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wileys-russo · 1 year ago

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childhood sweethearts (1) II a.russo x reader

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this is part one to a lil multi part fic i've been working on, sequels and prequels to come

childhood sweethearts II a.russo x reader

"and you promise you'll not burn yourself out again right darling?" you sighed at the obvious concern present in your mums voice on the other end of the phone line. "yes mother i've learnt and i've grown and i'm doing all the self care things!" you cheered sarcastically, switching to hands free as you moved to stir your dinner.

"ha ha ha. i think you forget that i still know where you live and i have no issues just popping in every now and then to check on-" the older woman began to threaten as your eyes widenened.

"okay okay there's no need for that mum! i'm doing well, i promise." you responded a lot more sincerely as the woman on the other end simply hummed. "this school and my workload is a lot less intense, really! my colleagues are very friendly, my boss is approachable and i love my class. better?" you sighed as you switched off your stove and began to dish yourself up a bowl.

"and it's brought you back closer to home, my favourite part!" your mum cheered as you playfully rolled your eyes.

"yes it has however i maintain that i have boundaries mum. you, lily and harry are only welcome to visit with an invitation." you warned, half serious and half joking as you grabbed your phone and moved to the living room, sinking down into the sofa.

"yes you made that very clear, feeling very loved darling." "you know i love you ever so dearly mum but i also love my own space."

"oh god i almost forgot. you'll never guess who i ran into the other day!" your mum suddenly gasped making you chuckle, if you'd even tried guessing you could have been stuck on the phone with her for hours, your mothers social circle seemingly never ending.

it used to be a point of contention for you in your youth, hating the way you were seemingly forever pulled away to dinners or parties or barbeques, having to beg your parents to leave once it grew late in the night and your social battery had long hit its max.

as your siblings grew older they were always excused from going to these elaborate social events and you'd beg to be given that same privilege but as the youngest that was one thing you coudn't talk your way out of.

though once your dad passed you watched that break her down to nothing, seemingly just a shell of the woman she once was when he was alive and all was well.

but with time you grew to watch your mother pick herself back up slowly and start to rebuild her own support net. recconecting with her inner circle after isolating herself from the outside world for so long, it warmed your heart and was something you would forever encourage for her.

knowing that the older woman would always thrive and be at her best as a social butterfly and the hostess with the mostess, it had helped her to heal.

"if i guessed we could be here for hours and i have an island full of gorgeous single airheads and a bowl of pasta calling my name, so who did you run into?" you chuckled, shoveling in a mouthful of food as you awaited her answer.

"carol russo!" you choked at her words, spitting out the pasta you'd half chewed and breaking out into a coughing fit, scrambling for the glass of water on the coffee table.

"oh honestly i wish you'd learn to chew before you swallow, the food isn't going to disappear!" your mum scolded you as you finally caught your breath again.

"oh i'm grand mum, thank you for your concern!"

"anyway. well i've not seen her for years as you'd know and then there i was just browsing the strawberries, i needed some for a new crumble recipe i'm trying, and there she was, just grabbing a bunch of carrots!" you had to withhhold the urge to laugh at the way your mother told stories and just how animated she'd become, so fixated on the small details as she basically told you their entire conversation and coincidentally revealed her entire shopping list as she went.

"so we're all going out for a meal on thursday to catch up properly." you hummed, only half listening at this point. "that sounds nice." you mumbled, flicking through the tv.

"so you'll be there then? i said half past six since i know you're normally home from work around five." now that had you tuning back in. "wait, you what?" you directed your full attention back to the conversation.

"dinner with the russo's. half past six at paradiso, your brother and sister already said yes." your mum repeated as your stomach dropped and you fell silent. "darling did you hear me?"

"yeah i did. but look mum i have lesson planning to do and that's a school night and-" "oh y/n please! carol made such a point to ask how you've been and how much she'd love to see you. i know you and lessi drifted apart but you're both adults now darling i'm sure you can find some common ground, and the two of you used to be inseparable."

and there it was.

you could have just maybe deluded yourself into thinking that there was a slight chance the youngest russo wouldn't be present, perhaps you'd get lucky and she would be too busy off being a european football superstar.

but now you knew she'd be there the pit of worry and dread forming in your stomach only widened, quickly going from a small hole to a gaping chasm as the nerves already settled in at the thought of speaking with her after so many years apart.

"actually no you know what darling i don't care if you're an adult now, you're going. no arguments!" your mum decided, hastily excusing herself and stating she couldn't wait to see you, ending the call before you could utter another word.

"oh god, get it together! they're just regular people and its just one dinner." you mumbled to yourself with a shake of your head as you fixed your hair in your rear view mirror for the fifth time, sinking into your seat with a long exhale.

you jumped and let out a yell of shock as someones knuckles rapped against your window, an all too familiar toothy grin shining down at you as you grabbed your bag and popped open your door.

"shortstack!" giorgio cheered, surprising you as he scooped you up into a bearhug. "well, maybe not so much anymore." he placed you back down as he looked you up and down with a beaming smile.

"hi gio." you laughed fondly, hugging him again as he squeezed you, having been just like another brother to you as you'd grown up, it seemed he hadn't changed a bit.

"still shorter than me though, and definitely shorter than lessi." the boy teased as you felt a wave of nausea wash over you as the realization once again sank in you'd be seeing her again after all these years.

"so its been years, how have you been?" the italian laughed, throwing an arm over your shoulder as you briefly caught him up on what you were doing now as he did the same, the two of you wandering into the familiar restaurant.

"hasn't changed eh?" he chuckled as the both of you looked around, fondly recalling memories of all the dinners your combined families would have here throughout your childhood, the same owners still preserving its legacy and charm years and years later.

"hey, i was really sorry to learn about your dad. he was a good man, one of the best." the boy gently grabbed your arm and tugged you to the side a little, genuine sorrow in his eyes at the words as your lips pressed together and you nodded.

pity, you hated pity.

"thanks gio." you squeezed his shoulder with a small smile as the two of you resumed your chatter and you spotted the rest of your families already gathered together at a large table up the back, the same table you'd always sat at.

it seemed the two of you were the last to arrive as cheers erupted and you both made your rounds saying hello, without even needing to look to your right you could feel a certain blondes eyes burning holes in the side of your head, but you weren't quite ready to accept that just yet.

"sweetheart look at you! absolutely beautiful." carol beamed, pulling you into a very tight hug after you'd finished once again being lifted into the air both by mario and luca, seemingly an italian tradition as thats how it had always been for you with the men of the russo household.

"its so lovely to see you again carol, mum was delighted to have bumped into you, i know she's missed you since it all happened." you admitted softly, the older woman nodding in understanding and rubbing your back comfortingly.

though the gesture was not anything new it did send your heart racing, as you knew another russo who was fond of that exact same thing and at the seemingly simply action a million memories came crashing down onto you and your knees buckled slightly.

doing your best to shake them off you greeted your own siblings and mum, and then without anyone else to use as a buffer you found yourself having to take a seat, and of course the only seat free would be next to her.

your stomach dropped as finally you had no choice but to look at her, the girl thankfully caught up in conversation with your sister sitting across from her you found her eyes no longer gazed back at you.

it presented you with a small fleeting moment to actually take her in.

long gone was the grubby ten year old brunette who would tackle you to the ground and sit on you to paint your face with mud after she'd spent the afternoon kicking footballs at your head, now sat before you was a woman.

you knew she'd forgone her natural hair colour for the bottle blonde, in fact you'd been the very first person she told the moment she even started to consider it. you'd gone with her to the salon for her appointment, showering her with praise at her new cut and colour which she'd clearly stuck with over the years.

gone was the baby fat which once rounded out her face, her features though still soft had become more defined over time, and you couldn't help but allow your eyes the luxury of roaming her incredibly toned arms which sat on full display, likely attributed to the hours she dedicated to training every day.

she had always been strong physically, easily able to overpower you during countless wrestling matches in your early youth, or pinning you down on her bed to steal the breath from your very lungs with a searing kiss in your teenage years, forever teasing you to no end at all the ways she bettered you in strength.

sat with one leg crossed over the other you marvelled at the tight fitting dress which adorned the curvature of her body, another thing that grubby ten year old alessia would have scoffed at, forever foregoing fancy dress ups and heels for football boots and a tattered hand me down manchester united jersey.

of course over the years you'd grown up together there was changes within you both, the biggest of everything being the fact you realized you loved one another in a way best friends shouldn't, thinking about one another the way the rest of your friends spoke about liking boys.

it was how the two of you had wound up being one anothers first everything, though that was a secret reserved only for the two of you to share, and one that would take much more time than a quick dinner for you to really unpack.

so swallowing down the hard lump in your throat at the cascading emotions washing over you, you screamed at your legs to move and cleared the distance between you and her, your sisters eyes flickering toward you alerting alessia the chair beside her would no longer be vacant.

sneaking a glance up toward you she had to stop herself from gasping. much like your own observations, to alessia gone was the shy smiley ten year old she'd chased around her backyard every afternoon and sat giggling for hours with tucked away in pillow forts on rainy days, replaced instead with a well spoken and quite frankly drop dead gorgeous woman looking to her expectantly.

alessia quickly stood to her feet, wincing at the obnoxious scrape of her chair against the hard wood floor, the two of you sizing one another up clearly unsure how to proceed.

"hi." you started softly, alessia swooning at the dimples which hadn't left you over the years, your nose still scrunching slightly as it always had when you smiled.

"hey." the striker managed to force out with her own nervous smile, the two of you hesitating for a moment, clearly both ticking over if a hug was the next most appropriate step.

though right as alessia began to move closer, arms ready to envelop your shorter form, it seemed the decision had been made for both of you as servers arrived.

handing out menus and starting to take drink orders meant the two of you dropped down into your seats, refusing to look one another in the eye as you spoke to everyone and anyone but each other.

alessia ordering a glass of white wine with a grateful smile her ears perked up and a slight frown appeared on her face as you murmured to the man you were content to stick with water.

"let me guess, no drinking on a school night?" your older sister lily had mocked with a teasing grin as you rolled your eyes at her over the lip of your glass.

"oh yes your mum was telling me you're teaching now! and you've just gotten back from working abroad?" carol tuned in at that point, seated beside your sister as you nodded.

"yeah i was in australia for two years teaching, i actually only got back a few weeks ago and started a position here in a local school." you confirmed with a smile, alessia glancing toward you with a look of surprise at the new information.

“oh that’s just wonderful, I can see you’d be the most amazing teacher. what age?” carol complimented sincerely as you sent her a grateful smile, you’d definitely found the right work for you and you adored your job so you always appreciated when it was picked up on by others.

“I was teaching grade five in australia but my class here now are only second years which is a bit of a change.” you answered with a chuckle, it had definitely been an adjustment but you honestly preferred it to how things had been overseas.

"got over your fear of planes then if you made it in one piece to australia?" luca chimed in with a wink as you waved him off, having always had a paraylsing fear of aircraft it had taken a lot for you to board that final plane away from everything you knew.

but with a new adventure awaiting and having done about as much preparation as one girl could do, once you were in the air it relieved you to know it actually wasn't all that bad.

"lessi just got back from australia, well we all did actually what a place it is. and what a shame we didn't know you were living there at the time!" mario added with a regretful smile before returning to his conversation with your brother.

"yes i was sorry to see how that ended for you lessi, you played brilliantly though! lil and i watched most of the games, footy for breakfast." your mum beamed, alessia unable to not share a grin with the woman, her happiness always having been infectious just as yours was, it wasn't hard to see where you got it from.

"y/n was at the semi finals too, in person." your brother harry chimed in as your face paled, having hoped this wouldn't come up as you felt ocean blue eyes pierce into the side of your head. "you were?" alessia's voice was soft and laced with surprise, and you were sure you were the only one who had heard her as you nodded.

"our school was given a handful of tickets by one of the parents who sits on the FA board, so i went with a few other teachers. the only english woman among a huddle of australians i wasn't the most popular on the train ride home or at work that next day!" you joked, cheeks flushed slightly red at all the eyes on you, grateful once the conversation seemed to shift to another topic.

but alessia wasn't quite finished with it yet.

"i wish i'd known you were there." the blonde admitted quietly, sparing a glance toward you as you stiffened. "you scored the winner, i didn't miss that." you replied softly, messing about with your fingers and staring down at the table as alessia's wine arrived.

she downed it in one go, tapping the server and murmuring for another as he nodded and took her glass away, the blondes head buzzing with the much needed liquid confidence.

"did your friends need to explain the rules to you?" alessia smiled, her tone now much lighter as you shared a look, own lips curling upwards at what she was insinuating.

"mostly just how offside works and what the hell VAR was." you joked, seemingly relaxing a little more in your chair as alessia did the same. "i see your ever growing passion for football hasn't changed then." the older girl teased sarcastically, ring clad fingers drumming against the table.

despite it being her one true love you couldn't have cared less about the sport, the only reason you feigned any interest was not to upset her or have her feel unsupported, and so you allowed her to teach you the rules of the sport so you would appreciate every game you sat at to watch her play, and you hardly ever missed a single one.

though that also never ever stopped her from forcing you to stand between the posts as she and her brothers fired shot after shot at you.

you’d often run off after a few minutes of being hammered and your best friend would chase you down, dragging you back to the goal and demanding you try to stop at least one of her shots and she would switch with you and let you kick at her instead.

it was safe to say you never did manage to get a turn at playing striker.

"could say the same for you, champion of europe now isn't it? bit of a step up from winner of the backyard round robins one on one with your brothers." your shoulder nudged into hers slightly, setting alessias entire body on fire just from the marginal contact, something she'd not felt in years.

"seems we have a lot to catch up on then." alessia smiled, your stomach erupting into butterflies at the slight rasp of her voice, scolding yourself for such feelings as you settled again.

"well six years is quite a long time."

though alessia was hyper aware of all of the physical changes within you, it warmed her to see there were still some things which stuck around all the same over the time you'd spent apart.

"some things don't change do they." the blonde murmured with an amused smile seeing you pick out every single tomato from your side salad, subtly moving them to an awaiting napkin as you blushed having been caught out.

growing up you’d always do the same, normally not much of a picky eater but what you didn’t like you didn’t like. thankfully for you though the blonde beside you ate like a hoover growing up with how much physical energy she exerted daily, especially in her early teen years. and would always take whatever you didn’t want, making sure her mum never noticed as you were determined not to have her think you didn’t like anything she prepared for you.

"here." alessia chuckled, reaching out to grab the small handful of tomato’s you'd collected and depositing them on her own plate, in turn dropping a few of her roast potatos onto your own in a silent exchange, shutting down your protests with a firm look.

"thanks." you smiled gratefully, conversation turning toward alessia now as everyone picked at their food. "so arsenal then less? big shift from you as a die hard united fan." your brother joked though knowing the girl as you did you didn't miss the way a small frown of discomfort flickered across her face.

but as soon as it was there it had disappeared again and she was chattering away about how happy she was with her new club, and admittedly you tuned out a little bit as your mind wandered to your lesson planning for tomorrow.

"hm?" you hummed as you heard your name, shooting back down to earth and rejoining the conversation. "head in the clouds still sweetheart!" carol teased as you laughed nervously, apologizing for your lack of focus and asking your mum to repeat herself.

"we were just saying that lessi's new place is quite close to yours." the older woman smiled with a look in her eye you didn’t like, sipping at her wine as you forced a smile. "oh is it? thats nice." you nodded, looking anywhere than at alessia who you knew was waiting for you to say something more.

though when you didn't the conversation turned once again and you exhaled slightly, however of course the conversation had shifted to what you and alessia were like as children, your mums swapping story after story which frankly sent your head into a spin.

you abruptly stood, excusing yourself to go to the bathroom as you started to feel a little overwhelmed, alessia's eyes following yours with a concerned frown. "go make sure she's okay lessi." her mum ordered, shooting down her protests with a stern look and shooing her away as the blonde sighed and got to her feet, following after you.

she hesitated on the handle for the bathroom, she was almost certain she'd had a hand in why you left the table in the first place so would her coming to check in on you even really help anything?

she mulled it over for a moment, hand still on the handle before she shook her head, deciding against it and taking a step away. though no sooner had she made up her mind was it changed for her as the door opened and you'd come striding out, smacking into the blonde whose hands grabbed at you.

though with her notoriously clumsy nature she found her footing slipped and she was sent tumbling to the floor, accidentally taking you down with her as your bum smacked against the concrete with a wince.

"fuck, i'm so sorry." alessia blurted out as her face burnt red in embarrassment, hurrying to her feet and offering you a hand up. "it's fine." you smiled politely, the blonde frowning at just how quickly you dropped her hand once you were back on your feet, attempting to step around her to return to the table.

"wait." her strong hands landed on your hips, spinning you around as your eyes widened and alessia realized her mistake, hastily snatching away her hands and stepping back, mumbling an apology.

"you said to wait?" you reminded, eyebrow raised clearly giving her the opportunity to say whatever she had intended. "oh. can we get a coffee sometime? to catch up." alessia forced out, grateful for the few glasses of wine in her system that allowed her to swallow the nerves which threatened to drown her.

"alessia-" you started and the striker could tell right away from your tone and furrowed eyebrows that you were angling for a no. she had to swallow her wounded pride at the realisation you were also the only one at the entire table who'd not called her a single nickname all night, and if she was honest you were really the only one who she wanted to.

"please." the blonde almost begged, her hand reaching out for yours again but pausing midway as you ever so slightly retreated, fingers falling dejectedly back to her side as you sighed.

"alessia i really don't know if-"

"we were best friends for a lot longer than anything else went on. i want to hear about what you've been up to, properly. not just a few awkward sentences at a dinner you clearly don't even want to be at."

you hated her for how well she knew you and could clearly still read you like a book, despite the length of time it had been since she'd even seen picked up and glanced at the cover.

"i've missed you."

and there it was, the three word confession seemingly innocent however it was enough to drive a metal spike right through your insides, and had you wishing you could curl into a ball and be swallowed up by the floor right about now.

"please? it would just be two old friends getting a coffee, catching each other up about the last six years of their lives. completely normal!" alessia tried again this time with a joking smile, desperately trying to ease the fast mounting tension arising between the two of you.

you had to respect her efforts, the taller girl rocking back and forth on the balls of her feet nervously, hands rubbing at the material of her dress desperate to try and wipe them dry, her skin soft and clammy at the sight of you in front of her again after so long.

"okay."

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part two

#alessia russo x reader #woso blurbs #woso x reader #alessia russo #woso imagine #engwnt #woso #woso fanfics

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foreverisntenough · 5 months ago

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‘OURS’

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

INDEX

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

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

Warning! This chapter focus on mental health struggles and body image issues (depression and ed) It’s a little dark so if that is at all potentially triggering to you please be advised and do not interact.

Chapter 20 - Miss Mama | ‘Ours’

“She’s okay? God, please tell me she’s okay.” Trent asked in a voice that was heart wrenching. Lauren felt her heart shatter listening to him sound so meek and broken.

“Erm… physically so so, emotionally, T, I’ll be honest it’s not good. I know she fucked up but this isn’t good for you two to be apart. I’m worried.” Lauren croaked out. “I’m here with her now but….” She tried to begin to provide some sort of update but Trent cut her off.

“I need her to be okay, Lauren. I can’t have her like this. I need her. She… She’s my whole world. I am nothing without her. I’m so worried. I was the one that caused all of this. I need her to be okay.” He started to cry. Lauren could hear the gasps for air and sniffles through the phone. “I.. God, I l..love her so much.” Trent began to stutter interspersed between his tears. Lauren hadn’t really ever heard him cry but she understood wholeheartedly how upset he must’ve felt because she was feeling pretty much the same way.

“I know… I know you do, T. I think she needs to come home. She needs you. Seriously, I know you guys have a lot to unpack after what’s happened but being away from you, from Teddy… it’s killing her. She’s… she’s not well.” Lauren didn’t know how to describe or even articulate your current state. You were gaunt, your face didn’t have the glow it did when you were with him or your baby. Lauren had seen this version of you before though unfortunately. She hadn’t seen it in years but she’d never forget it. Since Trent entered your life there had been an incandescence about you. Sure, you had dips, everyone does but he was there now to hold you through it all. She recalled an ability you had that she hated to morph your body to completely display your emotional state. Your mental condition contorting into a physical one. “T…” Lauren whimpered, starting to cry. “This isn’t the first time this has happened, I know she’s told you. You’ve been so good for her, you’ve changed her whole outlook on life, you treat her the way she deserves to be treated. I’m just worried because this isn’t the first time I’ve had to do this.” Lauren took a deep breath.

“I am made for her. I know that. That is my purpose. I am supposed to take care of her and cherish her and I was mad, I was upset but I don’t want this. I never wanted to be the one to kick off something like this. God, I’m going fucking mad, here. Why did I let her leave like that ... .Wait, wait, hold on, do what, Laur?” Trent paused his momentary rant to get Lauren to clarify.

“Winnie told me about the first time. I hadn’t met Y/N yet. She just was so sick. She wasn’t taking care of herself. I know you already know about these things, I don’t have to relay it all to you again. Honestly, I can barely talk about it. I don't want to have to do this anymore” Lauren’s body shuddered remembering other time’s that she’s been in this very situation. “I’ve watched her destroy herself. She lets herself wither away. I've seen it again and again and I thought we were done. I thought that you’d be the person that finally brought her some peace and seeing her like this again… it’s breaking me. When I came into the apartment… god” Lauren continued to cry, her heart hurting thinking about her best friend struggling to see what everyone around her saw. You were beautiful, inside and out and not in a cliche way, in a way that was indisputable and breathtakingly refreshing. Trent’s stomach dropped. He actually thought he might’ve blacked out while Lauren continued talking. “She’s okay, she’s safe and asleep but she just really doesn’t want to lose you, she couldn’t handle it.” You didn’t always have the strength to push past the type of destruction you’d inflict on yourself over the years but there was something that Trent was able to do that gave you hope, gave you moments of truly feeling love and value. Lauren believed in you. You could be strong but losing Trent was not something she wanted you to have to ever endure. That was your person. The one that was created and cut, defined and detailed just for you.

“Get her back to me, Lauren. I need her. I am not losing her. You will not lose her. This is stopping now. Whatever you need, just get her back home to me. I’m going to take care of her, I promise.” Trent said sternly. This was over. Being apart was over. Honestly, Trent wanted to just fly to New York right now but he couldn’t because he had a match. He wanted to say fuck football. Trust, he never said that and meant it but he did right now. He knew you’d be mad if he did it and he knew it would cause a stir so he bestowed all his trust in Lauren to get you to him.

As you laid in your bed, Trent was unavoidable in your dreams. He was everywhere. You cried in your sleep. Missing him. You couldn’t get up when your eyes began to flutter open, god knows how much longer later. Enough for Lauren to have your next 24 hours already planned out for you at the least. Your body was paralyzed by the crushing weight feeling as if you ruined your impending marriage and family over a stupid night out you took too far. The tears kept falling. In retrospect, you’re not sure they had stopped for the past few days. You were amazed you had any left in your tear ducts. You thought about how beautiful Trent was and how, in a nearly impossible way, what you created together, Teddy, your baby, was even more beautiful. You could hear their laughs echoing in your head in the most cynical mockery of what you were missing. You missed them so much.

You were filled with a mix of fear, regret, anxiety, heartache, and anticipation when Lauren got you back to your house. You felt your body go cold as you approached your once incredibly warm front door. Lauren stayed outside calling Jude for her own moral support that she needed. You were in a haze but this was really difficult on her as well. You punched in the front door’s code and heard the lock turn and shift. You grabbed the handle and pushed. The smell of your house hit you like a freight train. You could’ve physically fallen over with the amount of memories that flooded your mind at the scent. You covered your face with your hands for a moment and took a deep breath trying to compose yourself. You dropped your bag and your Rimowa at the door just the way you hated Trent did. The alarm beep rang through the house alerting that a door had opened. The sound was like catnip. You heard the pitter patter of bare feet running clumsily on the hardwood floors. Around the corner swung the most perfect little girl. Her hair laid flat pulled into a bun with a few ringlet curls escaping. She had a light pink shirt on dragging a bear on the ground behind her with one arm holding its paw in her hand. You started to cry immediately.

“Mama!” Teddy cried. Tears coursing down her cheeks. Her initial excitement of who was at the front door halted by the surprise of how much she missed you. This was so unfair to her. You sat on the floor and pulled her into your embrace engulfing her. You sobbing along with her.

“My baby. I missed you so much. I love you so much. I’m so sorry mummy was away. I’m so sorry, baby.” You pressed your lips to her hair and shut your eyes tight. She didn't really understand why you'd been away but boy was she happy to see you. You never wanted to let go of this little girl. Teddy continued to weep but she slowed eventually. Your hold of her only seeming to get tighter though as she fell into shorter breaths and sounds of hiccups

“Miss my mama.” She cooed talking into your shirt. You squeezed her that much tighter. Your hand running over her head before you loosened your hold to be able to look at her. You pressed her nose against hers. “Mama no sad.” She whimpered, being able to see how visibly upset you were. It hadn’t actually been more than 72 hours that all this unfolded but you felt like she managed to grow up somehow. She was so emotionally attuned and intelligent. She nuzzled her face into the nape of your neck comforted by your smell and you by hers.

“Oh baby, I know, I know you missed mama. I missed you so much. I’m not sad, I’m just so happy to see my little Teddy bear, yeah? Were you good for daddy?” The question just fell out like a habit. You shut your eyes barely able to process saying his name to her. It was then you heard ‘daddy’s’ footsteps coming to stand close but what still felt far away watching you in the foyer. He could tell immediately you’d lost weight in the span of days. The curve of your shoulder looked different, your cheekbones just a little more defined.

“Dada! Mama home!” Teddy pulled away from you and turned around to Trent to tell him the exciting news. He nodded with a smile at her, not looking at you. You weren’t sure if this would be all that exciting of news to him. Nevertheless, you got yourself up on shaky legs. He came over to you in what felt like slow motion. You told yourself you wouldn’t cry. He hated when you cried and you didn’t want to upset him more but you thought you might seeing his gorgeous face again. You had no idea where the two of you stood. He said he was done but you were back home by Lauren's guidance for the sake of your daughter. She didn’t want to do any of the talking for Trent, she was simply acting as a delivery woman. Trent extended one arm out to you. His big hand grabbing the back of your neck harshly, almost aggressively pulling your sylphlike body into his strong one. He brought his other arm around you slipping low across the small of your back the way he usually did. It was a bone crushing embrace. You felt his chest tremble and then he sniffed in harshly as he began to cry. You made him cry. You shut your eyes, extending the persistence of the horrible feelings you’d had for days.

“I love you.” You whispered, tucking your face against his neck. Your nose flattened against his soft skin. Teddy stood quietly holding onto your leg not ready to let go. Lauren snuck into the house quietly and grabbed her. “I’m sorry.” you whimpered barely audible. You took a deep breath reveling in the feeling of his warm hold, relief and fear concomitantly falling over you.

“Don’t fucking ever leave us again. Your home, your place in this world is right here in my arms with our little girl. We cannot survive without you here. Do you understand me?” Trent cooed with a stern but shaky voice keeping you tight to his chest. You nodded as your pervasive tears returned. More and more falling the longer he held you. “We love you. God, fuck… I am so in love with you Y/N. Please don’t ever leave me. No matter how much I push, no matter what’s happening, you cannot leave.” He pleaded begging you more than he was instructing you.

“I don’t want to leave, I don’t want you to not want me anymore. I want to come home, T. You’re the love of my life. You’re the only way I’m able to breathe.” You placed your hand over your heaving chest because your heart began to hurt so badly.

“You can’t go anywhere else. Not letting you.” He said with a desperate release of air. Your other hand’s nails dug into his cotton t-shirt covering his back. You let him cry, loosening your claw and rubbing circles with your hand on his lower back whilst the other moved off your chest to gently scratch his scalp until he was able to calm down.

“You never cry…” You made the observation giving him a sad smile in between gasping breaths. You wiped the tears under his eyes gently. Guilt and empathy running down your face.

“You’re worth crying for, baby.” he cupped your cheek. The heartfelt way he said baby to you returning, stilling your racing mind. He looked into your eyes and you felt everything around you disappear. Every worry, every physical thing around you vanishing, only him left. He kissed you and it was like someone restarted your whole nervous system. The cogs in your brain began turning again, the blood in your body began to pump again, your heart began beating again, the color began to rush back into your cheeks. “You owe me a few days of kisses, yeah? Teddy too. She’s desperate, apparently I’m not the same as mama.” He cooed, pulling away momentarily letting you know the work that laid ahead of you before returning his lips to their rightful place on yours.

“Oh no…” you couldn’t help but giggle picturing the conversations they must’ve had. Your lips curling into a toothy smile inadvertently pulling them off his. Listening to the two of them together was precious, you could only imagine what they were saying when they were alone. It made your heart swell seeing those two identical faces together. “What’d she say?” you asked curious to hear about the exchange.

“Nah, she had me running, you know? I felt like she knew the game she was playing as well. Dada want this, dada up, dada quiet. Just command after command and then in swept the critiques.” You smiled seeing his eyes light up recalling their days and Teddy’s hold over him.

“No mama does!” She rattled off squirming away as he attempted to do her hair after he placed her on his lap in front of him in a mirror in her room.

“I know she’s the best at it but can you let daddy do it today?” He asked her politely. He pulled her curls back into the best bun he could manage. Brushing it slicked back. She furrowed her brow at the finished product. He looked at her trying to make out why she wasn’t happy. He thought he did a good job.

“Bow! Dada bow, please.” She looked at him back through the mirror like he was dumb pressing her palm onto his thigh. Obviously, he forgot a bow. How did he not know that? He placed it and sighed. He kissed her cheek and plopped her on her own two feet.

“Are we hungry this morning? I am. I’m thinking we have the toastie you like.” Trent cooed looking at her as they walked down the hall inspecting his handiwork on her hair trying to find a flaw that warranted her disgruntled response. Teddy replied with a simple ‘yuck’ keeping her gaze fixed ahead focused on her tiny steps. “What why? What do you want then?” He asked inquisitively with a bit of a smile. It was hard not to laugh at her developing personality. He held her hand but let her navigate the grand staircase in your house roughly by herself.

“Mama.” She responded to him confidently and calmly knowing not what she wanted to eat but very certain she’d prefer you to be there to make it for her.

“Yeah, well same…” Trent exhaled, inspecting the empty refrigerator he knew you usually filled with all the things you knew he and Teddy liked. It was the little things you did that had disappeared in front of his eyes now missing them tremendously in a day's time.

“I mean… it wasn’t good, baby.” His smile faded as he recalled the last couple days that were filled with some cute moments but more so difficult ones.

“Baby?” You asked, interested if that’s where you stood now. Were you on good terms? One of the last times he said it it really stung.

“Yeah, my baby. Forever but we really need to talk.” He spoke to you softly before taking your hand and guiding you into the cinema. It made you nervous hearing the door shut behind you. The noise reminding you the room had sound proof walls. God, you hoped this wasn’t going to be another loud fight like the one that transpired in your kitchen where you’d need those walls.

“I know we’re talking and it’s serious but…” You took a deep breath and tried to fight back tears. You sat on opposite sides of the couch in the room awkwardly as if you had just met. You looked at him with a pout and puppy dog eyes. “I’m scared and I really need you. Can you just hold me please?” You whimpered out, quite pathetic.

“C’mere, pretty girl. This is where you’re supposed to be, yeah?” He smiled softly, loving hearing that you needed him, that he was a comfort to you. You relaxed in his arms, relieved that was the vibe and not you two raising your voices. You laid your head on his shoulder. Trent hugged you tightly and you couldn’t hold back the tears that began to run down your face. You bawled his shirt in your fists.

“T… Who was that in the photos?” You sheepishly asked, unable to keep it inside anymore. You wanted to get what felt like the hard bit out of the way. You were lying to yourself and using him as a scapegoat. This wasn’t the hard part by a long shot. No matter his answer, there was a massive elephant in the room and it was you but you couldn’t shake the photos online of him and that woman. The thought of someone else, another girl spending time alone with him. Her somehow becoming his best friend. Him choosing her over you.

“Baby…” He drew out the pet name, saddened you’d seen the photos and imagined something completely incorrect.

“If you did, I’d understand.” You cut him off before he even answered you, excusing an action he didn’t do. He dropped his head back against the couch frustrated this was still where you were at, that things didn’t magically change when you walked back into the house. You believed he could treat you like that and it would be an okay thing, something you might’ve deserved.

“Stop. I didn’t do anything. It was George’s cousin. Baby… we gotta work through this. You need to understand I’m committed to you. This is why I met with her. You need…” He trailed off feeling awkward and terrible for what he was about to say. “ You need help.” He muttered out.

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry for it all, T, the final, New York. I never wanted to hurt you.” You apologized earnestly.

“You didn’t hurt me, I mean you did but I’m more concerned about you hurting yourself. I was scared. I know Lauren told Jude not to but baby, we’re all really worried. They both told me about what happened in the apartment in New York…” He sighed hating that you were even having to have this conversation. You exhaled his name, defeated feeling the same. “Nah, I don’t want a defense or excuse. I can’t lose you.” He tried to deter you from the innate need to defend yourself.

“Before Wembley… I don’t know. I got too drunk and I was alone and I got sad. It was a one off.” You had no ground to stand on, any reasoning would’ve been illogical but you felt the words jumbled rolling off your tongue.

“It’s not. When Lauren visited, you got so sad, baby. It’s just not, you’ve said it’s happened before. Your dad told me, Winnie’s told me, Lauren’s told me. It might not be happening in front of me but it’s happening. Baby, I get that it…” He tried to keep talking to you but you gave him a face you gave to a lot of people. A facade of interest. A mask being pulled in front of your face, the elastic band snapping behind your head securing it. “Don’t…” he reprimanded you knowing it all too well. “Fine, I can’t understand but I imagine it’s hard to talk about. I’m scared. I’ll be the one to say it, alright? I’m fucking scared, Y/N.” He sheepishly admitted to you. Feeling like he failed by doing so. “We need to go to a doctor. I don’t mean this derogatorily I just think someone could help. I'm out of my depth here. I don’t want anything to happen to you. To my Y/N. To my baby’s mum.” He defeatedly let out. You could feel his heart racing pressed against you. You had so much to say but nothing would come out. You cuddled into him, laying your head on his chest. “I love you so much.” He whispered, breathing you in. Transitioning from sheer desperation to admiration for your body in his hands right now. Jesus Christ, what had happened? In a weird way he began to wonder if he felt like he had used you. “Am I making things worse?” He questioned you terrified of your potentially heartbreaking answer. You shook your head ‘no.’ Why didn’t this stuff go on in front of him? The inability to keep up with a golden boy wasn’t the problem but it was hard to not feel downtrodden. Trent was empathetic, he could hear it in the way you cried in the kitchen before you left.

'You expect me to be this perfect version 24/7 but I’m not. I’m not!” You kept crying. “I’m sorry. Fuck! I’m sorry, I’m trying but I can’t be like you, okay?” You whimpered, feeling defeated and broken.'

You didn’t really blame Trent for being good at well… life. Instead, you felt a crushing amount of guilt and shame for not simply being enough. The inability to measure up not to him but for him. You felt so tender in his arms like if he moved suddenly or too rough you’d break or bruise. He thought about the way he had sex with you, the way he uprooted you to England, the way he got you pregnant. He felt horrible that he inflicted so much on you physically. He just wanted to take care of you but alternatively, you’d never felt less used. The exact scenarios he was recalling flashed through your mind in the most blissfully painful way. You shut your eyes again. You wouldn’t change a thing, a lie, maybe a few things on your end but overall, no. His hands on you felt alleviating and comforting all the time. Even if he was fucking you roughly, even if you were jet lagged flying places to see him, even the grueling process of labor was fine all because he was there.

“Thank you for caring.” You muttered out embarrassingly honestly, finally finding some words that you felt wholeheartedly would be good to start with. Trent’s heart, if it hadn’t already when he saw you come back into your house, it surely did just completely shatter. He kissed your hair and then over your ear before whispering to you.

“I will always care about you. More than you could ever understand. I will do anything for you…” he paused and let out a breathy sigh. “Anything.” The warmth of his breath, the drag of his lips moving down your skin sent a shiver running up your spine.

“T, we shouldn't, it's too soon.” You moaned feeling his lips cascade down the length of your jaw. The mood in the room shifting in slow motion. He didn’t mean to, it just was instinctual. His big hands moving the fabric of your top further and further up, finding more and more of your bare skin. You pushed yourself back into him, rolling your head to the side. Telling him one thing out loud and asking for something completely different silently.

“It’s fine. We’re fine, baby. We’re gonna be fine.” He rattled off, not able to think very clearly lost in a very thick haze feeling your body again.

“We can’t do this, T. I have more to say.” You whined, not meaning half the words you said. You definitely wanted to do this but you also did have more to say. He had no control at this point and you hated that it turned you on so much. His desire for you would always trump any sense of reasoning you had. You couldn’t stop him because the sensations running through you were invincible. The physical attraction and the sexual desire between you would always pull you back together.

“No, no, this is going to be really good. I fucking need you. I missed you so much..” You turned towards him with a desperate look on your face. Your eyes filled with lust. Trent could get hard off the look on your face alone but feeling you again, touching you again was setting him off. He pulled you into a messy make out gripping your face before pushing you backwards onto more of the couch crawling over you. “We need this. You need this.” He whispered, breathing you in and moving his kisses to your neck. You kept him close to you pulling him to you by his face. His hands dropped to your waist. He was right, you needed this, you needed him. His soft warm hands pushed your shirt up to feel more of you.

“I love you, baby.” You murmured your lips unable to not pull into a smile. He sighed into the crook of your neck hearing you say that. You brought your legs to wrap around him digging your heels into his back. You couldn’t think about anything else but him for the last few days and right now was no different.

“I love you so much.” He cooed and his voice never sounded more caring and honest. He spoke into your warm skin, kissing them into the most sensitive part of your neck. The whole thing feels more intimate than ever. Love filling the room to the brim. He reached between you and looped the two layers of his boxer and trousers pulling both off. He revealed his tone v line and you let out an embarrassing moan, you taking your own clothes off swiftly. He pulled away from you and looked at your bare body. You felt so naked and vulnerable, he could sense your nerves. He tilted your face towards his holding your cheek. “What are you being shy about? It’s just me, yeah?” He waited for you. You nodded pulling him back into a kiss. You sighed in the kiss dragging your nails up his chest. He repositioned his body over yours and dragged the tip of his leaking cock through your folds.

“T… please, I need you.” You whined. He smiled happy you were back to your normal comfortable self with him. He slowly eased into your dripping wet pussy. You moaned as Trent treaded carefully moving slowly inside. His face fell into your neck groaning at the feeling of you wrapping around him. He moved slowly but precisely. Your nails dug into his back as he kissed your skin. Each stroke loving and thoughtful. He picked up his pace though lost in the feeling.

“You feel so good, baby.” He grunted pushing your thigh up further to your side, hitting deeper inside you. The grip of his fingers on you dug into your soft thigh. He found the spot inside you only knew, only for him, only for you, repeatedly

“Baby, oh my god, T. I missed you. I’m so sorry. I love you.” You were unable to stop your babbles. Tears began to fill your waterline.

“Don’t be. I love you. You’re here with me. Be here with me. Fuck, you feel so good. Let me take care of you” He inhaled a sharp breath. His dimples s sank into cheeks as he gave a sincerely sad and sympathetic smile. “Tell me your mine, baby.” He murmured continuing to thrust into in a way that was so euphoric your tears began to fall. His voice was breathy against your ear feeling the same amount of emotion you were feeling. The weight of his body on top of yours feeling like nothing compared to the weight lifting off you two. Your orgasm approached faster and faster, minute after minute. He bit onto your earlobe and tugged, grabbing your attention.

“I’m yours, Trent. I’m always gonna be yours.” You whimpered. His mahogany eyes poured back into yours. He felt his heart skip a beat when you pulled him back down into a kiss. He fucked you harder with a harsh grunt juxtaposed by the sweetest kiss to the bridge of your nose. Your hand dragged down from behind his neck down the protruding veins of his arms until you reached the rigid texture of the Patek Phillipe watch he had wrapped on his wrist. The knot in your stomach tightened. It only took a few more mind numbing thrusts before Trent’s head dropped into your neck. Your climax erupting inside of you, your vision going white. His cock throbbed inside of you, beginning to paint your walls. You moaned ‘I love yous’ simultaneously. You felt him pouring into you. Waves upon waves of pleasure coursing through both of you. You hid your face against him. He slowed and you felt your bottom lip quiver against his skin. An uncontrollable sob escaped you. Your emotions bubbled over once more. Trent pulled out as gently as he could. He rolled off of you but was swift pulling you back into him. You clung to him crying.

“I’m right here.” He whispered, pulling you that much closer to him and yet it wasn’t close enough. You wanted to be completely surrounded by him. “Can you look at me, baby?” He sounded so worried. You shook your head ‘no.’ “Y/N…” He grabbed your face gently and turned you towards him. “I need to know you’re okay.” He asked softly. More tears escaped.

“I’m okay… just love you so much, T.” You pouted up at him and you felt his tense hold relax. “I love you.” He pressed a wet kiss to your cheek the way you always pretended to hate but secretly loved. You wiped his wet spit off of you and giggled. Trent felt relief wash over him when he heard his favorite sound in the world.

“Oh wow… so mummy and daddy are… fine.” Lauren laughed carrying Teddy past the cinema minutes okay from upstairs into the kitchen. She was currently FaceTiming Jude biding her time while watching Teddy for you and Trent to ‘talk.’ “I think they’re fine. I mean they’re fucking so it’s either a really good thing or a really bad thing.” She laughed. Hoping for the first option. “Should we make you some lunchtime, hmm?” She cooed to the little girl in her arms while Teddy eagerly nodded trying to grab hold of her phone curious about Jude on the other end.

“You’re good with kids, Laur.” Jude spoke through her phone with a cheeky smile seeing her so attentive and kind to Teddy.

“I think I’m just good with Teddy. She's chill so it doesn’t really count. I know this is how it works but she’s the perfect blend of them. All the best things I like rolled into the cutest, squishiest, baby girl in the whole world!” Lauren sang in a soft voice, pinching at Teddy’s tummy. Her squeal shrieking through the phone, Jude blinking his eyes a few times, taken aback by her response to Lauren.

“All done mama!” Teddy yelled as you met them in the kitchen, flush. You pressed a kiss to Teddy's hair on your way to get the water you needed desperately before attending to her. She had finished eating the lunch Lauren kindly had made for her.

“Good girl.” You cooed with a smile. Lauren sat with a smug look on her face as she waited for the inevitable late entrance of Trent, who, when he did stride in, looked absolutely fucking elated.

“Dada miss mama,” Teddy told you as she saw Trent enter. It was an over simplified way saying Trent had really missed you. He sadly and softly smiled at you hearing her. Your heart broke a little that she’d been able to piece it together, that she could sense Trent’s sad mood.

“Mummy loves you so much.” He’d reassure her feeling completely unsure of what was going on in your relationship.The few nights you were away Trent would tuck Teddy in as she cried. Teddy would fall asleep only comforted by Trent babbling on little stories and tidbits about you, how perfect you were, how much you likely missed her. They’d watch videos of you and he’d melt. “Want to see something baby? Want to see the day I met mummy?” He laughed remembering a specific video he had on his phone, he wanted to watch. Teddy nodded tiredly, adjusting to the new routine activity. He was a little embarrassed he even had it but it made him remember a really good time despite things being so bad right now. You likely didn’t even know this video existed. He kept it in a locked folder on his phone primarily where all your nudes and let’s say spicer videos lived. He smiled seeing you like that. Vulnerable, needy for him and in love. You looked gorgeous. He dragged his thumb over the screen. He just wanted to feel your soft skin again as he carefully picked the video of you out of the roll making sure not to pick the wrong one before he showed Teddy. It was a video Marcel had sent around in a snapchat which seemed mundane at the time. He remembered Jude teasing him about it the following day as you laid on his chest, experiencing a new warm feeling of comfort. The video was strangely endearing, like you could see your connection in real time. Energy and force pushing you together. The earth letting out a sigh of relief finally getting two people that were meant to be connected.

“Mama pwety.” Teddy looked up at him cuddling a plush bear with big sleepy eyes as they looked at the thumbnail before he pressed play. He nodded at her. “Yeah, you have the most beautiful mummy in the world.” He confirmed to your daughter with a sigh before he hit play. Hearing your coquettish laugh in the video cozying up to him in a club years ago just about sent him into cardiac arrest. It hurt. God, did it hurt.

“Oh, I missed you both lots.” You cooed, kissing her. She smiled, little dimples indenting in her cheeks. A very visual confirmation she was Trent’s little girl. You’ve said it before but you were comedically jealous of the genetics Teddy was inheriting from him.

“More plebs!” Teddy screamed, grabbing for you. “Mama, miss!” She giggled loving that you were back and really loving your kisses, kicking her feet in her chair. She greedily hummed. “Lub my mummy.” She squealed excitedly. You wanted to cry but you didn’t want to stop kissing her to so you held off.

“Mummy gives the best kisses, huh?” Trent cooed, bending over in front of Teddy to plant a kiss on your cheek with a hum.

“You’d know…” Lauren quipped cheekily eliciting a proud augh from Trent and a raised eyebrow from you.

When Teddy eventually got sleepy you brought her upstairs for sleep. You went to her nursery and you pouted seeing that Trent had nestled one of your softest jumpers in her crib, the smell of you still lingering. There was a little framed photo of your family moved from its original place propped closer for her to see. You started crying so hard you had to sit down. You couldn’t believe you put your child through this, you couldn’t believe you put Trent through this. Trent came upstairs and you met him in your bedroom after you had calmed yourself down on your own. He held you in bed in a close cuddle.

“I can’t remember ever going to bed without saying goodnight before. I hated this so much, baby.” You whispered into the dark room as he caressed your warm skin under a tiny camisole you had on.

“We’re never doing this again. I’m sorry I got so upset.” He cooed behind the shell of your ear pressing his lips against you. You both stayed awake in a warm cuddle. You didn’t know what time it was but it as the color of sky outside fell into that warm navy color, you’d guess around 4 am though.

“Do you still want to marry me?” You asked after a few hours of not talking, just happy to be back in his arms and good graces. Neither of you wanted to fall asleep but not out of worry, but out of comfort. You didn’t want to lose the cognizance of his presence, what he felt like, what he smelt like.

“Not a single second went by where I ever questioned that, okay?” He hummed. You smiled through a pout. You’d hope that was true. He meant it though. He didn’t waver in his commitment to you. He told Tyler he had no plans of leaving you. Through all of this it didn’t even pop in his head you would call off the marriage. Maybe he was angry and didn’t like how things currently were but not have you, not marry you? Never. You turned around in his arms and pressed a kiss to his lips. He kissed you back and shut his eyes, getting tired, not being able to keep them open anymore. You let him rest but you stayed awake inspecting his features. You brought your hand up to his face and tracing his perfectly plump lips. You brushed your thumb over his high cheekbones. You started to fall asleep then dropping your face in his neck, tucked carefully under his chin, wrapping your arms around his waist, legs tangled together. You kissed his warm skin drowsily, letting him know how much you loved him even while he slept. He woke up first the next day. He did the same as you did last night inspecting your features. The morning sun seeped through your blinds. The golden light casting over you. You looked radiant and luminescent but your soul, your heart, he could feel it. It was more striking than your beauty. He kissed your forehead before pulling you that much tighter to him.

Trent had his last game of the season. It was a little surreal mostly because you realized that when the next season began you would be married, the surname on the jersey you were in, would be your own. Lauren and Marcel accompanied you along with Teddy. You wished Marcel would shut up so you could live in your moment of bliss imagining being his brother’s wife and admire Trent in peace. The way sweat dripped over his adams apple, his jersey sticking a little to his abs, his cheekbones highlighted by the floodlights. He looked unreal. Lauren went inside and Marcel looked at you curiously. You could feel his eyes but you ignored him until he spoke.

“Going to tell me how things have been?” He looked at you completely ignoring the game now. You rolled your eyes but he was persistent.

“Yeah, all fine” You said dismissively, keeping your eyes on Trent whilst tucking a loose curl behind Teddy’s ear. He rolled his eyes now at you.

“Y/N… you know you have to let us in, let him in, let me in. I don’t get why you didn't tell me to begin with?” He spoke, sounding heartfelt, keeping his gaze fixed on you.

“When was I supposed...” You sighed stopping yourself from starting to defend yourself but you could see his brow raise in annoyance. “I’m sorry, okay? I didn’t want to scare anyone.” You exhaled feeling a lot of guilt wash over you. He was one of your best friends and you had been extremely selfish not considering how he must’ve felt and dense assuming he wouldn’t want to know.

“Well, you did a really bad job.” He laughed and it made you smile. You felt relieved he was at least being normal again with you.

“Marce… “ You sheepishly got out. “I’m so sorry” you apologized earnestly, leaning your head on his shoulder. He rested his head on top of yours.

“We love you. Just want mummy healthy, right Ted?” He cooed picking up Teddy from you from under her arms. Her eyes lit up.

‘Lub mama, Celly!” She giggled, reaching to hug him wrapping herself around his neck. You pulled her Liverpool jersey down for her covering her back. You smiling at her voice. She loved him so much. To be fair, Marcel just had good vibes and since having Teddy you felt like kids had a great gauge of people. There was something that was so endearing about her relationship with him. She trusted him and was comforted by him, it made you feel incredibly relaxed knowing she’d always have her uncles and your sister.

“I’m so glad you’re mine.” Trent whispered, kissing your head. You held Teddy and smiled for the annual end of season family photo you so loved. Trent was staring at you though not the cameras. You had gone down onto the pitch for one final lap after the match. It was lovely as always. Sweet and a bit emotional.

“Always yours.” You cooed, turning to kiss him. Teddy quick to want the same amount of attention you were giving each other. She pulled at your shirt with a cute grunt. “Yes, yes and you are ours, Teddy girl.” You kissed her with an eccentric ‘Mwah!’ her giggle following.

When you finally were driving home, you were tired, Teddy already fast asleep, and Trent absolutely exhausted. Needless to say it was a quiet ride. You looked at Trent as the colored lights lining the motorway leaked into the car. You smiled admiring his beauty. His focus on the road but yours on his jawline strikingly sharp.

“What are you staring at me for?” He laughed, calling you out, flashing his eyes your way quickly. You giggled sliding your hand over onto his face brushing your thumb over his cheek.

“You’re so pretty. Do you know that?” You cooed admiring his annoying perfect skin, despite his annoyingly minimal effort.

“Yeah, obviously.” He replied with a straight face before he couldn’t hold in the cheeky childish smile he was trying to keep down. His perfect grin made your heart hurt. He was so pretty but you rolled your eyes at his pompousness. “Don’t pull a bird like you looking anything but leng.” He turned his adorable look to you.

“Yeah? How did you even manage to bag me?” You teased with a giggle. His smile staying put hearing the sound but he rolled his eyes at your joke. He tapped at his cheek with his free hand, keeping the other draped over the steering wheel. You raised your eyebrows at his gesture.

“Go on…” He instructed you. You laughed again and pressed a kiss where his fingers had been tapping. “Thank youuu.” He sang.

“Ridiculous.” You reached over again to him and squeezed his thigh.

“Erm… Ow? I just played 97 minutes. Keep your hands to yourself.” He quipped. You squeezed his thigh again just because. You knew he liked the attention. He loves when you give it to him and he can just annoy you in return.

“You love my hands on you. So full of it, you know.” You giggled with one more squeeze than attempted to remove your hand but he was quick to place his over top of it to keep it on him.

“I do. I really love your hands on me.” He cooed in a voice that made you feel like you had a juvenile crush on him. You were flustered by the flirtatious comment. He could feel your arm tense a little so instead of keeping your hand on his thigh, he picked it up and brought it up to his lips to kiss the back of it.

“T… do you want to take me on a date this week?” You asked him bluntly, turning the direction of the conversation. You liked him flirting with you right now and you wanted more. You thought it’d be nice to have a night out just you two. Probably a good thing considering what had transpired.

“Yeah? Want me to?” He smiled big again squeezing your hand. You nodded in an adorably naive way. “Yeah, beautiful, I’ll take you out.” He cooed turning towards you again. His mind beginning to comb through ideas of where he wanted to take you. You leaned over once more unprovoked to give him another kiss on the cheek before you tucked back in your seat shutting your eyes and resting your head onto the window. “Alright, sleepy girls, we’re home.” Trent’s voice waking you up from a daze you didn’t know you had fallen into. You turned to him with a tired pout as if to ask ‘can you please carry me inside?’ He laughed getting out of the car. He came around and opened your door but then he stepped away and opened the back seat. “I’m gonna carry our literal baby but if you want to wait I’ll come back and get you.” He mocked you. You obviously weren’t going to wait outside so you begrudgingly got out of the car yourself. Trent picked up Teddy gently making sure she didn’t wake. He held her tight to him. You shut the door of the car for him and followed them, proceeding to slip your arms around his waist and resting your forehead against his back. He shook his head as he got both his sleepy girls to bed.

The next day you were getting ready to go to Dianne’s house up in your bedroom's wardrobe. You were doing your best to get back into your routine. Lauren was still there, leaving soon, but you had promised Dianne you’d go see her with Teddy. She heard rumblings about the situation, naturally. Trent had confided in her early on in your relationship when you first let it slip you had struggled with your health to him. He’d never really thought about something like that affecting someone he knew. He had girl friends and girlfriends but he never had a sister he had to share a bathroom with growing up. He didn’t know girls were skipping meals and doing diets or maybe the more extreme things you had been doing that you shared with him. She of course was empathetic to him and did her best to be a sounding board and not intrude but as a mum, as a person who knew you and loved you, she was concerned. So you promised you’d go.

“Hey… have you seen my Van Clef?” you asked vaguely to Trent. “Like our one?” You clarified more as you were trying to put final touches on your outfit. He puffed out some air realizing that he was going to have to confront his mistake head on. He hated himself. He had been trying to avoid it but of course you were looking for it, you wore it almost everyday.

“Baby…” he called you, watching nervously. You hummed acknowledging him as you dug through your wardrobe thinking maybe you had misplaced it. “It’s not here.” He told you sheepishly. You gave him a side eye confused but when he didn’t speak you turned your whole body to him.

“What do you mean? I don’t understand.” At first, maybe you thought this was some sweet ploy of his. He came to you and slipped his hands around your waist. When he dropped his forehead against yours you felt the energy shift in the room. This wasn’t some goofy thing he was serious about something.

“I had to bring it in to get repaired.” He got his words out so slow you clung to each one in anticipation. Your brow furrowed. He exhaled, dropping his shoulders. He wished he could lie but he knew it'd be wrong to. He was asking you to be honest with him; it would be incredibly hypocritical. “I found it when you were gone and I don’t know I just snapped and then it snapped.” He shut his eyes. You let out a measly ‘oh’ you felt the things he did when it happened. That necklace was your relationship and he had destroyed it. You were definitely in the wrong but it made you feel so sad you were actively trying not to cry or react. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry I don’t know what happened it just felt like such a punch in the gut finding it. I though that you didn’t want it or you left it, left me… it hurt. I’m sorry. Fuck.” He babbled incredibly quickly. You usually were fine with his accented words but your eyes narrowed trying to focus your spinning mind on what he was saying. His accent would come in thick sometimes and disappear other days. Relaxing with his friends at home, their words could feel like another language. Nervous doing press, he was more conscious of what he was saying, letting it slip away.

“It’s fine… I guess.” You gave him a soft smile wishing you didn’t say the last bit. “I understand.” You kissed the tip of his nose and pulled yourself out of his hold. The room went ice cold. Trent’s mind was just filled with his inner voice screaming ‘fuck.’ It was hard not to notice the mood change after that. He hated it. “T, I didn’t leave it on purpose…” you told him right before you left, kissing his cheek, holding Teddy and heading to your car. You were so swift; he didn't even have the opportunity to respond.

“Laur... what am I meant to do here? Things aren’t just going to snap back.” Trent sighed, squinting, picking up his hand to shield his eyes to better make out Lauren’s face. They were sitting in your back garden as the English summer sun beat down on them. They stayed at home while you popped to Dianne’s. Despite your upset about your necklace it did make you happy that your best friend and your fiance “I don’t know, sometimes I just feel like a kid. I feel like I’m making stupid mistakes.” Trent was thinking about breaking the necklace. You’d probably be just as upset if he had managed to break your engagement ring but in a way this had stung more. The necklace was a decision he made before, a decision he made off of instinct, under your nose, completely infatuated by you. It was such an indication of how he felt about you from the very beginning and it was gone. A part of you was happy you didn’t have any visual of it all.

“You’re not but I know the feeling. If you didn’t pick up I was going to call your mum the other day. I was in a moment of introspection on the flight over and I almost laughed. Your mum? Oh hiya erm… can you help… embarrassing.” Lauren rattled off what felt like a million different thoughts. She shook her head but noticed Trent faint smirk on his face not pulling into a full smile but drifting into a tight line.

“Maybe we should’ve.” He reflected. Maybe Dianne would’ve been more of a help than him. “Like she’s fine most of the time right? I make her happy? I try so hard and yet some days I can feel it like nothing could ever change it all.” He spoke looking and sounded defeated.

“It’s not you T… She loves you so much. You make her happy, she’ll be okay, but she is the only one that can change it. You’re there for her and that’s the most important. She needs you and Teddy.” Lauren kept her eyes locked on his, making sure he knew she was being serious. She meant what she was saying. He couldn’t fix things but he was essential. Trent responded only with a soft ‘yeah.’ He thought to himself though that what you really needed was for him to repair your necklace and your relationship.

•

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

Next part - Chapter 21 xx

#trent alexander arnold #trent alexander arnold x reader #trent alexander arnold imagines #taa x reader #taa66 #footballer x y/n #footballer x reader #oursfic #trent alexander arnold smut

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vidavalor · 25 days ago

Note

I've had to disconnect from my dash because of all the negativity; I honestly do not get why people are acting like a semblance of justice+a movie is the worst thing in the world?

I'm mourning for the full six-episode season we lost because ng couldn't pass the utmost basic sub-zero bar for not acting like scum and of course I wish amazon had kicked him out and then sprung for it anyway (and honestly, as long as you're blaming the right person, I think it's fine to feel upset? We deserved better, the cast and crew deserved, Terry deserved better, and this one guy ruins it for everyone because the bar was buried six feet deep beneath the ground and he still managed to go lower, and that does suck, and it is miserable and unfair, so take a moment if you need it 🤷‍♀️) but let's face it, we got off lucky. Arguably, considering this was a standalone novel from the nineties, that then got made, in one of the best book adaptations I've ever seen, into a limited standalone tv miniseries (and, again, emphasising the standalone here, so even if it all goes to hell in a handbasket, we'll still always have S1 and the book; people have been ignoring the Jurassic Park sequels for nearly three decades), and then got a surprise sequel, we were pretty lucky the whole way through.

And regarding the whole what if it's bad thing, I was always going to be worried: I was anxious long before this shit went down, and I was anxious before S2 and even S1, as well. It's not like we ever had any guarantee it was going to be good beforehand either, and at this point, knowing what we do now, I'm not at all sure I'd have trusted ng to write this anyways. So while, yeah sure, I'm maybe a little more anxious now, I trust Michael and David with these characters and I trust Rob and Rhianna with Terry's legacy and story and that they wouldn't have fought so hard for this ending unless they planned to keep fighting and thought they could pull it off. Isn't the problem with this kind of thing normally that what happnes is the creator who cares deeply about the work gets pulled in favour of someone out-of-touch who cares not a jot about the story and needs to leave their own grubby fingerprints all over it? More the other way around here, no?

Anyway, what I also wanted to say was that I really appreciated your 'think of it as the final two episodes of season two' (and all your takes on this situation so far, very level-headed and optimistic, thank you). I mean, you're right, and it's hardly wildly out-there for a series to finish on a feature-length special, and although the filler material in S2 and the compression of S3 maybe means it doesn't exactly resemble what the second book would have been, it was only ever meant to be two books. (Don't get me wrong, I enjoyed S2 and was very glad to get it, even though I am a book/S1 fan and also had the most fun in that time fandom pre/post/around the time of the S1 release, but why does it exist? Ego? You can't tell me you couldn't have fit the important parts of S2 into one season with the S3 plotline.)

Basically, I'm grieving the could-have-beens (imagine if he'd been exposed way earlier and the TP estate had had control of this whole production from the very start!) and I'm a little worried that that hurt'll stick around no matter how good S3 is - which I need to fix, because that's more power over my favourite show and what it means to me that I want to give anyone, let alone someone like that - but at the end of day, I do think it definitely can be done with what we have, and I'm choosing to be hopeful it'll be done well, because, well, why wouldn't I?

(I will say this hasn't been great for my faith in humanity, because I really want to believe not all men are shit and some of them are making it very difficult right now, but that's an entirely different problem and so far believing most people are mostly good has always prevailed in the end so. y'know. we'll get there. might reread discworld, that's always good for that.)

Sorry for venting all this at you! I just kinda felt the need to write it all down once to get it off my chest... have a snack on me? I'm partial to cherry tomatoes, green melon and mandarines at the moment (I stop eating salads in winter, which means I default to eating even more fruit) but I can also offer homemade baked goodies fresh from this morning? 🥧

Hi there. 💕 You are welcome to vent away & thank you for the delicious-sounding snacks and kind words. I'm glad my posts on the movie boosted your spirits about it. I agree with and can relate to almost everything that you said here so assume that anything that I don't address just has a 'yes, absolutely' nod happening. 🙂‍↕️

The one thing I want to touch on here is S2 and this idea of it being "filler" that you mentioned that I think might not be quite accurate. I think you (and anyone else who reads this) might feel more enthused about the idea of a good ending in 90 minutes after reading this so hopefully this'll be another way that I can help?

On why S2 is really the whole story and actually had a lot more going on in every way than S1...

Ok, I'm going to explain something that drives writers like myself bonkers 😂 and that is how some readers or viewers of fictional stories mix up plot and story.

Nothing grinds our gears than reading things like "filler" and "unnecessary subplots" because, while everyone is within their rights to have an opinion on written works, 95% of the time, the person who says phrases like this isn't talking about the quality of the work but of its very existence. They're saying "why did we have to read/watch this? it didn't connect to anything" and that's where they are very, very, very... argh, just tell them, Crowley...

...thank you, dear. Right, so, why is it wrong?

Because what many people who don't write don't understand about subplots and more character-driven story arcs is that the writers sat down and decided to do that stuff for very, very specific story reasons. Readers and viewers mistake plot for story. Plot only exists in service of story and, so, all plots exist for a purpose in the story. They're all relevant. In fact, the stuff people usually label as "filler" in a story is really exactly where they should be looking to figure out what the story is saying. If you're big mad about all this time you spent with Maggie and Nina in S2, I'd say you might not still understand what S2 was about because you won't understand Aziraphale's story without understanding both Maggie and Nina's struggles in S2, for example.

A story is the whole, overall thing. It's the meanings, themes, and messages in the work. It's what's being said. It's the ideas being put forth by the piece. It's what it's about. It's different from plot, which is just the stuff the writers are making the characters do or not do in order to tell the story that they are looking to tell. Story is the art; plot is a tool used to make that art. Fiction writers can come at their story from almost anywhere to convey what it is that they are trying to say so there is meaning in the fact that they are choosing to tell their stories the way that they are telling them. They came up with these ideas for reasons.

When you dismiss stuff as filler, you're saying that it's lesser than more in-your-face and bigger plots (when, often, it's very much not), and you're telling a writer how they should have written their own story-- most of the time, without even fully seeing the ending of that story or giving any consideration to why it is that the writer wanted you to read or watch the stuff you're saying wasn't necessary. I'm not arguing that every story is perfect but you aren't getting anywhere near close to being able to evaluate a story if you're not willing to dive into what you were given and consider why it was that you were given those things and what they might mean.

Until the main question that you're asking about every single aspect of a story is "what is this saying?", you're not really fully engaging with a work. You won't get there by dismissing what the artists are telling you is important.

The secret sauce to interpreting fiction are subplots, actually. They exist to help highlight the themes of the main story, often in a slightly more direct way. If you want to understand Good Omens, starting with Ineffable Bureaucracy is actually one of the best ways to get at the core of the themes of the story. It's far from wasted time in the story.

There's actually a funny nod to the importance of subplots in 1941 when Aziraphale references Sophocles, the playwright who basically created the concept of the supporting character whose story mirrors and parallels the main character(s). The mention of Sophocles shows up in S2, the season that brings Gabriel more fully into his purpose as exactly that.

The reason why S2's plot is centered around the honestly pretty easily solvable mystery as to what's happened to Gabriel is because Gabriel, from the get-go, has been the entire story distilled down.

If you follow nothing but Ineffable Bureaucracy in Good Omens, you're going to be closer to getting what it's about and where it's going and what its end game is than you are if you are dismissing it as wasted time when we only have few episodes left. If you haven't yet seen the secret wisdom in Jim-- not to mention understand that Jim and Gabriel are the same person-- then you're probably wigging out more about the movie.

You likely think that S2 was wasted on stuff like Gabriel, or Maggie and Nina's romance, when they should have been getting to Armageddon and The Second Coming already!

You haven't yet noticed that Armageddon has more than one meaning in the series.

It's not always the literal destruction of Earth but also a person's own life crisis. We are all worlds of our own and those worlds can be put at risk if we don't let others in and take care of ourselves and those around us.

When you realize this, you can start to see that S1 goes hard with a freight train of plot all over the place that is related to Armageddon in a more Biblical, apocalyptic sense while it establishes its universe for us but that, once we know how it all works, we can get something like S2... a time where we can step back and start using Armageddon in the more figurative way that the story is also presenting it.

We need to because the story isn't about Heaven or Hell-- it's about being a person. S2 is emphasizing the deeper aspects of the themes and rolling that out at a pace more in line with a person having a few days of inner crisis. When you see that Aziraphale's crisis is the point then you can see how S1 can be about The Four Horsepeople riding to the end of the world and S2 can show War (inner conflict), Pollution (mental health issues), and Famine (symptoms of the other two; lack of food and pleasure and connection; self-starvation and self-denial) as a mental health crisis.

The point is that if you're thinking these characters need to come together to overthrow Heaven and Hell and get to the South Downs Cottage and there's no time slajdflkfwjlkejlje!?!?, then you aren't realizing that not every revolution involves guns and bombs.

People all over the world can start a love train that's far more effective. You might think a subplot about The Hellhound and The Ginger Cat learning to play nice and that they have a fuckton in common and should maybe bury the hatchet and just become eternal bffs already is filler but Crowley and Gabriel aligning is set up for the end game. It's strength in numbers and finding peace and family. They can't overthrow Heaven/Hell without help and Gabriel is the Supreme Archangel. They literally will never have a South Downs Cottage ending without a plot that helped Crowley and Aziraphale see that Gabriel and Beez are on their side.

This is the revolution in Good Omens:

It will take all the characters coming together to overthrow Heaven/Hell and set up something new for us to get a happy ending and we absolutely will. S2 is Gabriel-centric because Gabriel is the key to all of the characters getting a peaceful ending and because he's a split-directly-down-the-middle mirror of both Crowley and Aziraphale. In a season that is more about Aziraphale's inner Armageddon than about an external threat, Gabriel is vital to telling that story. The plot of S2 is every bit as important to the story as S1. I'd argue that it's even more important because takes the time to go at the themes in a slower, deeper way. It needs to because it's a story of a fall that sets up for a story in S3 of a recovery from one.

Good Omens is the absolute perfect combination of a show that is both very, very detail-oriented and full of depth while also being, secretly, an incredibly simple story. I do not mean simple in a negative way but in a chef's kiss sort of way. Simple in a tight and elegant sort of way. This is something that I think some people might not see when they're theorizing but it's something to keep in mind ahead of the movie. Not just because the movie is shorter-- this would have been relevant if we were having a longer S3, too.

Good Omens has a very engaged fan base that looks for the details, yes. *raises hand* I'm one of them lol. And there will be plenty to pour over in the movie, but... the big thing to keep in mind is that your theory needs to be something that is simple, that can be explained in under a handful of scenes, tops, and that is focused on where Aziraphale's story arc is going above anything and everything else.

If you're beginning with time loops and the birth of a new antichrist baby, I'm telling you from ages of experience reading and writing stories, you're going to be way off. If you are over here composing theories of the story that you are arguing are correct and this theory involves, idk... *makes something up* Crowley is really Elvis and Elvis is really The Bentley and when a rainbow hits Whickber Street at exactly 4 minutes into the new season, Satan will be revealed to really be Jesus, I think maybe you might be missing the point of the details that the show has given already. Like the plot, these details exist to reinforce the themes of the story. Story beats everything else-- it's what this is all about.

And what Good Omens is about? Is best summed up by Michael Sheen, in this single sentence that I really, really agree with and have paraphrased more than once in posts:

Good Omens is about the business of living. It's about the human experience, which is the experience of being a person. Everything related to Heaven and Hell and good and evil and Armageddon and supernatural things is plot that only exists to highlight a story about the complexities of being a person.

The supernatural is human and the human is supernatural.

That is what Good Omens is about.

While Crowley and Aziraphale are built as two halves of a whole and are both main characters, Aziraphale is the main character from a technical, story perspective, because he is the character whose story arc is driving both the plot and story forward. He's heading for a happy ending with Crowley in the South Downs by the end of the film. If you're making theories, start with what kind of plot would truly get him there and still fit with all of the themes of the story.

This 'it's about being a person' business is why if you look at S2 as filler and not as a season that is exploring the continuing themes on a deeper level, you're still worried about things like there being no time in a movie to show the story of a new antichrist kid being born or how they're going to fit the whole Second Coming into the movie. You don't yet see that Aziraphale parallels Adam and that being an antichrist is basically just being a person and that Aziraphale is presently the antichrist in the story. There is no antichrist child yet to be born. They won't be cutting it because it's not the story.

Armageddon since S2 has been Aziraphale's own personal one and the story from the end of S2 on is now how, if all the other characters can't come together to help him, it could also trigger Armageddon of the S1, Earth-destroying kind. It's tying a more literal Armageddon into a more figurative one. Because this story is about being a person so Armageddon is just metaphorical for going through a mental health crisis and shutting people out.

This story's themes include that every person matters and we all have to let others in and look out for one another. That there's strength in numbers. That found family and adopted family is as much family as biological family-- often, even more so. That labelling and categorizing people is bullshit and you should always open the cover and read the first sentences of people and help people whose stories begin with the same letters find one another. That it might be surprising who has things in common. It's about all of Heaven and Hell versus all of humanity, in the sense that ideas of being a perfect angel or being seen as an evil demon are concepts felt by human beings that get in the way of peace and healthy, happy living, but that fighting them is a common, human struggle, regardless of from where you come.

If you are too focused on the religious plot being the center of the film, you haven't yet seen the meaning of why the end of S1 was an eleven year old kid saving the world by telling off the bio-dad that was never there for him. You might be one of the people who thought this a silly, anti-climatic ending to that story, and don't yet realize that this is the entire story in a nutshell.

Adam can only reject Satan and keep the darkness at bay because he is surrounded-- here, literally-- by a family that supports him. He has good people for parents and was lucky enough to grow up with resources that all kids in this world should have. He has an absolutely terrific group of friends. He has this witch lady and her boyfriend and these two gay uncles that just showed up out of nowhere 😂 and his human incarnate self has what it needs to make it through this crisis, in this moment, even if he'll probably have others throughout his life, just like all of us. He's not evil incarnate and he doesn't have to be perfect-- he's just a person.

Aziraphale tells Adam this but struggles to see himself in the same way. That's what S2 is about.

S2 is about that other kid who, like Adam, breaks the season down into a single line of dialogue, David Tennant's apparent favorite from the season:

Jemimah knows who she is and she is happy to claim ownership over her art and contributions to the world. She's living her life with excitement and enthusiasm in a way that gets more complicated as we become traumatized adults. Crowley and Aziraphale struggle with this. They have been making a life together on Earth for thousands of years and each struggle, in their own ways, to truly accept that they are people who are allowed to have a life because they struggle to accept that they are people, just like everyone else.

Their story is about getting to a better place with that. That's really all Good Omens fundamentally is. That's why their ending is going to be to go live in a little cottage together that isn't a business that covers up an angelic embassy that covers up a secret love den. It's just their house-- theirs together for the life they're going to live openly together.

If you want some peace with the film, I'd advise throwing over your theories about The Second Coming and Armageddon needing to happen and antichrist kids and how Jesus fits into everything. Jesus in Good Omens is Crowley romancing Aziraphale at the crucifixion and Aziraphale using what Jesus said to Crowley to reject temptation as invitation to fuck him. I thought Jesus in a single scene or less was the most likely thing for S3 and the same holds for the movie. It's not the story. The only time The Second Coming is mentioned in S2 is by the villain and, to get there, Earth would have to first be destroyed. It won't be.

If the story is about being a messy human walking the Earth and we're in the end game now, then the story is about Aziraphale and only Aziraphale. Everything-- everything-- will be in service of Aziraphale's story arc. We already had just a few episodes with S3 and we now have even less time but the way this is going is still the same. The story is Aziraphale's fall and the other characters coming together to challenge Heaven to keep Aziraphale from eternity in Hell. That's how Armageddon is stopped this time around-- overthrowing Heaven with Aziraphale's fate as the motivation to take on The Metatron. It's nothing to do with Jesus. It's everything to do with Aziraphale.

When you see that, you can see how feasible that is in 90 minutes, with plenty of time for things like 1941, Part 3 and other flashbacks.

I think, when all is said and done, you might wind up appreciating S2 more after the film but you can get there already if you start looking at it less as meaningless fluff and start asking why it is that we were shown this story, in this way, and what that can tell us about the story we're watching.

#good omens #ineffable husbands #crowley #aziraphale #aziracrow #good omens meta #good omens finale #ineffable bureaucracy #the archangel fucking gabriel

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missmonsters2 · 2 years ago

Text

—KAIROSCLEROSIS | TEN (FINAL)

Pairing: Wednesday Addams x OFC/Fem!Reader

Summary: Everything comes to settle in the aftermath. You're healing and Wednesday takes the time to consider what she's experiencing until she picks it apart in a way she can tolerate it. You are hers, though. That is for certain.

Warnings: softsoftsoftsoft. so soft. Wednesday is soft. cuddling. happy ending. healing. bantering. did i say soft? crying it's so soft. satisfying aftermath. the nickname bet comes to an end. soft in case you were unaware.

Series Masterlist | Library Blog | AO3

Reminder there's no taglist, but you can follow my library blog for notifications 💘

Note: book 1 has come to an end! Thank you so much to everyone who has supported this series <3 Sequel is on it's way along with some oneshots! series masterlist has been re-edited with info.

Part Nine

⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷†⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷

Kairosclerosis: Noun. The moment you realize that you're currently happy—consciously trying to savor the feeling—which prompts your intellect to identify it, pick it apart, and put it in context, where it will slowly dissolve until it's little more than an aftertaste.

⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷†⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷

Wednesday sits beside your hospital bed, quietly reading Goody's spellbook. The only noise is the sound of your quiet breathing and the steady beeping from the machine that monitors your heart rate.

The spellbook is coming in handy already. Wednesday has just discovered a better remedial salve—one that should actually speed up the healing process. Once Enid arrives, Wednesday would be free to go and gather the ingredients she needed. She would need some honey from Eugene's bees, and she recalled a plant in the greenhouse with the pulp she needed.

A particularly deep breath draws Wednesday's attention from her book. Her head tilts slightly over as she peers at you. Your eyes are closed, unaware of anything as you slept on. You had to be put on your stomach so that your wings could rest without anything touching them.

The reopened wounds had to be stitched back together and then bandaged, which the doctor noted would have to be for two weeks and frequently changed. Wednesday was merely waiting for you to be discharged, and she could take your healing into her own hands. The nurse earlier had received a scathing glare when she was not delicate in changing your bandages yesterday, causing your brows to furrow as you slept on.

Morons, Wednesday vehemently decided then. They couldn't be trusted with you.

"You should wake up soon," Wednesday says, even though you never reply. She doesn't even know if you're listening. "It's much too sunny without you."

"Wednesday," Enid sighs as she walks into the room, a new bouquet of flowers in her hands. "Why are you up again? You're supposed to be resting too. You got stabbed in the arm!"

"This is hardly anything," Wednesday raises her brow as she closes the spellbook and puts it back into her bag. "It honestly hurts more when I punch Pugsley."

“You mean when Pugsley punches you?”

“No.”

"Still," Enid frowns, looking over her roommate. Despite only having been two days since the ordeal, Wednesday threatened the hospital staff to discharge her mere hours after she got cleaned and fixed up.

You could barely tell that Wednesday was injured by the way she continued wearing long sleeves, tidy braids, and lack of reaction. The only visible sign was the bandage she had to wear over her temple.

"Fae will be upset if you refuse to rest and heal when she wakes up." Enid looks over to you, biting her bottom lip. A part of her wants to cry at how banged up you looked. She knew—could smell how much blood there was that night. But now you really looked broken with the machines hooked up to you and the red-stained bandages wrapped over your wings.

It was worse than when Eugene was in the hospital last year.

Wednesday looks at you once more as she prepares to leave. Your back rises and falls with each steady breath. "Then I suppose she'll have to wake up if she wants me to even consider listening to her grievances against me."

Walking out the door, Wednesday doesn't spare you another glance as she walks down the corridors. The nurses give her a wide berth, the lights flickering as she walks.

A room comes up as she makes her way to the stairwell. There are two police guards posted outside. As she passes, she looks into the window and sees a lanky boy with messy hair and gauze bandages wrapped around his eyes and head. He's completely unaware.

Wednesday smiles sinisterly.

⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷†⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷

"Miss Addams," Weems greets as she puts down her fancy fountain pen, gesturing for Wednesday to come closer.

Wednesday wordlessly takes a seat, her face impassive.

They stare at each other for a long moment before Weems lets out a long, tired sigh. She pinches the bridge of her nose before she looks at the macabre girl.

"How are your classes going?" Weems asks.

Wednesday looks unimpressed as she lets out a dull "Fine."

"I hear you're taking class notes for Fae when she wakes up," Weems smiles then, and Wednesday narrows her eyes.

"Only because Enid's writing is so cacographic that it'd be more legible if it was put through a shredder."

Weem merely chuckles, rubbing her temples. "The reason I've called you to my office is that the investigation is finally coming to an end." Weems folds her hands together on the desk in front of her. "I know you've given the police your statement, but I thought I'd get the event recounted by you myself."

"I've assumed you read the report?" Wednesday asks, her chin jilted slightly.

Weems nods.

"Then you already know what happened. I will not be changing my story," Wednesday raises her brow. "She was kidnapped. I found the clues to where she was and the fact that Henry was the culprit. When I arrived, she was unconscious and chained to the table, poisoned with a draeconium potion."

Wednesday watches as Weems's hands tighten slightly.

"Henry gave his unremarkable sob story before we engaged in combat. The noises woke her up, and she freed herself before she defended us against Henry."

"I noticed you weren't very descriptive in this area in your report," Weems points out.

"Everything she did was something only a high lord's daughter or a night faerie would be able to do, so I will keep it to myself. The police are welcome to come and try to get an answer out of me," Wednesday's eyes glint as she gives a sharp smile, "but at their own risk."

Weems gives a wry smile and waves her hand for Wednesday to continue.

"Henry's desperation to attack us and gain the upper hand led him to strain his eyes and lose consciousness. At that moment, Enid and everyone else barged in as they finally escaped his mindscape. We all made our way back here to get medical help."

Weems stares at Wednesday after the girl finishes recounting the story. "I see," the principal says evenly after a moment. "And that was what happened? Henry lost consciousness and you left him there immediately after?"

"Yes. I wasn't going to go out of my way to bring back a kidnapper and our attempted murderer," Wednesday shrugs.

"He could have died," Weems emphasizes pointedly. "Which would've been another death here at Nevermore two years in a row."

"His failure to kill us both is his own fault. He should deal with the consequences of it himself. The authorities were able to get them, were they not? I hear he's resting in his own guarded room." There was a telling smirk on Wednesday's face.

"Yes," Weems's voice is hard. "Though I'm sure you know the guards are useless, considering he no longer has eyes and can't use his gift anymore."

"I heard rumors around the hospital," Wednesday's face was indifferent again.

"Wednesday," Weems sighs. "This was a disaster. Henry Morrison Sr wants to further investigate the disappearance of his son's eyes. He's convinced that they were surgically removed and considering there was only you in this situation that was conscious, he wants to press charges against you."

"Is he an absolute moron?" Wednesday raises her brow. "Is he not aware of what his son attempted to do?"

"Yes, well—"

"I encourage him to try to press charges against me with the lack of evidence he has. This case would be so laughable, I wouldn't even need to hire legal help with how guaranteed my victory is."

"Yes," Weems cuts in before Wednesday can say anything else. "And I told him as such."

Wednesday sharply looks at the principal, her eyes full of suspicion. She has no doubts that Weems knew she had gouged out Henry's eyes. After all, she had timed it perfectly for the authorities to arrive on time before he could die.

The optic nerve was completely severed to ensure his psychic abilities could never manifest again, and then she fed his eyeballs to the fish in the river as she rowed her way back.

"I have informed Mr. Morrison Sr that back in 1956, there was a similar incident where a psychic had over-exerted himself, resulting in his eyes bursting and it seemed that may be the case here." Weems's eyes seem to search for something in Wednesday, but it doesn't seem like she's looking for the truth. "There's no proof indicating otherwise. With that, Henry Jr is expelled, obviously."

"Will he be going to jail like Tyler?" Wednesday's quick to ask.

"Well, considering only one student attacked—no, I'm not counting you as you foolishly went after Fae alone—it's not enough to warrant having the academy file charges—"

"Of course," Wednesday hisses disdainfully. "We wouldn't want to potentially harm the school's impeccable reputation—"

"—That being said," Weems cut in forcefully, giving Wednesday a stern look. "As Fae's guardian, I am personally filing charges. I'm quite confident Morrison Sr will want to accept the plea bargain when we meet next week, lest he wants a long, grueling court battle where I will drag his family name through the mud."

Wednesday went quiet. She doesn't apologize, but there's a mild look of respect in Wednesday’s eyes. Her eyes flicker down and then back up. "Why did you want me to recount the report if the investigation has obviously concluded?"

Weems gathers the paper on her desk, shuffling them to line up. "I merely wanted to hear the events in your own words, as the police will still want Fae's matching statement when she awakens."

Wednesday stares on.

"I'm dismissing you for the day," Weems says as she puts the papers back on her desk. "I'm rather tied up with things I cannot put off, and I have a meeting in half an hour. There's a car waiting for you at the gates."

"Why—" Wednesday starts to ask, but she can feel her heart thudding against her ribcage almost painfully, and she relishes in it.

"I have let the hospital staff know you'll be arriving to check her out on my authorization. I have already handled her discharge papers over the phone earlier. Listen to me for once and arrive before the police do," Weems says, dismissing Wednesday.

Wednesday gets up and walks out of the office briskly. She begins to walk towards the gates outside but stops. Turning towards her room, Wednesday first goes there and picks up the fuzzy black blanket, folding it neatly together, then draping it over her arm. She grabs a single grape lollipop from Enid's desk before she takes the shortest way to the front gates.

The ride feels tediously long, and Wednesday snaps at the driver to drive faster. It barely comes to a stop before Wednesday gets out and walks through the hospital doors. She doesn't make herself known to the front desk receptionists and takes the stairwell up and down the memorized pathway to room 316.

The door is already open, but there's no noise inside. There's a moment when Wednesday's heart drops at the lack of noise. Wednesday's used to feeling miserable; it brings her comfort and joy now even to feel so. Occasionally, she'll feel a type of misery she could live without.

Wednesday's never been aware of how un-miserable she wants to be as she approaches your door.

The moment Wednesday steps in, her face doesn't change at all. If anything, she looks more dispassionate than usual.

But she blinks.

"Hi, Wednesday."

You've probably said it hundreds of times now. You've said it in the same tone over and over, but Wednesday suddenly feels like it's better than any music she's heard. It even sounds better than Pugsley's screams.

You're smiling at her. You look tired with the bags and dark circles under your eyes, but you're alive, and you look so—Wednesday clenches her jaw—hers. You just look like hers. Franz Kafka said it best: you are the knife she turns inside herself.

"You are so cruel, Wednesday. I wake up to make your world less sunny, and you bring me only one grape lollipop? Rest assured you'll be listening to the grievances I have against you."

⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷†⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷

"We should get up soon, I need to apply your salve."

"Can't you just apply it like this? You did yesterday."

"Need I remind you how long it took and in the end, I had to get up to get to the places I couldn't reach."

"I think I can stretch my wings further today. You might not have to get up."

Wednesday sighs at your mutterings but leaves it be. You'll probably be more agreeable to moving in an hour anyway.

Your body is a steady weight on top of hers, and you radiate a warmth that Wednesday thought would make her uncomfortable with how cool her body normally is. But it just makes everything tepid, and Wednesday finds she has a penchant for it.

Your head rests against her chest, and you once commented how eerie it was that it was such a slow and quiet heartbeat, like she might as well be dead. The words were entirely flattering.

Wednesday stares at the ceiling; she knows you're slowly falling asleep again. The past two weeks, you've been rather boring as all you can do is rest, but Wednesday finds it gives her a lot of time to think.

Her story has slowly been changing—it has been ever since she's grown closer to you. Between the mysteries and the morbidity of everything, her main character seems to be experiencing something else too.

Wednesday thinks about what it means to her and comes to an utterly disgusting conclusion.

She's happy.

It's so repugnant that Wednesday constantly sneers at herself. She has no desire to expand on it, but she'll catch herself thinking of useless things. It dampens the happiness into something Wednesday's also unfamiliar with, and she can't decide which is worse.

Wednesday's fingers trail over the arches of your wings, feeling the bone just underneath the soft feathers. Your wing twitches, but you say nothing. She continues her exploration of her wings, careful over the wounds that are still slowly healing but have been much better with the salve she created using Goody's spellbook.

Your wings start trilling when Wednesday reaches further toward the middle. The skin is thinner there, but the feathers are lush and thick.

"Tickles," you mumble, your brows furrowing but not opening your eyes.

Wednesday glances down at you before she pulls the blanket up higher. "Come with me to my manor on the next Parents' Day."

You let out a big yawn, ruffling your feathers with a small shake. "Are you sure?" You mumble, still sleepy.

"My mother invited you."

You hum. "Sure, it'd be nice to see where you live. I think I'll want to have dinner with Larissa on Friday night, but I can leave after."

"We'll go together on Saturday morning."

"'kay," you mutter sleepily.

There's a lull in silence again, and Wednesday feels discontentment in her chest. She wonders if you can hear it as you lay over her heart.

Wednesday clears her throat. "I have thought of a moniker for you."

She can feel you smiling.

"Oh?" You say amusedly, but you continue to lay there with your eyes closed. "Let's hear it."

"I believe we should just stick with Fae. We've already gone on too long, and there'd be no point in changing it now. Even if other faeries came to this school, there's still only one Fae. You'd merely confuse everyone with a new alias."

You let out a laugh then, shifting in Wednesday's arms. "It took you six months to come to that conclusion? Did you even come up with anything else?"

"Nothing that I would allow anyone else to call you," Wednesday huffs with annoyance, still cursing her father's passed-on nicknaming abilities.

"Why not?"

Silence again. Wednesday seems to be debating her discontentment before she says, "you are mine."

It's so simple, the words and the way she says it.

You finally open your eyes as you lift your head to look up at Wednesday, who is resting against the headboard of your bed. She looks at you as if challenging you to say otherwise.

"So, we're dating?" You tilt your head.

"Yes," Wednesday says with finality but also looks pained at the frivolous words and then sighs. "I never thought I'd be capable of wanting someone like this. I don't do feelings but all you make me do is feel things I have to research later."

"What kind of words?"

"Ridiculous words that I'm convinced are fake," Wednesday deadpans. "Regardless, I don't do feelings, but the idea of not experiencing more with you is unbearable."

"You're mine then?" you say, and it's more of a statement than a question.

"I am," Wednesday confirms.

You let out a soft laugh, and Wednesday tilts her head.

"I never thought I'd ever have anyone to call mine," you say with a quiet smile. "I have very few things, Wednesday. I promise to treat you very well."

Wednesday nods once, her fingers tracing over a feather. You lift yourself higher with your hands, coming face to face with the grim girl, your nose brushing against hers. She was so serious looking.

"I discovered last year that I'm capable of evolving," Wednesday says quietly, her lips brushing against yours as her hands rest on the small of your back. "It's inequitable how much you've affected me."

You smile widely then, your lips parting in a huff of laughter. They're so ridiculous. Really, you're made for her, and she's made for you. "Wednesday, you've changed me since the day I laid my eyes on you." You kiss her, and the only noise in the room is the sound of your wings gently fluttering with excitement and Wednesday's stolen breath.

⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷†⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷

"I believe I've come up with an acceptable arrangement of your epithet," Wednesday declares. "I'm owed your phone number."

You don't even look at her as you blindly reach for your phone on your desk, too comfortable to move from lying on top of Wednesday as you cuddle.

Wednesday watches you fiddle around on your device before her phone in her sweater pocket vibrates.

She pulls her phone out and sees there's a text from you.

(xxx)-xxx-xxxx: save this number 😗

"What is the meaning of this?" Wednesday asks, her voice low and dangerous, but you seem unbothered.

"You have my number now?"

"You had my phone number this entire time?" Wednesday feels something brewing inside of her, and it's mainly murder.

You nod, still lying on top of her with your eyes closed. "Enid gave it to me after the bet was made."

"Why?" Wednesday demanded.

"Because I asked for it?"

"Then why make the ridiculous bet? Did you enjoy listening to such brainless suggestions?"

"I told you," you smile. "I only make bets where I'll win either way. I wanted you to come up with something and win to give you the excuse of asking for my number. If you didn't, then Enid was already giving up and about to suggest we stick to Fae the next time it got brought up. I would've texted you after the bet was over."

Wednesday stares down at you, and she bores into the side of your head and plots silently.

"You are detestable, but I respect your strategy and deception. Although, regardless of the fact you are mine will not save you from my revenge."

You finally look up at Wednesday's unimpressed stare and smile at her.

"Threatening me with a good time again, are you?"

END

EPILOGUE 1

⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷†⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷

Hope you enjoyed the series! :)

I will be opening up a temporary taglist of 50 people to be notified when the oneshots and sequel is up! Comment or reblog on this post only to be added (pls don't send to my inbox bc i will miss it 💔) you can still always follow my library blog for notifs @missmonsters2-library

#wednesday addams x reader #wednesday addams imagine #wednesday x reader #jenna ortega x reader #wednesday addams fanfiction #wednesdayedit #wednesday addams x you #mm: my fics

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bluesylveon2 · 1 year ago

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Rumors

Summary: Leona is used to people talking about him. Yuu must believe the rumors, right?

Word Count: 1.3k

Note: sequel to “Love at First Fight,” royal au, fluff, light angst, cameos for a future fic

Warning: fem Yuu reader, not beta read, and possible ooc characters

Masterlist: here, Series Masterlist: here

"I wonder why the King agreed to this?"

"Did you hear? Prince Leona once murdered someone with his magic?"

"I hear the Princess has been avoiding Leona lately. She must believe the rumors too…"

"If only he was like his brother."

Whispers.

All Leona heard were whispers no matter where he was.

Leona had heard it all of his life, and he grew used to it. He knew there was no way he could be king. Leona did not blame the Princess for not wanting to interact with him. She must have seen herself as his key to becoming a king. Yuu's interactions with him were kept to a minimum if they were obligated to be in the same room.

Leona made his way to the garden, the same garden where he met Yuu, ready to rest under a tree with a pillow and some snacks on the side. He honestly had a small hope that Yuu, the woman he arranged to marry, would see him differently and not what he was known for. He remembered when they first met and how she caught him off guard. He never expected her to have similar strength as the women back home.

Leona respected that. Too bad the feeling was not mutual. That was when he made his decision.

If Yuu chose not to get close to him, he would honor that, even if it hurt him. He would not force her to initiate things with him when it was his brother's and her father's choice to be stuck with him.

Despite that, Leona at least tried to be with Yuu indirectly. Sometimes, he noticed how stressed she looked, so he convinced the King that he would handle her duties for her to give her a day off. Other times, a gift would "magically" appear in the air when Yuu felt down that day, making Yuu smile again.

If Yuu smiled, then Leona would be content with it.

He can spend the rest of his time giving up on the hope he had and break the engagement later on. Yuu deserved to be with someone she loved. His unrequited crush did not matter.

It was better to break the plant by the bud.

Leona navigated his way through the quiet garden with Yuu in his mind. He was not worthy to stand beside her. Yuu would be a good queen, and he saw so much potential in her. Her kindness, strength, and wisdom would make her kingdom flourish. Leona sighed as his eyes landed on his favorite tree.

He must be hallucinating because he could swear Yuu was currently napping in his spot.

She looked peaceful, like she would not be a queen one day. Her face was relaxed, and her breathing was rhythmic. She lay on a blanket, and a medium-sized basket was nearby. Yuu stirred as if she sensed Leona nearby.

"There you are. I've been looking all over for you." Yuu said while rubbing the sleep out of her eyes.

Leona leaned against the tree. "How did you know I would be here?" he raised a brow.

Yuu gave Leona a look that explained it all. Leona's eyes widened a fraction, and he knew. Oh, he figured it out.

Yuu giggled at his reaction, her eyes filled with glee. "You should be lying on a blanket and not the grass. Plus, you deserve to eat something after going out of your way to ensure I'm well."

Leona smirked. "Well, aren't you a smart herbivore?"

"Thanks. A future queen has to be. That reminds me." Yuu shifted to grab the basket and placed it in front of her. "I know our first few interactions were rough, and I apologize. This is my peace offering to you." Yuu opened it, and Leona's eyes widened.

"No way…" His eyes landed on a beautiful steak that made his mouth water.

"It is. This steak is very rare. The cattle it comes from can only be found in a village hidden in the Shaftlands. Only a few people can get their hands on it. Luckily, I knew someone with enough connections to get me one."

Leona could smell the steam coming out of it. And the juiciness from where he stood. The meat itself looked medium rare, just the way Leona liked it. "Did you wait long for me?"

Yuu shook her head and looked at Leona with earnest eyes. "Not really, but the weather is so nice today that I could not help closing my eyes." she laughed, warming Leona's heart as he watched her smile.

"Well, I don't want your gift to go to waste." Leona sat down beside Yuu as she unpacked the basket. Yuu placed two plates, utensils, snacks, and drinks out for Leona. Leona said as he picked up the meat. After opening it, he grabbed a fork and a knife to cut it into small pieces. He picked up one piece and held it up to Yuu. "Eat."

Yuu blushed, but her heart raced at the gesture. "This is for you. You should have the first bite."

Leona's mouth curled up slightly. "And when was the last time you ate?"

Yuu rolled her eyes. "You got me." She leaned forward and ate her share. Leona watched her face melt as he began to eat, too. "This is really good," Yuu said as she grabbed another bite, but Leona beat her to it by holding it out again.

"Let me feed you, herbivore."

Yuu blushed and accepted the food right away. "Just this once because I'm feeling generous."

Leona smiled victoriously as he and Yuu continued their meal. The two made some small talk but spent most of their time enjoying the cool breeze blowing around them.

It felt nice, and they both felt like ordinary people. Not royals who will be married soon.

"The meat was good, but I am tired." Yuu yawned as Leona packed up their things back in the basket. She lay down on the ground and closed her eyes.

"You can sleep here then. I can do some things for you back in the castle." Leona began to stand up until something grabbed his arm and pulled him down. His back landed on the blanket, and Yuu wrapped her arms around him.

"Sleep with me. My father would not mind us missing for a day." Yuu mumbled and laid her head on Leona's chest.

Leona blushed as Yuu succumbed to her drowsiness. With strength like that to pull the prince of Sunset Savanna down, Yuu must have come from there in her past life. There was no way he could leave with Yuu's grip on him. Leona sighed and closed his eyes, succumbing to feeling loved by the woman who refused to let him go.

Meanwhile

"Ah, young love! Merveilleux! Magnifique!" A blonde-haired, green-eyed hunter swooned while watching the sleeping couple from his spot on the tree.

A lavender-haired boy sighed at the tree's base. "Can we leave now? I want to eat our share of the steak."

"Hush, Epel. You can get some after your lessons." Another blonde said, scolding the boy. He briefly frowned as he watched his friend sleep beside the infamous prince and ignore the other boy's muttering. He needed to address that in his next lesson.

"I don't understand what Yuu sees in him. She used to dislike him, and now she is bugging me to get a steak for her. She deserves more than that potato."

The hunter jumped and gracefully landed next to the man. "It is her love for him, Roi du Poison. It grew with time."

"Maybe…"

The hunter chuckled knowingly. "You'll understand when you find a femme one day."

The man scoffed. "That won't happen to me. Not with these women throwing themselves at me for a title." He turned to Epel. "Come, Epel, let's go back to the carriage." The man walked away with Epel following behind.

Meanwhile, the hunter watched his friend and smiled at the sleeping couple before leaving, "You never know, Roi du Poison. Love can come to you unexpectedly."

©: These stories belongs to bluesylveon2 2020-23. DO NOT modify, republish, or plagiarize my work.

Disclaimer: I do not own Twisted Wonderland and its characters. Those belong to Aniplex, Walt Disney Japan, and Yana Toboso.

#twisted wonderland #disney twisted wonderland #twst #leona kingsholar x reader #leona x reader #leona x yuu #twst x reader #leona kingscholar

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yonpote · 12 days ago

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more tit spoilers yap

i feel like if each tour was a movie in a movie series, then tatinof and ii are parts 1 and 2, wad is a spinoff, and tit is part 3. i think tit is a direct sequel to ii because of the meta nature of the show being amped up as well as the themes of "giving the ppl what they want" vs "taking back what was taken from us" obv being a parallel. and obv wad and tatinof are also Extremely Meta, but the specific ways in which ii and tit are meta in terms of being ABOUT the audience-creator relationship is more overarching, whereas tatinof's meta nature is in it being an explosion of self-referential bits that they know the audience already loves. and wad... honestly idk if i would even call wad meta? it's mostly just self-indulgent, WHICH IS A GOOD THING because it is directly about dan's particular struggles with coping through a world that seems to be getting worse and worse and figuring that you HAVE to keep going and see thru to the other side. which i guess is meta in that its about himself but thats like calling an autobiography meta lmao.

i could be misremembering bc it was such a whirlwind experience for me, but i dont think they ever clarify if they DO believe themselves to be bad influences or not. now i feel like this should be obvious, but just in case it isn't: dan and phil did not make you gay. they maybe influenced you to come out, or influenced your gay fashion choices, or maybe seeing them be openly queer or reading fics about them and seeing shippy art of them stirred something within you to realize that you've been gay the whole time (which is also a joke that they do a couple times where theyre like "no we were STRAIGHT and we BECAME GAY in 2019!")

id love to hear about what was confessed to sister daniel and father philip at other shows i'll be honest i cant remember the confessed sins because i was too busy staring at those thighs im sorry i am just a man i am no better than a man

i have so many thoughts on phil talking by himself. i have so many thoughts about how much love is in that mans heart, both for dan and for us, even if he doesnt wear it on his sleeve all the time.

the rave part of the song was good lmao. it was catchy and fun and the like EVERYBODY STAND UP part was goofy but i had a good time with it. im an internet is here supremacist i think in terms of like, actually liking the song LMAO, if i were to rank all the tour songs it would go:

the internet is here

everything's fine

terrible influence

phil diss track / interactive introverts (IM A HATER SORRY)

#tit spoilers #titspoilers #terrible influence tour #tit nyc #tit dnp #myrambles #smitten

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emilykaldwen · 7 months ago

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The Maiden and the Drowning Boy | Aegon x OC | Chapter Sixteen

Rating: Explicit

Ships: Aegon II Targaryen x Abrogail Strong (Lyonel Strong's Daughter), Jacaerys Velaryon x Helaena Targaryen

Summary: As the kingdom teeters on the edge of chaos, Alicent Hightower swaps the pieces on the board: Aegon will marry Abrogail Strong, Larys’ younger sister and heir to Harrenhal. Caught in the web of intrigue and political machinations, the pair must figure out where their loyalties lie, and what they mean to one another.

Tropes: Childhood Sweethearts/Friends to Lovers, Generational Trauma and Cycles of Abuse, It's All About the Character Development, Unreliable Narrators, Multi-POV, Canon Divergent, Bisexual Aegon II Targaryen, Book/Show Mash Up, Fix-It Of Sorts, Stopping the Cycle of Abuse before it gets us all killed, Team Neutral, fairy tale vibes meets victorian medievalism meets grrm

No tag list. please follow @emkald-fic and turn on post notifications for updates or subscribe on AO3

Tumblr Masterpost

AO3 Link

Author's Note: And we're back! Thank you all for being so patient with me as I took some time away. I'm honestly glad I did. TL;DR (or read the update in the previous chapter) I lost my job, things were rough. I'm feeling a lot better now and here we are with the final Aegon birthday chapter! As I stated as well, we'll be moving to something closer to a three week posting schedule for the last few chapters of this fic and continue on that posting schedule for the sequel.

PLEASE PLEASE subscribe to the series page or my author page so you get updates when we start the next story! You're not going to want to miss it. (And follow @emkald-fic on tumblr if you read here!)

All my eternal love to @vampire-exgirlfriend, whose been my rock. I love you. Please go join her as she finishes up her Aemond fic, They Say I Killed You (Haunt Me Then)!

Warnings: Larys Strong Jumpscare, and MURDER!

CHAPTER SIXTEEN - Flew Like a Moth to You

Aegon's birthday hunt includes some fantastic girl action and some murder! OH! And Some Jacelaena biting. You love to see it.

Floris Baratheon could not sit still, clutching her bow and quiver, peering out the carriage window as they approached the Kingswood. “A-hunting we shall go, a-hunting we shall go-”

“Hi-Ho the derry-o, a-hunting we shall go,” Abby sang in turn, the song a familiar one from childhood. The Baratheon girl had been quite annoyed that she could not ride a horse the way the other men did, but with the promise that she would not have to sit with her sister in a carriage, she had been content enough.

Abby sat beside Lythene Ryger, who had been quite speechless at the invite to the carriage. Wylla would have normally been with them, but with her soon to be good-sister, Alys Bracken, coming along, she was off playing chaperone and overly curious and mischievous younger sister to Alys and Harrion. Abby was glad she had the opportunity to do so, for her dear friend was giving up much to stay in the south as her Mistress of Keys instead of returning home to the Karhold.

On the other side of Helaena, Margaery Crane of Red Lake sat. Her lush, light brown hair was braided in a crown around her head, and her face was square with large, unnervingly green eyes. Her head was bent towards Helaena’s, threads of evergreen and butter yellow woven in her fingers as she taught the princess how to finger knit. It was an easier pastime during the long carriage ride to the camp than Helaena’s embroidery. Her twin sister, Desmara, sat on Abby’s other side. The only difference between the pair was her dark, chestnut hair and the scar across her full mouth.

“I’m sure if you ask Daeron when he goes out with the party, he’ll retrieve the stag antlers for you,” Helaena said, her eyes focused on the thread between her fingers. “He’ll love the opportunity to prove himself.” Floris rolled her eyes in only the way a girl of one and ten could, her black braid wrapped around her head with stubborn tendrils escaping. She tugged on the ties of her raven black cloak.

“Nay, Your Grace,” she said primly. “I would show my own mettle, and face the stag myself.” Her cheeks were pink all the same. Abby bit her lip to hold back her chuckle, not wanting to tease the girl. She caught Desmara’s own amused look, the scar across her mouth pulling at her own smile.

“Well, I don’t think they’ll let you go hunting the stag, Lady Floris,” she said. Floris looked pleased at the kind address from the elder girl. “But we’ll be going hawking and the spoils are certainly yours. That’s how I obtained the rabbit fur for my gloves.”

“That’s true,” Abby chimed in. “And you are a child of Nightsong, are you not? I’m sure falconry is in your blood.” Floris’ mother was a Caron, with a lineage of fierce warriors nestled in the Dornish Marches. Lady Ellyn Caron had songs sung of her, and how she, in part with other lords of the Stormlands, defeated the Vulture King. It was exactly the kind of family lineage Abby could see Floris idolizing.

Floris nodded seriously, running her fingers along her bow. “This is true. I suppose I should practice.”

“Practice until you come back dragging the stag behind you,” Helaena continued. “My elder sister is said to have taken down a boar with her own hands, only a dagger as a weapon. I think you have that same mettle in you.”

Floris preened, leaning into Helaena’s side to watch the magical weaving of the yarn. Abby’s heart ached with fondness for the girl, pleased that she had been taken on as Helaena’s ward. The girl was not meant to be stuck behind her three eldest sisters. The Smallest Storm would blossom, she hoped, beneath Helaena’s care and attention. It did not go past Abby’s notice of Cassandra’s harsh attentions to her sister. It reminded her of her own sister’s lack of understanding; always critical, always focused on some perception that her behavior would reflect poorly upon her. Floris was exuberant and curious, but she was not into reckless mischief or excessive rudeness.

She’d be good for Helaena. More importantly, had been good for Helaena, who had taken on Margaery Crane as one of her new ladies, and Abby would take Desmara. The Crane twins had endeared themselves quickly, Margaery introducing herself by way of teaching Helaena a new fiber art, and Desmara had gifted Abby a book on Asshai, a knowing wink in her verdant green eyes.

As the carriage pulled into the camp, cheers had already started from the other gathered lords and ladies. “With all that noise, they’re sure to scare away all their quarry,” Abby laughed, peering out the window to look on ahead.

The boys had ridden on horseback, Aegon in the lead on Kostōba, Aemond, Daeron, and Jace on their own horses beside him, with their own small retinue. Their cousin, Lyonel Hightower, was with them, as were a few other lordlings that Abby was unfamiliar with. She spied Alyn Hull’s silver braids from where he was on his own horse, smiling at the sight of the brash young man there within Aegon’s retinue. He had been a true friend to the prince over the years and it was good to see him brought into the fold officially.

Alyn would serve as steward when they departed for Harrenhal, taking on the household duties from Uncle Simon and learning under him. Aegon had been pleased that he’d agreed to the offer, brushing off his mother’s gape mouthed indignation about it. “He’s the reason I still live, Mother,” Aegon had said, unusually mild in the face of Alicent Hightower’s anger that morning as they broke their fast. He’d brushed a kiss against her forehead, and Abby wondered if he had found strength in the security they were building between them, that not even his mother could shake.

Seeing Aegon’s confidence was intoxicating, so rarely did he come off so sure of himself, and she craved to see more of it. Her teeth scraped her lower lip, belly rolling with heat.

“Good tidings to Prince Aegon, second of his name!” came the booming voice of his Uncle Hobart, leading the call of cheers. “Good tidings to him on his nameday!”

“Good tidings!” came the call of the gathered crowd. “Prince Aegon!”

As Abby settled back in her seat to wait for the footmen, she caught Helaena’s gaze. Anxiety crackled between them, mixed with the joy and love there for Aegon’s nameday. After the hunt, Abby was certain Helaena would cocoon in her chambers, barring the door should anyone try to get her into another crowd. Abby didn’t blame her, and in fact, might even join her for a bit.

The cheers had begun to die down by the time Daeron’s smiling face helped them out of the carriage. Windswept, dark blonde hair fell across his forehead as he bowed. “Allow me, my sister, ladies.”

As he helped Floris from the carriage, their eyes met, both faces going pink at the cheeks, and Abby saw her future good-brother’s hand tighten slightly around the girl’s fingers for the briefest of moments before her feet met the ground and she pulled away, her eyes on her shoes. It was not often that Floris fell quiet and blushed so red, and it did not appear that anyone else had noticed. Daeron clenched his hands to himself and his eyes met hers, his own flush deepening before he quickly hurried away.

The king had stayed behind in the Keep, as did several lords and their families. Lord Grover’s health had also kept him behind. Lord Otto had stayed to facilitate court, leaving the festivities that day in Aegon and the queen’s hands.

Her hands, Abby knew, as young ladies of the noble houses began to approach her and the princess, a few mothers in tow.

“Baela’s a Targaryen too,” Helaena muttered. “Why can’t they flock to her?”

The lady in question had rode on horseback, her red leather jerkin fitted against her lithe form over a gray tunic and black breeches tucked into black polished boots. The rings in her hair glinted in the late morning sun, sparkling as she turned her head with a laugh and dismounted her mare by Jace. Abby shook her head.

“Because they’re afraid she’ll be a bad influence, I’m sure. How are they supposed to get husbands if they dress comfortably?” Abby posited, smoothing her hands over her riding jacket. It was a warm evergreen color, deep azure and crimson soutache snaking over her shoulders like the red and blue forks of the riverlands. The crimson lined wool jacket fell just past her knees, and she wore a pair of warm trousers tucked into polished black boots. Helaena was dressed similarly, her jacket the same shade of deep azure as Abby’s decoration, embroidered with silver dragons with black beaded buttons carved in the shape of dragon head clasps running down the front.

“Hasn’t Mother decided that you should remain here to entertain all those ladies?” Helaena asked, their arms linked as they headed to the main tent. Ahead of them, Alicent Hightower was resplendent in a warm cloak of the deepest verdant green lined in black fur, her gown not one for riding or hunting, but far more comfortable for the outdoors. It lacked excessive ornamentation, the black and green skirts swirling around the tops of her own boots. Her hair was much like Helaena’s, wound in a braided crown about her head. Lady Fossoway was a half step behind her with Ser Criston as they always were, with the rest of the ladies trailing after like a gaggle of geese.

“We’re doing the receiving line,” Abby said, the fingers of her free hand fidgeting against the fall of her jacket. “Aegon’s receiving his gifts and then we’ll have congratulations on the betrothal.” She flexed her fingers, the soft leather of her gloves creaking slightly with the movement. They were lined with soft fur, luxurious, indulgent, and while she was certainly never dressed in rags before, it was rare to accept and let herself have new things when they often felt so unnecessary.

It was a new feeling to be excited about the new clothes that she had, more sumptuous than what would normally be allowed at her station.

Wylla joined them as they passed into the pavilion, warm from the braziers placed strategically about the place, each guarded by a cage of decorative wrought iron to prevent unfortunate accidents. On one end of the great tent, a small dias with a simple, dark wood throne, crested with a dragon, wings spread in welcome.

It was the King’s chair, but the king was not here.

“Are we to accompany you while you receive them?” Wylla asked. Her long hair was bound tightly back and wrapped in a coiling knot along the back of her head. Her padded black jerkin clung to her over a long tunic of gray, black riding trousers tucked into a pair of matching boots. Like Baela, she was dressed for a day in the wilderness without the cumbersome dealing with skirts.

“You look nice,” Abby told her with a small smile. “Not quite the Wildling I heard rumor of,” she teased and Wylla snorted.

“It’s a hunt and the opportunity to ride and get the fresh air. We’ll be going hawking while the men go to shove their pricky things into…” She trailed off with a twist of her mouth, the small scar along her top lip pulling at it. “Men waving around their big pointy things.”

“In a far more acceptable manner than what it implies,” Abby added on, giggling at the silly implications of it all. “And yes, I think you should. We’re receiving gifts, so you best take Desmara and Lythene with you to Lady Fossoway for instruction.”

“And then we’ll go hawking,” Wylla said with a nod.

“I have to stay here,” Abby corrected with a shake of her head. “It is my duty to entertain with her Grace.”

The northerner’s brow furrowed and both of them looked in the direction of the queen, her cloak handed off to a servant while she spoke with Lady Johanna. Wylla shifted beside her and Abby could feel the questions and arguments flitting beneath her friend’s skin. She rested a gloved hand on her shoulder, giving her a squeeze. “As I told Aegon, these are some of our new duties, no matter how dull they seem to be. Hopefully there’ll be time for me to go exploring later.” Hopefully. Abby loved exploring the Kingswood, and she’d been looking forward to going hawking, even if she did not particularly hawk herself. However, fun and indulgence could not be had in favor of duty and responsibility.

No matter how much she craved the freedom of it.

Wylla gave her a long look, teeth biting at her lip before she nodded and getured for Lythene and Desmara to follow her. Helaena had already left with Margaery and Floris and Abby was left standing alone, for the moment, amidst the steady flow of nobility pouring in for refreshment and talk. Alone, Abby was relatively unnoticed. Just a small girl in the midst of a crowd, no crown on her head to shout out who she was.

“Abrogail.”

Larys was taller than most people realized, for he did everything he could to make himself small. Few knew that Larys was as tall as Harwin had been, for her elder brother preferred to have such a small cane, to shrink himself into spaces where he could slip in. It was strange, Abby realized, that she had never noticed that it was a trait she shared with him. No desire to be the center of attention, no desire to be noticed, both for their own reasons.

The smile he gave her was an awkward twitch, but Abby noticed that it did reach his eyes, which was a rare thing, and she found herself returning it. Small and shy, perhaps, as if she were still the somewhat muddy little girl she’d been who he’d look at curiously across the breakfast table in the family solar.

He was subdued in a quilted doublet of the same deep azure and brown leather, his cloak a dark green-blue to match, clasped at the shoulder with a firefly broach. She slipped her hand into the crook of his elbow of his free arm, languidly walking toward a clutch of plump seating not far from the currently empty dais. The smell of cooking food caught on the woodsmoke in the air, and Abby’s stomach rumbled with hunger. They’d only had some fresh bread and cheese on the ride over, and the idea of warm, spiced pumpkin soup and a turkey leg the size of her own face was rather appealing.

“You’ve conducted yourself quite admirably under all the attention as of late, little sister,” Larys complimented, taking a seat on one of the padded benches. She perched beside him, smiling her thanks at the servant who came by with mugs of hot, mulled wine. She inhaled the scent of orange and lemon, the warmth of cinnamon before taking a sip. “Even with your, shall I say, antics at the tourney, they were quite well received.”

“Antics?” she asked lightly, feeling the curl of heat spread across her chest. There was no way for Larys to know what sort of other antics they’d gotten up to. The bite Aegon had left along her shoulder had turned bruised and tender, the imprint of his teeth still deep in her soft flesh. That mark was quite well hidden beneath her jacket and shirt beneath.

Larys only hummed and took a sip of his drink. “The other lords have expressed concern at my choice of husband for you, but I have assured them there is no reason to fret. I simply wanted my sister to be cared for and happy.” He gave her a sidelong look, placid expression barely shifting, his dark eyes large and innocent in his expression. “And everyone can clearly see how happy you two make one another. The queen…” he trailed off with a sigh, “has not quite been pleased but…”

Abby looked down at the deep purple-red wine swirling in the silver goblet. Anxiety prickled through her, confusion at her brother’s attempt, it seemed, to try to bond with her on something more personal. “Her Grace has been very indulgent,” she said softly, mouth twitching into an awkward smile that her brother returned. He inclined his head towards her only just.

“We both understand how passionate the queen’s frustrations can run, little sister,” he said softly, the scent of him cold and clean, like a tomb. Abby blinked, the awkward smile falling from her face. Her throat bobbed, the sting of bile in the back of her throat was almost painful. Had the queen told him what had occurred? Or had Larys, with his strange talents, found out what happened himself. “You will not be her ward for much longer. I imagine, like any mother, she is feeling the maternal ache over the loss of her son to his wife, and the loss of you, who is like a daughter to her.”

“Perhaps,” she allowed, busying herself with another sip of wine so she might find the words. They were receiving glances from the bustling court as they found their places, platters and great soup tureens being set out along the tables. Her stomach growled again. “She was quite concerned about… the dishonor I would bring upon the royal family.” Her voice was little more than a shamed whisper and the insinuation was as painful as the day she’d been accused when coupled with Ser Edmund’s harsh words in the gardens. She straightened her shoulders, trying to push past the hurt and shame that lingered still, tilting her chin up, refusing to be cowed. “Apparently some of the other lords are quite concerned about your heir marrying into House Targaryen.” She smiled at the passing servant, plucking a small apple tart off the platter he held. “I have made my own assurances that our children will be raised in the customs of our people, that regardless of dragon blood, we are the Riverlands.” Whether or not Edmund Vance believed her, if he mocked her to those he could find for such statements, well, she could do nothing about that. She could only mind herself.

“It will be a hard road, Abrogail, given that they do not see you as one of them. Lo, they barely see me as one of them, what with all my work here,” Larys said with a nod, looking at the cake he’d plucked for himself. “What matters is that you greatly impressed Lord Tully, and his son has been amenable and welcoming-”

“I may not have grown up in the Riverlands but even I know there’s only so much influence they have,” Abby cut in, chewing her lip after the words tumbled from her, her voice a soft, biting thing. Larys said nothing to that while he chewed on a bite of cake, and she shifted slightly in her seat and took another sip of wine. “It will not be a smooth transition, not for all. A prince? Becoming vassal to a mere lord?”

“Prince Daemon was Lord of Runestone through the dear, late Lady Rhea,” he reminded her after swallowing. “I don’t recall any such problems between him and the Lady Arryn.”

“Jeyne Arryn was kin to his goodsister,” she retorted. She had spent countless hours in the library with Aemond, taking meticulous notes of the lessons the boys had that her and Helaena did not. Part of that involved wiling away a week of stormy, frigid weather, tracing out the family trees of the Great Houses. The Targaryens rarely married out, even before King Jaehaerys, but there had been Aemon and Daella to houses Baratheon and Arryn, and Queen Aemma’s siblings and half-siblings. She’d even traced her own tree: Harwin’s mother, Lysa, had been Lord Elmo’s sister. Larys and Corynna’s mother had been a Frey. Abby’s mother had been a Westerlander, already outside, already suspicious of the clannish houses of her homeland. “And if all the mutterings and murmurings are true, he cared as little and less for them as they did for him.”

She’d heard the rumors of Daemon being responsible for his first wife’s death, and the occasional muttering that he was responsible for Laena Velaryon as well, but in the past few days being with the mercurial Baela, she did not think that was the case. Abby looked back at her brother again, briefly, before smiling in greeting as Lady Redwyne and her sister settled nearby. The queen had sat on the opposite end of the circle of seating, the corral of it split evenly between the pair of them. Her shoulders slumped minutely and she kept her genial smile as the older women settled in.

Laughter caught her attention, Helaena and Baela both with shaking shoulders near the pavilion entrance as other girls joined them. They would be going hawking soon. The sun caught upon Helaena and Baela’s silver heads, giving them a golden shine. A sigh caught in her throat. How nice it would be to join them, to frolic in the lack of responsibility.

Larys shifted, still sitting at her right hand as the rest of the guests filtered in, and her attention drew back to him. “Ah, yes, the princesses and the other ladies are going hawking. Did your grandfather not gift you a new hawk for your engagement?”

Lord Rodrik had indeed. Abby had hawked some when she was a little girl at one of the hunts for Princess Rhaenyra’s nameday, but had never had a one of her own. But Lord Rodrik and her Reyne family were prodigious hawkers and the beautiful Peregrine she’d named Caelus was a little wonder. He’d been trained by her cousin, Emrik, who had fancied himself a falconer, and had sent a kind letter that she was quick to return. Letters had been rare over the years, but there’d always been well wishes and tidings on her nameday.

“He did, and I know we brought him. The queen��” Abby trailed off, her eyes darting to the other side of the tent where Queen Alicent was smiling at the younger Lady Redwyne. “She said that it was our duty to host while Aegon goes hunting. That it’s my duty. To make friends, to comport myself as the future princess.”

“Oh, did she?” Larys asked mildly, cocking his head to the side and leaning on his cane. “Yes, I can see what she would want that. It was, after all, what has been expected of her when she was your age, already with two children. She had far more in common with the matrons of the court at that point. You are here when others who should be are not.”

Rhaenyra should be here. She was the King’s eldest, his heir. Discomfort prickled along Abby’s spine, a latent spike of anger at the woman who had put her family in danger, hurt at how quickly Rhaenyra had moved to Daemon Targaryen after what happened to Harwin. Her fingers curled against her knees before she forced them to relax and stretch. The Crown Princess had always been kind to her, but could Abby even trust that? After what happened at Driftmark, and what happened to her family?

Alone now, save for Larys.

‘Not alone anymore’, she immediately reminded herself, because Aegon was with her now; Helaena and Aemond cared for her too. They too were her family. Not alone, for she had her grandfather and he loved her truly. Yet, she had felt this loneliness for so long. Rhaenyra was not responsible for her loneliness, but in many ways she felt it keenly. It felt as if everything changed because of her.

This marriage, Alicent’s desire for control, Lord Otto’s keen and watchful eye were because of Rhaenyra. Aegon’s pain was because of Rhaenyra.

Her father and brother were dead and gone because of Rhaenyra.

“I am here when others are not,” she said softly, eyes watching those who watched her, her smile flashing as she murmured her greetings as the ladies began to gossip. Larys was murmuring his own greetings to Lord Piper’s wife, complimenting her on the recent betrothal for her son. Abby’s gaze darted towards the front of the tent, where the girls were still gathered as they prepared to go off for their own little adventures.

Alicent Hightower made sure she was there. She made sure that people saw her as queen, someone to be trusted and counted on, someone that could be reached. She was here, as Abby was here.

“If the Targaryens mean to exercise power in our realm, they will be in for a rude awakening.”

Abby was not queen. She wasn’t certain what that future held, but she did know, with certainty, that she was the future Lady of Harrenhal, and that Lythene Ryger, Melony Piper, even Sarra Frey who was lingering nervously with a goblet in hand, they too would be future ladies of houses that she needed to be friends with. Abby could not just rely on the fact that she held the title, not when she did not grow up in her home, not when people like Edmund Vance were so eager to tell her that it didn’t matter, they would see what they wished.

“Lady Sarra,” Abby called, rising with a smile and handing over her goblet. She could feel Alicent’s eyes on her, and that over the other ladies. “I did not have the opportunity to speak with you at the feast last night. Pray, will you join me and the others out hawking?”

Sarra Frey was a tall girl, broad shouldered with high cheekbones and dark hair bound in a twist of three braids down her back. She wore a simple but lovely jacket of deep blue and silver, the colors of her house. At being addressed, she straightened up, green eyes wide with surprise at being noticed. They narrowed slightly, mouth parting before closing. A flush crept across her cheeks.

“I don’t have a hawk with me, Lady Abrogail,” she said softly. At her full height, she was as tall as Aemond, more softly spoken than her severe expression might have said. Abby smiled.

“That is quite fine, there are plenty to go around.” Sarra nodded, handing off her goblet to one of the passing servants and Abby looped her arms through hers and tugged her towards the others. “My legs are exhausted from that carriage ride, shall we go?”

Even Baela’s mask of judgment faded as they walked towards the edge of camp where the Master of the Mews was minding the hawks and preparing to move out further from camp. She was stuck between Helaena and Wylla, the princess’ silver head shining beneath the sun. Lythene was laughing with the Crane twins and even Sarra was pulled into conversation with Zara Celitgar, who was eyeing the tall Frey girl appreciatively.

“Are we not taking a carriage?” Margaery Crane asked as Helaena led the way past the line of them set aside for their later return.

“It is not a far walk,” Abby assured her. “And it’s nice to stretch our legs after all that sitting.” She nodded towards the Master of the Mews and his apprentices carting the hawks ahead of them. Margaery hummed in agreement, confusion placated, and Abby was set to continue onto another subject when there was a commotion from behind them. She looked over her shoulder to see Cassandra Baratheon striding behind them.

“You all left so quickly!” she announced, censure and jovial all rolled into her crisp tone. A slight smirk crossed her sharp features as they approached. Among the three ladies that accompanied her, Lady Elinor kept close at her side. Cassandra’s dark eyes swept over Abby as they drew closer, and she felt picked apart by the gaze, something sharp stabbing between her ribs at the continued haughtiness of the eldest Storm. Abby straightened, offering her own wan smile. Like hell would Cassandra set foot into Harrenhal, but this?

This she needed to be easy with; this she could allow.

“Of course, Lady Cassandra,” she said. “We would be happy to have you.” Helaena made a soft sound that Abby ignored but felt deeply. Her eyes flitted to Lady Elinor at Cassandra’s shoulder, giving her a warmer look. It was her family’s strawberry wine that had been highly spoken about over the course of the festivities, and Elinor’s responding smile was kinder.

“Congratulations are in order, Lady Abrogail,” Lady Elinor murmured. Cassandra’s eyes tightened, her smile frozen on her face.

“Yes, congratulations on your coming nuptials,” she parroted, smoothing her kidskin gloves over the fall of her woolen hunting jacket. “How comforting it must be to wed one’s childhood playmate. No surprises or excitement to worry about.”

The words were harmless enough, but the barb beneath them was clear. Abby tilted her head slightly, her own smile still on her face. She opened her mouth to speak, but it was Baela who spoke, angling her head between Wylla and Helaena to peer at her cousin.

“Not to mention wedding a childhood playmate means there’s no barrier to intimacy, and no secrets kept,” she said, then bit into the apple she had in hand. “Now let’s fucking move before I start hunting with my bare hands.”

Helaena was meant to be in bed but sleep eluded her. She waved away the maids and headed out into the night toward the great bonfire in the center of camp. There was no danger here, much like there was no need to fear in the Holdfast. Her slippers grew wet after only moments, the night dew soaking into the soft fabric and chilling her toes.

She wanted to dance around the fire, stare into the flames like she heard the Red Priestesses did, and wonder to herself if her dreams would make more sense then. Aemond said she was touched as Daenys was, a gift precious to their Targaryen line. It helped ease the fearful strangeness to know that her strange dreams were not simply the ‘odd workings of an overactive imagination.’ That they did mean something, but what? Helaena was never certain. Sometimes she never knew the outcome, other times they became starkly clear.

‘He’ll have to lose an eye’.

“Would you care for some company?” came a low, curious voice, a slight crack on the last word. She looked over to see Jace lingering at the edge of the firelight, his jerkin long discarded with just his gray linen shirt and trousers, a dark blue cape wrapped around him. The bright flames danced in his lavender eyes, giving them a shade of deep purple-red she found curious indeed. Did her own look the same?

“You’re not gallivanting with the boys?” Helaena asked, not meaning anything by it until the words hung in the air, and Jace’s gaze glanced to what he held in his hands. The only ‘boys’ for him to gallivant with were her brothers. Of course there were other lordlings about, but given that Jace was lingering around the bonfire caused her to wonder if he too liked the quiet.

Or if he were lonely.

“I didn’t want to…” Jace trailed off, rubbing his thumb over whatever he held in his hand. The motion of it reminded her so strongly of Abby, Helaena didn’t know how she was supposed to process it. The curl of unease and her mother’s frustration and anger coated her insides. Her own frustrations, deeply buried but still there, like the ever smoking fires of the Dragonmont, bubbled and burbled in response. The king who loved Jace more, loved him like he loved Rhaenyra more. The blind man who ignored Aemond’s nameday even though it had just happened, who only thought of Aegon’s day because of everything that happened.

The dead look in Mother’s eyes that was more and more frequent, when she stared out the window of her solar, her hands twisted and knotted into her skirts. The things that Sire-Father had done to her for no reason except his own dragon feelings, Helaena thought. His need for more and more, consuming him the way the anger would consume Aemond, and the drink would consume Aegon.

All of them pinned to boards in the king’s Freehold miniature; all of them frozen and set on display in his own gallery, for him to take down from time to time to play with.

The burst of a log in the fire startled her and Helaena realized, uncomfortably, that she’d been staring, vacantly, at Jacaerys, who was watching her, still as water, quiet as an orb weaver. He watched her, the fire throwing orange and red across his fine features, catching at the warm red in his dark, dark hair. His right eye was a sheen of red from the fire, his left cast in shadow. Half fire.

Her right side was chilled, when her left was so warm, mirrors of each other.

Half fire.

Jace held out his hand, palm open, offering to her the smooth stone that he had been fiddling with. The ridges of the sea creature who died in it caught upon the light, throwing its own little shadow as it was unable to in life, living in the sea as it did. Only now, in his hand, had this creature found warmth and light.

Helaena reached for it, her hot fingers scraping against his as she took it, feeling his own hot skin beneath her touch.

Half fire.

‘But I am full flame,’’ Heleane thought, for she was dragonflame and lighthouse flame. Lighting the way with fire in her wake. Jace was fire, yes, but he was river water, the way it rippled through him. Still and steady, but crashing and flooding with the ferocity of a dragon’s power. ‘Would this be what her nieces and nephews be?’ Is this what a union of fire and water entailed? Deadly and quiet, steady when they were full of heat and flame.

She rubbed her thumb over the fossilized creature and it felt pleasant against her skin. Soothing, tactile. Grounding. “Thank you,” she said softly and Jace smiled at her. “Pity it’s not another marchpane tentacle.” He laughed, a soft sound that sounded like water over stones and they came to sit on the bench. She shoved her feet closer to the flame and watched the steam rise from the fabric from how hot it was. There was a few inches between them, the warmth emanating, and they sat together, no words spoken. These were her favorite moments, ones she missed. It scraped at her insides, like pushing dirt away from the stone so she could find the worms beneath. They were the memories of the gardens in childhood, Jace beside her, mud and damp soaked into his knees, helping her push the rock up to find the pill bugs and the beetles and the centipedes in the dark, damp earth.

“It was nice to dance with you at the feast,” he ventured, and Helaena looked at him, the shadow along his jaw where he’d wake up fuzzy and prickly in the morning. She reached up to rub the back of her fingers against his jaw, looking at the slight pout of his mouth, the dark fan of his eyelashes. Freckles faint against his skin.

“You're a good dancer. I should know, I’m a good dancer myself.” She smiled at him and he shook his head, a flush on his face and she felt her own spread across her cheeks. He scraped the toe of his boot in the dirt and she nudged her foot against his. He was familiar, in the way Aemond was, but he was new in the way Warren had been. Someone she knew, but didn’t. He wasn’t angry, and he wasn’t pushing and probing at her, looking for a bruise to elicit feelings from, or the thrill of a princess. He didn’t look at her like she was odd, or startle at her staring, her distant sight.

Jace was simply patient, and he waited, and did not seek to chatter. It was new, it was old, it was like pressing against the ground and the dirt giving way, a little tunnel inside that one didn’t know was there, and Jace peered in and made his way inside. A dragon roosting in a cave.

His knee bumped against hers and she looked at him, their matching lavender eyes meeting. It was nice, Helaena thought, that they had this piece to share. Like two different butterflies, different colors and different patterns, but the markings were the same. The wings were the same. Simply… different.

“The mint winds and chokes like ivy,” she said, instead of what she meant to say, which was asking him if he would come looking for stag beetles with her the next day. “The children can’t breathe, it’s bursting from their mouths.” She blinked, startled, but the words that she had not known, had not meant to utter, remained heavy between them. “I-.”

He blinked back at her, brow furrowed. “Helaena, are you-”

A horrible scream ripped through camp and for the briefest moment, Helaena thought it might have been a fox shriek. But this was too loud, too close. Another scream, this time two high pitched ones and then a guttural yell. Jace’s hand gripped hers, pulling her to her feet and away from the fire. She tugged at his hold to move towards the commotion, but he tugged her back. “I’m taking you back to your tent, Helaena,” he said firmly. “We don’t know what’s- Ow!”

She had lifted their hands, sinking her teeth into the plump flesh at the back of his thumb so he’d let go and hurried towards the tents without a second glance, knowing that he’d be following her. She gripped her skirts, grateful for the warmth of Jace’s cloak around her shoulders and her heart sank, panic seizing her chest when she realized it was Abrogail’s tent that was the source of the screaming.

Three of the Kingsguard, including Ser Criston, were already there, as were the gold cloaks that had been patrolling around the outskirts of camp. Their cloaks reminded her of Sunfyre’s scales in all the torchlight, and half-dressed nobility coming out of their tents, bleary eyed in confusion.

On the ground lay a servant with a blade in his chest, blood burbling from his mouth. Helaena looked at him, wide-eyed, Jace trying to get her to look away, and her gaze went up to Wylla Karstark. The northerner was shaking, gray eyes wide as dinner plates, her hair bound for bed, her dressing gown haphazard and sprayed with blood from where the man must have coughed it at her.

“He-he came in. He was on Abby so quickly-”

“I don’t know where he came from!” Abby’s trembling frame was right behind her, clutching one of the pokers from the tent brazier in her hands, still ready to strike. Her curls were twisted and wrapped around the crown of her head, shivering in the night air in just her own nightgown, sleep mussed and clearly straight from bed. “I don’t…” She gulped. “I don’t think he meant Wylla to b-be there.” Her free hand was gripping the back of Wylla’s dressing gown, and Ser Criston laid a hand on Abby’s shoulder.

“Give me the poker, Lady Abrogail,” he was saying in a calm, steady voice like he did when Helaena was younger, cowering in a corner and unable to flee the commotion. “There’s a girl.”

Harrion Karstark was shouting his sister’s name, just as Uncle Gwayne was calling hers. Helaena turned her head to see him coming up, half dressed with his sword belt slung over his shoulder. He reached for her shoulder, tugging her back. “What is the meaning of this?” he shouted, and Helaena stumbled back into Jace as the crowd parted.

Then, Aegon’s shout of, “Abby!” came crashing over the gathering crowd, pushing his way through with Aemond at his back. She caught her younger brother’s frantic look, seeing the worry ease somewhat at the sight of her before going over to the girls. Abby surrendered the brazier poker as Aegon reached her, frantic over the state of her, pulling his cloak off to wrap around her, fear and fury warring on his flushed features. “What happened?”

The man on the ground was rasping, wheezing, but it was hard to tell if he was alive or not, or if this was how his body signaled death.

“This man came to attack Lady Abrogail, Your Grace,” Ser Erryk said. “Lady Wylla got him good.” His twin nudged the attacker with the tip of his boot as Aemond looked at the man, then at Wylla. His face was carved in hard lines, but his gaze was softened.

“Did you throw it?” he asked. “Or did you pounce on him?”

Wylla blinked, her brother’s broad hands holding her shoulders. “I stabbed him.” Her voice was faint and she took the blade handle, clutching it to her. “He… I was putting away our dresses and there was a commotion… I thought…” Wylla’s brow furrowed, shaking her head. “He came in through the flap beside the bed and crawled o-on top of her. Abby screamed and I just…”

Harrion’s hands tightened on his sister’s shoulders and the girl fell silent with a soft squeak. Aemond’s mouth pursed and he knelt beside the man. His hair fell in a curtain, the band of his eye-patch not holding it back from the vantage that Helaena had. He reached down, and twisted the blade, a wet crack sounding in the sudden hushed anticipation. The wheezing sounds the man was making tapered off as Aemond pulled the blade from his body.

It squelched, a gout of blood spraying, and a strange, hissing sound like wind through a crack sounded. Aemond jerked back as some of the blood caught on the ends of his hair and he rose slowly, wiping the blade of the dagger. “Well he’s dead now, Lady Wylla. Your bravery and quick thinking is to be commended. House Karstark should be proud to have such a brave daughter.” He handed her the dagger, hilt towards her. “Keep this close, since you can be well trusted to use it.”

Wylla’s brother held her tightly as the gold cloaks hoisted the dead man between the pair of them, dragging him somewhere.

“I was half asleep,” Abby said. Aegon clutched her to his chest as his gaze swept darkly around, hands rubbing her arms. “At first I th-thought it was Wylla…” Helaena watched Abby’s hand clutch Aegon’s arm tighter, her voice falling silent. Her other hand reached towards Wylla again, the girls clinging tightly to one another.

“How the fuck did that bastard manage to sneak into my lady’s tent?” Aegon demanded, his voice not a shout like Uncle Gwayne’s had been, but more of a warning growl, like Sunfyre. “Where were the patrols, Ser Criston?”

Their mother’s protector - and Helaena realized that Mother was not there and that Ser Criston must have commanded her to stay in her own tent - shifted only slightly. “The patrols largely keep around the outside of camp to keep people from getting in, my Prince. The patrol that was walking through the tents had not made it back around yet.”

Aegon’s jaw ticked, assessing what Ser Criston had said and knowing it to be true. Helaena knew that Aegon and the others had been lingering in Aegon and Aemond’s tent for whatever gossip and giggling boys got up to in the middle of the night.

“Lady Abrogail and Lady Wylla will share my tent,” Helaena broke in, for she was the princess, and her mother was not here. “And we will have extra guards stationed around our tents, so that our Kingsguard are not stretched thin.” She straightened her shoulders and closed the distance between her and the girls. “This is enough horrible commotion for this night, and you should all be ashamed of yourselves for staring so,” she said, frowning at the crowd that had gathered. “These ladies have been terrorized, and you gawk at them. To bed, everyone! Let us gather your things and get you cleaned up.” The last was said to Wylla, who needed a fresh gown and the blood cleaned from her face.

And like the princess she was, she did not wait to be obeyed, reaching for Abby’s hand to pull her toward her tent.

Thank you for being here! If you loved this chapter, please give a reblog and I would adore hearing what you thought about the chapter! What did you think about the Larys and Abby convo? Baela Targaryen continues to be a force to be reckoned with. I for one love the ladies that Helaena and Abby have been gathering around them. Man what was UP with that attack at the end? And also, Jace clearly doesn't mind Helaena biting him. Good.

Next Chapter

#hotd fic #hotd oc #aegon ii targaryen #aegon targaryen #aegon ii targaryen x oc #aegon ii targaryen fic #house of the dragon #aegon ii targaryen fanfic #aegon targaryen fanfiction #hotd fanfic #hotd fandom #house targaryen fanfic #jacelaena #my fics #oc: abrogail strong #otp: do not go far from me #aegon x abby #abrogon

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jadeyarts · 3 months ago

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Ngl, I think Chloe was done dirty in the show

She should've had her own fairy godparent then share with Timmy. Plus she was introduced when the show was dying and was used as an attempt to revive it.

I want a Chloe redemption, give her what she deserves.

agree! like, her introduction was awful and actually truly failed to introduce her character sincerely or accurately it was so baffling. i watched season 10 twice, first in reverse order then in proper order and it was actually absolutely wild how absolutely nothing in her introduction episode was really that indicative of her character??? it doesn't truly capture any of chloe's quirks and complexities, or even really why she would need godparents, and barely anything in the episode actually carries into any episode beyond that besides, like, the turners being rich for the rest of the season? which is not a decision i liked, and it really only served as a half-hearted reason for the carmichaels to hate the turners inexplicably, but they really didn't need to be rich for that. the turners being rich could have been interesting if they actually brought back remy, though, since the turners literally bought the country club that remy's parents owned. whatever.

i mean, i think i understand what they were trying to do - setting timmy up as being jealous and frustrated with her and then forcing him to have to try being cordial, to force them to have to work in tandem, makes sense as a narrative and stakes. and revealing that she isn't actually as perfect as he initially believes her to be also narratively makes sense! but sadly the execution of these ideas is very disjointed and shallow. not to mention the way they tried to explicitly spell out its themes was extremely forced. it's kind of a retread of both imaginary gary (the episode) and the boy who would be queen in those aspects, but lacking cohesion. it feels like maybe a first draft that wasn't revised nearly enough, or something. maybe it was! maybe they hadn't truly figured out what they really wanted to do and by the time they did it was too late. i dunno, but whatever it was, the end result is the same: a lot of people barely make an effort to understand chloe as a character and instead parrot whatever reviewers said about her intro a decade ago. and i get it, i'm not innocent of that either, i did the same thing years ago. but then i decided i wanted to come to my own conclusions. and i ended up loving chloe's character, she would have been a great addition to the series if she just came in at a better time. she was a great foil for timmy! and their chemistry as friends was actually great!

and... to that second point... i guess i think you're objectively right, a lot of viewers would likely have an easier time accepting chloe if she had been introduced with her OWN fairies, separate from cosmo and wanda, while just coincidentally becoming friends with timmy... or even being the protagonist of a sequel would have been less controversial... but i also kind of disagree. the fact they were forced to share cosmo and wanda was actually one of the more interesting aspects of the season to me, even if the actual reasoning behind it was dog water. but i really liked the dynamic that formed as a result. this sort of allegorical stepsibling, blended family dynamic. i like the way that cosmo and wanda specifically both represented different attributes and values they needed in their lives! i like what this specific set-up added, even if i find the execution of most of its episode ideas to be um. well. season 10. i honestly think a better way to introduce chloe and incorporate these dynamics i found so interesting would have probably been to make them actual, literal stepsiblings and not just allegorical fairy god-stepsiblings. not sure who would have been into that besides me, though.

sighs loudly. maybe someday ill rewrite season 10 or something. i have a lot of story ideas for chloe.

#from jadey to you

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fillingthescrapbook · 2 months ago

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Let's Talk About: A Meeting of Misfits

It's the season premiere of Misfits and Magic Season 2--and I'm recapping and reacting and being petty against those people who are hating on the show because of the franchise that must not be named!

Yeah, I'm not above being petty. Especially in service of something that's made to bring joy. So let's crack in!

Right off the bat, the new mechanics is throwing me for a loop. I think it's something we need to see in action to understand better. Which is pretty par for course in terms of tabletop role-playing games in general. I trust Aabria completely though because A Court of Fey and Flowers remains one of my favorite Dimension 20 seasons. And it's pretty unconventional when it comes to mechanics.

Starting with Lou/Whitney Jammer and having him roll consistent 1s… is making me miss the Intrepid Heroes who would've definitely grabbed his dice to throw them away. That said, I do love the Magical Misfits even though the original season didn't grab me as much as other seasons of Dimension 20. Probably because I watched it when I was already disillusioned with "the franchise."

But having said that--this episode was amazing at getting us up to speed with what's happened with the cast of characters we got to know…and, unsurprisingly, it's done a better job at establishing a sequel that fits the mythology (and characterization) of the original. Which I add because I read the accursed sequel of "the franchise" and wish I could turn time back for that to stop myself. Because it truly lived up to its title being cursed.

Moving on though, to something that's actually good:

Aabria sets up the stakes beautifully in this episode. Although some bits do go one a little longer than I would have liked, I do feel like the players were allowed to play more since there's only four of them. I get the feeling, based on Aabria's other work, that she's more cognizant of giving everyone time opportunities when the player group's bigger. Like in her other D20 episodes, or non-D20 projects.

I'm very curious as to where Erika plans to take K's storyline with, what I assume, is a devolution for her character? There's complexities in the beginning of her journey that I fully don't grasp yet…but I am excited to see where it goes.

Lou and Danielle choosing to keep their characters very familiar--while also having subtle hints at things having changed--is easier to digest for me. It may have been three years for the players, but it's only been a few months for me. (I watched the original season after Junior Year and before Never Stop Blowing Up.) And Lou and Danielle's decision to make their characters seem static is playing better with my brain. (This could also be the lack of sleep and headache talking.)

As for Brennan and Evan Kelmp… What do I say about his character choices that won't rile up the group of people who think Brennan is hogging the spotlight?

Now, I wasn't a fan of Evan Kelmp in the original season. But it wasn't so much because of Brennan's portrayal or the focus that was unavoidably given to him. Brennan made a big swing when he created a character that would help move the series along. But Misfits and Magic, the original season, only had four episodes. Of course it would feel like Evan got too much of the spotlight. There wasn't a lot to go around with. That being the case, his character was important then…

And it's important now.

Brennan's choices that made Evan who he is allows the other players to play the characters they want to explore without having to think of the plot. They can focus on the character growth they wish to get into. And… Honestly? Without the Evan-K romance? I think I'm coming around to Evan.

So overall? I think the season premiere of Misfits and Magic 2 is pretty solid. The episode had everything: we had catch ups, we had an after-school program, we didn't wave away any problems that arose from the original season…and are actually tackling them head on now, we have Britain's Got Magic while magic is actively becoming chaotic, we had Tony Danza, and we have a talking rock. With eyes and a mouth.

Because of course Aabria is going to bring in a new kind of magic to the dome. It's tradition.

So to the people who are writing the show off because they think it is celebrating "the franchise?" Joke's on you because you're the one missing out on a show that has a better plot and a better grasp on its world. And it's being improv'd on the fly.

And just to make it clear--I no longer support "the franchise" too. Because FUCK TERFS.

#dimension 20 #dropout tv #misfits and magic #mismag 2 #d20 spoilers #aabria iyengar #lou wilson #erika ishii #danielle radford #brennan lee mulligan

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mask131 · 4 months ago

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Why the Time Bandits remake makes me feel an angry despair (1)

I announced it before: I am mounting my high horses for this matter.

"Time Bandits" is a children fantasy movie by Terry Gilliam, released in 1981. It is one of those "almost Monty-Python-movies" thanks to two other Monty Python actors joining Gilliam's project: John Cleese, playing Robin Hood, and Michael Palin playing a poor guy who keeps being reincarnated throughout history and always has the worst love life. This movie is part of the "Imagination Trilogy" of Gilliam, meant to represent the "childhood imagination" - alongside the dark movie "Brazil", for "adult imagination", and Gilliam's adaptation of the Adventures of the Baron Münchausen, for "old man imagination".

I love Time Bandits. It isn't just that I love, I adore it. This was one of my favorite movies as a kid, and it was such a huge part of my childhood it literaly shaped my imagination in many, many ways. It is still to this day one of my favorite movies, with such a unique feeling I couldn't find anywhere else but in other Gilliam-related or Python-related movies.

It is one of these rare things where I can say I am really a huge fan. I bought the Criterion Collection DVD, I bought the official script-book, I went online to find alternate versions of the scripts which contained deleted scenes NOT in the official script-book...

I even chose this movie as the subject of my presentation for my high school diploma, doing a full analysis of it that gave me a very good grade. I am really in love with this piece.

NOW if you haven't heard about it, a trailer was released for an Apple + series of (10 episodes I think?). "2024 Time Bandits". A remake by Taika Waititi (among others but he is the main guy behind this).

I had heard of this project a long time ago because Waititi's desire to do something Time Bandits related has been around since his glory days with "What we do in the shadows". He kept speaking about how much he loved Time Bandits and how he wanted to do something related to it.

... I never realized he meant doing a remake a it. Time Bandits has so much potential for sequels or prequels or alternate takes or whatever cinematic terminology you have.

Now, that being said, I don't mind a remake. Waititi has proven to have good ideas and cool projects, and he seemed to really be a fan of the original - plus it was a project he had been dragging for quite some times, so I had still some interests and hopes...

... and then the trailer came out. And I saw it. And...

... You know it will be the first time in my life I will turn into one of those angry Internet ranters mad about a remake of their favorite thing. Never in my life before I was involved on a personal level with disliking a remake but OH BOY here I am.

There are so many things BAD with this trailer. Not wrong. BAD. I don't dislike all about the trailer... But I dislike most of it, and I don't just "dislike" it as in "Oh yeah, they could have done better", no, we are talking about a "I DESPISE this".

Honestly it looks like the people behind this series considered everything that made Time Bandits unique and powerful and cool and weird... and decided to remove it to make it bland, flat and... a sort of flavorless, mass-marketable Americanized modern vaguely super-hero like movie (did Waititi's experience on the Thor movies screwed his imagination THAT badly?)

I literaly do not understand how someone so hellbent and so dedicated to Time Bandits could create a product that looks like was designed by people who only vaguely heard of the original movie's plot. Because the people who made this series clearly did NOT understood the heart, soul or goal or the movie.

I heard something about Terry Gilliam being hired as an executive producer, coming on the set for a planned three months, but leaving abruptly after only three days and never returning. And people concluded that it was because he was pissed off. Seeing the trailer, I am inclined to believe he was.

#time bandits #time bandits remake #time bandits 2024 #taika waititi

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getvalentined · 8 months ago

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What’s your opinions of the various ffvii compilation games?

Oh I am a huge proponent of the Compilation as a whole; I know that opinion is rare for someone who's been in the fandom from the beginning, but I'm an insufferable lore gremlin and I just eat up everything the series has to offer. I have three different copies of Advent Children (the original on DVD, ACC on DVD, and ACC on blu-ray) and even still watch Last Order on occasion.

The series itself is really fascinating and staggeringly consistent (I've talked about how the implied timeline of the Jenova Project as presented in-game is so consistent that it matches up with real-world human gestational science), with the exception of the FF7Re series—which I can deal with, since it's canonically on a different timeline and therefore any retcons there are literal in-universe retcons, which is pretty brilliant.

That said, I'mma put ratings for the pieces of the Compilation individually under a cut!

OG FF7: 9/10. would be 10/10 if the English localization were better. Where it all started, still one of my favorite games of all time.

Advent Children (+Complete): 8/10. Not a game, but part of the Compilation! Anyone who says the plot makes no sense doesn't realize that they're watching a sequel that relies very heavily on people understanding the history and characterization of every single character shown.

Last Order: 6.5/10. Also not a game, also part of the Compilation. Love that this is implied to literally be Tseng's coverup of what happened with Zack, presented in anime form. Makes no sense in multiple places as a result, but if you know that's what it is then you can 100% see why it's portrayed that way! Honestly I really enjoyed it and wish more people would appreciate it for what it is.

Dirge of Cerberus: 7/10. The gameplay kinda sucks but honestly the storyline is super good—or it would be, if the entire fucking prologue hadn't been cut from any release outside Japan, thereby leaving the entire issue with DeepGround completely unexplained to all other audiences. Once you know what is going on, the storyline here is fantastic, and I've never really forgiven SE for not releasing the rest of it. I love that Dirge fills in the lore for Vincent that was cut when he was relegated to "optional" in the OG, and that it also helps to clarify why Midgar could have 9 functional mako reactors while every other reactor in the world is either sputtering to nothing or exploding. (It's Omega. Midgar is built over Omega. It's the place where all lines of the Lifestream converge so that Omega can draw it all in and carry it away at the end of the world, and Shinra never discovered that's why the mako well there is so expansive. I love good worldbuilding, and Dirge is a beautiful example of that.)

Before Crisis: N/A. I want this game so bad man where is it give it to meeeee. Honestly tho I've watched playthroughs and read scripts where available, and while I don't think it looks like much fun from a modern gameplay perspective, I have huge respect for it as far as development goes. This is one of the first really mainstream mobile games ever made, it was made for flip phones, and it's super extensive! Also it gave me Veld, who is one half of my favorite ship ever, which means it automatically gets a 7/10 even if I've never played it.

Crisis Core (+Reunion): 9/10. As fun to play as the OG. When I first played this on PSP over a decade ago, it hit me with such an intense feeling of nostalgia that it almost took me off my feet. In spite of the dramatic difference between game mechanics in CC versus the OG, it felt exactly like playing the OG again, and that feeling never really left. Humanized Sephiroth in a beautiful way that pissed off a bunch of fanboys and made me fall in love with him all over again. Also introduced my second favorite FF7 character ever, Genesis, who is one half of one of my core FF7 ships, so A+ on that too!

FF7 Remake (+InterMISSION): 8/10. Had a lot of fun with this one, and it's beautiful, but it doesn't have a lot of replayability in my experience, which is a shame. Would have been 6 or 7/10 if not for InterMISSION, which was a fucking delight.

FF7 First SOLDIER: 6/10. This applies to both the Battle Royale and the title in Ever Crisis. I am not a fan of Glenn & Co. but I love 14 year old Sephiroth and really appreciate that extension of lore and worldbuilding, so it's a decent balance. I love that the opening cutscene for the battle royale literally filled a 20+ year old plot hole in under two minutes.

FF7 Rebirth: 9.5/10. The only things that could make me like this game more would be if Vincent were playable (although I understand why he's not and, in spite of him being my favorite fictional character ever, I agree with this decision), and fewer required minigames. Just cut like one or two. Or fix the controls, maybe. Glide de Chocobo is even more broken now that it's been patched.

#fandom ramble #ff7

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holydrawerart · 4 months ago

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Oh my god I found someone from the Sausage Party fandom! I can’t tell if you’re a newbie or have been in the fandom since the 2016 film.

I just learned about the Foodtopia series and now I’m wondering if I can find the old mutuals who made Tumblr so alive back in 2016. And maybe even find new ones.

It’s still so overwhelming that after 8 years the movie got a sequel in the form of a series. It’s honestly better than the Megamind “sequel” though!

If you could, would you draw Mentos? There was a Mentos who sacrificed himself alongside a bottle of soda in the movie. I saw in one of the series images there is another Mentos like him, so I’m at least happy to know his friends/brothers could love thanks to his bravery. (I’m honestly contemplating giving him a girlfriend…but not a food one)

omg i did this for you, hope u like it! (??) Also Mentos is a good guy

#sausage party foodtopia #sausage party #requests #mentos thanks for existing

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thirstyforcharacters · 1 year ago

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Reconnection

Part 2 of the Mistakes Series

Part 1: Mistakes. Part 3: Healing

Summary: You walked away from Joel after the confrontation at Bill and Frank’s. You thought you’d never see him again. Until you did.

Warnings: angst!!!!! reader is lonely :( Joel and reader are getting better at emotions!!! mentions of canon typical violence, allusion to sexual activities, happy-ish ending

WC: 2025

Notes: soooo here is the sequel to Mistakes!! I had originally planned on only having this series be two parts, and then I thought it would be three or four, but now I’m kind of back to only doing two bc I really liked how this part ended!!! Lmk what you think about that!!

Walking out was simultaneously the best and worst thing you could’ve done for yourself. You didn’t wake up feeling unwanted. You did what you wanted when you wanted because no one was there to hover over you. You lived in the woods, trading with other people like you, dodging Infected, and killing raiders who tried to make your life more of a living hell than living on this earth already was.

But you were lonely. You missed the times you had with Joel and Tess before everything happened. You missed the feeling of having a family, even if they weren’t a great one at the end. They were the only two people you trusted, and not having that safety net was terrifying. But you made your choice and you stuck to it. On April 23rd, 2023, you left the Boston QZ and didn’t look back, not even as Joel pleaded with you to stay. Not even as you saw tears start to fill Tess’s eyes for the first and last time. Not even as you snuck through the gate and slit the FEDRA agent’s throat who tried to stop you.

For a year, you wandered. Slowly, you traveled, going from Boston down to Pennsylvania, then you made your way through the Midwest. You didn’t really have a destination, you just knew that you wanted to be as far away from Boston as you could get.

And on April 23rd, 2024, you found Jackson, Wyoming.

Well to be more specific, the residents found you.

As always, you were wandering on your own. What was snow covered terrain in the winter was now grasslands in the spring as you hiked over prairies and rolling fields, slowly approaching the Rockies to the west. At some point, you crossed a few rivers, but honestly, so much of what you traveled had blurred together at this point. It was nighttime, and you laid down to rest, setting up a small camp as always. You slept for only two hours, which wasn’t abnormal for you. But what wasn’t normal for you was to be surrounded by three people on horseback pointing rifles at you when you woke up. Immediately, you put your hands in the air. You could take three people easily if they were on the ground, but on horseback, you were at a major disadvantage.

“Who’re you?” the one in the center asked.

His accent was familiar. You searched for his face, blinking your eyes open in the dark, slowly adjusting to the low light.

“‘M Y/n. Just passing through.”

“You by yourself?” he asked again.

Your eyes widened once they were finally adjusted from the dark.

It was Tommy, Joel’s brother.

You knew him back in the day, before he ran off to join the Fireflies. He was always a bit friendlier than his older brother, despite everything he’d gone through. And he was handsome, though you had always preferred Joel in that regard.

“Tommy?”

Your voice was much more confused than you would’ve liked, but it made him stop in his tracks. He studied your face, searching for something in it until the light turned on.

“Oh, shit, you’re that Y/n! Sorry I didn’t recognize you at first, it’s been a while.”

But his gun was still pointed at you. And you knew why.

“I’m not Infected. You can check me yourselves if you want.”

You rolled up your sleeves and your pantlegs to prove a point, showing off the lack of bites and claw marks on your body.

The person on the right, a woman with dark hair jumped down from her horse. It was at that point that you noticed a dog beside them, growling at you.

“The dog will know if you’re telling the truth,” she said.

You tensed up. Despite knowing that you were clean, the large creature baring its teeth at you was still unnerving. But you allowed him to approach, and soon his growls faded as he nudged you with his nose. You couldn’t help but smile as you scratched his head, the animal giving you some comfort as you looked up at the people who were now getting off of their horses. Tommy offered you his hand and you took it, allowing him to help you off of the ground. The dark haired woman smiled at you, and the other person, a man with light brown hair and glasses looked you over.

“It’s good to see you again, Y/n. It’s been a long time,” said Tommy with a smile.

“It’s good to see you, too. Always enjoyed your company,” you responded honestly.

His smile grew a little wider, but then dropped as he asked you, “What are you doing out here by yourself? Always thought if I saw you again, it would be with Joel and Tess.”

You tensed up, and he noticed.

“Long story. Don’t have time to tell it,” you offered simply, “what about you? Still with those Fireflies?”

He chuckled, “Not exactly. I’ll show you when we get there. You can share my horse.”

Despite not seeing him in many years, you trusted him. So, ignoring the sleep that wanted to retake you, you gathered your few belongings and got on the horse, along with the two others. During the ride, you learned their names were Maria and Allen.

“Maria’s my wife,” Tommy said, beaming with pride, “we’re parents now, can you believe it?”

You smiled at them both, “Congratulations!”

But why would they want a child in a world like this?

As the sun was rising over the Wyoming mountainside, you arrived at your destination. You couldn’t help but gasp out loud at the wooden gates and stare in shock at the beautiful town sprawled out before you.

“Holy shit, Tommy!” is all you could think to say.

Tommy laughed, his eyes crinkling at the sides, “Welcome to Jackson.”

Maria smiled and said, “We’ll find a place to put you up. I’m sure you’re tired since we interrupted your sleep. We can take you on a tour in the morning.”

Suddenly, your exhaustion hit you, your eyes drooping involuntarily as a yawn escaped your lips.

“That sounds great.”

You honestly didn’t even remember falling asleep, but when you woke up to knocking at the front door of your new house, the sun was high in the sky. You yawned, rubbing the sleep from your eyes as you trudged through your bedroom and the rest of your house to reach the front door.

“Hey, Y/n! Feel a little better?”

Tommy was on your doorstep with a smile.

You nodded, “Still a little sleepy, but much better, thank you.”

“Good,” he said, “you ready for that tour, now?”

“Sure.”

Tommy led you through town, pointing out the important buildings: the stables, the bar, of course, and the clinic, while explaining how things worked in town.

“Oh, and since you’re capable, we’ll probably put you in the patrol rotation as soon as you’re settled in…”

But you weren’t listening anymore. The two of you approached the school, since Tommy thought maybe you could help teach there, and there you saw something you hoped you’d never see again.

Joel.

He was talking to a teenaged girl with brown hair and a bright smile. He was laughing at something she had said, his eyes twinkling with a brightness you had never seen in them before.

Blood rushed to your ears as your heart pounded in your chest. You couldn’t help the way your hands shook as adrenaline rushed through you.

This wasn’t supposed to happen. You weren’t supposed to see him again.

“Y/n, you okay?” asked Tommy softly.

Joel’s head whipped around upon hearing your name. It couldn’t really be you, could it? Your hair was too long and tangled, your clothes too torn and dirty, your shoes barely staying on your feet.

But those eyes were unmistakable. They carried so much weight, even more than the last time he saw you. They were filled with fear, anger, sadness, but worst of all, loneliness. And it was his fault.

Joel never stopped blaming himself for what happened. He missed you every day, and no one, not even Tess could pull him from his misery. Ellie filled the Sarah-sized hole in his heart, but there was still a you-sized hole from the past year. And now that you were before him, he was determined to get you back.

“Y/n.”

The soft murmur of your name was enough to shake you of your stupor.

“Joel.”

You said nothing more. What else was there to say?

“Hey, Ellie, you want to come to my place? Maria’s baking cookies,” Tommy asked, giving you both a meaningful look.

“Sure! You’d better come around then, too, Joel!” the girl, Ellie, said cheerfully, seemingly oblivious to what was occurring.

“I will, Ellie. You run along now,” Joel replied, smiling softly at the retreating figures of Ellie and his brother.

Then his attention was on you. And quite frankly, you didn’t know what to do.

Joel stepped toward you, closing the gap until you were face to face with the man that had been haunting your dreams for the past year.

“Didn’t expect to see you around here,” he said.

You heard the weight his voice carried. Even if others couldn’t read the stoic man, you could. You knew him too well, even after all of this time.

“Well that makes two of us.”

The bitterness still tinging your voice makes him wince slightly.

“It’s good to see you alive,” he offered, “that you’re okay.”

“No thanks to you.”

The tone was sharp, offered no room for friendliness or forgiveness.

Joel sighed softly, running his fingers through his graying hair, “I know. I’ve thought about it every day.”

That made you pause, the anger simmering below the surface beginning to give way.

“Me too.”

You wouldn’t say that you missed him. That you dreamed about a world where the three of you were still a team. That when you felt really lonely, your fingers would slip below your waistband, still thinking of him. That you often wished desperately that you never left. But you felt like he knew.

“I’m sorry.”

“I know.”

His smile was tight lipped and his eyes swam with the ghosts of your shared past.

“No Tess?”

Her absence was noticeable to you. In the time the three of you had worked together, you didn’t go anywhere without the others.

Joel shook his head, “Dead.”

“Raiders?”

“Infected.”

“Oh,” you gasped, “I’m sorry.”

And you were. Tess was a good friend and a strong ally. Her death was unexpected to you, and you knew Joel had to have been there to see it. You wouldn’t wish that upon your worst enemy.

He looked at the ground, breaking eye contact with you for the first time, “Losing her was hard. I had already lost you, and then I lost her. Just like Sarah.”

Joel was never one to talk about his emotions, but you had broken down that wall during your partnership. And though you didn’t let your guard down to him, here he was using a wrecking ball.

“Joel, I-” this time you ran your fingers through the tangled mess that was your hair, trying to search for something to say.

But he continued, “I know what I did to you was wrong. Shutting you out wasn’t the answer, and I’m sorry.”

“It wasn’t. But maybe leaving wasn’t the best answer for me, either.”

That was the first time you had really admitted that to yourself.

“I should’ve talked to you, like this, before making a choice so rash. I’m so-”

“You don’t have to apologize. You did what you had to. You have to do what’s best for you in this world,” Joel interrupted, returning his gaze to you.

You nodded, “Well, maybe this is a chance for us to start fresh. Maybe it was meant to happen.”

The ghost of a smile appeared on his lips, “Maybe it was. Let me walk you home.”

And you did, with the feeling that you’d let him do it again and again.

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