#finally more gloves trent | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

bravo4iscool · 3 months

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sister

there‘s too little trent in this world, so take this🕺

i hope you like this lol.

reader is clay‘s little sister and her nickname is „missy“, it‘s no indication of her name tho :)

word count: 5k

not proof-read :)

(masterlist)

REQUESTS/ASKS OPEN!!!

You happily smile and run into your brother's arms as soon as you see him. „I missed you big man,“ you laugh.

„Missed you too, Missy,“ Clay whispers into your hair, holding you close for another minute. „Thank you for inviting us,“ he then tells you, breaking the hug with a big smile on his face.

You grin and lightly shove his shoulder. „Of course I‘d invite you. It’s not often you have free time, you know. Besides, I don‘t want to spend Thanksgiving alone.“

When you look behind your older brother you see his team members finally approaching. They were waiting at the beginning of your driveway. They weren‘t all here today though. The team leader, Jason Hayes was with his family, as well as Ray Perry, but the others were invited to your Thanksgiving dinner.

„Hello, welcome,“ you enthusiastically greet them, waving. „Nice to finally meet you all. Clay told me much about you guys!“ You smile at them, shaking hand after hand.

They all smile at you and then one of them starts speaking. „Thanks for the invite. I‘m Sonny. I‘m surprised Blondie never told us about you,“ he tells you and you side-eye Clay before you start laughing.

„I think I need to have a talk with him regarding that matter,“ you tease. „But, let’s not talk about that! Please, come inside.“ You motion them to follow you and walk into your house. It was a little small but perfect for you. You couldn‘t imagine living somewhere else.

They follow you like a bunch of lost puppies and it‘s more than funny to you. You show them your living room and tell them to sit down. You would bring the food shortly, you say.

Clay follows you into the kitchen where you run around humming to yourself. „Are you trying to feed a whole bataillon?“ he laughs and you shriek.

„Jesus Christ!“ You place your hand over your heart. „Don‘t scare me like that!“ you scold him, jabbing your finger at him.

„I’m sorry,“ he laughs, pressing a kiss to your head. „Won‘t do it again. I just wanted to help you,“ he explains, starting to stir the gravy. „Been with these guys for too long.“

„Well, you chose to, didn‘t you?“ you ask putting the pie in the oven. „By the way,“ you look at him. „Who‘s the one with the beard?“

„We all have a beard Missy,“ Clay snorts and you roll your eyes.

„The one who didn‘t talk,“ you explain, tilting your head at your brother. „He only looked at me a bit strangely.“ You place the baking gloves on the counter and wipe a couple hair strands out of your face.

„Could be Brock or Trent. Why you wanna know?“

„He’s cute,“ you say with a shrug and Clay stops stirring. He turns around, eyes wide.

“No. No, no, no! You won’t make a move on one of my teammates!” he almost screams and you only laugh.

“Why not?”

“Because, firstly, I would work with the man fucking my sister, which is already weird enough and, secondly, you know our job,” his voice turns serious. “I don’t want you to…get your heart broken.” Clay averts his gaze, memories of his own breakup with Stella surfacing. She wasn’t able to live with the fear of losing him…

You already had him to worry about but dating another SEAL? He didn’t know if you could take that much stress and uncertainty. He wanted only the best for you.

You sign and walk towards him. “I know your job,” you confirm, gently placing your hand on his upper arm. “But does a dangerous job mean you guys are unlovable or don’t deserve it?”

You look up at him and he wants to cry. You were right but still, he didn’t want you to love one of them. Without saying anything he pulls you into his arms and keeps you close.

“Don’t…do anything you’ll regret,” he whispers and you tighten your arms around him. You never wanted to let him go. You’ve missed him too much…

“I promise,” you whisper back, a little tear escaping your eye. “Besides, I just said he’s cute. Never said I’ll make a move,” you then immediately joke, breaking the hug with a sniff.

Clay only rolls his eyes, trying to hide his smirk. “Maybe you did but I know you better.”

Trent sits on your couch, involved in a heavy discussion about football with Sonny. The Texan couldn’t accept the fact that he was the only hardcore football fan.

“We can watch soccer instead,” Brock retorts with a snort and immediately gains a death glare from Sonny.

„We‘re in America and in America you watch football!“ Sonny proudly exclaims, straightening his back and popping out his chest. „Besides, it‘s a long Thanksgiving tradition!“

Trent just rolls his eyes and pushes himself off the couch. He would look and ask if he could help anywhere. He’s not used to doing nothing. His hands are itching to do something.

When he‘s about to enter your kitchen he sees you and Clay breaking a hug. He decides to wait outside. You haven’t seen your brother in a long time and he wanted to give the two of you some privacy. When he‘s sure he can enter he slightly clears his throat.

You look to the door and smile when you see one of Clay‘s teammates. „Hey,“ you greet him, walking over to shake his hand. „Can I help you with anything?“, you want to know and he shakes his head.

„No, thanks. I actually wanted to ask if I can help you,“ he answers, trying his best to not look too intimidating. His height didn‘t help with that. „I‘m Trent, by the way,“ he’s careful not to stumble over his words.

He was nervous. Why was he nervous? You only were Clay’s sister. He didn’t know you. You didn‘t know him. So, why the hell was he nervous about talking to you?

„Uhm,“ you look around and totally miss the way Clay eyes his friend with a stern gaze (You didn‘t miss it). „I actually do need help, yes. These-“ you point at a couple of pots and the turkey. „-need to be set on the table.“

“Okay,” Trent slightly smiles before he looks at Clay. “You wanna help?” The younger SEAL stares at his friend for a couple seconds before he nods.

“Yea, I’ll tell you where to put it.”

“Great,” Trent mumbles as he picks up the turkey and leaves the kitchen, Clay following him with one of the pots. You look after them with a smile, then a laugh when you hear how your brother instructs his friend.

You decide to head to your living room to call the other guys. „Food‘s ready,“ you smile at them, peaking your head through the door. Sonny immediately stands up and claps his hands.

„That‘s my call!“ the Texan says and Brock snorts. Then he also stands up and walks towards you.

„I hope this isn‘t too much to ask but the dog‘s still in the car and I wanted to know if I‘d be allowed to get him out?“ He lightly tilts his head and you nod, an excited grin on your face.

„Sure! You can go and get him. Clay told me much about Cerberus!“ Relief washes over Brock and he excuses himself to get Cerberus. Normally he always took him with him but he didn‘t know how you‘d react to the shepherd dog.

„I‘m surprised that he didn‘t go crazy already,“ Clay retorts, suddenly by your side. „That dog‘s his life…“

„Well, at least he‘s got someone, no? Dog or not.“ You smile at your brother before you leave him alone to sit down in your dining room. „Are you coming?“ you turn around and he nods before following you.

„Missy, it‘s me!“ Your head shoots up when you hear Sonny‘s voice. What was the Texan doing in your house? Not that you didn‘t want him here, you‘ve become amazing friends with Bravo Team since your Thanksgiving dinner but it was 12am, so why was Sonny here?

Your head pops out of the kitchen and you eye Sonny. „What are you doing here? You’re supposed to be at work.“

„Trent said I need to step back for a day or two. That fucker got me the wrong way during sparring,“ he explains while he stretches himself on your couch. „You have no problem with me being here, do you? I can also leave if you want me to.“ He looks up at you with a raised eyebrow.

„Oh,“ you smile. „No, you can stay. I have no problem with that.“ You turn to leave to the kitchen again then you turn around once more. „I hope you‘re fine lasagne? Clay asked me to cook it since he‘ll be around for lunch today.“

Sonny starts to grin and stand up immediately. „Did you say lasagne? Count me in Ms.Spenser!“ He follows you to the kitchen like a lost puppy and you laugh at that.

„You really want to compete with Cerberus, do you?“ Sonny only snorts at your question and sits down on one of your kitchen chairs. You laugh and shake your head. „Normally he‘s the one following me to the kitchen like he‘s a saint.“

„He ain‘t a saint,“ Sonny retorts and you grin.

„No, he‘s not. But you are?“ You turn to look at him, just fast enough to see him smirk.

„Never said I was one,“ he answers with a shrug, a full grin now working its way onto his face. „No one‘s a saint,“ he continues, stretching out his legs. „Except for you maybe. You come quite close to one.“

„Why‘s that?“ you ask, sprinkling cheese over the lasagna. You glance at him over your shoulder. He has his hands crossed in his lap and his head laid back, eyes closed. You smile at that sight. If you learned one thing about Sonny it was that he always acted all tough and untouchable but deep down he just wanted peace and calm…

„You‘re nice, you care for us, Trent has a crush on you,“ Sonny starts listing, not paying attention to the fact that he‘d just exposed his brother and you freeze. Trent had what? Surely you must‘ve misheard it. „Jason likes your muffins, Clay isn‘t bitching around that much when he was with you before.“ Sonny opens his eyes and looks at you. „You want me to continue?“

You shake your head and walk over to the oven. „No…“ you sound a bit confused, almost irritated by Sonny‘s words. „You don‘t need to praise me to the heavens, Sonny.“ you force a smile at him. „I‘m just…a normal person. Nothing special.“ You push the lasagna inside and turn the oven on.

Sonny tilts his head at you. Something he said caught you off guard, he can feel it. „Is it because I told you Jace likes your muffins? I was not supposed to tell you but-“

You turn around. „It‘s not the muffins Sonny.“

„Mhh…“ Sonny recalls everything he told you and then his eyes widen. „Oh shit! It‘s what I said about Trent, right? Oh fuck!“ He stands up. „Look, just- I don‘t know… Just because I said it doesn‘t mean it needs to be true!“

You shut him up with your gaze and for a second he just stands in your kitchen staring at you. Then realization hits him. „Oh… You want it to be true, don‘t you?“ You feel blood rush into your cheeks and avert your eyes. Sonny wouldn‘t let you hear the end of it now…

You expect the Texan to crack jokes and maybe laugh but he just looks at you. „You like him“, he then slowly puts the pieces together further and you simply nod along. „Now I own Ray 50$, damn.“

Your eyes widen and you open your mouth. „You had bets on me?“ He can‘t be serious, can he?

„Of course,“ Sonny seems so casual about it. „Ever since you brought Trent soup when he had a cold. You didn‘t even do it for Clay when he was bedridden.“ You don‘t know how to respond to that. If the team knew… did Trent know it too? Your palms start to sweat.

„Does…does he know?“ you carefully ask Sonny and he snorts. Was that a good sign now or a bad one?

„That fucker is as oblivious as Cerb when Brock tells him they‘re going swimming but instead he drags him to the vet.“ You blink at Sonny, not sure what to do with that answer. Sonny sighs. „Long story short, he doesn’t know. He doesn’t even think there's a possibility of you liking him back. That man is so head over heels over you that he tries to find even the slightest excuse to show up at your front door.“

„He…does?“ you’re still surprised by the fact that Trent apparently also likes you. You didn‘t know how to process all this.

„Of course,“ Sonny laughs. „Matter of fact, I‘m 100% sure he’s trying to convince Clay right now to let him come with him. Man‘s desperate to see you.“

You want to answer but then you think for a second. Why was Sonny telling you all this? Why was he breaking Trent‘s trust like that? This wasn‘t normal for Sonny…

„Why are you doing this Sonny?“ You then decide to ask. „Why are you telling me all this? Aren‘t you…betraying Trent right now?“

It‘s 11, maybe 11:30pm when you leave work and the cold wind collides with your face. You shiver and pull your jacket faster around you. You should‘ve taken your fucking car instead of walking to work this afternoon. You curse yourself as you quicken your steps and look around almost paranoid.

With Clay being your brother you always were very aware of what was happening around you. Clay made sure to teach you what he thought was necessary for you to know, that included the observation of everything around you and you’ve never been more thankful for it. It made you feel a tad more safe, especially now that you were walking around alone at night.

When you hear footsteps getting close to you you fish for your phone, never being more happy to have Clay on speed dial. You press your phone to your ear, your eyes glancing behind your shoulder. There was someone…

You decide to walk another way back home. One where you walk through the more populated areas of the town. While you try to keep an eye on your surroundings you wait for Clay to pick up. When he doesn‘t you suppress a curse and dial the next number. Sonny.

He would pick up, no? He is always on his phone anyway. But Sonny doesn’t pick up. You try to reach Clay again, then Sonny. They don’t answer.

“Fuck,” you breathe out, glancing behind you again. Whoever was walking behind you was surely following you. You’ve been taking other turns for the third time in a row now and they were still behind you.

You squint at your phone and take a deep breath. Without thinking twice about it you dial Trent’s number. You’re afraid you’ll break your phone with the grip you’re having on it but you try to keep calm. Clay prepared you for situations like this. Kinda.

“Trent? It’s me. Am I interrupting something?” you let out a relieved breath when he answers. “Could you do me a favor?” you’re even more relieved when he immediately answers with a yes. “I’m on my way back home from work and there’s someone follow-“ you can’t even finish your sentence before you hear him get up and grab his keys.

He asks you where you are and you quickly send him your live location. He promises you he’ll be there as fast as he can and your legs nearly give out from the sudden reassurance. You thank him over and over, quickening your steps once again.

“I’ll be there in 15,” you hear Trent say and you visibly relax. “Stay where you are, try to find a crowd or something close to that. I’m gonna stay in the line,” he explains and you nod, telling him you’ll do the best you can.

Your eyes scan the buildings surrounding you and then fall onto a small 24/7 shop. There surely was someone who could keep you company while Trent arrives, right?

“There’s a uh store,” you carefully say, your feet walking yourself over there almost by themselves. As expected Trent tells you to enter and look out for someone.

A small ‘ding’ signals you entering the store and you immediately start to hide between the shelves. And you were right to do so because only seconds later the bell rings again. You take a deep breath and grab one of the baking mixtures to look busy.

Then you call Trent’s name again. “I’m pretty sure they followed me into the store,” you quietly say, trying to glance around as unsuspiciously as possible. You pause for a second, the grip around the baking mix tightening. “Please tell me you’re here soon…”

“5 minutes,” he tells you, flooring the throttle of his truck. “5 minutes, then I’m there.” His grip on the steering wheel turns his knuckles white and he needs to keep himself calm more than ever.

On the battlefield he never was that nervous. His brothers could take care of themselves but you… You couldn’t.

Yes, Clay probably taught you basic self defense, he thinks but still. He could protect you better than you ever could…

When he arrives at your location he doesn’t bother properly parking his truck. He jumps out and tries to calmly walk towards the store but it‘s like his feet are itching.

He raises his phone, looking at the still ongoing call. „I‘m here,“ he tells you and then he opens the door. You‘re in his arms before he can even blink.

He stumbles two steps backwards before he can wrap his arms around you. „It‘s okay, it‘s okay,“ he says, his hand finding its way to the back of your head, keeping you close to him. „You’re not alone anymore.“

„God, that man was creepy,“ you breathlessly laugh, breaking the hug. You immediately miss the warmth Trent generated and heavily blush. „I‘m sorry for calling you so out of the blue-“ you want to apologize but he’s raising his hand to stop you.

„No, none of that. You can call me whenever you need. I‘m always there for you,“ he explains, looking you deep in the eyes. „Now, did you see the man? Do you know who he is?“

Trent‘s eyes narrow and the sparkling got replaced by a dangerous look. You shiver and swallow. You turn so you stand beside Trent and then you nod into the direction of a man. „That‘s him,“ you say. „He‘s been following me for at least three blocks.“

Trent looks at the man, then at you. „My truck‘s outside. Gimme three minutes and I‘ll join you there. I don‘t want you to witness this.“ He looks at you again and you nod.

„Okay. I‘ll go and wait…outside.“ You turn your back to Trent and leave, adrenaline pumping through your veins. You knew what he was gonna do. He‘ll nicely confront the man and probably calmly tell him to fuck off.

You stand beside his truck, already climbing in since it‘s still running and you can already see yourself patching up his bloody knuckles later. You sigh when you think about that. Sometimes you thought that he was just chasing trouble…

„Why are you looking at me like that?“ you mumble into your pillow, your eyes heavy with sleep.

„You’re pretty,“ Trent says and you can hear the smile in his voice. You quietly laugh and rub your eyes. Then you sit up in your bed and look at him. He sits on the floor, his back popped up against a wall.

„How long‘ve you been watching me?“ you want to know, smiling at him. He accompanied you home after the incident the night before and he refused to leave…

You offered him your couch, your bed even but he declined. So, he probably was awake the whole night, making sure you’re safe.

“I woke up about two hours ago,” he lies, placing his arms on his bent legs. “I made breakfast,” he then tells you, standing up with a low grunt. “Get ready, then we can eat.” He smiles before he leaves your room.

You quickly stand up and throw on some clothes before you rush to the bathroom to get ready. On the other side of your flat stood Trent in your kitchen, asking himself if he was going crazy.

He couldn’t think straight whenever he was with you and damn, it was showing. Telling you you look pretty while you just woke up? Watching you sleep in the first place? What the hell was he going through?

He wasn’t unfamiliar with being in love, that’s what brought him his two ex wives… So, he really wasn’t new to it but why was he acting so weird with you now? It shouldn’t be weird, no?

“You made all this?” your voice pulls him out of his thoughts and he looks at you. Fuck, you were even more beautiful now… How was he supposed to look past that and just…be normal?

„I did, yeah,“ he smiles, hiding his fidgeting hands behind his back. You grin up at him, the crinkles around your eyes showing and he just feels like he’s falling in love with you all over again.

„You didn‘t have to,“ you laugh, crossing your arms in front of your body. „This is- You didn‘t need to-“ you want to finish your sentence but Trent interrupts you. He gently leads you towards your table and pulls back a chair for you.

„I wanted to,“ he simply says. „Besides I already got the call that I need to leave soon, so I just wanted to make you happy before I and the team vanish for god knows how long again.“ He sits down opposite to you and fills your and his glass with orange juice.

„Will Clay pick you up?“ you ask, taking a sip of your orange juice. Trent shakes his head saying something about Clay not being allowed to know he was here and that Sonny wouldn‘t let him hear the end of it if he found out that he spent the night at yours.

You only laugh at that and continue to eat your breakfast. „I can drive you?“ you then suggest but he kindly denies.

„I can drive on my own Missy, don‘t worry. Besides, don’t you have to work today?“ Trent chews on his bread roll, curiously eying you but you just shake your head. You wouldn‘t need to work the next three days.

Your lungs sting as you run into the ER. You look around, panic in your eyes, your body shaking.

“Ma’am? Can we help you?” a young nurse asks, clearly worried. “Is everything okay?” She gently places a hand on your arm and your head snaps towards her.

“Clay Spenser. Where is he?” you rasp out, eyes teary. “I’ve been told he’s here.” Your voice breaks and the first tears run down your cheeks.

The nurse nods along and carefully leads you down a hallway. “I’m afraid we can’t help you but my colleague can surely tell you which room he is.” She smiles at you and you want to smile back but you just…can’t.

After half an hour of asking around you’re finally led to your brother’s room, your throat dry. You didn‘t know anything about his condition. Everything they told you was that he was being treated in the hospital.

„One of his friends is also in there,“ you’re informed as you come to a hold in front of the room. „We can ask him to leave at any moment though since he does not count as family.“

You only smile at the nurse. „No need for that. I…know him.“ You didn‘t know who of Bravo was with your brother right now but nevertheless you knew him. And besides, this team was family. They maybe didn‘t share the same DNA but the same blood was adorning their hands.

When the nurse was sure you were fine on your own she left you at the door, a comforting hand on your shoulder before she walked away. You stare at the door, taking a deep breath and opening it with trembling hands.

You pushed it open, your breath hitching when you notice all the monitors scattered around the room and the endless beeping of said machines.

You can see someone move and walk towards you in the corner of your eye. You know who it is when he lays his arms around you, pulling you into his embrace.

Trent doesn’t say a word while you cry, only holding you close and keeping a hand comfortingly on your back. He felt a bit helpless right now, not really knowing what to do but all you needed was just him holding you…

„Thank you for staying with him,“ you whisper after a couple moments, sniffing and breaking the hug. You want to wipe away your tears, feeling embarrassed for losing control like that but he gently wraps his hands around your wrists, pulling them away from your face.

You’re confused for a moment but then he pulls out a tissue and carefully starts to wipe away your tears. You feel like you could start to cry all over again.

„Thank you,“ you sniff again but he just shakes his head.

„You don‘t need to thank me.“ Then he pulls you into his arms again, planting a kiss on your head. „You both are family.“ Trent breaks the hug and cups your face with gentle hands.

„I know you’re scared for him right now,“ Trent glances into the direction of the bed where Clay was laying. „But he’s stable. He‘s pulling through. He’s a strong one.“

Your hand reaches out to place it over his, pulling them from your face and holding them in yours. You say nothing, only holding his hands and working up the courage to finally look at your brother.

„How did it happen?“ you ask, your voice almost being stuck in your throat.

„That’s…classified. I‘m sorry,“ Trent says in a quiet voice. „But, he’s got a couple of broken ribs, his lungs have seen better days and the fingers of his right hand are broken.“

Fresh tears gather in your eyes as you listen to Trent, letting go of him with trembling hands and walking towards Clay. „I told him that his job would demand its tribute sooner or later. He didn‘t listen…“ You sniff, carefully sitting down at the edge of the bed. „He never listens to me…“

“I thought you’d kill me as soon as I wake up,” Clay breathlessly laughs while you take a look at his bandages. He was currently laying on your couch, letting himself be treated by you.

“I would’ve,” you mumble. “If it weren’t for Trent.” You reach for the bandage tape and rip off a piece to place it over his arm brace so the bandage would stay in place.

Clay looks at you, tilting his head. “You like him, don’t you?” he then carefully asks and you halt for a second.

“What if I do?” you return the question, avoiding his gaze and fumbling with the tape in your hands.

You can feel your brother looking at you anyway, his eyes burning into your head. “I’d probably try and beat him up.”

“You would fail.”

“I know.” His hand reaches for yours and you finally look up. “I know what I told you when you first met them and…I still mean it but I can’t control who you love.” Clay pauses for a second, his gaze softening. “If you love him then so it be… Besides, he also has a thing for you but I think you know that already.” Clay starts to chuckle at the end of his sentence, his thumb carefully stroking the back of your hand.

“Guard your heart Missy. Don’t give it to the next best asshole.”

“Are you saying your friend is an asshole?” Your eyes widen with surprise.

“That’s not what I said!” Clay immediately shakes his head. “He’s a good guy—I know that for sure—but there are dudes who aren’t as amazing as lovely Trent. I’m asking you to be careful about them.”

You slightly smile before you sigh and stand up. “I don’t think you have to worry about me Clay. I’ll be fine as long as you don’t decide to run into a grenade anytime soon again.”

“I didn’t do it on purpose,” he grumbles, rolling his eyes in a joking manner. “Sonny said the path was clear.”

“You think he’s okay with this?” Trent carefully asks as he intertwines his fingers with yours.

“I don’t care what he thinks,” you reply, leaning against him, looking down at your hands. “I’m a grown up. I can do what I want.”

Trent chuckles, glancing at you with a gentle smile. “Do I need to expect the big-brother-talk?” He then wants to know. He needed to know what he needed to prepare for when he saw Clay again.

“More of a big-brother-beating,” you snort with a laugh. “I told him he’d lose and he knows it too but he wants to try anyway.”

“I promise I won’t be too hard on him,” Trent laughs, pressing a kiss to your head. “He’s still not cleared to operate so I need to look after him anyway.”

You don’t reply to that, only enjoying the moment, finally in Trent’s arms, without having to worry about anything in the world. You knew that sooner or later you’d be confronted by his job and its bad sides but right now you didn’t care about that.

You were with him and that was wall what you needed right now.

#writing #ao3 #fanfiction #archive of our own #story writing #seal team #seal team paramount #trent sawyer #brock reynolds #jason hayes #clay spenser #sonny quinn #scott carter #trent sawyer x reader #trent sawyer seal team #brock reynolds seal team #jason hayes seal team #clay spenser seal team #sonny quinn seal team

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scaryscarecrows · 7 months

Text

“--laughing?”

“--ne’s toxin neutralized it, but I want to be sure. I’m not risking a second Joker running around Gotham.”

“Sure we don’t need to check the brain? Like rabies?”

“We’ll see.” There’s the sound of someone tapping on glass. “I know you’re awake in there.”

That’s Jason’s voice, and Bruce feels cold. Crane’s toxin wasn’t enough. It was enough to hold this at bay, then, nothing more.

“You’re sure he’s awake, boss?” A new voice. Tired, smoker’s rasp. Not-Jason barks a laugh.

“Oh, yes.” More tapping. “The least you could do is look at me.”

The cowl is still on. He’s on the floor, but the cowl is still on. Where is he?

He can hear water outside, smell that odd clean scent of overly-filtered air, and taste the staleness of having been drugged. None of these things are useful to know.

“Did you two fail vocabulary tests as kids?” a new voice demands. “Stay down, I said. Those injuries are pretty nasty, I said. What about either of those things did you not understand?”

“I–”

“Have roughly the intelligence of a microwave, I know, now sit. Down.”

There’s two sets of heavy, shuffling steps followed by squeak-squeak and flop-thud. Bruce risks cracking his eyes open, just a tad, to try and see the goings-on.

Jason–Not-Jason?--is in a wheelchair. He knee’s in a brace and he’s wearing soft, loose clothing that doesn’t hide the shape of bandages around his torso. His companion, a blond man Bruce has seen a few times throughout Halloween, is in a desk chair, arm in a sling. Both of them are looking away from a third man that Bruce doesn’t recognize, a tall, dark-haired one looming over them.

“You fuck up that knee or rip any of those stitches and I’ll gut you,” he’s snarling. “And you! You’ve gotten maybe half the sleep you should and if I catch you trying to ‘start PT early’, I’ll cut the damn thing off, because clearly you’ve lost that privilege. Clear?”

“Aww, c’mon–”

“I’m fine, I’ve had worse–”

“Clear?”

They fall silent and finally mutter, “Clear.”

“Thank you,” the doctor says serenely. “Tests are still going, is why I came looking for you. Computer says another six hours, easy.”

“Mm.” Not-Jason drops his head back to look at the ceiling. “No early signs of anything?”

“Not yet. So go back to bed, someone will tell you if things get interesting.”

Not-Jason clearly pretends he didn’t hear that in favor of looking back at Bruce.

“How long were you hiding it?”

Bruce is silent. It’s the only way to come out of the hallucinations eventually, is to not play into them. But this isn’t the usual. In the past, when it’s been Jason, he’s been either hurt and begging for help, or furious. This one is…clinical.

No, no, he’s angry: when Bruce doesn’t answer, he shoves himself out of the wheelchair, dodges what Bruce guesses is the doctor, and stalks over to lean against the glass.

“I know you’re awake, asshole. Answer me: how long were you hiding it?”

Joker’s not here yet. All this is oddly linear, actually. Very immersive. It would be fascinating if it weren’t so dangerous. He takes a quick peek at his hands. Still Batman’s gauntlets, not Joker’s gloves. Good.

He looks back up at Not-Jason and just…looks. Not-Jason looks tired, so very tired, and what would have been injuries from Deathstroke are prominent, but apart from that, he looks…better than he did in Joker’s tape. His breathing’s steadier and he doesn’t have his eyes glazed over from pain and drugs and fear.

He’s still angry, though: when Bruce doesn’t answer, he slams his hand against the glass with a resounding wham!

“Want me to call Trent?” the blond asks. Not-Jason turns away with a sneer and doesn’t shake the doctor off when the man steps over to grab his arm.

“No. I don’t want anyone going in there until those tests come back.”

“That include you?”

Not-Jason sinks back into the wheelchair.

“Yes.”

“Good. Let’s go, assholes, visiting hours are over–stay down, you’re getting a ride.”

“I want a ride,” the blond gripes.

“Too bad. Get moving.”

Bruce watches them leave and hopes the hallucination will be over now.

#jason todd #antoine drouot #mark jones #bruce wayne #arkhamverse #scaryverse #ficlet #eh who am i kidding it'll all come together eventually

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cssiop · 1 year

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LA VIE EN ROSE… trent alexander-arnold

part eight

trent buys white roses every week in maisie's flower shop, becoming her favourite customer.

trent alexander-arnold x fem!oc word count: 2.2k

other parts

the weeks have passed and their dates have followed, as have the bouquets of pink roses that trent keeps offering her. but recently, with all the boy's travels, they haven't been able to see each other for almost two weeks —an eternity for the two lovebirds. maisie finds herself impatient on her front porch, waiting for trent to arrive.

however, tonight something is different: maisie sees red. the huge bouquet of roses blocking the boy's vision is red, and the flower girl is left panting for long seconds, unable to make a sound. who would have bet that a colour similar to the girl's heart would move her so?

"good evening, i have a special delivery for a certain miss belrose, do you happen to know her?" trent's head finally appears on the side after he tilts it and the young woman's surprise gives way to a tender laugh after his joke.

she walks down the few steps that separate her from him but instead of grabbing the red roses in her hands, maisie throws herself into his arms without any warning. with a laugh, trent lets out a small cry of surprise before responding to her embrace with his free hand. both of her arms are wrapped vigorously around his neck and she doesn't seem to want to let him go. trent doesn't complain and instead tightens his grip around her waist.

bundled up together in full winter gear, maisie feels like she's melting on a mattress, wrapped in a warm duvet; it's trent. he gives that impression of softness and tenderness, not only in his facial features but also in the way he acts. he never makes a sudden move in her company, or says anything out of line, no. the only time she hears him raise his voice is when he bursts out laughing at one of her jokes that only he finds funny.

the snowflakes around them seem to fall in slow motion and maisie closes her eyelids with a relieved sigh, reassured to feel him close to her. with his nose buried in her neck, trent takes the opportunity to leave small kisses on her skin, burning with shivers, that do not fail to make the girl's heart capsize as she clings to him more.

bringing her lips to his ear, she finally whispers, "i've missed you."

"i've missed you too, sweetheart," the nickname he calls her is enough to make maisie's knees weak and he must stop doing that quickly, or she will fall further in love.

finally peeling themselves away from each other, maisie is struck by the bitter cold that contrasts with the reassuring warmth of trent's muscular arms. still keeping their faces close, trent lets out a chuckle when a flake lands on the tip of maisie's nose. wiping it off with his glove, he takes the opportunity to wrap his hands around her cheeks.

"hi," he says quietly with a silly grin on his lips; the same one maisie wears.

"hi," she returns his greeting, burying her chin in her scarf to hide the red that rises to her cheeks at the feeling she gets from his hands on them, "you can kiss me now."

without having to be asked twice, trent melts against her lips and in perfect synchronicity, maisie returns the kiss with as much sweetness as he offered her through it. even though they'll surely be late for the reservation he made, trent doesn't care; her lips taste too good for him to pull away from her. however, they eventually run out of oxygen and now kissing only their foreheads together, he smiles widely at the girl.

the bouquet of red roses lands under maisie's eyes and she blushes as she accepts the boy's gift. her smile stretches even wider when she notices the hundreds of white flakes that have settled on the petals as they were kissing passionately. it may seem insignificant, but to the florist, it makes perfect sense; the red and white bouquets signify reunification.

"no one has ever given me red roses before, thank you, trent," she breathes out, and bringing his fingers to her face, he tucks back some of the strands that have escaped from the girl's cap.

"well, i'm very happy to be the first then, and know that i'll be the last too," he wouldn't stand for any other man than him to offer her red roses, or roses at all.

as if it were possible, maisie's smile stretches even wider and she nods; she too wants him to be the last one. as they gaze at each other in love, time seems to slow down so that they can appreciate the sweetness of the moment all the more. trent takes the opportunity to observe the florist with the bouquet in her hands and he thinks to himself that he's probably never seen anyone that pretty in his twenty-four years of existence.

"you know what, i thought pink was your colour, but red suits you even better," trent's compliment causes so many butterflies in her belly that she turns as red as the flowers in the bouquet.

"get in the car," she nudges him with her shoulder to hide her embarrassment and trent lets a hearty laugh echo through the air.

"after you, miss belrose," a line of chills runs up her spine at his nickname and it takes her a few seconds to get in through the door he holds wide open just for her.

the gentleness and chivalry he shows always leave her puzzled, never having been used to it. it's the little things; the way he opens the car door for her and the way he pulls out her chair at the restaurant for her to sit on. but also, the fact that he always positions himself outside the curb, or his recent confession in which he told her that he always made sure that there were no thorns left on each bouquet of roses he gave her, at the risk of her getting hurt. trent knows how clumsy maisie can be.

it's the little things. but these little things had resulted in much bigger things; maisie is in love with trent. and when she sees the glittering look in his eyes, she thinks that there is a good chance that he is too.

on the way to the restaurant, maisie can't take her eyes off trent; a big smile on her lips and a bouquet of red roses resting on her legs.

…

after their date, which had once again gone perfectly, and while neither of them wanted to part with the other, preferring to let the evening go on, trent had invited maisie to his home. unable to refuse, she had found herself taking a tour of his house, trent claiming that he had 'something to show her'. having already set foot in his house many times, the girl wondered what was left to discover.

pressing his fingers on the light switch, the lights awaken the smaller version of a football field in the room and maisie lets her mouth twist into a surprised 'o'. the temperature much warmer than outside, she takes the opportunity to slip her coat off her shoulders before tucking it between her two arms crossed over her stomach. her heels click on the floor as she moves slowly forward, observing her surroundings as trent looks at her with a loving smile.

"what? you don't have a flower shop at home?" arching an eyebrow, he laughs fondly and maisie rolls her eyes.

"excuse me, mister i-am-a-footballer," joking, it's only as she scans her gaze more diligently that she notices the studs set up on the ground as well as the two outfits. a tender smile dancing on her lips, she questions, "you set all this up for me?"

nodding shyly, trent confirms, "of course, i told you i had to teach you. i'm a man of my word," his hand brought to his chest, where his heart is, she laughs as she feels hers melt under his repeated attentions. "ok, here!" the player exclaims as he tosses her some of the more appropriate gear for the sporting activity they were about to embark on.

as soon as she is changed, he begins to explain the major rules of football to her; maisie is now an expert in corners, free kicks, offsides and penalties. once all this theoretical information has been recorded, the boy decides to move on to practice and the bad shots from the florist follow one another under her curses. but to the great pleasure of the boy who watches her get irritated, a laugh on his lips.

"it's not funny! how do you manage to do it the first time and i'm struggling? i'm fed up," an almost capricious pout draws the features of her face and the player shakes his head, laughing at her impatience.

"the key is practice," laying the ball at her feet once again, trent gives her some more directions, ordering the girl to shoot in the top right corner.

a long sigh escapes her pursed lips and she stands ready —even if she has little faith in it. yet, to her surprise, the ball lands perfectly where trent has indicated, caressing the net to perfection.

"trent! i scored!" maisie almost yells as she raises her arms victoriously in the air, and he laughs as he opens his eyes wide, waiting for her to hug him.

immediately throwing herself into his arms, the boy takes a step backwards, wrapping his hands around her waist, and nestles his face in her neck. her brown hair falls over his face, but he couldn't care less. smelling her delicate scent and feeling her body resting against his do him a world of good.

"i scored, can you believe it?" maisie breathes, then pulls away from him so she can look him in the eye better, "you're a great coach, really. if football ever stops working for you, you know what to do," finally breaking away from him, she starts to place the ball back on the penalty spot, a renewed motivation running through her entire body.

trent follows the girl, looking at her with admiration. with her red jersey, her cheeks coloured the same shade by the effort and her hair twirling, she looks like an angel.

"i don't know how you guys do to run ninety minutes, my body could never," maisie has her foot on the ball, ready to shoot again but she turns back to trent one last time to question him, "how many hours do you practice per week to achieve this level of athleticism? thirty hours?" her eyebrows furrow even more as she looks at him, "or maybe forty i don't—"

"i love you," trent breathes out, and when he realizes what he just said, he bites his lips hard.

he's been thinking about telling her for some time, and he finds himself surprised that the three little words came out at this moment. yet, despite his fear of her reaction, he appreciates the weight lifted from his shoulders since his confession. however, when maisie's eyebrows furrow after the boy's words, trent feels a small knot bind in the pit of his stomach.

"you really had to say that to me when i look like this," with both hands, she points at her attire in a falsely irritated tone, regretting the long black dress and high heels she took off an hour earlier.

a smirk appears on trent's lips and he begins to observe her more carefully. in her oversized grey jogging suit, his 66 shirt on her back, her cheeks flushed and her hair in disarray, maisie has never looked better.

"you're perfect," he declares, still smiling, and the girl is forced to let down every barrier. looking into his eyes with a breathtaking smile, trent truly feels like the luckiest man in the world.

"more kisses, less talk," maisie jokes as she takes a few steps towards him.

trent doesn't hesitate, he moves closer and gently presses his lips to hers. the contact causes a wave of emotion to ripple through her, as it always does, and their mingled breaths result in her losing her mind. seconds later, trent's hands begin to roam over her waist before he places them just above the hem of her jogging suit. maisie smirks against his mouth, and they continue to kiss passionately without the slightest desire to pull away.

"okay," trent finally catches his breath and breaks away from her, pushing her towards the goal, "go take the penalty now, top left corner this time."

maisie acquiesce before smiling as she reaches for the ball still on the ground and trent watches her do so, still shaken by what just happened.

with her foot on it, ready to take the shot, she suspends her gesture and turning back to him one last time, declares with a voice full of emotion, "and by the way, i love you too, trent."

epilogue

#football #football fanfic #football imagine #liverpool fc #football imagines #liverpool #trent alexander arnold #trent alexander arnold fanfic #trent alexander arnold imagine

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fvcking-damage · 9 months

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thank u for tagging me @fruityswaymark ily sm

name: ryan!!

pronouns: i honestly use all pronouns so whatever you want to call me i’m chill. they, he, she— i really don’t care! you can use one! all! two! i’m genderfluid so unless i’m feeling one of those more strongly i’m real chill about it tbh

where do you call home?: méxico baby

favorite animals: frogs and birds :)

cereal of choice: cookie crisp my beloved! if not my second option is always choco krispis

are you visual, auditory or kinesthetic learner?: i am more of a visual learner! i have to see it and visualize in my head to learn

first pet: i had a blue budgie named rammy :)

favorite scent: if it’s just a smell i loooove how grapefruit smells. if it’s like a perfume my favorite is moschino’s i love love

do you believe in astrology?: i don’t! :p

how many playlists do you have in apple music/spotify?: just the ones i’ve made i have 43. i have playlists for everything

sharpies or highlighters?: sharpies sharpies sharpies

song that makes you cry: i just wanna sell out my funeral - the wonder years

song that makes you happy: dancing in the moonlight - king harvest

and finally: do you draw/write/create?: yes! i write and i draw sometimes but i’ve been mostly focusing on writing now :D

no pressure tags!! @lindholmline @waggle100 @five4boarding @earth-to-sway @trent-frederics-left-glove @munch4march @the-goon-tm

#misc #ryan rambles

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regaliasonata · 11 months

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Artic-Ethan Sketch

Finally drew Ethan in the Artic Thunder Au, he's very attentive when it comes to building things and life itself. Stemmed from his own upbringing in the world.

Outfit wise he has more of a formal style with somewhat researcher vibes. Like his gloves have holographic keyboards and he can even trace nanotechnology and strings with the tips.

I also gave him dreads because dude is stylish, they're white in color because of an accident from his childhood. His outfit has a lot of edges and points based off the triceratops, like his glasses and the Yanma Gust openings for his trench coat.

Also his coat has a triceratops design like Yukita from Abaranger. (If there's any confusion Ethan here has a big collars shirt underneath, he can button it up if he wants but I like him extra✨️😎)

As for some details on his powers like Conner's time dilation and Kira's matter frequency Ethan also has an extra branch in his powers. Like in Abaranger on Blizz-Earth humans have abilities dubbed "Dino Guts", here the team can add them to their ranger powers for new ones.

Artic-Ethan's hard skin can branch into particle solidification, like taking the strength of his skin and adding the pressure elsewhere. So like making explosive atoms or maybe a forecfield etc.

With Hayley they both act as the brains of the team when needed, Ethan is also very outgoing and tries to give his support wherever. Especially with Conner who's been through a lot.

Here's the main trio together, I'll color them later

Trent and Tommy are next

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purinfelix · 5 months

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my baby takes the morning train ͙͘͡★⸝⸝

pairing: trent alexander-arnold x reader (established relationship) summary: your boyfriend insists on accompanying you on your morning commute, despite your warnings warnings: tiny bit of angst, but mostly just trent being stupid <33 w/c: 1k

a/n: yes this is based off of the sheena easton song what abt it 🙈 also ngl cant believe this is my first time writing for trent ... i just love him so much y'all he's just so boyfriend

“Trent, you don’t have to do this you know.”

“Yeah but, I want to baby.”

“You want to spend one of your only days off,” you pause to stress your words, and your slight confusion “travelling with me to work?”

“Not travelling, escorting you to work,” he corrects you.

You can’t help but break into a smile at his wording as the two of you make your way to the train station. You appreciate the gentleman-like charm behind his intentions, but still can’t fully understand why he’s so insistent on wasting the morning of his rest day on a stuffy train with you. But then again, you’re not going to stop him since you’d be lying if the commute you make every morning wasn’t starting to grow a little boring, and a little lonely.

“You do realise it’s going to be peak hour, so it’ll be really busy. And don’t blame me if you get lost or something in the underground platforms alright,” you chime out.

“You’re making it out to seem like some serious mission, I’m a pro-footballer, I think I’ll manage just fine,” he shoots back, his tone tinged with that cockiness you’ve come to be annoyingly endeared by.

“Whatever you say,” you sigh, pulling your bag a little higher on your shoulder as the two of you weave your way through the busy street.

And as you do, you realise you might’ve overexaggerated how bad it was since the usually glum morning sky has given way to what you think might be the only sunny morning you’ve seen all month. Children pass by, giggling on their way to school, and you can hear bakers and bookstore owners getting ready for the day ahead. And to finish it off, you feel your boyfriend slink his gloved hand into yours, squeezing it tight.

You make your way down the station steps, letting out a frustrated sigh at the sight of the bustling crowd. Working in the heart of the city means having to travel during peak hour, when trains get full and stations fuller, and even after almost a year of this you still haven’t rid the sense of dread that fills you at the sight. You let go of Trent’s hand for a minute to pull out your travel card. The motion has become routine to the point where you don’t even have to think about tapping it and slipping easily through the gates.

Your eyes are busy scanning the station boards to figure out when the next train is, reaching your hand out to reconnect with your boyfriend. That is, until your hands grip onto nothing and your brows furrow in confusion. Whipping your head around, you spot your boyfriend a few steps behind. Your field of view is busied by what feels like a thousand bodies moving past you but you can make out that he’s still behind the gates. Frustration at the morning rush leaves you when you see him standing there like a lost kitten, a small laugh erupting from within you. You have to remind yourself that, whilst travelling comes to you as a second nature, your boyfriend isn’t the same.

Hurrying over to him, you try to hide how funny you think this is when you spot his expression, equal parts lost and annoyed, not wanting to embarrass him.

“The blue card, tap it against the yellow circle then walk through,” you have to shout the instructions a little over the surrounding bustle. He does as you say though, but for some reason, the gates make an angry-sounding buzz, an error, only making your laugh louder and his frustration grow.

“Hey, don’t laugh okay!” His own brows furrow as he tries a couple more times, met only with the same buzz. An angry groan escapes him as he slams the card down one last time, finally succeeding as the gates fling open and he steps through. His face lights up at finally being reunited with you, and you can’t help but throw your arms around him, burying your face into your chest as a fit of giggles escapes your lips.

“Not so easy, hm?” you tease.

“C'mon, you’re going to be late baby,” he says through a smile, patting your head gently. You nod, grabbing his hand, tighter this time, before half-leading half-dragging him to your platform.

You both rush down the steps and manage to just slip between the train doors just as they begin to close, letting out a sigh of relief. Due to how busy the train is, you find yourself pressed up against your boyfriend’s chest, with him leaning against the train doors.

Normally, being in a train carriage stuffed to the brim with people like this would unsettle you a little, cause your heart rate to spike or your palms start to sweat. Something about the small space, the feeling of hurtling through a dark tunnel, the claustrophobic feeling of being pushed from all sides, is overwhelmingly suffocating. Even so, you don’t feel that at all.

In fact, you don’t even have the time to register how busy the train is as you feel your boyfriend's arms wrap around you, pulling you even closer to him. Instinctively, you tilt your head upwards to lock eyes with him, a small smile spread across both of your faces.

To be honest, maybe it wasn’t the fact that you were worried about him getting lost in the underground tunnels that had made you so adamant about your boyfriend not accompanying you. Instead, it was more so the feeling of inadequacy that threatened to eat you up whole at any mention of your boring day job, especially in comparison to his.

But now, as you listen to the rhythmic hum of the train over its tracks, you can't help but feel a small sense of pride at being able to share a tiny bit of your world with him. Even if it wasn’t nearly as interesting, or exciting as his, it was yours nonetheless.

And he made it clear that he appreciated it too, by bending down to press a soft kiss to your forehead, lingering for a little as if to silently say ‘thank you for letting me exist here, with you’.

#trent alexander arnold #trent alexander arnold x you #trent alexander arnold x reader #trent alexander arnold fluff #trent alexander arnold fic #football fanfic #football fluff #fanfic #football #liverpool fc #lfc #purinfelix #jet writes ★

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your-mail · 2 years

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Golden Boot: Mohamed Salah and Son Heung-min finish as Premier League's top scorers

Liverpool forward Mohamed Salah and Tottenham's Son Heung-min will share the Premier League's Golden Boot award after finishing the season tied on 23 goals.

Egyptian Salah began the final day one goal clear of the South Korean at the top of the scoring charts.

Son scored twice in Tottenham's 5-0 win at Norwich but Salah struck late on as the Reds beat Wolves 3-1.

It is the third time Salah has won the award.

He previously claimed the Golden Boot in 2017-18, when he scored 32 times, and in 2018-19 season, when he finished with 22 goals.

In the latter case, Salah was involved in a three-way tie at the top of the scoring charts alongside his Liverpool team-mate Sadio Mane and then-Arsenal forward Pierre-Emerick Aubameyang.

Salah's total of 23 goals this season includes one hat-trick, which he scored in a 5-0 win at Manchester United on 24 October.

Twenty of his strikes had come by 12 March but his scoring form tailed off after that, with two in a 4-0 win at home to Manchester United on 19 April and one more against Wolves.

Mohamed Salah

Mohamed Salah scored in seven Premier League games in a row between August and October

In contrast to Salah's finish to the season, Son struck nine times in his last 10 games, including six in his final five, to shoot up the scoring charts.

He managed one hat-trick this season, in a 4-0 win at Aston Villa in April.

"It's incredible to have this award," Son said. "I can't believe it. I got really emotional. I dreamed of it as a child. Literally it's my in hands. I can't believe it."

Ederson and Alisson share Golden Glove

Manchester City goalkeeper Ederson and Liverpool number one Alisson share the Golden Glove award after finishing the season on 20 clean sheets each.

Ederson has missed just one game for the Premier League champions this term - a 2-0 win over Burnley in October - while Alisson was only absent for the Reds' 5-0 win at Watford in October and the 2-2 draw at Stamford Bridge in January.

The duo finish ahead of Tottenham goalkeeper Hugo Lloris, who ends the campaign on 17 clean sheets.

Ederson was the outright winner of the award in each of the past two campaigns, while Alisson won the award in 2018-19.

Playmaker of the Season

The Premier League's Playmaker of the Season award, which was introduced in 2017-18 for the player with the most assists, also goes to Salah.

The Egyptian ends the season on 13 assists, one better than his Liverpool colleague Trent Alexander-Arnold.

Salah has now reached double figures for goals and assists in four of his five league campaigns at Anfield. The only time he failed to do so was in 2020-21, when he only set up five league goals.

Salah's Liverpool team-mate Andrew Robertson, Chelsea's Mason Mount and West Ham's Jarrod Bowen all finish the campaign on 10 assists.

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songofwizardry · 3 years

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after everything is done, the mighty nein stay with each other.

not all the time, of course—but they have Sending spells, and letters, and at one point Essek gets hold of an extra sending stone, but still. they stay together.

Caduceus visits them all, one by one. makes the long journey down to Nicodranas, and meets Jester and Fjord and Kingsley on the beach. he brings dried fruits from his garden. they picnic in the shade of the Wildmother's lighthouse. he finds work to do wherever he wanders—there are hundreds of people, dozens of towns, in need of a healer, or someone to help with a farm, or someone to listen to them through their grief. the Wildmother occasionally guides him, the winds urging head East, or, find this gnome in this town. usually, though, he lets his feet guide him.

Fjord and Jester make their way up, down, the Menagerie Coast. after so long in the Empire and the Dynasty, they both find they've missed the coast they grew up on. Fjord picks up new crew, sometimes—young people looking for work on the docks, older ones who give obviously-fake names and don't answer questions. he pays them fairly, and teaches them the ropes, and treats them with kindness as someone once treated him with kindness, and lets the salt water and sea-air do their work. Jester finally sees Port Damali, and Feolinn, and Port Zoon, and they are lovely, even if she still thinks Nicodranas is the best. she leaves dicks in temples and on street corners, and once or twice, she sees a green-cloaked figure admiring her work. she sends messages every day, working her way through their family—just updates, about the dragon turtle they just saw, or how Kingsley is trying his hand at painting, or about the new crew members they've picked up.

the two of them find trinkets wherever they go. it starts off as a joke, Fjord saying, oh, we should definitely buy that box of buttons for Veth, I can tell her we found Buttonbeard. but then they keep going—a book of Lucidian folk-tales for Caleb, a strange pepper plant for Caduceus, an ocean-blue set of fighters' gloves for Beau. wherever they go, they find something that reminds them of their family, and they bring it back.

an expositor's work is never done, so Beau ends up back in Rexxentrum or Zadash at least once a year, often more (and maybe she goes back more often than she strictly needs to, but nobody needs to know that). she sees the house Caleb's found, a small place, not on the academy grounds, but close enough. she stays a few nights, and watches Caleb light the stove with a snap of steady fingers, and is introduced to a loud, demanding black cat, who doesn't have Frumpkin's infinite patience for their bullshit.

the seeds Caduceus gave her serve Yasha well. she goes back to the Blooming Grove in the spring, spends time with the Clays. learns more about the earth. gets more seeds. she and Caduceus spend time together, walking the grounds, tending the plants, tilling, and they don't say much.

when Marion goes back to Nicodranas, they all visit. Jester stays for the longest time, bouncing between spending time with her mother and teaching Luc prank ideas catching up with the Brenattos, but eventually, all of the Nein end up there. they take over several rooms of the Chateau, and stay up far too late (and let Luc stay up far too late with them), swapping stories and sharing drinks: Is Vandran re-reading Tusk Love again? You need to introduce him to more literature! and Wait, so when you say you and Essek were stuck in a snowstorm without the tower, that to-tally means you had to cuddle for warmth, right? and Did you actually just... walk to Uthodurn, Caduceus?

they don't let Essek disappear for long. sure, he does eventually drop off the face of Exandria, researching this or that, at one point sneaking back into the Dynasty to see his brother, but he always shows up again. Jester sends him messages. he and Caleb keep up a continuous stream of letters, eventually finding magical means to get them to each other faster. and with Teleportation spells, he's always visiting—a week in Rexxentrum, heavily disguised; almost a month with Caduceus, using his rose-patterned gardening gloves; a brief stint in Nicodranas, helping out at the Brenatto Alchemists. (a few years after Aeor, he spends more time in Rexxentrum. stays a month. then two. then six. then a year. eventually, he and Caleb get a second cat. and he cannot stay forever, but he still stays.)

for the first time in his life, Caleb has time. and so he takes it. slowly, he walks the streets of Rexxentrum, learning to love it again (he's not sure if he ever really stopped loving it). he works, slowly, with Beauregard—it might take their whole lives to dismantle the mess of power and abuse that the Assembly is; it will probably take even longer. but he keeps at it anyway. he goes back and forth between the Academy and the Soul; when Beau combs through questionable documents, Caleb asks questions; when the mages of the Academy and Assembly hold meetings, Caleb goes to them and keeps his eyes on the Martinet.

he starts teaching. he's not sure about it, at first—the Academy hurt, not just him, but so many others. but with Trent gone, he thinks—there can be a change. and he wants to feel the joy of new magic again, to watch new eyes come alight with it, he wants to show people how it can be used to help, and heal, and love, instead of hurt. so he starts teaching. it's joyous, and energising, and exhausting, and he watches his students – his students – all the while, for the slightest hint that they are being hurt, or forced, or coerced, or trained into something they don't want to be. he watches them grow, and learn. he pushes the envelope of treason, just a bit, talks of magic and wonder beyond the empire and its structures. and with every group, he teaches them the spell find familiar.

the Brenattos open up a new apothecary in Nicodranas. it's bigger, and brighter, and busier than the one in Felderwin—they get more herbs and more customers here, and with both Yeza and Veth in the lab, they're soon coming up with new concoctions, experimenting together. when Veth gets the itch in her bones (and she does, numerous times), she tracks down one of the nein, and wanders with them for a bit—visiting Rumblecusp with Beau and Yasha, a trip investigating Halas' halls with Caleb, a few weeks on the Lucidian ocean. she never stays long, and she always comes home. she hasn't broken that promise yet.

Luc grows up on the coast, and learns to swim. sometimes, she joins him.

when they get a house, she and Yeza – by unspoken agreement – find a place with two extra rooms, a sitting room large enough for several people to fit on the floor, and a garden. Yeza's food is almost as good as Caduceus', so it's no surprised that the nein come and visit, often. Yasha helps them grow beds of flowers in the garden. Jester and Fjord bring all manner of strange mementoes from the oceans. when the academy is closed, Caleb stays for months on end, helping her teach the teenagers of Nicodranas basic cantrips and how to pick locks during the day (we are unleashing a menace, he warns her, but he's smiling), and reading to Luc in the evenings.

they gather, together, in her house, too. sometimes for a special occasion (she and Yeza renew their vows in the garden), but often, for no reason at all. just to be together. there is space for all nine of them—she made sure of that. they talk, and laugh, and fall asleep in a chaotic pile in the Brenatto's living room.

in a few days, they will embrace, and separate, and head back to whatever they've been doing. but they will come back together, eventually.

after everything, the mighty nein stay together.

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larsisfrommars · 3 years

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Caleb & Fjord: Secretly One of The BEST Relationships in Campaign 2

I’m not a widofjord shipper and I will probably never be.

But-

This relationship was SO underrated and I love it so so much and I think it has more moments than most people think.

I can’t stop thinking about:

How insanely supportive Caleb is of Fjord in particular when they were dealing with Uka’toa. Even when the others were starting to grow a bit concerned. Like of course Caleb supported everyone, but Fjord’s path was the strangest, morally dubious, and riskiest of them all.

Caleb’s reaction when Fjord lost his powers. Honestly I can think of few stronger images of intense platonic love both at the table and in-game than the pantomime of Caleb/Liam putting the Glove of Blasting on Travis/Fjord’s hand. It was so intimate and brotherly and just, sopping with love. It made me feel things I wasn’t expecting (No Wonder Travis got all teary-eyed during that scene!).

How Fjord almost never pries about other people’s pasts but, in seeing a kindred spirit, pushed a little harder to figure Caleb out than he had with others.

But wait there’s more!

“Let’s make this work” “we’ll make it work.” some of their first words to each other after they became an “official” group.

Caleb catching and calling out Fjord for faking his voice, and Fjord making note of how Caleb was the first to figure it out, aside from Jester who already knew.

The green beans and destiny conversation with the Wildbrothers and Caleb.

Shedding blood onto Deschilla’s sacrificial pyre “just to see what happens”

“Our pasts are always with us.” When Fjord confides in the others about being bullied as a kid.

Fjord being super ready to throw down with Trent from the get go (especially, after finding out what happened to Caleb) and protecting Caleb from Eadwulf in that final confrontation.

How many times they’ve saved each other in super clutch “is he at one hit point?” moves. (Firewall when Fjord was almost slaughtered by brainwashed Yasha, getting Caleb the fuck out of dodge during the Avantika fight, Caleb counter spelling the dimension door when the Scion was trying to take Fjord’s body away, Fjord counterspelling Trent’s dimension door to escape, and so on)

There is SO 👏🏻 MUCH 👏🏻 STUFF! 👏🏻

I think Fjord and Caleb’s relationships to each other are as important as Fjord’s relationships with Jester and Caduceus, and Caleb’s relationships with Veth and Beau. The key things that separate their relationship from those important ones is that they understand each other in ways those relationships can’t provide for either of them. Not from any lack of love or desire to understand, it’s just that Fjord and Caleb are SO similar.

They both have pasts they’d much rather forget. They both have self loathing issues, they both struggle with selfish ambition. They both crave and lost/lacked parental love, they were both abused by powers much greater than themselves. They both inspire and lead the group with their unique leadership qualities, and they’re both the most prepared (aside from Beau) to make really tough moral decisions. Hell, they’ve both got the whole in-love-with-Jester-but-unwilling-to-tell-her Thing. I’d say Fjord beat him to the punch but Caleb wasn’t gonna try in the first place (besides, I think he’ll be happier w/ Essek but that’s a whole other topic).

I think they have the strongest and quietest bond for it, because they are acutely aware of each other’s similarities. I can’t imagine that, had they been in each other’s shoes in each other’s pasts, they would’ve done much differently. I love watching them carefully dance around their darker natures as to not feed into each other like what happened in Deschilla’s Lair. I love watching them confide in each other and heal in parallel ways. I love watching them.

People love talking about how Essek/Caleb are “recognition of the self in the other” but I think, in a more platonic and subtle way, Fjord and Caleb fit the bill too. I love their dynamic for that.

#critical role #Cr spoilers #meta #fjord stone #Caleb widogast #fjord cr #Caleb cr #Caleb and fjord #underrated relationship #I’m sure I could find more moments but this post is long enough as it is #long post #cr c2e141

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maxiemumdamage · 2 years

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And we’re doing the final episode!! I’m crying over it once again and I’m fine with that.

She was surprised to see Viktor crying.

Very excited by the “selfish” comment, either she agrees or just wants to see Yuuri fired up.

“That man is speaking French!” (When Stéphane Lambiel has his cameo. She got very excited when I told her who it was! She followed real world skating a few years ago enough to recognize him.)

“I’m glad his girlfriend loves himself anyway” (about JJ. She definitely came to like him by the end!)

She keyed on to the fact the skaters go in reverse order.

“YOUNG CELESTINO LOOKS LIKE TRENT CRIMM, THE INDEPENDENT” (She’s right. I can’t unsee it now.)

She gasped when Phichit touched down.

“Who’s that?” (When Seung-Gil comes back. Followed by “there’s too many characters!”)

She thinks Phichit’s dream is really cute!! She loves him, and the fact his program seemed to have little nods to his culture.

Re:Viktuuri tensions: “Why are you guys being so weird?”

At Yuuri’s speech: “What is this behavior?”

She GASPED at Viktor’s provocation about the lack of gold, then said “nice.” She’s having fun.

At the start of the program: “Oh, now he gets shitty animation! They must have really run out of money.”

“Oh, so he’s gotta be perfect because he wants Viktor to continue to skate.”

She laughed with delight when Yuuri nailed the quad flip! And just amusement at his victory pose.

She laughed at Viktor’s “ultimate diss” comment. She thought it was hilarious he got so worked up at his student and friend winning.

She thinks Chris’s deep voice combined with his baby face is ridiculous.

“God I hate that costume.”

CACKLING at Minako’s blushing at Chris.

She was upset that Viktor interrupted Yurio and Yakov at first, but seemed interested later on.

“I like Viktor better now because he’s so supportive of the other skaters.”

She cheered for Otabek!!

“This is real music” about Yurio’s FS song.

She was so worried when he fell!

She loved Nikolai being supportive even at a distance.

She laughed at Yurio’s mental declaration of war to Yuuri.

“I like when they show how exhausted the skaters are in the end. Especially since they make it look so effortless in real life.”

She cooed at Yuuri’s medal offer, then laughed at Viktor’s response.

“Guess you’ll just have to kiss Yuuri!”

She was so distressed when the ad break happened — “Is there more? Is there a kiss? That’s not how you end a season!!” (I assured her there was more to come.)

She looked so into it when the Stammi Vicino pair skate started. I forgot it was included in the episode, so that was a nice surprise for me too.

When Viktor skates on: “Oh, then that’s fine [for an ending].”

“Sweet. I liked it.”

Bonus reactions to “Welcome to the Madness!”

“HAH!!” XD (repeatedly)

“Oh my god the eyeliner.”

“See I don’t like the glove bit because it feels sexual and I was happy with just Yurio having a friend.”

(When I explained it was a DVD extra) “They actually had time and money for this and you can really tell.”

So overall, I think Snarly liked Yuri on Ice!! She’s definitely more willing to talk skating with me now, so I’m counting it as a success. This really did make me bitter about the lack of continuation (WHERE IS ICE ADOLESCENCE MAPPA?), but the show was beautiful in itself. And now I have the real-world Skate America to obsess over, so there’s that at least.

Thanks for reading, y’all!

#snarly reacts to yoi #yuri!! on ice #yuri on ice #yoi #viktor nikiforov #yuuri katsuki #viktuuri #stammi vicino #welcome to the madness

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lemons-are-tasty · 2 years

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The Hair Dye Fiasco

This is apart of the Adopted Bravo AU, so I hope you enjoy

Metal was 14 the first time he dyed his hair, it was a bright, bright yellow and he loved it, it was one of the first times he could express himself without violence or destruction, one of the only times he has ever been this happy and felt this free was when he did art.

Metal had just come home from the drug store with a brand new box of hair dye in his hands, he shouted across the house for his mom.

Clay and Brock appeared from behind the corner

"She's not here right now, do you need help?" Clay questioned

Metal showed them the box of hair dye and told them he need mom's help with his hair and he asked when she would be back.

"She said she won't be back 'till tomorrow night but we could help if you wanted!" Clay exclaimed, excited about the idea of helping his older brother with his hair

Metal thought about it, weighed the pros and cons in his head, he was just about to say no and that he could wait for tomorrow when Trent came around the corner.

"You know I could always supervise, make sure nothing gets too out of hand" He asked, looking slightly hopeful

Metal considered, what could go wrong if Trent was there to watch, so he agreed, oh how he would soon learn to regret that.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

He was sat on a stool in the bathroom, a towel on his shoulders and the supplies all laid out.

Clay and Brock were eagerly standing behind him with gloves on, ready to start the process, Trent handed them each a bottle of hair dye and told them what to do with it.

Metal was thankful he decided to put down some newspaper because from his limited view there seemed to be a lot on the floor and that's only what he could see, god knew how messy the rest of the floor was.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Metal's hair was finished and they had sent the younger ones to go and play and to let them clean up, Metal looked at the floor and sighed, he was probably going to have to mop up in here after.

Metal turned his back for 2 minutes to wash his hands and he was just drying them off when he heard a bang and a groan from Trent, he whipped around and saw Trent with a hand on his head and the bottle of open hair dye on the floor, the majority of it's contents on Trent's head.

Metal rushed over to make sure he was okay before he started to laugh at him, he had blue hair dye dripping off of his head and onto the floor in front of him, he looked like a rat dipped into bright blue hair dye, Trent did not look happy.

"Here T, let's get you cleaned up" He helped him up onto the stool to survey the damage, he winced because unless he did something with it, it would look like someone up ended a bottle on blue hair dye on him....Which is what they were trying to avoid.The thing is, is if Trent had darker hair they could just wash it off and hope it didn't show through but since his hair was fairly light no matter how good they scrubbed it, it would still leave behind some colour.

"Hey T, I can't save this without doing something else to it, do you trust me?" Trent nodded and when Metal looked into the mirror he looked at Trent who looked utterly miserable, sitting on the stool in front of him.

Metal crouched down and looked under the sink for some of the extra dye he knew he had. He made an 'aha' sound when he came up victorious, he placed the bottles on the counter and stood back up to get started on Trent's hair.

Trent eyed the bottles warily, anxiety filled him, thinking about what others might think or say but the thought of leaving the blue mess on his head the way it was scared him even more so he decided to just close his eyes and trust his brother. Metal was the artist of the family nothing could go too wrong he reassured himself.

1 and 1/2 hours later

Trent still had his eyes closed, waiting for Metal to finish blow drying his hair so that he could look at the final product, several of his brothers had knocked on the door several times, wondering what was happening in the older kid's bathroom but Metal had refused to open the door, even going as far to tell Jason that he could either wait or go in another bathroom when he had come complaining that he needed to pee.

The hair dryer clicked off and all the noise in the bathroom suddenly disappeared, leaving a subtle ringing in Trent's ears. Metal tapped his shoulder, telling him to open his eyes.

When Trent opened his eyes he was surprised to say he actually liked the final product, his shoulder length blonde hair was now dyed a beautiful dark blue to green ombre. He turned around and hugged Metal, tapping their code for I love you onto his back, silently thanking him for making sure he didn't look like a total dumbass for school tomorrow.

He looked at the floor and chuckled because they had forgot to lay down more newspaper before they did his hair and now there was blue and green hair dye stains on the tile that they were going to have to mop off. Trent and Metal quickly got to work on scrubbing the floor of any hair dye, they were able to get most of it off but some of the stuff from when Clay and Brock were in there was not coming off anytime soon.

"I don't think you should let the boys do your hair again anytime soon." Trent said with a breathless laugh

"Yea, for sure."

"But you do know the next time you come home with a box of dye they are going to be all over you wanting to do your hair again?" Trent asked

"Oh yea I know, I don't know how long I'll last, especially with their puppy dog eyes, I think I'll last two seconds, i'll have to make sure to double up on newspaper." Metal said as he finished the last spot by the sink

"Come on, I'm starving and I think dad has dinner ready, if the smell and laughter is anything to go by" Trent opened the door and ushered Metal down the stairs.

Blackburn was only mildly surprised when his two youngest ran into the dining room with hands covered in what he assumed was hair dye, he decided not to question it.

He also decided not to question it when Trent walked in with his hair dyed blue and green and Metal trailing behind with the same shade of blue replacing the previously fading pink that was in his hair when he left for school this morning. He knew that if it was something he needed to know about they would tell him about it, he did chuckle and softly shake his head when he looked at the dining table and all of his kids, bar Scott, were staring at his middle son like he had grown a second head.

This was super fun to write and I hope you enjoyed it -QMP

#trent sawyer #jason hayes #scott full metal carter #scott carter #ray perry #sonny quinn #brock reynolds #clay spenser #eric blackburn #scott carter is a hair dye junkie

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maydaymadier · 3 years

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Time

[Disclaimer: I’m currently slightly more than halfway through the c2 finale and I’m going to try and avoid spoilers since well, there’s still like 3hrs of content to get spoiled on. Will likely crosspost to my ao3]

“Time, it takes time, not days or weeks or years. Time.”

Caleb Widogast was right, though to be precise it takes 100 consecutive days of inscribing a teleportation circle in the same place to make it permanent. Nicodranas was the first teleportation circle Essek Thelyss finished. 100 days of pounding sun and coastal heat felt fitting to start his time. He had his trepidations about better acquainting himself with Yussa, less so with Ms. Lavorre. The Nein asked why he needed to make a teleportation circle in Nicodranas, they already had access to Tidepeak Tower’s. ‘Yes, however, we will not have to give anyone advance notice to use our own.’

Jester made something of a habit of bringing him a new parasol or sunhat each time she visited, even brought him tinted glasses she found once. If he knew she was coming he’d make sure to wear one of them.

Each time he ran out of chalk he’d wrap himself in illusion and teleport himself to Zadash. Meanwhile, the stores in his towers grew dust-laden, his absence from the Dynasty more suspicious, and he bought his chalk from Enchanter Sol. The Mighty Nein were a family, regardless of any distance, and he had the means to make distance mean nothing. So Essek Thelyss carried on. And on the hundredth day, he stepped into a circle in Nicodranas and stepped out in the Blooming Grove.

He was invited in for tea, as expected, and accepted as was polite. The next day he found the spot behind the temple where the grass had been flattened by the circle delivering him and started his next hundred days. He ‘compensated’ for his intrusion with his floating meditative guard each night. Caduceus seemed to pick up on what he was doing faster than Jester had, by a thin margin. The remaining Clay children would poke their noses in once and a while, curious about their drow visitor they’d only met briefly before but they remembered him helping garden after Ikithon set the temple ablaze. They would offer him a plate at meals, he insisted on using his own rations in a strange dance of hospitality and being a polite guest.

At one point, after finishing the day’s circle he considered venturing through the Savalirwood to Glory Run Road, find Mollymauk’s grave. But it felt disrespectful to Kingsley somehow in a way he couldn’t articulate. If he were to be more dramatic it felt like an invasion of privacy to the rest of the Nein as a whole, intruding on a moment on a place where they were unknowing adversaries. So he kept inscribing circles in the grass and sometimes he found fresh chalk in his component pouch. On occasion, Caduceus found saplings and cuttings of Xorhasian plants on his windowsill.

On the hundredth day he stepped into the circle in the Blooming Grove and came out under Caduceus’s tree in the Xorhaus. He was far more careful with this one. The Xorhaus was sparsely used, bordering on abandoned at this point, more than ready for the Nein to inhabit it once again. Beauregard, oft accompanied by Yasha, used it the most for when they visited Rosohna on Cobalt Soul business. The Bright Queen had been more than amenable to working with the Soul once she knew they were dismantling the organization that had stolen the beacons.

Though it took three days before Beau realized he was working on making a circle on the roof, pruning away his extra time by trying to tame the garden, clad in his rose-patterned gardening gloves, what with his lackluster previous experience. She offered to go bring him chalk from his towers, anything else he might need that he’d left behind when he was posted in Eiselcross. He accepted the offer, to eschew suspicion, asking for some simple components that filled any wizard’s pouch. Sooner than later, soon enough Beau couldn’t knock the truth out of him (not that she needed to do that or would, he was growing increasingly susceptible to disappointed stares from his friends) he stepped into the circle in Rosohna and stepped out in Rexxentrum.

His skin crawled and felt like it would slough off with each passing day. He wasn’t so bold at this point to attempt and make a circle on Soltryce’s grounds but he did take pleasure in chipping away the next hundred days in the courtyard of Trent Ikithon’s now abandoned tower. It was a joy, absolutely cathartic tearing apart what little remained hidden away of the bastard’s stores. The most valuable and precious artifacts and components were hidden in ways only an archmage would even know about or know how to unlock. Malicious clumsiness might have gotten him to break an important, now inert, magical tool or two as he rummaged through the tower for chalk.

Though one day, he noticed an owl perched in a tree, watch him for an hour, disappear for a few minutes, reappear, so on and so forth for the whole day. He had a good idea who the owl was but she never watched him again after that. If she wanted to know what he was doing here, fine. It wasn’t like either could rat out the other without drawing unwanted attention to them both. So on the hundredth day, what little remained of Trent Ikithon’s personal study even more thoroughly destroyed, he stepped into the circle in Rosohna and stepped out.

Essek chipped away at the for now final circle under the watchful light of Pelor. Passively, the part of him that absorbed every ounce of knowledge, regardless if he cared or not, wondered what the connection may be between whatever the Luxon is and the Dawnfather. Just a fun little thought experiment to occupy him while he worked through the next hundred days.

By the end of Brussendar, with Highsummer fast approaching, he’d decided that he ought to have brought at least one of Jester’s hats. Though more importantly he’d decided that the thought was silly and any connection between the two deities must be entirely aesthetic. Nothing he didn’t already know but what else can a wizard do but overthink?

It wasn’t the same level of festivities he’d heard about with Harvest’s Close but Highsummer seemed to be the close second in Blumenthal. He sat, disguised in the shade of an oak probably as old as he was and simply watched from afar. Somewhere in the crowd, he saw a flash of copper. Tried not to think to much of it. Red hair seemed slightly more common in this corner of the empire. He caught the sweeping arc of a long, striped scarf being tossed over a shoulder. A leather coat dusting at the ground (though he had looked so good in purple).

Caleb Widogast stepped out of the crowd and sat under the oak with him, “I suppose a criminal always returns to the scene of the crime.” “I suppose I have,” Essek stared at his feet. Caleb offered him some sort of sweet roll wrapped in paper, “I was not talking about you.” He ignored the comment, “How long has it been? Since we last spoke.” “Four hundred and eighty-six days. About a year and a half to be informal,” he just set down the roll next to his hand when he didn’t move to take it. “I keep thinking one day it will have been enough time.” “Looking for the specific number will drive you mad. Are you just going to keep making circles across Wildemount until you feel that you’ve atoned?” Essek took the roll but only held it, “I know that I cannot make up for everything. What are you doing here, anyways?” “I have been trying to convince myself to visit. Maybe try to pay my respects if I can stomach it. The others had already told me what you were doing, but Astrid told me where you were going. Figured now was good a time as any,” his expression darkened, the reality beyond the afterglow of a hard-won victory whispering into both their ears. “I-,” Essek started. “Did you know I was from here before you picked it or did you just want to taunt Rexxentrum by hiding in their breadbasket for a while?” Caleb stared him down. “I knew.” “Alright then.” “I hope I have not intruded in some way by coming here.” “I suppose we were both curious about the echo. It’s right up your alley, prodigious dunamancer and whatnot,” Caleb glanced back up at the revelers before turning his attention back to him “I would not discount your own skill, you’ve picked up dunamancy quite quickly and with a level of skill I have rarely seen.” Maybe they can just talk about magic. “Danke.” There was an uncomfortable pause in the conversation.

“When do you think-?” Essek tried asking. “I don’t. I will not pretend to know when enough time will have passed for the past not to hurt us anymore, Essek. And counting it in teleportation circles will not make it go any faster,” he said, though with the crushing sadness to his eyes of a man who wished he were wrong. “I am trying to make it easier for us to see each other,” he said with easy authority. “It is much easier to see each other when we don’t run off to the four corners,” Caleb added on with a tired chuckle. “What are you implying?” Something caught between excitement and unease hit him. “I can stay. Help you finish the circle here, we can leave, make another. As many circles as we want. We can have the continent at our fingertips. Maybe even go back to what remains of Aeor in Eiselcross. Devexian couldn’t have been the only mechanical inhabitant. For all we know there is a city of automatons underneath the ice now,” Caleb got more excited and dreamy as he went on, the unbridled excitement of a mage faced with knowledge. “That sounds...nice...,” Essek trailed off, trying to sound as neutral as he could manage. “Do you want that, Essek?”

It felt like the word was tearing its way out of him, “Yes.”

#my post #critical role #mighty nein #cr fic #cr fanfic #essek thelyss #shadowgast #just a sprinkling of shadowgast there at the end #post-canon #Essek is Coping

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cssiop · 1 year

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LA VIE EN ROSE… trent alexander-arnold

part four

trent buys white roses every week in maisie's flower shop, becoming her favourite customer.

trent alexander-arnold x fem!oc word count: 2.1k

other parts

the 'open' sign is turned the other way so that the message 'closed' appears, telling customers that there is no point in trying to buy a bouquet after eight pm. looking at her unlit storefront, maisie gasps in disappointment because, contrary to her grandmother's promise, trent has not come in today.

although she had been dreading the moment when he would walk through the door of the belrose shop, maisie is still saddened by his non-appearance because it only confirms her fears that the attraction she seems to feel for him is not reciprocated by the boy.

shaking her head, she wipes her bad thoughts from her mind and, taking the key out of her pocket, inserts it into the lock and turns it, closing the shop for good. trent didn't come and maisie just keeps telling herself that it doesn't matter, that she'll probably see him next week anyway. he still has to buy bouquets for ava.

with a cold still in her system, maisie sniffs as she puts on her gloves to counter the cold that is becoming more and more prevalent in liverpool as the days go by. but as the girl turns around, ready to walk in the direction she is parked, a car pulls up right in front of the shop's entrance and therefore maisie.

it's not just any car, given the lust it shows, and a leap of her heart in her chest jolts as trent gets out. he's wearing a more casual outfit than usual, consisting of sports clothes, and looks like he's just stepped out of the shower, given his wet hair and the fact that no drops have fallen today.

the boy's gaze darts around and when he finally sees the frozen figure of the one he is looking for, his panicked expression is replaced by a disarming smile on his face. rushing down the pavement towards her, he began to blurt out incomprehensible excuses, "gosh, you're still here. i'm sorry, i wanted to come by today to see if you were feeling better but i got held up at work so i couldn't. i rushed over but i was afraid i'd miss you, anyway, are you feeling better?" he catches his breath after his long monologue as if he'd just run a marathon and maisie thinks she's never seen someone create so much steam with their mouth before.

in a euphoric rush after trent's words, the girl bursts out laughing, and even though he doesn't understand why, his smile widens at seeing her like this.

"don't worry trent it's ok," an amused look on her face, she squints her eyes tilting her head to the side before answering the question he had asked her, "i'm fine. thanks for caring but it was just a little headache, nothing serious."

"i was still worried when i didn't see you yesterday," trent admits with a small pout that makes maisie forgets the bitter cold which freezes her in place.

"oh," she buries her head in her scarf to hide her burning face, "well, i'm better now."

nodding, trent finally raises his head with a small grimace on his face, formed by his lower lip bitten between his teeth and his small nose turned up under his drawn features. waddling to his feet, he ventures to ask, "is there any way you can still make me my bouquet or not?"

maisie would never have done such a thing for another customer, but it's trent, his favorite of all. so even though she feels stupid for agreeing to sell white roses to trent, who will then offer them to ava, the girl opens the door and beckons him in.

clasping his hands together, trent gives her his best smile, "thanks, you're the best."

maisie tries not to think too much of his compliment but her cheeks don't seem to agree with her and once again, begin to blush excessively as his words echo in the back of her mind.

her feet now treading the solid wood floor of the small shop, she searches for the switch with her fingers in order to turn on, not the whole boutique, but only its counter. once done, the atmosphere warms up almost immediately and the dimmed lights make the space more intimate.

facing the counter, trent observes maisie's careful movements as she removes her gloves to better adjust the white flowers. his eyebrows furrow as something seems different about her, he just can't figure out what it is yet.

"have you done something to your hair?" he blurts out and maisie's eyes go straight up to him.

"uh yes? i braided them," a warm feeling spreads in her chest, touched that he has noticed this subtle change in her.

"i like it, you should do it more often," trent compliments her with a smile and maisie doesn't know where to put herself. what is it with him today being so nice?

her previously precise gestures are now made uncertain by her trembling hands, she doesn't know what she's doing anymore. especially since she feels the boy's burning gaze on her person without her being able to do anything about it.

when she's finished, her eyes meet trent's again and she is surprised to see him smile slightly but gives it back to him all the same. his dimples automatically deepen and his two brown irises pierce her all over. maisie finds herself hyperventilating.

she quickly charges him before almost chasing him out of her shop, unable to stay another second in such a small space with the young man and his devastating pupils. once outside, maisie takes a deep breath of fresh air —she needed it.

on the pavement, they stand like two idiots staring into each other's eyes without either of them breaking the silence that surrounds them. trent, finally clearing his throat, thanks her for the flowers and wishes her a good night. returning his goodbyes, she turns back to her car.

thinking she is finally free of his bewitching spell, his voice rises one last time in the air to call out to her and the girl turns around, looking questioning.

"i won't be in liverpool for a month or so because of work, so, i won't be coming to buy bouquets of roses every week," maisie drops her gaze to the flowers in his hands after the announcement and her heart pinches when she catches sight of the label that says 'ava'. "i'm telling you this so you don't worry, well, i'm not saying you worry about me, but... ," he doesn't dare finish his sentence and frantically rubs the back of his neck.

he's panicking, and maisie lets a tender smile playing on her lips. then in a soft voice, she assures him, "okay, thanks for letting me know. have a good night, trent."

"you too, maisie," he replies simply before finally opening his door with a last smile and she struggles to do the same, panting.

her name sounds awfully good in his mouth.

…

as maisie is busy in the storeroom restocking her beloved ribbons to finish her bouquets, a ringing bell quickly brings her out of her slumber and she rushes behind her counter to make sure she is available for the customer who has just arrived. she is surprised when the "customer" is not one at all and reveals himself to be a deliveryman, but not of anything; a gigantic bouquet of white roses is in his arms which obstructs the man's vision.

"uh, hello?" hesitation trembles in maisie's voice.

"good morning, is this the belrose shop?" the boy's words are muffled behind the white petals and maisie confirms his words by inviting him in.

"i don't remember ordering anything like this," thoughtfully, the girl tries to scrape memories from her mind, to no avail.

"it's because you haven't. the person offering it to you wants to remain anonymous," the delivery man says as he places the huge delivery on the counter, a long breath coming out of his mouth as he stretches his back.

maisie finds herself confused by the massive bouquet that takes up most of the space. the delivery man then leaves after making her sign the receipt and she sits down on her stool with her face tensed by her furrowed brows. she notices that the flowers are from the florist a few blocks away thanks to the business card stuck in the bouquet, and if someone were to walk into the shop right now, they would surely see question marks floating above her head.

gingerly, she takes the label between her fingers and reads on it nothing that would enlighten her as to the mysterious stranger who sent the gift. only 'for maisie' is written, but no information on the name's admirer. however, deep down, something is nagging her. maisie doesn't want to play dumb, the only person who comes to her mind in front of the flowers has an undeniable charm and irises so deep you could dive into them: trent.

he is the only one who could send her white roses, or at least the only one who would fit the scene unfolding before her eyes. yet, she can't get her head around the idea that he might be the anonymous sender of the bouquet. or maybe it's all just a coincidence, and maisie is getting too many wild ideas about who sent the secret package.

another memory sets her off; the time she told the boy the meaning of the flowers and how it could be for a love that can't be confessed, and her heart misses a beat.

nevertheless, she shakes her head as if to remove the false hope that emerges in her and mentally remembers many times, he has a girlfriend, ava. maisie has written her name on tags far too many times to forget it. besides, trent is not even in liverpool at the moment so it would be incongruous if he was the one who sent it.

all day long, a thousand and one unanswered questions run through her mind, and when it's time to close the shop, she tries not to think about it —a difficult thing to do, given the space the flowers take up. the young woman goes home, a bouquet of white roses in the back seat and numerous doubts running through her head.

…

for the next few weeks, maisie does everything she can to elude this mystery that is causing her more harm than it should. she questions her grandmother, her friends, and regular customers who often drop by, hoping to find answers to her questioning, but nothing; no one has seen anything or knows who it might be.

well, margaret has her idea, but maisie doesn't want to hear it.

after two weeks, and tired of being in a constant state of limbo, the young florist walks to the rival shop nearby. ready to finally get some answers, she stands in front of the counter and engages the shop manager in a long interrogation.

"i would have liked to help you, but the order was placed online so we can't get his name if he ticked the anonymous box, it's our shop's policy," the florist apologises after checking the history of orders for white roses over the past few weeks.

maisie nods and remains polite, thanking him all the same, but she has the urge to blow him and his shitty policy away because she is still no further along in her quest. huffing and puffing, she exits the shop and heads back towards her own, cursing her competitor all the way.

tapping her nails on the counter of her boutique, maisie slumps ungracefully on her stool, her cheek resting against the palm of her hand as she observes the array of white roses before her. she has tried to talk to them, but they too have given no answers.

maisie is annoyed that she still doesn't have the name of this anonymous sender. the day is slowly turning into a bad one and trent isn't even in town to poke his head through the door of belrose and brighten up her gloomy mood with his smile, which saddens her deeply.

crossing her arms, she lets out a sigh and resolves to do the next thing: take her troubles patiently.

part 5

#football #football fanfic #football imagine #liverpool fc #football imagines #liverpool #trent alexander arnold #trent alexander arnold fanfic #trent alexander arnold imagine

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