#i'm not tagging what exactly i'm talking about

[fkinkindagauche]

Somebody Has to Arrange the Matches

This is a prompt fill for @steddiebingo Round One, prompt "Dustin Henderson". Full fic on AO3.

Rating: Explicit | WC: 5,398 | CW: None | Tags: Dustin Henderson parent trap, gay Eddie Munson, Steve Harrington speed runs his sexuality crisis, first kiss, mutual pining, friends to lovers, frottage

Summary: Dustin is adamant that Eddie Munson deserves to find love, after all he's been through. Once Dustin figures out some things about Eddie, he gets to work making it happen.

divider by @steddiecameraroll-graphics

Eddie was being cagey again.

It had become Dustin's personal mission now that Eddie was out of the hospital to get the man a girlfriend. As far as Dustin could tell from his probing questions to the Corroded Coffin guys, Eddie had never had a girlfriend, which was honestly shocking to Dustin. Sure, Eddie could be pretty over the top, but everyone liked him. And it wasn't like he was ugly. So he must just be too shy or something. Dustin wanted to help.

Dustin currently had him cornered in Gareth's garage, away from the rest of the group. They'd just finished a D&D session at Gareth's house, with a Corroded Coffin practice scheduled after. Dustin, Lucas, Mike, and Will were waiting for Steve to pick them up before the practice started. Dustin was doing his utmost to get Eddie to go out with one of Robin's band geek friends, but Eddie was resisting all of his attempts.

"Henderson, no." Eddie sounded exactly like Steve did after Dustin had asked for a ride about ten times, trying to get a no to magically change to a yes. "I'm not going to ask Veronica out."

"Why not?" Dustin asked, voice raised. "She's a huge nerd, she flirts with you, like, non-stop, and she's hot."

Eddie sighed. "I'm just not into her."

Dustin groaned, tugging his hands through his hair in frustration. "Are you into anyone? Every time I bring someone up, you shoot the option down."

"Well, I don't like your options, bud. They're not good options."

"That's objectively false!" Dustin yelled. "Most guys would kill for some of the options I've presented!" Why did Eddie have to be like this?

"How can it be objectively false?" Eddie shot back. "It's literally my opinion. The definition of subjective."

Dustin glared at him. He hated when Eddie tried to outsmart him. He hated how often it worked. Steve drove up just as Dustin was opening his mouth for a rebuttal.

"Thank the fucking Lord," Eddie muttered. "Please take this young whippersnapper off of my hands before I kill him," Eddie yelled to Steve when he got out of his car.

"Oh, great," Steve said. "Can't wait to spend the next 15 minutes with a feisty Henderson in my car."

God, they were both such turds sometimes. Dustin sighed loudly and stomped over to Steve's car. "This isn't over, Munson!" he called over his shoulder. Eddie flipped him off in response.

He grabbed the passenger seat before Mike, Lucas, or Will even made it to the car, much to their chagrin. Steve chatted with Eddie for a few moments, Eddie leaning into his space as per usual, slinging an arm over Steve's shoulder.

Dustin leaned over and honked the horn.

"Really, Dustin?" Steve yelled, hands on his hips.

"Some of us have places to be!" Dustin yelled back.

"Where do you have to be?" Lucas asked from the backseat.

Dustin shrugged. "It's the principle of the thing."

Steve spent a few more moments talking to Eddie, probably just to piss Dustin off, then came back to the car.

Dustin gave Steve 30 seconds to adjust, watching the time tick by on his watch. He'd been told off one too many times for immediately starting an interrogation, so this was his compromise with the world. As soon as his watch hit the 30 second mark, he started in.

"So why doesn't Eddie ever date anyone?" Dustin asked, talking over whatever conversation Mike and Will had been having in the back.

Steve glanced at Dustin with a confused expression on his face. "What?"

"From the intel I've gathered, Eddie's never had a girlfriend," Dustin said. "He turns down all of my suggestions for potential dates. But if anyone deserves a girlfriend, it's him. He's, like, a hero. I want to help him find his Suzie."

"Excuse me, what am I? Chopped liver?" Steve interjected. "Why aren't you trying to find me a girlfriend?"

Dustin rolled his eyes. "You've had a million girlfriends, Steve. Give some of the other poor dudes a chance."

"Yeah, Steve. You're kind of hogging the eligible young women of Hawkins," Mike piped up from the back seat.

"I haven't had a girlfriend since Nancy," Steve protested.

"But you do still get around," Dustin insisted.

"Whatever, man." Steve shook his head. "Why don't you let Eddie do his own thing? Maybe he's just picky."

Dustin crossed his arms over his chest and leaned back, not responding. Steve was wrong. Eddie deserved his own Suzie. And Dustin wasn't going to give up on helping him find her.

"So I saw this girl the other day at the arcade," Dustin started. He and Eddie were at the trailer, painting some miniatures. It was his mom's night working late, and Dustin had started spending it with either Eddie or Steve on alternating weeks.

Eddie groaned. "Not again, Henderson. Can't we go, like, one day without this shit?"

"But Eddie! I think you'd really like her. She had a mohawk. Dyed pink. And her nose was pierced."

Eddie dropped his head into his hands, smearing some red paint on his cheek. He stayed that way for a few moments, quieter for much longer than usual. Dustin worried for a moment that he might have broken him. When Eddie finally looked up, his face was serious in a way it almost never was. He reached out for Dustin's hand.

"Dustin. I'm about to tell you something, and you cannot freak out about it. And you can't tell anyone else about it, either. Am I clear?" Usually, Dustin would have thought a joke was coming after an intro like that from Eddie. But he seemed completely earnest this time, so Dustin actually considered what he'd asked.

"What about Suzie?" Dustin asked. "Can I tell Suzie?"

Eddie sighed. "Yeah, you can tell Suzie."

"Alright," Dustin said. "I agree to your terms. No freak out, no telling anyone other than Suzie."

Eddie nodded. "Okay." He took a deep breath and looked away. "I'm gay, Dustin."

It took Dustin a second for his brain to parse what he'd just heard. Eddie. Heavy metal band member, dungeon master Eddie.

"I'm sorry, you're what?" Dustin squeaked. He must have misheard.

"I'm gay," Eddie repeated. "Queer, fruity, a homo, a friend of Dorothy, a fairy. I like men. That's why none of your options have sounded remotely appealing to me. That's why I've never had a girlfriend."

Dustin sat back in his chair, stunned. A lot of things were making sense now.

"Oooookay," Dustin said, nodding. So now he had to find Eddie a boyfriend. More difficult, but he liked a challenge. "So what's your type? We can find you a boyfriend."

Eddie barked out a laugh, throwing his head back. He looked relieved. "Are you serious? That's your only question, what's my type?"

"Of course that's not my only question, who do you think I am?" Dustin was a little offended. "That's just my most pressing question."

"I think this is the best response I've gotten so far to coming out," Eddie said, crossing his arms over his chest and leaning back in his chair.

Dustin felt pretty good about that. "Well? Are you gonna answer?"

Eddie chuckled. "I should've known this wouldn't make you give up your weird crusade." He pulled a few strands of hair in front of his mouth, chewing on the ends while he thought. "My type? I'm not totally sure, honestly, haven't had much of a chance to find out, living in Hawkins. I guess probably my height or maybe shorter, but not much taller. On the masculine side of things, almost the jock physique. Hairy. Brunette."

Dustin nodded after each characteristic, mentally taking note. "Those are all physical things. What about personality?"

Eddie had to think a little harder about that one, looking into the distance. "Um. Kinda goofy, I guess? Not too macho. Sense of humor." Eddie trailed off and looked at Dustin sharply. "Henderson, if you go around asking the men of Hawkins if they're queer so you can try to find a date for me, you're gonna get beat to shit."

Dustin held up his hands. "You really think I'm that stupid? Give me some credit here, Eddie."

"You have a track record of failing to read the room, man," Eddie pointed out.

That absolutely wasn't true. Dustin was very tactful. He could be quite subtle when he wanted to be. Eddie just never got to see that side of him.

"I'll be careful," Dustin insisted. "I'm not gonna ask anyone if they're gay."

"Alright," Eddie said, but he didn't look convinced. Dustin would show him.

The idea hit Dustin the next week, when he was spending his mom's late work night with Steve. They were out by the pool, and Steve's hairy chest was on full display, with all of its muscles. Dustin had Suzie, and she didn't want him to be muscular, but sometimes when he saw Steve's chest he couldn't deny the twinge of jealously.

Hairy. Muscular jock physique. Something was tickling at the back of Dustin's mind. Brunette. What was that? About as tall as Eddie.

Oh shit. Dustin dropped his Dr. Pepper as Steve yelled "COWABUNGA" and did a cannonball into the water. Kinda goofy.

It was Steve. Eddie had basically been describing Steve. Did Eddie even know? Had he been secretly pining after Steve this whole time? Or was it still subconscious?

Holy shit. But Steve liked girls. How was Dustin gonna make this work? Did he need to find a Steve doppelganger somewhere who was gay?

Steve popped out of the water, shaking his hair. He looked up at Dustin and the Dr. Pepper spilled all over the patio. "Everything alright there?" Steve asked. "You look like you saw a ghost."

Dustin nodded. "I- I'm good. Everything's fine!"

Steve shrugged and dove back under the water.

Dustin did some research over the next few days. If he was going to find a gay Steve doppelganger for Eddie, he needed to understand the culture - where he could find other queer people, the types of phrases they used to identify each other without being too blatant, that kind of stuff.

He tried finding books at the library, but came up empty-handed and probably on some sort of list the librarian kept of degenerates. So he had to resort to asking Eddie where he got all his information.

"Why do you wanna know?" Eddie asked with a suspicious glare.

"I just wanna understand you, man!" Dustin insisted, putting on his most innocent expression. "You're my friend, I wanna know what's going on with you."

Eddie reluctantly handed Dustin some zines he'd picked up in Indianapolis. "None of the raunchy stuff," Eddie said. "I'm not getting arrested for dealing gay pornography to minors."

Dustin made a disgusted face. "You could have just… not told me you even had raunchy stuff."

Eddie shrugged. "Where's the fun in that?"

Dustin spent hours that night poring over the zines, learning the lingo. He discovered an incredibly interesting fact in one of the zines - the existence of bisexuality. You could like both men and women. You didn't have to be either gay or straight.

This fact blew Dustin's mind, and the seeds of a different plan took root. What if Steve was bisexual, and he didn't even know it? That would be the easiest, most logical solution to the Eddie problem. Steve was Eddie's type; so what if Eddie was also Steve's type?

He talked about it with Suzie the following evening. She'd been shocked to learn that Eddie was gay. Mormons weren't exactly accepting of homosexuality. But she'd always played a little fast and loose with certain aspects of Mormonism, so Dustin was able to bring her around to the idea eventually.

"I don't know, Dusty Buns," she said as they were discussing his idea about Steve. "I don't think you can just make someone be bisexual."

"I'm not gonna make him be bisexual," Dustin insisted. "I'm just gonna try to show him that he already is."

"But what if he isn't?" she shot back.

"Then I'll go back to the doppelganger plan," he said with a sigh. "But I have to try. This is the simplest solution. Occam's razor."

"Dusty Buns, you know you're not using that correctly right now," Suzie scolded.

Dustin sighed. She never let him get away with anything.

Dustin paid a lot more attention to Steve and Eddie's interactions over the next few weeks. Now that he knew Eddie was gay, he couldn't believe he'd missed the signs pointing to his crush on Steve.

Eddie gravitated to Steve like a moth to a flame. It was like he had some sort of Steve-related sixth sense, his head immediately turning toward Steve whenever the man walked into a room.

He was a tactile guy with everyone, but whenever Steve was around, it was always Steve that Eddie was touching. Every time Dustin looked at the two of them, Eddie had a hand somewhere on Steve - slung around his shoulders, resting on one of his arms, brushing against one of his legs to get his attention.

Steve didn't seem to mind at all. He leaned into the physical contact, touching Eddie back almost as often as he was touched. They smiled at each other all the time. They got each other drinks and snacks and just in general acted like a goddamn couple. How had Dustin missed this?

He was gonna need to accelerate his timeline. These idiots needed to get together ASAP.

Read the rest of the fic on AO3.

[iamquiantrelle]

OFFSIDES (chapter 1) ────── iamquaintrelle

# pairings: aurelien tchouameni x black oc (☔️💕✨) # wc: 8.16k

# tags: @whoevenisthiz @irishmanwhore @lettersofgold @sucredreamer @leighjadeclimbedmtkilimanjaro @rougereds @jessnotwiththemess @judectrl @ayeshami @greyishbach @haartemis @goldenngt @solidbriii @sailurmewn @rainbowsparkelsunshine @lbchi @bbgkoo @mauvecherie-writes

# summary: nazanin "naz" williams and real madrid star aurélien tchouaméni's casual relationship takes an unexpected turn. after he temporarily ghosts her, leading to leaked photos and public drama, they must face their feelings for each other and try to make their 'situationship' into something concrete. masterlist

Naz stared at her phone for what felt like the millionth time that day. Still nothing from Aurélien. Not even those stupid little notification bubbles that showed he'd at least seen her messages.

"Girl, this is not okay," Destiny said, sprawled across Naz's bed. "I don't care if he's Aurélien Tchouaméni or the king of Spain – you can't just ghost someone like that."

"He's not ghosting me," Naz muttered, but even she didn't believe it anymore. "He's probably just busy with-"

"With what? Call Cama."

"I'm not calling Eduardo."

"Yes, you are." Destiny was already grabbing Naz's phone. "If anyone knows what's up with your man, it's his bestie."

Before Naz could stop her, Destiny had Eduardo Camavinga on speaker. His voice filled the room, bright as always: "Ayyyy what's up?"

"Where's your boy at?" Destiny demanded.

"Who, Aurélien? He was supposed to come chill with me and my brothers today but canceled last minute. Why, what's up?"

Naz's stomach dropped. So he wasn't too busy for his phone. He just wasn't answering her.

"What's up is he's being weird," Destiny said. "Not answering calls, leaving messages on read-"

"Look," Cama's voice got serious, which was weird because Naz had never heard him anything but hyper. "It's been rough, yeah? The whistles at the Bernabéu, then that talk on Instagram... maybe he just needs space?"

"He can't have space right now!" Destiny practically yelled.

"Why not?" Now Cama sounded curious. "What's so urgent that-"

Naz grabbed the phone before Destiny could say more. "Cama, just... tell him to call me? Please?"

Something in her voice must've gotten through because all the playfulness dropped from his tone. "Okay. Yeah, I got you."

After they hung up, Naz's mind drifted to last weekend. She'd been in his box at the Bernabéu, watching him play against Espanyol. Before the match, he'd given her this gorgeous gold charm bracelet – a football charm, an 'A' pendant, little shoes (because she was always teasing him about his sneaker collection), and a graduation cap because she'd just finished her master's.

"So you don't forget about me when you're conquering the world," he'd said, fastening it around her wrist.

Like she could ever forget him.

It was crazy how it all started, really. Destiny had been hanging with Cama and his crew at some fancy club in Madrid, and she'd dragged Naz along. Naz remembered being nervous – she might've grown up following football because of her dad's obsession with the sport, but actually being around the players was different.

She'd known exactly who Aurélien was when she first saw him. Had watched enough of his games, read enough articles. Knew about his move from Monaco, the pressure of that price tag, how he'd proved everyone wrong. The way he moved on the pitch like he owned it, all graceful power and perfect positioning.

She also knew the game. Pretty girls and footballers – it was like this dance everyone knew the steps to but no one talked about. So yeah, maybe she made sure to be at the right parties, wear the right things, catch his eye.

But Aurélien had been... different. Even with everything undefined between them, even with no labels or promises, he was sweet. Attentive. Would send her good morning texts with stupid football memes. Would call just to hear about her day. Would show up at her apartment with takeout when she was stressed about her thesis.

Which was why this silence felt so wrong.

Her phone buzzed and her heart jumped – but it was just another worried text from her other friend Gia: girl what are you gonna do???

Naz stared at her reflection in the phone screen, at the gold bracelet catching the light on her wrist.

What was she going to do? Because this secret... it couldn't wait much longer.

She typed out one more message to Aurélien: We need to talk. Please.

Then she waited, watching those three dots appear and disappear, appear and disappear, until finally, they stopped altogether.

And that's when she knew something had to give.

"This isn't like him," Naz mumbled, pacing her bedroom. "You don't understand, Des. I literally spent almost every weekend at his place in Madrid. Flying in from London after work on Fridays, staying until Sunday night. His dog Ocho even has his own bed in my apartment for when they visit."

"Girl-"

"I met his uncle, Des. His uncle. You know how private Aurélien is about family."

Destiny watched her from the bed, concern mixing with something harder in her expression. "Naz, breathe. Your anxiety is-"

"No, you don't get it." Naz twisted the gold bracelet on her wrist. "During the Euros? I was there every day. When France didn't make it to finals, he was... God, he was so wrecked. And I just held him, you know? Let him be upset without trying to fix it."

"Yeah, and that's sweet and all, but-" Destiny sat up straighter, her expression shifting. "Maybe he's giving that same comfort to someone else right now."

Naz froze. "What?"

"You know what I mean." Destiny's voice went gentle but firm. "Quality time. The horizontal kind."

"No." Naz shook her head. "Aurélien isn't like that-"

"Girl, get a fucking grip!" Destiny's braids swung as she threw up her hands. "He's a fine-ass footballer playing for Real Madrid. One of the biggest clubs in La Liga. He's drowning in pussy. He doesn't care about you or that-"

Naz's phone lit up, Aurélien's name flashing across the screen. Her heart jumped until she read the message: what's up why are you hitting up cama?

The tone was all wrong. Cold. Accusatory. Like she'd violated some unspoken rule by reaching out to his friend.

Before she could respond, Destiny snatched the phone. "I'll respond," she said, pushing her braids over her shoulder. "This nigga got you acting funny and I don't like it. You're not playing the game right, Naz."

Right. The game. The jersey chasing game that Naz was never fully invested in, not like Destiny who had WAG dreams and vision boards. For Naz, it had started as an escape from thesis stress that just happened to come with designer perks. Yeah, maybe at first she'd thought about the lavish vacations and gifts, but then...

Then she'd actually gotten to know him. Seen how he'd light up talking about tactics, how he'd spend hours playing with Ocho, how he'd call her at 3 AM just to hear her voice after a tough match.

Destiny handed the phone back, and Naz's eyes went wide at the paragraph her friend had sent: accusations of him being ain't shit, demands about why he'd been ignoring the SOS signals, a whole essay of confrontation.

Those three dots appeared. Disappeared. Appeared again. Naz's stomach twisted – she knew exactly what was happening in his head. Aurélien hated confrontation. His whole vibe was chill, level-headed, always taking the higher ground. He'd rather walk away than—

Aurélien: fine Naz. Whatever you say. I thought if anyone knew what I was going through would be you right? Guess not. Guess that psychology degree seems worthless. Sorry I ignored you - had a rough few days and needed time to cool off and see that therapist you wanted me to get so badly. My communication sucked but you know I always get back to you. Well I thought you did. ✌🏾

That peace emoji. Naz's heart dropped. She knew what that meant – bye, adios, I'm done. Aurélien Tchouaméni had officially clocked the fuck out.

"No no no," she frantically typed back, but the messages wouldn't deliver. Called, but got that automated voice: "Sorry, the number you dialed cannot be reached at this moment. Please hang up and try again."

She tried again. And again. And again.

Because that was another thing about Aurélien – sweet as candy, yes, but also petty as all hell when pushed too far.

He'd blocked her.

She stared at Destiny, horror dawning. "What the fuck was that, Des?"

The bracelet felt heavy on her wrist now, each charm a reminder of everything she might have just lost. And the secret she still hadn't told him? The real reason she'd been so desperate to reach him?

It sat like lead in her stomach, growing heavier by the second.

"He blocked you? Wow, what a dead beat ass-"

"Des, shut up!" Naz screamed, making Destiny's eyes widen in shock. Her voice dropped to barely a whisper, "This isn't what I wanted, what I needed, what the... what the baby I'm carrying needs."

Des let out a dry chuckle. "What do you even mean?" She crossed her arms over her chest, eyes narrowing. "You can milk this, bleed him fucking dry. Do you know how many gossip blogs would kill to have this info? Like you can be set-"

"Des, I don't give a fuck about that, not right now." Naz's voice cracked. "I just found out I'm pregnant and my child's father just blocked me. What's not clicking?"

"No one told you to be out here fucking him without a condom anyways." Des rolled her eyes. "I mean who rawdogs an athlete unless that was your angle all along..." Her voice trailed off as she literally pondered for a second. "Hmm maybe I should have Vini knock me up?"

"What the fuck is wrong with you?" Naz screeched and threw a throw pillow at her.

"Bitch, that hurt," Des said as the pillow hit her face.

"I don't care, Des. You're out here plotting about trapping Vini instead of worrying about your friend. You know how fucked up that sounds?"

Des rolled her eyes again, adjusting her clothes as she stood up from Naz's bed. "Girl whatever, I was trying to help you out, remember? You wanted all the nice pretty things and I told you these men don't care about us and your dumb ass got pregnant. Not my fault." She smoothed down her shirt. "Now you have two choices: abort that baby or have it be your golden egg. And as your friend, I'm gonna do what's best for you."

"Des, don't do anything stupid. You know how Aurélien-"

"I don't give a fuck. You're out of options, Nazanin." Des's voice turned hard. "You're not having any luck finding a new job and how will you support a baby?"

The words hit like bullets because Des had a point. Her current job barely covered her bills, and sure, she could treat herself occasionally when Aurélien wasn't spoiling her, but a baby? In her two-bedroom apartment with a roommate who hardly ever leaves?

But abortion...

"I can't do that," Naz said, sinking into her office chair. A tear rolled down her cheek as she shook her head. The stress was already too much – she could feel it in her bones, in the constant nausea she'd been fighting all week. "I can't do that without letting him know about it first."

"Well too late for that 'cuz you got blocked," Des said, her words cutting deeper than she probably meant them to.

Naz pressed her hand against her still-flat stomach. Just this morning, she'd walked into that clinic thinking about getting an implant because clearly, she and Aurélien needed to be more careful. Instead, she'd walked out with news that changed everything – six weeks pregnant. Six weeks of a life they'd created together, probably during one of those weekend visits where they'd gotten careless, too caught up in each other to think about consequences.

She thought about Aurélien, how attentive he was with everything else in their undefined relationship. How he'd notice if she was tired or stressed, would remember her favorite foods, would call just to make sure she got home safe after late flights. He deserved to know about this baby. He was equally responsible for this life they'd created, even if right now he was being petty and blocking her because of Des's stupid text.

"He needs to know," Naz said finally, wiping her eyes. "I don't care about money or support or any of that shit you're thinking about, Des. But he deserves to know he's going to be a father before we make any decisions."

"And how exactly are you planning to tell him when he's blocked your number?" Des demanded. "Gonna show up at training? Send a carrier pigeon? Call Cama again?"

The reality of the situation hit Naz full force. Here she was, six weeks pregnant, blocked by the father of her child, and her best friend was more concerned about how to manipulate the situation than actually helping.

Actions meet consequences indeed.

A week of silence felt like forever. Not just from Aurélien, but from everyone – Cama stopped answering, even Jude ghosted her. Funny how quick football friends disappeared when you weren't in the inner circle anymore.

Now here she was, sitting in a clinic exam room, trying not to throw up for the third time today. Earlier, in the waiting room, a heavily pregnant woman had smiled at her, offered advice about ginger tea for morning sickness. Naz had managed a weak "thanks" before the nurse called her back.

The exam table paper crinkled under her as she thought about how spectacularly everything had blown up. Des had taken matters into her own hands, sending those pictures to the gossip blogs – Naz at Aurélien's matches, in his private box, wearing his gifts. She'd thought maybe it would get his attention.

Instead, all she got was internet hate. Thirsty. Clout chaser. Another jersey hunter. People digging into her past, trying to find dirt. And still nothing from Aurélien.

"Have you considered termination?" The nurse asked gently.

Naz turned to stare at a poster about fetal development, tears sliding down her cheeks.

"You don't have to do this, you know. There's other options."

"Like what?" Naz snapped, immediately regretting her tone.

"Adoption? Or maybe raising the baby yourself? I'm a single mum and I have this group of women who are my support system. Do you have that, Nazanin?"

Naz shook her head. Gia would help if she wasn't across the continent, but Des? That bridge was burned. And moving back to New Jersey? To her mom and stepfather's judgmental house? They'd treat her like shit even if they loved the baby. But isn't that what being a parent meant – sacrificing comfort for your child?

"How long do I have to decide?" Her voice sounded small even to her own ears.

The nurse explained the timeline, mentioned seeing a counselor first. "You seem like you have a lot on your mind right now. I don't think it's best to make these certain decisions at the moment."

"But I-"

"Nazanin, abortion is a serious thing to consider. Your mental health is important as well. Are you in contact with the child's father? Maybe-"

Her phone rang – unknown number. Her heart dropped to her shoes.

"I'll give you time to answer that." The nurse slipped out, leaving Naz alone with her racing thoughts.

"Hello?"

"Naz, what the fuck are you doing?" Aurélien's voice came through angry, other voices murmuring in the background.

"Give me the phone, Aurélien," she heard his uncle say, followed by scuffling.

"Nazanin, it's Bertrand." His usually warm voice was formal, distant.

"Hi," she croaked, sniffling.

"Nazanin, what is happening? I understand you and Aurélien are not seeing each other anymore but to put it on the blogs..." His disappointed tone broke something in her. She let out a sob. "Nazanin, are you okay?"

"Give me the phone, uncle." Aurélien's voice commanded. Patience had never been his strong suit when he was upset about something.

"Djani, I am handling this for you. Please show patience." Bertrand's tone was firm, used to managing his nephew's temperamental moments.

"Is Aurélien there?" Naz asked quietly.

"I can put the phone on speaker. Hold on." More scuffling and rustling filled the line. "He's here. He's listening now."

"Hey Naz." Aurélien's voice softened, sounding like her Aurélien again, the anger seemingly dissipated.

"Am I still your favorite artist?" She couldn't help asking, remembering their inside joke about sharing a name with the rapper.

He chuckled. "Always." Then quoted their favorite Nas lyric.

She smiled through her tears. "I'm sorry. Destiny thought-"

"I never liked that girl," Uncle Bertrand huffed.

"Yeah... she's something."

"Her spirit is not pure. I told you, Aurél, that it wasn't Nazanin's fault."

"It is my fault though. I told her to-"

"She manipulated you, Nazanin," Uncle Bertrand cut in. "We can apologize once you're back in Madrid."

"Uncle-"

"You need to apologize, Aurélien. We need to make this right."

"I know I do. I should've never sent that text to you, Nazanin."

"I know, Aurél. We made some mistakes."

"I was so upset-" Aurélien started, but Uncle Bertrand interrupted again.

"We can talk when she gets here."

Aurélien opened his mouth to say something else, but then the hospital PA system crackled overhead, and his tone changed instantly. "Nazanin, is everything okay? Why are you at the hospital?"

Her protector. Her lion. Always the one watching out for everyone else, even when he was angry.

"Aurélien, we need to talk."

"About?" His confusion was clear in his voice.

She heard Uncle Bertrand's soft "fuck" as he figured it out.

"Naz, what's going on?"

One deep breath. Two. Her news, the one she'd been holding onto for almost two weeks, exploded out of her mouth: "I'm pregnant."

Uncle Bertrand's louder "fuck" echoed through the phone, but from Aurélien? Nothing but silence.

"Aurélien?"

The line went dead.

Naz stared at her phone, hands shaking. Called back immediately – straight to voicemail. Again. Voicemail. A third time – same thing.

"Fuck," she whispered, then louder, "Fuck!"

The nurse chose that moment to return, taking in Naz's tear-streaked face with practiced sympathy. "Everything alright, love?"

"I just told him," Naz managed, still clutching her phone. "I just told the father and he... the call dropped and now he won't..."

She couldn't finish the sentence. Couldn't voice how much it hurt that in this moment, this massive, life-changing moment, Aurélien had gone silent again. Or maybe Uncle Bertrand had taken his phone. Or maybe...

Her phone buzzed – a text from an unknown number. Her heart jumped until she opened it:

Nazanin, this is Bertrand. Aurélien is... processing. Give him a moment. We will call back soon. Please do not make any decisions without speaking to us first.

Us. Like she was dealing with Tchouaméni Management now instead of the man who'd held her through thunderstorms, who'd dance with her in his kitchen, who'd absentmindedly massaged her scalp while watching match footage.

"Do you want to reschedule?" the nurse asked gently. "Maybe take some time to talk things through with the father?"

If he ever calls back, Naz thought bitterly. But she just nodded, gathering her things. "Yeah, I think... I think I need a minute."

Her phone buzzed again. Unknown number:

Don't leave the clinic. Please. - A

Two seconds later:

I'm booking a flight. Stay there. Please.

Then from Bertrand: He's on his way. Hospital name?

Naz's hands were still shaking as she typed out the clinic's name and address. Three dots appeared almost immediately:

Flight booked. 2 hours. Don't move. Don't make any decisions. Please.

The 'please' caught her off guard. Aurélien, Mr. Confident, Mr. Always-In-Control, saying please. Thrice.

"The father's coming," she told the nurse, her voice steadier than she felt. "He's... he's flying in."

The nurse's eyebrows shot up. "Flying in? From where?"

"Madrid." Naz wiped her eyes. "He plays for Real Madrid."

Understanding dawned on the nurse's face – she must have seen the gossip blogs. But instead of judgment, she just squeezed Naz's shoulder. "There's a private waiting room down the hall. I'll make sure you're not disturbed."

Naz nodded gratefully, following her to a small room with comfortable chairs and warm lighting. As she sat down, her phone buzzed one more time:

Je suis désolé. For everything. For blocking you. For not listening. For not being there when you found out. I'm coming. We'll figure this out. Together.

She pressed her hand to her stomach, still flat but now feeling somehow different. More real.

"Your papa's coming," she whispered, then laughed wetly at herself for talking to a cluster of cells that couldn't hear her. "He's... he's actually coming."

********************************************************

Two hours and a half later, the door opened, and there he was – Aurélien in a Nike tracksuit, hood pulled up, duffel bag slung over his shoulder. For a moment, they just stared at each other, the weight of everything hanging between them.

Then the duffel bag hit the floor with a thud, and Naz was moving before she could think, crashing into his chest as tears started falling. His arms came around her automatically, one hand cradling the back of her head like he always did.

"I'm sorry," he murmured into her hair. "I'm so fucking sorry."

She pulled back enough to look at him, wiping her eyes. "I know what we are, what this was supposed to be. I know this isn't what you wanted-"

"How far along?" he cut in, his voice soft but steady.

"Almost eight weeks."

She watched him do the math in his head, saw the moment it clicked. "Mallorca." She nodded. "Fuck." He ran a hand over his face. "I wanted to go raw that time and look where it got us." A bitter laugh escaped him. "I'm sorry about blocking you too. Too much was in my head, I was angry-"

"We can worry about that later," she cut him off. "Right now we need to think about... about this."

They sat down next to each other, and Aurélien pulled his hood off, clasping his hands together. "What do you want to do?"

Naz tried to keep her voice neutral, clinical. "It's just cells right now, so... an abortion would be-"

She saw something flicker across his face, a tightening around his eyes, but he nodded. "If that's what you want."

She scoffed, shaking her head.

"What?"

"You'll let me go through with it?" Fresh tears were falling now.

"Naz... this is your decision too. You said that if you... abort the baby, it'll be fine. Is that not what you want?"

"I don't know what I want, Aurél."

"I don't either. This wasn't planned."

"No fucking shit!" The chair scraped against the floor as she stood abruptly.

Aurélien held his head in his hands, pulling lightly at his fresh taper fade, before letting out a groan. "Naz, we have to make a decision, okay? We can't keep running around and arguing about this. You're eight weeks pregnant, Nazanin, we have a timeline to... make a choice."

She folded her arms over her chest. "What do you want?"

"Naz... I really don't know..."

"Do you want me to abort the baby?"

"Jesus fucking Christ, Nazanin." He rolled his eyes.

"Tell me, Aurélien... do you?" More emphasis this time, demanding an answer.

He went quiet, biting his bottom lip in that way he did when he was really thinking, probably running through every possible outcome in that tactical mind of his. The silence stretched until she was about to scream, when-

"Yes..." His eyes met hers, and she felt like someone had punched the air from her lungs. Those eyes that were usually so warm, so playful, now held something deeper – fear, uncertainty, a desperate need to make the right choice. "And no. Would having an abortion make things a hundred times easier – yes, but what about where that leaves you? We're 24 years old, Nazanin – this isn't like changing coursework at university. This is a baby. A human-"

"It's cells right now!"

"Don't give me that, Nazanin!" His shout made her flinch slightly. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry, but don't try to be stale with your emotions. I know you are thinking about it too. A baby will make things hard for the both of us. We have to figure what we have out and make decisions on how to raise that baby. Would we just co-parent or would we be together?"

"I'm not gonna be a baby mama." Her voice was firm.

"And I don't want you to be, but what we have right now was casual... even though we only was with each other, it was still that. What I'm trying to say is – fuck!" He yanked at his hair again, frustration evident in every movement. "Naz, this wasn't supposed to happen. Shit, not like this."

"I know."

Naz sank back into her chair, suddenly exhausted. "What would your uncle say?"

"Uncle Bertrand?" Aurélien let out a dry laugh. "He's probably already planning the baby shower. You know how he is about family."

"And your parents?"

His jaw tightened. "They'd... adjust. Eventually." He turned to look at her. "What about yours?"

"My mom would probably fly straight to London just to kill me herself." She pressed her palms against her eyes. "Then she'd resurrect me just to lecture me about how I threw my life away for a footballer."

"You didn't throw your life away-"

"Didn't I though?" Her voice cracked. "Everything I worked for, my degree, my career... having a baby now would-"

"Who says you have to give any of that up?" There was an edge to his voice now. "You think I'd let you do this alone? You think I wouldn't make sure you and the baby had everything you needed?"

"That's not the point, Aurélien! I don't want to be some footballer's baby mama living off child support-"

"Stop saying that!" He was on his feet now, pacing the small room. "You're not just some... We're not..." He stopped, running his hands over his face. "Fuck, Naz, you will never be that to me. You know that."

She looked up at him, heart pounding. "Do I?"

"Eight months, Nazanin. Eight months of me flying you out every weekend, introducing you to my uncle, giving you keys to my place-"

"While keeping me your little secret-"

"To protect you! You saw what happened the minute those blogs got hold of those pictures. The shit they're saying about you..." He knelt in front of her chair, taking her hands in his. "I wanted to do this right. Take our time. But now..."

"Now what?"

"Now we have about seven months to figure out how to be parents." His thumbs traced circles on her palms. "If... if that's what you want."

Naz stared at their joined hands, at how his dwarfed hers. Hands that could control a ball with perfect precision, that could change the direction of a game, that were now offering to help guide her through this mess they'd created.

"I'm scared," she whispered.

"Me too." His honesty surprised her. Aurélien Tchouaméni, always so sure of himself, admitting fear. "But maybe that's okay? Maybe being scared means we're taking this seriously?"

"The press would have a field day."

"Fuck the press."

"Your career-"

"Will be fine. I'm not the first footballer to have a baby."

"Your girlfriend might object though," she couldn't help adding.

His head snapped up. "What girlfriend?"

"The model. The one they keep linking you to in the papers."

He actually laughed. "Naz, the only woman who's been in my bed for the past eight months is you. The only woman who has keys to my place is you. The only woman my dog actually listens to is you." His expression softened. "The only woman I want to figure this out with is you."

Fresh tears spilled down her cheeks. "That's not fair. You can't say things like that when my hormones are all over the place."

His laugh was gentler this time. "Sorry." He reached up to wipe her tears away. "But I mean it. Whatever we decide – about the baby, about us – we do it together. No more blocking, no more games, no more letting other people get in our heads."

"Even Destiny?"

"Especially Destiny." He made a face. "Uncle Bertrand was right about her spirit."

That startled a laugh out of her. "Your uncle and his spiritual readings."

"He's never wrong though." Aurélien's expression turned serious again. "So what do you say? We take some time, really think about this? No pressure, no rushed decisions. Just... figure it out together?"

Naz looked at him – really looked at him. At the man who'd flown across countries the moment she needed him, who was on his knees in front of her offering support instead of easy solutions. At the potential father of her child.

"Together," she agreed softly.

His relief was visible. "Together." He pressed a kiss to her knuckles. "Now can we get out of this clinic? Hospitals make me nervous and I haven't eaten since I got your call."

"You're always hungry."

"Growing boy."

"You're literally a professional athlete."

He stood, pulling her up with him. "Exactly. Need to keep my strength up." His hand slid to her still-flat stomach. "Especially now."

The gesture should have felt presumptuous, but instead it felt... right. Like maybe they could actually do this.

A soft knock interrupted them, and the nurse from earlier poked her head in. Her eyes widened slightly at Aurélien's presence – of course she recognized him – but she maintained her professional demeanor.

"Everything alright in here?" she asked, though her gentle smile suggested she'd heard enough of their conversation to know things were better.

"Yeah," Naz managed, suddenly aware she was still holding Aurélien's hand. "We're just..."

"Taking things one step at a time," Aurélien finished, giving her hand a squeeze.

The nurse nodded. "Would you like to see the baby? You're far enough along for an ultrasound."

Naz felt Aurélien tense beside her. "We can... we can do that?" he asked, his voice uncharacteristically uncertain.

"Of course. Let me get you two into a proper exam room first, and I'll give you some information about all your options." She gestured for them to follow her.

The new room was bigger, with an ultrasound machine and an exam table. The nurse handed them several pamphlets – Naz tried not to focus too hard on the ones about termination – and went through Naz's chart.

"Everything looks good so far," she said, patting the exam table. "Hop up here, love. Dad, you can sit right there."

Dad. The word made Aurélien's breath catch audibly.

"This might be a bit cold," the nurse warned as she applied the gel to Naz's stomach. Aurélien moved his chair closer, his eyes fixed on the screen.

For a moment, there was just static, and then...

"There we go," the nurse said softly. "See that little flutter? That's the heartbeat."

Naz heard Aurélien's sharp intake of breath. She turned to look at him and found his eyes were glassy, his usually composed expression cracking around the edges.

"Quite strong for eight weeks," the nurse continued, taking measurements. "Everything looks perfectly normal. Would you like a picture to take home?"

"Yes," Aurélien said immediately, then looked at Naz. "If... if that's okay?"

She nodded, not trusting her voice. Because that flutter on the screen... that was real. That was their baby. Not just cells, but a actual heartbeat and an embryo.

The nurse printed two copies of the ultrasound – "One for each of you" – and helped Naz clean up. "I'll give you a moment," she said, heading for the door. "When you're ready, there's a private exit through the back. I assume you'd prefer that?"

Aurélien nodded gratefully. Being spotted at a women's clinic was the last thing either of them needed right now.

Once they were alone, he looked down at the ultrasound picture in his hands. His fingers traced the tiny shape that would become their child.

"It's so small," he whispered.

"Yeah." Naz slid off the table, straightening her clothes.

"But that heartbeat..." He shook his head in wonder. "That was... fuck, Naz."

"I know." She leaned into him, and his arm came around her automatically.

"You still scared?"

"Terrified."

He pressed a kiss to her temple. "Me too. But maybe a little less than before?"

She nodded against his chest. The flutter of that heartbeat had changed something, made it all more real but also somehow less overwhelming. Maybe because now they were facing it together.

"Come on," he said finally, grabbing his duffel bag. "Let's get out of here. We can grab some food, talk more about everything."

The nurse was waiting by the back exit, holding the door open for them. "Take care of each other," she said softly as they passed.

Aurélien's hand found the small of Naz's back, guiding her through the door into the afternoon sun. His other hand was still holding the ultrasound picture, tucked safely in his pocket like something precious.

Maybe because it was.

Aurélien stifled another yawn as he sat against the training pitch wall, water bottle dangling from his fingers. The 5 AM flight from London had him running on fumes, but it wasn't just the lack of sleep weighing on him. Last night with Naz had been... intense. Hours of tears and whispered conversations, trying to map out a future neither of them had planned for.

He'd held her while she cried about her career, about her mother's inevitable reaction, about all the ways this could go wrong. Then she'd held him when the reality of everything finally hit and he'd broken down too.

Uncle Bertrand's lecture still rang in his ears: "Sexual responsibility, Djani. Being a man means facing consequences." Like he didn't know that. Like the ultrasound picture burning a hole in his wallet wasn't consequence enough.

Fling. The word kept bouncing around his head, making him grimace. That's what everyone would call Naz – his fling, his hookup, maybe his special friend if they were being polite. But how do you label someone who's seen you at your lowest after losing crucial matches? Someone who stays up till 3 AM discussing racism in football commentary? Someone who gets why you sometimes feel like you're not enough, even when you're playing for Real Madrid?

And now she was carrying his child.

"Yo." Cama's voice cut through his thoughts as his teammate dropped down beside him. Jude wasn't far behind, settling into the grass with that easy confidence of his.

"You look like shit, mate," Jude offered helpfully.

Aurélien took another swig of water. "Early flight."

"From London?" Cama's tone was careful, too careful. "We saw the blogs. About Naz."

The ultrasound picture felt heavier in his wallet. "Yeah."

"Everything good?" Jude asked, and Aurélien could hear the real question underneath: Are you good?

He stared out at the training pitch, at the pristine grass that had always been his escape. But football couldn't solve this one. Couldn't tell him how to be a father at 24, how to protect Naz from the media shitstorm that was coming, how to balance a baby with his career.

"She's pregnant," he said finally, the words still feeling foreign on his tongue.

The silence that followed was deafening. Then:

"Fuck," from Jude.

"Putain," from Cama.

Aurélien let out a humorless laugh. "Yeah."

"What are you gonna do?" Cama asked, all traces of his usual playfulness gone.

"Keep it." He didn't realize he'd made that decision until the words came out. "I want to keep it."

"You sure?" Jude's voice was gentle. "It's a lot, mate. The press alone..."

"Fuck the press." Aurélien pulled the ultrasound from his wallet, looked at that tiny flutter of life that had changed everything. "We saw the heartbeat yesterday. It's... it's real."

His teammates leaned in to look at the picture, and for a moment, they were just three young guys staring at something miraculous and terrifying.

"What if she goes through with it?" Jude asked carefully. "The abortion. Would you be mad?"

Aurélien stared at the grass, rolling the water bottle between his palms. Was he ready to be a father? Hell no. But could he just let Naz terminate their pregnancy? The thought made his stomach turn.

"I can't be mad at her. It's her choice too," he said finally. "I support her right to her choice, but... it's different when it's your baby."

"Is it your baby though?" Cama's face had that weird look he got when he was about to say something controversial. Both Jude and Aurélien glared at him. "We know those types of girls.... we fuck 'em and leave 'em but they have other plans."

"Naz isn't like that," Aurélien's voice went hard.

"Naz who also hangs out with Destiny who was with me and is now making her way through the team," Cama pushed back.

Aurélien let out a frustrated huff. "Naz never gave me that vibe. She even shared her location - she was too focused on me."

"Whoa, she shared her location with you?" Jude's eyebrows shot up.

"Once or twice. Thing is, I always knew where she was at.... so yeah, definitely my baby."

Jude scoffed, shaking his head. "I can't believe you went raw. Like condoms aren't fun and all, but they protect you."

"Thanks Jude, really needed that advice," Aurélien said sarcastically.

"But you want a baby?" Cama pressed. "Bro, you won't be able to have fun."

"I can still have fun, but it'll be different now. Have to be more responsible."

"No more clubs, no more trips... you'll be out here worrying about nappies and which bottle is best." Jude sounded almost sad about it.

Aurélien shrugged. "I'm a homebody anyways, so what's the point? Is this what I want right now while going through this bullshit? No. But I was there making that baby with her, so it is what it is."

"I still think you should do a DNA test first." Aurélien shot Cama another glare, and his teammate put up his hands in surrender. "Just for your peace of mind."

"It's too early to do that. We'd have to keep it and then wait to do one."

"Fuck..." Cama exhaled heavily. "So do you let her get rid of it then?"

"Don't call the baby 'it'," Aurélien snapped. "That's not an 'it'. That's my kid."

The silence that followed was heavy with understanding. This wasn't just about Aurélien anymore, or even about Naz. It was about that tiny flutter of life that had somehow changed everything.

"Whatever she decides..." Jude started carefully.

"Yeah." Aurélien finally tucked the picture away. "Whatever she decides. But fuck, I hope she doesn't..."

He couldn't finish the sentence. Couldn't voice his fear that Naz might choose differently, that she might end this before it really began. Because how do you tell someone you want them to keep a baby neither of you planned for? How do you ask them to change their whole life because you can't stop thinking about that little heartbeat?

The whistle blew, signaling the end of their break. As they stood, Cama bumped his shoulder.

"You know we got you, right? Whatever you need."

"Yeah," Jude added. "Even if it's just covering for you when you're falling asleep during training."

Aurélien rolled his eyes, but the knot in his chest loosened slightly. Maybe they weren't ready for any of this – the baby, the responsibility, the scrutiny that was coming. But at least they weren't facing it alone.

Back to football. Back to pretending his whole world hadn't just shifted on its axis.

"Tchouaméni!" Ancelotti called out. "Focus!"

He'd missed a simple pass – the kind he could usually make in his sleep. But his head was somewhere else, somewhere in London with Naz, probably still crying on her bedroom floor.

"Sorry, Coach," he called back, shaking his head to clear it.

Training continued, but every movement felt mechanical. Pass, move, track back. His body knew what to do even if his mind was elsewhere. During shooting practice, he caught himself thinking about baby-proofing his villa. While defending set pieces, he wondered if the baby would have Naz's eyes.

"You're in your head," Cama said during another water break. "Coach is noticing."

"Let him notice." Aurélien took a long drink. "Got bigger things to worry about."

"Like what crib to buy?" Jude teased, but his smile faded when he saw Aurélien's expression. "Wait, are you actually-"

"I looked at some last night," Aurélien admitted quietly. "When Naz finally fell asleep. Found this really nice one, all white with gold trim-"

"Bro," Cama cut in. "You can't be planning nurseries when she hasn't even decided if-"

"I know!" The water bottle crumpled in Aurélien's grip. "You think I don't know that? But what else am I supposed to do? Just sit around waiting for her to decide if my kid gets to exist or not?"

A few teammates glanced their way at his outburst. Jude stepped closer, blocking their view.

"Maybe that's exactly what you need to do," he said gently. "Show her you'll support her either way. That it's really her choice."

"Even if her choice kills me?"

The raw honesty in his voice made both his friends pause. This wasn't their usual Aurélien – confident, composed, always in control. This was someone terrified of losing something he hadn't even known he wanted until yesterday.

"Send her the crib," Cama said suddenly.

"What?"

"Send her the link to the crib you liked. Show her you're thinking about it. About the future. But don't pressure her. Just... let her know you're ready if she is."

Aurélien stared at him. "That's... actually smart."

"I have my moments." Cama grinned. "Now can you please focus on training before Coach makes us all run sprints?"

But focusing was impossible. Every time he closed his eyes, he saw that ultrasound image. Every time he caught his breath, he heard that tiny heartbeat. And every time his phone buzzed in the locker room, his heart stopped, wondering if this was the message from Naz that would either make or break him.

Because that's what it came down to, really. In less than 48 hours, he'd gone from being Real Madrid's midfielder to potentially being someone's father. And somehow, impossibly, the second title felt bigger than the first.

****************************************************************

After training, Aurélien found Uncle Bertrand waiting in his kitchen, sage burning because "the energy needs cleansing, nephew." The older man was stirring something that smelled like his grandmother's cooking, probably trying to comfort him with food like always.

"You look tired, Djani," Bertrand said, not turning around. "Sit. Eat."

"I'm not hungry-"

"Sit."

Aurélien sat. Some battles weren't worth fighting, especially with Uncle Bertrand.

"Have you spoken to Nazanin today?"

"Not since I left London." He pulled out his phone, staring at their last text exchange from this morning: Landed safely. Get some rest. And her reply: You too.

"You should call her."

"And say what?" Aurélien pushed his food around the plate. "'Hey, I know you're dealing with possibly the biggest decision of your life, but I found this really nice crib online?'"

Bertrand turned, fixing him with that look that always made him feel about five years old. "Is that what you want to say to her?"

"I don't know what I want to say. I don't know what I can say." He dropped his fork. "She could terminate and there's nothing I can do about it."

"This is true."

"I'd have to support her decision."

"Also true."

"But uncle…" His voice cracked slightly. "I saw the heartbeat."

Bertrand's expression softened. "I know, nephew. But Nazanin must make this choice herself. Without pressure."

"Even from me?"

"Especially from you." Bertrand sat across from him. "But showing her you're thinking of the future? This is not pressure. This is… hope."

Aurélien pulled out his phone again, found the crib he'd bookmarked during those sleepless hours in London. White with gold trim, converting into a toddler bed, probably cost more than some people's cars but…

"Send it," Bertrand said softly.

His thumb hovered over the link. Then:

Saw this last night. Made me think about possibilities.

He hit send before he could overthink it.

Three dots appeared almost immediately. Disappeared. Appeared again. His heart was somewhere in his throat when her reply finally came through:

It's beautiful.

Then: But expensive.

Money's not an issue, he typed back.

Aurel…

Just showing you I'm thinking about it. About everything. No pressure.

A longer pause this time. Then: I had an appointment with a counselor today.

His hands were shaking slightly as he replied: Yeah? How'd it go?

She helped me see some things clearly.

His stomach dropped. This was it. She was going to tell him she'd made her decision, that she was going to-

I'm scared of doing this alone.

Relief flooded through him. You're not alone. Never alone with this.

Promise?

On everything. On football. On my life.

She sent back a heart emoji, then: The crib really is beautiful.

"See?" Bertrand's voice made him jump – he'd almost forgotten his uncle was there. "Hope."

"She's still scared."

"Of course she is. You're both children yourselves."

"I'm twenty-four-"

"Children," Bertrand repeated firmly. "But children can grow. Children can learn. Children can become parents, if they choose."

If they choose. Those words again. Always coming back to choice.

His phone buzzed one more time: Send me more nursery stuff you like?

Something warm bloomed in his chest. "Uncle?"

"Mm?"

"I think… I think we might be having a baby."

Bertrand's smile was gentle. "Perhaps. But first, you eat. Growing fathers need their strength."

Aurélien looked down at his plate, found himself actually hungry for the first time all day. Because maybe Naz hadn't made her final decision yet, but she was thinking about cribs and nurseries and possibilities.

And right now, possibility felt a lot like hope.

"You know," Bertrand said carefully, watching his nephew finally eat, "we still need to discuss your mother."

The fork clattered against the plate. Aurélien's head dropped to the cool marble countertop with a dull thud. "Fuck!"

"Language."

"Sorry, uncle, but… fuck." He pressed his forehead harder against the marble. "She already called me twice about those blog posts."

"Mm." Bertrand's hum was knowing. "She wasn't pleased."

That was an understatement. His mother had been livid about seeing her son's 'private affairs' splashed across gossip sites. She had very specific ideas about how a footballer should conduct himself – everything behind closed doors, everything properly managed.

"'Sowing your wild oats is one thing, Aurélien,'" he mimicked her tone, "'but discretion is everything.'"

"And now?"

"Now I have to tell her those wild oats actually sprouted." He lifted his head just enough to bang it against the counter again. "She's going to kill me."

"She won't kill you." Bertrand paused. "Maim you, perhaps."

"Not helping, uncle."

"Have you thought about how you'll tell her?"

"I was kind of hoping you'd do it?" He tried his most winning smile, the one that usually got him out of trouble.

"No." Bertrand's response was immediate. "This is your responsibility."

"But-"

"Your mother needs to hear this from you. Not from me, not from the blogs, not from some PR statement." Bertrand's voice softened. "She needs to see you taking responsibility."

Aurélien finally sat up, rubbing his forehead. "She's going to say I'm too young. That I'm ruining my career. That I should've been more careful-"

"All true things."

"Uncle."

"But," Bertrand continued, "she is also your mother. And that?" He pointed to Aurélien's phone, still open to his conversation with Naz about nursery furniture. "That will be her grandchild. If Nazanin chooses to keep it."

"If." That word again, hanging heavy between them.

"Your mother might surprise you. But she needs to hear it from you, Djani. Man to mother."

His phone lit up with another text from Naz – a different crib design, this one with a matching changing table. His heart did that weird flutter thing again.

"I'll call her later," he decided. "After I talk to Naz more. Figure out where we stand."

Bertrand nodded approvingly. "Good. Now finish your food. You have nursery furniture to shop for."

"You're enjoying this way too much."

"I'm old, nephew. Let me have my future grand-uncle joy."

Aurélien shook his head, but he was smiling as he picked up his fork again. One hurdle at a time. First Naz, then his mother, then… everything else.

His phone buzzed again. A message from his mother this time: We need to talk about these blogs, Aurélien.

He stared at it for a long moment before typing back: Yes, we do. Tomorrow?

Her response was immediate: Finally. See you then. Love you.

"Fuck," he whispered again, but softly enough that Uncle Bertrand wouldn't hear.

Because how exactly do you tell your image-conscious mother that those blog posts were about to become the least of her worries?

.............tbd

[kawhh]

Got up and took a walk after thinking about dark Jack in the early stages. He seems like a meticulous person (genuinely, even outside this) and he would have everything prepared for your forever and in place ready to go.

Coming home after your first date and he whips out his phone to check the GPS checker from the airtag in your purse he signed into.

He gifts you a plushie before leaving for his first roadie. At the hotel the next night he pulls up the live feed from the camera in its eye, and gets watch you sleep and learn what side of the bed you sleep on and moves to the other side on his bed back home to be adjusted by the time you start sleeping together.

You're having a movie night at his place and he gets up to get a blanket that is "coincidentally" the same one you have on your bed, pulling open his closet doors with a rack of his jerseys ready for you along with some clothes for when you accompany him to golf courses, corporate dinners, and other places he can no longer see himself going without you.

A month in you open his nightstand drawer to get a condom mid makeout, blindly fumbling over the engagement ring box and stack of papers with your forged signature to break your lease and push you into his arms forever.

I'll be taking a walk after reading this. You're all too good at this, it's incredibly unfair. I'm gonna have to learn to be normal whenever I talk about any of these men - once the thoughts are in my head it's basically canon lore lmao.

This man's putting fucking airtags everywhere you look. He's not risking that you won't change purses, won't drop the airtag. Needs one in your jacket, in your car, you aren't gonna move without him knowing exactly where you are.

I need the plushies to be a permanent event. You aren't afraid to do anything in front of a plushie - why would you? You're undressing? He's keeping an eye on your favourite types and colours of underwear.

Masturbating? He's taking notes. Needs to know what gets you off. How he should move his hands, how fast, needs to be the ideal man for you from the start. You'll have no complaints about his technique.

The way you cuddle the plushie? Smush it against you? The way you give me a first row seat to your tits at night? He's glad he has the best camera quality he could buy in there.

He's on an absolute mission to find out every single piece of information you have avaliable.

Stalking your social media accounts constantly, looking for any locations tags, food, clothes, anything from before he knew you. Anything he might've missed.

Food delivery apps? He needs access to them too. How's he supposed to have all your favourite foods stocked for when he gets you over? What if you have allergies? You need to realise how compatible you are. He's happy to change his own preferences to keep up the act.

[bohemian-rhapsody-in-blue]

Thanks for the tag, @pieniebootekent! Welcome to Tumblr!! 💖

Last song: No Plan by Hozier

Favorite color: Anything in the pink-purple-red range

Last book: Storm Front by Jim Butcher (almost done with it!)

Last show: The Middle

Sweet, savory, or spicy: Sweet, with savory in 2nd place. I've talked before about how my complete lack of spice tolerance makes me a failed (half-)Indian 😭

Relationship status: SingIe as a Pringle, a description made all the more apt because I just ate some Pringles (yes, in bed at 5 AM, which is probably one reason I'm single)

Last thing I googled: I don't remember exactly, but likely "nyt strands". My mom and I do Wordle, Connections, and Strands every day and send each other our scores, and she uses the account we share on the app, so l use my browser. I just realized that bookmarking the pages for the games would make my life at least a tiny bit easier.…

Current obsession: I feel like l've said "Cowboy Bebop and Six of Crows with a side of American Girl" enough in previous tag games, so instead I'll plug the podcast @dashboarddiaries, which I discovered yesterday, and I am now avidly listening to every single episode. The fact that I recognize so much of what's discussed is making me realize I spend too much fucking time on this website 😭 Also, it doesn't hurt that one of the hosts is @thelaurenshippen, who created The Bright Sessions, a podcast l've loved since age 13—which is also the age I was when I joined Tumblr in 2017! So listening to Dashboard Diaries is like a journey through time in so many ways!

Looking forward to: my friend, who had to unexpectedly come home from college for a few weeks due to a family emergency, returning to school! Her plane lands tomorrow night (well, tonight, since it's so far past midnight) and I'm so excited to hug her again.

Tagging: @allica @holdencommodorecumrag @jaysbraindump @smithasandwich @wewringmagicfromtheordinary @world-wright

thank you @slashsleuth for the tag 😁 i havent done a little game in a long time

last song: fruit roll ups by waterparks

fav color: purple 💜😈💟🪻

last book: the absinthe underground by jamie pacton (it was ok)

last movie: wicked

last tv show: abbott elementary

sweet/savory/spicy: sweet usually

relationship status: single 😊

last thing i googled: the absinthe underground (needed the author lmao) before that it was turbulent waterparks chords

current obsession: ive been watching a lottt of jet lag lately!!! super fun travel show!!

looking forward to: signed parx print coming in the mail today 🫶🏼

tagging: @bergoozter @trashworldblog @outer-space-face @22psyduck :-)

[crowsofdarkness]

CamBoy! Bill Skarsgard: First Virtual Meeting

-pic not mine.-

Pairings: CamBoy!Bill Skarsgard x Viewer!Reader

Summary: Bill isn't ashamed of the work he does, showcasing his body online for anyone willing to pay. His number one rule was never to make a connection with anyone who either sent him messages or paid for private one-on-one video sessions. That was until you decided to request a certain private session.

Content Warnings: 18+ smut which includes Bill having an only fans page, masturbation, phone sex, virtual sex, and language.

Authors Note: this is a limited mini-series, just a bunch of blurbs that take place in this universe. i'm not sure exactly how long this will be. tags will be open for this if anyone is interested!

CamBoy!Bill masterlist.

What the hell am I doing? 

I found myself asking that same question more than once ever since I signed up for only fans a few weeks ago. Not as a producer but as someone that watches and enjoys. At first I was extremely nervous, chasting myself for even thinking of subscribing to strange men who do sex work, virtually. But after being single for my entire life, I’d become desperate. I craved some kind of attention whether it be sexual or just a simple conversation. Although, after being subscribed to a few different pages on Only Fans for a few weeks, I had yet to actually talk to anyone. 

I mean, who the fuck subscribes to Only Fans to talk to people?

Again, asking myself what the hell am I doing?

Letting out a deep breath, I eased farther back into my bed with my laptop on my lap as I clicked through the different pages I subbed to, ready to unwind after a long day. I had a date earlier that ended in disaster, further proving that maybe a relationship was not meant for me. It was weird, me finding more comfort doing this rather than dating. 

Even though there were a few accounts I liked, there was one that I had always found myself going back to when I thought I wanted something different. 

Bill with the 70’s porn stache. 

I watched nearly all of his videos with my rose vibrator pressed against my clit or using my dildo while Bill had his hand wrapped around his cock. He never had any special effects or wore masks like a lot of the other creators on here which is why I found myself drawn to him. He also had a tik tok page where he would post videos showing off his defined abs or trying whatever viral sound was trending. I liked every single new video he posted but never commented due to being shy. He had over a million followers, there was no way he’d ever pay attention to one of my comments. 

Earlier today, he posted a Tik Tok saying he’s offering a new type of content on his OF page, one on one virtual meetings. For a certain amount of money, Bill would skype call someone for ten minutes and they could have virtual sex. Only one time. He made it clear that he would never have more than one virtual call with someone. Almost immediately I checked to see if my funds were available for this but then when I actually thought about it, it was weird, right? Having virtual sex with a stranger? 

Then again, how would it be any different than me getting off to old videos he posted? 

He would actually be talking to you. Which is what you want, no? 

Gnawing on my bottom lip, I quickly signed up for this special one on one virtual meeting and after paying the amount that would put a small dent in my bank account, I waited. Bill mentioned earlier that due to how many people would most likely sign up, he would have to set times and dates for everyone. So instead of sitting for a reply, I opted on placing my laptop on the other end of my bed and dragged my feet to the bathroom across the hall in my apartment. When I first sat down with my laptop, my body had been vibrating with the need for a release but now as the nerves began to eat away at me for what I’d just signed up for, I needed to think of something else. 

By the time I returned into my room, towel wrapped around my soaked body, I saw a flashing notification on my laptop making my heart nearly burst out of my chest. I didn’t bother to get dressed, simply sat on the edge of my bed still in my towel and brought my laptop to my lap. 

New message from Porn Stache Bill. 

While his username wasn’t that great, he made up for it with the content he provided. 

Letting out a deep breath, I clicked open the message and nearly choked on my saliva when I saw it was a video message from Bill. 

“Fuck, this is too real,” I muttered under my breath, finger hesitating over the play button before I hit it.

Bill appeared on the screen of my laptop, dressed in only a pair of grey sweats. The muscles of his abs seemed to rippled underneath the light of his bedroom as he leaned back against the dark sheets of his bed. His hair was messy, chest rising and falling with each deep breath he took which only made me wonder what he’d been doing before he recorded this video. My eyes, however, quickly honed in on the mustache. I was a sucker for it with every single one of his videos.

“Hi, Y/N.” His face broke out in a smile followed by a wink and I nearly fell back onto my own bed when I heard my name fall from those full lips. “I wanted to say thank you for signing up for my private one on one video chats. I’ll be calling you tomorrow night at nine p.m. You have me for ten minutes for whatever you want. If there are any limits, please let me know beforehand. I look forward for our time together.”

When the video ended, I couldn’t ignore the way my heart sank at how monotone Bill sounded. But then again, I wouldn’t be surprised if he was recording the same video over and over again, only changing the names for everyone who signed up. 

Closing my laptop, I set it on my desk before stepping into my closet to find something to wear tomorrow night on this video chat. 

“What the actual fuck am I doing?” I yelled at myself while I paced my bedroom. 

It was five minutes to nine and to say I was a nervous wreck was a fucking understatement. I could barely concentrate at work today and when I went out with some friends after work, all I could think about was this video chat that was about to happen. I didn’t dare tell any of my coworkers I signed up to have a sexual video chat with a complete stranger because I knew they would try and talk me out of it. Sex aside, I was doing this for me as terrible as that sounded. I’d been in my own shell for the last 28 years of my life, never branching out or trying anything hence why I’d been single. No one wanted someone who was inexperienced. 

How pathetic. You signed up on a sex website to help a stranger with sexual activities and for them to talk to you. No wonder why you’re single. 

Once again ignoring the criticizing voice in my brain, I stopped pacing in front of the large mirror in my bedroom to give myself one final once over. My hair was pulled back in a tight french braid, I wore very minimal makeup, and the outfit I wore was anything but sexy mostly because I didn’t own any lingerie. I chose to wear a loose white shirt that hung off one of my shoulders and a pair of olive green panties which you couldn’t see due to the length of the shirt. 

My bedroom wasn’t anything fancy or special, and with the way I had my laptop set up, Bill would only be able to see me and the wall behind my bed which had those vine lights hanging against it. 

Just as those thoughts began to creep in again, a noise from my laptop had me turning on my heels; the clock on my nightstand blinking 9:00 pm. Bill was calling me. 

“No turning back now,” I sighed, sitting on my bed. 

I didn’t bother trying to find a sexy position to sit in because I wasn’t that; sexy. I’d always been average and it took me awhile to accept it. With shaky fingers, I accepted the video chat and soon was graced with that mustache and smile. 

“Hi. Y/N, right?” 

I blinked, forcing myself not to gawk too long at his bare chest. Bill wore a pair of red boxers as he sat relaxed on his office chair. Unlike the video he sent me yesterday, his hair was neatly combed to the side. 

“H-hi,” I said. 

Bill smiled. “Nervous, huh?” 

My cheeks burned and I ran my sweaty palms on the comforter of my bed. “A little. I’ve never actually done this before.” 

“Is there anything I could do to ease your nerves?” He asked while easing back into the chair. 

“Uh, maybe if you could take the lead.” 

The corner of Bill’s mouth curved slightly. “I read over the list you sent over. Seems like you don’t really know what you’re into.”

I cast my face down, not wanting him to see the embarrassment that covered me. This was a very bad idea. I shouldn’t have signed up for this. 

“Hey,” Bill’s soft voice from my laptop made me lift my gaze slightly. “It’s alright. There’s no need to be embarrassed. We all have to start somewhere when it comes to sex.”

I bit my bottom lip. “If I’m being honest, I’m not sure why I even signed up for this. I thought maybe it could help break me out of this shell. But now I think maybe it’s only making things worse. Which I know sucks because I already paid for this and there’s no refund so I guess I’ll eat the money. I’m sorry that I wasted your time. I don’t know why I did this.” 

“Seems like you ramble when you’re nervous,” Bill chuckled. 

I cringed at myself. This was something I already knew and the fact this attractive man, who I spent hours watching his tik toks and O.F content, immediately called me out on it made me shrink farther into my bed. The hem of my shirt rode up my thighs when I did, showcasing my panties. Bill’s eyes darkened as he sat straight up in his computer chair to get a closer look at the camera. 

“If you want, we can just talk,” he offered me a smile. 

I thought about it for a moment. While I did start this whole thing to try and find someone to talk to, I also did want this to break me out of this shy shell. 

“No, I want to do more but I don’t know where to start,” I admitted. 

Bill glanced at something off screen for a few beats before looking back at the camera. “We have seven minutes. Would you rather us both do something, just you, or just me?” 

I sighed. “Maybe if you just did something? Since I’m so fucking nervous, I think it would be better if I watched you.”

“You’re kind of cute when you curse,” he winked. “Alright, as long as you're comfortable with it. How about you strip for me?” 

“I don’t know why you would want to see me,” I said. 

“Your shirt is thin, Y/N. The last four minutes of us talking, I’ve been looking at those pretty tits underneath. I bet they’re round and so perky,” Bill’s voice had deepened, his hand starting to leave the armrest of his chair. 

“Oh,” I muttered, glancing down at my chest which was in fact visible through my shirt. 

“Just the shirt for me, Y/N. You can keep those green panties on. That alright?” 

Slowly nodded, I dragged up my shirt over my head, letting it fall to the bed next to me. Bill groaned, pushing his chair back so I could see all of him as he took out his cock from his boxers. 

“I knew it. I knew your tits were perky round.” 

I watched, frozen, as he wrapped his hand around his cock in a grip that had to have hurt but only seemed to bring him more pleasure. This wasn’t anything new for me, I’d watch plenty of videos of him teasing his followers on Tik Tok or posting more intimate videos on his O.F. 

Only this time, this was more private. It was only between us. 

“Lay down on your bed for me and spread your legs. Can you do that?” 

Bill’s hoarse voice made my skin shiver with heat and doing what he did, I slowly laid on my bed with my legs spread wide. The show of him jerking himself off made a small wet spot appear on my panties, something he immediately noticed. 

“The sight of me choking my cock with my hand is making you wet, huh?” 

I nodded, slightly blissed out from the sight on my screen. Bill’s jaw was slack as his hand moved in a fast rhythm. I studied the way his thumb would drag over the beads of precum on the head before using it as lube to make his cock slick with it. Or how he would grip the base of his cock, holding it for a few seconds before choking on a breath. 

My pussy ached with the need to touch myself but I couldn’t move. Too engrossed in the private show he was giving me. No one else. Me. 

“Can you touch your nipples? For me, please.” 

Something flared deep inside of my gut at how he begged me so with another nod, I began playing with my nipples in the way I knew I liked. I arched off the bed slightly when I pinched a little too hard. 

“You like it rough, Y/N? The harder, the better?”

“Yes,” I moaned, watching him through hooded eyes.

Bill licked his lips, tongue grazing over the mustache, and I let out a moan when I watched his hips stilled right as he spilled into his hand. 

“Oh fuck, Y/N. You see that? You see what you do to me?” He groaned, working himself through the aftershocks. 

“Oh my fucking god,” I moaned, letting my head fall back to my pillow and my fingers grazed over my panties. 

I was going to wait to touch myself after the call ended, too embarrassed to do that in front of Bill. But seeing him come apart while he watched me pinch and pull at my nipples nearly tipped me over the edge and I knew I wouldn’t last long. 

Just as I went to slip my fingers inside of my panties, my phone began buzzing when the ten minute timer went off. Feeling the world drop from around me, I sat up in bed to silence the timer and stared at the laptop screen where Bill was slumped in his chair trying to catch his breath. 

“I’ve been doing this for a while but that,” he motioned to his messy cock, “Was so fucking messy.

A red hue covered my entire face and my ears as I avoided my gaze from the screen for a moment. “I bet you say that to everyone” 

Bill reached for the tissues on his desk before he began cleaning himself off. “Well, it seems like our ten minutes are up. I hope it was everything you wanted.” 

Silence filled the air between us for a few beats as I tried to think of what to say. Do I thank him? Do I say see you later? Can’t wait to see the next video you post?

“Uh, yeah. Sure. Thank you for this, for everything you do. It’s always a nice thing to see. You’re a nice thing to see. Not your thing! I mean it’s nice, don’t get me wrong. But-.”

Smooth, Y/N. Real fucking smooth.

Bill let out a deep and hearty laugh, running a clean hand through his hair, and tucked himself back inside of his boxers. 

“You’re fucking adorable when you ramble. Have a good night, Y/N.”

When the screen went black, I let out a long breath and closed the laptop. This was the one and only time we would have a private moment like this, just the two of us. He’d continue to post videos, which I planned on watchling like I had before, but now I couldn’t push away the lingering feeling that it would be different now.  

I originally signed up for this thinking it would break me out of my shell, help me find out more about myself, sex wise, and what I was into for future partners. Hell, the few words I spoke to Bill was enough to fill the empty void in my life, even if it was for a few minutes. But now that it was over, I realized how much of a mistake it was. It wasn't the shame that usually followed after I watched porn but more so the disappointment in myself because the only way I could have a man's attention on me was if I paid for it. 

Clearing my throat, feeling the burn slowly rise, I snatched up my shirt and walked towards my bathroom; Bill’s words clinging to my sweaty skin. 

Oh fuck, Y/N. You see that? You see what you do to me?

[skydigiblogs]

Digimon and Nostalgia

i have a habit of just kind of passing by in the tags sometimes even when i'm quiet, and i'm realizing i don't know how much i've talked about the thought behind why we decided to revisit digimon last february from start to finish.

okay so fair warning, this is gonna be rambly and a little bit semi-incoherent because i feel like absolute dogshit today but the brain worms on the subject aren't leaving me alone to rest.

i am putting it under a read more for all our sanity

so there's this category of post i always see in the tags that seems to come from a place of either not engaging with enough digimon media or not engaging with the media.

that first one is a bit easier to explain. sometimes people will talk about things they want to see in the digimon franchise, and it's kind of clear that they have a very narrow scope of what they've actually seen from it.

i'm trying to think of an example that doesn't put recent posts i've seen on blast lmao (because that's not the point of this post), but also i think some of the points brought up by this post by @starwardking (pardon the tag) highlight the complexity of the first kind of issue, because it both is and isn't the kind of problem that can be fixed by just finding the right digimon media.

when i saw this post, my first instinct was to point to series like savers and appmon, where a majority of the plot takes place in the human world and allows for a lot of mundane shenanigans. i also think a bit about the earlier episodes of tamers.

(i think to some extent ghost game has a bit of domestic life shit going on, but seeing as it is also a horror anime, part of it is about the dissonance between "Normal for Digimon" and "Normal for Humans." but you also get episodes about little hideaways digimon live in in the human world so they can drink tea and share snacks. you also have digimon that just hang out in libraries and shit like that.)

at the same time, this is also an issue i think that isn't fixed by finding the right digimon media. the comparison to pokemon is what makes me consider this, specifically because of something like pokemon amie. it may have just been a minigame, but it's also something that, especially in the video games, i don't think we have a clear parallel to. i do agree that it would be nice to enjoy a bit of domestic fluff with your digimon!

but then i also recognize that i myself have also skipped over games where i could tell there would be some of that. i couldn't finish survive because it has elements i just can't handle either playing or watching. what i do remember in survive is that you have quite a few scenes early on in the school that are about resource management (figuring out how to digimon survive, as it were). this is done while you're also chatting with your human and digimon friends.

which i think segues better into the second kind of issue, being that sometimes i see these posts and they come from an angle where it seems someone hasn't exactly made an effort to engage with digimon as it is. there's a phenomenal video essay by deep dive on youtube, actually, that talks about this with regards to ghost game.

on the most abstract level, are you trying to be cognizant of your biases going into a piece of art when you take it in? what experiences make it difficult to engage with the text in a way that it wants you to engage? can you even see what the text is trying to say, even if it's ineffectual?

this is also why i wanted to tie this in with the reason i decided to make a blog to track my revisiting of all the different series.

nostalgia is killer, and not in a good way.

one of the things we regularly do with media we enjoy enough to praise is revisit it. if it's been over a year since i've watched something and i am trying to hype it up to someone, i want to not rely on my own memory, but also the text of that individual piece of art.

the second form of this issue comes about when an individual has an Idea about digimon, and they post with a very firm stance on what digimon is or is not. it's a retreading i think of the same reason anyone is willing to not consider appmon part of the digimon franchise (despite the "digimon universe" title).

again: what are your biases coming into a piece of art? do you have certain ideas about what digimon is supposed to look like? do you refuse to give other digimon media a fair chance because of it?

this form is more likely to get me to just block someone so i don't have to keep scrolling past them in the tags tbh. there's a mixture of "it was better in the old days" combined with a blatant lack of media literacy when "attempting" to engage with newer digimon media. you see this in a lot of franchises, to be fair, but it is always frustrating.

like i could also be biased because of my own background, being that i have an english degree, but there's something so... disappointing, i suppose, to the latter form of this criticism. if you're going to have a take, i want to see you articulate it. it's not a school assignment, sure, but what in god's name is making you come to that take?

i think the most painful series to see this with for me are savers and appmon, if only because i did rewatch them to better understand why i love them (and also what i really hate about them!).

savers especially is a show i watched because i was interested in seeing if the "MIB but if the aliens were Digimon" series could handle making any statement about the nature of law enforcement! and surprise surprise, it fucking did!

people probably feel the same way any time i post about frontier, which is a series i've been vocal about my dislike about (though i respect anyone willing to try to make frontiers better through their own art and writing). it's been a struggle to rewatch that series, but i also don't want to make strong judgments with firm backing because i know i have not seen it in years, nor have i seen the original sub.

i don't think i have a nice clean conclusion for this. it's an observation i keep having, and i don't think there's any particular solution for someone like me who just wants people to try a little harder to pick apart the things they like. i want people to understand how stories tick, and the things they both explicitly and implicitly say. it's the english teacher in me, i guess.

[oblivious-flesh]

slowly realizing that you're getting an issue that you thought you were the only one in your friend group to escape is... a lot. it's a fucking lot. i thought that when i didn't develop this shit in elementary/middle/early high school i just,, wouldn't? for some reason? and yet here we fucking are

[permanentlyexhaustedpigeon88]

oooh, thanks for the tag, @iwanderbecauseimlost!!!

so I, too, was introduced to Tolkien through my dad. as a kiddo, he'd been thoroughly obsessed with all of the books, reading them over and over again (and watching the animated film), and he was absolutely committed to getting me to at least give it all a try. not entirely sure exactly how old I was when I first read The Hobbit, but I know what house we were living in at the time, so I must've been somewhere between 8-10 years old? and I freaking loved it.

for some reason, I didn't read Lord of the Rings until I was in 7th grade (pretty sure dad jumped on this because of the PJ movies coming out). but I fell in love with those, too, and then by the time I'd seen the movies I was absolutely hooked. obsessive. daydreaming and wanting to talk about Tolkien all the time, to anyone who would listen (and yes, crafting the worst possible unpublished fanfic in my mind, that, thank goodness, never saw the actual light of day 😅).

as far as The Silmarillion goes, I tried. oh boy did I ever try, but I couldn't quite get into it (at least the first few times attempts were made). my dad is still absolutely on the 'I need to read it' bandwagon, though, and since I've now added Rings of Power and PJ's The Hobbit to my arsenal, I'm starting to get the itch to try again. we'll see what happens, I suppose?

like OP, I am so beyond grateful for all of the lovely mutuals I've gained because of a shared love of Tolkien! and I really can't wait to see where the next year (and season of RoP) takes us!

no pressure tags: @haladriel, @thiddleston, @catz4ever, @zoya-olenko, @orehuna, @niennawept, @bigblissandlove1, @ohno-elrond, @saurongorthaur9, @lady-wyrd, and anyone else who wants to join! (many humble apologies if any have been tagged elsewhere, and I just missed it!)

Okay.

Something that brings all of us together is our love for Tolkien's work, and its spinoffs.

So, question: What got you into Tolkien?

I'll start.

When I was 12, my father urged me to read The Hobbit. So I did, and I was mesmerized by it, to the point where I'd stay up in the middle of the night to read it. I never got beyond that, though.

Two years ago, I decided to reread it, and I fell in love all over again with the story, characters, Tolkien's writing style, everything. So I decided to read The Lord of the Rings. I got the first book, read a couple of chapters.. and gave up. It was too verbose, too prosaic.

The next year, that is, a few months later, I tried my hand at it again. This time, I got through four chapters, but I still couldn't read the rest. Then.. I began crushing on a guy who'd read it, and so I grit my teeth and went for it. I read, and read, and this time, I found myself enjoying it. Bonus, the guy and I got into conversation.

After finally finishing the first book, I even started the second, and watched the first movie with my family. (By way of flirting I asked the guy whether he liked PJ's Trilogy, and he told me he "found them low budget" so that, um, ended. I'm no longer crushing on real people.)

I read the second, the third book, reread The Hobbit a third time, watched all the movies, and joined Tumblr. Then I got motivated to read The Silmarillion. I'm currently working on that, as well as my Tolkien collection.

Honestly, one thing that fuels my love for the work is all my lovely mutuals who I've gained through this love.

So.. no pressure tags: @gauntletgirlie @wowstrawberrycow @valar-did-me-wrong @balrogballs @ghost-of-morrowbright @gingeragenda @greenleaf4stuff @dragon--ashes @dwarveslikeshinythings @numenoria @onebillionblorbos @zaldritzosrose @varda-star-queen @the-bogginses-are-gay @permanentlyexhaustedpigeon88 @daughterofthesunlands @princessfantaghiro and anyone else I've missed/wants to join.

[wardensantoineandevka]

why am I forever cursed to be into ships where a solid third of their ao3 tag looks like

[a-most-beloved-fool]

Kira has a nightmare, one night when she's staying at the O'Brien's. Miles and Keiko, sleeping in the other room, don't hear her get up - but Molly does.

And Molly, being clever and kind, knows exactly what to do when someone has a nightmare. (Or, at least, she knows what her parents always do for her.) So she sits Kira down and brings her a glass of warm milk, and sits by her side as she drinks it.

Then, she takes Kira by the hand and leads her - to her parents bedroom. "I always sleep with mommy and daddy after a nightmare," she explains, when Kira stops outside the door. "It helps! Mommy chases the scary things away. And Daddy is warm."

"Molly," Kira says quietly, a little embarrassed, "I don't think your parents want me in their bed. Even if I did have a nightmare."

"No, they won't mind!" Molly assures.

Then, of course, Miles wakes up.

"Molly?" he asks, voice rough with sleep. "Did you have a nightmare?"

"No, but Miss Kira did!"

And now Keiko's awake, too, sitting up and saying, "Nerys? Are you alright?"

Mortified, Kira says, "Yes, I'm fine, I was just - on my way back to bed. Molly brought me here. I'm - sorry for waking you. I'll just be-"

"You can stay, if you want," Miles offers.

Kira doesn't quite think she heard him right. "What?"

"You can sleep here, if you think it might help," Keiko says.

"Or even if you don't!" Miles adds.

Kira opens her mouth, then closes it again. "I, uh-"

Keiko gets up, and takes Kira, gently, by the hand. Her palm is soft, Kira can't help but notice.

"Brr, it's freezing out here!" Keiko says, tugging Kira along. "You'd better get in before you catch your death of cold. Miles is practically a furnace, so you'll be nice and warm with us."

"And, Molly, you'd best go back to bed, too. You've got school in the morning," Miles says, as Keiko bundles Kira into the bed between them.

As Molly makes her way out, Keiko swings a lazy arm over Kira's back. "Sleep," she hums. "We'll be here in the morning."

Kira, feeling warm and cared for and more than a little overwhelmed, does.

[iwasbored777]

I wanna know what's going on in the heads of everyone who watched Deadpool & Wolverine and think that the movie wasn't gay. Did you even watch the right movie?

[piratecaptainscaptainpirates]

One of the most frustrating things that happened to this fandom wrt Izzy is that it's almost impossible to talk about the canon guy anymore.

Like. I love that guy. He's so fucked up. He compells me. His "ooh daddy" moment was simultaneously one of the most baffling things I've ever seen and completely integral to his character. I love how he takes his frustations out on the unicorn figurehead. He is completely fucking insane and I love him for it, and I love how Con O'Neill puts his entire heart soul and pussy into every scene he's in. His relationship with Ed, his need to control him, is absolutely fascinating. I want to put him in a little maze and watch him stomp around.

But it is impossible to talk about that guy in fandom spaces, because you've got the canyon one end, and they're very vocal and refuse to entertain any interpretation of Izzy that isn't "poor little baby who never did anything wrong and is a helpless victim always and is also a main character." But, and this isn't our fault at all, in spaces with people who actually watch the show and care about what it actually says (I love you mutuals <3), we also have trouble discussing Izzy because so many of us have developed a sort of knee-jerk reaction to the guy.

One of the reasons I didn't like Izzy's s2 character arc on first watch is because I was so anxious anticipating the canyon's reaction. I knew they'd interpret everything as being right about "Ed being abusive!!" when that's...not what the show was trying to say. It really dulled my enjoyment of it.

And every time I bring him up I'm thinking "am I gonna get called a slur for this" because the canyon really attracted some of the most racist-ass takes. It's incredibly frustrating that this show, which has some of the best anti-racist writing and characters of color I've ever seen in my life, has a fandom that can be so hostile to fans of color.

It's so wild that it feels like this small but extremely vocal subset of the fandom is talking about a new guy that they've just made up and doesn't exist in the show, and they're so loud and insistent about it that it makes it difficult for everyone else to talk about the actual guy.

[solanj]

sometimes in the fandom you see some art that is SO beautifully made but goes SO against the grain of how you perceive the drawn character(s) like I want to reblog it so much because it's so visually gorgeous and the artist is amazing and deserves to know this but I'll fucking die before letting that particular interpretation of the character(s) anywhere near my blog

[memoriamp4]

I hate that we never heard Astrid tell Hiccup 'I love you'. I was fully expecting her to tell him she loved him back in rtte 6x06 after he told her he loved her... but she didn't. Like they really made an entire episode about Astrid wanting a more lovely dovey relationship but then she never even said 'I love you' in the episode?? And Astrid has so many inspiring and loving speeches to Hiccup but I wish there was an 'I love you' included in at least one of them

[a-tale-of-legends]

( random conversation I thought of, not sure if it's something that I would consider canon. Might be ooc for characters)

Blue: Aaaaand that's everything that happened today! Which.... isn't a lot but whatever.

Red: ....

Blue: .....( Leans back) Sooooooooo. How's things for you? You haven't, ah, really said much since you came back down Mt. Silver...( Tries to perk up a bit,forcing a smile) You're usually such a chatter box, you know?! Gotta be something interesting for ya today, right?

Red: .....

Blue: ........( Grimaces slightly, still trying to keep smiling. His voices lowers, as if the whole world would hear if he goes any louder) Come on Red, you- throw me a bone here, something-

Red: ( his eyebrows furrow slightly) .....

Blue: ( immediately back pedals) O-only if you wanna, I don't - you don't - ( he sighs, exasperated) Green? H-have you at least talked to Green?

Red: ( he flinches at that. The punch to his face still fresh in his mind. It was a year ago. And even so-) .....

Blue: ( he should back off. He really should-) Your mom? Have you at least talked to your mom?

Red: ( that causes him to outright glare at his....friend? Rival? Babysitter? What are they now? He doesn't know. But he doesn't like this conversation.) . . . .

Blue: R-right! Right, of course you- ( he takes in a breath. Why does he feel so sweaty.) Sorry. Sorry, that was just- Let's just forget I said anything, yeah?

Red: ( his glare softens, looking at his....whatever they are to each other, with concern. He doesn't know if he'll get used to Blue Oak apologizing for anything ever. He raises his hand to sign-)

Blue: ( he raises his hand before Red does, eyes pleading) Let's just forget I said anything, okay? ( Please )

Red: ..... ( He lowers his hand. He hates the look blue is giving him. He blames himself for it, as always) ( Okay )

[overly-verbose]

I'm just thinking that Uraume is a great cook, but the real masterpieces are made up of people. I understand that Sukuna will be a little uncomfortable eating people's kebabs (that usually scares teenagers, you know). BUT. The moral mobility of His Evil Majesty's mentality simply says to me: Find the enemy, and the big guy will finally get a nice meal. He worked so hard, he deserves dinner. ("Fu_k, Marry, Eat" game. Start). SO. ONE DAY. People tempura — yes or no? How much Curse is in our King?

Uraume is indeed a great cook, ridiculously even lol

- I mean afaik it's canon that, whilst human meat is supposedly difficult to prepare well, they managed to do it; which is one of the main reasons why Sukuna kept them around aside from the fact that they're a powerful sorcerer lol

(he most probably liked the unaltered taste by itself too (he did in my Series Canon for sure), but Uraume made it additionally enjoyable - so for Mr. I Do What I Want it was definitely a unique plus lol)

As for SIkuna eating people, hmm

Although he's pretty deeply in denial about it, he doesn't actually directly feel anything negative at the prospect

(as showed in Part 4, he actually found the little taste of Yuji's blood he got by accident ridiculously enjoyable, if in terms of Identity Issues and 'Ah Shit That's The Kid's Blood' extremely distressing as well. What a fun combination)

- it's Everything Else around it that makes him uneasy; like the fact that he Knows It's Wrong, The Kids Would Most Freaking Likely Not Like it, and just overall the Character Dissonance he feels about it all

because how the fuck can he be a protective inner marshmallow that would just like to hug the kids, and give them headpats, and heal their wounds, and just overall take care of them as best as he can 🥺

and someone that gets absolutely freaking giddy at the idea and acts of violence and bloodshed (as long as it doesn't involve Some People but especially if it involves Other Ones) at the same time y'know?

(sorry bro, you're not gonna get any less contradictory anytime soon if ever - have fun being yourself, whatever that means, lol

Complex characterisation and all that ᕕ( ᐛ )ᕗ)

But returning to the topic; I won't say anything about further down the timeline

(he might, he might not, who knows, probably not in a way that would upset the kids too much if anything but ¯⁠\⁠_⁠(⁠ツ⁠)⁠_⁠/⁠¯)

but there is this one particular, hm, person that would fit all boxes in terms of being a mostly guiltless but still tasty snack, though not as tasty as possible, who miight be meeting him relatively soon (how??)

- and SIkuna wouldn't even need to break any promises with Yuji (oop spoiler 👀) to indeed have a spooky snack!

So, before anything as sophisticated as tempura - there may be moreso sashimi :] *HeeHee HoHo's a bit as lighting strikes in the background and I comically jump in surprise because wtf the sky's clear-????*

.