#i went through my entire archive for this year

[gwennybriggs]

After All This Time

Can’t keep my mind focused on the last chapter of Pick and Choose (surprise surprise lol) so enjoy this tidbit. :)

Wc: 1.6k

Melissa Schemmenti x fem reader

Summary: Many years after the first time she asked, you’re finally able to give Melissa the answer she’s waited her entire life for.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Melissa sat at the breakfast table with a plate of toast, bacon, and eggs; she smiled up at you as you placed a hot cup of coffee in front of her and took your own seat. She looked out the window to your backyard to watch your adult children play soccer with your husband. You watched as the corners of her eyes crinkled with silent laughter, taking in every detail of her face like it was the last time you’d ever see her again.

Every year, Melissa spent a week of her summer break visiting you and your family in Maine. You were childhood best friends, you went to college together, she fell in love with you and you turned her down to be with your now husband. But even after you broke her heart, she stuck around. Melissa was a bridesmaid at your wedding, and earned the title of ‘aunt’ when your twins were born. She was there for every birthday and holiday, every cheer competition and weekend soccer game, she was even there to make soup and clean waste baskets when the whole family caught the flu one summer break. In turn, you were there for her marriage to Joe and their eventual divorce. You helped her get back into the dating world just to watch her give up and resign herself to a life alone, claiming that having your family to spend time with was enough for her.

“My God, when did they grow up?” The redhead let out a watery laugh as Melanie tackled Ethan to the ground and wiped a tear from her cheek.

“I ask myself that every day. It seems like just yesterday we were planning their baby shower, now they’ve graduated college and are spending their last summer at home before they move away for their big kid jobs,” you said with a wistful sigh.

Melissa glanced at you with sorrow in her eyes and drifted into her own thoughts. Silence filled the air again as you both nibbled at your breakfasts and stared out the window. She wanted so badly for this to be her reality: to wake up every day for breakfast with you, for those two knuckleheads of yours to be her own too, to experience all the little domestic moments in life with you. All of it.

As far as she knew, you never thought about the day she asked you to run away with her in college. You never spoke with her about it after you let her down (except for that one drunken time she asked again at your bachelorette party, but she forgot about that the next day), you just kept going through life as if it never happened. Really, you thought about it every day. Back then your parents controlled every aspect of your life: which college you went to, what you majored in, what you wore, who you were friends with, and even who you dated. They were strict and if they even had an inkling that you were into women they would have pulled back from your life completely, leaving you with nothing and no one. You were scared of losing everything you ever knew, so despite wanting nothing more than to take Melissa’s hand and be hers forever, you married the man they wanted you to and kept your true feelings bottled deep within.

Slowly, you reached for the hand she had wrapped around her mug and held it in yours. She tore her eyes away from the game outside to look at you in shock; you hadn’t held her hand since your wedding day. You leaned across the table and placed a gentle kiss to her lips.

Her brow furrowed in confusion, hand remaining in yours. “Y/N?”

“Ask me again.” You half whispered.

“What the hell are you talkin’ about?”

“What you asked me all those years ago.” You squeezed her hand, your eyes glossy with unshed tears. “Ask. Me. Again.”

Her eyes fell to the napkin on her lap. “I can’t take that heartbreak again, hon. Plus, you have Mike and the kids, it wouldn’t be fair to them. You’ve got a happy family now, you don’t wanna lose that.”

“We’re not as happy as we seem, Red. Besides, Mike‘s always known. You’ve been the one for me since before I could put words to feelings.” You squeezed her hand again, a quiet plea for her to look at you. This time she squeezed back but she still couldn’t bring herself to look up.

She was silent for a moment before she spoke again. “Your mother would kill you.”

You chuckled, “I’m fifty somethin’ years old, it’s past time I cut those apron strings. What’s she gonna do? Take away my inheritance? She’s used most of it to spoil her grandkids anyway.” You lifted her chin to look at you. Your tone turned back to serious. “The kids know too. They won’t tell me they know, but they do. Ethan overheard me talking to Mike a few months ago about the divorce, I heard him run down the hall to tell Melanie. They’re adults now, I think they understand why and how things change.” Your voice caught in your throat, “We’ve known for many years that this marriage would end as soon as the kids were outta the house. Mike and I have talked about it a hundred times. We promised each other that we’d play ‘happy family’ until we knew the twins would be alright. This is our last ‘normal’ week before we sign the papers and our not-so-baby birds leave the nest.”

Mel wiped away the tears that spilled down your cheeks and you gave her a small smile. You’d loved her your whole life, and after everything you’d been through together you never thought you’d feel like you could lose her until that moment. You were so scared she’d walk away, that all those feelings from years ago had been washed away with time.

“Ask me, Mel. Please?”

She opened her mouth to speak but was interrupted by the kitchen door swinging open and the twins bounding in to brag about their win against their dad. Mike made his way upstairs to shower without a word. Melanie hopped into Melissa’s lap, earning an ‘oof’ from her, and wrapped an arm around her neck. Melissa had always been her favorite person and you were okay with that, after all she was named after her.

“Aunt Mel, wanna go get ice cream with us to celebrate dad’s defeat?” Your daughter played with the bracelets on Melissa’s wrist, waiting for an answer.

“It’s like 10:30, isn’t it a little early for ice cream, Mini Mel,” the redhead laughed and your daughter’s nose scrunched.

“Damn, what happened to you being the cool mom,” Ethan asked as he stole the last slice of her bacon from her plate. “C’mon, I’m buying!”

Melissa’s smile faltered at the word ‘mom’ but she quickly fixed it, “Next time lead with that, kid. Go start the car, I’ll be there in a second.” She dug into her purse and tossed the keys to your son. Ethan beamed and Melanie raced him out the front door, fighting over who got to ride shotgun. Once everyone was out of the room, she directed her attention back to you.

“Just ask, I promise I won’t hurt you again. I wanna grow old with you and sit in recliners complaining about the price of eggs and milk. I want to spend the rest of my life in your arms. Please, baby.”

She sighed and screwed her eyes shut. You only called her baby when you were drunk. Hearing it come from your sober lips caused her heart to ache. She wanted it, a future with you, with her whole being. “You can’t drop everything for me, Y/N.”

“You’ve dropped everything for me our whole lives, it’s my turn. I’ll go anywhere, do anything, as long as it’s with you. I’m sorry it’s taken me thirty years to get here, but I’m here if you’ll have me. I’d get on my knees to beg, but I’m afraid I’d need you to pick me up.”

Melissa fought tears. “I’ll always pick you up when you’re down, hon, you know that.” She rubbed her eyes, fluffed her hair, and took a deep breath. “After Tweedle Dee and Dum eat their weight in ice cream we’ll talk. I want this, but there’s a lot of emotions that I don’t know how to deal with right this second.”

She began to walk away but you caught her elbow and turned her around. “We’ll talk later, but I still need you to ask.”

You looked deep into her eyes, love and longing swimming around in the pools of green. “Y/N, will you runaway with me and be mine for the rest of our days,” she choked out.

“Only if you promise to always be mine in return,” you teased.

“As if I’ve ever been anyone else’s.” She rolled her eyes and smiled gently.

You kissed her deeply, letting her know how much you truly loved her. Melissa’s hand tangled in your hair, holding you in place. Your whole body burned for her, just as hers did for you. She was the first to release from the kiss and you pouted at the loss of contact. She started walking backwards towards the door to join the twins, a grin on her face so wide you could see all of her pearly whites.

“Forever starts soon, better start packin’ doll.”

You bit your lip and waved as she turned around to leave, muttering an ‘I love you, be safe’ after you heard your kids yell for Melissa to hurry up. Before she was completely out the door she turned her head over her shoulder, “I love you, too. Always have, always will.”

#melissa schemmenti x you #abbott elementary #melissa schemmenti x reader #fluff #angst #Aunt Melissa

[kicktwine]

miskellaneous

#tumblr is still my doodle archive #my art #venitas #ffxiv #kh #sprawl au #ooooo veni you are so creature #first of all. Bunny. Bnnuy. I would like to consider the bunny. Sorry for trapping him he’s doing plot in my brain #I drew vani a while ago but I should have made him a catboy. I will next time I draw him #second of all back in pic order #ari is trying to be kind but violence is extremely fun for him. He loves it. He loves to gloat and he loves to cackle #if he’s allowed at a target for his pent up rage and aggression he gets weird #second of all I’ve been thinking about gender as one does. And what it would look like 5000 years in the future #so like in sprawl. there’s an entire timeline of gender studies and anthropology that leads from our time #through where the entire notion COMPLETELY fell apart; through where there was a resurgence of ancient gender roles #back and forth and in circles and where new things sprung up and fell and debates about the validity of self went nuts #Xion knows a lot about it bc she will claim trans as a label vanitas also knows a lot of things because he Doesn’t consider himself #trans. vens confused he was literally never taught about any of this. unity(divine) has its own… kinda messed up way of doing it #he got lost somewhere around the advent of gene augmentation and nonhuman drag (she didn’t have to go into that detail she just thinks it’s #really cool) #(Also that was really early —) #Anyways. vanitas is also getting his sense of touch back up there. xions a miracle worker #transgender is even a slightly archaic term. it completely died for about a thousand years and then came back with a retro wave

[nellasbookplanet]

Book recs: Queer science fiction, part 1

There is a lot of queer sf out there, and I read a lot of sf. When I started working on this list, I quickly realized it was impossible to include all that I've read and enjoyed in one single rec post. Thus, this is the first of so far three queer sci-fi book rec posts.

A note: queer here does not necessarily mean "guarantee of an f/f or m/m ship with a happy ending", but rather simply a significant presence of queerness. Some of the books feature no romance but has a same gender attracted/trans/a-spectrum lead, or features an m/f relationship with bisexual, trans or aro/ace characters, or simply features a world-building which is heavily queer inclusive in ways that don't always compare to our own ideas of sexuality and gender. I have however disqualified works where the only queer presence is along the lines of "gay best friend" or a blink and you'll miss it confirmation that never comes up again.

Previous book rec posts:

Really cool fantasy worldbuilding, really cool sci-fi worldbuilding, dark sapphic romances, mermaid books, vampire books, many worlds: portal fantasies, many worlds: alternate timelines, robots and artificial intelligences, post- and transhumanism, alien intelligences

For more details on the books, continue under the readmore. Titles marked with * are my personal favorites. And as always, feel free to share your own recs in the notes!

The Light Brigade by Kameron Hurley*

Dietz is a soldier in the war between Earth and Mars - to travel to the battle front, she and her fellow soldiers are broken down into light to be able to quickly travel across space. But something keeps going wrong with Dietz's travels; her memories don't match up with the mission briefs, as she experiences time itself turning in on itself. Is she going mad? Or are the things she's learning skipping through time the truth - and the war that's stealing her life the lie? A mindfuck of a book that's scathing in its critique of fascism and war. Features a sapphic lead but no romance.

A Psalm for the Wild-Built (Monk and Robot duology) by Becky Chambers

Novella. Long ago, robots, upon gaining sentience, simply laid down their work and walked into the wilderness. Long after, a tea monk looking for purpose follows after them into the wilds, where they come across one of the robots seeking its own sort of answers. While not plotless, this story focuses more on character and vibes over plot. Also has a nonbinary main character and features conversations on gender between human and robot.

Meet Me In Another Life by Catriona Silvey*

Thora and Santi are strangers, brought together by a coincidence and torn apart just as abruptly when tragedy strikes. But this is neither the first nor the last time they meet - again and again they encounter each other, as friends, lovers, enemies, family, every time recognizing in each other a familiarity no one else carries. But with every new life, a mysterious danger grows ever closer, forcing them to find out the truth of their connection. This is a puzzle-box of a story that goes some entirely unexpected places in a very wild ride, featuring a bisexual co-lead.

The Archive Undying (The Downworld Sequence) by Emma Mieko Candon

In a world where AI gods sometimes lose their minds and take entire populations down with them, Sunai was the only survivor when his god went down. In the 17 years since, he has wandered on his own, unable to either die or age, drowning his sorrows in drink and men. But his attempts to flee his past comes to a stop as he is forced back into the struggle between man and machine. Featuring some pretty wild world building and narrative techniques, this book will definitely confuse you, but it is worth the experience.

The Paradox Hotel by Rob Hart

January Cole works security at the Paradox Hotel, last stop for tourists heading for the timeport, which allows them to travel to and witness any moment in time. But years of proximity to the timeport has left its damage on January, making her unstuck in time, letting her relive memories of her dead lover even as her sanity slips away bit by bit. As she starts witnessing proof of a horrible crime in the hotel that no one else can see, January must race against her own mind, a killer, and time itself to solve it before it's too late.

A Fractured Infinity by Nathan Tavares

Hayes Figueiredo is a struggling film-maker who wants to finish his documentary, whose life gets turned upside down when handsome physicist Yusuf Hassan enters his life, claiming an alternate version of him is a great inventor who’s sent a mysterious device to their universe. As Hayes gets drawn deeper into the conspiracy - and his feelings for Yusuf intensify - he has to decide just how far he’s prepared to go to win the life and the love he wants. Featuring a very gay and very morally dubious lead, this is a creative and strange read.

Bridge by Lauren Beukes

When she was little, Bridge and her mother Jo used to play a game - one where they traveled to other worlds, inhabiting the bodies of their other selves. Now Jo is dead, and as Bridge is cleaning out her apartment she finds a strange device: a dreamworm, the very thing that supposedly makes inter-dimensional travel possible. Suddenly faced with the possibility that multiverse travel is real, Bridge is struck by a different question: could her mother still be alive? Scifi spiced with a healthy dose of body horror and some absolutely wild twists, Bridge also features a bisexual lead (however this is a blink and you’ll miss it moment) and a nonbinary co-narrator.

The Long Way to a Small, Angry Planet (Wayfarers series) by Becky Chambers

Rosemary Harper just got a job on the motley crew of the Wayfarer, a spaceship that works with tunneling new wormholes through space. With a past she wants to leave behind, Rosemary is happy to travel the far reaches of the universe with the chaotic crew, but when they land the job of a life time, things suddenly get a lot more dangerous. A bit of a tumblr classic in its day, this is a cozy space opera with an episodic feel and vividly realized characters and cultures. While pretty light on romance and focusing found family, there is a main f/f relationship.

An Unkindness of Ghosts by Rivers Solomon

Life on the lower decks of the generation ship HSS Matilda is hard for Aster, an outcast even among outcasts, trying to survive in a system not dissimilar to the old antebellum South. The ship's leaders have imposed harsh restrictions on their darker skinned people, using them as an oppressed work force as they travel toward their supposed Promised Land. But as Aster finds a link between the death of the ship's sovereign and the suicide of her own mother, she realizes there may be a way off the ship.

Ninefox Gambit (The Machineries of Empire trilogy) by Yoon Ha Lee*

Military space opera where belief and culture shape the laws of reality, causing all kinds of atrocities as empires do everything in their power to force as many people as possible to conform to their way of life to strengthen their technology and weapons. It’s also very queer, with gay, lesbian and trans major characters, albeit little to no romance.

The Left Hand of Darkness (Hainish Cycle) by Ursula K. Le Guin

1969 classic. Genly Ai is an emissary sent to the planet of Winter, meant to help facilitate Winter's inclusion in a growing intergalactic civilization. But he's unprepared for Winter's citizens, who spend much of their time genderless or switching between genders, making for a culture wildly different from that Genly is used to.

Too Like the Lightning (Terra Ignota series) by Ada Palmer*

Centuries in the future, humanity has deliberatly engineered society to be as utopian as possible, politically, socially, sexually, religiously. Written in an enlightenment style and featuring questions of human nature and whether it’s possible to change it, and what price we’re prepared to pay for peace, this book is simultaneously very heavy and very funny, and written in a very unique style. While still human, the society presented often feels starkly alien.

The Stars Are Legion by Kameron Hurley

This book fucked me up when I read it. It’s weird, it’s gross, there’s So Much Viscera, there are literally no men, it has living spaceships and biotech but in the most horrific way imaginable. Had I to categorize it I would call it grimdark military sf. It’s an experience but not necessarily a pleasant one.

The Luminous Dead by Caitlin Starling*

Possibly one of the most unsettling books I’ve ever read, and definitely the most claustrophobic. Gyre, a caver on an alien planet, ventures into the dark and dangerous underground, guided only by a woman who has no compunctions on using and manipulating Gyre as she sees fit to obtain her secretive goals down in the caves.

Escaping Exodus (Escaping Exodus series) by Nicky Drayden

While my feelings on Escaping Exodus were mixed, it cannot be denied that the dynamic between the two leads and the way they go from childhood best friends to enemies on different sides of a class and power struggle is very delicious. It also features some really cool worldbuilding of living, alien generation spaceships and the human culture that has developed inside them.

The Doors of Eden by Adrian Tchaikovsky*

The Doors of Eden is something of an experiment in speculative biology, featuring versions of Earth in which various different species were the one to rise to sentience, from dinosaurs to neanderthals. Now, something is threatening the existence of all timelines, dragging multiple different people and species into the struggle, among those a pair of cryptid hunting girlfriends and a transgender scientist.

Ascension by Jacqueline Koyanagi

Ascension follows Alana Quick, an expert Sky Surgeon who stows away on a spaceship in hopes of landing herself a job. But the ship and its crew are in deeper waters than she expected, facing threats emerging from a whole other universe, all of them searching for the same person: Alana’s spiritually enlightened sister. Undeniably a bit of an odd read, Ascension is also very creative and features polyamorous lesbian relationship.

Contagion (Contagion duology) by Erin Bowman*

Young adult. After receiving an SOS, a small crew is sent on a standard search-and-rescue mission. But what they find are not survivors awaiting help, but an abandoned site, full of dead bodies and crawling with something... monstrous. No romance, but features one sapphic co-lead and one who can easily be read as demisexual (however this doesn't show up until book two, which has more romance).

A Memory Called Empire (Texicalaan duology) by Arkady Martine

Mahit Dzmare is an ambassador sent to the center of the multi-system Teixcalaanli Empire, where she discovers that her predecessor has died. Trying to protect her home, an independent mining station, from being taken over by the empire, Mahit struggles to find out the truth of her predecessor's death while carrying the voice of his ghost in her head, guiding her as best he can. Light on the romance but does feature a sapphic relationship.

The Outside (The Outside trilogy) by Ada Hoffman*

AKA the book the put me in an existenial crisis. Souls are real, and they are used to feed AI gods in this lovecraftian inspired scifi where reality is warped and artifical gods stand against real, unfathomable ones. Autistic scientist Yasira is accused of heresy and, to save her eternal soul, is recruited by post-human cybernetic ‘angels’ to help hunt down her own former mentor, who is threatening to tear reality itself apart. Sapphic main character.

Dawn (Xenogenesis trilogy) by Octavia E. Butler*

After a devestating war leaves humanity on the brink of extinction, survivor Lilith finds herself waking up naked and alone in a strange room. She’s been rescued by the Oankali, who have arrived just in time to save the human race. But there’s a price to survival, and it might be humanity itself. Absolutely fucked up I love it I once had to drop the book mid read to stare at the ceiling and exclaim in horror at what was going on. Queer in the sense that the Oankali doesn't follow human ideas of gender and relationships, which is mirrored in their romantic relationships with humans. It is, however, pretty dark, with examinations of agency and consent, so enter with caution.

Remnant by Kate Genet

One day, Cass wakes up and finds everyone else is gone. Not dead, just gone, leaving her in a world which nature starts taking back with a dangerous, unnatural speed. But as she tries to survive this new normal, Cass realizes she may not be alone after all - but who else is out there, and are they a threat?

The Scorpion Rules (Prisoners of Peace duology) by Erin Bow*

Young Adult. Featuring a dystopian future in which an AI forcibly keeps world peace by holding the children of world leaders hostage. If anyone attempts to start a war, their child will be executed. Greta is one of these children, kept in a school with others like her. But things start to change one day when a new, less obedient hostage arrives. A unique, slowburn take on the YA dystopian craze, also featuring a bisexual love triangle.

Iron Widow (Iron Widow series) by Xiran Jay Zhao

Young adult. Zetian is a citizen of Huaxia, where mecha aliens are constantly trying to breach the Great Wall. To keep them at bay, couples of men and women pilot so called Chrysalises, giant transforming robots. But the pilots are not equal - the women almost always die, sucked dry by their co-pilots. When Zetian sets herself up to become a concubine-pilot, she does so with the plan to assassinate the male pilot who caused her sister's death. Features a polyamorous main relationship.

Bonus AKA I haven't read these yet but they seem really cool:

Survival Instincts by May Dawney

Lynn Tanner has been surviving the post-apocalypse alone with only her dog for a long time, trusting no one. But when she's forced to travel the dangerous remains of New York City alongside another woman, her priorities are challenged. Is staying alone really the best way to stay alive?

These Burning Stars by Bethany Jacobs

When con-artist Jun Ironway gets her hands on possible proof of the powerful Nightfoot family, controllers of interplanetary travel, committing genocide, she has in her hands a chance of taking them and their monopoly down. But the family and their allies won't go down easily, and sends two brutal clerics to stop her.

Everfair by Nisi Shawl

A neo-victorian alternate history, in which a part of Congo was kept safe from colonisation, becoming Everfair, a safe haven for both the people of Congo and former slaves returning from America. Here they must struggle to keep this home safe for them all.

#nella talks books #the light brigade #a psalm for the wild built #meet me in another life #the archive undying #the paradox hotel #fracture infinity #bridge #the long way to a small angry planet #an unkindness of ghosts #ninefox gambit #the left hand of darkness #terra ignota #the stars are legion #the luminous dead #escaping exodus #the doors of eden #the outside #xenogenesis #remnant #the scorpion rules #iron widow #survival instincts #these burning stars #everfair

[smellrain]

𝐧𝐡𝟏𝟑 - 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐢𝐜𝐞 𝐢𝐬 𝐬𝐢𝐥𝐞𝐧𝐭

in which: nico and you had met years ago in a cold rink in canada but then lost touch for several reasons. It's hard, growing and correcting mistakes of your past but you try anyway.

tags: written, angst, hopeful ending, mentions of: depression, injuries, hospitals, doctors, etc. (masterlist)

notes: [5.1k] I have no idea what this is? I woke up, wrote the entire thing and passed out again for 2 hours. Tried polishing it through editing? Yeah. It turned out a lot different than the rest of my stuff so far, so it's scary posting this. Come & tell me if you liked it.

The ice was as harsh as it was unforgiving. 

The cold air of the rink has seeped into your bones years ago and the reddend tips of your fingers went numb a while ago, but you were used to it by now. Nothing really mattered when you got like this, too caught up in your head for anyone to reach. 

Not even yourself. 

You had been home and then suddenly not, your body already knowing what you needed before your mind caught up to it. 

The rink wasn’t open, not yet, but you had gotten a key years ago. The owner, David, had been the only one that had looked at you the same back then. There had been a knowing sort of look in his eyes when he had seen you waiting for him at the front door stepps, eyes red. 

He had given you a key, because he had seen you for who you were: a girl whose entire life had collapsed around her. 

Bronze at fifteen, silver at sixteen, gold forever out of reach. 

You could still remember the red pen tucked into your doctor’s coat. The ‘my condolences, but’, the white light, the letter in your hand, the sinking realisation that this was it. 

That you were going to be one of the several girls that had pushed their body too far.

The same way you had done everything back then you had followed the instructions of your therapist to the letter. Stretching, compressions, different exercises. Still, there was no full recovery, no chance of ever skating professionally again. 

That might be the worst part, still being able to skate but knowing that you will never be able to feel it anymore. That you were cursed to be in this limbo, never letting go of it but never being able to live for it anymore. 

The harsh sound of your blade cutting over the fresh ice was as pleasant as it was torture. You wanted more, but you had to settle for this. You had to learn that this was all you were ever going to get. 

These select few hours in the early morning, just before your classes started, before you had to start living your life. 

You could feel yourself drawing harsh breaths, but it didn’t matter. You had pushed through worse, hunger, hurt and feelings just to stand here for a bit longer. The ringing in your ear accumulated when you thought about all that you had lost, that you could never regain.

Suddenly the heavy door of the entrance fell closed. You slowed down, curious who it might be. The clock in the corner of your vision reflected a red 05:57 back at you. It was too early for it to be anyone aside from David or another person with a key, someone like you.

It was a guy, a bag in his hand and another slung over his shoulder. 

You would recognize the equipment anywhere, familiar with it in a distant way. It must be a hockey player that David had picked out out of the hundreds that frequented this place. 

For some reason you already didn’t like him. Maybe because unlike you, he had the chance of actually archiving his dreams. Bitterness was an annoying but frecent emotion that stained the back of your mouth. 

You wanted. You wanted more than this. You wanted the early morning practices, the ones after school, the rigidous schedule, the heavy monitoring. What were you without all that?

The static in your mind had been interrupted by his arrival but you hardly noticed, more focused on the way he walked down the stairs, casually like he had done so hundreds of times already.

It was almost six, which meant it was time to get off the ice anyways, so you circled a few laps, rotating your wrists and shoulders to feel if anything was off, and then made your way towards the outside of the rink. 

“You look pretty,” said the boy from where he was tying his shoelaces up on the benches. “Out on the ice, I mean.”

Something in you hurt at that, as if your heart started pulling at its own strings. It’s been a while since anyone has watched you skate,, since you let someone else watch you. There was a sharp kind of anger rising up in you that it had been him watching you which dissipated as soon as you looked back at him.

It wasn’t his fault. There really was something wrong with you.

You knew your parents didn’t approve of you being here, but they couldn’t look at you anymore when you skated, disappointed that this was how it had ended. Disappointed in you.

“Thanks,” you said, your voice completely scraped raw. You hoped he didn’t notice it. 

“I’m Nico,” he said, approaching you. He held out his hand. He wasn’t wearing gloves yet but his dark shirt had thumbholes that his thumb peeked through which was weirdly endearing on him. 

You looked back up to his face. There was a tired but polite smile plastered on it but you didn’t have the energy to give him one. Instead you simply told him your name and took his hand. Even through his layer of fabric it was warm beneath your icy fingers.

He didn’t flinch at the cold of your hand and instead started genuinely smiling which took you by surprise. People didn’t react to meeting you like this, not anymore. 

Then, without saying anything else, he took off his guards and stepped on the ice, skating around to warm up. You watched him for a bit while scraping off the excess ice and putting your skates away. 

His skating was differentthan yours; not as delicate. The beauty of it had been hammered into you from an early age on which didn’t seem to be the case form him. It was weird, not being on the ice, being the one to watch instead. 

You changed back into your shoes and walked up the steps. 

From the top, which wasn’t all that high because this rink wasn’t that big, he seemed small. You wondered if you looked like that too, if anyone had thought that when you fell down, when they had seen you sprawled on the ice at fifteen, not being able to get up again. 

A sick shudder passed through you. You wondered if you had ever gotten up from that ice.

Then you turned around, your back to him and left without saying goodbye. 

~*~

The next time you saw him again, was two days later, just after six. 

You knew you were going to be late for class but didn’t really care. Today you weren’t as cooped up in your own head, but it was still hard to let go of these stolen few hours of freedom and face reality. 

“Hey,” Nico said, “it’s you again.”

“Hello,” you said in return. He stepped on the ice and you fought off the urge to leave immediately. That would be impolite, a voice reminded you in your head, even if you didn’t want him to be here right now.

“Are you here every morning?” he asked you, falling into step beside you and therefore joining you on your cooldown laps. 

Your eyebrows furrowed in annoyance. Couldn’t he just do his own thing? Did he have to come talk to you? “Yes.” 

"Dedicated. I only come every second day,” he said as if it mattered to you. You might have to leave early every second day now to avoid talking to him, which made your scowl even worse. 

“Okay.” You said instead. 

He hummed in reason but dropped the conversation after. When you took a look at him from the corner of your eye he didn’t seem deterred at your attitude, seemingly just satisfied that he got a response.

After another lap in, you hated to admit it but companionable silence, you left, without saying anything but this time he waved back at you from below. You didn’t return his gesture. 

~*~

Despite your early judgement, the two of you formed some kind of routine over the next few weeks. You came early, and sometimes you left a protein bar for him in the stands and sometimes he brought  you a hot tea for when you got off the ice. 

Still, always without fail, he joined you for a few laps. He talked about his life and sometimes asked you a few questions. Sometimes you answered him, other times you didn’t. He never pressed for answers. 

Nico told you that he was from Switzerland, which explained the heavy accent. He just joined Halifax, and he came early to work on his technique, preferring to do so in silence without his teammates chirping at him. You, in turn, told him that you had skated, professionally, before your injury. He didn’t ask for details about either of these things and you didn’t share of your own accord. 

Slowly, so slowly that you didn’t even notice, you realised that he had become your friend. 

It was strange. You hadn’t made friends in a long time. Before, you had had school friends, but because you never hung out outside of it, always training, it never deepend. 

A weird sort warmth seeped in under your skin at the thought of the two of you being friends like a steady fire that kept you warm at night.

The friends you had made while skating splintered along with your knee. 

It was hard, you knew that, to see their worst fear reflected back at them, but it was still hard for you to reach out, so you simply stopped talking to each other. 

On your bad days you thought that it was all their fault, on your good you knew that it was a mutual mistake. 

The thing about Nico was that he was hard to pin down. He was hardworking, thrived under pressure and loved hockey. He was also afraid of falling and failing, he loved sitting under the sun in the summers, feeling his skin heat up and his favorite colour was green, but he admitted that it changed every few weeks. 

You knew that this friendship wouldn’t last, not really. Neither of you had any way of reaching out to the other, and neither expressed the desire to do so but it was still nice, this tentative kinship.

~*~

“Have you ever played hockey?” he asked you, once. 

It must have been a Saturday or Sunday because you were in no hurry to get off the ice, instead basking in his company. 

“No,” you answered, simply.

He grinned, “you are missing out.”

“Really now?” you asked, teasingly, when you turned around to skate with your front to him.

“Really. I wanna teach you,” he said, leaving the choice up to you without outright asking. If you wanted to you could just brush it off and the conversation would continue. 

Instead you said, “yeah, sure, why not.”

His smile was blinding, the adoration for his sport bleeding from every inch of his skin. It was a good look on him, happiness. Distantly you wondered if anyone had ever thought that about you.

It was different, skating with a stick in your hands but it was fun. He taught you how to shoot and aim at a certain spot which you weren’t half bad at if you stood still.

Hours later when the two of you stepped off the ice your tea was cold but you hardly noticed it.

~*~

Another day you asked him what he was reaching for. 

“Olympics,” he had answered immediately but after a beat of silence he looked up as if the lights in the ceiling were stars he could wish upon. “I think I want someone to look at me and think ‘I want to do that. I want to start playing hockey.’”

You looked at him and the only thought that crossed your mind was that he was the reason you could step off the ice again, that you knew you would always be able to come back, just one more time. 

“I like that,” you said because it was true. 

He tilted his head back to you, and the way his eyes glimmered with a rare vulnerability made your breath catch. Or maybe that was just the effect he had on you, standing still, alive and just in reach.

Oh. 

That was that feeling in your chest. 

~*~

Yet another day he joined you on the ice and you immediately kicked him off again. 

“What did I say about injuries?” you asked, frustrated in a way only he could make you. 

“That they were not to be ignored,” he parroted back, his gaze between his feet as if staring at his ankle would magically heal it. 

“Exactly,” you said. Then, gentler than before, “you need to give yourself time to heal, otherwise you will never get better.”

He looked back up to where you were hovering above him. “Okay.”

You didn’t want him to have the last word. “Okay,” you said firmly and sat down next to him. 

The two migrated up to the changing rooms  where he sat on a bench with his ankle elevated while you worked through your stretches, your knewww aching in phantom pain.

~*~

Today your mind was quiet.

It was your last time and you had wanted to take it all in again, one last time. You were moving, your father had gotten a new job somewhere in New Jersey. You knew it was good, a new start away from everything, a chance to start over. 

But still, you were going to miss this. The rink, the quiet, the place you had grown up in. The place that was your prison as much as it was your salvation. 

As you looked up towards the ceiling, the lights shining down on you, the dark gary that seemed black in contrast, you thought you should cry. This was the perfect moment to, and you hadn’t yet. 

Then, the door opened. 

You were surprised because he wasn’t supposed to be here today. Nico had been here yesterday and the two of you had argued about your favorite brand of cereal, and you selfishly had wanted to leave it at that. 

To leave your friendship without having to say goodbye, without having to ever really let go of him. 

“Nico,” you breathed, before you could stop yourself. 

“Hey you,” he said, as he came up to you. You didn’t even realise that you had stopped moving. 

“It’s late,” he stated. You looked up to the clock and sure enough, it was almost twenty past. 

“Ah,” you said, uncaring. It’s not like you had school today. You wondered when he went to school, if his just started later than yours had. In all your talks you had never actually talked about it. 

And you never were going to anymore, you had to remind yourself. Suddenly it was a lot harder to breathe through the ache in your chest. 

“Are you okay?” he asked, and you knew he meant it, “you look, I don’t know, sad?”

“I’m moving,” before he could ask anything more, “like tomorrow. This is the last time I’m going to see you in a while.”

“Oh.” The expression on his face was hurt, because he must have realised that you had intended to leave without saying anything. 

“I’m sorry,” you said. “for everything.” You weren’t really sure for what, but it seemed like the right thing to say. For your intentions, the way you acted, maybe.

“It’s okay,” he said, but it wasn’t, not really. You knew that and he knew that you knew.

“I’m moving to New Jersey.”

He was quiet for a bit.”America,” he started. Then, “do you want to exchange numbers?”

You ignored the sting behind your eyes. “I’m probably going to have to get a new simcard, but you can give me yours.”

The two of you skated back to the door, from where you had stood still in the middle of the open space. He got a piece of paper and a pen from his bag and then somewhat messily tore off the corner of a worksheet and scribbled down his number in blue ink and signed it with his name.

He looked up at you but neither of you said anything for a while. What was there to say, anymore? 

“Don’t forget about me,” he ended up telling you and you reached out to hug him. He was warm under your hands, steady and you were going to miss this, him.

“Don’t forget me either,” you murmured into the crook of his neck. 

Still, in the back of your mind, you knew that you were never going to use his number. You were going to cut off your old life before it could follow you to your new one. But for once you had told him the truth, you weren’t going to forget about him, probably ever. 

And that was that. You said goodbye, waved and you left him there. He returned the gesture, face unreadable and you were sad that the last time he looked at you he wasn’t smiling.

From the top you looked down at him one last time. He seemed bigger now, compared to that first time you had looked down at him, still filled with bitterness.

Maybe that was just your imagination, or maybe it was his confidence after playing with his current team, after seeing his results pay off. 

You turned and let the door fall closed behind you. 

Then, and only then tears started to well up in your eyes. You ignored them and moved on. Always looking ahead, never back. 

Still, you kept the number tucked away safely hidden in a small corner of your wallet. A piece of him that you would always carry with you. 

~*~

You made new friends, graduated and decided to attend college. Got diagnosed with chronic depression and mild anxiety, got a boyfriend and broke it off again after three months, cried, laughed and finally lived. 

But there was part of you hidden in the corner of your wallet, too.

~*~

If you were being honest, Nico didn’t really cross your mind when your friend asked you to go to a hockey game with you. 

In a way he did, because he had been one of your few friends that played hockey, but it was more of an oh yeah, the sport Nico loved and not oh yeah I’m going to a hockey game and I wonder if Nico is still playing, I wonder if he made it to the big leagues. 

Okay, maybe that was a bit of a lie, but still. You hadn’t expected this. 

The two of you went to the Prudential Center and you were excited despite your earlier apprehension. Your phone with the blocked tags of icehockey and nhl seemed to burn a hole in your pants but it’s not like anyone would know. 

Your friend had told you a bit about the team, but if you were being honest, you could not remember any of their names, much less which position and line they played. 

When the players got announced, the home team first, you froze. Suddenly the noise of the cheers around you were completely quiet until they flooded back to you, a harsh reminder of reality.

Because it was him. That was Nico. Your Nico. Or like your past Nico.

There, with a red thirteen and a small C over his chest, was Nico. He was all grown up now, and instead of thinking wow, he is kind of attractive when he smiled at the camera, you thought, holy shit, he is really, really handsome. 

Your friend picked up on your strange behaviour. “What's wrong?”

I know him, you wanted to scream. I think he saved my life without meaning to, and I think I loved him but I never told him. What came out instead was, “I think I'm going to be sick.”

“What?” she asked, suddenly even more worried, “do you need fresh air? Or do you just want to leave?”

You wanted to stay. You wanted to shoot a puck at his head and tell him to look up at you, the way he had done back then. 

“No, don’t worry about it,” you said and when didn’t change at your reply, you added, “I’m just going to get some water. I think it might be the crowd or something.”

“Are you sure? Do you want me to come with?”

You knew how much she had been looking forward to it, and besides there was nothing she could help you with anyhow. “No, really, it’s all good. Just need to breathe for a second.”

She gave you a look, and you smiled despite wanting to curl up in a corner and cry, “if you are sure. But if anything,” she took your hand in hers, “if anything is wrong call me. I’m gonna have my phone in my hand the entire time.”

You squeezed her hand the same way your heart did at her words. “Thank you, really, but it’s okay. I'll be right back.”

Then you fled up the stands and you couldn’t help but think about the first time you had seen him, how you had left without saying anything. You looked down, just once, and spotted him immediately, as if he was the north pole to your south, your eyes drawn to him. 

He seemed even bigger now, as if he had finally grown into the steady confidence he had had, even back then. 

You smiled. He deserved it, genuinely. You were glad that he did end up making it to the big leagues, even if some part of you hurt at that. You still missed ice skating, your rink from back then, David, but most of all you missed what could have been if you hadn’t been scared. 

What could have been if you had just texted him. 

Regret was a useless emotion to feel, but all of a sudden you felt yourself drown in and you coughed once, just to ease that feeling in your throat.

Then you turned your back to the ice and walked up the rest of the stairs to the stands to get yourself some water. 

It was useless trying to think about any of it now, so you pushed the thoughts aside for later. 

~*~

A week later you were drunk. It was a Friday evening and you had finally finished the gruelling lab you had worked on for the entire day. 

You were hanging out in your friend’s room, the same friend that had taken you to the game a week before. Two of your other friends were sat ob the floor, leaning gainst the opposite bed and a warm, content feeling spread through your chest. 

You had friends now. 

“What’s wrong?” she suddenly asked from where she was sat next to you on her bed, her back against the headboard, yours against the wall adjacent to it.

“Nothing,” you answered because nothing was. 

“Don’t ‘nothing’ me, tell me,” she said, “you've been quiet ever since we came back from the game a week ago and I’ve waited long enough for you to say something, so now I’m going to.”

Had you been that obvious? Or did she just know you that well? Either way, she deserved the truth, the full truth.

“I just,” you began and stopped again, starting to peel off the sticker on your beer with the blunt edge of your nail. 

“When I was younger, I skated.” You started. You knew that she had never expressed any kind of interest in skating so you elaborated further, “really well.” Wow, you were really eloquent tonight.

“Okay,” she said, no doubt wondering where you were going with this. 

Your mind was fuzzy around the edges because of the drinks which made harder than usual to focus on your words, but it made it easier to talk about it, too. These people didn’t know about anything that had been, only what was. “I was good enough to win. Olympics, I mean.”

Suddenly one of the other two friends from the other side of the room joined in. “The Olympics?”

“Yeah,” you said, staring firmly at the bottle in your hands, not looking at any of them. “I won bronze and silver, fifteen and sixteen.”

“Holy shit,” she said, as did your other friend, but one of them remained quiet, so you looked at her. 

From the look in her eyes you knew that she knew. “And then I fell, badly. Tried to get up again but couldn’t. Went to the doctor and you know,” you trailed off, “retired. Started physiotherapy, got a lot better but…”

“Not enough to ever compete again,” she finished for you. 

“Yeah,” you said, voice hoarse. “But I couldn’t let go of it, you know? So sometimes, before school, I snuck out to the local rink and skated around just because I didn’t know anything else.”

Your friend that was next to you on the bed made an encouraging noise, and laid a hand on your knee, so you continued. 

“Then I met a guy. I was in a bad mental place, not really talking to anyone unless I had to, but we somehow became friends.”

Then you looked at them, “I don’t know, it was a weird friendship because we only ever saw each other at the rink every few days, but I felt something for him anyway. It wasn’t quite love but could have been, maybe.”

The others were still listening, and the words rushed out before you could stop yourself. “Then I moved. Wanted to leave before saying goodbye because that would hurt too much. On the day I was leaving I saw him anyway. He gave me his number but I never used it.”

“You wanted to make a clean cut?” your friend asked. 

“Yeah. It was sefish, because it wasn’t just about me, you know? I should have told him how I felt, but I didn’t.” You shook your head, “but that’s not even the point. I saw him again at the game.”

“Oh,” your friend that had dragged you to it, said. 

“Yeah,” you answered, and your other friend asked, “why didn’t you talk to him?”

The other friend, the one that had never asked you about your skating, even though she had known, even though she had every opportunity to, said, “because he was playing, right?”

“Yeah,” you said and you wanted to cry. You could still hear his name announced by the speakers. “Funny, all the time we spent together and I never knew his last name.”

“Who is it?” she asked, gentle, and you knew you could just not answer. You could bury it deep down, once and for all. But that’s not what you wanted to do, not anymore. 

“Nico Hischier.” And your friend laughed. 

“Of course it’s the captain,” she said and you couldn’t help but join in, the effects of the alcohol cursig through your veins. What were the chances, really? That he ended up in the state you had moved to all those years ago.

The others joined it. “He changed his number by now, I’m sure.”

“Oh yeah, definitely,” one of them said. 

All of you were quiet for a second. “Wait, I have an idea,” she said and moved her hand from your leg and grabbed your phone. 

She gave it to you and made a motion for you to unlock it. You did and gave it back to her. From where you were sat you weren’t able to see your screen, much less what she typed on it. 

After a few seconds she gave it back to you. 

It was Nico’s instagram profile. You hesitated before clicking on his most recent post. Your other friends that had been sitting on the floor climbed up to join you. 

“Follow him,” one of them said. You could feel your heart thumping in your chest. This was not the account you had used to document your wins and training back then, but it still had your first and last name in the username, but it was on private. 

Underneath your thumb the button changed colour. “Fuck,” you said.

The other three laughed at your exclamation. “Wait, do I text him?” you asked, turning to the others. 

They all looked back at you, and one of them asked, “do you want to?”

You did. You really fucking did, but you had no idea what to say. “But what do I say? Hey, sorry for being a dick to you when we were like seventeen, I was half in love with you and didn’t know how to tell you, so I just cut you out before anything could possibly hurt me.”

One of them leaned her head on your shoulder. “If you leave out the half in love part, it’s not too bad.”

“You should also ask if he wants to meet and talk in person,” the other said. 

You opened your notes app and the four of you composed a message to him. 

Your hands were shaking and your heart was beating too fast. This was it, this was your chance and you weren’t going to let go again without a fight. This time you would stay and he could make the choice: to stay or to leave. 

Then, you hit the small blue icon and sent it and let out a quiet scream. You wouldn’t be able to take it back, not anymore. 

You threw your phone away from you onto a small patch where the blanket you were sitting on was still visible. 

Over an hour passed and you still hadn’t heard back from him. Soon after you pased out, but a quiet acceptance had settled in your stomach. He forgot. Or maybe he didn’t see the message or maybe he didn't want to talk to you again, which you couldn’t blame him for. 

But when you woke up the next morning, you had a single notification from him. 

For a second you debated not clicking on it, but that would mean standing still. It would be different this time. You would be different this time. There was an unfamiliar, new kind of determination that flickered up your spine and it reminded you of the steady ice under your skates, of the final hug the two of you had shared. Harsh, unforgiving, certain. 

You clicked on it and there was no going back now.

Nico Hischier Hello, it’s been a while.  Of course I remember you, didn’t I tell you?  For sure, I'd love to meet up and talk. Does next weekend work for you? I have a home game which makes it easier for both of us. 

notes: So. How are we feeling? Thoughts? Part 2? Please talk to me about this one because this lives in my mind rent free.

#nico hischier #nico hischer x reader #nico hischier x reader #nico hischier x y/n #nico hischier imagine #nhl #nj devils #nhl imagine #nhl x y/n #nhl x you #nhl x reader #ame writes

[vermillionsappho]

Bathroom | Abby Anderson x Y/N

Bathroom- Model!Reader x Billionaire!Abby Anderson

“She said, ‘Forget all the slow dancing

Baby, I could take it to the bathroom’”

-After being invited to a gala by a famous actor, you run into business mogul and billionaire, Abby Anderson, who after a passionate interaction, you just can’t get her off your mind.

3.5k words | Porn with plot

Content Warning: SMUT, cursing, explicit content, scissoring, strap on sex (r!receiving), Abby's strap is referred to as her cock, fingering (r!receiving), top!Abby, bottom!reader, a hint of dom/sub dynamics, degradation, praise, Abby’s a bit elusive lol, a little bit of weirdness/weird behavior towards the reader from men, a little bit of violence, Abby is serious asf lowkey, lmk if I left anything out!

Kinda proofread but like, not really lol

“Y/N! Y/N, who’re you wearing tonight? You look flawless!” A voice calls out as you step onto the steps, your arm hooked onto Alexander Watson’s, a famous blockbuster movie star. He’s been trying to get into your pants a little over a month now, but you finally gave in after he personally invited you to be his date at the event of the year: a gala hosted by some billionaire. Your publicist, Dina, thought it would look good to be seen at such a high-profile event, so you went ahead and humored both her and Alexander.

“It's vintage, hon. From the archives!” You say with a wink, pushing through more crowds of photographers and journalists to get to the entrance.

“Have you met the guy who hosts the gala’s each year?” Another voice calls out and you look at her politely before smiling.

“No, I have not, in fact this is my first year in attendance; but I do hope I have the chance to chat with him!” You say, before Alexander lightly tugs on your arm, leading you towards the entrance.

“Prepare yourself to be amazed.” Alexander leans in and whispers as the doors open and you can’t help the little sigh of wonder that escapes your lips when you step inside.

Outside, the mansion looks huge, but inside the mansion is enormous. White, gold, and marble line the entire mansion. Framed photos and art impeccably decorate the walls, and the long and dimly lit hallways seem to stretch on for forever.

“This is…unlike anything I’ve ever seen before, Jesus Christ, how much money does this guy have?” You whisper and Alexander chuckles.

“Pfft, wish I knew. No one knows anything about the guy, he somehow manages to stay anonymous, and I don’t know how, and I can’t figure out who he is.” Alexander says, taking a flute of champagne off a tray as a waiter walks by, passing it to you, which you accept gracefully.

You take a sip, savoring the tangy, but bitter flavor. You softly smile at him, a hint of mischief twinkling in your eyes.

“I have a little game…” You say and Alexander shoots you a dazzling smile.

“Sounds dangerous, I’m in.” He says and you slowly take another sip of your champagne before putting it on another tray.

“I bet I can figure out who he is by the end of the night.” You say cheekily and he shakes his head with a scoff.

“No way, I’ve been coming to his galas for three years in a row and I haven’t figured it out yet, there’s no way you can.” He says and you roll your eyes.

“I bet I can though.” You say with a shrug of your shoulders, and he cocks his head like he’s thinking.

“Okay, deal. If you figure out who he is by the end of the night…I’ll personally buy you a first-class ticket to Italy, free of charge. But if I win…you have to come back with me when the night ends.” He says with a smirk, one that slightly makes you uncomfortable, but you shake it off.

“Fine, deal.” You say before strutting off. 

You wander the mansion mindlessly, watching the other people with focused eyes. You try to guess based on posture, height, energy, and expressions who the mystery man could possibly be, but you’re stumped.

“Are you lost?” A feminine, but smooth and raspy voice calls out and you whip around, startled out of your concentration.

In front of you stands a tall and gorgeous woman; dressed in a fitting, black, expensive suit. Her muscles somehow ripple even in the suit, and there’s a glimmering watch on her wrist. She’s handsome and beautiful all at once, as her long, beautiful hair falls over the side of her face. Suddenly, you feel shy and subconscious.

“Oh God, you scared me! And no, I’m not lost…I’m looking for someone.” You say quietly and she smiles at you, before chuckling.

The sound sends shivers up your spine a little bit.

“Who are you looking for? I guarantee you I know them.” She says, placing her hands in her pockets and you giggle.

“What makes you so sure that you know who I’m looking for?” You ask, lips curling into a bashful smile.

“Because I know everything.” She says, walking closer, her face confident and your breath hitches.

“What, like you’re God?” You say, teasingly and she snorts.

“I’m better than God.” She says with a shrug of her shoulders, and you look up at her.

“And what’s your name, woman who claims she’s better than God?” You ask with a small grin, and she puts her hand out, veins running up and down her strong hands.

“I’m Abby Anderson.” She says simply, and you wonder who she is outside of her vague introduction.

“So, what do you do, Mrs. Anderson, to put you in the same breathing space as all these rich and famous assholes?” You inquire and she laughs.

“Hmmm, that’s a secret.” She says with a playful smile, and you pout.

“You’re ruining my fun…” You say with a playful whine, and she leans against the wall with a chuckle, crossing her arms.

“How so?” She smiles and you slightly lean over the railing before looking back at her.

“I bet my date that I could figure out who’s the host of the gala; If I win, he’s gonna fly me to Italy…first class trip.” You say with a little smile, bringing your nail to your lips.

Abby flashes a sideways grin, pushing herself off the wall to walk behind you, lips close to your ear, her body hovering over yours.

“First class, where’s his imagination?” She whispers and your breath catches in your throat.

“What would you do, then? If I guessed correctly?” You say, not making eye contact with her.

“Private jet to Italy…then to Paris, and then Spain, and wherever else in the world you haven’t been.” Her voice is lowered, almost seductively and your head subconsciously cocks to the side.

“You could make that happen?” You ask, breathlessly, and her hands move to your waist, slowly turning you to face her, your face only inches apart.

“I can make anything happen…just say the word,” She whispers and your lips slightly part. “So who is it? Who’s your guess? Make me proud and you’ll get your trip and more.” Her nose bumps against yours and you tilt your head up, to look her in her eyes.

“Not a single man had the allure I was looking for.” You confess against her lips, and she chuckles.

“Hmmm, no one?” She hums teasingly and your eyes widen at her tone.

“Because he’s not a man, right? He’s you…” You say in amazement, and she throws her head back in laughter.

“Winner, winner…” She says before finally pressing your lips together.

You gasp into the kiss, and she takes the opportunity to run her tongue against yours, making you whimper softly. Abby presses you against the railing, wrapping your thigh around her waist.

“Abby,” You moan softly at her tight grip, and she kisses down the expanse of your neck before lightly biting and sucking.

“God, you’re exquisite…I should fuck you right here.” She groans into your neck, and you moan out loud at the idea.

“Yeah? Would you like that? If I fucked you in front of all these people? All these people that've been staring at you since you walked in here?” She growls in your ear and you’re about to whimper out a response when a voice calls out from the staircase.

“There’s um…you have an audience.” You’re instantly broken out of your lust-driven haze, turning around as you notice small chatter coming from below you.

There’s a small crowd of mostly men, watching with excited and scandalized expressions and you gasp, horrified.

“Oh, fuck, this is bad. I’m sorry, Abby, I need to go handle something downstairs.” You apologize, quickly running down the steps, embarrassed.

Your face is red as you push past a few people, sighing as you finally make contact with Alexander.

“I’m so sorry, I don’t know what came over me-” You say, shaking my head and Alexander laughs and scoffs.

“Have you lost your mind? I invite you to this gala out of the kindness of my heart and you go sneak off to make out with a bitch?” He sniffs and You step back, appalled.

“Excuse me? And you didn’t ask, you begged.” You snap, and he cracks his knuckles, chuckling.

“What, like you were begging upstairs to get fucked by that girl? If you wanted someone to fuck you, you could’ve asked nicely, and I would’ve given it to you. You know? ‘Cause I’m a man, and you’re a woman and that’s typically how fucking works.” He says, grabbing your wrist and yanking you towards him, despite you pulling back.

“Back the fuck off, Alexander!” You say, using your other hand to slap him, before stomping away.

Once you’re away from him and calm, you find yourself desperately needing to be in the comfort of Abby’s attentive gaze.

You seek out one of the many waiters and waitresses, smiling sweetly when you finally have the opportunity to pull them aside.

“Hi…would you happen to know who the host of the gala is?” You ask, and the girl meekly looks away.

“I do, but sh-they uh, make us sign NDA’s…so I can’t give out that kind of information.” She says with an awkward grin and you giggle before leaning in.

“I know that the host is a woman named Abby Anderson, it’s fine, we know each other. I just need a favor from you. Would you mind…letting her know that there’s a woman named Y/N waiting for her in the bathroom?” You ask sweetly, brightly smiling when she nods.

You take your time trying to find the bathroom, since there’s so many rooms and hallways, finally deciding on the closest bathroom.

After an excruciating twenty minutes, the door swings open revealing Abby, her sleeves rolled up and a smirk on her face.

“Is there a particular reason for you summoning me to the bathroom?” She asked, a teasing tone in her voice. You laugh, biting your lips as you sweep your hair back behind your bare shoulders.

“Hmmm no reason,” You whisper, approaching her slowly, running your hands up the front of her suit once you’re in front of her. “It’s just…I kept thinking about you leaning me over the stairs.” Your voice low and breathy and she moves her head to the crook of your neck, her breath fanning over it.

“You keep thinking about it? The thought of me bending you over and fucking you got you wet? Are you wet for me, baby?” She whispers and you whimper, eyes closed, head tilted back.

“Yes, I’m so wet, Abby please, I need you to fuck me.” You whimper and she chuckles in your ear.

“You don’t want to go back to the party and dance?” She asks, her voice sarcastic and you shake your head wildly.

“No, fuck the dancing, Abby, need you to fuck me right here, right now.” You whine and she steps back, shrugging her suit jacket off.

“Take your dress off, baby.” She demands, and you feel yourself growing wetter at her serious voice, letting your dress drop to the floor and stepping out of it. You stand in front of her, naked except for your lacy, black panties.

“Show me how wet you are.” She says, and your hand slides down your front, dipping into your underwear as you gather your wetness, groaning at your own touch.

Your wetness drips and glistens on your fingers and she breathes heavily at the sight.

“Fuck, baby, is that all for me?” She asks and you nod your head quickly.

“Yes, all for you, I’m so wet for you, Abby.” You whimper and she steps closer to you and drops to her knees, pulling your panties off.

“Jesus, you’re dripping all over the floor, babe.” She mutters, running her fingers over your soaking cunt. You wince and whimper at the feeling, your breath hitching when you feel puffs of her own breath against your heat.

She licks a stripe over your cunt, parting your folds with her fingers before licking you again.

“You're teasing me…” You gasp, back arching and she chuckles.

“Not teasing you, baby…just wanted a taste.” You can hear the smirk in her voice, and you’re thinking of something smart to say when you feel a wet finger prodding at your entrance.

“Mmph!” You gasp once her finger enters you, your back fully arching as you press yourself against the sink.

She starts off slow, her finger pressing into you slowly but expertly, before she enters another, your knees nearly buckling at the feeling.

“You’re so tight…” She mutters, twisting her fingers into you quicker and harder. You gasp out more moans, your face red with embarrassment and pleasure as your wetness squelches against her fingers.

She spits against your cunt before spreading and scissoring her fingers apart, stretching you out, and you’re so dizzy with desire, you nearly come from the feeling.

“Gotta get you ready for my cock…gonna take you to my room and fuck you so hard, everyone will hear you screaming my name.” She says, voice edging on a growl, and the growing pit in your stomach explodes.

“God, mmph! C-coming…I’m coming!” You whimper, breaths and moans escaping your mouth as you nearly scream at the pressure.

“Come on my face…come on baby.” She demands and you do exactly as she requests, coming all over her mouth, face, your wetness dripping down her neck.

You’re holding on to the sink for dear life, legs shaking as you come down.

Abby licks your orgasm off her lips, before wiping her mouth with her pocket square, gazing up at you.

“Put your dress back on, and head upstairs. My bedroom is the third room on the right…wait for me.” She whispers into your ear, and you nod, stepping back into your dress, and putting your heels on before exiting the bathroom, eagerly searching for her room.

Your legs are still weak as you speed walk down the hallway, nearly falling through the door when you get there. You collapse on the bed, your head cloudy with want as you eagerly await her arrival, stripping out of your dress so you can be ready for her.

The door creaks as it opens, and your head tilts to look over;

And there she is, unbuttoning her suit jacket and undershirt as she steps into the room, the door closing behind her.

She shrugs her jacket and shirt off, before unbuttoning her dress pants and stepping out of them as you watch her undress, her pace slow and excruciating.

She slowly walks over to her drawers, taking out the purple strap and harness before fixing it on her body.

You almost groan at the size of it.

You’re still laying against the bed, slightly sitting up to watch her as she climbs on top of the bed wordlessly, pulling your legs towards her and spreading them apart to reveal your soaking cunt.

“You’re still wet for me, baby? I got you this worked up?” She asks you and you whimper and nod your head before she smirks and shakes her head, reaching a hand up to grip your jaw.

“I need words…want you to tell me how much you need me to fuck you.” Abby demands and you moan at the request, nodding your head eagerly.

“Need you to fuck me…need you so bad, please Abby.” You beg, whimpering out and God, you’ve never been more turned on before in your life.

Abby chuckles at your desperate pleading, using a hand to spread your lips apart, the other holding her cock at your entrance.

“Such a pretty little pussy…” She mutters breathily and your breath hitches.

“Gonna ruin it.” She says finally, sheathing her cock into you, bottoming out immediately.

You instantly wail at the intrusion, your legs coming up against her waist as you hold on to her for dear life. You're whimpering softly, eyes rolling into the back of your head, and she hasn’t even fucked you yet.

She pulls out slowly, looking down at your cunt to see how it clenches and stretches out around her cock.

“Look at that,” She groans, as she slips out of you, and you look down, moaning at the view.

Abby rubs the tip of her cock into your wetness, before slamming into you again, her pace rough and brutal this time.

You scream at the intrusion, her cock pistoning in and out of you with no mercy, and you can’t stop the loud sounds from exiting your mouth as your back arches off the bed.

“AH! O-oh, oh god!” You moan out and she revels in the noises you're making, quickening her pace.

“So fucking tight, swear I can feel you clenching on my fucking cock.” She says through gritted teeth and her words make you clench even harder.

“Feels so good, Abby!” You shout, mouth slack as you throw your head back and she drives in you harder.

“Yeah? Feels good, baby? Bet your little boyfriend couldn’t make this pussy feel this good.” She grits out and you shake your head, whimpering uncontrollably.

“No one fucks you better than me? Tell me.” She says, leaning down next to your ear.

“No one fucks me better than you, Abby! Fuck me so good!” You gasp, babbling incomprehensibly and she laughs in your ear.

“Fucking you stupid, can’t even talk right.” She says meanly, hitting your spot with vigor, her strap rubbing against her clit as she fucks you hardly.

White hot pleasure shoots up your spine, and you can hardly think or talk.

“My stupid, pretty girl…gonna come for me?” She asks you, breath hitting your ear and you groan in response.

“Mmm, gonna come Abby, please don’t stop!” You moan and Abby leans up, pulling out of you, leaving you feeling empty.

“W-wha?” You whimper dumbly, as she removes the strap and harness, before removing her boxers. She lifts your leg over her shoulder, before placing her wet cunt over your own, and you gasp at the feeling.

“Gonna make you come, pretty girl, don’t worry.” She mutters, before rubbing your cunts together roughly and quickly, her skin pressing into your clit.

“Holy shit…” Your eyes are rolling into the back of your head as your wet cunts press into each other hardly, the pressure nearly painful as you edge onto the precipice of your orgasm.

Abby grunts and moans with effort and pleasure, head thrown back as she feels her orgasm coming on, too.

“Gonna come all over this pretty pussy.” She moans out and you can’t hold back the scream of Abby’s name as her words send you over the edge, your orgasm rattling you.

The sight of your face scrunched up in pleasure, and the sound of her name so loud and breathy, coming off your lips brings on her orgasm and she gasps and groans as she comes on your cunt, your wetness mixing with hers.

“Oh, fuck!” She groans, the feeling and sight making her head hazy as she works you both through your orgasms before she collapses next to you on the bed.

Once your head clears, you turn to face her, chest still heaving as you trail a finger over her parted lips.

“So…” You trail off with a soft smile, and she wraps an arm around your waist before pulling your body closer to hers.

“You won your game.” She mutters with a grin, and you giggle, nosing into her neck.

“Right, means I deserve a prize other than two mind-blowing orgasms.” You say and she chuckles.

“I guess you deserve a trip to Italy…” She says, rolling her eyes playfully and you giggle again, leaning up to peck her lips.

Divider by @cafekitsune

Part 2, Y/N joins the mile high club otw to Italy?

Anyways, comment, like, and repost pleassseee if you enjoyed this. This was my first smut ever written or posted so I’m a little nervous about this, and clearly, I got a little unhinged but lmk if you liked this!

#abby anderson x reader#abby anderson angst#abby anderson smut#lesbian#the last of us fanfiction#abby anderson fanfic#abby anderson#abby tlou#abby x reader#abby x you#abigail anderson #wlw fiction#abby x fem!reader #bisexual #vermillionsappho #vermillionsapphoworks

#abby anderson x reader #abby anderson angst #abby anderson smut #lesbian #the last of us fanfiction #abby anderson fanfic #abby anderson #abby tlou #abby x reader #abby x you #abigail anderson #wlw fiction #abby x fem!reader #bisexual #vermillionsappho #vermillionsapphoworks

[thunderlina]

LOST MEDIA: Gorillaz - Plastic Beach Web Games

I come to you tonight with one request: I want help in tracking down the Plastic Beach point-and-click adventure game from the Phase 3 (2010-2012) Gorillaz website.

In 2010, coinciding with the release of their third studio album, British virtual band Gorillaz gave their website a huge overhaul, including the release of several new flash games. The centerpiece was a point-and-click adventure game (untitled, usually just referred to as "Plastic Beach") in which the player was able to explore the island of Plastic Beach, similar to the games available on earlier websites where the player was able to explore Gorillaz HQ Kong Studios.

Along with this game were a few others: Escape to Plastic Beach, a three chapter long action/adventure game (the third chapter of which cost €1.50 to play, and was available both for PC and iPhones.) Just recently the developer, Matmi, hinted at trying to re-release these, but they went silent regarding it and nothing has come of it so far.

There were also two smaller Flash titles, Submatronic and Gorillaz Fishing. Not entirely sure what these two entailed but they were listed on the website and, like the adventure game and Escape are not playable via the Wayback Machine nor are they archived elsewhere.

From my research, it seems the website had some kind of DRM software that the older websites (which have been archived over at zombiehiphop.xyz) didn't, since the Plastic Beach game used full tracks from the album and EMI was worried about piracy. Before anyone suggests it like was done in other places where I've asked about this, no, the game was not released on a CD or DVD. Because of this, all four games unique to the Plastic Beach era website are lost. The iPhone port of Escape to Plastic Beach was also removed from the App Store years ago, and as such is also completely lost.

As of right now, all that still exists are low-quality videos of the adventure game in action, a few screenshots, and a handful of Flash files I've dug up from the Wayback Machine.

The loss of this game represents not just a loss for Flash preservation, but a huge loss for Gorillaz fans as it was an integral element of the story of the Plastic Beach era. Without it and much of the other content from the old website, the already incomplete story that Jamie Hewlett and the rest of the Zombie Flesh Eaters team were trying to tell lives on almost wholly through secondary accounts. While recordings exist, it is simply not the same as having access to the full experience.

I ask of you all to please consider my words and help me do something about this, instead of wallowing in hopelessness as it seems the community has been doing for oh so long now.

Thank You.

Footage of the adventure game: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jUnvkZFPu1Q https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=pmAo_POMRHY https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=DW6KHLLgBss https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=IWIkwVDIJNQ

The handful of Flash files I dug up via the Wayback Machine: https://drive.google.com/drive/folders/1RKpP9o-j-4jFkdQEDN54ye5LGZIrBd_7

#lost media #gorillaz #partially lost media #plastic beach #flashpoint #old internet #internet media #flash games #mysteries #nostalgia #gorillaz phase 3 #murdoc niccals #stuart 2d pot #russel hobbs #damon albarn #jamie hewlett #zombie flesh eaters #archival #media preservation #video games #lost games #internet mysteries

[andrewwtca]

the Aubrey problem (or how Omori's writing failed her)

Also available to read on Archive of our Own.

I really like video games. If the fanfiction, theory posts, and occasional essays weren’t enough, here’s me saying it—I really like video games! They’re a conversation between writing, art, music, and human interaction, between the player, the game, and the characters in them. Of course, not all games have all of that, some being only text-based, some being lifeless wastelands, but whatever they end up choosing to work with, they often do something amazing.

Sunny is one of my favorite protagonists in any realm of media—video game, movie, book—and he genuinely changed the way I view the world. Not just him, but the entire world built around him, Headspace and its charming inhabitants and the wondrous sights and music, the creative bosses that leave so much insight, the beautiful overworld that is Faraway and a nostalgic look into what we leave behind, and what we return to.

So that’s why I’m so disappointed I don’t like Aubrey.

This game blew my mind away when I first saw it—my first experience with the game wasn’t even my own playthrough, but sitting through a 20-hour longplay!—and I lost so many hours of sleep twisting and turning and trying to make peace with the grief it left me feeling. And after finishing, I realized that its flaws were plenty, but not enough to drag me out of my enjoyment. But Aubrey? Aubrey didn’t make me feel the way I knew she was supposed to.

That frustrated me, especially as I became a bigger and bigger fan of the game. I had no qualms about liking her archetype, the feminine bully with a tragic backstory, and yet I do with her.

As someone who craves literary analysis and in-depth looks into every media I consume, I just needed to know: what made me dislike Aubrey?

And after over two years of being a fan of the game, I’ve finally figured it out: it’s a good mixture of 1) lack of explanation, 2) rushed self-awareness, and 3) lackluster narrative choices. And I’ve found the words I needed to explain these concepts, so please join me on my messy journey to understanding what went wrong with Aubrey.

preface

If you’re an Aubrey apologist, this essay is not for you. I’ve heard plenty of arguments about why Aubrey was actually in the right, not limited to “Basil deserved it,” and, “Aubrey was hurting too,” so I’d like to begin by stating that Aubrey was a bully very clearly.

Rejecting the notion that she actively harmed others is rejecting a core component of understanding her character. Before we dive into her character and how the writing failed her character arc, I would like us all to be on the same page: she physically, verbally, and socially bullied Basil. It was not Basil’s fault, and it will never be a victim’s fault to get bullied. She is not the victim of her own crime, just like how Sunny is not the victim of Mari’s death, and Basil is not the victim of Mari’s hanging. We, as the player, are to recognize their responsibilities in their actions. The same must be extended to Aubrey.

Some people feel the need to deny this aspect of her character to justify her actions and/or justify liking her. Firstly, the purpose of this essay isn’t to villainize anyone for liking Aubrey. I’m simply analyzing what was attempted with her character and why it didn’t strike a chord with me and so many others. Secondly, as Kel wisely said, “Just because you did something bad, doesn't make you a bad person.” I’m not here to say that Aubrey is a bad person—no, nobody in Omori is ‘good’ or ‘bad’ and labeling characters as such is taking away the nuance they possess. And I’m certainly not saying liking a character who did something bad makes you bad, either!

Liking Aubrey is in no way a problem (which makes me a tad bit sad that I need to clarify), and I’ll even go as far as to say kudos to you, but if you bend and twist to stop her from holding any responsibility for her actions, that’s when problems arise. Basil is a fictional character and won’t care if you think it was his fault he was bullied, but for the people around you who may have been in similar positions to him?

And lastly, I want to say that if you cite sexism as the reason people don’t like Aubrey… actually, this is the perfect transition into the analysis.

gaslight, gatekeep, girlboss

Femme bullies are not a new phenomenon. Perhaps it’s the break from the stereotypical sweet feminine girl that makes them so fascinating, using their femininity to not sing to animals or wish for a man, but pull down others and advance their status.

I, for one, adore the femme bully trope. Especially if they’re one who used to be extremely kind and underwent some sort of ‘fall from grace’ that led to a bastardization. But, as for all bullies, if they are left without a proper backstory and motivation, I’m turned off from them. Most humans are not mean just because they can be but rather are products of how they were raised. When these causes are ignored, the trope falls flat, and instead of being a good reconstruction, it’s a flat stereotype.

The best way to analyze this is by comparing Aubrey’s character to good examples of femme bullies in the past. Specifically, I’m picking my favorites: Asuka from Neon Genesis Evangelion, Nanami from Revolutionary Girl Utena, and Sophie from The School for Good and Evil. I’m going to do a quick (and a bit sarcastic) overview of their characters in their respective media, but a quick warning for suicide in Asuka’s overview, and animal cruelty in Nanami’s.

Asuka is a pilot for one of the mechas, the Evangelion, and she always thought of herself as better than everyone. Well, of course, she would: she studied hard, worked harder than everyone around her, and she’s just naturally talented. And yet, she’s still always threatened by others and how they can ruin her status. Specifically, for the course of the show, she targets Shinji—he’s this nobody from nowhere who could suddenly pilot an Eva, while she had to fight her whole life to get here! How is that fair? And what has that asshole been through anyway? Did he have to see his mother’s corpse after she committed suicide as a small child? Did he fight for his mother’s love his entire life just for her to kill herself? Does he have to fight for male attention just so he isn’t thrown aside? No, of course not! So how is any of it fair?

Nanami is the sister to the wonderful student body president Touga, and she wants nothing more than his attention. And with her being the youngest of the cast, one cannot be mad at her for not understanding the severity of violence and finality of death, so her anger as a small child with a kitten whom Touga adored is also understandable. One simply cannot be mad at her for drowning it. So, of course, you cannot blame her for wanting to punish the ever-elusive Anthy and Utena, who Touga has become fixated on. What does Anthy or Utena have that Nanami doesn’t? They’re stupid girls, not Touga’s sister. No matter what, Nanami is going to win her brother’s affection (and in her pursuit, ignore how horribly he’s been manipulating her the entire time).

And Sophie is the Witch of Woods Beyond, capable of powerful spells beyond the imagination, from a place that few know of. And she wants nothing more than for her own fairy-tale ending—why do all the princesses around her get princes and castles and beautiful dresses, and she’s doomed to being hideous and alone for the rest of her life? Who decided that for her? She’s beautiful, after all, so she should be a princess! It doesn’t matter who stands in the way of her happily ever after; especially not if it’s Agatha, her lifelong best friend. No matter what, Sophie will not end up like her mother who died all alone, with her husband forgetting her and moving on. Sophie will be loved, no matter who she has to hurt.

What do they all have in common? Firstly, they’re all girls. As stated, femme bullies are different from masc bullies, especially as they reveal aspects of femininity and womanhood in general that many people—see, a male audience—will neglect to face, and overall uncover sexism that's still present in both media and society. Secondly, they’re all bullies, and they targeted someone in particular who they saw as detrimental to their happiness. And thirdly, they all had specific upbringings that conditioned them to have their ‘falls from grace’. What is this third, unidentified thing?

Mommy issues!

(Sorry, I know Nanami technically has a brother complex, but I just wanted to say mommy issues.)

A pattern has been developed with all of these girls. They all start fairly, what one can call, ‘feminine’ or at least, per standard stereotypes. They’re gentle and sweet and shine when needed. And they all have a ‘fall from grace’—a moment, or sequence of moments, that leads them to reject traditional femininity and embrace a more vengeful version of it. And a final moment, where they are faced with their opposite, who represents all that they do not have.

Asuka was sweet and kind and bubbly until her mother killed herself. After that, she dedicated herself to her studies and getting adult male attention through means of the over-sexualization of herself. And then, she began to bully Shinji.

Sophie was sweet and kind and bright until her mother died. After that, she idolized her mother’s false display of femininity and became obsessed with becoming a princess. And then, at the School for Evil, she began to bully Agatha.

Nanami was assumedly sweet—she deviates from this pattern slightly, being built off assumptions of a good past rather than showcases—until she was brought into this family and became obsessed with her brother and was manipulated by him. After that, she became desperate for his attention, fighting any other who could take it. And then, she began to bully Utena (and Anthy.)

While Nanami does deviate from this pattern, they all have clear origins. They were not bullies from the start. As aforementioned, in the face of an adversary, the majority of people do not turn to hurting one another. Something in their pasts, their ‘falls from grace’, was the foundation of their actions, what led them to believe what they were doing was okay. It’s not justification—it's a much-needed explanation. After all, if you do not understand, how can you empathize?

Still, you may fail to see my point. The game has lots of hints of Aubrey’s troubled upbringing. And that’s exactly what the problem is. These girls have clear origins while Aubrey’s is muddled.

Of course, I don’t expect Omori to have spoon-fed me details of her past. You can put the pieces together by walking through her home and seeing bottles laid on the ground. But, even in a game dependent on nuance and having the player put certain things together, it’s better to leave things out directly rather than to work a way around.

To build up a good femme bully, we need a good origin story. What happened to her that made her turn to violence? Why should we care? We know Aubrey probably had a troubled childhood. But the game doesn’t supply enough. It leaves too much to fill in the blanks. I know that Asuka saw her mother’s corpse, I know that Sophie was forced into a misogynistic viewpoint upon her mother’s death, and I know that Nanami was manipulated to hell and back. I know what these girls have been through so I know why they ended up walking their paths.

But the game simply doesn’t reveal enough about Aubrey. Fan speculation is not enough. Canon interpretation should not be confused with fan interpretation—according to the fans, Aubrey’s father is a deadbeat, and her mother is an abusive, neglectful alcoholic. According to the game? Aubrey’s dad is “strict”, and her house is an absolute disaster. The house is one of the biggest clues as to Aubrey’s childhood, and while some may praise this as ‘showing and not telling’, the game never tries to make workarounds for the other characters (which I will dig deeper into later). I can assume what happened in her house but it’s not my job to find ways to empathize with the character; that is the story’s job.

This is the first of Omori’s three sins and we haven’t even scratched the surface.

actions speak more than words, or something like that

I recently saw a post that I thought would make a good intro for this section. It’s an apologist post for Aubrey, discussing how the game did treat her with just enough harshness—that because she’s been beating herself up, because she’s suffered a public breakdown, because it took kindness to help her heal, it’s proof of her regret. There’s some good Basil blaming in there too, with a strange turn saying that she refused to leave Basil’s house because of her willingness to turn over a new leaf. And it ends with a weird claim that she was a “good person all along,” (implying an argument otherwise), but I’m not here to rat on that post.

Despite how frustrated the post made me, I am inclined to agree. It’s black-and-white to state that Aubrey didn’t change at all. If you compare her first Faraway appearance to her final scenes, she’s a completely different person. Which would've been nice if the change didn’t take two scenes.

Much like how I compared Aubrey’s backstory to that of other femme bullies, I’m going to compare Aubrey’s redemption to that of my favorite redemption story in all of media: Riku from Kingdom Hearts (the fact that I’m so in touch with his story may also explain some of my disappointment with Aubrey’s).

Riku starts off his journey on Destiny Islands. He’s always wondered what lies beyond his small home and dreamed of taking a sailboat with his best friends, Sora and Kairi. However, jealousy is an awful thing—Sora and Kairi are close. And it seems that Riku has been hearing about how they’re thinking of leaving him behind. So, he does what any teenager dealing with larger-than-life feelings does: he gives in to the magical Darkness and effectively kills everyone on the islands, separating him, Sora, and Kairi (don’t worry—everyone comes back.)

By the end of the game, he’s come to his senses, but it takes a lot of time. He fights with Sora a lot because he just knows, deep down, that he’s right and Sora is wrong, and if Sora would just listen…but no. Sora keeps abandoning him. So he has to work through that and all the feelings that accompany those abandonment issues, he has to work through the question of “What is even making me want to kill my best friend, anyway?”, and he has to work through “Wait…can I kill my best friend?” So, it takes a lot of time for him to get to his senses.

And then, he goes through hell. Literally and metaphorically. He dedicates himself wholly to making up for what he did. How? Well, he first identifies what he did wrong—he separated from his friends, he gave in to his jealousy, and he submerged his home in Darkness. He apologizes for it directly—although he doesn’t have a chance to speak with Sora right away, he's constantly apologizing for the fact that he gave in to the Darkness, so much that it became a running gag to some fans. He put up distance—he didn’t feel like he was owed forgiveness right away (or at all, but that’s a different matter) and didn’t stick at Sora’s side to wait for his best friend to forgive him. He worked hard to show that he’s changed—it would be a much longer essay if I attempted to explain the lengths he went through, but it’s not limited to allowing himself to be possessed, going to literal Hell, forcing himself into isolation, and enduring multiple handicapping injuries.

Long story short? He really, really tries to make it up to Sora. And when he and Sora finally talk (it took three years in real life, took perhaps a year in the game), Sora doesn’t even hesitate to forgive his friend…though it may be in part to Sora just being Sora. Nevertheless, Riku had earned that forgiveness.

And then, after that, Riku continues to give himself hell! He never stops to sweep what he did under the rug. It’s a part of him, after all, an ugly past but his past nonetheless. It does not define him but it cannot be forgotten, otherwise, he hasn't learned anything at all.

Deep breath. We talked a lot about Kingdom Hearts in an Omori essay. But it’s important to understand the sheer depth put into his redemption: identification, distance, and work.

What’s most frustrating about Aubrey’s arc is that fragments of this good writing exist, but that’s what they are: fragments. I would like it to be stated for the record that everything I explained for Riku’s arc wasn’t me creating speculation based on what the games said. It’s what the games literally came out and said. Aubrey however…

Identification—she apologizes to Sunny, Kel, and Hero by saying “I’m sorry, guys… I’ve been acting like such a jerk.” While I may give her grief for the usage of the word ‘jerk’ when perhaps a stronger, more evocative term would’ve done a better job, it’s certainly better than what she said in front of Basil’s door: "I just wanted to say that… I’m sorry for the way I’ve been treating you.” Completely separating herself from the issue at hand. 

Distance—none. She's immediately reintroduced to her old friend group, at a rate that ended up giving me whiplash the first time around. The question, “What about the Hooligans?” is never brought up, and things are back to how they always were, with no problems at all.

Work—Aubrey stayed the night at Basil’s house, wanting to make sure he was safe. To which, if you end up getting the neutral ending, you get the most insightful message of Aubrey’s arc (which is technically non-canon): “I'm so sorry, Basil. Please forgive me…” If getting the good or bad ending, her staying the night meant literally nothing, as Sunny’s fight took the reins.

These are fragments of a character arc. These are fragments of good characterization. While I praise Omori for how often it appears realistic, this kind of exponential growth simply isn’t. In what world, does someone who’s been bullying someone for four years, take less than two days to realize she’s been a bully and decide to change the entire course of her life?

While I could rat on Aubrey, this isn’t her problem. This is the game misreading what makes a good redemption. Redemption means work. It means effort. It is not a character simply changing their ways. Those characters feel cheap and empty—there’s a reason, after all, why the majority of fans always characterize Aubrey as the mean girl she’s shown to be when she first appeared in fan works. It’s because the ‘new’ Aubrey, the Aubrey buried under layers of hurt, hasn’t earned the right to exist.

The Riku I love in Kingdom Hearts III has earned the right to be angsty and gay and happy and his new self because he’s put in 17 years' worth of effort to become that person. It’s beautiful, it’s inspiring, it’s hopeful—you can make a mistake and go past it. It doesn’t define you. You can be forgiven. You can have hurt and have been hurt and still be worthy of love and loving.

The Aubrey at the end of Omori has not earned the right to be there, simply put. She’s the product of lazy, or ignorant writing, and it feels harsh to type out, but there’s no other way to describe it. Her self-awareness happened too quickly. She passes by Sunny’s house every day, sees Kel playing basketball every day, and could freely visit Mari’s grave whenever she wants—there were four years for her to change who she was. If Kel wasn’t able to give up his toxic positivity until the bitter end of the neutral ending, it’s quite hard to believe that a few hours of just talking made her change her ways. Especially considering that the Hooligans were characterized as her new, accepting friends, who love her and hear her out.

And again, the best fragment of an arc that could’ve been appears in the neutral ending! While it was not directly Aubrey’s actions that led Basil to take his life, it’s very impactful to see her begin to blame herself. It’s not right for her to blame herself—but that’s perhaps the only scene in the entire game where I really sympathized with her. It’s the only scene in the entire game where I truly saw that she wanted to change.

A quick note I wanted to pull out before finishing: the inclusion of the Hooligans. They were, again, fragments of an amazing arc. While they could’ve been a good way to show how kind Aubrey still is, they are thrown aside and mainly included in scenes where Aubrey is still being a bully. It’s in content outside of the game (see: Aubrey birthday comic) that they contrast Aubrey’s harsh exterior and show her sweet insides. But no, they’re underdeveloped and unutilized to make Aubrey’s arc feel doable.

There seems to be a very clear culprit to both this and the femme bully problem, and a solution that should’ve been considered more deeply.

rome wasn’t built in a day

There’s a loud rumor in the Omori fandom that Omori was originally supposed to take place over ten days rather than three days. While I’m not sure how much merit this rumor has, the fact that it exists leads me to my ultimate point:

Omori should’ve been longer.

Specifically, Omori should’ve taken place over a longer period.

EDIT: Before we continue, I just had an excellent conversation with a friend ( /ᐠ ._. ᐟ\ﾉ ). This solution only applies to if one is unwilling to change Aubrey's core character; essentially, the extent of her bullying. By making her someone who goes out of her way to torment Basil, significant screen time is going to be needed to properly unpack all that's been given. Making the base game ten days is only my opinion of the best choice, but there are other ways to solve this. However, the best course of action would be to change the extent of Aubrey's bullying on Basil—in other words, changing how Aubrey's anger presents itself.

For example, she would simply hold a grudge over what she believed was Basil destroying the photos, being extremely passive aggressive towards him. It would make a reconciliation between her and Basil, much, much more doable as well, perhaps him seeking her out in the first place in a peaceful manner to look for the photos. The lake scene could be an emotional explosion for her, perhaps finding out Basil just gave the photo album to Sunny, who is literally about to leave, and then pushes him into the lake. Then, the reflection she has next would fit what has tonally been established, seeming doable. She had, after all, been on good terms with Basil, even if for a little while.

By ‘lackluster narrative choices’, I am referring literally to the belief that Omori should not have been a game that took place in three days. I’m not here to argue about the game's mechanics—should Headspace have been that long? What is the point of a world created to serve as escapism, which should be fleeting moments of happiness, when it ends up being longer than the real world?—as much as I’m here to argue that this is a flaw of the game’s writing as opposed to a game design standpoint.

I’m not going to pretend I know how to make a video game. I’m enthusiastic about them, I follow their development and creation, and I strive to learn as much as I can about the ones that are dear to me, but I’m not going to pretend I know the first thing about making a video game. Omori’s development is one of the most infamous parts of its legacy, and the notion of extending the game would’ve only been another strain on the extended period between its announcement and its final release.

But, I know how to tell a story. Or, at the very least, I know what makes a good story. Now, the three days format of the game serves its other protagonists amazingly.

Sunny, whose arc mainly develops through the interfering ideas established in the real world and the ones previously established in Headspace, doesn’t need an extended time in the real world. His story takes place in his dreams, and the foundations of Headspace are already extremely insecure, based on the idea of covering up the truth. But when faced with a separate truth in reality, despite only a brief exposure, the lies created to protect Headspace fall apart. So Sunny’s arc does not depend on how long he spent in the real world.

Kel and Hero, on the other hand, have a very small arc. They are not flat and are very much dynamic when you compare how they started and how they ended up. However, the majority of their arc had taken place off-screen. The majority of their characterization does not occur through direct interaction with Sunny—we don’t learn about Hero’s depression because of him having a breakdown, but rather Kel discussing it. And in that same scene, we learn about Kel’s toxic positivity and the strain it’s taking on him, rather than through the game. This recontextualization is perfect for Kel and Hero. The change that occurred after Mari’s death is not easily seen by Sunny, and through it being slowly revealed instead, we learn the nature of their changes. Nonetheless, their changes occurred after Mari’s death and another change will occur most likely after the revelation of the truth—either way, their character arcs do not depend on the length of the three days. No amount of time would’ve changed them without Sunny revealing the truth (and as aforementioned, Sunny’s time was well spent in Headspace).

And finally, Basil. He's in the same boat as Kel and Hero, having an arc that occurs entirely off-screen. The difference is, however, the amount of emphasis the game puts on what happened to him as opposed to a few cutscenes with the brothers (though it is understandable, given his role as the game’s deuteragonist). His arc is a downward spiral, from an already unstable boy to an insecure mess who becomes obsessed with the sole idea of keeping his best friend safe. While it’s a progression of who he used to be, it’s development nonetheless, and it also happens off-screen. Given Basil’s fragile mindset, furthermore, the appearance of Sunny suddenly was enough to throw him off, given he was already planning on taking his own life. His rapid spiral into an even worse mess which leads to the fight between him and Sunny, therefore, is understandable. And, similarly to Kel and Hero, his real change will only occur after Sunny reveals the truth. Basil’s character development does not at all depend on how long the game would be.

The simple fact is that the other characters do not go through a drastic change on the days that Sunny comes out, and Sunny’s change was fueled by the existence of Headspace, not by the real world. The game taking place in three days does not affect the others. That is good storytelling. Using the game’s time frame to properly convey their arcs having occurred off-screen.

Aubrey, however, is not subject to that same praise. Her arc occurs on screen—while she descended to becoming a bully after Mari’s death, the arc we the viewer are supposed to acknowledge is her redemption. And three days just isn’t enough time.

The last two problems I covered, a lack of detailed backstory and a general lack of redeeming actions, lie in the same problem: the game went past those scenes far too quickly, as though Aubrey’s redemption is not essential to understanding her. It’s as though the game is trying to place importance on relationships and the joys of rekindling, rather than having to actually rekindle a relationship, having to put in the work. If the game had been slightly longer, Aubrey’s story could’ve been dealt with in a far more effective manner.

I am not Omocat, nor am I a part of the development team. I do not have the ideal solution for what could’ve been. I do, however, have a few ideas that I’d like you, my audience, to consider. How much do you think the game would’ve changed if it was ten days instead of three?

As already explained, Sunny, Kel, Hero, and Basil would not have had any significant difference if the game took place longer. Perhaps, there would’ve been a more natural awkwardness present that accompanies talking to someone for the first time in four years, but aside from that, the events of the game would’ve just taken longer.

Aubrey, however, would’ve had some actual thinking time. Her fight in the church would be her turning point, and her then isolation would feel like she had time to think things over. For a few days, Aubrey would have to be absent, and given the impression she left on the players, this absence would be heavily felt. It would be her return so much more effective, especially if she returns as someone who is unsteady due to their actions.

For the next few days, leading up to Aubrey deciding to stay the night at Basil’s house, we have the chance to know and forgive her better—perhaps, similar to Kel talking to Sunny about Hero’s depression, Aubrey can explain what it was like growing up in her household. Not as a defense, but as an explanation. She would do things with the rest of the group, and she would at a more natural rate, be integrated once again. And not just anything! She would actively help them with whatever the ten days would have to offer, and it would show that she is hurting over her actions.

And, finally, when she would decide to stay at Basil’s house, it wouldn’t feel like the game was just trying to have the cast together for one last moment, but it would feel like she’s trying to bridge the gap of all the hurt she created. When she would go to Basil’s door, it wouldn’t feel like the game was just trying to convince us to forget about her actions, but it would feel like she’s reflected and attempted a new leaf. And hopefully, the game would offer a more heartfelt apology, given more context and material to work with.

Four years of bullying can’t go away in ten days. But that’s not what the game was trying to argue in the first place—it wasn’t fully erasing Aubrey’s action, but trying to create the stepping stone for a way back. But the three days poorly argued her case, with a rushed and lacking version of redemption, and it made her ‘final character’ feel poor.

At the very least, ten days would have allowed the audience to empathize and begin to understand her. And, more importantly, it would’ve made sense that she understood the weight of her actions. And the Aubrey she became, whoever that girl would be?

She would’ve been so, so loved.

a little love in our lives

This has been on my mind for an awful lot of time. Sunny, as aforementioned, is one of my favorite characters of all time (if not my favorite), but the entire cast has a spot in my heart and is very dear to me. That includes Aubrey, but she benefits from association, which hurts me—I hate when girls in media are defined by their relationships with other guys. I wanted to get to the heart of why I couldn’t get her to stand on her own.

To summarize: Aubrey’s character was criminally mismanaged. Instead of it being a hopeful story of redemption, someone finally breaking the cycle of abuse and breaking free of her toxic household, seeking forgiveness by taking an active part in Basil’s healing, she is let off too quickly and makes all her further scenes feel twice as empty. The ideal solution would have been to have the game take place over a larger period, rather than a rushed three days, to allow the audience to empathize and relate to her.

Aubrey apologists truly astound me. I find so many flaws in her writing, and yet other people manage to see those flaws as perfections. I see people making very absurd, ableist arguments, and it makes me question the humanity of many fans, but I’ve always been intrigued by how many different perspectives there are surrounding her. I’ve seen some who relate to her because they were bullies or because they’ve been abandoned by others; so some valid reasons, and others very concerning. But it’s telling how our own experiences make us relate to different characters and help us understand why someone stands in the places they do.

…do you see what I did there? I started talking about relating backgrounds and how that benefits our understanding and— yeah, I suppose you understand, if you got this far (almost 6k words, you should be proud of yourself). If you’re still unfazed and believe that Aubrey’s writing was splendid, all the power to your fannish behaviors. But if I’ve opened your eyes a bit as to the flaws in her writing or if I’ve been able to explain your dislike of her, then I’m glad. It’s important to discuss things that didn’t stick the way they were meant to so that we can do better and we can learn.

Omori’s writing failed Aubrey. Some fans took that as a challenge. I’ve said before that canon interpretation should be separate from fanon interpretation, but I’d have to be heartless (Kingdom Hearts pun intended) to say that many fan’s interpretations didn’t get me to feel with her. I think Aubrey could’ve been brilliant, and while Omori didn’t fully capture that, a lot of fans did. So to everyone who makes art, whether it’s a drawing, a written work, a video, a song, an edit, or whatever, thank you for sharing it. Thank you for telling your stories.

I feel like writing these analysis pieces without connecting them to our own life experiences is pointless. So, to everyone else, please tell your stories. Tell your stories of redemption and love and forgiveness, because that’s what Aubrey’s story was meant to be about, and that’s what we all need in this world. Tell your stories, no matter what they are, because that is what ties us all together. We are made of stories and we return to them. We learn from them and we become better people. We become kinder—and we could all use a little more kindness in the world.

Thanks for reading!

#omori #omori meta #omori analysis #aubrey omori #media analysis #meta essay #literary analysis is my special interest #andrew's essays

[djbunnie]

DamiRae AU: Batman The Dark Knight- Blackmailing Batman; Raven being a good wife/temporary CEO.

Rachel Wayne: [talking to Reese while focusing on her work]  What can I do for you, Mr. Reese? 

Reese : You wanted me to do the diligence on the L.S.I. Holdings deal again? Well... I found some irregularities. 

Rachel Wayne: Yes, Mr. Wayne is in police custody. 

Reese : No, not with their numbers. With yours. [Rachel now brings her gaze up to Reese in interest]

Reese : Applied Sciences, a whole division of Wayne Enterprises just... disappeared overnight. I went down to the archive and started pulling some old files. 

[takes out a blueprint of the Tumbler and places it on her desk, Rachel removes her glasses, starting to take the conversation more seriously now] 

Reese : Don't tell me you didn't recognize your baby out there pancaking cop cars on the evening news. Now you got the entire R&D department burning through cash claiming it's related to, uh, cell phones for the army? What are you building for him now? A rocket ship? 

[Rachel Wayne says nothing and continues to stare at Reese with some amusement] 

Reese : I want ten-million dollars... a year... for the rest of my life.

Rachel Wayne: [she leans forward and coolly says]  Now, let me get this straight. You think my husband, one of the wealthiest, most powerful men in the world is secretly a vigilante who spends his nights beating criminals to a pulp... and your plan is to blackmail this person? 

[At this point Reese's self-assertiveness is gone and is left totally speechless. Rachel smiles] 

Rachel Wayne: Good luck. 

Reese : [beat, embarrassed, gesturing to the Tumbler blueprint he mutters]  Keep that...

#damirae #dcamu #raven roth #damian wayne #demonbirds #damian x raven #married au #batman the dark knight

[beautflstranger]

Good Morning -

Tumblr sent this post to my notes.

It's my 13 year anniversary on Tumblr 🥳

The story about the beginning of this blog, was that it began without any thought of writing.

There were images that I had on my pc, taking up needed space. I wanted to find a place for them where I could view them in grid form. Tumblr archive was exactly what I was looking for.

An entire year went by with me flying under the radar.

One day an image I posted moved me to add words.

The next day I received an email from Tumblr with something about a follower.

The next day, another follower, with something called a reblog.

More images, more words from my heart.

And then the unexpected happened, Tumblr changed, purged and wow- the fallout from 2018 was unimaginable.

I wrote about it - (link below.)

I was so busy at that time, living and working in Manhattan that my Tumblr was placed on pause.

In 2020, I returned. I did miss my writing and my Tumblrs.

I'm thankful for all of you.

Tumblr has been, and continues to be a most amazing and incredible experience that touches me deeply. <-Thank all of you for that.

Here's to more words and inspiration!

Thank you for stopping by.

With Love,

beautflstranger

#13 year tumblrversary #tumblr milestone

[evanesdust]

i think i dreamed you into life

written for - @sterekfests prompt: haunted house @sterekweekly word: veil

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski Characters: Derek Hale, Stiles Stilinski Additional Tags: POV Derek Hale, Alternate Universe - Werewolves Are Known, Established Relationship, Alpha Derek Hale, Haunted Houses

Summary:

...the one where Derek enjoyed a clingy Stiles (thanks to a haunted house).

"Are you sure you want to go in there?" Derek asked a visibly apprehensive Stiles, who clung to Derek's arm, his breath hitching every time the wind howled. Just because it was close to Halloween didn't mean they had to visit any haunted attractions, but Stiles had insisted they come here ever since Erica mentioned going with Boyd last weekend. She'd said it was spooky 'in all the best ways.'

Derek had difficulty believing that as he looked up at the massive, ominous structure better known as the infamous haunted house of Beacon Hills. It was neither infamous nor haunted at any other time of year, but whoever ran this place definitely went all out for Halloween with a distinct taste for the macabre. Cobwebs hung heavy from the pointed roof and jack-o-lanterns with grotesque faces leered from each window. Tombstones littered the front yard, eerily glowing in the dark. Sinister (and slightly over-the-top) sound effects are playing in the background. The air reeked of candy corn and a peculiar, damp smell that permeated the entire area—a scent Derek attributed somewhat dubiously to the atmosphere.

"Are you sure?" he asked again, ready to turn around if Stiles said no.

But Stiles nodded, so Derek straightened his jacket and stepped forward. The crunch of fallen leaves under his boots amplified the eeriness around them. As they entered the house, the atmosphere intensified. Stiles's grip on Derek's arm tightened as a ghostly fog rolled in, shrouding the haunted house in an ethereal mystery.

"God, the music just makes everything so much worse," Stiles muttered, jumping when a sudden shriek pierced the air. It was quickly followed by a round of eerie laughter. Meanwhile, ghoulish figures darted in and out of sight, their movements deliberately swift and unpredictable to maintain a sense of dread.

Derek would hate it, except it made Stiles cling to him even tighter. An unexpected thrill coursed through him; there was something strangely reassuring about being the one Stiles relied on for comfort. Even amidst the staged horror and low ambient lighting, Derek could see the trust in Stiles's eyes intertwined with the fear.

"Focus on me, not the house, alright?" Derek whispered just before another frightful scream echoed through the corridors, followed by hasty footsteps, eliciting a high-pitched yelp from Stiles.

If he didn't have his keen werewolf senses, Derek would probably be scared too. The chilling whispers of the wind, the ominous creaking of the wooden floors, and the distant sound of rattling chains...every element was perfectly designed to instill a deep-seated fear. But thanks to his supernatural abilities, he could hear the whir of mechanics from the animatronics set up in the house, the muttered instructions of workers hidden from sight, and the giggles of other visitors not too far ahead of them.

"Remember, it's all fake. None of this can hurt you," Derek reassured Stiles, even as a headless figure suddenly lunged towards them, causing Stiles to yelp and bury his face in Derek's jacket.

"I know it's all fake, but I feel like my heart's going to beat right out of my chest." Stiles's words were muffled into Derek's jacket. His heart was pounding fast, his pulse seeping through Derek's shirt.

With a smirk, Derek gently patted Stiles's back as they advanced deeper into the heart of the haunted house—past the spider webs and blood-smeared walls.

"Maybe next year we stick to corn mazes and pumpkin patches," he suggested, his voice echoed hauntingly by the eerie soundtrack playing in the house.

Stiles shook his head despite clinging to Derek all the tighter. "Where's the fun in that?"

"This is fun?" he asked, but Stiles silenced him with a vigorous nod.

"Best adrenaline rush ever." Then Stiles screamed as a vampire animatronic jumped out of a coffin.

If Stiles wanted an adrenaline rush, Derek could think of a few better things they could do than visit a haunted house. Something that would benefit both of them, like a night in the woods, under the moon and the starlit sky, with Derek chasing Stiles as if he were the most delicious prey.

Derek's pulse pounded just thinking about it, his every instinct responding to the thought. Unlike the artificial thrill of fear from these dubious props and jump scares, this was a thrill of genuine, primal excitement.

Stiles's eyes snapped to his, a curious look in his gaze. "Well, something's got you all worked up…"

Derek told him the idea and smiled at the rush of anticipation that radiated through their bond, the sudden expectancy evident in Stiles's widened eyes and the excited pounding of his heartbeat.

"But only if you're up for it," Derek added, raising a brow challengingly at Stiles, a daring glint in his eyes.

"I don't know… A scary, haunted house or being chased by a real-life werewolf…" Stiles's words were teasing, and it looked as if he were going to say more, but then a skeleton fell from the ceiling, and he screamed. "Okay, definitely being chased by you. At least that would be more like foreplay."

Fuck.

And now all Derek could think about was this game of their own, a primal chase between predator and prey. Catching Stiles and having his way with him. The wild images played out in Derek's mind—Stiles sprawled out on a bed of leaves, panting and flushed under the veil of moonlight while Derek prowled over him. No haunted house or fabricated horror could compete with the thrill that came from that anticipation, the genuine adrenalin surge.

After all, werewolves loved a good hunt.

"You're already thinking about it, aren't you?" Stiles asked, breaking Derek from his reverie. The knowing smirk on his face somehow looked even more appealing in the gloom of the haunted house.

"Maybe..." Derek allowed the word to hang in the air, raising a brow in response to the anticipation sparking in Stiles's eyes. Even though they were surrounded by artificial horror, it was drowned out by the real, tangible excitement growing between them.

Before either of them could say anything else, another animatronic figure abruptly jumped out of a coffin beside them, its hollow screams echoing through the haunted corridors.

Stiles responded with another loud yelp, clenching Derek's jacket even tighter. "Okay, let's just get through the house, then we'll negotiate terms for this werewolf chase of yours."

"Deal," Derek answered fervently, pulling Stiles closer as they ventured onward.

They spent the rest of the night navigating the labyrinth of chilling rooms and corridors, emerging victorious at the end of the night, Stiles clinging to Derek as if his life depended on it.

#sterek #sterekfestshaunted #sterekfests #sterekfestsfall2023 #sterekweekly #sterekweeklyveil #holy shit i wrote something

[theoutcastrogue]

the internet is rotting, as Jonathan Zittrain noted in an important (but paywalled) 2021 Atlantic article. A huge percentage of the links on the internet are broken, and there is no single authoritative, accessible universal repository that keeps track of everything. It is frighteningly easy for crucial information to slip away. ...

The practice of making changes to an article without noting that you’ve made them is called “stealth editing,” and even the New York Times does it. ... The existence of stealth editing means that it’s difficult to trust that the version of an article you click on at any given moment is the article as it was originally published. ...

I also, to my alarm, realized just how dependent we are on private publications themselves to give us access to records of their own work. Often, they keep it payawalled behind locked gates and charge you admission if you want to have a look. There are lots of sources in the Chomsky book to which you have to subscribe if you want to verify, such as this 1999 story in the Los Angeles Times about NATO’s bombing of a bus in Yugoslavia. This is a story of national importance, far too overlooked at the time, but if you don’t subscribe to the LA Times, you need research library access or a workaround if you want to read it.

Thank God for the Internet Archive, whose Wayback Machine preserves as much of the internet as they can and is invaluable for researchers trying to figure out what was once housed at now-dead links. But the Internet Archive has its limits. Social media posts, YouTube videos, paywalled Substack posts, PDFs—all can be very difficult to track down after they disappear. If a politician tweets something embarrassing, for instance, and then deletes it, it might be preserved in a screenshot. But we know screenshots are easy to fake. So where do you turn to prove satisfactorily that something was in fact said? ...

it’s very easy to lose pieces of information that seem permanent. E-books, for instance, can be changed by their publisher without the changes even being noted. You might read a book on your Amazon Kindle one day and open it up the next day to look for a quote only to find that the quote has disappeared without a trace. The Guardian, for twenty years, hosted a copy of Osama bin Laden’s “letter to the American people,” an important historical document. After the letter went viral on TikTok, the Guardian removed it from the site entirely. The New Republic did the same after an article of theirs about Pete Buttigieg caused controversy. The documents in question can still be found, but only by digging through the Internet Archive. If that ever goes down, researchers will find that trying to piece together the online past is like trying to learn about a lost civilization from excavated fragments. ...

I think that in an age where people (rightly) don’t trust the information they’re getting to be true, it needs to be as easy as possible to do research. Instead, while we have better technology than ever for sifting through information, it’s still the case that the truth is paywalled and the lies are free. If you want to “do your own research” to check on the veracity of claims, you will run headlong into a maze of broken links, paywalls, and pop-ups. How can anyone hope to find the truth when it’s so elusive, trapped behind so many toll gates? 

#Nathan J. Robinson #theory #information wants to be free

[pigeonrobespierre]

Soo today I decided to look further into whathever happened to the I Giacobini screenplay - buckle in, I did my best to include as much info as I could find!!

"I Giacobini" (the jacobins) is an Italian screenplay from 1962 based on Federico Zardi's homonymous drama and it is, as of today, a lost media.

The cause for the disappearance of the screenplay from the RAI (Italian national public broadcasting company) archives is either reconduced to the lack of care for the preservation of medias at the time or to the theory which believes the cause to be due to political circumstances.

According to Wikipedia (eh):

...while Italy was in the hands of the Democrazia Cristiana, RAI for the first time broadcast to the public a screenplay «practically entirely aligned with the left and in which Robespierre doesn't come off as a bloody monster but rather like a Che Guevara of reason»

The Democrazia Cristiana or DC (Christian Democracy) was a centrist christian democratic political party in Italy.

The screenplay became largely appreciated by the public, as well as receiving praises from Palmiro Togliatti, exponent of the PCI (Italian communist party) - which happens to be one of the DC 's political opponents at the time.

(source)

Palmiro Togliatti on "Rinascita" wrote that television was bringing a change, since «for the first time it brought a representation of the French revolution inside Italian households»

I went ahead and looked through the archives of Rinascita but found this.

Here I found Togliatti's comment on the screenplay - the below image is a section of it:

The screenplay I Giacobini can be considered an important event of national culture. [...] What matters is that for some weeks a few billions of Italians, have seen and have had in front of their minds a revolution, have been brought to think about about it and to discuss it, seeing it as a political, social and human conflict.

It's then necessary to understand the political contexts of the time both within and outside of Italy:

(source)

...In 1962, under the threat of the cold war, a few months before the Cuban Missile Crisis, a screenplay remarked positively by the leader of a communist party in a NATO country could've raised any kind of reaction.

Thus, the mystery surrounding the disappearance of the screenplay is believed to be caused by some archivist involved with the democristian party.

While this is widely believed to be the reasoning behind it there's not much clear evidence and it's likely impossible to investigate since so much time has passed.

About the screenplay: it was broadcast in 6 episodes, of 90 minutes each, between 11th March - 15th April of 1962 (with a rerun in 1963 after which the tapes disappeared).

It originally featured La Marseillaise, La Carmagnole and Ça ira as well as 4 songs produced for the theater play by Gino Negri.

Audio Recording

In 2012 a man came forward with a (illegally) recorded copy of the audio from the screenplay and sent it over to the Rai archives. The studio managed to recover and digitalize the audios of the six episodes - sadly the video recording is still missing.

Funnily enough, the archive page on which the audios were supposedly made public is gone as of today - but I have found YouTube uploads here: [1] [2] [3] [4] [5] [6]

Also here's a doc that wast broadcast on Italian television on the 11th March of 2012, in honor of the 50 years since the first run of the screenplay - (it's in Italian, if anyone's interested I'll gladly sub it/provide a translation)

In short - bless that viewer for pirating the audio in 1962 and lots of hate to whoever lost the tapes..

Maybe I Giacobini was the friends we made along the way 🍊

#Hope this is good enough if I find more I'll add to this post :p #french revolution #frev #I giacobini (1962) #I giacobini #Frev lost media

[1863-project]

Okay, was thinking about it and I remembered a lot of you were very young or not even alive for this, so:

When 9/11 happened I was 12 and had just started 7th grade. I grew up in a suburb of New York City. 12 people from my town died, including a firefighter whose son was in my younger brother's CCD group.

Things changed SO fast. Practically overnight. Suddenly, we were all hypervigilant, and after the immediate response of assistance from around the world, the prejudice was oozing from nearly everywhere. In northern New Jersey, we had and still have a large west (Middle East) and south Asian population. They were hit the hardest.

People freaked out just because a mosque was going to be built in lower Manhattan within several blocks of Ground Zero at one point. It was ridiculous and the Islamophobia was so fucking awful and infuriating. It still is. It didn't go away. For the most part, New Yorkers are usually good to each other because there's literally someone from everywhere here, but this was legitimately terrifying. People would even attack Sikhs - who weren't Muslim, Sikhism is its own thing - because they saw the turbans and made a decision based on racism (i.e. bin Laden had a turban so these people must be like him).

The "patriotism" was miserable. "Freedom fries" happened because people were mad that France didn't want to go into Iraq with Bush in 2003. We all thought it was stupid then too.

The Chicks (formerly known as the Dixie Chicks) got blackballed because they came out against said war. They were one of the biggest country acts in the world at the time. In general, country music went through a massive tonal shift post-9/11 and became far more "patriotic" and conservative. Johnny Cash wouldn't have recognized it.

The Flash movies that inevitably popped up satirizing politics were...something. You can find most of them archived on YouTube these days. But that was how the internet tended to cope back then.

The shift from happiness to paranoia was so fucking fast. I went from a world where my biggest concern was pre-ordering the GameCube to being worried about politics and death all the time. All the news showed was footage of people dying for weeks. Politicians started using the footage in commercials. You just had to keep reliving the trauma of it over and over again. I stopped watching the news.

It was, looking back on it, a huge galvanizing point for the American right. Politicians started using 9/11 to justify so many things. This was where I began to see as a young teenager that you could use people's prejudices to get a grip on power and get what you wanted. I didn't like it.

People started drawing memorial art almost immediately. The phenomenon of memorial art being done decades later with cartoon characters still persists on deviantART to this day, but when it started, it was mostly people doing vent art because it's really upsetting to be a kid and see death on that scale on the news.

It took me 15 years to go back to the site after 9/11. I'd been as a kid in 1997 and I went up in the South Tower with my family. I didn't set foot there again until 2016, 15 years after the attacks. I found the name of the firefighter whose son was in my brother's CCD class. It was surreal.

This chapter of American history arguably closed for many people in 2011, when bin Laden was killed in a raid. I remember watching the Mets play the Phillies that night. Daniel Murphy, who I'd named a cat after two years earlier, was at bat, and suddenly the crowd started chanting "USA." I used my Blackberry to check the news and that was how I found out. I was a senior in college, about to graduate. I don't even remember how I felt, just that the way I found out was so fucking weird.

It was a really stressful, bizarre climate to grow up in. In the time between my 12th and my 22nd birthday, I saw my entire world get turned upside down overnight, massive waves of prejudice, unnecessary wars that killed even more innocent people, literal war crimes (tw: rape, murder, prisoner torture, every other bad thing you can think of under the sun), and the rise of false patriotism and nationalism, which you can still see the right wing harnessing today.

If you're going to mock something here, mock the false patriotism. Mock "Freedom Fries." Mock George W. Bush. Just...don't mock the actual moments where people died. Too many innocent people died from the attacks themselves, the Islamophobia afterwards, and the wars that followed. That shit isn't funny.

#history

[lavendermoonlitskies]

Dream A Little Dream of Me fic series (Good Omens) part 4: “Le Chant du Rossignol (Song of the Nightingale)”

Final part to my Good Omens fic series is live! If you’ve read it thus far I just wanted to say thank you and I hope you enjoy the finale :)

Rating: T (mind the tags!!!)

Here’s a short snippet of it:

It was another nice day at last. A day of perfect weather, and the sounds of a bustling city full of people who went about that day generally feeling good. A day without anxiety, the feeling that everything that made this life worth living could be ripped away again at any moment. Such anxiety was simply a fundamental part of who Aziraphale was, but for the first time, something felt different.

Overtime, they fell back into their routine that they hadn’t known since before Gabriel had shown up at the shop, consequently uprooting their entire lives as one thing led to another. A routine that they had adopted after Armage-didn’t where, for four glorious years, Crowley would arrive at the bookshop in the morning with his six shots of espresso in a large cup and a cup of English breakfast tea for the angel, perhaps they’d dine at The Ritz later on, they might eventually wander down to the park to watch the ducks in the afternoon, then the day would end with the two of them sat at a table that Aziraphale had set (miraculously, with a quick snap of the fingers), talking over a bottle of wine until the very late hours into the night. Aziraphale considered this way of life to be rather perfect.

In the days following Aziraphale’s return to this plane of existence, the two of them welcomed back this routine with open arms. The sun was just rising over the bookshop’s skylight when Crowley backed in through the door, cups of coffee and tea respectively in hand. Aziraphale, a bright smile across his face, beamed as he approached the demon and grabbed one of the cups from his hands.

“Oh- angel, I think that’s the-”

Aziraphale’s face contorted as the bitter taste of piping hot pure espresso with nothing else to dilute it attacked his tongue, nearly spitting out the vile liquid. Crowley laughed.

“I think that’s mine,” he said.

Aziraphale couldn’t help but laugh at himself, wiping his mouth with the napkin that had been wrapped around the cup.

“Perhaps those cups shouldn’t be quite so identical,”

The sound of their laughter together filled the air over the gramophone playing some quiet classical music, just how Aziraphale liked it in the morning. This morning, it was a recording of Chopin’s Étude Op. 10, No. 3 in E major. A hopeful piece, one littered with such wistful romanticism that Chopin himself had claimed he’d never written another melody so beautiful. It had reminded him of his homeland, and such a morning had gotten Aziraphale thinking that his home was never in Heaven, but rather anywhere that Crowley could be found right at his side.

Crowley was his home.

The coffee cup slipped through his fingers and toppled over onto the floor, to which Crowley did protest, but such contempt couldn’t last long before Aziraphale’s hands had cupped his face and their lips had connected. Passionately, desperately, they kissed as if it was the last time they ever could. Aziraphale’s tea was long gone as well, though the mess of spilled coffee and tea mixing at their feet was merely an afterthought as Crowley leaned the angel up against a nearby bookshelf, deepening the kiss. The angel relished in this moment of feeling wanted, a feeling he certainly wasn’t used to until he felt Crowley’s hair between his fingers and that same demon’s arms snugly wrapped around him with the same fervor.

-

read the rest here

And here’s a link to all of the parts in order:

#good omens #aziraphale #crowley #aziracrow #fanfic #writing fanfic #fanfic author #good omens fanfic #good omens fic rec #ao3 #ao3 good omens #ao3 writer #ao3 series #ineffable husbands #good omens fandom #david tennant #michael sheen #good omens 2 #aziraphale x crowley

[muqingapologist]

Can I ask your top 10 fav fics ever (from any fandom, if you don't mind)?

Also, just curious, is there a story behind your name "muqingapologist "?

i go through phases with fanfiction, wavering between never reading any and then reading it consistently over a period of time. so my ao3 account only has bookmarks from the last year or so, so i’ll just include those! i did read some reeeally good fics for pairings that i was really into in the past, but i won’t include them here

as for my username, i used to have the apologist format with another character for my finsta, and i because obsessed over mu qing in my recent read through of tgcf. so i’ll defend him from the haters heh.

ok fics. no particular order.

1. Resurrection by heyholmesletsgo

one thing about me is that im going to eat up every songxiao fix-it fic i come across. this one i think follows the logic of the untamed rather than just mdzs, but i don’t think it’s a big change either way. this fic is so beautiful i thought about it for weeks afterward. it’s pretty short, but the slow, gentle pining as xiao xingchen returns to the world, the way they figure out communication, it’s all so good.

2. some new beginning by liesmyth

i got into good omens after season 2 being released this past summer, and i have to say the fics have been very hit or miss for me. the characterizations in fics are always some strange combination of characterizations of season 2 crowley and season 1 crowley and book crowley. this is post-season 1 though so this isn’t really an issue. i loved this one. i think my favorite form of aziracrow is when they’re both just idiots following the momentum of their feelings without really realizing the significance of their actions until, well, they live together hahah. highly recommend this one for that dynamic! it’s also pretty short.

3. Protagonist Rehabilitation Programme by cinnamonsnaps

this one i actually read entirely on my flight from japan last week after randomly stumbling across it. it’s an SVSSS AU where the original luo binghe transmigrates(?) into shen yuan’s world. im not usually a fan of AU fiction because i think much of the time, the events of the source material are very much what shape the personalities of the characters, but this one works for me. it’s so good at matching the tone and writing style of mxtx while being funny in its own way too.

4. hometown comforts by nyoomerr

this is another bingqiu one, post-canon, and it’s an identity reveal. it’s my ideal identity reveal fic because it’s incredibly low stakes and binghe is just curious about shen yuan’s world. no system warnings and stuff. just bonding. im a simple gal.

5. still waters by marichen

went through a beefleaf phase where i read a bunch of fics. this was the best one by far. unmatched. beefleaf, imo, is a very difficult couple to write for. there’s so much to unpack. it’s hard to make their relationship feel genuine because so much care needs to go into shi qingxuan trusting he xuan again. in this fic, it is the classic he xuan lingering around, but also we see sqx building his own life back up on his own, as well. it’s he xuan pov. so good so good.

6. Bring it back, bring it back [don’t take it away from me] by wednesdaisy

another good omens fic, also post-season 1, aziraphale pov. in this one, crowley fucks off to new zealand because he thinks his relationship with aziraphale is fantasy and it’s too painful to keep seeing him after everything they’ve been through. and aziraphale tracks him down and has to convince crowley that he does indeed want him in his life and loves him and ah, it’s really sweet.

7. the round moon by orphan_account and the hazy sun by orphan_account

this is a 2 part quanyin fic (pre-canon qyz for part 1, post-canon yin yu pov for part 2). i’m also incredibly picky about quanyin fics. this one was so beautifully done. it didn’t make quan yizhen feel overly-childish as an adult like many others do, and it made yin yu’s conflicting feelings about him so vivid and believable. highly recommend for quanyin nation out there.

8. This Is Me Trying by Piper_Emerald

another post-canon identity reveal. this one is a little more angsty than the one above but also so well done! a deep part of me needs an identity reveal to happen for them at some point hahaha…like binghe is smart ok…he suspects already.

9. some good mistakes by Lise

everyone forgive me for not really having any wangxian recs. my post-untamed fic phase was on my old ao3 account i can’t find. anyway, i remember this one being really good. wei wuxian goes missing. jiang cheng pov, teaming up with lan zhan to find wwx. post-canon untamed. personal preference but i love post-canon untamed wangxian fics the most because i just reading about all the ways they might get together.

10. Not Easily Conquered by dropdeaddream, WhatAreFears

(i keep getting error when i post the link but it’s on ao3)

i’m including this one because i’d be lying if it wasn’t always in my top 10. i never think about stevebucky these days and cannot stand marvel, but damn this fic holds up like 8 years later!! 3-parter, AU where steve never gets frozen but bucky is still the winter soldier. told over decades. some cringe US cold war propaganda but ignoring that…a beautiful story. if you ever carried any attachment for these two, worth the read.

so that’s my very inaccurate too 10 fics. thank you for asking so i have an excuse to discuss hahaha.

#svsss #tgcf #good omens #the untamed #mdzs #songxiao #aziracrow #wangxian #bingqiu #quanyin #beefleaf #stevebucky #fic rec #fanfic #ask

[virgoilluminati]

World Class

Chapter 7

Previous chapter | series | next part

A/N; hello guys, so yeah - i went M I A again. Managed to do a whole university semester and didn't really end up writing any more of this. I'm sorry. Again this had been in the Archive for a while so I want to post it. The series i think is coming to the end, one more to go after this!

y/nmorrison

liked by ellatoone, alessiarusso and 200,000 others.

y/nmorrison celebration practice for the final 💪

View all 50,000 comments

ellatoone the only moment where you weren't holding me up😂

alessiarusso something tells me these will not be our celebrations, my neck has hurt eversince 😅

judebellingham a celebration idea.. huh? this seems like a hard launch opportunity...

y/nmorrison @judebellingham i'm not sure you can hard launch once you've already made it official, my love ❣️

In the days leading up to the final, you couldn't help but feel yourself distancing further and further away from Leah. Despite the win against Australia, and spain around the corner, you found everytime you'd attempt to talk to Leah, either she''d be pulled back by Sarina, or you'd be on the phone to Jude or playing third wheel with Keira and Lucy.

At the dinner before the match, the tension between both of you was at an evident all time high. You could see a spare seat next to Leah, as she placed herself next to Rachel and Milly. As soon as you grabbed your dinner from the buffet, you made your way over to them, however before you could put your dinner down, Leah placed a water bottle over the seat, suggesting one of the coaches was sat there.

You felt suddenly uncomfortable, and also violated - as if you were in high school all over again being picked on by a bully. What made it worse was the fact that Leah was your best friend, and you knew deep down that it was your fault.

In all honesty, since the match against Australia and the massive news that Lucy had told Leah, you hadn't been in the mindset to truly think about the future of your career, whether that be at Arsenal or FC Barcelona or even just Real Madrid. Your heart strings were being pulled apart by the three things which you cared the most about; your boyfriend, your best friend and your career. It also became apparent that no matter what you decided to do someone was going to get hurt. Instead your mind had been focused entirely on this last match, much like everyone else. The training session had intensified to levels that none of you had expected, hours long past normal sociable times and into the night. Winning this final was everything to you all, and you knew deep down, that whilst your career remained a mystery, this was the one thing you could do that would make it up to Leah.

Instead of sitting down next to Leah, you made your way over to Alessia and Ella, both talking about celebrations they wanted to try if they scored the winning goal. As they see you walk over, alessia greets you with a massive smile, before asking you about what you celebration would be.

"I suppose i should do Judes one-" you smile when you mention his name. Both of them laugh and make fun of you for blushing.

"It would probably make sense- tho, you wanna have your signature one y/n." Alessia responds. She then goes on to make fun of Ella's stating that she didn't have one but rather just went through about every single emotion whenever she scored goal.

"There must be a Morrison special-" Ella asks, unsure if she was touching a nerve.

It was true, Noah had his own little celebration. It was something you remembered him doing as early as 5 years old. He'd take a bow, and then clap to all three stages of the auidience, before kissing his little wristband, which their mum had sewn on. That little gesture, always reminded you of how much of a home body your brother remained. Regardless of the fame and the talent he had, that little kiss on the wristband - which had his named engraved on the inside next to a old brighton and hove football badge - would remain a signature of his home.

"Yeah there is." You smile. As you explained his little celebration, how he had taught you from a young age to always thank the audience around you - you felt your heart begin to melt for the first time talking about your brother didn't hurt. A couple of the other girls started getting involved and one by one the group began to bond once again, each taking it in turns to come up with any kind of signature celebration they could do.

As the conversations split once again in the room, leah looked over to you quickly, giving you a smile before starting a conversation with beth. It was a reassuring smile. It was the same smile that Leah used to do whenever you were both stressed about something, it was a way of saying - its not your fault, don't worry. Though you felt like this time, as much as she tried to smile and be the bigger person, her heart was hurting,

Later that night, your phone buzzed with an incoming call from Jude. Hoping for a distraction from the tension with Leah, you eagerly answered.

"Hey, Jude," you greeted, trying to sound cheerful.

"Hey, love. How's everything going?" Jude's voice was warm and caring, but you sensed he was oblivious to the underlying tension you were feeling.

"It's a bit tense here, but I'm managing," you replied, trying to keep the conversation light.

"That's tough. But listen, I've got something exciting to share," Jude said, his voice tinged with enthusiasm. "While I was out today, I saw these amazing dogs at a park here in Madrid. They were so cute, and it got me thinking..."

Your heart sank a little. You knew Jude had been hinting about getting a dog together as a way to bring you closer, possibly even to Madrid. The thought was sweet, but it also added to your stress.

"Uh, that sounds lovely, Jude," you said, trying to hide your agitation. "But hey, let's not talk about dogs right now. How was your day otherwise?"

"Oh, sure, sorry about that," Jude said, sensing your discomfort. "My day was good, but I mostly thought about how much better it would be if you were here with me. I can't wait to see you tomorrow at the final. I've missed you so much, love."

His words were sweet, filled with love and longing. Despite your mixed feelings about the dog situation, you couldn't help but feel touched by his affection.

"I've missed you too, Jude," you replied, your voice softening. "Tomorrow will be a special day, no matter what happens."

"Absolutely," Jude said, his voice growing more romantic. "Tomorrow, we'll be together, and nothing else will matter. I love you, Y/N, and I can't wait to see you and talk about our future—dogs included."

His words, though well-intentioned, added to your internal turmoil. Yet, his love and excitement for your reunion were undeniable, filling you with a mixture of comfort and uncertainty as you ended the call, looking forward to seeing him tomorrow at the final.

"Love you too, Jude," you managed, trying to mask your hesitation. "And I can't wait to see you either. Let's catch up properly tomorrow, okay?"

"Of course, love," Jude responded, picking up on your attempt to change the subject. "We'll have all the time in the world to talk. Just know that I'm here for you, no matter what you're going through."

"Thank you, Jude," you said, grateful for his understanding. "I really appreciate that."

"And hey," Jude added, his voice filled with warmth, "whatever happens tomorrow, whether we win or lose, remember that I'm proud of you and I love you more than anything."

Tears welled up in your eyes at his heartfelt words. "Thank you, Jude," you repeated, your voice trembling with emotion. "I love you too, and I can't wait to see you tomorrow."

"Sleep well, love," Jude said softly, sensing your emotional state. "Dream of happier times, and remember that tomorrow is a new day filled with possibilities."

With a final exchange of loving words, you ended the call, feeling a mix of emotions—love from Jude, tension with Leah, and uncertainty about your future. Yet, despite it all, you felt a glimmer of hope that tomorrow would bring clarity and a chance for healing in all areas of your life.

As the night wore on, sleep eluded you. Tossing and turning in bed, your mind raced with thoughts about the upcoming final, the weight of Noah’s legacy, the tension with Leah, and Jude’s hint about moving to Spain. The pressure was suffocating, each thought adding to your anxiety.

Finally, unable to bear it any longer, you got out of bed and made your way to the bathroom, hoping a splash of cold water on your face might help. But as you looked at your reflection in the mirror, the floodgates opened. Tears streamed down your face as the weight of everything came crashing down on you.

Sinking to the floor, you wrapped your arms around yourself, trying to find some semblance of calm amid the storm of emotions. Each sob felt like a release, yet the overwhelming sense of fear and uncertainty lingered.

“Why is this so hard?” you whispered to yourself, the question echoing in the silent bathroom.

Minutes or maybe hours passed as you sat there, lost in your thoughts and fears. Finally, with a deep, shaky breath, you decided to face the day ahead, no matter how daunting it seemed.

You splashed some water on your face, took a few more deep breaths, and steadied yourself. As you looked at your reflection again, you made a silent promise to give your all in the final, to honor Noah’s legacy, and to find a way to navigate the complexities of your personal life.

As you tried to compose yourself, the door creaked open, revealing Leah, who had stepped out of her room. Seeing you in such a vulnerable state, she immediately dropped her guard.

“Y/N, are you okay?” Leah’s voice was filled with genuine concern as she hurried over to you.

Before you could respond, Leah wrapped her arms around you, pulling you into a comforting hug. Despite the tension between you two, her embrace felt reassuring, a rare moment of solace amid the chaos.

“Come on,” Leah whispered, leading you gently into her room. “Let’s talk.”

Inside her room, Leah closed the door behind you, creating a private space where walls could come down and truths could be shared.

“I’m sorry, Y/N,” Leah began, her eyes filled with regret. “I shouldn’t have pushed you away. We’ve been best friends for too long to let this come between us.”

Tears welled up in your eyes again, but this time, they were different—tinged with relief and gratitude. Leah’s willingness to mend the rift between you was a balm to your wounded soul.

“I’m sorry too, Leah,” you replied, your voice trembling. “I’ve been so caught up in everything—Noah’s legacy, the final, Jude, the idea of moving to Spain—.”

Leah took a deep breath, her gaze unwavering. “Y/N, I can’t lose you. If that means you moving to Spain with Jude, then… then so be it.”

Your heart ached at her words, torn between the love you felt for Leah and the future you had envisioned with Jude. “Leah, I just don’t know,” you admitted, shaking your head.

“You don’t know?” Leah’s voice cracked, disbelief evident in her tone. “I thought you were set on moving.”

“No, Leah,” you replied, your voice trembling. “Jude mentioned getting a dog, moving to Madrid, but I never said yes. I’m so confused.”

A heavy silence filled the room as Leah processed your words. Finally, she spoke, her voice softer, filled with understanding.

“Y/N, you should follow your heart,” Leah said gently, her eyes searching yours. “Whatever that may be, I want you to be happy.”

As Leah led you outside to the balcony, the cool night air enveloped you both, and the city lights twinkled below, casting a soft glow on the scene before you.

“Do you remember,” Leah began, her voice filled with warmth, “when we’d sneak out late at night to play soccer in the park? Just the two of us, chasing after our dreams.”

A smile spread across your face as the memory flooded back. “Oh, how could I forget? We’d stay out until the stars began to fade, pretending we were on the biggest stage, scoring the winning goal.”

Leah chuckled, her eyes shining with mischief. “Yes, and remember how we’d argue over who got to be the striker? We’d each take turns, practicing our victory dances for when we scored.”

You laughed, the vivid memory making your heart swell with nostalgia. “Yes, and you always had that signature celebration, the one where you’d slide on your knees and point to the sky.”

Leah’s eyes sparkled at the mention of it. “And you, Y/N, with your infectious laughter, you’d spin around, arms wide open, soaking in the imaginary applause from the crowd.”

The two of you shared a moment, lost in the memory of simpler times, when dreams were big, and the world seemed full of endless possibilities.

Leah turned to you, her eyes filled with determination and hope. “I see it, Y/N. I see us holding up that trophy tomorrow—just like in our childhood memories. But this time, it’s not made of tin; it’s real.”

Her words resonated with you, reigniting the fire within. The dream you both had as kids was now within reach, a tangible goal that could become reality.

As you were about to head back inside, Leah turned to you once more, her gaze sincere. “He’d be proud, you know.”

A soft smile graced your lips as you replied, “I know.”

“But don’t do it for him,” Leah added gently, “do it for you.”

Her words lingered in the air, a poignant reminder that while honoring Noah’s legacy was important, your journey was ultimately about finding your own path, fueled by your own dreams and aspirations.

"It was always my brother's dream to be at a World Cup final," you began, your voice trembling slightly with emotion. "But more importantly, it was my dream too—one that could become a reality tomorrow."

#fanfiction #jude bellingham #leah williamson #womens world cup #england football #englandwomensfootball #womens football #football fanfic #jude bellingham x reader #jude bellingham x you #lucybronze x reader #jude bellingham fanfic #judebellingham x footballreader #leah williamson x reader #lucybronze x keria walsh