#my mum and i are still wondering about it in a mocking way

[wizardofstars]

i need a smarter star wars fan to explain something to me. in ep6 of acolyte yesterday when first ship jumped into hyperspace and the other immediately showed up, if the first ship didnt jump just then, would they have collided

[fourmoony]

May I go on a 𝐏𝐮𝐦𝐩𝐤𝐢𝐧 𝐏𝐚𝐭𝐜𝐡 𝐃𝐚𝐭𝐞 with Sirius and #6 if you’re feeling it <3 (I can’t get over how fun this celebration is!! Love you regardless of whether you’re feeling this or not haha)

pls don't stop requesting i'm having so much fun writing these lmao!!!! thanks angel, you're too sweet ♡︎

774 words | cw: none

Sirius is a ball of energy as he weaves in and out of stalls, a bag of cinnamon cookies in one hand and a caramel hot chocolate in the other. He has a pumpkin woollen hat on that Hope, Remus' mum, knit him last year, his hair falling in wild curls out of it. He looks happy. Undoubtedly so. It makes your chest warm, even if the rest of you is absolutely freezing.

You assume he's too excited to notice your sniffling, but when you hit the fifth time in two minutes, Sirius whirls on you to find you trying to wiggle some feeling back into your nose. Your cheeks redden, even more so than the autumn air has already made them. You've been caught.

When you'd told Sirius about the autumn themed market in town, he'd made immediate plans to take you. What you hadn't accounted for, was how high maintenance he'd be about the whole thing. This morning, when you arrived at his apartment, he'd practically reamed you out for not choosing appropriate attire. Apparently, stylish was not the vibe and "keeping all of your lovely limbs from getting frostbite" is.

Sue you, for wanting to look cute.

He'd rambled on for ten minutes about how cold you were going to be and only allowed you to leave the house when you agreed to wear the matching mittens to Sirius' hat.

"Don't even say it, Sirius." You warn him.

Sirius holds his hands up in mock defence, his smile equally as goading as it is knowing. "I'm sure I have no idea what you mean, doll face." He quips, stuffing the cookies into his jacket pocket and using his now free hand to poke at your cheek.

You try to bat him away whilst fighting off an amused smile.

"Oh, my!" Sirius beams, "Your cheeks are as cold as ice cubes," his pointer finger boops your nose, "Nose, too!"

"I'm fine." You pout, childishly.

It's rare, that Sirius is wholly right about something. You know he's going to milk this all day, now.

"If only you had a handsome, smart, caring, wonderful, boyfriend who could have pre-warned you that this might happen!" Sirius exclaims. Passers by eye you both sceptically, but you're used to the attention with Sirius - always the loudest in any room - Black.

"Okay, enough. I'm fine, really." You shoulder Sirius on, who's still muttering about how amazing he is at predicting the future.

The next few stalls are torturous. Your face only gets colder, your sniffling louder. Sirius refrains from goading you further, but seems to reach the end of his tether when he catches you blowing into your hands and rubbing them on your nose.

He sighs, pulling you to the side and out of the way of foot traffic.

"Okay, give me your face." He says, bluntly.

A startled laugh tumbles from your lips, "What?"

"Give me your face, I'm going to warm it up."

You stare at him perplexed, "Sirius-"

"No, your nose is practically blue. I love you, but I think I'm just vain enough to be less attracted to you if you don't have a nose." Sirius takes your face in his hands.

Your eyes go wide, desperate to fact check whether your boyfriend would actually love you less without a nose, but Sirius already has his entire mouth around your nose. His teeth nip the skin a little teasingly and you huff, resigned to the fate of having a slightly abnormal boyfriend.

You're glad he's pulled you away from the crowds as he blows hot air directly onto your nose. The warmth is welcomed, but his method is arguably questionable.

When he's done, he pulls back and gives you a once over. Then, he removes his scarf and wraps it in bundles around your neck. He presses a final kiss to the tip of your nose, which, thanks to him, you can feel.

"See, fixed it. Nose safe. Lets get some treacle tarts and head home." Sirius says, like he hasn't just tried to eat your nose.

It's a little much to keep up with, so you allow him to guide you, rather stunned, along to the next treat stall. It's not until you're home, in fuzzy pyjamas, with a mug of hot chocolate that you remember to ask, "Would you actually love me less without a nose?"

Sirius looks over, a little alarmed, with a mouth full of cinnamon cookie. He swallows, shrugs, devilish smile on full display. "As long as I'm here to save you, we'll never know."

You scoff, fuzzy socked foot reaching out to kick his thigh.

[inbloomwriting]

Everything to me - Chapter 1

Chapter one - Apple seed

Story Masterlist

Plot: Jamie Tartt is a lot of things: professional footballer, the island's top scorer .... sexually, extremly handsome. But one thing he never saw himself as was a dad. Too bad he has to deal with the consequences of his own actions. This fic follows reader and Jamie as they navigate life and turn from practially strangers to parents. Pairing: Jaime Tartt x female reader Warnings: Pregnancy, swearing, mentions of food and alcohol, slight mention of sexual intimacy (nothing graphic), strained/toxic parental relationship Notes: 5.8k words. I do not have a set uploading schedule. Please bear with me as I work on this story. I know hardly anything about pregnancy, all my information comes from google. Likes, reblogs, comments are all much appreciated. I am German. Sometimes I get the tense wrong or make mistakes. I am useless when it comes to punctuation. Go easy on me, please

"You never understood you're everything to me I just hope you know, the future in your heart Is just about to start"

The universe must be mocking her, (Y/N) is sure of that. This is all one big elaborate joke and any minute now Ashton Kutcher is gonna jump out from behind some bushes and tell her that she has been punkd. 

She had a plan, all neatly laid out and organized. Blue ink on white paper in a fancy leather-bound notebook. Like a professional adult would do it who has their life all figured out. 

Renovate the store and get it back up and running

Sell it for profit 

Pay back Mum and get the fuck away from everyone and everything that has ever made her feel unworthy

That was the plan and she was so fucking determined to stick to it for once in her life. So this must be a prank. This must all be one big misunderstanding.

But it’s not a prank, is it? It’s the consequences of her own damn actions.

Her heart is racing as she climbs the stairs up towards Rebecca Welton’s office. Her legs and feet are heavy, like concrete. Why is being honest with your friends so damn hard? 

It’s not just any friend either. It’s Rebecca. Rebecca who has always been in her life ever since (Y/N) was just a kid. Rebecca who is the only person (Y/N) ever looked up to. Why is being honest with her so terrifying?

You know why! 

Yeah, (Y/N) knows why. Because she doesn’t know what she’ll do if Rebecca hates her for what happened. Of all the people in the world, she needs Rebecca on her side. 

As she lifts her hand and knocks on the door of the office, (Y/N) wonders if this is what death row inmates feel like. Knowing the end is inevitable and it’s all your own fault.

“Come in” 

Taking a deep breath, she opens the door and steps into the room. 3 pairs of eyes look back at her but really, the only ones that matter belong to the beautiful blonde sitting by the desk.

“(Y/N), Hi. What are you doing here? Did we have plans? I thought you went back — “

“Yeah I — no, we didn’t have plans.” 

It almost kills her, that smile that Rebecca sends her way. The one that’s so warm and loving and that’s been a constant in her life for most of her childhood and teenage years coming from Rebecca. Rebecca living in that lovely white house next door with the rose bushes and the big windows. Rebecca who taught her how to do the perfect eyeliner wing, who passed down her coolest leather jacket to her, who held her hair the first time she got wasted and threw up in those very rose bushes. Rebecca who was the older sister she never had. 

She loves that smile it used to bring so much comfort to her. Now it makes her want to die. The girl she used to be, deserved to be on the receiving end of that smile. She doubts she still deserves it.

“Can we—” (Y/N)’s eyes dart around the room towards Higgins, then towards the other man. He’s the American trainer, Ted. She’s talked to him once very briefly and he seems so — nice. Genuinely nice. Not for the sake of being perceived as a good person but because he just is. “— do you think we could talk privately?” 

There’s a flicker of concern in Rebecca’s eyes and (Y/N) hates that she put it there.

“Oh, of course. Ted, Leslie, would you excuse us?” 

Everything’s a blur. They leave and (Y/N) thinks Ted makes some kind of pun but she doesn’t really recognize anything but the racing of her heart and the sour feeling in her stomach. Oh, fuck.

Rebecca sits her down on the big couch by the window, the one that’s meant for personal talks, not business. She’s so nice. Oh, she's too nice.

“Are you dying?” 

“I — uh, no.”

“Okay, good.,” Rebecca says letting out a sigh of relief. “Now that that’s out of the way, can I offer you some tea?”

(Y/N) shakes her head.

“Coffee?” 

She repeats the motion

“Champagne?” Rebecca asks, a perfectly shaped eyebrow raised in question.

God, wouldn’t she kill for a glass of bubbly right now. 

“No, I’m good. Can you just come sit down, you’re making me nervous.” 

Not only does she sit down, Rebecca’s hand immediately finds (Y/N)’s, holding on warm and tight. It almost pulls an ironic scoff from (Y/N)’s lips. Mum doesn’t know but even if she did, she’d never offer this kind of comfort to her. She never did. So for a second, she lets herself relish in the affection. Just one second. 

“Okay, now out with it.” 

She’s rehearsed this conversation so many times in so many different ways. Like a school presentation. Meticulously planned. Even added in pauses for questions and shit like that.

All of that has vanished, her brain is empty, her tongue made of lead. 

“I uh — look um. Do you remember when your dad died?” 

Of all the ways she could’ve started this talk, this is probably the worst of them all. Who says things like that?

Rebecca seems a little taken aback for a moment before nodding her head and suppressing a slight smile, one brought on by the absurdity of the question, not by joy. “I do, yes. Hard to forget if I’m being honest.” 

“Yeah, I would know.” 

“Yeah.”

“So that night I was obviously very emotional because it reminded me of my dad and all of that bullshit.” Tears are already threatening to roll down her face, sitting on her waterline waiting for the right moment to strike. It’s impressive she still has any left to cry since that’s all she did the last few days.

“That’s understandable. Oh, please tell me you didn’t force yourself to come and relive all of your pain just because you felt like I expected you there? If I knew it was so hard on you I —” 

This, all of this, is twisting the knife so much deeper. Leave it to Rebecca to search for a fault of hers in all of (Y/N)’s mess.

“No, Rebecca, it's nothing like that. I — I fucked up. I let it all get to me and because I’m, well — me, I got a little tipsy. Went outside to get some air and there was this guy. God, Rebecca, he had the saddest eyes. I just felt this weird connection so I sat next to him. We talked and talked and then ended up going to a bar and then to my place and then to my bed and well yeah.” 

She giggles. Rebecca really has the audacity to giggle at that. In her defense, she tries to hold it in but it does slip out eventually. 

“It’s not funny.”

“Is this why you’re upset? You slept with someone at, no wait, after my father’s funeral. That’s okay.”

“There’s more.” 

"Oh, what is it? Was it a footballer?” 

At the lack of a vocal response, Rebecca connects the dots.

“Alright. That’s — that’s not so bad. I was seeing a 21-year-old footballer. I don’t see what’s making you so upset about this.” 

“I’m pregnant.” 

“Oh shit.” 

Getting Rebecca to swear was always something (Y/N) found a silly sense of pride in. Rebecca with her perfect hair and outfits and manners. It felt like something so alien to her and yet that was (Y/N)’s favorite version of Rebecca. The one that’s as messy as you and me even if it’s just for a second.

“Yeah, shit.” 

It’s the first time she said it out loud. Rebecca is the first person to know, except for (Y/N) herself and her gynecologist. Her mother doesn’t know. 

The father of the baby doesn’t know.

Just her and now Rebecca.

“And I don’t know what to do. This wasn’t the plan. Fuck — please don’t be mad.” 

“Why would I be mad? ” 

There is an infinite warmth in Rebecca’s eyes. A warmth she always longed for coming from her own mother but never received. A warmth that seems entirely misplaced right now. 

“I fucked your employee. I used your dad’s funeral to make the shittiest of all shit decisions and now I come here unloading all of this on you because I, once again, don’t know how to get myself out of the hole I dug.” 

Soft hands wrap around (Y/N)’s shoulder and pull her in. Rebecca smells like expensive perfume and hairspray. All comforting and familiar. It’s nice, (Y/N) thinks, that despite everything falling apart in and around her, there is at least one constant in her life. 

“Were you really afraid of telling me or are you just afraid?” 

She’s so smart and so observant, sometimes it’s infuriating. 

“I’m so scared, Rebecca.”

Life doesn’t ask if you’re ready. It doesn’t ease you into things, slow and gentle. There are no training wheels, no floaties. Life happens whether you’re prepared or not. It’s nice to know that there are arms wide open for you to fall into, a hand to pull you out of the roaring sea as you’re just about to drown.

“You can always unload on me, you know that right? That’s what family is for.” 

All the willpower to stay brave and collected and not cry, all that vanishes with Rebecca’s words. Family. They’re family. Maybe not by blood but definitely by fate. By choice. 

Mum would’ve told her to suck it up, to stop crying, and to face the consequences of her own actions. Would’ve probably had an “I knew this would happen” or an “I told you so” on the tip of her tongue. There is none of that with Rebecca. She just accepts the tears soaking through her, no doubt, expensive blouse and softly strokes (Y/N)’s head. 

For a long time, there are no words exchanged. Some moments ask for calmness not conversation. There’s something deeply therapeutic about crying on the shoulder of someone you deeply trust.

“Can I ask?” Rebecca inquires with a gentle voice just barely louder than a whisper.

She doesn’t have to elaborate. There are only so many questions people have after you told them you had a one-night stand and ended up pregnant. 

“You’re gonna hate the answer.” 

A laugh falls from Rebecca’s lips, her breath tickling the top of (Y/N)’s head. “Don’t tell me It’s Jamie.” 

“Okay, I won’t then.” 

“Oh, (Y/N).” 

Where there should be disappointment in her tone, there is understanding, there is slight amusement but above all, there is deep and honest care. 

“ Can you blame me? Look at him. He’s sculpted by the gods and something about that silly little accent does it for me. I hate to admit it, I truly do.” 

“Does he know?” 

(Y/N) shakes her head, guilt and fear coursing through her veins.

“I don’t even have his number. I know hardly anything about the guy other than that he’s a footballer, that his ego is huge, and that he likes to cuddle after sex.” 

Rebecca’s eyebrows rise in surprise. “Does he? Huh.”

“Yeah, it was really cute actually.” 

For a moment she almost gets lost in the memories of that night, however hazy they might be. Jamie was fun and to an extent he understood. And there’s nothing quite as sexy as a man who is just as sad and messed up as you. Is it healthy? Absolutely not but (Y/N) never claimed to have a particularly healthy view on anything. 

“He works here, you know. In this very building. You can just pop down and tell him.” 

The way Rebecca says it makes it sound so easy. Like it doesn’t come with a shit load of guilt and fear and embarrassment. 

“Wait, I didn’t even ask and I just realized that’s very presumptuous and maybe a little rude of me — do you even want to keep the baby?” 

That’s the big one. The question of all questions. It’s the second thought that came to her head when (Y/N) saw the two lines on that fateful plastic stick. The first one being “Oh fuck.” It’s the question her doctor asked. It’s in all of the leaflets and informational reading she’s been handed.

“I’ve never thought about it before. I mean sure I thought about some hypothetical future but those dreams always changed depending on my mood. Now I’m here and I need to make a choice and It’s — It’s terrifying.” 

“But?” 

“But I think I do want it. I think I want to be a — a mother.” 

It’s a word that feels strange on her tongue, bitter and sharp. Like biting down on your cheek and tasting blood. Mother was never the warm comfort of a home. It was the cold hand on her shoulder, the icy glance of disapproval. 

Maybe mother can be something else. Maybe she can turn it into something sweet.

“I’m just scared. This wasn’t the plan, not right now at least, and not like this. I’m scared of doing it alone.”

“What in the world does that mean? Alone?” 

“I don’t expect Jamie to step up. I’d appreciate it, of course. But he has a brilliant career and so much going for him. Getting me, a one-night-stand, pregnant could ruin so much for him. I don’t ever want that.” 

“No,” Rebecca says and cradles (Y/N)’s face between her warm hands “I mean, you’re not going to be alone. No matter what Jamie says. You have me. And I can guarantee you that there are at least 10 other people in this building right now who will also have your back. Whatever happens, I can promise you that you don’t have to do this alone. And don’t sell yourself short, you have a career too!” 

Maybe the universe isn’t mocking her after all. And maybe this isn’t a punishment either. Maybe this is just life pushing her into the deep end. Thank god she has people to help keep her afloat.

(Y/N)’s eyes wander from the clock on the wall towards the door then back. Over and over again.

Every time the door opens and someone leaves the locker room, her heart speeds up. Maybe if she dies of a heart attack right here and now she won’t have to talk to Jamie. That sounds like the most reasonable reaction. Anyone would agree. Right? 

The boys all regard her with a sense of cautious familiarity. They know her face, know they’ve seen her before but can’t recall where much less put a name to her. 

Well, all of them but Sam. He greets her with that big signature smile of his, so full of joy and sunshine. Calls out her name and asks her about her day. Rebecca might have a point that there are more people here that care about her. Their conversation is brief but there is no doubt in her mind that if she were to call him any time of the day, Sam would drop everything and help her out. That’s just the kind of person he is. 

She wonders if that’s the kind of person Jamie is. 

Another glance at the clock. 2 minutes pass. The door opens once more.

Jamie is smiling when he steps into the hallway. His hair is wet, probably from the shower, and held back by that silly little headband of his. He’s wearing a ridiculously bright orange hoodie and obnoxious colorful sneakers. Everyone else would look absolutely ridiculous in this get-up. Jamie makes it work. It must be some kind of superpower. 

Or maybe he’s just so unfairly fit that it doesn’t matter what he’s wearing. Even naked he looks phenomenal.

Stop thinking about him naked, that’s what got you into this mess.

“Oh, hi!” 

He’s so nonchalant, so casual when his eyes meet her’s across the hall. And really, why wouldn’t he be? What they had was casual. A one-night thing, no strings attached. Just two slightly broken people finding solace in each other. That was all it was supposed to be at least.

(Y/N) feels the weight of the secret resting so heavy on her shoulders, she’s sure she’ll collapse underneath it any second now. 

“Jamie, hi. Uh — can we talk?” 

“Sure, ‘bout what? Are you pregnant or something?” 

He says it with a smile, not giving a single thought to the fact that his joke might be no joke at all but the honest to god truth.

(Y/N) on the other hand, feels like someone doused her in ice water, just poured it all over her. Her hands are clammy, breathing shallow, heart racing. Maybe she’ll get that heart attack after all.

When she doesn’t answer, doesn’t laugh, Jamie’s eyes grow wide in return. Though his reputation might make you believe otherwise, he’s quite quick in putting two and two together. At least in this situation. He doesn’t look happy, that much she expected, but he doesn’t look upset either. He just looks shocked. There is nothing but pure disbelief on his face. The cocky smirk has dropped, now his mouth is opening and closing trying to produce words as his head is trying to process the information he just figured out.

“Do you want to go discuss this somewhere more private?” 

Of all the places to tell someone they got you pregnant, the hallway at his workplace might not be the more desirable. 

A pale-faced Jamie nods his head, his eyes distant and glassy. She knows the feeling, has been there just a few days ago. That’s his whole life playing like a movie in his head right there, now with added scenes of a small child with his eyes. Oh god, she hopes the baby gets his eyes.

Jamie drags her into a small room off of the main hallway. Cubicle cupboards line the walls, filled with shoes and boxes. Orange and bright green and yellow. Every possible color of the rainbow, they have a pair of shoes to match in here. The smell though? The smell has her gagging. Sweat and cold cigarette smoke. It’s disgusting. 

“Oh god, Jamie. This is disgusting.” 

“It’s the boot room. ‘s where we keep the boots — and people come here to smoke.” 

“They come here to smoke? On purpose? Like they chose to spend time in here?” 

Jamie absentmindedly nods his head. He’s so pale-looking (Y/N) fears he might just pass out any minute now. 

“Jamie, are you okay? Do you want to sit down?” 

His eyes start to focus again, looking straight at her. He’s terrified and quite honestly, she can’t blame him. Confusion and fear are all she’s felt for the last few days. A bit of excitement too, sure. But mostly the first two.

“Yeah. No. I mean yes. I guess? No. I — fuck.” 

Nervously he combs his fingers through his damp hair as if to calm himself down. Is that something his parents did to him when he was a kid? A motion of comfort? There is so much she doesn’t know about this man. If he decides that he wants to stick around, can this ever work? Can you raise a child with someone you hardly know and not completely fuck them up? 

“Is it mine, then? Are you sure about that?”

“No, I just like going around scaring people into believing they got me pregnant. Yes, Jamie! I am 100% certain.” 

His hands fly up in defense “Jesus, sorry. I don’t know your sexual history. You had sex with me after a funeral, don’t know how much you get around, now do I?” 

She had expected him to ask if it’s his, hell anyone probably would, but there’s something about his tone that is just so off-putting. The accusation that swings along with his words. The judgment. As if he is in any place to talk.

“Oh get off your high horse, dickhead. We both made that decision after the funeral. Didn't hear you complain. And out of the two of us, It’s not me who fucked a girl in a hot tub on national television. Eurgh” 

“You alright?” 

“No, this room is making me gag. I assume this is bad under normal circumstances but this pregnancy situation has my sense of smell going through the roof. This is killing me.” 

“Well, why didn’t you say nothing?! We could’ve gone somewhere else.” 

“I just wanted to — eurgh— I just wanted to get this over with.” 

“Let me get you out of —” 

“No, let me just say this real quick and then I’m off.” 

She’s prepared this speech a million and one times in a million and one ways. It always worked out fine but then again, her audience was just her cat and the mirror. Having Jamie look at her, a mix of concern and shock still on his face, that’s a whole different story.

“I am having this baby and I would like for you to be a part of their life, but I accept if you say no. Just know that whatever you decide, that’s final. I can’t have you running off and then coming back in a few years regretting your decision and wanting to be a parent after all. And I most definitely will not allow you to say you’re in and then give up on the baby halfway through. I had a parent like that, I will not have my child go through the same thing. I don’t need your decision now just — make up your mind and make sure you’re 100% certain. Here uh— “

Trying to hold her breath so as to not breathe in any more of the foul smell, (Y/N) rummages through her purse before pulling out a small piece of paper.

“They don’t usually do ultrasounds that early but I made friends with the nurse as I was waiting and they allowed me to get one and see the baby. Don’t really see shit on here if I’m being honest but apparently that blob is our child.” 

Jamie takes the picture, his eyes moving between the image and back to her, down to her stomach then back to the picture. It’s like his head and his eyes are trying to cope with the fact that there is a real baby growing inside her. His baby.

“I just thought you might want to have this, if not just throw it away. I’m not trying to manipulate or guilt you into anything. Let me know when you’ve made a decision. You know where I live and Rebecca has my number just ask her for it — I gotta get out of here. Eurgh.” 

And while an overwhelmed Jamie sinks to the floor of the boot room, ultrasound picture clutched in one hand while the other nervously combs through his hair, (Y/N) throws up in the bin by the front door. 

There are 3 things (Y/N) knows for certain. One of them is that Michelle Pfeiffer as Stephanie Zinone in Grease 2 is the coolest person in the world. The second one is that decaf coffee kinda sucks. And 3 is that whoever is knocking on her door at 9:15 tonight, disrupting her rewatch of Grease 2 better has a good reason to do so if they want to keep their head attached to their body.

Slowly she’s dragging herself towards the door. Today was exhaustion enough both physically and mentally, she really doesn’t need the stress of an unannounced visitor. Not when she’s dressed in an old, oversized Hardrock Cafe shirt, bike shorts, and those ridiculous yellow slippers she got on her last trip to Disney that look like Minnie Mouse’s shoes.

“I’m coming, Jesus — “ 

“I don’t know shit about babies.” 

Jamie looks different as he stands before her on her front steps, hair messy and flat against his head, wearing a big grey sweater. Gone is all the charming confidence and the mischievous smirks. He’s all sad eyes and shy smiles. He reminds (Y/N) of a sad, beaten puppy. She almost feels bad for him. Almost. That’s until the words that just fell from his lips really register in her mind.

“You could’ve just texted me you’re not interested. Didn’t have to come here, really.” 

“What? No, I am! “

“You just said —” 

“I said I don’t know shit about babies. Cause I don’t. But I’m not gonna run off.”

“You won’t?”

Jamie has never looked so genuine, so serious as in that moment and it sends a weird feeling through (Y/N). She didn’t have any expectations in him. You can’t really have those if you don’t even know the person. Sure, she hoped he would take interest in her and the baby but things truly could’ve gone either way. To hear him say that he wants to step up and be there, that’s a feeling she can’t really put into words.

“Can we uh — can I come in? Your neighbor is staring at me.” 

(Y/N) opens the door to let Jamie pass before leaning outside and facing the house next door. Sure enough, old Mrs. Hartley is standing by her window, eyes trained on (Y/N)’s front door. Jesus fucking Christ, do these people not have their own lives? 

The small pink couch looks even smaller with Jamie’s broad frame perched in the corner. He’s holding onto the fluffy white pillow as if he needs some kind of buoy to keep him afloat.

“Do you want tea or something?” 

“Do you have beer?” 

She only raises an eyebrow in response and points to her stomach. 

“Right. Pregnant. Forgot about that for a second, sorry. “

Oh, the privilege of getting to forget about that. 

“I have water, ginger ale, and apple juice.” 

Jamie screws his face in repulsion. If there is one thing she’s learned about Jamie Tartt in the limited time they’ve spent together, it’s that his emotions are always so clearly reflected on his face. She’s not sure he knows exactly how expressive he really is.

“I’m good. Here, I actually brought you some stuff.” 

As she sits down on the couch next to him, Jamie holds out a Tesco bag to her filled to the brim with stuff. 

“What’s all this?” 

He looks bashful, almost shy as he shrugs his shoulders nonchalantly. 

“Just some stuff for your nausea. Google said anything ginger helps so I got these lollies. Also sour candy and crackers. Not sure if it works but I felt so bad seeing you earlier and knowing it's kinda my fault, innit?."

It's such a sweet sentiment that (Y/N) can feel the tears gathering on her waterline. Maybe Jamie is the kind of person she can call when in need. Maybe he can become that person.

"That's very sweet Jamie, oh there's more."

It's a small box with two even smaller socks, so tiny it almost seems impossible that a human being can have such small feet. 

"Saw them and couldn't stop thinking about how cute they were and then I couldn’t stop imagining our baby being so tiny and wearing them and, yeah.” 

“They’re adorable, Jamie. Thank you.” 

His words wrap around her heart like vines. Taking root. Blooming. 

“Our baby”. The thought of having a baby is still so foreign to her. Her own baby, her child. Hearing Jamie call it theirs sends a flutter of feelings through her. Their baby. Part her and part Jamie.

“So what I meant earlier is that I don’t know shit about babies. None of my friends have babies, I have no siblings and all my cousins are around my age so I never really had experience with babies. I know they’re cute and I know they poop a lot. “

“They are pretty cute.”

“Yeah, and our baby?” he says and motions between the two of them “‘s gonna be the cutest fucking baby of all time. It’s genetics.”

The matter-of-fact tone in which he says it pulls a laugh from (Y/N). He does have a point though.

“I am not going to lie, I'm extremely unprepared for this. For being a — a dad.” 

There’s a bitterness there, a heaviness. Maybe Dad is as sharp and as cutting a concept to Jamie as Mum is to (Y/N). 

“Don’t have a dad. Well, I do but he’s right asshole, isn’t he. So I got no idea how to be good at this, had no one to show me. I’ll try though. I want to be different. I need to be. Promised myself when I was a kid that I was not going to be like him, ever.”

“I understand that, trust me Jamie I really do. But I need you to be sure that you want that. I don’t want you to stay around because of some misplaced sense of duty. I want you to want this.” 

"Didn't think I did. When you told me and you gave me an out I wanted to take it. But then I kept looking at that picture, can’t make out anything on it by the way but that doesn’t matter, I kept looking at it and that part of me. That's my baby and I couldn't live with meself if I gave up on it. On you. A lot of people have given up on me in my life and I resent them for it. I can't be the one giving up now, can I? I'm better than that."

She doesn't even realize the tears have found their way out until Jamie's face fills with concern. "Oh no, I didn't mean to make you cry or nothing."

"They're happy tears, I think. I'm really scared, Jamie. Knowing that I don't have to do this all by myself, that helps a bit."

"I promise I'll try to be the best at this. I'll even rub your feet if they're hurting and I fucking hate feet."

Leave it to Jamie to put the humor back into even the most serious and tense of conversations.

"You don't have to rub my feet, that's okay. I do think we should get to know each other better though, now that we're gonna be raising a child together. I know hardly anything about you."

"Uh, you know plenty about me. You know I'm fit, obviously. You know I have great hair. I'm good at football, fucking ace actually. Also sexually."

That little shit has the audacity to wink. it should be annoying. It's weirdly charming though.

"And now you also know that I'm gonna try my best to be good at this. Hey, when the baby is here can I get one of them kangaroo pouch thingies and take them to training with me?"

"Kangaroo pouch? You mean a baby carrier?"

"Yes, that! Strap it to my chest while I do my warm-up."

"You are not taking our baby to training with you, are you insane?"

"I'm joking, Jesus. Would look fucking cool though, maybe get us matching sunglasses. Hats too. Baby icon."

"Oh my god, you know what, maybe this is a bad idea after all."

But it's not, she doesn't mean that. Jamie knows it and (Y/N) knows that he knows. For the first time since those two lines appeared, it feels like she can breathe easy again if even just for a moment. Things will be hard, no doubt but at least she can share it with someone. And it's just an added bonus that someone never fails to put a smile on her face.

"What are you watching there anyway?" Jamie asks, nodding his head towards the tv.

"Grease 2."

"They made a second one? Is it good?"

"No, it's terrible. I love it."

"See," Jamie chimes up, a small genuine smile.on his lips "learned something new about you. The mother of my child loves bad movies. This getting to know each other plan is going so well already."

And while it is a joke, there's also a flicker of truth to it. It's the little things that make us who we are. Like our love for bad movies or our desire to be better than our parents before us.

"Do you wanna stay and watch it with me?"

"Can we start from the beginning?"

"Obviously"

"Then yes! Give me one of them ginger lollies please."

They spent the next few hours watching Grease 2 followed by the first because - well it's just right to watch them both, really. It doesn't feel forced or awkward. This is not two strangers trying to bond for the sake of their child. This is a genuine friendship in the making. It feels wonderful. They exchange numbers, birthdays, favorite colors. It’s all very superficial information but it’s a start and it’s easy. This whole situation is hard enough, sometimes easy is just what you need.

The clock says 12:03 when Jamie decides it's time to go home. 

Just as he is about to leave, one foot already out the door, he turns back with curious eyes.

"Do you know how big the baby is?"

"Uh, no. Pretty tiny I think."

"They didn't tell you what fruit size?"

"Fruit size?"

"Yeah like, it's as big as a strawberry now or something."

(Y/N) shakes her head in response "I think they mostly do that in American movies."

Jamie looks deflated for a fracture of a second before he lightens up again and one of those rare smiles takes over his face. The one that makes him look so boyish and excitable. Like a fucking golden retriever.

"That's okay. I'll find out."

"You do that. Let me know what you find. Have a good night Jamie."

"You too!" Then his eyes move to her stomach "And you too baby."

God, he can be so adorable it's absolutely sickening.

As she lays in bed, (Y/N) thinks back to just the night before. To the anxiety and the fear. To all the what-ifs that ghosted through her head. That seems like a whole lifetime ago and even though a lot of those fears are still present, they get overshadowed tonight. By the knowledge that she's not alone. And by the absolute sunshine that is Jamie Tartt. 

Just before she closes her eyes, her phone dings with a notification. 

Her hand comes to rest gently on her stomach. There’s no change there yet, absolutely no sign of a baby growing in there at this very moment. And yet she knows and that makes all the difference. 

In a voice, soft like silk, she whispers “Daddy says goodnight”. It’s cheesy, outright sickening but in the dark of the night, who is there to judge her for it? Sometimes you have to let yourself be ridiculous and cringy if your heart demands it.

That night she doesn't fall asleep to fear and anxiety. That night she falls asleep with a smile on her face. 

[onceuponaoneshotfanfic]

Playing Pretend (Part 4)

A afternoon of polo brings out some people's competitive side.

Roy Kent x Reader

2.9k words

Warnings: Language, mentions of champagne, me not knowing a damn thing about polo, tension & pining & being oblivious

A/N: Oops, finished this faster than I expected, hope no one minds too much! 😘

Series Masterlist

The disgust on Roy’s face was nothing short of comical.

“Polo? They’re playing fucking polo? Fucking rich people.”

You smiled and shook your head at him. “You don’t have to play, Roy. It’s usually just Jim’s cousins and some uncles. The rest of us just sit around and drink champagne and eat sandwiches and cookies. Absolute Downton Abbey shit. Jim’s family always play at big events. It’s actually kind of fun.” You poked Roy in the stomach playfully. “Especially because Jim sucks at riding. There’s a good chance we see him fall of his horse.”

“Fuck it. I’m in.”

The two of you were sitting on the bed in your room, still clad in pyjamas, chatting about what the day would involve as early morning sunshine streamed in through the window. People would be arriving for the rehearsal dinner throughout the day, but most of Jim’s family would arrive in the morning for their polo game. Then would be the rehearsal, out in the garden where the ceremony would be held, followed by dinner in what Jim’s mum called “the big dining room”- actually a small ballroom.

As you talked, sharing a bit about Jim’s family that he’d be seeing that day, Roy felt his body relax more than he’d felt in a long time. Lounging in bed together in pyjamas, whispering in tired voices, exchanging soft laughter. It was the kind of domestic scene he found himself craving every time he saw you. He could almost picture the two of you in his own room, you wearing his old Sunderland hoodie, wrapped up in each other and sharing sleepy kisses before heading downstairs so he could make breakfast.

Instead, you rolled your eyes as you told him about a couple of Jim’s girl cousins. “Just be aware, they’ll be all over you,” you warned. “When I was dating Jim and they found out I was friends with Roy Kent, they begged me to introduce them to you because you’re sooo fit.” Your voice went mocking and high-pitched on those last two words. “I don’t think you being my fake boyfriend will change anything.” You gave him a playful shove. “Sorry, mate. You’ll have to wait until after our fake break-up to hook up with any of them.”

Roy scoffed and shook his head. “Fuck that. I’d never want to hang around anyone who shares fucking Jim’s DNA.” Resisting the urge to lean forward and kiss you, he instead poked you affectionately on the nose. “Besides, I’m not focused on anyone but you this weekend, got that?”

You smiled at Roy, again feeling safe and protected in his presence. “Roy Kent, you are my favorite person in the fucking world, you know that?”

“Yeah, yeah.” Roy smiled, ignoring the warmth in his chest as he dared to push some hair out of your face. “D’you want to shower first, or should I?”

~

Roy’s hand rested on your bare knee as the two of you sat outside with Jen and her husband. People were slowly making their way to where tables and umbrellas had been set up for people to hang out while some of the cousins and uncles played polo.

You turned your head and caught Roy staring at you. “What?” you whispered, wondering if you’d spilled something on the sundress you wore.

He shook his head. “Nothin’.” After a moment, he said, “Did I tell you that you look really fucking pretty today?”

Oh. He was being “boyfriend Roy”. “Roy-friend”, you thought with an internal chuckle. He was probably getting into character because Jim was approaching your table, already red in the face before the match even started.

He raised his eyebrows at Roy. “Not playing, Kent?”

Roy wrinkled his nose. “Why the fuck would I?”

“Just figured the big football star might be up for a challenge,” Jim answered, looking quite pleased with the idea that he would be out there playing, and Roy Kent would be sitting on the sidelines. “But hey, if you don’t think you could handle it…” He trailed off with a haughty shrug.

With a deep sigh, Roy sat up straight. “I don’t feel like violating my fucking contract, Jim. Not supposed to engage in anything that might get me hurt, like riding a fucking horse that doesn’t know me with a bunch of rich pricks. ’m kind of fucking valuable to my team.” His grip on your knee tightened. “So poor old Roy has to sit here with a gorgeous woman all afternoon drinking champagne and letting her feed me little fucking cookies while you’ve got your legs wrapped around a horse, which’ll be the only riding you’ll do all day.” His giant fake smile made you want to laugh. “But please, tell me more about what a wanker I am for not playing your little fucking game.”

Jim mumbled something about needing to go check on his horse before stomping off, leaving your sister and brother-in-law watching Roy with raised eyebrows.

“Seriously,” Paul commented, raising his glass in jest, “one of you is going to throw a punch before the end of this weekend, and I almost feel bad for Jim if it’s you.” Paul had made no secret of his own disdain for Jim, something Roy greatly appreciated.

Jen chimed in, “Maybe just make sure it’s after the actual ceremony. Lauren’ll have a fit if Jim’s got a black eye in the wedding pictures.” She raised her eyebrows at you sympathetically. “Especially if it’s because of you.”

“Maybe she shouldn’t be marrying her sister’s ex-boyfriend then,” you grumbled, low enough that only Roy could hear.

He pressed a kiss to your forehead. “Will it make you feel better to feed me cookies like I said?” he asked, his low voice full of teasing. “It’ll look fucking adorable. Everyone’ll think we’re absolutely insufferable.”

You cracked a smile. “Insufferable sounds fun.” You picked a biscuit off the plate Roy had loaded with sweets before sitting down. “Open up, Kent.”

Roy did as he was told, holding your gaze as he opened his mouth. Your fingers lightly brushed against his lips as he took a bite, sending a jolt of electricity to your heart. Even with all the fake kisses you’d been exchanging, you were still surprised to feel how fucking soft Roy’s lips were. He laughed softly as he finished chomping on the biscuit, leaving a couple little crumbs on his beard that you couldn’t resist wiping away with your thumb. As you pulled back, his hand caught your wrist. Still watching you with an intensity that made your jaw slack ever-so-slightly, he turned his head and pressed a slow, gentle kiss to the palm of your hand.

You were right, Roy thought. Insufferable was fun.

He loved the way you giggled when he kissed your hand. It lit up your entire face, especially your eyes. That was probably his favorite thing about this whole fucking weekend: seeing the joy on your face when he made you laugh, giving you a small distraction from whatever other feelings you were having.

“Hey,” he murmured as the polo players got ready to start. “I know this isn’t the most ideal of circumstances but…” He shrugged. “I’m having a fucking good time with you. Some of the most fun I’ve had in a while.”

“Me, too,” you admitted, noticing the way he still held your hand by his face. “I always have a good time with you, Roy.”

He opened his mouth to tell you that he always had a good time with you too, that maybe the two of you could have a good time together when you got home, maybe at a restaurant, and he could wear a tie and you could wear this dress because it was driving him fucking mad, and he could pay for dinner and maybe give you a real kiss when he walked you home after, when the sound of cheering interrupted the two of you; the game was starting. You could see Roy’s jaw clench and his eyes narrow at Jim.

Huh. You never did find out why Roy hated him so much. You just knew that when you’d started bringing Jim around, Roy got even moodier than usual. You’d asked his sister several times about it, figuring he’d had to have said something to her, but she never quite gave a straight answer: Jim’s too posh for his taste, he looked at Roy funny one time, he mentioned being a casual Arsenal supporter, he ate the last kebab at a party. But none of it made sense; he’d rolled his eyes the very moment you walked into that pub holding Jim’s hand, ready to introduce your new boyfriend to your best friends.

“Roy?”

His mouth curved into a smile at the sound of his name. “Hmm?”

You tilted your head, wondering how to ask. Better just say it. No use being timid with someone as blunt as Roy. “Why did you hate Jim so much? When we were dating, I mean?”

Roy’s eyes flickered to Jen and Paul, who were watching the match and chatting. “Obviously it’s because I was in love with you,” he blurted awkwardly, clearing his throat. “Right?”

You leaned closer, whispering in his ear. “No, I mean, like really. As my friend, not my ‘boyfriend’.” You raised your eyebrows expectantly.

In all the years you’d known Roy Kent, you weren’t sure you’d ever seen him squirm until now. “Dunno,” he murmured, absently stroking your hand with his thumb. “Guess I just… didn’t think he fucking deserved you.” He finally looked you in the eye. “Honestly, no one deserves you. You’re the fucking best.”

Fucking Roy. Every now and then he’d say something like that- very sweet, almost loving things. Things that gave you a glimmer of hope that maybe he might see you as something other than just his sister’s best friend or the little girl he used to play with in the garden when he was a boy. But then you’d remember that that little boy grew up to be Roy Kent. And you’d feel lucky to just be friends with him- even though it sometimes made your heart ache.

“You’re sweet,” you managed, turning your attention to the polo game, pretending like watching your almost-in-laws ride their horses was suddenly interesting. “You’ve always been sweet to me.”

He gave your hand a squeeze and followed your gaze. “You’ve always been easy to be sweet to,” he said simply. After a long pause, he spoke again. “Feed me another cookie?”

You choked back a laugh and held up the plate to him. “Feed me one at the same time. It’ll be the most obnoxious thing in the world.”

A grin spread across his face as he grabbed a sweet, one he knew you liked. “You’re fucking brilliant.”

~

After the polo game (during which Jim fell twice, much to Roy’s delight), most people lingered on the lawn while the players disappeared into the house to shower. Jen and Paul excused themselves to go inside so they could FaceTime your nephew, who was with Paul’s mum.

You and Roy exchanged eyerolls when Lauren jumped into Jim’s arms in a particularly show-offish manner, squealing loud enough to get everyone’s attention, as if he’d won the world championship or something, rather than lost a game against his aging uncles.

“Should have you run out onto the pitch like that after a match sometime and snog me in front of everyone,” Roy mumbled without thinking. He froze and looked at you, his thick eyebrows arched. “If you wanted to, I mean.”

“That actually sounds fun,” you laughed, hoping you sounded casual. “Yeah, if you ever get sick of having gorgeous models run into your arms, I’d be happy to fill in. Getting plenty of practice this weekend.” Trying to prove that kissing Roy Kent was not a big deal, you leaned forward and touched your lips to his quickly.

He knew his face was tinted pink. “I actually think I am sick of the whole model thing,” he admitted. “So maybe I will have to ask you to sub in sometime.” His voice was light, a sharp contrast to the heavy pressure he suddenly felt in his chest.

“Oh.” That was all you could say. Roy was tired of models and actresses and the gorgeous women who hung around him? What the fuck did that mean? Before you could ask Roy more about it, one of your uncles came up to say hello, shaking Roy’s hand with enthusiasm and asking him about the upcoming season. Taking advantage of the opportunity to escape those brown eyes you kept reminding yourself not to get too lost in, you excused yourself to find a free restroom.

While rounding the corner into an empty hall, you found yourself alone, for the first time all weekend, with Jim, still in his polo clothes.

“Hey,” you greeted, offering an awkward wave. “Good job, uh, polo-ing out there. Hope your arse is okay from those falls you took.”

To your surprise, Jim snorted. “Bit surprised you saw anything with your face attached to Roy Kent’s,” he replied sharply.

You shrugged with a shy chuckle. “Hey, like Roy said last night, we’re in that dreadful all-over-each-other phase. Not nearly as much fun to watch as it is to participate, unfortunately for all of you.”

“I’m sure.” He folded his arms, giving you a hard stare. “So, you and Roy.”

“Me and Roy,” you repeated with a firm nod.

Jim sighed, shaking his head. “You know, I always thought the two of you-”

You sneered, knowing exactly what he was about to say. “Oh, save it. Nothing ever happened between us when you and I were together. He was just a friend. I always told you that.”

“Yeah, but all those times you hung out-”

“Sorry, where’d you meet your bride-to-be?” you snapped, eyebrows raised. “Oh, right, the first Christmas I brought you home to meet my family.” You shook your head. “If anyone should be asking that question, it’s me.”

Jim scoffed. “Hey, don’t you dare-”

“Oi.” You whipped around. Roy stood at the end of the hallway, eyebrows furrowed as he observed you carefully. “There a fucking problem here?”

You quickly shook your head, making your way over to him. “Nope. Just telling Jim that we enjoyed the polo match.”

Roy’s arm wrapped around your waist tightly, protectively. “Oh, yeah. Fucking loved it. Do people usually fall off their horse twice? Or does that take special skill that only a seasoned player like yourself can achieve?”

“Oh, fuck off, Kent. Go kick around a football or something,” Jim mumbled as he yanked open one of the doors, slamming it behind him.

Once the hall quieted, Roy pulled you into a proper hold, one hand on each of your hips. “You alright? Fuck was that about?”

You shrugged, letting your body melt into his as your hands rested on his arms- arms you always spent far too much time thinking about. “Just Jim being Jim.”

“And what does that entail?” He smirked. “Besides being a massive twat, of course.”

A snort flew out of your nose. Roy thought it was adorable. “Oh, just once again accusing me and you of fooling around behind his back because he saw us kissing during the polo match.”

Roy rolled his eyes. “He knows you’re not the sister he’s marrying tomorrow, right? I mean, I know the man was a fucking idiot-”

You shook your head, now completely holding back laughter. “When he and I dated, I mean,” you clarified, trying to ignore the fact that Roy Kent was holding you and making you laugh like it was the most natural thing in the world. “He was always accusing you of being interested in me.” You gazed up at Roy through your lashes, unaware of the way it made his heart skip a beat, although he swore you had to feel it with the way your bodies were pressed together. “Silly, innit?”

The words caught in Roy’s throat. No, not silly at all. He was completely right, the fucking wanker. I was in love with you. Still fucking am. Probably always will be. That’s why I hate him- because he had you. Because he knows what it’s like to have you love him back. And that’s the only thing I’ve ever really wanted.

Instead, he gave an awkward little laugh. “Oh. Ha. Fucking idiot.” He swore he saw your face fall for a fraction of a second. “Jim, of course. Not you.” Roy lifted a hand to cradle your face. “Never you,” he promised in that reassuring voice you always believed.

The two of you stood there for a long moment, holding each other, neither quite sure what to say. There was an electricity in the air that you were both too scared to bring attention to, although you could both feel each other’s heart beat just a bit faster. You were both thinking the same thing: What if I’m wrong? What if I’m imagining it? What if I’m the biggest idiot in the world?

But fuck, what if I’m right?

Before either of you could decide what to do, the chiming of a nearby grandfather clock brought you both back to reality.

“We should go change for the rehearsal dinner,” you whispered, realizing you’d been holding your breath.

Roy nodded. “Yeah. We should.” Reluctantly, he let go of you, ready to head back to your room, suddenly too shy to grab your hand.

To his surprise and absolute delight, you reached out and grabbed it yourself.

[haechanhues]

last minute of golden hour; yours | chapter three

pairing : first love! haechan x fem!reader

genre : small coastal town romance. first love. fluff. pining. suggestive. angst.

warnings : short and more of a filler chapter. haechan does make a little appearance but this chapter is more of an insight in their family dynamic.

summary : is first love meant to be the way it is for the town's golden boy and everybody's baby angel?

word count : 1.3k

taglist : @nshitae

main masterlist

previous chapter : chapter two

It was a brand new day, and it had already started with sunrise. Your Mum, specifically. It was her annual, once in a full moon day off and she was celebrating it the way she always did. Initially, undoubtedly with a good mood. 

This good mood however was mostly at your own expense…

“Mum, stop already!” You plead, trying to squeeze in between her too excited demeanour and hard kitchen bench. 

“Oh c’mon, give me the goss. I've been waiting for a free day for weeks,” She pleads back, twirling in her dressing gown and pyjamas. Granted, she is the happiest she’s been in a few months, sleeping in an extra two hours and making herself breakfast, “I feel like I need gossip to function right now. So make it good.”

“I told you already,” You rolled your eyes, as your Mum bends to fill the dishwasher up with your Dad’s dirty dishes, “He told me to meet up with him, I did and it went alright. A bit awkward and I was nervous but…yeah” 

Your Mum looks from her chore to see you duck your head with a lovestruck little smile that completely overtakes your whole face. 

“More than alright it seems, he has you in googles and googly-ga-gaa over him,” She snorts, “Wanna watch a movie with me? I’m going to be all alone and I want to spend it with my daughter.” 

A part of you wants to groan, because this is when your mother wants to steal all the details over your failed little flirtation with Haechan and the other half realises she’s just offered you a way out of a mock exam….

The same part knows your mother has moments like this where she forgets you’re a school student and if you cared more about attendance like Yunjin you wouldn’t accept any offer she makes. Wouldn’t even consider it. But you’re not Yunjin, because you slid right next to your mother to see what movie she chose with your school uniform still on. 

You figure it’s everything to do with the fact you don’t get to see your parents much. Your mother usually works late nights with her rest to work ratio being completely imbalanced. Coming home with a stiff neck and low tolerance for children and the like. Your father, similarly, is working hard towards a promotion at work that will end in his salary potentially being tripled. You worry that the wind will change and he’ll be stuck with a hunched neck from working business. 

Despite this, they maintain their duties to being your parent. Your Dad often taking you out on weekends or roping you into an evening trip to a takeaway shop more than an hour away to sneak in bonding time. Mum in comparison using her sick days or break opportunities to relax and unwind, you more often than not, by her side.

By the time the sequel to ‘Bridget Jones’ Diary’ begins, you leave to change out of your school uniform, opting for a more comfortable fit and sending a quick text to the group chat explaining your absence. 

“Shall I make pancakes?” Your Mum wonders, feeling peckish and with sugar cravings that could make a diabetic faint. You nod, incredibly entranced, “Can I get a thank you?” 

You lock eyes with your mother, smiling with teeth before refocusing on the movie and the awkward yet lovable main character, “Thanks. Love you.” 

Your Mum sighs, whipping the mixture half asleep and buttering the pan. She pulls out her phone to send your Dad evidence of the simplistic yet precious lunch she plates, her creative juices sparking when she brings out all sorts of toppings. She cuts the bananas, fills the little teapot with maple syrup and then halves a lemon. She does it all. 

Feeling less entertained by the movie currently, you watch as your Mum plates up the pancakes, smirking at the way your Mum presents it all on a little lazy susan. Feeling a little mischievous you send your Dad a text with a photo of the two of you and the small picnic in between. 

Your Dad texts almost immediately. 

Betrayal! My lawyers will be hearing about this-

You can hear your Dad’s voice just from reading the text and it makes you snort so loudly your mother almost has a heart attack. 

Just kidding. Really am jealous though. Will be home late today x hope SOMEONE enjoys their day off. 

Hang on

Aren’t you supposed to be at school today? 

Your mouth fills with air as your lips clamp shut at the incriminating question before turning your phone facedown on the bench immediately. 

“Dad says he’s jealous,” You comment, cutting through your first pancake greedily. 

“He should be, I did good,” Your Mum compliments herself, and then she giggles at the way you send her a lowkey judgemental look, “Say if you had to choose between Donghyuck or pancakes what would you pick?” 

You roll your eyes, collecting your plate off the bench before moving towards the paused TV to continue watching the movie. Your mother’s spurts of laughter follow after you. 

“Ha ha,” You deadpan, which sends her into another fit of laughter, a kind she tries to bury only for her cheeks to swell like a balloon as she fails to contain her giggles. 

The whole day is spent like that. With food to share between the two of you. Your bodies flying like feathers as past days evaporate into the sky. Laughter and teasing. More teasing. Teasing about your crush on the golden boy, Lee Donghyuck. Sporting hero. Your town’s pride. The one going places. 

You almost combust when the aforementioned boy appears on your doorstep with a small care package that took him a good hour to orchestrate together, along with your two friends who already suspect that you ditched school for a reason that’s not illness but rather because your Mum was home. 

They don’t have the heart to say anything to him though. Ultimately deciding to encourage him instead. If he has already gone to such lengths, he wouldn’t mind the effort? So they exaggerate. Jeno is sure that they described the symptoms of bubonic plague, but he decides to keep that tidbit of information a secret. 

It’s when you open the door, with a healthy glow and no hives in sight, does he start to feel like an idiot. A godforsaken big idiot. 

“Oh,” He mutters, holding out the bag awkwardly, “I got you a care package… I thought you were sick?” 

Your nose scrunches, and if you weren’t so embarrassed yourself, you wouldn’t have let how cute he is go. 

“I’m not sick,” You deny, tucking your hair behind your ear, “My Mum’s home from work so I’m spending the day with her.” 

“Lucky,” He mutters, “We had a test today.” 

“I know,” You whisper conspiratorially back. Your smile grows as he looks at you with a dumbfounded look. 

“And you didn’t think to invite me? Huh?” He’s joking with you, expression bright and soft. 

“Next time, I promise, I will,” You pout, holding out your hand. He holds out his own hand to loop your pinky finger with his, and from his touch alone your whole body is warm. Be it your own opinion, but you can attest that Haechan is blessed with the sun’s kiss so much that he has never been cold a day in his life. He’s like a furnace. 

He peers down at his phone, reading the time before locking eyes with you again, “I’ve got to go to training now.” 

You don’t want him to go, and by his expression it doesn’t look like he wants to leave either. 

“Hope you’re ‘feeling better’ tomorrow,” He sends his regards with his hands shaped like bunny ears and he smiles when you reward him with your own. 

“Should be.” 

“Cool.” 

Then he’s off and again, you’re completely blown away with him. His smile. His laugh. His warmth. His fucking face. 

“What’s this I hear about test day?” 

Shit. 

next chapter : chapter four

[my-rose-tinted-glasses]

Rose Reads Love In The Big City

Part II

For now I'm only focusing of question 3.

The narrator has an emotionally difficult relationship with his mother. Why do you think the narrator intercut the relationship with his mother with the relationship with this boyfriend?

My brain is all over the place so I apologize if this doesn't make as much sense as it should.

I think there are a lot of parallels between these 2 relationships in the mind of the narrator. The biggest thing I found in common in these two relationships are the conflicting feelings the narrator seems to have.

I think the passage “was old enough to know that my mother did not exist solely to hinder my existence, but was a person in her own right who had fought hard making her way through life” is a good representation of this dichotomy. He resents her in many ways and yet he chooses to also represent both sides of her. This is his story, and so many times I wonder if I, as a reader, am getting an accurate representation of events. And yet, with his Umma and also his boyfriend he feels the need to at times, defend them right after he attacks them with his words.

With Hyung this internal conflict seems even less nuanced, as he insults him in the middle of grandiose love declarations. The way he immediately put Hyung on a pedestal and himself several steps below ground, was a big neon sign for me. And as the love obsession grew, so did the internal conflict. Because after the physical attraction, the more he knew about Hyung the harsher his words to describe him became. My own thoughts about Hyung were definitely put into a different perspective when I read @doyou000me post giving me the historical context that he talked about. But honestly I could relate to the author whenever Hyung said something really “deep” about the universe or, you know, fish, because I found myself rolling my eyes. And yet, as much as the author seems to detest him at times, calling him a bastard he was also, in his own words “ready to change my entire belief system for him”.

I kept thinking, why are you so obsessed with this guy? He seems like a dick honestly and granted I can’t see him, but is he really that pretty? That it’s worth all this? But given how this relationship started, I don’t think it was so much about Hyung’s looks, as it was about the narrator’s lack of self esteem and his loneliness. Like the cliché, he’s not in love with him, he’s in love with love. He’s in love with the idea of belonging to someone else. Of being in a relationship. This becomes even more obvious just before the break up when he writes “I was enamored by this image of myself cooking for him”.

I could argue that both the relationships are about being wanted/needed, more than about his feelings towards either person.

There’s another parallel that I found that’s been rattling in my brain but I still can’t articulate well enough to write about it. Maybe someone else can give it a go. Or maybe I'll came back to it later.

Something something about Hyungs obssession with American Imperialism and being watched, and something about his mother’s religious beliefs. The contempt he feels about both of these things is similar.

I mean, he calls her church “ the source of all evil rumour in this world” and mocks Hyung’s fear of being monitored. Even before all this talk about his past, just the way Hyung speaks makes the narrator think cult at one point. And then with the discovery of his browser history relating homosexuality with disease, there’s a parallel to the Leviticus passage that his mum passes to him in a note.

Anyway these are my first thoughts about this chapter.

[faerunsbest]

but more dramatic

a secondary version of this post

i thought about what if Rolan has different clothes and such for when hes out in the field versus at home in the tower or working. So maybe while in his rather grubby field clothes he runs into his lost love and shes overjoyed to see him. Hes over the moon cause he thought he would never see her again.

they get to talking and she says shes passing through town for work and shes gotta hurry back home...to their son. at first rolan laughs and says his son is at home studying so he just stares at her before it dawns on him what shes saying. he knows she had no way to find him to tell he had a son he isn't mad at all, hes stunned and since he said he would be in her town for some wizards event where he has to take all his apprentices she offers for him to come and meet their son.

he of course does.

from the sons point of view his mum is a spectacular woman who never let anyone bring her down or make her feel like she wasn't enough. she always fought to provide for him, shes always taken care of him. He still wonders and when he asked, she spoke so kindly of him that he didn't believe her.

he still gets mocked and bullied for not having a father to teach him how to be a man. and that is just what was happening to him right then, his mother had raved to him that he would get to meet his father FINALLY!

now everyone knew, he was looking for his father in this big rowdy crowd many of which were people he knew, and didn't like. They mocked him laughing that his father probably still the poor farmer that was left in Elturel and now he didn't even have any land. The boy grunted as he was shoved about while they mocked him, until his mother showed up,bright warm and strong she stepped in to his defense.

"I do not understand how you lot have it in you to mock someone you've never met. He's a good man and that is what is MOST IMPORTANT!"

her son rolled his eyes, for a moment he looked out to the arena. patting his mums arm.

"What did you say his name was?"

"It's rolan, and hes not farmer anymore. Hes a wizard, I'm sure hes very good- he's a very smart man you..."

the crowd of bullies as well as the mother and stared out as various wizards were introduced , with all their titles and trailed by their apprentices. most with one or two and few with five apprentices on their heels. both her and hers sons jaw dropped when they heard his name AS BELLOWED BY THE ANNOUNCER.

"ARCHWIZARD ROLAN, MASTER OF RAMAZITH TOWER, HERO OF THE GATE"

More astounding than the list of titles was the full class of 23 apprentices that walked in perfect sync behind him. They fanned out on either side of him, looking like pride itself, though directly beside him was one who looked exactly like him, much smaller though with the same fierce eyes. The mother and son stared at the boy then back to each other, that must be his son as well.

Right then the boy looked across the arena to an aged reflection of himself and was astonished. when the event went on a strange way for most wizards to show off their skill and talents, to show what they offer to the realm. To prove their place in all of Faerun, it was here on these bizarre grounds that apprentices faced off in a contorted version of the events original purpose.

The boy watched as every bit of the ranking board was overtaken by Rolan's apprentices except one. The one directly beside him did not step in... but why?

The boy and his mother would have to find out another day and today's events were complete. Now, now the boy gets to meet the man with so many titles... to meet his father.

The pair fought their way across the crowd to locked doors where security refused them entry until his mother raised her voice. The door opened outward and the last apprentice leered at the guard.

"They are to enter-"

"I'm sorry but-"

"My brother and his mother will enter and you will move or I will move you."

The boy and his mother looked at the young apprentice surprised by the way the guard flinched and moved to let them pass. the unknown son looked at the apprentice as he walked in.

"So he told you...about me?"

the apprentice blinked at him seemingly with little interest as he shut the door behind them.

"naturally"

"So... whats your name?"

"I am Rolan the second."

The went down a hall and the boy with his mother found themself looking into a wide lounge where many of the apprentices stood as Rolan checked them over for injury before being allowed to leave. Soon is was just them, just the four of them. Rolan stood before a massive arched window, looking imposing as backlight threw his shadow forward across the room.

"So, you are my son. What shall I call you?"

The boy stared in shock taking in the image of the man there, tall with a sharp face and broad shoulders all draped in gold and silk. His mother put her hands on his shoulders.

"His name is Roam, he's not usually so shy-"

"FARMER MY ASS WHAT THE FUCK!?"

Roam immediately clapped his hands over his mouth, surprised when the room was suddenly filled with a deep warm laugh. even off to the side, a small muffled chuckle could be heard while Roly curled a knuckle over a hidden smile.

[puppypeter]

RAAAHHHHHH your most recent bottom!Roy post is just *chefs kiss* PERFECTION!!!

I am endlessly fascinated by super masculine Alpha male type characters getting to bottom, and while slutty!Roy is a stroke of genius, I also LOVVVVEEE first time bottoming!Roy, because maybe its something hes always been peripherally interested in but because of his public persona/sports politics/internalised homophobia/internalised sexism, no one ever really ASKED, and he probably wouldnt have felt safe enough to try with a casual hookup even if they had.

ENTER JAMIE TARTT, PEOPLE PLEASER AND PRAISE SEEKER!

I do believe in my soul that Roy is a Dom, but I do think the intimacy and vulnerability of bottoming with Jamie would be something Roy would definitely be willing to explore. I think it would probably be super emotional and cathartic for Roy (and probably Jamie too, because could you imagine how overwhelming that kind of trust would be?), but both Roy and Jamie would really have to work up to it, because internalised homophobia is a complicated beast, and you can think you're not super effected by any ingrained ideologies until all of a sudden you're having a panic attack mid-Coitus.

There WILL be crying for both of them when they do finally work up to it though, that I know for absolute certain.

I still think Roy bottoming would probably be very rare though, even just purely because of how emotionally fraught the whole ordeal is, but I do think it would really be the kind of thing that just reaffirms how serious RoyJamie are about each other. Romantic sex that simultaneously unpacks our individual internalised issues, my absolute beloved ❤️

yay someone in my inbox screaming about bottom roy kent is what dreams are made of! 🥰🥰🥰

I agree with everything, there's many different ways it could be explored. Either as him becoming more and more stuck in his ways about sex too, like no I can't go back to that or even sadder, having a bad experience with someone, maybe a casual or not so casual partner making some comments that hurt deeper than they think and which make him swear to never trust someone that much again.

I also do love them being together, snuggling all warm and flushed and talking about the more vulnerable stuff and he (a little pouty and playing with his hands in a nervous manner in a similar fashion to jam tartt) wonders why would jamie assume he'd top though :( and he expect maybe jamie to laugh in a mocking way (like cmon have you seen yourself) but jamie just giggles and admits that he was just eager to selfishly have roy in him but he'd of course love to die a different death too

Also, while technically nobody's business, I can see the locker room talk around the topic and everyone straight up assuming Jamie bottoms cause I mean have you seen him (and the cake on him lol) so they're all a bit surprised when they somehow find out otherwise

I think my obsession comes with mostly Roy looking absolutely delicious when he's all flushed and he gets those rosy cheeks (Jamie 100% jokingly lovingly calls him doll), the thought of beefy baby Jamie looking after him in s.3 like he's so eager to court him and make sure he's got what he needs (sticks his hoodie on him, brings him tea, ice pack, hugs him from behind and kisses his shoulder like he did at the gala with keeley 😭). Ok this is not a post about roy kent bottoming anymore, it's about roy kent having equal rights to be looked after and treated like a prince by his boyfriend (whose mum and stepdad have made sure knows how to) and Roy being absolutely gobsmacked at the treatment because what the fuck is going on this is so nice I'm not used to this oh flowers? for me? but I am cooking you dinner Jamie shut up, you remembered the washing powder that doesn't irritate my skin? you bought me something because it reminded you of me?

(ok I'm self projecting on roy again and healing my inner child via him but as someone that also sees roy as a the post child for childhood emotional neglect i can see him being both overly touched but also thrown off by someone taking care of him and puttint his needs first, there's so much i want to say about that it would take a million words)

[shoreasday]

My dad made a speech at my 18th.

It carried a lot of shame for me.

It wasn’t one of those stock standard father daughter speeches, “ I’m so proud of her, let me tell you the ways…..

It was a mockery of everything about me he hated.

He implied that I was a slut, I brought home a different boy every weekend. They wouldn’t know which boy they would wake up to in the morning. I was a virgin.

Who had male best friends, who had boys stay over that didn’t get what they wanted but stayed anyway.

He referenced my failings, I was a bit of a lost cause. A bit of a useless waste of space. Everyone laughed. I wanted to die.

He talked about my temper, my violent behaviour towards my siblings. How I used anger and violence to resolve issues. Gee I wonder who taught me that?

He then tried some sort of “you know but we love her anyway” blah blah crap.

But I’m 41 now and I’ve never forgotten that speech. The moment my dad had a chance to make me feel seen and what he did was make me feel shame. In front of the people who mattered to me the most.

He had another crack at my 21st. I had a baby 6 weeks prior. My Emotional state of mind was elevated. I didn’t want a party. I was going through the biggest change in my life with this brand new little human, I wanted to protect her and me from the world. But my parents and partner wanted a party. So I did. Because behaviour was key. And i was still groomed.

Dad got up again and made a fool out of me.

Everyone laughed and had a jolly time. I went to bed, filled with shame.

Whilst they all partied and celebrated me turning 21.

Fast forward many years and my sister stood up at her wedding and made a speech that was as honest about our up breaking. She thanked our parents for the things they actually did and didn’t mention the things they did not.

And certain family members were mad at her for hurting mum and dad in that way. How dare she stand there and tell the truth like that. How dare she expose them.

And I sat back and breathed. With peace. And admiration for something I wish I did.

Because unlike dad. My sister told the truth. And instead of reflecting on that, my parents made themselves victims of the truth.

And I still live with shame. From so many years ago when my dad didn’t even know me but stood up anyway and mocked me for shits and giggles.

[pokemontrainerolivia]

Meet the trainer

Hi rotomblr I’m a Pokémon trainer born and still living in sinnoh where I mainly hang out with my lovely Michelle. I set out for my adventure about 2 years ago (barely seen my parents since but I’ve heard that’s quite common)

I spend my time going on little adventures around sinnoh. (at the time of writing I’m thinking about going into this abandoned mansion in one of the woods near my town I’ve heard rumours about) im also always entering my beautiful Michelle into as many super contests as she’s allowed (turns out that’s a lot I’m definitely a frequent there).

Meet the team

Michele (gastrodon)

During a day trip to Floaroma town when I was a child I wondered of to the valley wind works when a drifloon swept down to try and pick me up before I could run over to see the cute floating balloon this adorable shelos came out of the foliage gushed out a water gun making the drifloon float away. Ever since me and Michele have been best buds growing up along side each other

Michele is my companion and friend and we have been happily adventuring together for most our lives she may not physically be able to understand what I’m saying but I always get the feeling that she can tell what I’m going through and comfort me accordingly.

Woopi (wooper)

I had set off for the safari park, before long I was enjoying seeing all of the beautiful wildlife frolicking around all the tangela chatting to one another and the tropius all grazing by the ponds. After changing into swimwear I had set off into one of the many body’s of water. I felt a slight feeling on my back it had turned out a pink wooper had made its way onto my back and had proceeded to ride my like a boat jumping up and down in glee batting its tail to signify that it wanted to go faster. Upon noticing this I decided to please it’s desire and went in laps around the pond until I eventually became tired and slowly stood off, at which point the wooper happily slid of my back like it was a slide. the wooper chirped happily before bobbing underwater. when he returned to the surface he was balancing a safari ball on his head looking up at it with his eyes.

Woopi is my big dummie, he’s blissfully unaware of any danger and will often distract munch his best friend by blowing raspberries and making faces this makes munch let out the cutest laugh (that is audible from miles away).

Red (frosslass)

When exploring around route 217 I got caught in a snow storm. whilst trying to escape the snow the ground beneath me began to cave in I tried to run but couldn’t get away and everything went black. When I awoke I was Amidst the rubble in a sheltered ice cave on one hand I was safe and sheltered from the snow storm but on the other I was stuck in a cave with little to no way of escaping, it was just a few seconds later that I realised there was in-fact a third hand. Turning around I came to see a huge frosslass encased in ice a faint red light emanated from its closed eyes. Shrapnel from the now caved in roof of the cave had lodged itself into the ice wall keeping the frosslass inside, a crack had begun to form its root being the rock. Within seconds another large crash occurred followed suddenly by a loud ominous shriek, the blast nocked me on the floor my vision was blurry but I could make out a large figure looming over me when I regained my sight fully I realised it was the frosslass looking on concernedly at my state.

Red is the mum of the group and she’ll always make sure to snatch up any poffins that I may have unfairly given to certain team members and hand them to who needs it most. She also will put herself in between the rest of us and the danger. I certainly would have been fatally injured many times if it weren’t for her.

Clove (liligant)

Whilst on a family trip to Unova I made friends with a local who was out and about, she claimed I was weak mocking my shelos Michele who appropriately splashed her in the face. since that point I came down to her route where she would train daily, I would watch her beat up the local mons. The one time I tried to join in i saw a small petilil, instantly I fell in love with her adorableness, seeing this val threw a pokeball at the petilil I was shocked, my possible future companion had been taken from me by my friend. The rest of the holiday val would tease me often taking the petilil out just to complement her and talk about how happy she was to have her (clearly to spite me), val would play games with me claiming that “if you win I’ll give you petilil back” I definitely enjoyed these games and we would spend hours playing an elaborate game of follow the leader all in the hopes of petilil being in my grasp. I never did win but on the last day I had in unova, val with a shrug gave me petilil. Instantly i gave val a big hug (one she definitely did not like).

Since first meeting Clove and @val-victory I have made two friends (one less mean than the other). Clove has been an amazing companion she doesn’t enjoy poffins that much but instead enjoys how happy everyone else is when eating.

Munch (snorlax)

When I heard that people had been finding interesting bugs from trees that they had slathered with honey I knew I had to try it (after all I’ve always wanted to get a cute little bug type on my team) after a while of sitting by the tree waiting for things to happen (aka baking poffins and eating them) a cute little munchlax wondered over to the tree looking around confused before eventually gobbling the all of the hobey left on the tree, he was just about to turn away and go find more food when I hurled a pokeball at him (Sure he wasn’t a bug type but he was definitely cute and that was what I was really looking for).

Munch is now a lot larger than when I caught him but he still acts as though he’s just as small as he was when he hatched from his egg often trying to fit through little gaps that are less than a quarter of his size I think he’s fooled woopi too as he’ll often try to help get munch through said gap or look confused when it isn’t working.

Thanks to @rp-rs for helping fix any mistakes on the first draft.

[yeyinde]

I feel you'd have the best catholic!Jason todd ideas.

I do have a lot of thoughts about this! (and immediately my mind went to hot priest!Jason Todd so I guess it's time to re-read the priest comic...). I like the idea of Jason having an empty relationship with Catholicism the most, so I went with this one.

Maybe he was "raised" Catholic, but it was performative. It wasn't the, "we're a perfect example of what a Catholic family should be" pantomime, but a parasitic one. Exploitative. Meaningless and hollow except for what it could do for them. And maybe it looks good on paper for Child Protective Services.

Maybe there's a cross on the wall but was picked up at a yard sale, and is covered in dust. A ratty bible is on the table, but when you look closer, you realise it's missing pages and scribbled in. Circular holes are burned into the cover (the same ones found all along the old couch, in blankets. Mattresses). They don't pray, but they go to church when they serve food. Saves money on groceries, doesn't it? So, why not. Jason sat at the back (and maybe he tried to listen, to pay attention) while his mum nodded off in the pew, and made fun of the whole thing, at all the rich people in their Sunday Best, only to smile at the priest when he came to greet them.

Some Catholic schools serve their students lunch and snacks, and all you have to do to be admitted it is get baptised. His mum might have dragged him to the church to do so because it meant she didn't have to spend money on feeding him lunch every day. Maybe the only time he ever really ate a whole meal was during school. It cuts the cost of clothes, too, since most Catholic schools require a uniform.

I like the idea of Jason trying to be religious. Maybe he prays during dinner one night but his dad mocks him for it. He never does it in front of them again.

Jason grows up in this limbo where his parents exploit it for their own gain, but he wants to believe. And maybe he does. But it doesn't last long. Not when at school they teach him about gods infinite mercy. How he knows all. But if that's true, how come he never answers Jason's prayers late at night with his pillow muffling his cries? How come he's ignored? I like the idea of a crisis of faith because it can be absolutely devastating even when you don't really believe in all the nonsense.

His parents use it against him. Why would god leave me with a ungrateful kid like you? His mum throws the cross at him and he watches it shatter on the floor. Nothing happens. He wonders if that means something.

And then he sees the divide. There's a difference between being a poor Catholic and a rich one. Maybe it infuriates him, drives him away from it.

He stops being religious as he grows up. Beings to resent it. Maybe he still wears a cross around his neck, a small gold chain bought at a pawn shop for $5 because it's a habit. Sometimes religion can be an addiction, too.

It never really comes up. It was an aspect of his upbringing the same way finding his mum slouched over on the couch was. Just there. Habitual, almost.

And then he dies.

And then he comes back.

Another crisis of faith that doesn't really go anywhere. Maybe he's too jaded to the idea of a higher power, or maybe he's scared. Terrified. I'd like for him to adopt the same parasitic relationship with Catholicism as his parents did. He goes to church because he thinks he should feel bad about what he does. He sits in the last pew at the back, bows his head. And nothing. Nothing. He just thinks about all the times he wept at night until he couldn't cry anymore. All the desperate prayers that went unanswered.

Maybe it wasn't god who brought him back, after all; but you can't have one without the other. And maybe a part of him is beginning to wonder if there's even a difference between the two.

I like the idea of him struggling with guilt over his deeds as the Red Hood but I don't think he really feels it, and I think that hurts him more than anything. There is an absence of guilt and maybe some trickle-down toxicity. maybe he goes to church because he thinks he should not because he wants to but he sits in the pew and he doesn't pray and he definitely doesn't ask for forgiveness because there's nothing to forgive. But in some twisted way, it makes him feel better for not feeling guilty and so. He goes.

Questioning his faith that might not have ever really been there is something I really like talking about. I think there's more to it than just Catholic guilt.

[protect-daniel-james]

hopefully this isn't a boring one...how about Jamie Jamie Cousin Jamie?

favorite thing about them

The way he looks and presents himself, he's such an easy target. No wonder everyone always makes fun of him (not that I condone it).

least favorite thing about them

When we look past the Lampardverse, where obviously he has a huge role, I do not really find him very interesting. Yeah, he was hot in his old playing days, and obviously, he's still a very attractive guy, he's just very bland and I understand that people don't seem to enjoy his punditry much and consider him to be an eye candy for the 40+ years old housewives, lol. I think he does carry a certain psychological baggage with him, possibly stemming from his unfulfilled career and promise, and the way his mum and dad raised him (and a couple of other things if we take Lampardverse into account).

favorite line

"That's a corner flag there". I this this sums up his football insight.

And a lot of lines from all the mocking of him, mentioning his Daddy Harry Redknapp ("Why were you all laughing when my Dad was called?") . Plus, his meltdowns on Sky, of course, trying to be Tough. If we consider his autobiography a collection of his lines, then there's the "I've got to have a Happy Ending" one, which we both know, and I think that one shows the lesser-known side of Jamie Jamie cousin Jamie.

brOTP

I don't think Jamie Jamie is capable of a brOTP because of his toxicity. He will throw tantrums, get jealous, or want to control the other person. I think the closest to that would be Jamie and Stevie G, who said in his autobiography that Jamie Jamie Jamie took him under his wing in the early days of his England career (Stevie used to be scared shitless at the NT camps, and Jamie was the one who took care of him, which is lovely!).

OTP

Ha ha ha isn't that obvious. Franko, chubby little Franko, and Jamie Jamie cousin Jamie were meant to be. The real star-crossed lovers! Modern day Romeo and Juliet! Them against the world that is so Big and Scary that they just want to cuddle up in a bed and keep each other warm...

Honestly, I have seen a Souness x Jamie ship on AO3, and I loved it. There's so much potential - especially since I headcanon Souness as a deeply closeted gay man who lived through the homophobic horrors of the Liverpool dressing room in the '70s and '80s and has some regrets about living his life the way he did, and never finding the courage (if you look deep in his eyes, you see a broken man) to come out. He also coached Jamie for a bit, did you know that! I think in the times they both worked at Sky, there could have been some...interesting tension (especially in a non-Lampardverse world).

nOTP

I don't really ship him with anyone from ALOTO. I don't care for those guys enough lol.

random headcanon

He's EXTREMELY childish, to the point of being treated by his wife (and previously ex-wife) as yet another child to deal with and driving them both nuts.

unpopular opinion

He would scream "My Dad could beat up your Dad!" when losing an argument. (I don't think it's that unpopular over here haha). Also, he's on the verge of a panic attack during every ALOTO, and I mean - seriously. Not just for the laughs.

He's also painfully childish and immature when it comes to sex (there might be Reasons for this in the verse though).

song i associate with them

Is this even a question?

Under blue moon, I saw you So soon you'll take me Up in your arms, too late to beg you Or cancel it, though I know it must be The killing time Unwillingly mine

Fate Up against your will Through the thick and thin He will wait until You give yourself to him

One of the many anthems of the Lampardverse, The Killing Moon.

favorite picture of them

Old Hairy Times. Also, this was Jamie in Liverpool, the Jamie that Franko had numerous wet dreams about.

[fitrahgolden]

There's A World You Need To Know: 4 - It's the wrong kind of place to be thinking of you

[PLEASE READ: So, I start to get into Kate’s ethical crisis here. Please note that this is a work of poorly researched fiction. Maybe in real life, there would be no socially acceptable way Kate and Anthony could ever be in a relationship after she’d been his siblings’ therapist. While I am trying to not totally disregard the ethical problem here, this isn’t real life. It’s an HEA.]

Anthony Bridgerton (G and H Brother): Hi, Kate.  I hope your flight goes OK. Please let us know when you’ve landed safely.

Anthony Bridgerton (G and H Brother): This is Anthony Bridgerton, by the way.

Brother. Brother. Kate was surprised to see a text from Anthony as she was packing for Ireland. And though she tried not to let herself admit it, it made her smile. But he’s their brother. No relationships with the family members of current clients. No exceptions.

Current clients. The thoughts that distinction led to felt so selfish. It could still have consequences for her career. Would her colleagues take her seriously? Would her other clients? Her publisher? How would Gregory and Hyacinth feel after she abandoned them and then showed back up on Anthony’s arm? They would hate it. They would hate her. If she was having these thoughts, is it right to continue to be their therapist anyway?

After staring at the messages for far too long, she put her phone face down and resumed packing. She turned on music to try to drown the thoughts out. It didn’t work.

—

“Hey, hey! KC, looking gorgeous, as always.” Tom approached Kate as she sat in Heathrow, checked in and ready to board. She smiled when she heard Tom’s greeting. She got up and gave him a tight hug before he settled next to her.

“Thought I was gonna have to go without you. No photos for my next book.”

“I would never.” Tom clutched his chest in mock offense.

“Are you gonna see family while we’re there? We’ll be so close.”

Tom ran his hand through his hair. “Eh, yeah. I reckon I should. I’d never hear the end of it from Mum if I was an hour away from Aunty for three weeks and didn’t pop by.”

“Yeah. You know I won’t need photos every day. You could have a little holiday during the trip.”

“What about you? Fancy a trip to the seaside? Aunty would love to meet you. She’s a big fan.”

“Thanks, but I’m gonna try to work efficiently. I want to get back home as soon as I can.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. I don’t like being away from Mum and Edwina for so long. Or abandoning my clients.” Or anyone else. No, no. There is no one else.

“Abandon? That’s being a bit hard on yourself, KC. Though I guess that is your way.” Tom pulled her into a side hug and she rested her head on his shoulder. “You’re wonderful to your clients. Too wonderful, even. You only take a break from that work to do other work. When’s the last time you took a proper holiday?”

“Well, all this work pays off. Ed's school is taken care of. Mum's house is paid off. They were actually just away themselves. Anyway, I travel,” Kate said defensively.

“Like I said, for work. Hey, why don’t you and I plan for a trip later this year? Once the book is in review, eh? Me, you, Edwina, Mary. No work allowed?”

Kate side eyed him. “I don’t know, Tom…”

Tom nodded knowingly, “Look, again, I’m sorry I misread things when we first started working together. I was a dickhead. But we are friends now, right?”

“Yeah, of course, Tom.”

“Good.” Tom sighed, relieved. “No vacation with your family, though. Got it.”

Kate scrunched up her nose. “No, not mad about that idea.”

—

Checked into their hotel in downtown Cork, Tom walked Kate to her room.

“Bright and early in the morning?”

Kate opened her door and turned back to Tom. “Yep, the building is thankfully a short taxi ride away. Should be able to get down to work pretty quickly.”

“Excellent.” Tom spared a glance into Kate’s room and looked down at her luggage. “You good with your bags?”

“Yep. Don’t worry about me, Tom. Get some sleep. We both need it.”

“Alright. You know I’m just down the hall if you need anything.”

“Mmhmm. Good night.”

“Good night.” Tom took a couple of steps backward before turning and heading to his room.

Once inside, Kate promptly video called Edwina and Mary. As usual, they insisted they were fine without her and, yes, Simon had said he would come by to check on them. Kate wanted to go over the checklist, but was out voted. After good nights and air kisses, Kate hung up, plugged in her phone, unpacked, prepped for tomorrow morning, and finally got ready for bed.

As soon as she lied down, she knew sleep wouldn't be coming anytime soon.

Don't do it. Text Ed. Text Simon. Next Tom. No, not Tom. But anyone else. Don't text him. 

Anthony Bridgerton, was it? Thank you for checking in. Really, it's quite thoughtful. We did land safely and are in for the night so we can get an early start tomorrow.

Kate hit send before she could think too much about the fact that she said "we" and would that make Anthony think she and Tom were sharing a room or something? Doesn't matter. Does not–

Her phone chimed.

Anthony Bridgerton (G and H Brother): Glad to hear it. I've never been to Cork.

First time here. Would you like me to return with a report?

Anthony Bridgerton (G and H Brother): A thorough one, yes. Double spaced, if you don't mind.

Of course.

Would it be annoying if I asked about Gregory and Hyacinth?

I know it's not my place.

Anthony Bridgerton (G and H Brother): No, no. It's fine. It's nice that you care so much about them. They are both in a proper mourning period.

Aw, don't tell me that.

Anthony Bridgerton (G and H Brother): Fine. They won't stop singing Ding Dong, The Witch Is Dead.

Ha ha.

Anthony Bridgerton (G and H Brother): They miss you. Hyacinth wants a guitar. They plan to give us all music and paint lessons so we will "learn to communicate our feelings while avoiding becoming overwhelmed by them." What have you done to these kids? 

Hopefully, something good. Seems like a lot when it's been two days. I only see them twice a week anyway.

Anthony Bridgerton (G and H Brother): And I genuinely think it's the highlight of their week. Who knew having a safe outlet to express yourself could be so rewarding?

Me. I knew. You should try it. 

Shit, sorry. That was out of line. 

Anthony Bridgerton (G and H Brother): No, it's OK.

No, it's not. I try really hard to avoid giving unsolicited advice.

Anthony Bridgerton (G and H Brother): Good on you. Personally, I find it impossible not to tell everyone what they should be doing at all times.

Well, you should be telling me to go to sleep, then.

Anthony Bridgerton (G and H Brother): Go to sleep, Kate.

Good night, Anthony.

Anthony Bridgerton (G and H Brother): Good night. 

—

“Think we are at the halfway mark?” Tom asked as he set Kate’s drink down in front of her. They were finishing up supper at the pub directly across the street from their hotel.

“Yeah, I think I can confidently say that.” Kate sat back triumphantly.

“Only a week in. Efficient, indeed. And it’s looking amazing, but you already knew that. Client happy so far?”

“Yup.” Tom studied her for a moment. Kate, furrowed her brow. “What?”

“You are usually more of a stress ball during these big projects. Everything’s seeming to flow more easily this go round.” Kate shrugged. “Might it be you’ve finally learned to relax? That’s the right direction towards letting yourself take a real holiday, I suppose.”

“Speaking of, are you making your way towards the coast in the morning?”

“Yeah, playing dutiful nephew. Sure you don’t want to come?”

“Thanks, but I’ve got a good rhythm set. Don’t want to lose momentum.”

Kate’s phone chimed. She tried to ignore it, but–

“That thing’s been going off like mad all evening.” Tom chuckled.

“It’s what I get for asking for updates from Ed and Mum as well as updates on their updates from Si.”

It was true. She was exchanging a lot of messages with her family. But she and Anthony had also not stopped texting since her first night in Cork. And it had Kate giddy. Giddy. After the first couple of days, she decided to compartmentalize away her guilty feelings. She could enjoy talking with him. They were just talking. As friends.

Her phone chimed again.

“You don’t have to ignore them on my account.”

“You don’t mind?” Kate was already reaching into her pocket.

“Go on. Want another?” Tom pointed at her glass.

“Yes, please,” Kate said, not looking up from her phone.

Anthony Bridgerton (G and H Brother): Was I right? I was, wasn’t I?

Anthony Bridgerton (G and H Brother): What’s my prize?

Remind me what this is referring to?

Anthony Bridgerton (G and H Brother): You know what.

I’m sure I don’t.

Anthony Bridgerton (G and H Brother): Right. You’re already halfway done, aren’t you? And all of Cork is falling at your feet, feeling utterly unworthy of their city being permanently graced by the artwork of one Kathani Cavery Sharma.

Kate could feel herself grinning like an idiot and she didn't care.

I don't know about the second thing.

Anthony Bridgerton (G and H Brother): Which means I'm right about the first thing. That’s all I need to be the victor, so I ask again, what are my spoils?

See, it would have been a legitimate bet if we had laid out specific terms, but alas, we made no such agreement.

Anthony Bridgerton (G and H Brother): Yeah, no, I'll let you know what my spoils are to be once I've decided, Ms. Sharma.

I can hear you maniacally rubbing your hands together from here.

Anthony Bridgerton (G and H Brother): I'm being loud for your benefit.

Anthony Bridgerton (G and H Brother): Can I see any pictures of your work in progress or do I have to wait until it's done?

Kate's cheeks got hot. Calm down, dummy. He's asking for pictures of the mural, not you. 

So, you’ve been playing the long game. All this talking has just been a way to get early access to the latest attraction in Cork? How can I be sure nothing I share will be leaked to every major news site in the world by tomorrow morning?

Anthony Bridgerton (G and H Brother): Easy. You have leverage. Those aforementioned spoils I want from you. Nay, I am owed! I wouldn't dare betray you before I've secured those.

Fingers snapped in front of Kate's face. She blinked up and saw Tom smiling at her curiously.

"Shit, sorry."

"No, it's fine. I guess it's all good news?"

"Ha, yeah."

Tom leaned back in his chair. Kate pushed some hair–that was already behind her ear–behind her ear. Why do you feel nervous? Nothing is going on and it's none of Tom's business if anything was.

"You OK?"

Kate sighed and rolled her eyes. "I really am, Tom."

"I know it's fucked up, but that's why I'm asking. You seem genuinely OK. It's off brand."

Kate sat up straight. "What does that mean?"

"Sorry, sorry. That came out wrong." Tom held his hands up in surrender. "I'm being a dick. Like I said, I've never seen you so relaxed. Whatever the reason, I'm happy for you."

"Um, thanks."

The conversation finally moved on and Kate called it a night before they could circle back around to why Kate was in such a good mood. She didn't want things to be awkward with Tom and she meant it when she said they were friends. Not the kind of friend she can confide in about Anthony, though. On top of Tom knowing Anthony, at least once upon a time, she didn't want to talk to anyone about Anthony, full stop.

—

Anthony Bridgerton (G and H Brother): Hey, I promise I was just curious about what you're doing over there.

Just getting back into my room. Hope you are ready to have your mind blown. 

Anthony Bridgerton (G and H Brother): Boo! I can't even see anything. Some random woman is taking up most of the frame. How am I supposed to sell this to The Daily Mail? Give me something I can use!

Kate's smile fell when the next message came through. 

Anthony Bridgerton (G and H Brother): Did Tom take that?

For some reason Kate didn't want to acknowledge, she was struggling with how to respond. It doesn't matter. You're not doing anything wrong. Anthony doesn't care. Why would he care? He's asking because he knows Tom, that's all.

Yeah. I forgot you guys know each other, right? Si mentioned that at some point. You were all mates at Oxford?

Anthony Bridgerton (G and H Brother): Yeah. Haven't talked to him in years. You guys work together often?

Um, yeah, I guess you could say that. He was recommended to me when I was working on my book.

Anthony Bridgerton (G and H Brother): He's a good bloke from what I remember.

What is his aim? Am I supposed to agree?

I'll be on my own for a few days, though. He has family nearby so he's going to see them while we are here.

Who fucking cares? I don't want to talk about Tom.

Any ideas for what you want for winning our "bet?" (Which I maintain is illegitimate and would never hold up in court, but don't mind me.)

Anthony Bridgerton (G and H Brother): A tour of your favorite murals around here when you get back. El is always going on about how I'm not cultured enough.

Shit, shit, shit. A date? No, not a date. Get the fuck over yourself, Christ.

Anthony Bridgerton (G and H Brother): It would also drive her mad if THE Kate Sharma gave me a personal public art tour.

You're mean. We should invite her.

Anthony Bridgerton (G and H Brother): No, we shouldn't.

[glennrheesdaughter]

You are my Sunshine: Final

Two years later...

Glenn, Maggie, and Negan were sitting next to a fire, as Glenn held Maggie in his arms.

Maggie looked up." We've been thinking about what you said." Negan looked up.

" We want to thank you. We can stop wondering if you'll ever say those words. And if we can ever forgive you. Cause I know now. We-... We can't."

Negan looked down, and he nodded solemnly.

Glenn looked up." Y/n was beautiful. We'll never love anyone like a daughter like that again. We remember her smile. Her goodness. And the way she made everyone around her feel." Maggie let out a sob as tears pricked Glenn's eyes.

"But when we look at you. All we see is that bat and knife going through her chest. Blood running down her body and out of her mouth. I hear her. I hear her calling for us. And I hear you mocking her while she's dying. So we can't forgive you. Even though we are so grateful that you saved our son." Maggie looked at Negan with pure sadness and rage as he looked in regret.

" Even though we know that you're trying. We're trying, too. Because we don't wanna hate you anymore. We don't want to hurt like that again. And I don't want our son to see that anyone has that kind of hold over us." Glenn glared as Negan looked down.

" If you and Annie want to stay, you have to earn that place. But if we can't look at you some days, if we can't work with you, and if we can't move on, that's why....Because all we have are our memories. And we don't want to remember Y/n like that." Maggie finished as Glenn helped her up.

Glenn and Maggie walked into their house as they looked at a closed door. They nodded as they walked in.

The room had a full sized bed, painted a dark purple with lavender curtains.

Maggie walked to a closet and opened it. She noticed a box on the floor.

'For Hershel." Glenn looked over her shoulder as they walked to the living room, and sat down on the couch.

Glenn pushed play as it showed a recording as you stood there." Is it rolling?" " Ye Darlin." They heard Daryls voice. " Hey Bro, If your watching this, I probably lost a war to a walker or something, but HI! I'm Y/n, your big sister. If I'm gone, I need ya to do me a favor. Don't let Mum or Dad be sad, if you find Mum crying give her a flower, most preferred a lily, and if Dad is having a bad day, just keeping hugging him, even if he tells you to let go, HUG HIM." Maggie teared up as Glenn let out a breathy laugh.

" and Mum, Dad, If your watching this too. Just know I'm not dead. Only my physical body is gone. And know our bodies are just a small part of who we really are. I'm aware you miss my voice and physical presence, but my soul and spirit are very much alive! The times when you felt my energy, I was really right next to ya, and I am now. We all have a unique energy fingerprint. And you recognize mine when I'm with you. Trust the feeling!I now see that I never had anything to fear. There is no death. I'm probably next to ya right now and ya don't even know it." Maggie smiled as Glenn had silent tears.

"Hurry up, Darlin. Ma arms are getting tired." Daryl said as Maggie laughed." This may sound clique, BUT, Just because you cannot see me. Does not mean I am not there. Just because I'm in heaven. Does not mean I do not care. I often see you crying. You often say my name. I want to hold you in my arms. I want to take away the pain. It's easier for me. For I know heaven is real. If you knew heaven existed. How much better you would feel. One day we will meet again. Only when the time is right. When you step out of the darkness. I will be standing in the light. Well that's all for now. I love you guys." Maggie stopped it and Glenn looked at her.

They knew you were gone. But still here. They saw a little cardinal fly into the house and perch on Glenn's shoulder.

Maggie smiled as Glenn held her closer as they walked to your grave.

They looked up and saw a rainbow fall on your grave.

Maggie gasped and Glenn looked. They saw your spirit running around, playing with Dog, your wound was gone as wings adored your back. Your hair was longer as you looked at them. You smiled and waved as you shifted into a deer as your ran into the clouds.

They smiled as they knew. You were safe, loved, and still there.

Maggie looked at Glenn." Darling." Glenn looked down." Yes?" Maggie smiled, wider." I'm pregnant, again."

[iobsessoverfictionalmen]

Labyrinth AU - Sequel

Chapter 7

AN: This chapter contains character death and mentions of death.

“My sister is going to kill us for leaving her behind,” Dave groaned as he, Drake, and Horvath appeared in his apartment.

“I would suggest worrying about my former master before you worry about my queen,” Horvath remarked.

“Priorities man,” Drake agreed as the two men swept around the apartment, carefully examining it.  What they were looking for was beyond Dave.  He just hoped that they finished their examination as soon as possible because he had a feeling that Rumplestiltskin was going to appear in the apartment again very soon.

The peach rested against Dave’s leg in his pocket.  He’d been assured by the goblins and Horvath that Rumplestiltskin wouldn’t be able to sense that the peach was magical as while Rumplestiltskin viewed goblin magic as a threat and poisonous, he would never dream that it had been used in this way.  The peach seemed to grow heavier with each passing second as Dave’s mind raced.

“Can I do this?” He wondered, “If this goes badly, will (Name) even want to see me?  Or will she wish that Drake or Horvath had been the one to come back instead of me?  It’s my fault that she even went to the labyrinth in the first place.”

“Hey,” Drake’s quiet voice jerked Dave out of his thoughts, “I know what you’re thinking.  Don’t go there.”

“But…” Dave stammered, “Look how I acted.  It’s my fault that all this is happening.  I wished my sister away and I was tempted by his offer.” Dave didn't dare utter Rumplestiltskin's name because he feared that that may summon the sorcerer.

“Focus on what you can control,” Horvath advised.  His advice felt more like an order and Dave obeyed it without giving it a second thought.  “Lingering on the past and the what ifs will help no one and besides, if you’re always looking behind you, you won’t be able to see what’s ahead of you.”

Surprised at the king’s advice, Dave managed a small nod.

“Call him,” Horvath demanded, sounding exactly how Dave thought a king would.

“I never dreamt that I’d actually meet a king.  I always thought that was the stuff of fairy tales.” Dave mused as Horvath and Drake slipped out of sight.  Dave knew they were still in the apartment but their presence was muted.

On the journey to the world above, Dave had been practicing what he was going to say to summon Rumplestiltskin.  Your words about being truthful sounded in his mind every time he practiced.  Dave had run through a few possibilities such as “Cunning one, I summon you” or “Can we talk, Rumplestiltskin?  I need help.”

Eventually he settled on the one he liked the most.

“I’d like to talk to you about your offer Rumplestiltskin.  Can you meet me here?”

Dave waited silently after he had spoken.  The impulse to tap his foot against the floor was becoming stronger and stronger by the minute and he wondered absentmindedly whether he was going to pick up any more of Balthazar’s habits.

“Well, well dearie.  I must admit that I am surprised to hear from you after my last visit.”  Rumplestiltskin’s voice held a mocking edge as he addressed Dave.

“How’s the magic?”  Rumplestiltskin leaned forward, “Still acting like an alarm system?”

Dave paused in realisation.  His magic wasn’t warning him at all.  In fact, it wasn’t doing anything.  He stared at Rumplestiltskin.

“Did you do this?  It feels like I’m missing a limb.”

Rumplestiltskin giggled, “I thought it would be nice to give you a little taste of what it would be like when you gave me the magic that you possess.”  He sung.

Anger and possessiveness rose up inside Dave as he remembered how far the both of you had come with your magic.  He remembered the praise you had given him following the training session prior to Rumplestiltskin’s unexpected and unwelcome arrival.

“Thank you.  That’s kind of you,” Dave forced the words out while keeping his tone level.

Dave wasn’t lying.  It was kind of Rumplestiltskin to give him a gift.  Your mum had told you both many times that when someone gives you a gift, you need to acknowledge the gift and if you have one of your own, you needed to return the favour.

Rumplestiltskin gazed at Dave expectantly, “Before our chat, I wanted to give you a gift of my own.”

Dave fished the peach out of his pocket and offered to Rumplestiltskin.  If he didn’t know better, he would have wanted to taste the peach himself.  The peach looked exactly like the ones Dave had seen in food catalogues when he was younger and the smell of the peach was awfully tempting.

“A piece of fruit?” Rumplestiltskin questioned disbelievingly.

“Peaches actually have roots in many mythologies and were highly valued as a result.  In Chinese mythology for example this very fruit symbolised longevity and even immortality.”

“Yes, yes.” Rumplestiltskin waved off Dave’s explanation causing Dave’s anger to grow.  He was proud of himself for remembering that information about peaches and it wasn’t exactly a low stakes situation that he was in.

“I really thought you weren’t going to take my offer,”  Rumplestiltskin stated as he turned the peach over in his hands.  Dave saw the captivated glint in his eyes and wondered how much longer it would be before he took a bite.

“It’s a generous offer,” Dave replied, “with everything that happened, I needed time to think about it.”

“Not all sorcerers will be as willing as I to give you that amount of time to decide.” Rumplestiltskin chided.  “You best remember that in the future.”  He turned the peach over in his hands once more and raised it to his nose and sniffed it once.  Dave focused on keeping his breathing normal so he didn’t alarm Rumplestiltskin.

“Thank you for your gift.  It is truly fit for me.” Rumplestiltskin praised as he lowered his hand slightly and took a large bite of the peach.

“FINALLY!” Dave cheered mentally.

Rumplestiltskin swallowed about half of the peach before he froze and in that instant, Dave knew that he had realised something was wrong.  His other clue was the rest of the peach disintegrating into nothing in Rumplestiltskin’s hand.

“WHAT HAVE YOU DONE?” He bellowed in outrage as his fingers curled around nothing in the air.  Dave felt his magic return and it reacted as it had before, the first time that Dave had met Rumplestiltskin, warning Dave that Rumplestiltskin was not to be trusted and that the sorcerer was attempting to reach for his magic. 

“You were right about one thing,” Horvath stated confidently as he reappeared next to Dave.  Dave didn’t miss the way that Rumplestiltskin’s eyes widened at the sight of his former apprentice and then narrowed as he focused on Dave.

“The peach truly was fit for you however, I do not deny that it benefits us as well,” Horvath finished his sentence.

Rumplestiltskin raised a clawed hand but Horvath was faster.   He waved his cane in a circle while pointing the jewelled tip at Rumplestiltskin causing the sorcerer to freeze.

“I’m sure that you’ve figured out what I’ve just done.  In case you haven’t, allow me to explain.  I have just bound and removed your magic.”

Recognition and horror appeared on Rumplestiltskin’s face.

“Due to the fact that you are considerably older than I or any other occupant of this apartment, I would say that you have less than a minute to live now that you are no longer connected to your magic.”

Drake appeared on Dave’s other side and smirked at Rumplestiltskin.  A snarl appeared on the oldest sorcerer’s face as his limbs went rigid and a greyish mist appeared underneath him.  Rumplestiltskin moved from side to side in an attempt to evade the mist but two plasma bolts, both fired by Dave, thudded into the floor on either side of the sorcerer, clipping the sorcerer’s pants and ripping them in the process, causing Rumplestiltskin to freeze for in place for a second.

That second was just enough for the mist to crawl its way up the sorcerer’s legs.  Horrified, Rumplestiltskin could only watch as the mist covered more of his body with increasing speed.  Rumplestiltskin raised his head defiantly and looked at the other sorcerers one last time before the mist covered his face and hair and he froze in place.

Where Rumplestiltskin had been there was now a perfect statue in his place.  Dave gasped and jumped backwards as the statue cracked. 

“The plan’s failed.” Dave thought with despair, “He survived and now he’s going to kill us for sure.”

More cracks appeared in the statue and it fell forwards, crumbling into dust that vanished before it could even touch the floor.  Dave raised a hand to his chest in an attempt to steady his racing heart and he took a few deep breaths.

“Is that it?  It’s over?”  He managed to get those five words out as his heart rate returned to normal.

Maxim raised his cane again and with one grand movement, swept it through the air.

“He’s gone.” Maxim confirmed, “He was relying on his magic to live.”

Dave glanced over at Drake who was staring unblinkingly at the spot where Rumplestiltskin had been turned into a statue, “Did you hear that?  He’s gone.”

Drake pivoted to face the younger sorcerer, “Yeah, I heard him.  Would it be too much to ask if we could go home now?”

[katatonicimpression]

Heya, I was wondering if you'd elaborate on why Emplate is the wrong character to lean into for the uncontrollable hunger sympathetic angle? You're def the St. Croix person for me so I'm really curious on your take on that.

ooh so this is probably more nuanced than what I let on, and I will say it's probably not wrong per se. But I don't like it and you've given me an excuse to elaborate. It's two things: one is nerdy nitpicking stuff and one is more thematic.

Thing the First

So, firstly yes in the issue of Generation X where Cartier turns up and is like "Monet, I don't care for your tone." (or whatever), he talks to Marius and we get the current official story of what happened to their mum. This story goes:

Marius' mutant power awakens within him. His power is that he's a psychic vampire, who eats people to survive. He is overwhelmed by hunger and kills his mother. Then he runs away and eventually becomes Emplate, feeding on mutants in order to maintain his strength, and therefore his connection to this dimension. He shows no guilt, brags about the murder and mocks Cartier.

Now, it's subtle but this is a retcon.

From Emplate's first appearences AND the issue that explains how Monet became Penance, Marius is portrayed as a magic user. Like Nicole and Claudette, his power appears to be that he is gifted in a particular kind of magic involving dimension hopping and weird concisousness/personhood stuff.

His powers awaken, he gets into dark magic stuff, he kills their mum (again, feels zero guilt), and he disappears. Then, years later he returns, he looks different from before but not quite like Emplate yet. He throws some random misogynistic insults at Monet and then Penance-ifies her and takes her with him.

Then, years (?) later, he's in America, preying on mutants (possibly also looking for the twins). He still has Monet, but she escapes with Gateway's help. He looks different, now he's dependent on this mask to breathe in this world. And when I say "preying", I mean he's discovered that eating the bone marrow of young mutants gives him (via some magic) a way to survive in this world.

So, what we have is a damnation arc. A young man is corrupted by dark magic, inevitably impaired by it - it's the use of this power and the pursuit of more of it that has wrecked his body and rendered him unable to exist in our dimension - and doomed by it.

The change, in the Cartier-comes-to-visit issue, makes it a biological thing. Uncanny X-Men (2016) leans into this; interpreting his deal as entirely a "he's a type of creature that is like this" and doesn't include any magic. They also give him the mouth hands thing, which had previously been a trait of those he'd bewitched, not of himself.

Anyway so yeah. That's the first thing. The original vibe was never a story of him feeling uncontrollable hunger, but rather a very classic corrupted by dark magics storyline, with a grungey aesthetic that tbh I just enjoyed.

Thing the Second

Sometimes, just because you could interpret a character sympathetically, doesn't mean you should. Let's be clear, Marius is a remorseless abusive murderer, and has next to nothing sympathetic about him regardless of how you look at it. But even beyond that, it's sometimes counter productive.

Marius is a man who predates on teenagers. Specifically teenagers.

Marius abuses his sister. For years.

Fundamentally, I don't think there's any way of treating Marius as sympathetic without undermining Monet.

If they retcon in some inner turmoil over killing his mum (which, again, he does not have - he's fine with it), and over emphasise this idea that he needs to kill and is caught in some battle of the self over it (again, he isn't. that would be a retcon), then you may be able to make a coherent story out of it. But it would be one that makes Monet's years of torture just collateral damage in some dudes inner turmoil.

It's just, absolutely, the wrong character for that kind of treatment in my opinion. Sometimes, a character is a monster because the story needs them to be a monster.

It's not like a sympathetic exploration of an abusive POS is invalid as art. I don't believe that, just to be clear. In real life, abuse is complicated and, yes, worthwhile exploring with empathy, in a controlled and careful context. But this is hardly the character, the tone, or the audience for that kind of work.

... and I doubt any current x-men writing would have those lofty intentions in the first place. No. Realistically, if it happens, it would be because someone thought "vampire kills his mum out of uncontrollable hunger" was a cool premise and didn't think about the rest of it at all.