#Funny thing is this has been in my asks for a year and I never answered it because I couldn't think of anything to say

[cryptidstealingyourcreditcard]

What things in HTTYD 3 do you feel like should have been different/fixed?

OH BOY DO I HAVE SOME OPINIONS ON THIS BRACE YOURSELVES

also thank you so much for asking me

let’s start off with the characterization. first, hiccup. where did that pathetic little freakazoid from httyd 1 go??? where did his sass go?? why is he just a cookie cutter stereotypical hero now?????? and i’ll talk about the fact that he just let toothless go later.

fishlegs- it’s been a while since i watched this movie, and if im being perfectly honest i don’t remember much about him in it. but im pretty sure he was kind of just there, yk? like he wasn’t as anxious or funny or nerdy or caring or sensible as he was before. he just seemed kind of bland to me.

snotlout. this fucker. this little bitchboy. he was done so fucking dirty in this movie. why was he so pathetic???? like yeah i get making him mess up occasionally cause haha funny comedic relief. but like. he’s not helpless???? like this is the kid who was literally trained to be the perfect picture of a viking his whole life. he’s the model viking. this is the kid who single handedly took down multiple full grown outcasts on their own island with nothing but a small metal rod and spite at the age of fifteen. he won every thawfest game for years! he’s a good fighter! he’s not useless. and his personality???? GOD. WHAT THE FUCK. why is he flirting with valka, someone who is much older than him and widely viewed (out of canon) to be his aunt??? why the fuck would he say “who died and made you chief?”????? he cried at stoicks funeral! yeah, maybe he would’ve been that much of a dick in the first movie, but there have been three shows, one movie, four(?) shorts, and multiple comics since then!! he’s has so much character growth that they just threw away because haha funny. also his beef with eret was completely unnecessary like even when he was beefing with dagur at least there was some previous thing that started it. his beef with eret just came out of nowhere??

and astrid. they just turned her into the stereotypical hero’s wife. where did her personality go???? and i get the symbolization of her hair progressively getting looser as she gets less uptight and chills out and matures but like… i miss her fuckass emo bangs. give them back. her whole character isn’t supposed to exist solely to support hiccup so why is that the only thing she does in the hidden world???? justice for my girl

now. the twins. oh boy do i have some opinions here.

they were done so fuckikg dirty i’m going to crash the fuck out like why. just why.

let’s start with tuffnut.

starting strong with the fact that he loses his own twin sister who shares a whole dragon with him. then there’s his whole beard thing, which like, isn’t entirely out of character but it sure as fuck wasn’t in character either. now let’s circle back to losing ruffnut. because WHAT THE FUCK TUFF. and then when he realizes she’s gone he just says he’s more worried about her captors?????? DUDE. BRO. MY MAN. WHAT HAPPENED TO THE TUFFNUT WHO FAKED HIS OWN DEATH JUST SO THAT HIS SISTER WOULDNT FEEL PRESSURED TO STAY FKR HIM. WHAT HAPLENED TO THE TUFFNUT WHO, WHILE STUCK IN A DRAGON TRAP IN THE MIDDLE OF NOWHERE, HAD AN ENTIRE IMPROMPTU CONVERSATION WITH BARF ABOUT HOW RUFFNHT MAY FEEL TRAPPED AS A WOMAN IN A MANS WORLD. WHAT THE FUCK HAPPENED TO THE TUFFNUT WHO LOST HIS GODDAMN MIND WHEN RUFFNUT GOT CAPTURED??? WHAT HAPLENED TO THE TUFFNUT WHO HAD WHOLE ASS HUNTERS RUNNING FROM HIM SCREAMING BECAUSE THEY CAPTURED HIS SISTER???? “that’s my sister out there, astrid. and if this goes wrong, and we don’t save her, i couldn’t live with myself” MY FUCKING ASS. just like snotlout, he was so uncharacteristically insensitive it was insane.

and RUFFNUT.

MY GIRL WHAT DID THEY DO TO YOU????

they literally just made her a dumb blonde. she’s not that fucking DITZY. barring httyd 2, she had never previously been boy-crazy. she’s not a flirt, she’s not thirsty, she doesn’t care about romance. and the fact that she said she “never looks back”???? WHAT???? what happened to my girl who faked a breakdown to steal a key from a guard??? what happened to the ruffnut who is constantly giving hiccup inspiration for new inventions????? the fuck do you mean you never look back???? and the fact that she thought she annoyed grimmel into letting her go?? come on ruff. you’re better than that.

and speaking of grimmel. what was that weak ass villain???? dude was just a normal guy. even johann was more intimidating than him. you will never be viggo grimborn. bitch.

and toothless. TOOTHLESS. toothless.

first of all, they flattened his nose. he’s so squished now. on top of that, they rounded his head more, gave him much more prominent brow bones, and pushed his eyes entirely too close together and made them SO square. he’s supposed to look sleek and scary, not boxy and nonthreatening.

and why is he acting like a horny dog??? he’s literally never done that before. the slobbering, and dancing with his own shadow, and ditching hiccup without a second thought was so not like him, and not in a “he’s in love” way. it was in a “the writers don’t know the character” way.

and the fact that he left hiccup once he got his tail????? there was an entire short (gift of the night fury) dedicated to hiccup giving toothless an automatic tail and toothless saying he didn’t want it, he wanted hiccup. be so fucking for real rn dreamworks.

the whole ending was just stupid asf low key

[distracted-milkshake]

Backseats - Tony Stark x reader

Warnings: sex sex sexxx but not smut, mentions of injuries, typical pregnancy talk

Words: 3.7k

Rating: M

Summary: Tony grapples with the fact that, after finally getting you pregnant, you’re a bit more pregnant than either of you expected.

or

In which almost every important thing since you met Tony seems to happen in the backseat of a car.

Had an exact idea for this, and it just came out for once, ending me with a sweet little one-shot I’m happy to say came out exactly how I wanted. Hope you enjoy!

Little unfun fact, I may have broken my foot halfway through finishing this. Won’t know till tomorrow, but I am quite pissed

Also want to note that I didn’t notice till I was about half done, but there’s not actual reference to Tony being Iron Man or having the arc reactor anywhere in this. I didn’t exactly do this on purpose but it felt worth pointing out

Ao3 link

“No. No, that’s entirely too many.” 

Tony was sat beside you at your ultrasound appointment, squinting to get a better look at the image being displayed. 

“Tony…” you started, though you weren’t sure how to continue. 

He pulled his hands out of his pockets, standing up. 

“Did I hit my head?” He tapped the monitor, and the doctor gave you a disapproving look you could do nothing but shake your head at, shrugging. 

“Are you seeing this?” He looked at you, head at a tilt. 

“Yes. I told you.” 

“You’re kidding me. Tell me you’re kidding me, this has got to be some sort of prank.” 

He tapped his foot in relative silence for a moment, chewing his lip. 

“We’ve got to downsize.” You gave him an unamused frown, to which he put his hands up defensively. 

“Only joking.” He said. 

“Don’t even.” You said. Any way you interpreted that wasn’t funny. 

“What’s the odds on that, by the way?” He inquired. 

“IVF brings a much higher chance of multiples, so not that unlikely, actually.” 

You’d only gone for artificial methods after banging for almost a year with no results. 

Despite supplements and tracking and Tony stepping it up, something just wasn’t working. 

You’d brought it up when he made it home late one night. 

“You look lively after fourteen hours.” You said from the couch as Tony walked in, dumping his briefcase by the stairs for later. 

“Private plane’ll do that. I’m not even tired, I think I’ve grown immune to jet lag.” 

“How’d it go?” 

“It was wild. They asked about you. I said you’d gotten into beekeeping.” 

“That’s what we’re saying now?” You teased. 

“Hey, whatever they’ll print.” 

“Appreciate it.” 

You could only manage flying once or twice a year, otherwise? You could handle not seeing Tony for a few days. In fact, more times than not you could use it. 

“Aside that, it has been a hell of a day. Meet you in bed?” 

“Sure thing.” 

With that and a kiss on the cheek, he went off to the bathroom. 

You headed to the bedroom, and a few minutes later Tony joined you, already stripped to his slacks. 

“God you look sexy when you do that.” He murmured, pulling off his socks and getting on the bed next to you. 

“I’m not doing anything,” 

“Exactly. You don’t need to.” 

He tugged off what little you were wearing, situating himself between your legs. 

“You gotta shave if I’m gonna do this.” He blew a tuft of hair off his forehead. 

“You offered.” 

“As if I’m going to pass it up, please. Waiter? There’s a hair in my meal.” He spat, picking at his tongue, making you giggle. 

He smiled. finished undressing and crawled up to kiss you, pulling you down by the waist off the headboard to on your back in the pillows. 

You stared ahead, brow drawn as he pulled your leg up over his shoulder. 

“Jesus that feels like coming home.” He huffed. 

“Tony?” 

“Yeah?”  

“Why haven’t I gotten pregnant yet?” He slowed, giving you a look. 

“Well I wouldn’t know. Hormones, cycles, the whole thing‘s finicky, never really made sense of it myself.” 

”Tony.” You voiced with a groan, scrunching your nose. 

“You want me to stop right now and answer?” 

“No, I just– I’m serious.” 

“So am I. I don’t know.” 

You sat up on your elbows, and Tony sighed, dropping your leg and sitting back. “Think maybe we should try something different?” You said. 

“Like what?” 

“You know.” 

He sucked in a breath through his teeth. “Not to be possessive, or whatever it’s called now, but I really don’t like to share.” 

“Oh Jesus, Tony, no! I mean like artificial insemination, IVF, you know, that kind of thing.” 

“Thank god. Though I was afraid you meant that.” He sighed, resting on his haunches. “Frick.” 

“You don’t want to?” 

“It’s not that I don’t want to…” he scratched his chin. “Actually, yes it is. I don’t want to. Scoot.” 

You moved over so he could pull his legs out from under him and climb up next to you, pushing the covers out of the way, gesturing for you. 

You laid back into his arms.

“No, we’ll keep trying. It’ll sort itself out, I’m sure.” 

“Any particular reason?” 

“Do we have to get into it? I just don’t want to.” 

“All right then.” You leaned up and kissed him, pulling him against you. 

You liked Tony because you hadn’t known who he was when you met him. He was stranded from some failed scheduling, and in the backseat of a ride share he’d asked to borrow your phone like any other person would.  

“Really, just one call and I’ll give it right back.” 

You'd rolled your eyes, but handed it over. “You should put your seatbelt on.” You had said. 

“I’m like ten minutes from where I’m going, this guy doesn’t care.” 

And then when he gave it back to you, you had found his number in it. 

You’d called him the next day, of course, with full intent to tell him to buzz off, only to be stunned into intrigue. 

“Great. Now I have yours.” Had been all he said before hanging up. 

After that, you texted near daily. He wasn’t always the greatest at responding, so you preferred video calls. It was like that for months before you finally went out. You played hard to get, right up until he got you. 

You had told him it was on one condition, that he wouldn’t chew you up and spit you out like he did to supermodels and reporters, or say, his secretary. 

That if you were going to date him, and really date him, that he’d have to be all in, it was you or bust; you weren’t going to let him play you into something just for it to fall through. 

Not when you knew he was the only one for you. 

He’d only said one thing to that: “Done.” 

And two weeks later he proposed to you on live television. 

The media still didn’t believe, no matter how many times Tony said you were special, that you were going to last. 

Stuff spread fast as soon as you were seen in public together, journalists certain you were his latest in a long line of heartless flings. 

So you agreed to help him change that. 

“Go easy on her, yeah? She’s not used to television, but it's cool, because she agreed to be here with me, and honestly that’s enough work in a relationship on its own, I think she’s clear for the year.” Watching Tony beam on camera, every ounce of charm working, was worth it on its own. 

“Well we’ve got some great stuff planned for tonight, so don’t you worry.” 

You smiled, seated on that couch next to him in front of a whole studio audience and probably millions of viewers, because although you felt out of place, and a little in over your head, Tony kept his hand on yours damn near the entire time. 

Despite being asked a few questions, Tony answered most of them for you, dismissing any negative rhetoric coming your way, which you appreciated, because you could hardly believe the audacity of some of the things they were saying. 

You wouldn’t have agreed to do it if Tony hadn’t let you pick your own outfit, a loose, patterned jumpsuit, and made sure you didn’t have to wear any makeup that you didn’t usually. 

You got to show off when they asked about it, giving a spin Tony stayed holding your hand through, to lots of claps and applause, which would’ve been your highlight of the night if not for what came right after. 

“Well might I just say I think I speak for everyone when I say you look amazing tonight,” the interviewer complimented a little too gushingly, eyeing you. 

“Hey, easy. I am taken.” You spoke up, smiling thinly. 

“Fiery; I like it. Where’s he been keeping you!” 

“Wherever she pleases,” Tony said. “As it turns out, because I don’t keep her.”

“So, last question, have you thought about settling down?” The interviewer pivoted, letting you breathe easier, not wanting but more than willing to make a scene over anything more.

“Thought about? Oh yeah.” Tony said. “We’re pretty inseparable as it is. I don’t go a day without talking to her.” He glanced at you, brown eyes shining. “We’ve discussed it a little. Playfully, mostly. I don’t doubt why she doesn’t always take me seriously.” 

“Does marriage scare you?” The interviewer asked. 

“Terrifies, if I’m honest. But actually, it’s more the asking, you know, the hardest part is deciding when is a good time.” 

You straightened your back, alert as Tony leaned back to dig around in the pocket of his suit before standing, giving you a nod as you stared at him with wide eyes, getting down on one knee. 

You could feel how red your face must’ve been with all the cameras on you. 

“You’d make me the happiest man on Earth if you said yes.” 

The interview had been to announce you were together, among other things, after months of tabloids and speculation, to clear things up. Though the way Tony had phrased it beforehand made it all make a lot more sense. 

“I just wanna let the world know I’ve met someone really special, and I’ve changed. I want to show them.” He adjusted your mic backstages behind the tech’s back, placing his hands on your upper arms. 

“Because things are gonna change.” 

The interview blew up, and pictures of your red, tear stained, smiling face as Tony hugged you, engagement ring held up, displayed proudly on your hand, were in articles and magazines the world over. 

All the attention was a little overwhelming, but you were the most thrilled you had ever been in your life to be engaged to Tony Stark. 

He’d asked you after, on the way home, if it was too much, but you assured him it was perfect. 

“I thought about it immediately when I was asked to do the interview, and I knew if I didn’t do it then I was going to put it off. So I’m, how you say…”

“Sorry?”

“That.” You gave him an expectant eyebrow raise. 

“I’m… sorry if I made you uncomfortable, but you don’t deserve that, being strung out.” 

“It was very you. I still can’t believe I didn’t see it coming, I was so nervous.” 

“I saw that, I was afraid you’d faint.” 

“Oh lord, don’t even say that!” You laughed, giving him a shove. 

“It’s fine, I would’ve caught you.” He kissed your ear, giving it a tug with his teeth before you threw your arms over his shoulders and pushed him into a heated kiss. 

You first started trying for a baby four months after the wedding. 

“Hey, be here when we’re done, yeah? It’s gonna be a long night. You get in there, get yourself a drink, enjoy.” Tony dismissed the cab driver with a tip. 

“I cannot stand when they talk. Tell me again why we couldn’t get a limo?” You were fidgeting, not because of nerves, but excitement. 

“Whatcha smilin’ about? It’s just an action flick, probably not even good.” You would forever commend Tony on his ability to read a room, mood, or vibe without seeming to even look. Especially when it came to you. 

“I was going to tell you when we got home tonight.” 

“Tell me…?” He tilted his head at you, doing that thing with his lips that never failed to make your chest tight. “We’re not getting back till late, come on.” He urged. 

“You know we were talking last month, and I– I took it to heart.” 

“Oh?” 

You took a deep breath. “I stopped taking my birth control yesterday.” 

His eyes lit up. “You serious?” 

“I think I’m ready.” You nodded. 

He all but tackled you in the backseat of that cab, littering your jaw in kisses before moving down to your cleavage, making you yelp. 

“It’s not going to work yet!” You laughed. 

“Doesn’t mean I can’t try. Celebratory sex, you, me, now.” 

“Tony…! We’ve got a premiere!” 

He brought up his watch, squinting. 

“I’ve got ten minutes and a hard-on, seriously, they’re still playing ads, we won’t miss a thing. And ‘sides, I gotta practice dropping my pullout game.” 

“You are unbelievable.” 

“Won’t make a mess, swear it.” 

“God I love you.” You gripped his lapel, pulling him into a kiss. 

Having straightened out your two-piece and fixed Tony’s hair, grinning when he gave your ass a more than friendly pat, you started the couple blocks to the theater. 

“Right, let’s hurry.” You crossed the street, close by his side. 

“You really cut it close.” You shook your head at him, double checking your clothes. 

“Completely worth it. Do it again in a heartbeat.” 

You swore you always felt like a teenager with their first crush around him, the way he looked at you, always excited you were in the room. 

He took your hand, letting his fingers thread with yours. 

“hey so, I promise I’m gonna be a better dad than mine was. I know I’m not great, but… I promise I’m gonna be decent.” 

“You’re already half there.” You squeezed his hand, giving him a nudge. 

“You think so?” 

“I wouldn’t have married you otherwise.” 

He kissed the crown of your head, before lights and cameras surrounded you both on the carpet. 

But not everything had been roses. 

A few months after that, you’d both been in an accident. 

Tony had been driving, when a tire blew along a turn, sending the car over the side of the highway into the bushes. 

He'd gone through the windshield, hitting the hood and landing a few feet in front of the car in the dirt. 

You scrambled to unfasten your seatbelt, stumbling dazedly out the passenger door onto your hands, shaking it off and rushing to Tony.

“Oh my god, Tony!” Relief washed over you as he groaned when you turned him over. 

“Ow .” 

“Are you hurt?” 

“Jesus, duh.” He felt his face and chest, blinking through the bleary vision. 

“Just my head, I think, but holy shit.” 

You helped him up into the backseat, pulling out your phone and dialing 911. 

“I’m calling an ambulance.” 

You grabbed Tony’s handkerchief for the bleeding from his head, telling the operator where you were and what happened, as well as your husband’s condition. 

“Right, they’re on their way. Don’t lean back, sit up.” 

”We should try IVF.” 

“What?” 

“You mentioned it, and I know I said I was against it, but I think we need to look into it.” 

“Tony we were just in a car crash–”

“Yeah and I really put something into perspective for me. I really don’t want to die before we manage to conceive.” 

“That’s what you were thinking about?” You couldn’t help but laugh under your breath. 

“Deadass, sweetie. Imagine how ridiculous it would be if we ended up childless at like fifty because I was too worried about being seen as inadequate.” 

“You’re kidding me. That’s why you didn’t want to?” 

“Come on. It should be obvious. I spent years sleeping around, making my name synonymous with sex, and I can’t even get my wife pregnant? I would never live that down.” 

“Hey, it was not for lack of trying.” 

“Don’t I know it.” He huffed, wincing as you checked where you’d been staunching his head. 

“I want kids with you.” He said. “And I mean that.” 

“Yeah, okay.” You nodded. 

“Okay? Okay.”  

A half hour or so later the ambulance showed up, and you spent the rest of the evening getting Tony stitches. 

He’d been lucky a concussion and a couple fractured ribs was all he got off with, and he wouldn’t have even gotten that if he’d been wearing a seatbelt. 

“I guess there’s something to be said for getting it over with.” Back in the present, Tony was still talking himself into the news. 

“What do I know, maybe it’s incredibly efficient.” He sighed. “How many did you want again?” 

“Like, two?” You threw out. 

“Surprise, bonus for ya.” He gestured like he was pulling a slot machine. “You struck a three for one, cash-in is in eight months. Hope you know this is your early birthday gift. Christmas too.” 

“That’s a relief.” You shook your head, remembering the last time Tony tried to get you something, and just how much of a disaster it was. 

“Don’t make fun of me, I’m in a very vulnerable place right now.” He teased, but you could tell there was some seriousness behind it. 

“Three kids…” he exhaled a drawn out breath. 

“You’re gonna do great.” You said. 

“I am? I should be the one telling you. It is safe, correct?” He addressed the doctor. 

“We’ll have to see how the pregnancy develops, twins and triplets are almost always born premature, which adds risk to any delivery.” 

“And they are?” The doctor gave him a confused look. 

“Boys? Girls? Other? All of the above?” 

“It’s too early to tell.” 

“Of course. What was I thinking. Right, well, thanks for the news.” 

He was quiet as you wrapped up, getting cleaned up, and printed off your pictures—three little fuzzy black and white shapes. 

“You good?” You asked out in the hall, on your way to the rear exit, noticing how out of it Tony looked. 

“I’m gonna need to think about it. I’m kinda tingly in the fingers, my heart’s racing, I think I’m still in denial.” 

As you approached the glass door, Tony stopped you with an arm, biting his lip. 

“Shit.” 

You followed his gaze to the moderately sized crowd outside, feeling your heart sink. 

“Oh goddamnit.” 

“Don’t people have anything better to do with their lives?” Tony muttered. 

“How. We took surface roads and parked behind the hospital!” You groaned. 

“Where there's a me there’s a camera hoping to catch something. Car’s close, yeah?” He asked. 

“Yeah.” 

“Right. Deep breath.” 

He tugged off his jacket, covering you as you made your way to the car, ducking you inside while camera flashes snapped from every direction. 

“Mister Stark! Mister Stark! Are you currently going through IVF treatment?” 

“Is your wife expecting?” 

“Sir, is it true you’re going to be a father soon?” 

“Fine, you might as well know now.” He caught your eye through the gap of the tinted car window, and you furrowed your brow. 

“My wife and I are expecting. We’re having triplets.” He said. 

“And that’s a you get.”  

You moved over as he opened the door and got in the seat beside you, quickly shutting it behind him. 

“I can’t believe you just did that.” 

“Yeah, believe it, before I change my mind.” 

“You can’t take it back now!” 

“Well yeah, but if I could, you would have to accept that I wouldn’t, unless I changed my mind, or you really wanted me to, in which case I’d figure it out.” 

“What?” 

“Nevermind.” He rolled up his window the rest of the way, drowning out the paparazzi still clamoring for his attention outside. 

“Hey,” you put your hand on his thigh. “Thank you, Tony.” 

“I’m not the one who’s going to have three human beings inside her, and not in a fun way. Jesus, you’re going to get huge.” He looked down at your stomach, then back up into your eyes. 

“You’re having triplets?” Happy exclaimed from the front seat. 

“Christ, Happy, you are not a part of this conversation.” Tony gave a dramatic slump against his headrest, throwing his hand up. “Is privacy dead!” 

“Yes, we’re having triplets.” You confirmed with a smile. 

Tony turned back to you. “But you are welcome. My sperm and all. Sorry I couldn’t get it the old fashioned way.” 

“I am not complaining.” 

Happy started the car. 

“Seatbelt,” you gave Tony's arm a tap with the back of your hand, and he quickly buckled himself in, kissing his fingers as you drove off. 

“What’s that for?” You asked. 

“I’m kissing my free time goodbye.” He exhaled heavily. 

“Half the house is going to be kids’ stuff, isn’t it?” 

“Half the house is going to be kids’ stuff.” You chuckled. 

“Not the basement.” 

“Basement can stay.” You assured him. 

“I’m gonna have to uninstall the fountain, aren’t I? It’s just not safe.” 

“I wasn’t gonna say it.” 

“Holy shit, what are we gonna name them!” He interjected,, his expression somewhere between panicked and elated. 

“‘Cause all I’ve only got Maria. That’s it. Does first to pop out get priority, or…?” He showed his teeth, gesturing. “There’s gotta be at least one girl out of three, right?” 

“Actually, I was thinking Virginia for a girl.” 

“That’s funny.“ He deadpanned. 

“She’s been a big help.” You shrugged. 

“You got me laughing.” He shook his head. 

“But seriously. I’m typically great at naming things, but, people who can get mad at me later– not to mention something I’m gonna have to call out across the house only about three million times, I’m not so sure if I want that to be my mom’s name.”

“We’ll figure it out.” You ran a hand through where his hair had shuck loose to hang in his eyes, kissing his cheek. 

It was wild to think less than a two years ago you’d met him for the very first time, and now you were closer to him than anyone, married and having kids. 

“Hey Happy, closest drive through with ice cream?” Tony leaned forward to ask. 

“You know this woman had ice cream every day while she was pregnant, and apparently, full fat ice cream has like fourteen grams of protein per cup? It’s nuts. More if you add nuts now I think about it. That’s not a bad idea. Butter pecan?” 

“Ice cream sounds great right now.” 

“I’m not suggesting you do that, but as far as becoming a picky eater goes… not the worst idea.” 

You pulled through a Dairy Queen, getting two butter pecan ice creams. 

Tony pulled out his phone and held up his spoon, clinking it with yours. 

“To becoming parents.” He toasted, kissing a bit of pecan off your upper lip, snapping a picture of you both as you laughed. 

[coco-loco-nut]

Eternal Sunshine

pairing: pato o’ward x reader

summary: ok, maybe you have a type. at least this time he might treat you right

masterlist requests open

——————————————

They say that in the darkest skies you see the brightest stars, that suffering is essential to growth, that it’s better to have loved and lost than to have never loved at all. You never believed it to be true until you met your boyfriend. He kind and funny and ridiculously handsome, and he arrived at one of your lowest points.

——

You shouldn’t be here, your mind screams at you to turn around and leave, but it’s the same one that wanted you to be here in the first place.

The track used to feel like home, for five years you got to watch your boyfriend drive and enjoy the secrecy of your relationship. You both put in a lot of effort into keeping the spark alive, even if it meant shuffling some things around. That was until he decided he to cheat on you. It was easy for him, you weren’t public so it was easy to lie that he wasn’t in a relationship. Turns out he’s been cheating for over a year.

But this isn’t Formula One, this is IndyCar. You chose this to get your fix and move on. It would be satisfying to see someone crash into Oscar, maybe he can feel the pain you felt.

“Are you lost?” a deep voice comes from beside you and you look at the man speaking to you.

“A little,” you smile nervously, you haven’t been recognized yet. Maybe you should’ve chosen a race that wasn’t right outside of L.A.

“Luckily for you, I’m an expert,” you don’t know why he seems familiar. You notice his McLaren shirt, similar to your own - except yours was a fuck you to Oscar. You stole some of his official gear when you packed your bag and left.

“Are you a McLaren fan?” you ask, trying to place why he seems familiar.

“I guess you could say that? Are you?” the man asks, and you can’t help to notice some resemblance to Oscar, but he is far more handsome.

“I, um, same. I’m new to Indy, but I’ve loosely followed the F1 team for around five years,” you choose your words carefully. Pato looks at you closer, knowing he’s seen you somewhere before. Your pass says that you have VIP access, so he doesn’t question it as you walk with him.

“I’m Pato,” your brows furrow slightly as you give him your middle name as a cover. Where have you heard that name before. Your eyes catch sight of a video screen and they widen in horror.

“This is embarrassing, you’re a driver,” you are at a bit of a loss for words, mortified at your carelessness. He has got to be so mad, you straight up lied to his face.

“And your name is actually Y/n. I’m surprised to see someone of your talents here. Especially without security,” Pato’s unoffended smile disarms you, making you mentally sigh a breath of relief.

“Sorry for all the secrecy, it used to be the only way I can attend races,. I guess my disguise didn’t work then,” your smile is bittersweet, it’s almost freeing to be at a race without worrying if your relationship is going to be put on blast.

“I understand. I’m actually a big fan myself, so I recognized your voice. I introduced Lando to your music last year,” Pato says but you know the last part isn’t actually true. He may think he introduced your music to Lando, but Lando couldn’t reveal he knew you and your music well. He was one of the very few people who knew about you and Oscar.

“That’s so cool,” even if it’s wrong, maybe even vain, you love hearing things like that. “Did you get to go to the tour last year r hen?” you follow, curious how much he truly listens to your music.

“No, I wasn’t able to make it between races and other duties. I wanted to though,” he replies, scratching his neck while contemplating if he should ask a question or not. He has you as a captive audience though, so it doesn’t hurt to.

“That’s a shame,” you realize that you’ve started walking with Pato, but no one’s stopped you yet.

“Will you be releasing new music soon?” he sees a flash of hurt in your eyes and immediately regrets asking.

“I’ve both lost and gained inspiration, so there may be something in the works sooner than expected,” Pato immediately understands your words. It was widely known that you were in a long-term relationship, but no one knew who you were dating. It seems like you are no longer in one now. You really will have to hide when that bit of news breaks.

“I’m sorry,”

“It’s okay, it’s actually good, in a way. I’m starting to get over what happened,” the last part feels like a lie, but you don’t feel as heavy as before.

“I’m sorry, you are probably busy and I’m yapping on and on. I should probably get ready for practice anyway,” Pato realizes, flushing slightly with embarrassment.

“It’s okay,” you smile and something inside you tugs at your heart at the thought of him walking away and never talking to him again. “Would you like to get drinks or something after the race on Sunday?” you ask quickly, voice slightly shaking with nerves. You watch his eyes light up before he reels himself in to act cool.

“Yeah. I’d give you my number, but I know that you will run into me soon,. Enjoy all the racing” he grins, disappearing into the crowds. You continue to walk around, finding a spot to watch the end of the IMSA practice.

You slip back into your brooding as the sounds of engines put you on edge. It used to be a sound that was a comfort.

You want to kick yourself, how could you let a man - no, a boy - play you like that. And now here you are, wide-eyed and talking to another driver. Stupid. Not only does he drive for Arrow McLaren, but he’s the reserve driver for the F1 team.

All you can think about is how Oscar and Lando would react, how Pato would react if you started something and he found out about Oscar. The words they could use to hurt you. Whore. You would be moving on quickly, but then again, so did Oscar. He moved on while you were still together. Manipulator. Even if you don’t intend on it, it would be very easy to assume that you are using Pato for revenge, as a low blow. So many more.

“Fuck,” you whisper. You have a lot to think about before the end of the weekend.

Pato was right, you run into him (literally run into him) on Sunday. You just finished and early lunch and got on a call with your agent to discuss an opportunity.

“Sorry, I gotta go,” you apologize, hanging up the call.

“When I said you will run into me, I didn’t mean literally,” the smile on his face tells you he isn’t actually mad. In fact, he seems delighted. Yet the uneasy feeling of nerves bubbles in your stomach, you can’t hurt him. You know what you have to do, you have to tell him the truth. Lay it all out and let him make an informed decision, even if it hurts you to talk about.

“Sorry, I was distracted, and I guess I still am. My agent was trying to convince to, um, you know that doesn’t really matter,” you shift your focus to the present moment.

“I’m glad I ran into you, I was going to offer a garage tour,” Pato brushes you odd behavior off and your eyes light up. The look sends a thrill down his spine and butterflies in his chest. He feels like a teenage boy talking to his crush.

“Really? I’ve never been, not even when I-,” you catch your words, quickly clearing your throat, “not even when I attended an F1 race a few years ago,” the excitement from your voice is gone. Pato can tell there is a story there, but he takes your initial reaction and runs with it. Oscar never brought you to the garage. Even Lando offered, but you both said it was too risky. Oscar never even introduced you to the team, other than Lando.

“Follow me!” he leads you through the Arrow McLaren area, and you end up back at his motorhome. Pato did make sure to take pictures during it, especially with you and his car. You don’t think twice when you follow him in and sit down.

“I kinda like this a lot more than F1, it seems more humble in a way. It’s a spectacle like all racing is, but F1 is so flashy and honestly some people wouldn’t realize if there wasn’t a race. As long as all the other entertainment is there,” you unintentionally start on a tangent. Pato realizes he can learn a lot about you by reading between the lines.

“You sound like you have a bit of experience,”

“They, uh, COTA wants me to perform at F1 grand prix. They claim I will be the biggest attraction,” you huff, you really weren’t supposed to say anything, but if anyone would understand it would be Pato. Plus, he’s in the industry and you deep down you know you can trust him.

“They aren’t wrong. I know at least Lando would rather watch you than drive,” Pato smiles cheekily, dissolving your frustration.

“He’s had a private concert before, I’m sure he’ll live if I turn it down,” you abruptly stop laughing when you realize what you revealed. Pato’s brows furrow as he processes your words, maybe you misspoke. Here goes nothing, you have to come clean now.

“Lando and I were kinda friends, we met through my ex,” you reveal some of your truth. Careful to keep some of the cards in your hand hidden. The ones too painful to share.

“Oh, that’s cool! How did your ex know Lando?” Pato asks, almost wondering how you didn’t know who he was when you met. You quickly weigh the pros and cons. If you are going to get drinks with him after the race, he deserves to at least know and make his decision from there.

“My ex is Oscar Piastri,” your voice is quiet at you look at your hands, picking at a nail. Pato observes you as his stomach drops.

“Oh, how, uh, how did you meet?” he tentatively asks, trying to get an answer but not shut you down.

“I grew up as a huge racing fan and I thought he was cute, so I messaged him and that was that. You know my music,” you watch him smile to himself and then meet your eyes.

“Well, I’m glad I’m your type then, unless it’s just Australian racers,” Pato teases and your lips quirk up, relieved that he isn’t mad.

“No, apparently just men who drive for McLaren,” you chuckle. “He um, he cheated on me, and that isn’t part of my type. Hopefully that’s a part of the Australian thing,” your voice is quieter, but not dejected. That’s as much as you are willing to give for now, somethings are still too painful.

“I think he’s stupid to do that. And to not show you off. Plenty of guys would kill to meet you, to be on your arm and the one you come home to. I know I would,” Pato reassures you as he reaches out and squeezes your hand.

“It isn’t weird?” you ask. He just shrugs, looking at you in a way that makes you like a million butterflies are in your stomach.

“It’s not like you came here searching for me. Based off of your story, I doubt you came here looking for a relationship either. Besides, I initiated our first conversation, and you just came here for… why did you come here?”

“I missed racing, and this is really close to LA,” you say honestly. “I really didn’t know who you were, by the way. I wasn’t allowed to be around the F1 team, and everything I new about the team was from Oscar, so I never really thought to ask who the reserve driver was,” you add on.

“I believe you. For the record, I think you should perform at the race. It might be therapeutic not having to hide your presence there,” Pato offers his opinion. Silently adding that it might be nice to show Oscar you don’t have to hide.

“You have a great point,” your smile sends a thrill down his spine.

“Pato!” a girl barges into the motorhome, drawing both of your attentions. “Oh my god, you’re,” she stares at you with wide eyes.

“Hi,” you stand up to greet her.

“Y/n, this is my sister, Elba,” Pato says as she tells him something in Spanish that sounds borderline angry.

“In that case, maybe we should watch the race together?” you want to get off on the right foot, especially if you want to pursue something with him.

“Really?” her eyes light up as she shoots Pato a look again. “Pato, why are you trapping her?” she asks her brother and you fight a laugh.

“I’m not-“

“I ran into him today, literally ran into him, and he offered to show me around,” you offer an explanation.

“I promise I’m much cooler than him,” she tells you. You admire their sibling dynamic, there’s clearly a deep bond for them to interact as they do.

“Why are you even here?” Pato puts an end to things before his sister steals you away.

“Making sure you are ready, you have ten minutes,” she says, walking over to you and linking your arms. Too late, Pato, you are being stolen.

“Oh shit,”

“That’s what I thought,” she hums, walking the two of you out so he can change.

“Drinks on me,” you tell her, knowing you will get along well. And you do, three drinks later you are telling her all about Oscar and even playing a sample of a new song. She happily takes in all the industry insights and background of your music. You answer most of her questions, even one’s like who your least favorite artist to work with is.

You both don’t even notice when the Arrow Mclaren team takes a picture of you laughing in their hospitality area. You only noticed after the race when your phone started to blow up.

“Everything okay?” Elba asks as you stare at your phone with a frown. You are in the safety of Pato’s motorhome, away from prying eyes.

“My publicist is freaking out. I wasn’t supposed to officially be here and being spotted with you as made the public assume things,” the pinched line between your eyebrows tells Elba just how frustrated you are.

“So you aren’t allowed to have friends,” she scoffs. Even if she can tell there is a spark between you and her brother, there’s no need to push that at the moment. A devilish smile creeps onto her face as she looks at you. “I bet those rumors are killing Oscar,” she says while watching the frustration melt into satisfaction.

“I would never use you or your brother like that, but I have to admit I like the idea,” you smile.

“Hello sister and supposed girlfriend,” Pato walks in, causing you to sit up a little. He clearly isn’t bothered by it. Secretly, he loves it, he wasn’t lying earlier about being romantically interested.

“Do your ears burn?” Elba asks, eyebrow raised like this isn’t Pato’s motorhome.

“No?”

“Hm, okay,”

“Sorry, I didn’t realize that a photo of Elba and I would cause so much trouble,” you apologize, a little embarrassed at the public’s reaction. You went from never having a public photo of you and Oscar to having articles being written about you and Pato when you aren’t even together yet.

“So I shouldn’t post the photo of you with my car?” Pato asks lightheartedly.

“Post whatever you’d like,” your words are truthful, it’s a good photo and people already know you are hanging out.

“Good, you look very cute in it,” Pato’s words cause your cheeks to flush.

“I should go, my car is here. Congrats on your podium,” you stand, sneakily leaving a slip of paper on the chair behind you.

Pato and Elba watch you disappear. Guess you aren’t getting drinks tonight.

“You really like her, don’t you?” Elba asks, watching as Pato stares at the door you left from.

“She’s different. I should be thrown off about Oscar, but she didn’t know me. She loves racing too. I want her, but I’m willing to wait,” Pato says wistfully. Elba subtly picks up the paper that you dropped.

“Well, she lefts this. Maybe it’s a good start,” Elba leaves Pato to himself.

Pato, sorry I had to leave quickly. Text me when you get to this address, 10pm…

Your handwriting is neat with the details listed at the end. A quick google search of the name tells him it’s a members-only upscale bar. It’s so exclusive it has a dress code and no address listed online.

His stomach churns with nerves as he sends a text to you letting you know he’s there. A moment later a man in a suit opens the door for him. He’s never been so nervous for a date.

“Mr. O’Ward, follow me,” Pato runs his hands nervously down his button-down, smoothing non-existent wrinkles. The tie feels tight as he steps further into the bar. Pato spots you wearing a sleek black dress with hair perfectly styled. You look absolutely breathtaking as you stand to greet him, pressing a light kiss to his cheek.

“Sorry for the formality, it’s just the best place for privacy,” you apologize.

“It’s okay. This is a really cool place,” Pato looks around, shocked at the big names sitting near him.

“I ordered some food, if that’s okay, but the waiter will be back soon for drink orders,” you tell him. relaxing into the seat.

“That’s perfect,” Pato takes a look at the menu, noticing there’s no prices.

“Don’t worry about the cost, I’ve paid for everything already,” you answer his thoughts, practically reading his mind.

“But-“

“I asked you out and invited you, you weren’t going to pay regardless,” your smile tells him to enjoy being treated so he does.

“How was your first Indycar weekend?” he asks after you order drinks.

“I enjoyed it, I think I might have a new favorite driver,”

“You mean I wasn’t your favorite in the first place?” Pato teases.

“No, it was Nico Rosberg, jury is still out if he’s moving from number one,” your eyes crinkle.

“Will that change if I show you pictures of my dog?”

“Absolutely,” you lean in to look at his phone. You may be a cat person, but you love dogs almost as much as you love cats.

Your first date turns into two, then three, then four, then nights spent together. Pato even occasionally joins you at the studio while you record your new album. The summer flies and you make some appearances at races as Elba’s friend - which isn’t untrue. Your fans connected the dots when you posted a dump that included Pato’s dog and Pato posted the photo of you with his car from your garage tour.

She joins you and Pato at COTA. You’ve spent the whole week both stressed and nervous as you practiced your set and announced your new album, eternal sunshine.

“Are you okay?” she asks as you nervously walk through the paddock.

“No, but it’s okay,” you frown, glancing at your pass. Your cream linen outfit is neutral, you didn’t even touch the Arrow Mclaren gear that Pato gifted you when packing for the weekend. He insisted that you didn’t have to accept Mclaren’s offer to be a guest on the day of your performance, but you told him that you would stick with Elba. Your PR team thought it would be a good idea too, especially since you are known to support the Indycar team.

“We can take a shot before going over,” she suggests.

“It’s not even noon,”

“Doesn’t matter,” she shrugs. You follow her as she leads you to a bar, ordering two shots. You’ll just drink extra water before performing tonight. It doesn’t stop the nerves pooling in your stomach as you approach the papaya area, but it does make your brain not care as much.

“Y/n!” Lando practically falls over himself running over to greet you.

“Hey Lando,” your smile is tight, glad it’s him and not Oscar, but not happy to see him this early in the day. You thought you had another hour at least.

“I’m sorry, I was going to reach out but I didn’t think you’d want to hear from me,” his words fall on your deaf ears.

“Save it. If you want to apologize, keep him away from me,” your words are resolute.

“Too late,” Elba says under her breath and suddenly you wish you took more than one shot. You don’t know Pato approaching from behind you, you are honed in on the person now in front of you.

“I see you have a type,” the first words every girl wants to hear from her ex. Certainly not ‘i’m sorry’ or ‘i am the worst, you deserve better than me’. You squeeze Elba’s wrist, silently telling her to stand down before she yells.

“Right, well, he doesn’t cheat on me in my house and bed multiple times, shamelessly apologize when I walk in on it and then send photos to me together with the same girl in that bed a week later. So, I’d say he isn’t like you at all. And if you think you are my type, then you are sorely mistaken,” your eyes narrow. Lando gives Oscar a WTF look, clearly unimpressed with his teammate. He didn’t know the whole story, all Oscar told him was you broke up.

“It’s a shame no one will know who she’s talking about on her album. Except for the ones that are clearly about Pato. Trust me, you’ll know which ones those are,” Elba can’t resist herself, and you are proud of it. You probably shouldn’t have let her listen to two of the demos though.

“What?” Oscar’s eyes widen, not expecting you to tell the world about your break up. Lando is silently thrilled, he can’t wait for your new album. It’s too bad he will have to wear headphones while listening to it.

“You seriously didn’t expect me to not write about it, did you?” you raise your eyebrow. “I wrote about the good and will sure as hell write about the ugly. Be glad I respect you just enough to not name drop you,”

“Hermosa, let’s go,” Pato wraps an arm around your waist, pressing a quick kiss to your cheek, gently removing you from the situation. You startle slightly, not having realized his presence.

“Just wait until she sings tonight,” Elba shoots another comment at Oscar, channeling the spite that you won’t show. Just because you are taking the high road doesn’t mean she has to.

“Elba,” Pato’s sharp voice calling back to her tells her enough and she walks away. Sending one final nasty look over her shoulder before catching up with you and Pato.

“Dude, what the fuck,” Lando turns to his teammate.

“I, she broke up with me,”

“You cheated on her. Multiple times apparently. You know what? We are not having this discussion here. Lucky enough no one was around to see this whole fiasco. Just, stay away from her,” Lando shakes his head, leaving Oscar to wallow in his thoughts.

“Hey, none of that was your fault,” Pato keeps you close, your breathes deep and shaky as you hold yourself together. He brings you into a small empty room, Elba closes the door behind you as tears streak down your cheeks. You sit on the floor, leaning against the wall.

“I’m sorry, I don’t know why I’m crying,” Pato crouches in front of you, thumb wiping away a tear.

“You weren’t ready to encounter him again. I’m so proud of how you handled it, and it’s okay to cry,” he reassure you, which makes you cry harder. Elba bites back a comment about the aforementioned boy, but he should be careful to not run into her again. She’s only nice when not talking to someone who hurt her friend. Pato moves to sit beside you, pulling you into his lap. He lets you cry it out, something you refused to do when you found out about Oscar’s infidelity. You’ve been so strong for so long, you’ve never given yourself the chance to feel your feelings.

“How much of it did you hear?” you tearily ask, a little ashamed that you revealed a part of the story you never told Pato. So much pain put out for the world to hear in a fit of anger.

“Most of it,” Pato answers and you know he knows.

“This is not how this weekend was supposed to start,” you rest your head against Pato’s now damp shirt. Elba stepped out to grab water for you and give you some privacy.

“No,” he agrees, brushing a lock of hair away from your face. Pato won’t vocalize it, but he’s worried about you being in the Paddock for his free practice drive in Mexico.

“Am I doing the right thing by being here? Maybe I shouldn’t have agreed to perform,” your voice is thick with that post-cry sound.

“Absolutely, this was hard but I think it will help with your healing. He can’t touch you anymore, he’ll risk your fans knowing he is the one who hurt you,” Pato is reassuring himself too, it was terrifying to find you face to face with Oscar.

“Right,” your tears have stopped.

“Hey, we need to get lunch before sound check,” Elba pops in, carefully tossing the bottle of water to Pato.

“Right,” you sniff, carefully removing yourself from Pato’s hold and standing up.

“Drink this, you need to rehydrate. Fuck, and I need to go to a meeting,” Pato kisses you, letting it last a second too long before leaving you and Elba.

“I can hurt him, make it look like an accident. Then Pato can race this weekend,” Elba suggests. You know she won’t and can’t, but you crack a smile anyway.

“I don’t deserve you or Pato,” you hug her.

“Let’s fix your mascara and get out there. We’ve avoided your team this long, I don’t know how much longer we can manage,” you and Elba find Mclaren hospitality and take advantage of the drivers being in a meeting. You two are gone by the time they get there.

You make your way to the concert stage for a sound check with your band. The hot Texas heat beating down on you.

“I’m making changes to the set list,” you hand them the revised one. “We are doing three songs from the new album. Opening with True Story, then we will do The Boy is Mine and Eternal Sunshine later in the show. Maybe ending with Boy is Mine,” you tell them.

“But those aren’t your singles,”

“It’s a gift to the fans, it’ll help get hype around the album,” you lie, you just feel that they will send the message to Oscar. It’s your little piece of revenge.

“Sounds good, we will practice those later,” your guitarist says. You run through a couple of your hits so the sound levels can be adjusted, before going into a meeting with your team.

“We have an interview set up with F1 TV in half an hour. It’s some type of quiz with Hinchcliffe while doing a hot lap,” your publicist tells you as you hydrate and stretch.

“Right, well, let’s get ready,” you head to the dressing room that is air conditioned, thankfully.

“So, the rumor is that you are a big motorsport fan,” Hinch starts off the interview.

“Ever since I was a kid. I’ve been to a few grand prix before, and now I get to perform at one,” you reply, happy to talk about racing.

“Is Mclaren your favorite team then?”

“No, but I’ll never tell who is,” your playful expression is opposite to the one you wore earlier. No one can tell that you had been crying.

“Well, you’ve been a frequent guest at Indycar races. Who is your favorite driver, me or Pato?”

“I don’t think I can answer that either,” you smile, playing along with the bit.

“So it’s me. Great taste,” he accelerates off the starting line.

“I’ve always wanted to do one of these,”

“Triva while on a hot lap? We all have our own aspirations,” he takes a turn quickly and you cheer in excitement. You confidently answer his questions.

“Can we go again? Can I drive?” you ask, not wanting to unbuckle.

“Unfortunately that’s all the track time we have today,” you sadly unbuckle, giving the in-car camera a thumbs down.

“Thank you for the ride,” you tell him after getting out.

“Thank you, I don’t think I’ve had anyone tell me to go faster. Good luck on your performance tonight,” he is a little shocked at how well you handled it.

“Thank you, I’ll give you a backstage pass if you let me drive,” you say once the cameras stop filming and the mic is removed.

“Unfortunately I cannot this time. Get Pato to rent a track for you. Has he taken you on a lap yet?”

“No, he will in Mexico. Don’t tell anyone, but you are my favorite commentator,” you take your bag from an assistant and hand him a pass.

“I will be holding this over Buxton’s head,” Hinch waves the pass before you part ways. You find Elba and Pato to watch qualifying before you have to get ready for the concert. Elba leaves to get food, claiming that now is the right time while everyone else is busy on track.

“Are you nervous,” Pato asks, his fingers entwined with yours as you stare at the screen.

“A little, but I changed the set to add some of the new album,” you keep your eyes trained on the Ferrari on the screen.

“I have a request from the social media team,” your head turns to look at your boyfriend at the uneasiness in his voice. “They want Oscar and Lando to watch the concert with me, they think,”

“They think it will show team togetherness since you will already be there to watch me,” you sigh, mulling it over. “Fuck. If I say no then it makes me look like an asshole,” your frown deepens at the thought.

“Lando said he will make sure Oscar is gone by the time you get offstage,”

“No, they will want a video or picture of me interacting with them,” you run a hand through your hair and Pato regrets asking on behalf of the team.

“It’s not a big deal if you say no. I can watch from the front row with them and come backstage once you are done. Then the social team still gets what they want,” Pato reassures you with another option.

“Yeah, I think I like that more. Plus, I can sing to you easier that way,” your frown goes away as you lean into him. He removes his hand from yours and wraps his arm around you. “The pass I gave you should let you immediately come backstage, and I’ll have my team inform security to let you through,”

“You are going to kill it, I’m excited to see you onstage,”

“I’m excited too, I can shake off the rust. Oh, and Lando can come backstage with you. Since you introduced him to my music,” Pato lightly groans with embarrassment as you giggle.

“I had no idea you knew him when I told you that! It’s his fault that he didn’t tell me he knew your music,” Pato defends himself.

“Am I too late?” Nolan appears in the doorway, a little out of breath.

“Nolan?” you ask, a little like an excited puppy. You would lay down your life for him, he’s like your baby brother now.

“I couldn’t miss the concert. I tried to be here an hour ago, but the traffic is insane,” he shakes his head as he greets Pato with that weird male handshake.

“Sometimes I think you love Nolan more than me,” Pato says as you hug his teammate.

“I doooo,” you dramatically sway back in forth in the hug.

“I knew it,” Pato shakes his head lovingly. “Oh and surprise. I figured you’d like the extra support,” Pato got your team to give him an extra pass after Nolan dropped some not so subtle hints about wanting to be here.

“Hey Nolan,” Elba returns with a plate of food for you.

“Where’s mine?”

“Um, you can eat later. You aren’t going on stage in a few hours,” Elba waves her brother off.

As every minute in qualifying ticks by you increasingly get both nervous and excited. As Q3 reaches its halfway point, your phone buzzes to summon you away before the crowds start.

“You are going to be amazing, I’ll be front and center,” Pato hugs you, pressing a soft kiss to your lips.

“I will be there too,” Nolan interjects.

“I’ll be backstage before the show,” Elba promises. You thank them and head out. You are immediately thrown into warm ups and hair and makeup.

“15 minutes,” the stage manager warns. You check your phone one last time before grabbing your water and heading to the stage.

“Good luck, you got this, you are an icon,” Elba starts to hype you up, and your laugh makes her join your laughter.

“I’m more worried for my fans, they aren’t expecting new music to be performed,” you shake your head as you are directed to a platform.

“You will smash it,” she says as she’s led to the wings. You focus on your breathing and hydration.

The lights go dark and the crowd silences. A cue tells you to start your first surprise. Your voice is alone in the dark as you start singing. You start rising in the darkness during the first gimmie love section of the intro and as soon as the platform locks into place and your beat picks up a golden light flushes the stage. The show’s begun.

Pato soaks in the vision of you up on the stage and how Oscar has to mask his shock. It didn’t take long for Oscar to realize that bad light you paint of him, the opposite of how you’d written him in the past. You send a subtle smile Pato’s way, one he returns as an eager grin.

“Dude, your girlfriend is killing it,” Lando yells over the music. You are currently singing one of your first hits, and the energy is high.

“I want her to adopt me,” Nolan agrees. Even the songs you wrote about Oscar feel directed at Pato now, and that’s a new level of hurt. The final blow comes as you end the show with your newest steamy song, and everyone know who you are singing about and to.

“Holy shit,” Pato says as he listens to your words, he hasn’t heard this one yet and it’s capital H-O-T. You strut upstage, back to the audience as you end the song. During the final word, ‘mine’, you turn your head back to look at the crowd, quickly finding Pato’s eyes and sing the word. The lights go dark, and it’s somehow more electric than your start.

“I’m actually speechless,” Lando says as Nolan grabs Pato’s shoulders, shaking him.

“Dude,” he is practically jumping. “You are her’s and she let everyone know,” Nolan says.

“Imagine having a song like that written for you, that must be so cool. Right, Osc?” Lando turns to his teammate, still mad about the recent facts he learned about. Oscar swallows, nodding.

“Yeah, that certainly seems very cool,” Oscar begrudgingly agrees.

“Mr. O’Ward and guests, your presence is required backstage,” security arrives just as expected. Oscar follows but before they reach you, the group is stopped. They couldn’t just leave him to a crowd of fans.

“Alright guys, smile,” the Mclaren admin takes a quick picture while they wait for you to finish taking off your mic pack and monitors.

Still high off of the performance, you practically jumping into Pato’s arms, not looking at who else was around. Elba trails you, a jacket in hand for when you get cold from your sweat evaporating away.

“You were incredible, mi amor,” he holds you, letting you kiss him, arms around his neck.

“Hey, we get it, the boy is yours. You literally just sang about it,” Lando jokes as you pull away from Pato. The way you two look at each is different than when you and Oscar were together. Fondness? Sure. But the look you and Pato give one another is deeper.

“I would like to bleach my eyes,” Elba agrees.

“Mind if we get a couple photos?” the Mclaren admin asks and your social team also approaches to get some. You stand between Pato and Nolan. Elba is on the other side of Pato, Lando beside Nolan, and Oscar on the other side of Lando.

“I take it you guys liked the show?” you ask, proceeding as if Oscar wasn’t there. The more you act like nothing happened and you don’t know him, the worse he will feel.

“It was incredible,” Nolan answers for the group.

“I’m glad,” you smile tiredly. The physical exhaustion of the performance hitting you. “Thank you guys for coming, I hope you do well tomorrow,” you give Nolan and Lando hugs, offering just a nod to Oscar. Fans know he doesn’t like physical touch like that, so it doesn’t seem abnormal.

Your fingers intertwine with Pato’s as you practically drag him back to your dressing room, locking the door behind you. You plop down into the comfy chair and Pato helps remove your heels.

“I have to admit, a part of me wanted to climb onto that stage and carry you off of it when you were singing to me,” Pato gently massages your calves.

“I wouldn’t have been opposed. Just wait until the album comes out,” your sly grin widens as he stands up and steps closer to you.

“Be careful with what you say, hermosa,” his voice deepens as you tilt your chin up at him.

“I can be quiet. These clothes need to come off anyway,” your breath hitches as he lifts you up, lips crashing together. His hands slide to your back, working your outfit off.

You spend the next few months laying low as you plan a short tour after your album released on Thanksgiving. You even train with Pato. It’s surprising how similar your training is to his and it keeps both of you accountable.

Everything really hits you again the first time you walk the red carpet with Pato. He’s so proud to be at your side, showing you off and supporting you. It’s nothing you’ve ever had before. He’s here when your album isn’t eligible for awards until next year, when you just have to be here for the appearance.

“Thank you for being here,” you whisper in his ear as you sit at a table, tearing up a little as your hands are joined underneath the table.

“Of course I’m here, you support me. I like being your WAG,” Pato turns towards you, feeling as if he is doing the bare minimum. “Amor, I would go anywhere for you, just like you would for me,” he brings your hand up from under the table and kisses your knuckles.

To him, this is just a scratch of the support he wants to provide you. It feels like nothing in comparison to what you’ve done for him. You scheduled a whole tour around the month of May so you could spend it living out of a motorhome with him.

“I love you so much,”

“I love you more.”

[kittendreaw]

Suppermasive Black Hole

02: Is she Weird

Werewolf Yuji x Vampire F! Reader

Words:1.6 k

Mainlist

Is she weird?

Is she weird, is she white?

Is she promised to the night?

And her head has no room.

"This is where the treaty with the vampires was signed, it was about a century ago so I was not yet alive but my grandfather was."

As you both walked Yuji had been giving you an unsolicited lesson in wolfish history, While it wasn't a topic you were interested in but Yuji was easy to listen to, you were never a lover of yappers but he wasn't too bad.

"He was the leader, there was no one like him." You could feel the pride in every word, his eyes were shining with Admiration and Passion, He was obviously proud of where he came from. "Until he had to fight with the bloodsucker leader and had no choice but to cede the northern part of his territory because the vampires were larger in number and he didn't want to cause trouble."

"They never fought and there were no bigger number of vampires than wolves."

"I didn't know that leeches don't tell the story well."

You rolled your eyes, You understood that for him that was the story he had grown up with but it was not the real one. "I was there when that happened, so I can say it."

His eyes widened slightly and he gave you a quick look up and down "There's no way. how old are you?"

"95, I was 15 when that happened 80 years ago not a century." You added just to emphasize that you did know about history and he didn't know shit.

"I said “like” i didn't claim that it was the true!"

Maybe he was funny, Maybe you smiled at him complaining.

"You seemed very confident."

"I'm a man with confidence in himself, who can say." He shrugged his shoulders as he smiled arrogantly but playfully.

"Conceited."

"More like a realist." You rolled your eyes but the smile didn't disappear from your lips, even if he was imitating your answer from a while ago, the reality is that he wasn't far from reality.

Yuji was popular, he was funny, and also confident, nice and a good friend.

He was also the type of guy that every girl would want to walk hand in hand with on the Campus, he was handsome, tall, athletic, affectionate, a gentleman. Such a Dream.

On the other hand you knew that people found you attractive, you knew that they talked about you, you could listen to them, but the few times that someone dared to approach you you completely ignored them so now the invitations to dates were null and you liked that it was like that, it's not that you thought you are Unreachable (you really are) it's simply that you didn't want to deal with that part of human life. Love, dates and boys They were too vain for you.

"And you... You were born, you know, like this or..." Yuji had no idea if there was a vampiric rule about not asking that or if it was disrespectful, maybe it was rude Or maybe there was a story you didn't want to tell. 

"Do you want to know how I became a vampire?"

"If I can."

"I was 15 years old and I guess there's no great story behind it, I was just attacked by a wild vampire."

"wild?"

"The kind of vampires who drink human blood and cause problems for my kind, are always wiped out by other vampires or locked up in insane asylums by humans who consider them lunatics."

"It also happens with some of the werewolves."

"Humans usually call anything that is different from them lunatics." He let out a small chuckle.

"I guess so, but, What happened? he just bite you or what?" He was curious, he had a lot of questions, he liked to talk and ask.

"Yeah, something like that. It was night and I had run away from home, I guess I hadn't realized how stupid and immature I was being. I remember feeling like someone was chasing me and I tried to ignore that feeling but My instinct was right, before I could react I was already on the ground with a vampire on me sucking my blood, it's the most painful thing I've ever felt, but I got help before he could kill me."

"Help from who?"

"Satoru, I guess he took pity on me and instead of also finishing me off he helped me and made me part of his clan."

"Oh."

He let out a small sigh, there were still many things he wanted to know about you and vampires (especially about you)

"oh." You imitated him.

Yuji frowned slightly and looked at you "What was that?"

"What was what?"

"That oh." Now he was the one who imitated you, You chuckled. "You know, I thought you'd be a lot more bitter."

"And I thought you'd be more annoying."

Yuji rolled his eyes but the smile on his lips only became more and more noticeable "You're so nice." He joked sarcastically.

"It's part of my natural charm."

"So you have Charm?" He sneered, he was just playing, of course you were lovely, maybe not in the conventional way but it was hard not to have his eyes on you.  "Maybe you have. You're scary but pretty and Mysterious."

"And you are a Stinky noisy dog but not so annoying."

Yuji was not offended at this point he had lived with you enough to know that you didn't hate him so much, now seeing how you tried so hard to insult him was funny.

"Fine Vampira."

You frowned "Dumb."

"Okay, Draculaura."

"You're so funny, Jacob Black."

He let out a loud laugh "I didn't think you were the kind of girl who liked to watch twilight."

"I don't like it, I just watched it."

"Oh come on." he pinch your side "Don't lie." You slapped his hand when he tried to pinch you again  "Don't pull out your fangs, pretty!" Maybe you liked that, but only a little.

"I'll if you keep it up." Agora it was you who pinched his side though much harder than he did.

Watching Yuji hunt was definitely a spectacle, He was not wild or violent He killed the prey as quickly as he could, he didn't want to hurt but he knew it was a necessary process. He did not look for the nearest prey he always chose the one that was farthest away, the one for which he would have to run. He was fast, he was agile, it was obvious how much he enjoyed being in his animal form.

After a deer and a few birds He came closer to you, still on four legs. You didn't want his furry ass near to you.

You stepped back and he kept coming closer.

"Don't even think about it." He advanced, you backed away and so on until you hit the trunk of a tree and you had no escape.

His head brushed against your hand, it was obvious what he was looking for, Although you made a disgusted face, he did not move away from you and continued to insiste. Maybe he was softer than you had thought, maybe you started to Pet him.

"Fine, This is not so bad." One then two and then you started scratching his tummy. He was like a big dog, that's for sure. It was hard to not see the smile on your lips and you had to stop because you were about to call him a good boy and giggle. "Enough, I think I'm going to go home now." You got up and picked up your things, but Yuji kept following you.

"Where are you going?" It's not that he was going to answer you but you thought he would take the hint and stop but he didn't. "If I come home smelling like a Stinky dog, it's going to be your fault."

"Why do you smell like shit right now?" It wasn't a surprise, you had already guessed that this would happen.

"Why do you always smell like shit, Toge?"

"Hey! That's definitely not true."

"She's just on the defensive because she doesn't want us to know about her new wolfie boyfriend."

"He's not even from being my boyfriend."

"Really? And what have you been doing with him in the forest?" You knew Maki wasn't trying to Argue with you, it was just that no matter how hard she tried to deny it, she cared about each of you, she was always like a big sister and even if you were bothered by her interrogations she's just trying to make sure you're going to be okay. "You guys seemed pretty close and today you arrive smelling just like him, it seems pretty weird to me."

You rolled your eyes, You tried not to get angry anymore but it was impossible. "Just don't start, Maki."

"Just stay away from him, he won't do you any good." You hated being told what to do, you hated that she believed she had any rights to you, she wasn't your sister, she was just a clanmate.

"Don't tell me what to do, I'm not stupid."

"Well, you're acting like one." For you that was enough, all you had done was try to get them food and here she was berating you and calling you stupid, You knew what you were doing, you were mature enough not to let anything happen to you.

"And you're not better Maki, stay in line, You can tell me what I have to do."

"Fine! But the day he does something to you, don't come crying to me."

"Oh, believe me, I won't."

[ririsasy]

Varadha touching his nose ring while looking at Deva, remembering the time when Deva himself that put it there for him with his own blood in his hand, remembering the fact that it was Deva who protected and kept his "little honor" intact.

[sundial-bee-scribbles]

I've been looking for this one au where Len basically becomes a mad scientist and turns his friends into robots one by one for a while now, and I'm beginning to realize that I just read through your blog while half asleep a few months back and mixed together my memories of your flower hivemind and composite au

this is very funny to me. i'm absolutely honored this blog's posts were enough to evil-farming-game an entire vocaloid au into your memories 😂

i can give you this doodle; it's composite au but i'm sure it'd fit very well with this theoretical mad scientist len au lololl

[memento-morri-writes]

It's been well over a week now (maybe two??) but I'm still plugging away (ever-so-slowly) at this vignette about Zara and Rook. Zara's POV is a lot of fun to write, now that I have a better sense of her character. Writing this has really solidified in my mind the kind of person she is and how she acted when she was Rook's captain and mentor. She's very calm and collected in comparison to Rook, even when under a lot of stress.

Anyways, have a little snippet that I'm proud of from today, featuring the origins of the coin trick!

Pacing back and forth across her cabin floor, she rolled the coin back and forth over her knuckles again and again. The motion was easy, almost mindless, more muscle memory than real intent. The coin trick had been her favorite way to soothe her nerves for years now. She’d picked it up out of idle curiosity after watching a street performer dining in a tavern in Bon Largo, who had chatted with her for over an hour as she fretted about something mundane, never once dropping the coin from their fingers. The same performer had later tried to steal her coin purse and ended up with nothing but a new scar for their trouble, but Zara had learned two important things from the encounter: Not to trust a warm smile and a pretty face, and that keeping her hands moving kept her mind from dwelling too much on worrisome things.

one-time tagging @space-writes because they commented on my tags about Rook learning the coin trick from Zara in one of my other snippets from this piece.

[maddy-ferguson]

talking to new people again is making me realize that (this is gonna sound dramatic) i haven't lived in five years but what i have done is watch a lot of movies and read a bunch of books and believe it or not that actually makes me an interesting conversationalist in some ways (?)

[dream-sans-mogai]

Anyway, because I'm considered a bigger creator within the mogai community and I have a responsibility to address things given my bigger audience-

Please remember that Tumblr, especially LGBT Tumblr concerning discourse and intracommunity issues, is a hyper niche, reactive, violent, sensitive community with next to zero basis in reality at large and you should not take any of its opinions as absolute fact. Especially the mogai community's opinions.

A lot of people on mogai Tumblr talk big game with very clearly fake the-whole-bus-clapped stories about the real world concerning acceptance towards mspec monos, Neopronouns and Xenogenders and it's my job as an adult and guiding voice to remind people these experiences may happen but rarely do and you absolutely should not just tell random people you use purr/purrs pronouns or your a bi gaybian or you identify as Chronosian or other things like that because it's really fucking dangerous even in hyper progressive places like new york, cali and Detroit. It can be deadly in many many small towns, including ones in progressive states. Especially dangerous in non accepting states.

I don't say this to burst your bubble or ruin your hopeful world view but many stories of acceptance are fake, even if some are true, most of the community is underage and just cause your teacher may approve of your Soniccharic identity, doesn't mean they won't tell your transphobic parents. It's scary and dangerous out here for trans and gay people rn and I won't be one of the idiots who tell you to run and frolic with your Xenogender pins Infront of increasingly hostile transphobes. I want the younger gen z trans people to survive and I won't lie to you about the reality of the battle we all are staring down concerning project 2025.

Most of the people telling these stories live in progressive states and do not tell you about the failed times or exaggerate the acceptance they supposedly received. I'm telling you from the mouth of someone who grew up in a tiny town in South Ohio with less than 1,000 people, it's still just as dangerous as it was 10 years ago. I still get followed in my home town. I still get stares in my home town. My actual home town, a place I grew up in where people knew me as the gnc dyke for a good while in my last 2 years of school. Do not spread this shit around to everyone. Nex didn't think they would become a victim, Brianna didn't think she would be one of the unlucky ones, plenty of those we've lost did not think they would die in hate crimes. I almost died in two of the hate crimes I've experienced.

You need to be really fucking careful and although I love than Neopronouns and Xenogenders are becoming more accepted by the larger LGBT community, you need to be very very VERY careful about what you do, what you wear and who you tell what because word spreads fast in suburbia and hate spreads faster. You do not want to be wearing a pin the day some white cishet magat decides he's tired of the "pedophiles" and chooses you as the first victim because you were the first he saw. Don't hide who you are but Be. Fucking. Careful.

[quillvice]

"was there a reason you didn't cancel this" honestly I thought I had so no there wasn't a reason but also if clients are going to have Your personal number and reach out to You about canceling (when they Should be reaching out via email per our cancelation policy) then You should be canceling the appt anyway imo. all the other trainers cancel their appointments AND add their appointments to the system 🤪

[paradoxiii]

Lmfao I was messaging my s/o about what to possibly get him as an engagement thing because he doesn't really seem like a ring person (he's not really an accessory person in general). He asks if I'm thinking of "popping the question", I say perhaps, and he says "Frankly, I've kinda already been in the mindset that we're unofficially engaged for a while now. Not like we're going anywhere."

[noyzinerd]

Im so mad about the casualty in which the last scene unfolds like what the fuck? The sheriff giving his wife’s car keys to eli and the speech? Like it’s the easiest thing in the world is absolute nonsense, the amount of implications of that scene ALONE break my heart but their relationship in the entire movie is grandson and grandpa coded as fuck

From a meta standpoint, it's absolutely wild and completely bonkers to throw that whole random scene in out of left field. Like, what are you doing, Jeff? What the fuck is this? Why is this scene here of all places? What is your game here?!

But from a shipping standpoint, ignoring literally everything else in that piece of trash, that's honestly the only saving grace that lives rent-free in my head. Like, of course the sheriff would hand down his wife's Jeep to Eli. That's his grandson (everyone shut the fuck up on this, he is, fight me). It wouldn't be any hardship at all. The ease of just handing off the Jeep and saying "Yeah, your dad probably had a thing for my son", although infuriating in this physical plane where my brain and frothing mouth exist, does create an atmosphere in my fanfic devouring maw where this is just another one of those mornings at Grandpa's, talking over breakfast about the facts of life, about how "Their comes a time in a man's life" and somehow tying it to a metaphor about fishing.

IRL, the scene screams rushed and tossed in there to plant one last Sterek flag for...reasons? But in that same breath, it's also beautiful in the life it makes you imagine these characters live. It's awful and gorgeous. It's terrible and breathtaking. It's fucking Schrodinger's Sterek heritage post.

[lycanthian]

explosion.gif

[advestager]

I feel like saying Josuke doesn't have any daddy issues whatsoever isn't entirely fair (I've seen some fic and comics go further into how he and his mom might have been treated due to the circumstances of his birth that were pretty compelling) but people who act like he grew up without any father figure are definitely off base imo. Every single adaptation and extra material have always had a focus on his close relationship with his grandpa for a reason!

see, that's precisely the thing. it is literally impossible to be a grown up human without having internalised some sort of illogical Feeling about oneself or the world – but fandom as a whole tends to just assign arbitrary ones to characters based on stereotypes rather than what they actually are like.

i do think josuke feels some sort of way about his lack of a father growing up, but that's as inevitable as joseph himself (or giorno, or jolyne, or even jonathan) having feelings about his own dad, and yet somehow jorge's absence does not get brought up despite joseph and josuke's fairly similar upbringings. the fact is that most of western fandom tends to view the JJBA characters through a (white, usa-centric) lens that simply does not lend itself to a fair or accurate reading when most of the cast is either POC or from an entirely different cultural background. that's why i'm so resistant to label josuke as having 'daddy issues'; the term means something entirely different to me than it seems to do to most of the fandom, based on all the fic, comics, and discussions i've seen (and had) about the topic. it's not exactly like the organised crime aspect of VA, but it fills me with a similar kind of frustration. i don't think one needs a degree in cultural studies or history or whatnot to enjoy a silly series about people punching each other with slutty soul-ghosts, but it's exhausting to see the same thoughtless, very specifically westernised takes being regurgitated over and over as Absolute Truth until the characters are so flanderised they seem nothing as much as a caricature of their original versions. i love transformative works as much as any other fan creator, but i also happen to like the source material. it is infinitely more interesting to me to think about what kind of relationship josuke might have to his heritage as a mixed-race person, or his identity as the son of a single mother or the obviously cherished and spoilt child of a family such as his own (especially in a place and period like canon's late-90s/early 00's japan), than to hear yet another iteration of 'haha, josuke has daddy issues' where the person saying it has no intention of analysing that premise beyond the puddle-depth obvious.

at barely sixteen years old, even as interested in high-end fashion (and as very much part of a working class family who could definitely use the nest egg) as he is, josuke's immediate reaction to being told his missing father is incredibly rich and wants to take care of him is to say that it's not necessary, and he's fine as he is. sixteen. i worked as a teacher with kids as young as a year old and people as old as mid-seventies; that kind of ease of mind is one-in-a-million and not something you'll find on someone who fits fandom's definition of 'daddy issues'. he's not angry at joseph, he's not grasping for money, he hardly even wants to find out more about the missing part of his origins. his only thought is to wish he wouldn't be the reason other people were hurt, and to protect his mother once there is a risk she might find out and be distressed about it. his entire morality system is (from what i remember of canon) mostly based around the question What Would Grandpa Do?, with some leeway allowed for the temper he clearly got from tomoko and for the fact that he is, again, a big and slightly spoilt sixteen year old.

so yeah. it might not sound fair to say he doesn't have daddy issues, but i don't think the terms fandom's operating under are fair to start with, so i'd rather recuse myself (and my interpretation of the character) from it all til we're playing the same game. the sandbox's wide and wild, and the block and mute buttons are there for a reason, so i'll just stay in my corner writing about higashikatas wielding their feelings like sledgehammers til my mum says it's time to go home.

[teagoblin]

.

[weirdly-specific-but-ok]

for whom good omens is being written

Hey maggots and the rest of the fandom, it's the Good Omens Mascot here. Today I read a post about this tweet:

The accompanying video genuinely made me cry. And I've been thinking about this for a long while, as far back as February, when I saw a lot of conflicting opinions on what people wanted from the third season. It really is true that no matter what you do, some people will be dissatisfied. But what matters is that Neil is writing this for Terry.

And I was reminded of some paragraphs from the Good Omens TV Companion, which I'd read in Amazon's sample excerpt of the book. I know this is a long post, but I really truly do think you all need to read these, I've done my best to select only the most important parts. Here you go:

'His Alzheimer's started progressing harder and faster than either of us had expected,' says Neil, referring to a period in which Terry recognized that despite everything he could no longer write. 'We had been friends for over thirty years, and during that time he had never asked me for anything. Then, out of the blue, I received an email from him with a special request. It read: “Listen, I know how busy you are. I know you don't have time to do this, but I want you to write the script for Good Omens. You are the only human being on this planet who has the passion, love and understanding for the old girl that I do. You have to do this for me so that I can see it." And I thought, “OK, if you put it like that then I'll do it."

'I had adapted my own work in the past, writing scripts for Death: The High Cost of Living and Sandman, but not a lot else was seen. I'd also written two episodes of Doctor Who, and so I felt like I knew what I was doing. Usually, having written something once I'd rather start something new, but having a very sick co-author saying I had to do this?' Neil spreads his hands as if the answer is clear to see. 'I had to step up to the plate.' A pause, then: 'All this took place in autumn 2014, around the time that the BBC radio adaptation of Good Omens was happening,' he continues, referring to the production scripted and co-directed by Dirk Maggs and starring Peter Serafinowicz and Mark Heap. ‘Terry had talked me into writing the TV adaptation, and I thought OK, I have a few years. Only I didn't have a few years,' he says. 'Terry was unconscious by December and dead by March.'

He pauses again. 'His passing took all of us by surprise,' Neil remembers. 'About a week later, I started writing, and it was very sad. The moments Terry felt closest to me were the moments I would get stuck during the writing process. In the old days, when we wrote the novel, I would send him what I'd done or phone him up. And he would say, "Aahh, the problem, Grasshopper, is in the way you phrase the question," and I would reply, "Just tell me what to do!" which somehow always started a conversation. 'In writing the script, there were times I'd really want to talk to Terry, and also places where I'd figure something out and do something really clever, and I would want to share it with him. So, instead, I would text Terry's former personal assistant, Rob Wilkins, now his representative on Earth. It was the nearest thing I had.'

(...) As Neil himself recognizes, this is an adaptation built upon the confidence that comes from three decades of writing for page and screen. But for all the wisdom of experience, he found that above all one factor guided him throughout the process. 'Terry isn't here, which leaves me as the guardian of the soul of the story,' he explains. 'It's funny because sometimes I found myself defending Terry's bits harder or more passionately than I would defend my own bits. Take Agnes Nutter,' he says, referring to what has become a key scene in the adaptation in which the seventeenth-century author of the book of prophecies foretelling the coming of the Antichrist is burned at the stake. ‘It was a huge, complicated and incredibly expensive shoot, with bonfires built and primed to explode as well as huge crowds in costume. It had to feel just like an English village in the 1640s, and of course everyone asked if there was a cheap way of doing it. 'One suggestion was that we could tell the story using old-fashioned woodcuts and have the narrator take us through what happened, but I just thought, “No”. Because I had brought aspects of the story like Crowley and the baby swap along to the mix, and Terry created Agnes Nutter. So, if I had cut out Agnes then I wouldn't be doing right by the person who gave me this job. Terry would've rolled over in his grave.'

And, finally, this paragraph:

"Once again, Neil cites the absence of his co-writer as his drive to ensure that Good Omens translated to the screen and remained true to the original vision. 'Terry's last request to me was to make this something he would be proud of. And so that has been my job.'"

I think that's so heartwrenchingly beautiful, and so I wanted you all to read this, too, just in case you (like me) don't have the Good Omens TV Companion. It adds another layer of depth and emotion to this already complex and amazing story that we all know and love.

Share this post, if you can, please, so that more people can read these excerpts :")

Tagging @neil-gaiman, @fuckyeahgoodomens and @orpiknight, even if you've definitely read these before :)