#but yeah thank u for replying !! realising that this is more a 'im terrified of confrontation but want to try and correct misinfo' problem

[gayjewishwerewolf]

All very true and thanks for saying! I know when I was still in my conversion process I was almost *too* conscious of being 'allowed' to participate in certain things and it actually got in the way of being part of a community for a long time. which is why im trying to work out if its just leftover sensitivity and im projecting, or if it is actually something that needs (gently and respectfully!!) addressing

i dont want to come across as though im passing judgement on 'How jewish someone is allowed to be', and made my original post too quickly in a moment of venting so it definitely comes across that way. my dilemma is moreso about if i should approach and try and correct some of the misinfo he's posting publicly, since he presents himself as a jewish educator but a lot of the content is wildly oversimplified or just sort of wrong.

You're totally right in that I don't really know his journey or relationship to Judaism, and if I approach him at all it'll be from a friendly place!

trying to figure out if there is a tactful way of approaching a convert in my local queer scene and telling them to please talk to a rabbi before they start doing stuff

[jackass-biomancer]

Twenty Questions

There was an intruder in the tunnels.

This time, Pyotr knew she was there because she'd texted him.

Meli, it's Pyotr. I found 7 of the roots you were looking for.

hey dude! thats fab, can i trade you some more ear pats for them? ^.^

I will trade them for a taste of your blood.

i am NOT letting you drink my blood. theyre not worth that much to me. ₤25?

 200

50

100

ugh fine 100 it is

And the ear pats.

haha ok can i come pick them up this morning?

I can only meet you at night.

ah crap i work nights. saturday night?

Yes.

ok! see u saturday!

hey dude im here... i was going to wait outside but its started to rain so im just inside the cave

And there she was, sitting on a rock not too far in from the cave entrance. This time she sat atop a supremely shitty-looking folded blanket. Beside her sat another, and next to that her camping lantern.

Despite the fact that this time she knew he was here - and knew what he was - she’d come unarmed. Stupid.

Pyotr decided to try his luck sneaking up on her again. It couldn’t hurt to test the limits of her perception, after all. Even if he wasn’t ready to kill her just yet.

Closer he crept until he saw her relaxed posture tense to alertness.

Meli yipped in surprise and recoiled, banging her head on the cave wall as Pyotr suddenly appeared not ten meters from her, right in the middle of her field of view.

“Jesus fuck, Pyotr!” she yelped, giving herself a shake to rid the excess adrenaline, “Do you have to give me a heart attack every time we meet? Fuck!”

Pyotr cackled as she brushed dirt out of her hair, glaring at him.

“Don’t blame me if you do that and I accidentally punch your head off,” she grumbled, standing up and giving herself another shake. She slipped her hand into her pocket and pulled out a wallet, rifling through it. “D’you bring the cave roots?”

“Yeah, I brought them,” he told her, pulling a wad of tattered and suspiciously stained cloth from his pocket. He unfolded it, showing her the plants he’d gathered within.

Meli raised her lantern as she approached for a closer look.

“Nice,” she told him, “That’s them alright.”

She returned her lantern to its perch and pulled two £50 banknotes from her wallet, handing them to him and accepting the roots in exchange.

“Thanks,” she told him with a smile, “This really helps.”

“What do you want those for anyway?” he asked, curious despite himself.

“It’s an ingredient!” she chirped happily, “I’m making a potion! Well. Trying to make a potion. We’ll see how it goes.”

Pyotr blinked at her.

“I’m sorry,” he said sarcastically, “Are you some sort of alchemist?”

“Eh,” she replied, shrugging, “Kinda? A bit? I can only do simple stuff really, and it’s hard to get ingredients, but yeah.”

Pyotr peered at her suspiciously.

“What?” she asked, suddenly defensive. “I’m an alchemist like how you’re a vampire. It’s real!”

Realisation dawned on him then that this was the reason she hadn’t been more terrified or disbelieving when she’d met him - if she was aware of minor sorcery, being at least dimly aware of the existence of vampires and similar creatures wasn’t a huge stretch from there.

“And what kind of ‘potion’ are you planning on making with these roots?” he asked warily as she folded the cloth back around them.

“Heh, it’s kinda funny actually,” she told him with a wry smile as she wandered over to the cave mouth, “It’s a potion that lets you see in the dark. These kind of roots only grow in completely dark caves, and that’s what you need to make a potion that lets you find roots in completely dark caves.”

She set the cloth package down in the rain just outside the tunnel and turned back to her equipment.

“You can see really well in the dark, can’t you?” she asked as she plopped her folded blanket down on the ground and began to unfold the second one in front of it. “You have the kind of eyes for it, I think.”

Indeed, those pale, bulging eyes tracked her movements suspiciously as she bent over.

“I can see in the dark far better than you mortals can,” he told her sneeringly. Better than most nocturnal animals, in fact, but she didn’t need to know that.

Meli cast her gaze over to her lantern, and then back to him.

“Oh, are you okay with the light? I’ll turn it down if you want.”

Bright light was uncomfortable, but he could manage. The lantern wasn’t too bad as long as he didn’t look directly at it. Before he could tell her that it was fine, she was already adjusting the brightness to the lowest setting.

Probably for the best. He had her at a disadvantage if he could see and she couldn’t.

Lighting sorted out, Meli sat herself down cross-legged on the folded blanket, and patted her thigh with a grin.

And just like that, Pyotr’s embarrassment at their former meeting came rushing back. Had he really been so touch-starved that he’d laid in her lap and purred like a kitten while she stroked his ears?

Oh god, he had.

And he was strongly considering doing it again.

What was wrong with him???

“So you were serious about the ear rubs thing?” he asked carefully, trying and failing to mask his sudden and uncharacteristic bout of insecurity.

“’Course,” she replied cheerfully, “It’s fun to do. D’you not want to anymore?”

Okay. Okay. If he really thought about it, this was just her performing a service to him, the superior species. The creed of the Sabbat was to subjugate all of humanity to the Cainites, but that didn’t strictly mean food, right? They could also serve in other ways, like ear rubs or being good to talk to. So, he would just be taking his birthright as a true Sabbat.

Right. Yeah. Okay.

That, plus his dignity wasn’t exactly going strong, what with living barefoot in a cave with a bunch of idiots who spent more time fighting each other or plotting against him than furthering any cause.

And thus, casting aside worthless human notions of dignity or shame, he laid down on the blanket she’d spread out and rested her head in her lap once more.

Unbidden, a soft sigh escaped him as she ran her hands over his flesh.

“What do you get out of this?” he asked her through the soft tingly feeling creeping out from where she was touching him.

“Well, for one you are totally fascinating,” she told him happily as she worked. “I really wanted to hang out with you again. I mean, a real vampire? I’ve never met one before. This is like, I dunno, like getting to pat a lion!”

“Do not compare me to an animal, Kine.” he sneered at her, secretly pleased that she was comparing him to one of the few natural creatures humans would consider predators. Yes, a lion allowing a lamb to serve it...

“Sorry,” she said, “I didn’t mean it in a rude way. What’s a Kine? Is that like Cainite?”

“No. Kine, that’s you. Human. Mortal. I am a Cainite.”

“Oh. So you’re not mortal then? You live forever?”

“That’s correct.”

“Huh. That sounds scary.”

“Of course,” he told her smugly, gesturing languidly with one clawed hand. “Our lives are beyond your comprehension. Centuries mean nothing to Cainites, your meaningless and brief lives coming and going while we toy with you from the shadows, using you as we please.”

Her hands stopped their motions. He opened his eyes, glaring up at her from her own lap. He didn’t consider her a threat to him, exactly, she perhaps had the physical strength to challenge him but he was certain she didn’t have the state of mind to attack him, or anyone else. Soft, weak human.

“You just told me off for comparing you to an animal and now you’re being a giant racist,” she admonished him, although she didn’t seem too offended. “Human lives aren’t meaningless, but that wasn’t what I meant. It must be scary for you to live forever.”

“What?” he asked sharply, tilting his head further back to regard her fully.

“Well,” she began slowly, “I don’t know what I’d do with myself if I lived forever. I think the sort of, eighty years or so most people get is enough. It’s like, I sort of only expect to do so much, and that’s okay. It’s kind of comforting to know that no matter what I do or no matter what happens to me, it’s all only temporary. I’m supposed to end, and that’s okay too.” As she spoke she resumed running her hands up and down his ears.

“Pathetic,” he told her irritably, although he did relax again, letting his eyes drift closed.

“If you say so,” she replied, having the audacity to sound amused.

“And what do you do with your life, that’s so meaningful?” he asked disdainfully. He had no idea what compelled him to keep talking to this grinning idiot.

He absolutely refused to admit to himself that he wanted to talk with somebody who wasn’t one of his idiotic pack and/or wasn’t busy disdaining of his low status or Nosferatu appearance.

“Probly nothing meaningful by your standards,” she admitted, massaging the tips of his ears between thumbs and forefingers, “I’m a fitter. I work at the Great Yarmouth power station, making sure all their shit doesn’t break down.”

For the second time his eyes snapped open.

“You’re a fitter?” he asked incredulously.

“I get that a lot,” she told him with a grin. “Yep. Fitter. I always thought tradesmen were super cool, and it turned out machining was loads of fun, so I decided to do it for a job."

Well, that explained the steel toe capped boots. She was a tradesman. An unusual profession for a woman, but apt he supposed for one built like Shitbeard.

“Do you do much welding?” he asked, for the first time without sarcasm or superiority.

“Not on this job, we have boilermakers who do most of that, but I do from time to time. I’ve done my fair share of it before though.”

“Tell me about the last time you welded something,” he commanded.

“Uhh... oo-kayyy...” she replied, clearly taken aback by the abrupt and obscure request, “Well, we had a gauge give out on Boiler 5, and I had to get it working until a replacement came in, so we...”

Despite himself, Pyotr found himself getting more animated in his questioning and criticism as she recounted various metalwork she and her coworkers had done during her career. Finally, someone to talk shop with!

“Ack, geez dude,” grumbled Meli, shifting her legs around underneath his head. “Let me stand up and walk around a bit, my legs are cramping.”

Reluctantly, Pyotr sat up, allowing Meli to stumble stiffly to her feet.

“Why so much interest in welding?” she asked as she stretched her back, then bent to touch her toes. “Can vampires even weld?”

“I- what do you mean, can vampires weld?” he shot back, offended by the very question.

“Well, y’know, the UV flash? The sun hurts you, right? So wouldn’t welding hurt you?”

“That’s stupid,” he told her flatly. “It’s the sun that kills vampires, not UV light.”

“Oh, so it’s like a magic property.”

“Exactly.”

He watched her stretch her legs against the rocky wall, and elected to answer her first question.

“I used to be an underwater welder. I worked on oil rigs off the Scottish coast. That’s what I was doing when I was Embraced.”

Meli stopped working the kinks out of her legs, and turned her full attention on him.

“I’m sorry,” she said softly. “Do you want to talk about it?”

Rage sparked in his breast, and he drew himself up to his full height.

“You’re sorry?” he snarled, “I am now beyond human, something far greater. It’s something to be celebrated, not pitied.”

“Okay, okay!” Meli held up both hands in a conciliatory gesture. “Right, sorry, it’s kind of a reflex to say things like that when you hear about someone dying. I didn’t mean it like that.”

Somewhat mollified, Pyotr raised an eyebrow at her.

“You tell people you’re sorry that they died?”

“Ye- well no... ugh, you know what I mean.” Meli made a helpless face, and he found her fumbling amusing enough to placate the rest of his anger.

Dejectedly, she returned to her folded blanket and sat back down.

“So, uh, how d’you feel about having your hair brushed?” she asked.

Pyotr wavered. On the one hand, it was stupid and unnecessary. If he wanted his hair brushed he’d do it himself. On the other... women had had a fascination with his long, dark hair when he’d been mortal, and were always playing with it. He’d found it tiring then, but since he’d been Embraced he’d discovered that he missed it.

That, and it meant being stroked and touched some more.

“If you must,” he grumbled, trying not to sound too eager.

She beamed at him, and leaned back to retrieve a comb and a brush from behind her lantern.

“So I was thinking,” she piped up as he sat himself back on the blanket in front of her, “We’ve both got a lot of questions about each other, right? So, how about this - we take turns asking one question each until I’m finished with your hair.”

“Augh, okay,” he growled irritably as she scooped his hair back behind his ears and shoulders, “It’s not like I have anything better to do.”

“You can go first,” she prompted.

“Alright. Hum.” he pondered, then his grin became even more pronounced.

“Is this like getting to brush a lion?” he asked slyly, casting a glance behind him.

She grinned back.

“Absolutely not,” she told him primly as she began to comb out the bottom part of the first section of hair. “This is nothing at all like getting to brush a stunning apex predator with a gorgeous mane.”

“Hmmm,” he rumbled, smugly soaking in the compliment.

“My turn. Were you invisible earlier? Like actually invisible?”

“Yes.” He wasn’t inclined to offer any further information on that one.

“That’s amazing.”

“My turn. Are you a human?”

Her hands stopped.

“I’m sorry what?” she asked, staring at him.

“Are you a human?” he repeated, tilting his head to stare back.

“Um... yes? Obviously? I’m pretty sure.” She spread her arms and then gestured down at herself meaningfully.

He stared at her a moment longer, then turned back away.

He felt her resume combing his hair, and then:

“Okay, you gotta tell me if this is racist because I really don’t mean to be racist, but are you like... technically dead?”

“Yes, I’m ‘technically dead’. My heart doesn’t beat, my body is cold, I don’t breathe unless I want to. By human definitions vampires are dead. Why, are you worried you’re a bit of a necrophiliac?” he finished with a purr.

“That counts as your question. And... maybe a little bit.”

Pyotr froze, and began to turn, only for her to gently guide his head back away from her so she could continue detangling his hair.

“How do you do the invisibility thing?” she asked, her voice carefully measured.

“It’s, um, a trick of mine,” he muttered distractedly. “I can make people think I’m not there. Do you actually find me attractive?!?”

“It’s... complicated.” she said lamely.

He sat silently, waiting.

“Look, I’m really not sure myself, okay? That’s the honest truth. I guess I can say I find you... compelling? I think?”

More silence.

“I don’t know,” she grumbled, taking a new section of hair. “Hoookay. Um. How old are you?”

At least that was an easy one.

“I was 29 at the time I was Embraced,” he told her. “That was 25 years ago. I guess you could say I’m 54.”

“Huh.”

“The first time we met you punched the wall hard enough to crack rock, but you didn’t break your arm,” he lead in, “How are you so strong?”

“It’s a trick of mine,” she replied carefully, “I’m stronger than I should be.”

He waited, but any hope for further clarification was squashed when she asked her question.

“Are you alone down here?”

“That’s not your business,” he relied coldly.

“Okay, sorry, I’ll ask something else. Um, d’you like, live in here or it it just a place you hang out?”

He hesitated.

“I’m living here at the moment,” he admitted, “But it’s a temporary thing.”

Using that as a springboard for his next move, he posed:

“What about you? Where do you live?”

“I’ve got a house in Acle!” she told him. “Just a little one, nothing fancy.”

“Acle? That’s an hour and a half away.”

“Just under an hour actually,” she replied, giving his ear a little poke with the comb in admonishment for asking an extra question. "Can you drink someone’s blood without killing them?”

He perked up at that.

“Are you offering?” he purred greasily.

“No. Answer the question.”

“Yes, we can drink a mortal’s blood without killing them. Usually when we feed we don’t kill, it gets too messy that way. The Kine start... asking questions.”

“You tried to kill me the first time we met,” she pointed out accusingly.

“You were the one stupid enough to wander into a vampire’s lair. You should be grateful, very few Kine find us and live.” His voice took on a threatening edge.

“Point taken. Your turn.”

“This alchemy of yours - what kind of ‘potions’ can you make?”

Meli took a firm grip on the portion of hair she was working on, so that it wouldn’t pull as she combed at a particularly dense snarl.

“Let’s see... well, like I said, I’m working on Night-Eye at the moment - for seeing in the dark - and then there’s one that you can pour onto a cut or scrape to heal it, one’s a powder that purifies water, although that one’s a bit shit because you need a lot of it, I don’t think I made it right. One makes you a bit stronger. I tried to make some other ones but they didn’t work.”

That was interesting. It sounded like she was bad at whatever she was doing, but had managed to achieve some genuine, if minor, supernatural effects. Had she used her ‘a bit stronger’ potion to give herself the strength she’d displayed earlier? Possible, but he doubted it. She wouldn’t offer this information so freely if it was what she had glossed over moments earlier. No, he suspected it was something else.

“What’s this ‘Embrace’ thing you keep talking about? That’s where you got turned into a vam- a Cainite?”

“Just say ‘vampire’ if you’re too simple for ‘Cainite’,” he grumbled at her. “Yes. When a mortal is drained completely of blood, we can then Embrace them, and they become a new Cainite. It doesn’t happen often, and those who receive the Embrace are... specially chosen. In my case, for my profession."

The comb slid through the last partition of his hair, and he heard the rustle of her clothing as she leaned back, the click of the comb being set down, and the rustle of her returning to her sitting position.

“Why... hmmm...” he trailed off with a hum of pleasure at the first pass of the brush over his scalp and down to the ends of his hair. “Why aren’t you afraid of me?” he mumbled lazily.

“Don’t need to be,” she replied, a smile audible in her voice. “I’m pretty strong, and I’m not going to let you hurt me. You might be able to go invisible, but I have a good nose and you still smell like something. And before you ask, you smell like old dried blood and a bit like fabric because of your clothes. Point is, I don’t think you can sneak up on me either."

“Don’t count on it,” he hissed dangerously.

“Come on,” she said gently, “You don’t want to kill me. Then you wouldn’t have anyone to brush your hair or play with your ears.”

“You're pushing your luck,” he told her severely. Unfortunately, he realised to his great surprise, she was also right. He was still processing this thought when her voice cut into his reverie.

“What do you do for fun?”

“I... I hunt. Sometimes I practice my skills, like the invisibility trick. I have some colleagues who visit, we play cards.” She didn’t need to know about the rest of the pack. It was close enough to the truth. He also didn’t need to admit that the ‘cards’ was Uno. “Are you always awake at night and sleeping during the day?” he probed.

“Ever since I started this job, yeah. I’m on permanent night shift. I like it, no traffic and it’s easy to make appointments and stuff if I can get them early. It’s too much trouble to change my sleeping pattern just for the weekend. So I guess I’m nocturnal now.” The brush swept through his hair, steady and smooth. “What’s your least favourite thing about being a vampire?”

He had no idea what compelled him to answer at all, let alone truthfully. Perhaps he could blame it on the slightly drunken feeling from being groomed like this.

“The cold,” he said quietly. “I’m always cold. I don’t have body heat anymore, so there’s nothing to insulate no matter how I dress or where I sleep. I can’t stand in the sun and fire is uncomfortable.”

“Oh,” she said softly.

Silence fell, except for the sound of the rain outside and the gentle shush of the brush through his hair. And then, even that stopped.

Out of the corner of his eye he saw her set the brush aside. She moved, and he heard the whine of a zipper.

“Scootch back a bit?” she implored, reaching in front of him to make a beckoning gesture.

He complied, pulling himself backwards as she shifted her legs to either side of him. His back pressed against her chest and stomach and... ah...

She was warm.

“I have plenty of body heat,” she said, and from this position he could feel her words in her chest. “You can have some.”

She tucked the sides of her open jacket around him as best she could, then rested her arms around his waist and leaned back against the rock behind, pulling him with her.

“Are you an idiot?” he asked incredulously.

“Yeah, probly.” she replied. 

Silence fell between them as a wet gust of wind swished past outside.

“Are you lonely?” she murmured behind his ear.

He'd been lonely from the first moment he was Embraced.

“Stop talking,” he sighed, and nestled back against her body.

She did. Awkwardly, she reached down and grabbed the blanket he’d just shifted off from and opened it out, pulling the clean side over them both.

Silently, they watched the rain outside glitter in the dim lantern-light, as her warmth filled him up.

[gottlem]

summer fl(in)g. gigi/crystal

a/n i made crystal sad about 3/4 through and im SORRY i was projecting. anyways theres a tiny tiny bit of angst but MOST of this is just dumb gays in l*ve. im still getting used to writing fics so be nice pls !!!! also if u want a pt2 be sure to let me know!

summary: lockdown in summer can be lonely, but Crystal and Gigi make sure they never feel alone. thank god they have good service. (3.8k words)

When lockdown was announced, Crystal wasn’t surprised. The pandemic was taking the world by storm and yeah, it fucking terrified her. But she had to look on the bright side. So that's what she did. Just as the announcement came to an end, Crystal’s phone pinged from her pocket and she smiled to see her friends' names light up on the screen.

JANtastic: well its official

miss cox: Yeah I’m gonna miss u guys!!!

goodegirl: you say that as if u won’t be spending lockdown with jan. i’ll be ALONE thanks for asking

CRYstal: hey i’ll be alone too !!! I’ll text u everyday to keep u company :-))

goodegirl: i’m gonna hold u up to that

And Gigi did hold her up to that. The country was two days into lockdown when Crystal received her first message.

goodegirl: ugh we are how many days into lockdown? And ive already had A MILLION people hit me up with “hows quarantine treating u ;)” i am SICK.

When Crystal read the text, an odd feeling bubbled in her stomach. She told herself it was because she wasn’t used to out-of-the-blue messages from Gigi yet, they just didn’t talk that much, but looking back she admits there was probably (definitely) more to it than that. Of course the girls had already been friends, but Crystal had never found it in herself to speak to Gigi that much because, well, she was intimidatingly gorgeous. They got on well in groups, where Crystal could try to focus her attention on someone who didn’t make her face red every time she looked at her, but she knew if she invited Gigi out by themselves, she would make a fool of herself. It was stupid really, it wasn’t even like she had feelings for her - she was just too pretty, and Crystal didn’t know how to handle herself around someone who looked like they belonged in a vogue magazine. A ping shook her from her thoughts.

goodegirl: like i get that ppl are thirsty rn. i get it. i am too. but is that really the BEST they can come up with?

Crystal needed to reply. But what could she even say to that?

CRYstal: at least u have people trying to hit you up ://

goodegirl: omg what??? ur telling me not ONE person has tried to slide into those dms? they need to get on that! ur a catch

Crystal felt her face flush at the comment. Did Gigi really think she was a catch? Or maybe she’s just being nice? That was probably it. Just friendly banter. 

CRYstal: nope haha! ANYWAYS. hows quarantine treating u ;-)

goodegirl: very funny. bitch.

From then on, the texts flowed easily between the two and Crystal started to ask herself why she hadn’t done this earlier. So what if Gigi was offensively attractive? They clicked so easily - Gigi was smart, quick witted, and didn’t take anything too seriously. So really, she was Crystal's perfect match. As a friend. Platonically. That night, they texted until Crystal was struggling to even keep her eyes open. It was a conversation that felt natural to them, bringing up anything that came into their heads and letting eachother start stupid tangents without fear of judgement. Gigi found Crystal's ability to ramble on about any random subject impossibly endearing, but she wouldn’t admit that out loud. Not yet, anyways.

--

After three days of almost constant texting, Crystal facetimed Gigi for the first time. She picked up within seconds with wide eyes and a grin on her face. 

“Hey you” If Crystal couldn’t see her smile (which she absolutely could) then she could definitely hear it. Gigi’s voice was soft and she hadn’t realised how much she missed it until she was reminded of it. The best thing was that Gigi sounded genuinely happy to speak to Crystal, it made her ecstatic. Crystal had called in the late afternoon, just before the sun had started to set, so she could see golden light shining gently onto Gigi’s features. It left her speechless for a second. How many times was Gigi going to leave her completely unable to reply by merely talking to her? This girl was going to be the death of her. When Crystal finally came to, she managed out a soft, but casual, reply, hoping that she had covered up the embarrassing amount of time it took for her to speak. If Gigi noticed, she didn’t mention it. 

It took them a while to get into the rhythm of actually talking to each other - texts made it easy to think over before you send, and Gigi had never really been one to think before she spoke aloud anyway. She didn’t want to scare Crystal off with how blunt she could be, but after some awkward laughs and stuttered jokes, the pair slowly fell into a rhythm they felt surprisingly comfortable in; they bounced off each other's jokes and soon enough their cheeks hurt from smiling. A few hours into the call, Crystal was sitting comfortably on her bed, her phone propped up with pillows so she and Gigi could still see each other. She caught herself staring again. It started off as small glances that lingered a bit longer than they should, but it was easy to do that and quickly cover it up, especially on facetime. Soon enough, Crystal would completely daze off for minutes, just staring at the girl on her screen. She figured out she really liked looking at Gigi, and Gigi didn’t seem to mind.

Gigi thinks Crystal’s voice is her favourite sound. After about 5 minutes of hearing run on sentences about god knows what, she had already decided she could listen to her talk forever. About anything. She really didn’t care as long as it was Crystal and she was talking to her. As the call progressed into the late hours of the night, the pair had started to get giggly - the tiredness they were feeling was starting to take effect, but it made them anything but sleepy. At 11:56pm, Gigi decided Crystal’s laugh was her second favourite sound. She would sometimes giggle, sometimes she’d shake with silent laughter, but her favourite was when she gave into a full-belly laugh. The kind of laugh that substitutes for a full core workout. That was Gigi’s favourite. 

Crystal was obsessed with Gigi’s smile. It softened Gigi, showed a side of her that Crystal hadn’t been acquainted to previously, but she was so glad she knew now. Gigi could be harsh sometimes, she had learned this years ago and had just accepted it as who Gigi was, but after seeing that damn smile, it was hard to think that Gigi was even capable of hurting a fly. Crystal was quick to realise the mean girl facade (which had only made her scarier to talk to, and somehow more attractive) was just that - a facade. Walls she had built up. Crystal was eager to break them down, and she felt like she was making a good start everytime Gigi smiled like that.

They hung up when Gigi started yawning more than she was talking, she insisted it was just because she was tired, and Crystal wholeheartedly believed her. When Gigi’s face disappeared from her screen, Crystal was still smiling. Her cheeks hurt and she felt whole. She took a deep breath and took in the silence for a moment - she was alone again. She didn’t feel lonely. Despite her ever-growing fatigue, Crystal just couldn’t fall asleep, her head was buzzing with Gigi’s voice, and her laugh, and her smile, and her eyes, and- Crystal was in deep shit. She was all too familiar with the feeling of butterflies manifesting in her stomach, the thoughts of a particular person on her mind constantly. To be completely honest, she hated it. Falling for anyone had never ended well for her, and falling for someone she was already friends with? Even worse. There was no way this would end without somebody getting hurt, and that somebody would probably be Crystal. And yet, being stuck in isolation, she thought the idea of possibly having a girlfriend didn’t sound too bad, but that might have been the lack of human contact talking. 

Gigi let her thoughts wonder as she drifted off into sleep. She wasn’t one to get crushes, but when she fell, she fell hard. And willingly. There was just something about the drama of having such strong feelings for someone, and playing guessing games on how they felt. And by the way Crystal had been staring at her all night, Gigi felt like she was on the right tracks. She liked the way her cheeks would flush if she thought too hard about the girl, or how butterflies would dance around in her stomach, making her feel lighter than a feather. Maybe she was just a hopeless romantic, but she wouldn’t have it any other way. She allowed herself to dream up scenarios of herself and Crystal being together once this whole situation was over. She quite liked how it looked in her head. 

--

As the days passed, Gigi and Crystal found themselves spending more of their waking hours talking to each other over facetime than they did doing anything else. They were both falling quickly, only mildly aware of each other's adoration. It didn’t take very long for the casual flirting to start. Everytime Gigi gave an off-handed compliment about how Crystal sounded “really pretty today” or how her laugh is “the prettiest thing”, the other girl would turn bright red and freeze up. Gigi would tease her about it, which only made her more and more flustered. She thought she’d eventually get used to it, but she never did. Crystal tried to flirt back,really tried,  she wanted more than anything to make Gigi stumble over her words like she does to her so often, but she would always be completely unfazed by every compliment Crystal could think of. Crystal found her ability to keep her composure so easily both irritating and compelling. 

It took Crystal a few days to find something that would finally, finally break Gigi down. Pet names. When she had casually let ‘babe’ slip in the middle of a sentence, she could practically see the breath that got stuck in Gigi’s throat before she started to choke on nothing but air. When Crystal asked if she was ok, she answered with a question.

“Did you just call me babe?”

“Yeah. Is that a problem?” Crystal genuinely wanted to make sure that it was ok, but the comment came off as less of a question, and more as straight up flirting. 

“No. Nope. Not a problem at all. What were we talking about?”

Crystal doesn’t press further, taking pride in being able to make the girl so speechless, and continues what she was saying as if nothing had stopped her in the first place. She watched as Gigi’s blush died down very, very slowly, only to watch it burn up again every time Crystal repeated the pet name. She absolutely adored it. 

“You’re cute when you blush, babe” Gigi made a noise at this. Crystal made a note of that before deciding that this would never get old.

--

Soon enough, the girls were in a comfortable routine - talking every day until one of them would give in to sleep. It was usually Crystal. Gigi would stay on the call for a bit, just to listen to the girl’s breathing, it provided an unexpected comfort to her. Plus Crystal was adorable when she slept. The routine was broken one day about a month into the lockdown, though nobody was really paying attention to what day it was anyway. Gigi had been awake for no more than an hour when she started to miss Crystal, so she gave her a call. Crystal didn’t pick up. Gigi called again, just in case Crystal had her phone on silent, but she was met with no answer. Instead, she was sent a text, a text which really didn’t explain anything. At all.

CRYstal: hey !!! sorry can’t pick up rn but i promise u i will call in like an hour or two ???? speak to u soon love !!!! <3

It was unusual for Crystal to miss out on a call - she was usually the one to be ringing Gigi. What could she even be doing? Gigi needed a distraction, something to pass the time instead of sitting and waiting. That was when she realised she hadn’t worn any makeup in weeks, so she sat herself down and started on a full face - the process of doing her makeup always calmed her down, so it was a welcome distraction. Just as she finished, her phone began ringing. She didn’t have to check to see who it was. 

“Hi! Sorry I didn’t answer before I was kinda busy” Gigi was speechless. A pixelated Crystal was beaming at her from her phone screen. And she had green hair now. This is why she didn’t pick up? The bitch was dyeing her hair? It did look really pretty though. Like, really, really pretty.

“Quarantines really getting to you that much huh?” Gigi decided against gushing about Crystal’s new hair - that would be giving her what she wanted.

“Do you like it?” She loved it. Adored it. 

“It’s nice” 

“That’s all you’re going to say?”

“Needy are we?” That shut her up. She changed the topic in an instant. 

“So... you look really pretty today!”

That night, the girls fell back into their easy routine. It had been hours since she first saw it, but Gigi couldn’t keep her eyes off of Crystal and her new look. It really suited her. It just felt so utterly Crystal. The green haired girl was in the middle of a long rant about how One DIrection “are definitely planning a reunion really really soon” when Gigi had to stop her.

“I fucking love your hair, Crys” She blushed at the out-of-the-blue compliment.

“Really? I thought it was just nice?” Gigi shook her head.

“I was teasing, of course I love it. It suits you so much, you look beautiful” She was smiling ear to ear. Crystal loved it when Gigi gushed over her like this. It made her feel like there could be something there, like this was more than friends bored in quarantine.

“Thanks,” Crystal paused for just a moment before her face lit up “Oh my God, you should do something to your hair too!” Gigi hated that idea, and shook her head affectionately at the girl's adorable excitement. She felt slightly bad when she told her that she would be caught dead before doing anything to her hair - she loved the deep brown colour it had always been, and was happy with how the length framed her face. Crystal however, was incessant. Gigi was surprised when she found herself telling Crystal that she’d “think about” changing her hair up. 

Saying this was a huge mistake. Crystal reminded her every other hour that she had to dye it or cut it or just do something, and it drove Gigi insane. It took her all but two days to finally cave in - it irked her that Crystal had this much power over her. She wanted to do something shocking, something that would shut Crystal up about her damn hair for good. So she shaved it. 

She did it when Crystal fell asleep after a particularly heated debate about her hair (the second of the night) and Gigi hung up to get to work on it. To call it an impulse decision wasn’t perhaps the most accurate, seeing as though she had been bugged about it for a solid 48 hours, but waking up that morning, Gigi hadn’t expected that all her hair would be gone by the time she went to sleep. Once she had finally bitten the bullet, it took her an hour to admit that she actually kind of liked the look - plus it was fun to touch. 

When Crystal called her that morning, Gigi took a moment to herself before answering. She hadn’t told her about the change in her appearance and hoped she would like it, or at least be pleased that Gigi finally listened to her. She took a breath and picked up, feigning confidence with a casual “morning!”. She watched Crystal’s eyes go wide and her hands cover her mouth. Gigi acted oblivious.

“What's up? Is there someone behind me or something?” She looked at her screen and patiently waited until Crystal composed herself - she was used to her staring anyway. When Crystal finally spoke, she was practically squealing out a string of compliments. Apparently, she loved it. 

“Are you keeping it like that? Please say you’re keeping it like that, it's so hot” Gigi wasn’t sure if she would grow it out, but after Crystal had said that, it was an easy decision.

“I guess I’ll keep it then. Just for you”

--

Crystal loved being so open with Gigi, and she really appreciated how close they had gotten during lockdown - but she really just needed today off. She had woken up one morning with a feeling of dread that she couldn’t quite place, and a persistent headache. This was going to be a bad day, but she was used to bad days. She ignored Gigi’s calls and sent no follow up text. She could speak to Gigi later. Right now, she was just going to go back to sleep. 

So that's what she did. She woke up in the late afternoon and finally dragged herself out of bed to make some food in the evening. When she got back to the safety of her bed, she was still tired. And she kind of felt like crying. So she cried. Sometimes, especially on bad days, Crystal’s mind could get the best of her, she had learned to just let herself get all her feelings out when she got like this - bottling them up had only ever made them worse. This was when Gigi called for the millionth time that day, her texts had become concerned, then angry, then concerned again. Crystal felt like she owed an explanation, so with bloodshot eyes and a puffy red face, Crystal finally picked up.

“Ugh finally! You haven’t spoken to me all day I- what’s wrong?” Crystal felt a ping of guilt at Gigi’s initial response to her answering. Had she really kept her waiting all day? It felt silly, like an unreasonable excuse, but deep down Crystal knew what was good for her. She also didn’t know how to answer Gigi’s question. She was starting to regret picking up, having Gigi see her like this - god, she must have looked a mess.

“I’m sorry I shouldn’t have picked up. I'm probably bringing the mood down” She saw Gigi’s features become impossibly softer at that.

“Hey, no, it's ok. We don’t have to talk about it, but we can if you want to. But you’re not hanging up. And neither am I. If it means I sit in complete silence with you for the next few hours then so be it” 

This was when Crystal knew Gigi was a keeper. Whether whatever they had going on would continue, or whether they would return to strictly just friends, Gigi was someone she needed to keep in her life. They eventually started talking, first it was about how Gigi’s day went - Crystal didn’t feel like speaking much, but once she warmed up to seeing that all-familiar smile, she felt comfortable enough to start to open up. They talked for hours. Crystal cried. Gigi cried (though not as much). 

“I just wish I could be there to help, or at least give you a hug or something, god this sucks” Crystal saw this as an opportunity to lighten the mood.

“As if you would settle for just a hug” Crystal winked pitifully and Gigi laughed, but didn’t disagree. 

Of course one chat didn’t fix Crystal’s problems, but at least now she had someone in her corner - and that was half the battle.

--

It didn’t take the pair very long to fall back into their rhythm, feeling closer and more comfortable with each other, their feelings getting stronger as each day passed on. Crystal found herself falling back into the habit of sitting silent, and admiring the girl on her screen.

“You’re staring.” Gigi told her. Crystal hummened in agreement.

“You’re pretty”

It was normal for the pair to bounce words like pretty, and beautiful, and gorgeous between them. It was as if they both knew exactly how the other felt - like it was completely unspoken and yet so obvious. And maybe it was.

Two months into lockdown, Gigi was really starting to miss physical contact - she was starting to feel a thrill when she made eye contact with strangers on her way to her weekly shop, she was getting desperate. It was brought up with Crystal.

“I just miss human contact. I want to hold a hand. I want someone to hug me. I want a kiss! Oh my god I miss kissing.” Crystal felt herself blushing at the mention of kissing (kissing Gigi, nonetheless). She would give anything to see Gigi right now, to be close to her.

“When this is over, I’ll kiss you, don’t even worry about it” Crystal was only half joking. GIgi went red, but tried to act as if the thought of Crystal kissing her didn’t phase her at all.

“Oh will you now?”

“I’m not kidding”

“Well. I’d very much like that Miss Methyd” Gigi gave in, she refused to play hard to get with someone who she had fallen so hard for. She just hoped Crystal would stick to her word.

--

Summer was halfway through when lockdown was lifted. The instant the announcement was made, Crystal phone pinged - it wasJan, and she suddenly felt a wave of deja vu from when the lockdown started.

JANtastic: GUYSSSSSS i’ve missed you so much PLEASE say y’all are free to meet? Like right now?!?! 

JANtatsic: Jackie’s already with me so, she’s down too :))

CRYstal: i’ve missed you too !!! i’m free to meet!

goodegirl: me too !!

The group reunited within an hour, Crystal shed some happy tears, and Gigi laughed as she wiped them for her. It was nice to be with her, to be able to stand next to each other. But it also felt odd - like something had shifted now that they were right in front of each other. So for the rest of summer, the girls shared lingering glances and awkward smiles, too scared to make an official move.

[potahun]

Some more Qin Shen Shen moment translations (part 7/?)

Link to other translations so far.

Most cuts from Episode 12 (but not all)

I already translated some bits from this ep in other parts, so this ep. doesn’t actually have too much left other than the songs themselves. This said, it’s also because some of the gems didn’t make it into the main broadcast haha

a. Group entrance - all finalists stand on stage. The MC asks Fei Yuqing how he feels first, who replies that he’s honored and hopes people will like the song they chose.

MC: Now we have to ask our Qin Shen Shen... On this stage, only you two have been together from the beginning to the end, singing all the way until now.

LKQ links his arm with ZS and crosses his legs. 

ZS: You’re being too courteous, too courteous.  *laughs and pretends to hit LKQ*

MC: So I have to ask the two of you: Did you set yourself any objectives for tonight’s finale?

LKQ: It’s very obvious. From our outfits today, you can tell we came to study. We look like students. They (the other teams) look like teachers and the headmaster. (...)

b. Flashback: During the charades segment to decide the order of performances, Qin Shen Shen are basically chaining correct answers without a break. 

ZS, halfway through the game: Hold on a minute, *touches his cheeks* is our time going to be this long?

c. In the backstage room, explaining the idea behind their song “Hua”. 

ZS: This song will have a fairly big contrast. We’re hoping it’ll be a bit more relaxed, simpler and livelier (LKQ: Right)

The flashback shows their on-stage rehearsal. ZS bursts out laughing during the song intro, making LKQ laugh too and say “It doesn’t feel like a competition”. ZS then replies that it feels a lot like Tom&Jerry.

(Back to the backstage room) LKQ, explaining: Because until now all we’ve sang are love songs, slow songs, really tragic ...apart from “Ye Lang”. So I think this song can again, in the finale, allow people to have an ‘Aaah? This is pretty good too’ - that kind of feeling.

ZS: Like “Eh? Didn’t expect this.” It’s kind of doing your own thing, I guess. Everyone is going *mimics the sound of swords and arrows flying* and these two people are like *does a hand-clapping game* It’ll just make a very different picture. 

LKQ: Good.

ZS turns to him to initiate a hand-clapping game. LKQ goes too fast for ZS and they mess up. 

ZS (to LKQ): It’s the other way round. *turns away from him* OK. 

LKQ, protesting at being “criticized”: Heeey! Little kids, alright!! 

ZS pacifies him. 

d. After they finish their performance of “Hua”, in which there’s a lot of harmonisation, cute poses, and you guessed it: dry ice. 

MC: Why is it that as soon as you two stand on stage, there’s dry ice? (ZS laughs and LKQ just licks his lips)

ZS: But apart from dry ice, we have nothing else........ *laughs*

MC: My interpretation is this. From the 1st day you paired up, Xiao Qi Ge has been saying you’re a Match Made in Heaven. Your harmonisation today, it really had a divine and floating kind of feeling, so you must have dry ice/theatrical fog all over the stage in order to match that.

ZS, bowing: :OOO Thank you teacher Lin Hai (MC’s name) Thank you.

MC, trying not to laugh: But the song you chose today really does look a lot like a school performance... (ZS and LKQ: :’D and ;;;; at the same time) So do you want to listen to feedback from the teachers? (ZS: Yes LKQ: Yes, of course)

NY: Let’s start with the headmaster (Fei Yuqing), alright?

FYQ: Alright. (...) Truthfully speaking, if I were to be picking at your small problems, it’d be beneficial for both our teams, huh? (i.e. his and Na Ying’s) *laughs* (ZS makes a vaguely terrified face on stage while LKQ is laughing) 

FYQ: But that’d be selfish of me. 

He ends up giving some very nice comments, and NY asks to see his notes. NY ends up teasing that what he wrote has nothing to do with that he said (aka the notes might really have been picking at Qin Shen Shen’s problems). FYQ replies with a very courteous “It’s your turn now.” and NY just goes “Alright” instantly.

NY: Actually, I’ll tell the truth, it’s after coming to “Wo Men De Ge” that I’ve truly started to like Li Keqin. (LKQ, bowing but relaxed: Thank you, thank you Na Jie, thank you~) That care and magnanimity that he has for music and for Zhou Shen, I find it really good. (LKQ turns to smile proudly at ZS) Zhou Shen, I don’t need to say any more, he’s like an elf.

ZS (to LKQ): Elves tend to be relatively small... (LKQ: The expression of an elf *imitates the face ZS made a second ago*)

NY: Zhou Shen, under Li Keqin’s protection, had a big surge in self-confidence. For each sentence in which they harmonised, their silent understanding was incredible. 

FYQ teases NY about how good she is at giving comments. All in all, NY concludes by saying she REALLY likes the Qin Shen Shen collaborations. 

e. Right after Li Keqin and Zhou Shen sit back down after “Hua”, Ayanga leans over to their side:

AYG (to ZS): Let me tell you, for this song... he (LKQ) looked even younger than you! *imitates the way LKQ was doing the cute flower poses earlier on, while LKQ laughs* I even forgot which of you is the elder brother! 

f. After Qin Shen Shen’s second song “Your name, my last name”. 

FYQ, commenting: *takes out his notepad* The headmaster has made notes again. This...Keqin and Zhou Shen... how can their chemistry be this good? As always. And I noticed that you really do suit dry ice very well.... (LKQ and ZS both guffaw) (...)

NY: I think Zhou Shen’s voice put together with Li Keqin’s voice is...feminine  (T/N: tbh im not sure how to translate this: “yin rou”. I looked it up and it gave me “feminine” but honestly I’m not sure...it’s got an element of being elegant and delicate too, I guess)

ZS: ???

NY, explaining: When you are giving Li Keqin strength, you can have strength. When you have parts where you have to be very tender, combined with his voice, it’s a perfect match. (ZS nods) So the two of you, when you have an opportunity in the future, you should once again make some songs that everyone would like. (the crowd cheers) Also, Zhou Shen, I noticed your Cantonese *switches to Cantonese* is really very good.

ZS, happy: Ooooooooooh! (LKQ, agreeing: Very good.) *speaks in Cantonese* Thank you very much.

NY, still in Cantonese: Did you know how to speak it before?

ZS, in apparently terrible Cantonese: I could understand it but not speak it-

NY: Ah, drop it, drop it, now it’s not correct anymore. Let’s drop it. (ZS cracks up: I really don’t know how to speak it!!)

Not doing the rest but yeah after the voting ends etc. etc. the MC explains that since Fei Yuqing and Jay Chou’s “Qian Li Zhi Wai / Beyond a thousand miles” (2006), they were wondering if they’d be able to have once more, on this stage, a song that bridges the generational gap between singers (the Qian Li Zhi Wai collaboration being the inspiration for the concept of the show) and the ones who would be realising this tonight would be Qin Shen Shen, with their original song “Bu Jian Jiu San”*. 

The winner of the finale is announced via the raising of the stage (all 3 groups stand on the stage, and only the part where the winners are standing will raise above the others). 

That’s pretty much it from the main broadcast BUT. Qin Shen Shen has quite a lot of stuff hanging outside the main broadcast in general....

----

* About “Bu Jian Jiu San”..... Idk how to translate this accurately. I read it as “If you won’t meet again, then say goodbye” but that’s taking liberties I guess. I also saw “Leave with no greeting” as a translation. Based on the lyrics which are about moving on, and also the meaning of the usual term “bu jian bu san” (no meeting, no parting i.e. we won’t leave until we see each other), I’d have leaned towards the "if u don’t meet, then say goodbye” sense, like if you’re not together anymore, then stop lingering on it - that kind of feeling. but honestly? I have no clue. 

Anyways an official MV was made for this song, and the MV is basically just Qin Shen Shen being Qin Shen Shen, but with slow-mos. *thumbs up* 

[artificialqueens]

Just the Game We’re In - Chapter 12 (Ortega

a/n: I have honestly no idea how to start this off, and I’m aware I’m not accepting a fucking Oscar, so I’ll try to keep this as short as possible. Back in the summer of 2016, there was a crossover fic challenge posted to this blog. I was in the process of finishing MasP and, as someone who fucking loved The Thick Of It and knew how well Bianca would fit as Malcolm Tucker, I posted chapter 1 of what started as a lighthearted, funny Politics AU, Just the Game We’re In. Fast forward nearly three fucking years, me graduating from uni and getting a job, countless long-ass fuckin update gaps and 179,065 words later, this is the final chapter, and I have no idea what the fuck I’m going to do with my life now!! I know I’m not the first person to ever finish a fic in this blog’s history, i ain’t special sis, but I really do want to say thank you thank you thank you to anyone who has ever given any chapter of this a note, reblogged it with something lovely, made fucking fanart or a moodboard (still in awe at that), has read any part of it, or has simply been a friend I’ve made through the writing process. It would be criminal not to specially mention @purecamp- she has without a doubt been Game’s biggest cheerleader throughout it all and legit I may not have even finished this if it wasn’t for her. She is a fantastic person and an amazing friend. I’ll sound like a wet wipe, but Game has legit changed my life. When I was little my dream was to be an author and I loved writing stories. I had never expected my writing to get much of a response when I joined AQ but I can safely say that this blog has been so so amazing and has really allowed me to live my childhood dream of writing a story that people actually wanted to read (this is the definition of cheesy). I’ll shut up now, but here she is everyone. As always lmk what u think over at artificialortega, I tried so hard to make it the most absolutely perfect ending. Chapter 12 of Game, the final chapter. It has been some fuckin wild ride. Xxxxxxxxx

(p.s. phi phi ur a babe im sorry i made u the opposition in this fic and i know u don’t have shitty opinions like game phi phi)

The street was silent. Time had seemed to freeze completely, and even the sound of the car speeding away seemed to be on mute. Perhaps it was just the overwhelming ringing in Willam’s ears that drowned everything else out, which sounded eerily akin to a flatline.

Willam could only blink and feel her heartbeat through her chest, cruelly taunting her and reminding her that Sharon, lying on the concrete, might not have had that privilege. Was she moving? Was she bleeding? Was she alive?

It felt as if Willam stood there frozen for minutes but it was probably only seconds, as all at once she felt herself walking forward, two slow steps and then breaking out into a sprint where she skidded to a halt beside Sharon’s body.

Fuck, no, not her body, Willam thought. Beside Sharon. Sharon, the living human being.

“Sharon,” Willam felt her voice come out as nothing more than a hoarse, panic-induced whisper. She looked at the woman in front of her. Willam was relieved to find that there weren’t any horrific, horror-movie style streams of blood pissing out of her. Suddenly she remembered the phrase she’d gleaned from many hours of her Mum watching Casualty, “internal bleeding”, and her heart grew cold. There were some huge scratches on her head which were already taking on the greenish hue of a bruise underneath, and the friction of her body on the tarmac had ripped open the light Summer jacket Sharon had been wearing and opened a deep gash on the arm which sat ugly and unmoving, a stagnant red against her pale skin.

Her leg was bent at a gruesomely impossible angle.

“Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck,” Willam hissed, shock pulsing through her like a thousand volts as she grabbed her phone from her jacket pocket and grew frustrated as it clung to the material and wouldn’t seem to budge. After some fierce tugs it finally emerged. Willam fumbled with her passcode two times then succeeded in opening her phone, and with shaky fingers she dialled 4 9s, deleted one, and hit the call button.

It rang once, then twice, then again. The ringing continued. Willam’s panic increased tenfold. How often do you need to phone 999 in your life, and when you finally do they don’t fucking pick up the phone?

Finally, the voice of the operator came down the line.

“999, which service do you require?”

“Ambulance, please,” Willam breathed out, the scared tone in her voice and the small, polite plea at the end making her feel as if she was about 5 years old.

“And the address please?”

Willam looked around, panic consuming her every movement and rendering her unable to see clearly. “We’re outside the Crown and Anchor in Chiswick, I don’t know the road name, um-”

“Can you see any road signs at all?”

Willam found her gaze focussing on a street sign a little further along the road. “Um. Belmont Road, I think? I’m sorry, I can’t-”

“Don’t worry, love, we’ve got it,” the voice replied soothingly, making Willam feel more like a child than ever. “And can you describe what’s happened at all?”

“My friend,” Willam began, then was suddenly cut off by a sob that unexpectedly welled up and burst in her throat, causing two tears to spring from her eyes. “She’s been hit by a car, it just came along from nowhere and it didn’t stop, she rolled right over it.”

“Your friend’s been hit by a car? Okay, my love. And you’re saying the car didn’t brake?”

“No,” Willam gasped, her breathing becoming more and more erratic as she sobbed. Fuck, where had all this crying come from?

“Was the car moving quickly?”

Willam frowned. It had been so long since she’d driven it was hard to give an estimate. “It seemed to be going pretty fast but I couldn’t say how much, sorry.”

There was a short pause. Willam looked at Sharon lying below her, then in panic around her as she realised she was still on the road. “I’m not being rude but is the ambulance coming?”

“Don’t worry, love, I know it can be hard when you’re waiting for someone to arrive. The ambulance has been dispatched, don’t panic. Keep talking to me. Is your friend conscious?”

Willam instantly turned to Sharon. “Sharon?” she shook her shoulder, lifted up an eyelid. “Sharon? Fuck, I don’t think so.”

“Don’t think so. Okay. Is she breathing?”

Willam knelt close to her chest and rested her hand on her heart. She felt the gentle rise and fall of her chest and wanted to cry with relief.  “Yes.”

“Still breathing, okay. And you said the patient’s name was Sharon?”

“Yeah, Sharon Needles,” Willam stuttered, momentarily worried about the headlines then cursing herself for the priorities she automatically had.

“Is she bleeding?” the call carrier continued, seemingly not the least bit fazed by the famous invalid.

“She’s got a massive big cut on her arm, but nothing else major. Um…some scratches here and there? I don’t know what’ll need stitches or not…fuck, fuck,” Willam breathed, the seriousness and reality of the situation hitting her all over again. “We’re still on the road, should I move her?”

“No, don’t move her, love. There could be broken bones which might be made worse if you do.”

Willam sighed, taking Sharon’s hand absent-mindedly. The small gesture almost broke her heart and reminded her of how things used to be. Maybe everything would be different if she’d never accepted Sharon’s offer of drinks, this may never have happened. She sighed in exasperation as she suppressed another sob. “Is the ambulance nearby?”

“I’m sorry love, it’s on its way. I know the questions can be annoying but everything we get we pass on to the paramedics-”

“She’s my friend,” Willam said softly, bringing her other hand up to stroke Sharon’s cheek.

“I know, love, we’re doing all we can at this end. Can you describe your friend for me? Age, gender, nationailty?”

The questions seemed to go round in a circle. They were endless, and Willam could feel herself growing more and more irate as the minutes seemed to tick by. Finally, after what seemed like hours, an ambulance slowly drew to a halt on the opposite side of the road to Willam. She immediately hung up on the operator and sprinted to the paramedics who were on their way over to Sharon.

“Hello there!” one greeted her, as natural and cheerful as if she’d just asked him about the weather. “Right, so this is our patient over here. What’s her name?“

Everything passed on to the paramedics my ass, Willam cursed under her breath, then spoke. “It’s Sharon. She was hit by a car.”

“Hello, Sharon, love!” the other paramedic greeted her, lifting her eyelids and shining a small torch into them. “Can you hear us, Sharon?”

Willam wanted to hiss at them that they’d get more conversation out of Helen Keller but she remembered that she wasn’t in Dosac any more, she wasn’t at work, she was lying on a road with her friend crumpled in a heap and no matter how incompetent these people seemed, they were there to help her.

“No response. Okay, grab the gurney.”

What followed this may as well have been another language as the two paramedics spoke in terrifying terminology about IV drips, lacerations and bone fractures. The man brought out a huge metal trolley that Sharon was lifted up onto after some form of yellow styrofoam-looking cast was placed around her mangled leg and another one was placed around her head. As she was carried into the ambulance, Willam, who had been silent for some time save for answering the paramedic’s questions, spoke up.

“Can I, um. Can I come with you in the ambulance?”

‘Of course you can, darling,” the female paramedic smiled at her. Willam momentarily wondered why NHS staff seemed to speak solely in pet names. “What’s your name, love?”

“Willam.”

“Willam, okay. And you are Sharon’s…?”

Willam paused for a beat. “I’m her best friend.”

“Bestie, aw that’s nice. So you were out for some drinks when this happened then, yeah? Girls night out?”

“Something like that,” Willam sighed, climbing the steps up to the back of the ambulance then sitting in the small chair at the end of the vehicle and putting her seatbelt on. Sharon sat in the silver trolley opposite her already hooked up to various machines. Symbols and numbers flashed on a small screen, none of which Willam could tell was good or bad.

“Okay, seatbelt on,” the woman instructed her, sitting down in her own seat herself. “We’ll be at the hospital in no time. Once we’re there, we’ll-”

Willam barely heard her as her mind began to drift away, and all she could focus on were the sirens attached to the ambulance that seemed so far away. That all-too-familiar sound that she recognised from streets and junctions was her and Sharon, the pair of them racing through central London in an ambulance.

Soon enough they arrived at the hospital, and Sharon was being wheeled out of the ambulance, down a ramp and straight into the building. Willam followed awkwardly behind, past people in wheelchairs and others in beds hooked up to various beeping machines and parked, or perhaps abandoned, in corridors. The male paramedic turned to her suddenly as Sharon was wheeled behind a curtain.

“I’m sorry- she can’t have anyone with her at the moment.”

Willam frowned, helpless. “But-”

“She’s in good hands, I promise,” he smiled at her, his gentle eyes reminding her of a long-dead Grandpa she had loved dearly and making her want to cry all over again. His face turned conspiratorial as his eyes shifted around. “Look you shouldn’t really, but if you go to that desk over there you’ll get taken to a relative’s room. It’s not much but it’ll be a quiet room with a kettle and a sofa and a phone and it’ll be a hell of a lot better than sitting stressed in the waiting room.”

Willam gazed over at the desk in question, opposite which were hordes of people waiting to be seen- some looked fine, some had huge wads of kitchen roll wrapped around cuts, there were a couple of drunk men singing football chants and a child with a toy stuck to their foot. Definitely not ideal company.

“Thanks,” Willam summoned up a smile to return to the man.

“That’s alright. I know you must have had a stressful evening,” he said sincerely, frowning.

Willam nodded to him. “It’s appreciated, um…”

“Mattheiu,” the paramedic smiled, holding out a hand for her to shake. She took it gently, thanked him for perhaps the third time, and made her way to the desk where she answered a few questions in a daze and then got shown to a small room, just as Matthieu had described- small, windowless, with dim lights and a single sofa and a little tray with a kettle, teabags, coffee and a pot of milk. There was a landline phone too, and Willam wanted to laugh at it before she checked her phone and realised she had no signal.

She sat on the sofa and took one deep, shuddery breath. What would happen now? Should she have phoned the police too? Willam hadn’t known what to do, but at least Sharon was being taken care of now. She hoped to God she would be okay. Willam thought hard. What had the car looked like? Silver. Or was it black? Fuck, she couldn’t remember. Number plate? Willam was fucked if she knew. This was terrible. If the police did arrive she would be about as much use as a bottle of Becks at an AA meeting. Something inside Willam questioned whether the whole thing had been an accident. It was easily enough explained- or what if it had been planned? Anyone who ran someone over would have stopped and got out and checked to see if the person was okay, surely? Maybe it was someone who felt too guilty to stop, who was too terrified in case they got convicted- or maybe it was somebody who was satisfied they’d completed what they’d set out to do. What if they’d charged the wrong person for the death threats? What if they had still been at large the whole time?

Willam sighed. Her head was too full, and it was killing her not being able to talk the situation out with anybody. Suddenly, it struck her that people would need to know what had happened. Two people in particular, Willam thought- one in particular that probably hated her but who would come into the hospital to sit with her, and to be with her. After all, she still cared about Willam, she had said so herself. The second was worse, but she still needed to be here. Willam knew she would immediately come in, no matter how bad things had been between her and the woman currently lying on a hospital trolley. She needed to know before it got into the press, and Willam had horrific visions of one of them finding out from a BBC News 24 notification.

Her professional brain urged her to phone Bianca first, and Willam growled at it angrily as she picked up the landline, looked in her contacts, and dialled the number of the first woman in question. She could have been apprehensive or afraid, but not right now. Right now she was afraid of something much worse, and it wasn’t on the other end of the phone.

Courtney picked up after four rings. “Hello?”

“Hey. It’s me,” Willam began, her stomach sinking at having to do this over the phone.

“Willam…it’s two in the morning.”

“Yeah, I’m sorry. I didn’t know if you’d still be awake.”

Courtney’s voice wasn’t harsh or reprimanding as Willam had expected. It was as if she knew that something was up. Sure enough, the Australian accent came down the line again. “Willam, what’s happened?”

Willam felt her blood run cold. She didn’t want to have to bear the news. “Sharon’s in hospital.”

“Oh fuck.”

“She was run over by a car,” Willam said, completely unsure of where the conversation went from here.

“Oh Jesus. Is she okay? Fuck, sorry, what a stupid question,” Courtney’s voice was apologetic, and Willam could hear commotion on the other end of the line, and snuffling.

“Courtney, don’t be upset. It’s okay, it’ll be alright,” Willam found herself comforting the girl on the end of the phone, annoyed that there wasn’t much else she could do.

“Are you at the hospital now? Can I come in?” Willam could hear Courtney struggling with something down the line, perhaps a coat or a pair of shoes.

“Yeah, please. We’re at Charing Cross Hospital. Phone me when you’re outside- no, shit, I’ve got no reception. Just tell me how long you’ll be and I’ll go and wait at the main entrance for you.”

Courtney gave a small, helpless sigh. “Fuck, I don’t know, I don’t know how long I’ll have to wait for a taxi at this time of night.”

“Courtney, you live in London,” Willam said, unable to help herself as she snorted a small giggle.

“Fuck. Right,” Courtney matched her laughter, which quickly turned into a sob. “Fuck. Um, half an hour?”

“Okay. See you then,” Willam sighed, her heart hurting at Courtney’s panic. “Courtney, it’ll be okay. Don’t worry. She’s safe now.”

“Right,” Courtney replied with a sniff, which didn’t inspire any confidence in Willam. “See you then.”

With that, Courtney was gone. Willam deflated on the sofa, letting out what seemed to be all the air in her lungs.

That had been hard enough. Now for the phone call she really didn’t want to have to make.

***

Willam had decided to wait at the entrance a little earlier than she said she’d be, just in case Courtney was early too. Part of her was anxious about leaving the relatives room, in case somebody arrived with news about Sharon, but she’d said she would meet Courtney at the door. As she stood in the chilly night air, she watched as cars and taxis pulled up and people came and went, the hospital just as busy as it probably was during the daytime. Health didn’t sleep or take a rest, thought Willam, and she supposed anything could happen to anyone at any time. Life was scary, she pondered, and mortality was so fragile.

As she was wondering, she was suddenly distracted by a sudden, harsh pounding of footsteps on the pavement, and somebody sobbing. Willam looked up and saw Alaska running from a taxi and straight towards her. If it had been any other situation, Willam would have laughed- Alaska was wearing trainers on her feet paired with huge fluffy bedsocks, her outfit consisted of Winnie The Pooh pyjama bottoms and a huge, baggy hoodie, probably pulled on over her pyjama top. A huge parka topped off the look, and Alaska’s face was red and blotchy with puffy eyes which had tears streaming from them.

As Alaska finally reached Willam, she flung her arms around her in a hug and the girl’s body was racked with sobs. Willam sighed, muttering soft, calming words and rubbing Alaska’s back in circles. It had been a horrendous phone call even though it hadn’t lasted long- Alaska, just like Courtney, sensed something had been up, even to the extent that she’d known something had happened to Sharon. She had immediately broken down in tears, but Willam had hardly had time to say anything comforting to her before she was gone, presumably to phone a taxi.

“Is she okay?” Alaska squeaked out in between shudders and sobs. Willam gave her a squeeze.

“She’s in good hands. They’ve not given me an update but I think she’ll be okay. She was still breathing when I was with her so that’s a good sign.”

Alaska broke away from the hug slightly, horror on her face. “Oh my God, you were there? What happened?”

Willam sighed, not wanting to relive it all. “We had been for a drink and we were literally just saying goodbye. Sharon was crossing the road and we were mucking about, she was sort of walking across it really slowly. She stopped and paused in the middle of it and then the car just came at her.”

“She stopped in the road?” Alaska whispered. Willam could see her mind was going at around a thousand miles an hour.

“Alaska, it was 1am. The streets were dead.”

“But surely you could hear the car coming? Fuck, Willam, why didn’t you stop her or push her out of the way or something?” Alaska said, growing frustrated. Then, seeing Willam’s hackles immediately raising at the accusation, she stopped. “Sorry. Shit, I’m sorry, Willam, it wasn’t your fault, none of it was your fault. Fuck, it’s such a mess.”

Alaska began to cry again and Willam pulled her back into a hug. As she started to calm down, Willam took her hand and squeezed it.

“I’ve been put in a relative’s room- nobody’s updated me about Sharon yet but then I’ve only been here for 20 minutes. Why don’t we go inside and see if there’s been any progress?” she summoned a smile for her friend, not yet letting go of her hand. She led Alaska back into the hospital, past the initial shopping-centre facade of coffee shops and WH Smiths that lined the entrance hall and staved off the horrors of the fact that they were in an actual fucking hospital- a place where people bled and suffered and died, and Willam hated it.

She had only just managed to find her way back to the relative’s room and get a snuffling Alaska sat on the couch when a doctor who seemed entirely too young in an all-too-stereotypical white coat entered. Willam could have laughed at how much of a parody everything seemed, until the doctor spoke.

“Hello, ladies. I’m Dr Hall, I’ve been put in charge of Sharon for the time being,” he stuck out his hand, Willam following suit and shaking it while Alaska was unable to rise from the couch.

“I’m Willam, that’s Alaska. She’s Sharon’s girlfriend,” she responded as she shook. Semantics could get fucked for now- Alaska cared like a girlfriend, cried like a girlfriend and worried like a girlfriend so for the moment, that was who she was to Sharon.

“Good to meet you both. I’ve just been in triage with Sharon and I’ve done an initial assessment with the head nurse. It’s hard to say until we run some more thorough tests, but for the moment we believe Sharon has sustained a number of injuries and she’ll be in the ICU for her time here.”

There, the doctor paused as if to take in the reactions of the girls in front of him. Willam had been aware of a cry from Alaska, but she was motionless and felt completely sick. “Injuries like what?”

“Well, we’re certain she’s broken her leg. That’s straightforward enough and we’ll be able to fix that. She also has a laceration on her right arm that will need stitched up, but everything else seems to be internal. Her breathing is very laboured so we think there could be some sort of fracture to her ribs or alternatively a traumatic pneumothorax, what you and I would refer to as a punctured lung.”

Alaska gave a gasp as Willam took all of the information in. She knew Sharon was hurt, but she didn’t realise just how bad it was, as silly as it sounded.

“Apart from that, we’ll need to get her a CT scan to assess whether or not there’s any internal bleeding or any other fractures or breakages,” he continued, his face softening as his eyes settled on Alaska. “I’m very sorry, I know how hard this must be for you both.”

“Can we see her?” Alaska asked softly, her eyes filled with tears. Willam let a small breath go.

“Alaska, you heard him. Sharon will be waiting to go for scans just now, she’s not in a fit state for us,” Willam sat down next to her friend and pulled her close. Exhaustion seemed to overcome Alaska and her sobs fell quiet, choosing to look intently at the floor instead. Willam turned to address the doctor. “When can we see her, though?”

“It’s hard to say. Once she’s had her scans she might need to go into theatre and if so, she’ll be waiting for that. When she’s done, we’ll give her a room and you can go and see her. Until then you’re welcome to use this room as your base, and if you need me at all then please feel free to ask at reception for me,” Dr Hall smiled gently, nodding to the two women as he left the room and closed the door silently.

Once he was gone, silence filled the small room. Willam stood up slowly.

“Lask, I’m going to need to head back outside. I said I’d pick up Courtney. Are you going to be okay here?”

The other woman wordlessly nodded. Despite the uneasy feeling in her chest, Willam knew she had to go outside to see if Courtney was there.

As she walked back to the same spot where she’d met Alaska, thoughts swirled around her mind and poured over the top of each other like a whirlpool. A punctured lung, internal bleeding. All of it was so horrible. Willam couldn’t help but imagine the worst, and her stomach felt so tight and sick.

She didn’t have to walk all the way back outside, as she found Courtney as she turned into the small shopping area. She was leaving the little M&S food (capitalism at its worst, Willam thought, putting arguably the most expensive supermarket in a hospital so people have no other choice but to buy from them) with a small shopping bag and her face, similar to Alaska’s, was red and tear-stained. She was dressed in a sweatshirt, jeans and trainers but her hair was still curled neatly, indicative of her date just hours before.

She’d probably been having such a good night, Willam thought, and I’ve ruined it.

“Courtney,” Willam called her over, the other girl’s head turning at the mention of her name. Selfishly, Willam’s heart lifted at the brief light that shone in Courtney’s eyes when she saw her. As if everything that had happened between them had been forgotten, Courtney hurried forward and wrapped her arms around Willam in a hug. Willam could feel her breathing deeply as she sighed and her mind cruelly taunted her, the image of a rib piercing through Sharon’s lung springing to mind involuntarily even though she knew that wasn’t how a punctured lung worked. For a moment they both stood still in each other’s arms, the two women simply needing held, one anchoring the other.

Courtney pulled away first, like Willam knew she would. She fixed her red eyes on Willam’s and her face was full of concern. “How is she, Willam?”

“Doctor was just in, they’re doing a scan on her now but they think she’s got a punctured lung and maybe internal bleeding. She’s broken her leg and the road sliced her arm open too. She could have fractured or broken more bones but they don’t know yet,” Willam sighed, unable to break Courtney’s gaze. The other woman looked sick as she glanced down the corridor. Willam could see she was looking at all the different horrifying hospital signs, each as cryptic and foreboding as the last.

“Oh God, it’s horrible. Absolutely fucking horrible,” she said softly, shakily breathing in.

“She’ll be in the ICU once they’ve finished with her, but we don’t know how long that’ll be. Alaska’s here, and they’ve given us a room to wait in,” Willam explained, as she began to walk slowly forward, gently encouraging Courtney to follow.

Courtney walked a couple of steps silently, then gave a panicked laugh. “I’m an idiot. I just went and panic-bought a ton of hospital shit for Sharon. I doubt it’ll be much use to her.”

Willam looked down at the bag. “What did you get?”

Courtney gave a humourless bark of a laugh. “Grapes, Lucosade and Heat magazine.”

“The holy trinity of intensive care unit accessories,” Willam quipped equally humourlessly.

They walked the rest of the way in silence, Willam having to fight the urge to reach down and intertwine her fingers with Courtney’s as they walked down each corridor. She couldn’t believe she was having these horrible, selfish thoughts while Sharon was lying on a hospital trolley somewhere in the building but the whole experience had shocked and scared her, reminded her of how unforgiving and cruel fate could be, and that was enough to make anyone cling to the people they cared for.

The rest of the time in the relatives’ room passed in a blur. Courtney and Alaska were reunited and tears were shed as soon as they saw each other, Courtney clinging to Alaska and muttering how sorry she was over and over again whilst Alaska silently stood and let herself be held, tears alternating between streaming down her cheeks and dropping directly from her eyes onto Courtney’s hoodie. They sat and they waited. Willam made the three of them cups of tea, none of which were drank. They tried to talk about things, mundane things, anything that wasn’t Sharon. They sat still and isolated from each other, save for Courtney holding Alaska’s hand tightly, her knuckles white and curled around Alaska’s fingers.

It had been roughly an hour and twenty minutes when the doctor from before re-appeared in the room, and just before he spoke there was silence like Willam had never heard before, as if the whole world held its breath.

***

The beeping was monotonous and creepy and clinical, but to Willam it was the best sound she’d heard in her life because as long as the beeping continued, it meant Sharon was alive.

She didn’t look very Sharon-like, though, she supposed, as Willam watched in slight horror as her chest rose laboriously up and down. Tubes snaked in and out of various limbs and an oxygen mask was strapped to her swollen face, upon which had developed several green and blue bruises. She looked awful, but she was breathing.

The hours had both dragged and flown by.  03.40, Doctor Hall had explained that Sharon was in theatre as the CAT scan had uncovered internal bleeding near her liver. Their worst fear. Alaska had cried and Courtney had been shaken and Willam sat and stared at nothing, paralysed with fear. 04.15, another visit from the doctor after a tense and sickening half hour in the relatives’ room, which had begun to feel like a prison. The surgeons had stopped the bleeding and Sharon would be okay, although on top of the punctured lung she did have a broken collarbone, two fractured ribs and a fractured pelvis. Willam hadn’t known if she was supposed to be happy that Sharon wasn’t in immediate life-threatening danger or full of dread at all the horrible breaks and fractures she’d sustained. 04.50, another visit from Dr Hall, and just as tensions were running at their highest the three girls had finally been told they could see Sharon.

That had been the last update before they’d followed Dr Hall up to the intensive care unit and into a small, mercifully private room which housed a bed, two chairs, a bedside cabinet, a TV, and Sharon with all her tubes and machines. Willam hadn’t been able to stop staring at the woman on the bed since she’d seen her, and neither had the other two girls. Willam had given both of them the chairs and she’d chosen to stand near the door, which meant she could see both of their expressions. Courtney looked pale and blank-faced, Alaska looked mournful.

It was Alaska who spoke first in an entirely emotionless voice. “She doesn’t look like Sharon.”

There was a silence which Willam filled. “He did tell us that she’d look different. I know it’s freaky but all the stuff she’s hooked up to is all stuff that’s going to help her, Lask.”

Alaska nodded silently. She looked at one of Sharon’s hands, the one closest to the bed, which had an IV line attached to the back of it. Her mouth turned downwards. “I’m scared to even hold her hand in case something else goes wrong.”

Courtney rested a hand on Alaska’s arm. “Nothing’s going to go wrong. It’ll be fine.”

Alaska leaned forward, reached a hand out and awkwardly rested it over Sharon’s, lacing the tips of her fingers through Sharon’s own. Willam let out a breath she was unaware she’d been holding, akin to a sigh of relief.

“When will she wake up, do you think?” Alaska asked, her voice small.

Courtney sighed. “She’ll be resting for a while yet, I think. The pain meds will knock her out quite a bit.”

“Do you think when she wakes up she’d be able to get me some?” Willam deadpanned, without being able to help it. She watched as Alaska turned to look at her, then bit her lip as she stifled a laugh. Courtney first looked to Alaska, then at Willam before she let out a small giggle. Willam smiled. It wasn’t much, an unfunny joke about drugs, but it had lifted some of the tension from the room.

Suddenly, her phone buzzed once, then twice, then three times. A call. She took her phone out of her pocket, and she could see the other girls looking at her forebodingly.

Caller ID- Bianca.

Willam had known that the phone call would come, she just hadn’t expected it to be so soon. She looked at the other two girls, stepped out of the room, and took it.

“Hi, Bianca.”

There was a beat of silence on the other end of the line, which never ever happened in a Bianca Del Rio phone call. When Bianca phoned you she had shit to say immediately and she never wasted time. Now, though, Willam felt the seconds tick by. Her voice finally came. “Willam. What’s happened to Sharon.”

Willam cast her eyes through the glass to the three women in the small room, and her heart sank.

“Willam.”

Willam took a breath. “We were out together. She was in a hit and run. She’s in intensive care.”

There was some form of sound from Bianca that sounded both angry and anguished. Willam held her breath. “I’m sorry, Bianca, I should have phoned you earlier. I should have phoned the police-”

“Willam, you listen to me,” Bianca’s voice came down the line, hoarse and harsh. “Do not dare apologise. You weren’t to know. You got her to the hospital, which was the most important thing.”

There was a silence. Willam turned and looked at the pale, beige paint of the corridor walls. “It’s reached the press, hasn’t it.”

“Obviously.”

She hissed and let the silence linger. “Jesus Christ, Bianca, this is all a fucking hellscape.”

“I know. I know. And I can’t hold it from the front pages, Willam, they’re all fucking animals and they need to be fed. The Guardian have got a testimonial from a trainee nurse that knows all her fucking injuries and has leaked them all,” Bianca sighed. Willam had never heard her sound so hopeless. She was silent again. “You’ve been my first port of call. I’m going to phone the detective looking after Sharon’s case, because I don’t believe for a minute that this was a coincidence. Then I’m coming in to see her.”

“Bianca, don’t…” Willam began. How do you comfort a woman like Bianca? “Don’t worry about the press. There’s still a couple of hours before shit goes to print, we can figure something out.”

“I’m not worried about the press. I’m worried about Sharon.”

Silence.

Bianca’s voice came again. “I’ll see you in a bit. Take care, Willam.”

She was gone.

Willam walked back into Sharon’s room. Alaska and Courtney immediately looked up at her.

“The press have got it,” she said blankly. Courtney shook her head.

“Well, we knew it would only be a matter of time,” Alaska said softly, her face frowning.

“Bianca’s coming in. She’ll probably have police with her,” Willam said, then sighed as realisation dawned on her. “Which means I’ll get questioned. Can’t wait for that.”

Courtney caught her eye. She looked genuinely concerned for Willam and despite everything, Willam’s heart skipped a beat. Courtney rose slowly. “Well, we’ll all need coffee if we’re going to be awake much longer. I’ll get us some.”

“I’ll come with you,” Willam suddenly decided, Courtney’s eyes giving nothing away as she nodded her permission. Alaska simply looked up at them and then back down at Sharon. It was an unspoken fact that she wasn’t going to leave her side anytime soon.

Willam followed Courtney out into the corridor and then into the lift where they were both silent. Willam looked at the floor, then spoke.

“At least she’s alright.”

Courtney nodded. “True. I think we just need her to come to and then we’ll all breathe a sigh of relief.”

There was another silence as they walked into the small Costa. Courtney ordered three espressos with milk from a barista with purple hair and huge winged eyeliner, and they sat at a table and waited. Willam looked at Courtney’s face- the worried frown lines on her forehead, her glassy, tired eyes, her lips which were sore and bitten. She missed her so much.

“So,” Willam began, deciding to break the silence. “How was your date?”

“My date- oh!” Courtney looked confused, then enlightened. She gave a laugh. “Yeah…it was nice. Andrew’s a lovely guy and he’s a good old-fashioned gentleman.”

Willam wanted to laugh. What had she expected, Courtney to fall back into her arms? “Oh. Well, at least that’s-”

“But I think we’re probably going to stay as friends,” Courtney finished, interrupting her. Willam couldn’t help but feel her heart lifting.

“That’s a shame,” Willam frowned. Courtney looked at her for a beat, then spluttered a laugh.

“You don’t give a shit, do you?” she asked softly as she laughed. Willam snorted.

“No, I guess I don’t,” she smiled affectionately. Fuck, she’d missed laughing with her, seeing her eyes crinkle up and the way she’d tip her head back and let her hair cascade down her shoulders. “So what was the problem, then?”

Courtney raised her eyebrows. “He wasn’t really vegan. He just eats quorn sometimes. I took him to a vegan restaurant and he looked so horrified at the lack of meat.”

The both of them laughed quietly. Courtney looked awkward, as if she was about to say something else. Willam felt her heartbeat through her chest. She knew that Courtney was holding back on something and so she was almost afraid to say anything in case she backed off.

“Besides,” Courtney mentioned, her gaze firmly fixed on the floor. “He could tell…that I wasn’t over somebody.”

“Oh,” Willam said. It was as if her body couldn’t keep up with everything. One minute she was worried sick about Sharon, the next she was almost going into cardiac arrest because Courtney had basically dropped a massive hint.

Courtney had raised her gaze and fixed it on Willam. “Somebody being you.”

“Right.”

Courtney laughed. “I thought I’d spell that out for you, because you’re a massive fucking moron.”

Willam coughed out a laugh. “I am.”

Courtney smiled a little, looked at Willam expectantly for a beat, then looked again to the floor. Willam panicked. She couldn’t risk losing Courtney again.

“Well…I’m not over you either,” she said quietly, watching as Courtney’s eyes snapped up to face her. Maybe Courtney had been missing her as much as she’d been missing Courtney.

Courtney gave a little smile. “I know.”

Willam obviously looked taken-aback because Courtney burst out laughing, which made Willam start laughing too. As the laughter died down, all that was left was the pair of them looking into each other’s eyes. Just as Willam was about to speak and just as it looked as if Courtney was about to too, the barista yelled Courtney’s order. Courtney jumped up and grabbed the little cardboard tray of three coffees with one hand, then turned to Willam, smiled and gave a little shrug. Just then, her phone vibrated again.

“Bianca’s upstairs with Sharon and Alaska. There’s someone from Scotland Yard with her,” Willam explained as she looked at her phone. Courtney nodded.

“That’s the fun over then,” she quipped, moving towards the exit. Willam’s silence prompted Courtney to look towards her, her expression concerned. “Willam. It’ll be fine.”

Willam mustered a small smile as she walked towards the lifts. She was so lost in thought and worry that she almost didn’t notice Courtney transfer the tray of drinks to her right hand and silently curl her left hand around Willam’s own.

***

It was six o’clock in the morning, and Willam was exhausted. She’d never been questioned by the police before, and she never wanted to be again. They were sympathetic but relentless, and with each question Willam felt more and more useless. How much had Sharon had to drink? What was the precise time that it had happened? Whereabouts in the road was she standing? How fast was the car going? What was its number plate? What was the make of car? What was the colour? What did the driver look like? What did the driver do after they hit Sharon? Which way did they continue driving? Every question was one that Willam felt she couldn’t properly answer. They asked her some questions about the previous death threats, and who she felt might have been behind them- did Sharon have any enemies, and suchlike. Apart from blaming most of the UK’s far right population, Willam had said she wasn’t sure.

She and Bianca had been taken to a station nearby to the hospital, and she emerged from the small questioning room tired and simply wanting to go to bed, but knowing that she would return to the hospital to stay with Alaska and Courtney. She wasn’t really in the mood to speak much to Bianca, and for once Bianca didn’t seem as if she wanted to chat much to her.

“How were they with you?” Bianca asked, rising from the chair she’d been sitting on in the police waiting room as she saw Willam emerge.

“Fine. Didn’t feel very helpful, though,” Willam said, sighing as she walked with Bianca. “I should have written the number plate down, or looked harder at the car, or tried to get a look at the driver.”

Bianca frowned deeply. “Willam, you can’t blame yourself.”

They walked out of the station and down the small, quiet road which was starting to become bathed with morning sunlight. Willam turned to look at Bianca. In all her time working with her, she’d never seen her look so troubled.

Seeing Willam’s concerned look, Bianca exhaled. “I couldn’t keep it from going to the papers. There’s articles online now, and it’ll be on the front pages. We stuck the TV on in Sharon’s room and it was all over News 24. I’m sorry, Willam, I couldn’t protect her.”

“It’s alright, Bianca,” Willam sighed, stopping as she got to the junction. A big black car was waiting at a stop sign, presumably Bianca’s. The spin doctor looked troubled as she gazed to the car.

“It’s getting dragged into politics already.”

Willam cursed under her breath. This was all they needed, Sharon’s accident getting turned into a points-scoring exercise by different parties. “What are people saying?”

“Some of it’s nice. Most of the party have rallied round without me even having to give them a line. Latrice has given a statement, as has Trinity. Shea has tweeted support, so’s Sasha, Peppermint and Maxine. Ironically Sharon getting run over by a car is the most uniting thing she’s done for the party. If I’d known I would have hired her a hitman ages ago,” Bianca laughed bitterly. Her face turned grave. “It’s Mrs fucking Blind Man’s Crumpet herself.”

“Fucking Phi Phi,” Willam hissed, surprising herself with how much venom was in her voice.

“She’s spoken with ITV and she’s given the whole wobbly top lip expressing condolences thing, but she’s trying to turn it into an attack on immigrants.”

“Fuck, did she stretch before she reached? What the hell does that have to do with anything?” Willam complained, deeply irritated.

Bianca frowned. “Because The Sun, the paper we all love to line our cat litter trays with, is alleging that the hit and run was a terrorist incident carried out by an Asian man.”

Willam tore her hands through her hair. “But that’s bullshit, surely? Nobody knows who did it, the police don’t even know who did it!”

“They have a source,” Bianca said. “Which means that either it’s a bullshit source, their usual currency, or that the suspect has leaked it themself.”

“God, Bianca, this is fucking madness.”

Bianca looked at the pavement awkwardly, then at Willam. “Look, I wasn’t going to mention it to you today given the massive amount of stress you’ve already been put through, but we need something on Phi Phi’s party to distract from this mess. If you have anything…well, we’d all appreciate it. Especially Number 10, if you get me.”

Willam momentarily wished she was lying sleeping on a hospital bed instead of Sharon.

“Okay,” she simply nodded once, her mind too full of words to say anything else. Bianca nodded back in goodbye and walked towards her car. Willam watched her climb in and drive off before beginning her own walk back to the hospital. On the way she saw people walking to work, some of whom gave her funny looks. She wondered if they all knew what had happened, until she realised she was still in her clothes from last night- green fur jacket, black lace crop top, tight black skirt without tights and platform trainers on her feet.

Before long she was back at the hospital and in the lift up to the ICU. As she found Sharon’s room, it was almost as if the past hour or so hadn’t happened as the girls were still in the same position- Sharon unmoving on the bed, Alaska staring at her and holding her hand, and Courtney with her phone in her hand texting furiously. Alaska and Courtney looked up as Willam entered the room.

“Hey,” Courtney said, her eyes slightly wide in anticipation. “How was it?”

“It was okay. They asked me a bunch of things I couldn’t answer and then a couple of things I could. I just felt like a fucking failure, like I was no help at all.”

“Stop it,” Courtney frowned, chastising her. “You’re not a failure at all. I bet you were really helpful. Here, come sit. You must be shattered.”

With that, Courtney rose from her chair and beckoned Willam to sit. Too exhausted to protest, Willam slid into it. She looked at Sharon, then Alaska.

“Anything?”

Alaska sighed deeply. “Nothing. She hasn’t even moved.”

Worry churned in Willam’s stomach. Courtney piped up. “The doctor was in though, and he said that sometimes it can help to talk to them even if they’re not responding.”

“Did you try it?”

Alaska chuckled. “We read her some of Heat magazine.”

“Oh, good, she’d have loved that,” Willam said dryly, causing Courtney to snort. Willam thought for a moment, then turned back to Alaska. “Well, when she wakes up, you’ll be sitting there. She’s not properly seen you for ages. Why don’t you talk to her? Explain your side of everything that’s happened.”

Willam looked to Courtney for approval, who shrugged. “Worth a try, Lask.”

Alaska took a deep breath, laughed a little self-consciously, then turned to Sharon.

“Hey babe,” she began, looking at Willam and Courtney in embarrassment, then back to Sharon. “God, this is just…literal torture seeing you like this. Somehow I just feel like all of this is my fault, maybe if I’d stayed with you then you wouldn’t have gone out with Willam and none of this would have happened. I’m an absolute dick, really, because I’ve been ignoring you and every single attempt you’ve made at trying to contact me and then Willam phoned me and told me about what happened and all I could think about was getting here and being with you. It was the worst fucking moment of my life, Sharon. I kept torturing myself and wondering what if she never wakes up, that the last contact I had with you was over some fucking stupid USB stick that I didn’t even want to give to you in the first place? And I couldn’t even tell you-”

Willam looked up as Alaska sniffed. Tears were running down her face and welling in her eyes, and Alaska used the hand that wasn’t holding Sharon’s to wipe at her nose.

“I couldn’t even tell you want I wanted to tell you- that I wanted to just put everything aside and make up with you, to stop our stupid fucking fight, to tell you that I never wanted to end things with you and that the whole thing was a horrible, stupid mistake,” Alaska sobbed, snuffling and taking a deep breath in. “And I couldn’t even tell you that I loved you- that I love you- and when I got that call I was so fucking terrified of never being able to say it to you again. Do you remember when we first said it to each other, Sharon? It was the night we went out for dinner at that Italian restaurant at like, eleven o’clock after I’d gone with you to Newsnight, and you walked me back home and we watched a film- The Other Woman- and you hated it, and you were making all these jokes about it and I was joining in and we laughed so much that when it died down and we just looked at each other I couldn’t help but say it. And you said it back right after? Why can’t we go back to the way things were? Fuck, I would have kept our relationship secret for a lifetime if it meant we could have just stayed together. In fact fuck, if it means so much Sharon, I won’t pursue the whole MP thing. You’re more important to me than my job, you’re more important to me than life. I love you more than anything or anyone I’ve ever loved in my life so please…”

Alaska took a big gulp of air. “…please, fuck, get better.”

Willam and Courtney stood in a horrible, cold silence as they watched Alaska cry quietly to herself. Suddenly, Willam gave a slight jump as Sharon’s free hand came up to her face and slowly lifted the oxygen mask to one side.

“You are becoming an MP, bitch,” she croaked hoarsely, causing Alaska’s gaze to shoot up to look at her girlfriend. “There’s no way you’re giving up on that just because I’m in a hospital bed.”

Willam choked a laugh as she looked at Alaska, her face at once shocked and relieved. She looked slightly as if she didn’t know what to do for a moment, then elected to burst out crying, bringing Sharon’s hand up to her face to kiss it over and over again. Sharon laughed- tiredly, weakly, but it was a laugh nonetheless.

“Jesus Christ, you took your time there,” Willam smiled, part of her wanting to cry in relief too.

“How long have I been out for?” Sharon asked, coughing as she sat up.

“Since about 1. It’s like, 6.15 now.”

“Shit,” she said, her voice weak.

“How are you feeling?” Courtney asked, visibly relieved too.

“Like someone’s kicked me half to death. Pain meds do shit all, I feel like shit but also incredibly high,” Sharon wheezed, then turned to Alaska. Her face softened and judging by Alaska’s reaction, she had squeezed her hand. “Hey, stranger.”

Alaska laughed through her tears. “Hey.”

Sharon smiled affectionately. “Is this all I had to do to get you back, then? Get run over?”

“Don’t,” Alaska half-laughed, half-cried, then kissed Sharon’s fingers. “Sharon, I’m so sorry. Oh my God, I was so fucking worried.”

“Yeah, I know. I heard it all. I could have said something halfway through, I just wanted you to keep saying more nice things about me,” Sharon joked, still her old self despite the tubes and drips and machines. Her expression grew dark as she turned to Courtney. “Oh, by the way. Never read me fucking any women’s magazine ever again. Hearing about Natalie Cassidy’s fucking colonoscopy was more painful than getting struck down.”

All four of the girls laughed, happy to be together with everyone conscious and cheerful all over again.

“Bianca’s been round. And people have said nice things. Trinity, Peppermint, Latrice, Max, Shea, Sasha,” Willam mentioned, thinking it would cheer Sharon up. Sharon smiled in a lazy, drugged-up-on-pain-meds way.

“God. All that in five hours? Did Bianca leave flowers?”

“No, of course not,” Alaska sighed. Then she laughed. “She stuck News 24 on.”

The girls all laughed again, this time quieter. Courtney took a deep breath and stretched. Sharon narrowed her swollen eyes at her.

“Are we boring you, Act?”

Courtney gave a smile. “Listen, I’ve been up a long time. It’s hard to squeeze a date, a trauma and a relief into one night. Slash…morning.”

“Oh yeah, how did that go?” Alaska asked pleasantly. She’d still not let go of Sharon’s hand, Willam noted with a smile.

“It was nice. We’re going to stay friends, though.”

Sharon looked at Willam meaningfully. Willam gave her a look that simply said, behave.

“Fair enough. I think me and Alaska are going to stay friends too,” Sharon smiled lazily, laughing as Alaska’s face grew bashful.

“Stop it. I’ve suffered enough,” she leaned her head over to nuzzle it into the crook of Sharon’s neck, one of the few parts of her that didn’t have wires or tubes coming in or out of it.

“I know, baby, I’m sorry.”

Alaska frowned and lifted her head off of Sharon’s shoulder momentarily. “This isn’t the broken collarbone, is it?”

Sharon laughed. “I broke a collarbone? Oh, well, fucked if I know. Everything hurts.”

Willam laughed. She stretched and yawned. Life and normal routine seemed so far away. “I think I should go home and sleep, now that I know you’re alright.”

“Me too,” Courtney said, giving a yawn that Willam could tell was fake. Why was that?

“You guys go ahead. I’m going to stay here for a while,” Alaska smiled at Sharon, the other woman returning her smile and shrugging.

“You can go home if you want, babe. I might have another snooze.”

“Well, I’ll snooze with you,” Alaska said matter-of-factly, shuffling her chair forward and resting her head on Sharon’s side. Sharon smiled and used her other hand to stroke Alaska’s hair.

Willam looked at Courtney, taking her cue to leave. She cast her gaze back to the couple. “I’ll be back when I’ve had a sleep and something to eat. Bianca might be back, just to warn you.” She wondered if she should mention the shit with Phi Phi. She decided not to.

“Oh, goody,” Sharon sighed, re-adjusting her oxygen mask so that it was over her face as a goodbye. Alaska waved sleepily to her friends and then Willam left the room, followed by Courtney. They walked down the corridor silently for a minute, neither one of them sure of what to say. Courtney’s words from earlier swirled around in Willam’s mind, and the fact that the two of them were alone together again, with so much possibility and opportunity of things that could be said, made Willam’s skin prickle in excitement and optimism.

As if she could read Willam’s mind, Courtney gave a small sigh as they both walked into the open air. She turned to face Willam and looked her in the eyes. “I know it sounds stupid, but I could really murder a glass of wine.”

“Same.”

Courtney was still looking at her. “Well, I’ve got wine at my place, if you want to come.”

Willam didn’t hesitate. “Okay. Sounds good.”

They talked about trivial things on the walk to the tube, and on the tube itself. The elephant in the room (or train carriage) was enormous and almost suffocating, and the sound of the train against the electric charges almost mirrored the electricity that seemed to run through Willam’s veins - Courtney isn’t over me, and I’m not over her.

It was almost seven o’clock in the morning by the time they got to Courtney’s flat, but the sheer adrenaline that was pumping through her heart was keeping Willam awake. As Courtney opened her front door for Willam and slipped off her shoes, Willam looked around at the small hallway. It had been around four months since she’d last been here, but nothing had changed. It was somehow reassuring to Willam. She followed Courtney into the kitchen where the other girl had pulled out two bottles of wine- an unopened red with a somewhat dusty bottle, and a half-full white with that fresh-from-the-fridge wet glaze.

“I like either, so it’s your pick,” Courtney smiled easily, making Willam wonder whether or not she was feeling the same mix of apprehension and excitement.

“Well, white’s going to make us feel less guilty about the fact we’re drinking wine when we’re normally getting ready for work,” Willam shrugged, Courtney snorting a laugh and fetching two glasses from a cupboard below her breakfast bar. She picked up the glasses in one hand and the bottle in the other and made her way through to the living room, Willam following behind her. As they slumped down on the sofas and Courtney poured the wine out, Willam sighed.

“I’m so fucking relieved she’s okay.”

Courtney looked at her, an expression on her face that Willam couldn’t make out. “I just can’t believe it all actually happened. It’s like a horrendous nightmare,” she lifted up her glass. “To Sharon being alive.”

Willam smiled lazily and echoed the sentiment. “To Sharon being alive.”

There was silence for a moment as they both took a sip, Willam watching the early morning sun bathe the skyline out of Courtney’s French doors.

“Do you think…it was deliberate?” Courtney spoke quietly, Willam looking at her only to find Courtney was looking at the view as well.

“Fuck, I don’t know. The police think so. Could be, or it could be a jittery driver with a guilty conscience who didn’t want to stop.”

Courtney nodded, then narrowed her eyes. “Didn’t the doctor say she was lucky to be alive? Ten miles an hour more and she wouldn’t have made it. If it was a main road and the car wasn’t going that fast, it kind of sounds like someone was parked waiting for her. Do you not think?”

Willam rolled her eyes. “Or it was just someone that wasn’t driving very fast.”

“On a main road like that at 1am? Willam, come on.”

Willam couldn’t help but laugh. “What is this, CSI: Sydney?”

Courtney walloped Willam on the arm, then laughed with her. She sighed. “I’ve just been sitting waiting with Alaska for so long that I’ve had all of these thoughts running around my head, but of course I couldn’t share them with her. I’m glad you came back with me.”

Willam’s heart gave a jump. She wanted to say something in response, something flirty that didn’t come on too strong, but her mind couldn’t conjure anything up.

Courtney spoke again, and Willam noticed she had that same look on her face as before. “So how come you were,” she paused the tiniest amount. “…out with Sharon anyway?”

“She suggested it. Probably thought it’d cheer us both up,” Willam shrugged, taking another sip. She noticed Courtney still hadn’t taken that look off her face. What did she want from her?

Honesty?

“Court, you should probably know. And I probably should’ve told you sooner. Me and Sharon had this whole thing when we were at uni,” Willam felt herself just coming out with it and it was like jumping out of a moving vehicle. Courtney’s expression finally relaxed.

“Okay.”

Willam picked at a stray thread on a sofa cushion. “You don’t seem surprised.”

“Because I’m not,” Courtney said plainly, taking a small sip. She paused, then added, “You always had this weird tension between you when you started. Like you really weren’t keen on her and I couldn’t see why. She always seemed as if she was walking on eggshells slightly around you. It only really seemed to go away…gosh, I don’t know when. But I always wondered why you were like that with her.”

Willam looked out at the view again. “I tried to reset my own view of the whole situation. I told anyone who asked that I knew her from uni, and that wasn’t a lie, but just not the full truth either.”

There was a small silence. Courtney leant over to top up their glasses. As she was pouring, she spoke again. Willam noticed how level and nonchalant her voice was, as if she was making a particular effort not to sound too interested. “So what was it that went on between you?”

Willam exhaled. Even after she’d talked through it all with Sharon, she still didn’t know what they’d been. “A miscommunication. She thought we were just friends that fucked, which we were. I saw it as more than that. I was a young, naive little bitch and I just got too deep in my feelings. It’s fucked, though, because the whole thing just made me so scared of relationships. Like what if it ever happened again to me and I was into it but the other person wasn’t?”

Courtney nodded understandingly. Her eyes were soft. It was scary to Willam to be telling Courtney all of this, but she didn’t seem to be scared off by it.

“Wonder how that feels, to be really, really into someone only to find out that they weren’t on your wavelength about it at all.”

“It was-” Willam started, then stopped as realisation dawned on her. She looked at Courtney, who was trying to conceal a smile. Willam laughed apologetically. “Fuck.”

Courtney gave a soft laugh, reaching out and taking Willam’s free hand. She held it gently. The gesture almost broke Willam’s heart. All at once it hit her just how badly she’d fucked up with Courtney. Only now was she realising that she had put Courtney in the exact same position that she had been in with Sharon all those years ago. Looking at Courtney’s hand, she squeezed it tightly. “Courtney, I’m sorry. I mean it.”

Courtney gave a peaceful smile. “I know you are.”

Willam smiled back. A small weight on her heart noted that she’d not been forgiven, only acknowledged, but after the past fortnight or so, acknowledgement was better than nothing.

“What was Bianca saying anyway?” Courtney continued, sipping her wine again. Willam sighed deeply.

“Well, you know that Phi Phi’s trying to politicise everything already. Bianca wants something on her party to take the heat off Sharon.”

Courtney grimaced and shook her head. She still hadn’t let go of Willam’s hand. “Jesus Christ, it’s all so messy and gross and tasteless.”

“I know, Court, but it’s our career. It was bound to happen. Politician gets hit by car, it turns political. Politician does anything, it turns political,” Willam shrugged, taking a drink. The sun was higher in the sky now and it was illuminating Courtney’s hair so beautifully.

“What are we supposed to get for her? This situation’s already stressful enough as it is.”

Willam felt herself tense up. She allowed herself to confront what she’d been pushing to the back of her mind all this time. She still had those photos on her phone of Roxxxy and Detox from all those months ago at Alyssa’s ball, and Phi Phi had recently voted against an LGBT-inclusive curriculum in secondary schools. How would the media react if she’d unknowingly voted against a policy which showed disapproval towards her own two advisors?

“I have something,” Willam stated simply, causing Courtney to sigh in relaxation.

“Thank Christ. Just give it to Bianca now and she can get out of our hair and let Sharon recover. What is it, anyway? Oil dumping in the Pacific? Foxhunting?” she laughed gently, stopping as she saw Willam’s grave face.

“Roxxxy and Detox,” she said. Courtney’s face dropped, her wine glass tipping over a little and threatening to spill. “I got photos of them at Alyssa’s ball, together. It would make Phi Phi look like a massive idiot and would take her down more than a few pegs…” Willam let all the air out of her body and looked into her glass. “…but it also outs both of her advisors.”

Courtney looked sick. “Oh God. Willam, you can’t do that.”

“I know,” she shook her head and wondered if she could voice the other horrible thought in her head. Communication could be good right now, she supposed. “Although part of me thinks why not? Fuck them, you know? They were both absolute cunts to Alaska, they work for a fucking sycophant. And I just…ugh…I really want that Number 10 job, and Bianca heavily implied that any info on this could get me it.”

She looked hesitantly for Courtney’s reaction. It turned out there were a lot of them. First, she wrinkled her nose and scrunched up her face in a brief display of disgust. Then, her expression completely dropped as if she was considering something. Finally she put her glass down, reached out to take Willam’s hand in her own, and gazed at her kindly.

“Willam,” she began. “Why do you want this job so much?”

Willam gave a choked laugh. “I mean it’s…it’s my fucking dream, Courtney. It’s all I’ve ever wanted out of life, to get to Number 10, to actually say I work there. I’ll have finally made it…and not many people can say that.”

“Okay,” Courtney nodded. Willam could tell she was listening intently. “So…you get the job at Number 10, let’s say. And what then?”

Willam blinked. “What do you mean?”

“What then? What do you aim for, what do you aspire to be after that? If that’s your life’s dream and it’s already achieved? Bill, you’re not even 30 yet,” Courtney smiled gently, tucking a piece of Willam’s layers behind her ear. “If you complete your life’s goal and you’re not even at the halfway point…what happens then?”

Willam felt completely blank. “Well, I…”

Courtney continued. “I know you don’t want to be PM, because you’re happy in the background. I know you don’t have any designs on leadership for the same reason. So what else is there?”

Willam paused and thought, trying to summon up something. “Bianca’s going to have to retire at some point.”

Courtney barked a laugh. “And what, you take her job? You take the job that consumed Bianca’s life so much she ended up getting divorced and she now lives on her own with no family? You want that life?”

Willam felt as if she’d heard Courtney’s voice catch in her throat. She was looking at her almost pleadingly, hopefully, desperate for what she deigned the right answer. Her intensity unsettled Willam. Or perhaps it was the truth in all that Courtney was saying? She’d never once reconsidered her determination to get to Number 10, never once wavered in her decision-making, because if she changed her mind about the job she’d wanted for so long, what was left?

“What do you have at Dosac? You’ve got me, you’ve got Sharon, you’ve got Alaska and the other girls. You’ve got a considerable amount of influence, you’re a big fish in a small pond. Other departments know your name, you’ve got so many opportunities. And if you change now…all that will be gone.”

Willam looked out of the windows again. The sun was now directly at her eye level. She turned back to Courtney and frowned at her. “Why are you saying all this, Court?”

Courtney looked away as if Willam’s gaze had burnt her. “I’m not trying to stop you from going after what you want, Willam. That would make me a horrific friend and an even worse person. I’m just trying to get you to be sure that it really is what you want.”

Willam’s voice caught in her throat. She looked away from Courtney, drained her glass, then placed it gently on the coffee table in front of them both.

“I should probably go home-” Willam began, making to slide off the couch, but Courtney gripped tighter to her hand. Turning, Willam saw a need in Courtney’s eyes that she’d never once experienced before.

“Stay,” she said simply. It was so quiet but so strong, and the blood in Willam’s veins was freezing and icy but pumping so rapidly like an ice cold waterfall, and she could feel her heart plummeting with it.

“Why?” Willam asked, and as soon as it left her mouth she cursed herself for it, but a part of her wanted to hear Courtney say what was on her mind. Frowning and sighing a tiny, needy sigh, Courtney gently tugged at Willam’s hand.

“I just need to be…close to you just now. Because I’ve fucking missed you.”

Willam looked at her hand in Courtney’s, then met her eyes.

Now or never.

And in one fluid movement Willam was back on the sofa, both her hands fisted and tangled in Courtney’s blonde hair, melting and moaning into a kiss full of fire that Willam wanted never to end.

***

Willam woke up in the same bed she’d woken up in in December, with the same girl she’d woken up with in December. Except the circumstances weren’t quite the same. Instead of grey skies and pouring rain, the sun that poked through the blinds was golden and warm, lighting up the room. Courtney was still in the bed, her eyes shut with her dark lashes fanned out and framing them as she slept. Probably the biggest difference, though, was that both of them were completely naked.

Sex with Courtney was every bit as amazing as Willam had imagined it would be, and she was already sorry that she couldn’t remember every single second of the entire thing in detail. She could swear that nobody else, not even Sharon, could make her feel the way Courtney had made her feel last night. She had expected it to be good and for Courtney to know what she was doing, but what she didn’t expect was for Courtney to have a mouth like a phone sex chat line girl and she had actually almost laughed in awe of the stuff she was coming out with. She didn’t know if it was the intensity of the situation that fed into it- there were so many emotions that Willam had been put through last night (or this morning, she supposed) that she had almost cried once everything was over and Courtney was holding her in her arms, but she hadn’t. She’d been calm, and happy, like her life was finally at peace. Sharon was going to be alright, and Courtney had…what? Courtney had forgiven her? Courtney liked her again? Courtney wanted to be more than her friend? She didn’t know, but she got the feeling that whatever it was was positive.

Willam wondered whether or not to wake her up but Courtney quickly solved that problem as her arm reached out to grab Willam by the waist and pull her closer, Courtney nuzzling into her side sleepily.

“Hey,” she murmured through a yawn, kissing Willam’s skin and making her feel as if she was 19 years old with a melting, gooey heart all over again.

“G’morning,” Willam smiled, rubbing her eyes then remembering she hadn’t taken off any of her makeup from the night before. “Did you sleep okay?”

“Mm. Always sleep like a baby after sex, I think it’s some weird nympho-narcoleptic thing I need to see a doctor about.”

Willam’s heart hammered in her chest and instantly woke her up more. “So we’re just coming out and addressing that that happened immediately?”

Courtney hurriedly sat up in bed and looked her in the eye, exasperation on her face. She’d foregone pulling the duvet up to cover herself and her boobs were fully out. “Uh, we’re both stark bollock naked, dipshit. How much more addressing of the situation could there be?”

“Yeah I know, fuckhead!” Willam snapped, a laugh bubbling in her throat. “I just don’t…I don’t know what this means now? Like what are we?”

Courtney half-laughed, half-sighed then pulled a pillow over her face and yelled into it. “Fuck! I don’t know, Willam, okay?”

Willam was smiling, but she simultaneously felt as if she was hanging by a thread. She watched as Courtney pulled the pillow off her face then rolled over and pulled her close.

“Cards on the table, I really fucking like you. I’ve never stopped liking you. I care about you, and I want to see you do well, and I like us when we’re together. We just work, we fit. We squabble at times, but it’s never malicious. But this job…it’s a bitch, and I don’t want us ending up having to hide away or have our lives ruined by it like Sharon and Alaska. So I don’t…” Courtney sighed. Willam could see her pulse thudding rapidly under her skin by her wrist. “I don’t want to label us just now. I’m scared to. But can we just…can we at least be exclusive? Because I don’t want to share you with anyone else.”

Willam smiled and rolled her eyes. “As if I’d fucking want anyone else.”

Courtney nuzzled her head into Willam’s side, and Willam cast her eyes to the sun coming in through the blinds. She blinked quickly three times. “No, that sounds good. Exclusive but with no labels. I can do that. Does this mean I’m forgiven?”

“For what?” Courtney kissed Willam’s temple.

“For being a cunt to you.”

“You were a cunt to me?” Courtney pulled away, frowning. “Now that doesn’t sound like Willam Belli at all.”

Willam took that as a yes.

“No more games,” Courtney said quietly, gently stroking the palm of Willam’s hand with her finger.

“No more games,” Willam agreed.

It was 2 o’clock by the time they got back to the hospital to see Sharon, after they’d showered, dressed (Willam borrowing Courtney’s clothes again), had some breakfast and got the two tubes over. It was an unspoken plan- they hadn’t talked about whether they should stay at the flat, or go visit Sharon, or even go into work. There was only one place they really needed to be today. They’d talked and chatted and laughed just as they used to, but without any awkward tension and with extra added hand holding and light knuckle and cheek kisses. They’d wondered out loud whether it had been in poor taste to fuck within the 24 hours that they’d found out Sharon had been hit by a car, before deciding that it was probably what Sharon would have wanted and endorsed anyway.

When they arrived at Sharon’s ward, it was as if nothing had changed at all- Alaska seemingly hadn’t moved from her seat and was still sitting in it facing Sharon in her Winnie the Pooh pyjamas, while the other woman was still in bed but was propped up with pillows and had her oxygen mask on. She had a loving, dreamy look on her face and seemed to be listening to Alaska talk when Courtney and Willam arrived. Alaska turned around excitedly when they came in.

“Morning,” Willam smiled, moving to hug Alaska tightly and then Sharon markedly less so, in case Willam accidentally pulled a wire out. “Or afternoon, or whatever the fuck time it is.”

“Hey,” Sharon took her mask off and smiled gently.

“How are you feeling, Sharon?” Courtney asked as she took her turn to hug her.

“I’m holding up okay. I had a big sleep when you two left, woke up at like 9. Then me and Alaska had a massive chat which took about an hour and exhausted me, so I had a nap again. Woke up about an hour ago and Alaska had stuck on the news. It’s weird seeing myself on the news in a capacity which isn’t politics. I’m not in the mood for a lot of talking so Alaska’s just been telling me about her leadership campaign,” Sharon gestured to Alaska’s happy, excited face and smiled fondly. “Christ, she looks like she’s about to explode. I fucking love this girl so much.”

Willam made a vomiting sound as she pulled up a chair beside Alaska. “Gross. So your big chat. Did you both grow up and say sorry to each other?”

Willam saw Alaska squeeze Sharon’s hand. “Of course we fucking did. That was the first thing we said. Then we basically just cried and talked about how much we loved each other for the next 59 minutes.”

Courtney laughed, and Alaska gave a small giggle then shook her head as she looked at Sharon. “No, joking. Well, we did do that. But we also spoke about career stuff- what we wanted in the next five years, what we need to do to get there.”

“It’s doable for what we both want. We just need to support each other, make it two sided and communicate. I know that now,” Sharon piped up, smiling at Alaska as if it was for her benefit and not Courtney and Willam’s.

“Well, I’m glad you two have made up,” Courtney smiled softly, moving to perch on Willam’s knee in the absence of a chair. Willam pulled her close. She didn’t miss the look that passed between Alaska and Sharon.

“Um, on the topic of making up…” Alaska raised an eyebrow and looked pointedly at them both. “…what is this?”

“Courtney sitting on my lap?” Willam said sarcastically, resting her head on Courtney’s back.

“Yes…” Sharon said, waving a tubed-up hand to prompt more. “So…?”

“So…what?” Courtney asked, just as deadpan as Willam had been, and she loved her for it.

“Oh fuck, put a dying woman out of her misery!” Sharon coughed out in exasperation, earning her a furious look and a gentle smack from Alaska.

“DON’T joke about that!” she glared at her for all of two seconds, before she took her hand and turned back to Courtney and Willam. “But seriously guys, Sharon’s only got one properly working lung, can you just give us the information that we both already know but want to scream like babies at when it comes from you?”

Courtney turned and looked at Willam, suddenly embarrassed. Willam gave her a squeeze and spoke for her. “Well, we’re going to disappoint you, because we’re not girlfriends. We can’t all fall in love with our work friends and go balls-deep into a relationship. But no, we’re just…”

“We like each other, and we’re exclusive, and we’re going to take it a day at a time,” Courtney finished, Alaska giving a small, excited squeal. Sharon smiled and rolled her eyes.

“Bo-ring! I want to know if you’ve banged yet.”

“Yeah, we did,” Courtney shrugged, Willam completely shocked at her blasé display of honesty but also too tired to care much. Sharon let out a loud cheer, then immediately started coughing violently in a sobering display that reminded the girls why they were all together in the first place. Seeing Alaska’s concerned face, Sharon frowned.

“I’m fine, it’s okay,” she wheezed, waving a dismissive hand. “Don’t worry. Just coughing up pieces of old lung, they say the new one should grow back within 3-5 working days.”

Alaska snorted. Willam laughed and shook her head. “You’re so fucking unfunny it hurts.”

Sharon shrugged. “Blame the pain meds, I’ve been popping them like Smints.”

They chatted quietly after that, the four of them just enjoying each other’s’ company without having to talk about work or politics or anything like that. Often Alaska would talk for Sharon, the other woman wearing her oxygen mask and resting. Alaska had phoned Jinkx and texted the comms girls to fill them in on what had happened, after they all basically woke up, saw the headlines and immediately fired off about fifty texts to Alaska, Courtney and Willam (none of which Willam saw, her phone having long since died.). Sharon was annoyed that Jinkx wouldn’t honour her request to bring in her work laptop so she could work from her hospital bed, a request which all three advisors were glad she’d shut down. They were all going to pop in at some point in the evening to visit, Adore and Katya promising to bring what they’d termed as “huge, inconvenient, inflatable balloons”. Willam had told Sharon about the Phi Phi incident, Sharon rolling her eyes almost to the back of her head but refusing to allow herself to get worked up over it.

“That’s a point, actually,” she said, sitting up in bed and wincing slightly at some unseen pain. “Didn’t you say Bianca would be visiting me soon? She’s not been in.”

“Well, she still has to oversee all the other departments. Maybe something’s happened with them?” Courtney offered, Sharon shrugging and conceding.

Around ten minutes later, they had their answer. Bianca came in to Sharon’s room dressed in her usual work attire, ironically all in black. Her face was serious but she had a small, kind smile, and was holding a box of Guiylan pralines.

“Christ, Bianca, I’ve not died,” Sharon laughed by way of a greeting, as Bianca cracked a rare, genuine smile and handed her the chocolates.

“Shut it. Some of us still have to go to work. How are you?”

“Sore.”

“That’s crap, I’m sorry. And I’m sorry I didn’t swing by earlier. I’ve been at Number 10, I’ve been with the police, I’ve been into Dosac. This might be a bit of good news for you,” she said, addressing the room this time. “The police have apprehended a guy. Old woman who lives in the area had CCTV outside her flat. She came forward with footage of a car going well beyond the speed limit. Matches the time that the whole thing happened. They were able to get a number plate from it and traced it back to the fucker.”

Willam was in shock. She had no idea it would all happen so quickly. Looking at Bianca closely, she could see how puffy her eyes were and how her dark circles had been concealed with foundation, and how much her hands were shaking. It hit her how hard Bianca must have been working to help the police catch whoever had done this to Sharon.

“Thank you, Bianca,” she said, her voice coming out way more emotional than she’d meant it to. Bianca turned to her in surprise, as if she was taken aback slightly.

“Well, I mean, don’t thank me. The police did all the work. They’ll be in to question you, Sharon, but once you’re feeling a bit better. Maybe this evening, or tomorrow.”

“Oh, great. Reliving the moment a car hit me in all its horrifying detail, with the greatest hits of poison pen letters as a follow-up. All my fucky stars have come at once,” Sharon said. Her breathing was becoming laboured, so she put her oxygen mask back on.

“Just keep the damn thing on, you’ve had it off and on like a fucking lightswitch the entire time you’ve been awake,” Alaska chastised her, tucking the hospital blanket in around Sharon. “I’ll maybe see if there’s some way Jinkx can bring in your duvet.”

“You could always go get it for her,” Courtney suggested, Alaska laughing at the ridiculous suggestion.

“Yeah, good one Court, like I’m going to leave her side until she’s discharged.”

Bianca watched the whole exchange carefully, then opened her mouth. “So I take it…that you’re back together.”

Alaska looked at Sharon and nodded.

“You understand that I’m absolutely livid at the pair of you for ever beginning this in the first place and that if it had even got into the media you would have been out of a job?” Bianca said, pointing to Alaska. Alaska blinked and gave a small shrug.

“She would have been worth it,” she said, Willam noticing how Sharon squeezed Alaska’s hand. Bianca fake-gagged.

“Yes, well, in any case, I’m hearing you’ve got plans to stand in the by-election? Is that still happening?” Bianca asked. “Because if it is, then it would make my life a lot easier. There’s not nearly as many implications. In fact you could probably put you two into the public eye. Might be good for the party.”

Sharon wheezed a laugh and Alaska suppressed a smile. “God. Our relationship is literally politically correct. But yeah, I am standing. It’d be good to get some tips from you about that, actually.”

Bianca checked her phone as she spoke. “You don’t need tips. I’ll get you the support you need. Might as well start considering yourself an MP.”

Alaska smiled happily, bringing Sharon’s hand up to her face and kissing it in excitement.

“Although that does mean a position opening up at Dosac. Got anyone in mind, Sharon?”

Sharon sighed exasperatedly, ripping off her mask and gesturing to all her tubes and wires. “Funnily enough, no, I’ve been too busy being a human fucking colander!”

Willam smiled at Sharon knowingly. “I’ve got someone in mind. She’s young, and a bit fucking useless at the moment, but we could train her up. She’s got potential.”

“Well, that seems sorted,” Bianca shrugged. “Right, I’m going to have to make tracks. Flying visit. One of Trinity Taylor’s one night stands has gone to Closer magazine and we can’t risk that getting into the press. But take care, okay?”

Sharon waved a hand. “Thank you, Bianca.”

“No problem. See you later. Willam, can I borrow you for a second?”

Willam’s heart sank as she followed Bianca out of the room. She knew that Bianca was going to ask her if she had anything on Phi Phi. She knew that the photos were still in her phone, burning a hole in her pocket. She knew that Courtney didn’t want her to take the job at Number 10. She knew that her and Courtney weren’t at all official yet.

What she didn’t know was what she was going to do.

They stood at the side of the corridor beside the glass outside Sharon’s room, doctors and nurses hurrying past and completely oblivious to Willam about to make one of the biggest decisions of her life.

“So,” Bianca opened. “If you’ve got anything for me, now is the time to say, because the right-wing media are starting to lap up Phi Phi’s bullshit pretty fucking quickly. It would take a lot of the heat off Sharon if we could just…bury her.”

Willam felt pained. She had completely forgotten about the implications this would have for Sharon.

“So anything at all would be a saving grace,” Bianca finished, looking Willam in the eye and almost triggering a fight or flight response in her.

What would Courtney want her to do? What would Bianca want her to do?

What would Sharon want her to do?

“Um,” Willam swallowed. Her throat was completely dry. “You know, it’s been a rough 24 hours…I haven’t really managed to find anything.” Bianca looked visibly disappointed. “Sorry, Bianca.”

The other woman nodded understandingly. “That’s okay. It has been a rough time. Thank you for looking after her, Willam.”

Willam gave a small smile and without knowing what possessed her, she was speaking again. “Also, Bianca…take me out of the running for the Number 10 job.”

This was the first time Willam had ever seen Bianca look legitimately shocked in her life. Bianca always knew what was going on, she was always so plugged in and in the loop, there was so rarely anything that she didn’t know. So this information was clearly a bombshell. “I mean. I can, but I would also be asking why in the fuck would you want me to do that?”

Willam sighed. “I’m still young. There’ll be other chances to work there and besides, there’s other stuff I want to focus on right now. There’s more to life than politics, I guess.”

Bianca gave a harsh laugh. “Life is politics, Willam.”

“Your life, maybe.”

“Yeah, well,” Bianca exhaled. She had a faraway look in her eyes. “I suppose you’re right about that.”

Willam suddenly heard Courtney laugh through the glass and she involuntarily smiled. She looked back at Bianca, who was looking through the glass.

“Is this because of her?”

Willam looked back at the glass, then cocked her head. “Sort of. It’s for me first, and her second. People spend so much of their lives wishing for better, focusing so much on the future or on the past. Like…what’s wrong with what we have now? You know? Appreciate what you’ve got. Change is good. Except if it’s not. I don’t know, fuck, I’m so tired.”

Bianca nodded slowly, a tiny frown still present on her face. “You’re sure this is what you want?”

“Honestly, no,” Willam laughed. “But I’m sure I want things to stay as they are, for now. There’s going to be so much change in Dosac. It would be nice for me to stay a constant.”

Bianca gave a small sigh. “Well, I won’t say I’m not disappointed. But good for you, Willam.”

Willam shifted her weight from one foot to the other. “I’ll see you, Bianca.”

“See you, Willam.”

As Bianca walked away, Willam thought it was the first time she’d ever seen her look genuinely gutted. It made her feel slightly proud of herself, though she had no idea why. Watching her until she was out of sight, Willam turned back and went back into Sharon’s room.

“Back,” she said. Sharon looked up at her, puzzled.

“What was that all about?” she frowned.

“Wanted to know if I had anything we could use on Phi Phi.”

“And did you?”

Willam looked at Courtney, who seemed frozen. She paused. “No. No, of course I didn’t. Been too busy making sure your dumb fucking roadkill ass is okay, haven’t I?”

As Sharon and Alaska laughed, Willam watched as Courtney’s face lit up. She crossed the room and wrapped her arms around Willam in a hug. She didn’t say anything. She didn’t have to.

“Willam, I’ve been meaning to say. Thank you. For phoning the ambulance,” Sharon said, suddenly serious. Her voice was quiet and her face grave.

Willam reached out and touched her leg lightly. “That’s what best friends do.”

Sharon smiled in gratitude, then gave a yawn. “Sorry to be boring, but I think I need to sleep again.”

“Well, we’ll leave,” Courtney smiled, her voice gentle. “I kind of want to go for a walk round the park. It’s such a nice day. You fancy joining us, Lask?”

Willam barely had time to bask in the use of “us” before Alaska rolled her eyes.

“What part of I’m-not-leaving-Sharon’s-side do you not understand? Go,” she smirked, looking at Willam and Courtney hand in hand. “Be cute and gross.”

Willam smiled at Courtney sheepishly, and Courtney smiled back. She turned back to the other couple in the room. “We’ll be back around dinnertime. Want us to bring you anything?”

“Ugh, a Wasabi please. Lunch was mush, with mashed mush, on a bed of mush. It’s enough to turn me vegetarian,” Sharon shook her head before laying down on her pillow and closing her eyes. “Thanks for coming in. See you later, guys.”

“See you both,” Courtney smied, waving at Alaska as she opened the door and Willam following behind her. Once they were out the room, they had taken a few steps down the corridor before Courtney spoke again. “I’m proud of you.”

“Thanks,” Willam said as she pressed the button for the lift. She wondered if she should say any more, but thanks was enough, and she decided to leave it. “So. Park then home, then back to see Sharon?”

“Home,” Courtney gave a little smile as she looked at Willam. “Home sounds nice.”

And as the lift doors closed leaving them both sealed up together going down towards the bright Spring day outside, Willam had to agree.

***

Willam woke up in the same bed she’d woken up in in December, and in April, with the same girl she’d woken up with in December and April. Except the circumstances weren’t quite the same. Firstly, Courtney was out of bed before her, and Willam could hear her battering and clanging around in their kitchen together (their kitchen, Willam thought fondly to herself, it would never get old to say their like that). Second, Willam didn’t have any inner turmoil or panicked thoughts or insecurities running around her mind. She was peaceful and calm, and life was good. Sure, Sharon had a fucker of a TV debate coming up the next day, and Willam was afraid that her ribs might re-break at the sheer force with which she was going to shout at Phi Phi O’Hara, but apart from that everything was all just fine. She hadn’t felt this calm in forever. In fact, no, that was a lie. She’d woken up feeling this calm every single day for the past two months since the day she and Courtney walked out of that lift together. Sure, there were one or two blips- the day she’d asked Courtney to be her girlfriend she had woken up completely convinced she was having a heart attack- but that aside, she’d never felt this content.

“Bill!” came a voice from the kitchen. “Put it on!”

Willam sat up, groaned, and rubbed her eyes sleepily. “What channel?”

A frustrated sigh. “It’s Sunday fucking Politics, you know what channel!!”

Laughing, Willam fumbled for the remote on her bedside table, in danger of knocking over many half-empty cups of coffee, and switched the TV on. She hadn’t needed to find the channel as the TV immediately showed her what they were both looking for- Alaska Thunder, MP for West Central London, the first MP to take the seat from Phi Phi O’Hara’s party in 12 years, in her biggest TV interview so far.

“Court, it’s started!” Willam shouted through, hearing a thunder of footsteps in response. Soon enough her girlfriend, her beautiful, tiny, blonde koala girlfriend, emerged from the hallway in her huge flannel Snoopy pyjamas holding two cups of coffee.

“Shit, shit, shit, shit, shit,” she was saying, reaching over and almost spilling half the coffee on the bright white bedsheets as she half-handed, half-threw it to Willam. “I said to you it bloody started at 5 past 10, and you took the piss out of me!”

“No I fucking didn’t!” Willam cried incredulously, laughing.

“Yes you so did! Meh Courtney, why would a programme start at five past ten that’s such an awkward time, meh meh meh why do you think it’s going to start then, is it because of the time delay? Is it because you’re Australian? Mehhh,” Courtney imitated Willam. Willam went to retort but was immediately shushed by her girlfriend.

“Shut up! I don’t want to miss any more.”

Raja Gemini was asking Alaska a question, and she had her don’t-fuck-with-me face on. “Alaska Thunder, what I’d most like to know is- why were you so strongly in favour of the incarceration of young offenders until last week, when your fiancé Sharon Needles came out in support of rehabilitation? Is this what we can expect from you as an MP, to simply agree with everything your fiancé says?”

“That bitch.”

“Shut up!”

Alaska’s face was calm and amused. “No not at all, Raja, see my change of heart was based on a consultation I had with the Minister for Justice Sasha Coulee-Velour, where she actually presented me with lots of facts and figures as to why rehabilitation produces better results and contributes to a reduction of repeat offenders in society. I then conducted a focus group who pretty much agreed with the Minister, so I have decided to back what is clearly the more well-researched opinion.”

“But isn’t it true that Sharon Needles has held no such focus groups and has point-blank refused to listen to any opposing opinion on the other side? How must that translate to the public?”

Alaska smirked and narrowed her eyes. “I don’t know, Raja. If you wanted to ask that question you should have invited her onto your show. You asked for me, you’ve got me, and now you’re asking me about my fiancé? Is this Hello magazine or Sunday Politics?”

Courtney threw her hands up in the air and cheered. “Finish her, Lask!”

Just then, Willam’s phone buzzed. It was a message from Sharon. Willam knew she had taken the morning off to go into the studio and watch Alaska do the interview and was probably hiding behind the cameramen as Alaska and Raja spoke.

S: i say, that’s my baby and i’m really proud

Willam snorted, holding her phone up to show Courtney who laughed in response.

“Fucking hell, who keeps introducing her to memes?” she sighed, pouting as she looked to the TV and saw the interview was coming to a close. “Oh fuck, we missed pretty much the whole thing!”

Willam pulled her into a hug. “Doesn’t matter. We saw the best bit. There’ll be more interviews where that came from. I think Alaska’s making quite the splash.”

“I wouldn’t expect anything less,” Courtney smiled, sipping her coffee then sliding off the bed. “What’s our plan for today? We’re meeting Katya and Trixie for lunch, then Adore’s joining for drinks. She said she might bring her girlfriend along!”

“Oh, Aja?” Willam asked, scrolling her phone lazily. “That’s good, she seems nice.”

“Well, I’m going to shower if you need in before me?” Courtney offered, unhooking her towel from the back of their bedroom door.

“Nah, no need. I always just piss in your charcoal water. You’d never taste the difference,” Willam deadpanned, smiling as she watched Courtney laugh and throw a makeup sponge at her from the door.

Courtney was so beautiful, even in her old pyjamas and with her hair hanging messily over her shoulders. Her smile did something to Willam, something she’d never felt before and never wanted to stop feeling ever again. What was the something? Suddenly, it was as if Willam had been struck by a lightning bolt. She knew, but she couldn’t possibly tell her. Not today and not now. It was far too soon, surely?

Then a little voice in her head whispered to her. No more games.

Willam’s voice stopped her just as she was about to leave the room.

“Hey, Courtney?”

[danfanciesphil]

Give Me A Try (New Chapter)

Gay Instagram Model/Bartender Phan AU Part 2 

(Part One)

Also up on Ao3!

The Habenero bar is closed on Sundays, thank God. 

The owner of the establishment is, surprisingly, a devout Catholic that believes in resting on the Sabbath. Dan is not all for this Catholic tradition (ignoring, for now, all the oppression and homophobia) because after Saturday night’s hell shifts, he’s usually in need of some recuperation. 

He wakes up at 2pm on Sunday afternoon on his sofa in a shirt that doesn’t belong to him. His phone is stuck to his cheek, and there are crisp crumbs in his hair. There’s a fug of stale, smoky, sweat in the air, like the smell of the soaked dancefloor of the bar at the end of each night. Belatedly, Dan realises that he’s fallen asleep in what he was wearing when he got back last night, meaning that he’s still soaked in alcohol. 

Grimacing at his own grossness, Dan hauls himself up from the sofa and staggers into the bathroom to shower. It’s only as he peers up at his reflection in the mirror above the sink that he remembers the shirt. At first, it confuses him, as it’s far too nice of a garment to be his. It’s clearly fitted, tailored probably, with a subtly cinched waist, and neat, complex stitching around the hem and sleeves. 

He peers closer at his reflection to read the little label on the pocket. 

Givenchy

Dan jumps backwards, hands held aloft as if he’s about to mark the thing with his grubby paws. He needs to get this thing off him right now, it’s far too expensive to be on his body. How had he let himself fall asleep in this last night? It’s probably all crumpled, he’ll have to get it dry cleaned-

His phone buzzes in his pocket, and he scrambles for it, heart pounding as he catches sight again of his snappily dressed reflection. It’s a text from Tyler, the last of several by the looks of things. He swipes to view them.

From: Tyler omg CANNOT believe what happened last night

From: Tyler can we get brunch today?? lots to discuss..

From: Tyler hellooo?? earth to dan?

From: Tyler did u die from overstimulation of the brain after giving ur all time celeb crush ur fREAKING NUMBER

From: Tyler message me when ur awake bitch x

The blood drains from Dan’s face as he reads through the messages, all of which confirm that the events of last night weren’t a dream, and that, yes, Phil Lester did saunter into the bar, flirt with him, and hand over his designer shirt so that Dan wouldn’t have to finish work in a soaked one. 

Not knowing how to respond to Tyler, Dan chooses to just ignore it for now. He places the phone down and begins carefully unbuttoning the shirt, fingers practically trembling when he thinks of how expensive it would be if he were to accidentally rip a button off. As his fingers open the lapels, his mind flashes up a helpful image of Phil doing the exact same in front of him last night, his methodical, pale fingers working to reveal his bare chest inch by inch, right in the middle of the god damn bar. 

Dan’s face flames, and he tries hard to think of something else. Once the shirt is off, he folds it as carefully as he can and places it on the counter beside the sink. He then shucks off his beer-soaked jeans, which do not get anywhere near the same treatment, and jumps into the shower. 

It’s only as the warm, comforting stream of water cascades over him that Dan’s frantic mind relaxes enough to slip back into the memory of the previous evening, and all that transpired. Phil Lester. Right there before him. 

The slow, flirtatious smile spreading across his broad, full lips. The familiar sweep of his jet black hair. The pulse of his glinting blue eyes in the swirl of coloured lights. 

‘I got distracted by the cute bartender, and forgot to order him another one...’

‘I could save you as cute bartender when you text me...’

Cute. Phil had called him cute. Twice.

The water seems scalding hot, suddenly. Dan’s body temperature rises by at least two degrees, he’s sure. He swallows down some saliva, and runs his hands through his wet curls. How on earth had any of this happened? Situations like this are so unlikely that they’re almost never heard of. 

He feels how he imagines Katie Holmes must have felt when Tom Cruise sidled up to her, all flirtatious smiles and pick-up lines, after she’d been staring at his poster for all her childhood, tacked onto her bedroom wall. 

Again, the thick, treacly gaze Phil cast across to him over the bar seeps into Dan’s mind. The memory of it covers Dan's whole body, as if it were pouring out of the shower head, slathering him in its intensity. The amount of time Dan has spent staring into those eyes on his phone screen is insurmountable, but having experienced them in real life, he now knows that he may as well not have bothered. Those eyes will haunt him for the rest of time. 

He feels the familiar scratch of arousal start to drag at his thighs, tingling at the tips of his fingers, so he turns the temperature down, trying to divert it. Now that he’s spoken with Phil, so recently, it would seem odd to jerk off to the thought of him. 

...Not that AmazingPhil is anything like a stranger in Dan’s mental storage of wanking material. 

It’s just as Dan is rinsing the shampoo out of his hair that he remembers the one, tiny hiccup in the exchange with his crush. Phil had stolen Dan’s phone to type in his number, and had seen that Dan had been stalking his Instagram. 

As he freezes, remembering this mortifying scene, the shampoo trickles down into Dan’s eyes, blinding him. 

“Fuck!” Dan shouts, loud enough that he’s sure the neighbours heard. 

*

“Are you fucking kidding me?” Tyler shovels a slice of avocado toast into his mouth. He chews a bit, noisily, then continues speaking with his mouth full. “I trawl the billions of nasty vintage shops in the Laines for a designer shirt, and you get one handed to you for free?! And by a dazzling, incredibly hot model? Hand over your fucking magic lamp, Dan. Some of us need it more than others.”

Dan watches with a slightly downturned mouth as Tyler talks around his mouthful of food. “Err, I think I was due some good luck, actually.”

Tyler looks like he’s about to argue, but then shuts his mouth, staring down at his plate in reluctant acceptance. “Yeah, okay, true. But still. Can I at least touch it?”

Dan shakes his head, drawing the bag containing the shirt closer to his side of the table. He’s taking it to the local dry cleaning company after this, as well as giving the staff there a long, terrifying warning that if they do so much as snag a stitch, there will be hell to pay. 

“No way,” Dan replies. “You’ll nick the thing if I let you too close to it.” 

Tyler sighs. “You know me too well.” He bites his lip, staring longingly at the bag, and sighs again. “So, when is Mister Delavigne retrieving his garment?” 

Dan shrugs, poking at the poached egg on his plate with a fork. He has no idea why he ordered this, he doesn’t really eat eggs. But brunch is such a specific meal, he feels like he needs to order something aesthetically ‘brunch-like’. 

“Wait, you mean you haven’t set up a time to give it back to him yet?” Tyler asks, horrified. 

“It hasn’t even been a day,” Dan says. “Besides, he said he might stop in on Thursday for Bingo-”

“No no no!” Tyler cries, sounding scandalised. “Dan, are you this clueless? The man gave you his number!” 

Dan’s cheeks heat, remembering the incident that occurred during this scenario. “Yeah, to text him about getting the shirt back.”

Tyler rolls his eyes. “No, you nonce, the shirt is irrelevant! It’s an excuse for you to get in touch with him.” 

This time, Dan rolls his eyes. “Don’t be stupid. It’s a fucking designer shirt, he just wants to make sure he’ll get it back.” 

“He was flirting with you!” 

“He’s a flirty guy. Trust me, I know everything about him. I’m like... a big fan.” 

A sigh of pity gusts across the table towards him. Tyler places a hand atop his, and leans forwards. “Dan, listen to me. Text that hunk of delicious, geek-chic muscle, and watch how he responds. I guarantee he will try and flirt more.” 

“I guarantee he will just say he wants his shirt back.” 

Tyler smirks. “You’re on, dumbo.” 

*

It takes Dan two and a half beers to summon the courage to text Phil. He spends Sunday evening scrolling through the photos on the AmazingPhil Instagram page, studying each one in great detail so that he can remember each minute feature of Phil’s perfect, Adonis-like face. 

He’s had the text message screen up for some time, the word ‘Phil’ at the top where he’d saved his number, as if he were just any ‘Phil’, rather than the Amazing Phil that has haunted Dan’s daydreams ever since he first stumbled on a photo of him years prior. 

For maybe the sixth time that night, Dan types out a potential message. 

From: Dan To: Phil Hey, this is Dan from Habeneros bar. I have your shirt. Would you like me to  send it back to you?

He doesn’t send it yet. Instead, he copies the message, and pastes it into his chat with Tyler. The response is practically instantaneous. Dan wonders, not for the first time, if Tyler actually has any semblance of a life outside of the bar. 

From: Tyler To: Dan wtf is that shit????

From: Tyler To: Dan r u trying to turn him off

From: Dan To: Tyler ?? what do u mean

From: Tyler To: Dan u sound like a bot

From: Dan To: Tyler im being polite!!!

From: Tyler To: Dan polite is not going to get you in his pants

Instantly, Dan’s cheeks catch aflame, and he feels his heart squeeze. Even the idea of such a thing is too much for Dan’s poor, wrung out brain to comprehend. He could never, in a billion years, be that lucky. After last night, where one of the most absurd of his sexual fantasies came true - Phil stripping off in front of him in public - he’s sure his luck has run dry. 

From: Dan To: Tyler shut up. tell me what to say then

From: Tyler To: Dan ‘hey sexy, still shirtless? i live nearby if u want some help with that...’

Dan splutters and chokes on his beer. 

From: Dan To: Tyler NO!!

From: Tyler To: Dan fine fine. prude. how about...

Teeth gritted as he wills his heart rate to settle back into a reasonable rhythm, Dan waits for Tyler’s next message. His fingernails tap on the edge of his beer bottle. Trit, trit, trit. 

From: Tyler To: Dan ‘hey! not sure if u remember me but u heroically clothed me in ur Givenchy at a bar on Sat. the lanky bartender covered in blue sugary liquid? i know, i know, super hot.  anyway :’) i have your shirt. you  should swing by the bar again! or i  can send it back. up to you dude!  but bingo nights are off the fuckin chain js. let me know :) x’

Dan reads the message through, only cringing slightly. Honestly, he was sure it would be way worse. It’s actually kind of funny, and weirdly sounds like him. Tyler has clearly been subjected to Dan’s lame sense of humour for far too long. 

Without thinking, Dan drains the rest of his beer, copies the message Tyler gave him, and pastes it into the text box he’s opened with Phil. He presses send before his alcohol laced mind can catch up, wanting to be rid of this conundrum. 

From: Dan To: Tyler ok, sent it. 

From: Tyler To: Dan omg what :O

From: Tyler To: Dan did you really?? :’’’D

From: Tyler To: Dan i thought you’d want to edit it a bit first!! wow ok looool

From: Dan To: Tyler dont say that! you’ll make me anxious

From: Dan To: Tyler besides you made it sound like me its fine

From: Tyler To: Dan uh huh... let me know what he says :’D

From: Dan To: Tyler i fucking hate u

From: Tyler To: Dan xxx

The corner of Dan’s mouth quirks traitorously. His relationship with Tyler is complicated. Never before has he been able to hate someone and love them at the same time. Just as he’s about to pocket the phone again, it buzzes in his hand. He glances at the screen to see that Phil has - oh, God - already texted him back. 

He almost drops the damn thing.

From: Phil To: Dan hey dan! yeah of course i remember you ;D surprisingly i dont strip off in the middle of a bar that often. or  for just anyone ;) omg id forgotten about bingo!! super excited. i’ll be there! what time should i swing by? xx

His hand grows clammy, and he can feel his heart picking up speed. It’s mental that just reading Phil’s words can have him so agitated. He wonders if Phil has already saved his name into his phone. Probably not. Dan’s still a complete stranger, just one that happens to have a very expensive item of his clothing. 

From: Dan To: Phil awesome. you wont be disappointed! bingo starts at 7 on thursdays :) ur  shirt and i will see you there! x

Dan dithers about the kiss. He deletes it and retypes it three times, wondering what sort of message it transforms into when it’s added. In the end, after careful analysis of Phil’s initial message (in which there are not one, but two kisses attached) he decides to leave it on. 

Dan more or less expects that to be the end of the conversation, and he breathes a sigh of relief as the text swoops out of his control, but the sight of the three pulsating dots on the left bottom corner of his screen stop him from closing the text window. 

He waits, heart palpitating, for Phil’s reply. 

From: Phil To: Dan are u feeding her well? i hope ur  taking her for a walk twice a day.  tell her i love and miss her, and will see her soon. xx

Dan snorts with laughter, realising that Phil is referring to the shirt. 

From: Dan To: Phil she just pooped on my carpet :/ buttons everywhere x

From: Phil To: Dan :o so sorry. will be sure to give her no treats when i get her back xx

From: Dan To: Phil what kind of treats does she like? x

From: Phil To: Dan moth balls, tide pods... she’s fussy  :/ xx

Dan’s sniggers into his jumper sleeve, eyes crinkling at Phil’s silly responses. Is this flirting, he wonders? Could Tyler have been right about this? 

From: Phil To: Dan gotta run! im sitting in makeup for a shoot and they just finished  prettifying me :’D see u thurs ;) xx

‘You’re already pretty’ is Dan’s instant thought for a response, but he deletes it as soon as his fingers begin typing the words. He shakes his head at himself, berating his brain for being so gooey and idiotic. 

From: Dan To: Phil cool :) see u! x

Much more appropriate, Dan thinks, then locks his phone. It hits him like a freight train as he sits on the edge of his bed, blank phone in hand, that he just arranged a follow up meeting with AmazingPhil. 

He remains perfectly still, sure that the second he moves, the impact of what he’s just done will send him into a full blown panic attack. He invited Phil to Bingo night of all nights. 

He drops his head into his hands, groaning. As he looks up through the slats between his fingers, he notices the Givenchy shirt, hanging proudly on the door of his wardrobe. 

“This is all your fault,” Dan tells it. It doesn’t respond. 

*

Bingo nights are one of the Habenero bar’s busiest. Tyler first came up with the idea around two years ago, being a self-declared Bingo-hoe, but filled with criticism of Brighton’s few and far between Bingo events. 

“Bingo should be about booze, glitter, and loud, obnoxious screaming,” Tyler used to say. “Brighton needs to up its Bingo game.” 

Finally, after months of pleading to Habenero's owner, Tyler managed to wrangle an opportunity to host an experimental Bingo evening, run on his terms. He spared no expense of the meagre budget he was permitted, and created Brighton's, and maybe the world's, first Gay Rave Bingo Extravaganza. 

There are several rounds to the game. The first is the ‘classic’ round, to get everyone into the swing of things. Players are in teams of up to five, they get a Bingo board between them with a selection of random numbers. Tyler, the charismatic host, hops up on the stage to crack a few jokes and welcome everyone. He then goes back to serve drinks whilst Dan calls out the numbers. 

Teams receive ten points per round if they win, five if they come second, one if they come third. 

The following rounds get a little... messier. There’s a ‘drag race’ round, where new boards are handed out, and photos of the RuPaul’s Drag Race contestants are projected onto a screen. Players must correctly identify the contestants in order to be able to cross them all off on their boards. 

This is followed by Dan’s favourite, the ‘closet smash’ round, where clips of famous ‘gay’ scenes from movies, TV shows, webseries’ or any other kind of media are shown on mute, and players must cross the unheard lines of dialogue off on their board. 

There’s a ‘guess the ballad’ round, where LGBT+ friendly songs are played that must be guessed, and finally one last round of just numbers, this time while everyone is significantly more drunk (drinking a sip or a shot each time a correct answer is guessed is highly encouraged, but not necessarily advised by the bar staff, due to the lawsuit that could ensue) and there are loud, booming Madonna hits playing. 

The team with the most points at the end of the night gets a £50 bar tab, along with a shower of glitter, confetti and applause. The losing team has to forfeit. 

Phil arrives in the nick of time, flanked by one intimidatingly attractive man, and a slightly older straight couple. Dan spots them straight away, and hops down from the stage, pink-cheeked, as Tyler continues welcoming the various patrons that have shown up. 

There is no shortage of teams this evening. Dan sincerely hopes Phil is prepared for what’s about to unfold here, although if he has ever been to a different Bingo night, he probably has a very different idea of what to expect. As Dan approaches, he can see the flicker of surprise that is so often found on first-timers' faces, flickering across Phil's gorgeous features.  

“Hey,” Dan manages, heart already clawing itself up his throat. 

Phil turns to him, a bright smile sweeping across his face at once. “Dan!”

A bright, white flash of electricity shoots down Dan’s spine; hearing his name on Phil’s lips is a little too much to handle, at present. He manages not to swoon on the spot, just. 

“You made it!” 

“Of course!” Phil grins. “How could I resist Bingo night?”

Dan smiles, melting under the pleasant, crackling campfire of Phil's warm greeting. Tonight, Phil is wearing contacts, and his eyes seem even bluer than they had the first time. As he stares into them, Dan thinks he can spot glimmers of gold, of violet, of lime. 

“Not sure this is quite the sort of Bingo night I pictured when you dragged me here, Phil,” the attractive man on Phil’s left says, breaking Dan out of his trance. 

Phil laughs, nodding in agreement. "Me neither. But I'm excited. This is PJ by the way, Dan." Phil jabs a thumb at the man. "And this is my brother, Martyn, and his girlfriend, Cornelia." 

Biting back a stab of jealousy, Dan shakes waves to each of them, ending on PJ, for whom he finds himself needing to bite back a stab of jealousy. How many attractive men does Phil just cart around with him, day to day?

"Oh don't get me wrong, Dan, I'm excited too," PJ says. "Anything glittery brings out the craft-wizard in me."

"Sophie's going to be so pissed that she missed this," Phil says, eyes still sweeping around the gaudily decorated bar. Tyler spares no expense for Bingo nights. Everything is covered in banners, in balloons, in... glitter. Lots and lots of glitter. It's a nightmare to clean up at the end of the night, every time. 

"Not sure it's acceptable to have two straight couples in a gay bar," PJ mutters in response. 

Ah, Dan notes, his jealous monster retracting its claws. PJ is perhaps not as much of a threat as he'd thought. Not that there's anything about Dan which would need threatening. His chances with someone like Phil are laughably non-existent, whether or not Phil's handsome friends are straight. 

"Oh, you're all very welcome," Dan assures PJ. "Bingo is a non-discriminatory sport."

"Sport?" Martyn asks, looking a little more on the concerned side than some of the others.

Dan chuckles. "Yeah, uh, our take on Bingo is a bit more... energetic, than you might be used to."

Phil raises a perfectly arched eyebrow, obviously intrigued. Dan just smiles back enigmatically. “So, do you have a spare table for us?” 

“Hmm, we might,” Dan says, trying with all his might to look nonchalant as he sweeps a vague gaze across the room. 

By no means can Phil know that Dan has spent the last two hours in which he and his co-workers set up being relentlessly teased for insisting on saving the best table for AmazingPhil. He'd gotten to work early, in fact, and reserved Phil the table right near the front, not too close to the speakers, but with a fantastic view of the ball cage and the screen. 

As breezily as he can, Dan leads Phil and his friends to this table, and gets them seated with pens, a Bingo board, and some drinks menus. It’s at this moment that Tyler, who has been buffeting the audience about on the breeze of his easy, clever humour, decides to introduce him. 

“And this yummy little twink over here is Dan,” Tyler says into the mic he’s holding. He gestures down at where Dan hovers, near to Phil’s table. The audience all turn to him, spreading a warm, gradual blush over his cheeks. “Dan will be fondling all your balls this evening, so do please keep an eye on him. Tip him well, ladies. Fellas. Folks in between.”

The audience laugh heartily, including all of Phil's table, so Dan just glares at Tyler, then scurries onto the stage in preparation for the first round. As he draws the first few numbers from the ball cage, Tyler wanders through the tables, taking drinks orders and greeting some regulars. Dan watches him hawkishly as he goes, hardly concentrating as he calls out the numbers. Eventually, Tyler saunters over to Phil's table, which is a frightening thing to behold. Dan stutters as he calls out the number in his hand, too intent on trying to lip-read Tyler's words as he converses with Phil and his friends. 

Whatever Tyler is saying seems to be making Phil laugh, which is hardly a good sign. 

After a minute or so, Tyler moves away, and Dan relaxes into his routine, cracking jokes each time a vaguely sexual number is called out - everyone loses their goddamn shit as usual when he reads out 69 - and things pass without issue. He keeps an eye on Phil's table as subtly as he can, and from what he can make out, the four of them seem to be having a good time. 

It catches Dan off guard when a table near the back shout out "Bingo!", distracted as he is by Phil's presence tonight. He blinks at the winning table for a moment before remembering his duty, and calls them up on stage to check their board. 

"Alright, winner of the first round, table 22!"

"Our team name is actually Cougar Chasers," one glittery young man informs him. 

Dan just smiles awkwardly, not wanting to explain that team names have never been part of the Bingo rules. As the team leave the stage, Dan glances back down towards Phil's table just in time to see Phil mouth "this round?" to PJ. 

He smirks to himself, wondering how the infamous AmazingPhil will cope under the intensity of the next few hours. 

*

Phil does not cope well. 

His team struggles the most by a long way, which is perfectly normal for first time Bingo players at Habenero. They get some points, but only a few, and are often seen scribbling frantically, or having heated discussions amongst themselves, eyes wide, hands gesticulating, stirring the confetti that's gathered on the table. 

Despite his poor performance, however, Phil seems to be enjoying his experience thoroughly. His glasses may be steamed from the dry ice Tyler pumps out in excess, and his clothes and hair might be smothered in an inch of glitter, but he's grinning widely, and is clearly trying his hardest. His forté seems to be the drag race round, for which his team actually manages to place second due to Phil's apparent extensive knowledge of the show. 

He throws the board up in the air when he shouts "Bingo!", but unfortunately it's a fraction of a second too late, and another team snags first place. 

At the end of the final round, it becomes clear to Dan, with a slow sense of dread, that Phil's team has lost. The losing team gets a forfeit, and it's almost always the same thing. Tyler swans over to the stage to announce the winners, and Dan falls back, eyeing Phil's table with a prickling fear. 

"...so big round of applause once more for our winners, everyone!" Tyler shouts once he's announced everyone. The crowd cheer and whistle for the winning teams, who bow theatrically, blowing kisses to the audience. "Bring your sparkly asses up to the bar to claim your £50 worth of drinks. But, come on now folks. I know what you dramatic little hoes are really excited for." Tyler winks and they all laugh, cheering happily. "Our big losers tonight... I am most scintillated to announce, are..." 

Dan bites his lip. 

"Table 34! Otherwise known as our smoking celebrity presence this evening, Instagram's AmazingPhil," Tyler announces. "And friends." 

Phil's eyebrows shoot up in unmistakeable shock. The crowd cheers, bewildering him and the others at the table even further. To Dan's surprise, Phil looks to him, questioningly, as if he's asking Dan to explain. Dan sends him a pitying glance, wondering if there's any way to warn Phil of what's about to happen. It's usually fairly pointless to try and stop Tyler, however. And besides, the idiot is already speaking again. 

"So, I'm sure you all know by now what happens to our losing team each week," Tyler says, grinning down at them all. "Table thirty-four, please kindly follow me to the bar." 

A loud 'whoop' of excitement resounds around the room, and there's a scrape of chairs as people hurry over towards the bar, wanting to secure the best spots for the spectacle about to unfold. Dan reluctantly begins climbing down from the stage as well, at which point he feels someone grab his arm. He turns, surprised to find himself face to face with Phil, and stumbles on his way down. Phil, who still has hold of his arm, manages to stop Dan from landing smack down on the sticky floor, hauling him upright. 

Dan, mortified, stammers out some sort of thank you, much to Phil's amusement. "Don't worry," Phil tells him. "I surprised you, it's my fault. Though I have a feeling I'm not going to be feeling as chivalrous towards you in a few minutes." 

Phil raises an eyebrow at him, still questioning, and Dan just attempts an enigmatic smile. He's so flustered that he's sure it comes off as more of a grimace, but at least he tries. 

"Hey, mate, it's not my fault you suck at Bingo," Dan says, his daring comment scrounged up from a reserve of courage he wasn't aware existed. "The Habenero staff accept no responsibility for you not reading the rules of the event before participating." 

Phil huffs a laugh, and releases him. "Perhaps a certain bartender should have given me a list of these rules before allowing me to sign up?"

Dan throws his hands up in front of him, already backing away from the conversation. "Hey, all the rules are listed on our website. Now, sir, if you would kindly step up to the bar to accept your forfeit."

Just as Dan is about to turn from him and sprint off, Phil steps forwards, penetrating Dan's personal bubble with his intimidating presence. Dan stops breathing instantly, caught in a sudden limbo as the world slows around him, the movements of the crowd crawling to a snail's pace, the pumping music becoming a distorted drawl. Phil leans towards him, a smirk on his lips, which he brings to Dan's ear. 

"Kind of like it when you call me Sir." 

He leans away, and the world falls back into its rhythm, the music blaring, the lights swirling in a cacophony of colour. Dan blinks, or so it seems, and Phil has moved from him, is back with his friends, headed for the bar. Dan lets out the breath he's been holding in a sudden rush, his lungs screaming with relief. He takes a moment to gather himself as best he can, heart palpitating wildly, and shakily makes his way over as well. 

*

"So, Dan, tell me," Phil says, wiping his sodden fringe from his brow. "How is it that whenever I come within ten feet of you, I seem to have an overwhelming urge to remove my shirt?" 

Dan, who is having a great deal of trouble averting his gaze from the miles of smooth, glittery skin covering Phil's bare chest, shrugs, mouth moving without making a noise. Phil is dripping wet, covered in beads of moisture, his damp shirt slung over one shoulder. He looks delicious, like a cold, dewy, fresh apple, just begging Dan to sink his teeth in. Just then, Tyler wanders over, placing two shots down on the bar between Dan and Phil. 

"Don't worry, hot stuff," Tyler tells Phil, winking. "Dan's pretty, but his charms wear off eventually." 

"I doubt that," Phil replies smoothly. Dan splutters, reddening. Phil glances down at the shots Tyler handed over, frowning. "What's this?"

"Thought you deserved a drink after all we put you through this evening," Tyler says. "And I thought Dan might like to join you."

Dan glares at Tyler, who just beams back, happily, before sauntering away. Shyly, Dan turns back to Phil, who has picked up the shot glass between his thumb and forefinger, and is rotating it in the space between them, gazing into the clear liquid. 

"Sorry about him," Dan says, surprised that he's able to force the words out, croaky as they are. "And sorry about... y'know. Everything else." 

Glancing over the rim of the shot glass, Phil grins, eyes crinkling. "Are you kidding? This is the best Bingo night I've ever been to." 

"Even though we sprayed you and your friends with the soda hoses for losing?" 

Phil nods. "Which means you must be an excellent Bingo host." 

"I'm just the guy who reads the numbers," Dan says, dismissive. 

He refuses to take credit for the Bingo nights. They're Tyler's baby, he just helps out. 

"You clearly know your way around the balls," Phil jokes, winking as Dan splutters again. His cheeks feel like they're about to burst into flames, at this point.

"Hah, well..." Dan shifts awkwardly, adjusting his jeans - they have a tendency to slip down his hips without permission. "Good to know I have at least one talent, I guess." 

"So, are you going to drink with me, Dan?" 

Dan hesitates, looking down at the shot Tyler poured for him. The milky yellow colour suggests tequila, perhaps the strongest thing he could have given them. Dan has over an hour left of his shift still, and technically he's not supposed to ingest any alcohol whatsoever during working hours. However, that doesn't mean he never does. Customers buy him drinks all the time, and while he sometimes declines, or pretends to drink them... there have often been instances where he's given into temptation. 

As he stares across the counter at his all time crush, shirtless and dripping from where he'd been sprayed with lemonade and soda water, Dan kind of gets the feeling that this is going to be one of the times where his resistance falls through. 

Not trusting himself to speak, Dan just picks up the shot, and watches in quiet awe as Phil smiles, clinks his own against it, and throws it back, expertly. Caught on the tantalising bob of Phil's stubbled Adam's apple as he swallows the spirit, Dan almost forgets to drink his. He remembers just as Phil's eyes fall back to his, and downs it swiftly. 

Purely to show off, Dan reaches below the bar to grab some lemon wedges, and hands one to Phil, blushing. "Here, it's practically blasphemous to do a tequila shot without a chaser." 

"Well, I'm no stranger to sin," Phil says, but accepts the lemon anyway, grinning. 

Dan bites into his lemon wedge, cursing himself internally when he realises how unattractive his face becomes as he does so. Luckily, Phil just chuckles, and does the same, wincing. "Ugh, that was awful. Tell your friend I said thanks." 

Dan laughs. "I will."

"Well, I'd better get back to my friends," Phil says, scanning the immediate vicinity for them. "Not looking forward to another shirtless walk home though, I must admit. I got some... peculiar reactions from people last time." 

"Sorry about that," Dan says, one hand reaching up to rub the back of his neck. "Oh, wait, what am I saying? I have your shirt from last time, you can wear that." 

"Oh, right," Phil says, laughing to himself. "I completely forgot that's why I came tonight."

"Having too much fun, clearly," Dan jokes, already scooting out from behind the bar. "Come with me, I left it in the staff room." 

Dan weaves through the thinning crowd of people. People tend to leave pretty quickly after Bingo night ends on Thursdays. He and Tyler will probably be able to close early tonight. Dan can feel Phil following behind, as if he's attuned to Phil Lester's movement, tapped into the heat of his body. He feels he'd be able to just sense if Phil was in a room, even if it was packed with people. Phil's presence pours out a specific, viscous aura, clogging Dan's pores, seeping into the workings of his brain and slowing them down, smearing a haze across his sight. 

They reach the door of the staff room, marked 'private', and Dan pushes inside, heading straight for the lockers on the far wall. His skin prickles, sensing that Phil has followed him in here. It only now occurs to Dan how strange this might seem, luring Phil into an empty, secret room under the premise of returning him something. He decidedly does not turn around, instead choosing to fumble with his locker key in the door. 

"I, uh, got it dry cleaned," Dan babbles, drawing the garment out of his locker. It's still on its hanger, as uncreased and pristine as Dan could manage. "I don't know if it was supposed to have any special treatment, but I told them to be extra careful-" 

As Dan turns, he realises that Phil has moved extremely close. Neither of them hit the light switch, so the room remains dark, only lit dimly by the coloured lights pouring in through the ajar door. Dan can hear Phil breathe, can hear the thump of someone's heart - probably his own. He's pretty sure the song playing in the bar outside is Britney's 'Toxic', but he can't be sure. The sound of his own desperate, roiling desire is deafening. 

"Thanks, Dan," Phil says softly, reaching for the shirt. "Wish I could've seen you in it." There's a pause; Dan can hear his own cells fizzing through his body. "Or not in it." 

In that second, Dan is sure he's about to be kissed. Every sign is there: Phil inching closer, leaning in, the flutter of his eyes, as if they're about to fall shut. Dan tries to brace himself for it, to prepare his frantic brain for something so miraculous, so improbably, so utterly wild as being kissed by AmazingPhil-

The door swings open. Blinding, fluorescent light floods the room, and Phil steps backwards, cringing from it. 

"Shit, sorry..." Lara says from the doorway. Her round, pretty face is filled with apologies. "My shift is over, Tyler said I could head home... fuck, did I interrupt-"

"Hey, it's okay," Phil says brightly, sending her a soft, reassuring smile. "Dan was just returning my shirt. I need to head home as well, anyway. Great night, guys! Thanks again for the shirt, Dan!" 

In the next second, he's gone, and Dan, a mess of emotions, is somehow on the floor, back against the lockers, mind utterly blank. He vaguely notes, in the background, Lara jabbering at him, a thousand apologies falling from her lips. 

*

For two agonising days, Dan hears nothing else. Aside from Tyler bringing the topic up every few milliseconds, Dan's life trundles on devoid of AmazingPhil. Even his Instagram is dry. The day after Bingo night, Phil posts an apology note on his Instagram story that reads:

overdid it at Bingo last night (dont laugh) - having a much needed hangover day in bed with sweet potato fries & a Buffy marathon. Posts will resume ASAP! xx

The day after that, Phil posts nothing. It's unusual. Instagram is Phil's job, so he posts at least once a day, normally. Of course, there are exceptions, like when he goes up North to visit his family, or is too busy and forgets. There's far from a regular upload schedule, but AmazingPhil can normally be relied upon to post at least once a day, and often more. 

Then, on Sunday, just as Dan is getting in from his shift at around six in the morning, his phone buzzes. Dan reaches for it as he's peering into his fridge. He's bone tired, but his stomach is not going to let him go straight to sleep. 

He checks his notification, and freezes, under the judgemental eye of the courgettes on the shelf in front of him. 

amazingphil just posted a photo

Dan swipes the screen carefully, his heart in his mouth. How is he going to handle seeing this man, again, after everything that's occurred? He holds his breath, picturing the slow steps Phil made towards him, the gradual descent of his plush, pink mouth, the glimmer in his round, blue eyes...

The photo flashes up, and Dan's stomach twists in shock. His heart plunges to his knees, and he has to cling onto the fridge door for support. The photo is of Phil, and someone else. That someone else is recognisably Charlie Hickory, the man Phil had brought with him the first time they met. 

They're kissing. 

Hey guys! Sorry for the lack of posts, as you can see I've been kind of busy ;) back to normal uploads now, I promise!! xx

As his eyes sting with white hot jealousy, Dan realises just how deeply he's stupidly, ignorantly allowed himself to wade into this swamp of yearning for a guy he could never, in a thousand years, hope to get. 

"Well, I'm a fucking twat," Dan sighs, and slams the fridge door. 

(Part 3!) 

[briteboy]

okay i’m gonna be real with you. i have...a LOT...of messages. going as far back as like...january? probably? i know...i’m so bad...don’t crucify me. i tried to get through all of them but there were a lot that i didn’t have a worthwhile reply for so i’m sorry if i didn’t answer something you sent :{

so here we have: a lot of nice things, a lot of santisms, reactions to the lou and cillian punchout, a few responses to my portfolio and other stuffs...i wanted to put astrology asks in at the end but it’s...a lot more than i thought it was and it’s 3 am so i’d rather die than answer all of those LMAO sorry. i’ll get to it next time

Anonymous said:

u can delete the snorting cum asks but it will still follow you for eternity

okay so I saw the ask about snorting cum and it reminded me of a time that cum came out of my nose. It was gross but my boyfriend and I laughed it off. idk. I thought it would be a funny thing to share!! i'd understand if you didn't want this on your blog!! (maybe it makes you laugh!!)

wELL. WE’RE OFF TO A GOOD START HERE. i’m screaming at this...i hope nothing EVER comes out of my nose ever in life...i hate this but ur right it did make me laugh

(Winry anon again) Also, did you get her name from FMA Winry Rockbell because if so I love it

hehe...yes...

hornybodies

this is what bartsim calls me and i hate her for it

whats the truth bitch

I DON’T EVEN REMEMBER WHAT THIS IS ABOUT BUT I’M LAUGHIGN

i never realised how much i actually missed santi but now im CRYING AND I WANT HIM BACK IN EVERY SINGLE POST WITH LOU BY HIS SIDE LIVING HAPPILY EVER AFTER PLEASE

I missed santirat's beautiful face there are literal tears rn

me too...i hate that i miss him so much it’s so freaking dumb...i haven’t cried to my own story in a while but i bet i’m gonna once santi’s comeback rolls around. i’m already bracing myself

nvm u can have the lovely rat back, that way my heart wouldn’t be hurting like it is now

honestly yeah that’s fair

Been silently following your blog and though I'm more of a "ghost"(? What does that even mean¿) follower, I can't help but express just how chocked I am to see Santi again OMG. Gutted Lou has had a flashback, she does not deserve this. :'(

hello casper the friendly ghost...i love having santi pop up with surprise flashbacks hehe...ur right though she DOES NOT NEED THIS in her life, but it will get better for her soon do not fret my ghoulish friend

I need more pics of Lou and Santi together I’m not satisfied, thankssss

ELI AND MIYU GETTING SO EXCIted WHEN LOU TOLD THEM SHE LIKES GIRLS MY HEART :’)

HEHEH i love it cause that’s literally how my friends and i act, it was fun to write in a scene :~} i’m glad you liked it :’}}

Yeah when I cut my hair short everyone assumed I liked girls I found it kind of odd, but I didn't care too much. It mostly just made me end up realizing all the shit lgbt people go through, one time a guy literally went up to me and my friend, my bff who no one really knew was a lesbian was terrified because he said "oh dont worry lesbians are hot, but gay guys are just disgusting" it ended up he was talking to me, i just rolled up a piece of paper as tight as I could and smacked him on the head

EWW first of all that guy can take his weird fetishization and homophobia elsewhere thanks...i’m glad you threw a paper ball at him LMAO. but yeah on one hand, coming from ignorant/straight people it’s like “uhhhh why would you assume that about me”, within the lgbt community it’s like...common ground...an inside joke...i guess? so it’s weird. the link between hair, clothes and sexuality is can definitely be harmful in certain circumstances

fiona is my spirit animal and i love her ok thanks for coming to my TED Talk

that was illuminating thank you

i re-read santis story and i s2g i've read it so many times idk, but like its so easy to read i dont mean like emotionally but it flows really well. and like its not too confusing i hate when people make overly convoluted stories in an excuse for being deep its some good shit good job my dude

AKJSDKGKSJD THAT MEANS THE WORLD TO ME!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! i never expected anyone to read it oNCE let alone REPEATEDLY...that really makes me so happy though because it’s definitely something you have to go back and read to catch all the details. ahhhhh thank you so much, i never ever want my story to be too complicated so i’m glad you don’t think it is!!

im crying because your recent post reminds me so much of my relationship with my mom when i was younger... she was always out of a job and sometimes we had to resort to living with other family members, it was all really hard on her and especially with having a kid she had to take care of at the same time. even though these are fictional characters, it’s comforting to know that other people have gone through the same situations i have. i love fiona and lou so much, they’re my heart and soul <3

OMG ;_________; i’m crying i’m so glad it resonates with you...i had a lot of friends growing up who were in similar situations and i think i kinda based lou and fi’s relationship on that, so you’re definitely not alone <33 i’m so glad you love them i love u

basically what I’ve learned from these asks is that Gianni is a perfect god-like human and I want one

he is. one time an anon told me they were like santi but they wanted to be rooney and i was like “i’m both santi and rooney on different days and i want to be gianni.” now u know why

hi, i just wanted to pop in and say that i really, really love your blog and i admire your editing skills SO much, i think you are EXTREMELY talented and i don't think you get told that enough. i've been following you for awhile now and i am in love with ALL of your stories, characters and edits you've put out! you're really an inspiration to me and i hope someday my edits can turn out as good as yours!! i don't have reshade so it's harder for me, but i'm trying to learn!! ok have a good day :-)

OMFG ;-; I DO GET TOLD IT A LOT AND IT STILL SEEMS FAKE...you don’t have to go out of your way to compliment me ;___; but thank you so so so much i’m crying...it makes me so giddy that i might inspire someone like WHAT...i don’t even know what i’m doing half the time i edit so u will definitely be able to catch up to me one day even if you don’t have reshade, i know it. i edited without reshade for like 2 and a half years on this blog so you can do it i promise!! have a good day/night/life i love u

fuck my succ

I'm in need of some giannti in my life

we all need some gianti in our lives

Hey! I just wanted to say that ur an amazing writer. You portray everything so well, it’s insane. I want to be a writer someday and I hope my writing is at least somewhat close to yours. Have an awesome day my dude💕

WOW I’M CRYING...i still have a lot of room to grow and so do you, i hope you are able to become the writer you want to be :’} and thank you so much for the wonderful compliment i’m emo have a great day as well

aver is my queen, confirmed.

avey is everyone’s queen confirmed

oksy but listen, look up the model Charlotte Ray Spencer

i did but i couldn’t find her?? all that came up was ray spencer obituaries in charlotte, SC LMFAO...charlotte spencer is an actress tho it seems, is that...who...? omfg

MAY I JUST OFFER THIS NEW SONG OF THE NEIGHBOURHOOD CALLED VOID BC I HAVE A FEELING SANTI WOULD LOVE IT (it's also meant for my aggressive sadboi oc)

OH I LOVE THIS IT FITS PERFECTLY WITH THE PLAYLIST I’M MAKING FOR THE NEW ERA OF SANTI...THANK YOU I’M TOTALLY ADDING IT

I had a ectopic pregnancy when I was seventeen but I feel like I got off lightly compared to Molly. Your story is so beautiful in so many ways, I think it’s incredible how much character development you’ve managed to pull off honestly I’m amazed. Thank you ❤️

omg ;_______; i don’t even know what to say to this, but it means so much to me i can’t even put it into words. thank you thank you thank you so much, and i’m so sorry you had to go through that as well. molly was an extreme case and i hope no one has to go through what she went through. i’m glad you’re okay now, and thank you so much for reaching out to me and reading my story at all ;-; <3333

just a heads up: the links button on your ccfinds blog goes to the femmefinds url still

oh yeah i know i’m gonna be real with you...i’m too lazy to fix it lmAO

Luv your stick n poke tats u posted!!! Could u do more? Maybe on diff places on the bod?? Ur so talented. Xx

omg that was FOREVER ago...maaaaaybe in the future...we shall see...but thank you <33

Can u do a family portrait for all ur characters like u did w Lou!!!

oooooh hehe i probably will in the future!!

Kill v maim is one of my favorite songs of all time omg it makes me wanna wear ripped jeans and a leather jacket and cover myself in glitter and smash some windows with a baseball bat MMMMMM

HELL yeah me too...i become a cyber punk alien vampire when i hear that song

maybe do a casting call posted here ? u have many followers and im sure a good chunk live in ur area and would be willing to model ^_^

omg SCARY...i probably could tho tbh that’s a good idea, thank you!

hi sunny, what program do you use to merge your cc and what do you use to detect and remove broken cc that just doesn't work in game anymore? thanks!

i actually haven’t merged on my new laptop yet but i used s4s for merging and there’s the mod conflict detector!!

My game hasn't been working since the first Cats and Dogs patch but I uninstalled and reinstalled and it finally works again 😭

sunny!! would you recommend your computer to play ts4 on? has it good graphics, can handle the highest settings and so? i really need a new computer but i have no idea which one to go for

yes i would recommend it!! i have reshade, ultra settings and like 8 gb of cc.

thanks for answering my ask eee ur story is probably the best ive read on here and yeah. i love how everything connects and everyones just so real. you dont have to post this i just wanted to thank you for being my inspiration and making me smile, laugh, cry, and scream in the middle of the night with your characters.

I LOVE U...it still sounds so fake to me when people say i inspire them, i don’t even know how to respond to all this ;-; just thank you for sparing a glance my way and resonating with my creations. <3 we scream and cry 2gether

I listened to Separator by Radiohead on repeat whilst reading Santi’s story and now that song just reminds me of him and Lou. I’d totally suggest listening to it’s so good! As is your story :3 xxx

oh radiohead that’s good sh*t...i’m listening to it now and i feel the santou vibes...especially when santi’s feeling out of his mind and she’s the only one who can calm him...haha cool..anyways THANK YOU!!!!

how do you make poses for the roof? i'm not sure how i can know if the sims will clip into the roof or float

honestly i just...eyeball it...because all roofs are different and you can’t put them into blender so. i just winged it lmao...i just made a pose that looked like it could’ve been lou climbing out the window, only the rig was still ground level, and then i used alt + 9 to lift the teleporter onto the roof as best as i could. that’s why it probably wouldn’t be a very practical pose to release, because i have no way of making it easy to use 

Lou punched him and I knew it would happen. 😀👌 nice, nice I like Lou whopping ass.

hehe i’m glad you enjoyed it...who knew she had a freaking hook like that

ok a theory... santi went to look for molly's mother and yea

omg tell me cillian sings every other freckle at some point

OMFG well...that song came out in 2013 and the current flashback year is 2008 so. i would personally murder cillian myself if he was still in lou’s life 5 years after this honestly

hey kitty girl! i was wondering if you could answer this teensy lil question i got. im writing a "story" anddd i was trying to figure out how to make some parts not cliche. like i hate reading about whatever and being like girll ive done seen this before so i just needs to know. kisses

i absolutely love how this is worded and the fact that u called me kitty, very cute. anyway...this is pretty broad, perhaps you could clarify what kinda cliches you want to steer clear from? a lot of the time when i know something is gonna be cliche and there’s no avoiding it, i just kinda own up to it and try to subtly point out how cliche it is and somehow that makes it work out better...like being self aware somehow adds another more realistic element to the story that makes it better? idk...anyway dm me if you need help!!

so.... lou can remember more of what happened? this is good! go 2 the police bitch! tell them!!!!!!!

she should!! but the only problem is she doesn’t have proof. so... 🤔

how do you write your stories in a way that everything is organized and you're certain and not confused with everything? i mean, do you have any way for writing that let you develop your stories with not so much difficults? i'm trying to write an story for months but i only have a few of the most important events on my mind, i don't know how to develop another important details, i always feel that everything is confuse or crap

hmmmmm well my mind is very ah convoluted so it’s a wonder any of this comes out even somewhat cohesive? but basically i have a very good memory and utilize google docs a lot hahaha. i’ve gone in depth about my writing process here!

whats a good way when it comes to starting a sims story? i mean like the first post? :/

ummmmmm maybe test the waters a bit and just make a post introducing your character(s) first? or dive right in and get sh*t started. it could go either way tbh

boyish by japanese breakfast is a santixlou bop

oh sh*t!!!!!! i love japanese breakfast!! and i love this thank you!

So is lou like into cillian in a way? Making him kinda be in her type

as of right now (in the flashbacks)? HELL fucking no. but you’re right, she did say those things in the future to santi. so 🤔

Everyone guessing shit stupidly annoys me haha. I'M UNOBSERVANT AND I DON'T WANNA GO BACK AND CHECK SHIT, LET ME LIVE. *Like* if you a ~dum~ reader who doesn't want every bit of foreshadowing called out. lol

i respect this honestly whenever i drop the hottest foreshadowing of 2018 i never expect my inbox to flood like it does but here we are and i am amazed

CILLIAN NEEDS TO FUCKING FIGHT ME (TYPING THIS ON MY COMPUTER BC I SAW HIS DINOSAUR ASS AND CHUCKED MY PHONE OUT THE WINDOW)

i’m screaming...i’m so sorry it’s my fault about your phone but like also i’m poor i can’t pay for that

i'm studying your latest posts because they're beautiful and my hatred for that long necked bitch is intensifying -- what makes me burn even more is that he's still wearing her necklace, can we say let the bitch burn?

burn babey burn

Why don't you use quick tags?

i’m dumb is why

CILLIAN IS SUCH A SHITASS I HATE HIS FACE WHY R U DOING THIS TO ME

BRUHHHHH THE DINOSAUR LOOKIN ASS BOY IS B A C K run

WAIT THE NECKLACE. HE STOLE THE MCFUCKING NECKLACE BROOOOO

What if Fi's blue eyes are from... Cillian..?

wHY did you have to make him cute and fucking cool though? I still hate him but it's harder.

NVM I JUST LOOKED AT THE POST AGAIN HES WEARING HER NECKLACE INHOPE SHE CHOKES HIMS WOTH IT THIS TIME

I SCREAMED AT THIS SERIES OF QUESTIONS OISDFNGJKDSKJN yeah sorry he’s conventionally attractive but unsettlingly so and i feel uneasy when i look at him and plus the fact that he’s literally evil so .

im like, to 90% sure that cillian is in ace joker. so that song might have reminded lou of him...

this was sent right after that scene of lou hearing the song at pippin’s, so

My conspiracy theory is that cillian is Lou's father. Speakimg of which are we gonna get to that soon, I'm dying of curiosity;.;

I’M LAUGHING I THINK U MEANT FIONA’S FATHER AKSJDKJGDSJ but yeah well. You’ll See

what do u resize ur photos to?

whatever 33% of 1920x1080 is i forget. i have a resizing + sharpening action so i just run that

im about to kill those kids if they keep fucking with my baby

THESE BITCHES BULLYING MY BABY LOU? CATCH THESE HANDS

me @ these ugly kids:

Who are the best creators for mens clothing? I struggle so much to find good cc creators with men specifically!

badabing badaboom

I’m not sure if you’ve converted things before but do you know any good sims 3 cc to sims 4 tutorials? Or your followers?

errrrrr i have no idea i’m sorry :x

would you consider making like a photoshop psd file with all the layers in your editing process?

omg...heck no it would be so unhelpful OMFG mostly because my editing is just my own action + shading and highlighting unique to that pic

would you ever do an editing timlapse of your gameplay pics? 💖💖

ahhhhh maybe!! probably in the future!

OMG HEATHERS WAS FILMED AT MY HIGH SCHOOL AND IM JUST HYPED UP SEEING IT BEING MENTIONED ON THIS ACCOUNT!!

OMFG THAT’S RAD...i’ve literally only seen it once tho i’m fake

I'M SHOOK. my friend kinda asked me out and I wanna say yes but my parents won't let me date. I'm 18! I need your advice! -signed 18 and alone anon

um UR 18 BUDDY UR AN ADULT...DATE WHOEVER THE F*CK U WANT HONESTLY

Can you pretty please link some photoshop tutorials you recommend? I really want to make my photos more cinematic and like your's without totally copying you or someone else. All I do right now is sharpen, color balance, and add some noise and then resize. I really need some more ways to get better looking photos such as yours.

ahhhhh the problem is i don’t know of any i’m sorry...lmao this is totally unhelpful :\ i have my own editing tutorial which is outdated but can probably help you out with the basics of lighting effects and shading n stuff?

Heyyy, I saw that you answered a question about making a ps action like your reshade, and I just wanted to say that I would love that! Unfortunately Mac users like me, can’t use reshade unless boot camping Windows onto our computers...☹️ and your reshade is just soooo pretty...

i don’t know if i’ll be able to replicate the reshade effect totally but i could release the action i’ve made for myself? it warms up screenshots but is totally adjustable to your liking for different color tones so in that way it’s kinda similar to the reshade. i’ll seeeeee what i can do...i know the woes of mac users all too well, my friend

i just wanna give lou a big ol cozy hug :o((( pls

pls hug her she needs it.

Do you post on tumblr from your phome or from your computer? Just curious.

mostly from my computer, sometimes i answer messages on my phone while i’m out and you can tell because autocorrect actually makes me use proper capitalization for once in my life

how many hours have you played the sims? for me i have 4,070 hours. haha help

OMFG i think mine is like...900 or something...i can’t tell if that’s too much or too little, but it’s definitely inaccurate

if i could only look at one person's tumblr from now on it would be yours. ur literally the queen of tumblr #shookaf and also i really hope i die before you ever say ur leaving tumblr cause when u do, i will legit die and bury my own grave. i really appreciate u and hope one day i can be on ur level but rn im at level 1.5 while ur up in the millions :D

I’M SCREAMING PLEASE I AM A PLEB.............i cry u flatter me too much ;-; i genuinely hope i never leave this place because it’s been so fun and it’s helped me evolve so much as an artist and a writer, plus i made some of my greatest friends on here. so i hope that day never comes!! but who knows life is wild. anyway i’m sure you’re actually like at level 578 and are just being modest. it’s okay you don’t have to be humble

i think its so cool that you and wanderlust and other simmers use multiple worlds to make your own town and stuff. idk why but thats just so cool to me and i would have never thought of it. love your blog and story <3

omg!!! well i couldn’t resist, i love a bunch of them and can’t limit myself to just one ya know. plus the more i thought about it, the more my gen 2 story kinda centers around these kids from this one town and the town itself is very relevant. so i felt like i had to make my own!! and i’m very excited to get started with that hehe

I just met a guy named Rodrigo Santiago and I sCREAMED HOLY SHIT

Update (tho idk of you got the first one): I just got a text from a classmate named Rodrigo Santiago. I'm sCREECHING

no freaking way. there’s no way i don’t believe...i want proof...

YOU SO FUCKIN PRECIOUS WHEN U SMILE

dont worry about posting this or do idc but i just wanted to say you should write about whatever you want and not care about whether people think you condone it or not. if i (a gay male) were to write about lesbians its not like im saying YOU HAVE TO BE LESBIANS BLAH BLAH BLAH you know what i mean? or if im writing about a robbery doesnt mean im like condoning robbery so like idk you do you boo and keep it coming ;D ilysm btw

OMFG no yeah i get it, i mean i think now especially in this online environment, people are hyper aware of Problematique things and so they’re a little too quick to point fingers without looking deeper than the surface. and whatever it’s fine people are always gonna be like that because people are mostly inherently judgmental, especially when it comes to consuming media. artists/writers face stuff like this all the time because people refuse to look past the surface, hence why works have gotten misconstrued all the time. but yeah i really appreciate this sentiment, thank u i love u

hope this isnt a weird question but what is the image size that u used for your character page?? thnk u 💕

omg it’s 300x300

have u listened to visions of gideon by sufjan stevens i was listening to it while reading ur stories and it made me so :(

oh my boy sufjan aka gianni’s personality claim i love him...and this song is :{ but i love even if it’s from the nasty age gap peach fucking movie

If i was married to Jamie and he treatin’ our daughter like that… oh I swear HES GOT TO GO!

it’s 2 am i’m so tired answering all of these i forgot who jaime was for a sec i was like um why are we talking about GoT anyways good night

how does alpha hair work with reshade? it seems so good in your screenshots and i’ve seen that in others screenshots it looks bad? whats the secret?

well good morning haha jk i never went to sleep anyway here u go

hooow do you make adorable toddlers in ts4?? teach me, gimme some advice please :(((

chubby cheeks! big eyes! small faces! little but plump lips! a good skin! dats all

how did u get ur sim onto the fire escapes?

ze teleporter mod, that’s it

I snickered at the, THE RETURN OF SANTI. Like I imagine it written in red horror lettering and santi just busts down the door and says ho ho ho im back bench, Did U miss me?

honestly i own a calendar and if i knew a definite date u already fucking kNOW it would be up there

ahhh im sorry for asking but im wondering how you find voice claims?? i'm looking for some for my sims, but it's tough to find one that's *right*, you know?? and your voice claims are great!! thank you <3

OMG voice claims are HARD, i literally just like “collect” them over time...i have a list in my phone of voices i like/may use in the future lmao, but try to think of actors or musicians and search interviews/movie or tv scenes with them speaking!!

i don't even read your story but i still follow you because i love your personality, sim style and just your whole entire tumblr

u follow me for ME? UM...what are u doing here...i’m so sorry (i love u...)

do you have a different reshade preset for flashback screenshots and for the present ones?

i do not!! i just edit differently

what happened to the honeycomb?

OMFG it’s still there...but we legit haven’t seen it since girooni’s wedding so um...it’s gonna have to get a makeover. i’m gonna do it when girooni come back home so i can finally show rupi working there like...wow...she deserves to be seen

lou's dad is the biggest asshole and i am waiting for the day that bitch dies

us when he dies

shit theory: caroline goes to find and confront cillian about what he did in teen lou timeline. care ends up forming a crush on cillian and goes back to meet him several more times, but cillian ends up liking lou more which makes caroline jealous. and that's why they don't speak currently, 'cause cillian ruined lou's life in more ways than one.

uM holy fuck that’s all i got to say

pls tell me that Caro killed the dude that choked Lou (or beat his ass)

god i hope so !

how many people do you follow? are you “strict” with who you follow?

i follow 264 people and yeah i’ve gotten a bit stricter with it just cause like...i only want to follow people whose content i truly care about/will actually notice on my dash

would you ever do a sim dump?

probably in the future, it seems like people want more male and female sims from me SO

ramona got some moves tf

the girl is out here bobbing to the chicken dance like nobody’s business

have u seen the end of the fucking world? if u did what are your #thots

UM......................i watched the first episode ‘cause i heard so much about it and um.............................it was so bad OMFG i hated it. way too edgy for me. completely missed the mark. not into it at all. hard pass

CAN LOU PLEASE HAVE A MAN IN HER LIFE WHO IS NOT A COMPLETE TWAT PLEASE

HOPEFULLY ezra will follow through with that and i don’t necessarily mean in a romantic way but like...as her new roommate MAYBE he will be a blessing we can HOPE

I'm not sure if you've been asked this or not, but your poses are so good and I was wondering if you have ever considered making a pose pack? Sorry if this came off as rude! I love your posts!

i will probably in the future!! but first i gotta figure out which ones i’d actually include

okay so this is random but I just wanted to say that I absolutely love your sims stories. Everything is so perfect and I'm forever shook because I can't believe the "sets" you use are actually the game. Your sims are so fleshed out and you are a huge inspiration to me. Anyways sorry if this was weird but I'm like obsessed with ur blog. bYe

AJHSDHJFSD THANK YOU!!!!!!! yes somehow we work miracles into this game can u believe it...ahh but thank you so much, it means everything that i would inspire you in any way...like what...omg

Santi is actually standing outside present Lou’s apartment wondering where the fuck he went wrong

he’s been there for 6 months just on the street standing there please someone let him in .

LOUUUU OH MY GODDD SKKDSNSJDH MY BABY. SO THATS HOW SHE GOT THE SCAR. WOW

there it is fellas. this message is sooooo old i’m so bad

Have you read/heard of The Lunar Chronicles

i have not!! but i’ll jot it down!

I was wondering if you’ve ever had any problems with skins? For me some on the palm side of the hand it’s noticeably darker than what the skin is supposed to be.. like the rest comes out find but the hands are darker.

hmm...that’s weird, i haven’t seen that. i think it probably depends on the skin? or maybe your sim detail settings?

santi my daddy, honeybodies my mommy, lou looking like a cutie when she saw dat tiny puppy. my name is rappin anon, and i just wanted to say, ur are my favorite simblr basically saving my day. rappin anon OUT

o...my god

i love u

i love u...

[theyrejustbehindtheveil]

ML Secret Santa

Merry (belated) Christmas @nayawata it is I, your gifter for the @mlsecretsanta with a fic about the OTP

Paris, France | July

She graduates. One day, she is at université, and the next, she is not. The morning after her final exam, she slips downstairs for breakfast and instead finds an envelope.   

Her parents' latest attempt to stop her from being so easily scared is three months in a city she doesn't know with a language she barely speaks. All expenses paid. She leaves in three months. Merde. 

Sydney, Australia | October 

It’s a jarringly young city. Everywhere Mylène looks she expects to see historic architecture and instead sees nothing beyond the nineteenth century. Her auntie chatters good-naturedly from the drivers seat which is on the wrong side of the car. Everything is strange and it feels a little like she can’t breathe and she cant make a sound and she is so so glad when the car stops and she can get inside the house and play her song and feel like she is still at home. 

The first two weeks she only leaves the house with one of her cousins or aunts, too scared to venture outside without some kind of security net. They take her on outings every few days, doing the tourist shtick at what is probably their attempt to make her feel welcome. The multiple trips to the city aren’t too bad, but when they head anywhere else she feels off kilter. The ocean is too big and the countryside is too foreign. The suburbs are too sprawling and quite frankly she doesn’t even know where to start with the birds. 

November

She goes for a walk alone the first week of November. Three pictures of the waterfront reflecting the clear blue sky later and she realises she is lost. Very lost. She isn’t even sure which way is home. She would like to say she was brave enough to find her own way home but the truth is that pedestrian’s hassle her along until she crashes into something large and solid with an eep of surprise. 

The large and solid something responds with a grunt that shocks her into leaping back. And looks up. And up a little more to find the something’s face shuffled into a terrifyingly grumpy glare. She shrieks and cowers a little before the glare retreats into something a little closer to concern.   

She’s fumbling out an apology as best she can manage and trying desperately not to give in to the urge to flee when the man in front of her guides her gently to a bench. “Are you okay?” he asks and she can’t help but suck in a breath at his accent because it is wonderfully, blessedly French. 

“T’es Français?” She hopes he understands what she is trying to say. 

He starts in surprise. “Oui.” She can’t help the wave of relief that sweeps over her and switches to French for a more coherent apology. 

The guy’s name is Ivan and he doesn’t know how to get back to her aunts’ place, but his english is much better than hers and he is brave enough to ask for help and big enough to hide behind when the strangers get to be too much. Mylène thinks she quite likes this arrangement. It takes a full hour to find home, and she is glad for Ivan’s company.

He slips her his phone number moments before she shuts the door. Merde.

Three days pass before she even has the courage to save the string of numbers to her phone. Two more before she sends through a safe, neutral, hi this is mylene :) 

Ivan replies twenty-seven anxious minutes later.  hey mylene good to hear frm u  glad u hadnt lost my no

sorry, she replies 

dw i was jst disappted i might not get to see u again

oh i d like that

me too this wknd?

Deep breath.  yeah i d like that

sat 1pm we can try tht walk again?

yes please

He arrives at the front door at five minutes to the hour. She’s been ready for the past ten minutes, but she still jumps at the sound of the doorbell. 

This second walk is far better than the first, even if there are more people out on the weekend. They find their way to a market near a library and Mylène can’t help but feel a little nervous but Ivan is quietly reassuring. He buys her a little pin for her bandana and his face when she pins it straight to the fabric is something she really wants so see again.

She learns a lot about Ivan that day. He likes heavy metal, hates the heat, tries to be gruff and intimidating but cares too much to pull it off convincingly.   

She tells him about Paris, how scared she is of just about everything because so much of it is just too much a lot of the time, that she likes cats better than dogs, about her dad’s job, and that her deepest desire is to be brave.   

Ivan returns her confidences with the slightly ashamed admission that he is really not a cat person and Mylène giggles at his despondency before rushing to reassure him that she doesn't hold it against him. 

Later, she texts him. the cat thing is mostly because they re quieter  also because of the superhero he was kinda sweet

hte who

chat noir the paris superhero a couple years back in the news a lot both him and his partner total badasses in spandex

oh that superhero

i met him a few times he was at our school on superhero business n stuff he was really kind little dorky

that school that was awlays in the papers was urs?francis dupain or smth i almost went there

francois dupont yeah that was a crazy time scary too wait what dieu we might have been classmates thats so weird i was turned into one of the monsters one time

oh no

there was this mean girl she teased me and i ended up a monster

you could never be a monster mylene

no like an actual monster type creature monstrous from a horror movie pink jelly thing horrificater i scared people and kidnapped them i don t remember what happened much but everyone was really nice to me for a while after

wait the first time that was u in there

yeah that was me

wow working through that must have been hard

i had help chat noir came and talked to me a few times my parents really helped im glad u had that

December

There is no snow for Christmas this year. She gets a second summer instead, of the kind that Paris rarely sees. Ivan texts her every other day to complain about the heat. Her aunt takes her to the beach, and Ivan shows up in a pair of stupidly bright shorts that apparently were a gift from his sister. They make her laugh, and he grins. 

 you re really easy to talk to ivan um thanyk u no really it s really nice i like it

…

sorry if i made it weird i just mean t like we re friends i like talking to you

mylene its fine im sorry i dont take compliments v well it means a lot that u can say that thank u

He hands her a parcel a few days before Christmas. Inside is a pin she recognises from - oh. Its Ivan’s. From his favourite band. “You’re giving me this? Haven’t you had it since you were a teenager?” 

“I… I want you to have it, to remind you that you can be brave.” 

“Zombie Skull Crushers is going to remind me to be brave?” She hates the plaintive note that her voice holds.

“Yeah, doesn’t it just sound brave and badass, just like I know you can be?” 

She hugs him, tight and grateful.

“Thankyou, Ivan,” she chokes out. “It’s the best present anyone’s ever given me.” He hugs her back, gentle and easy as breathing. 

She almost forgets the parcel tucked into her bag but presses it into his hands right before she leaves. “Joyeux Noël, Ivan." 

Her parents fly in for Christmas itself. She goes to meet them at the airport and the moment she sees them both she runs for them. Her dad catches her as she leaps and her mum folds into the both of them and she burrows in between both of them and doesn't leave their side if she can help it from that point on.

Paris, France | January

She leaves for home with her parents. The plane lands and she gets off and everything is so wonderfully familiar but she feels strangely untethered. Her home is still much as it was when she left, and her room is identical save for more dust than normal. 

And she can’t quite work out what is missing until her phone buzzes insistently and she drops her unpacking to fumble for her phone and check the screen. 

They’re all from Ivan, and she realises as she reads through them it’s him she’s missing. He’s worked his way under her skin, going form imposing to reassuring too easily. 

miss u already mylene

Oh, merde 

i rly had a great time with you when i go back home to chatres in abt a month can i see u on the way thru

What?

Two months and it had never come up how close he lived to Paris. To her. And she want’s to see him again and isn't that incredible. Mylène doesnt know what she ever did to deserve such a gift but there’s only one thing she can do 

of course i want to see you too i didn t know you lived so close

His response is almost immediate  yeah crazy huh

A month of of texting back and forth follows. Ivan is beautifully poetic when he tries, and Mylène learns ever more about her new friend. When Ivan returns to France, he knocks on her door when she’s the only one home. 

“Hey,” he says, like. a month of separation hasn't stood between them like anticipation. She stretches her arms around his waist as far as she can and laughs with joy at the tidal wave of affection swamping her chest. He curls his much longer arms carefully, fondly, around her back.   

“I missed you. Please don’t ever stay away that long ever again,” she mutters earnestly into his chest. His arms tighten a fraction, before he shifts one hand to tilt her chin up so he can look her straight in the eye.   

“Never. I promise, Mylène, I won’t ever stay away from you for very long anymore. I don’t think I could.” 

She believes him when he looks at her like that, like he wants to see right through her eyes into her soul and know it intimately. Three days later he asks her on a date. 

She says yes 

They go for a walk.   

She tucks her hand in his and the world feels a little less terrifying when she does.

[itsallavengers]

do you have any fluffy peter & tony headcanons or anything tbh because im having a horrible day and im so anxious i feel like im gonna explode

(Okay I told myself I was gonna take a break from writing today but u know what. U deserve Good Tony and Peter Writing so,,,,I’m gonna do my best with that. Hope u feel better soon my friend, and I hope this helps in some way x)

His hands were shaking against the prompt cards he held in an iron-clad grip.

It was stupid, really. Ridiculous. He’d battled monsters and stopped bombs and yet here he was, getting worked up over a damn science presentation.

And there wasn’t even any reason why. He was good at science. Brilliant, if he did say so himself. And the whole school was full of science nerds like him, so it wasn’t as if he was going to get laughed off stage, either.

So why the damn hell did he feel so…awful?

Pull yourself together, Spiderman, he told himself, shaking his head a little and peaking out from behind the wings to watch the speech that was currently being given by another of his classmates. It was a mandatory thing in order for everyone to get a grade. Each of them had to present an idea or a theory to the rest of their year and put points that were for and against it. At the end, other kids asked questions, drilled you, probably started giggling and whispering if you couldn’t answer one of their godawful comments-

Ugh. He felt vaguely sick.

He’d been on edge the whole day just thinking about it. There were, what, a hundred faces, maybe more, in the audience? Including Flash, who was sat at the back, just waiting for Peter to slip up so he could laugh loudly or boo or something.

He could barely even think straight. His mind was all fuzzy and his palms were too sweaty. It felt like his lungs weren’t working properly anymore.

This sucked.

“Hey kid,”

Peter jerked wildly as someone stepped up to his shoulder. God, he’d been so out of it he hadn’t even heard them, what the hell was wrong with him-

“I- uh, hi Mr-” he turned, looking over and expecting to see a teacher. 

“Tony?” he said incredulously, as his brain registered the tinted yellow glasses and carefully sculpted van dyke.

“The one and only,” Tony replied absently, as he peered out through the wings and looked at the boy onstage, “you next?” He asked.

“I…what-you-how?” Peter spluttered, “what are you doing here?”

Tony looked at him, before shrugging. If Peter wasn’t mistaken, he almost looked sheepish. “You mentioned this thing, uh, a few days ago in the labs? I didn’t have anything on, so I though I’d come, show a bit of moral support, you know the drill,” he muttered. “How you feeling? You ready? Nervous?”

Peter opened his mouth, but the assurance failed to come out. He was a notoriously bad liar, after all. Plus, his vocal cords didn’t really seem to be working very well right now. Which, considering what he was about to go up and do, was Very Very Bad.

Tony looked him up and down, noting the quivering hands, slightly green face and general expression of terror before sighing and pulling the sunglasses off his nose in order to place them on the bridge of Peter’s. “Okay, Peter, today you are not Peter. Today, you are me, and I am about to give a heart-raising, mind-blowing, showstopping speech on…” he peered down, reading the top of Peter’s card, “effective and innovative designs to contribute toward a greener society,” 

Peter just nodded, looking up at Tony through the yellow lenses.

“First thing,” Tony began, raising a hand and wandering backward, before gesturing around the place, “you gotta own the room, kid. Movement is important. Hands, feet, eyes- don’t just stand there like a lemon and read off the prompts. You wanna get a good grade? You engage the audience,” he stepped forward, pointing at Peter’s eye, and then his own, “eye contact. Always do the eye contact. Kinda terrifying, admittedly, but you only need to do it for a second. You’re not gonna stare em down like they’re trying to rob a bank here, okay, you’re just catching their eye. Showing them you’re focused, like you’re talking to them specifically. Keep moving around, look at everyone.”

He stopped. Grabbed Peter’s shoulder. “So, Mr Stark, how do you begin your speech?”

Peter stopped, caught off guard like a rabbit in the headlights. “Uhhhhh-”

“Okay, well for starters, I definitely don’t do that,” Tony shook his head, pushing the glasses a little further up Peter’s nose as they began to slip down. “You wanna begin with something simple. Casual. This isn’t a funeral service. You’re just putting an idea across. ‘hello everybody’ will suffice. I’d say open with a joke, but I don’t think you’re ready for that yet.”

Peter had to agree on that one. He took another look over to the side, and noticed the boy was beginning to wrap up. 

Oh, hell. He was next.

Tony noticed, too, and he let his other hand rest on Peter’s shoulder as well, so that he was gripping Peter between both hands. “Listen, kid. Stick to the basics. Eye contact. Movement. Keep it light, and don’t focus too hard on individuals. It’ll only freak you out. You’re gonna do great, kid. Honestly, you’re definitely the smartest one out there, you got nothing to worry about.”

“People are gonna laugh,” Peter muttered, looking down at his feet. God, Flash- Flash was gonna be a total ass, he could predict it perfectly. Peter would pause, just for a moment, and Flash would do something stupid like laugh or make a stupid noise and then it would throw Peter off-

“No-one’s gonna laugh, Kid,” Tony said, before his eyes narrowed. “Unless there’s someone who’s planning on ruining it for you. Is there?”

“I dunno, Flash said some stuff earlier, but… I dunno,” Peter mumbled, biting his lip. He wished he’d been ill today. Or HYDRA had decided to attack a Macy’s or something. At least that would have been a genuine excuse.

“Flash, huh?” Tony mused quietly, peering out into the audience, “greasy looking pussy at the back, right?”

Peter laughed nervously, nodding. “Uh, yeah, that’s the one.”

Tony pulled a face, and then nodded to himself. “Okay. Okay, cool. Well listen, I’ll make sure Flash isn’t a problem, alright? Don’t worry about him.”

A sudden wave of applause filled the auditorium, and signalled Peter’s turn up. 

“Big breath. Come on, you’ll kick ass. You’re Spiderman. Or you can be me, just for a few minutes, if that’ll make it easier,” Tony assured him, patting his cheek  and smiling.

“-And now, it is my great pleasure to present to you, Peter Parker!” The Principal announced, and another round of applause burst out.

Okay. Showtime.

“Wait, kid, sunglasses!” Tony caught him before he could move, sliding them back off his face with a grin, “they’re a tad too big for you. Don’t want them sliding off whilst you’re deep in the middle of solving the world’s energy crisis.”

Peter huffed out a nervous laugh, and then did as Tony said, taking a long, deep breath before turning away and walking slowly toward the main stage.

He could do this. Tony did it all the time. He could be Tony, just for five and a half minutes, right? Tony had said he could.

His hands were still shaking a little as he stepped in front of everyone, but he felt a little braver. A little prouder. Maybe even confident.

At the back of the hall, he watched Tony slip in through the doors, more inconspicuous than Peter had ever seen him as he wandered toward the back row and grabbed a chair, leaning over the back of it and whispering something into-

Peter sighed, unable to hold back the little grin of satisfaction as Flash’s head turned to look up at him, eyes widening in a hilarious fashion as he realised, yet again, he was being told off by Tony Stark.

It was even more amusing to watch the colour drain from his face as Tony continued to whisper in his ear. He watched as Flash nodded a little jerkily, and then Tony smiled, before stepping back and leaning against the back wall, right in the middle where Peter could see him.

He grinned up when Peter made eye contact, and Peter smiled back.

He could do this.

“You did it!” 

Peter turned, smile on his face as he watched Tony jog up toward him, hands raised in a thumbs-up as he grinned over. Luckily, the presentation had been at the last period, and so Peter was free to get the fuck out and finally relax for the first time that day.

“Yeah- I think it went...well,” Peter admitted happily.

 Tony pulled a face, letting his arm fall across Peter’s shoulders and squeeze. “Uhm, you did more than ‘well’, kid- you totally blew everyone else out of the water.”

“You didn’t even see everyone else, Tony.”

He felt the shrugging gesture Tony made beside him. “I’m gonna go ahead and assume here, kid. You were great. Very Tony Stark-ish. Except with less narcissism and more genuine-ness, y’know? Never would’ve guessed you were nervous.”

Peter grimaced. “I thought I was gonna throw up the entire time.”

“Well then, you are a remarkable actor, Mr Parker,” Tony told him, “hey, how about doing my speech for me this weekend at the charity gala I am being forcibly blackmailed into attending? I have a busy schedule of sleeping and eating and I don’t want it disturbed.”

Peter laughed, giving Tony a shove, “thanks, but if it’s all the same with you, I’m never going to give a speech ever again. That was crazy. Everyone stares at you. What the hell?”

“Yeah, when you’re the only person talking in a huge auditorium, people tend to do that,” Tony huffed, shaking his head, “so damn rude of them.”

“It really is,” Peter agreed, hiking his bag up a little further on to his shoulder before turning to tony, a grin beginning to form on his face. “Hey- what did you tell Flash, by the way?”

Tony tapped his nose secretively. “None of your business.”

“Aw, come on, I see him most, it’s more my business than yours.”

“Hey, maybe I just like him. Maybe I was having a catch up, Peter, huh? You’re not special, I might be secretly mentoring him, too.”

Peter rolled his eyes, shoving Tony playfully and then grabbing his arm before he went careering to the floor. “Whoops- superstrength.”

“That was a threat, wasn’t it? I feel threatened. Again. Physical threats, this time, too- it’s getting worse-”

“Tony,” Peter whined frustratedly, “please tell me.”

Tony stopped, hand half-way to reaching his car door before turning to look back at Peter. “I told him if he made a single sound, I’d hack the school system and turn all his A* into C’s,” he admitted, before adding “is that bad? I don’t know- I tend to threaten both adults and kids alike, what can I say, I’m all about equality,” 

Peter watched, smile on his face as Tony jumped into his car and pulled his shades back on. “You did good, kid. I’ll see you ‘round,” he said, shooting Peter another thumbs up before revving the engine and pulling out of the car park.

Peter watched, shaking his head fondly. He felt kinda exhausted- the day had been stressful as fuck, and it had taken it out of him. But hey- at least it was over. And at least it hadn’t turned into a full-blown panic attack, either. That would’ve just been embarrassing.

“Thanks, Tony,” Peter muttered, waving cheerily over at a still rather horrified looking Flash from across the road before beginning to make his way down the drive.

“Wait. You got a lift?”

Peter turned, watching as Tony reversed back to him and raised an eyebrow at him curiously from the open window.

“Sorry, I don’t get in cars with strangers,” Peter deadpanned, beginning to walk forward again, hiding a fond grin as Tony just rolled forward and followed him.

“Uhh,” Tony made a face, turning around and shuffling in his car for a second before pulling out something. It was a bag of kisses, a few of them already eaten, with the wrappers thrown back in the bag. “I got candy?”

Peter broke his deadpan stare a second later, in order to laugh. Tony was a fucking idiot, honestly. “Right, okay, I’ve been convinced,” he declared, before sliding over the bonnet and opening the door on the other side.

As soon as he’d fallen in, Tony flicked him on the ear. “Ow!” He yelped, looking betrayed.

“Don’t slide your dirty school jeans over my car, you heathen,” Tony scolded, before turning back to the road and stepping on accelerate. “And don’t touch my radio. We’re listening to my music, not yours.”

Peter groaned, “ugh, but your music taste is-”

“Unless you want to get forcibly removed from this vehicle, I suggest you quit running your mouth, boy,” 

Peter looked over to him. There was silence for a stretch, before Peter muttered, “Metallica sucks.”

“RIGHT,” Tony pulled his sunglasses off, chucking them at Peter’s chest and then moving his hand to the dash where all his modified features sat, “that’s it, you’re getting ejected, buh-bye demon child-”

“TONY NO I’M SORRY I DIDN’T M-”

[starwrite-er]

Poster Boy [Chapter 15] - Poe Dameron x Reader

A/N: wow, it's been a damn long time you guys. Thanks for sticking around, and not, the long awaited next chapter of Poster Boy! also sidenote: it's been a while so idk if u have time but maybe it'd be worth rereading the fic so far bc i know i've forgotten shit and im the damn author yknow

A/N: oh my god im out of practise

Tags: A NUMBER OF THESE WERE NOT WROKING SO THEY HAVE BEEN REMOVED. PLEASE LET ME KNOW IF YOU WANT YOUR URL TO BE UPDATED HERE @plethora-of-things @britishteahater @umbrellabrass @purple-skeleton @winchesterandpie @the-creative-lie @i-alrightokaycool @definitely-nota-fangirl @krakenkitty

 I'd always assumed that, for me, routine would simply always consist of missions and training. It was what it was like for the longest time, yet here I am, the familiarity of such a routine fading oh so fast.

 When I haven't been checking on the construction of the new D'Qar village for the Parmarthens, or ignoring Snap's confidence with our bet, it seems I've been playing a constant game of hide and seek with Keipii. Fortunately enough for me, she's predictable enough for me to expect to find her near Poe at any given time.

 "You'll depart for Coruscant, accompanied by the medic-in-training Niyele, in three days. As usual, the mission specifics have been sent to your datapad. You're dismissed." I am instructed. I make a swift exit, making my way to where Poe has been training some new recruits the past couple of days. I know Keipii has been engrossed in watching the process.

 On my way to the training room, Niyele catches up with me. The primary reason for her coming with me was to get her accustomed to different planets and their cultures, seeing as she had never really left Pamarthe before the battle. Still, even in the short while she'd been at base, she's already showing great potential in her chosen profession, so having her with me in case of the mission going south was reassuring.

 "So, Coruscant, right? Anything I should know?" She questions, walking alongside me.

 "The deeper you go, the worse it gets," I put plainly. "We've staying in the mid-to-top area, in close proximity to where our target is staying. We should be fine, but it's still a rowdy place, and stormtroopers will be on patrol, so don't wander off. You don't have the training that I have."

 "Sounds good to me. We won't be travelling in the X-Wing though, will we?" Niyele asks. It's her first mission, so I suppose her curiosity is unsurprising.

 "Nah, it'd be a dead giveaway to our identity. We'd be dead before we got out of the ship." I tell her. She hums in response, taking a moment to think.

 "A few years ago, if you had told me I'd be going on a recon mission for the Resistance with you, I would have never believed it," Niyele laughs softly. "But here we are."

 "Yeah," I agree. "It's still surreal that you're here, to be honest."

 "Honestly, I'm still shocked that I plucked up the courage to actually do something," She pauses, mulling over her words. "I mean, we've been friends for so long. You were always so committed to the idea you'd join the Resistance and help save the galaxy, while I was committed to, well, just about the opposite of that."

 I laugh. "You were so terrified by just the idea of conflict. You still wanted to help people, though," I smile, thinking back to years past. "You've made the right choice. As a medic, you'll save lives, and in turn help us to save the lives of others across the galaxy." Our walk comes to a temporary stop. "It's nice to have you here. I'm proud of you." I tell her reassuringly.

 "Thanks. It really means a lot," Niyele returns my smile before checking her datapad. "Well, it looks like I've got places to be. I look forward to working with you, Commander."

 I grin back at her, waving goodbye to her as she jogs off down an adjoining corridor. With my close friend off doing other things, I continue my search for Keipii.

 As I continue my stroll down the halls of the base, I hear the laughter of the recruits before I even arrive at the room. I crack open the door, peering in curiously.

 "Well, I was gonna ask if Keipii was with you, but I think I have some different questions to ask now," I say, taking in the sight of a seemingly-flustered Poe Dameron. I raise a brow. "Seriously, what did I miss?"

 "Mom! Yeah, I'm here, is it dinner yet?" Keipii suddenly appears in front of me, speaking quickly, bouncing up and down on the balls of her feet, cheeks red. She seems antsy, as though she'd just made a mistake, and I know it's not because she called me 'mom' - she's been doing that almost since we got back to D'Qar two weeks ago. I regard her with suspicion for a moment, but quickly brush it off.

 "Uh, yeah - hey, is that Poe's jacket?" I realise. The girl glances down at her attire, noticing the extra item of clothing.

 "I was cold and he said I could wear it." Kei defends herself, arms crossed and the sleeves of the much-too-large jacket rolled up to better suit her small stature. I roll my eyes, waving goodbye to the recruits as we take our leave.

 I'm stopped by Poe before I can even make it a few paces away from the door. "Hey! Uh, yeah, hey," It takes him a moment to meet my eye. Weird, he's never like this. "I've got a recon mission tomorrow, and I'm leaving early." He says, quickly snapping back to his usual self.

 "How early is early? And for how long?" I ask him, biting my cheek.

 "A-few-hours-before-dawn early. I won't see you for a couple days." He says. I frown. My mission is in just three days - our missions may overlap.

 "Promise us you'll make it back safe though, okay? I've got a recon mission of my own in three days. I'd rather not come back to find you in the medbay." I reply. He chuckles, agreeing.

 He grins at Keipii, kneeling down to her level. "That jacket looks good on you. Might need to do a bit more growing first, though," He says, to which the young girl smiles bashfully. He presses a kiss to the top of her head as he murmurs a quick goodbye. The small, sweet action triggers a feeling of happiness deep inside me as a smile. He stands, facing me again.

 "I'll see you both soon," He says, pressing a kiss to my forehead. "Okay?"

 The shock from his action renders me speechless as I nod in agreement. "See you soon, Poster Boy." I smile, finding my voice. He disappears back inside the training room, but my feet are rooted to the spot as I process what just happened.

 My face is flushed and my heart is fluttering, and I can't seem to stop the grin that's made it's way onto my face as Keipii drags me to the Dining Hall.

 I try to distract myself from my newly realised fondness by thinking about how Snap is going to react to someone who wasn't even in on the bet winning.

 The following morning, I find myself sitting in the hangar, leaning back against some crates with Keipii beside me as we wait for Poe to show up. Sure, sleep was sacrificed, but isn't it worth it?

 It's BB-8 who notices our presence and alerts us to Poe's arrival. A string of gleeful beeps and whirrs causes the man to spin around, wide-eyed at the sight of Keipii and I. My own droid chirps in conversation  with BB-8 while the little girl, despite her exhaustion, runs and leaps into Poe's arms. I smile at the scene as she happily chatters away to him and he reassures her that he'll quickly return. Keipii slips off the jacket she had taken from him yesterday, returning it for the time being before taking a step back.

 And so comes my turn to say goodbye. I walk into Poe's open arms, no words quite needed as we settle into a warm embrace.

 After a minute, I pull back a bit so to look Poe in the face. "You're the best pilot in the Resistance, so it's not like you need it but," I start, pausing my words to take a moment to kiss his cheek. "Good luck out there, Poster Boy."

 With that, Keipii and I stand to the side, BB-09 at our feet as we watch Poe leave the planet. We watch until we see his distant jump to hyperspace.

 As we return to our room, Keipii yawns before mumbling a confession to me. "I called him dad accidentally yesterday when he was training the recruits."

 I trip over both my words and my feet at this.