#like blurbs really not even full articles

[strawberry-jackalope]

my internship is gonna make my hair fall out from stress, I just know it

[foreverisntenough]

‘OURS’

Summary: You were his and he was yours but what would it be like adding one more? Thrust into a whirlwind romance you never could’ve imagined that became your forever love. You continue building a new life across the pond with a very beautiful Scouser. A sequel to the ‘You’re Mine’ fic.

INDEX

Warnings: This series is 18+ and will contain fluff, suggestion, SMUT (unprotected sex,) pregnancy, parenting, mental health struggles, eating disorder, self doubt, body image issues, daddy kink, angst, alcohol consumption - not sure what else really… if i miss anything please lmk!

Note: Thank you for reading! Please be sure to like, comment, or message me what you think of the series! Try not to nitpick with any real pregnant/ baby logistics it’s better if you just read along happily :)

Chapter 28 - In My Dreams | ‘Ours’

word count - 10.7 k

You were sitting at the kitchen table on your Mac starting to figure out some semblance of a plan for how Teddy’s schooling would work. Of course the club provided a lot of assistance with this because it was slightly an abnormal dynamic but also Trent and more specifically Dianne obviously knew the area and school system well. Regardless of all of this help… you did not. You didn’t go to school ever in the uk. You didn’t even study abroad in England because you already ‘knew it’ well because of your dad. Now you were regretting that and kicking yourself for believing that having an English passport meant you knew anything. Needless to say you found yourself in a wormhole of information about dos and don’t, public, private, religious affiliation, all sorts of things fueling your anxiety and worry about making sure you’re little girl got the best but most normal experience she could. You definitely had access to a lot more opportunities than most given your situation but the anxiety was still high. You were entranced in an article until a large ‘whap’ sound echoed scaring the shit out of you.

“Holy shit!” You exclaimed really not expecting the sudden loud noise. You laid your hand over your heart to make sure it was still beating normally. A pile of 10 glossy magazines slapped down on the table next to you. You looked up to see a cheeky grin plastered to Trent’s face.

“Heard there’s an absolute sort in this issue ya know.” He cooed with a slight giggle. You rolled your eyes at him and pulled the stack to you across the slick table top. “Go on. Open one! I’ve been waiting for you. I haven’t seen it officially yet!” He exclaimed. You grabbed one copy and flicked through the magazine to find your published article.

“See that is a fucking good looking lad.” Trent continued to laugh at himself pointing to one picture with him in it. You sighed, inspecting your own appearance ignoring his lighthearted joke. He wrapped his arms tight around your shoulder from behind your chair. “Baby, you look fucking unreal. Please. You’re so beautiful. This is so exciting. Come on.” He tried to get you to be happy about the feature but you just felt critical.

“I look okay? I’m scared to even turn the page to see the rest.” You mumbled out leaning your head back into Trent.

“Y/N… UN fucking believable. I want these framed in the house also. This is so cool, baby. Please just be excited, at least for me. I’m so proud of you, yeah?” He cooed smushing his cheek to yours. You knew if he was calling you your first name he was being serious.

“Okay. It is kind of cool.” You mumbled out hating you were admitting that Trent was right but he was. This was actually a dream of yours. You were in British GQ. You were in British GQ and not just some small blurb, this was a full article, multiple pages. Photos of you and your family blown up printed on glossy paper and typed quotes of yours.you smiled reading the headline Bentley Brown actually used a that you’d mentioned to Trent before.

‘From Manhattan to Merseyside.’

From a whirlwind romance struck on a Manhattan street corner Y/N Alexander-Arnold née Y/L/N and her husband, one of football’s brightest stars, England’s Trent Alexander-Arnold captivated both sides of the Atlantic when they first were spotted galavanting in Manchester late into the night. The couple tied the knot this past summer in an equally lavish as it was relaxed ceremony on Y/N’s home soil. Family and friends only… and us. Y/N Alexander-Arnold, the epitome of glamour and high society, seamlessly blended their luxurious lifestyles, trading the bustling streets of Manhattan to a sprawling estate in the English countryside. Their story, marked by years of quiet cuddles hidden in the stands of the worlds biggest stages, designer wardrobes, and high-profile circles, has become the talk of the town, showcasing a perfect fusion of American charm and British elegance. Curious who the woman is with the pearly white smile and model figure sporting the number 66 every match week, we were too.

“Damn fucking right it’s cool. Baby look. You look so sexy in this, you sound so intelligent, the whole thing. It’s massive and you deserve recognition like this.” Trent was your biggest cheerleader and it made your heart want to leap out of your chest. He was so sweet. He pulled one of the chairs out from your kitchen table and sat down, legs spread wide, relaxing back into it picking up a copy of the magazine. He opened it to the page where the article began. He picked his head up with a devastatingly handsome smirk and patted his thigh for you to come sit. You obliged by standing up and moving to him. You sat on his strong muscular thigh in Dior silk pants and a white bralette. Trent’s big warm hands quick to wrap around your small waist squeezing you. You leaned your head onto his shoulder. “You look so fucking good. Ooff baby, I’ll tell you what that Trent Alexander-Arnold’s lad, he’s pretty fucking lucky, huh?” He joked dragging his finger over your body’s frame in one of the photos. He kissed your head with a hum.

“Thank you for being there for me, T. Really. It means so much to me like I know I would never be in a magazine if it weren’t for you.” You began to talk with a bit of a frown reflecting on the circumstances at which this feature came. Yes, it was about you but it was because you were Trent’s wife. You were proud to be his wife but of course it wasn’t the first time you’d felt like this tinge of insignificance. The magazine feature should have been 100% a good, positive, exciting thing but instead it felt like there would always be this bit of you, this percentile you couldn’t quite ever dwindle down that felt lesser than him. You remembered the fight you had before you went to New York after the FA Cup.

‘It felt like you could never measure up to the golden boy that was in the room with you. No matter where you went or what you did he was always going to look sparkly and new, fantastical and interesting and you couldn’t feel more opposite. You had been stripped of a sense of individualisation and identity. You were Teddy’s mum and Trent’s fiance. Y/N didn’t matter, anyone could fill in the blank of your name. The icing on the cake was the image you were trying to uphold all the while.’

“You know what, beautiful? I really don’t believe that. You could be a fucking centerfold.” Trent cut you off with a sincere smile as he flipped to the next page seeing arguably your favorite photo from the entire shoot. It was Trent carrying you thrown over his shoulder, Teddy chasing after you two out in your back garden. You could practically hear her giggle through the page. The photographer really captured your family beautifully. Even in your moments of feeling most insecure there would always be that silver lining, the most shiny gorgeous silver lining that was Trent and the little girl you made together.

“T…” You whined quietly trying to let him know you were attempting to be serious. “I just… I appreciate what you’ve given to me and I don’t mean the tangible things. I mean I love them.” You paused to giggle because let’s be honest the house, the cars, the holidays, the clothes, the jewelry were lovely. You smiled playing with one of the gold clovers of your Van Cleef necklace. “I just mean for how you make me feel, what you’ve done for me. Not to like get serious on you but you know I still have a hard time sometimes but it’s always okay because I have you. I have you and you made it so for the first time in my life I know that even as dark as it gets you’re there and that’s all I need.” You sighed hiding your face in the nape of his neck feeling bad that you just unloaded on him.

“You have me in the darkest and brightest moments of your life baby. I’m here for it all. And the best part about that is we got our little bestie along for the ride now too. Call me biased but that, and I'm not exaggerating, that is the cutest most perfect little girl I’ve ever seen.” Trent smiled inspecting the photo of the three of you. Ironic considering Teddy was a copy paste of him but you did agree.

“I think you’re right. You know what? I think we don’t tell Ted about this and just let her flip through till she sees us.” You laughed, turning your gaze from the magazine pages to Trent who was mindless licking over his lips. You hummed appreciating the view.

“That’s jokes, baby. Yeah, what time is it? When we wake her up we’ll show her. I want to see her reaction so don’t do it without me.” Trent cooed cupping your cheek. He stroked his thumb over your cheek looking deep into your eyes. “‘I’m proud of you baby. I know this was new and difficult for you. I am so proud of you, don’t forget that, okay?” He gently spoke, keeping his eyes locked on yours.

“Thank you, baby. That means so much to me. So huh? You’re nice, you’re cute, you’re supportive, you’re sexy, arent you just perfect?” You teased kissing his forehead. He rolled his eyes.

“I am and so are you. Don’t forget that either.” He laughed squeezing your side.

“Look who's awake. My sleepy girl, want to go give daddy a cuddle?” You cooed to a very tired Teddy snuggling into you as you held her walking into the living room from upstairs after her nap. She pouted but you put her down anyway knowing that she would want a cuddle from Trent. She was just too tired to answer you.

“C’mere, baby bear.” Trent smiled big at her and grunted dramatically picking up her light weight body when she finally made it over to where he was sitting on the couch. “My beautiful girl.” Trent cooed, kissing her. You watched Teddy’s pink lips curl into an adorable smile. “Want to show me how smart you are? Can you tell me what this says.” Trent asked Teddy, flashing your eyes to you and pulling her further into his lap whilst he leaned forward to grab a copy of the issue of British GQ off the coffee table. On the cover off to the side there was the list of cover lines featured in the magazine, one of which read ‘Meet Mrs. Alexander-Arnold’ to lead into your interview. Trent traced his finger under the headline. Teddy couldn’t really read just yet. She could get words but it wasn’t like she was going to be reading the full article or anything but Trent knew she’d be able to read her surname.

“Alszander Arnal.” Teddy tried her best to pronounce your surname. To be fair, it was a little tricky and she was getting there. Honestly though, you liked the way she kind of stumbled her way through it. It was really really cute. As she said the double barreled last name aloud though she turned her head befuddled to Trent at why she was reading her surname for him and why it was on this magazine.

“Yeah, good girl! Alexander-Arnold. What do you think is in the magazine?” You applauded her effort and then asked her. She just furrowed her brow. Trent flicked through the magazine until he got near the feature and then made Teddy turn page by page. She got to the one before and Trent started to laugh preemptively.

“Mama!” Teddy screamed as she peeled the page back. There it was the first image of you covering an entire page. “Dada! Look is Mama!!! My mama!” She yelled with a massive smile on her face. Bewildered, surprised, and ecstatic.

“And who’s that? Is that my baby bear with daddy and mummy.” Trent turned the page for her once more and there was the photo of the three of you. She just squealed, picking the magazine up to have a closer look at herself chasing after you and Trent on the turf pitch with a football.

“Is that my pretty girl?” You cooed, coming to sit next to them. Trent pulled you by the waist of your trousers closer to him and Teddy.

“Das me, Mama!!! Teddy!” Teddy shrieked whilst trying to finagle her way out of Trent’s hold handing over the copy. She climbed off the couch and stood in front of you two. She reached out with grabby hands and pulled on Trent’s joggers. “Dada go ‘side like in piture. Footie ‘side now, tay?” She incessantly pulled and pulled on the fabric until he finally sat up some more and let go of his hold of you dropping the magazine into your lap, going to live the printed picture in real life.

“Okay, okay! The Teddy Alexander- Arnold wants to play footie with me? I can’t say no to that, can I?” Trent laughed, at her greedy smile pulling himself to get up with another grunt and a kiss to her forehead. “Alright, yeah it’s my day off but yeah, I’ll play footie.” He said more to you then to Teddy. He’d do anything for her. Was he exhausted and not in the mood to chase after your toddler outside in the freezing weather? Most definitely not but he would bundle Teddy up, throw on a pair of trainers and have a little kick about if it made his little girl smile. Every single time.

“Can you imagine if there were two of her.” You giggled watching Teddy pull on Trent’s facial hair as he zipped up her tan Moncler jacket. He removed her hand from his face for her with a laugh.

“Yeah, well then mummy would also have to go outside in the freezing cold because we’d need to have even numbers. 2 v 2. Right, Ted? Would you be on mummy’s team or daddy’s?” Trent asked Teddy.

“Erm… dada.” She was quick with her response gigging cheekily. You rolled your eyes kneeing before she even responded that would be her answer. Trent stayed bent over tying Teddy’s tiny brown Adidas campers that he had gotten her so they could match. If it was possible, in anyway, Teddy wanted to be like Trent. Naturally, Trent was flattered so anytime he got PR or grabbed anything from Adidas or really any brand he’d make sure to ask if they had a size for her. It didn’t bother you the way you thought it might have. Initially after you had Teddy you were so offended by her preference but now if she latched to him and gave you a minute alone it wasn’t always the worst thing. Lately, though you hadn’t really wanted that moment alone. You liked that she was so enamored with him. You definitely understand the attachment but you also knew when it came to certain things she’d quickly drop her daddy’s girl persona and come running to you. Needs her hair done? Mama. Is tired? Mama. A Cuddle? Definitely mama. Is Hungry? Mama. And hungry you knew the two TAA’s in your back garden would be when they came back in. They played for what felt like ages outside in the freezing cold while you got started on dinner. You could hear Teddy’s squeals, giggles, and ‘dada’s’ from inside. You were thrilled knowing that she’d be exhausted after Trent ran her ragged and would fall right to sleep tonight.

When you woke up the following morning Trent was feeling particularly handsy with you. Before you had fully even come to his big hands were kneading your boobs his thumbs lightly brushing over your nipples under the lacey blue pajamas you were in.

“Well good morning to you to baby.” You breathily giggled pushing your ass back into his morning hard on thinly covered by his boxers. You turned around still keeping yourself wrapped in his arms and pushed your nose against his. Trent’s hands drifted down your body to your hips and he pulled you tighter into him.

“Good morning to the sexiest girl in the world. I had a dream about you last night and let me tell you… wow.” He spoke with a morning raspiness in his voice that was unintentionally really turning you on.

“Really? Better than in real life?” You responded back, flickering your eyes between his sleepy brown ones and his perfectly plump lips silently suggesting that you play out whatever happened in his wet dream right now.

“Well…” Trent began speaking and your eyes shot open ready to be offended. “Relax…” he squeezed you. “Hold on, was just trying to say that sometimes I’m not entirely sure I’m not just dreaming every time I’m in bed with you. I don’t think it’s possible for someone to be so good, skin to be this soft,” he dragged his fingers purposefully up and down your side sending a shiver of anticipation up your spine. “ lips be so pillowy, god..” He groaned, rubbing his thumb over your bottom lip as his other hand began to wander all over your body with much more intention. “These tits, just there's no way this is real life. You can’t possibly be real.” He rattled on with a more serious tone than you would’ve expected. You thought maybe he would have fallen into a joking manner but Trent was serious. He really felt that way. He was in a trance looking at you this morning.

“Maybe I’m not. Maybe I’m only just for you, made for you.” You teased wrapping your hands around the back of his head and gently pulling him into you for a kiss.

“Made for me. Just my real life angel, yeah?” He whispered, ghosting his lips over yours. Your lips falling into open mouth kisses. You moaned into his mouth when one of his hands dropped towards your panty covered pussy. He dragged his finger teasingly over the dampening fabric.

“If I’m your angel, baby then what does that make you?” You asked him almost out of breath pulling away from the vulgar kiss moving your lips and kisses over his jaw and down onto his neck.

“I don’t know but hell, baby you make me want to fucking sin.” Trent groaned as he rolled his head to the side giving you more room to nip away at his sensitive skin. He was in a mood the morning and you were onto it.

“I need you” You murmured against his skin desperately. You could feel your pussy pulsating and growing hot just from his teasing touch. Trent was salivating at the thought of you long before you’d even woken up. You could’ve had some sort of gradual build up or foreplay but you both were too hasty, too eager, you needed each other, you couldn’t wait. He fucked the daylights out of you. Orgasm after orgasm and yet you craved more.

“You’re just insatiable, aren’t you?” Trent smirked at you as he lined his cock up with your sopping wet entrance for round two. The sheets of your bed were practically damp sticking to your skin. You had no idea how long you and Trent had been going at for but you were thanking your lucky stars that Teddy had yet to wake up because you didn’t want this to end.

“I just want more and more of you, baby.” You begged pulling Trent by his hips into you again. He slowly pushed himself into your warm velvety pussy. You wrapped your legs around him greedily. You dragged him into a messy kiss moaning into his mouth when his cock hit deeper inside of you.

“Good, because I can’t get enough. Be a good girl and take all of me.” He pulled away from the kiss and whispered back, a soft smile lining his lips. “Fuck, baby you feel so good.” He muttered out as you did as instructed, taking every inch of him to the hilt. His voice still plagued by a morning raspiness that had you a mess beneath him. Trent bottomed out with a grunt as you clenched around him.

“T…baby.” You whined feeling euphoric in a way that it felt like you were fucking him for the very first time. You’d been so horny for him lately. Your emotions were all over the place. You were sad one minute or stressed the next hour and then happy the following day, it was constantly changing but the one thing that never shook, never faltered and would probably never change was how fucking bad you wanted Trent.he was addicting. He could see the emotions play out on your face; love, lust, pleasure, and your pure vulnerability with him. You’d let him do anything, you trusted his love for you.

“I know, baby. I’m right here. Doing so good f’me.” He whispered, leaning his forehead down against your shoulder. He slid his face up into your neck and placed gentle kisses to your skin as he began to thrust into you, creating the perfect rhythm, the symphony of your moans, his groans, the sound of your skin, pornographic. Both of you were incredibly sensitive after your orgasmic first round. You tightened your pussy’s grip around Trent’s length and he shivered. Your face falling into an ‘o’ as your brows pinched. Something about this felt different. He felt so good despite you being so sore so sensitive. You weren’t sure sex had ever felt this good, you had no idea why, it was a random weekday morning, but you were not complaining. “I know, I know, baby. So good f’me.” Trent continued coaching you through stretching you out more and more as his soft plump lips grazed over your slick skin. He breathed you in with a groan. Your scent drove him crazy. He was so in love with you. Every bit of you. Every feature had him down terribly bad. No amount of time together would ever be enough for either of you. He needed all of you all the time. As desperate as you had been feeling, you had dragged Trent into the depths of the emotion with you and right now you were both benefiting from its repercussions. Your eyes began to water from the pleasurable feeling of his strokes but more so from the eye contact you two were holding, the emotion behind his eyes had you having a hard time swallowing. “I love you so much, baby. I love you. You have no idea, so fucking much.” Trent babbled away getting lost in you, his voice certain in his words. “I love you so much it could kill me.” Trent’s thrust faltered a little. He meant that. You were all consuming to him.

“I love you, T. I love you so much. I couldn’t live without you. I love you, I love you, I… I…” You babbled back to him just the same, lost in your feelings, tears streaming down your face . Your words only halted by the gasp and sudden intake of air you sucked in when Trent’s hand dropped in between you two working his fingers in tight circles over your clit. He was pounding into you aggressively and yet he never felt more loving. He gripped your thigh with his free hand, his fingers digging into the plushness of you pushing it up to your chest. He dropped his face down simultaneously and began to suck on one of your nipples. He was doing so much at once you couldn’t focus. You were completely at his mercy, submissive to any way he folded your body and you loved every single second of it.

“I’m gonna fill you up, baby. I’m gonna cum again. Fuck you feel so good. Can you cum with me?” Trent’s words were muffled by his face buried in your tits. You could barely respond. All you could do was moan and whine out his name. “Hmm? Can you cum f’me?” He asked again as your thighs shook. You weren’t sure how many times you had orgasmed this morning. You nodded pathetically unable to even identify where you were. You were holding it together by the flimsiest of threads. It wasn’t exactly a big ask to let it snap. Your orgasm came before his, crashing over you, your pleasure always his priority. You squirmed under him as you creamed all on his throbbing cock. Trent groaned as you clenched tighter around him. He drew out his high thrusting into you still. He didn’t let you come down, he just layered a secondary orgasm on top of the last. You felt a type of blissful delirium you could never articulate with words, it was indescribably good. Trent let out a filthy groan as he hit his own climax. Your eyes rolled back and your heels dragged down his muscular back as you felt him fill you up as promised, pumping you full. His warm release leaking out between you two still connected. Trent lazily kissed you as he stilled, laying his body weight onto you. If you could, you wished he could just stay inside you forever. It was like this was the safest, most comfortable you could be. It was what you had been craving. Him. You needed him. At the beginning of your relationship with him, day one in fact Trent was adamant telling you that you were his. He’d tell you ‘you’re mine’ on repeat and you had a hard time believing it. How he knew that, thought that so early on. Sometimes you wondered how he had such foresight because right now as he rolled over and pulled you to lay on top of him you stared into your husband’s beautiful mahogany puppy dog eyes that you hard time wrapping your head around that they could also do all the dirty things he had just done with you, you knew he was right from the start. You were his and he was yours. You cupped his cheeks with your hands and rested your slightly slick forehead against his. The glow on your face had Trent pink lips curling into a tired smirk. His hands caressed your bare back up and down your spine with a hum as your erratic breaths slowly began to even out. You ran one hand over his hair and smiled.

“Even after all this time, no matter how many years go by, lifetimes we could live in, it will always be you.” You quietly told him. He hummed and kissed the bridge of your nose.

“In this lifetime and the next and even in my dreams. It’s you.” He hushly spoke with a stoic expression. “I used to build dreams about you. You’ve made my life a dream, baby. I’m not sure I’ve woken up since I met you.” He mused and you felt your heart falter.

“I will always find you, T. In each one, I’m meant to be yours.” You cooed, brushing your nose back and forth over his. “I’ve been missing this…” you sighed. “Missing you so much lately. Sometimes I feel like I was missing you before we even met.” You confessed imagining the same warm honey hue his eyes had on 78th street that they did right now.

“You are mine. My baby, my angel, my pretty girl, my everything, my whole world, my forever. You, Y/N are it.” He kept his eyes fixed on you, confirming his sincerity. He was right, you weren’t sure it was possible to be anything but a dream. This was a love you could only dream of.

“Annnndd she’s ours.” You giggled hearing a stir come from a monitor off on your bedside table. You turned the screen towards you and kissed Trent’s nose.

“I’m holding Teddy, relaxxxx.” Trent laughed as you slipped your hands under his t-shirt running your nails over his abs. He was stood holding your little girl as you stood in your laundry room on a mission to find a very specific shirt that Teddy was very clear she needed to wear today. You followed Trent around all day after that dream like morning sex.

“I can’t stop thinking about this morning.” You whispered behind the shell of his ear, pushing your body into his from behind. He rolled his eyes and moved Teddy from his hip to sit on the machine. He turned and grabbed your face rashly and you giggled uncontrollably when he began to nuzzle himself against your neck, nipping at your skin.

“I will take care of you tonight, alright? Don’t I always?” He cooed to you sliding his big hands over the curve of your ass. You hummed.

“Dada me too!” Teddy without fail felt left out. She saw the beaming smile on your face left by her dad and she was jealous. Trent turned around quickly, letting go of you, completely smitten with him, and scooped Teddy up blowing raspberries against her skin sillily.

“T… baby.” You whined, squeezing him as tight as you could, nuzzling your face into his cotton t-shirt under you. You’d been so clingy to Trent and especially after the type of sex you’d been having lately you were practically glued to him.

“Come gimme a kiss, baby.” Trent cooed as you laid in bed that night. He pulled you tight to him with a kiss to your lips first and then he kissed your temple. You wiggled your body into him to be as physically close as possible. You whined his name hiding your face in his neck. “So needy for me, huh? You promise everything’s okay, sweet girl? You’re making me a little nervous. I'm not gonna lie. I mean you’ve been eating fine I thought. You’ve been doing so well with Ted, you and I’ve been fine but it just feels…” he paused, taking a deep breath not sure how to quite articulate how you’ve been acting and why it was giving him a bit of anxiety without upsetting you. Although to be fair, he had every right to be worried after the year and half you’d had with your health.

“I just… I don’t know. You’re right everything is okay I guess. I just feel really needy like you said. Like I just want to be with you all the time and then today I just felt so nauseous all day. I’ve been waking up so fatigued. Ted has so much more energy now as well and all I want to do is just squish her and hold her with me all day and it’s kind of sad she doesn’t want that anymore. She wants to run and play which is amazing and I’m glad she’s happy and goofy but like I’m tired.” You cooed sadly to Trent wallowing in the fact that your baby girl was getting older whether you liked it or not.

“Baby, she does want that. Ted loves a cuddle with her mummy. She just also wants to learn and explore. It’s good that she’s independent and curious. You know if you really asked her she’d always come and give you a big cuddle and in between those times where maybe she just wants to mess about, you always have me. I’m here. I love a cuddle with mummy.” He kissed your lips gently with a hum. “I’m sorry you haven’t been feeling well, baby. I’ll keep my eye on you, alright? Just tell me whenever you need me. I’m always here for you.” He whispered, keeping his lips tight to you ghosting over yours.

“I know. I love you, T. Can you just hold me all night? I don’t want to be apart.” You asked him fairly sadly, feeling a bit pathetic with yourself. He hummed with his eyes closed pulling you tighter into him. “Thank you. Night, baby.” You kissed his bare chest squishing your face into him. He mumbled a ‘night, beautiful’ into your hair.

“Hey, baby, what are you doing awake so early?” Trent grumbled with a raspy voice sitting himself up in bed moving back to lean onto your headboard seeing you sneak out of the bathroom back towards bed. He frowned at you. You were an early riser but it was really fucking early, this was abnormal. He pulled the blankets down for you to get back in. “Good morning, beautiful girl. How we feeling today?” He cooed more gently watching you cautiously and slowly bring your body back onto the mattress. He pulled you back into him, wrapping you in his warm embrace.

“I’ve gotten sick twice this morning already. I didn’t want to wake you. I think I caught a bug or something.” You pouted nuzzling into Trent. “T, I feel horrible. I feel so sick. Every day I feel like I’ve gotten worse this week. I… I just..” You stuttered, getting your words out and started to cry unable to hold back the emotion. “I can’t keep up with her today. I can’t do it. I feel so exhausted I can’t manage her on my own. I’m sorry, I’m so sorry. I’m the worst. It’s my only job and I can’t do it” You started crying more and more, feeling horrible, admitting to the fact that taking care of Teddy seemed like it would be an impossible task.

“Beautiful, you’re doing amazing. You’re such an incredible mum. Baby, this is not your only job, you do so much. Also, this is one of the hardest jobs in the world. It is really hard. Please don’t say you’re sorry to me. I’m sorry you aren’t feeling well. What can I do?” He spoke gently to you feeling like if he raised his volume even a little above a whisper it would bruise you.

“T… I’m failing.” You croaked out embarrassed by the fear you’d be unable to take care of your daughter today.

“You’re not. Come here, sweetheart. Can you stay in bed for me today? I’ll make Ted breakfast and call my mum. I’ll ask her to take her today. She can handle that very cute bundle of energy. Just take today to rest please. I’ll make sure you’re okay, head to training a little late, and if you need me, even to just get you a tea, you call me and I’ll come right home. If not, then I’ll be home as fast as I can right after training back to my beautiful girl. Hmm?” He cooed and you sighed a sad ‘ok.’ Trent did as he said, he got himself dressed for training, he woke Teddy up, got her changed and downstairs for breakfast, then came knocking at your door a little while later.

“Mummy’s a little sleepy so we have to be quiet, okay?” You could hear Trent whisper to Teddy as they walked into your bedroom. Teddy trailed Trent clinging to his joggers as he carried a water and a cup of tea in his hands for you.

“Baby, how do ya feel?” He spoke softly rubbing his hand over your head after putting the drinks down on your bedside table. You rolled over more onto your side to get a better look at them. You just hummed with a soft smile as Teddy haphazardly climbed up into your bed and squirmed her way into your embrace.

“Mama, morning time. Why still sleepy?” She asked you and you didn’t even have the energy to try to get into your current state so you just kissed her forehead. “Know I lub you most.” She said to you with a dramatic whisper. She was trying hard to whisper the best she knew how but it was more like just speaking more breathy at regular volume.

“I know Ted. Thank you, baby. I love you the most. Mummy’s just a little extra sleepy.” You cooed meekly, kissing her cheek. “You’re going to have such a good day with Nana today though. That’ll be much more fun.” You told her hoping you could convince her that it’d be fun and you knew it would be once she got there. Dianne was amazing with Teddy, of course, but you knew Teddy well enough to know that no matter how fun something like this would be, if there was no mummy or daddy it was going to be a hard sell.

“Want stay with you, tay?” She informed you as anticipated. You gave her a sympathetic grin appreciating how attentive she was to you but you needed her to go to Dianne’s so you mustered all the strength you had to sit up a little in bed. Trent moved quickly to grab Teddy from you and plop her off the bed onto her own two feet. Your weakness and what you assumed to be a run down body was apparent to him.

“No, no, you want to go play and sing and dance, you don’t want to lay with me all day, silly girl. Plus you haven’t gotten to tell Nana all about how well you’ve been taking care of the doggies too, right?” You cooed to her cupping her cheek as she leaned her body goofily onto the bed to stay close to you. She gave you a disappointed nod of the head. Teddy had been taking it upon herself to help out more and more with your two dogs. It was sweet and she was very very proud of herself. It didn’t really relieve any of the actual duties of care from you or Trent but it was cute. “And then when you come home you have to tell me every single fun thing you did with Nana. I want to hear every bit, cute girl.” You smiled at her trying to reinforce the idea that her day would be well worth her going and leaving you.

“Will miss. Mama know I lub, tay?” She told you once more. It was cute. You knew she did but again, getting her to leave you was not an easy task. Frankly, you would have loved to cuddle up with your baby girl all day right now but that is definitely not something she had the attention span for. Your energy levels at the minute couldn’t have been more opposite.

“Okay, baby. I know, I’ll miss you too. Go ahead please. Have fun.” You cooed gently and quietly as you laid back down defeated into your pillow feeling another wave of nausea wash over you again. You had a horrible migraine that not even closing your eyes was making it dark enough for you to feel more at ease. Before Trent went downstairs you scribbled on a post it note in your room and had told him to pack something for Teddy as an aid to get her to be a bit more happy once they got to Diannes.

“Thanks mum for watching her. I told you Y/N thinks she just caught a bug or something. She was up early sick so really appreciate you taking Ted.” Trent spoke to Dianne in the foyer of her house as Teddy clung to his leg in an effort to not let him get to training. He was attempting to drop Teddy off and make it to training on time, to avoid a team fine but Teddy was being stubborn.

“No problem, hun. Everything alright? I haven’t heard that anything is going around.” Dianne brushed her hand over Teddy’s curls but kept her gaze on Trent with a raised brow. Trent gave her a confused look in return not sure what her suspicious face was for. Dianne dropped it though and smiled with a shake of the head. “We’re going to have a fun day, right my Teddy girl? What do you want to do today?” She asked sweetly to Teddy.

“Be with my mama, nana.” Teddy answered her sadly with a signature pout and puppy dog eyes Dianne was now enduring the second generation of. Teddy had inherited Trent’s beautiful face and certainly the same face that had people around them crumbling.

“Oh, I know. Mummy is the best but you’ll see her soon. How about we go play outside, we can watch a movie, we can make you some yummy food.” Dianne paused seeing Teddy’s face unchanged. Nothing she offered her was going to be better than being with you but she’d try one last effort she knew was Teddy’s latest fixation “We can color.” She drew out the word with a smile, squinting her eyes a little seeing Teddy’s face immediately respond to the option.

“Oh I know that look… I think you heard something you like, huh?” Trent cooed, coming to squat down next to Teddy, their faces now level. Teddy loved coloring and she was getting better and better at it. ‘Better’ is subjective but her progress had Trent singing her praises and she was eating it up. It was a nice activity for her and you liked how careful she was with all the markers and supplies you’d get her. She took care of it all and put everything back neatly. Trent said it was bizarre but you loved that she inherited a sense of organization and meticulousness from you. It was adorable. “Did you check in your bag we brought yet? I think there’s something special in there” He asked her as he reached behind him to grab her pink Stoney Clover backpack with her own ‘TAA’ initials on it and bring it towards them. She unzipped it slowly not understanding that this was something to be excited about. But there it was inside, a brand new pack of markers you had gotten for her, you had planned to give her at some point but no time like the present. Trent had stuck the post it note you’d written on to the packaging.

‘Show Nana how well you color, my Teddy bear. I love you so so much. Love mummy xx’

“Wow Teddy! Your mummy must love you so much! I think we should color today then if mummy gave those to you.” Dianne cooed excitedly watching Teddy’s smile grow and grow on her face and her eyes go wide, absolutely gassed about the markers.

“C’mere baby. Let’s read what mummy wrote on this little note for you.” Trent pulled Teddy into him and held the sticky note in front of them and helped her work through the worlds, essentially just Trent reading to her. When they finished, Teddy giggled and hugged the pack of markers to her chest. “Aw baby, you’re so excited. So you have to do what mummy said, yeah? Gonna show Nana how good you are at coloring with your new markers?” Trent cooed before kissing her cheek. Teddy nodded and for the first time since they entered the house took steps away from Trent. They said goodbye and Teddy took off to a little table and chairs for toddlers Dianne had at her house for her. Teddy knew exactly where it was and she couldn’t wait any longer to get there.

Trent drove home after a long fairly thought provoking training session. All day at AXA he couldn’t shake the thought of his mum’s questioning look when he said you were sick. As he was stopped at the traffic light before he entered your neighborhood, the possibility smacked him in the face. He gasped and leant his head back onto the headrest of his seat in the car, eyes wide. Trent puffed out some air and shook his head with a stupid grin. He couldn’t wait to get home.

“Beautiful, can I ask you something and please don’t take it the wrong way.” Trent asked you about an hour after he’d gotten home. He had checked in and made sure you were okay before he began his probe. You hummed not thinking about anything other than how shitty you felt today. “Ermm…” Trent paused, getting a little nervous to ask his question, beginning to second guess himself but he mustered up the courage after he took a deep breath and looked at you. He looked deep in your eyes and he sighed. He knew you. He knew you so well, he couldn’t be wrong. “When was the last time you got your period?” He asked you and you tilted your head confused and then you felt your stomach sink.

“Oh my fucking god…” You gasped and felt your soul just about leave your body. You were not being careful in the slightest in bed but it wasn’t like you’d been actively trying. You were more shocked that you hadn’t thought about this possibility though. You couldn’t help it, you just started balling your eyes out. Your tears felt like they were just endlessly flowing.”I… I… I can’t be. No.” You stuttered out the words. Trent was a little confused because, just as well as he knew you, he could tell these were not tears of joy or excitement, this was fear. Your emotions were all over the map lately and uncontrollable, it should’ve been obvious.

“Baby… Are you okay? C’mere please.” Trent sat down on the bed and pulled you into his embrace. He was holding your body up for you. You were in a completely blanked state. You couldn’t think. “Let’s just take a test alright? Let’s find out. It could just be a bug, I could be wrong. You’re gonna be okay, I promise.” Trent tried to comfort you.

“I can’t know…” You muttered out. You felt the words leave your mouth and you knew that wasn’t possible so you sighed. You squeezed Trent. “Can you come with me?” You looked up at him with teary eyes, water clumping in your eyelashes. Your bottom lip rolled into a quivering pout.

“Yeah, baby, of course. I’ll be there the whole time.” Trent cooed and helped you up from the bed. You had a few extra pregnancy tests in the cupboard of the bathroom stashed away for a situation like this but you kind of thought you’d be more prepared to take them when the time came. Trent got one out for you and handed it to you. When you took it he grabbed your hand and pulled it to him. He kissed your hand. “Whatever, absolutely whatever any test says. I love you and you will be okay.”

“Can you turn around?” You mumbled out embarrassed. Trent gave you a cheeky smirk silently saying ‘really, baby… I’ve seen you in labor. I don’t think you peeing is going to be all that big of a deal.’ It lightened your stone heart momentarily but when he did what you asked and turned around, you lost eye contact with his support and your heart hardened again. The thing was it’s not that you were massively opposed to another baby, it just was so overwhelming. There were a lot of factors at play. You were so stressed by how you would manage two babies so little when Trent had to be away for football. Today you couldn’t even get out of bed. What would happen if you had two babies and he was out of the country? Another reason, god, what if a postpartum depression came back worse this time around. Last time you were borderline suicidal.

“T, baby, I can’t… I’m sorry I’m so scared.” Tears began to fill your lash line again you stood up and Trent turned around. You placed the cap back onto the test and hugged Trent. In a backwards way his comfort triggered your tears to begin to fall again more rapidly.

“My beautiful girl, put this here.” He grabbed the test and put it on your sink counter. “You, my amazing wife, Teddy’s amazing mummy, you come with me. I got the timer. All you need to do is come and give me the best cuddle you’ve ever given me in your whole life, okay?” He moved you to come lay on top of your bed and pulled you into his embrace. He held you securely but gently whispering ‘I love you’ on repeat again and again quietly into your hair. After the alotted 5 minutes or so the sound of the alarm blaring from Trent's phone made you jump, wince, and your heart stop all at once. You were about to find out if you’d be a family of 4 and you also felt like you were about to be sick..

“Can you look? Sorry I’m being such a… I don't know I’m such a mess. I’m sorry baby.” You mumbled into his cotton t-shirt that you had now soaked with your tears.

“Baby shhh. Shhh, okay? You stay right here. I will go get it. Just you stay here and be my beautiful dream girl.” Trent let go of you and you felt like you could cry more just losing his comforting hold momentarily. He picked up the test in the ensuite and stifled his gasp. His smile was massive but he shook it off his face and looked down at a very clear positive pregnancy test. He came back into the room and he had a smile you usually hated to see one that was sympathetic and a little sad. “Y/N…” He whispered, stroking his hand over your head. “You’re pregnant. It says we’re pregnant. It’s positive, baby.” As the words rolled off his tongue Trent couldn’t suppress the smile he really felt. He was beaming, ecstatic but as you heard the words fall out his mouth you felt sick.

“Oh…” You sighed with disappointment in your voice. “Oh my god. Look how happy you are. I should be. I’m the worst fucking mum in the world. Fuck. I’m so sorry.” You looked up at Trent with swollen red eyes from all your tears. “T…How did you know?” You croaked out curious what made him think of this when you hadn’t. You felt so stupid honesty. How could you not see it. You were beating yourself up internally.

“Don’t know, baby. Just instinct. I think I know you pretty well.” He laughed shyly, running his hand behind his neck. “You were so cuddly and getting sick and It just felt like last time a little bit and baby… we…” Trent started to laugh with a gentle smile coming to give you a cuddle. “We fuck a lot.” He continued his laugh. You couldn’t help but at least crack a small smile.

“I guess better than I know myself.” You sighed realizing that Trent probably did know you better than you knew yourself. “T… it’s just… I just got my body back to a place I wasn't grossed out by.” You whimpered pushing your face into his chest upset by the idea of going through the lovely bodily changes of pregnancy again. You’d been working so hard in the gym to get fit and with your care team to get healthy.

“Baby, we’ll do whatever you need.” Trent unexpectedly told you. He was calm with his words but the sentiment was kind of insane. You wouldn’t dream of not having this baby because of something so selfish like appearance. Trent didn’t see it as selfish he saw it as your mental wellbeing. But you thought you wanted babies with Trent, plural.

“T, stop.. it’s not just my decision.” You lashed out at him pulling yourself off him in a flustered state. You felt your tears fill your eyes again. You pulled your legs up onto the bed and wrapped your arms around them, pulling your knees tight to your chest.

“I know, I know but baby we’re going to do what’s best for you though.” Trent sighed, rubbing his hand over your smooth leg. He meant it. He did. He wanted to do what was best for you but the thought of getting pregnant and then deciding not to go through with it made him a little sick.

“I need a minute alone.” You snapped standing up prioritizing your own feelings, unable to look at him. You knew the expression you could imagine was on his face would be heartbreaking. It was a really emotionally conflicting thing. He tried to call out to you but knew better and just let you go. You locked the door of the en suite and slid down the back of it, seating yourself on the floor. You cried and cried raking your brain if you were ready for this. Were you an okay mum? Would you be disappointing Trent if you decided not to have another baby? Would you be doing a disservice to this unborn baby by having him or her? You were terrified of falling back into a depressive state but as you rested your forehead onto your knees in front of you, you clocked a tiny silver frame on the marble countertop above you out of the corner of your eye. You sighed seeing matching toothy grins of the two people you loved more than anything in the world. More than yourself. You could almost hear the photo of Trent telling Teddy to say cheese. Her babbling out her attempt, something like a ‘cheebs.’ You kept crying but not because you were questioning yourself, or your abilities but because of how in love you were with being a mum, having this family. Your family was everything to you, the three of you and now the possibility of a fourth didn’t sound so bad. Another cute voice learning to ‘cheese’ in photos with the best husband and dad in the world, the love of your life didn’t sound so bad. It took you a bit of time but you eventually pulled it together.

“T…” you whispered coming back into the bedroom. You sighed and ran your hands over your face feeling guilty inspecting Trent’s body language. He was more upset than you anticipated. He wasn’t pouting intentionally, he just really wanted this. This was the best news ever for him but he was trying to talk himself down and to the fact you might want to get rid of the pregnancy. “I want this…” you cooed hugging him from behind as he laid curled up on the bed.

“C’mere, baby.” You could audibly hear him let out a deep breath. He turned to face you and pulled you tight into an embrace, tucking your head under his chin. “If you…” he began to talk.

“I want this, okay? This baby… I do.” You interrupted him, stopping what he was going to tell you, clarifying that you were certain about this.

“If it’s not the right time for us or it’s too much.” Trent was persistent with his thoughts. He kissed your head trying to tell you that no matter what he’d be there but it was breaking his heart and you could hear it in his voice.

“Stop… I really do.” You pulled your head out from against him to look him in the eyes. You were serious. You wouldn’t change your mind. You wanted a second baby.

“Yeah? You’re sure you can? You can’t do this for me.” He haphazardly got the words out not sure how to express what he was feeling. The last thing Trent wanted to do was put pressure on you.

“It’s not for you. It’s for us.” You hummed with a soft smile. Your lips began to curl more and more. Both you and Trent could feel the tension in the room evaporating. He gave you a questioning look silently so you spoke again. “I always thought we’d have like multiple kids. I don’t know. Right? Wasn’t that what we wanted?” You giggled a little trying to recall the exact plans or discussions you had had in the past. It all felt a little blurry thought. “Like not in a weird way but don’t you think it’d be silly for us to not at least try for a boy.” You smiled at him imagining a little boy.

“I think it’ll be another girl but I get your sentiment. C’mere, baby. I love you so much.” Trent cupped your face and gently pulled you into a kiss that felt like heaven. It felt like relief. You smiled into it, starting to laugh imagining another baby in the house. “Let’s have Ted sleep at my mum’s. Just need to be with my favorite girl tonight.” Trent cooed and although you wanted to correct him with a tease telling him you knew Teddy had replaced you as favorite you just hummed. “Baby… I’m really really happy. I love being a dad. I love our family.” Trent whispered into your hair kissing your head a few times.

“You’re the best daddy. Just the best, baby. It looks good on you too.” You giggled a little more picturing how good he looked carrying Teddy around, you assumed a second would only double the attraction. You were only able to kiss at his neck from your close proximity and his hold of you, limiting any movement. “T… I’m a little scared though.” You got out the obvious fear you were harboring after a couple quiet minutes embraced in a hug.

“I know, beautiful. You can be scared but you got me the whole way. You’re so strong. You can do this.” Trent tried to put you at ease with encouragement.

“Are you excited?” You meekly and sheepishly asked him, trying to divert from a more serious conversation and confessional about your fears. You could guess the answer but you wanted to hear him say it.

“I am gassed right now, seriously? Creating a life with you, having a family? It’s an absolute dream.” Trent looked at you confused with a furrowed brow. How could you not know that he thought that.

“You’re such a good daddy.” You sighed hugging him. You breathed him in. His scent wrapped around you, calming all your fears by just simply being there with you.

“Think I do okay?” He asked you with a bit of smugness in his tone. You smiled with your face still hidden pressed against his neck. You loved Trent’s cheek.

“Yeah, really the best. Ted… and I guess this little baby here are so lucky.” You cooed, moving your hand to your still flat stomach. Trent let his eyes flutter closed and moved his hand to lay over top of yours. He kissed your forehead as a silent ‘thank you.’ He could never properly thank you for giving him a family of his dreams but you were just the same. There were no words.

Trent was fucking beaming when he picked up Teddy from Dianne’s the next day. Call it a mother’s intuition but Dianne knew something was up. She easily put two and two together but bit her tongue letting you two have your privacy. You had called your doctors and made the appointment to find out for real how far along you might’ve been. Like Trent said, you had sex a lot you had no idea when this could’ve happened.

“I missed you baby bear. You had so much fun with Nana huh?” Trent cooed to Teddy looking through his rearview mirror back to her tucked in her carseat in his big car.

“Told dada.” She quipped fairly sassily. Teddy inheriting Trent’s own personality traits was biting him in the ass. His eyes widened.

“Well, I know but I’m just asking sheesh, Ted. Are you going to give Mama your pretty drawing when we get back home? She’ll be so happy to see you. I know she’ll love it” Trent continued on. When Dianne had handed over all of Teddy’s things from her impromptu sleepover to Trent she had to make sure, per Teddy’s instructions, that her artwork she’d made was kept nice and safe because it had to get to it’s recipient, you, safely. You had a museum full of Teddy drawings, each one priceless… to you. Likes squiggles on a paper to a stranger.

“Yeah huh, for my mama.” She mumbled getting distracted fixating on the little tray of her car seat filled with cheerios just moving them around. She had complained that she was hungry and couldn’t wait till she got home but evidently not enough to eat said cereal. Trent winced every time he heard Teddy crumble one up littering his car with crumbs. Anyone else… he’d be fuming.

“We’re gonna stop at the shop first, okays?” Trent told Teddy. She just gave him a ‘tay’ as expected. Trent parked his car in your local town shopping center ahead of getting back home because he wanted to get you some flowers. He held Teddy’s hand as they fumbled around the florist letting her decide the color of flowers. He knew chrysanthemums weren’t your favorite flower but Teddy was adamant that you would like the pink color which she was sort of right. In her defense, she did have the experience Trent did. She hadn’t been buying you flowers just about every month for the past 5 plus years.

“You know what, Ted? You get mummy the pink flowers, okay? And dada will get her white ones.” Trent decided two bouquets would work then, one from your babies, Teddy and your new addition, and one from your baby, Trent.

“Tay, mama like pink doe.” Teddy stayed set on the fact that you’d want the pink and Trent was wrong. It was a battle of two of the same people. Neither would concede but Trent realized he was in his mid twenties and Teddy hadn’t even hit three, so he compromised despite a tinge of confidence that he knew you liked the bouquets he usually got for you, luxurious, lavish, chic. Teddy did have the advantage of her handing over her pink cute flowers with chubby cheeks raised in a smile indented with dimples. To be fair though Trent had those dimples too. As they left the shop walking to the car two excited young men stopped them asking for a selfie with Trent. Trent was hesitant, shy, and protective of Teddy, moving his hand to her back pushing her to him but of course he obliged. “Yeah, no worries mate.” Trent ushered the kids away from him after they got the photo as Teddy stood wrapped around his leg swinging her tiny body back and forth impatiently.

“Dada, how come piture?” Teddy asked inquisitively, confused why people were stopping her daddy in the car park.

“Erm… they just know daddy from footie.” Trent answered her as simply as possible. She gave him a ponderous ‘oh’ and then went quiet as he put her into her car seat.

“Why?” Teddy pipped up again, still pressed about what just happened. You had officially entered the ‘why’ stage of toddlerhood.

“You know when you watch daddy at Anfield or when you and mummy watch the matches on the telly?” Trent cooed gently pushing a fallen curl behind her ear. “They like the way daddy plays the game so they watch dada on tv too.” Trent further elaborated for her.

“Ohs cause my dada bests.” She adorably tacked on to his explanation. Trent hummed in agreement with a soft smile. “But, dada…” Teddy cooed, continuing her thought looking to Trent who was getting into the drivers side. “Mine and mama’s, tay?” She spoke up, wanting to just cement and confirm that those guys could appreciate Trent and take a photo but Trent was in fact hers.

“Yeah, course. Only yours, baby bear.” Trent smiled back at her, kissing his hand and pressing it to her little legs dangling in her seat. He liked her possessiveness over him. “Let's go give mama her flowers and your drawing.” he cooed with a smile and a wink back in the mirror to her.

•

Thank you for reading! Please like, comment, or message what you think of the chapter 🤍

Next part - Chapter 29 xx

[kedreeva]

Went to see "Twisters" tonight and it was thoroughly enjoyable!

Some spoilers below the cut

Okay first of all, I'm extremely excited to say that they don't push a love triangle despite there being a girl MC and two main guys. One of them is an old friend who remains firmly an old friend, with no indication that he has romantic feelings. Like they get to be actual friends!!!!! And the other, while potentially a love interest, had just as much potential to be a friend instead, and in an extremely important (to me) way they do not kiss! I was shocked, actually. I expected them to pull out a "gotta have a kiss to appease the amatonormative folks" but nope! Not even in the little mid credit blurb. He stays the night at her childhood home with her and nothing happens. Like not even an awkward moment of tension, they don't even show them going to bed I don't think.

And I feel this to my bones, she was allowed to be the star. She changed her old friend's mind and gave him a chance to choose doing the right thing and he did it because he cared about her opinion of him and wanted to be who she thought he was. And the other guy found out she had dreams/goals of doing something and instead of taking them or doing it for her, he said what can I do to help you, and she chose to let him help her. It was so softly done!! And this guy, he was a full on attention hound with a YouTube channel and loves showing off and he's taking a press guy into the storms to do a story about how awesome he is at tornado wrangling. But when it comes down to it, he tells the reporter she's the real story AND SHE IS!! The article gets written about her instead!

The beginning was. A lot. You get introduced to the storm hunting group, and then immediately 3 of the 5 get killed and the MC almost does, all because she miscalculated. But you know what? She a) keeps her trauma and b) continues doing meteorology stuff, just from a safer distance. Like it's very clear that tornadoes are still this girl's passion, something she loves with every fiber of her being, but she's also been traumatized by losing her boyfriend and two of her closest friends (not to mention her dream project) and nearly her life, in one go. And even still it is something she literally can't stay away from, she still takes a job involved with them through data analysis, and you can practically feel it killing her at the start. The way she lights up at the mention of studying them more closely like she had wanted to, and that excitement immediately chased out by fear. It was nicely done.

They did a really nice thing with the music as well- PERFECTLY captured that kind of moment where the rest of the world drops away and all you can perceive for a moment or two is this thing you love so much it feels like time stops to let you love it more. Except she's looking at weather. At winds moving or clouds or tornadoes. Which is so cool of them to have done for her. This girl loves one thing and it's fuckin WEATHER.

The "villain" of the story is understated and they really don't waste time going into detail about it, which is great because the MC isn't really interested in finding out more about the real estate mogul capitalizing on the devastation. She just doesn't want her friend working for them anymore. She finds out he is, she draws a line in the sand and tells him he should be doing the right thing not the easy thing, and her friend takes her objection seriously and alters his behavior. And that's all the more they really get into that side of the story. Why waste time on it when there's more tornadoes to show? This movie did what Godzilla: King of Monsters failed to do- showed us the monster as much as possible and actually I do care about the people still because none of their problems were irrelevant, none of them were problems for the sake of having problems.

Anyway this movie was enjoyable to me. If you like weather phenomena, storm chasing, chaos, and actually interesting interpersonal relationships, go have a watch!

[bliss-in-the-void]

Gege Akutami, You Do Not Understand Gojo Satoru, and Here is Why

I was reading this article to help me cope with the traumatic events of Chapter 236 when a certain portion didn’t sit right with me.

Long post, click to read the full analysis:

(this is probably the most important post I've made so far)

Now, we all know that Gege doesn’t like Gojo. They don’t make it a secret in the slightest. Which is fine in itself, as an author you are 100% within your right to hate a character you created, and I respect that—it gives dimension to the dynamic of a story.

What I don’t care for is the reasons Akutami lists for their dislike of Gojo.

Reason #1 as stated in the above blurb of the article: Gojo doesn’t have depth.

To me, this is a wild statement to make as an author, but especially as the one who wrote Gojo. Where does he lack depth? Genuine question.

I believe he is an incredibly complex character.

He is the first sorcerer in centuries to be born with the Six Eyes and Limitless techniques, which automatically sets up so many nuances. Coupled with the fact that Akutami has stated that he grew up spoiled, that right there should tell you some things about why he is the way he is. He has a bit of an inflated ego when it comes to his powers. And why wouldn’t he? From the time he was born, the people around him treated him like some sort of God. How else was he supposed to grow up? He’s told his whole life he possesses unparalleled power, and he’s going to believe that.

Even still, it really isn’t as unchecked as Akutami seems to believe it is. Despite his distaste for authority, Gojo still reports to the higher ups, goes on missions, exorcizes curses, and works collaboratively with his fellow sorcerers. If he was really the giant egomaniac Akutami argues that he is, he’d say ‘to hell with authority’ and run off to do whatever he wants like Yuki. I mean, COME ON, this guy is the most powerful modern sorcerer and he still attended all four years of high school. He could have easily never attended—who was going to stop him?

He has a peculiar sense of humor that can get inappropriately timed in certain moments, but it’s obvious that it’s a deflection and a coping mechanism for the horrors of a sorcerer’s reality. He doesn’t just joke about death and dying because he doesn’t care. He cares too much and he doesn’t know how to deal with it, so he suppresses and laughs it off. Moments like this are seen after Suguru dies in JJK 0 when he was clearly crying afterward, but had to put on a cheerful facade for Yuuta and the other students.

He is a very good teacher. It’s hard for a naturally gifted prodigy to effectively teach things which come automatically to them, and somehow he finds creative ways to do it. Teaching Yuuji to control cursed energy by using one of Yaga’s dolls and giving him a movie marathon? One of Yuuji’s favorite hobbies? Genius and so considerate for Yuuji. He’d just been thrown into the sorcerer world, learning all these new things, and Gojo decided to introduce a foreign concept to him through something familiar and comfortable to him. That is amazing, and the mark of a very kind, understanding teacher. He’s also really patient with his students. Yes, he gives them tough love sometimes by throwing them into missions, but it really is to make them strong. How else will they grow if they aren’t put under pressure?

His motivation for being a teacher is very selfless. He himself has stated that he isn’t suited to be a teacher, but that he has a dream to raise a generation of strong allies to prevent isolation from occurring like what had happened to Suguru. He felt guilty about growing apart from him, didn’t see the warning signs before he snapped, and regrets not being there for him more. His entire purpose now is dedicated to making sure the new wave of sorcerers have a tightly-knit network so that no one ends up alone and on a dark path like Suguru.

He constantly sticks his neck out for the helpless even when it’s far from his benefit. He paid off the Zenin clan to save Megumi, the child of the man who ruined his high school years and nearly killed him. He then raised him. He threatened the higher ups to keep Yuuta alive, and then did it again for Yuuji. He does this to preserve their youth, because his own was taken away from him. His whole life he’d been controlled by the higher ups and people around him because of who he is in the sorcerer world, so by waving his own status in front of authority to hold them back from his students, he acts as a sort of shield to take as many burdens off of their shoulders as he can so that they can remain carefree. As much as he can within his power.

With all of that being said, I really don’t understand where Akutami is coming from with lack of depth, but another argument I say to that statement is: well, you’re the author, give him the depth you think he’s missing. (Personally, I believe he’s one of the best-written characters in any anime I’ve seen).

Reason #2 is that according to Akutami, he doesn’t have a likable personality.

What about his personality is unlikable?

He is cocky, but not to the point where he stops caring about others, not to the point where he never considers how other people feel or how his actions affect other people, and not to the point where he never feels guilt and remorse about his shortcomings. Like I said, he lives his life trying to prevent his past from repeating itself, to save the fates of others.

I really don’t get it. In JJK 0, after Nitta gives her report on the shopping mall, Gojo thanks her and praises her. Would a cocky asshole do that? No. If you wanted to characterize him as unlikable, you could have made him dismiss her, or ignore her.

He makes pop culture references, he has endearing flaws like not being good at drawing, being a lightweight drinker, and overdoing it on the sweets. He’s funny, he’s kind, he’s considerate…he is a very likable character.

Honestly, the self-absorption he displays when he’s fighting is probably a result of his upbringing. Being told you have so much power you have so much power you have so much power over and over again instills this belief that yes, he’s needed by Jujutsu Society to fight curses as a weapon. As. A. Weapon. The Six Eyes & Limitless user is a formidable weapon, but what about Satoru Gojo, the person? The only time he feels useful is when he’s fighting curses. That’s where he gets his self-worth. We can see that expressed in this panel, from Chapter 236:

In the second half of Gojo’s second text bubble, he says, “でもどこかで人としてというより生き物としての線引きがあったのかな”.

This translates to: “But I wonder if somewhere there was a line drawn between being a creature rather than a person.”

Rather than having drew the line himself, being constantly treated like the strongest, being handed over the difficult missions, being relied on so heavily pushed him away from other people. It distorted the perception everyone had of him, and it distorted the perception he had of himself. He also believed he could never lose because he let his human side fade into the background. The world didn't need human Satoru Gojo, they needed sorcerer Satoru Gojo, the one who could bend rules to his will with his might, the one who could exorcise any curse and save the day no matter how bad things got. Why would he remain human when that part of him was treated as non-existent? The only person who did treat him as a person with weaknesses and flaws has been dead for eleven years. Of course that voice of reason is going to fizzle out.

How can you possibly vilify him for that? It would be a disservice to everything he has had to endure his entire life.

Reason #3 and the last point I want to touch on is when the article says, "Akutami believes that much of this adoration is based solely on his striking appearance, overshadowing his more abrasive personality traits."

Okay. Where to start?

Honestly, and I know this is probably not Akutami's intention, but that comes off as so condescending. It's so presumptuous. It's as if to say we're all going "ooh look at pretty man, pretty man do no wrong because too pretty" mindlessly with dilated pupils and drool coming out of our mouths. Uh. No.

Yes, Satoru is a good-looking character, but no, that is very far from why we like him so much as a character, and it's also very far from why he's so popular. Aside from all of the points I've made above explaining why he's so universally loved, I'll make another one that isn't superficial and tired.

He's so relatable.

This is a man so incredibly traumatized by his high school years that he is mentally and emotionally unable to move on. Suguru Geto was his very best friend, and for reasons he took too long to understand, chose to abandon their friendship for his own goals. For anyone who has grown apart from a best friend, this hits so hard.

Because of his upbringing it was hard to become close to anyone. But somehow, Suguru was able to break past his walls, and for that, he became entirely too dependent on him. This is common for anyone who finds it hard to make friends and get close to others. Once someone is allowed in, you cling so hard to them and imagine them being there for your entire life. So, when they leave, you take it entirely too personally.

Everyone has a right to live their own lives, and as we see with the divergence of Suguru and Satoru, sometimes our paths aren't leading to the same place. It's not personal. But Satoru took it personal, and that's so beautifully human. When you lose a best friend who was important to you, you think "I like being around this person, they put me at ease in a way no one else does", and you assume they feel the same way about you. So when they leave and show you that no, they didn't feel the same, it hurts. It's almost as if they're saying "I actually do think you're unlovable like everyone else, that's why no one likes you, you are too much."

Someone you thought was safe, isn't anymore.

That is such a relatable thing to watch a character go through! Especially someone as awe-inspiring and charismatic as Gojo! As an audience, we think, "he's just like me!" and we like him for it.

So, as I stated in the title, Gege Akutami, you don't understand Satoru Gojo at all. I commend you for writing such an amazing, iconic, universally loved character, but I will never understand nor respect the superficial way in which you perceive him.

[alonetimelover]

Hi, can I request Heavy Angst that ends in Fluff with 5 word prompt 22 please

"Find someone else to annoy."

pairing: Harry Styles x physicist!reader

summary: Writing a work that would grand you the professor title was harder than YN anticipated. Just like the affect that her antics had on people that she loved, especially Harry. And when the enough was enough some words weren't supposed to be said.

word count: ~1,7k

warnings: angst ending with fluff, workaholism, swearing

a/n: First blurb of the 'blurb weekend'! I am so excited for you to read it and I hope you'll enjoy it. Thank you so so much for requesting!

masterlist taglist blurb weekend prompts

Becoming a professor was harder than one would think. YN laughed at her younger self for believing all the lies that University fed her. Research, nights without a minute of sleep, books whose pages were in four digit numbers and stress. Stress that didn’t only affect her but Harry as well. 

He was on a break. The tour ended, vacation in Italy was almost forgotten and the cosiness and warmness of his home was what he needed. It was the thing that he had most longed for during weeks abroad. But the tension inside the house was thick. And Harry hated it. He was used to YN diving into her studies and not coming downstairs for dinner. He was used to reminding her to take her vitamins, bring her glasses of water or a hot cup of tea. He was used to rather more silent days in the house whenever she was writing a paper, an article. He understood it and was as helpful as he thought he could be. Having in mind all those things, Harry was helpless when YN locked herself in her studies for hours, refusing to open the door or even acknowledge his presence. 

When Harry heard the opening of the doors from downstairs, he let out the breath he didn’t know he was holding. He reached for the remote to take the volume down a little bit. 

“Oh, don’t bother now,” YN said absentmindedly, while entering the open space, leading from upstairs through the living room and straight to the kitchen. 

“What do you mean?” Harry asked, scrunching his eyebrows. 

She heaved a sigh, closing her eyes for a moment, trying to calm down. But it was all too much. The scented candles that she usually loved, burning on the coffee table were making her dizzy. The lights that were hanging from the cornice that she referred to as ‘anxiety slayers’, were too bright now. The carpeted floor, fuzzy and delicate, was making her feet feel like drowning in sand - she hated sand. And to cover it all, the noise from the TV was blowing apart her eardrums. It was all too much.

“What do I mean?” She scoffed, pinching the bridge of her nose. “What do I mean? I don’t know. What could I possibly mean, huh? Let’s think.” 

Harry hated her tone of voice. It was nothing like the normal one. Not the one reserved for him, sweet and full of love. Instead, it was full of hate, annoyance and superiority. 

“Okay, you’re mad about something. Let’s talk about it, lovie.”

Harry patted the place on the couch right next to him, sending YN his warmest smile. It always worked, and not because he was manipulative but because YN always found help and a safe place within Harry. 

“Let’s talk about it!” She mocked, throwing her hands up and down to exaggerate. “I don’t want to talk. I want some peace and quiet. Please, I need space to finish the last pages of my work and I don’t have time for this. Please.” 

It was harsh. And it hurt, but Harry had been nothing but patient and understanding. Had been. All of this started to affect him more than he thought he had let it. Even his patience was wearing off. 

“YN,” Harry sighed, standing up. “I’m sorry about the TV, okay? I’m sorry. I could’ve listened to it on a lower volume. But it’s not only about it. I know you.” 

He really tried to negotiate his way through her right to the centre of it all - her workaholism. Once she got a job to do, it was all she thought, talked and dreamed about from the moment she knew about it to the moment she finished it. And when there was no job, sooner rather than later she was becoming distant and drifting away to just find something else, something new to get into. With that being said, she had never jeopardised her relationships. She never forgot about any important dates, she was included in all birthdays, parties, milestones. She was there for Harry whenever he needed her. It was one of the many things he really admired in her, the one that truly made him amazed by YN. But now, she was forgetting herself. 

“Yeah, sure. I really don’t have time for this, Harry.” 

And with that she moved on to the kitchen. She needed sugar, feeling her head spin from how low her energy levels were. It was no surprise, she was without breakfast and near to no fluids. 

Harry’s blood pressure was very high. He dug his nails into his palms and moved after YN. He had had enough. He could take as much. 

“I suggest you make some time, YN,” he emphasised her name to really show her he meant it. “This has been going on for too long. You don’t eat, you don’t sleep, you don’t go out of that fuckin’ office unless it’s the bathroom or you feel you’re near passing out from exhaustion. It’s -”

“Oh, fuck off! I’m working! I’m trying to achieve something here and your talk and pretences are making my skin crawl. Just- just find someone else to annoy and leave me alone.” 

YN slammed the fridge’s door, clashing the bottles inside it. Taking the premade (by Harry) iced coffee with herself, she passed Harry with a thought to go back to writing. Her walk was quickly stalled by Harry’s firm but gentle grab of her arm. 

“Caring about you is now called annoying?” He asked, voice a little louder than usually. 

“Get off, Harry,” she gritted through her teeth.

“I won’t. I won’t let you overwork yourself to the point of taking you to the hospital. You want to do too much in too little time.”

YN pursed her lips in anger and broke away from Harry’s grip, spilling some of the coffee on her sweatpants and floor. She cursed. The tipping point found her. 

“There is nothing like ‘too little time’. There is no time, Harry! The paper should be done by the end of the month. And it’s the 21st! It’s just twelve days. And then there’s Professor Smith breathing down my neck and saying that he wants to read the full version before the deadline. Then there’s Madeline and her struggle to find a job. And Manny needing those vet visits so frequently.” She hyperventilated, trying to catch breath. Tears were daring to come down from her glossy eyes. 

“Oh, baby. Take it easy.” 

“I can’t take it easy, okay? I can’t! I can’t lay on the couch and do nothing, I can’t take a bath. I can’t go on a walk. I can’t enjoy dinner. I can’t watch TV. I need- I have to work. I have to finish it.”

Harry’s heart was breaking. The look on YN’s face was making him want to cry. He forgot all the things that bothered him. He ignored all the not so nice words YN said in anger. Now was the moment that she needed him the most. 

“Come here,” he whispered, strolling towards her with open arms. 

“Harry, what are you doing?”

But he didn’t answer. He just embraced her body with his and squeezed lovingly. YN, although confused at first, hugged Harry back immediately melting into him. She really couldn’t see how much destruction she had put herself through. How much pain and stress was sitting upon her shoulders to deal with in the silence of the closed door office. Now, when her body was fitting Harry’s perfectly she remembered that she wasn’t alone. That she didn’t have to deal with it all by herself. 

Perhaps Harry didn’t know much about physics, especially quantum mechanics, singularity and black holes. But he was there to listen. He was there to propose another way to bite the bullet, to expand her point of view. He could listen to her quoting Hawking and Cox, fangirling over her favourite scientists wanting to be a part of her thesis all the time. There was nothing better than seeing her feeling fulfilled and content. 

“I love you so much, I can’t let you destroy yourself right in front of my eyes.” 

He kissed her head, squeezing her body even closer to his. 

“I’m so sorry,” YN whispered through sobs. 

She felt awful. It was the first fight where she lost control and she hoped it was the last, because she hated each and every moment of it. She wouldn’t be able to let herself forget how uncalled for and hurtful she was towards Harry. 

“I am so sorry, Harry.”

“Shhh. It’s okay. We’ll talk about it tomorrow. Now, we’re taking a bath. No vetoes. And then I am making dinner for you while you’re sitting here at the counter looking pretty like always. After that we’re watching the British Bake-Off and going to sleep. You need at least 8 hours of sleep, baby. You don’t have that even if I add in all the hours from the whole week,” Harry listed all the activities he knew YN enjoyed whenever she was stressed. 

“How do you know I didn’t sleep through the night?” She asked, looking up at him. 

Harry caressed her cheek delicately and pecked her lips. 

“I can’t sleep when you’re not next to me. I got so used to your body being so close to mine I just wake up whenever you’re getting up. Then there was the light from the office creeping through the gap between the floor and the door. You fell asleep in my arms and an hour later were sitting behind the desk writing. I noticed, baby.”

“Oh, God. I am so sorry. I didn’t realise I was waking you up, love. I - I don’t even have an excuse.”

“You don’t need one. It’s okay.” He kissed her lips once again. “Let me take care of you, yeah? I’m gonna go run the bath and you choose some pyjamas for us both.” 

YN nodded her head, her small smile was not reaching her eyes. 

“Don’t overthink the situation. I’m being truthful with you, and promising that we’ll talk about what happened today tomorrow. Now, you need some relaxation to take your mind out of the office. Just be here with me, okay?”

“Okay.”

Harry wiped her tears away and kissed the way they had been falling down. Now, YN’s smile was beaming from her eyes as well as her upturned lips. 

“You really are the best thing that happened in my life.” 

Harry laughed, taking her hand in his and directing her upstairs. 

“Well, I would hope so. After all, you agreed to marry me.”

[corroded-hellfire]

Eddie Munson x anorexic reader

in all the fics I have read reader always either faints or gets really dizzy and Eddie finds out, how about one where she just tells him.

You had decided you had to tell eddie. It was something you weren't going to be able to beat anytime soon. It would be easier to be honest with him.

Note: I collaborated with my dearest @munson-blurbs on this one. Bug selflessly volunteered to help me with this and I would never turn down a chance to write with her. She wrote from the reader's perspective, while I wrote from Eddie's, as we both felt that's what we understood best. Thank you so much for this request and I hope you enjoy what we came up with!

Bug’s note: As someone who has battled anorexia, I aimed to make Reader’s perspective as realistic as possible; however, my own experiences may be different from other people’s. If you are struggling with an eating disorder, please feel free to reach out. I can help you find any resources you need.

Warnings: anorexia, eating disorders, body dysmorphia, language, i think that’s it?

Words: 1.8k

It all started so innocently. You’d wanted to lose a little weight, get in shape, and improve your health. All of the magazine articles you’d read insisted that you cut out carbs, fats, and basically anything delicious. So you did, with the hopes of looking like the waif-like women who graced the covers week after week.

The magazine recommended weighing yourself once a week, and that’s what you’d done initially. But once a week soon turned to three times a week, then every day, and then multiple times a day.

There are other “tricks” you’ve learned. Your food journal, page after page of calorie counting, is kept tucked away in your nightstand. You drink copious amounts of diet soda to feel “full.” When you do eat, you ensure that your portion size stays small. Exercise becomes harder the less you eat, but you feel guilty if you skip a day at the gym.

Guilt isn’t the only pain you feel; your bones are constantly sore and cracking. Clumps of hair fall out when you take showers. It’s hard to sleep with your stomach rumbling, even though you’re always tired. And no matter the weather, you’re bundled up in sweaters, trying to stave off the chill that courses through you.

You’ve done a pretty decent job of hiding your burgeoning obsession with weight loss from your friends and family.

Even your boyfriend hasn’t seemed to notice yet, always telling you that you’re beautiful. Which is probably why he just came home from the store with a half-gallon of ice cream.

“Eddie, I…I don’t want this.” Your voice is barely above a whisper. “You can have it, though.”

“What?” He looks down at the carton he slid over to you. “Did I buy the wrong flavor?”

He knows he didn’t; you know he didn’t. Chocolate chip cookie dough is your favorite. “I’m just–you know I’m trying to eat healthier. ‘S almost summer and I wanna look good in my bikini.”

With an adorable pout on his face, he walks over and wraps his arms around you. “If you want to eat healthier, that’s fine. But you look perfect. So you don’t ever have to worry about that.” He presses a kiss to the side of your neck.

“I said no,” you insist, tone much harsher this time. “If I have this, I’ll just…backslide. Start eating this shit all the time.” You start for your room, pressing your hand to your head. “Just…get it out of here.”

“Okay.” Eddie holds his hands up in defense, a crease forming on his forehead as he frowns. “I’m sorry. I’ll just, uh…” he trails off, looking around the kitchen as he tries to decide what to do with the offending item. “I’ll just put it in the freezer and swing it by Dustin’s tomorrow.” He opens the freezer door and turns back to you. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

“I’m fine, Eds,” you say through gritted teeth, but your tears give you away. “Give me a minute, okay? I need to go for a walk.” You’d already gone for a run today, but you could certainly still use the exercise. Just thinking about the ice cream, even looking at it, probably added an inch to your waistline.

The tears weren’t usual for you. If your fierce revulsion to the ice cream didn’t set off an alarm in Eddie’s head, the tears certainly would have. “Okay. Um, do you want me to come with you? I can just grab my shoes and we could head down to the park if you want?”

You shake your head, dots forming in front of your eyes. You steady yourself against the countertop, hoping Eddie didn’t notice. “I want to be alone. Please.” You shrug your jacket over your shoulders and shove your keys in the pocket.

Heaving a sigh, Eddie takes a few steps over towards you. He glances out the window and scratches the back of his head. “Baby, it’s getting really dark outside. I don’t think you should be out there by yourself.”

“What do you want from me, Eddie? I’m trying to look good–and stop saying that I already do, because I know that’s a lie–and it’s like you’re…you’re sabotaging me!” you sputter, clenching your fists. “First the ice cream, now telling me I can’t go for a walk–”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa! Time out.” He holds his hands up near his ears, eyes shifting in his head as his mind tries to process all that just came out of your mouth. “First of all, have I ever lied to you before? In my life? No, so why the hell would I start now? You look fucking amazing. I love how you look. And…” He pauses, shaking his head, trying to sort through his own thoughts. “Sabotage you? Where the hell is that coming from? Babe…babe you’re scaring the shit out of me. I’m not telling you what to do, I swear. I’m just really fucking confused.”

“I don’t look ‘amazing!’” you cry out. “I’m ugly and I need to lose weight! Because if you’re not losing, you’re gaining, and I am not going to gain weight. I…I can’t.”

“Hey, hey…” Eddie takes the few steps over to you and cups your face in his hands. His thumbs rub over your cheekbones as he looks at you in concern. “What’s going on, sweetheart? Please, please talk to me.”

Your emotions bubble over like a can of seltzer that’s been shaken up. “Baby, I’m s-so scared,” you sob. “I just w-wanted to get healthy, get in shape, but now I’m terrified of eating. I don’t even see food as food anymore; it’s all just calories. It doesn’t even m-make sense; like, I can eat the frozen pasta TV dinners because they’re only one serving size, but I’m t-too afraid to make pasta from the box. Because what if…what if it’s more than a serving size? Or what if I’m still hungry after, and then I eat more?”

“Oh baby, come here.” Eddie moves slowly so he doesn’t startle you and wraps his arms around your body. He holds you close to his chest and presses a few kisses to the top of your head. His heart breaks inside of him, not only because of what you just said, but because he doesn’t know how to help you or make you feel better. A million things to say run through his mind but he isn’t sure if any of them will make it worse or not. So what if you eat more? If you’re hungry you can eat, baby. You have to eat to stay healthy. Finally, he settles on something. “How long have you been feeling this way?”

You sigh. “It’s hard to say when, exactly. I started my diet, what, six months ago?” He nods, and you continue. “So maybe it got more…intense about two or three months in.” You plop down on the couch. “I just wanted to look like Nancy or Robin. They’re so pretty and thin; it’s like they don’t even have to try.”

Eddie listens to you intently the whole time and takes his place on the couch next to you. Anger boils in his blood but he refuses to let it show; he doesn’t want you to think it’s anger at you. It’s at the fact that you feel this way, the fact that you don’t see yourself the way that he does. He takes a few deep breaths in and out before he speaks again. “Sweetheart, I’m the first one to admit that I’m way out of my depth here. I’m terrified I’m going to say something and make it worse. But something I do know about? Comparing myself to others. Just like you just did with Robin and Nancy. Are they pretty? Yes. Does that make you any less pretty? Absolutely not.” He knows he didn’t touch the “thin” aspect, but he doesn’t feel like he has the right words to do so. “Growing up, I always compared myself to others, you know that. But let me ask you something; would you love me if I were anyone else? Or do you love me because I’m me?”

“Because you’re you, obviously,” you answer honestly. “I’d love you no matter what you looked like, because you’ll always be the most handsome man in the world to me.” You rest your head on his shoulder, relaxing slightly when you feel him rubbing your back.

“That’s how I feel about you, princess.” He presses a kiss to the side of your head. “You’re the most beautiful woman in the world. You could dye your hair, shave your head, tattoo your entire body, eat all you physically could, and you’d still be the most beautiful woman in the world. But I don’t think just my words are going to make this better, are they?” He tucks some of your hair behind your ear.

“No,” you agree. “I wish it was that easy. I wish I could just see myself the way that you see me but it’s like there’s something blocking my brain from doing that. I don’t…I don’t know what to do. How to fix it.” You use the back of your hand to wipe the tears from your cheeks. “I’m really scared,” you repeat.

“Like I said earlier, I’ve never lied to you before. And I’m not going to start now.” He rubs your back with one hand and wipes away a few tears you missed with the other. “So, I’m going to tell you that part of me is scared, too. Scared because I don’t understand how you feel. Scared because it’s not something I can fix. But part of me isn’t scared at all. Because no matter what it takes to help you, I’m going to be right by your side. I’m going to hold your hand no matter what and do everything that I possibly can to help you. And if there’s one thing that I’ve learned being with you, it’s that there isn’t a damn thing we can’t do together.”

You sniffle before you speak. “Could you help me find a doctor? Or, like, a therapist or something? I don’t even know where to begin, honestly.”

“Of course, baby. We can go see my doctor and ask her for a recommendation, hmm? Remember? You liked her a lot when you came in with me when I thought I had a hernia? But it was just gas?” The corners of his mouth tilt up, hoping to make you smile since you’ve never let him forget the embarrassing incident.

“Still one of the funniest moments of our relationship,” you tease him.

“I’m glad you think so,” Eddie says. “Does that mean you want me to make an appointment with her?”

There’s a part of you that silently screams no, that you’re not that sick, that you don’t need help. But looking into Eddie’s worried brown eyes, you can feel that it’s untrue. “Yes,” you say finally, offering him a small smile. You yelp as he tackles you into a gigantic hug.

“I love you so, so, so much, baby!” He takes your head in his hands and presses loud, smacking kisses all over your face.

“I love you, too,” you manage between giggles. It’s only the start of this journey, but you’re going to make it through.

[ladylooch]

What's It Gonna Be? [Mack X David]

A/N: The ask for this blurb disappeared.... what is up with inboxes right now? My stuff disappears on the reg. Idk maybe it is too full. ANYWAYS, the original ask was something along the lines of: When is the next time David and Mack interact after the kiss. So here it is...

The day after their kiss is the first time she hears from Davey outside of a Lucie and Connor interaction. 

Mack is running on the treadmill in her building gym, just about to hit her highest ascent before beginning her cool down. She startles at Siri beginning to read off an unknown number into her AirPods, then her robotic voice shrills out “Hi Mackncheese.” Mack grabs the edges of the treadmill to stay upright. She slaps the stop button, then gradually lets the treadmill die off. 

You decide yet honey 🍯

Mack’s breathing is labored from her 4 mile run along with her surprise at hearing from him. How did he even get her number? She pushes her sweaty hair back into her ponytail, then grabs her phone. She opens her messages, reading his texts over again as a bubble signals he has more to say. She waits, anticipation clinging to her skin like sweat.

Would be so good to ya...

Mack absentmindedly grazes her lips with the tips of her fingers. His kiss left her discombobulated and speechless last night. She has little doubt that David Carlson knows how to treat a woman in the way he is insinuating. But he doesn't need to know that.

You’re confident of that? Mack decides to type back.

The bubble pops up again. 

Wanna play show and tell? All you gotta do is say yes.

Mack smiles down at her phone as she gets off the treadmill. She missteps and falls down. From her back, she closes her eyes in deep embarrassment. Good lord, this man has her all out of sorts. She needs to get her shit together. From her resting place, she sends him a single Emoji: 🤷🏻‍♀️

Hey, I'll take it for today. It’s not a no.

He has sent one text a day since then, all with the same sexy inquisitiveness. Now, it’s Wednesday and Mack finds herself scrolling back into those messages, scanning them over again while lounging on Lucie and Connor's couch.

Make up your mind yet baby? Bed is getting mighty lonely.

You still got that bikini from your Maldives article? Would love to see it in person.

When do you wanna come over? Got this great spot for you to sit on… 

Mackncheese, your time is running out. What have you decided?

The last one was from today and Mack still doesn’t have an answer for him. She is still attempting to catch up with these new feelings for him. She’s tried to reason the feelings away, insist they aren’t there, smother them out, but nothing is working. She finally had to come to the conclusion that they were real and she needed to sort them out before anything went further. 

David is everything Mack thought she hated in men. He is decisive, rugged, fights people on the ice, sarcastic as hell, and his endless teasing makes her eye twitch on the regular. She likes soft men. Men who read poetry and appreciate the arts and don’t mind sitting in a coffee shop for hours on end. David always has to be doing something. He’s either running around with Stella or helping Lucie in the kitchen or looking over Mack’s shoulder while she tries to formulate the outline for her next article. He’s too much and worst of all, he never lets Mack fade into the background when he is around. 

This would never work. 

Except, he’s the only one who sees her, clearly and unflinchingly. 

“Auntie? Can I have McDonald’s for dinner?” Mack blinks to come out of her thoughts.

“Your mom has chicken nuggets for you.”

“Yeah, gluten free.” Stella whines. “I want the crispy ones from McDonald’s.” Mack looks at her standing there, contemplating. Lucie didn’t say they couldn’t go out for dinner. She just said there was chicken nuggets in the freezer. If Mack’s being honest, McDonald’s chicken nuggets with buffalo and ranch sound really good.

“Only if you say I’m your favorite aunt.”

“You’re my favorite aunt.”

“You like me better than Uncle Lee?”

“No!” Stella laughs, then bites her lip, little shoulders quaking up and down. 

“What! You are such a stinker, Stell!” Mack laughs. 

“He brings McDonalds without me asking. Just shows up with it!” 

“We call that a suck up. He is buying your love.”

“And it’s working.” Mack claps her hand over her chest and howls with laughter. Stella is such a hoot. She always knows how to make Mack laugh.

“Let’s go sassy pants. Get some boots on, it was snowing earlier.”

Mack and Stella bundle up for the three walk block down the street to grab french fries, chicken nuggets, and a Sprite for each of them. Mack opens the door to let them out. They both startle when they see a tall figure on the other side of the door, fist raised, poised to knock. Stella catches on first.

“Davey!” Stella yells excitedly, launching into him. She headbutts him directly in the junk and he coughs out in pain. 

“Ooo. Hi Stell.” He says tightly, hand coming to grip himself over his zipper. “Ow.” He hisses air in through his teeth.

“Maybe you shouldn’t hover in people’s doorways.” Mack shrugs, stepping out of the apartment. She turns with the key, flipping the lock then turns back to the hallway. Mack gasps at how tightly David is crowding her space. She has to tilt her head all the way back to see his face.

“Got an answer for me?” He whispers, lips poised only a foot from her lips. She drags her top teeth over bottom lip. Her chest puffs out, feeling dizzy at the assault of his scent and masculine energy hovering over her.

“Is that why you’re here?” She wonders.

“No, I’m here to watch Stell.” He smirks, thinking it's cute that she thinks he came up to bug her.

“I’m here watching Stell? Lucie and Connor left an hour ago.” He furrows his brows in confusion, mustache pursing out with his top lip. He tilts his head to the side.

“Oh…” He trails off, then looks over his shoulder at Stella. “I guess you win again, Mackncheese.” 

“What? A night of watching TV dictated by a child? Lucky me.” He chuckles. 

“Over-under on how many times you’re watching the Little Mermaid?”

“I’m taking the under.” She laughs, then puts the keys in her purse. David shoves his hands in his worn, jean pockets, still not giving her much space. He is dressed in an olive green sweater that highlights the deepness of his emerald eyes.

“Where you going?” He asks.

“McDonalds!!!” Stell yells, coming back up to them. “You can come with us!”

“Oh… he probably has other-"

“Sweet! What are we getting?!” David answers before Mack can finish. She sighs heavily. Now that Stella is involved, there is no way David is not coming.

“Chicken nuggets!”

“Chicken nuggets?! Is that all you eat!? Gonna stunt your growth? Gonna be like the little runt piglets on my farm."

“Yeah!” She cheers, then slides her little hand in his big paw. “Go, go, go!”

She forces her body almost completely forward trying to pull him. He grips her tighter to keep her upright, then begins to walk. Mack stands there, dumbfounded at what is happening. How does he get invited along to everything? She watches her niece skip excitedly down to the elevator with David, admiring the way his strong arm easily supports and monitors every leap of Stella into the air. When she stumbles once, he catches her completely, like a constant safety net.They’re all the way to the elevator before they notice she isn’t with them.

“What’s it gonna be Mack?” David asks.

Mack knows he is talking about more than this McDonald’s run.

[love-belle]

1k celebration !!!

difficult ༊*·˚

in which i write a one shot based on a storyline you sent. ( example - "charles leclerc with ex!reader where she's close with his family even after their break up and it leads to them getting back together )

i miss you, i'm sorry ༊*·˚

in which i write a small blurb based on your scenario/prompts with your chosen driver. ( example - "you're the best thing i've ever had" with daniel ricciardo )

full machine ༊*·˚

in which i write a social media au with the situation and driver of your choice. ( example - engagement announcement with lewis hamilton )

block me out ༊*·˚

in which i add onto your random headcanons for a driver ( example - "i feel like lando would hate your cat at first but he'll eventually warm up to it" + my take on that )

camden ༊*·˚

in which i become your friend as i answer random asks. anything, from irrelevant gossip to rants about stuff or about my already written stories or if you'd just like to talk to me or be a mutual, anything.

mess it up ༊*·˚

in which i write an angsty one shot/blurb/social media au based on your angsty prompt/scenario with a driver of your choice. ( example - carlos doesn't want to tell everyone else that you're both together and you feel like he's ashamed of you )

the bottom ༊*·˚

in which i make false twitter posts/threads about an incident/situation/prompt/scenario with a driver you choose. ( example - "toto wolff and actress!reader dating and paparazzi catch them", so i'll be writing the fans reaction and the articles and all in twitter posts )

≡;- ꒰ °i will be writing for ꒱

charles leclerc ༉‧₊˚.

max verstappen ༉‧₊˚.

daniel ricciardo ༉‧₊˚.

lewis hamilton ༉‧₊˚.

lando norris ༉‧₊˚.

pierre gasly ༉‧₊˚.

toto wolff ༉‧₊˚.

sebastian vettel ༉‧₊˚.

mick schumacher ༉‧₊˚.

ollie bearman ༉‧₊˚.

arthur leclerc ༉‧₊˚.

author's note - holy shit this feels so unbelievable like i started this account just over a month ago and i have more than a THOUSAND people following me like that's crazy. i just wanna say that thank you so much, i love you so bad actually.

i have never done a celebration before, so hopefully i'll do this right. for the time being, i will be putting my usual requests on hold, just as along as the celebration is going but i may post one or two if i get time, i don't really know. you can spam my inbox with as many asks as you want, i absolutely don't mind. or if you wanna message me directly, you can do that too. thank you so much, i'm so excited for this.

you can find my works here !!!

ps - i'm also gonna start working on a taglist so, if you want to be added to it, please send me an ask or reply to this post or message me directly.

[be-ready-when-i-say-go]

If you're not comfortable writing this that's completely okay

Can I request Eddie with an FTM Reader boyfriend who has really bad cramps and he's dysphoric because he's on his period, and Eddie tries his best to help?

This could go from cuddles to "sex helps with cramps right?" With a sprinkle of breeding kink?

Again if you're uncomfortable, I understand

Hi, thanks for the request and your patience. I feel really touched that you feel safe enough to come with me for this request! As a note, I am not a trans man and thus, my depiction of this event will not be fully accurate. If there is anything that I have portrayed inaccurately, please let me know and I’ll be happy to correct it and learn more. I am completing this request in the hopes to allow others to be seen and to create more space for trans people in the community. 

Disclaimer: Some of what has been portrayed in this blurb is based off the interviews and research conducted in the article, “Queering Menstruation: Trans and Non-Binary Identity and Body Politics” by Sarah Frank. I recognize one article is not enough to get a full picture of an entire community. But I hope there is something that this fic gets right for folks and that it expands this conversation even just a tiny bit. 

CW: This request does deal with periods and feelings of dysphoria. If that triggers you, please do not read. Seriously--don’t do it. There is a read more higher up than I usually do to accommodate. 

Eddie Munson x Trans!Male Reader. Reader is 20.

Send me a request here! Currently writing for Eddie Munson. I write for a variety of reader inserts (male, female, gender neutral, POC too).

Feel free to look through my masterlist here!

_____________________________________

There is a cruelty to it all--you’re sure of it. As you’re curled up under the sheets, back of your hands wiping at your cheeks, you are sure that this has to fall under the stark definition of cruel and unusual punishment. The worst part of it all is that it’s not unusual. One week out of every month--it’s supposed to be natural and yet, something about it hangs like an anvil ready to take your head. Maybe it’s the language--what you grew up around. Maybe it’s more than that, maybe it will always be more than that. But the inescapable fact of your reality is that you are here--curled up under sheets. 

To make matters worse, the cramps are horrible this time. So much so you puked at work and got sent up. It’s a reminder of a simple fact: this body isn’t really yours. Not yet anyway. This body is not doing everything you wish it wouldn’t. This body still doesn’t show who you really are. But you’re carrying it around, all 206 bones, all twenty feet of small intestines, fingers, toes, elbows, eyeballs. You’re carrying around a body that still mocks you for an entire week out of the month. Twelve weeks in a year. Much too long to suffer and too many times to feel like the butt of a cruel twisted joke. 

“Baby?”

You turn your head, pulling it up off the pillow just enough to see Eddie’s head peeking in through the door. His eyes are still big, wet, and bright even in streaks of daylight behind the partially open curtains. “Hi,” you whisper. Your voice is thick and rough--probably from the lack of water. 

“How-how can I help?”

It’s like Eddie knows. You rest your head back onto your pillows and let out a sigh. “I-” you start, and then stop hearing how your voice catches in your throat. When you blink, tears fall down your eyes, along the apple of your cheek down to your ears. “Don’t know,” you conclude.

Eddie’s careful and quiet as he approaches. The bed dips and you can hear him shucking off the layers. He doesn’t unravel you from your sheets. Instead, he curls one arm around your waist and rest his cheek against yours. There’s some scruff, no doubt from the couple of days that have lapsed since his last shave. 

The thought lights your chest on fire. It’s a soothing tactile sensation. You wish you could bury it pores of your skin. You want turn, face Eddie better and when you go to plant your feet, a sharp zing of pain runs from your spine to your stomach. The movements are paused and you bury your head in your pillow before the shaky shout climbs out of your chest. The frustration--sadness and fear intertwined as well--bubble up and out of your lips into the pillow. Eddie’s arm squeezes around your waist. “Hey,” his voice is soft against your cheek. “Hey, I got you, sweet boy. It’s okay.”

He means well. You know he does. You try to focus on the soft and steady pass of Eddie’s palm over your stomach. It’s reassuring just a little. It lets you know you’re not physically alone. 

“There’s gotta be something I can do. Tea? I think I can be trusted not to burn down a kitchen to fix some tea. Hot compress?” Eddie’s fingers find your chin, sliding up to your cheek. He wipes away some of the fresh tears that have fallen. “Please,” he whispers. 

You can’t tell if he’s pleading with you or some unfathomable force of the universe. You hope whoever is out there listens. 

“I don’t know if I can move right now,” you whisper out shakily. “I’m not even sure I’m thinking at all.”

“Greg said he had to send you home. Said you puked.”

You nod. “I did.”

“You take anything yet for the cramps?”

The words makes your skin crawl, and you try not to react physically to it. “I fell asleep once I got home. I think I got crackers and ginger ale down.”

The bed shifts again. Eddie’s warmth leaves your back and side with the shift. There’s a crinkle somewhere to the left of you. “If this is a fresh sleeve, you only got a couple down.”

“Sounds about right,” you hum. 

“Did you keep it down?”

“Yeah, I did.”

Eddie’s hair greets you before he does, some wisps of the ends falling around your nose. “You stay here. Don’t move a muscle and I’ll be back in a minute okay?”

“Okay.” That much you can do. 

You can only listen to the shuffle. The bathroom door cracks open, the medicine cabinet clicking open. There's a rattle and you're pretty positive that it’s Eddie grabbing some meds. There’s more clicking. The light from the hallway dims and then Eddie’s shadows pass along the walls. He’s further now from you, probably in the kitchen. You listen and listen and listen. 

“Can you do me a solid?” Eddie asks. 

You catch his body halfway hanging inside the room as he rests his weight against the wall and the door. “Depends.”

“Ah, there he is. But what’s your favorite mug?”

Your brows furrow at the question. “I-I don’t have a favorite mug.”

“Nonsense. You have to have that one mug or cup that if you drink something out of it it just tastes better. Now c’mon cough if up.”

You laugh--not that you really want to, but because the question is so ridiculously Eddie that you can’t help it. “Uh, there’s a mug from my trip to Arizona that I really like.”

“Got it, Arizona mug. Thank you, lovebug.” Eddie’s gone again, you watch him disappear this time. 

“Arizona mug does have a nice ring to it,” you mutter to yourself. You blink your gaze over to the alarm clock to check the time. It’s just before 4. You got sent home from work around 11 this morning. 

Eddie has a ritual--comes by your job after work and hang out until the end of your shift, usually around 4:30. You two usually head to someone’s place--his or yours. There’s some TV or a rental if you two didn’t get to it over the weekend. Usually you play a game with Eddie---he barters with you about helping with dinner and you tell him he has to complete at least two homework assignments. It always ends with you letting him do some of the prep if it’s more involved and then you taking over at the end. 

And it means today, Eddie went to your job, probably worried about the lack of your car being there and then came racing to your place once your boss let Eddie know you’d been sick at work. You hope it wasn’t too bad of a scare. There was no way for you to get the information to him while he was in school that wouldn’t cause him to skip. Maybe it’s selfish. But if you’re honest, you just couldn’t deal. You didn’t want to verbalize it. Thankfully, you hadn’t to fully. 

You’re sure after the first two waves of this, Eddie can put the pieces together. You’re grateful that he’s giving you the grace. But you know you have to push yourself up soon. It’s going to suck. You hope you don’t vomit again when you do. If only could have a body that didn’t hate you. 

You take a deep breathe--inhaling in through your nose and then pushing it all out through slightly parted lips. “Just to the bathroom. It’s okay.”

“Didn’t I tell you not to move a muscle?”

“I-it’s just I gotta go to the bathroom.”

Eddie nods, a hum leaving his throat. “Not before some meds.” You nod, taking the few pills from him and swallow it down without taking the cup of water. “Metal,” he snorts in return. 

“I try to when I can. Can you help me up please?”

“Of course, yeah.” Eddie sets the mug, denoting the stop in Phoenix, Arizona, and scoops you up from your seated position. 

“I am a full human being, you know, right? A grown man, thank you,” You huff, allowing Eddie to carry you to the bathroom. It’s a little shaky at first, but he gets you there. 

“Just because you have a tax paying job does not mean you get to boast about it.” 

“It’s not like I’m making the big bucks, or anything.”

“It’s something. A job someone has to do.”

“Riveting work it is to be a line cook,” you snort. The two of you cross the threshold into the bathroom then. Before Eddie sets you down, you bury your face in his shoulder. You want to tell yourself it’s okay. But it doesn’t feel okay. Nothing feels okay. “Just one more second.”

“Take all the seconds you need.”

You don’t need to tell Eddie that if you wait too long you’re probably bleed all over him. But you highly doubt he’d care. But it’s already awful enough dealing with the period by itself, you don’t think you’d have the mental capacity to handle ruining Eddie’s clothes and yours at the same time. 

You inhale--the musk of Eddie’s cigarettes, cheap cologne, the slight twinge of sweat from P.E. no doubt and try to still the racing thoughts. Just a few more days. But that’s just for now. Then there will be a next time. “Fuck this!” you huff.

“I’ve got something else you can fuck that’s for sure,” Eddie snorts. 

You huff a life, nothing serious, but it’s just enough. Eddie kisses your temple. You take another inhale and then nod. “I’m okay.”

It’s not without a grunt and the crack of a knee that Eddie sets you down. “Good God,” you tease. “You’re getting old.”

“Fuck off,” Eddie laughs. 

“Yeah, I’m sure you have something I can fuck.”

Eddie’s touch on your cheek is tender. “I do. I always do, but only if you want it.”

“Such a gentleman,” you coo. You mean it to come out with some bite, but it comes out gooey like melting chocolate from your throat. 

“Only when you deserve it,” Eddie snarks. “I save it for special occasions.”

“Like you don’t look at me like I’ve hung the stars when you have sex.”

“While that may be true!” Eddie huffs, cheeks turning red. “Fucking sue me for loving my boyfriend, okay? God. Now, I’m going to leave. And you only need to shout if you need me okay.”

You nod in response. “I love you too, Eds.”

Eddie’s grin lights up his whole face, like it always does. Watching him smile feels like you’re basking in a ray of the sun. It warms you top to bottom, and you’re never really able to stare him directly in the face, lest it blind you. He presses another kiss to your lips. “Now, all offers are still on the table once you’re done. I’ve read orgasms help with cramps.”

“Maybe once the meds dull some of this.”

“Sounds delicious. I await with bated breaths.” Eddie’s steps take him over the threshold, hands locked aroun the door handle. “But seriously, holler if you need me, okay?”

You nod, a soft affirmative falling from your lips. The door slips shut. You wait a beat, then two. You pop the doors to the under sink cabinet, grab what you need and then watch the door again. “Holler,” you state. Nothing louder than your usual volume and the door cracks open. 

Eddie’s face peers around the crack. “Yes, baby?”

“Just missed you,” you return. That and you’re trying to ground yourself again, remind yourself you’re on Earth. 

“Missing you too. You good?”

“Yeah, I’ll be done in a second.”

He nods, backs out of the crack and then shuts the door again. “I was thinking though, like, there’s a really cool mug in the cabinets you got. It’s a Scooby Doo mug. And I’m thinking there’s no way the Arizona mug is your favorite. I mean, Scooby Doo is right there.”

You’re still on Earth--and whatever that meant you weren’t sure. But you’re glad to be Earthside with Eddie. Poised with the pad in hand, you sigh. “Eddie, you cannot berate my mug choices while I’m sitting on the toilet. Didn’t Wayne tell you to never kick a man while he’s down?”

Eddie’s laughter floats in through the crack under the door.

[jackdaw-kraai]

New Patreon Post? New Patreon Post.

It was probably high time I told y'all about the fact that I have a patreon again and attempt to do so in a way that's not completely gauche, SO. Let me tell you about about what it is, does, and after all that, why you should at least look at it even if you would sooner gargle orange juice after brushing your teeth than give me money.

Patreon, as you probably know, or maybe not, is a site that kind of works on the old idea of patronage. AKA, artists get paid money to do what they love so they don't, y'know, starve. Except instead of one rich fuck, it's funded by many far-less-rich people, because fuck capitalism. In practice, you subscribe to an artist, pay them however much a month you want, and the amount determines which tier subscription you have and what rewards you get access to. As you've probably guessed, I have such a system in place.

So *slaps roof of patreon* lemme tell you what this bad boy can fit in it. It can fit LORE for one, like, all of it. This is where I post 4K long essays on the specific kind of fungus that grows only in the driest place on a fictional planet, digests rock in order to get nutrients, and feeds an underground ecosystem through the mycelium that bore through the rock and into the networks of underground rivers that exist there and thus is a keystone species for an entire biome. I also post fictional transcripts of drunk history videos with a delightfully crude historical archivist, that tell stories about how a fictional train network got created by a trainwreck of a human being that involves a contest, a technically legal museum heist, the mob, a trained cat, and a disastrously gay aristocrat. And then another about that guy's mob enforcer sister who once killed a man by putting him in a headlock and flexing her bicep and also her absolutely pathetic wimp of a husband who loves his built-like-a-semi-truck wife very much.

That's not even mentioning the extensive articles on my own conlang, including IPA annotations, detailed character descriptions, redacted reports from amoral scientists who are about to greatly regret everything they ever did, and excerpts from an essay on forbidden magic by a scholar from outside the community.

Mind you, almost all of those are in the lower tiers of the patreon, the tiers that you can get for only a handful of dollars a month, yes, a literal handful. I haven't even gotten to the high-tier stuff. Higher-tier rewards include: ability to vote in polls that make me answer spoiler questions, access to secret lore like how the magic in this world works and what occult elements are at play in the story, and even creating a character together with me if you really decide to be insane with the money you throw at me. I've already done this once and it was great fun to create Sol with someone, an absolute unit of a black lesbian fighter pilot with the soul of a gentle giant.

With all levels though, you also do this: you support my ability to write, and keep writing, as I begin to plan out my own original fiction ideas and further career steps into becoming a published writer. You support my ability to experiment with my writing style, my interests, and help me keep my head above water in a world that's increasingly hostile to artists and writers. You support my ability to live a small, comfortable life that lets me create wonder and magic in a world that desperately needs some of that.

And, as I promised above, even if you don't want to, or simply can't give anything (Gods know that everyone is struggling to get by these days) then it's still worth looking at the public-facing page, because instead of boring-ass tier descriptions, I gave each tier a little blurb of text that is a part of a larger, fragmentary story of Keshiro, Storm Wraith's, last great adventure before he left the Desert. It's a story that currently only exists in said blurbs, but is planned to be written out in full, and when it is, it will, of course, be posted for free on Ao3, no caveats or strings attached. Until then... give it a read. Tell me what you think. I'll see you there.

The link to my patreon page, see what you think.

[everygame]

Merry Christmas From Melbourne House (Commodore 64) Developed/Published by: Melbourne House Released: 1984 Completed: 11/12/2023 Completion: Beat it with a score of 100 out of 100.

It’s 1984 and the Christmas cash-in market is finally mature, with five whole games released for home computers (at the very least.) Alphabetically first in my list (because Icon Software chose to go with “Xmas” on their merry release) Merry Christmas From Melbourne House is a slight cheat because it’s really just a tiny tech demo/bit of marketing, but it was sold, costing 95p (the price of tape duplication and postage?) for readers of Commodore User (it was actually in the December issue and the deadline was December 17th to get your money to them, which makes me wonder how many people played this long after things stopped being festive.)

It is though, honestly, what I was kind of expecting from A Christmas Adventure. It’s a short, very easy little adventure game that… passes about half an hour and actually manages to feel Christmassy. 

Like A Christmas Adventure, you’re tasked with making sure Santa can get away from the north pole to deliver presents, but in a shocking twist… YOU are Santa. The game’s blurb claims he’s “attempting to stop an industrial dispute” that “is threatening the delivery of toys to children of the world” and it sounds like jolly old saint nick is a fat cat like the rest of ‘em, and out of solidarity with the elves and workers everywhere I spent quite a bit of time typing things like “GIVE ELVES RAISE” and “PROVIDE TIME OFF” but the parser never understood it, so I almost didn’t finish this.

The plot is a bit oversold anyway, considering the solution is pretty much “Get off your fat arse and pack your sack of toys yourself, Santa.”

As you’re not doing all that much, the parser is adequate, and the graphics are… genuinely quite evocative. They are important too–the toys you have to pack are all on one screen. I don’t generally like this design in graphic text adventures–where you don’t get told everything in text (I’m a VERBOSE man in Infocom games)–and having to work out directions here was not my favourite, But it worked well enough, and I was even charmed by the full screen advert for Melbourne House games.

Anyway, lemme see how much 95p is in today’s money. £3.77. I can’t really say people got their money’s worth here, but they could do a lot worse.

Will I ever play it again? I’m good.

Final Thought: Joe Pranevich over at The Adventurer’s Guild played through this as well if you’d like to read something more in-depth about it, with the bonus that one of the developers, Dave Johnston, shows up in the comments, revealing that it was developed “in a matter on weeks using an in-house text engine and a tweaked sprite engine based on Way of the Exploding Fist code” and that he didn’t even have a copy. They paid people at Melbourne House so poorly that they couldn’t raise 95p???

Support Every Game I’ve Finished on ko-fi! You can pick up a digital copy of exp. 2600, a zine featuring all-exclusive writing at my shop, or join as a supporter at just $1 a month and get articles like this a week early.

[tahlalilian]

I wanted to draw my OC Ann making her first kill and at first it was just going to be the last panel but I thought it needed a lead up and thought, “Yeah a short comic.” I remembered that the GTKYOC challenge thing had a task to draw a short comic or story board and thought, “Sweet , that would mark this off.” Number 15.

Included under is a short bit I wanted to write from Ann’s perspective on the whole event.

I don’t fully know how to precursor fics or blurbs what have you? so...

Trigger Warnings: Mentions of sexual harassment, Mentions of Rape, Mention of suicide, Description of murder.

He really wasn’t anything special. Just a man with a little bit of power in a small town. That didn’t stop him from causing scandals like any other big politician. Rumors already flew around about what he did to women behind the closed doors of his office. Inappropriate jokes and gropes were the lesser of his crimes towards women. No one seemed to have solid proof that could take him down. Then there was a break. A suicide note and an angry family that wanted answers. Women from the town and some outside began to come forward with claims. So did the dismissals, excuses and rebuttal claims. PR was working hard to shush it all. It was starting to work.

“Why did they wait so long to come forward?”

“I was blackmailed.” “I was ashamed.” “I didn’t think anyone would believe me.” “I was scared he would keep his promise of ruining my life even further.”

It all seemed to fall on deaf ears. He stayed in his position, just didn’t make lots of meetings. Even with the town a buzz about it, nothing was changing. It started to die down and people started to shrug it off. 

“Politicians for you.” “Not like it’s anything new.” “Next guy would probably do the same.”

I was angry. No. I was already angry. The rumors were hard not to believe. The man was full of himself. But when the suicide happened. When my childhood friend...when my best friend of so many years...took her life because of HIM. I was enraged. I shook with anger at the thought. Her final words spelled it out for everyone. “MAYOR KIRK RAPED ME.” Center on the tear stained paper. Between mournful apologies to her family and explaining how it had been eating away at her for months but she feared speaking up because he threatened to get her fired from her journalism job. Her dream job. The job she beamed with pride over. Bragged about. Framed every article that she worked on. I felt like such a bad friend for not seeing the signs sooner. She stopped smiling. She held herself more often or stood alone. Started avoiding people all together. Even her family. Quit her job without telling anyone. Then days before, wasn’t talking to anyone. Not one call or text answered. Her family was worried and found her. 

They were torn up. Her mother had to be dragged from her casket and frequently collapsed to the floor to cry. All while clinching clippings of the papers she wrote. Her father was stoic but sadness still seeped from him. She was only 22. At the funeral, there were many whispers. 

“We’ll keep pushing.” “He’ll face his crimes.”  “God will give him his.”  “Karma will catch up to him.”

I remember scoffing at those words. I was cynical. Then I had my own thoughts. “Karma comes in all shapes. We don’t get to choose how or who deals it out. Usually it’s unknowingly done, isn’t it? Maybe Karma acts too slow. Or maybe...I can be that Karma. I will be that Karma.” When it was my turn at the casket, I swore to her. “You’ll have your chance to beat his ass raw soon. Then he can go straight to hell.”

The thought never left. I wanted to be the one to deal his punishment out. I needed to be careful though. While I felt he deserved to die after all the lives he affected and destroyed, I also didn’t want to spend life in jail. Even if I wouldn’t regret it. I just felt I didn’t deserve to serve life for doing the town a favor. I started to plan it out. I also had to mentally prepare for it. Not only to do the action, but to leave behind everything. Family, friends, life as I knew it and even my own dreams. This was bigger than me now. I had a job and by God, I was going to do it.

I hated every day that passed. It was just another day he got away with it. I was working hard to learn his schedule. To find ways to conceal my identity. To make the kill swift. Then to get the hell out of this whole state. This was never how I thought I’d leave Alabama behind. Once it was all ready. I packed all the items I would keep in a single messenger bag and only a few articles of clothing in a little Wal-mart bag. 

Then drove near his home late in the night. I took a moment. Felt the nervousness set in. “Turn back. This is crazy.” I would think back to my friend and how I saw her fade and then the image of her in her casket. “No. Not just for her but for every victim he’s ever harmed and to spare the future ones he surely would have.” I got out of the car, carefully closed it. I kept my hood up and was dressed in a couple of sizes too large pants and hoodie. This was done to hide my body shape. I was sometimes mistaken for a man in regular clothing. I hoped to use this in this scenario. Tall heavy set man. The clothing even came from the men’s section. Not something that new to me. 

I made my way to the back door of his house. You’d think he’d be better about locking his doors, but in a small town that’s only little on the up and up, you feel safe enough to forget every once and awhile. Along with not using your alarm system till you head to bed. He was where I learned he would be. In his study, in his favorite chair, reading a book. Although this time he was on the phone. I lingered for a moment. Watched the bachelor yammer away to the man on the other side. “I’ve already got him on it. Soon it won’t matter who comes forward.” A few more women had come out to announce the same mistreatment since the first major wave. I felt that hesitation hit again. “What if I miss? What if I mess this up?” I moved the clay wire cutter out of my hoodie pockets and gripped the handles in each hand as I moved forward. “Just don’t. He’s either going to be beaten badly or dead. Only options for him.” I had to focus on that rage. I couldn’t let myself get distracted. I was behind his chair and his voice. His words. Were all I needed to get me through it. “It’ll blow over as it gets framed as slander.” Slander? All these women? All these broken lives so a piss ant from a small fucking town can run for mayor again? My arms moved before I could think. The wire slipped in front of him. Thankfully between him and his phone so his arm didn’t interfere and then, smoother than I thought I could, swapped the handles in my hand and pulled hard in opposite directions.

I heard his immediate choke. The beeps of his cell phone as he clinched it in his fist having accidentally hung up before tossing it. His hands desperately trying to pull the cord away or reach back to the person attacking him. He kicked in his chair and I moved to keep it up right with one leg while I slightly crouched so he was also being pulled back to stay seated in the chair. At least, not get far from it. His arms started to flail to grip on anything that could save him or give him the air his body needed. Felt like forever for his arms to start to go limp and his noises to slow and quieten. I was almost sure I heard his death rattle but didn’t think I’d be able to hear it while strangling. I held on just a little longer. Just to make sure before I gave just a little slack. I stood over him. Waiting for a twitch or some sign of life to pull the wire taunt again but he didn’t. I stood there. In the presence of what I assumed was a corpse. One I made. I slowly let the wire go. Grabbing a gallon zip lock bag out of my pocket, I placed the clay cutter in it before zipping it up and placing it back in my hoodie. Trying to avoid any blood on the clothes. I wasn’t sure if the wire would just choke or decapitate him so I brought my own evidence bag to destroy later.

I had to make sure. I walked around the front of the chair and there was no doubt. This man was dead. His face was discolored. A deep red mark along his throat, some blood coming from it and deep scratch marks along his neck from trying to get his fingers under the wire. I was struck by it though. In a different way. The way his eyes looked up, and his head tilted to the side from resting on the side of his chair. One arm in his lap the other over the armrest and one leg extended while the other was brought in. He almost looked...statuesque. Like a classical painting. Maybe if, his hand was a little more like this. And this leg just a little more to the side. His head was just like this so he looked more like he was looking to heaven instead of just the wall. “Maybe he could be good for something. Not so alive study?” My brain rattled off. “I don’t have time.”

“No one will even be here till 5 in the morning. You have at least two solid hours of whatever. Plus. You’ve always been able to draw fast. What would make you focus on more important details than a clock. Like those one minute sketches. But say 15? 30? You’d be done and on your way. A trophy if you will. Don’t all killers have those?”

I stared at his body more. Made sure he was posed just right for the spot I was going to sit at across from him. Free of windows or the hallway. “At least he can be good for something productive. Even if he doesn’t deserve the honor even in death.” I got my sketch book out of the single bag I kept what little of my life I knew I couldn’t part with and withdrew my newest sketchbook. A gift from the very friend I lost. “How fitting.” It was leather bound hardback with a lock on it. Perfect for it’s hidden contents. I grabbed a pencil and got to sketching.

It didn’t feel like very long when I finally finished. I thought I had hit 15 to 20. 35 though. Not bad. And I was happy with it. I was torn on signing it. Doing so would be admission. Although having the book could be as well. So I only wrote the date. Hid my initials in the image and added, “For Kimmy.” I lingered on the words for longer than I wanted but got back to reality and packed up and headed back out. Making sure things were still neat and I hadn’t knocked things out of place and closed the door behind myself. My hood was up again to hide I was wearing a mask like before as I walked to my car. Hugging shadows.

I drove almost to the border of Bama before I pulled over and walked about a mile into the woods. Carefully setting the clothes on fire and the wire clay cutter after I wiped the wire down with hydrogen peroxide. I heard it's how hospitals keep things nice and clean. I knew the wire wouldn’t melt. And Not all of the plastic. So using a small shovel, I dug a quick pit to bury the items. After patting the dirt down hard, I moved rocks and branches and other forest floor things over it to blend it in. Once I was sure I lost the spot I left. From the woods to my car to another state where I looked from someplace I would or could call home.

Only. There are many wicked people out there. Karma had already used me once to act out justice. I just couldn’t help answering again. I had even less to lose now and some people really do deserve it.

[rachelbethhines]

60 Years of Doctor Who Anniversary Marathon - Martin: 4th Review

Fugitive of the Judoon - Mini-Novelization 

So this isn’t a full novelization... in fact it’s more of an abridged recap. 

See Jodie only has one target novelization out at the moment and only one other on the way. Neither of which feature the Fugitive Doctor, so I had to make do. 

The Doctor Who Annuals are yearly special magazines, turned hardback children’s books, that have been running fairly consistently since the 1960s. 

Typically the annuals were anthologies with original comics, short stories, and games. Along with maybe the odd news article, ratings and reviews, or a behind the scene feature. With Jodie’s run the annuals have taken on a new approach. 

For whatever reason, the 2021 annual is just recaps of all the stories from the past season. The gimmick being that they’re diary entries by the doctor herself. There’s still trivia and games for the kiddos, but like hardly any original stories or art. 

Honestly, in the days of streaming and Wikipedia, I don’t understand the marketing decision behind this. What’s is the point of it all? Outside of what few games are in it, there’s nothing new here. You can just watch the story themselves or read this same trivia online. 

They don’t even bother to tell us anything definitive about the Fugitive Doctor. Her blurb on here is even more vague than the show itself. 

(”You’ll find out one day....” Haha, yeah right.)  

But enough dithering, how is the actual story? 

Meh... I mean it’s a summary of the episode. What else is there to say? Like I guess having the tale told in first person from the Doctor’s perspective is a novel approach, but it’s so dang short that it kind of wastes the premise. 

For example, I love more insight into how the Doctor feels about things as the character tends to bottle things up, and a diary is good way to do that. But the way it is told here is so toothless and concise that I still don’t know what the Doctor feels, outside of confusion. A state of being that we knew about by the end of the original episode anyways. 

Having skimmed through the rest of the annual, I can’t really recommend it for anyone. Unless you just find it on the cheap or in the public library and your grade schooler is a big fan of the show; then the games at least might keep them quiet for about half an hour.  

[sjstone-author]

(via The Dirty Secrets of Book Blurbs - The Atlantic)

Fuck book blurbs!

I recently bought a book by a renowned local author who generally writes in my genre, mystery, and so I just went and bought it. All good right? I did a quick scan of the back cover, and it was all blubs, not a short teaser for the plot. Instead that was on the inside cover, which is the other place it would be. But here’s the issue: the teaser suggested something between two characters that had a past relationship, but I’m half-way through the book, and that something hasn’t happened yet. In fact, I’m just reading through this sort of soap opera of a book waiting for something to happen.

What the fuck?

I realize I could have done a little more investigation into this book to see if it actually fit into what I wanted to read, but I bought it on a whim, and I thought, “Okay, this famous author writes mysteries, writes mysteries that happen in Baltimore (where my mystery happens), and actually lives in my neighborhood. Let me just get on it and read some of her work and learn from a master.

And a back cover full of blurbs can’t be wrong, can they? And yet...

Helen Lewis says in The Atlantic, “And that reveals another dirty secret of the blurb: They’re not addressed to you. “The biggest thing to understand is that blurbs aren’t principally, or even really at all, aimed at the consumer,” Richards told me via email. “They are instead aimed at literary editors and buyers for the bookstores—in a sea of new books, having blurbs from, ideally, lots of famous writers will make it more likely that they will review/stock your book.” “

Fool me once... I trusted the brand, the history of said author, and the blurbs. And yeah, this is my fault, but you all said wonderful things. Only you weren’t saying them to me, the reader, you were saying them to each other.

“Blurbs have always been controversial—too clichéd, too subject to cronyism—but lately, as review space shrinks and the noise level of the marketplace increases, the pursuit of ever more fawning praise from luminaries has become absurd. Even the most minor title now comes garlanded with quotes hailing it as the most important book since the Bible, while authors report getting so many requests that some are opting out of the practice altogether. Publishers have begun to despair of blurbs, too.”

I have a word for this that I got into the Urban Dictionary - a word that doesn’t actually fit in this situation but still feels right: vomitrocity. Imagine the puke emoji. I mean, come on, people, how pathetic is this whole concept of the self-licking ice cream cone of authorship now that we’re being duped by the author community itself? Oh, the NYT loved this book! Praise for (insert title here)! This author loved it. That author loved it.

This book is boring. I’m half way through and I’m still waiting for something to happen. Isn’t something supposed to have happened by now? The very last line of the book teaser on the inside cover of the novel goes like this: “And then X asked Y to do the unthinkable.” And yet, I’m literally in the middle of the book, page 159 out of 310 pages, and nothing has happened that was noteworthy.

So, sadly I’ll just report here that you should read this article in the The Atlantic because all this book blurbing, as Helen Lewis describes it, is just cronyism. Not useful. Just annoying and misleading, and just not what the world of writing needs. Indy authors, small authors, nobodies like me who just have a story to tell deserve a better writing world. And readers deserve a better way to discover the books that they will love reading and recommend to their friends. Because that’s the kind of network we need. Not the world of corporate book blurbs.

I hope you enjoyed my rant.

[eddiemunsonsmiddlefingers]

One of my classes is an absolute shit show. For context, this is an asynchronous online course.

Edit: realized this post was hella long, so dumped it under a cut for people's dash-scrolling sanity.

The professor has a 1.2 rating on the professor rating site, with MANY reviews coming from students with B and A grades, spanning years. (Basically, you can rest assured they aren't coming from people who are pissed off that they failed.) She claims she's taught at my uni for decades. HOW? WHY? If I had seen this before the term started, I would have chosen a different class so damn fast.

She doesn't have office hours, didn't provide her phone number, and it's week two of a four week course and the only email she responded to was me asking for disability accommodations and her saying "it'll take me more time to do that than it will for this course to run. Have a good summer." (I was asking for a summary of what our second class discussion would be about so I could make an informed decision about which discussion I wanted to participate in. It would've taken two seconds to copy/paste the blurb into a response. Yes, I'm aware refusing to provide formally authorized accommodations, which my request is, is fucking illegal. Yes, I've already run it up the flag pole to the appropriate authorities. No, I haven't gotten a response, and in the mean time…I still have to do my homework.) She still hasn't graded the first assignment, which was due on June 28th.

She writes all her assignment instructions in all caps. Bold. Lots of exclamation points. "YOU WILL FAIL THIS COURSE IF YOU DON'T TURN THIS IN AT EXACTLY THIS TIME SO CHECK YOUR CAENDER (sic)!!!!" <- Actual quote. Please note the assignment she's yelling about is specifically labeled as an ungraded assignment. How do I fail the course if I don't complete an ungraded assignment? Why is there an ungraded assignment in the first place?

30% of my grade is based on "progress in class." What does that mean, in an asynchronous course? She doesn't say. It sounds like it's code for "if I like you, I'll give you an A. If I don't, you fail." This is also blatantly illegal.

Despite her strident tone she somehow manages to provide exactly zero guidance about how to satisfactorily complete her assignments. I actually don't have a single clue whether I'm even doing the homework I'm supposed to be doing because I don't know what homework I'm supposed to be doing.

There are four required reading lists and they're all different: different readings, different weeks to do the readings in, different titles for the same paper, etc.

She claims she updates her course content "regularly" to keep it "relevant." She also says she might decide to add more readings but she'll "definitely give warning" if she does. None of the assigned readings (across any of the lists) are newer than 2015. Some are from the 1990's. For context, this is a class about the Middle East. Every paper dated post 2011 is very hopeful about the long term impact of the Arab Spring. Because nothing is newer than 2015 (And most are from 2011-2013 ish), absolutely none of them acknowledge how things stand now—and the professor included exactly zero supplemental commentary describing current state. Thus, if someone took this class with no background knowledge they'd assume everything is just peachy. (Spoiler alert: IT REALLY FUCKING ISN'T).

And, icing on the cake, and the reason I wrote this rant-y ass post? One of the readings is a thesis. Not a dissertation. Not an academic article. A fucking thesis. Another still has digital sticky notes from an editor in it, and the edits haven't been applied. And a third is a link to a .com political blog that is so chock full of sneaky words and journalistic slant that I couldn't continue reading it, required or not. This is intensely ironic because she has informed us (again, all caps, bold text) that she won't accept anything but "valid academic sources" in the final paper, and anything from a .com domain is "completely out of the question." Theses are fantastic thought and writing exercises for grad students, but they aren't valid academic sources. Neither are pre-publication / pre-edit drafts of papers. And neither is someone's personal fucking blog.

How does this class still exist? Why is this person still teaching?

*screams*

[meetmymouth]

i am begging you to write some angst PLS i have been so in my feels. like he fucks up and hurts her and wants to make it better but she’s so hurt

masterlist | blurb masterlist

"I'm sorry," he says, looking at the ground. "I can't do anything– it's too late," he goes on, though doesn't walk over to her to comfort her like he normally would.

It was bad.

It was really bad.

The article where her name and pictures were plastered on was already live, and Harry could only stand and watch as her tagged pictures filled with photos of her, half naked due to heat, with her flatmates, as they had fun in one of her friend's garden.

It was all lies. In true Daily Mail fashion, it was all lies and rumours about her ditching Harry for someone 'more suited to her'. Cheating, they said. Here we have Harry's now-ex, according to DM, cheating on Harry Styles.

"What do you mean you can't do anything, Harry?!" She yells, making him flinch. "I know these articles are ran by your team first. How could you– how could they do this to me."

"Baby, I'm sorry–"

"–Everyone already hates me, Harry. Just for the sake of it. They fucking hate me! And now? I'll get lynched!"

"Nonsense, I could never do anything to physically harm you," Harry tries to reason with her, though she's not even looking into his eyes anymore.

She sits down on the foot of the bed, a napkin still in hand as she wipes her nose.

"You approved of this article, Harry."

"No! Jeff tried calling me, I couldn't pick up– we were out."

"But you gave the OK via message!"

Harry shakes his head frantically, and tries to come closer, though she's not having any of it.

"I didn't– I couldn't... I didn't read the article, I just texted 'OK' so I could give you my full attention."

"So, it's my fault?"

"Don't twist my words."

"Harry," she cries harder, the napkin still in hand. "The tabloids will destroy me! Do you think they will let me walk outside? Do you realise how big and important you are? Fucking hell, I'm done! I'm over, Harry..."

"Baby," he says, and kneels in front of her on the floor. "Please. I'll fix this."

"How?"

"I'll... I will tell Jeff and we will try to do anything to remove that article."

She snorts, though the tears keep falling. "It's already out and everywhere, Harry. Are you fucking dumb! They already have it screenshotted and everything. Harry," she murmurs, voice trembling. "Post something on your Instagram. Tell them the truth, I beg you."

"Baby..."

"You're a fucking coward!" She gets on her feet. "Can't even post one bloody statement on your page because you're so afraid of people perceiving you– the real you. You're a robot, Harry Styles, a fucking robot!"

"Stop–"

"–Start taking responsibility, for fuck's sake," she throws the napkin in his face, and he watches it fall next to his feet. "You and your team did this, you better take responsibility or I'm done, Harry. I'm fucking done. I'm– can't you see how bad this has been on me? Everyone hates me! I fucking hate me."

"I love you!"

"That's not enough right now, can't you see!"

"Okay," he says, stopping her from leaving the room. He grabs her hand, and intertwines their fingers. "I'll do it, I'll do anything, just– just sit down, please. I love you. I'll do anything."