#power hungry man hungry for giant pie

[allmyandroids]

yummy giant pie 🥧

[zzmemes]

The Aquabats! Super Show! season one sentence starters part one

“We’re a band of five heroes.”

“We’re out to save the world, you know.”

“The Burrito Brothers Burger Hut is under attack!”

“There’s just one question now: where are we gonna eat?”

“I can’t wait that long! I’m hungry now!”

“Easy, big fella: don’t get emotional.”

“Is that a corn dog?”

“Wow, you’re tiny!”

“Hey, a genie lamp!”

“See ya, loser.”

“There’s a giant anthill just outside of town.”

“There’s something strange about that space puppy.”

“We’re headed for the moon!”

“Oh no! Space bees!”

“What is this? A kindergarten snack break?”

“Get your mandibles off me, you dirty ants!”

“They stole burgers from all the burger places, and they’re all in here!”

“My sensors detect that the beast should be right around… There!”

“There’s no way to stop this thing!”

“You just blew that guy up!?”

“That was hardcore!”

“Now YOU are going to help ME destroy Earth.”

“it’s still an egg. And I detect there’s life inside.”

“I know this may seem hard to believe, but smashing things isn’t always the answer.”

“Hey, homey. I gotta call you back; I’m playing with baby me right now.”

“It is the raddest thing ever!”

“Some people think that robots can’t have robot dreams.”

“Blast him with your guitar!”

“Monster? How dare you! Perhaps it is you who is the monster!”

“He’s trying to eat my braces!”

“I painted a picture! It’s a rainbow!”

“Unscramble your robot brain for a second!”

“Take care of my baby.”

“I know now that I wasn’t cut out to be your mother, but maybe this random chicken I found on a nearby farm is.”

“Part of being a parent is knowing when to let your children go.”

“You are the legend! The legend is true!

"Why don’t you leave the guitar stuff to me, and you focus on doing the robot?”

“You made me a bomb?”

“So, who wants an autograph from the singer guy?”

“You know, those kids and that sketchy looking trenchcoat guy—they worked really hard on that stuff.”

“Easy, turbo.”

“What kind of person would bomb an innocent dumpster?”

“After that trenchcoat guy!”

“He’s my brother!”

“Your brother tried to blow us up.”

“Let us come! We can help fight and sing songs and stuff!”

“Look what I found at the bottom of my drink!”

“We need to even the odds. Is that a jar of space bees?”

“That’ll teach ya to lure people with fake puppies!”

“I’ve always wanted to jump down a trash chute.”

“We’re in some kind of underground cavern.”

“After that giant brain octopus!”

“I don’t know if you’ve heard, but I kinda play a mean laser-powered guitar now.”

“I sense you are troubled.”

“That’s it? That’s all you’ve got? I send you a spirit animal, and that’s all you can give me?”

“Can you see fairies with your magic vision?”

“Does that mean we can fight and, like, sing songs and stuff?”

“Whoa, whoa, let’s not go crazy now.”

“Oh, man, I wish my bass could shoot lasers!”

“Come on, let’s go get your head examined.”

“Let’s do this the old-fashioned way: fisticuffs!”

“Now there’s just one thing left to do: high-five!”

“I just have some concerns about diving into a relationship with a new dry cleaner.”

“Elegant robes!? Oh my gosh!”

“It’s probably my lucky socks. My shoes usually block in the stink.”

“If no one objects, I propose we continue this conversation over donuts.”

“No thanks. In the name of fitness, I swore off sweets a long time ago.”

“We’ve had a hard day; I think we’ve earned a good time.”

“There’s something inside my donut.”

“It’s not a complete failure: now we have an amazing model of a Victorian-era submarine.”

“Is it because I’m just a robot?”

“Finger laser plus robot punch equals freedom! Easy as pie.”

“The king has plans for you.”

“Is that monster made of lint?”

“Hey, lady, what kind of business are you running here!?”

“I may be a diseased peasant,  but I am better than any of you mudlarks!”

“Ohhhhh. OH. Sorry?”

“I’ve never been this dirty!”

“Ow! I didn’t mean for you to hit ME!”

“How could something so filthy be made of something so clean?”

“That’s his tongue!”

“Maybe my lucky socks aren’t so lucky after all!”

“I know I can be a bit much sometimes, so I’m gonna try to relax a little more.”

“I love you guys.”

“Those kids are in trouble!”

“Stop texting and pull over!”

“These are some tough mummies.”

“You’re the only girl for me.”

“It’s my new guitar. It shoots lasers.”

“There you are, handsome. I thought you ditched me.”

“Let’s talk about you. What do you like most about me?”

“You can’t be in here! I’m working with some very dangerous chemistry right now!”

“This is neither the time nor place for singing.”

“He’s made of metal!”

“I assure you, she is a nasty beast! She’ll destroy us all!”

“I’m totally falling for you.”

“I’m sorry I tried to eat you.”

“We mean you no harm, mortals!”

“Those mummies weren’t THAT scary.”

“It seemed like love; something a robot could never understand.”

“I don’t think it’s right that we’re playing pumpkin-head tag in this graveyard.”

“You shouldn’t take offerings to the dead that don’t belong to you.”

“Nasty! What is that stuff?”

“Yeah, let’s get going before we get attacked by ghosts.”

“Everyone knows there’s no such thing as ghosts.”

“I’ve been sensing great unrest in the spirit world ever since we left the graveyard.”

“You made me lose another badger!”

“What was that stuff? It tasted like barf!”

“You guys split up, I’ll stay watch in here.”

“What’s up, snakeazoids?”

“I see fog. That can’t be good.”

“I see it! It’s a beautiful lady ghost!”

“Excuse me, miss. Do you like.. Um… Pizza?”

“That’s exactly what a ghost would say!”

“Head for that castle. I have a hunch.”

“How do I know YOU’RE not a ghost?”

“I’ve been in here for hours! No one is alive but me!”

I’m sorry for the things I did when I was a kid, like the time I taped the fish to the television set.“

"To get that giant mole rat out, you’d have to be real stupid or real dumb.”

“Look, if they didn’t want people to use their dynamite, they shouldn’t leave it laying around.”

“You may want to plan before you make decisions.”

“There’s got to be a saloon around here somewhere.”

“You’re either real stupid, or real dumb.”

“Rise and shine, yellowbelly.”

“You coward robotface!”

“I hear the vulture’s cry. And the wind is hot.”

“I’m comin’, robot buddy!”

“I need batteries, QUICK!”

“So you’re saying he’s some kinda robot?”

“Well, he hurt my feelings.”

“If you’re gonna shoot me, you better aim for the heart.”

“Everyone loves cheese balls.”

“Do you think his plan is to walk through the desert?”

[mattzerella-sticks]

Sunrise (Dean/Cas coda to 15x19 “Inherit the Earth”, 1.7k)

(ao3 link)

Dean and Sam were free. Finally, unequivocally, free.

But this wasn't the happy ending Dean had expected. Maybe in the past, having Sam in the passenger seat tearing across an open stretch of highway as the sunsets, it'd be what he wanted. But that was years ago. He's not that man anymore. Dean's tired of sunsets, of saying goodbye. He yearns for a different ending. One that's less of an ending, and more of a beginning. A sunrise instead of a sunset.

Sam has his. Dean lost his. Despite this setback, he won't stop. He'll live in memory of his sunrise.

Except, what can he do when he feels those rays on his face again?

           Early morning sunlight streams through half-closed motel window blinds, striking Dean directly on his face. Stir him from unconsciousness, shuffling Dean out of his dreams. Warm blue and familiar stubble replaced with an ugly, orange patterned wallpaper that makes his stomach unhappily flip. Groaning, he turns. Hopes he can reclaim his quickly fading fantasy. It escapes his grasp, Dean left in the loneliness of reality.

           Truly. He checks Sam’s bed, finding it unoccupied. “Figures…”

           They crossed paths with Eileen coincidentally. Not like Sam’s pointed questions and giant thumbs hid his intentions. Even his terrible acting (“Eileen? What are the odds of you being here?”) couldn’t throw him off. Dean played along, however, letting them think he was in the dark. Knew exactly why his brother and his brother’s girlfriend hadn’t told Dean about this. Salt only hurts a wound that’s fresh and open. While badly healed, Dean’s grown numb to that missing chunk of his heart. More pained that his sadness made his loved ones go behind his back, act in guilt.

           Sam and Eileen don’t deserve shadows because of his pain.

           Which is why he’s happy for them. Left the bar so they can chat without his presence. Catch up, let Sam tell her about those kitschy tourist traps they’ve been hopping between since Chuck’s defeat. Show pictures of Dean in an upside-down house, Sam’s head peeking out from corn fields. Hold hands. Sit on the same side of the booth. Kiss, without worrying if Dean is steadily killing his liver at the bar because of them.

           Drinking lost its flavor anyhow.

           Free from Chuck’s influences, Dean decided he might cut a few more strings. Namely beer. He’ll enjoy a bottle every now and then but, reflecting on it, booze never offered comfort he really needed. Only aggravated a different sort of hurt, distracting him for a while. He abandoned those distractions. Instead of asking their bartender from last night, with his tanned skin and wavy, blond hair, for whiskey, neat, until he dropped, Dean stood from their table and paid his tab. Carried his longing out the exit, drove with it, laid down in his bed and held it close. Hugged it, imagining his arms. Praise whispered in his ear, about choosing a different way. A better way. A healthier way.

           Cas would be proud of him. Prouder than he already is. And Dean… felt the same.

           Rising, Dean stretches. Winces as a new disc pops and cracks in his back, “Motels ain’t what they used to be…” He throws his legs over the side, scrunching his toes in the shag carpet. Smiling, “But at least some things’ll never change…”

           It’s going to be a slow morning. Dean doubts Sam will swing by before noon, meaning he has hours to kill. First, he leisurely showers. Scrubs at his scalp with gentle scratches, humming Zeppelin under his breath. Keening ‘A Whole Lotta Love’s chorus, coming into his hand. Lets that melody fade while water makes his come sluice off his hand, into the drain. He switches tracks, dries himself while softly singing ‘Going to California’. Thinks about their next destination. All those beaches he and Sam plan on visiting. Finally making good on their promise.

           Not how he always envisioned it, but…

           Dean drapes the towel around his neck, staring at his reflection. Marks new wrinkles he hadn’t noticed, gray hairs where dirty blond were. Sees how small his eyebags shrank.

           Sleeping was surprisingly easy. Some days Dean wished it weren’t. Others, it’s his only chance at being with him again.

           “Nope,” he says, leaving the bathroom. Jumping out from the mirror. “Not going there… not this early…”

           He bides his time dressing, debating where he should get breakfast. Wonders if a diner they passed entering town might serve pie as he hops into his jeans. Waffles between a t-shirt or purple-and-blue plaid while rubbing deodorant on. Then, tugging his tee’s thin fabric over his head, he decides he isn’t that hungry. Can eat later, Sam driving so he can attack snacks he squirrelled away when they last stopped for gas.

           Knock Knock Knock

           “Sam?” Dean asks, glancing at the door. No one answers. “Sam is that you? You forget your keys or…” He checks his phone. Nothing.

           Knock Knock Knock

           “Sam, if that’s you – this isn’t funny.” He grabs for his socks, sitting on the end of his bed. “Pulling a poor joke on your brother, leaving your girlfriend alone in bed… shame on you.”

           Knock Knock Knock

           Dean squeezes his socks, glaring at the door. His irritation fades, weirdly, the longer he stares. Replaced with a different feeling, comforting. Without needing to, Dean guesses it’s not Sam on that other side. Tossing his socks, Dean stands and slowly inches forward. Drawn by gravity, a name perched atop his tongue. Waiting there, scared of being spoken. Of being wrong. He doesn’t feel wrong.

           Is this still a dream, he asks himself. Did I actually wake up? Dean waits, hovering near the doorknob. Remembers rushing last time, what waited there then. What he almost threw himself onto. Cycles through who might be waiting now. Something worse, a more terrifying monster. Or maybe mundane, like the motel manager. He’ll never know if he drags it out. Whether that’s motivation or warning, Dean can’t decide. What he does choose is flinging open that door and facing whoever was there.

           “Hello, Dean.”

           “Cas -?” Dean gasps, knees buckling. Laughing, he leans his weight on the door. Grins wide enough his cheeks must splinter, twin tracks of tears already spilled over. “Cas, is that…” He coughs, wiping at his mouth. “Is that really you?”

           Like nothing happened, Cas crosses the threshold. Dressed spectacularly… normal. Trench coat, suit jacket, and white button-down paired with his crooked blue tie. Dean’s hand drifts close but can’t touch. Not yet. “It is me,” he tells Dean, “you… probably have a lot of questions. About why I’m here, and – and what was said when the Empty…”

           Of course, there are questions. None were as important as Dean snatching Cas’s tie, dragging him into a heated embrace. “Later,” he promises, closing the door. Guiding Cas onto his bed. Falling, his angel’s body collapsing atop his. Weight proving further and further how real this is.

           He’s back!

           “I can’t believe…” Dean kisses along Cas’s neck, threading his fingers through hairs resting at his angel’s nape. Feeds a fire burning across his body, flames roaring with a desire for more. “Can’t believe I could be this lucky…”

           Cas chuckles, “Good things do happen, Dean.”

           “Never to us.” Pausing, Dean tears his eyes from the dip of Cas’s collarbone and to his face. “I searched, Cas. I did. Back when it was me, and Sam, and Jack, I did everything I could but I… there wasn’t any lore. Nothing about contacting the Empty, breaking through I – how?”

           Shifting, Cas rolls off Dean and onto his side. No sooner than it started, those flames eating at Dean’s insides tempered. Became a more manageable heat, containable. Dean tucked himself against Cas’s chest, hearing his heartbeat. Awed from that simple rhythm it gives. Lulls Dean with a gentle song. “Jack,” Cas explains. Rubs Dean’s shoulder, along where his handprint was. Teased the edges of his tee, part of his memorial tattoo revealed. Cas traces his palm outline. “In fixing Chuck’s mistakes, he… he mounted a rescue mission from Heaven.”

           “For you?”

           “For everyone.” Cas kisses Dean’s crown, continuing his story. Whispers it into his head. “All the angels. Jack rescued us all.”

           “Everyone?” Dean asks, “Meaning… Michael? Gabriel?”

           “Uriel, Balthazar, Anna, Hannah, Metatron – even Lucifer.”

           “What the hell?”

           “He was fixing what Chuck wasted. Saved Heaven,” he says, “Gave everyone a second chance, to do right by humanity. Be its guardians like we were supposed to be. And…” Cas lays his hand where it belongs, Dean shivering from contact. Wraps his arms tighter around his angel’s waist. “Jack offered me all my powers back, and then some. Said I could be his archangel… second-in-command, in all of Heaven.”

           Dean lifts his head, frowning. Studies Cas with a suspicious wrinkle creasing his brow. He deflates somewhat, disappointment rocking into him like heavy waves. Routine. Expected, since Cas was exactly where he wanted. But then, isn’t that answer enough? Dean asks regardless. “Did you take it?”

           “I thanked him for the offer,” Cas says, “however my place was elsewhere, here on Earth… with you.” His hand moves, cupping Dean’s cheek. Thumb brushes his lip. “And when our time comes, I’ll rejoin Heaven at your side.”

           Cas’s heartbeat makes sense, now. It never did that before.

           “We’ve got a long time before we croak, Cas,” Dean jokes, crawling higher up his bed. Enough that he can press their foreheads together. “You think you can handle it?”

           “I waited millennia to meet you, and then years just so I can hold you like this.” Cas closes the distance, capturing Dean’s lips. “I’m hoping our future is excruciatingly slow.”

           “Our future…” He relaxes, allowing a few more kisses before he starts again. “Y’know, I… I thought I’d never get to say that. Figured, after Jack took the reigns from Chuck, this was all we’d get and – and having everyone back was nice. But you weren’t there, and I hurt. When you died, I wanted to sit there and let myself waste away and join you. Except if I did, you’d be so angry and – that’s what’s been keeping me going. You loved me so much – and were pained whenever I was… I couldn’t do that to myself. Punishing myself wouldn’t be fair. So I thought about my future, how I can live it for those I loved. Be there… the person I’ve become, and not who I used to be. But now…”

           “Now you can be a little selfish,” Cas says. “We can be selfish.” He tickles Dean’s chin, hands roving across his body. “What should we do, for the first day of the rest of our lives?”

           Dean doesn’t dawdle. “I want to lay here,” he says, “Lay here the whole day, in your arms, telling you how much I love you.”

           “…I don’t see any problems with that.”

           Neither did Dean, which is why he suggested it. They fix themselves, first. Cas sheds most of his outer layers, leaving himself only in his boxers. Dean hurls his jeans off fast, jumping under the covers. Giddy as Cas joins him, both men facing each other. Hands joined above their sheets, Cas’s palm fitting perfectly.

           “Well?” Cas arches his brow, “How much do you love me?”

           Dean kisses him, ruining it by smiling too hard. “I love you too much, and not enough.”

[eeveedel]

chubby actor louis (pt 1)

Hi all, as you might be able to tell from the non-title, this is just a little fic I whipped together based on an au we’ve been discussing on my blog this week! I do want to eventually do more parts, but I want to see how people react to this part first. 

please note this fic deal with weight gain kink/fetish. it is heavy on food and weight talk. if any of that content bothers or triggers you, this will not be the story for you. 

this is criminally under-edited, so I apologize lol. but uhhhh enjoy! 

--

“Remind me what this is for, exactly.”

Harry was standing in the living room, swinging his car keys around one finger, and watching Louis as he laid on the couch, belly on the cushions, feet in the air, and enough In N Out to feed three people spread out on their coffee table.

“I told you last week,” Louis sighed, “This is for work.”

He was currently holding a double cheese burger, the thing already half-eaten, and there was pink sauce at the corner of his mouth.

Harry had seen Louis prep for plenty of TV and movie roles in the decade they had known each other, but none of his prep work had ever looked like this.

“How, again?” Harry asked as he watched Louis take another generous bite of his food. The other man chewed and swallowed, and then spoke, although his eyes were still on the food rather than Harry.

“I’m playing some Edwardian noble or something, and like, I have to look rich for that era, and everyone rich was kind of fat,” Louis said, “So. I have to gain twenty pounds.”

Harry stopped swinging his keys, instead catching and holding them in his palm.

“Twenty pounds,” Harry repeated.

“Well. Twenty to thirty. We’re aiming low to start. But I start prep today, so, yeah. Burgers!” Louis said. He took another bite of his burger, groaning, “God, that’s good. I forgot how good these are.”

He uncrossed and re-crossed his ankles behind him, kicking his feet a bit as he ate more of his burger. He looked up at Harry, sauce still on his mouth and his mouth full, like a chipmunk.

“What?” he asked.

“You’re cute,” Harrys supplied, offering him a small smile, “It’s nice to see you enjoying yourself.”

“Yeah, it’s great,” Louis smiled, “I kind of forget how good food can be when it’s not all quinoa, you know? I think this’ll be fun.”

He kept munching on his burger, and Harry glanced over at the pile of food on the table. Something in his stomach stirred – not hunger, not envy for the food, but something else he couldn’t pinpoint.

“Well, just pace yourself,” he offered. It was weak advice, and Louis laughed.

“Yeah, yeah, whatever.”

Harry just nodded, still fixated on his boyfriend eating.

Louis was small, he had always been small, and he was in amazing shape. Even now, laid flat on the couch, Harry could see the definition of his muscles in his arms, legs, and along the exposed edges of his stomach where his shirt had rucked up. Harry couldn’t even picture what he would look like with twenty extra pounds. It seemed more fathomable for Louis to sprout a pair of wings than to gain that much weight.

“Do you want take out for dinner?” he asked, “I was going to cook but maybe that’ll be easier, so you can get whatever you want.”

“Ooh, yes, please,” Louis said, “Can we get Chinese? I want dumplings. And crab meat ragoon. And lo mein. Oh, and eggrolls. So many fucking eggrolls.”

“Are you still going to have room?” Harry asked, “You ordered three burgers and three helpings of cheese fries.”

“And I have a milkshake in the freezer!” Louis said cheerfully, “And honestly, I didn’t realize how fucking hungry I was until I ate this stuff. I think I’ve been starving for the last decade, holy shit.”

“Well,” Harry said, “It’s good you’re happy.”

Louis just hummed and nodded. He had polished off his burger, and he eagerly reached for the next one, unwrapping the silver foil on the burger like he was a child and this was his most anticipated Christmas present.

“I’m going to do some work upstairs,” Harry said, “Just let me know when you want dinner, okay?”

“Kay,” Louis mumbled around the burger in his mouth, “Love you!”

Harry nodded and then came over, giving Louis a quick kiss on the head before he left the room, heading for the main staircase.

He still had a weird feeling in his stomach, but that he could figure out later.

--

Harry noticed Louis’s – and by extension, his -- daily routine changing a bit quicker than he had anticipated.

For the last several years, they had each woken up at the same time to work out together and later have breakfast – shared veggie juices and granola, usually – the backyard together. It had been one of their things. He remember once a couple years ago some gossip rag had profiled them as one of Hollywood’s fit power couples. He had found that funny, because he always knew that Louis didn’t love working out. He just liked routine, and he liked that they had something to do together.  

But now that Louis was on his new assignment, Harry woke up and worked out alone while Louis slept in. Then, usually, by the time Harry had worked out, made breakfast, cleaned up the dishes, and sat down to answer his emails, Louis would roll out of bed and sit down next to him to eat a giant bowl of one of the many sugary cereals that had appeared in their cabinet.

“Morning, babe,” Harry would always say, “Did you sleep okay?”

“So fucking well,” Louis would agree through a mouthful of food. After he was done eating he would give Harry a kiss and then go to the living room to watch TV or read his lines. Harry would find them sprawled there for hours in just his sweatpants, sometimes napping, or having a snack, or just lazily watching the TV. Louis was a “go, go, go” type of person, Harry knew that. He liked having tasks, and he never gave himself a break.

“I’m glad you’re getting time to relax,” Harry said one afternoon while watching Louis unwrap the two fried chicken sandwiches he had ordered for lunch.

“Thanks, baby,” Louis had given him a smile and then focused on his food.

Maybe, Harry realized that week, Louis was fully relaxing. This was just another one of his goals. He was dedicating himself to a part, as well, and this part involved him pushing his body in different ways.

A week into Louis’s role preparation, Harry found him on the couch, as usual. There was some sort of HBO documentary playing, and he was eating orange chicken straight out of the carton, using chopstick skills Harry didn’t know he had.

He was also fiddling on his phone as he ate, his eyes still occasionally flickering to the TV.

“What are you doing?” Harry asked.

“Just placing another order,” Louis said, and then promptly deposited more chicken into his mouth.

“Another order?” Harry asked, lifting his brows in spite of himself.

“Yeah, this documentary is about McDonald’s, like, the business side of it or whatever – did you hear about this Monopoly thing that happened in the nineties, it’s fucked – but anyways, it put me in the mood for a burger.”

“You want a burger?” Harry parroted.

“And fries, obviously. Oh, maybe a milkshake. Do you want an iced coffee or something?”

“How are you still hungry?” Harry asked. In addition to the orange chicken carton in Louis’s lap, there was also a a bag of eggrolls on the table, and Harry had seen a big container of wonton soup in the fridge.

“Well, I’ll just have a few more bites of this chicken and then when the food comes I’ll be hungry again,” Louis said, still flicking through his phone. “Oh, man, haven’t had an apple pie from there in years. If I order two will you have one? There’s a sale.”

Harry didn’t answer at first, instead he just looked at Louis. He was dressed in his sweatpants, as usual, and no shirt. He had been going at this for a week now, not exercising and barely getting up from the couch and stuffing his face with whatever fatty or sugary thing he wanted. He liked nearly the same, unless Harry really paid attention. And he was paying attention now. Louis was still small, he had been so trim before that he was probably a little bit underweight. His stomach was still flat but it looked soft now, compared to his usual ripped definition. His face also looked a bit bloated, but that might just have been have the sodium. But Harry kept feeling like his eyes were playing tricks on him, that there was new weight and curves on Louis’s body that hadn’t been there days before.

“Are you sure you’re okay, Lou?” Harry asked cautiously, “With how much you’re having?”

“It’s temporary,” Louis huffed, “Come on, I told you this. Now leave me alone, I’m working.”

“Alright,” Harry agreed, “You’ll let me know, though, if you need something?”

“Sure,” Louis said, “Now. You want coffee? Apple pie? What? I’m ordering now.”

“I’m okay, baby,” Harry allowed, “But have whatever you want. You deserve it.”

Louis shot him a bright smile – were his cheeks rounder than usual? – and then went back to his phone.

An hour later Harry found Louis sleeping on the couch, a hand over his belly and the coffee table scattering with burger wrappers, fries and pie containers, and milkshake cups.

Harry quietly cleaned it up and went into the next room, trying to collect his thoughts that were far more racing for his liking.

--

“Harry,” Louis proudly declared the next week, “Guess what.”

They were sitting at the dinner table, Harry with a kale and pine nut salad and Louis with a silver container of take out pasta that the menu said could feed three people.

“What, babe?” Harry asked.

“I’m 152!” Louis exclaimed, “I gained seven pounds! So I’m, like, a third of the way done.”

Harry tried very hard not to let his face give away too much, as there was now heat growing in his belly. It had decided to arrive every time Louis talked about his weight or food now, and had become a confusing if not entirely unwelcome presence in Harry’s life.

“That’s great, baby,” Harry said, “It’s been, what, about two weeks?”

“Yeah, a pound every two days,” Louis grinned, “Isn’t  that good? I’m making such good progress.”

“You are,” Harry agreed. He was keeping his voice neutral, like a long-lost relative was telling him about their son’s sudden interest in baseball. Louis seemed to pick up on this, and pouted a little.

“Are you still worried about this?” Louis sighed, “That this isn’t good for me or whatever?”

“I’m not worried,” Harry said. And he wasn’t. Quite the opposite, really. And he wasn’t quite sure how to feel about that yet.

“Because I talked to the doctor and everything, he says it’s fine,” Louis said. He heaped more pasta – cheesy penne dripping in fatty looking red sauce and chunks of beef – onto his fork and waved it around. “Well, he said it was fine if I took it slow and ate balanced meals, like still having lots of vegetables and lean protein and stuff.”

He stuffed the pasta into his mouth, and then looked into the tin of noodles.

“Hm,” he said, “Maybe I should work on that a little more. Like, the balanced stuff.”

“I can make you some stuff,” Harry offered, “Like that salmon you like. Or ratatouille. I can just give you a bigger portion.”

“Oh, that would be good,” Louis nodded, “Might take you up on that.”

“Yeah,” Harry said, his voice light again, “I mean, you’ve been having a lot of take out, and I’d love to cook something for you.”

Louis laughed, shaking his head.

“You’d have to make two versions,” Louis said, “Make mine with butter and salt and stuff.”

Harry swallowed, his throat a bit dry. He had maybe been thinking about that a bit too much. Easy dinners where he could swap out veggies and whole grains for himself and put more processed calories into Louis’s.

For Louis’s job, of course, just for that.

“I could up with something,” Harry said.

Louis offered him a smile and then reached out a hand, prodding at where Harry’s own hand was folded next to his plate.

“Thanks, babe,” Louis said, “And hey, I appreciate you being supportive of all this. I know it’s a little weird.”

“No problem,” Harry said softly.

Louis’s hand left his own, and the other man tucked back into his meal.

Harry was staring again, calculating, observing. Louis was wearing a shirt now, and his loose, around-the-house jeans, so he couldn’t see all of his body. But his face was dusted with softness, and there was a small, barely noticeable curve behind the fabric of his shirt that had never been there before.

As Louis tucked into more and more of pasta, his face became a bit pinched, though he kept eating. And then, slowly, Louis reached down, pushed up the hem of his shirt, and unbuttoned his jeans.

His face lightened as he did, an appreciative little breathe leaving his lips, and then he kept going with his feast, his other hand still cradling his bloated stomach as he ate.

Harry had to figure out an excuse to leave the table before that warm feeling in his stomach traveled any further south, and he would have a lot of explaining to do.

--

The weeks wore on, and Harry grew to admit to himself that he very much liked Louis’s assignment.

One night, when Louis was in bed with a tub of ice cream and a Netflix drama, Harry had been doing work in the living room, looking up some fabric prices for a new project at the studio, and his focus had shifted. He started doing some googling, and that lead to some reading, a few embarrassing quizzes, and one or two pornos, and by the time Harry had climbed into bed with a dozing, sticky-mouthed Louis, he had come to accept that he had a full on fetish for his boyfriend getting fatter.

He didn’t really want to admit it. After all, even though Louis seemed to be having fun, as far as Harry knew this was still just a job for him. He didn’t Louis to think he was weird; they had been together for so long, it would really suck for Louis to kick him out over a recently discovered fat kink. They had plenty of other bedroom thrills he could occupy himself that didn’t have to be…this.

So Harry stayed quiet, and just observed.

But that was getting harder, because Louis was getting rapidly and noticeably bigger.

He had gained ten pounds now, and it showed. He had a healthy curve to his belly and some fat on his cheeks. His collarbones looked less sharp, his hips were curvier, and his ass looked impressively delicious, a nice, happy hill that sat thick in his sweatpants. He was closer to an average weight for his height, but in contrast to the Louis Harry had known for years, who had a set of abs and toned arms and got asked about his exercise regime on the red carpet, it was a sudden shift.

Louis hadn’t asked Harry to cook for him yet, so Harry carried on with his meal plans of roasted vegetables and roasted fish and grains for himself while Louis kept indulging in whatever he wanted. They had a system that worked, even if it involved Harry trying to push down his real feelings.

Until, of course, Louis made it harder.

“Babe?” Louis called one afternoon. He was in the master bedroom, and Harry was stitching together a muslin design in his office. His usual sewing playlist was on and he was in his zone, so he was annoyed for a moment, but then melted back until his usual, unrelenting fondness for his boy.

“Yeah?” he returned.

“I need your help!” Louis called.

“Alright, one second,” Harry replied. He stood up, taking off his glasses, and went down the hall to their room. He didn’t know what he expected, exactly, but when he walked in, he was greeted by Louis, shirtless, and struggling to button his skinny jeans.

Harry stood in the doorway for a second, just watching, until Louis lifted his head and offering a sheepish smile.

“These are kind of tight,” Louis said, “I shouldn’t have bought them this close cut, anyways.”

“Oh?” Harry choked out. He couldn’t stop looking at how the crease of Louis’s belly pushed out against the flaps he was forcing together.

“Yeah,” Louis sighed, “Come help me.”

“Yeah, yeah, of course,” Harry said. He was babbling a little, he knew that, but he still came around to Louis.

“Hold onto the back of my jeans and pull,” Louis instructed. Harry did so, grabbing the loops of Louis’s jeans. He gave them a tug, which got them a little higher over Louis’s hips. The other man struggled with the button. Louis was huffing a bit, trying to get his new belly, as small as it was, into his old jeans that had been tight even on his old body.

Harry tried to tug again, and Louis groaned and yanked at the tabs again. He seemed close to getting them to close, but when he moved to pull the button into the loops, the tabs flew apart. Louis huffed, relaxing his body, his stomach puffing out.

“One more time?” he asked Harry, his voice high.

“Okay,” Harry managed. He felt hot all over, watching Louis wriggle and struggle with his jeans, and he didn’t know how much longer he could last.

He grabbed the jeans in a different spot, at the hem rather than by the loops, and pulled a bit harder. He heard Louis take in a loud breath and then move fast, quickly buttoning up the jeans. He exhaled and then went to do up the zipper, fully getting the jeans on. But his breath out sounded labored, like his jeans were still holding him hostage.

“Thanks, baby,” Louis said, and turned around to give Harry a kiss.

“You’re welcome,” Harry said, “Call me if you need anything else.”

He touched Louis’s side, his skin soft and warm, and then quickly left the room, back to his study where he could calm down with Sufjan Stevens and his sewing machine.

When Louis came back a few hours later, Harry noticed he was wearing a different pair jeans than the ones he had shoved on earlier. But he decided not to ask him about it.

--

By the time Louis was fifteen pounds heavier than when he had started, Harry was starting to lose it a little.

Every night he laid next to his boyfriend, and they were still having sex and showering together and enjoying their usual fun, but it was becoming harder for Harry to keep his eyes and hands off Louis’s jiggling belly and thighs, or to not spend his afternoon kissing Louis’s rounding cheeks.

His boyfriend was more stunning than ever, and Harry was too much of a coward to tell him that.

On one particular afternoon, Harry was staying home doing some spring cleaning while Louis was out at a meeting with the director and some of the main cast members for the movie he was prepping for. Usually Louis found these meetings boring but enjoyable enough, so Harry expectedly him to be an alright mood when he came back.

Instead, Louis slammed the front door closed, his teeth set straight as he walked in.

“God, fuck,” Louis cursed loudly.

Harry was cleaning in the kitchen, and he froze, rag in one hand and spray bottle in the other.

“What’s wrong, honey?” Harry asked.

“The fucking director said he’s not happy with my look,” Louis said, throwing up his hands to make air quotes at the last words, “I told him I’m not done gaining weight yet but he said that twenty pounds isn’t going to work anymore. He wants at least thirty. So I have to gain another fifteen pounds in the next few months.”

He brought his hands down, settling them on his noticeably plusher hips. He really was looking so good these days. And this news was music to Harry’s kinky ears, but it was clearly upsetting to Louis.

“Well that shouldn’t be too hard, right?” Harry said, “You gained fifteen pounds in just over a month. Surely you can do the last half, too.”

“I’m hitting a plateau,” Louis groaned, “I gained only a pound this week and I’ve been eating just like a normally have.”

He settled his hands as he said this, manhandling the softness, and groaned.

“God, I didn’t think getting fat would be this hard,” he sighed.

Harry blinked, something clicking together smoothly in his brain at hearing Louis say that little three letter word.

“You know, honey,” Harry said slowly, “I think I could help.”

“No, I can do it myself,” Louis said quickly, “It’s my body and my job, I can – “

“Louis,” Harry cut in. Louis seemed surprised at the interruption, and Harry realized that his voice had been a bit strong. “I’m – I should tell you something.”

“What?”

Harry nervous scrubbed at a patch of the countertop that was already gleaming.

“So, um, I was doing some research…”

“Oh, god, Harry,” Louis huffed, “What did you do now?”

Harry was quiet, and tapped his fingers over top of the rag on the counter.  

“Okay, so, I think I have a fetish. A fetish for you gaining weight.”

Louis just looked at him, and Harry rushed on.

“Like, I didn’t realize, but I’ve been really – turned on seeing you do all this in the last month. And I think you look so fucking good, and I – I’d like to be a part of it, I think.”

He took a long breath when he was done, and Louis was still just staring at him.

Eventually, the other man spoke.

“Well,” Louis said slowly, “That’s. Convenient.”

He laughed, then, not malicious, but light and happy, and it made the tension in Harry’s body unspool.

“I mean, listen, I don’t know if I’m into this,” Louis said, gesturing to his stomach, “I’m doing this for a job and I’ve only really thought about it that way. But…if you’re into it, maybe…maybe you can help the process go a bit smoother.”

“I’d like that,” Harry said, “Seriously, I can cook for you, and weight and measure you and make sure you’re on track with what the director wants, and maybe we could…experiment a bit. And if you don’t like it then we never do this again after you finish your job.”

He paused for a minute, and looked at Louis hopefully.

“What do you think?” Harry said, and he hated how breathless he sounded.

Louis was quiet for a minute, and Harry’s anxious brain spun a thousand and one scenarios in that silence – that Louis was going to slap him in the face, pack a bag, quit this movie and lose the weight just to personally spite Harry.

But instead, Louis came around to the other side of the counter and gave Harry a long kiss. Harry kissed back, a bit confused but happy for the touch.

When Louis pulled back, he was grinning, and his eyes were glinting.

“So,” Louis said, “What are you making me for dinner?”

[bittysvalentines]

The Phantom of Faber

From @leahlisabeth

To @the-lincyclopedia

I had a ton of fun coming up with this au! I hope you enjoy it!

Bitty wasn’t sure when he first noticed it.  Maybe it was a creeping sensation up his spine, a chill not related to the cold of the rink, a hint of movement out of the corner of his eye.  Whatever it was, he could never quite put it into words.  He wanted to at least tell Shitty about it.  He was a good guy and had been so understanding when Bitty came out to him.  But he couldn’t bear the thought that Shitty would think he was crazy.  So he kept his mouth closed, ignored what his gut was telling him, and kept going to practices like nothing had changed.  

It was the muffin incident that convinced him.  He had quickly gotten into the habit of breaking out his figure skates for early morning workouts.  He would get up early, reminiscent of his days in figure skating when he would meet Katya on the ice long before the sun crowned over the horizon.  He loved to be the first to make his mark on the fresh ice, hearing his skate blades bite deep into the cold, hard surface, feeling the wind on his face as he got up to speed, and inhaling that smell that was unique to Faber.  It helped to remind him why he loved skating, why he was here and still trying even though he couldn’t take a check.

Then he would sit on the bench, skates dangling, and enjoy some of his leftover baking and some sliced fruit for a post-workout breakfast in the solitude of the rink.

One morning, perhaps a month after he had first begun this routine, he packed an extra muffin.  He had a meeting after his first class and wasn’t going to be able to take his usual snack break so he wanted the extra calories to tide him over until lunch.  He pulled the paper bag out of his locker to find there was only one muffin.  He would have written the incident off as him being scatterbrained, but he swore he had double-checked the bag and there had been two muffins in there before.  He took a quick walk through the rink but he found no one.

After that, Bitty started to pay closer attention.  He counted his fruit before he packed it and counted it again when he ate it and often found he was short a strawberry or two. The coffee level in his thermos wasn’t exactly where it had been before he got on the ice either.  He remained vigilant, listening carefully for doors opening and closing, or footsteps, but he never saw or heard anyone.

“Have you ever heard anything about Faber being haunted?” he asked at one team dinner.

Ransom and Holster exchanged glances.  “Not the rink, no,” Ransom said.  “But did we tell you about Mandy and Jenny?  They’re the Haus ghosts and I swear they’re the ones leaving bruises all over my ass.”

Holster scoffed.  “I still say you’re making the whole thing up.  If we had ghosts with an ass fetish, why the hell would they be going after you when they have this specimen of manhood to covet?” He stood and turned around, pushing his butt out toward the group and looking back over his shoulder like a pornstar or a female superhero.

This, of course, started a fight, and between pulling Ransom and Holster apart and threatening no more dessert if they didn’t behave, Bitty’s original question was forgotten.

Bitty didn’t try to start any more conversations but he started packing a bigger breakfast, a second bacon and egg sandwich, two giant chocolate chip cookies, sometimes even a slice of pie alongside his usual fruit.  The first few times, his extra items weren’t taken, just the few bites of fruit.  So Bitty left his leftovers in his locker and by the time he came back a couple of hours later for practice, the food was always gone.  He still hadn’t caught a single real glimpse of whoever it was but he could feel the presence more clearly.  He was certain someone was watching him skate now and once he managed to land a triple axel, he thought he heard light applause.

Bitty was doing pretty well faking it at practice.  He was fast enough to avoid getting checked for the most part and so far he’d been lucky.  But today was the day his luck ran out.  Ransom and Holster had somehow managed to flank him and trap him against the boards and there was nothing for him to do but take the check.

He was not even sure if they reached him. He was already on the ground and he didn’t remember how he got there. Everyone was concerned, fluttering around him, trying to see if he was hurt. But Bitty didn’t even need to look at Hall and Murray to know they were disappointed. He wondered how long it would be now until they regretted giving him a scholarship and sent him home.

He stayed out in the rink after the team hit the showers.  He skated around a little, still jittery from adrenaline and fear, but soon he was shaking too hard to skate and he sat down on the player’s bench instead, hot tears welling up in his eyes and streaming uncontrollably down his cheeks.

“Are you okay?” a soft voice, one he didn’t recognize, asked behind him.

Bitty turned his head quickly around but didn’t see more than a shadowy figure cowering back into the darkness.

“Don’t look at me,” the voice pleaded.  

Bitty turned around to face the rink.  “I’m sorry.  I won’t.  You don’t have to run away.”

“Are you okay?” the voice asked again, closer this time.

“I...I don’t know,” Bitty answered honestly, tears still threatening to fall.

“Euh, thank you...for the food.  I don’t think I’ve ever had baking that tasted that good,” the voice said.

“I baked it myself,” Bitty said. “I was raised in the South so I don’t like anyone to go hungry on my watch.”

“It’s good,” the voice said.  “Especially that one apple pie, with the maple?  Reminds me of home.”

“You must be Canadian, eh?” Bitty teased.  He was met with silence and when he finally turned around again, he was alone.

The next morning, Bitty brought an extra slice of pie.  He hoped that he could apologize for frightening away his ghost.

He followed his regular routine, getting changed and going straight out onto the ice, leaving the pie in the locker room.  He warmed up for a few minutes and was surprised when a figure wearing all black joined him on the ice.  He was wearing an old, beat up goalie mask that had definitely seen better days and obscured most of his face.  He hunched one shoulder awkwardly, like he had hurt it and it had never healed properly, but his skates were sure and his strides were powerful and fluid, like he had spent his life on the ice.

Bitty tried not to stare too much but he couldn’t help catching a glimpse of blue, blue eyes beneath the mask.

“You skate?” he asked, delighted.

The man shrugged, keeping his face turned away from Bitty.  “Not really, not anymore.  But I know a little, maybe enough to help you get past your block about checking?”

“You’d really do that for me?” Bitty asked.

“It was really good pie.” The man looked Bitty in the face for just an instant, enough for Bitty to see kindness and sadness in equal measure in those eyes.

“I’m Eric...Bittle, but everyone here calls me Bitty,” Bitty said, holding out his hand for the man to shake.

“Bitty,” the man said, grasping Bitty’s hand and giving the impression of strength.  “Call me Jack.”

Bitty’s routine changed again.  He would meet Jack in the rink in the morning and would try not to faint as Jack gently checked him into the boards again and again, and then they would sit on the bench and enjoy breakfast together.  Jack had to remove the mask to eat so they would sit back to back, talking and laughing but unable to look each other in the face.  Out of all the physical touch he was experiencing now, from Shitty’s borderline risque cuddles, to Holster and Ransom’s whirlwind bearhugs, this was the touch he had begun to relish most, the warmth of Jack against his back, a safe haven from the chill of Faber.

It didn’t take long for Bitty to start pouring his heart out.  He was quickly coming to think of Jack as one of his best friends.  It did bother him that he hardly knew anything about Jack, but anytime he tried to ask questions or press for more, Jack would clam up completely and run away.

It was nearing the end of the season.  Holster and Ransom had set Bitty up on another disastrous date and Bitty was regaling Jack with every awful detail.  “And then his face turned this weird sickly green and I didn’t have time to even move before he was throwing up all over my shoes.”

“Haha, oh?” Jack said.

“Bless his heart, I think it was his first time drinking, for sure his first time going on a date with a boy.  I don’t know why Ransom thought we would be so perfect for each other.  That boy clearly has not had time yet to come to terms with his own sexuality.  Maybe we could be friends, but that’s not what I’m looking for right now,” Bitty said.

Jack tensed behind him.  His voice was deceptively casual when he spoke again.  “What are you looking for?”

Bitty was thrown off by the question.  “I guess, someone taller than me, nice ass, strong enough to throw me around.”

“And that’s all that matters, someone who can manhandle you?” Jack chirped.

“Well no...but…” Bitty took a deep breath.  “Someone easy to talk to, to laugh with, someone who knows all about me and likes me anyway.  Blue...um...blue eyes.”

Jack leaned back, shoulders warm and solid at Bitty’s back.  “I want...I want to tell you something.”

“Of course, Jack, you can tell me anything.”  Bitty breathed deeply and reached a hand back to touch Jack’s arm.  Jack moved and laced his fingers with Bitty’s.

“I used to play hockey,” he started.  “Not just for fun.  I was good, like NHL good, like first pick of the draft good.”

“I thought perhaps you were better than you let on,” Bitty said, reassuringly squeezing Jack’s hand.

“I also...um...have really bad anxiety.  So the night before the draft, I’d been drinking, I was freaked out, and I decided to go driving.  It was stupid.  Things could have been so much worse.  I could have hit someone.  But instead, I wrapped my car around a tree and that was it: no more NHL, no more hockey, no more...anything,” Jack was nearly whispering by the end of it.

Tears stood in Bitty’s eyes.  “I’m sorry that happened to you.”  He wished he had something better to say.

“My shoulder never healed right,” Jack continued.  “And my face...it’s not pretty.”  He sat silent for a long moment, clutching Bitty’s hand desperately.  “But I want you to see me.”

“You don’t have to,” Bitty said.

“I do,” Jack said, “because I’m falling in love with you and you need to know me.”

“Jack, I…” Bitty started.

“Don’t say anything, not until you see,” Jack said.  He let go of Bitty’s hand and stood.

Bitty stood too and turned to face him.

The first thing he saw was Jack’s blue, blue eyes, staring back at him.  The left side of his face was normal, strong jaw, sharp cheekbones, a hint of manly stubble, but the right side was scarred beyond repair, cheekbone and jaw crooked after being set improperly, skin swollen and melted like candle wax from healed burns.  After a moment, Jack turned away, hiding his face once more.

Bitty raised a hand.  “Can I?” he asked softly.

Jack looked back at him and nodded.

Bitty traced the scars with one gentle fingertip.  Jack closed his eyes and leaned into Bitty’s hand.

“I’ll go,” Jack said.  “I just wanted you to know why.”

“No,” Bitty said, sharper than he meant to.

Jack looked at him with hope in his eyes.

“Sweetpea,” Bitty said.  “I’m falling in love with you too.”

[bleached-d-soul]

Capes and Cowls and Romances

Commission for @bunnykingrules!

Jaune was never an adventurous person. Sure, he could easily spend days dreaming of living through some amazing adventure but, at the end of the day, he fully realized that those were just hypothetical situations that he would never take part in. He wasn't a knight who would slay the dragon or the tough-as-nails badass who would put an end to some crazy tytant's rule.

He was just Jaune Arc, a mild-mannered reporter from a small farm town trying to make it in the world of the big city. He expected it to be hard. Everything was way more expensive than back home. The air was heavy and smelled wrong. And he still had yet to go a day without getting called a "fucking idiot" by someone on his way to work or back home. But that was nothing that he wasn't prepared for.

Catching the eye of the country's most infamous supervillain though? How was he supposed to prepare for that?

Cinder Ashen AKA Miss Fall was not your everyday supervillain. She didn't go around yelling out her evil plans and schemes. Neither did she dress up in tight spandex or a mask. No, instead she was the face of one of the city's most influential and powerful companies, the QueenCorp. From food to weapons, her company had a finger in each and every pie. Even when that involved cutting other people's fingers off.

When Jaune first arrived in Vale, he wanted to keep his head low and just live his own little life. But as time passed, he grew tired of writing the same meaningless articles on romances on set or horoscope tips. He wanted make a difference. Why become a reporter if you are not going to change something in the world, right? Expose a dirty politician. Reveal the conspiracy behind the city's damaged infrastructure. Or, in case of Miss Ashen, reveal her as the mysterious mastermind that supplied gangs all over the city with bleeding edge tech to fight heroes.

It was all by pure chance. A small tip from an anonymous source led him to the warehouse full of high-end tech. Some more digging landed him the hard witness evidence of Cinder being behind numerous villain attacks on her competitors, actual or potential. Jaune finally felt alive. He finally felt he was making the difference.

When Mr. Port canned his story, Jaune ignored the warning of a man about how guys like him tended to disappear. He continued to ignore hushed whispers and warnings from every publisher that rejected him. Finally, he was done with it. Tired and annoyed at how everyone seemed so eager to ignore the woman's double life, Jaune did what he thought the best option and published it on his own blog.

By the morning, the story had spread throughout the city and then the state. As people talked more and more about her, Jaune couldn't help but feel the sense of accomplishment.

He expected a lot of things. PR team of QueenCorp. coming after him. Being silenced by some of Cinder's gangsters.

He never expected an invitation to have a dinner.

"You are not eating," she stated in amusement. Jaune had yet to touch his utensils. "Afraid I ordered your meal poisoned?"

"Maybe I am just not hungry," he smirked, trying to play it off cool. Too bad that he hadn't eaten anything the entire day. His stomach growled before he could even finish the sentence. The fact that the steak before him looked and smelled absolutely delicious didn't make it better. "Look, is this the part where your men give me cement shoes and drop into the river?"

Cinder genuinely laughed at that. It was quiet and small, barely above the whisper. But it was there. And it was frightening. Them being alone in quite the spacious room of the restaurant only added to the dreadful feeling in his gut.

"Cement shoes? Sure, after all it is such a practical way to kill somebody," she took another sip of her wine. "I believe you will starve way before I could do anything to you. Trust me, Jaune, if I wished you dead, I wouldn't waste money on the restaurant. A simple bullet and a fake suicide note would be much more efficient."

The way she delivered that line - as if she was explaining the simplest most common stuff - made Jaune feel both worried and relaxed. He could tell she didn't poison his food. But he could also tell she woulkd get rif of him as easily as one would be disposing of trash. With that in mind, he took the first bite of juicy and tender steak.

If she planned to kill him, that was one hell of a last meal.

And yet the death had yet to come. Their conversation stayed far away from him exposing her. No veiled or direct threats to his life or family. No attempts to bribe or coerce him into calling his story fake. They talked about their own pasts and experiences. How he grew up in a small town in the family of eight. How she grew up alone in the giant mansion with only servants and tutors for company. How he paid his way through college. How she had been left to save a multibillion dollar company after her father ran it into the ground.

Was she trying to make him sympathize with her? Why was he sharing his past with the woman who could kill him that very night? As their desserts arrived, Jaune had enough and asked her straight-away:

"What are you going to do with me?"

"Nothing."

There was no lie in her words. But why?

"Why though?" Jaune's eyes narrowed. "I have literally exposed your shady arms dealing operation for the world to see. Your company's stock has been dropping like crazy for a whole week and-"

"- none of that will affect me as bad as you think," Cinder smiled. Not a fake smile she put on every time she opened a new hospital or school. But the real one that reminded Jaune of the cat that caught a mouse. "So my company sells weapons to the criminals and? If you honestly believe that will stop people from buying my products or services, you clearly overestimate the general public."

She took another sip of her wine and continued with the same serene expression, "Trust me, Jaune, the whole thing will be forgotten the moment some celebrity couple break up or my company announces a new phone. What you did was no more impactful than throwing a glass of water into the burning house."

"Then why am I here? If it is so small and insignificant, why did you invite me?"

She put down her glass and smiled. Before Jaune knew, the woman grasped him by his chin and looked him dead in the eyes. Two golden spheres stared straight into his soul, something wicked and powerful brewing in them.

"Because you interest me, Jaune."

He tried to back away only to find himself completely paralyzed. Was she one of the Auraborne - the people with special abilities? Or was it just the power a woman of her status had?

"That anonymous source that gave you a lead... You never tried to find from whom it came, did you?" She saw the shock in his eyes as the realization came down on him like a hammer. She was the anonymous benefactor. But why? What could she possibly gain from all of this? "I see you are confused. Allow me ask you a simple question then, Jaune: Why did you publish the story?"

Her eyes bore further into his soul.

"Honestly, why would you do this? Not only you risked your career and lifelihood, but your very life as well. When your employers refused to publish, you must have realized just how far my reach went. So why?"

He could feel the power in her gaze. The power to crush him if she wanted to. To crush him and everything he cared about and walk away without any punishment or even reprimend. And yet, he couldn't help but glare back as he snarled in defiance, "Because it was the right thing to do. I don't care how rich or powerful you are, I am not letting you hurt others."

He could have sworn something changed in her eyes. A small current of the power too outside of his world to comprehend. He expected to be burnt into ashes or have his skull crushed. And yet, once again, Cinder surprised by planting a hot wet kiss on his lips. Her tongue invaded his mouth, forcing him into submission as she desperately searched for something in the gesture of intimacy.

His mind was on fire, neurons all at work to try and understand what the hell was happening. Cinder deepened the kiss and all the brain activity died as he melted into it. Just what the hell did this woman do to him just now?

Finally, she let him go, looking no worse for the wear whereas he was out of breath.

"Not quite as innocent as I expected from a farm boy," Cinder chuckled. "I can tell we are going to have some truly fun times."

"I answered your question..." Jaune groaned after he finally gathered his thoughts. "So why not answer mine in return? Why did you send me all that info? Is that some sort of game? Or a way for you to prove just how untouchable you are?"

Cinder smiled - that damned cocky half-grin half-smirk.

"Because I wanted to find someone like you, Jaune," she said sincerely. "I have sent the same lead to several new reporters. But none of them proved themselves worthy of my interest. Some were too lazy to follow up on the lead. Some were to afraid to investigate any further once my name popped up. Some were too arrogant or greedy, barging into my office to try and blackmail me. But you? You actually managed to pull it off. I am impressed. I really am."

"And why do any of this? Why risk it all for a thrill?"

Cinder smiled.

"Because I wanted to."

She delivered the line with the same sincerity he delivered his, mocking how simplistic he must have sounded to her.

"Once you reach the top of the world, few things can excite you. I have no equals or rivals. I have no one to challenge me," her gaze fell on him. "Not until now, at least. I hope you will find this new relationship just as enjoyable as I do."

Relationship?

"When did I agree to become yours?"

Cinder smiled. Her eyes were like two burning suns as she bared her teeth.

"And when did I leave any room for discussion?"

S

Two years had passed since that fateful dinner and Cinder's declaration. Two long years of trying to stay sane in the world that no longer made sense.

Despite what many might have thought, Jaune wasn''t one to roll over with whatever came his way. He would fight, weakly and unsuccessfully. But he would fight. With every door to the news publishing cosed out of fear of QueenCorp. retribution, Jaune had little holding him back from his next step. He joined the Atlas - the world's elite taskforce. Quite the jump from a mild-mannered reporter.

Training was harsh and brutal. The lack of trust from his superior officers didn't make it easier. But Jaune refused to quit. And now here he was, the field agent of Atlas, armed and ready to take on anyone.

Anyone but her.

"You have strayed away from the herd, my little knight," the woman purred, fire dancing in her palm. "Came here to put an end to our game of cat and mouse?"

Jaune raised his taser gun only for it to burst into flames. Before he could pull out a stun baton, the woman was onto him. her lips burned against his neck as she hungrily ripped off his suit. It wasn't new or even rare. At this point, it was just the way things happened whenever the two ended up on the same battlefield. When he joined Atlas, the new villain appeared on the scene.

Fall Flame as the media christened her. She acted different from both Cinder Ashen and Miss Fall. More proactive on the field. More talkative and flirt with her enemies - especially him. He doubted anyone but him realized it was the cold and ruthless CEO and weapons dealer. The woman that traded weapons to every thug without powers. And now she had the powers of her own.

Good thing he picked up a few tricks as well.

"Ugh!" Cinder groaned as Jaune pushed her against the wall. Using the momentary surprise, he attempted to put handcuffs on her. "Kinky today, aren't we? But sadly, Jaune, I prefer to be the one in charge!"

He jumped away just as Cinder burst into flames. He tried to contact the rest of the team but without any success. He was all alone against the Auraborne. And he didn't like his chances. They continued on with the dance, trading blows and kicks. But it was only him who was losing energy as Cinder dodged and blocked all his attacks without any trouble.

Eventually, he found himself out of breath.

"You have improved since our last time. You definitely lasted longer," Cinder purred as she carddled his face. "But you still lost and your companions are now my captives. You do understand where I am going with this, don't you, Jaune?"

Jaune didn't even bother with resisting. Sometimes he wondered if Cinder created this persona solely to play with him. In an hour, his team would be released back and he would be locked up in one of Cinder's safe houses, which one he would eventually escape only to start the same game all over again in a month or two.

"You know," Cinder said as she led him towards the transportation cell. "Things would be much easier if you just joined me and my group. I assure you, our benefits package is quite favorable."

Jaune sighed at yet another attempt by Cinder to recruit him, "Let's just go to your safe house."

He didn't miss the way her lips curved into a smile at his rejection. What was it she said she enjoyed, someone challenging her? One might wonder why he even bothered to resist her if it only made it more fun for her. Jaune wondered about it as well whenever he was fighting her.

Guess he just loved the challenge too.

It was complicated, confusing and twisted. But in a way, he enjoyed refusing Cinder's advances just as much as he enjoyed doing anything against her. Refuse to join her. Always do the right thing when she offered him an easy way out through doing the wrong thing.

Maybe he and Cinder weren't so different after all.

S

The trip back to her safe house was surprisingly trivial. If one were to see the Atlas agent and the infamous criminal chatting about movies, work and food, that person would think they went crazy. But for Jaune and Cinder? It was just the way things worked between the two.

Cinder wouldn't tell Jaune anything that could compromise her plans. He stopped trying to get the information out of her a long time ago.

But neither did Jaune reveal anything about his side and their plans. Cinder had yet to give up on her pursuit of making him into her mole.

"I am going to have a shower. Wanna join me?"

Cinder smiled teasingly as Jaune took too long to refuse. "No thanks, I think I might need get some ice for my leg. No thanks to you."

She doesn't apologize or feign sympathy. Of course, she doesn't. Cinder never apologizes. Because in her own mind, she is never wrong.

The safe house is a lot more of a private house in the woods than one would imagine. No camouflage tech involved. No killer robots on the watch. Just a small piece of property away from the city and wandering eyes.

At this point, he spent more time here than he did in his actual apartment. This fact didn't bother him as much as it used to though, something that he would think on during more relaxed times. He still hadn't come up with an answer to that. He would, in due time.

For now though?

He had dinner to cook.

Cinder had many flaws. She was a sociopath, for starters, with very twisted outlook on the world and life in general. All people either had some use to her or could be discarded without a second thought. And when she was bored, she would stop at nothing to feel excitement. She was also quite stubborn and while always willing to improve, rarely acknowledged some of her more moral failings.

Despite those flaws, Jaune didn't find her company as unpleasant as he should have. Otherwise, he wouldn't be making dinner right now, now would he?

"So what are we having tonight?" Cinder asked as she wrapped her still wet arms around his waist from behind. "One of your classics? Or something new?"

He didn't bother to try and remove her arms despite the water seeping into his shirt.

"I was thinking of some stew and miso soup. I tried it a few weeks ago at the new place near my apartment. The chef was rude as hell but the taste I got out of it was worth it."

Cinder smiles before leaving to change. Jaune leaves the food to cook for a few minutes and changes into something more domestic as well. He had yet to get used to having his own room in here.

By the time he changed, Cinder was already at the table waiting for him to serve the food and drinks to her. It wasn't the same as when she waited for her minions to present the results of their work. Or when she awaited the CEO of some other company to surrender the controls over to her.

Instead, it was a more expectant but warm atmosphere that greeted him. It reminded him of the all the times he came back home from college to be greeted by one of his sisters. It felt comforting and peaceful. Not something you'd expect from the current public enemy number one.

They enjoyed their dinner, trading quips and jabs at each other. She commented on how the Atlas needed to better train its agents. Jaune pointed out that she was slipping up with her guys - after all, Roman sang like a bird once they got him.

There was no heat in their words, however. Not even the slightest bit of animosity that was present whenever they fought. As if the two of them were actors and their roles - a Hero and a Villain respectively - were taken off the moment they were here.

Jaune didn't hate the idea as much as he should have.

"You ever get tired of this?"

He breaks the question when they are done washing the dishes. It is something that has been on his mind for a while. And he no longer wanted to wonder on that.

"Whatever do you mean, Jaune?"

"I mean... This whole supervillain thing you got going on," he gestured vaguely around the place. "Building weapons, fighting heroes and et cetera... Since when was this a thing for you?"

Cinder reached for his face and smiled.

"Since I decided to have you for myself. The bond between lovers is strong... But the bond between the opposites? It is eternal, Jaune. Light and Dark. Life and Death. Good and Evil. One cannot exist without the other. And so cannot we."

Her eyes burned as he felt himself entranced.

"Which is why..."

They left the table.

"I am never..."

They were in the bed. Their bed.

"Letting you go."

The Light and Dark.

Good and Evil.

Agent of Order and Mistress of Chaos.

In that night - and many nights after - they were together as one. 

[skeletorific]

Underswap Revisited

This isn't like, an official change to how I view/write underswap for asks but it's an interesting variation that I've been thinking about

Toriel: She still lives in the Ruins. But rather than leaving to escape violence, she goes there to quietly collect human souls, because she knows Asgore won't do it. As with Tale!Asgore, she isn't cruel or sadistic. She takes no pleaure in killing children and tries to do it as painlessly as possible. Her approach is usually to guide them through the Ruins, while making sure they know what's coming. I'm thinking of Asgore's "dentist" speech. She promises the child that if they come with her, she'll protect them from the more painful death the other traps in the Ruins can give them, and she'll make them a pie of their choosing as a sort of last meal. It's macabre in it's way but it's all she can think to do. She ends up forming a bond with Frisk, however. Which makes their battle that much harder. She tries to provoke them, to fight back. If they kill her, she's grateful. She thanks them. She begs them to be careful. And if they continue to spare her....in the end she lets them past. Overwhelmed by her guilt but praying that if they can make it out....maybe things can be better.

Papyrus: former pride of the Royal Guard, Stretch was on track to potentially follow in Undyne's footsteps someday. He was smart, fast, and far, far more dangerous than he looks. A few years ago, though, something.... happened. No one knows just what. But he started to look more and more tired. He showed up for work later and later. He'd always played fast and loose with regulations and always been a bit on the lazy side but lately it was like he didn't even see a point anymore. Finally he turned in his letter of resignation without much explanation. Something about no longer feeling like he could protect people. He and Undyne still hang out. Shes trying to teach him to cook, with..... extremely mixed results. The rest of his time he spends helping/harassing his brother with his terrible jokes. Still, don't mistake his apathy for weakness. If pushed into a corner, you'll find he's retained a lot of his old skills....he's the man on the phone for most of your journey. Hope you enjoy bad puns and bitching about Hotland

Sans: wannabe Royal Scientist and absolute terror of Snowdin. Since childhood Blue has always had an uncanny knack for machines. Usually machines of a somewhat....explosive variety. Combine that with his love of stars and astronomy, and it was natural for him to want to work at the Labs. Still, he's young, inexperienced, and perhaps a bit undisciplined. Alphys likes his potential but worries he may not be ready yet (not that she'd ever say it to his face). In the meantime he develops his skills via puzzle making (and pranking the residents of Snowdin). He's exuberant, a bit of a little shit, but ultimately sweet tempered and hungry for friendship. He also has a telescope in Waterfall and a lot of odd jobs to support his equipment purchases. Rather than a battle body he wears a labcoat and glasses he doesn't need.

Grillby: the owner of Blues favorite place in Snowdin and a notorious tightfist. He attacks the player if they can't pay their tab and tries to shake them down for items. Can be pacified if you bought Sans' fried snow. He loves his daughter very much and seems to enjoy Blue's hijinks, for whatever reason

Undyne: the notoriously reclusive captain of the Royal Guard. No one ever doubts her strength. When called on she can still cause a severe ruckus. However, these days she's rarely seen outside her Waterfall home, except for her rare visits to the Lab. The Player first encounters her on the phone as she stammers out some vague threats before ambushing them is magical spears. If you follow the clues from her phonecalls, you can eventually find her house, where you learn her dark secret:..

....she actually thinks human culture is super cool. And she's worried that by doing this she's let everyone in the Underground down, including Asgore, who invested so much time in her. She still loves to fight! But killing humans....in person it's too hard. In a pacifist route, the player can even opt out of combat and offer to make tea with her and reminisce.

Alphys: sure, anime is great for flower symbolism, catgirls, and princesses with swords the size of their dead fathers. But you know what else it has?

Mechas

And these giant robots are the particular specialty of the Underground royal scientists. Whether is just basic power armor, Voltron clones, or transformers, Alphys has a sexy, sexy bot for almost every occasion. Mettaton, her debut, was just a taster for her real abilities. If it's badass, mechanical, and you can attach a sexy pair of legs to it, Alphys can build it for you. However, the Royal Scientist's passions for her craft (and the destruction of humanity) masks a warm heart for her friends, and deep down she's a big ol softie.

Napstablook: sometimes fame hits when you least expect it. Napstablook is a brilliant musician who's self-produced tracks have taken the Underground by storm. However, their talent is only matched by their mystique. The ghost has just a bit of an ego, and is convinced mingling too much with others with fans will taint their artistic vision. As a result, all their songs are published under a handle (SpookedSordid, if you're curious) and they hide themselves away in the family snail farm, ever hiding from their legions of fans. Since their cousin left, they've been a bit on the lonely side, though...

Mettaton: Metta loves his cousin's music, he really does. He's also very happy that people are enjoying their work. But when you spend all your time on the outskirts of someone else's spotlight, you eventually start to worry you'll never get your own. When he found an opportunity in a young science prodigy....he took it. Disappeared one day and turned up at Mettaton, prospective new star of the Underground. Finally, his performance abilities were being appreciated! But, in time, he found that it couldn't distract from the gnawing guilt inside him. Not to mention the onset of imposter syndrome. It was by singing and dancing along to Napsta's music that he had even learned to perform in the first place. So who was he to stand here, receiving the lauds? Would people even want to be around him if they knew who his cousin was? Could Napstablook even forgive him? Was he worth all this attention? By the time the Player encounters him, he is a whole mess of insecurities, only barely hiding, and desperate for anyway out of the Underground to escape this fear. If it's not too much trouble. Is he bothering you? He's probably bothering you...

Muffet: the spider woman may look a bit on the spooky side but she's a respectable woman looking to raise money for her kin in Snowdin. Her bakery is a welcome respite, and the only thing that would ever make Stretch agree to deal with Hotland's puzzles.

Asgore: the loss of his children didn't leave him angry. It left him...scared. They were gone for mere moments before they were torn to shreds. Was the outside world really that dangerous? The coming years only reinforced this for him. Children who fall into the Underground (those who make it past his wife, that is) rarely have happy stories. Ebott really was the only safe place, wasn't it? Well....if that was true, what responsible parent would ever allow them to leave? They were safe here. No matter how much monsterkind might dream of the stars....and no matter how much the human children wanted to go home. He wasn't cruel: he let them keep their dreams. If Undyne found any humans she was under strict orders to bring them to him, ostensibly to deal with them, but really to squirrel them away in the palace until they lived out their natural lifespans. So short compared to monsters .

He would keep them safe....whether they wanted it or not. He stands as the last guardian between the barrier and the underground. And no one will be leaving.

[the-light-followed]

THE LIGHT FANTASTIC (1986) [DISC. #2; RINCEWIND #2]

“What shall we do?’ said Twoflower. ‘Panic?’ said Rincewind hopefully. He always held that panic was the best means of survival; back in the olden days, his theory went, people faced with hungry sabre-toothed tigers could be divided very simply into those who panicked and those who stood there saying ‘What a magnificent brute!’ and ‘Here, pussy.”

Rating: 5/10

Standalone Okay: No

Read First: ABSOLUTELY NO.

Discworld Books Masterpost: [x]

* * * * * * * * * *

If The Colour of Magic is a bad place to start reading Discworld, The Light Fantastic is 100% worse.  Not because it’s bad, because it’s absolutely an improvement on its predecessor.  It’s just that The Colour of Magic ends on a cliffhanger (only in the metaphorical sense; in the literal sense, Rincewind has just fallen off the cliff).  The Light Fantastic picks up exactly where it left off, with only a little exposition or explanation to soften the shift from one to the next.  I tend to think of The Light Fantastic as more like The Colour of Magic: Part 2, Now We’re Getting Somewhere, because, well, now we’re getting somewhere.

Folks, we finally have a cohesive, over-arching plot! We have stakes greater than “let’s not get killed by this latest thing that wants us dead!”  We have purpose, and drive, and successful barbarian heroes so old they lack teeth and have to make dentures out of diamond, and I love absolutely every bit of it!

In what will quickly become obvious is the norm for him, Rincewind’s life continues to be a series of upsetting things happening one after the other.  Some highlights from The Light Fantastic include:

Being forcibly teleported (back) onto the Disc by the parasitically-attached Great Spell living in his brain, after falling over the Rimfall.  Reality is completely rewritten to do this, but everything remains exactly the same except Rincewind’s new position clinging to the top of a pine tree.  (Twoflower gets dropped back onto the Disc as well, but that seems mostly incidental.)

Going to the land of Death while still alive, picking up his mostly-dead friend, and running right back out to the land of the living.

Camping in the mouth of a giant troll the size of a mountain, while being held captive by mercenaries.  Somehow only the mercenaries end up dead.

Being attacked by wizards and Things from the Dungeon Dimensions, and fighting said wizards and Things in life-or-death battles.

Using the most powerful magical book on the Disc, possibly the most magical item full-stop, and then afterwards, allowing said item to be eaten by the carnivorous sentient Luggage for safekeeping.  Rincewind ends up owning the Luggage before the end of the story—so technically, he still has this wildly dangerous book.

Oh, and saving the world, of course.  He also does that.

I love, love, love the way Pratchett writes ‘heroes’ vs. how he writes his protagonists.  Absolutely none of his protagonists are the stereotypical hero, and his stories are better for it.

Quick sidetrack to define terms: when I say ‘stereotypical hero,’ I’m talking about the kind of lawful good protagonists you see in most high fantasy adventure stories or superhero comics, the stuff with worldwide or even cosmic stakes.  They’re typically well-trained or have some kind of special skills, or they acquire special training/skills along the way.  They almost always set out specifically to save the world, and typically do not have any ulterior motives beyond it being ‘the right thing to do.’  Usually, they’re strong and rugged manly men with impressive jawlines.  I’m talking Aragorn from Lord of the Rings.  I’m talking Captain America and Superman.  I’m talking the real Boy Scout types.

Truth, justice, and apple pie—or whatever the regional-specific pastry of choice might be!

Pratchett’s heroes are not that.  They’re cowards.  They’re scared or confused or unprepared, or making the whole thing up as they go along.  They’re fools, alcoholics, con men.  They’re salty old ladies and know-it-all young girls.  If there is a stereotypical hero-type character, they’re going to be a foil for the actual main character, and they won’t stay perfectly pure and uncomplicated for long—I’m thinking specifically Carrot, though we’ll talk about him later when we get to the City Watch books.  

Here, what we get is Rincewind.  And he is as far from a stereotypical hero as it is possible to be, probably because he would have started sprinting full-speed away from the thought before anyone finished saying it out loud.  Rincewind doesn’t save the world because he suddenly found his courage, or developed bonus superpowers, or found some kind of magical sword to do the fighting for him.  (He actually found the sword back in The Colour of Magic, hated every second of it, and got rid of it as soon as possible.  Goodbye and good riddance to Kring the magic sword.)  He hasn’t secretly had the courage inside of himself all along.

Rincewind saves the world because he’s got nowhere left to run, and that’s excellent.

I’m going to save a lot of my rambling about Pratchett’s deconstruction of the concept of ‘heroes’ for when I get to Guards! Guards! and later City Watch books, since Carrot is, like I said, both the main example and the central thesis.  But it is very important for everyone to understand: for me, nothing is more satisfying from a literary perspective than knowing that, at the end of the Discworld series, coward and hero-only-by-accident-or-mistake Rincewind is one of the two people in contention for the spot as ‘ultimate savior of the world, the universe, and all of existence.’  The other is a teenage girl.

Honestly, the only reason I think Rincewind might edge her out for the title is because he technically saved a slightly larger slice of reality with this whole escapade.  In Tiffany’s defense, I’m 98% sure she hadn’t been born yet when this whole thing went down, so we really can’t blame her for not solving it first.  If she were there, she’d have it handled, and that’s just objective truth.

But Rincewind.  Rincewind.  At the end of The Light Fantastic, the dude’s spent two whole books screaming and running whenever something tries to kill/maim/eat/threaten him.  The audience has absolutely figured out by this point that while he’s smart and sarcastic and surprisingly speedy, he’s totally useless in a conflict.  His priority is saving his own skin, not dashing feats of derring-do or whatever it is heroes are supposed to do.

And yet with the end of the world looming, his back against the wall, and no real place left to run, when the Big Baddie demands that he give up the last Great Spell, the one last thing preventing the immediate destruction of everything and everyone, we get this from Rincewind:

“If it stops anywhere, it stops here, thought Rincewind. ‘You’ll have to take it,’ he said. ‘I won’t give it to you.’”

And that’s it.  That’s what saves the world.  Not a stereotypical hero, not a hero of legend, not a mythic champion showing up for a final glorious battle—it’s a Pratchett hero.  It’s an everyday guy, a coward and a failure, dragged in by accident and against his will.  It’s an average person, nothing really special, who looks at something that he knows is wrong and that he’s sure will hurt him for disobeying.  And yet he still says no.  It stops here.

Even rats fight back, as Rincewind himself says.

This is the moment that really sells me on Rincewind’s character, every time.  Even before Pratchett was really taking Rincewind or the Discworld seriously, even while the whole thing is still one massive joke more often than not, he’s still given the readers a POV character who feels believably real.  He’s scared shitless, he’s tired, he’s sarcastic, and he doesn’t want to be there.  But that’s too damn bad, because he’s the one there, and if he doesn’t do this, no one else will.

And maybe Rincewind’s not Superman, but he still does it. He succeeds, he saves the day, and—despite everything—he’s somehow the hero of this story.  Screaming all the way, maybe, but he still gets it done.

[Paul Kidby does incredible Discworld art, including some of the amazing cover art for the books.  You can find a lot of it on his website— www.paulkidby.com.  This one,The Colour of Magic, stars Rincewind, Twoflower, and their dramatic escape from the Wyrmberg.]

While we’re on the subject of heroes, we can’t skip over Cohen the Barbarian, who makes his debut here in The Light Fantastic. Now, Cohen is technically a hero, but this is still not in the ‘stereotypical hero’ sense—it’s literally his job.  It’s the thing he writes in the little box marked ‘Occupation’ on his tax forms, or at least it would be if he actually paid any taxes.  Or if he actually wrote things down.  

For Cohen, being a hero is how he makes a profit and pays the bills, and he is very, very good at it.  That’s 100% objective truth, and I know that for sure, because the man is old as the hills and still gets into life-or-death fights about twice a day, and that’s the sort of thing that gets you dead very quickly if you aren’t very good at what you do.

But Cohen still isn’t a stereotypical hero.  He does a lot of looting and pillaging, and his body count over the Rincewind books is—wow, it’s up there.  It’s a real doozy.  It’s hard to call his work heroism when it’s hardly a smidge to the left of repeated, outright murder.  I’ll probably circle back around to this in Interesting Times and The Last Hero, because there are some really interesting points made there about the ways that Cohen and his contemporaries play at heroes and villains like they’re a sort of performance they’re putting on rather than a moral act or a choice made out of necessity. But I will say now that putting Cohen in the same storylines as Rincewind really does put both characters into a more complex and interesting light.  Rincewind, the coward-not-hero, and Cohen, the fearless warrior, can kind of play off of each other.

It just goes to show Pratchett’s grasp of people as people, and not unidimensional cardboard cutouts.  Nobody’s always right.  Nobody is always wrong.  And real people don’t always stand up to perfect, pure concepts of what we think they should be.

Also, since Cohen is about a billion years old, we get little gems like his toothless lisp before he picks up some dentures, a concept that Twoflower brings with him from the Counterweight Continent.  (Or, as Cohen calls them, dine chewers.  That, friends, is a pune, or a play on words.)  Also, because he’s Cohen and therefore a dramatic bastard, the dentures are solid diamond.  It’s not as if the man can’t afford it, I guess?

I do want to take a little side trip into some other new details that pop up in The Light Fantastic, specifically the more in-depth stuff about Unseen University and the wizards.  The wizards are a lot of fun in the early Discworld books, specifically if you’re really bloodthirsty, because up until Ridcully arrives in Moving Pictures there’s quite a lot of turnover in Unseen University staff. The wizards are backstabbing bastards early on, and it’s almost jarring to compare the shifty, power-hungry jerks in The Light Fantastic and Sourcery to the fat, lazy hedonists they’ll become. We do get an impression of them as a collective that will stay pretty consistent as we move forward: their values, their skills, the way they do magic.

This is important not only because it establishes a lot of lasting detail for stories involving Rincewind, the University, and the city of Ankh-Morpork, but also because we’re about to get our first glimpse of the witches.  (Hey-o, here comes Equal Rites!)  With a lot of this stuff mapped out in advance, it makes it easier to run a compare-and-contrast of what’s going on with the two main schools of magic users on the Disc, what’s different between them, what’s the same—and the positives and negatives in them both.  (Again, hey-o, Equal Rites!  That all is about to be the whole damn point.)

I think it’s also fun to note that The Light Fantastic features the brief run of Galder Weatherwax as Archchancellor of the Unseen University, A.K.A. He Who Dies So Granny Weatherwax Can Have His Frankly Excellent Name.  Granny Weatherwax is the steel-souled spine of the witches, and the driving force of their run of books, and it’s kind of hilarious to think that Terry Pratchett did the writer’s equivalent of digging through a graveyard to give her a name.  This theft is later lampshaded and then ignored; Granny says something briefly about Galder Weatherwax being a distant cousin she barely knew, and the whole thing is never mentioned again from then on out. I can’t exactly remember where, and it might even have been in a short story or one of the side books Pratchett eventually put together, not in a novel.  Honestly, who cares—Granny Weatherwax is such a force of nature that it only takes a few minutes to forget that her name ever could have belonged to anyone but herself.

But Granny Weatherwax is not a discussion for The Light Fantastic.  It’s time to move on to Equal Rites!

* * * * * * * * * *

Side Notes:

This is the book where the Unseen University Librarian is changed into an orangutan.  It happens early on in a magical accident, as the grimoire containing the Eight Great Spells attempts to save Rincewind and the spell trapped in his mind, and he is never reverted to human form.  

He is referenced but does not appear in The Colour of Magic.  

At no point anywhere in the Discworld does he appear in human form.  At no point does he have lines in human language.  He is never named.  At no point is he described as he was prior to this change, except that the orangutan he becomes is initially said to look “like the head librarian,” so presumably he was already a bit orangutan-ish. 

For something as weird as this is, and for something with such long-lasting repercussions, it is treated in the moment as a thing of very little importance—except, of course, that now he has to be paid in bananas.  I find this absolutely delightful.

Tim Curry plays the wizard Trymon in the BBC miniseries The Colour of Magic, which combines The Colour of Magic and The Light Fantastic.  Trymon only appears in The Light Fantastic in the books, and I can’t read it anymore without picturing Tim Curry in his ridiculous robes and shoes, with his ridiculous overdramatic murder plots, working his way up to the top just to die a ridiculous death.

No, really. Look at this hat.  Look at this goatee.  Only Tim Curry has the acting chops to pull this off.

Death once again appears, and this time we also get to see his house and his daughter, Ysabell!  I can see why it didn’t take long to go from here to Mort: the concept is way too good to leave to little snatches and side appearances.

Krysoprase the troll shows up for the first time in this book.  Later, he’ll be known as Chrysoprase, and will make appearances in several other Discworld novels: Feet of Clay, Wyrd Sisters, and, notably, Thud.  There’s also a troll named Breccia in The Light Fantastic; Breccia will become the name of Chrysoprase’s gang in Ankh-Morpork.

While going through my copy of The Light Fantastic to work on this post, I glanced at the cover and briefly thought I was losing my mind.  At the bottom, there’s a blurb talking about beloved Discworld character “Conan the Barbarian”—but up until that moment I was 100% certain the beloved barbarian on the Disc was named “Cohen.”  Turns out I’m not crazy, it’s just that the literal cover of the book decides to make a reference to the character that Cohen is parodying rather than to Cohen himself.  And this is the 2008 print edition, not an early run or a badly-assembled e-reader edition, which means it’s being released by a professional publishing company a full 22 years after the original novel came out.  It’s not like nobody’s had time to look over the material and do some copy-editing.

* * * * * * * * * *

Favorite Quotes:

“The important thing about having lots of things to remember is that you’ve got to go somewhere afterwards where you can remember them, you see? You’ve got to stop. You haven’t really been anywhere until you’ve got back home.”

“Do you think there’s anything to eat in this forest?” “Yes,” said the wizard bitterly, “us.”

“Not for the first time she reflected that there were many drawbacks to being a swordswoman, not least of which was that men didn't take you seriously until you'd actually killed them, by which time it didn't really matter anyway.”

“Are you a hero, actually?” “Um, no. Not as such. Not at all, really. Even less than that, in fact.”

“What shall we do?’ said Twoflower. ‘Panic?’ said Rincewind hopefully. He always held that panic was the best means of survival; back in the olden days, his theory went, people faced with hungry sabre-toothed tigers could be divided very simply into those who panicked and those who stood there saying ‘What a magnificent brute!’ and ‘Here, pussy.”

[hellobengski]

In Another World: Japan 2019

Maybe to love is to learn – and learning Japan for quite some time is just beautiful with all its chaotic yet fulfilling desire at heart.

December is the season for family and friends and having to spend it another country again is different – a very memorable one. It is such a good grace of embracing new culture from a 5 hour trip  away from home – living a temporary life, what it’s like to live in a world where everything seemed to be provided. The place itself is an art, where you can experience the calmness of the streets although I had to enjoy the freezing weather in which I was forced to wear almost four layers of clothing, including multiple heat packs to keep us going along the way. Nevertheless, Japan has its own way of welcoming you to the best possible ways it could offer, making exceptional memories of more than a dream.

Japan is in the top of my bucket list yet the very least to make it happen when I was younger. Given that it’s expensive, it requires you to apply for visa in which chosen people are only given the opportunity to process it. Maybe timing wasn’t for us then hence watching anime films was an alternative way to feel it. Japanese characters itself with perfectly triangular shaped faces used to be my hidden desire, like there’s something mystical about their personalities. And maybe timing could be right too. It could be right when the High Power allows you – specifically when you’re ready.

I have no idea what to hate in a place where it appears to be perfect. Utopia, as what they say. I went with a group of twenty people with various ages and personalities so there were two things that needed to be considered in this trip; to conform and to be patient. I have watched some documentaries, travel vlogs, and even movies like Hachiko to prepare myself with an expectant heart.

From there, I know Japan would lead us to wander and be lost.

Upon arriving in Japan, our group was picked up by huge sized black colored van including drivers who were definitely dressed well with their coat and tuxedo. We were late. And there is something wrong with that. It’s a bad Impression for Japanese people to be late since time is valuable – unless you have reasonable excuses. The tension was starting to fire up so I decided to apologise. The family did too. During the one-hour travel from Narita Airport to the first place where we stayed, I was mesmerized. The overwhelming emotions from visual presentations turned into reality. Maybe this is love, like seeing a person for the first time letting your head turn into 360.

Fallen leaves, chirping crows, and whistling of the winds. So this is winter – I have never felt this in my life. It surprised me as I was enjoying the giant automatic buildings. We toured several of Tokyo’s places, all of which had their own unique culture.

I experienced the towering skyscrapers and offices of Shinjuku and the shopping and pop culture of Harajuku. I learned how diverse Tokyo was: three blocks from the Tokyo Skytree, an observation tower that symbolizes Japan’s cutting-edge technology; Asakusa, an ancient Buddhist shrine where people prayed under enormous red lanterns and burnt incense for their ancestors. I noticed that this dramatic juxtaposition between the old and the new is what most characterized Japan: pop culture and technology contrasted yet blended with traditional customs and culture. While polar opposites of each other, these two aspects of Japan coexisted in perfect harmony. I believe that harmony sends an important message: you do not need to disregard the old in order to embrace the new. It is possible to honor and accept both.

And the bikes were electronic. I grew up learning how to ride a bike but never got the chance to do it in Japan. Maybe if I was just a solo traveler, I could use it to explore the clean roads.

Every train is a safe space.

With Haruki Murakami’s novel Colorless Tsukuru Tazaki and His Years of Pilgrimage, fragments of imagination have conveyed my emotions to become a fan of train stations. I have seen some parts of myself through Tsukuru, how darkness made him feel as an empty person, lacking in color and identity. He was real to me. From millions of people that passed through me, he could’ve been there. That’s when I started to love the train stations even more.

They are always on time– and of course, a delay of even just one minute will result in profuse apologies from the conductor. Train stations are always staffed with employees who are ready to answer your questions and do so very well. Though we weren’t able to ride city buses, I believe they’re also great though I wasn’t sure if we can pay their fares with the same card we used to ride the train.

I have seen people coming in and out of the trains, like every person has its own story of why they needed to ride the train. On Tuesday, I remember some old man trying to stop his son from crying. On Friday night, I smelled ginger flavored beer from Japanese employees who just got off from work from Shibuya station. I liked the smell, it didn’t make me feel that I was in danger. Probably weekends are for Filipinos, like Saturday, who came all the way from Grandberry mall outlet to purchase almost half price of some original brands that are dying for.

It is just solely convenient. There were convenience stores that are open 24 hours a day and you can simply find one just about anywhere. We found some food, basic toiletry items and magazines. Another thing that’s a go-to in Japan is the vending machines. Vending machines are even more common than convenience stores, and you can find one by just walking a block or two. Most of them just sell drinks like water, coffee, tea, juice and soda. They’re usually quite cheap (100 yen at the cheapest), and you can get them hot in the winter or cold in the summer.

I personally bought drinks from vending machines almost all the time and they were worth it. And the food, oh the food. Japanese don’t have the highest life expectancy in the world for no reason. Never in my life have I tasted the best apple pie in the world until Japan let me. From its first bite down to last, it was beyond my ultimatum. No words could express it.

Even so with Ramen after a whole exhausting day, the warm soup with its perfect texture of noodles satisfied us. I believe that every food regardless if it’s in the streets or in a luxurious restaurant was served with love. They would want to make you feel like you deserve to be well treated with a quality of food that they could offer you.

Some things in life are too complicated to explain in any language but in Japan, it has brought me to both --- tranquility and complexity. The demeanor of place demanded me to breathe. It gave me the power of wanting to be alone, looking back to nostalgic feelings that I felt and decisions I have made in my life.

Until another Utopian world took me to the fun and excitement part --- Tokyo’s Disneysea, the most brilliant story world’s ever created: a living ode to Walt Disney’s love for storytelling, world-building, and lovable characters. You see, Disney isn’t just made of Story Worlds – it’s also a story world in itself, and its star is Mickey remains the most iconic character ever drawn. Mickey belongs exclusively to the world of Disney; his presence invokes the idea that all of these smaller story worlds are part of something bigger, something uniquely magical. Mickey Mouse is the linchpin to the whole operation. He’s the reminder that Disneyland is more than the sum of its parts – it’s an experience unto itself.

Ultimately, the story of Disney sea is the story of my visit. My presence with my family defines the day; we get to pick rides and shows. Disney Park will always be an “open world,” where you explore, collect things, and meet characters in whatever sequence you choose.

Until sooner I realized we have one more day left to pack things and luggage. Items that were bought in Japan were already sort out, from gadgets to food, fridge magnets and even branded shoes. My mom had to buy another big trolley to maximize all the stuff so we could all bring home the goodies.

Just before the plane took off from Narita airport, I met an amazing couple from Japan. The lady’s Filipina, Marissa Suzuki, who’s married to a Japanese and been living in Japan for 30 years. The old man, Mr. Nori Suzuki, was 20 years older than her, had 2 children who were left at home. I was sitting from the window seat trying to calm myself from my episodic anxiety. The first thing she asked me was if there’s any book to read while waiting. I told her that there were just couple of magazines but probably wouldn’t satisfy her husband. It was a budget airline. She was hardly putting her bags on the bin until her husband helped her.  And then she sat beside me. They smiled at me like they wanted to know me.

The two hour conversation started.

I felt the joy from their eyes, especially from the Japanese old man as they kept asking my whereabouts. They insisted on buying coffee and oatmeal cookies for me. I wanted to be polite so I smirked. Of course I was very hungry and didn’t eat some breakfast. They even offered wasabi nuts and matcha flavored round shaped sticky bread. I had to appreciate it although I didn’t really like the taste too much.

For once in my life, I tried staring to someone while sharing personal stories. I felt bittersweet from her expressions, how she left our country when her older sister brought her to Japan. It was like she didn’t have choice. She was only 17 back then when she faced the reality. I know she wanted to make me feel what she has been through. I could see through her eyes how she learned to love her husband from the first few years of their relationship.  The difference of the culture and language didn’t really matter to her, instead, she was challenged by it. Mr. Suzuki was quite a storyteller, I was pretty convinced that he loves the Philippines with its warm people and weather. I love his words of wisdom; to treat people equally because we all deserve it; to value time because we all work for it; to give as much as you can because there’s no better feeling than to serve.

Funny how they wanted me to date a Japanese guy, or at least I should’ve met someone in a span of week. I could always go back, but will be definitely choosing a different weather. I admit I didn’t really have good sleep from the entire trip but maybe travels are for people who seek for adventure and stories.

From what I have learned in this trip, through its any lifestyle, people have survived. And we will always be. And those who survive have a duty. Our duty is to do our best to keep on living. Even if our lives are not perfect.

With all my sincerity and respect, in another life, will always go back to you, Japan.

[pinkevilbobdoesthings]

More superheroes!!! Look if you leave me to my own devices for too long, I just end up writing about superpowers and stuff. But this time it's super-villains!

The title comes from "When You're Evil" by Voltaire. So here’s “I’m the Dagger in Your Back”.

__________________________

It was not a good day for Jester. She missed her bus to work and forgot her wallet and her lunch at home. The worst part of the day though had to be when she got kidnapped by a super-villain. Jester sighed. It was incredibly boring being a captive of a super-villain. She had thought that it would be all dramatic and flashy and scary, but in a good way. Instead she was in what was basically a giant glass tube staring at a very uninteresting lab. There wasn't any computers or anything, just a small chemistry set and a little couch. It looked like this room originally was made with an entirely different purpose in mind.

The Archmage was the greatest villain in all of the empire, so really, you'd think he'd have better taste. Jester had thoughts and opinions on how a villain's lair should look, and it definitely wasn't this. She sighed and sat down. Stretching out her hand she tried to freeze the glass again only for nothing to happen. There was something there that was canceling her powers. Not that Jester's powers were very strong. They weren't enough to become a superhero. That used to be a dream of hers, but it turned out that she just didn't have it in her to be great or powerful.

The door opened up and Jester got up quickly. She was preparing herself to face her captor face to face only to see someone else completely different. A red headed man wearing drab brown clothes and a plain black domino came in. He carried a tray of something and approached Jester's cage. A smile slick and smooth was on his face. "Ready for dinner?" he asked. His accent placed him as being Zemnian.

"No. I'm ready for answers," Jester said, but her growling stomach contradicted her.

He chuckled and placed a hand on the glass. "You are, are you? I'm sorry, but all I have for you right now is dinner."

Jester stared at the tray he was holding. It looked like just a microwave dinner, but looks could be deceiving. "Is it poisoned?"

"If we were going to poison you, I wouldn't be the one bringing you dinner," he said. "It's nothing fancy, but it won't kill you." He smirked and oh, he was handsome. Not in a celebrity superstar sort of way, but more like a quiet everyday sort of handsome. But he knew it. There was a cockiness to his smile.

"Look, I don't know what you expect from me, but you're not going to get it. There's nothing special about me, and there's better ways to get money than trying to ransom me," Jester said.

Another smirk. "That's for us to decide, I think. Now, if you'll stand back." He closed his eyes and a hole the exact size of the tray and food appeared in the glass. As he started to push the tray through the hole, his hand began to shake. The tray was half way through when the hole snapped closed cutting the tray in two and dumping it on the ground.

The red headed man stared at it shocked. Shaking, he dropped down to his knees. "No, no," he whispered as he picked up half of the tray. The floor was a mess with what was supposed to be Jester's dinner.

"It's okay. I really wasn't that hungry."

But he didn't seem to hear her. "Ikithon's going to kill me. He told me to practice more. I should've practiced more. Why didn't I practice more?" He tried to clean up, but his shaking hands just made a bigger mess.

"Hey, hey!" Jester called out. The man startled backwards and dropped the tray. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to scare you."

He was breathing hard, and even with the mask on, Jester could see the panic in his eyes.

It was a panic attack. Jester's mom would have them sometimes when she had to leave the house. "It's okay, it's going to be okay. You're going to be okay. Can you breath with me?" He shook his head. "What helps you? Does counting help you?" He nodded. "Okay, One, two-"

"Three, five, eight." He took a breath but it was still shaky. "Thirteen, 21, 34, 55, 89." It was slow and he was skipping numbers, but he seemed to be calming down. Jester quietly parroted along with his numbers, but the order of them didn't make sense to her. "Nine hundred eighty seven, 1,597, 2,584. Thank you. You didn't have to help me."

"Panic attacks are scary. Why wouldn't I help you?" Jester asked.

He huffed out a sigh. "Because I'm one of the people holding you captive?"

Jester sat down. "Oh yeah. So do you know why I'm here? Cause I don't."

"The Archmage has his reasons and it's not my place to question them." Now that his hands weren't shaking, he was doing a better job at cleaning up the mess.

Jester leaned forward. "So who's Ikithon?"

The man went deathly pale. "What? How do you know that name?"

"You said it earlier. You said Ikithon was going to kill you for not practicing," Jester said.

He got up stiffly and threw away the mess he cleaned up. "Forget you heard that name. Just forget it."

"Why?"

"Because, if you forget it, you have a better chance of leaving here alive." It should've been a threat, but it he sounded too scared. More like it was a truth he dreaded. He left the room abruptly without a word.

Jester sighed. She didn't even get to ask what his name was. He definitely wasn't the sort of person she'd expected to find in a villain's lair. If Jester had to choose the perfect place for him, she'd probably choose the library. Quiet and books were probably more his speed.

The sound of returning footsteps echoed down the hall and the man entered the room. He carried a small paper bag in one hand and a thermos in the other. "Here, you can have this." Switching his thermos over so he was awkwardly holding both it and the bag in one hand, he pressed his free hand to the glass and opened a hole in it. This time he shoved in the bag and thermos quickly.

Jester just barely caught them both in time. "Thanks, but this your lunch, isn't it?"

"I don't eat much." And given how skinny he was, that was probably true. He sunk down to the ground. Using his powers so much must've drained him.

Jester examined the bag. On the outside, it said Caleb. "Is this your name?"

"It's a fake one," he said dismissively.

Inside the bag, there was a squished tuna fish sandwich, a baggy of carrots, and a little tub of what looked like pie topping. There was also a napkin that had a note written on it. 'Caleb - Have a good day at work - <3 Nott'. Jester smiled at it. "That's sweet." She held up the note so Caleb could see it.

His face turned red. "She doesn't know what I do. And I want to keep it that way."

Jester took a bite of sandwich. "She must care about you a lot. Is she your girlfriend?"

"What?!" Caleb managed to turn redder and sputtered. "No! It's nothing like that at all. She's just a very dear friend."

"That's good."

Caleb gave her a strange look. "Why? I'm a terrible villain. One that is part of your imprisonment, in case you've forgotten."

"Yeah, but everyone needs somebody who cares for them. That's what I think at least." Jester took a sip from the thermos and discovered that it was full of tea.

"You are incredibly strange," he said flatly.

She gave him a grin. "I'm Jester!"

Caleb blinked at that. "Good to know."

"Now we're friends!"

"Friends? We can't be friends. I'm your captor," he said.

Jester sighed. "Maybe, but it's going to be super lonely here without a friend and you'd be a good one. I can tell."

"Really?" Caleb sounded like he didn't know how to take that.

"Really." Jester finished her sandwich and started crunching the carrots. "You've got a gentle heart."

A sad lost look crossed Caleb's face. "That's not a good trait for a super villain."

"Then maybe you shouldn't be one," Jester said.

"I don't have a say in that matter."

Jester popped another carrot in her mouth and closed the bag saving half the carrots for Caleb. She set the carrots on top of the container of pie topping, and cleaned up the mess from the tray using the paper bag. "You need these back right?"

"Ja, but aren't you going to have the streusel?" Caleb asked.

Jester shook her head. "Nah. It's your favorite right?"

He stared at her dumbfounded. "How did you know?"

"It's a tub of just dessert topping. No one just eats the topping unless it's a favorite," Jester said. "I'm ready if you are." She held up the tray with remains of Caleb's lunch balanced precariously on it.

Caleb shook his head apparently clearing his head. "Ja." He placed his hand on the glass and Jester passed him the tray quickly through the hole. Their hands brushed and Caleb nearly dropped the tray.

"Are you okay?" Jester asked.

He nodded, but Caleb leaned against the wall of the cell. "Ja, I'm fine." But Caleb didn't look fine at all. Instead he looked exhausted and a little sick.

Jester frowned at this. "It doesn't look like it."

"It's fine. I just need to go practice more. That's all," Caleb said, but Jester didn't believe him. Whenever she overextended her powers, the only thing she had energy for was going straight to bed.

"You really should go to sleep. I bet if you weren't wearing a mask you'd have major eye bags."

Caleb just sighed and shook his head. "Don't misplace your sympathy, Jester. You're just going to hurt yourself." And with that he left.

Jester watched as he nearly tripped over his own two feet, but he managed to correct himself before he could fall. For a super villain's henchman, Caleb wasn't much. But for a friend, Jester thought Caleb had a lot of potential.

__________________________

Notes:

I have to admit if I wrote this as a full length multi-chapter fic I don't know if they'd end up together romantically, but I tagged this widojest just in case.

[zannolin]

Have you got any music recommendations?? Anything that you're really into right now??

Oh anon.....so many.

Okay so my playlist is largely composed of classic rock type stuff (my dad raised me right haha). I have a lot of variety though! I deeply enjoy Frank Sinatra and other big band stuff from the 40’s and 50’s. I’m venturing a little into the 60’s right now. I’m extremely fond of the 70’s because ABBA is one of my favorite bands, to say nothing of all the Guardians of the Galaxy soundtrack type music, haha. I’ve got a lot of 80’s, obviously - Journey, Boston, Styx, Outfield....the works. My dad also got me into this band called Roxette - they have about 4 major hits (“Listen to Your Heart” “Dressed for Success” “The Look” “It Must Have Been Love”) and I obsessively play “Dressed for Success”. I’ve discovered recently I love a certain vibe that I can’t quite put into words? Examples would be Eric Carmen’s “Hungry Eyes”, John Waite’s “Missing You”, The Moody Blues’ “Your Wildest Dreams” and REO Speedwagon’s “In My Dreams”.

I’ve also been enjoying Panic! At the Disco and Taylor Swift (I am way too into “You Need to Calm Down”) and my childhood favorite band, Aly & AJ, are making a comeback! You should TOTALLY listen to their new stuff. And old stuff. Man I love them. Also I’ve been listening to a lot of Broadway soundtracks because I just saw Hamilton and honestly who doesn’t love Broadway?! If you haven’t listened to it I highly recommend Big Fish - it’s super sweet and fun.

Also....anime soundtracks. I’ve listened to the third opening of BNHA (“Sora ni Utaeba) so much I can actually sing it....and it’s Japanese....which I don’t speak. The Yuri!!! On Ice music is lovely too. I’ve also gotten hugely into the Studio Ghibli movie soundtracks - they’re excellent study music.

Lately I’ve found a lot of really good piano music, if you like that sort of thing! My two favorite artists right now are Anthony Greninger and Florian Bur. Anthony Greninger does a lot of really cool stuff - my favorites by him are “Dreamer” “A Heavy Heart” “Believe in Me” “Finding Hope” and “Heart and Soul Deep”. His songs are so nice to set on a playlist and just let them play. Helps me unwind. Florian Bur’s songs are shorter and simpler, but they evoke so much emotion an inspiration for me! I love all his stuff but my favs are “That Was the Story” “True Love” “I Remember” “I Love Your Smile” And “I Wish Sometimes That I Was Normal”.

Now to cap off this insane amount of music - have some of the songs I’ve been listening to obsessively!!!

-“Come On Eileen” | Dexy’s Midnight Runners

-“Do You Believe In Love” | Huey Lewis & the News

-“The Power of Love” | Huey Lewis & the News

-“Church” | Aly & AJ

-“Star Maps” | Aly & AJ

-“Don’t Go Changing” | Aly & AJ

-“Brave Enough” | Lindsey Stirling

-“Theme of King JJ” | Yuri!!! On Ice soundtrack

-“Crush” | Tessa Violet

-“Ghost of You” | 5 Seconds of Summer

-“Take Me Home, Country Roads” | John Denver (gosh I miss the mountains)

-“American Pie” | Don McLeod

-“Life in a Northern Town” | The Dream Academy (this just screams “fall” to me)

-The entire Over the Garden Wall soundtrack

-“The Merry Go Round of Life” | Howl’s Moving Castle OST

-“Fine on the Outside” | When Marnie Was There OST

-“Behind the Waterfall” | David Lanz

-“Shape of My Heart” | The Backstreet Boys

-“Anything for You” | Ludo

-“Pompeii” | Bastille

-“Wetsuit” | The Vaccines

-“1985” | Bowling for Soup

-“Dreams” | The Cranberries (screams summer)

-“Let My Love Open the Door” | Pete Townshend

-“The Promise” | When In Rome (this gets in your blood man)

-“Istanbul (Not Constantinople)” | They Might Be Giants

-“Particle Man” | They Might Be Giants

-“Happy Liar” | Adam Wright (this is a mashup of “Happier” by Bastille and “Bad Liar” by Imagine Dragons on YouTube and it is God Tier okay)

-“North” | Sleeping at Last

-“Forever Young” | Rod Stewart

-“Breakfast at Tiffany’s” | Deep Blue Something

-“Stacy’s Mom” | Fountains of Wayne

-“God is Watching Over You” | Phil Joel (idk man it’s such a good song)

-“lookalike” | Conan Grey

-“Faithfully” | Journey

-“Summer of ‘69” | Bryan Adams

-“Hoodie” | Hey Violet

-“Sober Up” | AJR

-“Angel With a Shotgun” | The Cab

-“Somebody to Die For” | Hurts

-“Luka” | Suzanna Vega

-“99 Red Balloons” | Nena

And finally, my top 5 favorite songs of all time:

-“Stand by Me” | Ben E. King

-“Pure” | the Lightning Seeds

-“Over the Rainbow” | The Wizard of Oz

-“You Might Think” | The Cars

-“Walkin’ on Sunshine” | Aly & AJ

BONUS: “King” | Lauren Aquilina

Have I overwhelmed you yet?

[amindofmanystories]

The Human and her Monster

Underfell Sans X reader

Ch.2 Follow the fallen petals

Slowly, (Y/n) groaned as a sharp pain shot through the back of her head and lower back. A heavy weight on her chest shifted and something poked at her nose. Opening her eyes, she saw a disheveled looking Frisk softly poking her nose "Having fun their?" she groaned. Frisk gave a relieved expression before sliding off of her. (Y/n) Carefully sits herself up and rubs the back of her head "Where hel- I mean heck- are we?" Frisk looks up and points at the bright opening above "Oh...right. We're in the mountain..." (Y/n) looks around for the picnic basket and spotted it completely destroyed from the fall. Frisk taps on (Y/n)'s leg before making a snarling expression and claw at the air in front of them "Monsters? Don't worry, Frisk. Monsters don't exist and even if they did..." (Y/n) flexes her arms "..your bad-to-the-bone sister will take care of 'em!" Frisk giggles and grabs (Y/n)'s hand. The two scan their surroundings. An opening catches their eyes. (Y/n) was hesitant but Frisk had such a confident expression that (Y/n) couldn't help but be a bit fearless.  

The two walked through the opening to only see a small golden flower on the only patch of grass in the cave. (Y/n) could swear she heard the flower sniffling. She gave Frisk a perplexed expression and Frisk only shrugged in response. They slowly walked toward the flower until they were only a foot away. Frisk let go of (Y/n)'s hand and tapped on the flower's petals. It gave a startled shriek and turned toward them "W-Who are you guys? A-Are you gonna kill m-me!?" the flower cried and covered its face with its leafs "Whoa! Hey now! We're not gonna hurt ya, man!" the flower's eyes widened in surprise "H-Humans!" it squeaks. (Y/n) eyed the flower "Ya. and you're a talking flower and possibly the result of a concussion..." The flower gave the two concerned looks "You guys shouldn't be here! I-It's WAY too dangerous out here! If other monsters see you guys, it'll be the end of you guys. You gotta get out of-" the soft sound of singing filled the room. The flower looked terrified by the singing "I-I have to go. M-my name is Flowey and please...get out while you can." With those words, the flower disappeared into the ground and left two extremely confused and concerned humans. The humming got louder and soon a tall form emerged from the darkness. It was a rather tall goat woman in a black dress with a strange red symbol on it. The creature easily towered over (Y/n). She was possibly eight feet tall and her fur was a light grey that glistened in the what little sunlight entered the hole they were in. The goats blood red eyes stared down at the two humans in both amazement and intimidation. (Y/n) didn't like the way this monster was eyeing them. She slowly hides Frisk behind her as she glared at the creature. The monster's heavy foot steps shook the ground slightly as she stepped closer to the two "My~ my~...a human! no. Humans! " she corrects herself when she sees Frisk peak out from behind (Y/n). (Y/n) backs up with each step the monster takes. The goat woman notices and stops mid-step "Do not fret, my children~ I won't harm you..." Her words sounded sickly sweet and that didn't settle well in (Y/n)'s gut. The three stared at each other in silence when suddenly the creature gave a shocked expression "Where are my manners!? My name is Toriel and I am the care taker of these ruins!" she holds a giant paw out at (Y/n). (Y/n) stared at the giant paw and hesitantly holds out her own hand to shake it 'Please don't hurt me! Please don't hurt me!' the giant paw engulfed (Y/n)'s hand and it was surprisingly soft to the touch. Toriel smiles at the human's surprised expression "You poor things must be hungry. Follow me and i'll get you something to eat" Toriel turns and begins to walk toward a hallway. Her words sounded more demanding than inviting so the two humans cautiously followed behind the tall monster.

As they made their way to Toriel's home, (Y/n) and Frisk noticed small creatures lurking in the shadows. A frog-like creature growled at the humans and jumped at them but before it could attack a giant ball of flames hit the creature and it exploded into dust. The dust covered the two siblings "o-oh god! It's in my mouth!" (Y/n) gags and spits out the dust that covered her tongue. Frisk coughed and wiped their face with their shirt sleeve. The two looked up and saw Toriel with one hand on fire "Filthy evil little creatures aren't they. Don't worry, my children. I'll  protect you" Toriel's eyes had a psychotic gleam to them and that sure as hell made running away tempting but they knew that wouldn't be easy with Toriel. It wasn't long until they made it to a cozy looking cottage. Its appearance was a bit surprising  to the two and Toriel seemed to have noticed it since she gave a pleased smile and opened the front door "Come now, you must be tired. How about you go wash up and i'll fix up some dinner." (Y/n) and Frisk entered the home and admired its interior. Toriel closes the front door and leads the two to a bathroom "i'll go fetch you two some clean towels and clothes. " Toriel starts the bath and turns toward the two "Be quick now. I'd love for you two to try my infamous butterscotch pie!" Toriel closes the door and leaves the two siblings. (Y/n) sighs in relief and turns toward Frisk "You okay? We better get cleaned up." the two remove their clothes and entered the warm bath. The warm water eased (Y/n)'s aching back and a small moan of pleasure left her lips "Man I prefer baths over showers anytime..." (Y/n) grabs a bottle of shampoo and began to wash each others hair. A small knock was heard and the bathroom door opened. Toriel enters with towels and a set of matching clothes "I hope these fit you two. Dinner is almost done so please be quick. I'll have your clothes washed and dried in the mean time." Toriel bends down and grabs their dirty closthes "Thank You, Miss Toriel." Toriel was a bit taken aback by (Y/n)'s kindness and just couldn't help but blush a bit "Oh my! You're much more polite than anyone I've ever met!" Toriel giggles happily and closes the bathroom door. The uneasy feeling has yet to leave (Y/n).

 They quickly finish their bath and dress themselves. They both had matching stripped sweaters and a pair of jeans.  The clothes were a bit small on (Y/n) but not too much to be uncomfortable. The leave the bathroom and enter the dining area to see Toriel setting down the food "Just in time! Everything is done." A devious smile creeps onto her face and that sent a violent chill up her spine "shit..." (Y/n) mumbles. A giant knife flew from Toriel's hand and landed in the wall next to (Y/n)'s head "Welp! Let's be like a flower and leaf!" (Y/n) grabs the knife and then Frisk before darting through the house. Flame after flame attempted fry the two as they looked for a way out. Frisk noticed a stairway and pulled (Y/n) down the stairs. The stairs led to a poorly lit hallway. The two ran and ran before being faced to face with a large door. (Y/n) was about to open the door but a ball of fire hit her hand "Fuck!" she yelped in pain and held her hand to her chest. A loud cackle erupted behind them "Now now~ Don't make this any harder for me~ I've always been a fan of fried food. Now do me a favor and die" (Y/n) and Frisk knew that if they were gonna escape they were gonna have to fight. Toriel charged toward the two and they split up. Frisk grabbed rocks and dodged Toriels flames. Toriel cackled at Frisk's attempt of a fight. She charged towards Frisk and knicked there legs with a powerful flame. Frisk cried out in pain and fell to the ground "Frisk!" (Y/n) ran in front of Frisk and swiped the blade at Toriel. She had managed to slice Toriel's eyes. She roared in pain and quickly covered her eyes with a paw "You little devils will pay for that!"  (Y/n) and Frisk struggled to avoid every attack Toriel thrown at them. Even though she was blinded, Toriel was still hard to fight. (Y/n) held the knife and charged at Toriel. She swiftly avoided an attack and slit the back of Toriel's ankles. Toriel roared in pain and fell to the ground "How dare you disobey me! Die! Die and let me rip your puny bodies apart! Let me savor your flesh!" Her bloody eyes were wide open and her mouth was foaming with anger. She crawled toward Frisk and (Y/n). (Y/n)'s heart was beating so fast that it might've busted out of her chest if it could. (Y/n) had to end this fight once and for all. She raised the blade up high and was about to stab Toriel but voices stopped her "Don't...""We...want her..."" Leave her..to us.." out from the shadows were the creatures that hid within the ruins. They crawled toward Toriel and began to claw and bite at her flesh.  (Y/n) pushes Frisk behind her "close your eyes." (Y/n) demands Frisk. The creatures swarmed Toriel's body. Her shrieks and screams filled the giant hall "Go...now." demanded a frog creature. (Y/n) nodded quickly and picked Frisk up "Thank You." she tells the creatures. The creatures look up at (Y/n) and drag Toriel's body further into the hallway "No...Thank You...for now...we are free..." with those words, the creatures disappeared into the darkness. (Y/n) sighed and held Frisk tight. Opening the heavy doors, (Y/n) and Frisk entered the next chapter of their journey.

[arashi-on-main]

Whippersnacker  is a Rank D Lightning Yokai of the Heartfull tribe The Yo-kai Medallium bio reads: A young spirit with a major craving for junk food and sticky fingers. He seems to have a personal grudge against Hungramps for some reason. WhipperSnacker evolves into Beastro when fused with a Grand Spice Favorite food: Snacks Powers: Makes the snack you most want to eat disappear, usually by swiping it while you’re not looking Attack: Punch Technique: Lightning Inspirit: Hunger Pang (Makes enemy so hungry their HP starts to drop) Soultimate move: Sugar rush (Chugs a giant can of soda and goes nuts with energy, attacking all enemies in a flurry of punches and kicks) Effect: Starver (food’s effect on Allies will double)

Episode plot: Nate comes home with Whisper and Jibanyan, talking about how tired he was and how he looked forward to the pie he’d been saving in the fridge. He goes to get it, but sees the fridge his empty and his yell shakes the house. He accuses Jibanyan for taking it at first, since he’s usually one the who steals the sweets around the house, but Whisper reminds him Jibanyan has been with them all day and couldn’t have taken the pie, however just as he’s saying it, Jibanyan freaks out and runs downstairs, claiming his whole stash of Chocobars has been stolen. Whisper starts lecturing him about how he shouldn’t hoard snacks only for the cat to retort with the fact that Whisper had a special powdered doughnut stashed away for himself. The ghost butler gasps and sputters at being so offended, only to be shocked as Nate runs off to his room to try and find said doughnut, Whisper and Jibanyan chasing after him. However, they instead find an empty box on the floor and Whisper cries. Thinking something fishy is going on, Nate scans the room with the watch and finds Whippersnacker hastefuly licking the powdered sugar off his hands so he can open the window, only to gasp and slowly turn around when he sees that he’s been caught. Nate asks who he is, but Whisper is thrown into a fiery rage over his lost doughnut and tries to fight the boy himself, dropping his Yokai pad. Nate and Jibanyan look up the Yokai boy as Whisper and him fight in the background, learning that he was the one stealing everyone’s snacks, and with a declaration that he needed to learn some manners, Nate Summons Hungramps. Whippersnacker looks up from there Whisper lay unconscious after a blow to the head, and gasps at the sight of his elderly nemesis, going on a little rant about him before outright attacking him. Nate grabs the small boy in his arms, restraining him as he flailed the struggles, Hungramps just sighs as he knew fighting back would just make it worse. Nate asks what it was all about and WS blurts out that Hungramps killed him. Everyone one his shocked and Nate lets him go, the boy falling to his knees and starting to cry. WS reveals that when he was just a young human boy, he strict mother never let him eat junk food, but one day he was inspirited by Hungramps while his mother wasn’t looking. Without anyone to stop him, he gobbled up some candy from the low shelf, and then some snack cakes, and then a whole bag of chips and a bottle of soda. He want snack crazy, and was soon running amuck on a sugar high, running right out of the convenience store his parents were getting gas from and into the street, only to be hit by an oncoming chocobar truck. the last thing he saw before passing out was his parents horrified faces as they ran out after him, and Hungramps, standing next to the front door with his normal hungry expression. Everyone is in tears from WS’s story, and Hungramps comes over and offers his sincere apology, only for WS to smirk and suddenly grab him by the cone head. He reveals that he doesn’t want hungramps’ pity, he just wanted him gone, and he then throws him out the nearby window, everyone watching exasperated as the poor only man disappeared like a star over the horizon. Satisfied, Whippersnacker gives Nate his medal and promises not to steal their snacks anymore before leaving, the three heroes surmising that they didn’t actually solve anything today, but sometimes it’s best to just leave well enough alone.

[supernoondles]

2020

A lot happens in a year, even when nothing seems to happen at all.

There's nothing new my commentary about a global pandemic (and the particularly frustrating experience of living in America during it, even with all my privileges of continued employment, owning a car, rent stability, and living in the bay area) will bring to the reader, but I will underscore this: my feelings aren't that 2020 is any kind of exceptional year, but the point where, hopefully, we finally realize that economic/climate/racial injustice has been a terrible problem for a long time, and will continue to be unless we enact massive collective change. A vaccine is not going to make any of those issues disappear, and I worry the people in power (including myself) will return to their comfortable life styles as if the next decade won't be even worse.

Anyway, general DOOM aside (RIP man), here's my year in specific!

From looking through my photos: January was off to a great start. I celebrated the new year with dim sum with J/M/M, as per tradition, and went on a foggy hike through SF with my family that involved my dad and J getting hilariously lost. Soon after I went to Sonoma with J/M -- for all my years in the bay, I had never explored north of the Golden Gate that much -- which was a wonderful trip seeing J's hometown. I helped my lab demo research at the Exploratorium, started growing my own microgreens, and went on more (to become semi-regular and my only source of cardio through the pandemic) bike rides with my lab mates. I finally saw Hamilton (though feel a need to justify here how "cringey" I think LMM is). I went to Genesis, my first gaming-related convention, and it was a lot of fun despite seeing no women. I did so many things, was making progress on research (I think? I don't recall any breakdowns) and my mental health was generally good.

The doing of things continued in February. After not going last year, I went to the Tet Festival in SJ (which was kind of sad). I joined a Chinese learning club and a crafts club and had a delicious omakase. N visited again, I went ice skating and tried to rescue a giant rat from string lights, and saw the Sonic movie in theaters (which would have been my last movie in theaters, sigh). After having a drink at Wursthall with T, I felt terrible (to the unaccustomed reader, not only do I Asian glow, my hands/feet itch whenever I drink and I feel like I want to die), and decided that was the last drink I'd ever have -- thanks to the pandemic that's stayed true. I went on a ski retreat with the lab that felt particularly special (and not just because I didn't have to pay). We (I, in convincing my mostly Asian office) wanted to make 元宵 on the eve of E's birthday, but it turns out that a bunch of CS PhD students really love singing karaoke for like 4 hours straight into the night, and at some point I was like, okay y'all, time to go to bed. So I hosted 元宵 making at my apartment the next weekend, and we watched another Bong Joon-Ho movie (The Host) to celebrate his Oscar win. Typing this out, it seems wild that this was even in this year. I also did sh*** for the first time, hallucinated white woman in the edges of my vision like a GAN, ate a lot of shaved parmesan from TJ, and let go of any stress I had about the UIST deadline to the abundance of nature and the world.

I break from the month-per-paragraph format now because we all know what happens next. M and I biked around campus to film a virtual tour for the newly virtual admit weekend. Being in Gates that Friday (three days before the bay area wide shelter-in-place order) was the last time I'd be on campus for a while. The next day I adopted 3 wonderful baby rats (my biggest brain move this whole year) and the day after that I moved home. I was counting down the days until Animal Crossing and then J and I were duplicating royal crowns in ACNH. At some point my hair got really bad. The months blurred together. Adjusting to WFH was extremely challenging for me, someone who had structured their whole life around the "I only do work in the office and I leave the office when I get hungry for dinner" logic. I would stop working at 6pm but spent the entire afternoon mentally prepping myself to do maybe 30 menial minutes of it. I binged AtLA. I gave up submitting to UIST. In May I hung out in the park with J, who came home from Seattle, which was the first time I saw anyone outside my family. Sometime in there I decided to become a Twitch streamer and had a brief revival as DJ Noon before I felt bad for roping my friends into listening to my music and ran out of interesting songs I wanted to play. In June I, like many others, took to the streets. For two weeks I donated $50 a day to a different organization. I couldn't get any work done at all and spent an entire advisor meeting sobbing so intensely that they felt bad and canceled it after 10 minutes. I emailed the university and got my housing back for the summer and I moved back to start my internship.

The internship was the break I needed -- working with W was a godsend compared to the struggle of my advisors. After reaching new lows at the start of the summer, my mental health was sloping positively again -- working on a new research project helped clear the emotional baggage of the last one. I was also getting more outdoor social interaction -- I went to Ocean Beach with M/D, Half Moon Bay with my family, and going on weekly bike rides with M. At the end of June, M, my roommate, her boyfriend M the clown (there are now 3 different Ms) and I waited for negative COVID results before going on a 2 day camping trip to Mt. Lassen, which felt completely surreal, and, at that time, completely necessary.

The summer dragged on and my mental health, at some point, began to slip. If I were to graph it it would probably look like the inverse of COVID cases in the US -- gradually decreasing, but with high variance from the day to day. I got an embroidery machine, I attended a workshop on docu-poetics with CPH that was so ripe with information my brain physically ached, I saw my lab mates again for the first time as we sat in a very, very wide circle to say goodbye to a post-doc who got a faculty job in Israel. Most weekends I drove to my parents' house and would take J on various hikes around East Bay so he could better appreciate his roots before he went off to Boston for college. He was taking the Switch with him, so in August I bought myself a new one and planned out my entire second ACNH town, which kept me busy for a while -- but surprisingly not as long as I thought, as with planning (and money from my old account) the whole project took I think less than 50 hours. The camping itch came back and the day before my birthday, which was also the day before J would leave for Boston, we went camping at a small state park in San Jose where he got heat stroke and we slept on top of fire ants. The entire experience reminded me how much I disliked camping -- but what else was there to do? I had a wonderful (and long, bless the folks who stayed) Zoom birthday party where I wore a mesh shirt I made and covered with worms on a string. The day after my birthday someone backed into my car, which, following the demands of a racist letter from the HOA, was parked in guest parking. (Ultimately this would be a blessing of insurance money, as the damage was mainly cosmetic and the person kindly left their contact information.) At this time I was also unironically watching ASMR videos to fall asleep, so I painted a two Bob Ross style paintings, one in my virtual art club, to pay homage.

Fire season this year was worse than it's ever been. Being trapped inside the house combined with my roommate moving out at the start of fall quarter and now living alone marked the second downward spiral of my mental health. The bad days were more frequent. I TA'd a game design course, my first time teaching at this university, where many students messaged me to complain that their 95s were not 100s. In the end the lowest grade in the class was an A- and 20% of the class got an A+. At some point I submitted a summer-long project I did with J and S to CHI; it is so much easier to produce work when I do not have to wrangle with M. (This paper gets accepted, but my silly grad student excitement is tampered both by general "why are we still trying to publish when society is crumbling" pandemic feelings and the fact that CHI will not be physically in Japan next year.) Maybe once a month I go birding. I feel increasingly as if there is nothing novel in my life; I am tired of it all and my body feels fatigued even though I don't do anything with my days. Some days it feels like if I don't touch someone I will explode. My use of recreational marijuana skyrockets. I start doing exercise videos semi-regularly with A. I briefly consider moving to Seattle with E, who is about to defend, before it's clear we have, as always, different boundaries and expectations. I look for places in Sunset/Richmond with M to little success.

In October I somehow pull it together and organize student volunteers for a 3 day conference that requires waking up before 5am every day. I do nothing the rest of the week. After we get flu shots and I let someone into my apartment for the first time since the pandemic started, I help E move up to Seattle. The trip is comfortable and we get to take care of each other; this fulfills a need in me. On Halloween J and I dance in a soccer field next to a combination anarchist recruitment center and homeless encampment -- now cleared by the cops -- and eat a mud pie that is too sweet. On my last day in WA I ask E if he would like to have sex, as friends, and he politely declines. I am pleased with how easily I emotionally accept this answer, how through time and therapy I've finally come to cherish our friendship without always looking for what could have been. I am extremely nervous on the flight home, and it's the first and only flight I will take during the pandemic, and the N-95 squishes my face so my head looks like a balloon, but I have the privilege of free 5 minute weekly tests through the university and I collect another negative result.

In November I fully embrace the hyperfixation lifestyle. My brain, always looking for novel stimuli, has given up on doing work entirely and instead thinks of Thanzag constantly. There is one day where I play Hades for 8 hours and I feel gross, as if I've completed my regression to my high school self. It takes 90 hours until I achieve all my goals, and with no more runs necessary to roll for RNG-based conversational triggers, I finally feel a sense of freedom. (My Switch tells me I have used it for 580+ hours this year, which is more than double last year.) The second SwSh DLC is a struggle for me to complete as I do not find catching legendaries enticing. J comes back early from university at my urging to avoid the travel surge, a week before Thanksgiving, and starts living with me. This helps a lot. My next hyperfixations come overlapping and staggered: I write 25k words of a second iteration of my 2015 NaNoWriMo with the protagonist I had developed in high school before I get bored with the story and realize I need yet another iteration; I buy a combination air fryer pressure cooker and ask my parents for a functional vacuum and bidet as early Christmas gifts and become obsessed with immaculate inside living spaces. This carries on to re-decorating my room at my parents' house, after installing a shelf in the closet and a curtain to close it off from the living room, and spending roughly 30 hours over December break organizing and cleaning their entire garage--they have not thrown out a single piece of paper or article of clothing since they set foot in this country over 20 years ago. My therapist quits the practice and my relationship with my advisors improve. I watch a few housewife vlogs and make my own. I have the revelation that doing research in a pandemic is basically just like any other creative project -- no one really cares that much if I get it done, it's just harder to do than, say, putting together a vlog in a few hours. This shift in mindset feels life changing to me, having before thought of research more as work, a taboo thing to pursue in a pandemic, and when W compliments me for the progress I've made in both the system and managing our meeting with M I do not know how to respond because no one has ever done that before. In the last two weeks of the year I start tracking my time. In our last session (that I almost sleep through), my therapist tells me that I seem stable to her and she is not worried about me. I believe her.

In 2020 I made a marked point to let everyone know that I didn't have goals. It felt lofty to have personal ambitions in the face of everything at a global scale. With this said I will now revisit the 2020 resolutions I wrote last year: (1) Intentionally seek out love: absolutely not, (2) Do enough work such that I don't feel guilty: also no, (3) sew one thing a month: no, but in the end I sewed 11 things total this year so I was close, (4) improve my Chinese: this was actually the only thing that did happen, and now my mom and I have better conversations because of it and I'm so thankful.

In 2021, however, I feel like I finally have it in me to have goals again. They are simple. (1) Get laid. (2) Submit the two research projects I've been doing forever. (3) Commit to writing down my thoughts that make me think, "Oh, that's interesting, I should write it down." Ideas are unfortunately such currency in what I do.

Last year I wrapped up this post with some candid, but embarrassing, optimism. I will offer no such high hopes for 2021, but I do ask the reader if they have noticed that I switched tenses from past to present halfway through this post. And that's 2021: an incidentally unintentional, but then consciously controllable, shift to the present.

[imaginetonyandbucky]

Spilt on the Ground like Water

A/N warning for torture, starvation, water deprivation, serious amounts of dub-con, suicidal ideation, past hydra trash party reference, pre-slash, medical aftermath including a foley tube (catheter), not Clint Barton friendly, not particularly Steve friendly, kissing, frottage, bonding over shitty experiences

Chapter Three: Twelve Percent of a Plan

There was a hot spot against Bucky’s side when he woke, heavy and breathing softly. Bucky shifted just enough to look. Not because he needed to, he could smell Stark’s distinct fragrance from across a crowded room by this point, but he wanted to look.

The man was asleep, face lax and peaceful. Smudged with dirt and blood. Tracks of clean skin running just under his cheeks; lips were chapped and cracked in places. Stark had a few days worth of stubble on his chin and scalp. He barely looked anything like the man that Bucky had fought in Siberia, scarcely resembled the publicity and magazine shots Bucky had seen.

“You gonna do something other than stare?” Stark asked. He hadn’t moved, his eyelids hadn’t even flickered. His heart rate was constant.

“Makin’ plans, doll.”

“Any part of those plans involve sharing them with me?”

Bucky did a quick scan of the room; allowed himself a faint smile of satisfaction. He’d thought the pinhole cameras expensive to maintain and delicate. His little adventures had gotten them a new cell, but they hadn’t had time to install advanced monitoring.

“Can you fix th’ arm?”

“Depends what they did to it, how tight your screws are, and whether or not my fingernails are up for the task,” Stark said. He opened his eyes, sat up. “Light would be good, too.”

“Yeah, since we’re wishin’ for pie in th’ sky, might as well have ice cream, too,” Bucky retorted. The sarcasm was automatic, but it just so happened that Bucky might have a little surprise.

“If you tell me you have a multitool stashed somewhere in your thumb, I’ll stop bitching, but until then, sunshine, you’re just stuck with what I can--”

He broke off suddenly as Bucky twisted the thumb on the metal hand and yanked, pulling the phalange off.

“Jesus, warn a guy!” Stark made a rough, gagging sound.

“Princess Shuri put this in, just in case. There are a few other surprises,” Bucky said. “And they’re not on the original plans, so no one thought to look.”

He dumped out the tiny kit from the hidden compartment and then snapped the thumb back on.

“I take back at least half of the rude things I’ve thought about you in the last hour.”

“You were asleep for most of th’ last hour,” Bucky felt compelled to say.

“I think really fast,” Stark snapped, roughly picking through the kit, his fingers nimble and graceful. “And you’re a serious asshole.”

(more below the cut)

“So, what I’m hearin’ here is you’re takin’ back, like three whole bad thoughts, an’ probably not even th’ one where you just called me an asshole.”

“Something like that, yes,” Stark said. “You got a point?” He was already opening the maintenance panels. “What’d they do?”

“Plugged in to stimulate th’ somatosensory cortex,” Bucky said. He made a waving gesture over his injuries. “These ain’t… well, not nothin’, but not serious. Surface wounds. But, when they get tapped in--”

Stark winced. “Yeah, I don’t need more details than that.” Stark was a genius, even if biology wasn’t his speciality. He didn’t need Bucky to tell him that they could cause him nociceptive pain just by amplifying the receptors on his dorsal horn and flooding the spinal gates. The whole arm was wired through his spine. Hell, they didn’t even have to cut skin, but they did it anyway because they were sadistic bastards. They could poke him with a pencil and it would be like shearing his arm right off.

Even just pain (as if there were such a thing as just, when talking about pain) could kill a person, given enough time. The heart, lungs, nervous system, lymphatic system, would all start to fail. But Bucky had the serum, which meant his pain tolerance was higher. A lot higher. Catastrophically high.

“Looks like they disconnected your power leads,” Stark muttered, already wrist deep in Bucky’s shoulder. “Hang on, let me clear the receptors before I give you movement back.”

There was no feeling inside the arm at the moment, for which Bucky could only be grateful, as Stark yanked and prodded and poked, swore and muttered. But when Stark’s hands touched his skin, they were gentle. It took Bucky a while to realize that Stark didn’t need to touch his skin, he was doing it whenever Bucky flinched or made a sound or even squeezed his eyes shut as Stark worked. He was doing it as comfort.

“All right,” Stark said, after some time, “I’m going to turn you back on, Johnny Number Five.”

Power restored to the arm with a sizzle. Systems check initiated; the vents fluttered. Fingers curled and stretched, wrist twisted. Elbow flexed. “Good job, Stark.”

“I think we can dispense with the formalities,” Stark said. “You can call me Tony.”

Huh. Okay. “Sure. Tony,” Bucky offered his hand, pulling at the makeshift bandages Tony had set up before they’d slept. “Bucky.”

There wasn’t much pain, anymore. He could probably ignore it, as long as he stopped bleeding. Blood loss was one of the things that could kill him. His body just didn’t produce blood much faster than a baseline human. But he’d be healed up soon. The question was, would he heal up in time?

“Bucky,” Tony said. “Yeah, you know I’m probably not going to call you that.”

Bucky narrowed his eyes. “I tend to answer to the Asset as well.”

That got him a full body flinch and a shudder. “Right. Right. Bucky, then.”

“Thank you,” Bucky said. He flexed the arm again, testing it for responsiveness, bringing up the internal diagnostics. All green. Great. “I need some more sleep. Wake me up for food, water, or if they try to take you anywhere.”

“Where are they gonna take me?” Tony wondered.

Bucky gave him a thin-lipped smile. “It’s your turn to be hurt.”

“Yeah, okay, so I’m not sleeping again, Aurora.”

“Great,” Bucky said. He curled up on the floor again and used Tony’s thigh as a pillow. “This is more comfortable anyway.”

“So happy to be of service,” Tony said dryly.

“Tryin’ t’ sleep here.”

There was nothing like waking up warm and well rested; and this was nothing like waking up warm and well rested.

Tony hadn’t meant to fall asleep on watch, but what the hell else was he supposed to do? There wasn’t any entertainment; the guards never walked by their cell to do a patrol, so he couldn’t even try to calculate time, or the length of the corridor.

Tony’d never been so bored in his entire life, really.

He was also hungry, which was pretty annoying. His stomach had given up growling at him quite some time ago. For some span of time the growling had pushed all the way up into snarling, but now it just occasionally muttered to itself, like growing was too much work and it was sad and depressed.

Great. He was so bored that he was anthropomorphizing his own internal organs.

He had counted Bucky’s breaths for a while, pondering the feral affection and deliberate insanity that made up Bucky Barnes. There were times when Tony sometimes wondered if he was the only actual human on the entire planet and everyone else was some sort of shape-changing alien, and this was all a giant skinner box designed to test Tony’s reaction to stress. It wasn’t even an uncommon coping mechanism, his therapist had told him, but he’d never felt the idea quite so strongly as when trying to puzzle out the mystery that was sleeping in his lap.

Somewhere in there, the soft sound of Bucky breathing, the warmth against his thigh, the wah Bucky kept shifting in his sleep, pulling himself closer to Tony, all these things sang a lullaby and Tony fell asleep.

The scrape of plastic against the floor woke him and he was nudging his companion as he scrambled to his feet to recover whatever slop they were going to have to share.

“Tony, wait--”

Bucky’s metal hand closed over Tony’s wrist, hard enough to bruise the skin there.

“Zhelaniye,” a voice spoke outside the door, harsh, commanding.

Bucky froze, except for a tremor that Tony wouldn’t have felt, except for Bucky’s hand on his wrist. “What… no…”

Another word; Tony missed it in the horrified scream that came out of Bucky’s throat. He went to his knees, clutching at his head. Tony was dragged along with him, because not once did Bucky’s vice grip loosen.

“Hey, what the hell--”

Tony jerked his hand back, felt the metal tearing skin. Bucky howled, an animal in pain, and threw himself at the door.

Whatever he’d done previously that took him several blows to crack out of the cell, that was nothing comparied to the whirlwind of strength and brutality that struck the cell’s door.

The metal shrieked and twisted, tearing off its hinges under that power.

The voice outside spoke faster, a rattle of Russian that Tony didn’t have a prayer of understanding. Bucky raced into the hallway, a madman, all thought, deliberation, gone from his face.

No one rushed the cell. Tony scowled, then chased after Bucky; he had no idea what the fuck was going on and maybe that was for the best.

The voice spoke another word and Bucky stopped, dead. He was breathing hard, sweat beading on his forehead. His mouth, which had been drawn up in a snarl of rage, went slack, then straightened into a neutral mask.

“Gotovy soblyudat',” Bucky said, and Tony watched as his will drained out of his face.

Tony shuddered; he’d seen that before. The Winter Soldier programming. That Tony was supposed to remove, before the quinjet and his BARF tech had been stolen, him along with it.

“Good morning, soldier,” the man said. Tony didn’t hesitate.

He was weak, he was starving, he’d been tortured, but he was still a fighter. Tony didn’t know anything about surrender.

He lunged for the man; hands outstretched.

Perhaps the handler hadn’t thought that Tony was a threat. Too absorbed in taking control of Bucky to care. Tony got his hands around the man’s throat in an instant, thumbs digging at the windpipe.

The man shoved him off, slamming Tony against the wall. “Kill him.”

Bucky reached out, liberated the gun from the hander’s belt. Checked the weapon. His finger went to the trigger. Bucky turned, very slowly. Murderbot. Yeah, Tony was so, so fucking dead.

“Cannot comply.”

And shot the handler in the face six times. Kept pulling the trigger once the clip was empty as if the man couldn’t possibly ever be dead enough.

“The fuck?”

“Protection protocols, priority one override,” the Winter Soldier said. “Priority target threatened. Override.”

Tony blinked. “Me?”

“Protocols engaged,” the Winter Soldier confirmed. “Mission?”

“Get us the fuck out of here,” Tony decided. It wasn’t his fault he had a rogue Winter Soldier on his hands, but he might as well take advantage of it, right? Right.

“Stay behind me, sir,” the Winter Soldier said. He dropped to one knee next to the guard, scavenging weapons and armor.

At first Tony’s plan was just Get Out. That was a good plan, simple, easy. He could be happy and proud to be part of that plan.

There were alarms, of course, and Tony had to get the Winter Soldier to stand still so he could climb up and disable some of the cameras. It wouldn’t keep the guards from figuring out where they were in general, but specifics were going to be out of reach, your service has been interrupted, please press five to reach an operator and fuck off.

Except that it was Tony, and Tony was pathologically incapable of sticking to the goddamn plan. It was like… a compulsion or something.

And in the middle of the Winter Soldier causing more mayhem than a 75% off wine sale, they happened to walk right by Command & Control.

“Hold up, snowflake,” Tony said, not entire sure if the Winter Soldier could be reached through the power of suggestion, but he turned without a sound and followed Tony into the fishbowl. There were a few techs there, key word with the Winter Soldier backing Tony’s play was… were. They fled or they were tossed like broken dolls. Tony tried not to look too closely.

“Go grab me one of those techs, would you, buttercup,” Tony said, absently, tapping at C&C’s control panel. “Alive, and with all their fingers, please.”

Using the tech’s thumb print got Tony past the first tier of security, checking the guy’s ID badge and driver’s license (what did they need a driver’s license out in the middle of the goddamn ocean?) got him past the second layer. Really, people needed to stop using their birthdays as pin codes, didn’t they know that everyone already knew that? Although, if he stopped and thought about it for a moment, Tony supposed he’d have to be grateful for stupidity, since it was making it easier for him to gain control of the system.

“Okay, okay, let’s see. Doors, unlocked. I don’t know who else is in here, but enemy of my enemy and all that,” Tony said. And there was an intercom system; so why the hell not? He activated it. “Attention, attention, prisoners of the Raft, this is Tony Stark, and I advise you to leave your cells and head topside as soon as you can. For those Heil Hydra assholes, or whoever’s actually running this place, you can find me if you rub two brain cells together. Don’t rub too hard, though. You’ll go blind.”

And everything was pretty much great, up ‘til that point; prisoners escaping, security in disarray, no exit plan yet, but what the fuck did you want? He couldn’t do everything; and if they got out of the water, he might be able to call a suit to him. Something. He was just poking around in the Raft’s propulsion system -- he didn’t want to drive the fucker, he wanted to sink it -- when everything went to shit.

Tony forgot.

Fanatics were fanatical.

The tech that the Winter Soldier had shoved under a desk after getting passwords and fingerprints from him managed to pull something out from under his shirt.

A something that exploded.

In a flash of green-white light. In a burst of heat so intense that Tony worried that his skin might actually be melting off.

Exploded.

[theotherhalfoftheshell]

Spidey Child Pt.2

Tony examined the top left corner of the training room, where Peter had formed his tiny nest  and protective web in front  letting him know if they got to close, “So we're dealing with a highly intelligent child who just so happens to have super strength, healing, sticks to walls, is faster than average, shoots webs and God knows what else, perfect we can totally handle this. Just wondering though what dumbass decided to do this?”

“I'm sorry Mr. Stark it was an accident,” Billy started to mumble.

 “He was being cocky so I helped along one of Billy's spells, I was to aggravated with him being an ass to check what spell Billy was using beforehand, it was my fault, do not be angry with the boy,” Wanda said trying to pull her webbed hands apart, “also you forgot about the spidey-senses.”

“well we can't just fight each other, besides he's not spider man right now, he's just a scared little kid,” Steve said coming over to help chip away at the webbing, “ His senses are probably in overload right now, can you undo the spell?”

 “Maybe, I'll have to go over what Billy said and try to counter it,” Wanda said finally freeing her hands with Steve's help.

Steve nodded,”okay then you two to go and get that sorted out and we'll deal with Spiderman.” Wanda gave a curt nod before heading out with Billy in tow.

“How exactly are you planning on us dealing with him captain?,” Tony asked crossing his arms.

“Easy, I'm Captain America, kids love me."

***

Kids may love Captain America but it turns out that this young arachnid did not.  

Which is why Wade found them 3 hours later, Tony trying to clean webbing off his suit  and Steve webbed to the floor. Hawkeye was sitting across from what appear to be a giant spider's nest shooting blunt arrows at it and having them caught in the webbing surrounding the nest.

 “Well this looks like fun, sorry I'm late,” Deadpool remarked stepping over Steve, “Clint! Wanna fill me in?”

  “That stupid webhead got himself turned into a freakin’ six year old by the new kid scarlet witch is training,” Tony grunted yanking some webbing off the suit.

“Yeah,” Clint said landing lightly beside Wade, “ after these two got webbed up I figured I'd come babysit till you got here, try and find a weak spot in his webbed fortress but it's pretty solid,” he finished, shooting one last arrow for good measure.

“Cap, how long ya been on the ground?” Wade asked crouching down next to the defeated soldier.

“Two hours, he comes out long enough to re-web me the he retreats. He's mad that I tried to get him out of the web.” Steve said sounding devastated. “I've never met a kid who didnt love me.”

“So I take it he still has all his powers?,” wade asked, starting to take off his weapons laying them neatly beside him.

“Yeah all of them, also is he venomous? He kept biting my suit” Tony asked clearing the last of the webbing from said suit.

“If that's the one that means ‘it bites you and you die’ then yes, but it's not too bad and he has an anti-venom in his lab,” Wade said shooting a grappling hook towards the beam closest to the nest, “Petey bites me every other day and I'm fine.”

Wade pressed the retracted button and quickly shot up towards the beam, wrapping his legs around it he maneuvered himself into a sitting position and called over toward the nest, “Oh baby boy, you in there? I know you gotta be hungry after using up all that webbing.”

  “Wade?,” Peter said groggily peaking out of the nest.

 “oh my god, Petey you are absolutely adorable! Where you napping? I am going to take so many pictures!” Wade said looking over the spider child.

“WADE!” Peter said fully waking up and flinging himself from the nest towards his boyfriend.

“oh, wow we gotta break up till you're an adult again cause that's kinda creepy,” Wade says catching Peter and balancing  himself on the beam.

“Wade! Where were you? They were so mean to me and I'm hungry and my wrist hurt and I'm tired!,” Peter immediately started to cry.

 “Don't worry Petey pie, I've gotcha now, hold on and I'll get us down from here. And you should know better than to use all that web, it always makes your wrist hurt.” Wade scolded him slowly lowering them to the ground.

 “ I-I know but Billy hit me! And Wanda helped him and Steve was being scary!” Peter hiccuped.

“Oh really? Steve, the big bad avenger, was scaring you?” Wade chuckled looking down at said avenger who was slowly peeling himself from the floor with Tony's help, “what did the big meanie do?”

“He tried to come into my nest and he was talking in this weird voice. I told him to go away but he didn't so I webbed him,” Peter said glaring at Steve.

 “I'm sorry Peter I was just trying to help,” Steve finally broke the last strand of webbing from the floor, “ what can I do to make it up to you?”

Peter continued to glare at the captain and probably would have shot another round of webs at him had his stomachache not chosen to growl. Wade looked down where the little spider was clinging to his side clad only in a pair of ill fitting boxers.

“How about Steve makes us some pizza, while we try to find you some clothes?” Wade suggested, and Peter nodded enthusiastically.

“And chocolate milk? And french fries? And brownies?” Peter asked eyes sparkling with hungry.

“Of course, growing boys need their sugar,” Steve laughed heading towards the kitchen with Tony.

“I sent Nat to pick up some clothes in his size earlier so he should have a good selection.” Clint said coming up and ruffling Peters hair.

“Please tell me she bought spider man pajamas?”