#I got very curious about this for a minute.

[your-internet-bf]

Awww, c'mon, man, you can tell me how big it is. Cmonnnnn, I'm curious! You're a good lookin guy, I'm sure you're packin some heat down there, right?

What's that? You don't... huh? What do you mean? Here, just let me...

Don't moan, man, don't gotta make this weird... Well damn. No, no, I'm not disappointed at all, it's just... Here. Feel this.

No, shh, just feel. When you reach between a man's legs, you should feel something like this. Yeah, there's a lot there haha, maybe not something quite like this... What's that? Can you see it? That's a little gay, dude... Naw, I'm joking. Here.

Ahaha, you should see your face, man. What, you thought just because it was that big it had to be hard already? Naww, look, you're cute and all but it takes a little more than - ohhh, shit. No, you're right, your hands probably won't fit. Yeah. Why don't you...

Ahhh, fuck. Quick to get on your knees, and christ, that feels good... Yeah, fuck, use your... Ugh, christ, I know you're choking, I'm just gonna use your throat for a minute. You look so fucking hot down there... C'mon, c'mon... Aha. A little too big for your throat, huh? That's alright. Lick your spit up off my cock, I've got something else for you to try.

Jesus, I can see how soaked you are through your clothes. Take those off, lemme get a look at you. God, you've got a great ass, you know that? Spread that shit for me, let me look... God, dude, you look tight. Let me just feel around here... Yeah, shit, can you spread a little more? I wanna really get a good look. Yeahhh, that's good, right there. Yeah, I'm gonna - aha, that was a cute sound. What happens if I - ahaaaa. That wasn't very manly of you. Okay, okay... On the bed.

Spread your fuckin legs, what do you think I'm about to do? No use in being shy now, I JUST felt how fuckin wet you are. If you're not gonna do it, I'm gonna have to make you... Yeah, alright, I've waited long enough. Oh don't gimme that, I know you want it. Look, when I lay it on your tummy... Almost to your belly button. Beg me to put it in. Yeah, man, seriously. Beg me for it. Like a slut. Use your big boy words and fucking beg me to take this fat fucking cock of mine and pound your cunt.

See, was that so hard? Good boy. Now, grab onto something, cuz this is gonna hurt.

[dazzlerwriting]

cowboy take me away

j.seresin x reader

pictures not mine, credits to pinterest

1k words

summary: sort of inspired by “Cowboy Take Me Away” by The Chicks. (great song you should check it out!) what was supposed to be a celebratory night, turns into reader sitting alone at a bar in texas. that is until a blonde aviator, visiting home, notices her.

Warnings: fluff! reader has not great friends. talks about an ex boyfriend. Alcohol consumption. Jake Seresin being a charming man? She/her pronouns are used and reader is said to be shorter than jake! no use of y/n!

authors note: first fic!! lmk what you think!

Sitting alone in a bar in the middle of Austin, Texas was not how you thought your Saturday was going to go. You had recently graduated from University of Texas in Austin so you thought you would be out with your boyfriend and friends, celebrating the fact that you were finally going to go to the University of California San Diego to get your masters in Educational Studies. But you just broke up with your boyfriend due to his extreme lack of interest in your relationship. He literally shrugged when you told him it was over. On top of that your friends seemingly forgot that you had plans, go figure.

So now you were sitting in some bar, under the soft disco lighting, with cowboy hats everywhere, fiddling with the straw in your drink, wondering how it could all go sour so fast.

“Is this seat taken?” a strong voice with a southern drawl asked. You whipped your head so fast you thought you could see the looney tunes birds flying, but no, what you saw was a man with sandy blonde hair and eyes that could rival the trees in the Ozarks. “Oh! Um N-no. No, it’s not.” He took his seat with a devilish smirk and waved down the bartender to order another drink for himself. While doing so you missed the part where he ordered you another drink. You were too busy roaming your eyes from the black Stetson that sat on top of his head, to the shirt that said “US Navy” & “H_ngm_n” on the pocket, and finally to the steel-toed cowboy boots that sat on his feet.

You heard a cough, and that’s when you realized he had been talking to you and was a bit closer now. Get it together he just asked a simple question and you just got out of a relationship, you scolded yourself. “Sorry, sorry what did you say?”

The smirk on his face just grows a bit bigger while replying, “I was just asking why a pretty girl like you looks so defeated in the most lively bar in all of Austin?”

Great. He’s charming and astute apparently. Now you can either lie to this very handsome man, or you can become the stereotypical person who dumps everything at the bar. Saved by the bell, or bartender in this case, because he delivers the drinks to you both, making the smirk on this man’s face slide to a polite smile, and also giving you a sense of reprieve at this moment.

“I’m Jake by the way, sorry if the question was too intense for an introduction. Can’t help but be curious.” You give him your name and the smirk is back way too quickly. “Pretty name for a pretty girl,” he replied, his smirk turning to a kind smile. “Does that work on all of the girls?” you snap back quickly. He looks a bit taken aback by the question, but that doesn’t deter him one bit, “Wouldn’t know, did it work on you?”

Sighing you finally turn to face him fully, taking in his form once again. After the day you’ve had, you decide you’ll entertain him for a bit, “Ya know what cowboy, it might’ve but don’t let that get to your head. We don’t need that cowboy hat to fall off.” Jake takes you in for a minute and gives you a smile that might be the sweetest thing you’ve seen in a bit. “So you gonna tell me why you’re lookin’ all sad in the middle of this bar?” he asks you once again, and you finally decide you need to at least tell someone or you might cry. So with your head down and while fidgeting with your hands, you tell him, “I just got accepted into the master’s program I applied for and to celebrate I was gonna meet my boyfriend and friends here. As you can see neither are here. I broke up with him and my friends all forgot or something, who knows.” You finally take a breath and look back up to see him looking at you with the slightest hint of concern.

He shakes his head and laughs gently. “Well, I guess congratulations are in order for the graduate, and for getting rid of the boyfriend who didn’t appreciate the beauty in his life.” With a soft smile, he tips his beer towards you and you do the same.

He abruptly stands up and holds out his hand, a silent question for a dance. You take it with a quizzical look on your face, and he drags you to the middle of the dance floor; now that you’re there, you look around and see that this place has cleared out a bit since you first got here. He looks down at you with a bit of adoration and says “A congratulatory dance is a necessity.”

He grabs your hips, while you wrap your arms around his neck, and it’s at this moment you realize that you would much rather be here, wrapped in this stranger’s arms, dancing to “Cowboy Take Me Away” than in the silence that your ex would’ve given. Looking at Jake with a smirk on your face, “The song is real fitting if you ask me, cowboy.” Your fingers are playing with the soft hair at the bottom of his head, and for a second it’s like a cat reacting to someone scratching their head. You’d be shocked if he didn’t start purring.

“Is it? I hadn’t noticed,” he replies with a soft chuckle. Looking into each other’s eyes, you stand on your toes, and you both lean in… but of course, nothing would go as planned. His cowboy hat hits you right in the forehead.

You pull back from each other and both break out into a fit of giggles. Jake looks at you with a soft smile, tips his cowboy hat back, and leans in again. This time your lips meet in a delicate kiss, his lips are soft and you can smell a hint of cologne on him. Warmth fills your cheeks, the kiss lasting only a matter of seconds, but it's just enough time for everything around you to disappear. When the kiss is over, your foreheads meet and you both continue swaying under the reflected disco lighting. Maybe tonight is way better than you originally planned.

[cinnaleaf]

ESSENCE OF US - CH 13: SCOUSER’S RITE*

Please read responsibly. This fic will get hot and heavy as the story progresses, 18+ only MDNI | CH 12 | MASTERLIST | CH 14 [soon]

summary: a fleeting encounter with a mysterious Trent leaves you wondering if fate is playing a bigger match. your paths continue to cross in unexpected places as the fragrances around you mirror the growing tension between you. maybe it's just a coincidence..or maybe its destiny in the making.

warnings: angst, fluff, mild smut, academy life, tough family dynamics, gossip, mentions of past toxic relationship, language wc: ~9k 💌: buckle up, it’s about to get real after this 🐦‍🔥

You barely had a minute to breathe over the past few weeks since coming back from London. Your brother’s Liverpool trial was scheduled for tomorrow and although he was doing his best to seem unbothered about it, you could feel the mixture of nerves, excitement, and how much tomorrow meant to him. While you were preparing dinner, your focus kept drifting to the other room where Trent was in full mentor mode with Ziggy seated across from him.

“Listen,” Trent started, sounding more like a coach than a current footballer. “Tomorrow they’re not just gonna watch you in your usual position. They’ll move you around..left, right, centre to test how quick you adapt. They want to see what you’re like outside of your comfort zone.”

Ziggy nodded, his gaze transfixed like he was storing every piece of advice in his brain. Trent leaned forward, dropping his voice like he was giving away his best kept secrets.

“You know they’re not just looking for skill, right? They want someone who can lead and keep their cool when thrown off. Body language is everything, mate. If something throws you off, you need to get back in the game and show them you’re ready for anything.”

Ziggy looked excited, but also nervous. “So..even if I get tossed all around the pitch..just be calm about it?”

Trent nodded, almost like he was reminiscing on past times. “Yeah..just look confident even if you’re not. Make it look like you were meant to be there no matter where they put you. You’ve got to prove you belong, it’s not just about playing well.”

“Dinner’s ready for my two favorite athletes,” you called out, stepping into the room and drying your hands on a dish towel. You caught the tail end of their conversation and noticed how your brother’s face lit up at every word Trent said, his wide eyes and dimples reminded you of when he was just five and just learning the ropes of football at the park. Meanwhile, Trent was relaxed and confident, very clearly enjoying taking on his mentor role.

They both looked over at you with grins, Trent’s gaze softened into something a little more domestic when he saw you. “What’s on the menu tonight?” he asked playfully but also curious. “You didn’t have to cook baby. I could’ve picked something up.”

“T..it’s fine. Tomorrow’s a big day. I made pasta bolognese and salad.”

The minute you mentioned pasta, both of them bolted to the table like they hadn’t eaten in forever. Trent made a plate for you first, adding everything before setting it down where you usually sat. “Ladies first,” he said thoughtfully, making you roll your eyes but you secretly appreciated the manners he had. 

“Thank you,” you replied with a grin as they wasted no time piling their own plates high.

Ziggy dug in immediately, taking a heaping forkful of pasta in his mouth and gave you an appreciative grin. “This is way better than Mum’s food” he said in a muffled tone, chewing a mouthful of food. He wasn’t lying about that; your mum’s cooking generally lacked the warmth and attention you put into yours, so it made you smile. Trent grabbed his fork and took a bite of pasta, looking over at you as if he knew exactly how good he looked right now. He took his time chewing, maintaining direct eye contact with you. You were absentmindedly twirling your food around on the fork, your eyes fixed on him until he raised his eyebrow and snapped you out of your daze.

“You alright, Y/N?” he asked, knowing exactly what he was doing to you.

You cleared your throat, trying to play it off as you straightened up in your seat to force yourself to stop staring at the gorgeous man in front of you. “Mhm. All good here,” you replied, shaking off the heat of the moment. You turned to your brother, who was still inhaling his food like it was his last meal on earth. “Sooo...why’d you turn down the trials with Man U and City? Not that I’m complaining, but I thought you were really set on going to –”

Ziggy cut you off, not looking up from his plate. “Didn’t feel right anymore.” he mumbled.

You eyed Trent suspiciously, wondering if he had anything to do with your brother’s change of heart. “And T..did you have anything to do with Z’s sudden allegiance to Liverpool?” Your brother was a born and bred scouser, but he wasn’t a hardcore fan of LFC; he just enjoyed a nice footie match, no matter which club was out there on the pitch. Trent paused before responding, casually taking another bite before giving you a nonchalant shrug. “Liverpool’s the best place if he wants to develop. I just gave him tips about academy life.” He avoided your direct gaze, almost like he wasn’t telling the full truth. “He made the right decision baby. It’s in his blood. It’s like a rite of passage.”

Ziggy nodded, agreeing with Trent immediately. “Yeah, Liverpool is home. Easy choice.”

You folded your arm as you eyed both Trent and Ziggy suspiciously. “So you had this epiphany all by yourself?”

“Yup. Been thinking about it for a while now,” Ziggy replied curtly, scraping his plate for the last bits of pasta sauce like a greedy teenager.

Both of their relaxed expressions gave nothing away, but your brother answered your question the same way he answered your dad’s questions the night your dad asked Ziggy about the scouts, which made you feel a pang of frustration. You couldn’t stand the idea of Trent pulling strings for Ziggy. The internet already thought you were only with Trent to establish your brother’s football dreams; you even scrolled through many comments hinting at it. You tried to not let it show, but it bothered you. The last thing you wanted was to find out Trent pushed Ziggy in Liverpool’s direction purposefully, even if it was out of love. You weren’t really down with the nepotism aspect of it, especially since your brother had real talent that he worked hard for over the last couple of years.

Trent caught the look on your face as if he was sensing your thoughts and gave you a smile. “It’s up to him Y/N. He wouldn’t have gotten the invite if they didn’t think he had it in him. They don’t just invite anybody to be a trialist.”

You let out a deep sigh, feeling some worries ease but the thoughts still were in the back of your mind. You weren’t going to let anyone, not even Trent, compromise your brother’s future, whether it was positive or not. Ziggy had to make this decision on his own.

The next morning, you and Trent took a drive with Ziggy over to Liverpool’s facility. The AXA Training Centre unfolded before you; it was a world class facility with modern architecture and immaculate fields that stretched across to the academy side. The centre was divided into sections with each space dedicated to different club needs: recovery zones, indoor pitches, classrooms, and high tech training rooms with brand new equipment. The academy area was a quick walk away from where the first team trained with Trent, and was separated by a well kept pathway lined with trees and banners that proudly displayed the club logo and the words ‘You’ll Never Walk Alone’ in bold lettering.

You and Trent walked hand in hand across the training centre grounds, taking in the scene around you as young kids dashed around the pitches, each of them in a miniaturized blur of red Liverpool kits, bright boots, and wide eyes. Ziggy walked ahead of you both, his eyes fixed on the green training pitches stretched out before him. You were trying to keep a supportive expression, but the scenes unfolding in front of your eyes chipped away at the confidence you had for your brother with every step.

The youngest group caught your eye first, they couldn’t have been any older than 6 or 7. They darted through a series of cones, trying to keep their balance while dribbling. Their coach, who looked like he could’ve played professionally a few years ago, called out to them in a tone that was both supportive and authoritative. “Nice, nice! Keep those feet moving lads! Eyes up!” he rang out. One of the boys stumbled and the ball slipped from his control as he tried to regain his footing. You watched as he paused, biting his lip as his face crumpled, barely managing to keep his tears at bay. The younger kids were meant to be having fun in this group, but it didn't seem like the little boy was having any of that. He was hard on himself, even such a young age. It reminded you of yourself, and how you were always trying to get your parents attention around that age.

As you walked past, an older kid in a different group fell to his knees after a mistimed tackle, clutching his leg and wincing. The coach looked over at him, figuring he was being a bit dramatic. “You’re alright Adam. Let’s try and walk it off.” The boy limped away, visibly struggling but determined to not show weakness in front of his teammates or the coach; a bad injury could mean getting released, no matter how big his dreams were. The raw resilience in such tiny bodies shook you; they couldn't have been older than tween years, yet they were pushing themselves to the core.

The next training pitch held a group of slightly older boys who were no older than 11 or 12, engaged in a passing drill that looked militaristic. The coach was pacing along the line watching with a hawk eye, barking corrections with no gentleness. “This isn’t a Sunday kickabout!” he shouted. “You want to play for Liverpool one day? Show me you deserve to be here!” You saw one boy go pale when he fumbled his pass, sending the ball skidding away. He looked like he wanted to cry but the coach���s gaze kept him moving. The intensity grew even more as you neared the fields where the younger teenagers were playing. Here, the drills looked like something more professional; the coaches didn’t really bother with the usual pickups and encouragement. One boy missed a shot on a goal and his teammate groaned loudly, throwing his arms in frustration as he yelled at him. The coach quickly intervened with a sharp warning. “Enough! You’re a team. Act like it. Let’s try again.”

You glanced at Trent, feeling the pressure put on these kids in ways you could have never imagined. “Trent...is this normal? I don’t like this. They’re literally babies.”

Trent squeezed your hand, his gaze fixed on the fields as he nodded. “Yeah, it is. They want to see how much they can take and still push through. Tough love is a part of it.” He gave you a reassuring smile and kissed your cheek, but you could tell he understood why you were uneasy. “It seems brutal but..that’s how they weed out who will make it and who won’t.”

When you made your way to the next pitch, a group of teenagers were sprinting in formation, their boots pounding against the training pitch as they went through their drills. The coach observed every movement, barking corrections like it was second nature. You noticed one boy fall behind, his breath labored and face drenched in sweat. He stumbled for a moment, looking like he was ready to stop. 

“C’mon, Kaiden! Keep pushing!” his coach rang out sharply, giving him enough reserve to grit his teeth and push forward to close the gap.

Ziggy turned to glance back at you and Trent, his wide eyes and dimpled cheeks looking for Trent’s approval. Trent gave him a nod as his own way of saying “You got this.”

When you finally arrived at the U18 training pitch, you could sense the tension ramping up around you. A handful of people waved at Trent to say hello, others were staring intently at the pitch, while another select few stood nearby chatting in a hushed tone. You heard a woman a few feet away mutter to her friend in a grating, irritated voice. “How is it fair that his girlfriend’s brother was offered a trial? He’s not a real trialist if Trent had anything to do with it. He’s going to take someone’s spot, no doubt. I bet he’s not even a proper footballer like my son.”

Her words hit you hard as you resisted the urge to confront her. You wanted to tell her she had no idea about the kind of pressure your brother was under, or that he’d been waiting for this moment since he started football. You wanted to tell her he was just a kid living out his dreams and that she was being an absolute bitch who needed to worry about her son’s spot on the team. But instead, you took a steady breath, knowing this wasn’t the right time to engage with a crazed football mum who thought her son was the best to ever grace Liverpool’s picturesque fields. You turned to Ziggy and gave him an encouraging smile. “Just do your best, yeah? Go out there and have fun. Don’t worry about the rest.”

Trent stepped forward, pulling Ziggy in for a quick hug. “Remember what we talked about, mate. Head up, play smart, be confident. Be ready for any position even if it’s the first time.” Ziggy nodded and then they launched into their ridiculous handshake, but this time it made you smile instead of rolling your eyes. The bond they had was uniquely theirs, and absolutely adorable. As Ziggy jogged onto the pitch, you took a deep breath, hoping he could rise to the challenge ahead of him. 

The trial began with Ziggy being tossed straight into action after warm ups. He wasn’t playing in his usual spot. One moment he was on the left, then in midfield, and a few rotations later he was positioned somewhere completely different. Your brother was great at being versatile, but you could tell he was somewhat rattled by all the moving around. You saw him hesitate each time they moved him, nervous as he adjusted to the changes. It didn’t take him long to fall into the rhythm eventually; he was a determined boy, much like how your boyfriend was at 15.

You shifted, feeling nerves settle in your stomach. “It feels like they’re doing everything they can to trip him up. Isn’t that a bit harsh for someone his age?”

Trent leaned in close with an observant voice. “Nah, it’s part of the trial. They’ll do whatever it takes to see if he’s got the talent to handle different roles and how he manages when stretched thin.” He gave a nod of approval as Ziggy smoothly transitioned to the next position. You watched intently, noticing small details of every move he made – his first touches, the way he tracked the ball even in uncomfortable positions, and how quickly he tried to recover when something didn’t go as planned. You kind of felt like your parents in that moment, which gave you the ick. Your brother didn’t have to be perfect under any other terms, but right now it felt like he did.

Trent assessed your brother with a gaze you rarely ever saw. “His first touch is class,” he murmured, almost to himself. “But he’s gotta be quicker on that turn.” It was clear Trent knew this drill setup by heart as he watched with the knowledge of someone who did it thousands of times. Each time Ziggy did something right, Trent would give a small nod of approval to reassure you.

“Baby..he’s doing well,” he said quietly to you, sensing your nerves. “They’re looking at the full picture though. His skill, reaction time, body language. They wanna see how he bounces back.” Trent took a pause, and then laughed to himself. “Lad’s doing way better than me when I first started. I’d mess up, get frustrated, and just boot the ball as far as I could out of pure anger. Thought it would teach ‘em a lesson.” 

You looked up at him with your eyebrows raised in surprise. “Nooo. You?? The cool, calm, and collected Trent Alexander-Arnold?”

Trent laughed, nodding his head. “I’d sulk, kick it across the pitch, only to have to fetch the ball every single time. Sometimes I got so mad I’d cry while walking back to get it. Proper humbling experience.” He grinned at the memory, but you could see the vulnerability in his eyes. “After a while..I just learned to get used to it. Took every bit of feedback, even the harshest stuff..and I figured out how to be better. That’s why it doesn’t matter what people say now. I’ve already heard it all.”

As Trent spoke, the weight of his journey started to sink in. You loved him for who he was outside of football, but seeing this world from his eyes made you love him even more. He pushed through the academy with intensity, constant judgement, and the endless push to be better to make it to where he was today. You leaned against his shoulder, taking in every word as he spoke. He didn’t just have talent, he was resilient in the same way that smoke carries the original spark of a fire. He fought for his spot on the pitch..and it was admirable. Trent felt your head against his shoulder and wrapped an arm around you, giving you a light squeeze as you both continued to watch Ziggy push himself across the pitch.

Beside you, a few parents were huddled together with their eyes darting between their kids and the coaches, talking anxiously. One mother with a heavy scouse accent had her arms crossed tightly, leaning in to one parent while glancing skeptically at Ziggy. “I don’t get it. If he’s from grassroots and is that good..why hasn’t he been scouted before now?” She had a tight smile but there was strain behind it, as if something serious was on the line.

The other parent was a father who had worry etched on his face. “He’s fast, that’s for sure. My son’s been struggling a bit since his injury. He hasn’t been up to his usual..but I didn’t know they were bringing in this kid. Feels a bit unfair to be honest. Especially for the ones putting in work week after week.” The mother nodded, casting another wary look toward Ziggy. “It’s hard enough for them as it is. If someone’s losing their spot, I’d rather it not be my son.”

You felt Trent’s grip tighten around you, sensing the tension in the air. He leaned down, murmuring softly to you. “Ignore it, Y/N. Ziggy’s got every right to be here. He’s earning it just like anyone else on the pitch right now.”

Your attention was quickly drawn back to the field as the trial progressed and Trent’s arm slipped down to intertwine his fingers with yours. The coaches split the players into groups and positioned them for a series of drills that mimicked real match scenarios. Ziggy was placed in a defensive position, right up against another player who looked ready to eat anyone alive who stood in his way. Your brother moved with a focus that was rare for someone his age, darting in and out of multiple defensive positions with his eyes locked on the ball and the opposing players. The coaches observed in silence, arms crossed, only breaking their stone cold stances to jot down notes or give quick unreadable glances to each other. 

You found yourself squeezing Trent’s hand a little harder than necessary, each step your brother took out there made your chest tighten. Trent noticed and gave your hand a gentle squeeze in return, his thumb rubbing soothing circles on your skin. “Baby, you’re squeezing the fuck out of my hand right now,” he uttered with a strained smile, his eyes never leaving the pitch. “Relax.”

“Sorry” you mumbled, loosening your grip but still feeling your anxiety build up with every second.

Ziggy’s speed was impressive and you could see the tremendous amount of effort he was putting in. His passes were clean, his footwork on point. But as the coaches began shifting him into more unfamiliar scenarios, you could see him start to falter. At one point they had him shifted to a right back position. He hesitated just a split second during a tackle, misreading his opponent’s body language, which was just enough time for the forward to slip by him, taking full advantage of Ziggy’s pause to drill the ball past him and into the net.

The parents around you murmured under their breaths, voices barely kept to whispers but somehow loud enough to cut through a crowd. “Not much of a defender is he?” one of them muttered, the judgement heavy in his voice. “Quick, for sure.. but he’s got no defensive instincts. He looks lost out there.”

Another parent scoffed. “Can’t just rely on speed, not at this level. That’s not going to fly if he wants to be in the academy.” 

You clenched your jaw trying to shake off their words, but they had a sting that was hard to ignore. Was that what the coaches were thinking too? Were they just mentally crossing Ziggy off the list every time he messed something up? Every time he showed any trace of vulnerability?

Trent seemed unfazed and kept his gaze on the players. He leaned down to murmur softly into your ear, “Y/N, he’s got this. It’s one mistake. They’re not here looking for perfection; they’re looking for potential. They want to see how he handles setbacks.”

“But what if they’re just looking for reasons to say no?” you whispered back, the nerves evident in your tone. It felt like your brother was being measured and weighed with each passing second with no room for error and you hated that. “Ugh. It just feels...rigged.”

Trent shook his head with a soft chuckle, still watching Ziggy. “Nah, it’s not rigged. They do this to everyone.” He nodded toward the field with an expression full of pride. “He’s a top prospect baby. Practically guaranteed a two year deal here for sure.”

You turned to him, pulling away from his grip as you eyed him suspiciously, squinting your eyes. “And… how do you know that exactly?” The edge in your voice caught Trent slightly off guard and you knew he could sense the accusation in your tone, but you couldn’t help it. You heard the earlier whispers about how Ziggy’s trial had come to fruition from the other parents and it was getting to you more than you wanted to admit. The last thing you wanted was for people to think Ziggy’s chance had been handed to him on a silver platter because of you and Trent – moreso the latter. 

Trent raised an eyebrow, bewildered by the full weight of your question. “Are you asking if I pulled any strings?” he replied in a calm voice. “You really think I’d risk that?”

You crossed your arms, narrowing your eyes. “T..people are already talking. I just don’t want him to get caught up in what people are saying.” You glanced back at Ziggy on the pitch, watching as he regained his composure, his body language screaming determination despite his initial setback. “I don’t want people thinking he didn’t earn this. T…if I find out you’re lying to me, I swear I’ll never forgive you.”

Trent’s expression shifted slightly, almost as if he was unsure before he masked it with a casual shrug. “Nah..it’s not like that” he said in a soft voice. “He’s here because he’s had eyes on him already. The academy director has been watching him since last year. This isn’t about me..he’s the kind of player they won’t pass up on.” He paused like he wanted to pull you back into him, but he stopped halfway as his fingers curled back toward his side instead. “They love him on the pitch.”

You weren’t fully convinced, so you pushed more. “So you only gave him advice? You didn’t steer him away from the clubs in Manchester? Or anywhere else?”

Trent glanced away for a split second, thinking about the advice he gave your brother back in St. Moritz. “Uh..I might’ve told him what I thought, but he asked.” he admitted, but he chose his words very carefully. “That’s it though. I didn’t make the decision for him. He made the choice on his own.”

You let out a slow breath, nodding in understanding, but you still felt an uncomfortable twist in your gut. Trent didn’t give you the clear, reassuring answer you were hoping for, but you let it slide for now. “Alright…” you said finally, keeping a steady voice. “But if they bring him on..you can’t make any shortcuts for him.” Your warning was clear, and you knew your boyfriend picked up on it too.

Trent smiled as he took in your no nonsense expression, “I don’t doubt you..you sound scarier than the coaches right now.”

You rolled your eyes, shoving him playfully. “I’m serious, T. I don’t want him to end up on the team just because he’s your little protégé. That’ll follow him around the entire time and he deserves better. No offense..you’re great but that’s my brother. Just let him make his own way okay?” Trent chuckled, finally deciding to pull you into him again. “Noted. Wouldn’t dare mess with your grand plan baby” he teased, pressing a soft kiss on your lips.

A few hours after the trial ended, you were a few paces ahead of Trent and Ziggy as the three of you headed back toward the car. Now that the trial was finally over for the day, you could unclench and relax a little. You weren’t planning on watching any of those trials ever again, it was more stressful than watching Trent at Anfield.

Trent’s voice carried behind you as he draped an arm over your brother’s shoulder, slowing his pace to talk to him. “Mate..you did great! Solid work out there. You kept your head up, stayed calm. That’s half the battle in a trial like that. Just keep at it.” Ziggy smiled, still catching his breath like the adrenaline hadn’t worn off for him just yet. “Thanks man. It’s easier said than done for sure. I nearly lost it when that lad slipped past me.”

Trent’s lips curved into an amused smirk, shaking his head with a low chuckle. “Everyone has a moment like that, trust. It used to eat at me..but it’s all in the recovery. Next time, don’t even blink. Just get back in there like you never missed.”

Ziggy’s grin grew as he nodded with a newfound confidence, taking in Trent’s advice. “Right. Like it’s nothing.” he repeated, absorbing the advice and taking it to heart.

You glanced back, catching the look of admiration in your brother’s eyes. Whatever Trent was telling him was lifting him up, and it was heartwarming to see the natural bond and trust between them..even if Ziggy was infiltrating the time you spent with your man. As you reached the car and entered the passenger’s seat, Trent slowed his pace and lowered his voice as he leaned closer to Ziggy.

“Hey...there’s something I want to show you.” Trent pulled out his phone and swiped to the photo of the ring you sent him from London. “She sent me this in a text a while back. Called the place up and bought it the same day before she was even fully out of the store.”

Ziggy’s eyes widened with his mouth falling open in surprise. “Damn, you’re serious, huh? You’re going to ask her to marry you?”

Trent nodded, glancing over at you casually reapplying your lip gloss, completely unaware of the conversation happening just outside of the car. “Ezzie said Y/N wants to wait at least a year..but yeah. I’ve been thinking about it for a while now. Figured I’d better start planning. What do you think?”

Ziggy hesitated for a minute, his grin fading as he thought about how much he should share. “Uh, I think she’d love the idea eventually. But if you asked right now..she honestly might say no.” he admitted, lowering his voice. “Not that she doesn’t love you or anything..it’s just complicated. Our parents..they..uh.. messed up the idea of marriage for her I think.”

Trent’s brows furrowed. “What do you mean they messed it up? Complicated how?”

Ziggy scratched the back of his neck, struggling to find the words to explain your family dynamic to Trent. “Y/N was born before Mum and Dad were married. They weren’t too thrilled they had her from what I heard. My dad only married my mum to keep things looking proper. They tried for a boy for years but ended up with Ezzie and me.”

Trent’s expression grew more serious as he took in what your brother was sharing. It wasn’t something you mentioned before, but he was starting to understand why.

“Mum always wanted a son and Dad too..I think. I can get away with a lot more than my sisters. They’ve always been harder on Ezzie and Y/N..to make them fit some mold or whatever. That’s why Y/N is so independent I guess..” Ziggy explained, pausing before adding more.

“Mum especially. She’s...I don’t know..she always wanted Y/N to be picture perfect but then criticized her for doing her own thing after finding something she was good at. She opened her perfume store by herself and instead of being proud..Mum kept telling her not to bother with it and to find a guy to take care of her. She kept saying that until money started flowing at Love Notes.”

Trent gritted his teeth, recalling the ex you mentioned before who nearly made you give up on everything. “Her ex...that’s why she got with him?” he muttered, his curious frustration evident.

Ziggy shook his head, his eyes darkening with anger as he remembered your previous relationship. “Nah. She met him at some stupid auction Mum dragged her to.” He paused, kicking a rock on the ground as his anger built. “Aaron – some posh prick with too much time and money on his hands. Thought he could talk down on her cause he had a fat wallet.” Ziggy’s fists clenched as he spoke, the memory being enough to fire him up. “If I wasn’t just 13 at the time I’d have kicked that goofy looking motherfucker’s face in. I’m pissed just thinking about it again.” Ziggy’s voice came out a little rougher this time, edged in protection. “If I ever see him again.. he’ll get what's coming for sure.”

Trent let out a low whistle as Ziggy’s words sunk in. “I’m with you mate” he said quietly, his eyes softening as he looked toward the car where you were waiting – now knowing the strength you were carrying under the calm exterior you tried to keep up daily. “But don’t waste your energy on that asshole. She’s got us now.” Ziggy relaxed, loosening his fists as he nodded in agreement. “Yeah..you’re right. She deserves more than what she’s been dealt. Wouldn’t mind it at all if you married her. Maybe do it at Anfield?”

Trent smiled as the conversation took on a lighter turn. “Bro..she’d throw the ring back at me and tell me to go get my head checked if I tried that with her. She’s not too keen on all the attention.”

Ziggy burst out laughing, nodding in agreement. “Yeah...you’re probably right.”

“It’s gotta be something more special than that.” Trent paused, taking in Ziggy’s final approval. “Glad I got a yes from you. I thought you’d be a little tougher to crack but I appreciate it..I’ll take care of her.” 

When they entered the car, Trent’s hand instinctively met with your thigh and you placed your hand on top of his, lightly rubbing his skin with your thumb. “Everything good? Took both of you forever to get to the car...”

Trent gave your thigh a light squeeze and flashed you an innocent smile. “All good.” he replied, though his answer was shorter than usual and you could tell they were talking about something they didn’t want you to know about.

You squinted your eyes playfully, glancing between your boyfriend and Ziggy – who was in the backseat. “Okay..what were you two yapping about? Having another secret chat?”

Ziggy’s eyes went wide for a split second, nearly blurting out the word ‘marriage’, but he quickly recovered. “Ma – uh..match day rituals! Yeah...we were talking about match day rituals.”

Trent nodded, leaning into the excuse with ease, “Yeah..everyone’s got their own thing they do.”

“Oh really?? Match day rituals?” you asked, skeptical but amused. “Let’s hear it then, yeah? What’s the ritual? I’m curious now..”

Ziggy jumped in first, eager to explain. “Before every match..I gotta drink exactly three long sips of Red Bull. No more, no less. Anything else will throw me off. Don’t ask why..it just works.”

Trent snorted, giving him an amused look. “Three sips of Red Bull? You trying to take my deals mate?”

You side eyed Trent, muttering under your breath. “Maybe if you and your brother took it seriously....” You knew he didn’t catch on to what you said, so you looked at him again, raising your eyebrow. “And what about you, T? What’s your pre-match secret?”

Trent leaned back in the seat, looking dead serious as he launched into the most ridiculous ritual ever. “50 push ups and an odd number of pull ups. Then I down a water and jog up and down the tunnel before I can touch the pitch.”

You burst out laughing at his absurdity, trying to imagine him doing all of this. “You’re so bad at lying Trent. Seriously...what do you do?”

Trent smiled sheepishly, slightly embarrassed of what he was about to admit to in front of Ziggy. “Uh..lately I’ve been checking to see if you’re wearing your necklace before I go. Makes me feel lucky.”

Your laughter faded and you looked at him in surprise. “Wait..really? You think me wearing this actually gives you luck?” You fiddled with the dainty charm resting against your collarbone, still a little in awe. “What did you do before then?”

Trent shrugged, smiling as he avoided Ziggy’s teasing gaze in the back. “If you want to call it luck..then yeah. Maybe it’s superstitious but I just feel better knowing you have it on. Feels like you’re there with me even if you’re not at the match, y’know? I didn’t do much before..just focused with some music.”

Ziggy snickered, muttering something about how you and Trent were very dramatically intense, but there was warmth in his eyes too, as if he was seeing what real love looked like for the first time in his nearly 16 years of life. The way you two acted around each other disgusted your brother at times, but the love radiated off of both of you in ways that couldn’t be ignored. 

Trent took a quick glance at you with warm eyes as he drove. “Thinking about you when I’m out there helps me keep my mind clear.”

“Awww, oh my god. T that’s so sweet! I love y–”

Ziggy groaned, breaking the moment in teenage fashion. “ENOUGH! Take me home..PLEASE!”

You laughed, shaking your head at your brother’s antics. The streets around Les Notes d’Amour came into view and you sat up slightly. “Actually...can we make a quick stop before we take him back home? I just want to drop in for a few minutes.” In reality, you needed to go fetch the watch you were hiding back at the store. You hadn’t given it to Trent yet because you were deciding on whether you wanted to give it to him for one of your anniversaries: the day you met on the train – which was coming up, or the day the two of you became official a few months later. 

A couple of minutes later you, Trent, and Ziggy neared the Les Notes d’Amour storefront as the faint scent of Rêveur enveloped around you. Tara and Ember were near the counter, organizing the last of the Rêveur orders. Their heads were close together with their voices low, but just audible enough for someone nearby to catch snippets of the conversation. “I swear she’s been out the shop more than she’s been in lately” Tara whispered, glancing over her shoulder to make sure no one was within earshot. “Makes you wonder doesn’t it?”

Ember shrugged as she carefully placed a bottle into its packaging. “Could be all the scents making her sick or something. I heard pregnant people have super sensitive noses like bloodhounds…or maybe she’s just really busy?” Tara leaned in, lowering her voice more. “You think they’ll announce it any time soon..or just keep it quiet?” Ember smirked knowingly. “No way they’re announcing it any time soon..she has enough going on as it is. I imagine they won’t announce anything until–”

“Hi ladies!” you called out, stepping forward with a smile and unknowingly cutting off their whispery gossip session. Tara and Ember jumped, caught off guard and quickly fumbled around the counter to make it look like they were busy with work.

“Oh! Hiiiii Y/N!” Tara replied a little too enthusiastically. “Just packing up the last few Rêveur orders!”

You glanced over at the neatly packed boxes, sighing in relief. “Thank god. It’s so nice to be done with it, right?”

Ember hesitated and drummed her fingers against the freshly sealed tape on the box. “Um..actually,” She looked up at you reluctantly but eager to share. “I don’t know if you’ve had a chance to check emails yet..but people are still all for it. They keep asking if you’ll make it a permanent product.”

You groaned inwardly. “Oh great...because nothing is ever simple for me” you muttered, rolling your eyes. “If I don’t make it permanent, I’ll be haunted by requests for the ‘Trent Scent’ forever.” You let out a dramatic sigh, eyeing Trent and Ziggy who were toward the front of the store, playfully jabbing at each other while laughing and dodging like they were in a boxing match. “I thought we were finally free,” you added, shaking your head as Trent threw an exaggerated left hook, making Ziggy duck, nearly knocking a shelf over. 

Tara stifled her laughter, trying to remain professional while you were nearby. “We could always just...embrace the legacy. If you're up for it, that is” She eyed your stomach, which made you look down to check if you had something on your outfit, but you didn’t see anything.

“Maybe I am..” you paused, thinking thoughtfully. “If I teach you how to make some batches.. it might be worth it.”

Ember chimed in, clasping her hands together. “Honestly I think we could handle it! It sounds fun!”

You gave an appreciative nod, but you were cautious with the idea at the same time. “We’ll have to take it really slow” you said, eyeing both of them carefully. “I’ll admit.. it was my mistake for making you two set up the orders for Rêveur on your first day..but we have to be on the same page for something like this.”

Both girls nodded eagerly, too happy with your answer as they returned to finishing up packing the last orders. After breaking Trent away from his fake boxing match with your brother, you headed to the back room with him. Trent’s hands wrapped around your body as the both of you walked to the room. He leaned into your neck, placing a nibbling kiss on the skin just above your collarbone.

“Trent stoppp” you giggled, drawing out the word as you lightly pushed him away. “Patience is a virtue baby.”

He grinned as he closed the door behind you, unbothered. He saw you reach down for a bag on the other side of the room, your ass in his full view. He bit down on his bottom lip as he walked over to you, gripping a handful of your ass which made you jump up, dropping the gift bag that contained the watch as you turned to him. Your hands rested against the table behind you while his lips inched closer to yours, stopping just before reaching your lips. “I didn’t get a good morning kiss when we woke up today…” his lips traced the outline of your jaw against the air, making you feel woozy with want. “Didn’t get a good morning cuddle in either,” he breathed against your skin. “Can’t blame me for being a little impatient.” 

You smirked at him, feeling your pulse quicken as you lightly ran your nails up his bare and muscled arm, reaching the back of his neck to pull him into a kiss so that you could push the gift bag out of view with your foot. “Mmm, I’m sorry..” 

Trent gripped your waist, placing you on top of the table. Your mouth parted slightly. The warmth of his tongue against yours made you arch up against him. Your hands traveled down to his shorts, pulling them down to massage the bulge tenting tightly against his briefs. You pulled away from the kiss, biting your lip as you searched his expression teasingly. “No good morning sex either, huh?” You pulled down his briefs, stroking his hard length slowly and deliberately. “Gonna have to make that up to you..” 

“Y/N…” Trent sucked in his breath, letting out a low groan as you stroked him faster, massaging his balls with your other hand. You could tell it was taking everything in him not to flip you over and fuck you against the table, so you tightened your grip but slowed down a little to tease him. 

“You always fuck me so good baby,” you whispered seductively, grazing your hand over the tip which made him thrust into your hand. 

“Oh shit.. keep talking baby. Keep stroking it like that,” Trent muttered through gritted teeth, sucking in another breath.

You smiled, reaching up to playfully bite his bottom lip, pulling it with your teeth as you increased the pace on his shaft. “I want you to make me cum on your dick when we get home.” Trent tilted his head back, groaning as his cock started to twitch against your hand. “And I wanna ride you while you sit back and watch..”

“I’m about to c–” Trent started, but you immediately stopped stroking him, speaking against his lips in a low, sultry tone. “No, not yet. Save it for me.” 

Trent let out a ragged, frustrated breath as he stared at you with fire in his eyes. You were honestly only trying to distract him from seeing the watch you bought, but the stunt you just pulled was going to have you paying for it later, probably in the form of multiple back to back orgasms in different areas of the house. “You know exactly what you’re doing..” he murmured, biting his lip as he looked you in your eyes, pulling you in for another deep kiss.

Meanwhile back at the front, Ziggy voluntarily started breaking down the boxes scattered across the floor, clearing the area with the box cutter in hand. As he worked, he noticed a phone left unattended on a nearby shelf. The screen lit up with messages from a footie group chat labeled ‘Spill FC’. Being the nosy teenager that your brother was, he glanced over to look at the screen. The phone was still unlocked so he grabbed it, his curiosity getting the better of him as he scrolled through to see the latest messages and chat history.

Ziggy’s muscles tensed and his grip tightened on the phone as he continued to read with a clenched jaw. His blood was boiling and pulsed through him like a drum, each new message cranking up his frustration and spreading it like wildfire through his veins:

-

Nosy Girlie 1: no they’re cute together but getting pregnant in the first year is mad. they’re moving fast as fuck

Nosy Girlie 2: frfr. feels like they’re rushing it. like..good for her but we all know trent isn’t locking it down with anyone yet. you can slow down girl 😭 

Nosy Girlie 3: calling it now he’ll be on to someone new by next season. i bet £10

Tara: umm i don’t think they’ll split that soon. he’ll probably go for the family man PR angle first when they have the baby 

Nosy Girlie 2: ooh yeah you’re right! i bet their baby will be sooo cute though 🥺

Nosy Girlie 3: icl Y/N’s kinda iconic for inventing this new era of him and tying herself to it so she can stay relevant after they break up..smart move tbh

Tara: i’m pretty sure she’s set her fam up too. her sister just signed with miu miu at 15 and her brother had a trial with liverpool today 🙃

Nosy Girlie 2: ohhh wow. perks of dating a footballer i guess 😂

Nosy Girlie 1: he defo set that trial up there’s no way he didn’t. she knows she’s not getting a ring from him so she’s doing a speed run hahaha

Nosy Girlie 2: lmao that’s so fucked up but same girl same

-

Ziggy’s face twisted in anger as he scanned each message. He couldn’t believe the nerve of whoever these people were in the group chat. The gossip was bad enough but seeing his family dragged through the mud for a simple association pissed him off. The assumption about you, Ezzie’s contract, and the implication that he didn’t deserve his own trial irritated him to the max, making him see red. The comment about you doing a ‘speed run’ was his last straw; he couldn’t be bothered to read anymore of it. He marched toward Ember and Tara with his hands gripping the phone like he wanted to crush it. Ziggy stopped right in front of them, holding the phone up high. “Aye! Whose phone is this?” he demanded in a loud voice.

Ember and Tara looked up, shifting their faces from surprised to confused. “Uh..mine” Tara admitted, looking at the phone in his hand. Her eyes widened when she caught sight of the screen opened to some very damning evidence. She tried to reach for it, but Ziggy snatched it back.

“You think this is funny, yeah?” he spat, waving the phone around in front of her. “All this shit you’re saying about my family. You think it’s just a laugh with your friends?” His voice was getting louder but you were too enmeshed in a makeout session with Trent in the backroom to notice the commotion up front. “How bout you keep our names out your fucking mouths? Especially my sisters.”

Ember was standing next to Tara and raised her eyebrows, amused by his outburst but not threatened in the slightest due to his severe case of baby face. “Calm down. It’s just talk..no harm done.”

Ziggy’s eyes narrowed as he turned toward Ember next. “This isn’t just talk. They said I only got a shot at Liverpool because of Trent and I fucking earned that trial. Then they said Y/N’s only with him to ‘tie herself to him’ or whatever rubbish they’re on about.” He jabbed his finger at Tara. “And you’re right there joining in and egging it on. If it’s just talk, why don’t you say it to my sister’s face then? Be bold out loud, yeah?”

Tara’s face flushed with her eyes darting nervously between her phone and Ziggy’s death glare. “I– I didn’t mean anything by it! It’s not what it looks like.” Her voice see-sawed unsteadily and she looked like she was about to cry. “I can’t lose this job, okay? My mum will kill me. Can you just..”

Ziggy scoffed and shook his head. “You’re just saying that because you got caught. Next time don’t leave your phone open for people to see it, dummy.” He threw the phone down on the counter, the chat still in open view. “You’d rather talk and leak stuff behind Y/N’s back thinking it’s funny.”

“Oh for fucks sake.. just calm it.” Ember interjected, rolling her eyes. “You’re making a fuss out of nothing. It’s not that serious. Everybody gossips.”

Ziggy contorted his face in disgust. “They’re betting on them breaking up. That’s my fucking sister they’re chatting that shit about.” He looked directly at Tara, who seemed to shrink more and more. “And you’re the worst one. Maybe if you spent more time working and less time talking shit she’d give you a raise and you wouldn’t have to beg me not to tell.”

Tara sighed, feeling defeated. “It was just...fun I guess. I’m really sorry. I won’t say anything else, I swear. Just..please don’t tell her.” Tara was basically saying anything to save her job at this point. She knew she probably wouldn’t stop gossiping, if anything she’d be more careful about the info she leaked to the chat, but right now she needed to make sure she didn’t lose her source of income. 

“You’re a fucking leech.” Ziggy muttered at Tara as he stormed toward the back room.

Back in the quiet back room, you and Trent were tangled up in each other still. You could taste a hint of mint from the gum he was chewing earlier which was cooly refreshing and slightly sweet. He tilted his head, deepening the kiss as you trailed your hands under his shirt. Trent broke away from the kiss slowly with his lips hovering closely to yours. He trailed his fingers along your waist, thinking thoughtfully. “Season’s wrapping up soon.. think we need to get away for a week or two.”

You hummed in agreement, sneaking in a quick kiss because you already missed the feeling of his lips on yours. In your head you were already imagining the two of you on a beach, far away from the demands of Les Notes d’Amour and the prem – nestled somewhere with turquoise blue water and warm sand beneath your toes. “Mm..yeah. Definitely need that. But where?”

“Uhh.. what about Bali?” Trent suggested, tracing the outline of your lips with his eyes. In his mind he was thinking about how he wanted to get you home..and quickly. This morning was busy with getting Ziggy ready for trial, but all he really wanted to do was spend some quality time with you – alone. 

You wrinkled your nose, trying not to laugh at his Bali suggestion. “Well..Bali is a vibe for sure. But we’d probably spend the entire holiday with a case of Bali Belly..no thanks.” You thought for a second, thinking of various destinations. “What about Miami? I could go for some guinep and sugar cane by the water. Their clubs are nice too! We could go to LIV or E11EVEN..maybe get a yacht and take it to Bimini?”

Trent shook his head, not thrilled by that idea. “Jude goes there all the time. It’s too chaotic. Nothing good ever happens in Florida. Plus the Caribbean has better fruit and less OnlyFans models.”

“And why do you know that Miami has a lot of OnlyFans models?” you pulled back, crossing your arms.

Trent playfully pretended to be annoyed at your indication. “Nah, nah. Don’t even start with that shit. Not my type at all.”

“Mhmm, good answer. So Miami is off the table. Any better ideas?”

Trent laughed and pulled you back into his arms. “Could go a bit closer, y’know? You ever been to SoHo Farmhouse?”

You rolled your eyes, knocking him in the head softly. “Absolutely fucking not. I’m from Liverpool. If I wanted to pretend to be farm chic we could just go pop a tent in Sefton Park near Palm House and call it a day. That’s not even a real holiday! Don’t piss me off Trent.”

Trent tilted his head back, laughing again at your dramatics. “Ah fine..okay. No farms for you. Beach it is then?”

Before you could converse with Trent any further, Ziggy swung the door open, looking at both of you in disgust. You could see by the look on his face that he was irritated by something else other than you and Trent showing off how sickeningly in love you were with each other. “I’m ready to go home,” he muttered with a scowl. “Your assistants are fucking nosy Y/N.”

You and Trent exchanged curious glances, noticing how intense Ziggy was being. “What happened?” you asked in a concerned tone. 

Ziggy shook his head, kissing his teeth. “Nothing. They just keep running their mouths about shit they don’t know about. Can we just go?” He would’ve told you the full truth of what they were really talking about in the group chat, but he was still protecting you in a way.

Trent squeezed your waist and gave you another kiss. “I’ll see what’s going on. Don’t stress about it.”

You nodded, hopping off the table as Trent and Ziggy made their way out of the room and back to the car. You grabbed Trent’s gift from under the table, placing it in your bag as you began to walk toward the front of the store. Ember was helping a customer who had just walked in, while Tara was off to the side, fumbling nervously with a Rêveur order.

Your brother’s words swirled around in your mind as you put two and two together.

“Your assistants are fucking nosy.”

“They just keep running their mouths about shit they don’t know about.”

They couldn’t be the ones running to SpillTheBeans, right? 

But if it wasn’t you, Trent, Camille, or any of your other friends..it had to be them. They were the only other two besides your siblings that would have access to the intimate details of your life.

Oh god.. I should’ve listened to Camille.

She wasn’t wrong. You really should have made them sign an NDA.

It was a little too late for that now, though.

so thankful to each of you stuck with me through this series so far! love you 🫶🏽 thoughts/feedback

[libraryspectre]

I wanted to talk about the Black Parade uniforms and it kind of turned into an entire essay. My ideas on the intention behind each costume and their cohesion as a group really evolved over the course of writing this, and I think it brought into focus a lot of things I knew subconsciously but hadn't articulated. I also noticed a lot of details I had never seen before. This has futher convinced me that 1) costume design and what you can say with it is really fascinating and 2) this is S-tier costume design of all time. And it's really long so I'm putting the rest under the cut.

What I would have loved is a Weezer-style picture of the five of them standing side by side, full bodies visible, but unfortunately that doesn't seem to exist. They're either covering each other up, or posed in such a way that details aren't visible or cut is hard to compare, so I'll have to provide a variety of visuals. This weirdly blurry poster is the closest thing I could find to a Weezer picture, so take them in as a group and refer back as necessary. I want to start by saying, obviously, that they look amazing both individually and as a set. "Dark marching band of death" is a really fun concept that is very well executed. But this isn't their first time doing a look as a group - think back to Revenge for a minute, when they really started to think about their costuming as a band. Gerard has talked about how then, they were kind of closing ranks against the vitriol coming their way. They needed to feel like a team, a gang, and dressed like one. I think some of this mentality has carried over into the Black Parade uniforms - they're less defensive, (there's no bulletproof vests), but in taking on new, nameless identities they have removed themselves as individuals from the equation, which is protective in its own way. What's left are stage personas, and the more you look the more you see that these were designed by someone who is very familiar with the history of the band and how each member presents themselves on stage. It's absolutely genius costume design, because when everyone is in uniform, the little differences are more noticable and tell you so much about the intention behind each variation.

Before we really start, I have to confess that I have no history in costuming or even a lot of familiarity with marching or military bands. I can only say I find costuming interesting, so I've read a little about it, and I went to high school in America and almost all my friends were in marching band. Someone who is more educated in these things could probably give more specific insights and have a better vocabulary to talk about it, but do not underestimate me. I am deeply obsessed with MCR and got A's in English, so let's find some meaning in symbolism! But please remember that with all art, there is no one interpretation. And remember going forward that these costumes were designed by Colleen Atwood, based on sketches she was given by Gerard, so there's no telling what elements were brought in by her and what elements Gerard had planned originally. If anyone has sources on that, PLEASE let me know because I'm very curious about the design process.

Also, I'll be using the uniforms as they appear in the WTTBP video as the standard, with acknowledgements toward variations seen in posters and the FLW video. It's worth noting that in many live performances they wore different, less unique jackets, and often forewent the pants for black jeans. This is almost certainly because they were easier to perform in and they didn't want to subject the originals to the sweat and rowdiness of regular shows. Ok, here we go! Here are some pics to refer back to throughout.

Starting with the band as a whole, I want to point out two things: first, marching bands evolved from military bands. The individual costumes vary in how "military" they look, but you can definitely see the influence when you look at them as a set. I imagine they leaned into that a bit because of the military elements on the record - the suggestion in Mama that the patient was a soldier, maybe even a war criminal. We also know they've done military aesthetics before, in The Ghost of You music video, and that the band was formed in response to 9/11. Suffice to say, the military is on the mind, and this is a continuation of that.

They also look a bit like skeletons. Obviously they would occasionally do the face paint, but the uniforms themselves suggest a ribcage with the horizontal silver lines, and at some angles the stripes on the pants also really contribute to the image. I know most people have already realized this, but I wanted to point it out explicitly because it took me an embarassingly long time to see it.

Alright, I'm gonna talk about them individually now, going from my personal least to most favorite. Taste aside, they're all individually really interesting.

5. Bob

(I can't find another good Bob picture, just scroll up to the blurry one)

It's not just because I don't like Bob, I genuinely like this one much less than all the others. It might be because it's less tailored - the others look much sharper, he looks almost rumpled in comparison. The lose fit might be because as a drummer, he needed better range of movement, but I'm not a drummer so I don't know. The cut of his jacket looks kind of naval to me, which is interesting. His stripes are also very minimal compared to the others. Overall, his looks the least like it's part of a set. I don't necessarily think they meant to set him apart, but maybe they did, considering he's the only non-original member (I'm counting Frank as an original member) and the only one not from New Jersey (which, I only point out because they ALWAYS point that out to people who mention they're a Jersey band. We're from Jersey, Bob is from Chicago.) Maybe it was a subconscious thing, or maybe as the drummer his costume was designed to make the most of what would be visible sitting and partially obscured by the drum kit. It does have a very dramatic collar. That's probably also part of the reason they gave him a more distinctive haircut for this - I'm not gonna talk about hair much, but it's worth mentioning. Overall, I don't have a ton to say about Bob because I don't think of him much (sorry, but not really).

4. Frank

Frank's is really interesting. His is the least traditional-looking, which is why it's here in the ranking, but I like it and I think there's a good reason for that. Those stripes on the sleeve are a really strong look, and the material of the silver has kind of a tarnished/dappled look you can see better in other photos. I've seen people say it's a subtle camo pattern, but I'm honestly not sure - I think he's supposed to look a little less new and shiny. The blockiness of it widens him and gives him a lot of presence that might be lost if he was dressed more like the others, and it compliments his performance style well. That's particularly important in the WTTBP video - on that float, he simply doesn't have room to be as wild and energetic as his standard performance was at the time, so this uniform helps him stand out and draw attention to what thrashing he is able to do. As far as bucking tradition, he also is the only one without shoulder tabs (those little loops). There's something funny about that - those tabs are meant to hold loops and eupalletes that would signify rank, placement, or achievement, which apparently you could not give to Frank if you tried. I think this lack of traditionality is reflective of Frank's more punk sensibilities, having come up in the Jersey scene. His playing style evolved over time as he and Ray influenced each other, but at the start he was very much their punk guitarist and coming up in that scene continued to influence how he conducted himself as a musician. I think this uniform marks him as a non-conformist even within the group.

He also has that patch with a red cross on the sleeve, the only bit of color on any of them. I don't know what to make of that, maybe it's just for the Catholic vibes.

Honestly, Frank's feels the most like what people would expect from an "emo" marching band uniform. Especially considering the poster, where he's found a hole to stick his thumb through. I don't think he's wearing it in the video, but in that poster he has this belt with some kind of weapon?? Maybe?? We get it, he's a dangerous little man.

3. Mikey

Mikey's uniform is by far the most military - it's not just the medal, it's also the cut of the jacket. And he's the only one with a fun little belt, which helps keep the silhouette look nice and tailored even though the jacket flares a little at the waist. We all know the medal is a reference to his death in The Ghost of You video (there's no way they didn't know we would make that connection) and it wouldn't surprise me if the rest of his uniform looks more military because it was built around that idea. But also consider Mikey's stage presence at the time - due to his discomfort on stage, he used to be really stoic, standing in the back, getting the job done with little showmanship. I think that presentation lends itself well to a classic military figure. Mikey is also pretty thin, and the long jacket and it's strong, solid construction keeps him from looking too Victorian-orphan waifish (especially with how pale they all are), and more like a dead soldier boy.

Additionally, Mikey's costume leaning so hard into the military side helps them look more military as a group. It keeps the association in your mind when you look at the others. Also, he's wearing a little necklace here, which I've never noticed before, is he wearing that in the videos?? I think it's an anchor, which is fun considering he died on a beach.

2. Gerard

Yes, Gerard's is #2 in my ranking. I'm sorry, I might have a slight bias knocking it down from #1. But maybe not, let me defend myself when I get there. Anyway, Gerard's is the most classically marching band, which makes sense considering he's the frontperson. In fact, he has one of those braided loops on his shoulder we talked about earlier, demonstrating.....something, it seems to vary a lot, but we're probably meant to think leadership. He's not wearing it the WTTBP video, but it's there in Famous Last Words. He also has that fancy little star thing on the shoulder, which definitely seems to suggest rank. Otherwise, his uniform is very basic. He's the template that the others' uniforms are variations of. And it's a great look! He's also got nice big buttons compared to the others, three whole rows of them, which is a nice touch to make it look a liiiiittle more feminine. Because, of course, the back of the jacket is corseted, in a genious stroke of gender that puts the entire outfit in a new context. I think this is a good example of how Gerard likes to play with androgony by balancing masc and femme elements. The cut of his jacket makes his shoulders look wide and his waist narrow, but not so narrow it looks terribly feminine (just a little, taken on its own). A lot of this is achieved by the piping - notice how on Bob, Mikey, and Frank, the top row of piping (I might be using that word wrong but let's go with it. I'm talking about the silver stuff across the chest) is pretty much the same length as the bottom row? On Gerard, they start out wide way up on his shoulders and get progressively narrower at the waist. It's still a mostly masculine silhouette, but then you have the counter balance of the big buttons and his little white pixie cut, both of which lean just a little further toward femme than masc. It's an androgynous look that leans toward masc as a whole, until he turns around and, boom, corseted back. Showstopping. He also had those black leather gloves that give some nice formality, and maybe a touch of impersonality. They make it so that when he's in full uniform, the only skin you can see is that of his face. They're like an edgier version of the usual plain white marching band gloves.

1. Ray

Going purely by aesthetics, Ray's is my favorite. It's the fancy one, most obviously distinct by the flourishes around the buttons on his jacket. He Mikey are the only ones with pure silver shoulder loops, and Ray has more silver piping on his jacket than the others. In some pictures he's wearing this really ornate knotted tassle thing? You can see it in one of the group pictures above. He isn't wearing it in any of the videos, which makes sense as it could be really annoying while playing. The cut of his jacket at the bottom also looks formal to me, but I'm not sure why. Overall, the ornanamentation could be a reflection of his playing style - the same caveat here applies to Frank, in that they influenced each other through their parnership as guitarists, (and Ray has a lot of influences from different genres), but at the start he was their metal guitarist, and the guitars in metal are often complicated and showy. And he's their soloist, they need to show him off a little.

Additionally, the construction here is giving him an absolutely wild silohette. Like Gerard, the piping on his jacket gets progressively narrower to suggest a smaller waist, but without the really long stripes at the top to make the shoulders look broader. Those vertical lines across the front add to the effect because they're curved inward - which is interesting, because everyone else's uniforms are composed of entirely straight lines and sharp angles. And his jacket is cut REALLY high on the side. I can't tell if Ray's pants are more high-waisted than the others, or if it just looks that way because of the cut of the jacket. You see the stripe of the pants go all the way up his hip, and since he's already tall with long legs, it really accentuates that. It's hard to tell, but I think his pants are even a little more form-fitting than the others. The other day I saw people commenting on a gif of Ray in the WTTBP video about how they never noticed how long his legs are - this is why!

We talk about how part of what makes Ray such a compelling performer is how he moves, and I think this costume was designed to compliment fluid motion. The tailoring and curves of the piping avoid making him look too rigid or blocky, as a marching band uniform could easily do, and the high cut of the jacket lets the line of his legs continue uninterrupted. Honestly, this is a favorite look for Raygirls (gender neutral) for a reason - I think they knew exactly what they were doing putting him in a pretty, well-tailored uniform that accentuates his movement. (Caveat here that I'm a Raygirl (gn) so I'm definitely biased, and they all look great in their uniforms, but I do think Ray's is.....uniquely flattering, and I don't think it was an accident).

Conclusions

So now that we've talked about all of them, I think we have some interesting contrasts to make. Gerard and Mikey both have very classic looks, but Gerard's is more marching band and Mikey's is more military. Mikey and Bob both have very military looks, but Mikey's has a much more solid construction. Gerard and Ray are both on the marching band side of the spectrum, but Gerard's is classic while Ray's is ornate. My favorite contrast is between the guitarists - Frank's is blocky and rigid and tarnished, Ray's is curved and fluid and shiny.

The interplay between similarity and contrast is what makes this so compelling as a group costume - just by looking you can tell who's the leader, who's the tragic figure, who's the outcast, who's the rebel, who's being spotlit.

In closing, thank you Colleen Atwood and Gerard Way for designing these and the rest of the band for wearing them, I will never get tired of looking at them.

[allwormdiet]

Sentinel 9.6

Well.

At least we're not as fucked as Brockton Bay.

"Ugh, how dare crime be prevented so I can't beat the shit out of the people doing the crimes for my own catharsis" - sentiments of the utterly normal

This glimpse into the inner workings of these two has not endeared me to them any further, tbh. I think the time in which they can actually turn these impressions around is starting to dwindle.

So. Here's Sophia's worldview laid plain, and it's about what I expected. Might makes right, violence and desperation and greed are the true nature of humanity, everyone can be divided between sheep and wolves and she refuses to be a sheep.

Mostly I think I'm just curious as to what, exactly, shaped her to be this way. Like obviously whatever caused her to trigger is a factor, but I don't know if any parahuman has had a complete overhaul of their personality brought about by their power coming online; I suspect that she'd followed some version of this mentality before the worst day of her life (so far) proved her right.

I can't imagine Piggot would be thrilled that Shadow Stalker thinks so highly of her, or at least the why of it.

This is cool, though. Give Wildbow credit, he can make just about any sensation of using a power sound rad as hell.

*sighs* Fucking Nazis

At least Sophia is sensible about what to do with them

Another neat fight scene, this one is a bit quicker than the Travelers tussle so I kinda like it more. That and it involves beating the shit out of Nazis.

Ruh roh Raggy

hiimdaisy_adachi_murder.mp3

Oh yeah, why eliminate the villain who you know is a particular threat to you, specifically, when you can try to torment her first?

This isn't even me saying that Sophia should try to murder Skitter, bc obviously I prefer the latter to the former, but taking the whole thing of seeing her secret identity into consideration, the response to crossing paths should be "take her down fast and hard," not "put her back against the wall and make her panic"

It's gonna fucking break her brain when she realizes Taylor is Skitter, huh?

There's something really funny about how basically every outsider POV we've gotten on Skitter involves hating her ass. Truly cursed to be unpopular.

I like the logical weaknesses of Sophia's power so far. Things getting into her shadow form, like bugs, fuck with her ability to remanifest because she has to "shove" them out of where she's going to solidify. The electricity I'm less clear on, maybe just some quirk of what she's "made" of in her altered state, but it's a good way to explain why she can't just leap through buildings willy nilly. The thing with the gas/vapor absorption that gets mentioned in a second also makes sense and is pretty neat.

Hey Sophia do you maybe regret playing with your food a little bit

Also still cool to see Skitter's powers from the outside POV

God that's so cool

...Y'know, if these two could get over their bullshit for like, a minute, they could probably have some very cathartic hate-makeouts. More blood than normal for kissing but less blood than normal for their usual interactions.

Lol

Lmao

Nuts that what threw her off in this moment was looking for a secondary murder weapon to cover up her power's tell.

Also: get fucked Sophia.

And you fell for it hook line and sinker, because you're a petty tunnel-visioned sadist.

Got the whole crew doing the group pose, love to see it

Also: hi Aisha, glad you get to join the team, sorry you had a trigger event, hope the future scenes with you are less uncomfortable than your first one

Skitter is so fucking good at playing up the villain role, she really should be proud of the work she puts into it.

Not entirely sure why they're kidnapping Shadow Stalker, but I'm sure it's going to be another photo album moment for the Undersiders and their rise to prominence.

Concluding Thoughts

Y'know, a lot of trouble could've been avoided if Sophia just ignored that impulse to play with her prey. I'm not gonna be like "oh why can't she just rein in the violence" because every parahuman we've met so far is either a participant or facilitator of violence, but the cruelty is what's gotten her in trouble here. Not only did she only get baited into this trap because she refused to make an earlier attempt at the killing blow, not only did she take the bait of hunting down a lone villain while a PRT convoy was under attack by fucking Nazis, but the hostility might have been avoided if she hadn't gotten her kicks from tormenting and assaulting Taylor. If Sophia was just Emma's friend who hung back and watched as she tormented Taylor, things might've differently all the way back in the medical tent, but alas, she was a willing and gleeful participant.

Little concerned about what the fuck they're going to do to her, but there's nothing to do but wait and see.

Also, cautiously glad that Imp has arrived, she seems fun from what I've picked up via osmosis, again fingers crossed that her continued presence in this story doesn't involve nearly as much wincing as Tangle 6.3 because holy shit.

[koji-haru]

Pocky Day 11/11

[Something short for pocky day! I am late!! But! It's still pocky day in certain parts of the world sooo.]

Adam eyed the various shops that lined the pristine streets of Heaven. Restaurants, convenience stores, food markets and cafés to both his left and right, offering a variety of food stuffs from full course meals to quick on the go snacks. Today was an oddly easy day for Adam, Sera somehow didn’t have much work for him to do and before he even knew it, he was already done with his work for the day before midday had even arrived. Wanting to share the goodness of his day, Adam decided to pay his husband a surprise visit at work and bring him lunch. He fished his phone out of the pockets of his robes; he had about thirty more minutes before Michael should be heading out for lunch. Good. That was plenty of time. 

The soft chimes of a bell rang by the café’s entrance as Adam entered. It was a café that both particularly liked the food of, or well, Adam liked the food the place served; Michael liked everything and anything really to the point that Adam often found himself questioning if he had tastebuds to begin with. Thankfully, it did seem that Michael had some semblance of taste, though oddly enough, the archangel apparently had a taste for bitter things. 

He quickly ordered things that he thought Michael would enjoy, a chicken taco salad and a cup of americano – no sugar and with just a tiny splash of milk. Of course he also got something for himself, cream puff pastries and a salted caramel frappé with cream on top. No, it wasn’t ‘lunch’ per say, but he didn’t care, looking at the bitter coffee he was bringing Michael made him crave sweets just to offset the bitterness that he could already imagine on his tongue. 

Just as he was heading towards the door, he saw some winners and heaven borns alike sitting on one of the crowded tables of the café, trying to be quiet with their loudly hushed voices, but their giggling could be heard all over the place regardless. The winners seemed to be teaching the heaven borns something. Something exciting it seemed if gold that dusted the heaven borns’ faces were of any indication. Ever the curious and nosy first man, Adam strained his ears, though he didn’t have to try very hard, to listen in on the younger angels’ conversation. 

Pocky game, huh?

The door to Michael’s office slammed open just as he was setting his papers aside to get ready to head out. Immediately, he knew who his esteemed guest was. There was only really one angel who would brazenly enter his office uninvited and unannounced, and yet overly comfortable and carefree. A soft smile immediately graced his lips as his husband’s tall figure and overly conspicuous appearance walked through his now wide open door. 

“Surprise!!,” Adam yelled out, tossing his mask casually on the small couch near the door. “I got you lunch!” He handed the food he bought earlier along with the coffee, a wide grin on his face.

“Oh, thank you, Adam,” Michael smiled sweetly as he accepted the gift, genuinely touched by the gesture no matter how many times he received it. “You didn’t have to, I know you’re also busy…”

“But I did!,” Adam exclaimed, chest puffed out, hands on his hips, beaming proudly. “Aren’t I just the best?” 

“The absolute best, nothing and no one could compare,” answered Michael with a soft loving gaze.

A faint gold dusted Adam’s cheeks at the words and look that Michael was giving. Even after all these years, the archangel was as sickly sweet as ever and Adam, ever the lovestruck, flusters all the same. Adam lightly shook his head and slapped his cheeks, trying to drown out the increasing loudness of his beating heart. No! He had a purpose today! And he was going to achieve it! 

“By the way…,” he said, subverting the topic as he fished out something in a small paper bag. “Ta-da!!” He held out a small box in front of Michael with a picture of small biscuits covered in some sort of green coating. 

“Pocky?,” mused Michael. 

“They’re like biscuits dipped in chocolate, but I got you this green tea flavour thing instead,” Adam explained.

“Oh, okay.” Michael never had them before, but they seemed like a nice sweet snack. “I’ve never heard of it before.” He reached out for the box of sweets in front of him to examine it more, but Adam pulled it quickly away before he even had a chance to touch it. He blinked at Adam, confused, like a child being denied of something that was promised.

“Uh uh!” Adam waggled his finger in front of Michael. “I want to try a game with this one.” He tore open the box and the plastic that contained the biscuits inside, tossing the rubbish unceremoniously into the bin nearby. With one hand, he placed the coated end of the biscuit carefully between his teeth and then leaned forward towards Michael, his arms resting on the desk, back arched slightly, a playfully seductive glimmer in his eyes. 

“Uhh.” Michael froze on his seat, his confusion told him to lean back, but his wants told him to remain still or even lean forward as well.

 “You’re supposed to hold onto the other end with your teeth too,” Adam grinned, the pocky stick still carefully between his teeth. “And then we bite it until we meet in the middle. But be careful not to break it, otherwise it’s game over.” Then he leaned even closer towards Michael, almost poking his lips with the biscuit.

A light golden hue began to bloom across Michael’s starry cheeks but he relented to his husband’s request regardless, not that he wasn’t happy to oblige. Placing the biscuit lightly between his teeth, Michael made the grave mistake of looking at Adam’s eyes, a hotly molten gold simmering with enticing promises. Instantly, his breath hitched and he froze up on the spot. Despite that, or maybe exactly because of his reaction, Adam began biting the biscuit, getting even closer to his lips with every bite; their breaths against each other, hot and warm. For every inch that they got closer, the golden flush that peppered across Michael’s cheeks only seemed to glow brighter and brighter, while Adam mostly remained cool and relaxed, with only a faint golden hue over his own cheeks. Throughout the entire ordeal, Adam kept his alluring hold over Michael until suddenly, only an inch of the sweet biscuit remained between them. 

Michael barely moved during the entire process, a slight sweetness from the pocky ran over his tongue, but it was a different kind of sweetness that he craved; one that had an inch of biscuit acting as a barrier between them. The tension hung heavily in the air between them, and neither dared to move. It was frustrating, Michael wasn’t sure if he could hold on like this much longer, he could already feel himself overheating from all the teasing, but even worse was that Adam seemed all too eager to keep him at bay, dangling sweet promises right in front of him. 

Eventually, Michael mustered up the strength to overcome the small gap between them. And then, with a soft cracking sound, their connection broke. The biscuit was now broken into two, one for each of them. Michael looked down at the other half of the biscuit that was between Adam’s lips, and it was like a bucket of freezing water was thrown at him. Oh no.

“Oh, well that’s unfortunate.” Adam leaned away, licking some of the icing off of his lips, pleasantly sweet on his tongue. “I guess that’s game over.” He looked down at his husband, who remained sadly seated on his chair looking like a kicked puppy. He was half tempted to leave him hanging there, but he was feeling extra nice today. 

“Luckily…,” he picked up the box of pocky again and pulled out another biscuit, placing it between his teeth, a playful grin on his lips. “...we have plenty to practise on.”

[demigodsanswer]

Holiday fic/baby fic

Canon Percabeth in this one. They're about 28 or 29.

If Percy hadn't been there for their entire conception journey, he'd have bet that Annabeth timed her pregnancy to maximize "baby's first holiday" cheer. It had taken almost a year to conceive Sophie though, so her early August birthday, almost exactly in between their own birthdays, was just how it turned out.

But this meant Sophie was holding her head up by the time Annabeth wanted to put her in a pumpkin for Halloween (perfect for pictures), and she wasn't such a squishy newborn for the holiday card (again, perfect). Hell, by Valentines day she might even sleep through the night and let Mommy and Daddy enjoy their romantic holiday.

Annabeth had a real thing for the holidays. Growing up at camp without stable family traditions had turned her into an adult with bins and bins of decorations, and an iron will to throw every kind of party. New mom or not, she was determined to throw their New Years Eve party the same as every year.

Their daughter had spent the last two months in a series of rotating holiday-themed onesies and dresses. Today, she was in a candy cane printed onesie. She'd had a little red skirt on before, but now she was just in baby sweatpants. Her socks were lost somewhere between her stroller and the couch.

Sophie was attached to Annabeth's chest in a baby wrap, but facing out to look at the tree as Annabeth carefully placed ornaments. His daughter's eyes were wide and her chubby little hands outstretched trying to grab onto the glittery red ball Annabeth was holding up in front of her.

"We should get her some plastic ones to play with," Percy said, handing Sophie a wooden nutcracker ornament she probably couldn't break.

Annabeth kissed the top of her head. "She's trying to help," she said, bouncing slightly until Sophie cooed. "Yeah, you like our non-denominational holiday tree, baby?" Sophie made a little noise in response.

"How long before she starts talking?" Percy asked. He knew all the baby books said ten to eighteen months, but a kid who was half Annabeth was sure to start sooner.

"I started talking at about seven months," Annabeth said, "so maybe around then, or a little later. Or maybe she's just like every other baby, and that's okay too." This she said to Sophie, talking into the top of her head, which was covered in thin blonde curls. At a distance, she still looked bald as an egg.

As if to prove she was, in fact, not like every other baby, Sophie turned the kitchen sink on with a flick of her baby wrist. Percy turned it back off. Even at four months, bath time was already a war zone.

Annabeth laughed. "That's a very good trick, girlie," she said.

"We're in for it if she takes after me," Percy said with a smile of his own. But besides the occasional aquatic manipulation, his daughter was all Annabeth -- wide curious eyes, curly hair, and an ability to keep Percy wrapped around her finger. And absolutely perfect.

Sophie was a sign of everything they'd survived and gone through together; she was proof they were alive and grown. And as Annabeth hung an ornament that was a ceramic with an imprint of Sophie's hand, Percy couldn't help but smile to know she was going to grow up with so many signs that she was loved by both her parents all the time.

"No, we'll be lucky," Annabeth said, stepping closer to him to place a few more ornaments near his side.

Percy took the proximity as an opportunity to kiss his wife. Then he planted a kiss on Sophie's cheek with a loud mwah, pulling a giggle out of his baby. So he did it again, and got even more laughter. Sophie dropped the nutcracker to the floor and reached both her hands out, grabbing onto fistfuls of Percy's hair.

"Ow, ow, okay, okay," Percy said, carefully removing her hands.

"I think she's tired of me," Annabeth said, resting a hand under Sophie's bum as she undid the wrap. "Do you want to take her for a minute?"

It would probably be only a few minutes before Sophie reached back for Annabeth. Annabeth was her favorite person, except for maybe Grandma, and Percy had to agree.

But Percy happily took his daughter into his arms, holding her carefully as he let her face out towards the tree. He started pointing at ornaments he and Annabeth had collected together, and a few old hand-made ones from Estelle or his own childhood.

"Do you have a favorite?" He asked her. Sophie responded by reaching out for the large -- "olives, really?" It was a glass ornament that looked like three olives on a skewer for a martini. Percy had bought it for Annabeth a few years ago when he'd found spotted it in a random Christmas shop window. "You don't even know what olives taste like."

"Maybe it comes through in the breast milk?" Annabeth suggested from the other side of the tree. Annabeth did have a horrifying addiction to them. It'd even made it into his wedding vows, that he'd always get pizza with half olive half pepperoni.

"She still wouldn't know what an olive is. Unless she thinks those are boobs," Percy said.

"She's smart, she could figure it out," Annabeth said.

"Did you see Mommy eating those?" Percy asked. Sophie wiggled at the sound of mommy, and started looking around for Annabeth.

"I think my time is up," Percy said, as Sophie's coos started to get louder and more demanding.

"She might be hungry," Annabeth suggested, poking her head around the tree. "Do you want to feed her?"

"I'll give it a shot," Percy said, lifting his shirt up.

Annabeth laughed and pulled his shirt back down. "We've got some bottles," she said.

"Are you sure?" Percy asked, heading to the kitchen. Usually whatever she pumped they needed to save for during the day when Sophie was with Fred or Sally. Percy only got to feed her when he got up with her in the middle of the night, and even that was becoming less frequent as she got bigger. But it was one of his favorite parts so far.

"Oh yeah," Annabeth assured him. "I'm pretty locked into this."

Percy prepped the bottle and sat on the couch, and watched Annabeth rearrange ornaments until they had the perfect flow and balance. Percy cradled Sophie carefully as she took the bottle.

"Was that it? Were you hungry?" Percy asked her.

"That's almost always why she reaches for me," Annabeth said.

"No, I think you're really just her favorite."

"Impossible, she's a total Daddy's girl."

"Oh please, she's obsessed with you."

"I'm the food."

"And I'm just the bottle guy," Percy said, nodding his head down toward the bottle.

"No, you're the fun, silly one," Annabeth said, stepping back to examine the tree with an extremely serious look on her face. Percy was pretty sure she was doing that on purpose, so that he couldn't push back with a simple you're silly and fun too.

Sophie, of course, didn't chime in.

"I love to tell you this gorgeous," Percy said, "she loves you so, so much. Because you're the best mom in the whole world." Percy looked down at Sophie, who was still eating away. "Can you say 'she's the best Mommy in the whole world?'"

Sophie stopped drinking and pulled away from the bottle. For a second, Percy thought she might just start talking.

But she just started to cry. Percy heard the toilet flush in the bathroom. She truly had his skill for disrupting the plumbing.

"Ah, burping time?" he asked her as he sat her up. She responded by spitting up into his lap before he could find a burp cloth.

"Here," Annabeth said, appearing at his side, cloth in hand in a moment. She cleaned Sophie's face first, before just laying it over the slash zone on his pants as he kept patting her back.

"You mean it?" Annabeth asked.

"Yeah, was definitely time for a burp," he said.

"No, that I'm good at this?" Her eyes were on their daughter.

Percy leaned in and kissed her forehead. "Of course," he promised.

"You're such a good dad too," she promised, before kissing his cheek. He'd started growing a beard when she got pregnant, and it seemed to be a crowd pleaser, so it had stuck around long past the birth. The crowd, of course, was Annabeth.

Percy smiled. "Well! It's easy to be a good dad to such a perfect little baby," he said. He lifted Sophie up under her arms as he leaned back on the couch. He held her up, almost like Simba, but so that she was looking at him.

Sophie decided then that she wasn't quite done spitting up what she'd ate. A good bit of her bottle ended up on Percy's chin then into his beard and onto his shirt.

Annabeth laughed. "Alright, bath time for both of you, I think," she said, taking Sophie from him, so he could compose himself.

The shower turned on.

Annabeth looked at him wide-eyed, then to the baby in her arms.

"I did that," Percy confirmed.

Annabeth sighed. "Oh thank the gods. I'm not ready for her to really understand words yet."

"She probably already does," Percy said, wiping his beard with his sleeve. "Her big brain is like a sponge."

Annabeth nodded, before resting Sophie over her shoulder. "I love you," she said to both of them. He saw tears well up in her eyes. "Baby's first Yule!" Annabeth said.

"It'll be perfect," Percy promised, before standing. He wanted to kiss her, but his beard was all milky and his spit-up-on pants were starting to stick to him.

[loquarocoeur]

HI! again sorry lmao i just read the latest one you put out about the trippel header and i loved it

now i got a question, as its november and during this time some men particpate in "no nut november"

would lestappen (yours verse)

a: do it

b: who would tease the other more c: who would break? WOuld they break?

and finally d: at the end if they made it through, with most likley alot of teasing and some close call

what would the reward be? would one (or both) be counting down the seconds until midnight until they finally fuck? or if they failed, who fault would it be and what would have caused said fail?? Sorry for the long one i am just so curious ❤️❤️❤️❤️

a) Probably not. They are stupid, but they are not that stupid. If there is one thing they know is that they are too horny to do something like that just for some misguided sense of honour and achievement.

If they ever did try it it would also probably last 5 days tops and they would never try it again

b) Charles would start off being the one teasing Max more, but as soon as Max realises he isn't the only one sexually frustrated he would totally do a full 180 and be such a little shit teasing Charles back, because we all know Max is weak, but Charles is weaker, Max wouldn't even have to do much, maybe just 'accidentally' lift his shirt a little, or show off a little too much thigh, maybe say 'please' in casual conversation in a tone that's a little too sexual and if that doesn't get Charles Max would not be above amusing himself by simply walking around the house in nothing but underwear and bending over a few more times in ten minutes than is strictly necessary just to see Charles dropping whatever he was holding and just like.. drooling

Charles would obviously fold first, Max has a lot more practice not getting to come than Charles does, let's remember that

d) Honestly I don't think they'd even think of a reward, they're very much boys will be boys doing it just to prove that they 'can', maybe just good old marathon sex

I'd say by day five they've both accepted that they aren't actually going to last the whole month and are now just trying to tease and torture each other into breaking, but Max has sooo much more practice than Charles and Charles really doesn't appreciate how subtle Max usually is with trying to get him to fuck him, bcs if it's about winning, Max will 100% put all his dignity aside and actively pout and whimper at Charles just for the sake of winning, which he does

[moregraceful]

Mostly still talking about this to help normalize and de-stigmatize using accommodations like this as an adult bc I think sometimes we think oh I'm a grown ass adult that's not for me...but truthfully there's never a reason not to at least ask. I was talking to some friends and they were like, oh we did not know that was available for everyone!

We were at the Lehigh Valley Phantoms game at PPL Arena and they mentioned they have a sensory quiet space, which got me curious if the Wells Fargo also had sensory accommodations. I am not autistic and will not be discussing the various things going horribly wrong in my brain at all times but I have a tendency to try to pack too many games into one week and ends up completely hitting a wall by the end of the set of games and either vacate planet earth for several hours if not days or just like am so miserable the entire time that I'm unable to enjoy what's going on. And I'm not what one might call situationally aware but at this point in my life I'm usually able to be like, okay so if I got to three hockey games in three days and two of those games involve very long drives at night, including one on the NJ tollpike, I will probably be feeling a little wacked out by Monday. But I didn't want to miss any of the game if I didn't have to because tickets were expensive and I miss my Sharkies violently, so I went digging for more info.

The Farg's website said they had a whole sensory room for people who are feeling overwhelmed and said it was for everyone! So I went to check it out during first intermission because I was very much about to start experiencing full body horrors. I figure at worst they say it's for kids and I have to go find a quieter spot to dissociate in and just hope I get back on my feet before the second period (which I have done before and it was not. fun lol.) I found guest services and they just gave me a wrist band and directions. Everyone I had to interact with was very respectful and kind, if treating me a little bit like a ticking time bomb, but I think when you're in your 30s looking harrowed while advocating politely for yourself, it's really like oh this guy Needs it. There was a guest services person set up in front of the room and I'm guessing it's bc the room is on the suite level and they need to make sure it's like people who need to use the room for its intended purposes and not drunk adults goofing off. But it was very quiet and calm inside, I think they did some sound dampening and with a white noise machine + that deeply hilarious sensory wall and a bunch of fidget/stim-type stuff on the walls to play with as well as other toys on shelves. I was there bc I needed quiet space so I spent all of the time I was there sitting on the floor staring at an orange water feature on the wall, but I imagine for kids or adults who need fidget toys it's probably a dream.

Very calming in there and I did NOT miss the rest of the game or have to experience the horrors so it was a success overall! I missed three minutes of the second period just trying to get back to our seats but I'll take three minutes over 45 minutes, which has happened before lmao. I will almost certainly end up there again bc I will absolutely end up trying to pack 3 games in 5 days again at some point lol.

I don't really have a concluding thought, I think it's basically like...Just Ask...what's the worst they can do. I think most people following me are adults and porn bots so it's like, yes we can handle our shit but also if there are accommodations available that explicitly say they're open to everyone, just ask yk. At worst they say no and probably we have all ways of dealing with whatever we're going through or we just grit our teeth and white knuckle it through shrockey. But I feel like people pretty often do want to help you if they can so it never hurts to at least find out what's available.

And then I got this sick ass wristband giving me VIP access to a water feature lmao

I would do anything for the Sharks, including driving close to 4 hours round trip to tell Eetu Mäkiniemi, an ex-prospect, we love him and driving close to 3.5 hours round trip to Newark the next day to see the Sharks but I do think today is the day I end up seeing if they let adults who are not autistic into the sensory room to meditate at the Farg lmao

[iero]

Wait, now I’m curious about something…

[weedclown]

i wonder what it says abt me that almost every single animal ive ever come into contact with enjoys my presence & wants to be around me

[crazy-pages]

See I get this, but also, holy shit sometimes those gripe groupchats become an awful stew of shitting on everyone constantly for any and no reason. It's very easy to forget that "thoughts and feelings aren't bad, just how you act on them" and "you need to have a safe space to speak authentically" is not the same thing as a space where all your thoughts and feelings are validated and reflected back at you. There's no such thing as thoughtcrime, but there sure are thoughts we need to hear friends say "uhhh, no" to.

Places to gripe about your boss are great. Place to vent about a disappointing fanfic where you aren't shitting on someone who shared something for free are good. Places to ask friends "hey is it just me who's getting a worrying vibe off the new guy?" are important. But unless you're willing to hear that you're in the wrong, that's not a private place to vent you've got, it's an echo chamber for all your most hateful impulses.

Safe places to put your inside thoughts are important, but sometimes "safe" means a safe place to have them rejected. It means a place where you trust your loved ones enough to hear them say "I think you're in the wrong" and know to your bones that they don't mean "I hate you".

Safe doesn't mean the absence of negative feedback, it means a place where negative feedback is safe to receive. You might have deliberately curated positive spaces to calm down or recover from shit, but those cannot be the spaces where you shit on people. That's not creating a space for deliberate positivity, that's creating a place where no one is allowed to say anything if someone steps over a line.

There is no thoughtcrime, but working yourself into a frenzy over nothing because you and your friends don't know how to calm each other down or question the righteousness of your petty grievances is in fact a bad thing.

i cannot emphasize enough how important it is to have gossipy bitchy littl pirvate group chats or discord servers with like 4 people in them whose stated purpose is posting “new kind of guy” or “this reddit post is so fuckin dumb” or “i got into a fight on twitter today look at this idiot’s reply” so your homies can still see it and laugh and back you up but more importantly, so you are not tempted to post these kind of things on main

[monsterfactoryfanfic]

if I've learned anything from grad school it's to check your sources, and this has proven invaluable in the dozens of instances when I've had an MBA-type try to tell me something about finances or leadership. Case in point:

Firefox serves me clickbaity articles through Pocket, which is fine because I like Firefox. But sometimes an article makes me curious. I'm pretty anal about my finances, and I wondered if this article was, as I suspected, total horseshit, or could potentially benefit me and help me get my spending under control. So let's check the article in question.

It mostly seems like common sense. "...track expenses and income for at least a month before setting a budget...How much money do I have or earn? How much do I want to save?" Basic shit like that. But then I get to this section:

This sounds fucking made up to me. And thankfully, they've provided a source to their claim that "research has repeatedly shown" that writing things down changes behavior. First mistake. What research is this?

Forbes, naturally, my #1 source for absolute dogshit fart-sniffing financial schlock. Forbes is the type of website that guy from high school who constantly posts on linkedin trawls daily for little articles like this that make him feel better about refusing to pay for a decent package for his employees' healthcare (I'm from the United States, a barbaric, conflict-ridden country in the throes of civil unrest, so obsessed with violence that its warlords prioritize weapons over universal medical coverage. I digress). Forbes constantly posts shit like this, and I constantly spend my time at leadership seminars debunking poor consultants who get paid to read these claims credulously. Look at this highlighted text. Does it make sense to you that simply writing your financial goals down would result in a 10x increase in your income? Because if it does, let me make you an offer on this sick ass bridge.

Thankfully, Forbes also makes the mistake of citing their sources. Let's check to see where this hyperlink goes:

SidSavara. I've never heard of this site, but the About section tells me that Sid is "a technology leader who empowers teams to grow into their best selves. He is a life-long learner enjoys developing software, leading teams in delivering mission critical projects, playing guitar and watching football and basketball."

That doesn't mean anything. What are his LinkedIn credentials? With the caveat that anyone can lie on Linkedin, Mr. Savara appears to be a Software Engineer. Which is fine! I'm glad software engineers exist! But Sid's got nothing in his professional history which suggests he knows shit about finance. So I'm already pretty skeptical of his website, which is increasingly looking like a personal fart-huffing blog.

The article itself repeats the credulous claim made in the Forbes story earlier, but this time, provides no link for the 3% story. Mr. Savara is smarter than his colleages at Forbes, it's much wiser to just make shit up.

HOWEVER. I am not the first person to have followed this rabbit hole. Because at the very top of this article, there is a disclaimer.

Uh oh!

Sid's been called out before, and in the follow up to this article, he reveals the truth.

You can guess where this is going.

So to go back to the VERY beginning of this post, both Pocket/Good Housekeeping and Forbes failed to do even the most basic of research, taking the wild claim that writing down your budget may increase your income by 10x on good faith and the word of a(n admittedly honest about his shortcomings) software engineer.

Why did I spend 30 minutes to make a tumblr post about this? Mostly to show off how smart I am, but also to remind folks of just how flimsy any claim on the internet can be. Click those links, follow those sources, and when the sources stop linking, ask why.

[screampied]

toji realizes he’s in love with you when he lets you shave his face for the first time,

he’s got the biggest grump of a scowl plastered on his naturally crooked lips. as he’s glowering, he’s also trying to prevent himself from smiling because you looked so cute. your touch with him was gentle—like it always was. after you wiped his face with a dampened face towel, you rub your hands against the lower part of his jaw. “soooo,” you utter, breaking the dead silence as he’s just peering down at you. “tell me ‘bout your day, toji.”

with the palms of your hands tenderly caressing against his chiseled jawline—you smear every part of his chin and cheekbones with shaving cream. even the secluded areas underneath his nose. as you do so, toji tchs. “day was fine, baby. ‘n i told ya i can shave myself.”

“i know i know,” you hum, creating a circular motion with your hands before gently making sure every sector near the lower part of his face was lathered with nice frothy amounts of shaving cream. “wowww, you’ve got such soft skin. skin routine when?”

“ugh, y’er insufferable,” he rolls his eyes. although, his skin was surprisingly clear. toji only had a bit of a stubble, hardly any facial hair but it was growing the more he aged. you took it upon yourself to ask to help him shave and he said yes, not realizing how much he’d soon grow to like it. the feeling of your delicate, warm hands rubbing against his face was somewhat . . soothing. with a deep, heaving sigh, toji’s hooded jade eyes meet yours. he spots your pout and his shoulders lower. “alright fine, i’ll teach you one day. only if ya stop poutin'..”

with a cheeky grin, your little pout falters and you smile. “okay,” and you wait for about a good three minutes to allow the spumous cream to souse everywhere on his pores. it takes a while—and as you wait, you take a moment to stare at his features. toji was definitely easy on the eyes up close. naturally long black lashes of his flicker as he returns your loving gaze, and he avoids eye contact for a moment. perhaps you were making him a bit . . nervous. darkened eyebrows of his arch into an almost sheepish raise while he watches your adorable curious simper stretch further. “don’t be so stiff, what are you, nervous?”

“not nervous. jus’ don’t want ya to cut my face off.” he grumbles in a hoarse tone, ogling intently at you opening the bathroom cabinet for his razor. “you know what y’er doin’ right? i’d like ‘ta keep my face.”

“oh, don’t be dramatic,” and now it’s your turn to roll your eyes. toji’s got a growing smirk tugging against his lips as he gawks you carefully start to shave in the exact sectors of where his facial hair resides. you did lots and lots of research—he knew this because he caught you reading various wikiHow articles on how to shave a guy’s face correctly. toji would never in a million years tell you, but he found that fact entirely adorable. you made sure you knew how to avoid burns and razor bumps. as you’re fixated on his chin, you mumble, “you’ll keep your pretty face, don’t cry.”

“aw, think ‘m pretty?” toji says, and you see the playful glint in his eyes. he’s easing up a bit, and he acknowledges that you were right. right about his stiffness, he was a bit tense. shoulders raised and all, but now—as of late, he’s starting to calm down a bit the more you talk to him. “i’d prefer the term 'handsome' but that works too, i guess.”

you deadpan, continuing your trail against his face—the razor sings out a shrieking tiiiing the more you gingerly shave with soft, gentle strokes.

it’s somewhat relaxing with the way the edges of the instrument adapts to the chiseled contours on his face. the foam starts to come off within each downward stroke and you’re very slow and precise. “okay, don’t be cocky,” you titter, and he feels his heart flutter a bit at how you’re just so dedicated. you’re so focused that your tongue briefly sticks out of your mouth, trying to make sure you do it perfectly. you tried your hardest not to cut him—you were so careful and that simple detail alone could have been enough for him to propose. “you should let me do this more. ‘s kinda fun.”

“eh. maybe,” toji shrugs, his voice coming out in a rough rasp. he doesn’t even realize it but his expressions significantly soften. he was only this way around you. to him, the thought of that was kind of scary. after you start to edge with the precision trimmer and reach underneath his nose and chin, you wrap it up. successfully discarding all of the foamy cream from his face, spotting his now clean jawline, you break away to rinse off the now grubby blades in the sink. “all done?”

“wait— don’t look yet,” you gasp, preventing him from gazing at himself in the mirror. “i still have to do the uh . . what’s it called again?”

toji snickers. “aftershave, baby.”

“aftershave,” you repeat. “right right,” and you’re so cute, kneeling down towards the wooden cabinet directly underneath the sink. you take out the mini bottle, pouring a nice goopy amount into your palm. you let toji wash his face with cold water first, patting it dry, and then you start to bedaub the facial balm in all the sensitive areas against his skin. he adores the mushy texture of your hands making contact with his face as each second passes. toji’s eyeing you, an almost grunt leaving his lips as a thumb of yours gently tickles against his infamous scar. the scar that slants itself near the right side of his lip. “thereee we go,” you give him a soft smile, the aromatic scent of tea tree oil setting against your nostrils. up close, his pores were now all so clear and you stare in awe for a bit at just how charming he was. the moisture that lays against his skin feels a lot more smooth. you grow silent for a moment before your own face softens. “okayyy, ‘m done.”

toji finally glances into the mirror, seeing his freshly new spotless face and he sees your proud toothy grin in the mirror’s reflection behind him. he cranes his neck to the side, feeling the once rough texture of his jawline now soft. he then lets off a tiny exhale. “looks good. y’er a natural,” and he turns to face you, he’s pondering on what to say. oh, your eyes sparkled with such admiration from his praise that it was just adorable. “thank you, sweetheart. for y’know . . takin’ care of me. y’er really . . sweet.”

and with that, his lips inch down to press a warm kiss against the crown of your head. your heart immediately swarms up with a frantic school of butterflies and so does his. toji prepares speak again and it’s an almost inaudible mumble. you could barely even register what he said at first because it was so hushed, but toji gruffs in a low tone. “i … love you..”

“h- huh?”

scoffing, he hides the burning embarrassed flush against his face by pulling you into his broad chest. you giggle at how he just abruptly snatches you close into his warm body before he slings a beefy arm around you. “i said, let’s uh.. do our skin care together later t’night.”

“awww i love you too toj—”

“oh my god, s-shut up..”

[lightseoul]

a/n. second time writing from bkg's perspective. this was so fun! (1.1k)

the moment that cemented bakugou’s resolve to marry you wasn’t exactly grand.

it wasn’t your first kiss.

or the first time you made love to each other.

not even the first time you met his nerd-ass friends or his (slightly) overbearing parents. although those two come as close runner-ups.

no, it was rather a random saturday morning after you spent a night at his place, now clad in what he thinks is nothing but your intimates and a burnt orange t-shirt of his that drapes loosely over your frame.

and as he enters the kitchen and closes the distance between the two of you with a few strides, he can’t help but wonder what you’re doing—deeply focused on your laptop—when you’re probably the one who’s extra pedantic about not bringing work home.

“morning,” he grunts, leaning down to kiss your cheek, which you happily accept. although, to his chagrin, your eyes remain on your computer screen, not even sparing him a single glance.

he knows it’s fucking embarrassing, how strongly you elicit feelings within him without you even fucking trying, but he can’t stop the frown that takes over his face even if he attempted to fight it.

shaking off the irrational disappointment from not even being ignored, he rounds the kitchen island and starts brewing the two of you coffee.

“by the way,” he starts, glancing at you over his shoulder, “the old hag’s birthday is coming up. she wants to have dinner with just the four of us, or some shit.”

“i know,” you simply pipe up from where you’re seated on one of his fancy bar stools, gaze still glued on whatever the fuck it is that’s keeping your attention from him.

he turns to you, a manual coffee grinder in tow. “you do?”

at that, you finally look up at him, an innocent expression etched across your features. “you don’t remember? i asked you when your parents’ birthdays were way back in march.”

way back in march.

back when you unanimously decided to decisively end the dating phase and become boyfriend-girlfriend.

“yeah?” is the only thing he manages to get out.

you let out a soft laugh that’s nothing but music to his ears. “yeah, dummy.”

before you can get to see the red that’s most definitely creeping up to his cheeks, bakugou turns his back against you, returning to busying himself with crushing the beans into fine powder and pouring lukewarm water into the machine.

only a few months before reaching a full year together, and you still manage to make him fucking blush.

over the most mundane things, too.

when he first got into his very first relationship with you at the ripe age of 28, he thought he’d outgrown and was way past the embarrassing shit that the human body was capable of when dealing with anything remotely close to romance.

it didn’t take him long enough into your relationship to find out he was so, so wrong.

sighing, he pours out the cup of ground beans onto the filter, finally pressing the button and bringing the coffee maker to life.

you must be done with what’s highly likely is work by now.

but chancing a glance at you, he’s once again met with palpable disappointment when the very same sight greets him.

before he can rein them in, the words come tumbling out of his lips.

“the fuck is so important on that laptop?”

his booming voice must’ve caught you off guard, because you startle ever so minutely in your seat.

“sorry,” he quickly adds on, albeit through a mutter; frustration with himself and his inability to modulate his voice added to the increasingly long list of emotions he’s having to fucking deal with right now.

waving him off, you shoot him another one of that disarming smile of yours. “‘s funny that you ask. i was just about to ask you for your opinion.”

with that, you gesture him to come close with your fingers. curious, he once again rounds the island, ultimately occupying the spot to your right and leaning down to peer at the small text on your screen.

before he can even get a word in, you hurriedly explain yourself. “mitsuki-san mentioned her personal sewing machine broke, so i’ve been thinking about getting her a new one.”

you point to a sleek, off-white model among what looks to be a vast array of selections, “i researched the specs and i think this one’s the best. what do you think?”

a million things course through his mind in an instant, but what he ends up sputtering out is: “you’re such a fucking nerd, you know that?”

at that, you look up at him, your seemingly perpetually moisturized lips now formed into a playful pout, and it takes everything in him not to just pull you in for a kiss and completely abandon the conversation in its entirety.

but he’d like to think he at least has the slightest bit of self-control.

even if you do wear him the fuck out on a daily basis.

“i just want to make sure it’s perfect!” you argue, shifting to stare at your laptop again and bringing him back to the present. your voice is way smaller when you continue. “…i want her to like me.”

he doesn’t even miss a beat. “she already fucking does, dumbass.”

and she really does.

the morning after bakugou first brought you to meet his parents a whopping two months into calling it official, mitsuki texted him something along the lines of having the family heirloom slash ring already adjusted to fit your finger.

he immediately called the old hag after receiving the message just to reprimand her ear off for being too fucking forward and for meddling too much.

but, if he were to be completely honest with himself, he was angry not because mitsuki was imposing, but because he couldn’t believe his mother beat him to that important realization.

the realization that maybe, just maybe, you’re the one.

and now, as he studies you as you scroll through more and more iterations of the best sewing machines on the market with your eyebrows adorably furrowed in utmost concentration, it dawns on him.

it dawns on him that that maybe just turned into a definitely.

tagging. @bunnysaursushii @yawnzzzzzzzz @cholios @kashee-h @iluv-ace @lotuslovers @elarakive @sugurusmoon

˖⁺‧₊ this one made me smile like an idiot while writing lmao. as always, reblogs, replies, and tags are appreciated <3 have a nice day!

[ktempestbradford]

I have been on a Willy Wonkified journey today and I need y'all to come with me

It started so innocently. Scrolling Google News I come across this article on Ars Technica:

At first glance I thought what happened was parents saw AI-generated images of an event their kids were at and became concerned, then realized it was fake. The reality? Oh so much better.

On Saturday, event organizers shut down a Glasgow-based "Willy's Chocolate Experience" after customers complained that the unofficial Wonka-inspired event, which took place in a sparsely decorated venue, did not match the lush AI-generated images listed on its official website.... According to Sky News, police were called to the event, and "advice was given."

Thing is, the people who paid to go were obviously not expecting exactly this:

But I can see how they'd be a bit pissed upon arriving to this:

It gets worse.

"Tempest, how could it possibly--"

source of this video that also includes this charming description:

Made up a villain called The Unknown — 'an evil chocolate maker who lives in the walls'

There is already a meme.

Oh yes, the Wish.com Oompa Loompa:

Who has already done an interview!

As bad (and hilarious) as this all is, I got curious about the company that put on this event. Did they somehow overreach? Did the actors they hired back out at the last minute? (Or after they saw the script...) Oddly enough, it doesn't seem so!

Given what I found when poking around I'm legit surprised there was an event at all. Cuz this outfit seems to be 100% a scam.

The website for this specific event is here and it has many AI generated images on it, as stated. I don't think anyone who bought tickets looked very closely at these images, otherwise they might have been concerned about how much Catgacating their children would be exposed to.

Yes, Catgacating. You know, CATgacating!

I personally don't think anyone should serve exarserdray flavored lollipops in public spaces given how many people are allergic to it. And the sweet teats might not have been age appropriate.

Though the Twilight Tunnel looks pretty cool:

I'm not sure that Dim Tight Twdrding is safe. I've also been warned that Vivue Sounds are in that weird frequency range that makes you poop your pants upon hearing them.

Yes, Virginia, these folks used an AI image generator for everything on the website and used Chat GPT for some of the text! From the FAQ:

Q: I cannot go on the available days. Will you have more dates in the future? A: Should there be capacity when you arrive, then you will be able to enter without any problems. In the event that this is not the case, we may ask you to wait a bit.

Fear not, for this question is asked again a few lines down and the answer makes more sense.

Curious about the events company behind this disaster, I took myself over to the homepage of House of Illuminati and I was not disappointed.

I would 100% trust these people to plan my wedding.

This abomination of a website is a badly edited WordPress blog filled with AI art and just enough blog posts to make the casual viewer think that it's a legit business for about 0.0004 seconds.

Their attention to detail is stunning, from how they left up the default first post every WP blog gets to how they didn't bother changing the name on several images, thus revealing where they came from. Like this one:

With the lovely and compact filename "DALL·E-2024-01-30-09.50.54-Imagine-a-scene-where-fantasy-and-reality-merge-seamlessly.-In-the-foreground-a-grand-interactive-gala-is-taking-place-filled-with-elegant-guests-i.png"

"Concept.png" came from the same AI generator that gets text almost, but not quiiiiiite right:

There are a suspicious number of .webp images in the uploads, which makes me think they either stole them from other sites where AI "art" was uploaded or they didn't want to pay for the hi-res versions of some and just grabbed the preview image.

The real fun came when I noticed this filename: Before-and-After-Eventologists-Transformation-Edgbaston-Cricket-Ground-1024x1024-1.jpg and decided to do a Google image search. Friends, you will be shocked to hear that the image in question, found on this post touting how they can transform a boring warehouse into a fun event space, was stolen from this actual event planner.

Even better, this weirdly grainy image?

From a post that claims to be about the preparations for a "Willy Wonka" experience (we'll get to this in a minute), is not only NOT an actual image of anyone preparing anything for Illuminati's event, it is stolen from a YouTube thumbnail that's been chopped to remove the name of the company that actually made this. Here's the video.

If you actually read the blog posts they're all copypasta or some AI generated crap. To the point where this seems like not a real business at all. There's very specific business information at the bottom, but nothing else seems real.

As I said, I'm kinda surprised they put on an event at all. This has, "And then they ran off with all our money!" written all over it. I'm perplexed.

And also wondering when the copyright lawyers are gonna start calling, because...

This post explicitly says they're putting together a "Willy Wonka’s Chocolate Factory Experience" complete with golden tickets.

Somewhere along the line someone must have wised up, because the actual event was called "Willys Chocolate Experience" (note the lack of apostrophe) and the script they handed to the actors about 10 minutes before they were supposed to "perform" was about a "Willy McDuff" and his chocolate factory.

As I was going through this madness with friends in a chat, one pointed out that it took very little prompting to get the free Chat GPT to spit out an event description and such very similar to all this while avoiding copyrighted phrases. But he couldn't figure out where the McDuff came from since it wasn't the type of thing GPT would usually spit out...

Until he altered the prompt to include it would be happening in Glasgow, Scotland.

You cannot make this stuff up.

But truly, honestly, I do not even understand why they didn't take the money and run. Clearly this was all set up to be a scam. A lazy, AI generated scam.

Everything from the website to the event images to the copy to the "script" to the names of things was either stolen or AI generated (aka stolen). Hell, I'd be looking for some poor Japanese visitor wandering the streets of Glasgow, confused, after being jacked for his mascot costume.

HE LIVES IN THE WALLS, Y'ALL.