#i can see a bit of my grandad in him too

[claratwelve]

maybe the reason why i always feel so much comfort radiating from peter capaldi is because he looks like my one grandma but his warm character is like my other grandma's. he's like a combination of my grandmas.

[pseudowho]

"You know, Nanamin," Yuuji started, between mouthfuls, "when we first met, I thought I wouldn't like you at all."

Kento raised one thin eyebrow over the rim of his paper-cup coffee. He sat with you, and Yuuji, at a dirt road Conbini overlooking Tokyo. The sun was setting, casting the city as a silhouette against oranges, purples. You could smell the earthy petrichor of an incoming storm. Yuuji did not mind, thoughtful as he slurped at an instant ramen.

"Like, really," Yuuji continued, his mouth puckered up, "I thought you were boring. Unfunny, grumpy, miserable. Maybe even a little bit mean." Yuuji laughed now, becoming gradually more animated as he set the scene. "And when you tried to lecture me, while I was fighting that curse? Insane. I was like, 'Who the hell is this guy?'"

You covered your mouth, hiding a smile, eyes flicking between your unreadable husband, and the bubbling boy opposite him. Yuuji finished laughing, wiping his eyes and sighing into another slurp of noodles.

You placed a surreptitious hand on Kento's thigh under the table, and he barely reacted, but to tense and cross his arms. Yuuji rested his chin on one hand, eyes softening as he looked over the ant-like lights, moving in scattered formation across the city.

"But then...I realised. You just cared. I mean, really cared. About me. And if I wasn't being treated right. And if I was gonna be okay." Yuuji swallowed, his voice thickening. "And I...didn't have anyone left like that. The only person I ever did have was my grandad, and maybe he just took care of me because he had to, y'know? But you chose to. Even though I'm...I'm a monster."

You saw Kento squirm within. You knew he'd had his misgivings about Sukuna's Vessel, before Kento knew him as Yuuji. You knew the shame and guilt Kento carried for that. His shoulders ached, a pall-bearer of emotions for so many.

"And you're hilarious. Anyone can see it, really. And you're a rebel. And a protester. And you stand up for the little guy when nobody else wants to. And you don't do it to make us like you. You just...believe it's right. And don't get me wrong, I like Gojo-sensei too, but I love you."

You pursed your lips, closing your eyes and trying not to tear up on Kento's behalf. Kento remained silent, arms crossed and frowning down at his steaming coffee. Yuuji looked at you, uncertain. You gently flapped one hand; don't worry, you're alright, you're okay.

Kento eventually broke his silence, his voice gruff. He pushed his bank card across the table to Yuuji.

"Itadori-kun." Yuuji sat to attention, wide-eyed. "Go and get yourself some snacks. As much as you like. And the other students, too, if you know what they'd want."

Yuuji took the card in confusion, with both hands and a little bow, and disappeared inside the shop, the automatic doors booping behind him.

Kento stood, your hand falling off his lap, and grasped the metal railings overlooking the city, with his back to you. His shoulders were taut, stiff, occasionally hitching with emotion. You felt him, as you always had.

"...Kento? Are you alright?"

A thick swallow and a sniffle before a single gravelly, "Yeah. I'm fine, I...I'm fine."

[wearebarca]

3. Captured // Alexia Putellas x Original character pt. 3

Part 1 part 2 part 3

synopsis: Rosalie has never stayed too long at the same place. When the opportunity of a lifetime presents itself critical moment in her life, the photographer decides to once again leave behind what she knows and joins the staff of Europe's best football team.

word count: 4,3K

18 + (eventually)

A/N: Hello, notify me if you'd like a little album of the pictures Rosalie takes. Spanish is from google translate so please be nice. French is my first language so all should be good on that part. Enjoy.

The question took the brunette by surprise. She could see that the footballer was getting more comfortable around her but she did not think that the woman would ask such a personal question. The subject had always been quite sensitive for the Canadian but, for unknown reasons she felt that, here, in this empty facility, with the catalonian trusting her with this whole process, she felt like she could share this bit of her story.

“ My uncle was a wedding photographer. When I was younger, he used to bring me with him to some weddings and have me play his little assistant. He would give me one of those single use cameras and tell me to capture what I found beautiful.” The memory put a nostalgic smile to the woman’s face. To this day, she still incredibly misses her uncle and wishes that he could see her today. 

“My parents were busy people, so my uncle took me under his wing. He taught me everything he knew and encouraged me to pursue this passion and helped me make a career out of it.” She raised her camera and snapped a shot of the blond who was listening with a small smile on her face.  “ Can you angle yourself towards the left please?” 

The blond moved to the side and for the first time tonight, really took the time to look at the brunette. Her hair was in a messy bun with a few strands escaping and framing her face. Her high waisted jean shorts showed off her long legs. She had on an oversized gray grandad cardigan on top of her black t–shirt. The sleeves of her sweater were slightly too long and went over her hands. The brunette looked comfortable and at ease, she was relaxed and completely in her element. She looked nothing like the photographer’s Alexia had worked with in the past. She was used to flamboyant people who yelled orders at their models or were constantly harassing her with their camera, not this slightly awkward, caring, beautiful woman who was willingly sharing her story with the footballer.

“ He must be an incredible photographer.”

“ He was yes,” The brunette’s expression dimed at that, Alexia suddenly felt bad for bringing the subject but the smaller woman motionned to her that everything was ok and continued. “  Eleven years ago he was diagnosed with bone cancer. He died a year later, not long after my eighteenth birthday.”  

“ I am sorry,”

“ Don’t be, I’m happy to talk about him,” She said smiling, “ What about you? Why football?”

“ My dad, he loved football. He was always very supportive and proud. He got sick.” The blond said, looking down, not wanting the photographer to see her be vulnerable. Rosalie felt the shift in the atmosphere and put down her camera. “ He said that he would not die before seeing his daughter play for Barcelona’s first team, but he went two months before I reached our goal.” 

The brunette wanted to hug the girl standing in front of her but could not decide if she would be comfortable enough to do so. “ I am sure he is extremely proud of what you have accomplished, La reina”, the name earned the smaller woman an eye roll from the footballer who shifted in a different position for the photographer. 

“ Ok, let’s get this shoot over with, I think we both deserve to go home and finally relax.” They finished up quickly and Rosalie was quite happy with the pictures that came out. While she uploaded the pictures to her computer, the blond helped picking up the equipment. Grateful for her help, the brunette promised the captain that she would bring her coffee next week as a thank you.

They walked out of the empty training center as the sun was starting to set. When the brunette reached her small car, she turned around to see the taller woman standing awkwardly behind her. 

“ I just wanted to thank you for making this shooting so casual and easy.”

“ Of course, anything to make you comfortable, Alexia.” She grabbed the blond’s hand and gave it a light squeeze. “ Have a good weekend Capitana,” 

“Thank you,” The blond started to walk towards her own car but turned back around after a few steps. 

“ Bonne nuit Rosalià.”

The morning air was crisp against her sweat coated skin and the breeze coming from the sea kept the brunette cool even after running for an hour. It was still incredibly early in the morning and the only sounds that could be heard were the odd car passing and the sound of her feet hitting the pavement. Early morning was her favorite time to go run. It allowed her to be completely submerce by the calmness of the still sleeping city. Rosalie didn’t often run with music, preferring to listen to the sounds of her own steps, which acted as some sort of metronome for the torrent of thoughts running in her head lately. 

It had been four days since her shooting with the captain and still, the whole ordeal seemed to be the subject her brain would drift back to whenever the French-Canadian would let her mind run free. The fact that the blond seemed to make tremendous effort to stay as far as she could from the photographer had not helped the questions that were quickly multiplying in her head. 

Rosalie somehow thought that after that night, Alexia would be more approachable and less standoffish. But clearly the woman was not as comfortable as she thought with how vulnerable they had gotten and now she was probably regretting telling the brunette so much. Or maybe she thought that Rosalie went too far by sharing her story with the footballer. Whatever the reason was, the results were still the same. 

Later today, the team will be taking off towards Sevilla for a two day trip. They would all meet at the training center and take the team bus towards the airport. Flying had always been a tricky thing for Rosalie. When she was a teenager she had been on a plane with extremely violent turbulence that had scared the girl and ever since, flying had been one of the woman’s biggest fears. Her friends had always found the thing ironic, since the brunette's job required Rosalie to fly frequently and said that she should’ve gotten used to it by now. But nonetheless, every time the photographer simply thought about flying, she would get restless and anxiety would start creating a pit in her stomach. 

This was the reason why she was currently out at such an ungodly hour, trying to literally run away from her anxious thoughts. Around her she could see that the small coffee shops that were lined on the streets were starting to set up their front patios in order to open and the smell of freshly baked pastries was floating in the morning air. A quick look at her watch told her that she still had a good three hours before Lucy and Keira would arrive at her apartment to pick her up, meaning that she still had time to hit  the half marathon mark before heading back.

She wasn’t used to running this long on morning runs, but she had gone over her training program with Sara, one of the coaches and switched up her training to make it more challenging. So far her breathing was good and she could feel the slight burn of her legs but overall, her pace was good and she was more than satisfied with her time. 

Sara had been a true angel this past week. She had helped the runner organize a new training plan that was focused more on endurance rather than speed. Rosalis had always struggled with long distances which was why marathons were her least favourite type of races. She was extremely hard headed though so she was still focused on mastering this type of event. 

She even went as far as going running with the Canadian during the weekend. She was quite impressed by the level of fitness the brunette was displaying and found that she very much appreciated the company of the French-Canadian. After their run they had stopped at a local café and had agreed to room together during the upcoming trip. 

When Rosalie arrived at her apartment complex, she noticed the couple’s car parked by the door. She checked her watch to see that she technically still had at least an hour and a half before they were supposed to be here. She opened her door to come face to face with a sleeping form on her couch and Lucy running around in her kitchen.the smell of crêpe was wafting in the space.

“ Took you long enough,” The older woman whispered, handing Rosalie a fresh cup of coffee.

“How did you even get in here?”

“ You’re the one who left her door unlocked Rosie, which is not very safe darling you should be more careful.” 

The blob of  blankets on the couch stirred enough to reveal disheveled blond reddish hair. “ Lucy, please shut your mouth. I'm trying to sleep here.”

Rosalie made her  way to the living room and jumped on the woman who screamed at the Canadian to get off.

“ Frenchy you smell like ass go shower, Mama Bronze isn’t done with food anyway.” 

After her shower the brunette put on some comfortable clothes consisting of the staff’s tracksuit pants, a white t-shirt with the Barcelona logo and the Nike club vest that had quickly become one of her favorite articles of clothing. When she came back in the kitchen, everything had been picked up and the kitchen island was dressed up with the food. Lucy and keira were already sitting down and shoveling down food.

“ Mais quel bande d’animal, sincèrement? Vous ne pouviez pas attendre que j’aille fini?”

“ Tais toi femme et viens manger.” Lucy replied with her mouth full.

“ I regret teaching you French, I hope you know that.” She sat down and sipped on her coffee. She wasn’t hungry due to the knot that kept her stomach in check. Knowing that the younger woman would most likely not be able to eat due to her nervousness, Lucy got up and pulled out from the fridge a protein smoothie she had made at home before coming over. 

“Here, at least drink this, you just came back from what I assume was a big run. You gotta put something in you.”

Once breakfast was over, Rosalie finished packing up her camera bag while the girls were loading her bags in the car. The drive to the training center was quiet. Keira was still half asleep and Rosalie was simply too stressed to engage in conversation. Lucy didn’t mind the silence, she was relaxing and enjoying the time spent with two of the most important people in her life. 

The bus ride with the team was more or less the same, with everyone in  pretty much the same state as Keira. As they got closer to the airport, Rosalie’s nerves became worse. Her knee was bouncing up and down and the woman kept zoning out, unable to keep listening to Martina who was going on about a rumor about some people working in management. Thanks to Marcello’s participation in the conversation, Rosalie’s state remained relatively unknown. Or so she thought. 

A few seats behind her, Ingrid, Alexia, Mapi, Keira and Lucy were all sitting together. Knowing that the younger girl was quite fragile at the moment, Lucy had kept a close eye on her. 

“ Hermana, you keep watching Rosie, is everything good?” Mapi wondered, stretching her neck to catch a glimpse of the photographer. 

“She hates flying, it affects her a lot. I just don’t want her to get too bad, you know » Alexia had also noticed the change in the brunette. The normally bubbly woman looked pale and uncharacteristically quiet. 

« Can we do something to help? » Ingrid asked.

« Not really, nothing really distracts her in this situation. We just have to let her process this and stay close, just in case. » Keira replied. They were used to flying with the brunette and had tried everything to help her calm down but nothing really did the trick. She usually would put her headphones in and grip the seat as  hard as she could until they would land. 

Lucy got up and excused herself. Alexia watched her make her way to the front of the bus where the coaches, therapist and the rest of the staff were. “What is she doing?”

“ I think she’s trying to figure out who’s sitting with Frenchy on the plane.” Keira answered, turning towards her girlfriend.

“ They are close, Si?” Alexia’s curiosity had gotten the best of her. She wasn’t jealous, she could see that Lucy and Keira cared a lot about the green-eyed woman and she did not understand why, but she wanted to know as much as she could about her. 

“ Yeah, Like sisters they are. Lucy’s very protective of her, she does have much family. We’re hers now, you know.” Keira smiled as she watched Lucy walk back to her seat, but not without stopping to drop a granola bar on The Canadian’s lap and threatening her to eat it before they boarded. 

“ So who’s with her?” 

“ Apparently she’s the only staff member who didn’t get a ticket in the same area, probably because they booked it after everyone else. She’s gonna sit with the team, but we don’t know our seats yet so..” She said as she sat back down.

“ It’s ok, I can ask whoever is with her to swap with me, I’ll sit with her.” Ingrid said smiling. 

“ Thank you Ingrid,” Lucy said, visibly more relaxed knowing that the brunette would be with someone she seemed to trust.

At the airport, security went smoothly and the team collected their boarding passes only to be called moments later to the gate. The speed at which everything was going was a godsend for Rosalie who was too focused on making sure she had all her documents all the while taking pictures of the team, to have time to think about the moment the wheel of the plane would leave the ground. 

As she walked in the tunnel leading to the aircraft, Rosalie could feel her heart hammering in her chest and her palms getting increasingly sweaty. Lucy’s grounding presence helped the brunette a little but her fear was fighting hard to gain control. The photographer checked her boarding pass for the first time since receiving it to check what seat she had been assigned. 

“ where are you sitting?” The question came from Ingrid who was walking in front of them. 

“ I have B47,” her answer came put a lot more calm than the woman felt as she scanned the seats to find her own. 

“ That's good, Mapi and I are right in front of you,” As she was answering, the Norwegian stopped and picked up her bag to place it in the overhead bin, which told Rosalie that they had reached their seats. She walked the few steps that separated her from her seat, only to come face to face with the woman that had been occupying her mind for the last few days. 

Suddenly, Rosalie’s anxiety found a new target to spiral about. A hand on her shoulder pulled the photographer out of her thoughts. 

“Are you ok? We can sit together if you want? I have a few movies downloaded on my tablet. Mapi can sit with Alexia.” Ingrid asked, smiling softly at the brunette. Rosalie appreciated the dark haired girl but there's one thing that woman hated more than flying, and it was  pity. She knew that they only wanted to help her but she couldn’t help but feel like they were pitying her and she didn't want to appear weak in front of her new team, which is why she politely declined, thanking the couple and placing her belongings in the bin on top of her seat. 

The comotion caught the attention of the blond captain who had not seen who was prepared to sit next to her. She was more than surprised to see the photographer standing in the alley with a nervous small playing on her lips. 

“ Hey,”

“Hola,” Alexia said smiling, picking up her bag from the seat next to her. She sat down next to the blond and closed her eyes to try to calm herself before take off. 

Looking at the brunette, Alexia felt a strange sense of protectiveness wash over her. She wanted to make the brunette feel better, make that smile that takes her breath away appear on the photographer’s soft features. A few seats away, she could see Lucy watch them with a worried expression which Alexia answered with a reassuring smile. She would not let the brunette spiral. 

Surprisingly, Alexia was not the first one to speak. “ I am sorry if I overstepped during the shooting. I didn’t want to male you feel uncomfortable.” She said, eyes still closed and head thrown back. If she was to sit with the blond for this trip, might as well try to make it a little less awkward. 

“ What do you mean?”

“ I don’t know, I just  don’t want you to think that I’m probing your personal life.”

“ No, no I did not think that, do not worry,” the footballer took a second to think about what she was going to say next. She was aware of her own behaviour towards the photographer. The woman made her nervous and she felt like with the brunette, she did not need to put on a controlled facade like with the rest of the media team, and that scared the Ballon d’Or winner. Alexia hated feeling like she wasn’t in complete control of herself, so the easiest solution in her mind was simply to keep her distances. But staying away from the brunette did not appease her curiosity. “ I am very sorry if I made you feel this way. I appreciate your presence Rosalia.” 

The blond’s small confession made Rosalie slightly relax, enough for a small smile to escape her lips. She turned her head towards Alexia, who felt a warm feeling take place at the sight. “ I appreciate your presence as well.” 

The plane jolted, signaling the brunette, who had momentarily forgotten where she was, that they would be taking off very soon. She quickly grabbed the arm rest and panic flooded brain. Alexia, who had seen the brunette deteriorate, did the first thing that came to her mind. She grabbed the hand that was gripping the arm rest and held it with her own. She reached with her other hand and gently turned the photographer’s face towards her. Green met Hazel and the brunette was instantly captured by the depth of the footballer’s gaze. 

“You’re ok, hey look at me, breathe with me ok?” The blond took a deep breath in through her nose and out through her lips. The brunette followed the footballer’s lead, her eyes never straying from Alexia’s. “ bien, lo estás haciendo muy bien”

Alexia’s words ignited a small flame at the pit of the photographer’s stomach which successfully calmed some of the anxiety, but replaced it with an odd feeling that the French-Canadian was simply not ready to face yet. 

“ Here take this, it'll help with the pressure,” the captain pulled out a pack of gum and popped two pieces in Rosalie’s hand. The first bite surprised the photographer who made a face that pulled a chuckle from the footballer. 

“ What kind of psycho chews cinnamon gum?”

“Hey it’s good don’t be mean,” the woman answered with a hurt expression. She could see that Rosalie had calmed down quite a bit, but the deadly grip she still had on the blond’s hand showed her just how sacred the photographer was. Suddenly, they could feel the plane gain some speed and the wheel lifting off the ground. The brunette’s gaze shifted quickly towards the small window as panic clouded her eyes.

“ no, no sigue mirándome” With her hand still on Rosalie’s face, she drew the brunette closer still. Only a few inches separating the two. Rosalie could smell Alexia’s perfume, something sweet, like strawberries. She smelled like summer, it was intoxicating. She didn’t understand what the blond had said but it did not matter, since as soon as her gaze met hers, the blond smiled sweetly and Rosalie forgot once again where she was. 

“ Tell me one of your happiest memories,” The French-Canadian was surprised by the blond’s question. She had gone from ignoring the photographer to taking care of her during takeoff. She knew that Alexia was simply trying to distract her, but the curiosity she could see shining through her eyes made the brunette realize that maybe, the football player didn’t hate her after all. 

“ My first triathlon, it would have to be one of the most meaningful things in my life.” She answered.

“ Tell me about it, si?” 

“ It was a few years ago, my uncle loved triathlons. He used to do one every summer. He also volunteered as a photographer for the races. When I got older I would volunteer with him and he used to say that I would be a great triathlete if I wanted.” She said, smiling at the memory. 

“ He knew that my football days were over since I had gotten injured and needed surgery on my ankle. He said that once I’d be on my feet again I should give it a try. But I used to think that I would hate running, it was the part I hated the most during training.” Rosalie’s expression darkened. 

“When he died, I thought that it would be a good way to honour him in a way, the training was so hard. I had never swum before and my cardio wasn’t great coming back from injury.” She took a deep breath and her gaze left Alexia’s to shift to their intertwined fingers. 

“ But the rush of crossing the finish line was electric. It felt like I made him proud.” She looked back up only to see the captain's face lighting up along with hers. 

A few seats in front of the two, Lucy was witnessing the whole thing along with Keira. They couldn’t believe what they were seeing. In the time they had known her they had never seen her be so relaxed on a plane, nor being so physically close with someone she had just met. She had always been a bit weird about physical touch, it had taken a while before she started to relax whenever the English women hugged her. But at this moment, hand in hand and only a few inches separating their faces, the photographer looked comfortable, happy almost. 

The sound indicating that you could take the seat belts off pulled the two women out of their little bubble. Realizing that she was still gripping the footballer’s hand, Rosalie slowly untangled her fingers from Alexia’s and slightly pulled away from her. 

“Thank you for distracting me,” 

“My pleasure, I am always happy to know more about you Rosalia” The footballer turned around and pulled out her headphones from her case. Rosalie, still surprised by the blond’s statement, put one headphone back in her ear, letting the other one dangle in on her chest and closed her eyes, listening to the calming sound of her music, all the while keeping an ear out in case anything happened. 

A few minutes passed, not much could be heard around. Everyone was either on their phones or had put a movie on their screen. Rosalie could see from the space between seats that Mapi and Ingrid were snuggled up and watching The Lion King on their tablet. An intense shuffling sound pulled her attention away from their screen to see Alexia intensely searching for something in her bag.

“ Ah mierda , where are they?” She sounded frustrated enough for the brunette to lean in to see.

“ Are you ok?”

“ Si, I think I did not bring my headphone charger and they just died,” The blond said frustrated. 

“ Here,” The brunette took her headphone that was resting on her chest and offered it to the footballer. “ we can share if you’d like, I’m not using them both.” She said smiling. 

“ You don’t mind?” 

“Of course not, it’s the least I can do after you helped me like that.” She said, getting closer so the wire wouldn’t pull her other headphone out. “ What do you usually listen to?” 

“ You can leave on what you were listening to, I just don’t like working without music.” The blond said, pulling out her laptop. Rosalie pressed play again and the soft piano song started again in her ear. After a moment, the blond stopped typing and spoke again. 

“ This is nice, very calm, what is it called?” 

“ This is Interlude by this group called London Grammar. The singer’s voice is so powerful, it’s one of my favourite groups.” she said, happy to share her music with the blond.

“ Good, I will look them up then.” The blond went back to her work, softly humming to the music in her ear. Meanwhile, Rosalie was starting to feel like her lack of sleep and intense morning run were slowly taking a toll on her body. Alexia’s calm and grounding presence, along with her perfume that flooded her senses every time she took a breath allowed the photographer to relax enough for her eyelids to become heavy. Slowly her whole body became heavy and her head lolled to the side, resting gently on Alexia’s shoulder. 

At the contact, the footballer went rigid, but relaxed as soon as she realized that the photographer had finally succumbed to sleep, after being on edge all morning.  Knowing she could not work without disturbing the brunette, Alexia closed her laptop and relaxed in her seat, letting the soft music guide her towards sleep as well.

A/N: feedback is appreciated

[hotluncheddie]

For the @steddie-spooktober day 17 prompt : hayride

rated: T | cw: none | tags: Steve Harrington owns a farm, Eddie Munson is a clown, fluff

🤡🤡🤡🤡

Steve is on the last leg of the days final hay ride rout. It’s been another weekend of setting up and making sure all the stalls are covered with their seasonal workers, checking in with health and safety and ensuring the entertainers got the newest version of the final Halloween themed weekend schedule, before everything shifts to the Christmas holiday themes.

But it went off without a hitch, another solid season overall.

The farm had been his passion project. Built thanks to his Grandad’s sudden death and meticulous stipulations that all his money go to his only grandson. Freeing Steve completely from under his father’s thumb and allowing him breathing space to finally do something he enjoyed. Even if he is using the business degree his Dad bullied him into, it’s definitely not the route his father wanted for his life.

But Steve loves it. Every moment. Working outside, with people he trusts, like Robin who runs the creative side, marketing a decorating and generally making the place look amazing. Being an honest to god farmer, much to his mother’s chagrin gives him a real sense of purpose and pride, every pumpkin he manages to grow is like a pat on the back.

And, privately, Steve gets to give kids the kind of memories that he could only dream of when he was younger. And that’s worth more than anything.

That last thing is part of the reason why he so often spends the last couple hours of opening running the hay ride. He gets to hear the families and kids enjoy their time together, react to the view and the wooden characters Robin painted, huddle into their coats and snuggle in close. It’s magic. Steve loves it. So he drives the tractor as often as he can.

It’s great. He loves his life, he really does. But, unfortunately, it can’t all be perfect. This season in particular has had one little problem. One bit of danger.

The danger which just so happens to be the first thing he sees as he rounds the last bend of the hay ride. Eddie. Their newest entertainment hire and the thorn in Steve’s side.

He’s way too hot for Steve to be any kind of normal around him.

A honest to god clown. With tricks and magic and jokes and songs. With his little autumn themed outfit and matching makeup. Steve’s heard nothing but good things about him, a shoe in to be rehired every season going forward. The crowds can’t get enough of the guy.

Which is all great. If Steve didn’t have a disgustingly huge crush on him.

Even dressed fully in his clown paint and outfit he’s hot.

It really shouldn’t be hot.

But it is.

And Steve can’t even think about what he looks like in his normal clothes because he could honestly start to get hard thinking about it. The guy is insane.

Not to mention one of the kindest sweetest people ever. To everyone, but it seems to Steve especially. He can’t count the amount of times Eddie’s made him blush just from being so sweet or a little flirty or a little tease.

So really, it’s been hell, the whole season, because I Steve can’t work out a way of asking the guy out that doesn’t make him come off as some creepy boss.

And now Eddie’s there, waiting for Steve at the end of the hay ride. And Steve has no damn clue why.

Steve parks and opens the gate for people to file out. Waving and thanking them for coming, hoping to see them soon.

He stalls until everyone is gone, until the section of farm is empty except the two of them.

Steve bites his lip, jumping up to grab the tractor keys so he can have another moment not looking at Eddie.

Eventually though, he turns, smiles. ‘You good man?’ He asks.

Eddie nods. Looking fidgety. He’s still in his clown makeup but his costume’s been replaced with black jeans and a padded flannel.

Steve crosses his arms and tries not to think about that way the denim stretches over his thighs.

Eddie takes a deep breath. ‘I know you’re my boss and all. But, well, my last shift just finished and I would love if you extended my contract, seriously, but. I’d honestly kick myself if I didn’t at least try.’ Eddie says in a rush.

Steve scrunches his eyebrows.

Eddie revels a bouquet of balloon flowers from behind his back, shy through the face paint, biting his red lip.

Steve is lost for words, mouth opening and closing dumbly.

This is the most romantic thing that’s ever happened to him.

‘This is the most romantic thing that’s ever happened to me.’ He says, dumbfounded.

Eddie smiles, his whole face lighting up. ‘Steve Harrington, will you please go on a date with me?’ He asks.

Steve laughs, takes the flowers and sniffs them just to hear Eddie’s giggle. ‘Yeah.’ He whispers. ‘I’d really like that.’

🤡🤡🤡🤡

Tag list: @scoops-aboy86 @xxfiction-is-my-realityxx @pearynice @thecatkingsthrone @marvel-ous-m

@cheesedoctor @chickensinrainboots

[megalony]

He's Safe

This is an Eddie Diaz imagine requested by Anon, I hope you like it thank you for the detailed idea. I'm trying to get through all the Eddie requests in my inbox.

Taglist: @lunaticspoem@butlegendsneverdie@langdonzvoid@jennyggggrrr@rogmeddows@radiob-l-a-hblah@rogertaylorsbitontheside@chlobo6@rogertaylors-lipgloss@sj-thefanthefan@omgitsearly@luckytrashgooprebel@scarsout@deaky-with-a-c@killer-queen-ofrhye@bluutac@vousmemanqueez-blog@jonesyaddiction@milanosaurus@httpfandxms@saint-hardy@7-seas-of-fat-bottomed-girls@mrsalwayswritex @rogerina-owns-me  @hellsdragon@im-an-adult-ish@crazylittlethingg@allauraleigh@onceuponadetectivedemigod@ceres27@avyannadawn@noonenuts@sleepylunarwolf@coverupps@justagirlthatlovedtoread @musicistheway @missdreamofendless

911 Masterlist

Summary: Whilst on a trip to the park, (Y/n) encounters someone trying to lure away her son, Chris and she hurries to get him back. Suddenly, the park doesn't feel so safe anymore.

Enjoy.

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A smile tugged at (Y/n)'s lips and she rolled her eyes playfully when she looked down. She could feel Christopher's hands pawing at her hips and reaching up to her arms, desperately trying to take the phone out of her hand and snatch it for himself.

He nudged his nose against her arm and whined, trying again to take the phone from her because he knew who was on the other end. "Dad, I've got to go soon and Chris wants to speak to you. Here, talk to grandad." (Y/n) lowered the phone down and let Chris paw at it, squealing brightly when he held it out and saw his grandad on Facetime.

He pulled out one of the dining room chairs and perched himself down, keeping both hands tightly held onto the phone that he pulled very close to his face so he could see the picture. He hadn't spoken to him since last week and he recognised his voice on the phone straight away. As soon as Chris realised who (Y/n) was talking to, he followed her around the house to try and get the phone from her.

It never mattered who was on the phone, it was usually Eddie and Chris always whined until he got the phone but when it was grandad who lived hundreds of miles away, Chris went mad for the phone.

"Pops, it's me!"

"I know, move the phone back so I can see my handsome young man," Andrew squinted at the screen until Chris finally relented and pulled it back so he was fully in view of the camera and not just his glasses. "There you are! You've grown, haven't you?"

"No," Chris started to laugh and moved his hand to bite down on his thumb as he slumped back in his chair.

"Are you looking after mummy for me?" He lowered his voice and moved his glasses so he could see his grandson a bit clearer. Before they made the big move down to LA, (Y/n) had spent over an hour teaching her dad how to use Facetime on his phone. She didn't want Chris to miss out seeing him or for her dad not to see her or Eddie and Chris.

"Yeah, we going to park, play on swings." Chris had already gotten his shoes on, he was just waiting for (Y/n) to pack her bag ready.

He tilted his head to the side and watched with a grin as (Y/n) slung her bag on her shoulder and walked towards him. She had packed his emergency EpiPen and some snacks for a picnic. (Y/n) always had a change of clothes for emergencies, a teddy and his noise-cancelling headphones in case he got too overwhelmed out in public.

"Ooh, the swings. Not as good as the swings here at Pop's house, eh? Is daddy going?" As soon as Chris started to walk- which was a bit later than normal as his motor skills were delayed- Andrew had gotten a play set in the garden. Two simple swings, a see-saw and a red slide, but it was like a jungle gym to Chris and he loved going to visit his grandad and playing in the garden with him for hours. They were very close.

"No daddy today,"

"No?"

"Eddie's at work dad, he's gotten a few extra shifts this month." (Y/n) leaned down and kissed the top of Chris's head, smiling at her dad on the screen who leaned closer as if it would zoom in the image on his phone.

"I feel like I haven't seen Edmundo in ages, is he alright?"

"Don't worry we're all fine, and don't call him that you know he doesn't like it," She rose her brow sternly at her dad who simply shrugged and grinned at Chris who was in fits of giggles.

He always called Eddie by his full name just because he knew it made Eddie feel like he was back at school and in Andrew's naturally deep voice, it made him feel like he was in trouble. They had a close bond, closer than what Eddie felt with his own father and therefore gaming and trickery was also blended in with their bond.

"We have to go now but I'll call you later, love you."

"Alright, you look after her for me young man, I love you both."

"Bye pops." Chris lifted the phone to hand it back to (Y/n) so she could wave and end the call. Grandad had always been something that was too hard for Chris to say and his delayed speech didn't help matters, but he had found it very easy to say pops. And that had stuck ever since Chris learned to talk. It wasn't easy finding birthday and Christmas cards that still said pops on them which was why (Y/n) tended to make a lot of the cards Chris sent to his grandad.

"Come on then, let's get going to the park."

(Y/n) wrapped an arm around Chris's shoulders a he slipped his hands into his crutches and they left the house. It was a long walk to the park even when Chris varied his speed and sometimes zoomed all the way there, but it was good exercise for him. And if he got too tired they caught the bus back and Chris loved to people-watch.

"We go see pops soon?" He tilted his head up, flashing his signature cheeky smile at his mum as they rounded the corner onto the next street.

"He's going to come down and visit us soon for the first time, you can show him your room."

They had taken a trip back to Texas two months ago to visit her dad, more specifically to give him the news in person that he was going to have another grandchild soon. (Y/n) couldn't tell him over the phone or Facetime, it was something she had to do in person like the first time when they had been expecting Chris. And it meant Chris could see him after six months away from him.

And it had already been agreed and in motion that Andrew was going to come down and stay with them at the end of the pregnancy so he could be there when his second grandchild was born. It meant Chris could show him the house and his room and his school and all the new places he had visited since moving down here.

"School, can show him school,"

"Course you can, he'll be so proud of you."

Leaning down, she wrapped her arms around Chris's shoulders and pressed a sloppy kiss to his cheek making him giggle. She stayed curved around him until they reached the park they always came to.

Chris liked this park the most because it had proper swings, ones that weren't lopsided or broken or had squeaking, rusty chains. And they had a big oval net swing that he loved to sit in and sway around on. (Y/n) always made sure that if they came to the park, they had the whole afternoon free because it was hard to get Chris to leave and it tired him out if they stayed for a while.

"What are we going on first?"

"Slide," Chris moved to the bench near the left of the play area and let his crutches drop down in front of it. It was a routine to always leave his crutches in the corner so he could meddle and trot around the park and then grab them when they were ready to leave.

(Y/n) followed him to the slide and kept one hand on his back as he climbed up the steps. They were thin and steep and (Y/n) didn't like to let him climb them alone in case he wobbled or slipped down. As soon as he slid down, he was clapping his hands and a bright, bubbly expression came to his face and he went for a second go.

This was the part (Y/n) loved, when Chris would start to gear up and get riddled with excitement for letting off his energy. He gained a lot of sensory feel from being at the park, especially the roundabout which had a small rainbow bench to sit on and it didn't go very fast because it was old. It was perfect for Chris so he didn't feel too sick or dizzy, a great amount of stimulation.

"Swing,"

It was clear by his voice that he was the tiniest bit annoyed that the big net swing was in use already. That was the one he wanted to go on, but the normal swings were free and they would do until Chris could get on the other one.

Reaching over when they got to the swings, (Y/n) hoisted him up onto the seat, making sure he was holding on tight before she started to push him. Chris did help a bit, he swung his legs around and leaned forward a lot to stim, but he was starting to get heavy now he was eight.

"Higher mummy!" Chris tilted his head back to try and look at (Y/n) and his grin widened when (Y/n) tugged the chain back before giving a bit more oomph into her push. If he could, Chris would swing higher and higher until he could touch the clouds and fly with the birds.

He loved it when he had both his dad and his grandad with him at the park because his grandad would stand in front of him and his dad would tilt him back and swing him higher. They would egg each other on and give (Y/n) a fright with how high they could get Chris to go. He knew his mum was a bit more cautious, but she always tried to get him higher and higher.

(Y/n) took a step to the left and caught her breath back, moving her left hand to her protruding stomach while she kept nudging Chris forwards every time he flew back near her. He was as high as she could get him now and he was stimming so much she barely had to push to keep the momentum going.

He started to nod his head back and forth and squealed happily after about five minutes of full-on swinging. But then he started to squeal and jump up and down on the seat until (Y/n) pulled on the chains and slowed him down before he fell off.

"Baby, what are-"

"Swing! Mummy swing," He jumped off as soon as she stopped the swing and she saw where he was heading.

The net swing was free and Chris was determined to get to it first. Even without his crutches, he was as fast as lightning, arms stretched out and legs kicking rapidly to reach the black and blue roped swing.

He grabbed it and leaned his tummy on the rope edge, laughing at his triumph although there were only two other parent and children here at the park.

"Alright baby, up we go."

Holding his hips, (Y/n) lifted him up and watched him shimmy into the middle and flop onto his bum. He slouched back, half sitting, half laying back and held onto the tough rope edge to keep steady like he always did.

The moment (Y/n) started to push the swing, Chris shuffled down and laid on his back with his knees bent up and his arms stretched out holding the rope. His mouth hung open in a wide grin and he stared up at the clouds overhead, watching how the colours and shapes changed as he moved. And every time the swing went forward, he caught a glimpse of his mum behind him, sticking her tongue out and pulling funny faces at him just to see him laugh.

(Y/n) could feel her arms starting to flag and her lungs burned from how long Chris had been sat in the swing. If he could, she knew he would stay here all day.

It was such a sensory feel for him to be swaying like this, feeling the breeze on his skin and the way his head felt woozy and tilted back and forth. His tummy rumbled up and down and he loved it, like he was going up and down hills on a bumpy car ride. He had been in the swing for ages by now and it was starting to get tiring for (Y/n).

"Sweetheart, let's go have our picnic now."

"No. Swing, mummy swing," Chris stayed laid down in the swing, even when (Y/n) let it naturally slow to a stop.

"I'm starting to get tired and the baby is getting hungry. I promise you can come back on this one before we leave."

He sat up with a grin and nodded, holding out his arms so she could pick him up and settle him down on his feet again. As long as he could have another turn later, he wouldn't make a fuss. (Y/n) only hoped she could get him off the swing later when it was time to leave. Eddie normally distracted him with something if he wouldn't be agreeable.

Last time they had all been at the park, Eddie pretended he got an important phone call and started to walk away. Chris soon hopped off the swing and followed after him to find out who he was talking to. Distracting was always the best way to go about getting Chris to finish a game or project or get ready to go home if he was in one of his stubborn moods.

Once he was on his feet, Chris pointed to the bench where his crutches were and started off to go sit down.

"Baby one second," (Y/n) turned back and leaned over to grab her bag that she had slumped down next to the swing pole. It had gotten hard pushing Chris, carrying the heavy shoulder bag and the six-month bump weighing down on her abdomen.

She grabbed the bag from the floor and quickly rummaged around to find the pack up box she'd stuffed in there earlier. She did remember the juice box didn't she?

Her fingers curled around the rectangle juice box and she smiled to herself; all Hell would break loose if she forgot that. But when her eyes lifted and she took a few steps in the direction of the bench, she frowned.

Where was Chris?

Her feet paused mid-walk and her hand tightened around the juice box as her eyes scanned round. He knew they were having their picnic now, why was he pushing his luck trying to go on another game before dinner? Her eyes immediately went to the slide, but it was empty. The roundabout was in use but Chris wasn't on it, nor was he waiting near it or approaching the man to ask him if he could also get on the roundabout.

Just as (Y/n) felt a cold hand curling around her heart and fear gripping her neck, her eyes set on the all too familiar mop of brown curls.

There he was, but who was he with?

He was leaving the park. A couple were standing on either side of him, a woman holding his hand and a man with his hand on Chris's back, both of them guiding him. Who the Hell were they? What did they think they were doing?

It wasn't anyone (Y/n) knew, none of her friends would just straight up walk Chris away from her, they weren't that cruel or stupid to panic her like that. And (Y/n) didn't have any family here in LA, the only family she had were Chris and her father and he was back in Texas. And most of Eddie's family, apart from his Abuela, were all in Texas too and that certainly wasn't Abuela guiding Chris away.

Someone was taking him.

"Christopher!" His name flew past her lips in a desperate shout, knowing he always answered answered or at least looked at her when she used his full name on him. And as she expected, his head turned to the right in her direction. He wasn't smiling, but he wasn't frowning or crying or pulling one of his unnerved faces either. His head tilted to the side and his lips pursed before he reached an arm out as if wanting to signal to her that he wanted to be with her, not whoever was talking to him.

(Y/n) set off in a run. Despite the burning in her lungs, the weight in her abdomen or the dread in her stomach that made her feel sick, she ran faster than she ever had. Her feet cut into the tarmac leaving indents in her wake and her heels scuffed against the grass when she left the tarmac park and aimed over the green for her boy.

They had noticed her, they started to walk quicker, trying to drag Chris along with them but he was now confused.

Panicked repetitions of 'mummy' and 'nope' left his lips, telling (Y/n) he was uneasy and starting to get distressed.

"Christopher! Stop!" A flurry of words past (Y/n)'s lips until she was screaming his name in a mix of 'get off' and 'fire'. It had always been drilled into (Y/n) that if she was in a bad situation and wanted bystander attention, she should shout something strange like fire because it attracted panic and attention whereas people sometimes ignored 'help'.

She wasn't sure what to do when she got close to them, did she grab Chris and pull back? Did she try and tackle the two of them down? Did she punch and kick and hit them to get them away from her precious son? What on Earth was she supposed to do in a situation like this?

She couldn't slow herself down when she reached their fast pace and all (Y/n) could manage to do was turn to her side and barell her shoulder into the woman's back, effectively knocking her down to her knees.

(Y/n) could feel stars forming in front of her eyes and her trembling arms baracaded around Chris and coiled him to her chest. His fingers dug into her arm and he leaned his head into her cleavage, pushing as close to her protruding stomach as he could manage. He went to jelly in his mother's arms and let her drag him two feet back until the man had no choice but to let go of Chris and take a cautious step away.

"What were you doing with my son? Who the Hell are you?!" Her shaking hand moved up to fist in Chris's curls and she kissed his forehead, swaynig unsteadily on her feet.

She could feel eyes watching them and a few murmurs started to get louder as bypassers noticed the scene unfolding.

"What were you doing?!" She almost screamed at them, shaking with fury despite feeling Chris dig his nails into her arm and whimper into her chest. She was frightening him, he didn't understand what was happening or why she was angry. Was she angry at him? Had he done something wrong? Why was everyone upset and confusing?

"Nothing, nothing."

"Who are you? You clearly wanted my son for something- For fuck's sake!" (Y/n) stomped her foot down like an angered child when the couple took off in a sprint across the green.

They tried to kidnap him. There was no other explanation for them hurrying away with him and then fleeing when (Y/n) caught up with them and demanded to know what they were up to. Why Chris? Why choose Chris of the few other children at the playground? Why try and take a child from his mother when he was clearly happy and safe? Why take a child with special needs? They had to know they wouldn't be able to look after him or know his needs and wants.

If they took him and gave him food with milk in he could have had an allergic reaction and if they didn't have his EpiPen he could of died.

They could have gotten so much further with him if (Y/n) didn't look up quickly enough. They could have passed through the bushes and got into a car and fled with him. (Y/n) might not have gotten him back.

"Mummy…?"

Everything started to spin until (Y/n) had no choice but to drop down onto her knees on the grass and steady herself on Chris.

Her hands moved to cup his face and she kissed his cheek before she smoothed her fingers over his skin, looking for any sign of injury or distress. They didn't have time to hurt him but they could have threatened him or frightened him in some way before she got to them.

"Baby are you alright? What were they doing, what did they say to you?" Her hands smoothed up and down his arms and over his chest at least three times until she was satisfied he wasn't hurt.

"They had choc cookie, gave me one." Chris reached out to point towards the cookie he dropped a few feet away when they rushed him to walk.

"They offered you cookies?"

"Hm, said go with them and get cookies… said they were friends. Why you crying?"

When Chris brushed his finger beneath her eye and rubbed away a tear, (Y/n) couldn't stop herself from bursting into tears. She wound her arms back around his waist and pulled him into her chest, repeatedly kissing his cheek to try and calm herself down.

"Baby, oh baby… we don't take stuff from strangers, you're not in trouble I promise, they just scared mummy. Some people aren't very nice, you just stay with me or daddy, whoever brings you out, you stay with them. Okay?"

Chris didn't have stranger awareness. He thought everyone he met could be a friend. He loved all the people at station 118, he thought of them all as family and friends and he was always saying hello to people in the street or asking people if he could pet their dogs. He didn't grasp that there were some people who weren't to be trusted, Chris gave trust willingly because it was the kind of loving heart he was.

"Miss, miss are you okay? We're on the phone to the police…"

(Y/n) looked over at a young couple who were stood a few feet away, pointing to their phone. They heard the commotion and dialled for the police to be safe, it certainly looked like a kidnapping in broad daylight.

"We're okay… they didn't hurt him. Thank you,"

She wasn't waiting around for the police. Not yet, not right now when Chris was unsettled and confused and she felt like she was going to be sick. (Y/n) wanted to go home. She wanted to be safe inside her own home with the doors locked and Chris within her sights.

She wanted Eddie.

She could go to the police station tomorrow and tell them what happened, but not right now.

"Come on baby, we're going home now."

"No, picnic and swings," Chris pointed over towards the park but (Y/n) could barely hear him over the blood pounding in her ears. They weren't staying, not for anything. (Y/n) wasn't staying here and risking those people coming back or seeing her and Chris and following them home. She was frightened beyond belief and she was going straight home.

"No baby, home now."

(Y/n) didn't wait for a response or Chris's confused reply, she hooked her arms around his middle and lifted him up off his feet. The sickness bubbling in her stomach died down a little when she felt her son's arms curl around her neck and his legs hooked around her hips. With her bump in the way, (Y/n) had to sit him lower down on her hip than normal and it meant Chris had one leg twitching and swinging against her bum but she didn't care.

His heavy weight was calming and soothing in her arms, it told her that he was okay and she hadn't lost him.

She kept her eyes on the floor to avoid the concerned gazes of the few other parents in the park who didn't seem to dare approach or ask what was going on. She balanced Chris on her hip and leaned down to grab his crutches before she set off in a brisk walk home.

After ten minutes, Chris started to become very heavy but (Y/n) didn't dare let him go just yet. She rubbed her hand up and down his back when he started to hum and nuzzle his face into her neck. He wanted to stim, he was clearly anxious but being cuddled and carried like this was calming him down at the same time.

By the time they reached home, (Y/n) felt like she was about to keel over and collapse. Her lungs were starved of oxygen, her mind was fuzzy and the rest of her body was aching. But she juggled her bag, Chris and his crutches as she stumbled into the house and bolted the door behind her.

Her arms went numb when she finally let Chris drop down to his feet and her back clicked horribly when she straightened up. She shouldn't have carried him all the way home or walked as fast as she did but even catching the bus didn't feel safe. All (Y/n) wanted was to be home safe and sound with her boy.

"Let's get your dinner sorted," She guided Chris into the living room and let him put on the tv while she got the picnic out of her bag. She set the box down with all his snacks and sandwiches in and got his juice box ready.

While she was there, (Y/n) took out the dinosaur toy she took out with her for an emergency and placed it next to him on the sofa.

(Y/n) let herself drop down into the armchair and she slumped down like she was about to slide down to the floor. Her trembling hands moved to cover her face and she took shallow breaths, forcing away the tears so she didn't upset or disturb Chris. She needed to call Eddie, she had to talk to him and tell him what had happened and hope that his voice would calm her down enough to get through the day until he came home tonight.

She could see Chris wasn't going to eat all of his lunch, he was picking and choosing what to nibble on when he usually ate everything in sections. Sandwich first, then fruit, then biscuits but he was diving in taking bites of everything and throwing them back down, half eaten and unfinished. He wasn't happy, he was unsettled and worried and (Y/n) couldn't do anything to make him feel better. She had ruined his routine and he couldn't understand why.

"Here, look, have some music for a while baby while I go tidy up. You can have a bubble bath soon and a pamper afternoon, how about that?"

It was a relief when he seemed to smile at the idea although he didn't say anything.

He stayed still and let (Y/n) find his dinosaur headphones and she slipped them over his ears and turned on his Ipod. In an instant Chris got up and grabbed his toy and started to shimmy and sway to the upbeat music blasting through his ears. Music was always a sure fire way to calm him down and make him feel better.

(Y/n) stood in the corner of the kitchen near the fridge and got her phone out, making sure she could still keep Chris within her sights.

"Ola mi amor, everything okay?"

"Can you talk for a minute?" (Y/n) knew he could hear the way her voice broke and she pressed her hand against her mouth to smother a cry. She didn't want Chris to hear and become panicked or for her to lose her control on the phone to Eddie and panic him at work. She shouldn't even be calling him right now but she had to before she went insane.

"Mi amor what's happened, are you alright?"

"We went to the park… I looked away for one minute, that was it just a minute I swear and, a- someone tried t-to take Chris."

"Take him? What do you mean take him, like grab him and run?" Eddie raked a hand through his hair as he felt his lungs shrivelling up. "Fuck! Where are you, is he alright? Baby, fuck talk to me baby-"

"They offered him cookies, he was confused, I- I shouted and t-they tried to leave with him. I got him, I grabbed him and they ran off. Eddie if I was two seconds later, I…" Tears burned down her face as another sob got stuck in her throat. It was frightening to think that two mere seconds could have lost her Chris. Two seconds later and (Y/n) would be having a whole other conversation with Eddie.

She would have been calling him, frantic and screaming that someone had snatched their son and she couldn't find him. An extra second or two would have lost Chris and he could have gotten hurt or traumatised.

"But you're both alright, aren't you?"

"We're okay, he's upset, he doesn't know why I brought him home early. I'm sorry if I've freaked you out but I couldn't, I needed to talk to you, I don't know what to do."

"Do you need me to come home, cos I can tell Cap and leave right now- I am, I'm coming home, fuck this. I'm leaving-" He didn't want to stay on shift now she had told him what happened. Eddie wanted to run home to his wife and son and make sure they were alright. He wanted them in his arms to reassure himself that Chris was truly okay and didn't feel upset about what he had gone through. And he wanted his wife pulled into his chest so he could calm her down.

"No, baby no don't leave. You don't have long left, don't, it's not an emergency. I swear he's fine, he might have a meltdown later, he's stimming like mad but he is okay."

(Y/n) could see the way Chris was stimming right now, he was becoming frantic with how he was waving his free hand out at his side and rocking back and forth so bad he was about to fall over. His other arm had his teddy pinned to his chest and his thumb in his mouth and every few seconds, he would lean forward and kick his leg out behind him in some odd mix between dancing and stimming.

She was sure at some point he was going to have a meltdown to release his confusion and backed up energy. But he was alright, Eddie didn't need to come home. He had picked up these extra shifts so when the baby came they would be alright with him taking some time off.

He didn't have to come home, he should stay while he could. In case they had any proper emergencies soon like the baby coming early or Chris having an accident or something going wrong at school.

She just needed to hear his voice.

***

"No dad I swear he's fine, I- dad Eddie's home now, he's here you can talk to him." (Y/n) held the phone against her ear and swiped her hand beneath her eyes to catch the fallen tears.

She had been on the phone with her dad for almost an hour now. At first, she tried not to tell him, he called right when Chris wasn't exactly settling for bed and she gave the phone to Chris. Her dad worked wonders reading a story over the phone and Chris fell asleep but as soon as he asked what was wrong, (Y/n) broke.

Nothing had worked calming her down for the rest of the day and Chris had had a meltdown after she came off the phone to Eddie and then refused to eat his tea. The only thing that settled him was being in the bath for over an hour, playing with his cups and bubble machine.

Eddie dropped his bag by the door, not bothering to kick his shoes off like he normally did as he bolted into the living room towards his wife. He barely had time to open his arms before (Y/n) attached herself to him like a vine. Her arm coiled around his lower chest and she buried her face in his chest as she held her other hand out to pass him the phone.

He glanced at the caller ID and curved his other arm around (Y/n)'s waist, leaning his cheek on top of her head as he squeezed her against him.

"Andrew, yeah it's me… I know, I've spoken to a Sergeant at the station today, she said we can make a statement tomorrow. Can I call you back?" Eddie rubbed his hand up and down (Y/n)'s back but he could feel how tightly her fingers were digging into his hips. And he didn't want to have this long conversation right now, not with the afternoon they had all had.

He had talked to Bobby as soon as he came off the phone with (Y/n) and he gave Eddie Athena's number. She had been very helpful and understanding and said she could come and talk to (Y/n) about a statement in the morning.

When he hung up the phone, Eddie tossed it on the sofa and curled his fingers into the back of (Y/n)'s hair, breathing softly against her forehead as he pulled her impossibly closer.

"Are you okay, how's he been?" He moved towards the sofa and sat down, pulling (Y/n) along with him so she was laid between his thighs. Her head rested on his shoulder and her arms stayed tight around his hips and her eyes fell closed, nuzzled into Eddie's neck.

"I think I scared him when I shouted after them, he didn't know why I was upset… Eddie, if I didn't look up in time-"

"Hey, you got him back that's all that matters. Athena's coming round in the morning to talk to us but for now, he's safe. You're both safe."

Eddie slouched back into the sofa and propped his heels up on the coffee table, managing a smile when (Y/n) shuffled round in his arms. She kept her head on his shoulder and her arms bound around his torso and lifted her legs up so they were laid out over his thigh. His right arm stayed curved around her waist, his hand on her stomach and his left hand moved to cup her face and pull her closer until he could kiss her temple.

He knew he wouldn't be sleeping tonight; he could feel the hour-long conversation he would be having with his father-in-law soon and he doubted (Y/n) would sleep well. And between that, Eddie wanted to go and check on Chris for a while and make sure he was sound asleep and alright. Sleep wasn't going to be their friend for a while now.

He managed to close his eyes after a while and tilt his head down so his nose and mouth were smothered in (Y/n)'s hair, breathing in her scent. His fingertips feathered up and down her side when he felt (Y/n)'s breaths start to even out and her body started to relax against him.

He tried to be slow and careful, not wanting to move (Y/n) as he reached into his pocket and got his phone out.

"Eddie," (Y/n) brushed her nose against his neck and kissed his shoulder, feeling like she was about to drop off to sleep and when she tried to open her eyes and see what he was doing on his phone, she couldn't keep her eyes open.

"Sh, go to sleep mi amor."

He kept his lips against her forehead and started to scroll down an app on his phone. Thinking about his impending phone call with Andrew made something spark in the back of Eddie's mind and he found himself scrolling over swing sets. He knew Chris favoured the swings he had at his grandad's house and the main reason they went to the park was for the swings.

They needed some swings in the back garden because one thing was certain; they weren't going to the park anymore.

[heyidkyay]

Pause it, play it, pause it, play it | Market girl AU

Matty x marketseller!reader

Summary: Saturday's are always the same working the stall, until a stranger stops in to disrupt your cassette display...

Authors note: A one shot for you, needed something to help me with a little writer's block so I hope it's alright! Nothing too detailed, mostly just fluff, just saw that middle picture and the idea took root:)

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“Oi, Rob… You see where I set those new slips I just had?” I called out loudly, riffling my way through the boxes I’d brought over from the van that very same morning. “I swear I left them here in one of these lot.”

Rob seemed to shuffle over towards me at the beckon, peering around the tent whilst I pulled apart one box’s contents. 

I huffed when I heard a familiar crunch and looked over my shoulder to see him stood there munching on an apple. “Nah, babe. Sorry. I can ‘ave a look though if you want, got Nance watchin’ out for me.” ‘Nance’ being Nancy, Rob’s massive Alsatian that had once been his grandad’s guard-dog when he’d manned the stall years back. 

With a soft chuckle I pushed myself up onto my feet once more, tucking my hair behind my ears as I went. 

“Have at, can’t for the life of me find them.” I told him, watching on in growing amusement as he bit down on the green fruit to hold it between his teeth whilst he mooched about the pyramid of cardboard boxes for me, “Sure you’ll still have enough left to sell? Last Saturday you ate your way through six of those, the one before that was the highest yet, at eight.”

Huffing, Rob took another bite of his apple and then shot me a wink. “Keepin’ an eye on me, are you?”

I rolled my eyes as a breathy laugh escaped me, falling against the stall’s main bench so that I could cross my arms over my chest. 

A quick glance at the time told me that we still had a while yet ‘til it hit nine and the market opened properly, letting that first bit of crowd sail in. Though I’d always found it was easier most days to just enjoy the atmosphere that was Portobello, instead of focusing in on the imminent mob.

See, I’d been at the market since I were nine, working the vintage stretch with my mum and aunt, having grown all too fond of the people and their many eccentricities. Rob was of the same cloth, though a tad bit older, just enough that I’d had the fattest crush on him and that East London accent of his as a kid. 

It had faded over time, mind, what with him jetting off a couple years back when he’d been a holiday rep in Ibiza and me realising that I’d wanted to try my luck at art school. Not that either of those things had worked out, which had ultimately led us back here, surprised not to be rid of the other.

He was as close as I could get to a best mate though. Strange yeah, but he was family, wasn’t he? Everyone who worked the market was.

“With an arse like that? Always.” I retorted easily enough to have him laughing along with me and shaking his head at my antics. Something he’d grown all too used to in the recent years since I’d come back and made my mark with a stall of my own.

It wasn’t anything too grand, my stall. Nothing like the tourist trapping shops that sat a little further down, but sweet enough for the likes of me and the massive music collection I managed to drag down here each weekend. Set up was always mad, yes, but with Rob, Nancy and a few other early starters, time slipped away quick enough.

“Here we go then.”

I blinked and looked back over at Rob, who was now beaming brightly at the set of LP slips I’d ordered in special, waving them about in smarmy pride. I swatted his side as I made a grab for the things, only to have him lift them up higher to where I couldn’t reach. 

“Don't be a twat, pass them over. We open in five!”

Rob simply chuckled in retort, taking another chomp out of that apple of his. “A thanks wouldn’t go amiss.”

“Yeah, yeah, I would’ve gotten to it!” I swiftly shot back, jumping up to swipe them from his grasp and grinning in triumph when I managed it. He only laughed, a slight rasp working its way into it like it typically did. “Thanks.” I added after I’d thumbed through the lot, smiling up at him as he made his way to the other side of the tent. 

“Buy me a pint and we’ll call it even, treacle.”

I gave him a roll of my eyes, but agreed without much fuss. “Fine, but just the one, tight arse.”

His hearty chuckle filled the steadily growing street of sellers and I watched on as he stroked Nancy’s collar before settling back in at his own stall which resided by mine.

“Penny’s take care of the pounds, my darlin’.”

I raised a single brow and tucked the slips into one of the closer vinyl cubbies- 70’s Proto-punk wasn’t much of a seller anyway. “You mean, look after the pennies and the pounds will look after themselves.”

Rob clucked his tongue, waving the correction away with the hand that held his apple core, “Alright, smart-arse. You knew what I meant.”

I smirked, tittering quietly to myself whilst he settled his usual bum bag around his hips. It suited him, I thought, the neon green pouch sitting atop that awful red and white apron he’d pinched off the butchers up in Notting Hill when he’d worked there for a weekend. Though I much preferred my own, my nephew having decked it out in all sorts of pins and patches for me a while back now. 

With that Rob and I settled into our own stations, me taking perch on the old wooden stool I’d found in the back of a garden shed, and Rob being his usual loudmouth self, beckoning the arriving customers on closer.  

The crowd grew bigger and bigger the closer it got to ten, lots of people stopped by to have a chat or a look round, a few purchased a couple of bits. It was mainly just the vinyls that sold these days, but I still had posters, cd’s, and even cassettes on show.

It wasn’t usual for the cassettes to get a good look over though, mainly just a ‘Oh! Do you remember them?’ and then a small laugh before people eventually moved on. Which was why I was more than a little surprised to see a figure having a right old rummage through the steady collection I owned, once I’d managed to wrap up another sale. 

Glancing about, I spotted a pair of old birds flirting with Rob by the pears, Nance having gone to settle herself down by my bag in the back to hide from their gentle clucking, and how the crowded mob had thinned out a tad since most people had made their way further down the road’s neck.

I tucked the few notes I held into my pouch and stepped over a tangle of cables to make my way closer to the person, taking in their too big graphic tee and the tight zip up that had been layered over top of it. The nearer I grew the more I spotted though, the slight nod of a head as fingers worked their way deftly through the collection, the array of dark curls that poked their way out of the sides of a worn cap, and then the tiny hoop which dangled from a right earlobe. 

“Looking for something specific?”

The bloke didn’t startle much, there was no real jump at the sound of my voice, only the slight tilt of his head, as though he was used to being caught off guard. I watched him closer after that, noting how his thumb trailed across one of the few Sonic Youth singles I had.

“Their ‘86 album?”

His voice was gentler than I’d first been expecting, rasped with a slight accent I couldn’t quite place. I blinked at his ask, skimming through the catalogue of tapes my mind offered me, which hardly ever seemed to move from their typical place of sorting. 

“Um, top right? Should be one there, got Sister and Goo too, if I’m not wrong. Though the ‘88 album seems to be their most popular- even in cassette form.” I had rambled a tad there, I knew that much, but it was all part of the job to me. Talk and talk until they either fled the scene or decided to buy more than what they’d first come for. “You into cassettes then?”

He gave me a low chuckle and pulled away from the stand slightly, it was then that I caught sight of his face, a tad bit stubbled and lips parted almost in wait. He must’ve been closer to Rob’s age than my own.

I raised a brow when he didn’t offer me an answer, tilting my head in turn. “Or, is it a gift of some sort?” I dragged out.

With a blink, he seemed to stand a little taller and I noticed he only had an inch or two on me.

“Er, no.” He muttered, before mimicking my head’s movement and propping his elbow up on the cassette stand almost as if he was attempting to suss me out. It took a second before he finally flashed me a slow but genuine smile, “Looking for a certain sound. Some tapes sound better than the actual record so I figured here would be my best bet.”

I hummed, crossing one ankle over the other. “The further back you go you can hear it, but most of their stuff's good either way.”

He smirked as he settled in further, looking out at me from under the brim of his cap, “Aren’t you meant to be selling it to me?”

My laughter couldn’t have been helped because he did have a point there, only… “It’s just not everyday that someone pops by to talk about music mediums with me.” I argued, all too pleased when I heard him give another hearty chuckle in reply, “So forgive me for my excitement.”

“Will do.” He simpered, eyes flicking down to where he still held the Evol tape, I reached out to tap its plastic top.

“That one’s known for its ballads, if that’s something you’re into, but,” I practically sang before peering round him to see if I could find the one cassette case I was thinking of, “If you’re wanting a specific sound then A Thousand Leaves is probably worth giving a listen to. Personally I don’t think it got the recognition it deserved, but there was a lot of experimenting whilst also managing not to betray their roots, you know? It’s softer, smoother, and the guitars are almost unmatched.”

When I went to hand it over to him just to have a look at, I found him already watching me with this inscrutable sort of expression. I merely brushed it off, figuring that he’d just leave if he did eventually grow tired of my ranting, then turned slightly when a round of whispers echoed around the tent. It seemed a few younger girls had wandered straight on over to the independent artists section I had placed by the front and were arguing over who got this one Sam Fender album.

I looked away and went to say something else to him, but the way he'd simultaneously moved to angle his back away from the cassette tapes when he too spotted the new arrivals wasn't lost on me. I frowned a tad, though chose not to comment on it. “So, what sort of sound are you searching for anyway?”

His gaze skittered away from the tapes to meet mine for a second and I wondered, briefly, why he’d so suddenly lost the relaxed stance he’d been in just minutes before, but then he said, “Anything I haven’t heard much of before, in truth.”

Mulling his words over I then gestured towards the stand. “Can I?” I gestured, and immediately he knew where I was going with it, jumping back a step to let me riffle through the lot. 

I pulled out a couple I figured he might be into, simply going off of the Sonic Youth album he’d been eyeing, then a few of my own favourites, not that I’d let that tidbit slip. 

Handing them over, I let him search through their titles and answered one or two questions he had for me. I had to admit he intrigued me a bit, I’d had music enthusiasts stop by and talk about this and that with me, even had a couple people who played and were searching for new stuff to learn and adapt, but him? He didn’t give much away.

“Any good?” I questioned once I'd wandered back over to join him. I’d only left him to look through the selection again when a customer had called me over towards the front, and was just tucking away the few extra coins I’d been given when he glanced up at me with a bright grin. I was a little surprised to say it caught me off balance a bit.

“I’ll take the lot.”

Trying my hardest not to outright baulk, I paused. “The lot?”

Sure, cassettes weren’t all that pricey, not compared to pressed records at least, but there must’ve been just over a dozen that I’d pulled out to show him and now he supposedly wanted to take them all.

He laughed after a moment, most likely at the baffled look that marred my face, and made to pull his wallet out of his back pocket. “That gonna be a problem?”

The question was almost argumentative, pushy even, but in a jokey sort of way, the kind you’d use when ribbing a mate, not now. Not with some stranger at a market stall. It only left me marvelling further.

“Might be, I’ll have to find a bag big enough to fit them all though.” I countered, hiding my own smile when I heard him laugh again whilst I spun around to fetch exactly that.

“Anything will do, love.”

I dipped my chin in a slight nod but didn’t go right for the usual stack of black baggies I used for most sales, instead I swiped one of the few printed totes I had hung up for trade and tallied up the price. “You gonna be alright walking the rest of the market stretch with that?” I teased him, looking up once the transaction completed to hand him the now very full bag only to find him already looking back at me.

He hummed around a sly smile, fingers meeting mine around the totes handle before they were slipping away again. “Think I’ll make do. Only came looking for these anyway.”

My brows jumped up in surprise as I watched him tuck his wallet back into the pocket of his jeans. “Everyone loves Portobello.” I murmured and his light laughter echoed around the market stall once more before he simply shrugged. 

“Been a couple times before, and besides, don't reckon I’ll get a better deal than this, do you?”

My eyes narrowed when I smiled, humoured by his easy going nature and quick quips. I found that I wanted him to stick around a while longer, if only to solve the mystery he made. “No, don't reckon so.”

He lingered for a moment or two more, simply smiling at me and I found myself smiling back, before a gaggle of school kids wandered on over, loud and uncaring of the looks they garnered. They caught my attention too and I found myself reminiscing over years where I’d been much of the same. 

When I glanced back over to him, I saw that he was gone. My forehead pinched in confusion and I glanced around to see if I could spot him in the busy crowd, but it had grown all too quickly again and appeared easy enough for anyone to get swept up and lost in. 

I rocked back on my heels as I gave up the search, just before I was called over by one of the kids asking for a specific LP. I let it go, him and the strange encounter we’d shared, and went about the rest of the day just going through the motions.

By the time seven o’clock rolled around I was shattered and had already packed most of the stall away. I waited patiently for Rob to help me with loading the larger bits into the van, watching Nance for him whilst he wrapped up what remained of the fruit and veg, knowing he’d take most of it back home to his family. It was at that moment that I caught sight of something amiss in the vinyl cubby I’d used to hide those slipcovers in just before we'd opened. 

I walked over and was more than a little dumbfounded to spot a cassette lying there on its side. Standing On A Beach. One of The Cure albums I’d mentioned to that bloke in the cap earlier, the very same he’d gone and bought, and the exact one I was more than sure I’d bagged. 

I picked it up, feeling Nancy brush up against my side whilst Rob called out to say that he was just dropping off his usual round of goodybags to the nearby sellers. I waved him off, then looked down at the tape I held, pausing when my thumb caught on something attached to the back. 

Flipping it over I found a quickly scribbled note, its corner tucked into the case's opening so that it would hold its place. 

(It sounded like you enjoyed this one when I asked about it. Know it’s a first edition too, so I figured maybe you should be the one keep it. - Matty.)

Matty.

“What you smiling at, weirdo?”

I startled at the sound of Rob’s usual drawl, head snapping over to my left to find him already trailing back towards us, a happy grin plastered over his face. 

“Go on, tell us!” He ribbed, and now that he was drawing nearer I was quick to tuck the note into my back pocket. 

“Nothing, just this tape. Figured I’d keep it.” I told him with a small shrug, clutching the cassette closer when he hip checked me in passing and bent down to give Nancy a good old stroke.

“Thieving your own gear! Wow, that’s a new low even for you.” Rob chuckled, shooting me a bright smile before he stood once more.

“Hush up, it’s a goodun. Forgot I even had it.” I defended, but he merely continued to laugh at me. Rolling my eyes, I shoved his arm lightly before I said, “Now be useful for once and grab the last of those boxes for us, will you.”

“Tetchy.”

I simply snorted, shaking my head as I moved to pick up my bag, clinging to the old cassette case for a second before finally dropping it inside. 

“You coming then?”

With a deep breath I took one last glance around the stall and didn’t see anything that had been missed, so I wiped down my jeans and then gave Nance another pet, “Yeah, coming!”

…

My week continued on much the same after that. I worked in the local pub behind the bar when I wasn’t performing on the crate stage there and on my day off I took the tube over to see my mum and nan. They lived further East nowadays, closer to the clinic my nana hated but needed, and not too far from the street she’d grown up on as a girl.

Saturdays were my only market days, even though it was open most of the week. Rob usually did Fridays there and the rare Tuesday too, when he could be arsed. Though the rest of his time was used up by frequenting the old boxing club every other evening, training and helping out with the younger lot that liked to come in. I’d only been half a dozen times, but he was very much in his element there.

So in shorter terms, my week had slipped on by without much fanfare, which meant that Saturday had seemed to both crawl and shoot back around. 

I opened the stall like usual, only without Rob for the first time in ages. He had apparently come down with some sort of bug or other that he’d gone and caught off of his nieces when he’d popped round to see them Wednesday afternoon- and well, he was a man, wasn't he? Which ultimately meant that he was dying. 

He’d let me have Nancy though, seeing as she hadn’t been out very much since the cold had hit him. So the Alsatian had jumped in my van that same morning and had been as good as gold all day. To be honest, she was a much better seller than me and I could see why Rob always brought her along with him, people seemed to flock to dogs which in turn meant more sales for me.

I’d been fanning the crowds away ever since we’d opened, which typically only tended to happen during half term or school holidays, but nonetheless it was a more than welcome change after the crappy tips I’d garnered down at the pub the night before.

‘Cause well, since I’d dropped out of school I’d taken to performing there on the more livelier nights, a few covers, one or two of my own songs, and then I’d end the set and slide behind the bar to serve. Normally I was fine with that, the tips were often good when both the older folk and the younger lot rolled in, Friday nights especially. Only, there’d been a gig on down at the O2 so we hadn’t gotten our usual patrons in, and had instead been sacked with a couple of stragglers and a less than lively lot.

Still, today more than made up for it.

The sun was shining as much as it could do during a London March, the skies were blue although not completely clear, and the market crowd seemed to be in good spirits too.

Sy, who worked a couple stands down, had passed out a tray of coffees not too long ago, just after the lunchtime rush, and then Dianne and Reg had followed with some of their freshly baked pastries. They’d even thought to bring a little treat over for Nance too. 

I'd just texted a picture to Rob to show him what he’d missed out on by having a case of man-flu and had just got up to toss the last of the rubbish away when I was caught off guard by an unexpected surprise.

“You!”

Matty, my mind supplied a half a second later. The same name that had been circling my thoughts since he’d left me that note the Saturday prior. I blinked at the sight of him. He was wearing a cap again, although this one was different, a dusky navy blue that he’d gone and tucked under a giant grey hoodie. 

“Me.” He grinned in glinted amusement, jutting out his chin in a gentle hello. “Figured I might find you here.”

The snort I gave was unprecedented, “Oh, really? Wonder what gave that away.”

Matty smirked. Matty. It felt strange to put his name to his face then, even though it had been puttering around in my head like the bouncing DVD logo since the last time we’d met. 

“Got any more tapes for me then?”

My eyes squinted in my attempt to dim my smile, not really believing that he was actually here, before I pursed my lips and tilted my head at him. “Might do. Take it you liked the last few?”

He hummed, smiling down at Nancy who’d trailed on over and allowing her to sniff at his hand. When she nudged his leg with her snout I watched on as he dropped into a crouch to give her a proper stroke. Nance seemed to be quite taken with him after that. 

I propped a hip against the nearest vinyl cubby, crossing my arms over my chest whilst he replied, “They were good- helped a lot, in truth. You were right about the Roxy Music album, too.”

Chuffed with that, I shot him a pleased little grin. 

“You’ll come to learn that it’s to be expected.”

“What, you bein’ right?” Matty wondered with a low laugh, petting Nancy’s head once more before he forced himself back up onto his feet. 

“What I said, in’t it?”

He shook his head softly and I felt his eyes on me before I finally gestured him on over to the cassette stand. “I found a few new ones in the charity shop near my mum’s the other day, figured it’d be best to add to the collection after you nearly took the lot.” 

“Wow, and she’s dramatic too.”

I swatted his arm thoughtlessly, then stilled the second I realised what I’d done, but Matty was either none the wiser to my momentary pause or just didn’t care. “That come with the job then? Having to be mouthy?”

My jaw dropped a tad at his sudden cheek and I tutted around the tiny beginnings of a stuttered laugh, “You’re brave. I’ll let you have that. But honestly, you’re probably not wrong there either.” We shared a chuckle, coming to a standstill by the tower full of tapes, “Most of this lot have to be gobby enough to have a shout at bagging any customers, especially when Rob’s around.”

“Rob?”

I titled my head over towards the next stall which sat empty, “Yeah, he works the fruit and veg. Might’ve seen, or rather heard him last weekend.”

Matty gave a slow nod, dragging his gaze away from where I’d pointed and back to the many cassettes I had to offer.

“So what're we looking for this time?” I smiled, thoughts on The Cure tape he’d gifted me, although wary to mention it too soon. “80’s Punk? Electro? Rhythm and Blues?” I dragged that last one out, enjoying the sight of his smile and how it only appeared to lift on one side before dimpling the corner ever so faintly.

“Give me one of your favourites.”

“Mine?” I blinked.

He hummed again, fingertips trailing over multiple rows of cases. I watched the movement, caught up in it in actuality, before I tore my eyes back over to him. 

I caught him looking again, only this time around I didn’t much question it, not when the Saturday sun sitting high in the sky reflected so prettily in his eyes. Lightening them enough that they almost appeared to glow. 

I followed through on the ask though, once I’d finally managed to get my head in working order and drag my gaze back towards the task at hand, pulling out an extensive range of cassettes, both singles and albums, for him to view. 

Matty liked to talk, I quickly learned. He asked question after question, even when it seemed like he knew more than he was letting on at times, and he waited whenever someone else walked over, sitting amongst the back shelves with Nancy whilst I talked and sold a couple of vinyls.

Soon enough the sun had started to dip low in the sky and we realised that the hours had honestly escaped us. I was startled when I finally looked down at my phone to see that it was almost time to start packing away, having lost myself in the conversation we’d shared, or rather the debates we had both started over artists and genres, and what decade had done the most for music. 

“Oh shit! I can’t believe it’s almost half six!”

Matty appeared to remember himself at my exclaim, pulling out his own phone to see for himself and blowing out a large breath when it rang true. “Fuck, ah, I didn’t even realise.”

He actually looked somewhat apologetic when he met my eye again. 

I shook my head and waved him off, “You’re all good, actually one of the best market days I’ve had in truth, made almost double than what I did last weekend, even with the stash you claimed.”

With a soft laugh, Matty made to stand, holding out a hand to help me up too once he'd found his footing. I smiled softly at the offer and took it, perplexed by the careful callouses which lined the tops of his fingertips and the soft palm that accompanied them.

“You play?”

“Hm?”

My chin jerked over towards where an older acoustic hung on display in the stall across from mine, “Guitar. Do you play?”

His brows knitted together at the ask but he did eventually give me a low chuckle too, hand still holding my own. “Yeah, how’d you know?”

My eyes flickered up to find his and I gave a small smirk, unable to help myself. “Intuition.”

Matty scoffed in amusement, “Oh yeah? How’s that work?”

Shrugging a single shoulder, I stepped on closer to him, near enough that the brim of his hat shaded the top half of my face and the toes of our shoes almost aligned. “Just comes to me, I ‘spose.”

He quirked a questioning brow.

“What’s your intuition telling you now then?”

I bit down on the insides of my cheeks in hopes to contain my playful smile, figuring I’d best take the chance now while it was being handed to me. “That you’re gonna buy me a drink.”

“Am I?” Matty answered, voice dropping a fraction as a grin threatened to split his face.

Humming, I could only smile, eyes flickering between his own before they darted up towards the brim of his cap. With the hand not holding his, I reached up and settled it a little lower on his head, then glanced back down at that growing grin. “I mean, if you’re gonna keep coming back each Saturday then…”

His eyes narrowed a tad and finally he let go of the chuckle he’d been holding onto, leaning in even closer to me. “Intuition telling you that?”

“Hm, along with a couple other things.” I quipped, revelling in the hand that came to rest on the hem of my jeans. “So, that drink?”

Matty laughed, sweet and lovely. “Might know a place.”

“Good,” I murmured in the little space he’d placed between us, mouth almost touching his own before I was smirking and pulling away, “Guess you can help me pack up then.”

Matty huffed out a breathy chuckle whilst shook his head at me, watching as his hand slipped from mine. Though he wasn’t left lonely for too long, seeing as Nancy padded on over to him for another round of strokes whilst I set to picking up a horde of albums. “Tease.” He shot out, though he didn't look too disheartened.

I gave him a loud laugh in return, content with being labelled as such. “Well you’d best get to work then. Quicker we’re done here, quicker we can see about you and me sharing anything other than a drink.”

And he did, he set to work swift enough, the two of us slipping by one another with a gentle ease we shouldn’t have yet earned and sharing soft smiles in the lessening market bustle. All the while I continued to wonder and watch him, thinking back on the cassette he’d gifted me and the sudden fondness I’d found for him. 

“Ready to go?” He asked me not long later and I found myself never wanting to say no to that pretty smile of his. So I just nodded and took the hand he held out, Nance moving to join us too before we finally ventured our way out of the market street. Matty asking me every question he’d been holding back the further we got, and making realise that I had a horde of my own.

[moonypears-blog]

A not-so-good Father's Day.

Summary: It's father's day, Sofia's heart hurts.

CW: Previous parent death.

“I’m so happy grandad liked my gift for him!” Calista grinned, repeating herself for about the fifth time, skipping in between Cedric and Cordelia, both holding her little hands in theirs. It was father’s Day and they were just getting back from Mystic Meadows to see Goodwyn, Calista had seen them choosing gifts for their father and wanted to join in, they welcomed her, seeing as she didn’t have a father to celebrate with. And he was her grandad, so not entirely out of the cards. She did get upset at the fact there wasn’t an uncle’s day, however.

“Me too, dear,” Cedric responded again, smiling at her. Secretly, he was very happy she came along because it took notice from the fact he had no idea what to get his father and threw together a less-than-thrilling gift. Her cuteness was a very good distraction.

“Mmhm!” Cordelia hummed, watching her daughter hop from foot to foot through the castle hall. “He was so happy!” Calista continued.

All three of them came to a pause when they reached the Royal dining room, where all the royals, except one, were surprisingly sat, all looking sad and worried. Cedric frowned, dropping Calista’s hand. Where was Princess Sofia? And why were they all so worried? Was she alright?

Cordelia exchanged a look with him, also concerned for the family. Calista too looked worriedly curious.

“Your majesties?” Cedric started, looking at them, and then Sofia’s all-too-empty chair. “What’s going on?” Cordelia asked. Amber sighed, looking down at the table. “Sofia hasn’t come out of her room all day, she won’t let anyone in or say anything but ask to be left alone,” she sighed again at the end of her sentence. “If she doesn’t come out soon, we’ll miss father’s day lunch,” James chimed in.

This only made Cedric more concerned, that wasn’t at all like his Sofia. Not like her at all.

“Oh, dear,” Cordelia said, looking again at Cedric, who was wracking his brain trying to think why Sofia would be exhibiting this behaviour so suddenly. She seemed perfectly fine the last few times he saw her. But, things aren’t always as they seem.

Calista looked very confused, she sensed the weird atmosphere in the room. “What’s wrong with Sofia, uncle Ceddy?” she asked, holding onto Cedric’s robe loosely. “I don’t know, Calista,” he answered honestly, patting her on the head. “Shall I go see if she’s okay?” he asked the royal family. There were a few times he was the only one she’d open up to.

“You can try,” Amber responded-genuine despite the usual backhandedness of those words. He looked at the parents, who both nodded. “I just don’t know what’s wrong with her,” Miranda sighed, looking up at the direction of her daughter’s room. “I’ll see what I can do,” Cedric answered sincerely, starting the reasonably long walk to her room.

After ten or so minutes, Cedric was in front of Sofia’s door, he could just barely hear crying from behind it. Oh. He started to wonder what she could be crying about, had her heart been broken already? She only turned thirteen three months back.

Cedric knocked on the door with one knuckle, listening for a response. “Princess?” he called gently. He heard a sniffle. “Mr Cedric?” Sofia rasped back. She wasn’t telling him to go away yet, that was a good sign. “Can I come in, my dear?” he asked, trying to sound as genuine as he could. It was quiet for a minute or so, but he didn’t press for a response.

“Okay,” he heard her finally say, then the sparkling sound of magic as the door handle twitched. Their magic lessons must be doing some good, he couldn’t help but be a bit proud.

Cedric opened the door and peeked inside. “Love?” He saw Sofia on her bed, clearly upset. The curtains were shut, he guessed in an attempt to shut the world out, a bit of afternoon light shining from the gap between them.

Sofia sniffled again. Her knees slightly curled as she laid in the middle of her bed. “Princess…” he said, slowly stepping inside. He made sure to close the door behind him.

As he got closer, Cedric saw there was a brown sailors hat on her nightstand, other things pushed off to make room for it, like it was on its own pedestal.

“Mr Cedric…” Sofia murmured, laying in her own tears. Taking that as welcoming him, Cedric sat down on the edge of her bed. He'd never seen her so blue before.

“What’s the matter, my dear? Your sister told me you won't leave your room, it's father's day, you know?” he said his last words in an attempt to cheer her up, but she only looked more upset.

“I know.”

“Sofia, you know that you can talk to me. Just tell me what's wrong, dear. Perhaps we can fix it,” Cedric tried again. He could guess this was due to father's day, but he couldn't guess why. Sofia had always been so happy on father's day.

Slowly, Sofia finally sat up, wiping her eyes with her arm. “I’m sorry, Mr Cedric,” she said, actually looking at him now. “Don’t apologize, my dear. Just please tell me why you're so upset.”

Sofia started to fidget with her fingers. “It’s because of father's day….” she started. He nodded. “It’s always been…so different since I moved to the castle. Before, me and mom used to visit Papa's grave…we'd talk to him and leave him things,” Sofia began to shake, “sometimes it feels like I'm not supposed to think about him or get upset, but I can't help it, everything feels tangled up, I wanna be really happy but I can't. Papa isn't even brought up anymore, and-and I don't wanna make dad upset but I just…” Tears fell down Sofia's cheeks at an alarming rate, her hands getting sweaty.

“Is that why you haven't left your bedroom? To avoid everything?” Cedric asked. He could relate to doing that. And father's day had always been rough for him as a child.

“I know it isn't okay…” she sniffled.

“It’s understandable, Sofia. It must be difficult, having one deceased father and one living one, wanting to mourn but not feeling allowed to, and not being able to feel happy, everything feeling so messy and not knowing what to do. I'm truly sorry, Sofia,” he told her.

“I feel trapped sometimes, on days like this, I don't know who I'm meant to think about. I don't want to be upset on dad's day…but I want to think about Papa too,” Sofia continued, looking at him as if to say “I know you can't fix it, but please.”

“My dear, your feelings shouldn't revolve around other people's. Please don't bottle them up for the sake of other people's happiness. You're allowed to feel pain on this day, Sofia, just because you have another father doesn't mean the other one doesn't exist. Anyone who prevents you from grieving doesn't deserve your light,” Cedric took Sofia's hand, squeezing it gently. “Don’t let anyone tell you it's time to move on and focus on Roland. He was, he is your father, Sofia, you have every reason to think about him on this day.”

Unexpectedly, Sofia grabbed his arm, beginning to nuzzle into him. “Love,” he murmured wrapping his arms around her. He pulled himself further onto her bed, pulling her closer. It was moments like this that he was so happy he faced his aversion to physical touch.

Sofia began to cry into the area between his neck and chest, her face pushed into his robe. “Shhh,” his hand went to her hair, starting to pull his fingers through it, he'd never been good at comforting, but it came easily with Sofia.

“It's so hard sometimes,” she told him, “I just want it to be simple again…” Sofia held him tightly, curling up her legs. “Oh,” he rubbed her arm in an attempt to comfort her a bit more. “Perhaps it can be, Sofia,” he said, she looked up at him. “How?”

“I’m sure something could be sorted out. Maybe spend the day with Roland, then end it by visiting your father at his resting place? With your family or just you and your mother. Even just yourself.” He also wanted to tell her that if, for any reason, this was disagreed, he would take her there himself. He couldn't see why such a suggestion would be denied, how cruel do you need to be to deny a little girl the right to visit her father's grave on father's day?

“You get to be with Roland, but there's also acknowledgement of your father and you get your time to grieve and think of him, tell stories, anything you wish.”

Sofia began to nod. “I’d love that, I'd love that so much,” she squeezed him even tighter, crying what now looked like happy tears.

“If I may, my dear, I feel that your emotions about your father might become so strong when your with Roland because you feel the need to push them down. If you can spend the day knowing you have a chance to feel them and show your grief, to think about your father, do you think that will make you happier?” he asked, he also wanted Sofia to feel happy, not just tugging along waiting to show her emotions.

“It really would, Mr Cedric,” Sofia smiled through her slowing tears, the sad ones drying up, he could only guess how relieved she was to finally have an anecdote to this burden. “Perfect,” he petted her head, ”we can talk that over with your parents. I'm sure they'll agree.”

“Thank you, Mr Cedric…you've always been like a dad to me too…” Sofia's head rested on his shoulder as she spoke. Cedric couldn't help but pause. He was like a father to her?

“Thank you, my dear,” it was a short but honest sentence, no more words could appropriately explain his feelings, he could only let out a breath and stroke her hair.

Sofia slowly got up from him, wiping off her old tears with her arm. “I’m glad to have you,” she told him.

“I’m just as glad to have you, my dear. I can’t bear to think about life without you,” Cedric was just as sincere as when he plead for forgiveness from the royal family. He knew what life would be like without Sofia. Just like a life without the sun. She was more than his sun, she was his moon, his stars, his planets, his sky, she was his universe.

Sofia smiled at him.

Cedric cleared his throat, emotions were never his strong suit. “Would you like to see your family now, my dear? Tell them about our wanted arrangement?” he asked. It was Sofia that mattered right now. Sofia agreed.

“Mr Cedric?” Sofia said after he shut her bedroom door, ready to walk with her to meet her family. “Yes, my dear?”

“Thank you for always being here.”

A/N

The aforementioned father's day one shot is here just...very late. On top of just forgetting about it and also going through some life things, I was also working on "Papa..." which was taking most of my writing time.

[mar3ggiata]

professional help, c4. The waltz of the Snowflakes.

simon riley x original character.

trigger warnings: violence, sexual assault, mentions of rape, trauma, sexual themes, swearing, use of alcohol and drugs.

song to listen to when reading this: Harden my heart, Quarterflash.

abstract: he can get fucked, and his captain too. it's Jude if you haven't noticed. I have nothing more to add really, he's an ass and I'm not getting paid enough to deal with this shit, see ya. also, forgive me for the swearing it's a real problem I know!!

Well. That didn't exactly go to plan. Simon Whatever, what the fuck is your problem? She called a friend while driving home. 'Salvo, io gli volevo mettere le mani addosso, stu scemu…’ She was going over the speed limit, holding her phone with one hand. ‘Una merda Salvo, mi hanno mandato via come una cretina, son andata, ho parlato, mi ha detto non si puoi fare guagliù, chi cazz si pe me dicr chell c’agg fa oh!’

Now, to all my readers, I will translate. Jude speaks dialect when she's mad, bare with her. Her voice usually drooped an octave when she spoke it to accommodate the guttural and rough sounds of her language. Swear words that would make your racist grandad cry. She was calling Salvatore, she met him in 2021, he was currently deployed in South Korea. She told him she wanted to hit him, she said, they sent me away without hearing me out, they said what you're suggesting can't be done. 'Scusa, cosa hai proposto tu?' She loved Salvo, he was so understanding, he could read her mind. It was refreshing, when she found out he was from the same country as her. Speaking a bit of Italian with him was a break from all the English, the accents and the words she didn't know how to pronounce. 'Cosa ho detto, ho proposto che lo seguissero, anche grazie al cazzo vorrei dire… ( I refuse to translate all the swearing, Jude.) Questi vogliono aspettare e non fare nulla, però mi fanno perdere tempo con ste cazz'e riunioni!' (This means, 'I told them to follow him, obviously. They don't want to do anything, they want to wait and see, and yet they make me go out of my way for these fucking meetings.')

Salvo tried to reassure her that it wasn't really her problem, to which she replied, Arash was her patient. He asked her about the captain, she commented he stood there, watched her argue with his guard dog Lieutenant without saying a word. Coward, she called him. Who's the Lieutenant, he then asked. She told him, maybe she messed up the name a bit, but he seemed to recognise him. 'No, veramente?' He asked. 'Il Fantasma'. That made sense, you know, the mask an all. He told her he was quite famous for his mask and his story, which he didn't fully know. Lots of trauma I think, you could work with him. She parked her car in front of the dance school and got her bag. 'Non me ne fott, possono fare quello che vogliono, non sono io che ci rimetto. Lui nu strunz, fammi dire…' She explained she didn't care anymore and that they could do whatever they wanted. He was a dick, that's what she added, probably referring to the famous Lieutenant.

The girls could sense she wasn't having the best day and didn't want to mess with her. They stood quiet and avoided their usual chatting. They did warm up, barre and some center, she sent them off early. 'Miss Alba, we're gonna start rehearsals soon? For the Nutcracker.' It was Luna that spoke. She almost forgot. 'Yes girls next time.' Shit.

The Waltz of the Snowflakes. That's what she was gonna have to teach them. The owner of the school was crazy, the piece was way too difficult for her class. She didn't have time or strength to explain the piece was not meant for girls that young, she would have to simplify it. She put on a video on her laptop, trying to remember the best she could the original piece. She stripped of her leg warmers and her black shrug. Her mind kept wandering off the meeting with Price, not letting her concentrate. She was mad. Not because she didn’t get her way, they were the ones dying in the Middle East, not her. But because it was fucking humiliating. As a woman as well, you know. Maybe she made a mistake, going in there looking all pretty. But again, why would she sacrifice herself just to earn some basic respect? After she failed her pirouettes for the third time, she decided it was time to go home. She would talk to Arash and, if needed, follow him on her own.

notes: Since this is a shorter chapter (I've been incredibly busy with uni and work), here are some details about Jude:

height: 5’2’’ - eye colour: green - hair colour: blonde

traits: mole on her cheek, slightly crooked nose. mole on her right butt cheek, scar on her knee. at least 30 smaller moles all over her body. small boobie queen.

if she was a colour: dark blue

if she was an animal: killer whale

if she was a place: a forest

if she was a food: spicy pho - motto: for the plot

favourite position in bed: on top/doggy

favourite part of her body: eyebrows, hips

what she looks for in boys: loyalty, someone stable, good manners, honesty.

tattoos: big flower on her back, her grandmas house on ribcage with ivy on it, lavander flower between breasts, dagger on right arm, wine glass and whisky sour ingredients. nike (goddess of victory) statue on left arm, goth looking stars and white ferrari doodle. oui, non written on both knees. heaven written on ankle made with stick and poke needle.

loves to talk about: time, space, her dog, humanity, world wars, greek mythology, vegan recipes, life after death.

do not talk about: her family, weight, fire, not being the best in school and at work.

she would like to: try hotpot, paint pottery, start a podcast, go on more hikes, visit thailand, get another dog, attend a wedding.

she will never: have kids, get married, go to australia, go skiing again after she fell, have plastic surgery, drink beer.

if you’d like to know more stuff about her let me know!!

notes: Salvatore, Salvo for short, is a common southern Italy male name. Salvatore means 'the saviour', Salvo means 'safe'. Full translation of the speech: 'Salvo, I wanted to hit him, this fucker. It went to shit Salvo, they sent me away like I was stupid, I went there I told them what I thought, he said we can't do that, who the hell are you to tell me what I can and cannot do?' 'Sorry, what did you say to them?' 'I told them to follow him, obviously. They don't want to do anything, they want to wait and see, and yet they make me go out of my way for these fucking meetings.'

'No, veramente? Il Fantasma' means 'no, seriously? The Ghost.'

notes: if you want to hear what the dialect sounds like you can hear it in the tv series 'Gomorra' on YouTube.

taglist:

@ummmmmwat @ghostlythots @sweetfemmefatal @natxpat @chavarriakeren647 @ravenmoore14 @farther-than-pleiades @internallyscreamings @hwromi @atoxicrat @cuti3maddi3 @deafeningkittenblaze @its-celeste @serene-hills @lexidoll12 @poohkie90 @lunatiquess

@warmedbythebody @katzykat @iristhemuse @azkza @keiraslayz @abbyandermine @jennyjencakes @dest-nai @corset-briefs @nutze-kekse @ilytsukiw @b3anspr0ut

@pondsblog @missyouzoe @fallenkitten @bigauthorrascalturkey @bethtay @angelynn-nicole @starluv @stargirlisworld @giyuuslittleslut @impossiblecupcakelight

@rkrivees-blog @ghosts-hoe @kam1snotverysmart @gauky76 @freyjaaasstuff @spicyspicyliving @scottpilgrimvsmyfists @courtney0-0 @shinchanboi @darling006 @my-therapist-hates-me

[saywhatjessie]

you should take your sweater off first, pal

Day six of the Advent calendar! Using this list. Day 6: Sweater Weather. Fandom: Ted Lasso - Pairing: RoyJamie 1.1k[Ao3]

“What is the fucking point of all the ugly clothes you buy if you’re just going to steal mine?”

“I refuse to be lectured on fashion from someone who only wears things that are black and black adjacent.”

“This isn’t a lecture – that was clearly an irritated aside on a different complaint. The complaint being you are wearing my fucking sweater.”

“Well it’s cozy, innit! Ain’t my fault you only have clothes from fifty years ago and they don’t make things like they used to.”

Roy grunted. He wanted to argue that the state of fast fashion was not his fault and he should not be punished but, if he were being honest with himself – and he tried to do that more these days – seeing Jamie in his clothes wasn’t exactly a punishment.

“Well what are we going to do when your stupid shoulders stretch it out?”

“I assume you’ll thank whichever god you want for giving you a boyfriend with such massive and sexy shoulders.”

Roy growled. Jamie stuck his tongue out.

“Well seeing as the damage is already done, you can keep wearing that one.” Jamie preened. “But no more. I only have so many sweaters from 50 years ago, I’d like you not to disfigure the others.”

Jamie pouted. “Well what happens when this one don’t smell like your old man stink anymore? I mean there are worse fates for a jumper than to smell like Jamie Tartt, but it shouldn’t forget where it comes from.”

“It can’t remember anything, it’s a fucking sweater,” Roy said, rolling his eyes. “You can just say you like that it smells like me.”

Jamie shook his head. “Can’t say that. You’ll get a big head.”

“We have fucked in my trophy room, I already know you’re obsessed with me.”

“Says the man who wanked to a youtube compilation of Jamie Tartt’s best goals!”

“You were there too! You fucking helped!”

“Well I know I’m fit, why wouldn’t I get off to me?”

Roy pinched the bridge of his nose. “We’re getting sidetracked.”

Jamie retreated further into the sweater, pouting at Roy with his chin tucked in the collar and the sleeves over his hands.

Roy sighed. “I will wear the sweater when it loses my smell so it smells like me again. Happy?”

It’s all fine until Roy is called into an emergency meeting with the fucking Diamond Dogs.

Jamie grinned. “I’ll be happier if you give us a cuddle. I’m still freezin’. Honestly, grandad, you’re stinking rich. You can afford to properly heat your house.”

“I’m filing a complaint with HR,” Roy said as soon as the Facetime call connected. “I shouldn’t be called into these after working hours.”

Ted made a ‘pshh’ sound. “Diamond Dogs ain’t work, Roy! I’d say we’re more pleasure than business.”

“Well that’s definitely a call to HR,” Trent said, smirking.

“Higgins might be asleep already,” Nate noted, rubbing his eyes. “Ted, did you forget the time difference?”

“Little bit, yeah” Ted winced. “I never did get the hang of doing it the other way. So used to thinking backwards than forwards.”

“It’s not that late,” Roy grunted. “Higgins just might be asleep because he’s got so many fucking kids. Not sure what Nate’s excuse is.”

“Fell asleep on the couch watching a film.” Nate explained, shrugging. “Didn't mean to. This call waking me up actually probably saved my back.”

“Well good!” Ted beamed. “And what a treat it is to see you all in your comfy clothes, too. Trent is that a blanket hoodie?”

Trent hummed. “Softest and warmest thing I’ve ever owned.”

“I’m more surprised by Roy,” Beard said, totally deadpan. “I’ve never seen you anything so ill fitting.”

Roy looked down to see he was wearing The Jamie Sweater.

He grunted. “Used to fit until Jamie stole it. fucking muppet stretched it all out.”

“He’s like a labrador that still thinks he’s a lap dog even after he gets big,” Ted mused, fondly. Roy snorted in agreement.

“Why not just give it to him if it doesn’t fit you anymore?” Nate asked.

“I did.”

Beard raised an eyebrow. “But you’re wearing it.”

Roy growled, crossing his arms.

“Well,” Trent said, appearing very much like the smug reporter he used to be. "Knowing what I do about borrowing boyfriend’s sweaters – both being a boyfriend whose sweater was borrowed and having borrowed sweaters from boyfriends – I’d say Roy is performing the standard smell return.”

Beard grinned, crossing his arms too. “You’re making the sweater smell like you again for your boyfriend.”

“Shut it,” Roy growled.

“Aw, now Roy, that’s sweeter than an immediate hotel room full of chocolate bars.”

Nate nodded. “Suite full of sweets toot sweet.”

Ted and Beard pointed at him.

“I’m hanging up,” Roy said.

“I’m here!” Higgins said, call connecting as he wheezed through some requisite howls. “What have I missed?”

“Mostly Roy and Jamie being shockingly wholesome as a couple,” Beard answered.

“Aw!” Higgins smiled.

When they finished their meeting, it was half ten, and Jamie was already in bed. They didn’t do 4am training anymore since Roy was manager, but Jamie did get up and train on his own most mornings before they headed into Nelson Road. Gave Roy more time for all the shitty boring manager paperowk he had to do now but it did mean more early nights.

“No,” Roy said “Fuck off enough about me." He let out a massive bark. “Ted, what the fuck is your problem?”

Early nights they spent together because they were surprisingly wholesome. Fuck Roy’s life.

Roy removed his trousers and crawled in next to him, Jamie immediately turning to nuzzle into his chest.

“Fucking Diamond Dogs saw what you did to my sweater and think we’re sweet now.”

Jamie snorted. “No amount of clothes sharing could make you sweet. You’re Roy fucking Kent. You’re a bitter old cunt and that’s why we love you.”

Roy hummed. “Bitter like unsweetened dark chocolate.”

“Bitter like stale coffee you keep in the back of the cabinet for the weirdos who don’t drink tea.”

Roy smiled, a small thing that he was sure Jamie could still see even with his eyes closed. “Thanks, babe.”

Jamie hummed, his hand running over Roy’s chest. “You know it’s about the same level of furriness with and without the sweater,” Jamie noted.

Roy rolled his eyes. “I hate you,” he said, kissing the top of Jamie’s head.

“I know,” Jamie answered on a happy sigh. “But you’re really bad at it.”.

[lolotheparagon]

Rating Every TNBA Redesign Cos Why Not

The New Batman Adventures was the last season of the infamous Batman the Animated Series, although it moved to another less strict network. Because the producers wanted to do crossovers with the Superman animated series, they gave the series and its characters a more streamlined style to it. Now I dont wanna blame Bruce Timm entirely since there were many artists on staff back then who did the redesigns but because I hate this coomer, Im going to anyway. In BTAS, you can tell each character apart and they have their own unique outfits and looks to them. But here, these are some of the most unimaginative superhero/villain designs Ive ever seen. Although some did surprise me and were not that bad. So, for a bit of fun, here's my look at each Batman character's redesign in the final (and worst) season of the show.

(Not counting Robin cos he's a different character to Dick Grayson or characters that had very little changes like Clayface or Harley Quinn)

Batman

The big emo rodent himself. For his redesign, I like the more sleek look to Batman's cape...thats it. His original design is really hard to perfect. Its got everything. Why tamper with perfection?

Batgirl

I actually kinda like Batgirl's redesign. The yellow gloves and boots really help her stand out and its the one of the few times the darker toned outfits actually accentuate a design rather than ruin it. Too bad Bruce Timm couldn't stop salivating over her and the rest of the women in this show. So next time you see someone consider Bruce Timm this legendary storyteller of Batman, give them a healthy reminder that he shipped this college girl character with her mentor/surrogate uncle figure FOR YEARS.

Alfred

Its like they sucked away all of Alfred's snark and replaced it with a cardboard cutout. Literally, he looks so sterile and empty. Who had the idea of making Alfred look more bored and done with everything? Also whats wrong with his chin??

Commissioner Gordon

Good ole Commissioner Pringle got off pretty much unscathed but I think they made him a touch too old considering they gave him a more lanky body, which makes him look more feeble and weak. Dude looks old enough to be Babs' grandad

Joker

Ohhhhh boy. So Joker's redesign is infamously considered by fans as one of the show's worst redesigns, to a point even the showrunners were like yeahh. And thats not unwarranted. He looks like an inverted Dr Draken and im so glad they redesigned him again for Batman Beyond and onward.

Seriously he's A CLOWN WHERES THE MAKE UP?!!

Two-Face

I know Two Face is just a redrawn version of the original design with the TNBA streamlined art style but I want to draw special attention to the monster side of Dent's face. Notice in the original it looks more manic and feral? Heavily contrasted with the conflicted, guilty look on Dent's normal side? But here, in the redesign the monster side is less scary and Dent looks way too bored and angry. The overuse of black lines doesnt help.

Catwoman

She looks like Harley Quinn or Barbara wearing a catsuit. Starting to see a pattern here?

Baby Doll

Its a tough call cos they both look very good but Im gonna lean towards the redesign cos shes got that creepy doll look down to a T (Annabelle would be proud) whereas her original design looked more like a Tiny Toons character.

Scarface and the Ventriloquist

I like the redesign cos of the exaggerated style of the rest of the show perfectly captures Scarface since he's, yknow, a puppet and having the Ventriloquist be shown to be scared and submissive really does show how the puppet is ironically the puppetmaster.

Penguin

Actually I like both of them. They both give off that sophisticated element Penguin is known for and after so many reiterations of him being this crass Scouse-talking crime boss, its nice to see versions of him going back to his rich asshole roots.

Bane

In the original, he has a luchador-style mask and wrestling suit fitting his Spanish roots. Here, he straight up looks like a gimp. Its really bad. Embrace your heritage, Bane!

Riddler

They went from Frank Gorshin to Jim Carrey for Riddler (fitting cos Batman Forever came during TNBA's development) and I love that. So I love both of them. Nice to see a villain with some fucking colour in TNBA cos im tired of seeing all this black outfits. Also his cane being an extended question mark instead of a question mark on top of a regular cane is genius.

Mad Hatter

Both of them fit Hatter's deranged stalker vibes perfectly, but I wish they kept the colour scheme for the redesign cos Hatter's new colour scheme looks too rounded and doesnt stand out.

Poison Ivy

Killer Croc

Finally, now he looks like an actual crocodile instead of whatever the hell he was supposed to be!

Scarecrow

Okay, who the fuck decided to make Scarecrow look like the Babadook? Cos I want to give them a raise. Holy mother of piss, that is terrifying. That shit belongs in the Arkham games. I still prefer the old design cos it has that perfect blend of goofy and gothic. He looks like a Cacturne now that I think about it.

Mr Freeze

HONEY WHAT HAVE THEY DONE TO YOU?!! WHY DO YOU LOOK LIKE A FUCKING FUTURAMA HEAD?!! WHAT IN THE ACTUAL FUCK?! YOU HURT MY HUSBAND, TIMM, NOW ITS PERSONAL

[catb-fics]

Hey all, to brighten up the mood, here are some more weird questions to ponder about: 😅

Do you think Van has a matching pyjama set for when he is at his parents? (In my imagination he’s also wearing matching slippers lmao)

Do you think Van’s family asks him to sing or play music during family gatherings?

I think I’ve read he’s only read one book, but do you think he might have picked up another? Or maybe he likes audiobooks? If so, what genre do you think he’d go for?

Do you think he says inappropriate jokes and get the look from Mary?

Hiya! I love these silly questions, thanks for sending ❤️

I don’t think he wears pyjamas usually and probably just sleeps in his underwear and maybe a t-shirt too when it’s a bit colder but I love imagining him in cosy pyjamas, maybe novelty Christmas ones! Or those ones with the plaid trousers, he’d look so soft and cute in those with his messy bed-hair first thing in the morning 🥰

I love this idea and it makes me think of that really old video of teenage Van playing piano and singing which creases me every time - now I got to find it again to reblog. I can see his dad asking Van to play some old songs by musicians he loves and then he’d be singing along with him. Maybe his grandad on the fiddle too!

Did he ever say which book he’d read? Was it Mike Skinner’s autobiography? Maybe he’s read more now. I think maybe if he has he’d prefer fact over fiction and he’d probably read more autobiographies or biographies of people he admires. There’s a couple of Oasis books out there - maybe something like that. Or maybe I’m completely wrong and he’s got some wild erotic fiction audio books he listens to on his long journeys when he’s touring ha ha

I think he’d definitely say inappropriate jokes around Mary to wind her up and he’d try and see what he could get away with, she’d probably give him a clip around the ear if he was too rude! Maybe he’d even get his full name if he was in real trouble 😂 I can see Van and Bernie both winding her up together!

[canirove]

I don’t like you, Mason Mount | Chapter 13

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Masterlist

"Fucking finally! Where were you?"

"Mum, language!"

"Sorry, darling. But Dani, where were you? You said you would be back for dinner, and it's been an hour! And I've been calling you and you weren't answering!"

"Daniela, is your shirt backwards?"

"It is, grandad” Lola chuckles.

"What were you doing?"

"Ok, that's enough" I say when they finally let me speak. "As you can see, I'm perfectly fine. I just had my phone on silence and got a bit carried away on my walk, nothing else. Can we now please eat? I'm famished."

"Everything is cold" Monica says, crossing her arms over her chest.

"And you still haven't told us why is your shirt backwards" my dad points out.

"I..."

"The door!" Lola says. "I'll answer it!"

"Don't go alone, Lola!" her mum says, walking after her.

"Mason!" I hear her scream.

"Fuck" I whisper.

"Hello. I hope I am not interrupting" he says behind me a few seconds later.

"Of course not, son" my dad replies, getting up from his chair to shake his hand. "How are you? Enjoying your holidays?"

"I am, sir. Thank you for asking. Hello, Daniela."

"Hi."

"So, what brings you here?" Monica asks him.

"She left this on my car" he replies, giving me my phone. I hadn't noticed I didn't have it with me.

"Wait, you were together?" she says, her eyes growing wide.

"We crossed paths and he drove me home, nothing else" I quickly explain.

"Was she already wearing her shirt backwards?" my dad asks him.

"She..." Mason says, trying really hard not to smile.

"He has to go, don't you, Mason?" I intervene, already pushing him outside the living room and towards the front door. "Thank you very much for bringing me my phone."

"Can’t he stay for dinner?" Lola asks. "Grandad was going to tell us stories from when he met grandma."

"Mason has to go back to his family, to have dinner with them."

"I actually don't. They went out for dinner with some of their friends, I'm alone tonight."

"Then you can stay with us!" my grandad says. "Lola, let's get ready a spot for him on the table. Girls, you go do something with that dinner, see if you can warm it again."

"Yes, c'mon Dani" my sister says, grabbing me by the arm and literally dragging me to the kitchen. "I want all the details. Now."

"Details of what?"

"Daniela, I'm not an idiot. You were with Mason, came in smiling, and are wearing your shirt backwards. That smells like sex on the beach."

"We didn't have sex on the beach."

"His car again? Oh my God, you did! Look at the way you are blushing!" she laughs.

"Shh, be quiet!"

"So? What happened? Did you make up?"

"We did, yes" I sigh.

"Oh, that's wonderful news!"

"And I told him that I love him."

"You did what?" she screams.

"Everything alright, girls?" my dad says from the living room.

"Peachy!" Monica replies. "What do you mean with I told him that I love him?"

"Exactly that" I shrug. "He said that he was in love with me, and I..."

"Oh my God!"

"Shh!"

"Sorry, sorry. So you basically confessed your love for each other and then had sex on his car?"

"Yes" I sigh.

"So you are dating?"

"No! We just... I don't know. It is too soon."

"Ok, ok. But, urgh, finally! I am so happy for you, Dani" she says, hugging me.

"Yeah, yeah. Now can we please do something with all this food? I am starving."

"That's what happens when you’ve been burning calories having amazing sex. You need to recharge" she winks, a stupid smile on her face.

"Oh God" I say, rolling my eyes and already regretting telling her anything.

━━━━━━❃━━━━━━

"That was a lovely meal, thank you very much for having me."

"Anytime, Mount" my dad says.

"And that story about your first kiss being at the beach? So cute. Don't you agree, Daniela?"

"Very cute. And you were leaving, so" I say, gesturing towards the door. I can't wait for this to be over.

"Why so eager, sister?"

"Because it's late, I'm tired, and want to go to bed."

"How can you be tired? You've done nothing today" my dad says.

"She went out for a walk and did some extra exercise. Didn't you, sister?"

"Can you please stop calling me sister?"

"But you are my sister" she smiles.

"Mason, let's go" I say, grabbing him by the arm like Monica did earlier and dragging him outside."

"Goodbye, everyone."

"Bye, Mason" Lola says.

"Wasn't that a bit rude?" he says once we are outside.

"Shut up."

"Make me" he replies with a mischievous smile.

"I’m not going to kiss you, Mason."

"Who said I was thinking about you shutting me up like that? You could also slap me."

"I hadn't thought about that, but now that you say it..."

"Wait, wait, I'm leaving. You are capable of doing it" he laughs. "But isn't it a cute coincidence that your parents’ first kiss was at a beach, and so was ours? Like, the real one."

"The real one?"

"The one from today. I'm counting it as out proper first kiss, the one that truly meant something. Mark today on your calendar, it will be our anniversary."

"Who said I want to date you?" I chuckle.

"Daniela... The words that have left your mouth the most during the past few hours, have been I love you and my name. Usually together. I think that says it all."

"Or not."

"I had not missed your stubbornness" he smiles, running a hand through his hair and making me want to do the same. "What?"

"Come" I say, walking towards the road and as far from the house and my sister as I can. I know she is watching us.

"Where are we going?"

"Somewhere private."

"Why?"

"Because of this" I say, stopping and throwing myself at him like he always says I do, kissing him and running my hands through his hair. How can it be so soft?

━━━━━━❃━━━━━━

"Am I not allowed to call you my girlfriend, then?"

"Nope" I say after we've managed to stop kissing, my fingers still playing with his hair.

"But it’s just that I can't do it just yet, right?"

"Maybe" I shrug.

"You do love torturing me, don't you?"

"So do you every time you smile like that and your dimple shows up."

"I'm starting to think you are with me just because of it" Mason chuckles.

"Maybe" I shrug again. "There is something you can start calling me, tho. Something I think you are dying to say."

"Really?" he says, pulling me a bit closer to him. "Surprise me."

"You can start calling me Dani."

"I've earned it?"

"You have. Congratulations, Mount."

"Yes!" he says, lifting me in the air and starting to spin me.

"Mason, stop!" I giggle. "Think about my dinner!"

"Oh, yes, sorry" he says, putting me down. "Everything in place?"

"So far" I laugh.

"I love you... Dani" he says with a big smile.

"I love you too, Mason" I reply before kissing him again.

[awooga-llama]

The Beach

Technoblade x NB! child reader

Hello guys, I'm back. I was going to do this one as a bonding with Techno but then I imagined Wilbur being the cool uncle and that led us here, enjoy!

Not proof read/edited

The young (Y/N) had quickly gotten over the cold and returned to their usual routine of wreaking havoc on the family. Tommy couldn’t even keep up with the toddler and he was the youngest besides Techno’s child.

“(Y/N), Uncle is tired. Can we stop playing chase and sit down instead?” Tommy had his hands on his knees, panting heavily. The toddler ran at him and wrapped their arms around his neck, leaning against him giggling.

"Okay Uncle. We can rest for a bit." (Y/N) smiled at Tommy letting him go so he could sit on his knees. The blonde's arms wrapped around the child as he pulled them close for a hug. He gently swung (Y/N) back and forth telling the kid how much he loves them. He tickled them and they squirmed and laughed until the door swung open revealing Techno, Wilbur, and Philza. They all had shopping bags in their arms since they had just gotten back from the town market.

"DADA!" (Y/N) yelled in a high pitch, they escaped from Tommy's arms and ran at their Father. Techno put the bags down and caught the wild toddler picking them up and giving them a kiss on the forehead, smiling widely. Nobody would ever get to see this side of him except his family and that's what made the moment so special.

"How has my little orphan been?" He asked while the child snuggled closer to him, laying their head on the white fluff of his cape.

"They've been good overall. Attempted to get into cookie dough in the fridge, tried to run outside a gazillion times, and wouldn't take their nap, other than all that though (Y/N) was an angel." Tommy replied standing up, his knees popping leaving him a satisfying tingle afterwards. Wilbur and Philza put down their bags near the couch and took off their shoes. (Y/N) wiggled a bit in Techno's arms trying to peek in the bags that they had. The child patted their father on the back and he set them down onto the floor. (Y/N) crawled quietly towards the bags and peered inside. There were colourful towels, plastic sea shaped things, bottles of sunscreen, and all kinds of other beach themed objects. Wilbur watched the child dig through the bags while the other three boys talked. Everyone was in the living room minus them two. Everything was good.

Wilbur and (Y/N) tested out a few of the beach toys seeing they didn't work as well without sand, so the man decided to leave for the beach early with (Y/N) without telling anyone. He helped the toddler into their newly bought bathing suit that had little tnt designs and changed into his brown shorts shortly after that the two made their escape out the back door. Wilbur and the child hand in hand walked to the beach.

(Y/N) looked everywhere, enjoying everything around them. It was a nice day too, not too hot or too cold. The sun was shining on everyone, and their skin glistened like diamonds in the sunlight. Wilbur stopped for a second to admire the view in a new pair of sunglasses and (Y/N) tugged at his hand.

"Uncle can you let me have a turn?" They questioned innocently. Wilbur chuckled and nodded allowing the child to put on the shades to look into the sky, advising that they don't look directly at the Sun. They stood on the edge watching as other children played with each other. (Y/N)'s voice snapped Wilbur out of his trance.

"Are we gonna have to play with those people, Wilby? (Y/N) asked, sounding hesitant, almost as if he were going to be mad at them for asking something like that. Wilbur shook his and began walking in the opposite direction of the people.

"Jelly, we don't have to associate with anybody because let's face it, not liking to socialize runs in the family, I'm not sure how it skipped both Grandad Phil and Uncle Tommy." (Y/N) nodded and smiled, grabbing Wilbur's left hand and pulling at it, running towards the empty plot of sand and ocean.

As soon as the two had reached the beach, (Y/N) ran straight to the water. Wilbur chased them and scooped them up into his arms the both of them spinning in a circle.

"You need sunscreen silly, 'sides you can't go into the water before we put your floaties on you." The brunette booped the young ones nose and began the fight of plastering the kid with sunscreen and inflatable arm floaties. (Y/N) sat by an abandoned sandcastle and watched Wilbur put his own sunscreen on his body.

"Ready to get in the water?" The lanky man excitedly exclaimed sitting beside them on the sand.

"Mhmm." (Y/N) nodded climbing off of the sandcastle with Wilbur supporting them.

After some time playing in the shallow end, other beach visitors came over to their area. (Y/N) was being dragged around by the other kids splashing them in the water. After an hour of forced socializing the child managed to escape. They really did take after their father.

"Can you teach me how to swim Wilby?" (Y/N) asked out of the blue, bouncing up and down in excitement.

"Of course! Come here kiddo." He picked up the toddler and walked towards the water where a group of adult fish surrounded them. (Y/N) grabbed hold of Wilbur's pinky with their chubby fingers as he went to stand by them, the three year old still held in his arms.

"Hello fishy, this is uncle Wilby and I'm (Y/N)." The fish stayed nearby swimming in circles and Wilbur bowed to the fish.

"Let's make you the most famous mermaid ever!" He held the child above the water to where their belly would touch first. (Y/N)'s eyes widened in shock but they didn't struggle out of his grasp. Wilbur started singing making up different songs for the fish.

"You'll be the most beautiful mermaid ever. Mermaids sing the best song there is." He continued singing and when the song ended, (Y/N) clapped happily. Before no time the man had taught the child to swim, and all his instructions were done in song. When Wilbur lifted (Y/N) higher away from the fish, the fish swam closer, bumping their heads into the little one's chin, causing them to giggle uncontrollably. One particular fish bumped into Wilbur's stomach, causing him to stumble backward, falling on his butt. Wilbur got back up looking at (Y/N) in surprise then at the child who wasn't laughing anymore. Before he knew it, (Y/N) was gone, and he began to panic. Wilbur screamed the child's name over and over, diving into the water and looking for the kid. He felt a grab at his ankle and freaked. When it finally came up, the thing that touched him, it was his littlest child (Y/N), who wanted to play a prank on him. He scolded them for that trick but took it easy on them after tears began to form in their (Y/E/C) eyes.

The sun was setting and the two headed off towards home.

They were quiet for most of the trip, but when they got home, (Y/N) was still sad because they had left their favourite spot. They followed Wilbur up to his room, which had lots of toys in it, along with his bed. Tommy and Philza were out dealing with sonething and Techno working in his office. The three of them did get angry with Wilbur for disappearing out of nowhere with the child but got over it soon.

"Come on little duckie. Let's play a bit more." He picked up the child again and they ran into Wilbur's bedroom, jumping up on his big bed.

"Now, lets see where we can play." The brunette said putting the little one on his lap. He sat with his legs crossed and leaned on the arm of the chair so he could watch (Y/N) as they threw blocks at eachother. They were silent the entire time minus the occasional chorus of laughter. (Y/N) was concentrating on throwing the blocks and hitting the target with great force. The last block they hit landed in between the wall and the bed and bounced off landing right under the wardrobe.

"(Y/N), we're going to have to change the wallpaper for that." He spoke as the little one climbed off of him and opened the wardrobe, they took a deep breath and opened it slowly. They froze seeing the many stuffed animals that were hanging from the hangers. (Y/N) was about to start crying again.

"Don't cry sweetheart." Wilbur cooed placing his finger on (Y/N)." Tommy had to do something like that in Wilbur's room, it was some sort of prank war going on. It was nearing 23:00 hours when Techno opened the door to Wilbur's room to fetch his child but he seen the two passed out wearing tiaras and smeared makeup on their faces he decided to let them be for the night.

"Goodnight my Orphan. Goodnight Wilbur." He whispered and then shut the door.

[vague-bisexual-crimes]

Friday - “it is true I wished to escape; and so I wish still; is not this not lawful for all prisoners?”

Angel is putting here parents through it with the back and forth is then isn’t coming home now.

God she hates Mac so much <3

But my hand closes around something else instead. Jimmy’s knife.

I glance to one side at Rowan. He’s spaced out, staring into the air. Holding his guitar like a soldier with a gun against his chest. He looks worse than he has all week. Sometimes I look at Rowan and can’t remember what he used to look like. We were in primary school when we first met. We were placed next to each other in class and told to learn five facts about the person sitting next to you. All I remember about Rowan’s was that his favorite band was Duran Duran. All he remembers about mine was that I’d never broken a bone. He had rimless glasses and short tight curls. His jumper was way too big for him. As soon as we both learned that we each wanted to be in a band, we were best friends. The boy next to me no isn’t anything like that boy. Not bright-eyed and excited to tell me about the new guitar he got for his birthday. Not dragging me to the music block go show me he could play the bass line for a Vaccines song. No laughter. No wonder. We got hay we wanted in the end, though. Didn’t we? We wanted to be in a band. Hang on, hang on, I need a sec oh my god. I’d like to once again say THEYRE BEST FRIENDS!!! CHILDHOOD BEST FRIENDS!!!!! ALL THEY WANTED WAS TO BE IN A BAND!!!!!!! EVERYTHING THEY EVER WANTED AND IT COULDN’T BE WORSE!!!!!!!!!!! secondly, NO LAUGHTER. NO WONDER.

Thinking about how fast Rowan signs the contract where Jimmy and Lister hesitate. How he knows it’ll be worse, less time to do anything but the band, to see his family, his girlfriend, to have a life, but this is what he’s supposed to do, this is what will make them successful, and eventually it’ll get better.

I think I’m losing it. Going off the wall. Is this why celebrities eventually get addicted to drugs? Because it all gets a bit too much? Sometimes I think about taking drugs. Sometimes I think it might help. When I see Lister smoke and drink, I know it’s bad, but I understand why he does it. It’s so he doesn’t have to think. I hate thinking.

oh Lister :(

“Do you ever imagine what would happen if we just…ran away?” asks Lister suddenly. I glance at him. He’s looking at the window too. […] “I think about it all the time,” I say. RUN!!RUN!!RUN!!!!! GO!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Lister you can’t be surprised when he climbs out the window you suggested climbing out the window and running away from your responsibilities. Jimmy meant business (is actively having a breakdown)

Do you ever wonder why Lister didn’t just follow Jimmy? Like I get it, he’s freaking out cause he didn’t think Jimmy was serious but man you could’ve just like followed him. Pretty easily.

I need to talk to Juliet. Jimmy will have to wait. I can message him on Twitter later. He’ll probably never see it anyway. Juliet is the priority today. I need to talk to her. I need to repair the mess I made. Nothing good ever comes from Twitter. Also, ANGEL YOU WERE SO CLOSE!!!!! YOU WERE GOING TO CHOOSE JULIET!!!!!

Angel is very enthusiastic about this, for some reason. I thought she’d be annoyed at having to go out of her way to give me back the knife. I didn’t think she’d still be a fan of me after seeing me have a meltdown yesterday. They don’t like seeing you sad.

Another group appear—boys and girls. A woman and her daughter. A group of men in their twenties. I just start posing for selfies. Like it’s a fucking reflex. I can’t just leave. I can’t just say no. I get it, but you actually can and frankly I think you should start being mean to them 🤷‍♀️

Jimmy clinging to the sleeve of Angel’s hoodie like a child. Angel taking care of the main part of the thing that has given her a will to live for the past five years. :(

Jimmy, you’re already taking her to your grandad’s house I don’t think telling her the address is going to give away the location.

Personally I love Angel’s Jimmy’s gonna murder her bit. Jimmy just doesn’t get it

I can’t with Jimmy’s family. I NEED to know about his relationship with his sister desperately.

I go to the front of the pews and sit, and for the first time in weeks, months, I don’t know how long, reach out to God. He’s waiting. He always is. No matter how long I go, no matter how shit it all gets, at least I have one or two things waiting for me. God doesn’t care whether I have one pound or one hundred million. God doesn’t care if I make a mistake, if I fuck yo again and again and again. God asks me, “How are you?” and I just start crying. I try to be white but I can hear my sniffs echoing from the stone walls. God says, “Say something,” and I tell Him that u don’t know what to say, and He says, “Anything you’ve got.” But I just cry some more. God tells me, “Everything that happens is making you stronger,” and I want to believe Him but I can’t. “I love you anyway,” He tells me. At least someone does.

I decide to stop and visit my grandmas grave. The gravestone still looks relatively new compared to the huge old stones around it, despite it being over five years old now. Grandma didn’t see any of this band shit happen to me. For some reason, that makes me glad. Joan :’(

Joan of Arc :(( Joan Ricci :(((( his grandma :(((((((

Piero isn’t buying any of this bs

“You would give your lives for these boys. You cling to them like you’re reaching out to a god. They practically keep you alive. But beneath that, and if you took all that away, you fundamentally do not value yourself.” He sighs. “All your love is given away. You leave nothing for yourself.” “I—I don’t think we’re all like that,” I stammer. “But I think you are,” says Piero, looking directly at me. SHOTS FIRED!!!

“I know he asked you for help,” says Piero, “but the trouble is, while asking for help is always good, it’s impossible to keep relying on others to solve your problems for you. There comes a point where you have to help yourself. Believe in yourself. “Are you talking about Jimmy or are you talking about me?” I say. He smiles and says, “You tell me.”

I’ve done something stupid, coming here. Just to have a little cry on my grandad’s shoulder. My own little pity party. He done something even more stupid, asking some fangirl to come with me, just because people on trains scare me and I thought she was a nice person. But there is one thing I am sure of. One thing I know is the right decision now. Not stupid. Not sad. Not pitiful. I’m freeing myself I’m leaving The Ark. !!! GO JIMMY GO!!!!!!!

[halt-kun]

Jujutsu Kaisen Chapter 267 - The decisive battle in the uninhabited, demon-infested Shinjuku (38)

So can we finally kill the bastard and have 4 chapters of fun, no big idle transfiguration monster and epilogue ?

AWWWWWWWWW OwO

doggies

I hate dog breeds unless they are a bit humanely selected

Gojo's big sniffer is fun and all but they also probably have some collagen problems

Yuji's bulldog is one of the worst, stop crunching the face

Megumi's shiba inu is cute but I don't know their problems

NOBARA (so nice to see her) and her golden retriever with the cut tail is fucked up. Golden retriever have hip problems I think

Only sane dogs are bastards, they live-long, are as pretty and decent, and don't cost a fortune

My favourite breeds tend to be shepherd breeds who are quite healthy even though I would never have the space to have some : border collies, australian shepherd of course

My grandad used to have irish setters and they're cute but don't live long and I don't hunt. English and Gordon setters are the same, pretty cute

Poodles are cute and nice too but mixed poodles are better.

DON'T ALABAMA YOUR DOG GUYS

Ooooo Gojo is in Yuta's bodies right now, I was confused for a sec

Well we found another way to copy Sukuna's techniques

The fever what ????

Inumaki is a golden child and you need to settle down with him fast Yuta. Let Maki become the lesbian supreme

Some rules about Rika, okay

well this is fucked

like what defines "a strong techniques" too, is it purely offensive powers or the amount of energy to use it properly ?

What that's dumb, reverse cursed techniques doesn't regenerate the arm you ate, like it's in Rika's stomach now, a new arm grew so it should be fine

Poor Charles

But YUTA, you used Toge's cursed speech during Geto's attack, WDYM

what did you eat there that wasn't restored

FEED YOUR FINGERS TO RIKA

HOW TO COPY SUKUNA'S TECHNIQUES

anyway, I'm sure he could have restored his little finger ?

NOBARA NOBARA

I A SO HYPED

HAHAHAHAHAHAH

KILL THE BASTARD

SAY HI TO MEGUMI TOO

YESSS AAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA

I LOVE YOU GEGE

I FORGIVE ALL YOUR SINS

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA

LIFE IS GOOD

KILL HIM NOW

AHAHAHAHA GOOD OL' TAG TEAMING WITH YUJI

fuck him from the inside and then punch him dead

AHAHAHHAHA

she looks weird though, Gege lost his touch maybe

NAILED AND CUT

git it Sukuna

Oh no it is my dude

after that we only have the icy enby twink to deal with

Yuji is fine

he always looked like that

and is best friend is alive so heeeeee's fine

mister tanked two hollow purple and several other techniques and opened his domain 45 times with a bunch of caveats

HAHAHAHA AGAIN

GOOD NIGHT BASTARD

it was a nice little jig but popop needs to go to sleep

See you next week guys

!

FINALLY

NOBARAAAAAAA

[princessmadafu]

Eagerly awaiting Spare 2: The Chamber Pot of Secrets

Now that the media furore has died down a bit and we've all had time to think, what can we say about the Spare?

Well, first of all, I'd say Harry has been set up.

Again.

And he's too dim to see it, because he's being told (by someone in particular and probably a few other hangers-on as well) that "his truth" is important. And he believes it. Harry's "truth" has been filtered by money-grubbing bottom-feeders, and now H prefers to believe that "their truth" is "his truth"; that they love him more than anyone else; and they know what's best for him.

So:

(1) Harry can't distinguish his truth from reality. We've known this for a while, but so many new *facts* coming out... it's really taking the pee-pee. "Harry's Truth" isn't the same as facts. A fact is a piece of information that can be proven to be true; it stands up to rigorous scrutiny, especially by rigorous professional fact-checkers, who quickly noted that bit about the XBox, of which I freely admit I know nothing, but even I managed to check it out on the internet in about ten seconds. Did nobody fact-check Spare? Oooh, apparently not. Why not? And King Henry VI... And the Queen Mum's death... and the rest of it. Which leads us on to:

(2) Harry took (and is possibly still taking) Class A drugs and assorted forms of happy-juice, even to the point of stoking himself up on the wife's gas as she prepared for labour, which is despicable. He's such a feminist he took her meds for her!!! A**hole. I gave birth three times (homebirths, without meds; Princess Madafu wasn't around at the time so I did the painful "manly" work of squeezing babies out of my bum all by myself...) and I just want to deck Harold for interfering with his wife's meds. But drug use messes up your brain, Harry. So do grubby compliant therapists, by the way, who are rubbing their hands in glee at all the $$$ you hand over - they're on to a good deal and it's not in their financial interests to sort you out by Month 6 of Therapy when they can trick you into Year 6 of Therapy... or Year 16... or Year 26...

(3) He's envious of William and Catherine. This shines through. His older brother married the love of his life, a woman who has devoted herself to her man and the RF and between them they've produced three gorgeous well-grounded little ones and a firm base on which to take the RF forward. The Prince and Princess of Wales have learned from the mistakes of the unfortunate previous generation of royals, whereas Harry is now an "Oh dear" in the footnotes of the monarchy. And this leads us on to:  

(4) Harry has no respect for Charles and Camilla. The Queen Consort is and always has been Charles's lighthouse and security from the storms of public life. Charles should never have been pushed into marrying the naive teenager Diana, but that's how it was back then - that's how history works! Charles was expected to marry a blushing virgin bride he hardly knew. Harry, aren't you glad you were allowed to marry a several-times-up-the-maypole divorcee? You learn from history, right, so that you don't repeat the same mistakes. Of course that involves being aware of history, which Harold isn't; he's only aware of how time healed his frostbitten todger and saved it for someone who could use it to her advantage. Over-sharing, Harry! Please shut up! Nobody wants to know! And then there's:

(5) Harry has no respect for the British Public. Or the Commonwealth. Or the army. Even enemy soldiers have families; mothers, fathers, wives, children - they are not chess pieces to be removed. Personal remembrance: my Gt-grandma's brother was KIA in 1916; my Gt-grandad served in the same war but never spoke about it; my Grandad served in WW2, never spoke about it - he showed me his medals, once. Once. Once only. The only things I remember him saying about the war were the "safe" bits - that he spent some of it in Canada training Canadian troops and got to see Niagara Falls, and mailed all his chocolate rations back to his wife and infant son. My late brother in law served in the Coldstream Guards, never spoke a word about how many men he'd had to shoot; he took all that to his early and leg-amputated death. What happens in the army stays in the army, Harold; it's not for personal validation.

(6) He hates the British Media. Supposedly because his mother was killed by paps (in France; not British paps) when the world knows she died because she wasn't wearing a seat-belt in a car that crashed at speed driven by a DUI driver. Oh and he also hates the British Media because Meghan is Diana.2 and... wait, what? No she isn't. She wants him to believe she's Diana.2. If it's not drugs doing his head in it's Megadiana. How many paps have tried to run Catherine off the road in a tunnel in Paris? How many paps have tried to take topless pictures of her - ooh, there was one, but it wasn't in Britain, I'm pretty sure it was in France and the magazine was sued for it, so not in Britain then. Not British Media. Not British paps. And let's not forget that Diana was more than capable of manipulating the pap shoots she wanted... remind you of anybody?

(7) He still has mummy issues, decades later. This is just not normal for a grown man. I'm sure Harry loathes being compared to his brother but what the heck, I'm going for it! Two young boys, both suffering from the untimely loss of their mother. Yet William doesn't have mummy issues, or at least if he does he doesn't hang them out to dry for a voracious public airing. It's no good saying that Harry is more sensitive, he's not - he just hasn't grown up, and those around him are keeping him trapped in the net of mummy issues instead of allowing him to mature into the adult he should be; he's not the man he thinks he has become. And I still keep coming back to why, so let's move on to:

(8) His therapy isn't working and he needs a proper psych evaluation. The people he thinks are helping him just aren't. They are milking him for the cash cow that he has become. The RF and whatever PR they use appear to have done everything to protect Young Harry from this, right down to convincing us that he was a high-spirited Jack-the-Lad, fond of a little tipple but devoted to his country and the army veterans he served alongside. Take away the RF and the carefully scrutinising PR machine, and he is ripe for the plucking. And boy, is he being plucked. Every last feather.

Now this next one is a bother:

(9) He can't see his own hypocrisy, has zero empathy for anyone, and cannot see how "his truth" - his own words - can damage others. Others including his own mother, his father and step-mother, his wider family, his army colleagues, the wider British public who are all a bunch of racists, apparently. Harry has a lot of short-comings. No doubt there'll be "Spare 2: The Chamber of Secrets" and he'll blame his short-comings on his frozen todger, but the lack of self-awareness is pathetic. He cannot see his own failings, refuses to take responsibility for his own actions, and blames everyone else. So what can we say? Is he really so stupid? Or is he in some sort of "Cult-Of-Himself" delusion, promulgated by his Feather Pluckers?

(10) The awful wife wears Harry's man-bits and is conspicuous by her absence, as she journals and squirrels away evidence for her divorce lawyers. Yep, I think we're all agreed on that one!

My personal opinions only, as they say in reputable circles.

Love and peace.