#What is Maida? | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

omi-papus · 1 month ago

Text

Light The Lamp

Part: 2

Fandom: Subnautica

Pairing: Robin x Al-An

Ao3 link

Content: Age difference, ADHD x Autism, Ableist slur, Ice Hockey AU, Modern era AU, Human Al-An AU, Drug use, Eventual smut

Summary: Rookie ice hockey player Robin Ayou stuns the league with a controversial but impressive debut, catching the eye of popular YouTuber Alan Silvester. Known for his hockey insights. After an awkward first encounter, he begs her to feature in one of his videos. And she after thinking shes found her new babygirl cant help but agree.

Word count: 8.9k

A/N: Hey guys. I managed to get this out at a decent pace I think, this fic is a lot easier to write than some of my other projects so I can balance it with Uni a lot better. Here we have more of the idiots being themselves.

She completed the interview. Robin stood firm even when faced with questions like, “How do you plan to avoid being a hindrance to your team?” No matter what, she wasn't going to cave and walk out.

Now she's wondering if that would have been the less humiliating option.

The second they finished recording, she stormed out, not saying a single word to either of the men in the room, and went straight to the gym. She doesn't know how long she stayed there, but all she could think about was what a waste of time this had all been. The dinner, the recording, the time she had spent planning her answers and all she could say to make the interview good, the time she wasted on him. Because she thought none of it amounted to anything. That the interview footage was unusable and no one in their right mind would have thought it was good enough to be released. That it would all be deleted, and they would pretend they never met. Oh boy, how wrong she was.

“AND WHEN DID I TELL YOU YOU COULD FUCKING DO THAT?!” Coach Maida yelled at the entrance of the arena, not minding for a second who else was there to hear her. Robin knew exactly what she meant the second she started yelling because she had seen it too. She forgot to unsubscribe from that godforsaken channel and saw the thumbnail that very morning. It had her nearly foaming at the mouth, and boy had she considered running up to that office and chewing him out. But she had training that day and did not want that fucker taking up any more of her time and brainpower than he already did. And lo and behold, her coach had caught wind of everything and was currently in the process of tearing her a new one.

“ARE YOU AN ACTUAL TODDLER?!”

“I wasn't expecting him to just insult me like that!”

“Oh no, he had every right to insult your piss poor playing. What you should have done was NOT throw a tantrum on camera!”

“I had to defend myself! I couldn't just sit there and take it and embarrass the team!”

“YOU EMBARRASSED THE TEAM WHEN YOU BROKE YOUR FACE ON LIVE TELEVISION!”

Robin couldn't respond to that and just gritted her teeth, holding onto her stick with enough strength to possibly break it.

“I should have kicked you out when I could…” the woman grumbled. Robin would have been scared if she hadn't made that exact threat multiple times and never followed through. She looked down at the floor. At that point, Coach Maida had stopped talking as well and just stared at her, waiting for a response. It took a minute for Robin to simmer down, to hold back from screaming and crying about what had happened in that interview and why it wasn’t her fault. She had to think about something else.

Her next words were soft, almost achingly resigned, but her eyes had that one last spark of confrontation as she locked eyes with her coach.

“Sam won’t be mad if you do. You know that, right?”

Marguerite’s expression did not change, but she didn’t answer. A cold breeze came in through the open door of the building, and the sounds of the other players whispering among themselves cut through the tension like glass. A grunt could be heard from the coach before Robin winced as she received a quick hit to the back of the head. When she opened her eyes again, she saw the coach walking away from her and into the rink.

“What are all of you staring at?! Get ready and get on the ice in five minutes! You’re doing triple laps today! You can thank Ayou for that!”

Robin could barely process the sounds of her team heckling her as she felt a certain weight in her chest grow heavier

—--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

She was the last to leave the locker room, still in her underwear, going through her phone. She had meant to unsubscribe from the YouTube channel but quickly found herself unable to look away from the comment section of the newest video.

"Like all women. Basically children." "She should not be playing if she’s this sensitive." "She just mad nobody wants to fuck a masculine thing like her." "Bro thinks she’s good."

It went on and on. She was trying her hardest not to look at Twitter. She could only imagine what the rhetoric would be there. It made her blood boil.

The Alterra Giants had requested a rematch. It would be in only a few days. She would fucking show them. Every single one of them how great of a player Robin Ayou was.

—--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The puck slid out of her reach far too quickly for her to attempt to redirect it. Then, pathetically slowly, it moved away from her before she was pushed to the side and had to refocus her energy on regaining her balance. She stopped herself from moving too far away, getting back into hot pursuit as quickly as possible. She could feel her pulse in her ears. Her trajectory had changed to herding the action back to the left of the rink. The opposing winger was cutting across center ice, trying to get a clean entry into the zone, but Robin was determined to force her wide, to keep her from getting any closer to the middle of the rink. With a burst of speed, she closed the gap, angling her body to cut off the winger’s path. The opposing player saw her coming and tried to make a quick move to the outside, but Robin was ready. She threw her weight into the check, sending the winger off balance. The puck popped loose.

The game was tight, the score tied 3-3, and her team was down to their last minutes in the final period. Every pass, every shot, every hit mattered. The Alterra Giants seemed to have fixed themselves overnight, always having at least two players specifically countering her.

She had to feel flattered.

The center was in position near the slot. Robin’s eyes flicked to her. This was it. She sent the puck screaming across the ice, a laser pass threading between two defenders. Her teammate caught it cleanly and wound up for a one-timer. Robin held her breath. The faceoff was in the offensive zone now. Robin skated into position. She locked eyes with their captain, who was lining up for the draw. They had a plan, the captain would tie up the opposing center, and Robin would swoop in to pick up the loose puck. If everything worked perfectly, they’d get another shot and a goal.

The puck dropped. The captain did her job, tying up her opponent’s stick. Robin surged forward, her stick darting out to grab the puck. She had it. She snapped a quick shot at the net, low and hard, hoping for a rebound. The goalie blocked it, but the puck bounced out into the slot. Bodies crashed together as everyone scrambled for the loose puck.

The opposing winger, a speedster with a nose for breakaways, found the puck and chipped it past the defense. Robin’s heart sank as she watched her own defensewoman hesitate for a split second. just enough time for the winger to take off. Robin turned and sprinted, legs pumping furiously as she tried to catch up. But it was too late. The winger was already across the blue line, alone on a breakaway. Robin could only watch as the forward closed in on their goalie, faked a shot, and then lifted the puck top shelf. The red light flashed.

She didn’t truly remember what happened after that. “4-3” was her last coherent thought.

—--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“This is hideous, dear, you really ought to change the way you arrange these.” The woman began taking out plates and placing them loosely on the table. Alan stood at the edge of the kitchen, staring firmly at the ground, knowing that if he dared to look up, his brain would shut down. His entire kitchen was in disarray, every plate, cup, fork, and spoon placed out onto the counters and table, many at risk of falling off the edge.

“I’ve taught you how to organize a million times. You are a grown man. You don’t have excuses to be this messy. The cups should go in the top drawer, not the bottom right one, and the pans need to go closer to the stove.” His mother opened one of the bottom drawers and began pulling out the one pot and pan, and with no more space left on the counter, she put them on the floor. “I want this all reorganized by the end of the day, Alan. I am not letting you live like this.” She finally looked back at him as she pointed to the mess around her, and she was fuming when she noticed him looking at the ground.

She let out a deep sigh and massaged her temple. “You’re lucky I’m so patient. I don’t even want to look at your room. I can’t imagine that it’s organized either.”

“It is organized.”

“Don’t talk to me like that! I’ll go see for myself. You stay here and fix this mess.”

She walked past him, and he shuddered. He finally had to look at what she had done, and when he did, he felt his entire head heat up with stress. He held back from putting everything back where it went, knowing that it would not please his mother. He tried to remember what she had told him. The only "right" way to organize, and began rearranging as much as he could according to her rules. He tried to think of his childhood kitchen and how that was organized. Normally, it would be easy to replicate, but the layout of the kitchen was different from his current home, and he wasn’t sure how to make it equivalent in the "right" way that wouldn’t get him another angered lecture and his kitchen torn apart again. Distantly, he could hear the sound of cloth being thrown from down the hall. No doubt his mother had already begun dismantling his closet. He had moved all his hockey paraphernalia to his office for this exact reason.

Because it wasn’t the first time she had done this. Show up unannounced and invite herself in. Sometimes she was only judgmental of his lack of decor and the general subpar aesthetics of his one-bedroom apartment, commenting on his habits, like how long it took him to shower on the days she arrived before he had to head out, and where he placed his coat when she came at the end of the day. But sometimes she did this. Dug through every drawer and crevice in the house, found something she disliked, and then took out everything and told him to put it all back the "right" way.

It wasn’t that Alan was disorganized. He loved keeping his spaces tidy, clean, and in perfect order. He had created multiple systems of how things should be stacked, folded, and stored and hated when anything was out of its assigned spot. Unfortunately, his mother was never a fan of his ways of doing things and insisted that everything should be done based on how her household, when she was a child, used to run.

This had been a battle they had fought for as long as he could remember. It was an immovable object meets unstoppable force scenario, two equally obsessive people steeped in their own ways and unable to accept anything else. Alan would arrange everything to his mother’s liking, wait for her to leave, which might take multiple hours, and then put it all back, until she showed up again. It was a cycle that periodically would steal up to an entire day from him. Sometimes, he’d have to call off work to Ryley because he had to either entertain his mother or reorganize everything again.

Alan used to think he would be free to have his house the way he liked when he had his own, but his mother’s incessant visits never let him know peace. In half an hour, the kitchen was mostly presentable. He could only hope she wouldn’t undo his work twice. He didn’t have to guessshe had already told him she was angry with him, for missing her call all those weeks ago and for making a scene at that restaurant. He knew from experience that her anger would last at least another month at this rate. And he guessed that Robin’s anger would last forever.

He was smart enough to tell that she was furious. The way she conducted herself in the interview was proof enough. And the way she had left, so quickly and violently, was unnerving. Ryley had suggested, nearly begged, that he not post the video. He didn’t know why Ryley was so adamant, as Ryley had always been pretty detached from anything Alan did outside of what directly affected him. Unfortunately, Alan had promised his viewers an interview with Robin Ayou, and he couldn’t back down from that. But it really was a disaster. She refused to answer multiple questions, and the ones she did, she fought him at every step. She was obviously very upset with what he was asking her.

He had told her to notify him if she had a problem. Why didn’t she? He had given her every question. None of this should have happened like this. At least not on camera. She was clearly surprised by the questions, and it was apparent she hadn’t read the list he gave her, and that made him more upset than anything else. That he had planned everything out perfectly and it was all sabotaged because she just felt like it. Like his way of doing things was stupid and didn’t deserve consideration. Just like his mother was doing now.

He was snapped out of his thoughts by a loud thud followed by what sounded like a crack. Quickly, he put down whatever he was holding and scurried over to his room, where he could see three things.

His mother stood in the corner of the room, looking visibly shaken his bed was filled with now unfolded clothes, thrown half-heartedly around, and his headset was on the floor, the shell on the left speaker broken and detached from the headband, the cushion having detached as well.

“Sweetie, I’m so sorry! They just fell out of the closet, I didn’t know they were there! Oh my God, I broke them! I’m sorry, I’m sorry. I’m a terrible mother who breaks my son’s things! I’m so, so sorry, Alan.”

His feelings toward the broken headset were quickly derailed by his need to calm his mom down.

“It’s alright. It was an accident. Go sit down. I can get another one.”

“I didn’t mean to do it, I’m sorry!”

“I know, Mother. Don’t worry. It’s fine.”

This went on for a solid twenty minutes. And it was only after two hours that she finally left, and he was faced with the fact that he had to replace the now broken headset.

—--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Robin stood still against the bathroom wall, fighting the burning sting of tears yet again. Every time she thought her anger had subsided, it bubbled up again like magma, and she could do nothing but grit her teeth and hold back from punching a wall.

She had told herself she would not look at social media after their loss, but, like with seemingly everything in her life, she failed. Twitter was swarming with comments about not only her team but her specifically. The connections made between her performance and the interview were plentiful. She remembered the scolding Coach Maida had given her, and even that didn’t feel close to the sheer anger she had felt in her bones when she saw that scoreboard.

She pressed her forehead against the stall wall, fists tight and jaw clenched. She was only a month into her professional career, and all of this was happening. She couldn’t help it. The gut punch of regret, coupled with an all-too-familiar helplessness, made the tears threaten to fall again. She had to mentally recite a mantra to herself, reminding herself why she was doing this, why she chose this path.

You're good at this. You're good at this. You. Are. Good. At. This.

She wiped her eyes and blew her nose quickly when she heard a knock at the stall door. She had been in there for a good ten minutes, moping. Hastily stepping out, she made her way to the sinks and splashed water on her face. Looking at herself in the mirror for a moment, she wished she were home right now. The only reason she hadn’t hotboxed her room and smoked herself stupid was that she was completely out of groceries and had nothing to eat for either dinner or tomorrow’s breakfast. She was starting to regret not ordering takeout, but her budget was getting stretched thin, and she knew this was the healthier option. The closest grocery store was attached to the main mall in the area, so that's where she was. Stores would be closing soon, so she had to hurry.

It was because she was speed-walking that she only half-registered a white blur move past her. Her instinct, however, was strong enough to tell her to stop and turn around, knowing that properly identifying it would be important.

—--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Alan should have, by all means, waited until at least tomorrow to purchase another headset. Or better yet, he should have ordered it online and waited. He had most of the month's videos already recorded and could have honestly just recorded everything on camera with the whiteboard instead. But he hated waiting, and he also just needed to get this situation out of his head before it made his brain explode with rage. Needless to say, he was furious, because of everything. The broken headset had just been the final push between his mother's visit and the recent interview fiasco. He felt like he would lose it if he didn’t fix the one thing he could control in this situation.

He never liked malls very much, few things interested him, bright lights and loud sounds abounded. It wasn't unbearable, but he certainly wasn't fond of it. He was walking around, searching for an electronics store that looked like it sold more than cheap chargers and phone cases, in hopes of getting a half-decent headset to serve as a placeholder while he waited to get another identical to the one he already had. He knew that wasn't the wisest financial decision, but he simply did not care at this point. He walked along with his head facing the ground, just thinking about how much better it would be once all of this was behind him. That was until a very loud noise pierced his ears, and he turned around to recognize a person stomping toward him.

“YOU!”

She had quickly pinned him to the wall, pointing at his face, her finger dangerously close to his chin.

“You motherfucker!”

He was never great at identifying facial expressions, which only made the vibrant anger in her eyes even more noticeable. It took him a whole five seconds of staring before he processed the eye contact, became uncomfortable, and looked away.

“Oh no, you look at me, you piece of shit!”

Her hand was already on the wall to the left of his head, leaning in way too close for comfort. He only took tentative glances at her, slowly shuffling to the side, away from her. He was thankful she didn't outright grab his face.

“I said look at me, dammit. Can you at least treat me like a person?!”

That confused him, his eyes still on the pillar to the side of them.

“I have never indicated I don't see you as a person,” he mumbled unsurely. He nearly felt her huff exasperatedly on his chin.

“Are…” She seemed almost choked for a short second before frowning at him again. “Am I supposed to believe you're just stupid?”

He finally took a step to the side, getting out of her hold. A nearly imperceptible growl escaped her when he did, but she removed herself from the wall and stared him down.

“Am I just expected to believe that you didn’t know how bad all of that would fucking look?! Is that your excuse?!” She spoke loudly but stopped outright yelling.

“I…” He cut himself off, realizing he needed to further think his words through. “I gave you time to contest the questions if you wanted to,” he struggled to say.

“And how did you expect me to react exactly?! I wouldn't have done the interview at all if you were just going to shit on my entire career for thirty minutes straight!”

His hand twitched. “Your career is barely existent. You’ve got one victory under your belt, one that you lost immediately after.”

She visibly fumed. So the shithead had watched that day's game too. Of course, he had. “So then why care about me at all?! If you just think I'm a piece of shit at my job, then what was the point of interviewing me in front of hundreds of people? Do you just get off on humiliating me?!”

They were starting to get looks. Robin noticed this far before Alan did. For a moment, she was self-conscious. She was making a scene so soon after being called emotional and childish for her on-camera outburst. The thought made her so upset that she nearly didn’t care about how those around her might see her. But that underlying shame was still there, that feeling that she was just being dramatic, that she should just suck it up and move on with her life. That she should just train harder and force him to eat his words. But something about looking at him directly set her off. Seeing him there, looking so lost and vaguely afraid, even through the thick facade of his expressionless face, made the barb sink so much deeper into her chest. Betrayed. She felt betrayed. And she felt stupid for it. Because it wasn’t a secret to her that he had quickly endeared himself to her, that she had found him oddly cute and charming. That she had felt that they were friends. She had known him for so little time. She shouldn’t have gotten this attached that quickly. Or shouldn’t have gotten attached at all.

“I thought the phenomenon of how you played was worth investigating,” he said, still facing the wall. Robin had to force herself to sigh. It did not help.

“What? Is my failure just fun to you?! Am I just entertaining because I'm so fucked up at playing hockey that I need to be studied?”

“I think you're taking it personally.”

“It IS personal, Alan! This isn't just my hobby! This is my life!”

“Well maybe play like it, then.” His fists were clenched hard, his brow ever so slightly furrowed. For a moment, Robin was too stunned to clap back. She fumbled with her words for a good few seconds as they kept getting stuck in her throat. The sheer audacity of the statement actually made her return to reality. Him so openly admitting he thought she was shit felt like it put an end to a small fire that had been burning her lungs. It felt like some type of closure.

“I shouldn’t even care. You're nothing but some nobody on the internet. Your own followers are getting tired of you, and you're more preoccupied with shitting on me than getting your mediocre career back on track.”

“You're trying to offend me, and it is not going to work.” He spat at her, looking now at her feet.

“Ryley was right about you. You're nothing but a neurotic freak with an ego up your ass!”

“Listen, I just want to go purchase something. I have nothing to say to you.”

“No wonder nobody likes you. Nothing is ever enough for you.”

That, Robin noticed, lightly changed the look in his eyes. “Listen.” His shoulders tensed, and to her surprise, he turned to face her, still looking at her feet. He took a step toward her, and they were once again toe to toe with each other.

“You have no experience with what being less than enough is like. If you really weren't enough, that coach of yours would have kicked you out a long time ago. I’ve seen her do worse for less. You’ve waved to your loving family at plenty of your games since university.”

“What does that have to do with anything?”

He should have shut up then, but an unstable cocktail of built-up frustration and anger was making him unreasonable. “Nothing I do is ever enough. Not for my family, not for my audience, not even for my own employee, and clearly not for you.”

Robin only raised an eyebrow, demanding he elaborate. He happily did. “I gave you every single question written out on paper and would have easily sent you a digital copy if you asked. I gave you a week to make the choice, to communicate with me, and yet you said nothing. It was clear you couldn’t even be bothered to read any of them. I would have changed them. I would have called off the interview if it was really that bad. I had everything set up to avoid disaster, but that was not enough. I tell my viewers that I’m going to interview a professional player, but that's not good enough. I lose nearly half of my income to pay my assistant a livable wage by just doing the job he signed up for, and that is not enough. I show my family over and over that I’m managing my life and have found even a little success in what I do, and that is still not enough. It’s never fucking enough.”

Robin blinked, her breath caught in her throat. It wasn’t what he was saying that surprised her, but how he said it. For all his usual detachment, this was the first time she had seen him genuinely vulnerable. She tried to shake that feeling off. He was the one who had treated her like a lab rat for his personal gain. He didn’t get to turn this around on her now, not after everything.

“That’s your excuse? You’re sad, so you did this to me?” She bristled.

“I am not giving you excuses. I am just simply expressing how I feel since you’re so intent on arguing.”

“What you feel?! What about what I felt?! When you still posted that stupid interview when I was clearly not happy with it?!”

“You didn’t tell me not to post it. You didn’t tell me anything. You just left.”

“And you’re going to tell me you didn’t see I was upset about it? It was obvious, you should have known!”

“Your subpar communication skills are not my responsibility.”

“Oh, we’re talking about communication, how funny. I would have LOVED for you to have communicated that you thought I was a stupid piece of shit instead of schmoozing me up at dinner and texting me like we were best friends!”

He was taken aback by that last statement, finally catching himself staring at her again, this time in sheer disbelief. “What do you mean by that?” he said slowly.

“If you were just going to insult my playing, why did you act so polite, take me out, and… and make me trust you?”

She sounded… hurt by the end of the sentence, her burning ire fading into the background ever so slightly. Alan couldn't decipher it, but he was dumbfounded by the very question.

“Because you’re a person. Even if a messy one, you are still a high-level professional player. And just… because I respect you? I never thought that you were stupid, and I just… Why wouldn’t I?

She was exhausted. She only then realized it. Frustration was starting to burn away at the last of her energy reserves along with her sore arms and bruised calves. She let out a huffy, exasperated noise as she held her head in her hands. It dawned on her what she was doing and how stupid and insane it looked to everyone around her. Was she being childish? She didn't know and only half cared. But she knew then that she wanted this to be over.

“Are you even sorry?” She simply sounded tired now, the tone of her voice significantly higher-pitched than before. Alan was able to sense this, and therefore his own defensiveness lowered, but he still had to take a moment to think about it.

“I do not think it is my fault, but I am sorry it turned out like this,” was all he could say. Robin stayed quiet, looking at him in a way that made him deeply uncomfortable, and he finally had enough.

“Goodbye, Miss Ayou.” It took a lot of strength for him to turn around and walk away, but he finally did, leaving Robin to deal with the stares. The supermarket had already closed.

—-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

She was going hungry tonight. She refused to spend more money on takeout, and Cal had his parents over, so she couldn't raid his fridge tonight. She was almost tempted to ask Sam for food, but the fear that Coach Maida could be the one to answer the phone was enough to dissuade her.

She should have, by all means, gone to sleep already. Her tired body was screaming at her, and her frayed nerves couldn't handle any more, but she just couldn't feel like it. That was very much like her, procrastinating even when it came to sleep. Fuck, she did not want to go to training tomorrow. If only she could call in sick like any other job, well, at least any job where Coach Maida wasn’t in charge. She tried to think of ways to get out of it while boiling some water. She really needed to get a kettle. Busting out the pot every time she wanted to fill her hot water bottle was getting beyond annoying, especially since these days she had to do it daily. Everything hurt. She looked over to her room and heavily considered rolling one out, but it would go to waste if she was just going to fall asleep five minutes later.

In minutes, she was on the couch, a hot water bottle pressed against her shoulder, her phone at ten percent, bright in the darkness. She scrolled past a group chat with her teammates, a message from her mom asking how she was doing, and a few promotional emails from places she'd never shop at. She was in that mood in which she couldn't stay on a single app for more than a couple of seconds, her attention span wouldn’t sit with her for more than that. She leaned her head back against the couch, trying to force herself to relax. Eventually, she decided to scroll through YouTube Shorts since she hadn’t tried that yet. Pretty quickly, that got boring as well, so she began looking through her YouTube feed. Maybe her favorite ichthyologist YouTuber had posted something new today.

Like a bitter metallic taste suddenly making its way into her mouth, a video showed up on the feed that nearly jump-scared her. She sat upright on her couch and stared at the screen. She thought she had unsubscribed from that stupid channel earlier today. Did she really forget to do it then, too? Fuck, she was stupid.

She collapsed back down again. “Stupid, stupid, stupid…” she muttered to herself tiredly. The video still stared her in the face. It made her angry. She felt the urge to report it, but she knew that doing that would actually cross the line into being childish. Currently, she was frozen. Something in her stopped her from scrolling along, unsubscribing, or doing anything about the situation that was bothering her. She placed the phone on her chest. She never did watch any videos from him, maybe if she had, she would have picked up that he was an asshole before she agreed to be part of them. And thinking about it more, she felt like an idiot again. She really did just like the idea of being interviewed like a celebrity, regardless of who did it. She never cared about his channel or whatever greater goal he had in mind. She just wanted to feel good about herself. Was that wrong of her? It felt like it was.

His little speech still bothered her. It wasn’t unimaginable that he had his own bullshit going on. Everyone did. Robin was convinced that everyone thought the world was caving in around them half the time. He wasn’t special. Still, she had to feel bad because it was true, if she had just not lost the paper like a moron, this wouldn’t have happened. He said so himself. And, God, she was never going to live down what Cal told her to do. Just ask for the questions again. She had avoided doing it for such a stupid reason, too. And that's the part that bruised her ego the most.

Because she was attracted to him. That had been apparent from minute one. She had wanted to look cool in front of him. She didn’t want him to know she was an idiot. And what hurt the most was finding out he already did. Seemingly from the start, he knew. And she really was stupid, wasn’t she? Her tooth still stood sharp and broken in her mouth, the image of the scoreboard was still seared into her brain.

Why hadn’t Maida kicked her out yet? If she let a boy get under her skin like a teenager, surely she deserved to be left behind with the college kids like so many of the other girls did. She should have never been drafted. This was a mistake. She was just destined for nothing, like all her school teachers had told her.

She curled up on the couch, burying her face against the cushion. She was spiraling again. She needed a distraction, now. She took out her phone and just mindlessly clicked on the video. Fuck it. Maybe getting angry at Alan again would get her back on track. What the video was even about didn’t matter, as long as it was something other than more loud thoughts of self-hate. Alan was in front of a whiteboard with a projection on it. He wasted no time, beginning to scribble and talk at length. Robin immediately recognized the topic, neutral zone traps, forechecking, and counterattacks. She stared at the screen, watching Alan’s hands move across the whiteboard, the slight tilt of his head as he spoke. She was annoyed that even now, after everything, he could still captivate her attention. Pathetic.

The video droned on about the timing of offensive breakouts and how players should anticipate defensive collapses. But then something in the video caught her ear, a mention of adaptability. Alan was saying something about how great players aren’t just skilled at executing strategies, they’re able to adapt to changing circumstances. The ones who succeed long-term are the ones who can read a situation, make quick decisions, and adjust, even when things go off script. She was good at that, she thought. Robin had always been quick on her feet and would thrust herself at any opportunity that presented itself to strike. Heh, she was so dead set on improvising that she had… broken… her tooth. She instinctively ran her tongue along the jagged edge of it, wincing at the reminder. Improvising was her strength, sure, but sometimes it came with a cost.

Alan’s voice brought her back to the video. He was talking about the importance of balance, knowing when to adapt but also knowing when to stick to the fundamentals. "It’s not just about reacting to the situation," he said, his tone calm but firm. "It’s about controlling how you react.” Robin remembered that incident, how it had happened because she flung herself at a loose puck and accidentally planted the toe picks of her skates on the ground and fell over. She hadn't thought about the consequences, about how her desperate attempts to turn the tide were turning into sloppy mistakes.

Robin gritted her teeth. Control. That word made her stomach churn. It was what Coach Maida had been drilling into her head for months now. Her natural instincts were sharp. She’d fight tooth and nail to force a play, to make something happen, but in doing so, she’d lose sight of the bigger picture and…

Her head was starting to hurt. She got off of YouTube, cutting the video off. She stared at the ceiling for God knows how long. Thankfully, she had the loud sounds of cars honking outside to save her from being submerged in the silence. She hugged the hot water bottle. Well, just like he seemed, Alan was smart. Too smart. Too blunt as well. He hadn’t just made his points by themselves. He had provided examples for every single aspect he was discussing, heavily criticizing a number of players in the process. She let out a deep sigh. Alright, maybe it wasn’t personal. She still found what happened in the interview incredibly rude and insensitive, especially with how little faith people naturally have in female hockey. But she supposed he just didn’t consider that. It was weird, actually, how little he cared about that fact. She looked through his recent videos, and the last seven of them were all about female games, even if she noticed that those had fewer views than the previous male-led ones.

A sudden urge to ask him about it popped into her head. It was just a fleeting notion, but the fact that she had just thought of texting him about why he liked female hockey like that caught her off guard. Like she hadn’t just sworn off ever thinking of him again a few hours prior.

“Uuuuugh, nooooooooo…” she whined lowly. Watching that video had done something for her. She just saw him, so focused and objective, that she finally had to realize that Alan was just some guy. He loved hockey like an obsessive little kid who cared about the game itself so much that people's feelings just slipped his mind. Could she really be that mad at that? He himself had admitted to her that he was autistic, and- no. No, no, no, no. That was NOT an excuse. Never had been, never would be. But what, she just wasn't mad at him anymore? What was she supposed to do with that? She didn't just want to forgive him. But… he wasn’t malicious. He was… blunt, obsessive, maybe even careless, but not cruel. She was almost certain of that now. Maybe she was infantilizing him, but that was better than considering him a shitbag. Robin remembered what he had told her, that although she was messy, she was still a professional. Did he always feel that way about her? How she felt now? So lukewarm and weirdly disturbed by the existence of a grown adult who was so… clumsy. Her with her feet and him with his words.

She briefly considered that her brain might just be looking for excuses to let things go so she could fawn over him again. It was at that moment that she made a choice. If she was going to go anywhere with this relationship, that attraction had to go. He wasn't some irresistible supermodel. Most of what appealed to her was just that he was taller than her, which most men weren't. He was decently polite, but she had gotten a good enough look at his personality to realize that the soft boy sweetheart persona she had built up in her head was far from the truth. She had been into her girlfriends before, and she got over that. Yes, this was the right choice. She could do this.

Now the question was, did she want to continue their relationship? If she even could, he looked pretty pissed at her too. But if they made up, what would become of whatever they had? Well, first of all, any more videos were off the table. But that had been the only reason they even met in the first place. The only reason he approached her, and the only reason she followed along with the weirdo that ran to corner her in the street. She huffed. Well, at least they were even cornering each other in public. The point was, what else did she want from him?

She thought about it while scratching dirt from under her fingernails, and rather easily, she had her answer. She felt bad for him. Not just because she screamed at him in public, but because of everything. Like she said, he wasn't special for having his own emotional baggage, which he had revealed to her seemingly on impulse. But still, even before that, he had such wet dog energy. When they were on good terms, he would text her incessantly, like he had no one else to talk to. She had a suspicion that was the reason he invited her out to dinner instead of just forwarding her the questions via email. And now she knew that he was aware that Ryley, his only work colleague, thought badly of him. Adding that he also briefly mentioned having family issues, something Robin had never been familiar with.

If she wasn't going to be his friend, then no one else would. And something about her hypersocial brain wouldn't let that go. Was she really going to let go of all the humiliation and anger to adopt a thirty yearold man? Fuck, she needed to broaden her hobbies.

She lay down comfortably again and put a pin in that thought. She was being hormonal or something. She had just finished tearing his ear out. She couldn't just call him up and be like, Hey, sorry, let’s be friends. She wasn't a saint.

Looking at her phone with five percent battery left, she decided she had enough of videos and hopped on Twitter. Robin had fought for her life to keep her Twitter hockey-free. She had enough of that shit on the daily. When she had phone time in bed, she would prefer to look at videos of Cuddlefish. Well, until a few days ago, of course. Following Alan had completely thrown off her algorithm, if only because of how much he tweeted. She should have known that she couldn't avoid him here either. There were just old threads of arguing until she got to the top, where she inevitably came across his most recent tweet and…

“Let it be on record that I do not condone the misogynistic and degrading comments made about the athlete Robin Ayou as a result of my video.”

Suddenly, it was quiet even on the street outside. Without thinking, she clicked on the thread and continued reading.

“While I stand by my analysis of her play, it’s important to separate criticism of performance from personal attacks. I respect Robin as a player and as a person, and any comments attacking her have no place in the discussion.”

He hadn’t tagged her in the tweet. Maybe he thought that was him being respectful, but now she wished he had. At least then she could have responded, said her piece, and maybe even defended herself instead of just being some invisible target. She looked at the time it was posted. Ten minutes ago. So after their spat at the mall. Even after all of that…

She buried her face in her hands. “Fuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuck…” she groaned. She stood up, back pain be damned. She stomped over to her room and plugged in her phone, not waiting for the little sound to ring before going into her contacts and searching for a familiar name. Alphabetically, it was the first. She put the phone to her ear as her breath caught in her throat. What was she doing? Whatever it was, she had to do it now before she lost her nerve or her pride swallowed her alive. The phone was already ringing, so there was no going back now.

The sound permeated for an unbearably long time. A small part of her was hoping he wouldn't pick up. That she could tell herself that she tried and that it was him who rejected her.

The ringing stopped.

“A-”

“I will have you know that it is only legal to claim defamation if the statements made are both false and damaging to your reputation. I have extensive proof of all my claims and proof of your consent to-”

“Hey, hey, hey, hey, hey! No, no, no, no, no! I never- I don't- what?”

“I would urge you not to allow this to go to court.”

“Alan, I am not trying to sue you!”

“Then what do you want?”

The words suddenly got caught in her throat. For what felt like an eternity, she was unable to say anything out of sheer nervousness.

“Miss Ayou, this is considered harassment.” His voice never wavered once.

“No! Wait! Fuck! I just- I’m sorry!”

“What was that?”

“I- I- I” She sighed harshly. “I’m sorry, Alan.”

“Okay.”

Robin blinked. That's it? Okay? She nearly said that out loud. A short silence followed before she realized it really was on her to make this count. “I did take it personally. Too personally. I know now that you're like that with every player, and I shouldn't have accused you of trying to hurt me.”

“Because I wasn't.”

“I know. Listen, I was being irrational back there at the mall. That wasn't deserved. I shouldn't have made a scene like that.”

“Is that it?”

He was really going to milk her dry, wasn’t he? “Alright, I'm also sorry for the interview. It… it was stupid. I should have done something more productive than just digging my heels in like that.”

“Miss Ayou?”

She wished his voice would soften even a little but knew that even if he was in a good mood, it almost never did.

“Yeah?”

“Why didn’t you read the interview questions?”

She dragged her palm across her face, hunched her shoulders, and held back a groan. He noticed. Of course, he noticed. She had no choice but to rip off the band-aid now.

“I… I lost the paper…”

Where had the cars outside gone? She couldn’t deal with this silence!

“Are you serious?”

“Yyyyyep…”

“You’re not messing with me?”

“Why would I make this up?” She sounded like she wanted to jump off a pier because honestly, she did.

“I just…” That was the first time she had ever heard him lose his words like that. It was honestly intimidating.

“Why???” His pitch heightened in disbelief. She swallowed hard, she couldn't decide if this was going better or worse than she had expected.

“I just put it away and then I couldn't find it.”

“Are you one hundred percent certain?”

“Yes? I know it's the dumbest shit you've ever heard, but that's what happened.”

She could hear fiddling on the other line. He must have started to pace.

“And… why… didn't you ask for a copy??”

She briefly couldn't speak again. Her face was burning, and it was making her dizzy. What did she expect to say here? I had a crush on you, so I didn't want to embarrass myself? Well, yeah, that exactly, but for the sake of her sanity, she would omit some things.

“I didn't… want you to know that I lost it. Because… well, like I said, it's stupid, and I didn't want you to think I was an idiot for losing something so simple.”

It was his turn to struggle to speak for a couple of seconds. “I- Robin, what you did is much dumber than just asking for them again.”

“I know!”

Alan, on his side, had in fact been pacing around his room, eventually, he had to stop and sit back on the bed. He ran a hand through his hair and fiddled with his shirt collar for several seconds before thinking of how to continue. Robin was waiting for a response, as she had fallen silent, save for the occasional short squeal of frustration that would come through.

“So this was all a misunderstanding then.” He didn't sound completely sure.

“Ugh, I mean no. It's mostly my fault. I'll take that, but it's because I wouldn't have done the interview if I had known what the questions were.”

Alan sighed. "So you went into the interview blind. And now you’re apologizing after wanting to kill me four hours ago."

"Yes! I get it, okay? I’m an idiot. I didn’t plan for it to spiral like this."

"That’s an understatement," he muttered. There was a pause.

"You didn’t have to make that interview so brutal," Robin said, more quietly now.

"You expected me to go easy on you?" Alan’s voice was incredulous.

She was going to implode. “Well, when you put it like that, I look like a little bitch.”

“What do you plan to do when criticism like this comes to you again?”

Robin buried her face in her free hand. “I’ve gotten worse, just not in front of a bunch of people, man!”

“You're twenty three, you'll recover.” He attempted to comfort her, but it only agitated her more for reasons unknown to him.

“D-don't treat me like a kid!” Her face was flushed, and her ears got hot.

“I never did. I simply meant to say that you have the rest of your career ahead of you.”

She brought her knees to her chest, her voice coming out much softer than either of them had anticipated. “So what? Do I just have ‘potential’ and nothing else? Is that how you see me?”

This time she could hear him breathe through the phone. “I'm not that important, Robin.”

Her eyes widened momentarily, and she mentally kicked herself for caring so much again. She was taking too long to answer, so he did in her stead. “I don't understand. Are you upset because you found the video defamatory or because you think I dislike you?”

Even through her pinkish-brown skin, the dark red of her blush could show through. That was a good question. The obvious answer was both, but if she looked inside herself, she could find which of the two dug at her ego the hardest.

“It's not like we're even friends.”

And she was not about to be honest about that.

“I suppose not.”

They were both quiet for a long time. It didn't feel right to hang up, but neither could come up with something more substantial to say.

She cleared her throat. “Look, I didn’t call you to- ugh, whatever this is. I just wanted to say sorry for blowing up. I… I get that you were just doing your job, and I need to stop making everything personal.”

“Good,” Alan said flatly.

Robin felt her heart sink just a little, even though she’d expected him to say something like that. What had she been hoping for?

“I just... I don’t want to be on bad terms with you. That’s all.”

“Bad terms? Robin, this wasn’t personal. I don’t go around trying to make enemies of people.”

“Well, you got pretty personal back at the mall with that little spiel about your life.” She said with a certain venom in her voice. This was supposed to be an apology, but she refused to pretend like she was the only emotional one in the situation.

He choked for a second, almost dropping his phone in the process. When he finally spoke, his voice sounded more than a little strained. “That was an oversight.”

“And what? Do mistakes only have consequences when I make them?”

He hesitated for several seconds. “And what consequences am I supposed to suffer then?”

It was Robin's turn to stall. During the span of five seconds, she went through all five stages of grief for her pride and finally settled on what she wanted. “I want you to forgive me.”

He blinked a couple of times. That was a much simpler request than he had expected. “I already did.”

“Forgive me like you mean it.”

“How am I supposed to prove that?” He was utterly perplexed, even if he didn't fully convey it.

“Everything has to go back to normal between you and me. Back to the random blocks of text at 3 PM. Back to asking about our day. No more videos or interviews in mind. Just talk, like normal.”

Alan was close to short circuiting. This took a turn that he never could have expected. “But like you said, we are not friends.”

“Well, fuck you, you’re my friend now.”

“What? Do I get a choice in the matter?”

“Nope.”

“You can't do that.”

“Sure can, white boy.”

“What does that have to do with anything?!”

“Talk to you tomorrow, Al. Good night.”

She hung up, leaving him more confused than he had been in his life. What?

#subnautica #subnautica below zero #robin ayou #al-an #al an #al an x robin #fanfiction #ao3 #hockey au

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neutron-stars-collision · 1 year ago

Text

Deadlines & Commitments

Neil x F!Reader

Chapter 2 - West Ham Underground Station

Masterlist; Chapter 1 Summary: What happens when a chance meeting happens again (and again)? Warnings: Swearing, E-rated language and outrageous flirting 🤷🏻‍♀️ Author's Notes: It took me over a month to write (blame the capitalism and full-time work) and it's twice as long (over 8k), but it's here, eh? These two did not seem keen on shutting up and the result is chaotic, but then that's London for you. It also features a cheeky POV change because there's no rules and everything is a simulation :) Also, if anyone's interested, the dance she mentions in scene no 1 and shows Neil is 'Cupid's Variation' from Don Quixote ballet. As seen for example here. Hope you enjoy and let me know what you think? 💕 Taglist: @hollandorks, @kristevstewart, @stargirl25 (let me know if you want to be added)

To say you have not thought about Neil every day since that encounter would be a lie. As it turned out, he was wrong. It was not difficult to remember him, tormented daily by the memories of that exact shade of blue or the way the strands of his hair fell over his forehead. Rarely the one to lie to yourself, you did not even try to get rid of those thoughts. After all, it was harmless. Hopefully.

A week later, on another dreary Wednesday morning, when the only reason for excitement was this autumn’s production of Don Quixote and the roll-call announcement in your inbox, you made it to the St. John’s Wood station with a slight shortness of breath. The morning walk was always an opportunity to admire how ordinary neighbourhoods of West Kilburn transformed into the poshness of Maida Vale and St. John’s. Alternatively, it was a way to check whether your fitness levels were still up to par. That morning, it was the second option.

Happy to blame the annoyingly engaging 5 minutes crafts video that popped up on your timeline just as you were supposed to be getting dressed, you shouldered your way past lingering tourists and through the ticketing gates. That was the only issue you had with the station. Its proximity to the most famous crossing in all of England (if not all of Europe) meant that day in and day out, hundreds of clueless individuals stood in your path. The best you could do was not trample them as you rushed to the platform, all too aware of the passing minutes.

Luckily, the gods of TfL were merciful. As soon as you stepped onto the platform, that familiar rush of warm air from the tunnels made the hair sweep into your face. You breezed through the rehearsed choreography – locating the door, letting the disembarking crowd through, stepping into the cart. It was easy, almost done with your eyes closed.

That Wednesday morning, you were glad you did not test the theory and kept your eyes open. The cursory glance around the cart got cut short when your gaze landed on the familiar dirty-blonde head, bowed over a book. You froze, eyes already doing their job by following the outline of the man to make sure it was not just your wishful thinking. Once you did it twice over, you knew it was no mistake. It was Neil. Sat by the window, blissfully unaware of your staring.

And you did stare. At the sharpness of his profile, the broad shoulders clad in a perfectly fitting shirt and the strong forearms, again bared by the rolled-up sleeves. Although it had only been a week, you drank the sight of him like a woman parched. Without letting yourself think too long of the consequences, you crossed the aisle and sat down next to him:

“I haven’t forgotten you. Are you proud?” with the breath still hitched in your throat, you watched Neil react.

He froze, the book almost slipping out of his loose hold. As if controlled by strings, his head swivelled towards your voice at an alarming speed. You watched as he scanned your face, clearly going through the same crisis as you did. Only once you saw Neil relax and not eager to bolt, you sagged into the plastic chair and offered him your most innocent look. Neil’s responding smile felt like sunshine hitting your face on a cold winter afternoon. You were happy to let the warmth seep into your bones.

“I’m mostly flattered, but you’re bad for my ego,” he gave you another once-over, this time lingering on your body.

It was more than welcome. You shot Neil a smirk, already ecstatic with the turn of the conversation. Although, there were evident falsities within his words. There was no big ego to conquer. You could see as much in that persisting disbelief in his eyes, the margin of distrust Neil kept throughout the last conversation. All because he did not seem to see himself the way he was. The way everyone else saw him.

“Nah, you’re fine,” using the observation as an inspiration, you reached out to pat his knee and lowered your voice to a faux-seductive timbre, “Actually more than fine,” admittedly, it was another corny line.

But if it worked.

When he blushed, you barely resisted the urge to pump your fist. Neil knew that was the intent anyway if his narrowing stare was anything to go by. He stayed silent for a beat, giving you a chance to stare. To trace his features with your gaze, substituting for a careful touch of your fingertips. It was too early to do that. Yet. But it did seem like the magnetism of last week’s meeting did not disappear, leaving you both arrested in each other’s orbit by the sheer force of gravity. A force you did not want to resist.

“Do you want to make me blush?” Neil’s question made you blink back the thoughts and admire your success.

That rosy-cheeked glow only added to the overall striking looks. And did not stop you from getting in too deep. That had already happened.

“Very much so,” shooting him your best innocent smile, you carefully lowered the tote bag onto the floor between your knees and looked around the cart, ending it on Neil again, “Fancy seeing you here,” the resulting smile was enough of a reward for the pain of another weak pickup line.

On the edge of your consciousness, you registered that the train was still moving as it should. The tourists were still starting to crowd the space. But it was hardly noticeable.

“Likewise,” Neil seemed to consider something for a beat, then he extended his hand towards you in a greeting. An echo of that first handshake, “Hi,”

Not hesitating to join him halfway, you wrapped his palm in a tight hold, letting your thumb draw invisible lines along the back of his hand.

“Hi,” like then, the handshake lasted too long, but none of you cared to cut it short. Neil loosened the hold first, his long fingers trailing over the back of your hand and the length of your digits before dropping away. The slight catch in your voice was masked easily by the next question, “Soo, is this like… Are you going to work?” you eyed his outfit again, taking note of the leather laptop bag on the floor.

It seemed clear, but if the years of commuting by the London Tube taught you anything, it was that almost nothing was what it seemed.

“Yeah, I am,” Neil breezed through your doubts with a decisive nod.

The unspoken was easily detected. A better woman would have probably let it be, ignoring the omission with the hopes that the conversation partner was too shy to disclose the information. Like a normal almost-stranger. But you were never the better woman.

“Where do you work?” you leaned in closer, the waft of his cologne overwhelming the senses.

The masking conspiratorial grin must have appeared manic. It was hard to tell whether that alone was the reason for Neil’s passing discomfort.

“I’d rather not say,” he shifted in the seat, averting your gaze, “It’s… complicated,” the apologetic tone only added fuel to the curiosity.

Now you had to know. One way or another.

“Can I guess?” your mind was already buzzing with possibilities.

Not only was he stunning, but mysterious. To not let that get into your head you reached into the tote and dug out a water bottle. One greedy sip hardly did what it needed to do. And you nearly choked during it. A heavenly omen? You did consider that, in between Neil’s intense stare and his hesitant nod.

“Good luck with that,” the scepticism in his gaze felt like a challenge.

One that you were happy to take up. You leaned back as far as the seat confines allowed and measured him critically. The elegant clothes suggested it was unlikely Neil was working at a shopfloor level. As did the “put together” appearance, with the only flaw being the unkempt hair falling into his eyes. Still, the possibilities were endless.

You decided to start with something safe. Probable.

“Are you a stockbroker?” on its own accord, the look of distaste passed through your face, twisting the features into something almost comical.

It was hardly your fault. It was the years of frustrating men reacting to the news about your job with a bemused smirk, eager to spend the next 10-20 minutes proving the Arts were dead and the ballet was a farce. A hobby, they said. Most of those men were passionate about the stock exchange. Oh, so eager to spend their days screaming at the screens displaying rates and figures you did not care to decipher. Somehow, it was you who was in the wrong. You were the naïve one.

It was impossible to say whether Neil could read all of that from the fleeting look on your face, but the amusement in his eyes suggested it was likely.

“Christ, no,” he shook his head vehemently, revealing his feelings towards the occupation.

Somehow, it felt like a relief. That tiny dose of joy was enough to embolden you further. To let go of the remaining apprehensiveness and let your mouth do what it did best. It happened often enough to be an issue. Because once you stopped caring what you said or how the other person reacted, nothing stopped your mouth from speaking whatever it wanted.

Most of the time, that meant utter bullshit.

“Alright… A priest?” as soon as the question gained voice and sound, you knew it was one of those times.

That, however, did not make you want to take it back. How could you, after seeing the bewilderment on Neil’s face, which beat any expression you had ever seen him make?

“… What is going on in that head of yours?” he stared at you with concern, only making that laughter bubbling in your chest become a fact.

Admittedly, the image was hilarious. Neil, as a member of the clergy, was a concept that emoted thoughts you did not dare dwell on. At least not now. Not when you were right next to him. Later? Maybe.

“Nobody knows,” you shook it off with a mysterious look thrown his way and rested your chin in your fist, positioned perfectly to fix your unwavering gaze on him, “So, I guess it’s a no, then?”

Just in case that it was a yes.

“No,” Neil spoke faster than you deemed possible, quickly keying into the breathless laugh breaking on your face, “I mean, yes, it’s a no,” the decisive shake of the head was enough for you to drop it. If he let you, “Is that a kink thing, or…?”

The inquisitive look was turned onto you. There was no chance of escaping the blue eyes that stared you down. Yet again, you felt like he could see the depths of your soul. And judging from the smile hiding in the corner of his lips, he liked what he saw.

But that did not mean you were happy to give him quite that much.

“I wouldn’t tell you if it was. Not yet, anyway,” you hoped the promise within that sentence was clear.

Neil’s widening grin confirmed it. You winked at him, sealing the pledge for future use.

“Are you also going to work?” Neil’s question acted like a needed change of scene.

A naturally occurring shift in the atmosphere. You took it with both hands open wide:

“To the dance studio. I got a part in autumn’s production of Don Quixote. The Cupid, to be exact. That means the next few months, I might as well live in there,” the heavy sigh was only half of an act.

But it was nice to share the news. To boast to someone who listened and seemed to care. Because the thrill of that first look at the cast list and seeing your name there was still burning.

“Congrats. That sounds like a big deal,” Neil’s proud smile confirmed the hopes and dreams.

“It is. It’s difficult, even though the variation is like a minute long,” unafraid to delve into the deposit of fun facts and trivia available at hand, you rambled on until you remembered about the videos you could use as a demonstration “I could show you what it looks like, if you want?” fully prepared, you took out the phone from your pocket and waited.

Neil gestured towards it like there was no dilemma at all. Like he wanted to understand.

“Obviously,” he nodded, welcoming you into his space and leaning his back against the carriage side.

You did not squander that chance, typing the necessary phrase onto the YouTube search and getting closer to him. Once the video was ready, you offered Neil one of your earphones. It was not long, with the clip’s duration barely breaching the one-minute timestamp, but the shiver of excitement was still there. It caught fire when you pressed play and heard the familiar score fill your ears, the eyes tracing the steps by the ballerina on the recording with the mind making plans for your version. For what you could do to make it different. Memorable. It was thrilling and terrifying at the same time.

But what soon became more fun was watching Neil instead of looking at the screen. He was focused on the performance, staring at the dancer with curiosity and interest. As if like he cared. You were not sure what to do about that realisation.

As the ballerina finished the performance with a smile and the video ended, you moved the phone away and snatched the headphones to deposit both in the tote. The rare hesitancy replaced the previous bravery, taking all the words out of your mouth and leaving you silent. And unable to look at him until Neil was the first to speak:

“I’m sure you’ll do great,” the encouragement in his voice did half the job of coaxing you out of the stupor.

The act was complete when he placed his palm on your knee and squeezed it lightly. That alone made you turn your head to look at him, all at once letting go of the shyness. Although he just as quickly took his hand back, the burning mark on your skin remained like the phantom touch. The slightly manic grin you turned on him was the only way you could hide the darkening blush.

“What did I do to deserve trust like that?” the question was genuine, eating at your brain with small yet persistent bites, impossible to ignore.

Neil had no obligation to humour you. No need to support you – a near stranger by all accounts. But he did. It was increasingly difficult to keep a distance. To remind yourself that you did not really know him. That trust should not be given this easily.

Neil’s searching gaze did not make it easier.

“I just like to believe in people, especially if I consider them friends,” he met your gaze and offered a timid smile.

You grasped onto the chance with a tight hold.

“Are we friends?” it was an opportunity for him to back off, to leave before you got in deeper.

Before what was once a chance meeting and a cute story to share with friends after a glass of wine became something real. Something frequent. Something to care for.

You did not have to stop to know what you wanted to happen.

“Something along those lines,” Neil shrugged, reading what you meant without difficulty. You saw the friendship take shape in the tiniest of nods you exchanged before he changed the topic with a cheeky smirk, “Especially considering I know about your annoying hook-up,” the involuntary shudder was an automatic reaction on your part, earning a pleased laugh from him “Talking about which, any new conquests?” he measured you up with that same searching look.

One that told you it was not only you that wanted to know more. That Neil, too, was curious. Although, that assumption was a tad bit insulting.

“No, come on. It’s been a week,” the frustration in your tone was a choice, a way of showing how the presumption made you feel, “I’m not that much of a player,” while it was from an insult, Neil needed to know he was wrong.

For some reason. A reason you were not willing to pick apart or scrutinise. Whether he noticed your ongoing crisis, it was hard to tell, for the moment Neil turned a mischievous grin on you, all rational thoughts had disappeared.

“And yet here you are, flirting with me,” checkmate.

The look you gave him confirmed his suspicions, if nothing did before. Only the fact was that your raging flirting with Neil hardly had anything to do with the desire to score another hook-up. There was no aim here, only that he was willing and too beautiful to be ignored.

At least, that was the hill you would die on.

“You’re making it easy,” you shrugged, half hoping to shift the attention away from your sex life and its many failings. But the opportunity was right there, too good to be wasted. Too perfect for the humour glimmering in his eyes and the expectant twitch in his lips, “Plus, you never know what may happen,” admittedly, the lower timbre and the seductive tone were all taken from the book on flirting you had used many times before.

But it worked, so… As if looking to distract you, Neil dragged a hand through his hair, making the blonde strands stick up and then fall in even greater disarray over his forehead. (That worked, too). All the while, he never let his gaze stray away from yours, seemingly confident that there was no need to keep note of the upcoming stops or anyone else around you. That, too, was a dangerous observation to make. All things considered.

“You have something in mind?” Neil’s question forced you to maintain some composure, but even that was short-lived.

As if inspired by your antics from that first meeting, his gaze travelled to your lips. The action alone kicked off a chain of events. Your eyes took the cue to glance down, to trace the shape of his mouth with a pang of hunger tugging at your stomach. Neil noticed it, watching you like a hawk that has just set the hook for its prey. Sinker? His tongue darted out to lick the expanse of his bottom lip. The hot flash of want sizzled underneath your eyelids as you forced yourself to look away.

Even if only to pretend you had not been struck by the same bullet you had fired at him the week before. The amusement you noticed in the corner of your eye told you it was futile.

“Oh, certainly,” your gaze stayed fixed on the darkness of the tunnels outside, as you mused out loud, “Especially if we keep on meeting like this,” there was nothing to add.

No chance of hiding the hopeful tint in your voice or the desire voiced with it. The part of you that had always rebelled against vulnerability and telling people truths, that were too close to reality, was ablaze with rage. You worried that, soon, it might start chucking rocks at you to stop. Goddamn.

“I hope we will. You’re, without a doubt, the most fascinating person I’ve met in a while,” only Neil’s matter-of-fact tone could make you turn back to face him.

If only to check whether it was not some meaningless jest. But there was no joke shining in his blue eyes. Only certainty. On the outskirts of your perception, you noted the station you had just left. That catchy ABBA song sharing its name reverberated in your head as if queued up by the gremlins occupying your brain.

Or something.

In any way, there was hardly time to idle.

“Likewise,” you shared a meaningful nod, not brave enough to express even half of what was running in your head. Instead, you decided to do what you did best and took the jump, “It’s my stop next, so I have to… Would you like to give me your number?” the line delivery was perfected over time.

So much so that by now, you did it without a hitch. Without cracking a smile so long as the recipient was processing the line with silence. The poker face stayed on until you saw that first glimmer of a smile or bursting bout of laughter. Only then did you let yourself crack, too. Just a flash of a smile to let them in on a secret.

Neil’s responding laugh and an amused grin shot straight up your veins like adrenaline. Like a drug you could feel yourself getting addicted to. He seemed to debate his reply for a beat before speaking:

“Maybe. But only if you still remember who I am in two weeks,” the challenge in the statement was clear.

Conveniently for both of you – you were never the one to pass on proving a point. Especially since this one was not going to be difficult. At all.

With all the confidence, you were sure you would think about those blue eyes and blonde mess of a hairstyle for many days to come. During many different times of the day.

Extending the hand to “shake on it”, you clasped his palm firmly. The “game on” look in your eyes completed the picture. The train began to slow down as the PA system crackled to life overhead. There was no time to waste.

“Deal. Do I get bonus points if I think about you during the off hours, too?” with his hand still clasped in yours, you stroked the back of it with your thumb.

A glance at the revealed forearm showed the goosebumps rising in the wake of your touch. Or maybe it was due to the implication? You would never know for sure.

The adorable blush spread over Neil’s cheekbones, suggesting he knew what you meant. He bowed his head as if overwhelmed with bashfulness and whispered the question over your joined hands.

“Do you?” there were two meanings to that question, and both had the same answer.

Do you think about me in those moments? Do you mean that?

Yes. You spelt out the confirmation with your fingertips over his knee. Like it was a secret. Out loud, you said:

“Maybe” the lights of Southwark were like a harsh wake-up, throwing you out of the daydream and into reality. You got up before anything could convince you to be sillier than acceptable. One glance down at the man who had somehow turned your world on its head was enough to soften your gaze, “Bye, Neil. Hope you have a nice day, giving communion or whatever it is priests do,” the joke landed spectacularly, with loud laughter from Neil and a burst of pride in your chest.

He grinned at you, something like happiness shining in the eyes that always seemed to contain melancholy. The desire to know what that was did not want to get any smaller. The doors slid open, forcing you to take that decisive step, fiercely hoping fate would be as generous in a week.

“See you around, Cupid,” Neil’s farewell rang out as you stepped out from the train.

You smiled like a lunatic as you walked down the platform. It was too easy to hope the Jubilee line would bring him to you again.

***

By the next Wednesday, you were prepared. You had timed your morning routine down to the last second to be sure you would get on that same train. And hoped Neil would do the same. Although, for a bystander, the action on your part could come off as desperate, you would never use that word yourself. No, this was pure curiosity. Way to spice up the morning commute and maybe get a friendship out of it. Just that. Only that.

When you descended onto the St. John’s Wood platform at precisely 7:19, your crossed fingers were hidden in your pocket. With bated breath (and an air of nonchalance), you stepped aboard the 7:21 Jubilee line train heading towards Stratford. Just like you planned.

You only let the breath out when your gaze fell upon the familiar dark blonde head. The accompanying hiccup in your heartbeat was to be ignored. Until further notice. Or forever. Aware of the crazed grin on your face, you crossed the space to the places occupied by Neil and asked:

“Is this seat taken?” this time, you were ready for his responding smile, dazzling you close to unconsciousness.

Only the hand tightly grasping the railing was necessary to keep you upright. But Neil need not know that. With your free hand, you motioned towards the seat occupied by his laptop bag.

“Now it is, yes,” Neil grabbed it instantly, putting the bag on the floor and turning toward you with a smile, “I was hoping I’d see you today,” the simple sentence was enough to spark the blooming warmth in your chest.

You did not even realise the cold had settled there throughout the week. In favour of ignoring the thought, you took the plastic seat with an accompanying creak of the material and turned the cheeky smile on Neil:

“Yeah? Were you holding your breath for it?” no matter the teasing, you were glad he had been waiting for you.

That it was not just you who had hoped the meeting no. three would happen. Allowing yourself the pleasure of staring at Neil, you let your eyes roam over his face. You noted the darker circles under his eyes and the tiredness hiding in the blue of his irises.

“From Swiss Cottage,” Neil’s reply made you store the observations in the drawer at the back of your head and stare at him with eyes open wide.

Now, that was interesting.

“That’s where you live?” you could not hide how you perked up hearing the information.

Neil saw through all the tricks you tried to pull up, immediately flashing a knowing smile. That was no mistake, not a case of him saying too much by accident. He wanted you to know. Or, alternately, he did not care too much about keeping it a secret.

“It is. Which makes me think we’re kinda sorta neighbours,” his lips twisted into a pleased smile as he confirmed your assumptions and added his layer of ridicule to the conversation “In the quirky Londony way” as if following internal logic you were not privy to, Neil shimmied in the seat, clearly highlighting the quirkiness of that statement.

There was no controlling the burst of laughter that escaped your lips and rang out in the carriage with embarrassing volume. Clamping your mouth shut, you slid down in the chair and glared at Neil, shaking with barely contained giggles. It was perfect.

Once you felt like you could control yourself, you broke the silence with a reply and a nod:

“That we are,” then, if only because the giddiness was still making your body shake with joy, you added, “It’s good to know,” you met Neil’s gaze, looking for a pointer.

A sign that it was alright to follow the instinct again. You quickly found what you had been looking for as Neil inclined his head towards yours with glimmering eyes full of curiosity.

“Why?” you might have imagined the deeper timbre in his voice.

It might have just been your wishful thinking that Neil was eager to go along with your flirtations. But it also could have been a fact. Another one of those moments of courage when he seemed to forget what shyness is.

Aware of the danger divagations like those could bring, you shook them off with a shrug, easily deflecting the topic and leaving the assumptions as just that. Luckily, the perfect distraction was waiting on the tip of your tongue.

“Actually- Are you a farmer?” turning the unblinking stare on him, you awaited the responding smile like an early riser waiting for the sunrise.

As soon as you left the carriage a week before, you knew the silly guessing game would have to go on. Even if only for the sake of your amusement. Judging by Neil’s resigned sigh, he was willing to comply.

“So, this continues, huh?” the question was a mere formality, and he did not wait for an answer, dismissing your guess with a sleigh of hand, “Nope, try again,” you certainly did not imagine the pleased nonchalance as Neil settled against the side of the carriage and measured you coolly.

Never afraid to be seen, you felt a shiver run up your spine when you were the sole focus of his attention. The particular way he caressed every inch of your body with curiosity made you wonder what his touch would be like. What kind of lover would he be?

“That’s a shame. Would love to meet a sheep herder,” slamming the metaphorical door shut at the yearnings of your heart, you let your mouth run wild.

And again, it delivered. It was not a lie, but it was bullshit. Yet Neil did not seem too bothered, staring at you for approximately 30 seconds before shooting you a wink worth another minuscule heart attack:

“I’ll keep my fingers crossed for you,” yet again, he patted your knee good-naturedly and just as quickly retracted his hand, distracting you with a question, “Can I ask you something?” you could not miss the sudden change of tone.

It sobered you up, forcing you to strengthen your spine and give Neil full attention. After the minutes of whimsical conversations, you considered taking that one step further. It was only a blessing that he did it first.

“Anything,” hoping your smile was just as welcoming as you wanted it to be, you trained your eyes on that unruly strand of hair that always seemed to fall into Neil’s eyes.

Your hands were itching with the want to brush it away.

Neil sighed as if bracing himself for something. Then he started to speak:

“When we met, you said that you’re not even sure you believe love exists, let alone feel it for that guy… Did you mean that?” the question reverberated in the carriage, which suddenly was too quiet.

You glanced at Neil, not knowing what to expect, only to find nothing but curiosity in his face. The question was one that you were asked before. Many times before. But it was the first instance that you wanted to answer it. There was no judgment hiding behind the question mark, only the desire to understand. To figure out what you were all about.

That was a reason enough for honesty. Keeping your eyes locked with Neil, you took a deep breath and replied:

“Yeah… It’s like, I know it’s a thing people feel, and I guess that must mean it’s real, but I’ve never… I don’t think it’s as much a big deal as everyone makes it seem to be” that familiar frustration bled into your words as you felt the years of misunderstandings inspire the speech and spur on the sincerity, “I like sex and all that, just not the… swoony, tender bullshit that fixes absolutely nothing and only seems to make people miserable” you finished the reply on a groan and measured Neil with a sceptical look “Satisfied?” that was the dreaded moment.

When part of the curtain has risen to reveal the truth underneath. The silence felt almost stifling, and you did not know why. It was all true. Every word has been spoken with honesty and came from your soul. From the soul that was tired of glorification always bestowed on love, feelings, and all things pink and fizzy, that complicated what could be simple. Even if love existed, you were sure you would rather never feel it. It was better that way. Simpler.

You doubted there was anything in the world that could convince you otherwise.

But still, that beat of silence before Neil reacted to your impassioned speech was torturous. You forced yourself to keep looking at him, awaiting that curt nod. Once it came, you let out a long sigh, feeling your body cave in on itself as if manifesting that sudden energy drop.

“Yeah, and also concerned,” Neil’s voice was the thread that kept you anchored to the moment, although it was impossible to tune out the underlining worry you had detected in his tone.

It was inconceivable. You could deal with disgust and ignorance, but concern was not something you understood. It made you helpless. You shook it off the best way you could – with a flirty smirk and a question:

“Are you a romantic, sweetheart?” the pet name rolled off your tongue with ease, meeting no resistance from Neil save for an uncertain smile and a dusting of pink along his cheekbones.

You could work with that.

The question, too, came from a place of curiosity. Sure, you could have left the topic where it was and rushed off into another silly conversation. But why should you? One look at the upcoming station showed you that the time was still running out, and you did not have much to lose. You met Neil’s bashful look head-on, patiently waiting for him to find the words.

“As much as one can be a romantic when they’re utterly untethered,” once he spoke, you could hear the sadness defining his confession and the constant weight of it dragging him down.

The choice of the word made you search his gaze for an explanation. It was impossible to believe someone this gorgeous could be lonely, let alone without a line of admirers waiting at their every beck and call. Yet the melancholy tinting his words suggested otherwise. Knowing the situation called for something more subtle than your usual repertoire of blatant flirting, you dropped your voice to a soothing tone and lowered your head to keep holding Neil’s gaze:

“Like ever or…?” trailing off, you watched as he seemed to wage an internal battle for close to a minute.

Even without knowing him that well, you could guess what it was about. It took a certain level of courage to be vulnerable in front of a stranger, to reveal one’s deepest regrets to someone not that familiar. Although you did not want to speak, you hoped the impassive yet open look on your face showed him that you would not pass judgment, no matter what it would be.

On its own accord, your gaze followed the sharp lines of his face, drawn closed with thought and up over the halo of his hair, shining in the fake yellow light of the carriage. If there was one word to describe Neil, it would be golden. You could only imagine the comparison would get more apt in the proper, warm light of those rare autumnal days in London that seemed to approach fast.

Before you had the chance to analyse that thought and place it under necessary scrutiny, Neil broke the silence:

“No, just for the past few years. No matter how hard I may fall, it’s never enough, so…” the blue eyes that rose to meet yours were burdened with resignation that, for a second, felt like it could crack your heart into two.

But you shook it off, reaching for the layers of frustration that always seemed present. For the annoyance at the society that had fooled people into believing that love was some holy grail of existence, the point of your miserable lives to live up to. When it was everything but. The familiar fire burned in your eyes as you clasped a hand over Neil’s shoulder and squeezed it reassuringly:

“See? Love’s overrated,” swallowing past the bitterness coating your tongue, you shot him a manic grin.

And ignored the alarms blaring in your head.

***

Before, those twenty minutes of commute between home and Canary Wharf were spent zoning out. Only sometimes, he could shake up the routine with a book or a particularly interesting podcast episode. After, it became an affair of watch-checking and foot-tapping until the train arrived at St. John’s Wood, and she would either be there or not.

Despite the impressions, Neil much preferred the after. Even if for the past two Wednesday mornings, he awoke with a strangely knotted stomach and a dumb smile of anticipation forming on his lips. That aside, it was nice to have something to look forward to.

Apart from the complexities of inverted physics, that is.

Timing the arrival on the Swiss Cottage platform for the right train was not an issue. It was something Neil had always done, unable to shake off the shackles of routine that seemed like second nature by now. When he boarded the Jubilee line heading towards Stratford, the anxiety set in like an old friend. It did not help that the carriage was packed this time, offering no available seats. With a tired sigh, Neil grabbed the nearest handrailing and stared out the window.

Without effort on his side, she soon enough came to mind. That happened a lot since that fateful afternoon. He had yet to decide whether it was a good or bad thing. For now, it was simply a fact. Like the anticipation of seeing her in two minutes, for the fourth time since the meeting. That also made Neil feel some way, but he was not brave (or willing) to understand it yet.

Perhaps the most crucial fact was that she, the newly appointed Cupid and the most baffling person he had met, was impossible to forget. And now, after three conversations that only expanded the mystery and made his curiosity insatiable, Neil did not try to forget. No, today (if she showed up), he would give her his number and let that determine the course. It was easy enough to think, harder still to execute.

By the time he had convinced himself that it was achievable and that it was alright to let go of the control this once, the train slowed to a crawling speed, and the lights of St. John’s Wood shone into the carriage. Before Neil could descend into another sort of anxious spiral, the doors slid open, and he had no choice but to expectantly stare at the commuters streaming in. He did not have to wait long, for right after the first row of impatient tourists and gravelly serious businessmen forced their way onto the Tube, she daintily stepped inside and flashed him another of those brilliant smiles.

It was nearly impossible to prevent his gaze from scanning her from head to toe like an uncontrollable Neanderthal that had caught the first sight of a woman. It was a reflex, a reaction Neil tried to stifle by forcefully dragging his eyes towards her face.

He was, without a doubt, an idiot.

The internal crisis had to be put on hold when she crossed that bit of space and leaned on the railing, curious eyes roaming over his face like they always did. Neil did not try to convince himself she was doing anything but checking him out.

“Ready to claim your reward?” the question helped him get the hang of the situation instead of losing his cool any minute.

That was highly probable with the way Cupid was staring at his face, seemingly unbothered by the movements of the carriage and the cramped space. It was also a good way of reminding her, though Neil did not doubt she would have forgotten. For reasons utterly inconceivable, the woman was driven to get his number.

The only excuse he had for waiting so long to let her have it was the constant disbelief that made it virtually impossible for Neil to trust she wanted it for real. As in not because of some elaborate joke that he was not privy to. And yes, that did happen. Once.

“Ecstatic,” her reply delivered in a perfectly monotone voice did make him focus. He watched as she glanced around the carriage, only now taking in the surroundings, “Looks like we’re standing today,” the observation seemed like a safe opener, and Neil immediately felt grateful.

It was that necessary push to make him relax a little and get out of his head. Even if only for the next quarter of an hour he would have with her.

“Do you have anything against that?” copying her pose, he leaned in closer, testing the luck that did not seem to have run out just yet.

If anything, she closed the space by another fraction, offering him a generous whiff of her perfume (Neil’s head did not feel ridiculously fuzzy because of it) and looked up at him through her eyelashes. Her lips curled into a tell-tale smirk that should have been the first clue of what was coming.

“Nope. I’m not too fussy about positions,” as soon as Cupid dropped her voice to a seductive timbre and grazed his shoulder with her fingers, Neil was done for.

He blinked twice, hoping to unfreeze the brain that continued to display the error404.exe. Because what the fuck was that? Who acted like this with near strangers?

Cupid, that’s who. Judging by her self-satisfied smile, she was pleased with the reaction. She brushed the lint he had not noticed before from his cuff and observed him silently. Despite the heart attack, Neil had to give her kudos for the attempt. He did so by slightly bowing his head in her direction and a wry smile:

“I walked right into this one, didn’t I?” once he looked up, the amusement still warming up his chest, even if tinted with bafflement, Cupid was waiting for him, expectantly meeting his gaze as if there was nothing in the world that could make her look away.

She was truly something else.

“Yeah, you did,” her knowing eyes cut through all the posturing Neil could ever hope to attempt as she took a deep breath and went in straight with the agenda, “Soo… Can I have your number?” that cheeky grin was still in place, adding to her charm.

Although Neil would be the first to admit she did not need additional charisma points or anything of the sort. She was already lethal. That realisation did not make him any keener to pull back or put a stop to the dance she had drawn him into.

Neil eyed her closely, feeling the weight of his phone in the pocket. The answer was yes, of course, but she did not need to know that… yet.

“Are you going to sign me up for the Tories news updates?” having noticed how she reacted to his smirks, he presented her with one when posing the question.

To anyone, it might have seemed worryingly specific. Cupid just measured him up with her piercing gaze and asked:

“… Did that happen before?” the deadly serious tone added to the ridicule, making Neil crack a smile.

“No, but it might,” he shrugged, hoping the joke had landed well enough to mask the awkwardness threatening to make a scene.

It was not that he did not feel comfortable around her or that there were some strong-founded beliefs she was not to be trusted. Instead, it was what it had always been. What Neil had hinted at during their previous conversation. It was that it had never worked out before. And it was hardly possible that it would now.

Especially considering what she had revealed that last time, too. It was best to be cautious. But that, in the face of those beautiful eyes and fascinating personality, was a challenge.

He did not even know yet just how true that statement would be.

“No, the worst you can expect is lame pickup lines and dumb memes,” unaware of Neil’s slow descent into madness, she replied to the previous question, intertwining a sardonic grin in between the statements “I’d also suggest nudes, but we’re not there yet, I think” it took him an embarrassingly long time to process her words with the mind foolishly lured into the safety of a normal conversation. Well, no more. Shit. „Unless-” before she could say another disastrous word and push him down the staircase towards the pit of insanity, Neil closed her mouth with his palm.

Anything was better than talking to her about prospective nudes. Even touching her face and getting shocked when the warmth of her breath hit his skin, forcing Neil to pull it back almost as fast as he had done it in the first place. She just stared back, relentlessly curious and unmoved.

“We’re definitely not there yet,” aware of the deep blush that had bloomed on his face like a sign of contagion, Neil dropped his gaze onto the floor and murmured the command, “Give me your phone,” the conversation was already a disaster, so might as well. Right?

She laughed and the sound was enough to draw him out of the hiding and look up. Neil already knew he would do whatever he could to make her laugh like that again. And then once more still.

Her warm hand slipped into his palm, passing the phone like a beacon of trust he did not know he could deserve. It was accompanied by a simple quip that still somehow made him feel lightheaded:

“Here, kind sir,” on retreat, her fingers brushed down the length of his digits, stopping for a split second at the tips of his fingers. The resulting sparks were certainly a figment of his imagination, “Any texting rules? Is there anyone that might intercept your messages?” her voice broke through another brief blue screen issue in Neil’s brain and forced him to focus.

Focus on opening the phone app on her phone and typing in his number correctly. The last thing he would have wanted was to fuck up and make a mistake, immediately losing any chances he would have had at a friendship with her. Yes, friendship. Even as an idiot, Neil knew that was all it would be. Which was fine. It really was.

Once he double-checked that the right digits were typed in, there came a second dilemma of the evening. The contact name. Neil stole a glance at her, still patiently waiting for an answer to her questions that he seemed inept to give. It offered a perfect stalling opportunity:

“Rogue mate, maybe, but it’s okay. I can live with his teasing,” it was something to worry about later, considering that no one knew about her yet. If asked, Neil was not sure he could explain why. The betraying part of his brain that always wanted to blurt out some incriminating thoughts admitted it was because he wanted those interactions only for himself, as a secret to cherish in the quiet of his mind. He slammed the door on that pathetic voice and looked up at her with tentative hope sparking in his chest. It was just another risk to take, right? “Should we… keep this time and day as a standing arrangement thing?” not willing to bet even half a dime on her positive answer, Neil put his attention back on the topic at hand.

Literally. He was still holding her phone. The contact’s name was still empty. He had to think of something.

Then, right when his stomach clenched with that first tell-tale sign of anxiety, the right thing came to mind. The perfect thing.Neil fought the desire to grin like an English cousin of the Joker and saved his number, handing the locked phone back to Cupid. She did not check it, pocketing the device and turning her thoughtful gaze on him:

“Sure thing. I need time to warm you up for those nude pics,” she offered Neil a criminal wink and glanced at the display to check the approaching station.

The nonchalance had the chance of killing him before an inverted bullet would. He was willing to bet on it.

“Can’t wait,” he swallowed hard against the mess of thoughts and emotions in his head and glared at her.

He really could not wait. Maybe. Possibly.

It was both a curse and a blessing that her station was approaching fast, offering maybe three or four minutes more. The strange disappointment coated the back of his throat as Neil allowed himself to stare. To observe her, with her lively eyes and almost permanent cheeky smile. Even now, he did not dare ogle her body, already too aware of the heat of her presence so close to his orbit. The danger was too grave to consider what this would not become.

“I’ve got one more question,” her voice acted like the thread of Ariadne, leading him to the exit from the labyrinth of his own making. Neil met her gaze just in time to notice the playful sparks dancing there, “Are you a cook?” she leaned a little closer again as if testing his waning control and steadied herself against the sudden movement of the train with her hand resting on his shoulder.

Even through the cotton shirt, he could feel the heat of the contact.

It was almost enough to distract him from the ridicule of her question. Almost, because as soon as he had sobered up, Neil did not try to fight the smile pulling at his lips. She was ridiculous.

“No, unless we consider the Risotto Milanese, I can make from scratch,” giving her as good as he got, Neil offered her a wink and reached for the dwindling depositories of courage to cover her hand holding onto the railing.

Admittedly, he was enjoying the guessing game she had decided to make out of the situation. It was a better alternative to Neil telling her the truth, and 1) putting her in potential danger, and 2) making her believe something that did not sound real.

Cupid did not seem bothered by his actions and kept her hand where it was. Her eyes met his as she stated a simple wish:

“Count me in,” then, as if Neil was not yet aware of what a kind of woman she was, she licked her lips thoroughly.

He did not try to imagine what they would taste like.

“When?” as if possessing a mind of its own, his thumb rubbed invisible circles onto the skin between her knuckles.

Neil did not want to be responsible for the actions of his own body. Or for the thoughts that sprang into his mind whenever she gave him that sure smile and bated her lashes.

“You’ll see,” it was her turn to wink, and the confidence in her gaze almost made him believe she knew something he did not.

Like whatever was waiting in their future.

It was a blessing in disguise that the train was now approaching the Southwark station. Neil did not think he could be trusted with more time to spend next to her. Instead, he levelled her with what he hoped was a critical glare and asked:

“Has anyone told you that you’re a nightmare?” he knew there was no chance of losing that affectionate undertone in his voice or making ‘nightmare�� not sound like the most tender of pet names.

Apart from being an idiot, Neil was also a lost cause. It would seem.

The train yet again slowed to a crawling pace as the platform lights etched mirage-like constellations on her face. It was impossible to look away. So, Neil stared as she, the incomparable Cupid, slid her hand down the railing, away from his palm and tapped his wrist. Twice. As if he could have missed the first time.

Just as he was beginning to hope she would leave without giving him another heart attack, she leaned in, closing the space, and pressed a quick peck to his cheek. As soon as he had registered it was happening, it was already over, and Cupid was standing in the carriage doorway with that unchanging smirk on her face:

“More than once,” without waiting for a reply (not that Neil would have had one), she stepped out of the train and disappeared in the crowds of commuters.

Neil was an idiot, a lost cause, and undoubtedly screwed. One way or another.

***

/Unknown number, 5:15 pm/ Forgive me, Father, for I have sinned.

/✝️, 5:20 pm/ Already?

/✝️, 5:20 pm/ God, you’re fast.

/ 🏹, 5:22 pm/ That’s the effect you have on me 😘

/ 🏹, 5:22 pm/ Clever emoji choice, I gotta admit. Took me a little to find you. What did I get?

/✝️, 5:25 pm/ You’ll see.

/ 🏹, 5:26 pm/ When?

/✝️, 5:30 pm/ Soon 😘

/ 🏹, 5:35 pm/ Ah, delayed gratification. Just wait till I get impatient.

/✝️, 5:45 pm/ And then what?

/ 🏹, 5:47 pm/ I’ll punish you. Something tells me you’d like that.

/✝️, 5:49 pm/ You’re a menace.

/✝️, 5:49 pm/ On second thought, I think I’ll have the nude pics you’ve mentioned.

/ 🏹, 5:50 pm/ Not yet, sweetheart. Practice what you preach first.

/✝️, 5:55 pm/ I’ll see you?

/ 🏹, 5:57 pm/ You’ll see me. You’ll get sick of me even.

/✝️, 5:59 pm/ Challenge accepted, Cupid.

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robertfripp · 4 months ago

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"In August, after finishing work on Earthbound, Fripp returned to the producer's chair last time [in 1972] to work with Matching Mole at CBS' London studios in Whitfield Street."

"Brian Eno, then still in Roxy Music was invited by [Matching Mole bassist] MacCormick to add VCS3 synthesiser. "We'd played a gig with Roxy in Liverpool where they'd supported us so I had met Brian Eno and we got on, and so I thought it might be interesting to see what Brian might come up with. I told him what we were looking for, he came into Studio 2, did a few things which Fripp loved and it seemed to work.""

"Importantly, the album spawned a significant new friendship between Fripp and Eno. Although they had previously met at the EG offices, the album put them together in a working context for the first time. Just ten days after Eno completed his overdubs on Gloria Gloom, Fripp entered the living room of Eno's Maida Vale flat and plugged his Les Paul into Eno's Revox tape machine to record layers of inspired rhapsodic guitar that would later become the first side of Fripp and Eno's groundbreaking No Pussyfooting."

~ From In the Court of King Crimson by Sid Smith

#matching mole #king crimson #robert fripp #brian eno #itcokc live read #kciii

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doyouknowthisactor · 3 months ago

Text

By "roles" I mean playing a different character, and in a different piece of media; someone playing one character across a franchise only counts as one thing for the purposes of this poll, as does playing multiple characters in one franchise/piece of media

Below are some of this actor's roles. Please only check after voting!

Mildred Pierce as Ida Corwin (Oscar nomination)

Our Miss Brooks as Connie Brooks (Emmy win- first ever winner of Lead Actress in a Drama Series)

Grease as Principal McGee

Anatomy of a Murder as Maida Rutledge

#actors #movies #television #do you know this actor polls #polls #eve arden #haven't heard of

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spearxwind · 1 year ago

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as someone who. does not keep up with games pre-release, like, at all. what was below zero like before it was changed? i don't think i even heard about BZ until after it was released which is shocking considering how obsessed i am with the first game lmao

God so. It was actually pretty dang different. Jacksepticeye has a playlist where he played through the early access below zero builds. If you were unsatisfied with below zero (as i very much was), I greatly recommend looking up the playthroughs and checking them out cause the whole arc is sooo much better than what we ended up getting

for starters, robin's sister sam wasnt dead. Robin and her spoke to each other, as her sister was on a space station orbiting 4546B, and the main plot was about thwarting alterras meddling with the planet and keep the precursors and their tech from their knowledge, with robin as an actor on the surface doing stuff, and robins sister on the satellite using her admin job to keep alterra off of robins back. it was actually a pretty dope setup!

Another major difference is what pushed robin into the ocean, which was a huge avalanche destroying the base she was in. As in, robin was ACTUALLY stationed in the frozen zone working, when an avalanche destroys her base and forces her to go into the water to survive.

All of this was changed in the final cut to remove sam from the plot and having robin instead just crash land on 4546B to try to find her.

I think they also changed Maida's purpose a LOT because she was hinted at being more useful and it feels like, if the whole 'keeping alterra off your back' arc had remained, she would have had much more to do with it than she ended up having in the final cut. which was bossing you around to fetch a single thing and then not being relevant again

It just really feels like something went wrong and the story of the game is half baked at MOST (not to mention the design of the map but that's for another rant...) because like... when robin gets al-an in her head she is just so adamant on removing her and then SHE STAYS THAT WAY basically the whole game? al-an is nothing but a sweetheart to her and shes so fucking mean to him all the time i actually just didnt get it while i was playing. its so unnecessary, constantly cuts him off, shuts him up, etc etc. pretty much all the way until the end.

and then suddenly for the ending cutscene they are practically in love with zero warning. shes like oh my god i would follow you anywhere i would go anywhere with you. Bestie you hated his guts the whole 10 hour runtime of game what are you talking about................

It genuinely feels like something went wrong for sure.

And like, the alpha game pre-release was practically done!! The last major update they did to the early access was up until you create the body for al-an, which is literally the second to last thing you do for the story. You give him a body, and then immediately after that you can trigger the ending scene (at least in the final release, they might have had more planned after that in the original writing bu we will never know)

Which just made it so insanely jarring when you played the final release, which released over a year after that (i think), and the whole story arc was just. Gone. Replaced with what we got. I might be insane and the story got more and more replaced as early access went on, I am just going off of my memories of watching Jack's playthrough so take what I say with a grain of salt in terms of timeline accuracy, but the game was definitely changed beyond recognition from early access to final release as it went a complete and total rewrite more than halfway into production when they let go of their lead writer

#ask #anon #subnautica #i followed this game relatively closely as it was released bc yeah im a huge subnautica fan #the first game is absolutely one of my favorites of all time for sure #so seeing the second game flop so hard just made me upset. and some of the game design elements are actually atrocious too #that it had me completely tilted playing some parts of it too bc it got infuriating. the fuckin ice basin zones.... god damn.#anyway this is my rant. i should go rewatch jacks early access videos its been a while since i did that

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pure-land · 1 month ago

Text

Suggested Further Readings Jodo-Shinshu;

Bloom, Alfred. Life of Shinran Shonin: The Journey to Self-Acceptance. 1968. Reprint. Berkeley: Institute of Buddhist Studies, 1994. 80 pp. One of the earliest treatment of Shinran’s life in English by a Western scholar. Scholastic in nature but this monograph can be enjoyed by non-specialists. The author raises many intriguing questions, for example, 1) why did Shinran enter the monastery, 2) why did he leave, 3) what were the specific charges against him, and 4) what prompted his return to Kyoto.

Bloom, Alfred. Shinran’s Gospel of Pure Grace. Tucson: The Univ. of Arizona Press, 1965. 95 pp. The first systematic and “theological” treatment on Shin- ran by a Western scholar. Extremely popular in college classrooms and still in print after thirty years.

Bloom, Alfred. Tannisho: Resource for Modern Living. Honolulu: The Buddhist Study Center, 1981. 102 pp. Explains the most important chapters that illumine the heart of Shinshu teaching from the perspective of modern issues and concerns. Re- cently it was republished as Strategies for Modern Living by the Numata Center for Buddhist Re- search and Translation with a new translation of the Tannisho.

Bloom, Alfred. Shoshinge: The Heart of Shin Buddhism. Hawaii: Buddhist Study Center Press, 1986. 107 pp. A commentary on the set of poetic verses expressing Shinran’s indebtedness to his spiritual masters and one which has played a central role in the Shinshu liturgical tradition; contains an Eng- lish translation of the verses by T. Nagatani and R. Tabrah.

Dobbins, James C. Jodo Shinshu: Shin Buddhism in Medieval Japan. Bloomington and Indianapolis: Indiana University Press, 1989. 242 pp. An excellent his- torical treatment of the development of Shinshu institutions from Shinran to Rennyo. This book, in particular, fills “gaps” in previous scholarship in two areas: 1) contributions of Kakwnyo (third abbot) and his son Zonkaku and 2) developments of the other Shinshu branches. The discussion of doctrinal heresy offers an innovative and insightful approach to our understanding of doctrine and its historical evolution.

Fujimoto, Ryukyo. Shin Buddhism’s Essence: The Tannisho — Prof. Ryukyo Fujimoto’s Translation, with Extracts from His Writings as Commentary. Edited by Tetsuo Unno. Los Angeles: Prof. Ryukyo Fujimoto Memorial Publication Ad Hoc Committee,148 pp. Contains the author’s translation of The Tannisho and a collection of brief essays on Shinshu doctrinal and historical topics. The book provides a glimpse into a respected scholar and teacher who inspired many of the Shinshu teachers in North America. Kakumura, Northiko. Shinran: His Life and Thought. Los Angeles: The Nembutsu Press, 1972. 192 pp. A concise book that introduces Shinran through the main phases of his life. It critically examines the scholarly theories surrounding the areas of con- troversy.

Kiyozawa, Manshi. December Fan: The Buddhist Essays of Manshi Kiyozawa. Trans. and ed. by Nobuo Haneda. Komiyama Printing Co., 98 pp. Kiyozawa (1863-1903) is one of the most pivotal Buddhist leaders in modern Jodo-Shinshu history. Belonging to the Higashi Honganji branch, this progressive priest helped to reform the teach- ings with message that resonated with modern Japan. Nobuo Haneda has translated other worksby teachers of the Higashi branch, notably those of Maida Shuichi (1906-1967), in Heard by Me and The Evil Person. Rogers, Minor L. and Ann T. Rogers. Rennyo: The Second Founder of Shin Buddhism. Berkeley, California: Asian Humanities Press, 1991. 434 pp. A thorough study of the eighth abbot (monshu) of the Hongwanji branch, Rennyo (1415-1499), with a translation of his letters and a discussion and analy- sis of his life and his preeminent role in the devel- opment of the largest Jodo-Shinshu institution.

Ueda, Yoshifumi and Dennis Hirota. Shinran: An Introduction to Hts Thought. Kyoto: Hongwanji Int. Center, 1989. 372 pp. The most comprehensive and systematic presentation so far of Shinran’s thought in a single volume. It places Shinran within the development of Mahayana Buddhist thought. It contains ample translations of key passages from his writings based on major doctrinal themes. Authored by two main translators of the Shin Buddhist Translation Series.

Yamaoka, Seigen. True Pure Land Buddhism: Jodoshinshu: An Introduction. Los Angeles: Pure Land Publications, 1991. 65 pp. Provides a good traditional overview of the major doctrines, supported by appropriate citations from the original sources. Written from within the tradition with emphasis on orthodox doctrine. May prove to be difficult reading for those looking for spiritual edification on an introductory level. Translations of Jodo-Shinshu scriptures Inagaki, Hisao. The Three Pure Land Sutras. Kyoto

#amida #terra pura #jodo shinshu #buddhism

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ninja-knox-ur-sox-off · 2 years ago

Text

WE WELCOME YOU BACK TO KNOX REACTS TO MONKIE KID EPISODES BECAUSE SOMEHOW WE’RE STILL DOING THIS AND PEOPLE ENJOY READING MY SCREAMING (though to be fair I would still be doing this if no one was reading these simply because I need to scream out at least 70% of my hype here or I’ll make strange dying fish noises when I watch the episodes with my brothers and we can’t have THAT-)

Today is Monkie Kid Season 4 Episode 9, and OH BOY I THOUGHT I WAS DOING GOOD BEING PRETTY CHILL BUT THEN MY BRO PUT ON MONKIE KID EPS WHILE I WAS IN THE KITCHEN AND THE HYPE IS RIGHT BACK

OKAY

okay

I can be cool and chill

I cannot be cool and chill

No theme song on this recording either ;-; i MISS THE THEME SONG BUT I AM SO GRATEFUL TO THE PEOPLE THAT RECORDED THESE EPISODES, NOTHING BUT APPRECIATION FOR THEM

okay i broke and went and watched theme song on another episode because i missed it-

AND OKAY LETS GET STARTED

GOSH I LOVE THE THEME SONG

OKAY

OOOHHH DBK’S PLACE

WE’RE AT THE DB FAM’S PLACE LETS GO

ROAST OF THE MONKEY KIDS

OKAYGBDFLKM

OKAY WAIT

HECK LEMME CONSIDER THAT TITLE FOR A SECOND

Roast of the monkey kids, either they’re gonna get beat real bad OR HECK I JUST CAME UP WITH THIS THOUGHT OR ITS THE SELF-PROCLAIMED GREATEST SHIFU OF ALL TIME ROASTING THEM DURING TRAINING THAT WOULD BE FUNNYGHLDKFJAWOEFM

Okay okay lets get started I can already tell i’ma scream

SHUT UUUUUPPPPPP

AZURE CAME TO FIND THE DBK

FR BRO

I AM CONCERNED FOR HIS SAFTEY IS HE GONNA GET IMPRISOENED T-

A H N A H

YOU DO N O T HAVE SWK’S SCROLL PIECE TIED TO YOUR BELT LIKE THAT YOU FUZZY BURNT TOAST

THAT FILLS ME WITH RAGE YOU GUYS

IS HE GONNA TELL DBK WHAT HAPPENED TO SWK??

IS DBK GONNA REACT TO THAT??

HECK EHCK EHCK

THE WAY I GASPED

BRUH REALLY SHOWED UP AND

BEAT UP DBK’S FAM

RED SON NOOOOO

OH WOW REALY GOT ALL THOSE WEAPONS POINTED AT PRINCESS IRON FAN HECK BRO

GET OFF OF MY BOIIIIII

I WANT TO SEE DBK SLAM AZURE THROUGH A WALL BUT I DOUBT THAT’S GOING TO HAPPEN SADLY HECK

HECK

YEAH HOW DARE YOU SHOW UP AND ASSULT HIS FAMILY

Azure: um, i only did it because y’all would’ve disagreed with me :(

SQUARE UP BURNT MOLDY TOAST

WHEEZING

OKAY

WE REALLY SHOWING HOW DELUSIONAL THIS GUY IS HUH

LETS GO

BIG FAN OF THAT

MY GOSH

THEY REALLY WENT TO FIND DBK THO

AZURE IS THE WORST Y’ALL

oh oh bet he won’t go get Macaque tho *CACKLES*

WHEEZING

OH MY GOSH I’M JUST WHEEZING AT EVERY LINE AZURE SAYS WHAT THE HECK BRO

HE FR PULLED THE “THEY GUY I USED TO KNOW-“ LIKE MACAQUE DID TO WUKONG FOR A WHILE THERE HECK THATS SO FUNNY BUT WHEREAS MACAQUE HAS THIS GRRRRRR AZURE CONTINUES TO BE ALL SELF RIGHTEOUS AND TRYIGN TO SOUND INSPIRATIONAL AND LIKE HE’S FIGHTING FOR JUSTICE, BOI YOU JUST COMING ACROSS AS WEIRDO

WOW

LOOK WHO’S TALKING CELESTIAL GUY

HE’S ALL

“tHe BeAsT hAs BeEn cHaRmEd bY a CeLeStIaL mAiDa-“ JUST SHUT UR FACE BRO MANS GOT SOMETHING SO AGAINST THE CELESTIALS WHEN HE HIMSELF IS ONE OF THEM AND STRAIGHT UP DOES PIF LOOK LIKE SHE WORKS FOR THEM ANYMORE??? HER HAIR IS LITERALLY DONE UP IN THE SHAPE OF BULL HORNS WDYM MAN

also I can’t believe I actually wanna fistfight him for taking trash about PIF who have i becomebnG;LKAMEFW

sO TRUE

DON’T EVEN LOOK AT HER YOU BLUE GUMBALL

I DISLIKE HIM STRONGLY

PLEASE DBK YOU SHOULD BE ABLE TO ONESHOT THIS GUY WHYYYYY

Actually I do love how dedicated to each other DBK and PIF are, genuinely. Not the best parents in the world but I still enjoy their dynamic

AZURE YOU’RE SO ANNOYINGBFL;DSMFWE

also wait h

so here’s a question where has azure been??? talking like he’s been gone as long as Peng and Yellow Tusk, but like… where were you at bro?? In the scroll?? if so, who let you out??

HELPGNL;SAMDFAWE

SUBSERVIENT TO THE MONKEY KINGFLKDSMFOAWEF

I’M DYINGNDS;KLMFWEF

I’m also not funny losing it over the fact he has Monkey King’s scroll piece tied to his belt get out of my house

NAH BUT THE WAY HE’S TALKIGN TO DBK

SIR??? HE ACTUALLY HASNT’ CHANGED ALL THAT MUCH MY GUY

oh YEAH EXCELLENT

GET EM

NOOOOO

I KNEW IT

HECK

PIF

“my love”

PARDON?????

ACTUALLY WHO GAVE THEM THE RIGHT TO GHDSFNA;WEMF

OH MAN

HECK BRO

SHE REALLY GOT IN FRONT OF THAT HUH

HECK

HOLY HECK BRO THIS IS

HECK THIS IS SO DRAMATIC

RED SON CRYING

sorry i think its funny there was no red son reaction to PIF but then his dad gets snatched and he’s crying WE’RE FINE FOLKS

I don’t

I don’t have an emoji for the face i just made

THE BROKEN EXPRESSION??? THE “son-“

EXCUSE ME??

DBK FAM??

OH MY GODS??????

;A;

AAAAAAAAAA

WHAT THE HECK BROOOOOO

GOSH DANG

NEVER GET IN A BROSHIP WITH AZURE MANS IS SO DANG CONTROLLING HUH

SORRY I’M LIKE

ANALYZING CHARACTERS INBETWEEN MY EMOTIONAL DEVESTATION WHY DID THAT WHOLE SEQUENCE HURT??? MY SOUL???

DBK FAM???

HECK

RED SOONNNN

BUDDY YOU SHOULD PROBABLY R U N

also wait is he g-

and this gents is where we find out if Azure is biased towards monkey king or not because he was nice to Mk I’m just saying- what am I saying ofc he’s biased

OHHHH

THE MESSANGER

INTERESTING OKAY

so well I mean i still know he’s biased

just cause he seemed so desperate for Mk to understand and not be hurt and all that but he’ll beat the crap outta red son and his fam like dang

ALSO HECK FR WHERE DID AZURE COME FROM??? DID HE ESCAPE THE SCROLL WHEN MONKEY KNG WENT IN ?? AND HOW CAN HE CONTROL IT SO GOOD?? HAS HE BEEN TRYING TO FIGURE THAT OUT FOR THE LAST COUPLE THOUSAND YEARS???

aww

AWWWWW

PENG MENTIONED MACAQUE <3 THAT’S SO SWEET

I LOVE THAT ACTUALLY

LOOK HOW DRAMATIC PENG IS WHEN HE SAYS THAT PLEASENGLKSMF

Yellow Tusk: dbk was our last hope Peng: I MEAN THER’ES MACAQUE TOO-

Seriously you guys I think Peng thinks Macaque is cool and is trying to be cool and detached too but is leaning to far into the mean side of it HGLKSJAF

I KNOW I’M PROBABLY WRONG I JUST THINK ITS SO FREAKING FUNNY IF THAT’S WHAT IT IS

CAUSE HE’S THE ONLY ONE TO MENTION HIM, TALK TO HIM OR REALLY BRING HIM UP Y’KNOW?

Granted he’s only shown up twice but i’MJUST SAYING

Nah fr it’d be so funny if Peng found him in ten seconds and saw him snoring on a couch or something and went “ah never mind OH MAN CAN’T FIND THE MAN ANYWHERE W H O O P S”

Cause he genuinely doesn’t want them there, either cause he actually dislikes him or he doesn’t want to see him dragged into the scroll

LOOK AT HIS FACE AFTER HE SAYS THAT I’M JUST SAYING GUYS HE LOOKS LIKE HE’S LYINGNFKDL;MFWE

LIKE DANG THE MANS REALLY GONNA USE THE CURSE THAT HIS BROS GOT TRAPPED IN TO TRAP THE VERY GUYS WHO PUT THEM THERE Y’KNOW

I’D SAY POWER MOVE BUT I’D LIKE TO DECK HIM SO GHSDLFKJAWEF

OH HECK WE’RE WITH THE CREWWWWWWW

I get the feeling we’re not gonna get much of Mk in this ep RED SOOONNNNNNN HECK HE’S GOING TO TALK TO THE CELESTIALS WILL HE BE OKAUY??? HECK

Oh i love how they’ve each got personalized unifromsOH MY GODS SANDY’S WEARING A SHIRT

SCREAMS

BOTH ARMS ARE COVERED

WHAT IS HAPPENING

SCREAMS

also wow

wow

thats

quite the

open chested

MHM THAT’S QUITE THE

WHO DREW THAT

I JUST WANNA TALKGHSDFNAWEF JOKING JOKING

OKAY

Yeah Tang with his scarf, Mei with her SLEEVES RIPPED RIGHT OFF

APPROVED

HEY

HEY DON’T HIT MY GIRL IN THE HEAD

SQUARE UP FOOL

GOSH DANG

But dang they really leaning into the hit peoples heads with his stick character bit huh hGSKDJFS

Tang looks so happy eating those noodles tho heck ;-;

TANG GETS SLAMMED TOO???

MANS WAS JUST TRYING TO GET MEI TO RELAX AND EAT SOME NOODLESJGLKSFEW

PIGSY AND TANG’S EXPRESSIONS PLEASELKMGS;AOFKAMWE

Tang stress eats ;-; holds him so gently love this guy he stress eats and Pigsy’s love language is food iM COOL ABOUT EVERYTHING AT ALL TIEMS AS YOU CAN SEE

HELPGMDSFL;AWEF

MEI

The three oldies are all depressed and really feeling useless and Mei’s just NODDING yup uh huh you are that’s how it be get well soon </3

SHE AND MK WERE SO DEVASTATING TO TANG THIS SEASON PLEASEJLKMGDSF

sheer power and L U C K

I mean he’s got a point there- HG;SLAKJDFS

if they so unstoppable how’d they get beat the first time-

OH MAN I LOVE HOW NOW WE’RE GETTING MORE AZURE’S EYES SHADOWED AND STUFF

LIKE VISUALLY LOOK HERE’S THE GUY WHO’S NTO TO BE TRUSTED RN

They’re posing him like an antagonist more, well even villain posing just with camera angles and stuff too

anyway moving on

HELPGMSLDFMSD

Mei just

unaffected by this

like dang ohh noooo another lectureeee… which i totally care abouuuuuttt…. daaaaang JGL;KSDJFSAF

WHY DOES SHE GET SO OFFENDED WHEN PEOPLE CALL HER IMPULSIVE PLEASELMGS;OF

WHY YOU GOTTA CALL OUT TANGS ANKLES LIKE THAT HGSFLJSD

HE BETTER NOT BASH SANDY FOR BEING A PACIFIST, OR ALL PASS THIS FIST RIGHT THROUGH YOUR RIB CAGE- sorry i couldnt’ think of something clever there but the pass this fist and pacifist was a good opening ;-;7

TOO STUBBORN TO SEE THE TRUTH?? YEAH?? OKAY WHAT TRUTH WHICH ONE?? THAT HE’S MK’S DAD?? THAT HE WAS ZHU BAJIE ONCE UPON A TIME?? ACTUALLY I WASN’T SURE WHAT HE WAS GOING TO SAY TO PIGSY BUT I MIGHT BE A FAN OF THAT ONE I WANT MORE PIGSY ARC PLS I BEG OF YOU

OH MY GODS

PLS

LOOK AT THAT SMILE

HELLO

BELOVED

I AM OKAY WITH THIS OUTCOME 10/10

GETS A STAR

GUYS PLEASE DON’T LOOK SO MURDEROUS HELPGNMSD;LKFMA

MAN LOVE THAT

ACTUALLY OKAY ASIDE FROM THE HITTING ANYONE MIDLY HYPERACTIVE OVER THE HEAD I’M LOVING THIS GUY

OH FLOWER FRUIT MOUNTAIN

THE MOUNTAIN OF FLOWERS AND FRUITS

MKKKKKKK

I DIDN’T THINK WE’D SEE HIM THIS EP

I SWEAR IF MACAQUE JSUT SHOWS UP-

MACAQUE’S GONNA SHOW UP RIGHT??

IT’D BE SO FUNNY IF HE WS LIVING ON FLOWER FRUIT MOUNTAIN FOR NO REASON NOW

JSUT OOP VACANCY HAVEN’T HEARD WUKONG IN A WHILE I’MA MOVE IN

IT’D BE SO FUNNYGBDFLSKM

also heck mah boi ;-;

pondering moment looking at the sunset

OH PLEAS E

HIS FACE

THE SOFT KINDA STILL NOT OKAY VOICE

DANG MK’S VOICE ACTOR NAILED THAT LINE ACTUALLY HECK

HE’S JUST

HECK DUDE

THAT ONE FRAME

BRUH

JUST

;-;

i’m fine i swear

THE WAY I GASPED

WHERE ARE YOUR FRIENDS

AND OH YEAH

THEY GOT

SNATCHED

BRUH THAT HURTS MY SOUL THANKS

BUT OH MAN LOOK AT THIS LITTLE MONKEY COMING TO SAY HI

if its macaque disguised i’ll laugh but i doubt it is

HGL;SDF

HECK MAN

won’t even touch him ;-; goes to reach out his hand and say hi and just

doesn’t touch

goes back to looking away

and da monkey just ;-;

heck dude they’re doing a good job showing Mk’s mental state rn well done

AND BACK TO THE CREWWWW LEGOOOOO

WORN DOWN CHISELED AND DEFINED

BET

I WONDER IF THEY’LL ACTUALLY RETAIN ANYTHING THEY’RE ABOUT TO LEARN GHSDLFJSDF

I’M LAUGHING

YOU KNOW WHAT YEAH

SANDY’S BELOVED

HE KNOWS WHO HE IS AND WHAT HE STANDS FOR AND IS ABSOLUTELY RIPPED

NO CHISELING NEEDED GJSLH;FKJSEF

i can’t help but feel he’s trying to et a rise out of the rest of them tho that’s so many stars hGLKASJDF

then again I too would give sandy as many stars as he wanted

Tang: i know my issue is my self confidence

Shifu [i’m not confident spelling his name yet i haven’t seen it the way they pronounce it here]: WRONG ITS YOUR COMPLETE LACK OF SKILL

LITERALLY EVERYBODY COMING FOR TANG THIS SEASON PLEASEJGLKM;ADSFS

MANS DESTROYING HIM PLEASELMG;SFAMEWFLSDF

TANG ON THE FLOOR DRAMTICALLY PLEASELK;MGSOEF

THE OTHERS IN THE BACKGROUND BALANCING GKLSDJFS

Tang just looking for some positive reinforcement please- HGHDFKLJSDF

IS HE REALLY PRAISING THE MONK FOR SELF-ISOLATING HIMSELF AND STRUGGLING WITH HUMAN CONNECTION??? HELPGM??

NO HE’S LEGIT SAYINGNDSLMKSDF

HELPG;SLDFKMSADF

FRIEDNSHIP TRIVIAL

THAT’S NOT

SUPER HEALTHY TO THINK

WHY IS EVERYONE ALWAYS TELLING THE CREW THAT CONNECTIONS AND FRIENDS ARE BAD PLEASELKMGOSFMAS

Oh that’s nice

Okay so he’s not like COMPLETELY bashing friendship, thank you sorry Shifu should have trusted ya more there

oh i actually vocally went “aww”

Thats nice there’s some positive reinforcement OH I LOVE THAT THO

Like your past self took a long time to learn friends good, so you overcompensated in this life and now its all friends and nothing else and you gotta find a balance there I am actually kinda a fan of that take ngl

BUT YEAH MANS GOT A STAR PLSSSS

You know what okay yes, Shifu go brrrr, we got a little positive reinforcement and now i see what he’s doing he’s just correcting the overcorrection a bit being like BALANCE PEOPLE YOU’RE ALL OR NOTHING ON ONE THING BUT OTHER THINGS ARE IMPORTANT TOO MY GOSH and Sandy already has that balance so he’s cool

yeah that’s nice

So i was right about this ep just being them getting rOASTED constantlyBGA;LKEMF

CRAM BOY

I’M CHGBDSFASDFMAOWIEFM

PLEASE

THAT’S GOOD THO

MANS JUST NEEDED A GOLD STAR AND A REASON TO WORK AND HE’S IN IT NOW

YOU’RE DOING GREAT TANG

ILY

MEI’S FACE PLEASELK;MGSAOFAWE F

NAH I LOVE THAT LIKE, THEY’RE THE OPPOSTIES OF THEIR PAST SELVES Y’KNOW? THAT’S SO GOOD LIKE JUST THE REINCARNATION THING AND JUST “i don’t want to be this way it was bad so i’m going to be timid again” from Ao lei y’know? and it just, an overcorrection type thing

I’m still running off the bit that they’re reincarnations of the jttw crew and Mei’s not like, just a descendant GJULSAKJF

EVEYRBDOY JUST RUNNING AWAY LIKE NOPE NOPE

is he gonna take her out with one hit?

I love how Mei is like, phased by nobody constantly and ready to fight honestly

“Proving my point”

guys

guys I don’t think I’m normal about Ao Lei

he came on screen and i actually almost teared up, I’VE SEEN HIM TWICE BEFORE AND HE ACTUALLY MEANS THE WORLD TO ME??? I ADORE HIM?? I WANT HIM TO BE HAPPY?? HE’S DEAD AND GONE I LOVE HIM???? He’s actually so good y’all i’m

SEEING HIM IN HIS HUMAN FORM IN THE SAME SHOT AS WUKONG IS DOING SOMETHING TO ME I WANT BROTHER MOMENTS WITH THEM SO BAD

LITERALLY SEEING HIM WITH WUKONG AND THE TANG MONK IS JUST |;A;/

I’m normal about the JTTW crew you guys

i’m very normal

….

so basically the man just saved up for his power up and then would nail people GASLFJAWEFM THATS GREAT THO

KINDA LEARNED ALL THAT ALREADYGBSFLKMSDF

MEI PLS

I LOVE HER

SO MUCH

BRUUHHHHHH

TANG GETS STAR

MEI GETS NO STAR

R U D E

but also fair ig

I think she’s loud sometimes to cover up the fact she’s worried y’know? not the the extent that mk is but sometimes her bravado seems like all she can do y’know? heck i need to write about her i miss her

THE WAY THAT THEY DRAW HER THIS SEASON IS SENDING ME

THANK YOU TO EVERYONE THAT DREW THE FACES AND POSES SHE MAKES I’MGNSDFKMD

WHY YOU SMILING OLD MAN

HE’S A GREAT SHIFU NGL

I LIKE HOW THEY’RE DOING HIM ACTUALLY

THIS SHOW HANDLES MENTORS REAL WELL (aside from Wukong jsut cause overuse of unreliable narrator and then not showing anything to contradict all that)

I’M SO GHSDFBAS;LFKM

PLEASE

SO MANY STARS

SANDY IS VIBIN

I’M EXPECTING A TWIST BUT I DO LOVE HIM SO MUCH

MY HILARIOUSLY BLUE STUDENTHNDFKJDSF

PLEASELKMGSDF

SHIFU ACTUALLY WORRIED ABOUT SANDY CAUSE HE’S SO NICE ;-; yeah fair he is belovePIGSY

PIGSY BELOVED

PIGSY MY ABSOLUTE FAV

I know i say that about every single one of these characters but its true every time BGSLAKEFMEWAF

PIGSYYYYYYY

HE’S HAVING A MOMENT

I LOVE YOU PIGSY

like father like son, looking out at the view while you think ;-; i mean i know that’s a p normal thing for people in general bUT LET ME HAVE THISBGSDL;KFMSEF

Pigsy ;-;

heck bro

I HAVE SUCH FEELINGS FOR THIS CHARACTER THEY DID HIM SO WELL

I’M

HE’S BEING SO NICE ABOTU ZHU BAJIE

PIGSY’S LIKE

HECK DUDES I NEED YOU TO KNWO I WROTE SOMETHING JUST FOR MYSELF ABOUT PIGSY JUST HATING ON HIS PAST LIFE AND HATING HIM AND I CAN’T BELIEVE ITS CANON THAT HE’S SO UNKIND TO WHO HE USED TO BE I LOVE THIS SO MUCH PELASE

LEARN SELF KINDNESS I LOVE THAT THE SHIFU IS SAYING NICE THINGS ABOTU ZHU BAJIE THO HECK

HIM SMILING AT MONKEY KING

heck you know

that’s

y’know that’s probably the first nice thing he’s ever heard someone say about Zhu Bajie

heck dude

heck dude bro Pigsy’s fACE

I LOVE PIGSY SO FREAKING

HE IS JUST SO CHILL SOMETIMES

DAD VIBES ABOUND

heck tho

just the

the heart that you have he worked for, he put his all into getting it and growing and he did grow and change and that effort is partially what made it so easy for you to have it right off the bat. you did good

HECK DUDE HOW DOES THIS SHOW GIVE ME EXACTLY WHAT I WANT LIKE THISNGSLMKFS

like FOR REAL, THE WAY HE LOOKS UP AT HIM AFTER HE GIVES HIM THE STAR THERE ARE SOME FACES IN THIS EPISODE I JUST CAN’T GET OUT OF MY HEAD AND THIS’LL BE ONE OF THEM

PIGSY JUST SCRATCHING THE SURFACE OF POWER GO BRRRRR

OOP MEI WATCHING

HEPGMSLFWE

SHE’S SO MAD HGDFLK;JSDF

MEI ACTUALLY LIEK TRYING THAT FACE SHE MADE HECK EHCK

OH HECK BACK TO MK

MY BOY MY BELOVED MAN

heck dude

did the monkey bring him all those bananas? PLS I’M GOING TO CRY AT HOW THEY DRAW THE TINY MONKEYS

LOOK AT THAT FACE

OH BOY

OH BOY HE SAID IT

mk buddy i think that’s exactly why he stayed on the mountain

bruh

dude’s really feeling it heck

MONKEY STEALS HIS BABNANNAGN;SMF

SCREAMS

I DIDN’T THINK HE’D SHOW UP TILL EPISODE TEN

WHAT DO YOU WANT MACAQUE

wow

WOW

guys this new VA is actually killing it, like

well done

respect my guy, you filling big shoes but you’re really nailing it sounding similar WELL DONE

JUST IMMEDATELY BASHING WUKONG

OKAY MACKY BOY

OH I GASPED

HECK I’VE GASPED SO MANY TIMES THIS EPISODE

MACAQUES REACTION TO THE FLICKERING

MK FINALLY CHILL AND THEN BACK TO FLICKERING BACK AND FORTH

HECK HECK

MACAQUE’S FACE

HECK

DUDE BRUH

BRUH DID NOT EXPECT THAT DID HE

OH MAN oh man ;-;

just

THE TERRIFIED, GLITCHING

THEN JSUT

heck

what does it matter

“go for it guy”

i do think its funny how Wukongs thing is bud and Mk’s thing is Guy HGLSADJKF

man

the whole

heck bro just sits right back down

Macaque just standing there

Okay Voice actor did a very good job sounding very very similar to macaque while he’s starting to mess with Mk and then dropping into something just slightly deeper when he’s not well done sir well done

MAN

THE ITS NO FUN WHEN YOU SAY IT OUT LOUD

YEAH SURE BUDDY GOOD EXCUSE

OOO THAT’S

A LOT OF REUSED ANIMATOIN THEREGSFDLKMSF

HELPGML;SFM

THAT WAS RIGHT AFTER THE OTHERHGDSFBDSF

still looks lovely

EXCUSE ME THO GOING BACK A BIT THE WAY HE’S LOOOKING AT MK THERE TRYING TO LIGHTEN THE MOOD A BIT

mmm yeah that bit with the reused animation looked pretty rushed and clunky honestly pacing was just slightly off and the expressions didn’t quite fit with the dialogue, not as good a job as usual with the reused stuff it looked a little out of place this time around but I’m still glad they’re reusing stuff when they can

godspeed macaque what are you showing Mk hglskjdf

OH WE BACK TO AZURE

HERE WE GO

MANS SURE GROWLS HUH

HAHAHHAHGBSDFDLSMKF

AZURE MAD ABOUT HIS STUFF GETTING BROKEN AND PENG JUST MOVING ON IN A SECOND SAY GOODBYE TO THIS DUMP HGSLKDJF

I’M SORRUY BUT THE SOUND EFFECT OF PENGS LANDING WAS GREAT

I HAD TO GO BACK AND LISTEN TO IT AGAIN

OKAY

DID YOU JUST CALL YELLOW TUSK DARLINGNDLKMSFDF

hang on i gotta make sure i heard that right i’ve been mishearing things a lot lately

IT STILL SOUNDS LIKE HE SAYS DARLINGNSF;KLMSF

OKAY WELP CELESTIAL REALM TIME IG HERE WE GO

EPS GETTING CLOSE TO OVER

OOP THEYV’E ARRIVEDHGBSD;LFSE HECK EHCK EHCKE

NEZHA IMMEDEATELY

RED SON STANDING NEXTGT AAAAAA NEXT TO HIM HECK EHCKMEVDFNG;LKSMSEF HECK IT S BEEN A LONG TIME SINCE I STIMMED HECK

THE WHOLE ARMY THERE TO MEE TTHEM HECKGHECKEHCKEHCEK

WHAT AN ENTERENCE TOO

HECK EHC

AAAAA

IS NEZHA GONNA SEE SWK TRAPPED?? IS ANYONE GONNA KNOW OR CARE???

I JUST REALLY WANNA SEE REACTIONS PLEEAAAASEEEEEE THERE’S SO MUCH IN THIS EP AND IT WAS SO CHILL FOR A BIT HECK EHCK

Azure’s not but Red Son is ig CACKLESGSLD;KFMDS

WHAT A COOL THING THAT RED SON IS STANDING WITH THE CELESTIALS HUH

ITS NEAT THEY’RE OKAY WITH THAT AND NOT LIKE

LOCKING HIM UP

AND ITS NEAT HE HAS LIKE

A PORTAL FREE PASS TO GET THERE I WANNA KNOW MORE ABOUT THAT

i am constantly wheezing at how Azure acts with his self-righteous sighing and long-suffering act like he’s so annoying pleasenL;GKMAWEF

THERE ARE SO MANY AMVS I CAN MAKE WITH THIS STUFF MAN

OHHHHH

OH THE SOUND I JUST MADE

THE PARALLEL WITH THE THEME SONG PLEASE

LOOK AT THAT

AAAAAAAAAAAAA

AND THAT’S THE EP FOLKS

HECK DUDE

That was a highly enjoyable one

Fr tho I love Ao Lei So much he’s so good

THAT WAS FUN

I have pretty much no thoughts after it was just kinda a nice breather ep for most of it, i’m a huge fan of how the Shifu is training them and stuff like dang

just well done, good stuff m A N

that was fun want to write about these guys so much every single time i get anything like this hgbdfskldmf MAN THO MK

MACAQUE BEING SO MUCH MORE CHILL NOW IS GETTING TO ME HECK

I’M STILL SO MAD AT AZURE FOR WEARING SWK’S BROKEN PIECE OF THE SCROLL ON HIS BELT HOW FREAKING DARE YOU ANYWAY

I AM LOOKING FORWARD TO EP TEN DEAR GOSH WE’RE ALMOST CAUGHT UP LETS FREAKING GOOOOOOOO

I’LL SEE YOU GUYS NEXT WEEK KNOX OUT

#knox reacts #monkie kid season 4 #lmk s4 spoilers #i actually forgot how i used to tag these reaction posts #ANYWAY WE VIBIN #I HOPE AZURE GETS FREAKING DECKED

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