#Best Pubs in Cambridge

[brookpub]

Best Pub Food and Live Sports Bar in Cambridge

There are few things more iconic than the local bar when it comes to sports culture. These warm and inviting spots have long been popular destinations for sports fans to congregate, eat wonderful pub food, and cheer on their favourite teams. Pubs remain some of the most popular places to watch sporting events, as the combination of pub food and sports culture has not only persisted but flourished through the years. Looking for Best Pub Food and Live Sports Bar in Cambridge, then Brook Pub is the right place to be.

Best British Pub Food Near me

Comforts of Home:

Pubs are more than simply a place to get a drink and some food; they're a second home away from home where fans can enjoy the company of like-minded people. The mutual interest in and enjoyment of sports is a major draw. Large-screen televisions, frequently projecting in high definition, give customers a really immersive experience at these bars and restaurants.

The Combination of Pub Grub and Live Sports:

Pub fare with the sporting lifestyle make a great pair. These restaurants provide a wide selection of tasty dishes that are also ideal for the relaxed, social setting of watching a game together. Some traditional pub foods that are always in demand at sporting events include:

 Chicken Wings:

Crispy, tangy chicken wings are practically synonymous with sporting events. These tasty treats, available in a number of different flavours, are perfect with a glass of ice cold beer.

 Burgers: 

Grilled, juicy burgers with all the condiments are a staple of every good bar. They may be adjusted to suit anyone's preferences, making them a hit at every sporting event.

 Nachos: 

Nachos are a delicious and social snack that may be enjoyed by a group while watching a game. They are typically loaded with cheese, jalapeos, guacamole, and sour cream.

Pizza: 

The pizza menu at your local watering hole probably contains everything from traditional pepperoni to creative topping combos. Pizza is great for group eating and goes well with a cold drink.

 Beer: 

Beer, while not really food, is worthy of mention. Pubs are frequented by sports enthusiasts who want to have a local or imported beer while watching the game because of the pub's wide variety of craft beers and brews.

Best Pubs in Cambridge

The Ambience, Not Just the Food

The vibe of a sports bar is one of its main selling points. The décor generally contains team mementos, jerseys, and sports-themed artwork. The crowd is a lively and enthusiastic collection of both dedicated fans and curious onlookers.

Technology and Convenience:

Pub fare and sports culture have always gone hand in hand, but technological advancements have strengthened that relationship. Fans can use their mobile devices to look up game times, monitor the latest scores, and chat with other enthusiasts in real time.

With the advent of online reservation systems and meal delivery services, sports fans no longer have to leave the comfort of their own homes to enjoy a good viewing area and some of their favourite pub grub while watching the big game.

The Ultimate Sports and Events Viewing Venues:

Pubs used to only be places where locals hung out, but that's changed in recent years. They have developed into popular places to watch games and events, and hence have become an integral component of contemporary society's preoccupation with sports and entertainment. Let's investigate the factors that have made bars such popular places to watch sports.

Ambience and Atmosphere

When you walk into Brook Pub, you'll immediately sense the hum of excitement. Our facility is huge yet comfortable, and it was built with sports and other activities in mind. The atmosphere is ideal for watching sports and events because to the combination of memorabilia, giant screens, and comfy seating. Whether you're watching a nail-biting sporting event or a star-studded awards show, you'll have a front-row seat to all the action.

Experience the Big Screen:

The availability of large-screen televisions in bars is a key factor that draws spectators there. The game or event may be seen in all its glory on these high-definition screens, which are often placed in key locations around the arena. The large screen is the best place to watch a championship game or a televised awards ceremony.

Involvement in Society

There is no substitute for the communal atmosphere you'll find at a bar when watching a game or event. People of many walks of life gather to experience the thrill together, producing an electric buzz of common enthusiasm and participation. It's a great chance to chat with other fans, share your joy and sorrow, and cheer each other on.

Food and Drink Selection:

Enjoying a meal from our menu while watching a game at Brook Pub is a must. Everyone may find something they like on the menu, from international cuisine to vegetarian options to traditional pub fare like spicy chicken wings and juicy burgers. And to make sure you have the ideal beverage to go with the event, we offer a wide selection of craft beers, creative cocktails, Best Pitchers, and non-alcoholic beverages from our broad drink menu.

Community and Fandom:

If you're a fan of sports or the arts, Brook Pub is more than just a bar to watch the game or show. There's a wide variety of people here, from serious fans to curious onlookers. You can always find people who share your enthusiasm for whatever it is you're watching, whether it's the home team or an awards event.

Innovations in technology:

Pubs' already-solidified reputation as premier watching destinations has been reinforced by the introduction of cutting-edge gear. The vast number of sports and entertainment channels available in most bars allows its customers to never miss a game or show. Smartphones have made it possible for fans to stay up-to-date on the latest news, view the event schedule, and participate in real-time conversations about the game or event happening on social media.

Easy Access and Convenience:

It's hard to stress how convenient it is to watch games and events at bars. Many bars now allow customers to reserve a table online so they can be sure to have a good spot to watch the game. In addition, many bars now provide delivery services, so customers never have to leave the house to enjoy their drinks and food.

Conclusion: A Winning Combination

Pubs have become common places to watch sports and other events because of their distinct ambiance, the quality of the viewing experience, and the sense of community they foster. The neighbourhood bar has evolved into the go-to spot for those wishing to catch a game, watch a movie or just enjoy a good time with friends and good company.

Despite the ever-changing nature of sports fandom, bars have maintained their significance by serving as a meeting place for like-minded individuals to toast triumphs and mourn setbacks. Delicious pub fare and a lively environment make these establishments essential for any sports fan. Whether you're a die-hard fan or you just want to enjoy the atmosphere and food, the local sports pub is where the action is.

We've made a name for ourselves as the place to go to enjoy the game in comfort and style thanks to our dedication to offering the ideal setting, first-rate entertainment, and an extensive cuisine.

If you're a movie buff, a sports fanatic, or just looking for a vibrant spot to watch a game or attend a concert, Brook Pub in Cambridge is the place to be. Join our thriving group of people and share in the excitement of watching a game or attending a live event. Gather your loved ones around you, because that's exactly what you'll need to make some history at Brook Pub. A toast to Brook Pub, the Best Place to Watch Sports and Other Events! 

[chicagopubcambridge]

Discover the Best Pubs in Cambridge, Ontario

Explore top pubs in Cambridge, Ontario, offering delicious food, drinks, and a lively atmosphere. Perfect for a night out with friends, enjoying great music and local brews.

[watchliverugbyscreeningbrookpub]

Watch Live Rugby Screenig at The Brook Pub | World Cup 2023

The Rugby World Cup 2023 will feature the greatest rugby players in the world competing in a high-stakes tournament. The tournament is a spectacle that brings countries together every four years in the purpose of friendly competition and sportsmanship. Watch Live Rugby Screenig at The Brook Pub. Let's go into the specifics of this much-talked-about happening World Cup 2023.

Watch Live Rugby Screenig : World Cup 2023 

Countries and Cities Taking Part in World Cup 2023:

Twenty countries will compete for rugby's highest honour at the 2023 Rugby World Cup. Rugby superpowers like New Zealand, South Africa, England, Australia, and France are among those taking part, along with other formidable competitors from throughout the world. The games will be played in multiple French locales, showcasing the country's enduring passion for rugby and its distinguished sporting history.

Why the Rugby World Cup Matters:

The Rugby World Cup is more than simply a competition; it's a festival honouring the way that rugby brings together people from all walks of life and all corners of the globe. It gives athletes a chance to show the world their tremendous talents, dedication, and sportsmanship on a global stage. In addition, it promotes international goodwill by providing participants and spectators with unforgettable experiences.

The Rugby World Cup is a chance for the host nation to show off its hospitality, facilities, and dedication to the sport. It unites people and spreads a spirit of celebration and anticipation throughout the host towns.

Watch Live Rugby Screening at The Brook Pub Cambridge:

The enthusiasm of the Rugby World Cup 2023 among residents of Cambridge, England, is about to reach new heights. The Brook Pub near Mill Road in Cambridge, will host an exciting live screening event from September 8th to October 1st, 2023. So do not miss a chance to Watch Live Rugby Screenig at The Brook Pub, Cambridge.

An exceptional game-watching experience is guaranteed at The Brook Pub near Holiday Inn express, thanks to its cutting-edge screens and an ambience that captures the pure essence of rugby. No matter how serious or casual a rugby fan you are, you should be here.

Why Watch Live Rugby Screenig at The Brook Pub

Atmospheric Immersion: 

You can feel the excitement and anticipation the moment you enter The Brook Pub. The atmosphere of the tavern is meant to make each cheer and tackle feel real.

Fine Dining: 

Get your fill of delicious food and drinks to add to the excitement of the game. There is a wide variety of food available, from traditional pub fare to gourmet specialties.

Group of Fans: 

Come together with other die-hard rugby supporters and commiserate about the ups and downs of the sport. The energy of the crowd enhances the show in unexpected ways.

Convenient Spot: 

The Brook Pub in Cambridge is conveniently located on Mill Road, giving it a great place to watch a game without having to travel far.

Savoring the Game:

Rugby fans from all around the world are getting excited not only for the thrilling matches that will be played in 2023, but also for the delicious treats that will be served at this year's Rugby World Cup. The food at the World Cup, like the sport itself, is a celebration of cultures and flavours from all around the world.

Delectable Dishes from Around the World: World Cup 2023

New Zealand:

Hangi: 

Meat and vegetables are slow-cooked in an earth oven, a traditional Mori cooking method, until they are tender and full of flavour.

Pavlova: 

Pavlova, a dessert made of meringue and topped with whipped cream and fruit, is a crowd pleaser.

Japan:

Sashimi and sushi: 

Traditional Japanese fare, including the likes of sushi and sashimi, will undoubtedly be on the menu.

France:

Pastries and Croissants: 

Croissants and other delicate pastries are a hallmark of French patisseries, and it's hard to resist their buttery sweetness.

South Africa:

Biltong: 

Biltong is a type of dried, cured beef that is quite popular among rugby fans because of its delicious, savoury flavour.

Boerewors: 

Grilled to perfection and accompanied by a variety of condiments, this South African sausage is a culinary staple.

Australia:

Pot Pies: 

Australians love these savoury pork pies made with flaky crust and devour them while watching the game.

Drinks to Quench:

New Zealand:

Sauvignon Blanc: 

New Zealand's world-class Sauvignon Blanc is the perfect light and crisp beverage to enjoy while watching the game.

Ireland:

Guinness: 

Many rugby fans can't watch the game without a pint of Guinness, a powerful and velvety beer.

 Argentina:

Malbec: 

Malbec, the flagship red wine of Argentina, has a rich, fruity flavour that goes well with grilled foods.

Japan:

Sake: 

Try this Japanese rice wine, made in everything from dry to sweet varieties, for a true sense of Japan.

England:

Cider: 

Ciders made from apples are a popular beverage in England and are often seen as a lighter and more refreshing alternative to beer.

Brook Pub Drinks: World Cup 2023

Come celebrate the arrival of the Rugby World Cup 2023 with some of the finest British Pub Food and Drinks at the Brook Pub near Mill Road. We like providing our guests with a wide selection of the finest wines, gins, whiskies, Best Pitcher’s and cask-conditioned beers. You may support your team with your loved ones at your side.

Watch Live Rugby Screenig at The Brook Pub which is just one of several events we'll be showing here at the bar. The Facebook page will be the place to find out about all of our upcoming activities.

[newtonsheffield]

In your surprise Neddy AU, does Gregory follow Anthony's footsteps?

I just imagine Anthony trying to offer Gregory advice when he faces a surprise pregnancy.

Oh Gregory, 23 and a soon to be father. He had the biggest crush on Lucy Abernathy all through High School and she had know idea that he even knew who she was until two days before they left school. He was sat outside waiting for her to come out if truth be told because he’d finally told himself it was now or never. He hadn’t been able to figure out from bloody anyone where she was going next year. He even had Hyacinth using her best snooping but stopped short of letting his sister corner Lucy in the bathrooms.

Finally he saw Lucy leaving, smiling at something her friend Hermione said. Gregory cleared his throat to Hyacinth and Neddy, both hanging around, waiting for Kate who was picking them up today.

“I’ll um… be right back.”

“Where are you going?!” Hyacinth called after him, “Kate’ll be here soon!”

“I just have to talk to someone.”

She followed his line of sight, “Oh for god’s sake! Why now?!”

Gregory ignored her, jostling past people, his backpack banging against his back, until he was right in front of them, “Hey!”

Both girls startled a little and Hermione’s eyes widened in surprise, “Um, hey?”

Lucy didn’t say anything just stared back at Gregory from behind her glasses, holding her textbooks under arm. Gregory’s stomach clenched nervously but he’d come this far. “Um, I was just wondering if I could talk to you?”

Still Lucy didn’t say anything, just looked pointedly at Hermione who was staring back at her.

Gregory swallowed, “Sorry, did I like…? Interrupt something?”

Still neither of them said anything for an awkward moment before Lucy cleared her throat, “I’ll just wait for you over there.”

She gestured to a spot a few feet away and Gregory frowned as she smiled tightly at him, stepping around him.

Gregory looked at little lost at Hermione for a second before he followed Lucy, trotting after her like a little puppy. They got a few steps before Lucy stopped, turning towards him. “Why are you following me?”

Gregory blinked at her, his mouth dry, “I asked to talk to you, and you said you’d be over here so I am too.”

Lucy’s eyes widened and her lips parted, “I-what?!”

“I asked to talk to you and-”

“I… didn’t think you knew who I was?”

Gregory’s stomach dropped, “What?! Of course I know who you are. I smile at you all the time and when we see each other at like… fancy events I always wave.”

Lucy’s cheeks flushed, “I thought you were waving at… someone else.”

“Oh…” Gregory trailed off, “I… wasn’t.”

“Right.”

“Right.” Silence swelled between them for a moment and Gregory could feel his sister’s eyes on them as Kate’s car pulled into the corner of his vision. “So anyway, um… I was wondering if you like… had plans for uni? Or like… are you working for your family?”

Lucy’s face twisted a little before she covered it, “That’s… the plane eventually but I’m going to Cambridge in the spring.”

Gregory’s mouth fell open, unable to believe it, “Me too! Oh my god! Yes! Me too! I’m going there!”

Lucy’s lips ticked upwards, “Congrats.”

“Yeah you too! Um I was-”

HONK!

“Gregory!” Hyacinth yelled out followed by Kate’s-

“Hyacinth!”

He ignored them, “I was thinking, um maybe it would be cool if like we-”

“GREGORY!”

He let out a frustrated noise, “I… That’s… I have to go um… but maybe we could hang out this summer, get to know each other. It’d be good to know someone there.”

Her eyes widened, “Oh! Yeah, maybe!”

“Can you maybe-?”

“Greg!”

“Fuck! Can I maybe message you sometime on Instagram?”

Her lips parted again, “If you like?”

“Yeah! Awesome! Great! Um… I’ll see you? Maybe tomorrow?”

“Yeah maybe.”

Gregory’s heart was pounding in his chest when he finally piled in the back of the car next to his nephew, clipping his sister’s ear, “You are a fucking twat.”

It’s months later, sat across a table in a pub when Lucy sighs, more than a little tipsy, “Can I tell you a secret?”

Gregory nodded, his head fuzzy from more than just the alcohol, “Obviously.”

Lucy leaned forward, “I had… the biggest crush on you. I have since we were like twelve but you liked my friend.”

And it feels like Gregory’s entire world’s just exploded.

[aziraphales-library]

Hi! I was wondering if you had recs for something longer that has a lot of exploration of queer themes? Love your blog!

Hello. We have #long fic and #queer themes tags you can check out. Here are some that have both...

The End is Where We Start From by tiresius (E)

“Aziraphale, hello. It’s er, been a long time.” “Yes, dreadfully long. You look different.” He immediately coloured in evident embarrassment. “I mean, of course you look different, as do I of course, I didn’t mean bad different, that is to say…” Something inside of Crowley, something that had been in a deep freeze for several eons, was starting to thaw. It was letting little bits and pieces of familiarity break loose to float back into their rightful places in his soul. One of those pieces, those round, blue eyes, suddenly snapped into place, and he felt a corresponding wave of long-forgotten feeling wash through him. Aziraphale is anxious. Make Aziraphale happy. “Yeah,” he interrupted. “D��you wanna… get a coffee or something?” *** Crowley and Aziraphale meet by chance on the street. They've met before, in their youth, in a different life. Some difficult things have happened since then. Will they be able to find their way back to each other and to themselves? A Good Omens human AU.

Orbit by altsernative (M)

"It was like they were in orbit with each other. Locked into their paths. Circling each other. Coming so close for golden snatches of time, then dragged away again. Again, and again, and again." Literature instructor Aziraphale and Astronomy instructor Crowley have been best friends for eight years whilst teaching at Agnes Nutter College, a subsidiary of Cambridge. If they ever wanted something more than that, well, they certainly hadn’t said anything. Just as they start to come to terms with their feelings for one another, Aziraphale is promoted to department head and out of Crowley’s life as part of the college's strict non-fraternisation policy. Neither is willing to give the other up, and with the help of a few familiar faces, a pub called Taddy’s that only plays four specific types of songs, Tracy, an enthusiastic B&B owner/community queer icon, and a hidden garden everyone seems to have forgotten about, they risk everything to try and find their way back into each other's lives once more.

An Absence of Stars by mllekurtz (E)

A.Z. Fell is a famous (well, in his circle) Soho bookseller whose selection of volumes is the epitome of respectable (and boring) literature. One of his favourite authors is the renowned science writer A.J. Crowley, whose books on astronomy have popularized the subject — and also sell very well. Mr Fell is overjoyed when Dr Crowley accepts his invitation to do a signing of his new book in the bookshop, but their first conversation is a disaster: for some reason, Crowley does not share Fell’s distaste for romantic literature and acts very cold when the bookseller berates the author of one of the most popular romance series of the moment, Madame Ashtoreth. Little does Fell know that his favourite writer and the one he hates with a passion are the same person…

I Knew I Loved You by AppleSeeds (E)

In September 1999, when his family gets connected to the internet, prospective Marine Biology student Crowley discovers an online forum where he can actually talk to people who share his passion for saving the whales. He begins corresponding with a kind stranger he knows only as Ocean_Angel, and is incredibly excited when the opportunity arises to meet this mysterious person in real life. As their friendship develops, Crowley shares things with Angel that he can't talk about with anyone else, and Angel's insights help him to explore and embrace his own identity. As Crowley works towards finding a place in this world where he feels like he really belongs, he realises that a big part of the answer to that question might actually be right in front of him. What if where he belongs is with Angel?

secondhand smoke by PaintedVanilla (T)

you're second hand smoke, second hand smoke i breathe you in, but, honey, i don't know what you're doing to me mon chéri the year is 1990, and anthony crowley is looking for a church in london that might be tolerable. the one he winds up attending isn't exactly such, but he decides to stick around for one reason. said reason happens to own a bookshop that crowley begins to frequent, much to the surprise and delight of anathema device and newton pulsifer, who seem quite convinced that crowley could use something else to focus on besides gardening, their campaigns, and visits to tadfield.

Sit Tight, Take Hold by nieded (E)

The summer of 2022, Ezira Phale is a rookie Formula 1 driver out to prove he's one of the best racecar drivers in the world, but everything gets turned upside down when he falls in love with his real-life idol, AJ Crowley. Or: The one where Crowley does not go too fast for Aziraphale. _____ This story uses a multi-media format with CSS and HTML. It's best read using the workskin so please make sure that you are enabling user workskins. If you do not want to use the workskin, I will also be posting a .pdf of each chapter and a final .pdf once everything is posted! I’m not so cool as to know how to do podcasts, manips, and videos, but this will feature scripts, news articles, text messages, tumblr, and race programming! So strap in and put your seatbelt on! This is going to be one fast ride of romance, competition, and over-indulgence.

- Mod D

[octuscle]

I've done a few himbo transformations with the Chronivac, but I'm getting tired of being dumb. I want to be smarter without risking some crazy permanent change. Can you make it so I steal 1 IQ point from everyone who's in the same room as me? They can have it back when they leave.

You are a super Himbo. Always in good shape, always horny. And admittedly also a real feast for the eyes. I like your idea. It's a little bit experimental. But let's give it a try.

You're always the first one at the gym in the morning. You love to start your day pumped up. And it's wonderfully empty at this time of day. No smart alecks to make fun of you. You have the body, you have the face. An IQ of 89 is more than enough for an alpha guy like you! Normally you're done with your program by 07:30. That's when the gym usually fills up. Today it's surprisingly full. There's a congress in town, so lots of external guys always come to work out. By around 07:00 there are already a good 30, maybe 35 people training. One of the guys is really cute. You approach him. You talk about all sorts of things and train the next sets together. It's rare to find someone who has a similar political opinion and is interested in both Italian opera and astronomy at the same time. And who looks so awesome at the same time. You'll get a boner. He notices. You say that unfortunately you have to go now and you're going to take a shower. He says that he hopes you'll see each other again sometime. You see each other in the shower four minutes later. Not a soul around. And you fuck the guy like only a man with a bird's brain can.

You like your work as a motorcycle mechanic. Your machines are just as simple as your brain. You understand them. And you're really good at making them look hot and getting the most out of them. And you like to work alone. It's difficult in a team. Some know-it-all is always making fun of you. Pure envy, you think, and flex your muscles. But it does annoy you a little. That's why you prefer to do things in the evening that don't involve talking. Dancing. Fucking. Or go to the movies. Like tonight. "The Beekeeper". It's supposed to be good.

Shit, your head is starting to pound. The movie theater is maybe half full. You do a quick count. Yes, exactly 378 people. 78 percent male. That was to be expected. According to a rough estimate, they all spent a total of 3,117 dollars on Coke and popcorn. One guy went to the loo for the third time. You've noticed 67 things in the movie so far that are illogical. Bored, you take out a cell phone. You surf to the MIT website. A very interesting article from the mathematics department about the Riemann conjecture. By the end of the movie, you've finished the proof.

Fortunately, your favorite pub, where you're having a nightcap, is almost empty. Your buddy at the bar, a handful of the usual regulars. Your cell phone vibrates incessantly. Lots of calls from unknown callers. From cities you've never heard of. Boston, San Francisco, Cambridge in Massachusetts, Cambridge in England. Göttingen. Isn't that in Poland? What do they all want from you? You turn off your cell phone.

The next morning you have 189 missed calls. You check a few messages. But you can't understand a single word they're saying. Something about genius. And a brain that only exists once. Hehehe, you've heard that a lot about your cock. You're going back to the gym. You're late today. Your crush from yesterday is already here. And so are 40, 50 other people. CNN is on the screens. The headlines are about the proof of Riemann's hypothesis. Your crush asks you if you know what it is. You explain it to him and outline your solution. As best you can reproduce it. It's really complicated. Your crush stares at you open-mouthed. "You've proved Riemann's conjecture?“ You grin a little sheepishly.

Shit, this guy has a hot ass and a talented tongue. But why can't he keep his tongue in check? After a few minutes, the first reporter is in your workshop and asks you about this Riemann shit. Tell him to go to hell. A second, a third reporter arrives. They're on the floor laughing as you answer their questions. The weaklings are about to get the shit kicked out of them. In the afternoon, a courier arrives from this Cambridge, which is not in England. With a letter. An invitation to a ceremony. Whatever that is. And then there's a check inside. A check for a million dollars.

You like airports. A place where you can do sociological studies. You also really enjoyed the flight. The documents that the mathematical institute in Cambridge sent you are very interesting. But you see a few inconsistencies that you would like to discuss. A driver is waiting for you at the airport. You take a deep breath when you are finally out in the fresh air. It's funny, there's a guy holding a board with a name just like yours on it. You walk up to him. "Mr. Wood?" he asks a little incredulously. "Hehehe, someone must have given us that name one early morning. Do you understand, dude? And by the way, my name is Al." Curt is a cool dude. You get to sit up front and talk about football and stuff. Curt lifts iron too. He recommends a good gym near the hotel and campus. Then he tells you stuff like you can freshen up if you want. Then the dean would like to meet you for a private lunch in private. And then the prize will be officially presented in the setting. Then there is also time for your speech. You say that you smell like a real man and don't need to freshen up. And you ask what a dean does and what the hell the speech is all about. Curt grins.

The dean wipes the sweat from his brow. The food tastes quite good, but you would have preferred an honest burger. You don't understand a word of the stuff the old geezer is talking about. He keeps mumbling something about a catastrophe. You ask yourself why you're wearing that stuffy shirt. It would actually be cool right now to just wear a tank top with all the nerds and show off your muscles. Dinner is finally over. The dean, or whatever his name is, stands up and asks you to follow him. You walk towards a really cool looking building, which is called Kresge Auditorium. Funny name. You enter the hall, which is packed with dozens of people, all of whom are beaming with joy at you. The dean waves you off, pulling you along behind him. You are standing in a huge lecture hall where hundreds of people are already waiting. More and more people stream in behind you. The dean asks you to keep your mouth shut for God's sake. Then he gives his opening speech. He gives a somewhat twisted rendition of the essence of Riemann's conjecture. But as far as you know, he's not a mathematician either… The dean ends with the words "…. And yet this man has obviously proved one of the biggest problems in mathematics. Mr. Wood, would you like to say something?“ You interpret his gestures as him asking you to just shut up. But you're here to chat about math. You stand at the lectern. "Ladies and gentlemen, it is a great honor for me to speak to you today in this magnificent building. I assume that you are familiar with my remarks on the Riemann conjecture. I don't want to bore you with that either. Let's talk about another interesting topic instead, the P-NP problem." The dean faints.

Shit, the day was really exhausting. You're so happy when Curt finally drives you to the hotel. It's already late, but you still want to make your muscles burn. So you make your way to the gym. There's hardly anyone here at this time of night. One guy looks nice and really hot. You chat a bit. You train together. You both end up in your hotel room and fuck the rest of your brains out. Ian says that you absolutely have to come to Springbreak.

Fuck, Ian was so right. Spring break is awesome! The weather is incredible. Eating, drinking, working out, fucking, partying, all outdoors. You're one of the stars here. Because of your body and your cock. Certainly not because of your head. Hehehe, the 200,000 dollars that you've already spent here from your prize money has certainly contributed to your reputation. The party is in full swing. Suddenly the sky darkens and a thunderstorm with hail breaks out. The party people stream into the hotel lobby. And you flow with them. One of about 400 wet, muscular bodies. You take a quick look around. 423, to be precise.

[tealin]

Pub sketches, Cambridge, Dec 2017

The Mill is and forever will be the best drawing pub in town.

Lots more sketches over on Patreon, some of them less than seven years old, even!

[mercurygray]

Merc,

Could we get a glimpse of Kurt interacting with the MotA characters? Thanks! 🥺

We are shocked to report that as he is in all things, Kurt is being an ass.

If anyone had any ideas about what Captain Warren's boyfriend looked like, Kurt Havermeyer wasn't it.

They were stood down for the weekend, and Harding had been liberal with 48 hour passes, the whole base practically packing themselves off to points south. London felt like a stretch, but Cambridge was handier and the beer cheaper anyway, so they'd shined their shoes and polished their wings, and those among them with an inclination to misbehave made sure all the right tools were in all the right pockets.

"And how 'bout you, Captain?" Douglass had asked with a grin, as the train swayed and screamed out of the station, the flyboys packed into the cars and the corridors, hats cocked just so. "Any hot dates waiting for ya?"

"Meeting up with my boyfriend, actually." Joan had offered, cagily as they came, and glances were exchanged. The Ice Queen - a boyfriend? And just what did he look like? It wasn't like she'd been quick to make friends, the intelligence officer, fresh from OCS and a press tour that would have made a princess proud. That's what she was, wasn't it? A princess?

Well, a princess needed a prince, and here he was - blond and blue-eyed, he proverbial golden boy sunning himself under his own artfully crushed cap, fresh from fighter command and as cocky as they came. When they turned up at the same pub, him proud as a peacock, it came out that he'd shaken down Joan about meeting her freinds, that he wouldn't take no for an answer.

"What is she, ashamed of us?" Bubbles asked Crosby, as Joan almost hid. But after a while, Crosby wasn't inclined to agree - it wasn't them Joan was ashamed of. It was him.

He was loud, Captain Havermeyer, loud and full of his own self importance, rattling on about his plane and his wing like they were only ones fighting the war. Rich, too - he'd been all too clear about that, buying a few rounds for the room like money was nothing. Not a single kind word for the crew, or the plotters - and nothing but noise for the bomber boys. All while Joan sank back quietly into her seat, her own beer untouched, and the men from Thorpe Abbotts fumed and tried to stay on thier best behavior, and not be the yokels from Nebraska he assumed them to be.

They tried to offer common ground - about the beer, and the weather, and the state of the army, and everyone was getting along fine until Kurt, laughing, made some pass about promotions for pretty faces and how they'd let anyone in if she had a good ass - just like Joan, right?

The next moment happened so fast that later on that evening several people were almost sure they'd imagined it - Major Cleven's fist, shooting out to connect with Captain Havermeyer's eye, Havermeyer staggering back with the force of the blow, and Joan's face, stunned behind the two of them shouting in horror, not for Kurt, but for Gale.

"Apologize to the lady." It was a command, not a suggestion, Cleven's voice a half-note lower than his usual gravel.

Kurt surged forward from the floor, quickly held back by the remaining pilots, straining at his coat, his collar. "Who the fuck do you think you are?"

"An officer and a gentleman," Cleven said, serious as a open grave. "Neither of which seem to apply to you."

Kurt snarled, trying to shrug back into his coat, but no one was letting him go just yet. "Joanie, we're leaving."

"No, you're leaving, buddy," Bucky said with a stare that could have spit bullets. "She's staying right here."

He took a step forward, blocking her in, and the others closed ranks around Joan, now very much part of the crowd and staggered a little by her inclusion in a group that until ten minutes ago she'd had never quite been sure she'd had a single friend in. Every man there looked ready to fight, and a couple of the women, too, and Kurt had the good sense, finally, to see that if he tried to start something else here he'd defintely lose.

"We're finished, Joan Warren!" His face was starting to redden and there was split flying when he spoke. "You hear me?"

"Good," some joker (Douglass?) roared from the back, "She can do better."

He sneered at the lot of them and made a quick exit for the door, and the minute he was gone the whole group burst into laughter, with slapped backs for Cleven and beers for everyone and appreciative pats, too, for Joan. "What an asshole." "We can find someone better." "-clean as a whistle and BAM, right in the kisser." "Fuckin' fighters, man. No sense of the team."

Joan made her way to Cleven's elbow, leaning once more against the bar with his cola. "That was…very gallant, of you, Major."

"No one ought to speak like that about a woman he claims to love," Gale said quietly, gently flexing his fingers and rubbing his hand. "You're very good at your job, Captain. Anyone who says otherwise doesn't know what he's talking about." He met her eye and gave her one of his rare small smiles, and she nodded, accepting the compliment as it had come.

[evenhisfacewasanalias]

After Hours

Lady Jane Grey/Guildford Dudley

Rating: Teen

Modern AU - Jane is an overworked medical student at Cambridge who is in dire need of a date to her sister's engagement - all in order to keep Lady Frances from setting her up. She decides to bring the worst guy she can find and make her mother regret her meddling. Guildford is playing in a rock band at the local pub, and Jane of course picks the man she was always going to.

Really just an excuse to give Guildford a little earring.

“She’s gone completely off her rocker!”

Susannah shakes her head at her friend’s histrionics, and Jane knows she’s being ridiculous.  They were supposed to be at the pub to unwind and catch up. The loud band playing in the corner isn’t helping much, however. They’re nearly shouting to be heard over the screeching guitar and excessive drumming.

“I would have thought having one daughter getting engaged might soothe the savage beast?” 

Jane practically chugs down the second half of her pint, “Oh no, not Lady Frances Grey - if anything this has only sped up her timetable for having me married off. I need another drink.”

“You’ve had two already. Isn’t alcohol poisoning something you learned about at that fancy medical school o’ yours?” Susannah laughs, pulling her friend back to the small table.

“My fancy medical school is half the reason I drink,” Jane sighs. “The other half is Mum’s new threat to set me up with Lord Dudley's son.”

“Stanley Dudley? That's cruel, even for Frances. Besides, I'm pretty sure he has a thing for your mum.”

And that part is probably true. She thinks she caught Stan attempting the boombox move from Say Anything outside her mother’s window on winter break. Only her window was four stories up, and an mp3 speaker didn’t have quite the same impact. She’s been trying to forget the memory of it ever since. She often tries not to think too hard about her widowed mother’s love life.

“Not Stan, at least. Apparently Lord Dudley has another son we've never even heard of - some Oxford dilettante off gadding about.”

“Oooh collegiate rivalry, could make for some great shagging.” Susannah is little better than her mother at times with the way she fusses over the lack of men in Jane’s life, but at least her best friend isn’t trying to marry her off to some vagabond Lord.

“My mother’s taste in men tends toward the vapid.” So does Susannah’s, but in the name of friendship, Jane won’t mention this.

“He doesn’t need a doctorate to be good in bed,” Susannah shakes her head at her friend. “Though I feel like I should have an honorary one in the subject, at least.”

Jane laughs at her friend’s ego, though secretly she can admit she admires her confidence. “He doesn’t need a doctorate, but he should at least be able to manage his end of the conversation.”

“I forgot that a lively debate was practically foreplay for you.” 

Jane snorts out another laugh. She’s not even getting that much lately.

“So then what else is on ‘Jane’s list or a shaggable man’ - other than his oral skills?”

Jane’s face heats at her friend’s joke. It really has been too long if she’s blushing over some double entendre. Single entendre, really.

“I can’t even think about men with studying for exams this month.”

“Or last month, or the one before it. Find a hot enough bloke and you’ll make the time.”

“Well I’m certainly not going to find Mr. Right in this pub.”

She looks around at the crowd - it’s mostly secondary students and couples at the bar and tables, with a few grungier looking guys gathered around the stage. This isn’t really the sort of venue where she’d hope to find a worthy suitor.

“I’m only talking about Mr. Right Now,” Susannah teases.

“That doesn’t exactly help me with the engagement party situation.”

“It’ll help you to relax a little about the engagement party situation,” she winks.

And ok, maybe Susannah has something of a point - she’s survived her mother’s nagging for twenty four years, it usually takes a little more than a set-up to wind her up like this. But still, the threat of it remains her most pressing concern.

“It won’t help me much unless it gets my mother to back off.”

“Why not just bring some random guy as your date then?”

It’s not as though she hadn’t considered it. She’s not exactly attending a convent, she could have just invited one of her fellow med school classmates. “Because then my mother still wins.”

“And we can’t have that, can we?” Susannah is no fan of her mother either, but she can never resist mocking what she calls Jane’s ‘contrary’ nature. “Well then, make Frances regret it. Bring someone she’ll hate.”

Susannah has her own spiteful streak as well. It’s why they’ve always been friends, even when Susannah stopped working for her mother.

“So any man without a title, then?” Jane suggests. 

Her father had been a Duke and her mother refused to entertain anyone lower in rank than a Viscount. Her sister Katherine was already pushing it, marrying the Earl of Hertford.

“Worse.”

“A man without a trust fund?” 

“Worse,” and then Susannah’s eyes are shifting over towards the makeshift stage, to where the band is still wailing to the world’s smallest mosh pit.

Jane chuckles at the idea - it would certainly make her mother’s head spin. The members of the band - The Affliction, apparently, very fitting - look to be about her own age, but they’re about as far away from her social class as they could get (a characteristic Jane preferred and her mother detested). Definitely not a title or trust fund to be found among the lot of them - not with the sorry state of their clothing and instruments. They’re all decent looking enough, in a tattooed and leather jacketed bad boy kind of way. If you were into that sort of thing, which Jane most assuredly isn’t. Or at least she had never considered herself to be - she didn’t care to be so predictable. But objectively, they’re an attractive bunch. They’re what loosely might be called a rock band, but they’re playing in this shithole of a pub so clearly they’re not very successful. And most importantly, her mother would be livid at the sight of any one of them.

That, plus the two pints in her stomach, has Jane actually considering this mad gambit of Susannah’s. What if she did bring some wannabe rockstar to the engagement party? Katherine wouldn’t mind - at least not much. And she’d certainly forgive Jane when she saw her engagement gift: a minibreak stay at a B&B in Chipping Campden to escape their mother’s wedding planning. Her mother, however, would never forgive her. Jane might even get uninvited to several events she’s been dreading. She smiles at the thought.

However, Jane doesn’t want to be uninvited from the wedding entirely, so she does some quick research before she even begins to truly contemplate this madness. Susannah laughs at the sight of Jane googling, though she hadn’t laughed when Jane used her powers of research to perform recon on her friend’s sketchy tinder dates. She doesn’t want either one of them getting axe-murdered by some random guy - a fact which Susannah usually appreciates. And even though she wants to piss off her mother, she’s not about to bring some registered sex offender to her little sister’s engagement party. 

The Affliction has a facebook page, and a soundcloud, but nothing professional. That’s good news on the unsuccessful front, neutral on the ‘is one of them an axe-murderer’ question. She looks at the band members individually. It turns out the bassist is actually a woman, with a very cute pixie cut and great bone structure - Jane briefly considers the possibility of giving her mum a heart attack by bringing home a woman, but is quick to realise she’s already married to the lead singer anyway. There’s two options out, leaving the guitarist and the drummer. A drummer would maybe get an extra rotation on the head spinning front, but in both the facebook photo and up on stage now Jane can spot a cigarette in the guy’s mouth. Gross. She’s seen too many textbook images of what the tar does to your lungs to think of anything else whenever she sees someone smoking.

Which leaves the guitarist. If she’s honest with herself, he’s the one she would have been drawn to out of all of them. Floppy brown curls, mouth curved into a devilish smirk - but thankfully no more than a spare pick pressed between his lips. A good jawline, with the barest hint of stubble. Warm brown eyes and surprisingly nice hands. She gets a little distracted watching strong fingers wrapped around the guitar's neck and deftly plucking at its strings, stacked rings only drawing more attention to his hands - though none of that really matters since she’s not actually looking for a real date. What does matter is the rips on his jeans, the way the sleeves are cut from his t-shirt to show off his many tattoos, and the glint of an earring she can spot even from back here. He’ll drive her mum batty. 

His name’s not listed on their facebook page - there’s apparently another guitarist who should be here tonight - but this guy’s in a few of the older photos. Including one at some kind of children’s charity fundraiser event, so at least she knows he’s not on any registries. And he’s probably not a criminal or anything if they’re doing philanthropy shows. There’s a newer shot with the entire band, plus him, all cuddling animals at what is apparently a shelter rescue gig. Another point in the not-a-serial-killer column. Still no name but there’s a tabby curled around his neck pawing at a pair of necklaces she realises are the same ones he’s wearing tonight. She’s always thought cats to be good judges of character. They’re certainly good judges of cheekbones, she thinks as she looks back and forth between the photo and the man on stage.

Someone tosses a glass bottle his way in between songs - to give it to him or to critique the music, she can’t be certain - but he catches it easily, tossing it back up again with a little spin before flicking off the cap to take a drink. Jane’s a little caught up in the line of his throat, those ridiculous necklaces. He leans over to the micromobile, and she hears his voice for the first time. 

“‘What I like to drink most is wine that belongs to others,’” he unexpectedly quotes Diogenes, and she falls a little in lust.

“Do you think he’d agree to it?” She asks Susannah, who follows her line of sight and grins at her choice.

“Do I think he’ll say yes to a date with a hot girl?” She gives Jane a look that implies she’s an idiot.

Jane waves away the compliment, and the word ‘date’. “It wouldn’t be a real date, just to get my mother off my back for a bit.”

“Then do I think a grown man playing Clash covers in a pub would say no to pissing off someone’s parents?”

“Good point.” 

The idea is left to simmer in her brain for the rest of the band’s set. They switch their conversation over to Susannah’s troubles. Things with the new guy are going well, but her best friend is currently working as an au pair for a family that doesn’t pay her anywhere near well enough to put up with their nightmare son. But she refuses to let Jane use her connections to get her a better job, or at least better pay, though Jane is slowly wearing her down. Or at least the Bradfords’ son is. Jane wishes she had something better to offer her friend for her repeatedly kicked shins than some paracetamol, but it’s all she has on her. She jokingly offers some anaesthesia whenever she finally gets her medical licence. 

“For me or for the wain?”

“Your choice. I think it’s better if I have plausible deniability on that one.”

“Ditto,” Susannah laughs, and directs Jane’s sight back towards the front of the pub, where the band is finally starting to pack it in. Susannah is no fan of Jane’s mum, but she definitely doesn’t want to get on her bad side. It had been hard enough wheedling a good reference out of her when Susannah had left. And this plan will definitely get someone on her mother’s shit list.

Jane has sobered up a little from earlier, but the idea is still the best one they’ve got. If nothing else it’ll irritate her mother, and spare her having to talk to some Tory-supporting wanker she’ll inevitably be set up with. She knows next to nothing about music, but she’d still rather hear about that than some guy’s stock portfolio all evening, or the endless name-dropping she was so often forced to endure. And he’d certainly be easier on the eyes. It only takes a little persuasion, and one good hard shove, from her friend to have her beelining towards the stage. 

She mentally assesses her own look tonight on the way there - heeled boots and a short-ish skirt that made her legs look longer, and a sweater that was more cosy than sexy but not utterly disastrous. She tugs her hair free of its messy bun and hopes her curls were behaving for once. Even though she was only asking for a fake date, she hopes a good first impression might tip the scales a little in her favour.

The pub isn’t overly large, so it only takes a few steps to push through the small gathered crowd to where the guitarist is pounding back the bottle he caught from earlier. She waits for him to set it down before she tries to introduce herself.

And he promptly belches in her face.

“You’re perfect,” she smiles. 

Normally, the rudeness would have her ready to tear into the man, but the entire point of this was to send her mother into a conniption fit. Bad manners was just the icing on top of a very offensive cake.

“I take it you’re a fan of The Affliction, then?” His grin is both lazy and arrogant, another point in his favour - or disfavour, as it was. It’s not even remotely as charming as he seems to think it is. 

“Oh no, your music is atrocious.”

“Then what is it I'm perfect for?” He seems a little taken aback by the dig at their music, but then he’s grinning again. “Or do you just have a thing for devilishly handsome guitarists?” 

Might as well rip off the bandaid. She takes a deep breath. “If I say yes, could I borrow you for a few hours tomorrow? I’m Jane, by the way.”

He takes her outstretched hand automatically. His hands are warm but the rings he wears are cool, and she can feel the calluses along his fingers as he grips her hand firmly.

“For like a gig? I’m not really…” He looks even more confused now considering she’s professed not to be a fan.

“Something like that - my sister’s engagement party is tomorrow and my mother is threatening to set me up if I don’t bring a date.”

“So you’re asking me on a date, then?” The grin is back in full force, and he keeps holding her hand.

“I’m asking you to rescue me from my mother for a few hours,” she answers flatly.

“You know what I find works best with parents?” 

The fact that he’s still smiling at her is troubling, but her curiosity wins over her good sense and so she asks him just what he thinks will work.

“Telling them to fuck off.”

“Yes, well I would love for you to swing by Saturday and tell my mother just that.”

He actually throws his head back and laughs at that. 

“Not that I don’t love telling off busybodies, but is there some reason you can’t just bring a real date to get her off your back? Surely your talents for flattery could win some undiscerning man over.”

Jane finally pulls her hand away to cross her arms in front of her, “If you wanted flattery then you shouldn’t have named your band ‘The Affliction’. And for your information, the reason I don’t have an actual date is because I’m currently too busy with my studies at the School of Clinical Medicine.”

He looks unimpressed. “Oh, is that like a local further education school?”

“It’s at Cambridge University, you halfwit.”

That grin again. “I’m fully aware, it’s called a joke - perhaps you’ve heard of them?” 

“This whole conversation is a joke!” She nearly shouts, half in frustration with the man in front of her but mostly with herself. Why she ever thought this was a good idea is beyond her.

“Has anyone ever told you you’re cute when you’re angry?” 

His nose scrunches a little when he says the word ‘cute’ and Jane can feel the rage rushing white hot through her veins.

But he keeps talking before she has the chance to tell him off. “Alright, I’ll come with you to your little party. If your mother’s half as easy to wind up, it might even be fun.”

And she’s annoyed at both him and herself for falling into his little trap, but she’s stuck on the fact he’s agreeing to come with her. 

“You’ll actually come?”

“Sure, why not?” 

Not giving him a chance to change his mind, Jane quickly lists off the party address and the time they should meet, typing her number into his mobile and texting herself with it. She neglects to tell him the dress code, half hoping he’ll wear this exact outfit again. The t-shirt is practically in tatters, which will infuriate her mother, but the arms they reveal are quite nice to look at - tattoos and all. She’s not usually into that sort of thing, but the designs there curve around the musculature in a way that scratches the part of her brain that’s been pouring over anatomy for the past three years. She imagines herself tracing the lines, listing off each muscle group in Latin. 

Jane shakes her head to shut down this line of thinking immediately. This is not a real date because she has no time for dating. She barely had time to come out tonight with Susannah, and she’s only in town at all tonight because her mother insisted on a small family dinner before the big event next weekend. She hands back his mobile.

“And what do I get out of this?” The guy asks, tucking his mobile back into his pocket.

Jane narrows her eyes. “What do you want?”

She sees him looking her up and down. And even though it sends a pleasant little zip down her spine, this is so not what tonight is about.

“Not that.” She states clearly and firmly.

“I didn’t even ask for anything,” his nose is scrunching up again, crinkling the skin around his eyes as well which threatens her resolve to keep this clean and simple. 

“Not that,” she repeats.

“How about 100 quid then?” 

“So you’re an escort now?” 

“Student loans, you know,” he shrugs. And she’s a little surprised to hear he is - or was - a student, but considering he’s quoting Greek philosophers in random pubs it makes some sort of strange sense. “Actually, I have a better idea - you said School of Clinical Medicine, right? So you’ve got medical training?” 

This was never a good start to a conversation, in her experience. “You’re not about to ask me to commit medical malpractice are you?”

“Is it really medical malpractice if you’re not even a doctor yet?” 

“Yes. ” 

“Well this isn’t that, I promise. It’s just a run of the mill bad idea.” 

It’s not at all as assuring as he seems to think it is. “And just what exactly is this bad idea?” 

“I have a friend that needs a doctor.” 

“And does this friend know about the National Health Service?” 

“They can’t help her.” 

Jane hopes his friend is just not a full UK resident or something, rather than some shady thing they’re trying to hide from an actual doctor.

“And you think I can?” 

“I think that you are in luck that I’m nearly as desperate as you are,” his eyebrow arches.

It’s a fair point.

“Alright then, where is this friend? And I’m not making any promises.” 

“All I’m asking is that you try. Just take a look and see if there’s anything more you can tell us. I’ll drive us there.” 

This halts her. “You’re not driving me anywhere - I’m not about to step into whatever van with blacked out windows you have back there.” 

“It’s a motorbike, actually.” 

And of course he drives a motorbike too. “That's even worse. Besides, I have my kit in my car.” 

“You have a medical kit in your car?” 

“It’s also a first aid kit, everyone should have one. Especially people stupid enough to drive motorbikes. And I know this may shock you, but sometimes people find out I’m in medical school and start expecting me to treat them.”

The insult has him raising his brows. “So you do this often then? Lure men into dates in exchange for medical advice?”

“No! I don’t lure anyone into anything. I’m certified in CPR and first aid, and I help people for free.”

“So I’m getting massively overcharged then?” He chuckles.

“You’re not risking your future medical licence, so I’d say you’re getting the better end of the bargain here.”

“Touche. But I’m not risking my life when you’ve been here throwing back gods know how many pints, so we’ll fetch your kit and then I’m driving us.”

“You’re telling me you haven’t been drinking?”

He holds up the bottle he’d been drinking out of - it’s just a soda. “Sober as a nun. I don’t drink when I’m playing.”

“I want you to know I’m taking a lot on faith here, pal.”

“It’s Guildford, actually.”

Guildford, of all names. She thought she had left the posh wanker names behind with this plan.

“It suits you,” she tries.

“I can hear the derogatory tone in your voice, but it’s a family name.”

“It would have to be, who would name a child that in the twenty-first century?”

“Perhaps the same sort of people who would name a child after a eighteenth century spinster?”

“And one of England’s most famous authors.”

He glances somewhere behind her.

“Well you certainly live up to your name, my Lady Jane - your chaperone over there appears greatly worried about your virtue,” he nods back to where Susannah is watching the two of them like a hawk. She signals her friend over to make the awkward introductions and explain the exchange.

“I highly doubt she’s worried about my virtue, just my common sense,” she clarifies before Susannah reaches them. “Susannah - Guildford. Guildford has agreed to come with me tomorrow to deal with Mum, but first he needs my help with his friend -”

“Winifred,” he supplies.

“Winifred, really? Your parents never even gave you a chance, did they?” She turns back to face her friend, “I’ll just grab my med kit from the car and you can drive it to your place or I can call you a cab.”

“No need, Archer’s already on his way. I figured when you two were chatting for so long.” Jane’s not loving the insinuation in her friend’s voice right now. “I just need to real quick -” and then she’s lifting her camera to snap a photo of Guildford, “hope you don’t mind.”

But Guildford just smiles for the photo. “I know the drill, I’ll give you my info in case you need to look into me first.”

He takes Susannah’s mobile from her and pops his info into her contacts. 

“This is almost suspiciously easy,” she stage whispers to Jane, but she smiles at whatever she sees on her mobile.

“Need me to verify anything?” He offers, handing back the mobile.

“Nope!” Susannah says, a little too quickly, tucking her mobile back into her purse. “You two have fun. All my love to Winifred!”

And then she’s out the door before Jane can so much as wave goodbye.

“Well that was weird,” Jane remarks to the empty spot her friend was just standing.

“Are you going to let my friends look you up now so I can make sure you’re not a fake doctor or something?”

“I never even said I was a real doctor, and it looks like your friends have already ditched you.” He glances back over his shoulder at the stage which is now empty. “Did they steal your guitar too?”

“That one’s just borrowed, I would never let my girl out of my sight like that.”

Jane resists the urge to roll her eyes at this - she imagines he’s even given his guitar a girl’s name, like “Lucille” or “Theresa”. She won’t give him the satisfaction of asking about it now, she’ll save that for when her mother is there to hear it. 

They manage to grab her kit and lock up her car with only a minimum of teasing from Guildford about her Prius. She expects to give him back the same when finally sees his motorbike, anticipating either some souped up American monstrosity or a barely-held-together dirt bike. 

It’s neither. It’s an older model, British-made by the logo, but it looks to be in good repair. It’s surprisingly tasteful, considering its owner. She still can’t quite believe she’s agreed to ride on it, however. Like some heroine in a novel racing off at the first sign of someone in danger, or a princess jumping on the back of a dragon to rescue an ill villager. She wonders what that makes Guildford. He’s certainly no knight in shining armour. A knight in shining leather jacket?

Only he’s handing that leather jacket to her. “I have two helmets but you should take the jacket.”

She presses it back towards him, “you don’t even have sleeves.”

Guildford pushes into her space and throws the jacket over her shoulders, “and you’re not wearing trousers. I run hot, especially after a gig, I’ll be fine. The drive isn’t that long.”

And then he turns away to pull out the spare helmet for her, tucking her kit into the boot, and she’s forced to accept the jacket. She slides it over her arms and realises that even though he’s not that much taller than her, she’s practically swimming in the leather sleeves. She shoves them up over her wrists and ignores his grin at the sight. 

Jane does fight to adjust her own helmet, drawing the line at letting him put it on her like she’s his girlfriend or something. She’s only doing this because some woman out there is in need of medical attention, and is apparently unable to find it anywhere else. Jane had considered the possibility that this was all some cheap ploy to get her back to his place, but there were much easier schemes, and even easier women. Had he had better manners, she might have been one of them. 

No, between his rude behaviour and his refusal to elaborate on the situation, she assumed it was probably just something embarrassing - for Winifred or for Guildford, it didn’t matter. Either  was fine by her, she would just build up her portfolio of funny medical stories a little earlier than most. And if things got too weird she could simply call a cab. 

She wasn’t chickening out yet, though. Even when Guildford straddles the bike and gestures for her to take the spot behind him. Jane had forgotten the fact she was wearing a short skirt.

“Eyes forward, mister.”

“Whatever you say, princess,” he laughs, but turns to face the other direction so she can primly lift one leg over the bike, keeping a few inches of space between their bodies.

But Guilford has other ideas. Warm, gloved hands reach back behind her knees to tug her forward, pressing her flush with his back. Her skirt rides up a little in the process, but none of it matters because there’s not so much as a centimetre between them for anyone to see anything. He draws her arms forward to wrap around his middle. 

And he really hadn’t been lying about running hot. She can feel the heat of him radiating everywhere they’re pressed together. Her face is right at the nape of his neck, the curls there damp from exertion and peeking out from underneath his helmet. He smells faintly of sweat and soap and leather, but mostly he just smells really nice. She resists the urge to lean in further, and her helmet thankfully stops her from doing something as embarrassing as pressing her face into his shoulder.

“Alright then, feet on the pegs,” he explains, and she scrambles to get her heeled boots locked on the second set of pegs, “arms tight around me, and lean with me around any curves. I’ll try and be gentle since this is your first time.”

She can hear the smirk in his voice and she wants to hit him, but he’s revving the engine and they’re rolling forward and Jane can’t do anything but hold on. 

He doesn’t peel out, however, and she’s forced to realise he actually does seem to be taking it easy on her - keeping just under the speed limit and avoiding any sharp turns. The wind whips a little at the bare skin of her legs, but otherwise it’s surprisingly…pleasant. Not that she’ll ever admit it. And with Guildford unable to open his mouth and say anything obnoxious, she’s allowed to simply enjoy the feel of her arms wrapped around a firm waist, her legs pressed against warm, solid thighs. 

He takes her further out into the country, to where the manor homes of her former life were surrounded by the less familiar farms and cottages. She starts to envision Winifred as some elderly relative or neighbour who doesn’t trust the NHS, but might allow someone of Guildford’s acquaintance to take a look at her. He turns off at one of the wide green pastures and the picture becomes even clearer. She’ll probably be offered tea and biscuits the moment she arrives.

****

“Winifred is a horse .”

“Yes, that's why you'll notice I brought you out to the stables to help her,” he says as if this is a completely normal thing to spring on a person.

“She’s a fucking horse.” 

“You catch on quick, you know that?”

“She’s a horse, and I'm not a vet.”

“Oh I'm well aware of that - her owner keeps neglecting to pay his bills on time and so no vet in the Tri-County area will come and take a look at her.”

Jane wonders at why Guildford cares so much about a horse that isn’t even his, but perhaps he’s a part time groom or something. Part-time musician, part-time student - she hated that she was actually starting to find him interesting. Most of the people in her social class did so little of anything - including not paying their vet bills. She wasn’t sure exactly who’s estate she was on right now but she wasn’t far from her own ancestral home, so she probably knew its owner. She decided against asking, however, not exactly wanting to give away her own position. Jane didn’t want to be lumped in with Winifred’s owner, even though she couldn’t pinpoint why she cared so much about Guildford’s opinion of her.

But he’s not looking at her right now, his full attention is on Winifred. His hands are stroking at her face and sides, quieting her where she’s startled a little bit at the lights and the presence of a stranger in her stall. 

“She’s been fairly agitated these last couple weeks - restless even, doesn’t want anyone near her except Rupert and me. And she’s been picky about what she eats. We thought she might have hay belly but Rupert’s been buying her the good stuff himself.” Jane has no idea what hay belly is but at least it’s already been ruled out. “There’s a broken fence post out there though and it’s possible she might have gotten a nasty splinter or scratched herself on a nail or something. Could she have tetanus?” 

“If she had untreated tetanus for a few weeks she’d be dead by now.” Jane might not know horses but she knew tetanus, and horses and sheep were even more susceptible than humans.

“Great bedside manner you have there,” Guildford finally looks back at her with a withering look. 

“They don’t teach bedside manner until year four, and besides, I’m telling you it’s probably not tetanus. One would think that would be good news.” 

He goes back to whispering sweet things to the horse, apologising for Jane’s words as if she’s the rude one here. She ignores the way her heart softens a little at his concern for the creature. 

Just in case, they work in tandem to check Winifred for any sign of splinters or scrapes. Jane shines her small torch along her limbs while Guildford carefully lifts Winifred’s hooves for her inspection. For as tough as he looks, he’s exceedingly gentle with her. It’s annoyingly attractive.

The buzzing of his mobile startles both girl and horse, and Guildford is quick to end the call and turn off the phone, looking annoyed at the caller ID. 

“Who’s calling you so late?” Jane has never been one to let her curiosity go unsatisfied.

“My father has somehow figured out I was going to be in town this weekend.”

“What happened to telling your parents to ‘fuck off ’?” Jane attempts to mimic the smugness of his earlier words.

“I think the nine declined calls sends the same message.” 

“The fact that he just called you again tells me it doesn’t.” Jane can commiserate, but she also can’t resist the urge to tease him a little after all his bullshit about not standing up to her own mother. 

“Once he gets something into his head, he’ll never let it go. He’s been nagging me to settle down for years.” And doesn’t that sound familiar.

“A commitment-phobe, how original. Well, I’d offer to show up as your fake date and return the favour, but I’m only in town this one weekend.” 

He snorts at the thought of it. “It’s probably not a good idea anyway - if I told my father I was bringing home a date he’d be booking the chapel and priest the second I hung up.” 

“He wants you to get married that badly?” 

“He wants me to live his life.” 

It’s like looking into a mirror of her own parental relationship. She can’t tease him about that one. “My mother doesn’t understand why I’m spending my youth getting ‘distracted’ by medical school, or my need for independence.” 

Frances Grey couldn’t understand why Jane needed a regular job at all, with no real power or influence, but she was still determined to do it on her own terms and with the full freedom of being unpartnered. It’s weird that this perfect stranger gets it better than her own mother does.

Guildford frowns a little at this. “Does that mean I need to convince her I can take care of you or something, because I…” 

A laugh forces itself out of Jane at the very idea. “Oh no, you just need to be yourself. Don’t change a single thing.” 

“...Alright?” 

Jane doesn’t want a knight in shining armour - especially not tomorrow. She wants the crass, barely employable tattooed guitarist to shake things up with her mother. She just hopes there’s no cute animals around tomorrow to soften his image.

She gives Winifred one last look over and pulls out her own mobile. “I can’t find any cuts or signs of swelling around her joints, maybe we should do a more general look at her vital signs?”

“Are you googling ‘normal horse temperature’?”

Jane looks up from the webpage. “I told you I’m not a vet. It’s not like I know off-hand what temperature a horse is supposed to be.”

“37.5 to 38.6 celsius,” he states, as if it’s common knowledge.

But he’s not the one with the infrared thermometer in his medkit. 

“37.8, as healthy as…”

“A horse?” He groans.

“I was trying not to say it. I can listen to her heart and then I can check her nose and ears,” she tells him as she pulls her stethoscope from her bag.

“Don’t you need to look up a normal heart rate for a horse?” She can’t tell if he’s mocking her or offering an honest suggestion. Jane already saw the rate range when she looked up the temperature question. She’s got the normal respiration rate range too, if needed. She may not be a vet, or even a full doctor yet, but she can memorise text with the best of them.

“Don’t you know it off hand?” She volleys back, half mocking herself. But also a little curious if he’ll know it.

“It doesn’t feel off.”

Guildford has his broad hand on Winifred’s chest, just behind her foreleg. Jane presses in beside him, sliding her hand and the stethoscope beneath his palm. He doesn’t move his hand immediately, but Jane tries her best to focus on counting the beats in time with her watch. 

32 bpm, another normal reading. She moves down to Winifred’s lungs, checking her respiration rate, and listening for any signs of obstruction. Normal again. Guildford is running his hands soothingly over her mane. Gods but his hands are nice. She checks her belly next, listening for the normal gurgles and peristalsis. She hears something else instead.

“Guildford?” She looks up to see the instant worry on his face. 

“How bad is it?”

Jane smiles.

“Winifred isn’t sick - she’s pregnant.”

He looks a little surprised by the news so she hands him the headset and guides the diaphragm back into place so he can listen to the second heartbeat himself - still faint but clearly distinct from its mother’s.

Guildford’s bright smile at the sound makes him look a bit like a kid at Christmas, and it melts Jane’s heart a little to see it. He still seems a little perplexed at the news, however. 

“But how? It’s all mares and geldings in here?”

“You said something about a broken fence?” She reminds him, and sees the exact moment when the thoughts connect.

And then he’s hugging her, lifting her in the air and spinning her to celebrate. Jane feels a little lighter too, oddly glad that she could deliver some good news after all. Guildford sets her back down slowly, keeping her still within the circle of his arms. Jane doesn’t try and break free immediately either. His eyes flick down to her mouth and she wonders if he’s about to try and kiss her. 

Jane realises she wants him to. His bare arms are warm around her sides and his lips look incredibly nice when they’re lifted by a real smile instead of his usual smirk. She tilts her face up towards his, and lets her eyelids go a little heavy. She watches as his tongue peeks out to run across his lips and she’s this close to just sliding her hands into those dark curls and dragging him down to kiss her. But then Winifred is butting her head against Guildford’s side, and the moment swiftly passes them by. Jane reluctantly pulls away.

“She’ll still need a real vet to come in now, if you can maybe find one that doesn’t know her owner’s a deadbeat. I could…” Jane catches herself before she starts offering to find a vet or pay for Winifred’s care herself. She knows that if Guildford actually shows up tomorrow, she’ll probably cave and offer anyway. 

“No chance you’d be willing to pop by for regular checkups?” He half teases.

“I’ll be back in Cambridge after the engagement party tomorrow,” she reminds him.

“...Right,” he accepts, clearly disappointed by the answer. He knows she isn’t a real vet though, and it’s not like she carries around equine ultrasound equipment in her kit. Unless he just wanted an excuse to see her again? But he’s already shifting away, “I guess I should get you back to town then.”

Before she even has a chance to work out if he wants her to stay - if she wants herself to stay - he’s walking out of the stables and expecting her to follow.

It’s a different kind of awkward, this time, climbing in behind him on the bike. He doesn’t make any allusions to her motorcycle virginity - or lack thereof, at this point - but he drives even more slowly than before. Jane gives into the urge to rest her chin on his shoulder, and allows her hands to splay a little across his stomach. Guildford relaxes a little at the gesture and she knows she made the right choice. The rest of the ride is pleasant, and she’s thankful she asked him to drop her off at her sister and William’s slightly more modest flat in town - all the easier to pick up her car tomorrow, and fewer questions about coming home so late - rather than her family estate, which would have been a far shorter ride and led to a great deal more questions.  

Even still, they arrive at her door far too soon, before she’s managed to figure out if there’s a way to recreate the moment from earlier. She takes off her helmet, and is pleased to see him do the same - this makes it much easier, if she can work up the nerve to get closer. She starts to unzip his leather jacket where she’s still wearing it, but he halts her.

“You can give it back to me tomorrow,” he tells her, taking the pull from her hands and zipping the coat back up.

Jane's eyes flick between the ringed hand at her chest - so dangerously near, but not taking any ungentlemanly liberties - and his grinning face above. Apparently she didn’t need to put in any work at all to revive the tension between them, it’s been simmering there the whole time. But since Guildford made his move with the zipper, she figures it's her turn to be bold. 

She reaches up to grasp at those tempting curls and finally pulls his face down to hers, kissing him with a certainty she doesn’t one hundred percent feel right now. Guildford is quick to catch on at least, and returns her kiss with equal fervour, lips sliding warm and plush against her own. 

The kiss quickly turns heated. Guildford’s clever tongue slips between her parted lips and he groans into her mouth when her fingers tug at his hair. His own hands have slid down to where her sweater and his jacket have ridden up a little, and she shivers at the rasp of callused fingers and leather half gloves at the bare skin of her back. 

Jane breaks their kiss only to run her lips over his lightly stubbled jawline, making her way towards the little silver hoop in his ear that’s been driving her crazy since she first noticed it. She delights in the choked off little gasp that tugging it with her teeth draws out, and the full body shudder when she catches the lobe between her lips. She can’t hide the squeak she lets out when he reaches down to palm at her ass, and pulls her in even closer to his overheated body. 

Jane realises this kiss is getting a little out of control for standing out in a fully public street, but his lips have made it to her throat and this is exactly how kissing boys who drive motorbikes is supposed to be. But in a strange way it’s also so very sweet. One of his hands goes to protect the back of her head when he pushes her up against the doorway, and he keeps peppering in these softer kisses under her chin even as his teeth scrape against tendons of her throat. 

He steps in closer and she can feel the solid heat of his thigh as it parts her own, and she wants so much to wrap her legs around his waist and tear off that stupid cut off t-shirt. But this is all a bit much for standing outside on Park Lane, and there’s not much privacy to be gained upstairs either. She reluctantly presses him back, smiling a little at the slightly dazed look on his face, lips flushed and kiss-bitten and his hair sticking up in wild tufts from where she’s been tugging at it. She imagines she looks equally a mess, panting into the space between them. Guildford reaches up to brush back her hair into some semblance of order, apparently also realising things have gotten a little out of hand, but grinning at whatever state she seems to be in right now. She’s already considering whether she’ll need to hide the evidence on her neck from her mother and sister’s eagle eyes tomorrow.

“My sister and her fiance are upstairs,” Jane tries to come up with a nice way to say ‘I’d love for you to come up but I’m apparently a teenager again who can’t escape my nosy family being in my business’.

Guildford seems to catch on to her meaning though, stepping back and taking her hand to press one last kiss to the back of her wrist.

“Until tomorrow, then.”

And then he’s driving off again, leaving her with her med kit in hand and lips still tingling.

****

Guildford isn’t outside when she arrives the next afternoon, as she had expected him to be from his earlier text. His jacket is still tucked into the crook of her arm. She looks down at her mobile, hoping to find some answer there. She had realised earlier she never actually learned his last name, so she had filled in his contact as first name: Guildford last name:Shit band from the pub, but thought better of it and went with the slightly kinder moniker of Guildford/Horse guy. And Guildford Horse guy has apparently just messaged her that he's already inside.

She hurries in, not wanting to miss the look on her mother’s face when she sees him there. Her hopes are dashed when she spots him already talking to her. Only she doesn’t look the least bit upset, which probably has to do with the fact that he’s traded the ripped jeans and leather jacket for a cashmere sweater and pressed trousers, stubbled cheeks and wild hair for a clean shave and cherubic curls, and he’s handing a bottle of Poggio Antico with a bow around its neck to Katherine and William. Just who the hell was this stranger? He somehow transformed into a mother’s wet dream! Only the sight of his ever present necklaces in the v of the sweater and the earring nearly hidden behind his artfully tousled curls give any indication this was the same man from last night. 

Lady Grey signals her over with a pleased look, and Jane walks over as if to the guillotine. Her mother barely pauses the conversation as Jane nears them.

“I was just telling Guildford here how you work much too hard at that school of yours and it’s so difficult to find anyone of quality there. And it seems your date for the party never showed -”

Her mother’s eyes go to the empty space at her side and Jane tries to interrupt her, “but…”

“ - though I thought, isn't it just perfect that Lord Dudley’s son also happens to be here, and also happens to be single.”

Lady Grey is smiling back over Guildford and Jane finally understands just how spectacularly her plan has backfired on her. 

“There you are, my boy!” Lord Dudley wanders over to join the farce, patting Guildford on the shoulder. “I see you’ve finally met Jane Grey - and here I thought you weren’t listening to any of your voice mails.”

​​The look on Guildford’s face when he too realises they’ve done exactly what his parents wanted almost makes up for it. 

Jane can only hope he was kidding about his father already planning their wedding. 

[serpercival]

The Third Doctor is so they/them coded to me so here's how I think the UNIT crew would react to them explaining singular they pronouns:

Sergeant Benton: He literally could not care any less. He's already dealing with a person who's way smarter than him, is an alien, and has never told him their name. He does not have the strength to give a shit or question anything the Doctor says anymore. Punches a guy who insults the Doctor's dress sense in a pub a few weeks later.

Captain Yates: Has a gender crisis for about two weeks and is ridiculously proud of himself when he comes out the other side of it with a good grasp on what it means that he's comfortable with he/him pronouns. Absolutely rips on anyone who gets the Doctor's pronouns wrong.

The Brig: Literally nothing changes between them. He'd already been quietly transferring staff who said homophobic things back to the regular military.

Liz Shaw: Figures it out on her own and starts using the right pronouns for them out of the blue. Doesn't ask questions. Once she's left UNIT and gone back to Cambridge, she occasionally gives out the Doctor's phone number to trans students. They always answer the phone.

Jo Grant: Literally all she's ever wanted is a gay best friend to talk about boys with. This is the happiest day of her life.

Sarah Jane Smith: Begs the Doctor for an interview for a queer journal she occasionally writes for. Finally gets one out of Four, who cannot take it seriously to save his life.

Harry Sullivan: Actually incapable of understanding despite being semi-canonically bisexual. He finally gets his head around it after the Doctor regenerates, which doesn't help much because Four alternates between he/him and "I don't remember what a pronoun is"

The Master: Fellow Time Lord, doesn't give a shit. Does relentlessly tease them for getting stuck in the 70s and/or 80s in an incarnation that needs to explain 21st century gender politics to every person they meet.

[bug-fics]

Nobility

Pairing: Stable boy! Eddie Munson x Fem! reader

Summery: Eddie was just a mere stable boy who yearned for adventure and a happy ending. Falling in love with a nobleman's daughter was never apart of the plan, nor was stealing her away from the life of luxury she was handed.

AN: This is set up to be a mini series, so depending on how this does ill knock out another part soon. This part is basically all world building, i would have just made it longer to include actual plot but its better this way.

Word count: 5.6k

Living as a stable boy was never a part of Eddie’s life plan. Being the son of a provincial farmer was discouraging enough for the young dreamer, his boyhood was full of work, and no time to be a kid. Generation after generation, the Munson family were victims of the working class. His uncle helped around the quaint farm, helping take care of the small selection of livestock while his father was able to tend to the small plot of land that held an assortment of crops. Farm work wasn't ideal, but at the end of the day, it was honest work. Following his written legacy, Eddie took on the job as a stable boy to provide stability to the small household.

The funds were good, excellent even, seeing as though he worked for the highest noble family in the diminutive village of Hawkins. Nonetheless, while money was generous, Eddie yearned for adventure, and making up stories wasn’t enough for his wandering mind. The young lad was always drawn to fairytales, ones about great wayfarers who got the pleasure of undergoing danger and heroics, and maybe even love if they were fortunate.

But Eddie wasn't a traveler, he's never come close to leaving his small town. The rumors of the edge scared most people from leaving. The woods were filled with trouble, magic, and dangerous beings. Only an idiot would go beyond the edge without proper protection. Hell, Eddie hasn't been to most of the places in his hometown, spending most of his time at the cottage helping around the farm or slaving away in the stables. If he found the time, he would spend his nights at the local pub, his tab growing through the night as he told made-up tales to the locals. Against the barmaid’s pleas, Eddie loved to stand on the long tables, shouting theatrics and acting out sword fights with anyone willing to join in on the fun.

Lucas Sinclair, the baker's son, who had a habit of burning everything he touched was one of the few people who've stuck by Eddie all his life. Mike Wheeler, a sarcastic barkeep who happened to work at the dingy hideout with the rest of his family. The teen did more talking than working, continuously getting told off by his elder sister. Lastly, there was Gareth Emerson, an apprentice for the local blacksmith. His mother was a lovely woman, a lady in waiting who worked alongside Eddie at Cambridge manor. The two had a mutual understanding of life, both families dependent on the only people who seemed to matter in this godforsaken town.

The elders of the village feared the small crowd was supplying the younger residents’ minds with stupidity, a few of them already endeavoring to leave in search of conquest. This never dwindled Eddie’s spirits, in fact, he wished he had the nerve to pull the same stunts, rejecting the cards handed to him for a real taste of freedom.

“I don't know why you won't just leave,” Dustin Henderson was one of Eddie's best friends, he was one of the only people who could keep up with the dramatics that the farmhand lived by. Being one of Eddie’s closest comrades, Dustin also experienced every yearning sigh, every rant of adventure, every sad glance at what could exist in the beyond. “God knows how badly you wish to leave, why force yourself to stick around? Even Wayne has told you to relish in new liberations. Why are you still here?”

“There are things keeping me in this stupid place, I don't know.”

Dustin rolled his eyes at this response, it was no secret that Eddie had eyes for his employer's eldest daughter, “And by things you mean a certain Cambridge who you've barely spoken to, ‘oh Dustin! She looked at me today like really looked at me. Dustin, you won't believe what she said to me today. Her laugh oh her laugh, can you believe I made her laugh’ honestly dude, it's getting kind of embarrassing.”

A deep blush flooded Eddie’s face, I mean yeah he thought you were pretty, and yeah he thought your laugh sounded better than any music he's ever heard. And I mean sure, he thought your eyes were rather fetching, and your hair always looked lovely, and when you wore those tight, tight, riding pants during your lessons near the stables he couldn't help but stare. 

But he didn't have a crush on you, Dustin's right, he's barely even spoken to you. It was an unspoken rule that nobles and the working class don’t clash. Your family was likable, but it was social suicide to even consider having a meaningful conversation with the long-haired man.

Shoving the young boy, Eddie fought with his brain to think of a rebuttal. “Listen, it's complicated. I can't just leave, the only thing that would make me leave is if I absolutely had to. Like a life or death situation, or maybe if I was kidnapped.”

Yeah, Eddie adored the fantasy of adventure, but as much as he would love to run away he had a job, responsibilities, and his uncle to take care of. He couldn't abandon all he loved just because he wanted to experience a rush of a crusade. Getting to watch you from afar was just the thing that made his life bearable. So he sat, drank, yelled, and laughed his nights away and in the morning he would suffer a day of hard work. It was his only option, adventure wasn't written in his cards unless an outside force made him have to run.

“You need to get out of here, we need to get out of here. This village is rotting from the inside out. Please, we could leave now it wouldn't be hard.”

“Dustin, we can't. You know we can't. Not now at least.” It was hard to deny the opportunity. If Eddie was a real adventurer he would agree as soon as Dustin asked. He’d run and gather his things and leave before the sun broke through the dark sky. But he wasn't a real adventurer. He was a coward, he was scared of the edge, he was scared of leaving his family, and he was scared of failing.

The night ended soon enough and the group of friends who littered the bar well past closing hours sluggishly swayed home, attempting to get just a little sleep before their day of work began again. This was the routine that was built.

Drink, sleep, work, repeat.

It was a disappointing loop, everyone was living to die. Money was tight, food was scarce, and no one was happy. Yet, Eddie and his crew seemed to be the only ones longing for an out. The poor grew weaker as the rich gained new opportunities.

Dawn broke in the sky bright and early, the roosters waking Eddie up, the natural alarm clock he needed to get on with his day. Dressing in his work linens, he rushed down the old wooden stairs, nearly tripping down the last few into the small kitchen of his dainty hut. Breakfast consisted of three large eggs from the barn, and a warmed slice of stale bread. It was the breakfast of an adventurer, Eddie liked to tell himself. This allowed him to play into his internal fantasy world when in reality, it was the breakfast of an impoverished rural family who could hardly make ends meet.

Eddie was the main source of income for the Munson household. The Cambridge family was a distinguished name in the village of Hawkins. They were the local emissaries for the kingdom of Demo, the family being the only contact people had with the sovereign when they needed resources. Many pleas went unheard, war was looming over the nation and the king believed he had more important duties than making sure his people survived the famish. The Cambridge family could only do so much.

Victor Cambridge was the head of the house. He was wealthy, awarded many luxuries from his position in the noble ranks. He had no time to help care for his lineage, it was no secret that he neglected his family’s needs, preferring to spend every waking hour he had working hard to keep the village from sinking further into filth than it already was. His wife, Virginia, was a kind woman, a lovely lady who had used to be a commoner in her youth. She spent most of her days in charge of the house staff, handing out workloads to the retinue of workers. She was a simple lady, a devotee to her husband and his love.

The couple had three children. The heir, Henry, was a young boy with the weight of the world on his shoulders. He was expected to fill in his father's position as every son for generations has. The stress already fueled the young boy's rage and internal anguish, with no time for play. He was forced to be a man. 

The youngest daughter, Alice, was a shy sprite of a girl. She was a mere child, easily influenceable, a small little field mouse who was rarely given the opportunity to flourish. She was tenacious and rotten, often using leverage over the staff to get what she asked for, a behavior often demonstrated by her father.

Lastly, there was you. As the family's Eldest daughter, you understood the politics of the town and the detrimental situation of those in the working class. Being a daughter of a nobleman, you were often ignored even when you tried to make your voice heard. Women had no place in the world of war. 

Eddie looked up to you, he’s overheard tales from other staff members of instances where you stood up for those who needed a voice; turning a blind eye when a break lasted too long, indulging the staff in royal gossip, and being one of the few members of the family to treat the staff as human. While you were headstrong, speaking out was still against the rules, and in fear of diminishing the Cambridge name, you slipped into the background most days. However, Eddie would never see you as a simple background character. You were the girl of his dreams, a kind spirit, a work of art.

Eddie knew little to nothing about you, but he was head over heels. A small crush that plagued his thoughts and fueled his existence in a silly fantasy he could indulge in while going about his day. He had a sweet image of you fabricated in his creative mind. You were a delicate flower who’d love him eternally, even if he was a simple man who worked for your family.

He was lucky enough to secure a position under the Cambridge family, many wished to work in such a position, and being in the right place at the right time paid off. Eddie could still remember the day he was offered the job, walking past the luxurious manor just as the old stable boy was thrown to the curb. Rumor states he was stealing jewels from the family and was finally caught. When Victor noticed Eddie standing, watching the commotion go down, he was offered a job. Eddie would have been stupid to turn down the offer, and his small history of working on a farm for his family was enough to give him a confidence boost to accept.

Work was far from glamorous, many hours were spent shoveling horse manure and caring for the horses under the hot sun. However, some days Eddie was granted the opportunity to teach the Cambridge children their riding lessons. The family had a professional instructor to aid in classes but with the impending war, it wasn't rare for her to be called away, handing the torch over to the stableboy.

Teaching the younger children was always a low point of his day, but these instances were some of the only opportunities Eddie had to properly speak with you. Mumbling dumb jokes that forced you to stifle a laugh, listening to you softly rant about your morning, and discussing the duties he was forced to partake in for work. However, his favorite moments were those when he could slip in a small compliment in passing. The flustered look you'd shoot his way always made the risk of getting in trouble worth it.  

‘My lady, have I ever told you that you are the sunlight through a window in which I stand, warmed and welcoming.’

‘Edward, I don't appreciate flattery.’

‘Nonsense. Venus in her shell was never so lovely, and Diana in the forest never so graceful as you’

‘Shut up’ A soft smile graced your face as you made an attempt to shy away from him. The huge grin Eddie presented went unnoticed

His favorite memory was a recent one. A month or so ago the heel of your boot got caught against the stirrup of the saddle. Your shriek rang through his ears, fear in your voice as the ground rushed towards you, but Eddie was quick, as he managed to catch you in his arms. The smell of your floral perfume clouded his mind as you begged him not to drop you. ‘only a fool would drop a girl like you’. The shy expression that graced your face at his words as you let a soft smile slip through the elegant façade was enough to put Eddie in the best spirit for the rest of the day.

Eddie couldn’t help but think you were the prettiest thing he’s ever laid eyes on. Your passing conversation was enough to leave a smile on his face, he’d envision your laughter while he worked, and the gleam in your eyes would help to make time speed by faster. And most of the time Eddie would imagine what it would be like if you were in one of his stories, one where he was the hero who got to fall in love with the princess. But of course, he was just your average stable boy, none of him worthy of a maiden such as a nobleman’s daughter, especially not one as beautiful as yourself.

Today was no different, when Eddie rode in on his less-than-impressive family steed, you were already seated in the lush garden on an expensive blanket, enjoying your breakfast with a book in hand. The food on the cloth were commodities Eddie couldn't even dream of enjoying. Imported fruits, fresh bread still producing a soft steam from the cool morning air, sweet tarts from the king's baker himself, and small sandwiches that would look ridiculous between his calloused fingers. 

The dress that rested against your plush skin was expensive, everything about you and your family was expensive. Your gaze lifted from the crisp pages of your book to glance towards the stable boy as if you felt his lingering gaze taking in every detail of your being.

The breath Eddie was holding was sucked away when you beamed his way with a short wave. Your family was less than kind, a smile like that was rare, but being on the receiving end felt like heaven. You weren't supposed to converse with the commons who littered the grounds of the manor, your siblings had no trouble following that authority, but you were never a stickler for every rule. You were often found gossiping with the gardener, telling stories to the cooks, and being friendly with the cleaners. Eddie was internally grateful when he learned Gareth’s mother worked under your authority, a kind soul, rather than the evil that plagued your family.

That's one of the things Eddie was enamored with. You were beautiful, gorgeous, ethereal even, but your kindness even if rarely directed towards him was admirable. The smile Eddie's way was enough to kick him into gear, sending him straight to the barn with a flush of red gracing his cheeks.

The day was a slow day for the pair, Eddie’s daily chores were already complete and your lessons were cut short due to a small royal emergency. Deciding to make the most of your free time you snuck out around the distant barn to the stables, picnic basket resting in the crook of your elbow as you searched for your favorite boy. Of course, Eddie didn't know you felt that way, you've barely interacted, but he always treated you with such devotion and care without treating you like some princess. It was romantic, even if he was only being friendly.

“Sir Munson, it's awfully warm out today. Care to join me for lunch?”

The sound of your voice was enough to make Eddie jump. This was the most you'd spoken to him in a day, it was rare for your paths to cross. And yet you had put in the effort to seek him out. Your previous attire was replaced with a simple dress, one he’s never seen on someone with such high power. You were wearing a commoner’s dress.

“Oh, I don't think your father or mother would approve of such, don't you think my lady?” The soft words were spoken as Eddie dropped to a small bow, still able to make eye contact. His big puppy eyes stared into your soul as a small smirk graced his lips.

“Maybe I'm done following the rules?”

“All the rules? Lady Y/N, murder is a very serious commitment. Do you wish to be burned at the stake for this outrageous announcement?” A hand was sent to his chest, an exaggerated gasp slipped from his pink lips as he did his best to give you a serious look.

"You know that's not what I mean Sir Munson.”

“Oh no no no, I'm positive I heard you say all the rules. Are you here to convince me to be an accomplice for these heinous crimes you wish to commit? An aristocratic woman like yourself should know better.” As he initially sought to receive, you offer him a soft giggle. It filled Eddie’s mind with sweetness and sunshine.

“Okay, maybe not all the rules. But I think you deserve a lovely meal for all of your hard work, don't you?”

“As you wish.”

With a smile, Eddie swiped his arm in another bow, a silent lead the way hung in the air as he followed you through the wooden gate of the barn, down the grassy hill, towards a huge blooming willow tree. There was a river nearby, adding the soft sound of trickling water to the air. This was a spot many knew well by the staff. It was one of the only places that provided a sense of peace, especially during a hard day of work. The destination was far enough from wandering eyes, but near enough where if called you could rush back to the manor without much worry.

Offering you a soft glance, Eddie took the basket from your arms, opting to be a gentleman, and set out the picnic that you'd brought along. It was the least he could do, you were jeopardizing everything your family stood for by being near him, let alone offering him a small feast for his hard work. Your kindness would be thought about for months, anything you did lived in his mind for ages. A soft conversation lulled between the two of you, today was one of many firsts.

“What's it like working in the stables? I've always wondered what it was like to have a proper job.”

“It's a lot of work if I'm being honest. I've always lived on a farm so caring for horses is nothing new. I think the worst part of the job is the fear of messing up. If I mess up on my farm it's okay, my horses are cheap, if I don't braid their manes or something, everything is fine. But here? Here I feel the impending doom that one mistake will have my head on a spike. Don't get me wrong, your family has never threatened me, but there is always that fear that comes with working. I enjoy it though, it's good money.” Eddie was right, finger sandwiches looked hilarious held between his fingers. “I think you're lucky, god knows I wouldn't wish for a job if I got to live in luxury as you do. Being poor is the only thing the village is known for, a noble like you wouldn't fit in with the working class. Nice dress by the way.”

The silence between you two was deafening. Eddie didn’t mean to overstep, his mouth moving faster than his mind. It was no secret that no matter how kind nobles were to their people, everyone despised the rich. Especially in the villages with high poverty rates. 

However, implying you wanted to play dress up as an impoverished maiden wasn't the way to your heart, even if Eddie didn't mean to be crude. God, here you were providing him with a lunch fit for a king, better than the staff typically get, sitting with him under a gorgeous willow tree, asking him about his life, and he goes and blew it.

“I'm so sor-”

With a soft breathy laugh, you interrupt him, “You're right, wishing to be a commoner is ridiculous. I just hate it here so much you know? It's lonely. And I see all of the staff have a found family of sorts while I'm forced to keep to my bubble. I can't remember the last conversation I had with either of my parents. Nannies can only do so much, I'm tired of being prim and proper. I wish things were different, I think that's why I look up to you. You and everyone else in the town are dealt, pardon my French, shitty cards, and yet I've overheard you in the kitchens, talking about your nights in the tavern and it just makes me smile.” You risk a glance towards Eddie, offering a look of awe. There was no hurt behind your eyes, Eddie had not overstepped like he thought he had. You looked up to him.

All his life Eddie had assumed that a life of money provided enough stability to feel content no matter what problems were thrown your way. Nobles and kings didn’t have to work all day to afford a loaf of bread. They didn’t have to worry about cold winter nights harming a loved one when the temperature dropped too low, they should be happy. Yet, here you stood sharing your sorrows with the stable boy. Loneliness was a burden no one should carry. People always say money can’t buy happiness, and now Eddie had living breathing proof that statement was true.

You looked up to him.

“I’ll tell you what. Pick a day, I’ll risk everything to sneak you into the tavern. You can drink to your heart's content, stand on tables, yell and laugh as loud as you want. You can meet new people, I’ll introduce you to my friends, you can have people in your corner for once. It'll help to give you your freedom, you deserve it.”

“Promise?”

“Promise, I'd do anything for you, my lady.”

The conversation took a lighter turn, hope filling the air. Eddie told you all of the stories his friends have gone tired of listening to. He showed you how to sword fight using branches he ripped from the willow and he was able to make you laugh when he let you win, dropping to the ground in a dramatic defeat. The little bubble under the willow was enough to relish in this newfound fantasy. There were no nobles and commoners. No rich and poor, Just you and Eddie being able to enjoy a newfound friendship.

Eddie could still imagine the shocked look that fell onto your face when he made you laugh so hard that let out an unattractive snort. The action was quite unladylike, something that would get you in trouble within the manor walls, which only fueled the fire, making the pair double over in a fit of laughter once more.

 You told him of your favorite novels, ones quite similar to the stories Eddie loved to tell. You shared the new gossip that flittered throughout the manor recently. He even told you all about the time that he and his friends had gotten so drunk they barfed all over the floor, leaving the poor Wheeler family to care for the rowdy group in their state of intoxication.

The best part was the moment when you begged Eddie to teach you how to climb a tree for the first time. He showed you how to scale the thick branches of the willow tree, before climbing down to help you do the same. A dark blush erupted across his face when he accidentally got a glance up your dress.  In his humble opinion, the memory he will cherish forever was being able to watch you attempt to hang down from a thick branch. Your knees bent, attempting to keep hold while you laughed, begging him to make sure you didn’t fall.

‘Eddie! Please if I fall I'll kill you, I'll do it. I'm gonna die, holy- don't let me fall. Eddie! I’m gonna fall, don't drop me! Please! Please I'm begging’

The shrieking of your words masked by the laughter you slipped out. And as a true gentleman, he gave you the same response he gave you months ago.

‘Relax, only a fool would drop a girl like you.’

The sacred moments were over faster than either of you had hoped, the two of you stood barefoot in the river, splashing water and giggling together. Your hands reach out between you as you grasp tightly onto Eddie's fingertips, eyes disappearing from how wide your smile was. It was the happiest you had felt in a long while until your name was called from a distance. Your disappearance was finally noticed.

Eddie waved you off, offering to clean up so you didn’t get in more trouble for running off than you no doubt were already in. With one last grin, brighter than he's ever been offered before, you ran away leaving Eddie to marvel at the experience he had just lived. Not only did you offer to spend the afternoon with him under the hot sun, but you laughed with him, you talked to him, you showed him a new side of you he's never seen before, and you looked up to him.

He couldn't wait to share this moment with anyone who would listen. A new fantasy to fuel his day of work, one where you fell in love with him, one where you ran away from responsibility and expectations. One where he was your hero, giving you the life you yearned for.

One where it was just you and Eddie.

Being home was never something Eddie enjoyed. It was a reminder of the way the world worked. The doors of the cottage were rotting, mildew sprouted from the walls and the thatch on the roof had microscopic holes that allowed rainwater to dribble in during a storm. It was ugly and smelled awful, but it was home. Dinner had gone and passed, and as Eddie prepped for a night of rest, the thoughts of his afternoon danced through his mind. 

The way you looked at him like he was a person, a friend. It was new. Eddie wasn't stupid, today changed nothing, he was still just a mere stable boy, you would marry a wealthy man, a prince if you were lucky, and rule over a village just like Hawkins. It was written in your cards, just as working to survive was in Eddies.

Sleep was short-lived, Eddie barely drifted off into a slumber before the sound of pebbles hitting his window had awoken him. It wasn't rare for one of his friends to wake him in the middle of the night, the dark was the perfect time to do things that aren't acceptable to do during the day, but tonight Eddie wanted a night of rest. 

Deciding to ignore the sound, he closed his eyes in an attempt to seek the comfort he desired until the sound of something heavier hit his window. It was clear the perpetrator wasn't going to leave without a fight, and Eddie was forced to drag himself out of the straw mattress he called his bed. 

Throwing on a few layers of clothes, enough to hang out if his friends wouldn't take no for an answer, Eddie crept down the stairs, making as little noise as possible. The thought of waking his uncle wasn't something he wished to do.

Opening the door, Eddie came face to face with Dustin, who has a weary smile on his face. Behind him stood the rest of their shared friends. Gareth stared Eddie down with a deep unreadable stare as Mike and Lucas avoided eye contact, like two children being scorned by an angry parent. They all shared a skittish look, one that could only mean trouble. Eddie was used to solving their problems, especially after the many nights the group spent drinking away their sorrows at the hideout.

“What did you do Henderson?” His question was answered by a different voice. Not one he was used to hearing, a soft yet cheerful sound, one he recognized immediately.

“Eddie! Hello, wonderful night isn't it? It seems as though I've been taken for ransom,” There, thrown over the back of a horse, one of your horses, you shot Eddie a wide smile. You were tied by your wrists and ankles, dressed in a long satin slip that was made no doubt for sleep. The look you shot Eddie was one of amusement, as if this was the best thing to ever happen to you. Aggressively rubbing the sleep from his eyes, Eddie did a double take towards where you were draped, just behind a stuffed satchel, no doubt filled with supplies.

“Shush, you're supposed to be a hostage. Really, Eddie, she's been cracking jokes this whole time. I think she's perfect for you. You know, I thought you were crazy. I mean what poor man falls in love with royalty, but now I see why,” The young boy shot Eddie a wide smile before glancing your way.

“I'm sorry, what on earth is going on here? Why Is she tied up? Why are you all here? What the hell is happening?”

“You said you wanted an adventure, now we have one. You're looking at your adventure party!”

“That doesn't mean kidnapping a princess?”

You let out a quip in response even though no one seemed willing to acknowledge you at the moment, ‘for the record, not a princess.’

“You said you would leave this sad excuse for a village if it were life or death… your life is currently on the line. You also said you would leave if you were kidnapped. We kidnapped. This is literally what you asked of me!”

“Dustin, I swear to every higher being... you're insane. I aid if I was kidnapped, not just anyone? This is crazy, you’re all crazy.'' The exasperated look on Eddie's face made you stifle a giggle. In reality, this whole situation should be terrifying, but Eddie was nice. When Dustin appeared in your room that night he had mentioned being a friend of Eddie’s. Your conversation from the afternoon still stuck in your mind, you willingly followed out of the window, only to be tied up.

“Hey, I am doing you a favor, though we need to hurry, time is running out.”

“Time? We need to return her, what are you on about?”

“Well, when we took her we left a note. Well, we didn't really take her, it was easier than I thought. She was very willing when we mentioned your name. Anyways, we left her family a note and they think you, my dear friend, kidnapped her.”

“Me? Henderson I swe-”

“As I said, time is running short, get on her horse, I'll grab one from your barn and we can be on our way. We already have plenty of supplies, food, weapons, first aid, clothes. You don't really have a choice here do you?” The young boy shot Eddie one last smile before jogging towards the farmland behind the cottage.

With a frustrated cry, Eddie took a solemn glance toward his cottage before reflecting on the men standing in front of him. These were his closest friends, and they were jeopardizing everything to give him the one thing he's always yearned for. They were his family, his people. Each one stared back at him with the same look.

‘This is how we get out.’

Call him a fool, but Eddie was handed the perfect opportunity to seek adventure. Granted this wasn't the tale he imagined. He was now the villain, but it was still a chance at freedom. Sighing he hopped on the horse you were draped across. This was it. Eddie wanted an adventure, now he had one. With a final glance towards the three other men that surrounded him, he took a deep breath before commanding the horse to ride towards the dark edge. 

Crossing over the threshold would mean no turning back, they would be fugitives for the rest of their lives. With one final glance towards the world, they once knew the party set off.

This was the only chance of newfound freedom.

[brookpub]

New Year Events in Cambridge | New Year's Eve Event in Cambridge

There is no better way to ring in the New Year than with a party you'll never forget, full of great food and great people. As the year comes to a close, the excitement for a fresh start grows. You don't need to look any further than The Brook Indian Gastro Pub in Cambridge for a great place to spend New Year's Eve. Renowned for its special fusion of modern pub vibes and real Indian tastes, The Brook is all set to make your New Year Events in Cambridge unforgettable.

A Biryani Feast Unlike Any Other -

The Brook Indian Gastro Pub is presenting a unique New Year's Eve Event in Cambridge this year that will send your taste receptors right to the core of India. The evening will be topped off with a Biryani Feast with a variety of aromatic and savoury biryanis that will make you want more. This feast has something for everyone, whether you like meats that are tender, rice that smells great, or rich spices.

The menu will include:

Chicken Dum Biryani:

This traditional biryani has layers of slow-cooked chicken that is cooked just right and fragrant basmati rice. A lot of people at The Brook love this dish because the spices used make every bite taste amazing. 

Mughlai Biryani:

This biryani is based on the delicious food of the Mughal Empire. It has chunks of tender meat, spices, saffron, and a hint of sweetness. Celebrating a new year is ideal for this royal meal.

Boneless Chicken Fry Piece Biryani:

This variation of the chicken biryani uses tender boneless chicken pieces fried to perfection and then mixed with fragrant rice and spices for those who prefer boneless chicken. Presenting an easy and fulfilling dining experience, this modern take on the classic biryani is appealing.

Lamb Dum Biryani:

Meat eaters should definitely try The Brook's lamb biryani. Made with tender lamb pieces, this slow-cooked meal locks in all the flavours and smells by being sealed in a pot, so enhancing every mouthful.

Fish Biryani:

If you like seafood, the fish biryani is a great choice. Cooked in a fragrant rice mixture, the tender fish presents a special mix of spices that wonderfully accentuate the delicate tastes of the fish.

Godavari Veg Palau (Veg: )

The Godavari Veg Palau is the ideal selection for our vegetarians. Made with a range of fresh vegetables and aromatic spices, this vivid rice meal is a tasty and satisfying alternative fit for everyone.

Along with chilled Raita to cool the heat and balance the flavours, all of these biryani dishes will be presented with Mirchi ka Salan, a spicy and tangy curry that complements the rice exactly.

Why celebrate New Year's Eve at Brook Indian Gastropub?

The Brook Indian Gastro Pub provides a unique dining experience with an emphasis on premium food, an energetic environment, and first-rate service if you're seeking the best New Year's celebrations in Cambridge. The friendly atmosphere of the venue guarantees the ideal setting for smaller meetings as well as bigger gatherings, so guaranteeing a great time for all.

The Brook is the ideal venue for celebrating New Year events  in Cambridge for the following few reasons:

An Authentic and Flavourful Experience:

The Brook Indian Gastro Pub is well-known for providing a modern take on an actual Indian dining experience. Our talented chefs use only the best ingredients and time-tested cooking methods to make food that will make even the pickiest eaters happy. This is a great place to celebrate the New Year, and the Biryani Feast is just one reason why.

Celebration and Liveliness:

New Year's Eve is all about celebration. Thus, The Brook is the venue for a vibrant, joyful ambience. As you ring in the New Year with loved ones and fellow diners, you will feel the energy and excitement in the lively music, friendly staff, and welcoming surroundings.

Fantastic Time and Great Company:

One of the best parts of any celebration is getting to spend time with family, friends, and coworkers. At The Brook, the atmosphere is meant to make everyone feel comfortable. Thus, the main emphasis is on giving every visitor a unique experience. Savour dinner together, interesting discussions, and the excitement of counting down to the New Year with wonderful company.

Easily located in Cambridge:

Both residents and guests will find The Brook Indian Gastro Pub, conveniently located in the centre of Cambridge, easily accessible. The Brook provides the ideal venue for your celebration, whether your goal is to enjoy a full evening of festivities or find a quick place to eat before visiting another New Year's event in the city.

Extraordinary Dining:

When it comes to New Year's Eve dinners, The Brook offers something different with their unique Indian food, like their famous biryanis. There are many types of biryani, so there is something for everyone. The dishes range from the most traditional to new and creative. 

Enjoy the best Indian food on New Year's Eve -

It's not enough to just think about average New Year's Eve celebrations in Cambridge. Choose to enhance your celebration at The Brook Indian Gastro Pub, where you will have a Biryani Feast unlike any other. It's an unforgettable experience with a great range of biryanis, mouthwatering sides like Mirchi ka Salan and Raita, and a festive venue atmosphere.

When you consider the New Year Events in Cambridge, do not settle for average. Choose to make your celebration at The Brook Indian Gastro Pub unforgettable by savouring a Biryani Feast unlike anything else. It's an experience you won't forget with a great range of biryanis, mouthwatering sides like Mirchi ka Salan and Raita, and the festive venue atmosphere.

Book Your Table Now!

Don't miss the opportunity to savour the amazing Biryani Feast of The Brook tonight, New Year's Eve. It's the ideal celebration of the arrival of the new year with its incredible assortment of biryanis and festive mood. Schedule your table now to be ready for an evening of tastes, entertainment, and amazing memories.

[somedaylazysomeday]

Winner Take All - Part One

Nathan Bateman x fem!reader (no use of y/n)

You're a biotechnology student at MIT. You aren't impressed by Nathan Bateman, especially when he shows up at your favorite trivia night.

Rating: Mature. Nothing too spicy in this chapter, but the next one will be. Minors, please do not interact!

Word Count: 4,600

Warnings: Mentions of bars and drinking, bad language and worse jokes, general antagonism.

Next | Masterlist

---

You came back from the bar, juggling four drinks in your arms. Two of them were pressed up close and personal with your boobs, but that was the price your friends paid for not helping you. 

As you handed them out to everyone, they continued their debate on teams. You raised your eyebrows. “Whose team am I on?”

“No one’s,” Frannie told you firmly. “You know the rules.”

“Come on,” you complained, though you were already smiling. “You’d win on my team.”

“That’s not the point.” Amber took a deep drink of her beer. “The point is that none of us would get to show off what we know.”

Your smile faded a little. You had a tendency to steamroll people when you were excited about something, and trivia always got you a little overzealous. “I’m sorry, guys-”

“Don’t be,” Talya assured you with a kind smile. “We all know what we’re getting into when we come here on trivia nights. We just want to give you a little competition.”

Her overdramatic wink cheered you up again. You settled into your comfortable armchair, taking a sip of your drink as you glanced happily around the room. 

The Estuary was, in your less-than-objective opinion, the best bar in Cambridge, Massachusetts. In fact, it could hardly be called a bar. It was more like a spacious pub, or even a tavern, if you were feeling particularly medieval. The interior of the main room was all dark wood, with shaded lamps that threw just enough light over the low tables and leather armchairs to keep the atmosphere from feeling oppressive. 

There were real books on the shelves that lined the walls, and the music was loud enough to fill the space without overpowering the conversations taking place around the room. It was a place that emphasized its guests rather than trying to control or overwhelm them. You enjoyed the occasional club or upscale bar, but the Estuary was somewhere you were willing to go every night. 

You damn near did, actually. You and your friends were students at the nearby Massachusetts Institute of Technology, all pursuing your doctorate degrees in various subjects. This far into your schooling, MIT felt like home, but the Estuary was still a welcome escape. 

It was a reasonably busy night at the bar. There were plenty of people huddled around, but if tonight were like every other trivia night, only a certain percentage would participate.

And, unless tonight was very unique indeed, you would beat all of them.

“C’mon, focus up,” Frannie ordered. “It’s starting in two minutes. What’s our name going to be?”

“I liked our old name,” Amber opined. “It always got a good laugh.”

“It’s outdated,” Frannie told her. “It stopped being funny three years ago.”

Amber pouted and Talya patted her consolingly on the shoulder. “It’s okay, Amber. PhDeez Nuts had a good run.”

You snorted into your drink and Frannie threw you a withering look. “Yeah, whatever. We all know what you’re playing under, Champ.”

“It’s short and sweet,” you said defensively. “Plus, no one has ever mispronounced it.”

‘Champ’ had been your go-to trivia name since the girls had kicked you off of their team. The reasons you had given for your attachment to the name were true, but there was one other reason you didn’t state aloud: the name made it clear that you were playing alone. It was a subtle show of authority, one of the few teams that was made up of a single person. You were certainly the only solo person to win trivia as often as you did.

So your ego liked the boost you got from winning bar trivia. So what? This was a harmless way to feed your need for appreciation. It was a need you refused to deny or downplay. After all, the desire to stand out from your peers had helped drive you to skip several grades in school and pursue a career in the sciences. It kept you on your toes at MIT and you were proud to say you were at the top of your class. 

All things considered, a weakness for trivia at a local bar was so minor as to be considered an amusing quirk.

When the trivia session started, you studied the names that displayed on the various screens around the bar. There was a good mix of familiar names and new ones. It would be a good game. 

When the Estuary had first switched to the automated trivia system, you had been hesitant. You didn’t come to the bar to spend an evening staring at your phone. But the system was cheaper than paying a moderator. Mira, the owner, had also told you that having people use their phones cut down on the number of players who tried to cheat. 

You actually liked this form of trivia a little better. The system showed how many points each question was worth, and you could track your score in real time instead of hoping the moderator wasn’t getting too drunk to do basic arithmetic. Plus, this system could track simultaneous answers, so if you got the correct answer, it didn’t matter if a louder party or one sitting closer to the front got it at the same time. Points were given based on how quickly and accurately you answered a question. 

The first five questions were simple: two were based on classic films, one was about geology, one concerned a French poet, and the fifth was over the Second Battle of the Somme. 

“Looks like Champ is in the lead!” Frannie said, scoffing even as she winked at you. “Someone save us from her tyranny!”

“How can you remember all of that?” Talya asked. “I swear, some days, I can barely remember basic coding, but you’re over there rattling off the greatest works of Jean de La Fontaine.”

“You think that’s bad?” Amber asked, draining the last of her beer and standing to retrieve another one. “I’m in her classes! I know she’s been studying for a test over recurrent network models - which she aced, by the way - and she’s still trouncing all of us.”

“Shut up, Amber,” you told her, tossing a napkin in her direction.

“At least we have manners in the Oceanography Department,” Frannie said, shaking her head at you as she retrieved the napkin. “Didn’t anyone ever tell you not to make a mess?”

“Maybe,” you said, squinting playfully. “You know, I just can’t remember. My memory isn’t what it used to be…”

Their collective groan made you laugh openly. They truly were the smartest people you had ever met, but they were funny, too. 

Talya was part of the Social and Engineering Systems Department at the Schwarzman College of Computing. She was a sweetheart and incredibly kind, but her pithy observations always managed to catch you off guard. 

Frannie was getting her PhD in Physical Oceanography, and she had the driest sense of humor of anyone you had ever met. You had always thought that, if she lived in Shakespeare’s time, she could have been the inspiration for Much Ado About Nothing’s Beatrice. 

Amber was pursuing the same degree as you: Computationally-Enabled Integrative Neuroscience. She liked to cut loose and have fun, but she was one of the most serious students you had ever met. You had seen Amber drag herself to class with the world’s worst hangover, take thorough notes on a lecture, ace a test, and go throw up… in that order. She was wickedly competent and working with her helped drive you to achieve more in your own studies.

You were all working toward earning your doctorate degrees, and getting toward the tail end of the process - one that took an average of five years. You were the youngest of the group, having skipped those years of elementary and middle school, but you were the closest to earning your degree. The others never treated you like you were any different than they were, which you appreciated. People had a tendency to talk down to you because you were young or act strange because you were highly intelligent. It was an exhausting duality, so you kept to your small social circle.

By the time the next round started, Amber had returned with a fresh beer. Mira was working behind the bar that night, and she always made sure you were all taken care of. 

You tied with your friends - playing under the name ‘The Tipsy Scholars’ - on the next question, mostly because Talya was holding the phone and the question was over the process of a Turing Test.

“Hah!” Amber cheered. “Better watch it, Champ! We’re coming for you!”

“Hang on, someone else tied with us,” Frannie said, squinting at the closest trivia screen. 

You followed her gaze. Frannie was right; there was another name beside Champ and The Tipsy Scholars. Someone playing under the username ‘The Conqueror’ had gotten the answer at almost the same time as you and your friends.

“Weird,” you said. “But I don’t remember seeing that name in the first round. Whoever they are, they have plenty of catching up to do.”

And they did.

It became a game you were playing beyond the trivia itself. You watched The Conqueror rise through the ranks of players over the standard ten rounds of questions. They continued to advance further and further until they were nipping at your heels. 

“Who is this person?” Amber demanded. “I might have to buy them a drink.”

You pressed a hand to your chest, acting playfully outraged. “You would cheer for the person who dethrones your friend?”

“Absolutely!” she agreed, saluting you with her drink.

The others laughed and Talya began singing Coldplay’s Viva La Vida as you waited for the final round of trivia to begin. When it did, you were holding your phone so tightly that your fingers ached.

A question about the artwork of Katsushika Hokusai. A question about the Pythagorean Theorem. A question about major cities on the Silk Road. A question about lobes of the brain that was insultingly easy. And finally…

Name one of the three main uses of the ‘final’ keyword in Java programming.

You were distracted momentarily by the incredible noise that exploded from beside you. Talya was shouting triumphantly as she typed in her answer while Frannie and Amber cheered her on. You pulled your eyes back to your own phone and typed in your answer - to prevent inheritance - but you knew the lag had cost you some points. The real question was: were they points you could afford to lose?

That became even less certain as the question’s scoreboard flashed up on the screen. For the last question, you had come in below The Tipsy Scholars… and The Conqueror.

The system always took a moment to calculate up everyone’s final score, especially when the Estuary was as crowded as it was that night. But when it did, you frowned in displeasure.

The winner is… The Conqueror!

“Wow, Champ loses her undefeated title!” Talya said, acting astonished.

“I was never undefeated,” you corrected, feeling a little flat. “I lose occasionally.”

“Yeah, about once a year,” Amber shot back.

Frannie shrugged. “Maybe this is her yearly loss, then. You’ll get ‘em next time.”

You smiled at her, but you were more bothered by your loss than you should have been over something as minor as a game of trivia. So much of your identity was wrapped up in being ‘the smart one’, even among some of the brightest minds in the world. Was a trivia game an accurate measure of intelligence? Of course not. Were you okay with losing? Also of course not.

Still, you forced a light laugh and stood up from your comfortable armchair. “Well, as the newly deposed ruler of the Estuary, shall I get the next round? I wouldn’t want to be another guillotine statistic.”

Your friends called their orders to you - ones you already knew by heart - and you walked up to the bar. 

Mira came over to you right away, ignoring the group of young students complaining on the other side of the horseshoe-shaped bar. “You doin’ okay, hun? I saw the way that played out.”

Her vague gesture toward the front of the bar encompassed everything, but you knew she was talking about the trivia. “Yeah, it’s just a game. You have to lose one every now and then, right? Makes the victories sweeter.”

“Mm hmm,” she hummed skeptically. “Another round of the usual, then?”

“Yeah, but make mine a rum and coke.”

You typically stuck to lighter drinks on trivia nights, mostly because they were always held on Thursdays, but you were going to treat yourself to something extra. It was a reward for a game well-played, even if you hadn’t ended up winning.

Mira’s eyebrows flew up, but she nodded. “Single or double?”

“Just a single,” you clarified. You were upset, but you weren’t that upset. “I have an early morning lecture tomorrow. We’ll be headed back soon.”

“Are you Champ?” an unfamiliar voice asked.

You glanced to your right, only then realizing that there was someone at your elbow. He was sitting at the bar, a beer resting neatly on a napkin in front of him. He didn’t look creepy or dangerous, so you nodded. 

“Yeah, that’s me.”

He stuck out a hand and you accepted it automatically. His fingers wrapped around yours, unexpectedly warm for someone who had been holding a chilled mug. “I’m The Conqueror.”

“Nice to meet you,” you told him, trying to make it sound sincere. You didn’t entirely succeed, and amusement flashed in his dark eyes. 

“Sure,” he agreed easily. “You said you have an early lecture tomorrow. MassArt?”

You frowned at him. The nearby Massachusetts College of Art and Design was supposed to be an excellent school, but nothing about you screamed ‘art student’. “MIT, actually.”

“Oh, cool. Same. I’m over at Schwarzman.”

“That’s great.” You turned back toward the bar, trying to signal an end to the conversation. Mira had been interrupted halfway through gathering your order when one of the patrons spilled a drink. She sent an apologetic look your way and you shook your head, silently telling her it was fine. Busy nights were what they were.

“You played a good game,” your new acquaintance told you. “If I’d come in a question or two later, you might have beaten me.”

You didn’t like this guy, but you consoled yourself with the knowledge that you probably wouldn’t have liked him even if he hadn’t just beaten you in trivia. He had a condescending sort of attitude you didn’t like. It wasn’t uncommon at MIT, but you carefully surrounded yourself with people who didn’t act that way. 

Unfortunately, you couldn’t quite keep your silence. “And if there had been slightly different questions, I might have beaten you. Or if your phone glitched at the wrong time. Or if you’d had a second beer. There are too many variables to make such a shallow assessment.”

His mouth twisted in a smirk. “Honey, I’ve never made a shallow assessment in my life. I always consider all of the variables.”

The way he emphasized that made it sound like some kind of pick-up line, but it was one that made no sense. Part of you wondered if you were supposed to ask for an explanation in order to fully understand, but you were beyond caring. 

Thankfully, Mira came back. You cut off her apology. “I changed my mind. I’ll take a double.”

She had your order ready quickly. The self-declared Conqueror moved as if to stand from his barstool. “Need some help carrying all of that?”

“Nope.” You wedged two drinks between your forearm and your ribs, carrying the others in your hands. “Thanks, Mira.”

If the guy said anything else, you didn’t hear it. Your full attention was on carrying all of the drinks back to your friends without spilling anything. That effort went unappreciated when you arrived.

“What took so long?” Amber asked, immediately gulping a third of her beer.

“Mira had to stop and take care of a spill,” you told her, flopping back down in your armchair. “I met The Conqueror, though.”

“Really? And we didn’t even hear any fighting.” Frannie shook her head. “That’s not how you’re supposed to treat a usurper.”

“Where are they?” Talya asked. You pointed the man out and her expression turned to one of recognition. “Oh, that’s Nathan Bateman.”

You frowned at her for a moment, but remembered something. “Yeah, he said he goes to Schwarzman, too.”

“Ooh, another MIT student?” Amber cooed. “Are you two gonna get together and make little trivia-genius babies?”

There was a loud snort, but it didn’t come from you. (At least, it didn’t only come from you.) Everyone turned to Talya, surprised to hear such a rude noise from the kind girl. “Sorry, but Bateman… Well, he isn’t the type of person anyone hits it off with. He’s brilliant, the smartest person you’ll ever meet, but he’s a total asshole. Very high opinion of himself, very low opinion of everyone else.”

Your mood, if possible, sunk lower. It sounded cocky and ridiculously petty, but you were used to being the smartest person people knew. The idea that you were losing that title was sending you into an odd, spiraling crisis of identity. 

“Wow, I have to meet this guy,” Frannie said. 

You shook your head. “Trust me, Fran. You really don’t want to do that. He’s bad enough as-is, but you’re not the most patient person in the world. It would end in bloodshed.”

“I’m just surprised Talya has run into him before,” Amber said. “He looks pretty young.”

“He is,” Talya confirmed. “Bateman graduated early and runs through degree programs like they’re nothing. He’s working on a PhD now. He’s a little behind us, but probably not for long.”

You finished your rum and coke. “I’m headed back now. Are you guys coming along, or are you gonna hang out here for a while longer?”

Everyone reluctantly agreed to leave, admitting that an early start the next morning would be easier with a reasonable amount of sleep. 

To your irritation, you continued to run into Bateman at the Estuary over the next few months. The Conqueror won almost every time. The only exception were games with a higher-than-average number of questions about biological processes. He might be a genius, but Bateman didn’t know shit about ossification. 

Unfortunately, he also seemed to take a savage pleasure in tormenting you. Every time you ended up at the Estuary on the same trivia nights, he came up to speak with you at least once. He had done his research after your first meeting. From that point on, he knew your name and your major, and made a habit of reading any papers you published. He wasn’t shy about offering his opinions on them, either.

“The idea of applying technological advances to medical treatment makes sense,” he told you one night, perched on the edge of the armchair next to yours. “But the idea of doing the opposite is ridiculous. Why would you ever inflict something like a biological process on a computer program? Take neural networks for example. Why are we trying to recreate our brains in a computer format? They’re capable of so much more. We can do better than that.”

You had managed to mostly ignore him up to that point, but the fact that you were alone didn’t make things easier. Frannie was doing a large-scale project that had taken her away from Cambridge, Amber was seeing a new girl, and Talya had taken up volunteering at a local nursing home.

That argument, however, drew your attention and made you engage more fully than you typically did.

“I’m sorry,” you bit out, turning toward him more fully. The gleam of triumph in his eyes warned that he had been poking you and hoping for a response, but you were beyond caring about that by that point. “Are you really suggesting that humanity is capable of inventing - with our human brains - something more effective than the same brains we’ve used to invent literally everything we’ve ever come up with?”

“Exactly,” Bateman confirmed. He peered over his glasses at you and pushed up the sleeves of his shirt. He had taken to working out lately, a fact you were bitter that you’d noticed and determined not to mention. “In fact, I’ve come up with several promising prototypes already.”

“Of course,” you snorted. “It’s not just that humanity can do better than our own, fairly miraculous brains. It’s that you in particular have managed to invent not one, but several examples of a better brain.”

“What did you expect, sweetheart?” Bateman asked, looking extraordinarily satisfied with himself. “I’m brilliant.”

“That’s what you keep telling me,” you replied, rolling your eyes. “And don’t call me that.”

He grinned, flashing white teeth against the stubble that shadowed his jaw. “I can’t help it. You’re so sweet with your whole… thing. You know, the whole ‘humanity will unlock its most profound potential when it learns not to compete with or seek to control the intertwined disciplines of computerization and robotics, but to learn as much from them as we hope to teach’.”

You gave him your best unimpressed look, though you knew the line had been lifted directly from your most recent paper. “Just because you’re a misanthropic egomaniac doesn’t mean you can infantilize my work.”

Bateman snorted, picking up your half-full glass and peering suspiciously inside. “However much you’ve had to drink, it wasn’t enough if you’re using words like ‘misanthropic’.”

The liquid in your glass threatened to spill over when you snatched it back from him, but you managed to keep it all inside. “And again with the condescension.”

He smiled, but protested when you stood up. “You’re not leaving, are you?”

“Why shouldn’t I?” you asked. “We’ve run through the entire Nathan Bateman conversational spectrum: gloating, patronization, and superiority. I’m not interested in starting over from the beginning.”

“You know me so well,” Nathan said, grinning.

You walked away, rolling your eyes. Unfortunately, he wasn’t wrong.

---

“I’ll get the next round!” Amber offered, speaking loudly enough to be heard over the crowd. 

You called a thank-you after her, receiving only the wave of her hand for an answer. When she came back, she handed you your go-to drink, beaming at you.

“What? What’s with that smile?” you asked. 

Amber shook her head, still grinning. “Nothing, I’m just proud of you.”

You narrowed your eyes at her, but smiled and accepted the drink anyway. “Thank you.”

“Attention, Estuary guests!” Mira announced, her voice emanating from the rarely used PA system. “In honor of our soon-to-be graduate, we’re having a special trivia game. Five minutes until the game begins!”

“You guys got Mira to hold a special trivia night?” you asked your friends, unreasonably touched by the gesture. “That’s so sweet!”

“We… didn’t,” Tayla admitted. “If we had thought of it, we would have, but that wasn’t us.”

“So, what?” you asked. “Mira just decided to do it?”

Amber shrugged. “Must have. You know no one can make her do anything she doesn’t want to.”

“It makes sense,” Frannie pointed out. “We’ve probably spent more time and money here than most of the Estuary’s patrons.”

Whatever the reason, you settled in to enjoy the game. Maybe it was only the graduation goggles kicking into overdrive, but even the username The Conqueror couldn’t kill your mood. Bateman could play if he wanted. You were feeling generous. 

Questions passed by in a blur of knowledge requested and received. Your fingers flew over the screen of your phone, entering names and dates and places, satisfied with the simple pleasure of your favorite activity in your favorite place surrounded by your favorite people.

Your time at MIT was finally drawing to a close. You had taken all of your tests, successfully defended your thesis, and filed all of the appropriate paperwork. The blue-trimmed hood was waiting in your closet, along with your graduation gown. Your relatives were flying into town in the next few days to watch your ceremony. 

Most importantly, you had received and accepted a job offer - a biotechnology corporation focusing on the treatment of autoimmune diseases. When your graduation was over, you would start the process of moving to the company’s headquarters in Texas.

Eventually, a discrepancy wove its way into your brain: you were winning. 

Ordinarily, you would have no problem with that. It was the ideal situation. And yet… Bateman was here, and very few of the questions had anything to do with biological processes. Even if they were, he had gotten better at them over the past few months.

Since your attention had been drawn to the strange situation, you paid close attention. When a question about binary came up, you and The Tipsy Scholars tied for first place… but The Conqueror showed up as number four on the leaderboard.

That irked you so badly that you struggled to remain gracious when you won. You smiled at your friends, accepting their congratulations and remarking on tricky questions they had known the answers to, but you were constantly keeping an eye out for Bateman.

When he finally made an appearance, he had the nerve to offer you a shallow nod. “Congratulations on your victory, Champ.”

You stood up eagerly, close to stumbling with a killer combination of irritation and alcohol. “I need to talk to you. In private.”

Before he could give any sort of reaction, you had started walking away. Behind you, Frannie snapped, “Stop smiling, you idiot. That’s not a good thing. She’s gonna tear you apart.”

Rather than being apprehensive in the slightest, Bateman’s voice sounded intrigued and a little salacious. “Yeah? You promise?”

Despite his side conversation with your friend, Bateman was right behind you when you turned to face him. 

“What the fuck was that, Bateman?” you demanded, folding your arms and glaring up at him.

His dark eyebrows shot upward, clearing the top frames of his glasses with ease. “What are you talking about? It was a fair game and you won. Am I not allowed to congratulate you for that?”

“You’re an asshole,” you informed him. When he opened his mouth, presumably to defend himself, you interrupted him. “But you’re an honest asshole. It’s your single redeeming quality. Don’t bullshit me. Just admit that you threw the game.”

Bateman was smiling, but made no other move to speak. You were too impatient to wait. “Well?”

“I think this is the first time you’ve admitted I have a redeeming quality.”

You sighed heavily. “One. You have one redeeming quality and you threw it away. I would rather have lost to an honest opponent than win against someone who let me beat them. Get it?”

“I think I can grasp the basics,” he said dryly.

“Good,” you said, giving him a firm nod as you took a step back. When had you gotten so close? Ah, well. It didn’t matter. “In that case, goodbye. I won’t say it was nice meeting you, but it was an experience.”

Bateman watched you closely, solemn until another smile dawned on his face. His teeth were bright against the short beard he had started to grow. “We’ll see each other again.”

“Probably not,” you told him, patting him twice on the arm before you toddled back to your friends.

---

Author's Note - I'll be posting the second part tomorrow! This is the first fic I've ever written for an Oscar Isaac character. I would love to know how you thought I did! Thanks for reading and have a great day!

I don't offer a taglist for explicit fics, but you can find other works on my masterlist!

[tye-wig-music]

let me try and précis my current status:

yesterday I travelled into london to croydon to hear a piece I wrote premièred. the concert was very good, but the performance of my piece was by far and away the shakiest; the conductor, a friendly acquaintance of mine who had commissioned me, apologised & promised to do it justice on another occasion.

now on the journey down to london owing to train strikes I had travelled partly by rail replacement bus. all told, the journey took about three hours, including a layover in royston where I walked into town and bought fish and chips from an outfit operating out of a building formerly serving as a buttery for king james the first and sixth (the town having been extensively patronised by him for its excellent hunting).

another ingredient in the mix is that I had been hoping to attend a festival in hackney earlier in the day, and had arranged to stay over chez un ami also attending; for reasons largely relating to my having recently had pneumonia and finishing fallout: new vegas very late the night before, this failed to come to fruition. as regarded my options for overnight accommodation after the concert, barring quick-witted organisation I was left with one option: travel north to my parents’ house

my parents being away from home, this seemed a more attractive option than it otherwise might have; the journey, though long, was more feasible than an attempt to return to cambridge, given the late hour and strike action; further, there was a coat I had had to leave on my last visit which I have been missing for a while, so I stood to benefit materially.

however, partly due to the underwhelming première, and partly to the overwhelming callousness native to professional classical musicians - to which I was exposed, following the gig, at a local pub - I ultimately left croydon in an unhappy state, and felt a strong resentment towards the idea of travelling by train again through a city from which I felt totally alienated. parting ways with my co-commissionee at london bridge station, I therefore - in part because I had to leave the station to find the entrance to the underground - resolved to walk through southwark; to inhabit and come to know it rather than leaving it a faceless point on my journey.

my meandering route took me past southwark cathedral, past the site of the original globe theatre and its reconstruction - I spent a long time fruitlessly searching for the rose theatre in the same area - past Tate modern, and onto the beach of the bank of the thames. Here I resolved to explore more fully a rare and extraordinary thing: a totally secluded area in the middle of london. to aid in my investigation’s fullness (as experienced by me), I decided to take another bump of ketamine (having taken two shortly before the concert - I really do recommend it).

in an altered state I wandered along the river’s bank for some time, frequently picking up interesting rocks or other items of interest. london lies on clay and chalk; I took loose lumps of chalk with me. presently I began to engage in a sort of sonic exploration of the area: finding a short length of metal scaffolding, with a child’s selfishness I struck it against the stones of one of the many bridges over the river, over and over again, for the pleasure of hearing the sound it made. I found a totally rusted boat hook (at least I assume it is a boat hook; it seems the most likely hook-shaped piece of metal to find by a river), which I cleaned to the best of my ability and used to break a cool rock down into more manageably-sized pieces, one of which I took with me. coming to an area inaccessible and watery, I turned back and retraced my steps, noticing that the tide had begun to rise.

this whole excursion had taken over an hour, and it was now going to be infinitely less practical to find transportation routes back to my parents’ house.

careless of this, I walked towards st. paul’s cathedral. it is a building I dislike; it speaks to every disastrous development in cruelty and arrogance of the 17th century, and I have expressed in writing before a desire to see it blown up. taking therefore my lump of genuine thames chalk, I scrawled on its stone “THIS BUILDING SCHEDULED FOR DEMOLITION 2026”. about two minutes after this the rozzers pulled up some 100 feet from where I stood; although seized with a paranoia that they might be here for me (i had been, in fact, adorning numerous surfaces with the legend “EXECUTE SUNAK”), I kept my casual gait and walked north towards st. paul’s tube station, stopping on the way to touch some statues in paternoster square. I disposed of the chalk on my way into the station.

google maps now advised me that my surest route to my parents’ house was to take a coach from marble arch. on discovering it would cost me in the neighbourhood of £16, I left the area in disgust: money isn’t real when you use contactless payments in the fare zones.

there passed, to quote the poet, a dreary time. one of my least favourite things to do is walk through central london, yet here I was. it is a disgusting place. my plan now took on this shape: I would head to euston station, and wait for the first train out to watford junction. this meant I had a lot of time to kill.

on great portland street, two things out of the ordinary happened in quick succession: a fox passed close in front of me (always a lucky and happy event), and the front panel of a bus nearby fell out of place. I told this to the driver, and he gave me a lift, free of charge, about five minutes in the wrong direction. it was agreeable to be sitting in a warm vehicle, at any rate, and I was touched by the gesture.

upon arriving at euston, I discovered that - due again to the strike - the fast trains north were not running. the station opened fifteen minutes after I arrived; I sat at the public piano and sombrely, sorrowfully played the piece that had brought me to london in the first place.

checking google maps again, I had learned that my swiftest route to my destination at this juncture was to ride the northern line to edgware and take a bus the rest of the way; this I did, slipping in and out of sleep for the duration of the journey.

when I - finally - walked through the door of the empty house, I discovered that my room had been filled with odds and ends such that it would have been impossible to sleep in it; this presumably because my parents thought that following what I suffered at their hands in december I would be unlikely to return any time in the near future. I write this therefore from their bedroom. provided I can leave here before their return, and leave the room in a state unlikely to draw their attention, I should be laughing.

the whole adventure has been, on the whole, quite a good argument for staying at home and never going anywhere

[flightofficeuk]

Rituals hanging around the Christmas Eve within the UK’s Panorama

Christmas is a time of festive cheer and dazzling lights and is a wonderful time to pack your bags and embark on a journey. A vacation on Christmas holiday with your loved ones is one of the most thrilling year end break for all of us. From traditional gatherings, exhilarating events to seasonal markets, Christmas feasts, and the best carol singing. Christmas is a cherished custom, thus the days leading up to the holiday are among the busiest of the year at airports, railway stations, and bus terminals as people travel to visit their loved ones. Many individuals decorate their homes with colourful lights and display various Christmas decorations, such as a wreath made of evergreen branches, in anticipation of Christmas. Most families also put up Christmas trees. Giving gifts is a major Christmas tradition. Gifts are bought or made for all people. The gifts are wrapped and placed under the Christmas tree to be opened on Christmas morning. Special Christmas songs, or carols, are sung and heard throughout the holiday season.

Christians celebrate Christmas as the birth date of Jesus Christ, a spiritual leader whose teachings form the foundation of their faith. Mary, a young teenager, was living in the hamlet of Nazareth and was betrothed to Joseph, a Jewish carpenter.

Christmas is celebrated with rich fervour across the globe in different communities, which are absorbed deep within the Christian faith. And in the UK, the Christmas Eve is one of the best times for celebrating Christmas Holidays for its denizens amidst celebrating eventful days and nights surrounded in the undertones of traditional rituals and superimposed by the new age cultures. 

Christmas is the time when denizens in the UK are ready for celebrating the Christmas Holidays. Very often, if not always, these holidays are lived around across the colourful stalls where your fertile imagination is impounded for once by the sight of gift selling stalls. God sent the angel Gabriel to visit Mary one day. The angel informed Mary that she would have a son via the power of the Holy Spirit. She would have this child and call him Jesus. Mary miraculously became pregnant while engaged to Joseph, just as the angel had predicted. Then, in a dream, God sent an angel to Joseph to corroborate Mary's account. She had conceived a kid via the power of the Holy Spirit.

The idea of relishing in the delectable meals may even seem godlier and often motivational. Families in London and counties of the UK indulge in the activities like Carol singing, visiting to churches and cathedrals to attend the masses and night outs in the city pubs. Households in the UK often have Christmas Eve parties with a unique kind of attainment. Meat pies and sherry is arranged for Santa Claus, while carrots are served in the basket for the reindeers, which drive the Santa Claus.

Implanting the Christmas Fir Tree is still one of the common rituals, and further beyond embellishing the tree with petite gifts eventually makes entire celebration better than ever.  On many occasions, the households in the UK get around decorating the Mistletoe, Ivy and the Holly. The popular event happening around in the Oxford Street of London goes further ahead and translates into making the whole event of Christmas far more enticing than otherwise. 

The UK and Christian communities living out there have interesting motivations, while they involve themselves in the Carol Services, or go out rightly for the Nativity Plays.  One of the most popular Christmas Carol Service is broadcast from Cambridge’s Chapel of King’s College and titled as “Nine Lessons” and this service has its own dignity and vox populi.

Christmas Celebrated by Children in the UK

The taste of celebrating Christmas especially with respect to the children in the UK comes with lot of excitement of different kind.  Gifts from the Santa would find entry in Stockings or the Pillow-cases, or there may be the time when parents would get through a secretive moment in time where the packaged gifts are placed underneath the children’s beds.

Children in return may even try out to go for offerings like the mince pies, which are served with exotic Brandy for Father Christmas. But in general, children make sure to offer the best of Christmas gifts, which truly have non-alcoholic nature. 

Christian Meals and the Openings for the Day

Christmas meals have a special taste and momentous appeal, and the timings for these meals is often quite mystic. Usually, the Christmas meals are arranged on the regular times of lunch, or these may even be organised before afternoon. Meals like Brussel Sprouts is one of the best giving around. Cranberry Sauce and Turkey are often the best treatments to look around.  And for the people of the UK, Wassailing is still an amazing activity with the Christianenlightenment. Children find the time for themselves to get into the Christian feel.

 Look for the Best Deals on the Christmas Flights

If you have made the plans for Christmas, and these plans are motivated by travelling to another country or nation, then you should immediately start searching for thecheap Christmas flight deals. These smart deals would help you in getting Christmas travel tickets on discounts, and in addition to reeling offers. In the end, let your Christmas Eve be a memorable event. Fly to exotic locations and relish in the Christmas holidays.

OTA are offering you a variety of budget friendly travel deals to some of the most happening destinations. Enjoy Christmas Eve with your family by traveling to your dream location and save big. Our massive range of captivating airfares gives you an opportunity to escape from your mundane routine and make tons of memories with family to cherish forever! OTA has put up an intriguing package of surprises for all travel wizards. Our attractive deals on low-cost Christmas flights will entice you to take a trip. We provide customized offers to satisfy all of your travel needs. We make your journey more enjoyable by offering low-cost air tickets and 24-hour customer support. If you run into any problems while travelling, our travel specialists will always be happy to assist you. 

The Fun and Excitement Surrounding Christmas is Next Level

And finally as you set yourself free for the Christmas party, make sure that everything is in the right place and format. You will need to make sure that the flight bookings are done in advance. Let the Christmas be your memorable day and you feel enchanted in the carol singing all the yuletide days and nights. And again, check the best flight deals for keeping your Christmas celebrations in budget.

[beesmcgee]

Okay I'm going to use this blog to process some thoughts because nobody reads it so it's a safe place.

Okay so for a while now I've been deep diving into autism (for the nth time in my life) and for the first time encountering all these first hand accounts of women with ASD. And it's like things are suddenly making sense for me. Screening questionnaires be like "is obsessed with trains and license plate numbers" and I'm like "well that ain't me". But an explanation specifically from women, and what it feel like from the inside. Some of them I'm like "wait that's just my entire life. They describe what my whole life has been like".

For 4 years now I have been without job, supported by partner, minimal social interaction, having therapy, on antidepressants, and now no pets. So. Minimal stress, like the least possible.

So I've started to think "oh I'm just your perfectly average human, no problems, perfectly functional" because I am not constantly crying and freaking out. I can make myself breakfast (most days, but sometimes I forget). I can mostly have a shower (although I spent some time averse to it because of the temperature change and volume of the water). I can do chores (dishes and laundry, other chores are forgotten about so house is mostly chaos). I can socialise in the one social thing I go to once per week (mostly saying hello and goodbye to people, or a rare awkward pub conversation where I am almost certainly not acting Normal). I can go on a weekend visit to my mother in law (but I get exhausted after a while masking and have to escape to the bathroom to be alone multiple times, eventually reaching a "migraine" point of sensitivity to noise and light). I can do the tasks I want to do (but mostly I get stuck hyperfocusing on the wrong thing or unable to get out of bed at all because I am Stuck. I am just Stuck on this thing, massive effort to redirect to another task, oh I'm Stuck again, oh no look how late it is, oh I'm Stuck once again). Yes, completely functional because my mood is the best it's ever been. For me that is an achievement. I have goals, I have intense interests that I pursue, I am not miserable. I wouldn't even say I am anxious anymore - I'm not like "I can't go to this thing because I'm afraid xyz will happen" or "I have to leave the room because I am anxious" anymore (thanks Zoloft); my nervous system just gets overloaded super easily and I'm like "I must be in quiet, alone". Obviously I am not functioning as you'd expect for a 30 year old human adult. How the hell do people have kids. Kids AND a job. WTF.

For basically my whole life I've been like "there is something very wrong with me". Religion probably contributed to that a lot. Stuff about realising I'm bi complicated that for sure. But it's like. All my troubles I internalised as a Personality Flaw. A moral failing. I'm just selfish, lazy, undisciplined, frivolous, childish etc. I've been undoing that with therapy for some time now, and it's nice to unravel that mess and be like "well, I am what I am". But I still want an answer.

I did very well in exams and uni. People often said I was "good at everything", could pick things up quickly, considered applying to Cambridge and everything. But the whole time I was a tense mess. School confused me, I was constantly worried about breaking some unsaid rule that everyone knew but me. I didn't know how to talk to the other people, didn't understand how to socialise. I could talk chaotically to my 2 friends (1 adhd, other maybe neurodivergent). But to anyone else, it was like. Does not compute. Hey how are you. That's all I got. I noted this line was said by people at like age 16. But that was all I got. I relied on my exaggerated facial expressions and small noises to cover up that I didn't know what to say, how to have an actual conversation that isn't a chaotic jumble of tangents and nerding out about art or physics. I was told I have very expressive eyebrows.

I just wanted to be at home drawing, or reading about physics. Drawing was my way of coping, my sketchbook a shield during social situations. I am the quiet drawing girl, oh don't disturb the quiet drawing girl, she's drawing. She's practicing her art, so it's not time to talk to her. I still do this now as an adult. I saw a home video of me at age 7, Christmas time, all my siblings playing board games and me off to the side, completely absorbed in playing with my ponies. They called me for me to join, I was just too absorbed to even hear them and I didn't respond, and once I registered I was like nah. In my own world, not really interested in being part of the group. I think that's just how I've always been.

Anyway, that's my rant, if you can call it that. I'm on a long waiting list to have an appointment to see if it's even worth pursuing an answer for if it is ASD. Will I be able to stop obsessing over this topic in the meantime? Maybe, we'll see I guess.