me sane.

it turned out to pretty much be PWP so i’m sorry and/or you’re welcome.

rated E, no archive warnings apply

~*~

When Edward Teach said yes to Stede Bonnet's film directorial debut, he had been over the moon. An actual celebrity - a superstar really - in Stede's little period piece. Ed was gracious and polite, if a bit closed off, but Stede supposed he would be too, if he was that famous. 

Well, he had been gracious and polite. Until now. They were filming The Kissing Scene, the first time his two leads kissed, and Stede knew exactly how he wanted it to go. It was too sexy, or too tame, or the hands weren’t right– a hundred little things that were leaving Stede unsatisfied. It was take forty-eight and they had been sort of yelling at each other since take thirty-six.

"Just fuckin show me yourself then, Christ!" Ed said.

There was a silence on the set. No one had done much talking since about take twenty-seven, except Stede and Ed and his other lead. But this was the kind of silence you could feel in your chest.

"Pardon?" Stede's voice was a little strangled.

"'Tender, a bit awkward, yet deeply passionate.'" Ed was quoting him. "Come here and show me what you want from me."

Of course Ed was handsome. Devastatingly so, if Stede had to give it an adverb. But he was so far out of Stede's league he had not even fantasized about what it might be like to kiss or touch him. Much.

"Ah," Stede said. "Alright then."

Stede sidled toward Ed and the other lead scampered away.

"So Benjamin knows he's in love, but Francis doesn't."

"Yeah, yeah, I read the script." Ed put one hand on Stede's shoulder like he had been directed to for the last hour. "Ready?"

Stede nodded. Ed leaned in. His lips were a bit chapped, but still very soft. Stede closed his eyes and reached up for the collar of Ed's shirt. And then he quite lost the plot, turning his head for a better angle, opening his mouth without thinking about it, kissing wet and sloppy as Ed tugged himself closer and moved both hands to Stede's face. This went on for a while, until the director of photography coughed loudly. 

They wrenched away from each other. Ed was breathing hard and Stede was too, one hand on his chest where his heart was crashing against his ribs.

He wasn't sure he had ever been kissed like that before.

"Uh," Ed said. "Sorry?"

He didn't look sorry and Stede didn't want him to be.

"Two to tango, and all that," he said, stupidly. "That is– maybe we try again, with a bit less tongue this time. One hundred percent less tongue, actually."

Ed nodded. He put his hand on Stede's shoulder again. They kissed, chaste at first, then more passionate as Stede, standing in for Francis, acclimated to the surprise and reciprocated. Ed threw his other arm around him and their faces pressed together with desperation. It was not as hot as the making out had been, but it was still pretty unbelievable.

The director of photography coughed again.

"A bit– a bit like that," Stede said. "Pull yourself closer when you feel him start to reciprocate, maybe that's what's missing."

Ed looked a little dazed. He nodded.

Stede wasn't sure if they actually nailed the next take, or if he was just reeling. Either way, he declared them finished with the scene, and called for the lunch break.

A little bit later, the PA found him. "Ed would like to see you in his trailer."

Stede took a deep breath and walked to the trailer and knocked.

"S'open!" Ed called from inside.

Stede pushed inside. Ed's trailer was pretty spartan, but it was only a twenty day shoot. There were five days left, and for the first time Stede was a little glum that they were almost finished.

"Hey." Ed was sitting at the little table, a bottle of very nice bourbon and two glasses in front of him. He gestured for Stede to sit. "I'm not usually in the habit of drinking mid-shoot, but I think we could both use it today. Bourbon okay?"

"Peachy," said Stede, stupidly.

Ed snorted as Stede sat down. He poured them both a few fingers and they clinked glasses before taking their sips. 

"I'm sorry for going all diva out there," Ed said. "Kissing scenes are always weird."

"You're hardly to blame. If anyone is the diva, it's me."

Ed grinned at him. Stede couldn't stop looking at his mouth.

"You're something, alright.” Ed looked down into his drink before looking up at Stede again. “Do you know why I said yes to this movie?"

"Because it's a good script?" 

"Well, sure, yeah, but I get a dozen good scripts a day. And those are only the ones my manager even lets me see. There's the queer rep, of course, that's fucking cool. But mostly, it was because of you."

"Oh?"

"The balls it took to even ask! I looked you up– just a weird rich banker who quit his job to direct indie films? Who does that?"

"I spent so long not doing what I wanted. I've been divorced for five years, out for four, and while I had fun for a few years after that, ah, exploring intimacy–"

"Fucking around, you mean?" 

"If you want to be crude about it."

"I do." 

"You know, before today, I thought you were polite?"

"Edward Teach is polite. Ed is a bastard."

Stede chortled and took a sip of his bourbon. "At any rate, I had all this money and I wanted to do something meaningful with it. I've always loved film. Lucius had a script and I thought, how hard could it be?"

"And? Is it hard?"

"Only when my star goes diva on me because he can't figure out how to kiss right."

Ed laughed. "I think I proved I can kiss just fine."

Stede looked at Ed's mouth again. Ed noticed him looking. He took a long, lascivious drink, holding eye contact. 

"You're not half bad yourself," Ed said. "Most directors aren't quite so… hands on."

"If I recall correctly, it was you who demanded I get 'hands on.'"

"Been wanting to get hands on with you since I walked on set, to be honest."

Stede choked on his drink. "Pardon?"

"C'mon. You flirt with me like, all the time. And everyone knows I'm a little gone for you."

"Pardon?"

Ed put a hand to his forehead, closed his eyes, and sighed deeply. "Lucius was right. You had no idea."

Stede was flummoxed. Ed was one of People’s Sexiest Men Alive about ten years ago, and he had only gotten hotter. And Stede was– well, it wasn’t exactly like he had trouble finding people to sleep with. But not men like this. "About– but– you're Edward Teach?" 

"Even celebrities get horny, Stede." 

"But– I– truly?"

Ed downed the rest of his drink, stood up, and walked over to the trailer couch. He sat and patted the space next to him. "I can prove it, if you want."

"Is that– appropriate? I'm your employer."

Ed shrugged. "I don't really give a shit. Do you?"

Stede hesitated. Ed's face fell. "You can tell me no. I've used up my asshole quotient for the day, I won't be shitty about it."

Stede peered down into his drink and swirled it around. He took his last swallow. "Far be it for me to say no to Edward Teach."

He looked up. Ed was beaming. Stede got up and sat next to him on the couch. They looked at each other for a beat and then they were kissing, messy and urgent, a little more teeth than was comfortable but Stede didn't care. They found their rhythm quickly and oh, Stede was certain Ed must have ruined every man he had ever kissed. 

He pushed Ed down onto his back and nipped at his lower lip. Ed groaned and slid his hands down to grope at Stede's ass. Stede moved his mouth to Ed's neck, nuzzling into his beard, licking until he found a spot that made Ed shudder. He bit down and sucked and Ed made a noise Stede knew he would not forget any time soon.

They were both hard now. Stede slotted his thigh between Ed's legs and Ed pushed against it and thrashed.

"Please, Stede–"

Stede slipped his hand under Ed's shirt and found his nipple. He swiped at it with his thumb and Ed pushed into his thigh again.

"Shirt– I want–" Ed said. Stede lifted up off him just a bit so he could get his shirt off. Ed tugged at the hem of Stede's shirt too, so Stede removed it. He leaned back down and they were kissing again. It was even more electric with the skin to skin contact. Heat was pooling in Stede's lower belly, and his erection was almost unbearable in the confines of his pants. As if reading his mind, Ed started groping blindly at the buckle of Stede's belt. 

Ed broke away from Stede's mouth. "I bet you have a fantastic dick. Can I suck it?" 

Stede shuddered and nodded. He pushed Ed's hands away and undid his belt himself. Ed wiggled out from beneath him and threw one of the couch cushions on the ground. He knelt on it and indicated that Stede should sit up in front of him. He obliged, and Ed undid his pants and drew out his cock.

"Fantastic." He was looking at Stede's cock like it was the best thing he had ever seen. He gripped it lightly. "Just like I thought. Will you fuck me sometime?" 

Stede's brain short circuited for a second thinking that he might get to have this again. That this man wanted him that badly.

"Yes, yes, of course, anything, Ed, anything you want." His babbling cut off with a short hiss as Ed moved his hand up and down in a firm stroke.

"Pull my hair," Ed said. He licked up Stede's balls and shaft in one long stripe and looked up through his lashes. Stede clutched at the couch on either side of him. "My hair, Stede, c'mon."

Stede did not need to be told a third time. He spared a moment of silent apology to Frenchie in hair and make up and then sank his fingers into Ed's hair and tugged. Ed hummed with approval and swirled his tongue around the head of Stede's cock. He put his mouth around it and sucked. Stede pulled at his hair and groaned. Ed took him a little deeper in his mouth, working his tongue, making obscene little slurping noises and gripping Stede even tighter in his hand. Stede tugged sharply and sucked in a breath when Ed took him all the way down to the hilt until he felt himself hit the back of his throat.

"God, fuck, Ed."

Ed popped Stede's cock out of his mouth and worked the shaft with his hand. "Yeah? You like that?"

"Ngh, yes."

"You've thought about this before?" 

"Maybe not quite like thi– ah!" 

Ed put his mouth around him again and sucked his cheeks in. Stede was no stranger to blowjobs, but this was something else. He was impossibly hard, and Ed's tongue and hands felt so good, Stede's mouth started running without a lot of input from his brain.

"You might be a better cocksucker than actor. And you're a fantastic actor. I used to– fucking hell, Ed, yes, do that again– I used to jerk off to that one scene in Angel Among Us. Is the anchor tattoo real?" 

"Mmhmm," Ed said, lips still wrapped around Stede.

"You'll have to show me. I want to taste it. I want to taste every part of you. I could spend hours just eating you out. I can't believe you're on your knees for me. You're doing so well, darling,  swallowing my cock like you were born to do it."

Ed shuddered and sucked hard. Stede could feel his balls tightening up against his body. He started thrusting, hands clenching in Ed's hair. Ed kept making these mewling sounds of approval and it was that as much as his mouth that had Stede moaning.

"I'm close, Ed, I'm going to come–" 

"Mmhmm," Ed said again. He was choking a little, taking Stede even deeper, whining with his own pleasure. Stede cried out and came hot and hard down Ed's throat.

Ed swallowed every drop and pulled backward. He smiled up at Stede.

"How'd I do?" 

"Fuck off," Stede said weakly.

"Actors thrive on positive reviews."

"Ten out of ten stars. Or whatever."

Ed pushed himself up and back onto the couch while Stede tucked himself away. 

"Kissing okay?" Ed asked. 

"Yes, yes–"

Ed tasted like bourbon and come and if Stede was just a little bit younger, he would be ready to go again just from that.

"What can I do for you?" he said, after a little while. He palmed Ed through his pants.

"You don't have to–" 

"Ed. Please. Don't make me beg."

Ed grinned and glanced at his phone. "We don't have much time left. I'm close anyway. Can you just jerk me off? And then I want to come on your tits."

Stede startled. "My what?" 

"Your tits, mate. They're incredible. I've been daydreaming about them since you wore that slutty little v neck day two of filming."

"That is actually a custom piece from a very famous designer–"

Ed kissed him to shut him up, which was fair. They really didn't have much time. After a few stops and starts, Ed had his pants undone and his cock out. Stede wrapped a hand around it and tugged. Ed swore.

"How do you like it?" Stede said. "Rough and fast? Slow and steady?" He demonstrated each option as he named them. 

"Don't tease me. Just–" He wrapped a hand around Stede's and showed him a pace and angle he liked. When Stede caught the rhythm, Ed pulled away and leaned against the back of the couch.

"Fuck yeah, yes, Stede. Just like that. Tell me what else you want to do to me."

"I want to finger you until you can't see straight. Then I want to fuck you from behind and pull your hair so hard you scream with it. I could come down your throat every day for the rest of my life, Ed, you're magnificent."

"I'm–" Ed said. "Stop, lay back, I'm gonna–"

Stede let go and let himself be pushed down onto the couch. Ed straddled him and stroked himself, groaning deep and guttural, until he let out a harsh moan and came all over Stede's chest.

They panted together for a second, holding eye contact. And then they both started laughing.

"Twenty years in the business and I've never fucked a director, can you believe it?" Ed said.

"What, you got famous just on talent? Unheard of."

"Nah, I just fucked casting directors instead."

Stede giggled as Ed pushed himself off of him and the couch.

"Er," Stede said. "Could you perhaps fetch me something to clean off with?" 

"Just a second. Can I…?" Ed had his phone out and was pointing the camera at Stede.

"Oh dear. You're not going to share it on Instagram or something?" 

"Fuck, no, of course not. This is just for the spank bank."

Stede flopped backward. "Alright. I don't– what should I do with my face?"

"You can just smile. Yeah. Perfect." Ed snapped the pic and went to get Stede a towel. After he cleaned up and they were both fully clothed again, Stede felt a little shy.

"I'm sorry again, for all the takes. The scene is just important to me."

"I get it. You're a lunatic, but I like it. I haven't had this much fun on a set in years."

Stede smiled. "Really?" 

"Really really."

They did their best to arrange their hair and clothing to look like they hadn't just had sex in a small trailer. They didn't do a very good job, because when the John the costume designer saw Ed, he shrieked.

"Tell me you did not just have sex in your costume. Do you know how much time that embroidery took? Frenchie!" 

The man in question hurried over. "Is that a hickey?" he said. "Stede, I know this is new for you, but we do not give our lead actors hickies when we are mid shoot!"

Stede was a bit too post-coital blissed out to let the criticism stick, so he just shrugged.

"It's my fault," Ed said.

"You gave yourself a hickey?" Frenchie said.

"Well, no, but I should have known better about the costume."

Frenchie gave a long suffering sigh and ushered Ed to the makeup chair to touch him up. John followed with the steamer, muttering darkly under his breath.

Lucius sidled over to Stede. "You lost me twenty bucks. I thought he wouldn't have the nerve until after the shoot was over."

"Apparently having a blow out fight with your lead actor that turns into a make out session does tend to hasten things along."

"You're being shockingly cool about this. I mean, the man has two million Instagram followers. He's famous-famous."

"Even celebrities get horny, Lucius."

Lucius snorted. "But like. He likes you Stede, do you get that?"

"Of course he likes me. We just had sex."

"No, Stede. He likes you."

Stede glanced over at Ed, who gave him a goofy grin and waved.

"Really?" 

"Yes. Obviously. If you don't like him back you need to tell him."

Stede's phone buzzed and he pulled it out. Ed had sent him a picture of a cat with a v neck on with the caption, "it's you."

"Never mind," said Lucius. "You're already a goner."

"Hm? Can you help me find a picture of a cat with a beard?"

"No. I cannot. Good bye."

~*~

if you’d like to read more of my stuff, i’m CartoonMayor on AO3!

[shameonmeeguiltypleasure]

Seducing Mr Bridgerton Chapter 4 Progress update:

Hello everyone! I am currently a little on the intoxicated side, but I just had to let you all know chapter 4 is finally flowing!!!!!!

I'm so happy, I could cry from relief, excitement etc. I really thought I wouldn't make the deadline I set myself. But I'm so glad I didn't give up and kept pushing myself to keep working on it. I have..... Two? I think, alt/deleted scenes that are of no use so I thought I'd share it with you all on Tumblr.

The official chapter 4 is going in a direction I honestly didn't plan. It was as if that's what my version of the characters wanted to take things and so.... That's where it went.

I'm very excited to post the chapter in three days time. Of only so I can see who else agrees with me 😂

Anyway, .enjoy and thank you very much for the continued support 💕💕

Chapter Four: Alt/Deleted Scene 1 :

Between the ages of six and nine – Eloise rather fancied the idea of ruling the world. She had done the research and strategy for it too. But eventually, she realised that society was not ready for a world of her making. It would take far too long and see her courting death much too closely and she had her family to protect. So, she made the wise decision to temper her dream and settle for fighting the oppression of women’s rights in what little ways she could.

But she never forgot the many strategies she’d created to dominate her enemies. And for her unfortunate brothers, who tended to forget her once-upon-a-dream, Eloise never hesitated to use her learned methods against them when seeking vengeance. Still steaming with anger over her quarrel with Colin during breakfast, Eloise was mentally sorting through her options. It was nearing lunch and she still had yet to settle on a decision. Should she rage into a mental war or a physical altercation? To what extent did she wish to see him suffer? And for how long?

“Grr! The problem with brilliance… far too many options…” she muttered before scooping more of her soup.

She ignored Hyacinth’s pointed groaning and avoided her mother’s stare.

“Eloise. Surely you’ve calmed down by now, you’re twenty-eight.” Violet Bridgerton sighed. “I had hoped you’re vengeful plotting would have stopped by now”

Hyacinth scoffed. “In what world Mama?” she asked with a shake of her head.

“Hush you, don’t think I’d forgotten that you’d broken a plate to get your siblings to stop.”

Hyacinth sat up with indignant disbelief. “I had no choice! Consider this, would you rather a broken plate or a bloody son?”

“Hyacinth!” Violet scolded, but while her youngest apologized her expression showed no regret.

“Don’t defend him, Mama! If you had witnessed his actions yourself, you’d be just as insulted and angered as I am.” Eloise sharply voiced.

Hyacinth rather thought she could see the fire in her sister’s eyes. Violet hesitated to sip at her tea at seeing Eloise’s temper. Her second-born daughter had always been passionate and feisty, but much like Colin, her true temper tantrums were hard to weather.

“What on earth could he have said that’s pushed you to this point?” she absently wondered.

“He called her, and I quote: ‘ an ignorant child with no understanding of true hardship and pain.’ Do you see now why I had no choice, Mama?” Hyacinth announced with a solemn demeanour that was almost comical. But Violet was too stunned to comment. Eloise, however, was not and the reminder of Colin’s angrily spoken words infuriated her even further.

“Can you believe his audacity Mama!? To call me childish when it is him who turns tail and runs away from commitments,” Hyacinth opened her mouth to comment but a sharp look from Violet had her hastily keeping her words to herself. Eloise was too busy venting her rage to notice. And she might have continued for longer if not for the arrival of her Viscount brother and his family.

“I’m sorry but what the devil are you yelling about?” Anthony interrupted with a concerned frown.

“ANTHONY!” Hyacinth cried with joy before jumping from her seat and rushing to hug him tight. The youngest Bridgerton turned to the side to cover her whispering lips and quickly informed the oldest Bridgerton of the situation.

“Eloise and Colin are fighting. I had to break a plate to stop the bloodshed. As you can see, Eloise is still raging.” Hyacinth hastily spoke. When the Viscount’s eyes widened with understanding, the tension Hyacinth had been ignoring eased and her brother returned her hug with a tight squeeze.

“Well done, Hyacinth. Do me a favour and see that my sons don’t go antagonising their little sister like their idiot Uncle.” Anthony warmly encouraged. Hyacinth happily abandoned the company of her older siblings in favour of her adorable nephews and niece. As she did, she couldn’t help but be thankful for Anthony’s timely arrival. No part of her felt any sympathy for whatever retribution Colin might suffer, as she thought he rightly deserved it.

********

Anthony had prepared himself for a rather chaotic day. For whatever reason, his sons had insisted they spend the day following after him. And while he loved his children with every ounce of his being, he worried about being able to balance his workload while minding his sons. Edmund and Miles were nine and seven. And having helped raise his seven younger siblings, Anthony vividly remembered the unpredictable wildness children were capable of.

Apparently, at thirty-three and twenty-eight, Colin and Eloise were still capable of being such chaotic hellions.

“Colin said what?” Anthony repeated. 

“How rude!” Kate added with disapproval from her seat beside him.

After convincing Eloise to explain the situation to the both of them so they may help, her temper seemed to cool. Anthony knew Eloise’s cool temper was nothing to feel relief over. As Benedict once accurately described, Eloise was the water to Colin’s fire and when incensed with each other, she was an icy tornado to his fiery inferno.

“And he did not mention anything about the cause of his moody disposition?” Kate questioned.

Anthony glanced at his wife and could tell she was entertained by the dramatic nature of his siblings. Feeling righteously assured, Eloise responded exuberantly to Kate’s consoling inquires. It was clear Eloise felt as if she was in the right. Anthony would argue both his siblings shared the blame for their ridiculous quarrel. He was dragged out of his musing when Eloise said something most intriguing.

“I’d excused his brooding demeanour after last night’s party, but this morning was far too much,” Eloise added with a huff. Anthony laughed which gained him the attention of both women.

“I’m sorry, but did you just describe our brother as brooding?” Anthony repeated with another chuckle.

“It is the only word fit to use.” Eloise hissed.

“Yes, but this is Colin. In what world would he be described as brooding? He’s no dark hero in the making, Eloise. Call him the temperamental idiot he is and leave it at that.” Anthony said while still feeling amused.

“Although hard to imagine, aren’t you a little too confident about your brother’s character? He has been travelling for so long, perhaps his experiences across the oceans have changed him?” Kate voiced thoughtfully.

Her suggestion caused both Anthony and Eloise to frown with disagreement. What experiences could Colin possibly come across to prompt him down the route of a dark brooding hero? Anthony sighed and looked at his wife with a sympathetic sort of smile.

“I love you, but surely you give Colin too much credit. As impulsive and thoughtless as my brother can be, his is a character that’s not easily swayed.”

Kate arched a brow in taunt and Anthony clenched his fist to stop himself from wanting to kiss her.

“Men can be swayed.” She announced with a knowing smirk on her lips.

Anthony swallowed and cleared his throat pointedly to change the topic. “Regardless, something is obviously plaguing him. Do you remember anything specific occurring after last night?” he prompted.

Eloise’s frown deepened before she spoke out with obvious frustration. “Nothing! Beyond Lady Danbury’s challenge and the talk of Penelope’s dare to suspect her, there was nothing else!”

“Ah…” the Viscount and Viscountess said in unison.

Eloise straightened and peered at the sudden knowing in Kate’s expression as well as Anthony’s furrowed brow. “What? What is it? You know something I don’t, so tell me now.” She pestered like a bloodhound who’d caught the scent of prey.

Kate sipped at her tea and gave an easy wave to show her thoughts were nothing of importance. But Anthony was too busy contemplating the wonderings in his mind about Lady Whistledown and his brother. Perhaps it was the hunt for Lady Whistledown that’s got him so out of sorts?

“Why would Colin care for Lady Whistledown?” Eloise demanded.

Anthony blinked, having not realized he’d spoken his musing out loud. Faced with his wife’s intrigued and expectant stare, as well as Eloise’s demanding glare, he had no choice but to answer.

“He’s not exactly fond of the gossip of the ton, and her writings about him have… annoyed him over the years.” Anthony carefully explained.

He carefully observed Eloise’s reaction to his words. He suddenly remembered the earlier years following Whistledown’s debut and Eloise’s obsession with discovering her identity. At some point, she seemed to lose interest in her hunt, but Anthony had been too relieved over the matter to question it. Now, his worries for his sister returned with full force.

“You’re not Lady Whistledown, are you?” he decided to check.

The groan of disappointment from his wife and the annoying disbelief from his sister was completely unwarranted. Eloise levelled a sarcastic grin towards him and spoke in a tone one would use while gutting fish.

“Anthony, if I were Lady Whistledown, I would not waste precious ink and time in writing about my idiot brother. Nor would I ever use adjectives such as ‘charming’ to describe him.”

“Exactly as I thought.” He nodded. But the look in Eloise’s eyes made him suspicious. He could visibly see the cogs in her brain turning with thought.

[sweetsbfreex]

lethologica

when you can’t think of the word for something...like this fic </3

Summary: Harry’s family navigating his impending fame, and the activity of reader and harry making their first belly cast

Warnings: fluff, slight angst?

Pairing: Husband, Dad!Harry x reader 

“Hey! We’re back!” you yelled out, Harry following closely behind you as he shut the door,  carefully slipping off your sneakers. It was pretty late at least for the two of you now. The sun was away, you and H coming back from your well deserved date night. 

At the familiar sound of the slamming door came the different steps of your kids. Shuffling down the steps from your view you could see the face of your oldest ahead of the covey, bolting towards the two of you. The various sounds of ‘mom’,’mummy’, and ‘dad’ spoken out. 

“You guys took forever” Sydnie; seventeen, was the first to say, exasperated as she latched onto you. But was quickly shuffled away by the twins. “Bloo” the seven year old was born a Penelope, but after watching her favorite show Winx Club when she was three. Demanded she be called after her favorite character Bloom, but couldn’t pronounce the name all the way through. If you had called her by official name she wouldn’t respond, going on about her day as if no one was there. And it had stuck since then, forever the stubborn one only to grow into a sweet, shy little girl.

 And Alec, fraternal twins who had just turned seven.

“Careful babies the baby, remember” Harry lightly reminded. With that reminder he had loosened his secure hold.

“Well sorry” you teased, kissing all their forehead quickly “But we bought you guys some food too” you reported, holding up the labeled bag.

They responded with excited statements, as Sydnie took the bag from your hold, running to the kitchen with her siblings. 

“My hugs!” Harry yelled out, hands cupping his mouth then putting his brawny arms out like a plane awaiting their bodies to clash into his. “ought to take away your allowance for that one” Harry teases, fingers stretching out to tickle anywhere they could. 

As a result he got a lively mix of groans, laughs, and pleas.

“Joking” Harry says abruptly, kissing each of their cheeks before conducting all of you to the kitchen, assisting the twins into their own seatings at the kitchen. The light above all of you illuminating the room.

Embarrassingly enough it had been when you were pulling the plastic containers from the brown bag that you realized you were missing a kid. 

“Where’s your brother?” you asked, opening Bloo’s Spaghetti and spreading it on the white plate.

“Talking to his girlfriend” Sydnie air quoted, rolling her father-like eyes.

“Why do you say it like that?” Harry asked, wonderingly his back turned, reaching for the Placemats, setting them in front of each child. Placing one in front of an empty stool for Chase. 

“Daddy, he’s delusional! I’ve told him a million times. She found out his last name, connected the dots, and now she’s interested. I would know it’s happened to me hundreds of times since middle school” she said indignantly.

Finishing the last plate up, from the side of your eyes you could see and sense his deflation at the statement. Always overthinking about their last names and what it would entail as they grow up with Harry Styles as their father. His top five worry ever since the first time you were pregnant. His breaking point, however, had been when Sydnie came home, furious. From a day from school finding out that some girl in her class had tried getting closer to her with ill intentions. 

He could also sense the worry that washed over you, catching your eye to let you know he was fine. 

“He’s old enough to know better. He’ll be fine Syd,” you let her know, reaching your hand to fix the hoodie that overshadowed her precious face.

“I wasn’t, it sucks and he’s not taking me seriously”

“Cause you’re full of it” shifting your eyes to the doorway, the sixteen-year-old walked in towards you. His arm over your shoulders before placing a kiss to your cheek. Then making his way to his dad, who had pulled him in setting a kiss to his temple. 

“You say that but just you wait!” she walked over to him quickly, flicking his the back of his head, shifting her way over to the fridge before he could retaliate. Pulling out a drink and some cups for everyone else, almost bustling into you, as you made your way to the microwave.

“Don’t wish that on your brother” Harry persisted.

“I’m not, but he better not come crying to me”

"Whatever” he paid her no mind, shifting the conversation to his parents. “How was your date?” he asked, setting himself at the island. 

“‘Was fine we went to the arcade, I beat mum’s butt––”

“He’s lying, I beat him at air hockey”

“Just air hockey mum?” Bloo asked, a slight lisp from her missing front teeth. Her attention strayed away while Sydnie placed her cup in front of her, filling it with juice.

“Sadly” you mimicked a pout, Harry smiling with a smug grin. 

“Then went to dinner. Guess what” he exclaimed, directing his energy towards Alec”

“Mummy looked so pretty tonight, some chum couldn’t stop eyeing her. So I had to give him a knuckle” he told the story, raising his fist and mirthfully brought it to Alec’s stomach. Eliciting giggles from his which bounced off to Bloo. The rest of you with gratified smiles at the meaningful interaction. 

“Why are you such a fibber tonight” you urged Harry, smacking his shoulder. 

“I’m not lying” he said, walking to you till he was hovering over your back, trying to annoy you with his insistent cheek kisses.

“Go away” you whined, faking your displeasure, shrugging your shoulders. The kids could note your slight smile except for him.

“Go away” he mocked.

“We all know you wouldn’t hurt a fly” Chase pointed out correctly. Thanking you as you set his plate of food in front of him. 

Harry stood across the herd,resting back against the quartz countertop, arms crossed. Until you cuddled yourself into his side. His arm reaching down so his thumb could rub against the side of your belly. Your arms encircled around his waist, head on his chest.

“Not true” he replied. 

“It’s okay, it’s why I married you” you sweetly said with a smile adoring your face. He could only look down at you with a close lipped smile reflecting yours, his dimple digging deep. Leaning down to kiss you, filling you up with his love for you. 

Both of you had pulled away abruptly from the range of disgusted protests and a slam of an utensil. All except for sweet, shy Bloo. Who had watched with a smile on her face idolizing the love of her parents, swearing it was like the Disney movies. Like her favorite Princess and the Frog.

“We’re trying to eat!” Chase had said dramatically, pasta in his mouth. Sydnie covers her eyes with both hands, while Alec stuck out his tongue finger to his mouth. 

“None of you would be here, if it wasn’t for this” you emphasized, your finger waving between you and H. 

“No duh, you both won’t stop having children” Sydnie overstated, shuddering stagy. 

- 

It was late now, all of you stayed downstairs, more overdue than intended. The twins went down an hour early before the other two. Chase and Sydnie finished their meals for the night and instead of leaving, stayed up talking to their parents.

In your sleep shorts and a light weight tank top, your hands were in Harry’s who was massaging them softly. 

“Do you wanna talk about it?” you asked feebly, peeking up at the overly focused man. 

“We’ve had this conversation a handful of times, don’t see why we need to have it again” he replied, glancing at you quickly.

“I know, but it might make you feel a little better” you tried again not wanting to push him too far. 

“I–It’s just” he had to stop for a minute, his throat closing up too much to even speak clearly. You propped yourself up against the headboard, your lower back aching a little bit, adjusting Harry so his red tainted face was laid on your shoulder. 

You could only coo at him, kissing his forehead, while your hand ran laxly on the side of his face. Your fingers brushing against the slight scruff against his cheek. Before moving your arm so your hand could massage his scalp at the back of his neck. Letting your fingers run through his lengthy hair at the same time. Your other arm reaches over to pluck a piece of tissue from the box, wiping under his nose softly. 

“Just want them to have a normal life like you and me, it isn’t fair to them that they’ve got to deal with shit like this constantly because of me”

“Baby don’t say that, regardless of it all they’d still have to go through life meeting awful people”

“It isn’t the same y/n, with people like them they know the reason is because of their stupid last name.”

“H” you start sternly, rocking the both of you slowly “Don’t say stuff like that, you think if they had to choose you wouldn’t be their dad? They cherish you so much. I know it sucks I do, but you’re an amazing dad, there’s no one better for them. They would never hold something like that against you, they love you too much to”

“You’re a brilliant mum too. I’m sorry”

“You don’t need to apologize baby” You stopped rocking the two of you slowly, smiling down at him only to see: glossy somber eyes, a subtle simper, and a hiccuping chest.  

-

“Stomachs getting bigger” he stated, his hand rubbing against your stomach absentmindedly.

“Thank you baby, just what every girl wants to hear” 

“No! Not like that beautiful. Just meant now people can see your pregnant again”

“I’m teasing H, I promise the hormones haven’t kicked in yet.”

“Finally get to sleep with ur boobs in front of me every night” He said smugly, naturally looking at you for his favourable reaction.

“You’re such a child” you return, pinching his arm lightly “You wouldn’t want to put it in the nursery?” you ask.

“Wherever you want angel”

That radiant morning led you to now, an impromptu family trip to Target, the kids getting whatever their hearts desired–– to an extent–– while you and Harry stood here astonished by the arrays of different casting kits. 

You raise your conjoined hands to point your finger at a baby blue box.

“That one? Genie told me that’s the one she bought” you queried.

He inspected it, twisting the box practically reading every word, before turning to look at the ingredients. 

“H you probably don’t know what half of those things are”

He shrugged his shoulder in response, looking at the box one last time. “Sure it was this one?” 

“Positive”

You were both meant to go find the kids until they had bustled around the corner, Chase pushing the loaded cart while everyone walked ahead. At the view of his parents. Alec had run ahead towards the two of you a motor car in his hand. 

“Mummy! Daddy! May I get this please?” he asked, raising the toy above his head. 

“Can I get this too please?” Bloo asked quietly, a lego set sat up in her palms.

“You guys were meant to keep them away from the toys” Harry told the older two. Knowing this would just add to their continual influx of toys. “Yes you guys can, go ahead and put it in the cart”

Alec had done his little dance, skipping his way back to the cart while Bloo walked herself carefully. Placing her set down as low as she could without causing any noise or crushing anything else. 

“You both get everything you need?” you asked, following after the twins along with Harry, placing the kit into the cart. 

You looked down at everything noticing some groceries, a few skincare items, a book, something for their rooms, and other things you couldn’t find that laid underneath everything else.  

“Yep, ready to leave when you are” Sydnie had responded.

“Okay let’s head out, Styles” Harry exclaimed, as low as he could, to not disrupt anyone else, Clapping his ringed hands together once.

“Dude, you’re such a dad” Chase quipped.

“Almost like I’ve been raising kids for seventeen years huh?” He jested back, eyes opening wide in faux disbelief, traveling to bother Chase some more. 

Giggling at the two, you looked down when you felt a body pressing into your leg. Familiar arms around your thigh. A distraught Bloo, looking up at you, her chin resting against your thigh.

“What is it, baby?” you asked, softly, tuning out the rest of your family.

“There’s a lady over there. She keeps looking at us” she informed you, pointing her dainty finger discreetly as she could to the woman at the end of the aisle. 

Being only seven the twins had a mutual understanding on why their dad had to leave at times, but that decreased once more when you had fallen pregnant again. They understood all the rules. 

a) if anyone was ever following, acting suspiciously always let mum or dad know–– if dad was there, definitely dad. b) never talk back to the idiots with the bulky cameras. c) Be careful who you talk to and what you say, some people aren’t always what they may seem. 

“H” you called him over.

He walked over to the two of you, eyebrows elevated in question. His hand instinctively brushing over bloo’s hair.

“Uhm maybe we should send the kids to checkout” you tilted your head backward at the not so prudent woman with the shocked face. Her phone pointing towards the two of you. 

You undoubtedly saw the happiness of his face shift to one of vexation and frustration as he glanced quickly, shrewdly at the woman. He extended his hand out to rub your elbow soothingly, nodding wearily. 

He turned to the kids, masking his face as best as he could. “You guys go ahead and save a spot for us, me and your mum are gonna grab one last thing”

They didn’t care much, just wanting to get home as quickly as they could, Sydnie grabbing both of the twins’ hands. 

-

Harry had kindly walked up to the woman, a displayed smile on his face, asking her to delete whatever she had managed to collect. You watched the encounter from the side, rubbing your belly softly, filled with mild angst. 

She had apologized profusely (the embarrassment seeping in her voice), the kindness in Harry letting her know it was fine as long as he could watch her delete everything. 

From her camera roll, Harry could see a video still of before the kids came, when you and him were looking for a casting kit. And some other videos of the family loitering in the target section. 

He bid her a tight-lipped goodbye, after he kindly asked her again, though it was starting to run low, to go to her recently deleted–– he wasn’t the most tech savvy but he also wasn’t an idiot. Once that was ultimately done, he locked your hand into his. 

“Are you okay?” you asked, securing your other arm up to wind around his.

“Just tired of the bullshit...” he sighed. He was just happy that he was able to protect his family this time. 

You halt him swiftly; he looks back at you in confusion, until you lug him down for as much of a hug as you could. Feeling his shoulders sag in relaxation and his arms winding around your waist. 

-

You stood next to Harry, in front of one of the sinks, reading the instructions. 

“So we start with the lubricant first, use these...” holding up a roll of the plaster tape “dip them into warm water, and just putting them on” you informed Harry of your summary.

He nodded, his lip between his fingers as his eyes roamed over the paper once again. “I’ll go get you a chair, pee before we start” He yelled over his shoulder.

He walked back in, a wooden chair between his hands. Setting it to the floor gently, smiling at you to take a seat. Walking back to the sink,resting his hip against the packet of lubricant in his hand. 

You smiled back at him as you took your seat. Deeming it be fit to wear running shorts and a tank top. Harry only in a pair of his joggers. Surprisingly after four kids, this was your first time trying a belly cast and you were a bit nervous wanting it to look just as perfect as it could–– adding your husband being a precisionist into the mix there was no guessing how this would turn out. 

“Take off your top” Harry said smugly, bringing the white packet to his teeth– side eying you–– while he ripped it off. Turning to start the camera propped up on the counter. You insisted this had to be recorded as a little keepsake for the two of you. 

You could only roll your eyes, trying hard not to feed into his ego. But the heat rising from your neck reported him otherwise. Tucking your arms back in the arm holes and raising the shirt off your body. Your body is bare except for the shorts adorning your legs. 

Ogling at you like a caveman playfully at the sight of your boobs out and about, eliciting quick giggles from you. He walked up to you clasping your face between his palms, pressing your aglow cheeks together lightly–– the white, cold packet sitting against your left cheek lightly. Giving you three earnest kisses to your lips and leaning down in front of you, giving a peck to your belly button. 

He squeezed some of the lubricant onto his fingers, deciding to start under your belly. You hissed at the sudden coldness hitting your skin. 

“Okay?” he asked, eyes a bit wide and mouth slightly open.

“A little cold, but you can continue” you let him know. 

He got at it quickly, once he finished that area he stood up a bit getting the sides of your stomach coated. Once he had finished, you stood up looking in the mirror at the shine of your stomach. 

“Now for the fun part” clapping your palms together sitting back down, wistfully watching Harry wash his hands of the substance. He got the scissors cutting the strips of various sizes. Walking to you at times to make sure it fits properly. 

‘Wouldn’t it be easier if I was next to you’ you asked.

Only to be replied with ‘No reason to have you on your feet, if I can walk to you.’ He unquestionably is just a bag of sunshine and everything good in the world.

Filling the sink with warmish water and placing on gloves. Snapping it on dramatically as if he was a doctor in a drama series.  

“Dork”  

He walked over with the first strip in his hand, water dripping behind him as he stepped closer to you. You pulled out your phone quickly wanting to capture a cute picture of this. Right as he placed the first strip you snapped the image. The only thing being seen was your protruded belly and below, his hands placing the plaster tape to your stomach, and a small tuft of his hair from the top of the picture. 

He pulled away proudly, smiling down at his work, with his hands on his hips. “Look at that, looks perfect huh?”

“You’re doing good so far H” you confirmed.

-

It was only fifteen minutes later, half of your stomach–– and that wasn’t saying much.

“Baby it’s fine we’ll just sand it down” you tried to convince H for the last time, but he was stubborn as ever.

His mouth open in excessive concentration, puzzled brows pulled together as he removed the plaster for the fifth time. And from your point of view, you swore, he placed it back on the exact same spot.

“Just wait” he sighed, it wasn’t where he wanted it to be.

“Harry, we’re gonna be forever” you sighed, swaying your feet softly until one of them accidentally knocked into Harry’s leg. He looked down at you, eyes telling you to quit it. 

“See there, you big baby” he grumbled.

“You’ve set it back into the same spot!” you exclaimed.

“No I haven’t, you’re just impatient...sounded a little brit there” he hummed, turning his back to you as he grabbed another slip. 

“Shut up!” 

-

Then there was, naturally, the sudden interruption.

Bloo had stumbled into the bathroom, expressing out about something one of her brothers did when she stopped taking into account, trying to figure out what was wrong with her mum. 

She gasped, eyes wide at the greying stuff. “What’s wrong with mummy?” she asked, looking between the two of you. 

“Turning mummy into a mummy!” He screeched, holding up a plaster strip. 

She brought her hands up to her mouth eyes growing only wider, her lip already starting to tremble. 

“You and your stupid dad jokes” you pulled Bloo closer to you, turning her back to Harry flipping him off behind her head. 

“We’re just doing a cast, don’t worry baby. Remember that episode of Jessie when Ravi got that mask stuck on Luke’s face and ripped his eyebrows off” you explained, She laughed at the connection of the episode. 

“Kind of like that, but without the eyebrows and we’re just using my belly” bringing your thumb to brush her brows up and the corner of her mouth clean. God what were they doing down there.

“Ohh okay that makes more sense.” you smiled back at her. 

-

And Harry who had a bit too much fun when it came to the upper portion of the cast. Acting like Alec does when Paw patrol was on or when Sydnie when her dad allowed her his card to shop. Finding any reason to smooth down the cast with his wet hands. Or taking his time to cover your nipple, using his thumb to level it out. A haughty expression on his face growing the higher he got from your belly button. 

“You’re acting as if we don’t have sex or take showers together” you tell him, popping another goldfish into your mouth (But not the good ones, the disgusting wheat ones Harry urged you and everyone else in the house to eat instead.)

“As if you don’t act like this when I take off my shirt”

He got you there, looking up at you to see you were not going to give him the eye contact he wanted. Your lips closed tight.

He delicately planted the last strip over the top of one of your breasts. 

“Wait, it doesn’t look right” 

“Harry!”

“Just joking y/n, now we wait five minutes and we can pop this off, sand it, and decorate it however you want” he told you, smiling at the finished product, leaning down to kiss your forehead then your lips.

“Wanna do it like this” you twisted your phone around to show him the image on Pinterest. A light blue belly cast, but you wanted it a pretty purple color, that was held against a frame, with butterflies of surveying sizes going across/diagonally the cast.

“However you want lovie” he told you again, pulling your head to his stomach, leaning down to kiss your head. Your arms winding across his waist.

“Thank you” you hummed in satisfaction. 

– – – – – 

if you enjoyed pls don’t forget to reblog or give feedback if ur up to it <3

thank you to the anon who requested this!