#it's been 6 years but it actually felt like 84

[saessenach]

Graduated today ✨

[neutron-stars-collision]

Deadlines & Commitments

Neil x F!Reader

Chapter 7 - Bermondsey Underground Station

Masterlist; Chapter 6 Summary: You reconnect with Neil a couple of days after the night you spent together. The meeting sparks many questions and revelations. In other news: Tenet agents are a nuisance. Neil knows that best. Warnings: Swearing, explicit language, tiny bits of angst because who would I be without it. Author's Notes: It's been 84 years... but it's here! 🎉 And it's 16k apparently. Sorry about that. As you've noticed my brain (and heart) are all over the place but this story is still very much alive. These two are not letting me go, soo... Let's keep going. Thank you to anyone who's waited this long 💕 I really appreciate you. I've got so much planned for them and very excited to share it with you. And, seeing as from next Saturday I'll be in London for a week, there might be even more inspiration ✨ (I'm definitely taking Jubilee Line from St. John's Wood to Canary Wharf. It's all I'm saying) For now - enjoy two idiots being idiots. And a cameo appearances from the Tenet crew because it's high time Cupid met them ;))) Taglist: @hollandorks, @kristevstewart, @stargirl25 (let me know if you want to be added)

Checking the contents of your bag one last time before leaving the flat, you sighed from the oncoming headache already building behind your temple. What a stupid idea it was to hit the snooze button five times instead of being a big girl and getting up at the first sound of your alarm. Now, thanks to your idiocy, you had no time to get that much-needed hit of caffeine if you were to make it for the usual 7:21 train from St. John’s Wood. And you were keen to make it. If only because you promised him.

You were less eager to admit other reasons motivated the rush, going far beyond an agreement that Neil would not hold it against you if you were to break the promise. Reasons such as the inexplicable itch underneath your skin that started sometime last night upon a reminder that you were going to see him today. For the first time since that night. The nightÔ - now officially trademarked, thanks to your idiotic brain. The feeling did not cease even when you tried to remind yourself that there was nothing extraordinary about what transpired then. No actual reason to behave in this irrational way.

Nothing of importance happened. Nothing ground-breaking or life-changing. Just an expected result of weeks of flirting and tension triggered by a bottle of red wine and a natural connection. Just spectacular sex.

If you dared add. A self-satisfied smile stretched over your face at a mere memory, powering you through those final steps before you could leave the apartment and lock the doors, bounding down the steps with no concern over the noise. Fuck the neighbours. Or something like that.

By now, four days later, you were quite good at getting rid of the confusing thoughts the moment they bloomed. Not seeing Neil certainly helped, as did the harrowing afternoons and evenings devoted to the performances. On the stage, you never had the time to think about nonsense such as this, focused on executing the choreography and maintaining that signature, flirtatious Cupid smile that was even rewarded a mention in one of the first ballet reviews. (Truly, a highlight of your unmemorable life if you were to be honest).

The other thing that helped make sense of the mess in your head was Neil’s phone call. It acted as a push in the right direction, a reminder that you had to be the reasonable one. The one to guide him along, highlighting the facts as there were. That the night mattered, in the meaning that it was hardly forgettable. Nothing had to change between you. And most importantly, Neil was the one calling the shots because you were more than happy to continue.

You repeated those truths in the quiet of your head until they felt like certainties. And now, finally, they did. On a cloudy Wednesday morning, you could freely admit you knew what you were doing. The Friday night confusion was just a glitch, an inconsequential event in the grand scheme of things that would bear no impact. Now or ever.

Smiling as you shouldered past the loitering tourists at the entrance to the station, you allowed yourself a nod. Everything was in order. The last piece of the puzzle – Neil’s say in the matter – was the only thing missing.

Despite the wish to remain as detached as possible, you hoped it would be a ‘yes’ rather than the opposite. Even if only because your selfish soul did not want to let him go. Just yet.

The 7:21 train arrived at the platform as you stepped off the escalator and rushed into the middle carriage. By now, your gaze was trained on finding Neil with embarrassing speed, eyes darting over the faces of commuters until they would find what they sought. Today, it took less than ten seconds to locate him, sat in one of the double-seat rows. Neil must have been on the lookout as well, for as soon as your eyes fell on him, you found him staring back. An unshakeable shiver travelled down your spine as Neil’s mouth quirked into a smile. Friendly, yet uncertain. As if he was debating the possibility that you could turn on your heel and leave instead of crossing the space to join him. The idea seemed ridiculous enough that you had to smother a laugh as you fell into the plastic seat with a bright grin ready on your face.

There was no other place you would rather be. Truly.

“Hi,” raising your hand in a pointless wave, you widened the obnoxious grin and allowed yourself another scanning look over his face.

Nothing seemed to be amiss except for the slight weariness in his gaze, as if, for Neil, the few days apart did not eradicate the doubts and worries. As if he was still not sure where you would go from here. Or how he should act around you now. After everything.

You vowed to erase his concerns before you were to part at Southwark. That simply would not do.

“Hey…” Neil murmured the complimentary greeting, his hands flexing in his lap. Before you could decide to reach over and still their nervous twitching, a flash of pain passed through your skull, making you wince. That did not go unnoticed “Are you okay?�� the softness of his tone made your heart give out a warning summersault.

With anyone else, you would heed the warning and do everything to get rid of the strange sensation filling your chest. With Neil, you could only swallow past the feeling and offer him a dimmed smile and an honest reply:

“Yeah, it’s just a headache. I didn’t have the time for coffee if I wanted to make it” the grumpiness shone through your voice as you pressed your fingers against the throbbing spot on your temple and sent an inward curse to the gods responsible for the passage of time.

With half the mind to start digging in your bag for the painkiller that was definitely (hopefully) somewhere inside, you did not clock Neil’s movements until he tapped your knee and placed a takeaway coffee cup in your line of vision. Startled, you turned your head to look at him, an unasked question already on your tongue.

“Here, you can finish this” flashing you an easy smile, Neil all but shoved the lukewarm cup into your hand.

Your brain needed additional minutes to process the unforeseen developments as you tightened the hold over the cup and regarded him silently. Only then the shocked, delighted smile made an appearance on your face:

“Good god, I didn’t know we’re at the stage where we’re sharing caffeine sources” the faux gasp was a worthwhile addition, triggering Neil’s laughter.

For a split second, you were content to bask in the glory of it and the knowledge that you were the sole cause. You did this to him.

Still, the sentiment was true. You could barely recall the last time someone was kind enough to buy coffee for you, let alone share theirs. And never on their own accord, leaving you almost lightheaded from the tenderness of the gesture. You stifled the feeling with another exaggerated smile.

“Do you want it or not?” Neil arched his eyebrow, aiming for sternness but failing.

You could see the joy in his eyes, lighting them from within.

“Oh, I do, I do” sending him one last grin, you raised the cup to your mouth and took a long sip. As that first taste of the cappuccino hit your tastebuds, you stifled a pleased groan and relaxed into the seat, “Thank you, kind Sir” tipping an invisible top hat at Neil, you cherished another chuckle dragged out of him and added, “You’ve saved my life” taking another sip, you met Neil’s gaze, seemingly unwavering in its focus on your face.

You watched as his eyes roamed over your features to glance at your mouth and stay there. Stuck perhaps. Without daring to give it second thoughts, you allowed your tongue to dart out and swipe over your lips. Even then, you did not look away from Neil, feeling the electricity crackle and snap between you. Another beat passed before he looked up, startled and caught with the blush dusting his cheeks. It was impossible not to chuckle, breaking the tension by looking away.

Not without effort. And not for long.

“Eternally at your service” you got as far as downing the coffee before Neil spoke again, his quip making you inhale sharply.

Being caught unaware by blatant flirting was new. Unprecedented, yet not unwelcome. And easily redeemed. You turned your head to meet Neil’s unwavering gaze and offered a knowing smirk, matching his expression. Without wasting another second, you leaned in closer, eradicating the gap between you and pressed a lingering kiss to his cheek.

“You are, aren’t you?” the question did what you needed it to as Neil leaned back enough to meet your gaze again and quirked the corner of his mouth into a pleased smile.

The awkwardness of those first few minutes seemed to be past you now, overtaken by the easy banter. You settled into the feeling and the comfort it brought without trying to understand why that was the case. It was better that way.

After a few minutes of comfortable silence, you felt Neil’s gaze back on you. Its weight was not a burden, leisurely caressing the outlines of your body before opening the page for a new question:

“So… How’s work?” you glanced at Neil just in time to see his easy smile, the interest clear in his eyes.

That part of your friendship was something you valued highly because you could not find it anywhere else. With anyone else. Only Neil seemed to care about the mechanics of professional ballet and the trials and tribulations it entailed. Only he seemed curious about your goals and aspirations, always so eager to hype you up despite you never asking for it.

You were sure the soft smile was already present on your face as you offered him a reply:

“It’s good. Got stellar reviews, as I’ve told you, and now the other Cupid is taking over for a couple of days so I can prepare for the auditions for the next one” the mention of what awaited spiked your anxiety, even if only by a fraction.

Because the prospect was terrifying. Even with the hours of prep and previous season’s experience, you could not ignore the fears. There was no certainty you were good enough to get another breaking role. There was no confidence in that matter either if you had to search your heart and soul. There was only fear nagging at the edges of your conscience with increasing urgency.

You knew it would only get worse in the span of half a week that was left.

“The Nutcracker?” Neil’s complimentary question kept you anchored in the present.

It also proved that he listened to all the bullshit you spewed every time you met. And that, much like shared coffee and the desire to get to know you, was worth more than you could express. More than you dared contemplate if you wanted to maintain the relatively unbothered mood and the illusion of nonchalance.  

“Yeah. I’ll prepare a couple of variations and hope for the best” only when you felt Neil’s hand cover yours did you become aware of your fidgeting, of the restless fingers picking at the hangnails. The comforting weight of his palm stilted the movement and offered bravery you did not realise you needed to speak the thoughts into existence, “I could show you what I’ve got in a couple of days,” the wavering notes of your voice made you cringe, instantly removing any pretence of cool you wished you could maintain. If only because you cared. Too much “If you-” the end of that rambled disclaimer was cut short.

Thank god.

“I’d like that” Neil squeezed your hands and sent you a reassuring smile, somehow already knowing what it was that you needed, “Seems like I’m already experiencing the withdrawal symptoms” the candid tone did nothing to help you ignore his wink or minimise the impact of the statement.

You blinked twice as your brain absorbed and processed the words. Only then you turned towards Neil with a deadpan expression and asked:

“… from my unremarkable dancing?” measuring him up silently, you took passive note of the station you had just arrived at.

There was still time. Time to offer Neil space to take back what he just bestowed on you. For him to deny the praise hidden in the corners of his affectionate smile and within the light in his eyes. But he did not seem eager to backtrack on the words you did not think you deserved.

“From your incredible dancing, Cupid,” signing off the accolade with another one of his charming smiles, he lifted your hand to his lips and turned it to press a fleeting kiss to the inside of your wrist.

Over the pulse point. A gasp was inevitable as you closed your eyes and let the sensation burn through your body and soul. Just as Neil intended. It was fleeting, yet the impact felt almost permanent. Impossible to shake off.

You did your best, opening your eyes to see his pleased smirk and ignoring it entirely to huff in pretend annoyance:

“Christ, you’re such a charmer” an eye roll thrown into the mix completed the act as Neil let go of your hand and let it drop back to your lap.

The sensation persisted, making your skin tingle. Unconsciously, your thumb rubbed over the exact spot he kissed. It did nothing to eradicate the sensitivity.

“You like it, though” mindless of your turmoil, Neil bumped his shoulder into yours, the dangerous grin blooming on his beautiful face.

It took you one look to know you were foolish to think one night with him could have been enough. Stupid to believe Neil was someone you could let slip through your fingers after getting to have him. Now, with the decision entirely up to him, you could only wait, taking what was freely offered. With that reminder, it was easy to forgo the remains of pretence. Even if just this once. Once more.

“You’re right” the only sign that he was not expecting your straightforward answer was how his eyes widened, roaming over your face with renewed intensity. By now, you knew there was no point in trying to decipher his looks, so you simply stared back. Unwavering and confident in what you wanted him to know, “I like you,” noting the slight hitch in his breath, you added, “Neil,” emphasizing his name the way you did on Friday night, you met his increasingly alarmed gaze and offered a smile. A wordless reassurance that he need not fret that you have gone insane. Not yet, anyway. Before the charged moment could evolve into something you could not control, you swallowed hard and asked the only question that required no thinking or clarity of mind, “How’s the parish?”

The manic grin, signing off the not-subtle change of topic, was a touch too much. Admittedly. It slid off your face as quickly as it appeared and was buried in the hard stare you directed at the dirty floor of the carriage.

But not for long.

“Great, many… devotees and all” the joy in Neil’s voice alone was not enough to make you look up.

But it was enough to make you crack a tentative smile, relieved that the joke still had not gone stale. You quite enjoyed it. For whatever reason.

Following the hopeful thought, you raised your head again to meet his gaze. On the periphery of your attention, you noticed the fact that Neil had never looked away, but you filed the knowledge for future use (that would likely never come) and instead offered him a cheeky look:

“All that jazz?” framing your face with infamous jazz hands, you waited with bated breath for the quip to land.

It did with an uproar of laughter and Neil’s striking eyes gazing at you with something you could not decipher if you tried. Wordlessly, you offered him something similar, an affectionate look that spoke words you never could force your tongue to form. It spoke of comfort. Of being understood like never before. The gratitude in Neil’s face was worth the risk.

“Jazz and hymnals,” offering you another manic grin, he broke the eye contact to glance at the floor. Before you could begin to think of something to say, Neil swallowed hard and spoke again, “Actually, I wanted to ask if you wanted to join me and some of my work friends in a pub on Friday?” the only sign that he was nervous was the slight tremble in his voice, followed with close to no time given for your answer, before Neil dived into another winded explanation, “It’s just a hangout, but ever since I dared mention that I met a ballerina, they won’t stop pestering me about you” a nervous chuckle tore from his parted mouth, making you look up and study him closely. That strange shyness seemed to be back, as always out of place on such a beautiful face. It bloomed along the sharp lines of his cheekbones and in how he picked at the chapped skin of his bottom lip with his teeth. Without thinking, you covered his fidgeting hands with yours. A gentle squeeze was all the confirmation you needed to know it was a good call, “So I want to introduce you” his earnest eyes met yours, but before you could even think about the answer, Neil added, “As my friend” he nodded, once and curtly as if convincing himself of what he just said and he fell silent.

The resulting pause was almost hard to absorb. It rang in your ears like an explosion. That was not something you expected to hear. Probably never. Not from Neil. Admittedly, the concept of him talking about you with someone else seemed foreign enough to be nonsense. Not probable.

And yet. You did not have to search your heart to know what the answer was supposed to be.

Aware of the few different ways you could approach it, you chose to fall back on what came naturally. Unlike honesty and vulnerability.

“As long as no one asks me to get on my knees and pray, I’m in” shooting Neil a smirk that felt a tad too much, you waited for his startled gaze to meet yours and winked, dropping your voice a notch to share what was meant for his ears only “And yes, I would get on my knees for other reasons” there was nothing to add there.

And nothing to take back either. No regrets as you stared at Neil, patiently awaiting a response. All the while, your fingers kept the loose hold over his hand, brushing over his knuckles in repetitive moves to soothe the both of you. Even if you would never admit as much.

You watched as the shock in his eyes gave way to begrudged acceptance, disappointed yet not surprised by your constant desire to be a nuisance. It was almost flattering. It made your blood sing with a spark of something you were keen to assign to pure exhilaration. And arousal, too.

“I didn’t ask” after what felt like ages of silence, Neil swallowed hard and made an effort to look away from you, feigning disinterest.

Still, his fingers squeezed yours, betraying the act. Smiling, you squeezed back and disentangled your hand from his as you took note of the approaching station. It was funny (and fucking annoying) how fast time seemed to pass when one wanted to cherish every second.

“But you wanted to,” shrugging upon Neil’s arched eyebrow and an indignant noise of protest that was never going anywhere, you leaned in to kiss him on the cheek fleetingly and got up from the seat “Give me time and place, and I’ll be there” smiling in the face of his utter bewilderment, you added, “On my best behaviour” a glance out the window showed you the tiled wall of the Southwark station, and signalled that it was high time to move.

Unfortunately.

“Like right now?” the humour in Neil’s voice was a reason to look back at him, taking note of the delight you could see on his face.

It proved all you already knew. He enjoyed it. All of it. Your insanity included. The understanding was enough to make you grin like a mad woman and nod:

“Yes, exactly,” the carriage drew to a slow stop, and people rushed from their seats as you gripped the railing and met Neil’s gaze for another prolonged moment.

“Perfect,” mirroring your smile, Neil’s mouth twisted into another trademark smirk.

The doors slid open with the PA message talking of gaps and stations. You raised your hand in a brief wave as you let the tide of commuters lead you onto the platform and away from Neil.

Not bad for a first meeting. Right?

***

In hindsight, which was a gift many possessed, but Neil decidedly did not, it was probably expected, that his friends would take every opportune moment to ask about Cupid. Even when taking a short break in the common room. Even when he was halfway through the second espresso of the day (and a third cup of coffee, because whoever needed sanity, anyway?). Even when it was the last thing he expected. Or, perhaps, especially then.

“How’s your ballerina, mate?” the question arrived exactly when Neil had his mouth full of coffee and was too busy staring at his phone to realise he was targeted with another of Ives’ laser stares.

A coughing fit, brought forward by the ever so graceful tendency to choke on drinks whenever cornered, was the only answer Neil was capable of for the first ten seconds. Glaring at Ives with what he hoped was enough murderous intent to make the soldier reflect on his actions, he put the cup on the coffee table in front and glanced at the remaining person in the room. Just to anticipate further assault, should it follow. Naturally.

Wheeler seemed unbothered, sipping her daily green tea and scrolling on the phone. But by now, Neil knew better than to ignore her existence. With one final warning look in her direction, he turned back to Ives. Just in time to see an infuriating grin spread over the man’s face, begging to be wiped with a punch. Ignoring the urge to do just that, Neil offered a reply:

“She’s… good. Great” the words felt flat, not measuring up to everything Cupid was.

But it was also the only admiration Neil was willing to impart to them. Those words were safe, not betraying the exact depths of his affection. He might not be embarrassed about how much he valued Cupid and every little thing about her, but he was certainly not eager to get into another conversation that would lead nowhere. The teasing was awful, as it was already.

“Of course she is,” Ives’ repartee muttered loudly enough to be heard by Neil from the other side of the room was accompanied by another of his annoying smirks.

Was Neil a better, smarter person, he probably would have ignored it. But he was neither better nor smarter. The spark of exasperation has been lit, burning through his chest with increased ferocity. But, sadly, no matter how frustrated Neil felt, he knew that none of it warranted physical violence. Yet, that is.

So, leaning back on the sofa to at least maintain physical comfort, since the mental one was not available, Neil chose to channel the ire into words.

“Your point?” arching his eyebrow, he focused his gaze on the current enemy of the state, awaiting an answer. When nothing followed except for Ives’ nonchalant shrug and Wheeler’s scoff in the background, he continued, “Never mind, I don’t care” he knew he sounded like a petulant child throwing a tantrum, but there was hardly anything to do but push onwards, choosing this moment to drop the news his ‘friends’ (way too generous term) surely would be interested in “I invited her to the pub, by the way,” Neil could feel the grin making its place on his face, erasing any pretence of indifference “Tomorrow” even the reminder alone was enough to spark the excitement.

Alongside it, he could feel the inklings of anxiety bloom to life. If only because he had no idea how Cupid would react to the antics of his friends. Or whether his dear crew was even capable of surviving her. He pushed past the worrying thoughts for the time being by reaching out for the cookies on the table. The sweetness of chocolate chips melted on his tongue, eradicating the fears. For now.

“Why?” this time, Ives’ question was stripped of all remaining nonchalance and certainty.

He was not expecting that. Neil’s mouth twisted into a smirk, revelling in satisfaction. He met the man’s surprised stare with confidence, taking in the uncertainty coming to life underneath that cocksure act his friend liked to maintain. Well, no more.

One glance at Wheeler confirmed the upper hand he has seemingly achieved, making Neil push forward:

“Because maybe once you meet her, you’ll stop being so annoying about this,” the steel edge in his tone was not something he could explain.

Except that he suddenly felt the need to defend the relationship with the woman in question against all forms of offence. Even imaginary.

“No chance, sweetheart” it seemed that Ives did not need as much time as Neil hoped to recover.

The grin was back on his face, accompanied by a wink. Outrageous. Ignoring the sudden urge to hiss like a furious cat, Neil rolled his eyes and dropped his gaze to the table.

Despite her suspicious silence, he could feel Wheeler’s eyes boring holes into his head from her perch in the corner of the room. That was a ticking bomb, awaiting her moment in the chaos to blow up. Or, less dramatically put, waiting for her time to shine and ask a question Neil knew he would not be able to answer. It hung over his head like the guillotine’s blade.

“Yeah, I worried as much,” punctuating the annoyance with a huff, he raised his head with renewed determination. It fueled the words he needed to be spoken, “Still, Cupid is delightful, so you’ll sure like her” it was as much a certainty as it was a plea.

A hopeful thought. A dose of wishful thinking, indeed.

Somewhere at the back of his head, Neil became aware of the many different words to describe her whirling around his brain, thousands of synonyms and endearments scratching at his consciousness. As if desperate to be heard. To make a point. But there was no point to make here. Cupid was a delight. She was also the most beautiful woman he had ever met. She was someone he could not have. But that was alright. It really was.

“I’ve no doubts about that” Wheeler’s voice broke the silence, startling Neil. He turned his head sharply to face her, noticing the quiet confidence visible in her sharp green gaze. Still, he appreciated the vote of trust, “Did you kiss?” the question exploded with the force of an atomic bomb.

As he should have expected. The nonchalance in her face told Neil he fucked up, ignored the signs, and now he has been left gaping at his two tormentors with no way out of the interrogation. Well, he could have just got up and left. But Neil was also pretty sure he would be cornered in the lift next. Or on the stairs. Or wherever else it was possible to torture him. Sighing heavily, Neil sagged onto the sofa and covered his face with his hands. A deep breath or two were in order. Perhaps he was overreacting. The dramatic tendencies yet again won with any sense of logic or stoicism. As always.

Fuck it. Heaving another weary sigh, Neil raised his head to stare at the wall as he stammered:

“I- We-” finally, he summoned enough courage to say what needed to be said, “Yeah… we did” with the speed of his thoughts at the minute, it was no surprise that the brain did not get the memo to stop fucking talking. No surprise at all to hear himself add another tidbit of information, almost without his conscious decision to do so, “We also had sex” as soon as the words left this mouth, Neil groaned, barely resisting the urge to get up and flee the scene with burning cheeks and mortification capable of killing him on the spot.

The fact that this sometimes happened – saying things before he was even aware he was doing it – was embarrassing enough. Especially now. The silence in the room upon his ill-timed admission felt thick enough to be cut with a knife. Even a butter knife. Unwilling to see the exact reactions on the faces of his companions, Neil trained his gaze on the floor, feeling the blood rush in his ears, the pulse pounding with worrying speed. He could feel their stares, boring holes in his head and trying to peer inside.

“You- what?” in the few years of knowing Ives, Neil was sure he had never heard the man quite so flabbergasted.

If it were not so surprising he would almost find the reaction offensive. Because why was it so unexpected? He tried not to ponder the answers to that question.

“Last Friday, after the ballet,” throwing the background information with as much indifference as possible, Neil slowly raised his head.

He was met with a wide-eyed stare from Ives’, his bright blue eyes seemingly stuck in a constant state of shock. Yeah, that was that when it came to not being offended. Exasperation rose in his chest, tempting Neil to do something very stupid. But before he could utter another word, Wheeler’s question filled the silence:

“So, you’re together now?” contrasting her trusted partner in crime, the brown-haired woman appeared disturbingly calm.

She put down the cup of tea with a measured move and rested her hip against the cupboards, unnervingly staring at Neil.

There was no need. He seemed unable to keep quiet anyway.

“No, of course not. I’ve told you that she doesn’t do relationships. It’s just sex” this was an answer long prepared, something he could recite from the heart. Why that was, Neil dared not think. Instead, he shrugged, for the umpteenth time within the past ten minutes, wishing to exit the conversation and escape to the North Pole. Or someplace like that. Polar bears were sure much better company to the two idiots he was paired off with presently, “Why are you staring at me like that, Ives?” he could hear the edge in his voice, the sharpness of vowels revealing the depths of annoyance.

The last thing Neil needed was someone sowing doubts about what was unchangeable. Not now when he finally began to feel settled again, for the first time since that fateful Friday night. Now, when he was so close to giving Cupid the answer. Now, when he almost felt like he knew what he wanted to do about it.

Not now.

“Because I think you’ve gone insane” there was no dose of mercy or understanding in Ives’ reply; the man focused his blue-eyed gaze on Neil without respite, clearly driven to say his part. For better or for worse, “You don’t do casual sex. With anyone” before Neil could offer an interjection at what was clearly not true, the man continued. Somehow filled with more passion and conviction, “Christ, I’m pretty sure you turned down at least three girls for that very reason last year. You’re a romantic, Neil” the sign-off proved to be the last straw.

Neil rolled his eyes against the allegation and stood up, fire blazing in his gaze. For whatever reason, he did not know. Except that something in the impertinent tirade of his friend irked him beyond compare.

Yes, maybe what Ives said was true. Maybe he turned down offers for casual sex before. But that did not mean a thing. Because all those other women were not her. They were not worth changing his ideals for what could also prove to be an unsatisfactory result. Only she seemed worth the risk.

And yes, Neil was aware of how pathetic that sounded. He shook his head against the ridiculous thoughts and paced the room before finding apt words to defend his choices. Not that he had to defend anything, of course. Still-

“No, I’m not” if that was a stretch, no one had to be any wiser. Just in case, however, Neil trained his gaze on the floor instead of looking at his companions, “Just because I’ve never done it before doesn’t mean I can’t now” there, that sounded perfectly composed and reasonable “It’s fine. I like her, and we’ve got a good thing going” finishing the speech with the only sentiment he was moderately sure of, Neil risked a glance at his friends.

Ives still looked infuriatingly impassioned, as if barely holding himself back from making more incorrect assumptions, but it was Wheeler’s expression that made Neil falter. His restless eyes finally found purchase for more than a second at a time. If only so he could understand what that introspective look in her eyes meant. And what potential trouble could it bring.

“If you say so,” Ives’ dejected reply almost went unnoticed, falling under the radar as the man sighed heavily, as it was him who was being violently verbally attacked.

The audacity was something else.

“We’re just worried about you. We’d rather avoid a repeat of the last time someone broke your heart” Wheeler’s voice was laced with concern as she breached the space and placed her hand on Neil’s shoulder with a stoic yet meaningful look in her eyes.

The tight smile completed the picture as she squeezed his shoulder and left as quickly as she had approached him. Still, the gesture lingered, making Neil falter. Because he knew what Wheeler meant. He knew it too well. Sometimes during those darkest moments, he could still remember how it felt. The searing pain in his chest and the inescapable knowledge that he was not enough. That he never would be. That the heartbreak would follow him wherever he went because there was no universe in which Neil was destined for a happily ever after.

Sometimes, it was easy to believe that, too.

Most of the time, however, he ignored those thoughts. Like now, when that first sting of tears at the back of his eyelids spelt trouble and unwanted attention. When he could feel the tightness in his throat threaten to trigger something no one wanted to see in public. Not now. Not ever.

Instead, Neil plastered on another obnoxious grin. The blinding strength of it was almost enough to get rid of the residual feelings.

“Well, worry not! It won’t happen” to reinforce the intended effects, Neil notched up the cockiness in his smirk and flopped back onto the sofa with all the air of someone certain they were making correct decisions.

Or, at least, that was the hope. That no one would see past his act despite the edges of the mask slipping with every second.

Taking a fortifying breath, Neil swallowed hard and settled against the cushions, hoping the softness would anchor him. A glance at the watch confirmed his hopes – not much time was left till he had somewhere to be. A handy excuse to leave faintly appeared on the horizon, teasing him with potential and salvation. Only, it still had to wait…

As soon as the faint hope glimmered, making Neil feel a tiny bit better about his current situation, Ives broke the silence. The only way he knew how:

“So… how was the sex?” Neil’s head swivelled in the direction of the man at breakneck speed, a blush already blooming on his cheeks.

It was mortifying how little it took to reduce him to a blushing fool these days. How one mention of Cupid, or the moment they shared, was enough to render him incapable of acting like a grown-up. How there was nothing to do about it but groan out loud and cover his face with his hands, hoping to escape the scrutiny. While knowing it was too late, anyway.

Before he could find an apt response (or any words at all, in fact), Wheeler interrupted the silence with her frustrated sigh, annoyance tinting the words:

“Ives, for fuck’s sake…” even without looking at her friend, Neil knew she was rolling her eyes, equally fed up with Ives’ antics.

Not for the first time, he felt gratitude for her existence and the constant intolerance of bullshit. Neil hoped to convey as much through a quick smile, shot in her direction sometime between staring at the floor and pondering the best course of action. She smiled back, briefly dropping the disinterested frown that seemed at home on her face whenever friendship dramatics unfolded. Which was more often than Neil would like to admit.

Apparently, a penchant for drama was a contagious trait. Sadly.

“What? I gotta ask the important questions” the lack of remorse on Ives’ face told Neil all he needed to know about the situation.

There was either option a – leaving the room as he stood, without a further word or a gesture, aware that he would be cornered by his dear friend shortly. There was also option b – answering the question in the vaguest way possible and hopefully buying himself time and necessary peace.

Was it really a choice? Sighing heavily, Neil strengthened his back and met the awaiting blue gaze with what he hoped to be confidence.

“Very good. Might I say euphorically good,” he could feel the smirk make home on his face as memories followed the words, offering a gratifying reel of moments he was sure he could never forget. It never failed to make him grin like an idiot and consider doing something reckless like calling Cupid and asking her out. As a friend, that is. A friend you wanted to have sex with again. Instead, he allowed himself to soften the voice and add, “She’s… incredible” it was a severe understatement, but then the present company was not worth hearing peans he could bestow upon her.

Those words were meant for her ears only. And yes, he knew how it sounded. How it pointed towards things Neil was not admitting, not even to himself. But that, too, was best ignored. Forever.

Before Neil could find the necessary words to follow the admission and, hopefully, exit the conversation altogether, the door creaked. All three pairs of eyes snapped towards it, displaying different stages of shock and bewilderment.

Neil watched as The Protagonist stepped inside, the dynamic of his movements stopping on the threshold as the man took in the scene presented before him. Cocking an eyebrow in a silent question, the older man closed the door behind his back and regarded them coolly.

“Uh oh,” the phrase, offered casually, without a dose of interest or intrigue, was accompanied by another taxing look.

Worryingly, it was focused on Neil only. The dark eyes of his best friend (and boss) scanned him from head to toe, undoubtedly clocking everything he hoped to conceal. Stifling the sudden urge to drown himself in the cup of lukewarm coffee someone abandoned on the table hours before, Neil sagged on the sofa. That was not going to be fun.

“Uh oh, indeed” even without looking at him, Neil could tell Ives was smirking.

Feeling the three pairs of eyes focus on him again, he groaned.

He was completely and utterly fucked, it seemed.

***

Usually, Friday evenings in the pub were not associated with anxious thoughts or fidgeting hands, interchangeably tugging and relaxing the chain clasped around your neck. But that was not a usual Friday night, and no amount of mental coaching could change that fact or convince you to stop worrying. No, the nerves seemed ingrained in the fabric of your soul as you exited the Leicester Square station and rushed through the streets of Chinatown, rapidly filling with people. You swallowed past the overwhelming onslaught of worries and pushed onwards, only briefly stopping underneath the red lanterns to double-check the location and whether you were still on the course.

When Neil sent you the address earlier that day, you admitted that the choice of locale was greatly appreciated. That was your hunting ground so to speak. The streets, where you felt most at home, with the bright lights proceeding your steps and the bustle of the city filling your heart. But even the comfort of the familiar environment did not eradicate the fears. The millions of what-ifs swirling around in your head all pointing out that one crucial fact – there was no guarantee that his friends would like you. None at all.

And the alternative was too terrifying to consider. Admittedly, this was not a place you visited often. Not a predicament you knew too well. Because, usually, you could not care less. Did not give a flying fuck about whether someone liked you or even accepted you because if they did not – well, their loss. But those life rules did not seem applicable this time. Not when the stakes suddenly seemed higher than gaining a stranger’s sympathy. Even though you could hardly explain what the alternatives were and why they scared you quite so much.

Glancing up from the phone screen, you double-checked the pub name with the address typed into the search bar and closed the app. Pocketing the device, you crossed the street and stopped just before the doorway. The bar was half-full, the music not quite booming yet filling the interior with cosiness and warmth that beckoned you inside, sparking the courage that began to flicker in your heart. As if sensing your moment of indecision, your phone buzzed. A single text from Neil appeared on the screen:

/✝️, 8:03 pm/ I’m here if you’re early.

Despite the nerves, you grinned. A ridiculous giggle escaped your throat as you pushed the door and entered the pub. That was a sign if you ever saw one. The contrasting warmth seeped into your bones as you unzipped the jacket and manoeuvred around the tables to the room in the back. This part of the bar was empty, save for a larger table in the corner. As soon as you entered the space, Neil raised his head and met your gaze with a bright smile. It was impossible not to grin back, taking in the warm light reflecting in his golden hair and the undone top buttons of his navy shirt with the sleeves rolled up. Even now, after everything, the sight never failed to make your pulse quicken, revealing the truth you could not ignore. That you wanted him. Still.

Probably more so now that you knew what it was like to have him.

That reminder alone was a reason to push all thoughts to the back of your mind and close the remaining gap in three steps. Shooting him an overly confident grin as a greeting, you drew back the chair opposite Neil’s and took off your jacket, draping the covering over the backrest and sitting down without as much as a word. If Neil noticed the unusual silence, he did not show it, instead following your every move with curiosity in his eyes. Once you were settled and allowed yourself to rest your gaze on him, Neil’s smile softened into something fragile. Something kinder than you were used to. You basked in the warmth of his expression as he broke the silence:

“I’m glad you came” that same affection tinted the simple sentiment, quieting the nerves in your head, even if only for a second.

For whatever reason, the fears seemed worth it if that was the reaction you earned by going through the pains of what was coming. It was shining in the blue of his eyes, luring you in like a spell. Without thinking about it, you darted a hand forward and quickly patted his hands, folded atop the table. The corner of his mouth twitched, clearly noticing your gesture. It was a nice feeling to be seen like that, appreciated for every tiny thing you did or said.

“Well, I promised, didn’t I?” the awkwardness slipped out alongside a weak chuckle you attempted, hoping to balance out the sudden pull towards seriousness in this conversation. You weren’t supposed to be serious, “When are-” the question, the only one you could think of suddenly, got cut short by Neil’s answer.

“In about ten minutes. They might be late, though” he glanced at the watch, almost in an afterthought.

Unashamedly, you let out a long sigh, feeling weariness fade for a short while. Ten minutes seemed like an apt time to settle. Or at least enjoy what you have right here and now. What you feared to lose more than you could admit.

Where was courage when one needed it desperately?

“Cool…” your knuckles rapped against the table, hoping to find the bravery in the rhythmless sound, but to no avail. You looked up, instantly caught in Neil’s blue gaze, staring back at you intently. As always. As if there was anything of interest that he could find only on your face, “Can I ask you something?” there was no way of getting rid of the tremors in your voice.

“Always,” Neil nodded, generous enough to spare you the suspense.

Taking a deep breath, you raised your head once more, plunging into the deep end:

“Are we still going to be friends if they hate me?” with no right way for a question like this to come out, you still cringed, wincing as soon as the words left your mouth.

Clingy. Pathetic. So unlike what you thought you knew about yourself. And yet. Because that was the crux of the issue. This deeply rooted fear that Neil’s presence in your life could disappear suddenly without a warning or a reason. A fear you did not understand or experienced before. It was terrifying.

Before your brain could unleash the ramblings, erasing any evidence of the question ever having been asked, you felt Neil’s hand gently cover yours. Despite knowing better, you looked up in time to see another soft smile grace his beautiful features. It mellowed the sharpness of the angles and eased the pain of looking at him.

A pain you were gladly braving every day if it meant you could keep on staring at him. With no desire to understand what that said about you.

“Obviously,” the lack of hesitation on Neil’s part bolstered the faint hope in your soul. It only got stronger as you saw him search your gaze with intent before Neil squeezed your hands and added, “Although I can assure you that they won’t hate you” the lack of judgement in his eyes seemed almost out of place.

A stupid question like that was bound to be judged and ridiculed. Surely. Except Neil did not seem to think so. The realisation made you feel lightheaded. It made no sense in the world order you knew.

You shook your head against the confusion and flipped the hand lying on the table so you could entangle your fingers with his. The softness of his palm moulded to yours as you arched an eyebrow, your face still a picture-perfect of calm:

“How can you be so sure, sunshine?” it was not in your nature to accept reassurance without trying to undermine it. You could tell Neil knew as much. It was there in the utter lack of surprise in his gaze as you prodded, his hand a comforting weight in yours. It helped you take a deep breath and confess what usually remained unsaid, “I know I’m… a lot” your eyes fluttered shut upon the unprecedented display of honesty.

You knew it was true, a fact many thought and no one admitted out loud. Except maybe when they stopped talking to you, leaving you behind without an explanation or an apology. That is when you easily concluded that it has happened again. You were too much. Too much to handle without being enough. Took up too much space without having anything substantial to say or do with it. Asked for too much despite not being worth even an ounce of it. Yeah, that.

It was always like that. So why would it be different this time?

Although you could feel Neil’s piercing gaze on your face, you did not dare look up. Instead, you tightened the hold over his hand and let your thumb brush his skin. The repetitiveness of the caress anchored you in the present. Sometimes, when you were brave enough to contemplate the reality, you marvelled at how easy it was to be like this with him. How you could touch Neil so effortlessly, without worrying about how it would be interpreted or what he could ask for in return.

“You contain multitudes. In the best way,” the affection in his voice made you push against the ridiculous thoughts and look up, even if only to see that same softness reflected in his eyes, “And I’m sure because I can’t imagine meeting you and not being absolutely enchanted, Cupid” squeezing your hand again, he raised your joined palms to lay a kiss on your knuckles.

By now, the move should have been something you were used to. But it wasn’t. It still made you blush, hiding the effects by dropping his gaze and focusing on the table. The warmth his words sparked in your chest simmered with a pleasant heat, almost eradicating every other thought and feeling. Until all that remained was Neil and his steadfast fondness, focused on you. For whatever reason.

It did not take your brain too long to realise the dangers of that line of reasoning, jumping into deflection before any other wayward thought could appear. Raising your head in time for Neil to see a performative eye roll, you replied:

“Christ, you’re really bad for my ego” it was not a lie, and you knew Neil could tell as much from how his mouth twitched.

Still, your hand stayed in his hold, too used to the contact to think about letting go. At least for a little longer.

“Ditto, babe” Neil’s smile widened into a bright grin as he shot you a wink, dropping the new nickname without hesitation.

Almost as if he hoped you would not notice. Wishful thinking and all. The discovery of his slip-up was enough to awaken you, giving your brain something to grasp. A distraction. A way to come back to who you were supposed to be.

Your eyes flashed, a familiar flicker of confidence and control making it easy to hold his gaze. To notice the uncertainty within the blue depths, spurring you on. Before Neil could even think about taking it back, you leaned in, invading his space and getting a whiff of his perfume. Like an addict getting a hit of their drug of choice. Stopping close enough to kiss him if you chose to, you let your nose brush against his in a light caress and whispered a taunting question:

“Ooh, it’s babe now, is it?” the thrill of being this close to him never got old.

It was strengthened by the awed look in his eyes, confirming the suspicions that you finally had the upper hand. Neil looked stunned, blinking rapidly against your proximity and the bold attack you dared execute. You stared as he came to, the hand holding yours twitched and Neil dropped his gaze, overcame with strange bashfulness.  

“If you want it to be,” the murmured reply was coloured with sincerity.

Both an admission and a question, opening the floor for your next move. Swallowing past the pause, you opened your mouth to answer before a loud wolf whistle cut through the tension, making you spring back as if burned. Neil dropped your hand, his gaze instantly switching to the doorway. It did not take a genius to figure out that your time has just run out, and the company has arrived.

Fixing a curious smile onto your face, you turned in the chair, your eyes instantly drawn by the arriving group. The reason for your shocking awakening - a tall, muscled man with a buzzcut and a thick beard was the first to enter. His startling blue eyes met yours as his lips twisted into a smug smirk. He glanced at Neil, some silent understanding passing through his gaze before he asked:

“Are we interrupting something?” the unmistakable Cockney accent in his voice made you grin.

The cheekiness of this stranger was something you felt almost at home with. It was something you knew, the familiarity of it quietening the rapid heartbeat in your chest. Somewhat reluctantly, you shifted your eyes to fall on the second person to enter the room. The short woman, her hair twisted into a tight bun (not unlike what you often sported on stage), met your curious stare with one of her own. The last to enter was a tall, Black man. His presence already emitted confidence and charisma that you could not understand. As soon as his eyes met yours, the man smiled – a light, reassuring expression that transformed his face into something kind and open. With a sigh, you twisted back in the chair and closed your eyes briefly.

They did not seem scary… At least not terribly so.

“Not at all,” you only half registered Neil’s hurried response, noticing him rise from the table and gesture towards you with all the awkwardness of someone unable to play it cool. Despite yourself, you smiled at the realisation, “So, this is-” he never got to introduce you, for the sentence got cut short with another boisterous interruption.

“It’s you, isn’t it?” the bearded man approached the table, his wide grin unfading in the face of your bewilderment.

The remaining duo joined him on either side, all three pairs of eyes focused on you without a dose of apprehension. While the scrutiny was something you expected (and were partially used to), it still made you falter. Tightening your shaky hands into fists at your sides, you rose from the chair and faced them with a matching bright grin. By now, the act was almost too easy to take on - no matter the circumstances.

“It is I, indeed” completing the admission with a theatrical courtesy, you extended your palm towards the woman with what seemed like a safe greeting, “Nice to meet you” she met your handshake without hesitation.

The first handshake was followed by a round of introductions and greetings, easing that early discomfort of not knowing people’s names. Through the few minutes, Neil stayed quiet, observing you with an intensity you were slowly getting used to. You did not understand it, but it was almost comforting in its constant presence.  Only once you were acquainted, you sat back in the chair. Conscious of the new company, you shifted in the seat and folded your hands atop the table, resisting the urge to meet Neil’s gaze as it bore holes into your head from over the tabletop. Before you could even think of anything to say, Ives broke the silence with what you came to understand as his modus operandi:

“Mate, I must say-” the cheekiness permeated every syllable as the man stared between you and Neil with a wide grin.

Curiosity sparked in your chest as you watched the interaction. The blind panic in Neil’s eyes completed the picture as he leapt from the chair and grabbed the sleeve of Ives’ jacket to pull him up.

“It’s best if you don’t,” the warning in his voice was something new.

Something fascinating, too. Something that you had a feeling you would be repeating in the quiet of your mind later. Later, when you were alone.

Now however, you stared as Neil completed the silent exchange with Ives and informed you all that it was time to get drinks. You got as far as telling him the order of choice for the night before the uncertainty caught up again. With Neil and Ives gone from the table, only two pairs of eyes were trained on you. A small mercy, indeed.

Ignoring the urge to flee the scene, you tried to settle in the seat and raised your gaze to meet the dark stare of the man who introduced himself as John. For some reason, his serious countenance inspired trust, making it a little easier to breathe out. The woman, Wheeler, was more intimidating, although you could not explain why if asked. It was not even that she seemed mean or judgemental, but rather that it was difficult to get a reading on her that you feared what she could be thinking.

Before you had a chance to spiral in that direction, yet again failing under the scrutiny of near strangers, John broke the silence with a question:

“So, how did you meet again?” the curiosity was undeniable in his voice, his eyes watchfully trained on yours.

Almost as if it was a test. Luckily, you knew the answers this time.

“On the tube. Neil was gallant enough to help when I dropped half the contents of my handbag on the floor” a fond smile appeared uninvited on your face, forcing you to drop his gaze and stare at the table instead. That did not go unnoticed. You could still feel their interest, like a constant weight upon your shoulders. It would take much more than this to shake it off, “I wasn’t leaving him alone after that” shrugging, you risked a tentative smile and a glance at your companions.

Judgement was still missing from the picture. Instead, the inquisitive light in Wheeler’s eyes turned into something sharper. For a split second, you felt perceived as if she could see through the bullshit smiles and nonchalant shrugs that made up your protective armour. As if she could peer inside the parts of your mind you did not acknowledge for fear of what you would find there.

Before you could let the simmering panic reap its fruits, John replied:

“And a good thing, too, because he shouldn’t be left unsupervised for too long” the humour in his voice acted like a needed respite, pulling you back from the blooming spiral and into the present.

Despite yourself, you grinned. A startled chuckle escaped your lips, confirming what you knew to be true. That, despite the doubts and perhaps an unconventional run of your friendship, you knew Neil. You understood him.

Enough to know that he should never be left to his own devices for too long.

“I’ve noticed,” a secretive smile shared between the three of you felt almost like an inside joke.

The feeling was strengthened when you heard Neil and Ives return from the bar, their banter audible even from beyond the doorway. You waited until the duo settled at the table again, the ordered drink placed in front of you with a smile, before adding, “Now I’m also forcing ballet education onto him,” winking at Neil to both tease him and draw him back to the conversation, you took a fortifying sip of the alcohol.

Not that liquid courage was needed. Of course.

“Which I don’t mind at all” Neil’s responding grin was worth any possible pain. Its warmth filled you from the inside with a mild bloom of affection, making it that much easier to let go of the remaining fears, “I’ll have to drag you with me someday. You’ll see how amazing she is,” directing the sentence at his friends, Neil took a sip of the pint and stared back as if to challenge your wordless wonder.

Even now, the constant praise was difficult to absorb. How could anyone be this nice and not expect anything in return? You did not know.

“There’ll be no dragging necessary. I’d go willingly” despite the apprehension, the first sentence Wheeler spoke to you was filled with enough friendliness you instantly felt bad for doubting her nature. She offered you a sure smile, the sparks of interest clear in her green gaze, “How long have you been dancing?”

Now that was a question you knew the answer to. Without daring to doubt the sincerity of their investment in your story, you dove into the tale. It twisted through the prodding and the questions, reminding you how much you relished being the object of genuine interest. How nice it was to share stories and have others listen instead of ignoring you or cutting short that which you dared feel passionate about.

Only once your tale found its conclusion in the current day and age, daring to share the hopes for the future, did the nerves resurface. You drowned them in another sip of the drink and chose to ask the question that never strayed too far from your mind these days:

“And you guys? What do you do for work?” admittedly, it was not the smoothest move on your part.

The eagerness shone through each word as you rested your chin on your hand and ignored Neil’s gaze. Perhaps tonight was the lucky one…

“We- You haven’t told her?” as soon as the hope began to build, making you lean forward in anticipation, Ives clearly remembered his surroundings, silencing his own reply with a question directed at Neil.

One glance at the man in question showed you the depths of panic, making you step in. Just in case.

“He hasn’t,” hoping the reassurance in your voice would be enough for them to believe you, you added, tone dropping to that teasing timbre Neil knew well enough, “Which has led to some rather… fascinating conversations” whether mentioning the many inside jokes was a good idea, you did not know.

But it was already done. The reveal did what you needed it to as you watched with interest the many emotions passing through their faces. Brief bewilderment was there, alongside confusion and boundless curiosity. But, perhaps most importantly of all, you could see respect. Hidden behind layers of thoughts and questions, but it was there. You earned it.

And through no other means than being yourself. Little victories have never felt more genuine.

“Such as?” Ives was the first to speak, prodding and teasing, his gaze filled with that familiar cheeky gleam, “Don’t leave us hanging, sweetheart” the nickname rolled off his tongue with ease, which seemed surprising to everyone but the man himself.

You did not mind. Stealing another glance at Neil, if only to check whether he still seemed somewhat alright with the conversation (barely), you allowed your mouth to twist into a telling grin:

“Wouldn’t dream of it” by now, Neil must have known what that smile meant.

The expectation was confirmed by his long-suffering sigh, interjected with a curse and a groan, sounding almost like a plea for heavenly intervention.

That is, if God, the Holy Spirit, or anyone else fancied being cursed while asked for help.

“Jesus fucking-” cutting himself short with another sigh, Neil covered his face with his hands, almost as if unwilling to take part in what would follow.

Still, you could see the remains of a fond smile hiding in the corner of his mouth. That discovery was enough to get rid of any traces of uncertainty. You leaned over the table and dropped your voice to a conspiratory whisper:

“My personal favourite is that Neil is a priest. He’s got the charisma, and I’m pretty sure those dashing looks would help to convert non-believers” admittedly, you were proud of delivering the line with a straight face.

Even more so when, after approximately five seconds, you had the desired reaction of three people dissolving into different stages of laughter at your whim. Despite yourself, you met Neil’s gaze, only to find him beaming with traces of good-natured annoyance in the gleam in his eyes. Wordlessly, you arched an eyebrow, seeking approval. Always eager to be praised for something you felt you deserved. His smile only widened as Neil sneaked a hand beneath the table and briefly squeezed your knee.

That just about did it when it came to praise.

Enough so that when a reply came from your unexpected audience, you were caught unaware by the tone and the knowing smirk present on Ives’ face as he asked:

“Speaking from experience?” startled, you looked up in time to see his confident grin, pointing towards a thought you had not entertained before.

They knew. At some point between the previous Friday night and today, Neil told them what had happened. He has perhaps shared it all, and now you were not only regarded as a strange woman he has befriended on the London Underground but also as someone he had sex with. A lover, if you dared label things. Although obvious a realisation, it was still somewhat unexpected, making your hands twitch as you slipped back on the mask of utter nonchalance. There was no point in pretending now.

“Absolutely” without batting an eyelid, you met Ives’ relentless smirk with an innocent smile of your own, choosing to take back control of the conversations as much as it was possible,  “So, whatever parish you belong to, I might want an invitation” concluding the story with a telling wink, you picked up the glass and took a long sip, relishing in the slight burn of alcohol down your throat.

The sensation was enough to distract you from the strange thoughts, inspiring you to give in to the constant pull and meet Neil’s gaze over the table. He was already staring back, his mouth quirked into a soft smile. It was impossible to discern what it meant.

“We’ll come back to this conversation. If that’s okay,” John’s serious voice broke you out of the daydream, making you look up at him with surprise clear on your face.

That same air of authority you noticed the first time you had laid your eyes upon him was even more visible now that you got to talk. Without being able to explain it, you felt like he was the person most in charge out of the whole quartet. The one calling the shots. If anything, the comment enforced the idea, making you drop the playfulness for a split second to offer him a nod:

“Perfectly,” if only to ensure you had not accidentally ended up on the shit list for being too nosy, you added, “Mind you, I’m not holding a grudge. It’s just curiosity,” and it was, just that. The pure desire to know all there was to know about Neil. To piece apart his entire being and analyse it as one does when having encountered something so fascinating they could not walk past it. Yeah, just that. Shaking your head to erase unwanted thoughts, you chose to fall back on what was pleasantly familiar – letting your mouth do the talking without consulting the head on whether it was wise, “Although now that I’ve met you all, I think that perhaps it’s my other guess that makes more sense” letting the sentence trail off to a meaningful pause was an easy fate.

It was something you knew how to do. Entertain. Entrance. Fascinate. All to draw that fleeting attention, which would not solve anything except making you believe you were worth someone’s time. For a short while.

It worked this time, as always. All four pairs of eyes trained on you with curiosity. Ives was the first to break the silence, giving you what you had been waiting for:

“Which is?” arching an eyebrow, he leaned over the table, mirroring your position.

A flash of exhilaration passed through your soul, alighting that which usually laid dormant. Without meaning to, you met Neil’s gaze again, copying the cheeky smile before offering an answer:

“That you’re all in MI6” if not for the distraction in the form of his blue eyes, you were sure you would have clocked in the reactions, or rather the alarming lack of them, sooner. You blinked against the intoxicating pull of him, barely registering the silence from your companions, and found the bravery to add that which was meant for Neil only, “I mean, you could definitely pull off James Bond,” acutely aware of the audience, you tightened your hands into fists in your lap to prevent yourself from reaching out, signing off the statement with a wink.

That, too, hit the mark. You watched with delight as Neil blushed, the pink hue blooming on his cheekbones as he dropped your gaze and downed the rest of his beer. A gleeful chuckle was unavoidable as you finally gathered enough coherence to glance at the remaining companions. The mix of joy, consternation and pensiveness was something to behold, arresting your attention and sparking interest. What could it possibly mean? Questions began multiplying in your brain as you stared, particularly drawn to the exact expression on John’s face. It resembled quiet resolve as if he had just made up his mind about something and would not be persuaded to change it no matter the circumstances.

You had a feeling that you were not an exception to that rule.

“Cupid-” whatever Neil aimed to say got interrupted before you could focus your eyes back on him.

Still, the nickname resounded at the table with an extra impact, perhaps because it was the first time he had used it with the current company present. Despite wishing to remain blind to little details, you took note of the flash of interest in Wheeler’s eyes as her eyes flitted between the two of you. Thinking. You itched to ask what about but also feared the answer. Before you could even gather your thoughts enough to understand the intricacies of the situation, John got up from the chair, pulling Neil alongside him with a tight grip on his shoulder.

“C’mon. Let’s get second round” his tone left no room for discussion as he directed a pointed look at Ives and started for the bar without another word.

You stared as the two men scrambled after him, clearly taken aback by the sudden command. Now, curiosity was an understatement. It bloomed in your chest as you stared at Wheeler, silently begging for answers before you found any words to express an ounce of the confusion:

“What did just-” whatever question you had aimed to ask, you never got the chance as she interrupted you smoothly with a sleight of hand.

“Pay them no mind” that was not a suggestion, either. The order was visible in the focused gaze Wheeler placed on you, its weight quickly becoming bothersome, making you shift in the seat. Soon, you knew it was for a good reason, “Neil really likes you,” there was no question in the statement.

No chance for you to deny the claim. It wasn’t a false claim, either. You knew as much without needing to think about it. He liked you. It was there in every fond look, every tender touch, every affectionate word. And you knew that it was something you were guilty of as well. There was no point in pretending otherwise.

Ignoring the ever-present desire to run away, you strengthened your spine and met her searching gaze with honesty on your face:

“I know. I like him too. Never expected to meet a best friend on the Jubilee line, but well…” shrugging to shake off the remaining worries at your sincerity, you offered her a careful smile.

As soon as the words left your mouth, you understood their importance. You had never admitted it out loud. That this was a first. The first time you voiced what was long established in your mind and heart. What happened before you were aware. Before you could stop it. Was that another mistake? You did not dare answer that question.

Instead, you dropped Wheeler’s gaze and trained your eyes on the table, fingers idly tracing the grains in the dark wood. You knew the conversation was not over now that she had you alone and clearly unable to keep quiet. You did not have to wait long for another hit.

“He told us about what happened after the ballet last week” the judgment was still missing from the equation, no matter how hard you looked for it.

With your suspicions confirmed, there was no point in trying to pretend. No point in acting as if what she believed was untrue. That, too, was a fact. An undeniable truth, memorable and unforgettable.

After a beat, you braved the intensity of her gaze, feeling something else underneath the simple observation. Wheeler hardly seemed like a person to say things without there being a point to them. This time was not any different. The green of her eyes told you she was curious, eager to learn your side of things, but at the same time, she seemed almost wary. Concerned in ways that did not make much sense except for maybe…

“And you’re against it?” the question burst out from your lips before you knew you had formulated it. There was an edge to it that you immediately regretted but did not take back just yet. Not before adding essential information that could sway her. Why it mattered, you did not know, “I must assure you that Neil is in control. I offered to keep this strictly platonic. He’s yet to give me an answer,” the words rushed out with barely a pause in between as if you were on borrowed time.

Perhaps you did not want the company to return before you could wrap up this conversation. Perhaps it felt like if you do as much as hesitate in your answers, you will never get the words out again. And that would not do.

Wheeler only finished her drink in the face of your frenzied confession and took another moment to stare at you calmly before answering:

“I’m not against it, just worried. Neil is a genius, but he’s also a fool. And a romantic, at that,” the tired resignation in her tone provoked a careful smile to appear on your face despite the blooming worry springing alongside it.

It was something you feared, albeit without ever entertaining the thought consciously. His friends had every right to be worried. In fact, you were happy to see someone else care about Neil the way he deserved to be cared for. Intensely. But it was another thing to be seen as a potential threat towards his happiness. Someone to be cautious of. Someone who could hurt Neil. Someone you desperately wanted never to become.

“The worst combo,” ignoring the spiral which had just begun to take root in your mind, you quipped.

The force of the jest got lost somewhere between your head and mouth, lining the words with nerves and uncertainty. It still got a reaction you hoped to achieve as Wheeler’s face broke into a tentative smile.

“Isn’t it just?” her eyes met yours with hints of good-natured delight in the green irises, almost making you feel better about what followed. As soon as she sobered up, you could feel your chest seize painfully, the fear sinking its cold fingers into the fabric of your soul, “The point is that I hope you don’t hurt him. No matter what ends up happening between you” the intent was clear in her gaze.

As was the message. Should you hurt Neil, there would be consequences. Simple. Infinitely more effective than an outright threat.

Somehow, you did not need to search your soul to understand the fear beginning to shape there. You were not scared of what Wheeler or the other would do to you if you hurt Neil. No, it was something much more terrifying. It was the pure horror of knowing that, realistically, you could break his heart. Even if that were the last thing you would want to do. Even if you would never choose to do so. The ability was there. And that was enough.

Swallowing past the desire to flee, you forced yourself to meet her gaze and offer an answer as close to the truth as you could manage. As close as you hoped to be.

“I’ll do my best” you could tell your mouth trembled as you tried to form it into a reassuring smile, but still, you wished for it to be enough.

Because there was nothing better that you could offer. You stared as Wheeler processed your reply, her watchful gaze peering right into the fabric of your soul. It felt like an eternity before she nodded once, ending the conversation with decisiveness. A tired sigh escaped your throat as you sunk lower in the chair. You knew that it would haunt you for days to come.

In the background, you could hear the approaching voices of the rest of your party. The noise sobered you, helping to push against the melancholy and paste on a mischievous smirk. With the mask back in place, you knew you could survive the rest of the evening. Somehow.

***

By the time you had left the pub, the warmth of Neil’s hand on the small of your back guiding you outside, it was late, and your cheeks hurt from smiling. That pleasant tiredness that often came from spending too much time with people, forced to be someone you were never sure you understood, burned through your muscles, leaving you slightly dizzy. But that might have also been the alcohol. Or Neil’s loose handhold, dragging you towards the underground station.

You were not quite sure when it had been decided that you would come back together, only that the conversation involved something with Jubilee Line name-drop and Ives’ boisterous laughter. And a knowing gleam in his eyes that you did not enjoy. Still, as Neil patiently led you down the streets of Soho and towards Leicester Square, you did not mind the result. It gave you more time with him. More time to talk and less time to think about what the eventful evening brought up. About the fears festering in your heart.

Still, the comfortable silence was broken only once you were seated in the carriage, Neil’s thigh pressed against yours on the narrow plastic seats. His hands folded in his lap, tempting you with a comforting touch just a move away. If you dared be bold.

“So… what’s the verdict?” Neil’s question acted like the needed wake-up, pulling from the depths of confusing thoughts and confounding feelings.

It was harmless, instantly drawing your smile from its hiding place. One glance at Neil told you that was the intent, with the affectionate look in his eyes, studying your face. Sometimes, you wondered whether there would ever come a time when you were brave enough to ask what he was thinking about when he stared at you like that. What it meant, if anything at all. Today, you could only return his look and offer a grin as a prologue to your reply:

“They’re insane people” your smile widened as you watched Neil bark out a startled laugh. It was a beautiful sound, making you bask in the glow of those unexpected joys. It was that spark of happiness that made you add, “Just like you,” leaning into his personal space, you gave his shoulder a nudge, this once hoping that the fondness could be seen in your eyes.

You wanted him to notice, to know that the teasing came from no other place but that of affection. That, as you confessed to Wheeler, Neil was important. Probably your best friend. An honourable mantle not many could admit to having possessed. In the entire history of your life.

Neil’s gaze softened as he returned the playful nudge and bumped his nose into yours, drawing a startled gasp from your throat. Proximity tended to do that to you.

“I’d say something about pots and kettles, but-” the warmth in his voice made you wake up from the strange thoughts as you grinned, rolling your eyes at the jest barely disguised behind the good-natured tease.

The sentiment still filled your heart with a contented type of joy, casting the previous anxieties back to the shadows where they lurked. For now, they were not needed. Now, all that mattered was turning your body fully towards Neil and blocking everything except for his beautiful smile and striking blue eyes.

“I own my insanity, thank you very much” feigning nonchalance, you shot him an unimpressed smile before dropping the pretence to offer sincerity. As he deserved, “I like them. They seem fun to be around, and I’d love to meet them again” you met his serious gaze with a wavering smile, feeling it shake beneath the uncertainty that loitered at the edges of your consciousness. Despite the wishes to do so, you did not seem capable of shaking off the anxiety tonight. The addition needed to be said, if only for your sanity, “That is if they don’t hate me” what started loud and confident was finished in a murmur, half-whispered at the dirty carriage floor.

Sudden losses of confidence were something you were not used to, yet getting more accustomed to by the day. At some point, unknowingly to you, along with the trust in the realness of whatever you and Neil had, that old, blind self-assurance dwindled. It was still there but wounded and unable to return to what it was. And you had no idea why that could be except for the terrifying thought that the simple reality of being perceived was enough to tear at your foundations.

You felt Neil’s careful touch, his fingers tipping up your chin, so you had no choice but to meet his reassuring gaze. The pads of his fingers lightly brushed the skin of your neck, kindling the fire that always burned underneath your skin in his presence. You barely resisted the urge to close your eyes and lean into the feeling, forgetting about the conversation and everything else.

“No chance, sweetheart” perhaps the confidence you had been missing could be found in Neil’s smile, shining at you like a beacon of benediction. Or at least it felt like sometimes, especially in the haziness of the late hours and fluorescent lights. Now, as if sensing your uncertainty, Neil covered your hands with his and squeezed them reassuringly, “I’m yet to get professional feedback, but I believe they liked you very much” risking a peek, you met his gaze only to find nothing but affection there, its intensity making you feel lightheaded. No matter the amount of practice, you did not seem capable of getting used to it. Not at all, “Not as much as me, though” when the conclusion to his speech finally arrived, you needed another long moment to process it.

Another beat still to find an opportunity within it. It presented a whole myriad, an easy way out of the conversation that would no longer feel so awfully revealing. A chance for you to reclaim the bravado that so often served as a shield. A protective veil to hide behind until you would be brave enough to face the truth. You were not going to let it pass you by.

Without wasting another second, you presented Neil with a familiar grin as his hand dropped from your chin. You instantly mourned the loss, although you did not let it show.

“Yeah, I’d hope not. I’m not sure I’d be into threesomes” the delivery of the line seemed almost impeccable, making you preen at the instant reaction on Neil’s face in the form of his utter bewilderment. He blinked as if stuck with an exceptionally persistent thought, as a pink hue spread over his cheeks, widening your grin. As always, the instant gratification hit like the finest of drugs, getting right to your head, “Might get too possessive,” the addition, covertly whispered into his ear despite the empty carriage, only strengthened the effect as Neil sputtered, choking on his saliva.

Moments like this were why you knew you were already beyond the hope of saving. There was no going back from this. No chance of forgetting Neil and moving on with your life as if none of this ever happened. Sometimes, when you were brave enough to be honest with yourself, you admitted that you did not want to forget, even if you could.

“Helpful feedback” seemingly recovered from his moment, Neil shot you a glare, barely hiding the happiness visible in his gaze.

Teasing him was always the highlight of every meeting, giving you a chance to practice what you knew you were good at, with the additional advantage of an audience hanging upon each word. Briefly, you wondered whether having an active listener at your beck and call was good for your ego. Decidedly not, but the damage was already done.

“At your service” instead of entertaining the ridiculous thoughts, you mimed a low bow in his direction and squeezed his knee instead of pressing another presumptuous kiss to his cheek. Those would have to be held back until the next time you saw him. Just to be safe.

You met his intense, unwavering gaze just in time to see Neil sober up. His permanent smile faded as he shifted in the seat, almost as if steeling himself for something. Before you could open your mouth to ask, he broke the silence again:

“I have an answer for you” the initial confusion at the opener disappeared as soon as you noticed the uncertainty in his gaze. That sudden shyness you were slowly becoming accustomed to replaced the previous bravery as Neil took a fortifying breath and sighed out the promised answer, “Yes,” there was nothing else to it.

Just one word changing the course of your relationship without a hitch or hesitancy. The suddenness was the only thing that surprised you, with the brain half convinced Neil would need weeks to decide instead of just six days. Still, the uncertainty in his face must have been contagious, for you felt it spread across your soul, eradicating any other feeling or thought. There was no space for joy or excitement at what this course of events would mean for you. There was only doubt.

Whether Neil knew what he was saying. Whether he understood what it meant. Whether he was not making the mistake, Wheeler worried he was capable of. Whether you had the right to ask him in the first place.

Painfully aware of Neil’s attention, you forced your rapid heartbeat to slow down and voiced the only question that felt worth asking:

“Yes?” perhaps it was superfluous, just another second wasted on confirming what was already done and dusted.

Perhaps it spoke volumes about the person you wanted to be – thoughtful, patient, selfless – instead of the one you knew you were. Perhaps it was just another thing you could blame on the alcohol in your system. None of the reasons mattered as soon as Neil’s sombre countenance broke into another sunny smile. His hand came up to hold yours as if without a conscious thought. You settled in the feeling to find the necessary grounding.

“Yes. Because I don’t think I’m capable of keeping hands to myself when I’m with you” although the comment was anything but soft and affectionate, Neil’s hold told another story.

You stared as his thumb traced an invisible path over your knuckles. Over and over again. Until it was a sensation you could anchor within, taking a deep breath to find your footing once more. It would be alright. It had to.

“That’s flattering” despite the numerous buts and ifs whirling in your head, you met Neil’s searching gaze with a semi-confident smile.

You meant it. That much was certain. Because doubts and worries aside, all that mattered was simple: Neil wanted you. Enough so to try something new. Enough so not to choose between your friendship and the intimacy you could have alongside it. Enough so you didn’t have to decide for him instead.

As if reading your mind, Neil turned towards you and tightened the hold over your hand. Without breaking the eye contact, he raised your joined hands to his lips and pressed a lingering kiss to your knuckles, repeating a move already so familiar, yet still somehow unexpected. The breath hitched in your chest as he leaned forward, his other hand cupping your cheek and the thumb carefully brushing over your blushing skin. Quickly, you became incapable of doing anything but stare, awaiting his next move.

Neil’s gaze roamed over your face, as always drawn to your eyes only to glance at your parted lips and get stuck there. Quirking your mouth into a smile, you barely had the mind to find an appropriate quip before Neil wiped the intent clear with one swipe of his thumb. You gasped as you felt his finger trace the contour of your lips, the lipstick applied just before exiting the pub still relatively intact. He seemed to contemplate the next step as his blue eyes flicked to yours, searching for something. Whatever it was, Neil must have found it, for the next thing you registered was a decisive touch of the offending finger, swiping over your lower lip to smudge the lipstick and smear it over the corner of your mouth. Another embarrassing sigh was unavoidable as you glanced up in time to see the hunger in his eyes. As is for the past week, he has been holding himself back just as much as you did. As if this was to be your new normal. The thought alone was enough to make you shiver.

“Even tonight, I thought about dragging you with me to the bathroom and…” the confession was whispered in the meagre space between your faces, Neil’s voice taking on the tone you already knew yet had not heard a while.

The low, husky notes reverberated through your veins, erasing any uncertainties you could have had. None of that mattered. You had Neil to do as you pleased, and he had you. For however long it would last. For however long it would be mutually beneficial. Of course.

Now, with the promise of what could be placed so openly in front of you, you did not want to waste a second longer. Time was precious enough. Ignoring the pounding in your heart and the way Neil’s fingers slipped down the slope of your throat to loosely rest over your collarbone, you decimated the space to nothing but millimetres and whispered:

“Next time, you can just ask” upon his silent question, you nodded, confirming what you hoped would be evident enough, “I’d let you” curling your fingers around his hand touching your collarbone, you pressed your joined hands over your heart and closed the gap to leave a kiss on the corner of his mouth.

The resistance from claiming his lips was running thinner by the minute. But, as with most things, you needed Neil to take that step. To confirm his words with something much more tangible than your entangled hands and knees pressed close.

“You’d let me do what?” Neil tilted his head slightly as if trying to get a better reading of you.

From the depth of feelings, he must have seen on your face.

The slight smug tint to his smile let you know it was all just a pose. He had it figured out already. Except that being a little shit that he sometimes tended to be, Neil wanted to hear you say it. Assuredly. Loudly. Just so there was no room for doubt and a chance to confirm what you both knew. The desire was very much mutual. Sometimes, especially at night, you liked to recollect the exact feel of his hands on your body and the sounds he made when he came inside you. Those memories were enough to make you climax.

Neil had that much power over you for better or for worse. Somehow, even before actively opening your mouth to speak, you already knew you would not put up a fight. There was no point.

“Whatever you want,” squeezing his hand that was comfortably placed in your lap, you made sure to meet his gaze when stating the obvious.

Neil took it with a blinding smile, his hand letting go of yours to venture up your neck again, lightly brushing over the faded bruises as if he could still remember where he had marked you a week before. You did not tell him that the morning after you took a picture of yourself in the bathroom mirror. Just to have another thing to remember him by.

“And now?” with your proximity, you could feel his breath fan your face with every word spoken.

The intensity in Neil’s gaze was almost too much. Almost, for it was exactly what you needed to be brave again. It strengthened the resolve blooming beneath your skin as you cupped his cheek and stroked the stubble with your thumb. It was impossible not to notice how Neil closed his eyes upon your move, leaning into your palm as if that was what he needed. With the evidence of your shared wants so clearly displayed, you did not need further courage to say what has been nagging at your brain for the past hours. One request gnawing at your mind, heart and soul, impossible to ignored.

“Now just kiss me” frowning at the needy tone of your voice, you waited for Neil’s eyes to snap open to add what was only aimed to be a further persuasion, “Please. It’s been too long,” noting the hunger in his gaze, you knew you did not have to convince him to give you what you asked for.

He wanted it too, only-

“A week” his lips twisted into an amused smirk as he arched his eyebrow in the face of your hunger.

Any other time, you would have let him indulge in it. You would have let him be a nuisance to fulfil the internal quota Neil seemed to have set for himself. But tonight, you had no patience left.

“Exactly. Too long,” freeing your hand to draw him even closer with a hold over his jacket, you closed your eyes and slid your palm to the back of his neck, angling Neil the way you needed him.

Neil did not need further pointers. You heard his quiet groan, half-swallowed by your mouth and felt him pull you as close as physically possible with his arm around your waist and a hand on your cheek. Your body moulded to his shape, lips slanting over his with practised ease. That first swipe of your tongue across his lower lip instantly reminded you exactly why his kisses were something you missed so desperately. The familiar taste filled your senses, making you dig your fingertips in the hair on his nape, tugging gently at the golden locks. It was impossible not to let out a quiet moan straight into his opening mouth. Neil’s tongue greedily collected the sound, mapping the inside of your mouth with attention to detail that still astounded you. As did his unwavering hold, arm gently supporting your back and keeping you close, nestled into his chest and the warmth it provided.

You kissed until oxygen became a prized commodity you could not willingly give up. Even if you wanted to. Only then, with a final decisive peck on his closing lips, you leaned back (only as far as Neil would allow) and opened your eyes. He was one step ahead, staring at you with a soft smile. There was no choice but to mirror the expression, relaxing your hold on his neck and pressing your palm flat over his heart. Neil’s thumb stroked your cheekbone, eliciting an embarrassingly affectionate look in your eyes. As if hoping to rectify its impact, you dropped his gaze and let go of him, aware that more tenderness between you would only spell trouble. And that was the last thing you needed.

As if reading your mind, a feat you were half-sure Neil was capable of (all things considered), he dropped his hands, letting go of you and offered another reassuring smile. A simple gesture yet sufficient in helping your heart rate drop to normal levels. A cursory glance out the window assured you had not accidentally missed your stop - another win for the nonexistent tally. Almost as good as the very next thing Neil chose to say:

“Soon, I might also have that other answer for you” his nonchalant tone was a striking contrast to the previous certainty and smugness.

But it did its job, drawing you in with ease. Despite the fading awkwardness, you met his gaze and noted the sincerity you could see there. The genuine wish to both make you comfortable again and share that one significant piece of his story you did not yet possess.

“The one that got you in trouble tonight?” risking a sly look, you arched an eyebrow and leaned back in the creaky plastic chair.

While Wheeler indirectly told you to drop it, there was no chance you would listen. And especially not when it was just you and Neil, alone and open to each other like always.

You knew you had hit the jackpot with your guess when Neil winced, a passing shell-shocked expression on his face hinting at slight trauma of the kind that only the closest friends could inflict upon one another. Whatever happened when John all but hauled him out of the room was not pleasant. And it only added to the curiosity in your soul.

“It wasn’t- Yes, that one” interrupting his attempt at deflection, Neil nodded, his smile dropping in favour of something much more serious.

It was not a sight you wanted to see. It seemed wrong. Especially then in an empty carriage with the flickering lights after such a pleasant evening. As much as you wanted to know, constantly consumed with the eagerness to unveil that remaining piece of the puzzle labelled ‘Neil’ (the label was blue, with the glittery gold letters and pink heart-shaped embellishments), the other part of your brain hated seeing him so sombre. Hated the fading smiles and the uncertainties those grey moments tended to unleash within Neil. There was no question about what you needed to do.  

“That’s okay, I already know all I need” without letting yourself falter, you reached out to place a comforting hand on his shoulder and offered him a bright smile.

Hoping to convey the most important message – it could wait. There was no rush. Nothing better to do but enjoy what you shared without further need to complicate it.

“Which is?” the hesitation in his question only drove the point forward, helping you eradicate the remaining inhibitions.

Even if just for this one moment. You knew your time was running out, with the St. John’s Wood station approaching mercilessly. If you were in luck, there were perhaps three minutes to spare. Three minutes to show Neil his secret did not matter at all.

Your hand slid down his chest to comfortably settle atop his knee, the warmth of his body slowly becoming your favourite type of anchor. Neil glanced at your subtle move, but he stayed still. Almost as if afraid to move and break the spell. This fear, too, had to be quelled immediately.

“That I’m allowed to do this” with a whisper, you leaned in and closed the gap again by covering his mouth in a gentle kiss. Where previously there was hunger and desire, this time tenderness reigned, helping you settle the right pace with measured pecks and soothing caresses of your hands upon his body. Neil matched you beat for beat, drawing you closer again and gladly accepting all that you were giving. You kissed until a familiar crackle of the PA system made you separate, panting mouth and hazed eyes shared between you. Grinning like a lunatic, you leaned back in for a split second to kiss his cheek and stood up before Neil had a chance to react, “And that you’re my best friend” it almost felt like a relief to say out loud. Especially when the confession was received with Neil’s surprised, yet blinding smile, breaking through the paralysis induced by your sudden actions. The train began to slow down, approaching your station platform. Without another word or reckless act, you approached the doors and turned your head towards him with a simple farewell “Goodnight” as soon as it slid open, you left the carriage.

[badbatchposts]

🎱 🍓 🌵🔪🪲. I reblogged the ask game from you, so I wanted to be courteous and send you an ask! I'm honestly curious about these.

Thanks for the ask, friend! It's really nice to be able to reflect on some of these things!! Sorry in advance for the super long responses lol.

🎱 ⇢ post your AO3 total stats:

Works: 2

User Subscriptions: 6

Kudos: 204

Comment Threads: 84

Bookmarks: 67

Subscriptions: 51

Word Count: 67,351

Hits: 4,652

I honestly have no sense of how these stats compare for the usual fanfic writer, but it makes me happy to see how many people have subscribed to my longfic, especially since I don't always get a ton of comments on new chapters. But it seems people are reading! And definitely more people than read my dissertation, lol.

🍓 ⇢ how did you get into writing fanfiction? 

I used to write a lot of original work in high school and early college, but then as things got busy--and as I convinced myself my writing wasn't good enough to be worth it--I largely stopped. I always felt guilty about it. I really enjoyed writing, but didn't think I was creative enough or had the right amount of stamina that it took to complete a long work, and I had this perfectionist idea where it felt like it wasn't worth doing if I couldn't be the best at it.

Then right as the new Bad Batch season came out this year I was struggling a lot with burnout and found that I was spending a lot of time thinking about the show, and decided that I might as well start reading some fanfiction--for the first time ever--and felt like writing it would be a nice creative outlet that might help me recover from my burnout. It really has been great, and some of what's made it so good is actually exactly the sort of things that used to make me think writing fanfiction wasn't worth it. Namely: it's not professionally publishable.

That is, legally, I will never be able to professionally publish and profit from any of what I write--it can only be posted and enjoyed. This actually just took so much of the pressure off. It doesn't have to be perfect--it doesn't even have to be very good, because that's not what it's for.

I started thinking of it more as an exercise for working on my writing skills (things like, okay, in this chapter I'm going to practice writing dialogue, or in this next one I'm going to work more on establishing an interesting setting). As a result, I'm now thinking more about the writing process and improving my storytelling, rather than worrying about trying to make it perfect or good enough to publish or feeling competitive or down on myself when I encounter writing that I feel is much better than my own. It's been really freeing.

All of this happened over ten years since I stopped writing in college, and the other great thing has been seeing that my writing skills didn't disappear. In fact, they've gotten better and grown as a result of the learning I did in the meantime. I'm now much better at envisioning narrative arcs, outlining, getting myself to write consistently instead of just waiting for inspiration to strike me, and a whole load of other skills. It's really helped soothe a part of me that worried that I had abandoned writing, that it was too late for me to "do" anything with it, or that I only would have gotten worse.

🌵 ⇢ share the link to a playlist you love

Parasailing in Rio de Janeiro with a Caipirinha in Your Hand

🔪 ⇢ what's the weirdest topic you researched for a writing project?

I've been spending a lot of time researching historical kitchens on sailing ships and historical brothels for the Pirate AU that I'm working on. Once for an academic paper I was working on a novel that depicts a (non-sexual) human-animal relationship but through very intimate and erotic terms, and I accidentally googled a combination of terms that came back with information on bestiality while on my university's wi-fi.

🪲 ⇢ add 50 words to your current wip and share the paragraph here

The most recent thing I wrote for my Pirate AU (I'm skipping ahead SEVERAL chapters to inspire myself with the steamy bits haha)

“I hardly think I can get into much trouble here. Your crew have been perfect gentlemen.”

Hunter’s eyes glinted in the half-light of the lamps. Though he didn’t move, all of a sudden she was all-too-aware of how close he was, how easy it would be for him to reach out and touch her. “And what about me?” he murmured. “Haven’t you heard from the ladies in port? I’m a scoundrel. A very dangerous man. Maybe you ought to be afraid of me.”

Thanks again, this was a lot of fun!!

[boogiewrites]

a03 tag game

rules: post the first lines of your 10 most recently published AO3 stories. if you have less than 10 fics posted, post the first lines of all your fics.

I'll tag @chestylarouxx no pressure to actually do this, this took a few minutes to put together and I know you're busy. <3 Thanks @blue-mossbird for tagging me!

Here's mine! I'm all over the place.

Hindsight’s Always 19/84 (single dad eddie munson x reader)

You walked down the stairs from your apartment onto the street. The sunset painted the town in nostalgia. Muted colors like looking back into your memories surrounded you. It all felt different and somehow exactly the same. You’d been back for about a month now. But with the exception of holidays, you haven't spent any time in Hawkins for over a decade. You didn’t even go to your 10-year high school reunion. You’d had no expectations of coming back here. Certainly not without an exit date firmly scheduled prior. But life is funny that way. You never expect to get divorced when you get married. You never expect to quit what once was your dream job. You never expect to move back to your hometown in some potentially pathetic, you hadn't decided yet, attempt to find yourself. Along with a lot of other lessons you were finally learning, expecting the unexpected was one being driven into your life hard.

Repentance (eddie munson x reader best friends to enemies to lovers)

“One day I’m gonna be the prettiest, most popular girl in school, you’ll see!” you shouted proudly, full of optimism at the age of 12 to your best friend.

“Uh-huh, sure.” he nodded, rolling his eyes with a crooked smile.

“I am!”

“People like us don’t get popular.” he sighed, the defeat of 2 more years of life experience, a teenager in middle school who was getting even more life lessons than those he’d already learned the hard way at a young age.

“Well…” you pouted your lips and sunk back in thought. “Can I still be the prettiest?” you perked up with newfound hope.

“Sure.” he chuckled to himself. “You can be the prettiest.”

Now, 6 years later you’d achieved that bold goal. But you hadn’t… couldn’t have known what it was going to cost you. The biggest hurt and the first was losing your best friend. The very same boy that had told you you could do it (at least half of it anyway) In hindsight, you wish you’d listened.

Seeing Stars( eddie munson x f!oc witch)

It was a hot summer night, the heat coming off the asphalt as he made his way up the driveway to the front door. This would probably be the last party of the summer before school started back. Since it wasn’t being thrown by a high schooler, Eddie was inclined to go. He hoped there’d be good drinks and weed since things had been slim since Rick had gone to jail. He wasn’t excited for school to start back, only eager to get it the fuck over with this time. The third time’s a charm after all.

Cherry Bomb (eddie munson x f!oc cherry shy/virgin)

As of late, she’d been regretting her track record of chronic GOOD decision making in her life. However, the trust earned from being a good girl for 18 years was paying off and allowing her to savor tiny tastes of rebellion for the first time.

She couldn’t have stood out more from the other patrons of the bar on the outskirts of town. The doorman had put a big X on the back of her hand when she’d shown him her ID. He was half surprised she wasn’t trying to pretend to be older, if she hadn’t been in the Hawkins High shirt, she might’ve been able to pull it off.

Another Man (Frankie “Catfish” Morales x reader)

It wasn’t like you to stand and gawk. Let alone at a man, but before you was the man you’d known for months and grown quite fond of. His shy and wounded exterior was now gone and showing a certain and practiced fighter with nearly black eyes and no inkling of hesitation in his body. Your lamp sparked on the ground at his feet, the room had gone dark. The only light to illuminate the interior of your home was the light from lamp posts outside and a faint glow from a kitchen fixture above the stove.

You watched, breathing heavily from exertion and now rising arousal. His forearms flexed, just visible outside of a loved and well-worn utility shirt, cuffs rolled up tightly just below a now strained upper sleeve where another man’s throat was being choked. Warm chocolate eyes were black under a heavy brow, no longer puppy eyes that you’d teased him for. His trusty hat still stayed on a head of messy waves that was always just too long of looking groomed. The unconscious body hits the floor and you’re left gazing at a different man than you’d known just a few minutes prior.

Choking on Sapphires (Alfie solomons x f!oc Genevieve crime/romance)

You find yourself making a handful of trips back from your home near Paris as uses for your particular sets of skills are to be had with the Peaky Blinders. You’d spoken on all holidays over the telephone and visited on a few. You speak to Polly most frequently, mostly of Charlie as you sent all the children gifts often when you traveled. 

For the first time, you initiate the call to Tommy in the wake of your fast decision to move to London. You make your way out to his country home. You explain to Tommy of your intentions of starting new for yourself. You have a different last name to hide your nobility connections and forged paperwork and records to weave together a fake past. You tell him about your legal business plans, your honey, and your berries. You whisper to him about your illegal business, mostly art theft, some jewels and a touch of persuading others to do your bidding because of your connections and violence. The latter he was a skill he was well acquainted with. He welcomes you with a closed mouth smile.

Never Break the Chain (javier pena x f!oc thief/enemies to lovers)

The air was as still and silent as a hot Texas summer night could be. The buzz of the insects and the rustle and call of the nocturnal animals felt familiar to Esme and were a white noise that made her feel she was home. The moon was high and bright, illuminating the rushing and recently risen river below her. Summer storms had made their way through, a brief break to the smothering heat and filling the formerly waning river bed. It made for a great day on these rare summer occurrences, floating about lazily and working on her tan, drinks were plentiful between friends and you could let any stress you had floated down the river after you left. As she gripped the old iron railing of the backroad bridge, feeling the failing paint flaking under her anxious hands, she knew those golden days of youth and summer were falling behind her now. The river would take her trouble away tonight, but in the morning a whole new set would emerge in their place. Even so, this is what she wanted, deep down she knew the conversation she was about to have wasn’t going to be one with a happy ending, and she’d prepared for that. Still, until she heard the words from his lips herself, that last bit of naivete she had left would hope against hope that this night wouldn’t end in tears.

Burning Star ( din djarin x reader )

You couldn’t recall the exact BBY you’d met The Mandalorian. But then again, you weren’t even sure of your birth year, so dates tended to blend into one another in your memory. You recalled every encounter though, every mission he’d asked you to assist him on, the times you’d healed him and his ship, and especially the time he’d come to your planet for refuge with a strange but endearing little green creature. Your small, backwater planet didn’t have much. But that was one of the main things that had drawn you to it. Your parents were nomads, and you’d adopted the same after their death. So you made yourself a home on a green little planet after years of travel. It homed tiny hubs for weary travelers dotted along with the mountainous surface. But the one they called Mando always came to yours.

NO. 9: The Body (diego hargreeves x f!oc discovery of superpowers)

From the view from her apartment window, only slightly obscured by the fire escape, Eve looked out on the gloomy sunrise falling over the New York City street below. The fog and steam from the light drizzle on the street grates blended with the haze of her coffee cup as she took a moment to gather herself, feel the calm at the moment before the chaos of her job began.

Eve was all about function over fashion these days. Her childhood had held many questionable punk ensembles and thrifted, or even stolen pieces that were worn down to bare threads. But now her clothes usually consisted of scrubs, so she opted for comfort usually. She savors the last of her coffee and the peace of her small home and makes her way out into the world to begin another long, chaotic 12-hour shift.

Mae Flowers (alfie solomons x f!oc Mae white witch/immortal soulmate au)

The year is 2018, a long, long way away from his birth year of 1893. He stands in front of the Miss Robichaux's Academy for Exceptional Young Ladies in New Orleans, Louisiana. A place that had been around longer than he had. This place and the supreme, Fiona Goode had served as a haven and an ally for him for many years. It seemed no matter the type of witchcraft, save for the spat between the witches and the voodoo practitioners, this place could serve as a resting place, a pause in whatever journey anyone with powers might find themselves on.

He'd been drawn to New Orleans, his inner voice, his darkness kept pointing it out to him, whispering it to him. It'd all started about a year ago, only growing in intensity since. Once the odd dreams had started, and for the life he had lived, odd was saying something. Once they had started, his usual blackness, an endless, timeless void that lay before him in his unconsciousness, there started to appear small specks of light.

Nightmares were eased with more pleasant thoughts and memories that were not his own. Once he felt his darkness recoil from the light in his dreams he knew something had changed, something was different. He'd heard of awakenings like these from others of his kind but it'd been so long that he'd been alone in his own dark soul that he had thought that he would be alone there forever.

[dailyaudiobible]

04/15/2023 DAB Transcript

Joshua 11:1-12:24, Luke 17:11-37, Psalms 84:1-12, Proverbs 13:5-6

Today is the 15th day of April welcome to the Daily Audio Bible I am Brian it is fantastic to be here with you today as we gather yet again around the Global Campfire and take the next step forward and bring another one of our weeks in for a landing together. We have been working our way into the book of Joshua, which we will continue today with chapters 11 and 12.

Prayer:

Father, we thank you for your word. We thank you for another week. We thank you for your faithfulness in our lives. We thank you for your patience with us. And as our hearts are transformed by this rhythm of being in the Scriptures each day and applying them to our lives, we come to the same place that the psalmist came to, “a single day in your courts is better than a thousand anywhere else.” We would rather be the gatekeeper. We would rather be the servant simply doing our duty in the house of our God then to live in the good homes of the wicked. You are our treasure. You are our hope. You are our protection. You are our God. There is no other above, below or beside you. You are the most-high, and we love you. Come Holy Spirit. Lead us through this day, lead us into the new week we pray in the name of Jesus. Amen.

Announcements:

dailyaudiobible.com, that is home base, and that is where to get connected. So, check that out. The Daily Audio Bible app is available as well and you can download that from the app store that is connected to your device. Just search for Daily Audio Bible.

Check out the different sections like the Community section. This is where to get connected.

Check out the Daily Audio Bible Shop. There are resources there for the journey that we are on, this journey of moving through a year of life together and showing up every day and taking the next step forward in the Scriptures, and in life together. And, so, the Daily Audio Bible Shop is there with the resources to take the journey deeper to take the journey wider. So, check that out.

If you want to partner with the Daily Audio Bible, thank you. Thank you humbly. There is a link on the homepage at dailyaudiobible.com. If you’re using the app, you can press the Give button in the upper right-hand corner, or the mailing address is PO Box 1996 Spring Hill Tennessee 37174.

And, as always, if you have a prayer request or encouragement, you can hit the Hotline button in the app. That's the little red button up at the top or you can dial 877-942-4253.

And that's it for today. I'm Brian I love you and I'll be waiting for you here tomorrow.

Community Prayer and Praise:

This is Brandon from Texas calling first for Justin in Memphis. Justin, I appreciate your call and glad you're back with us. I've shared on here before my story of being in a similar position to yours. And I began praying every day that God would get everything I thought I knew about Him out of my mind so I could discover who He actually was and read through the New Testament praying that prayer each day. Not sure if that's the path for you but I know it was very helpful for me. And I finished and and felt like I had found truth and dispelled some things that I would call religion versus spiritual relationship, religiosity or…or whatever. But anyway, Lord I just I come alongside Justin and…and ask Lord just as he did that You lead him to truth. He just…he just wants truth Lord and…and like all of us he needs You and we only find truth through…through the direction of Your Spirit Lord. So, I just come alongside my brother Justin and ask that You lead him to truth. I know Lord that Your word promises if we seek we will find and You honor Your word and just ask that You help Justin find. It's in the name of Jesus i pray. Amen.

Good morning it is Monday April 10th, and this is the Lord is my Strength and My Song calling in to pray for a couple of the DABbers that called in this morning, Justin and Garrett. And Justin said he didn't…wasn't sure what he believed. He…he'd gotten away from listening to DAB for a few years, but was back and Garrett asked for prayers and help in he…what he believes and depression and other issues. Lord, I pray for these men. They've come to You in their wandering in the wilderness and desert and not feeling Your presence and not seeing You in their lives and being under attack really. And I pray. You promised that if we ask in Your name how will You not pour out the Holy Spirit and give us what we need. So, I pray that You would lift up these two, Justin and Garrett this morning. Fill them with Your Holy Spirit. Let them see the light of Your glory and let Your love fill their hearts that they would know You Jesus love them, died for them, was raised, and sit in heaven and are making a way for them in this life and forever for all eternity. I give thanks and blessings to You Lord Jesus and ask this in Your name.

Hello DABbers, this is Emily of Emily and Jim and Cardiff and I'm calling for the little brother who called and said that he's struggling with his faith and he misses Jesus. And we pray for him. And I just want to say I am so proud of you. Why am I proud of you? Well, because you don't call the Daily Audio Bible podcast and think people are gonna pray, oh i hope you find your home in Buddhism. You know we're gonna pray for you to experience the lord Jesus afresh. We all have doubts. It's happened to us in our journeys. I've had times where I've experienced God's holiness in ways I can't describe. And yet there are times where I think, well, are you real? That is OK because Jesus is still real, and He longs to be with you. He misses you. So, I'm going to pray for you right now, little brother. I'm sorry I don't remember your name. But Father God, I thank You that Your word is a light to this brother's feet...feet that it's a lamp, it’s a light unto his path. Lord, I thank You that You love him with an everlasting love Lord, that he...that even if he feels like that one little lost sheep that You leave the 99 and You go get him. So, Father I pray and the name of Jesus that he would experience Your love, Daddy's love, Abbas love in these coming days Lord. I pray that he would experience Jesus and Lord that You would open his eyes to see how good and…and sweet it is to be in Your presence, to…how good and sweet You are and all these other things, all these other distractions are just distractions. And I bless him, and I thank You for where You're taking him on his journey in the name of Jesus. I love you little brother. Bless you.

Hello DAB family, my name is __. Like to go by Seeking the Abundant Life. I'm calling because I am married to a Muslim man. We've been married for about two years, and I have kind of…I guess I've…I’ve started to lose hope or passion for seeing him come to Christ and have gotten kind of focused on just the day-to-day things. I’ve recently started a new job which I've made more demanding than it really is. Kind of allowed it to be my god. And over the past week I've been convicted about spending more time giving my best to work and not giving my best to home and to God and I've just felt far from God as well. And, so, I am calling in prayer for renewed passion for God, my relationship and intimacy with Him. I've had a hard time just even sitting down and reading the bible. I've listened but just for my own self and for my own prayer life of my own spiritual life. I've just not really been showing up for myself in that way and similarly for my husband as well. And, so, I'm just calling to ask you all to join us on this journey and thank you so much. You all take care. Bye.

Good morning on this beautiful Easter Monday. I'm a beloved Christian who periodically finds myself needing to once again release to God my forever singleness. It is a great joy to know that I am Christ's bride and yet there's perpetual pain in never having experienced the human relationship that paints the picture of this glorious relationship I have with Jesus. It is a great joy that I cling dozens of children my own and yet there's a nagging ache in my heart knowing that I do not have primary responsibility for any of them and knowing that I most likely will not marry while my body still has the capacity to bear a child. And, so, as an extension of wanton discipline this Easter time I feel cold once again to release to God my hopes and my dreams to daily ask Him to transform my hopes and desires to be only for Him. So, please join me in praying not only for myself but for the many who earnestly feel called to a Christ centered marriage yet have never felt called to develop this relationship with any particular person. So, let us pray. Lord Jesus, we love You because You first loved us. Help us to seek first Your kingdom and Your righteousness even and especially if the way that You are working does not line up with what we think we know about You and for what we think we know about Your ways. Restore to us the joy of Your salvation. In Your name we pray. Amen.

[youmakemyhearthowl]

Punk Princess

Ao3| Part 1| Part 2 (Next Part) | Part 3| Part 4| Part 5| Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8| Part 9 | Part 10

Steve Harrington just up and disappeared the summer of 84’.

He wasn’t seen around town, and he didn’t talk to any of his old friends. No one knew what happened to him. But the thing was Steve hadn’t actually -gone- anywhere. He was still around, still shopping for groceries and driving the kids around, because even though he wasn’t involved in their end of things the first go around, Steve was instantly protective of the shitheads.

Steve had just stopped looking like Steve.

Him and Nancy had ended up breaking up after all was said and done and he’d gone in a bit of a bender after school had let out for the year. Getting lost in the streets of Indianapolis and trying to figure out who he was, who he wanted to be.

That’s when he’d stumbled upon the punk scene and everything sort of changed for him. He didn’t -want- to be King Steve, had never wanted to be him in the first fucking place but it was the only way he knew to keep himself safe in high-school. He’d gone along with it because he wasn’t really a fighter and he knew if he was bottom of the food chain, he wouldn’t have survived. But the punk scene, the punk scene was everything he never knew he needed, and the kind people he’d met behind the hard edges that dressed with had helped him find a way to express himself and protect himself.

So he’d shaved the sides of his head, pierced his lip and eyebrow, and bought enough black and pastel clothing to crop and cut and mix and match till it fit his feelings of the day.

And so King Steve died and Steve was born from his ashes or something poetic like that and Steve felt more himself then he’d ever had before. He even learned about the queer community that intermingled with the punks and metal heads he spent his time with, and discovered you -can- in fact like both babes and boys and he’d been slowly setting into that part of his identity over the summer as well.

It nearly made him laugh out loud when he’d walked into Hawkins High on his first day of senior year and everyone’s jaws seemed to drop in unison when they took him in. Charcoal smoked around his eyes and mesh top covered by his black denim vest covered in patches and pins. The old “Harrington” cut off the back of his lettermen jacket and sewn onto the back of the vest, effectively cutting off every rumor about him ‘running off with that Buckley girl he knocked up.’ His arm was draped casually across said girls shoulders, the pink streaks she’d added to her hair standing in stark contrast to his black clothes.

“People are staring.” Robins whispered words tickled his ear as she leaned into his space, shying away from the eyes on them.

“Let em’ look Buck. Who gives a shit what they think, that’s what Hellen told us right?” He smiled softly down at her. She’d come a long way since the first time they’d run into each-other at one of the only queer clubs in the city, but she was still working on the whole aloof part of the punk roll she was falling into with him. Her outfit more subdued with spikes and patches on her jacket being the most she felt comfortable with in her new fashion. She still wasn’t sure she was totally into the punk look, so she’d taken her favorite parts and found ways to incorporate them into her usual fashion sense.

“Is that Steve Harrington?” Tommy’s voice suddenly rings across the halls and breaks them from their little bubble. Robin pulling her head off his arm and squaring her shoulders.

“Hagen.” He nods, the piercings in his face glittering slightly under the schools florescence. He debates internally if he should go on the defensive or just simply stay aloof, when Eddie Munson rounds the corner making a strange, loud, startled sound so loudly it pulls Tommy’s attention from Steve completely. Eddie’s stumbling to pick up the books he’s dropped eyes glued directly to Steve as a sharp red blush coats his cheeks.

“Fucking freak.” Tommy spits, and Steve sighs, defensive and aloof are officially off the table now, offense becoming his first priority.

Steve and Eddie had never interacted outside of Tommy’s hazing and Steve standing off to the side, trying to not to draw attention to himself. But when Steve had decided to finally be true to himself, he’d also discovered his unwavering desire to protect others, channeling his inner mean girl to punch up instead of down. And Eddie Munson was someone he seems to have deemed in that moment, under his protection.

“Lay off Hagen.” He snaps. Keeping his demeanor indifferent and bored as his ex friend whips around to glare. There’s a startled strangled sound slightly down the hall and Steve’s eyes meet Eddie’s, offering him a small smile and slight nod when he notices Eddie’s eyes are still glued to him.

“Oh sorry I forgot you’re a freak now too huh Harrington?” He growls, stalking towards Steve and stumbling his steps slightly when he realizes Steve stands a few inches taller then him now. His eyes shoot down glancing at Steve’s slightly platformed combat boots.

“They’re called shit kickers.” Steve offers, catching his gaze. “Wanna find out why?”

Ao3| Part 1| Part 2 (Next Part)| Part 3| Part 3| Part 4| Part 5| Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8| Part 9 | Part 10

[ryouverua]

DRV3 Liveblog Masterlist (Chapter 6)

It’s been 84 years...........

Finally (by surprising request!) I have gathered the Chapter 6 posts below. Behold.

Chapter 1 is here! Chapter 2 is here! Chapter 3 is here! Chapter 4 is here! Chapter 5 is here!

Similar to last time, drv3 asks are tagged ‘drv3 asks’ and so not all of them might show up among actual game posts. I did do a quick in the moment text thing that I’ll include in its own little section. Anyway, without further ado...

Chapter 6 (Introduction):

- and now for something completely different

Chapter 6 (Investigation):

Liveblog note: I did not get away with all the fluff text unscathed

K1-B0 does not support the fluff text search

It’s because I didn’t finish your FTEs isn’t it

Panic! At the Killing Game

Investigation... Start?

Furniture appreciation / Ultimate Supreme Leader’s Lab / I knew I recognized the ‘Ou’ character from somewhere

Saimota appreciation moment

(nice drv3 reference)

Kokichi Ouma’s (Lab) Room

The Greatest, Most Awful, Most Tragic Slappening in Human History

WHY WAS RANTARO IN HIS ROOM?????

It’s organized chaos damnit

Return to the Boiler Room

A Certain Lab, Reprised

Notes on A Certain Lab, Reprised

Cold Sleep Room and Knox’s 10th Commandment

Something something humanity

Kaede Akamatu’s twin, the 17th Student, lying hidden somewhere in this school… the one they call the Ultimate Red Herring, Watch out for her,

Back to the Library

Sometimes a necklace is just a necklace

The Final Lab / Investigation Note

Dawn of a New Truth

The Monotaro callout I deserve

Chekhov’s Bathroom / A BODY HAS BEEN DISCOVERED

Declaration of War

One Last Time (Speculation post)

Chapter 6 (Trial Play-by-play)

Start! / The Checkmark

A retrial??? / Missing the trees for the forest

Kaede!twin theory / The key evidence

My Kaito-brain at work again

Sorry K1-B0 it’s for the greater good

Behold, my bonds!

Wow the mastermind really felt like that? Do tell / It’s a witch!!

Alibi review time!!! / V-counter / Cosplayers everywhere are offended

Bye-bye Monosuke

Rantaro :( / Junko Enoshima >:( / FINE you won me back

Time for a commercial break!

She bravely ran away! / sir that is my emotional support cosplay / 53rd aha moment / JUNKO ENOSHIMA IS ???

Tsumugi’s switches / these tiny posts are not enough / students scouting vs applying / Kokichi Ouma’s true identity / Flashback Lights

So who the hell are you? / OH NO I’VE MADE A GRAVE MISTAKE

hajimemed / cosplay / okay I might be a little jealous / Dangan... ronpa...? /

Happy ending? / NOT THE COMMENTERS / RIP Shuichi’s caffeine high / Meta on meta / the rabbit hole is deep / ULTIMATE MEGANE SPRITE / return of Shuichi hangover sprite / the hits keep coming / Clair de Lune BSoD / Saihara.exe

Korekiyo redemption arc / yet another Umineko reference

(⌐■_■)

Remedy the situation? / K1-B0 cannot catch a break / K1-b0′s existential crisis combo / oh yeah DR3 happened / definitely misread that lol / DR1 is that you??

Flashback... light... / The true villain of drv3 / D: / Shuichi reborn / K1-B0′s character development / pros and cons of an emo protag / WHY CAN’T I HOLD ALL THESE PROTAGS - / Inconceivable / K1-B0′s turnaround

You can just call me the ultimate gamer / NOT K1-B0 / Underestimating Shuichi’s emo power level / I WEEP / KIBOU DA!!! ZETSUBOU DA!!! / SAIMOTA TIME 9′) / Monologuing / Report card

A flawless copy / Credits roll / Employee badge / From 5 to 3 / I DID IT

A collection of fun hindsight moments:

The benefits of hindsight / Kokichi you sonuva - / nerdmugi moment

Twitch plays K1-b0 moments / Survey says...! /

**** the terrible and despair-inducing sweetchi97

Chapter 6 (Trial):

Retrial (1) / Revisionist History, Pre-Accusation (2) / JUNKO ENOSHIMA IS??? / Shuichi’s Monokub showdown / (Fifty)-Third Time’s the Charm, Post-Accusation (3) / Flashfiction (4) / Oh, I am one yet many (5) / “hello, world!” (6) / My Will, Our Will (7) / Ghost in the Machine (8)

Pre-Execution / Post-Execution (End)

(the true drv3 ending)

Bonus:

Chapter 6 Illustrations

[podado-t-memes]

I posted 103 times in 2022

That's 84 more posts than 2021!

94 posts created (91%)

9 posts reblogged (9%)

Blogs I reblogged the most:

@podado-t-art

@funsizedcoffee

@imvelmacantseeshit

@nemeyuko

@mhdiaries

I tagged 102 of my posts in 2022

Only 1% of my posts had no tags

#monster high - 75 posts

#monster high memes - 74 posts

#holt hyde - 57 posts

#jackson jekyll - 55 posts

#mh holt - 49 posts

#mh jackson - 47 posts

#frankie stein - 30 posts

#monster high ghouls rule - 24 posts

#monster high meme - 22 posts

#mh frankie - 22 posts

Longest Tag: 53 characters

#its not like i lay awake at night thinking about her!

My Top Posts in 2022:

#5

It's Them!

Pt 6

198 notes - Posted November 20, 2022

#4

MH Live action Spoilers:

How I felt watching the MH live action movie trying to be supportive, but dying a little inside every time Jekyll and Hyde were brought up.

I just want my boys back! 😭😭 Where are they??

Blink twice if you need help! 💙🧑‍🎤🧑‍🔬💛👁️👁️

The movie literally mentioned their grandparents MULTIPLE TIMES. They had a freaking SONG about them. AND they introduced Mr. Kono as Hyde's SON. (aka Jackson and Holt's Uncle!)

The boys would have been PERFECT characters for this movie. They would have fit in with the message and the world. 😤 In a perfect world, they would be the main characters.😤

198 notes - Posted October 7, 2022

#3

I was today years old when I found out Jackson x Toralei wasn't a Crack-Ship.

I didn't realize there was actually canonical content for this. I just thought a bunch of people really liked the "Nerdy Boy-Bad Girl" vibe and just slapped them together 🤷‍♀️

...

Now I know WHY people ship them:

See the full post

200 notes - Posted November 18, 2022

#2

Finding out the ORIGINAL Monster High live action movie (2013) was supposed to center around Jackson Jekyll and Holt Hyde

Me @ Mattel & Universal:

Where is the Screenplay?! We need the damn Screenplay! 😤

...

They took the ideas from the OG script and turned it into the MH 2022 version we have today.

The premise of the OG was about JJ/HH being half normies!

They literally just gave that plot line to Clawdeen, changing the lore and shoving compelling characters out of the way!!!

...

Why is the universe so cruel??? 🥲😭

211 notes - Posted November 8, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

If I had a nickel for every time...

1. A much older man

2. Who rules over a place with an iron fist

See the full post

252 notes - Posted October 6, 2022

Get your Tumblr 2022 Year in Review →

[kravkalackin]

I posted 339 times in 2022

54 posts created (16%)

285 posts reblogged (84%)

Blogs I reblogged the most:

@terezis

@barry-j-blupjeans

@penbattles

@taz-ids

@herbgerblin

I tagged 89 of my posts in 2022

#ramblings - 48 posts

#stallus corpus - 13 posts

#yay questions - 11 posts

#shameless self promotion - 10 posts

#dnd - 10 posts

#original writing - 9 posts

#nice people - 7 posts

#kilna amani - 6 posts

#srb - 6 posts

#ask me things - 5 posts

Longest Tag: 77 characters

#it is getting to be an active desire and i want to write something *original*

My Top Posts in 2022:

#5

“This is your first lesson,” the Red Robe said, and so far the thing had been pretty fucking spooky. Lup figured she should have been terrified, but instead there was just something... mildly unnerving about the whole thing. Like this was all wrong, but she couldn’t place what exactly was off. 

“This is...” he repeated, his voice seeming to falter some in its deep, grumbling echo into something a bit more alive. “This is... this isn’t enough to make up for everything, but I hope it might be a start,” he continued, and he didn’t have a face, not really, but Lup couldn’t help but feel like he was staring at her. 

Then he waved a hand, and Lup felt the new weight on her wrist immediately. She jerked, ready to fight off whatever was grabbing her. 

But the Red Robe was gone, and instead of some sort of chain dragging her down or cuffs locking her in place, there was just... a bracelet. It was exactly her style, golden bands wrapping around with red gems inside, and all she could do was stand there for a moment and stare at it.

“Huh, hey!” she said, trying to yank her arm away when Taako grabbed it. Before she could though he was casting something, a befuddled look on his face at the end. 

“Weird, it’s not a trap? I think it’s supposed to protect you?” he said, and Lup’s face lit up at that, quickly casting identify on the thing as well. He was right, there was definitely some sort of protection, abjuration magic there. 

“Aw, why don’t we get cool ghost gifts?” Magnus asked, clearly disappointed. 

“Maybe it’s some sort of competition. Like, the prettiest gets the cool ghost gift,” Lup said, grinning at the bracelet. 

“I’m pretty! What standards are we going by? I need some parameters,” Magnus insisted, and Taako was already rolling his eyes. 

“Okay, that’s clearly not the deal because I would win no questions asked. Anyway we should probably get out of here before someone notices the fucking corpse behind the desk,” he said, and he had a point. They quickly left, and after a quick debate Lup hid the bracelet in her bag before they got up to the base. 

The director wasn’t happy when they got back, and she was even less happy to hear about the Red Robe. It made sense. He was evil. He made the relics and tried to destroy the world, they couldn’t trust him, they couldn’t talk to him, they couldn’t give him any chance to trick them. 

Except when Lup sat awake in her bed that night, staring at the bracelet she realized that the quickened breath and fast heartbeat she’d been feeling when the Red Robe appeared wasn’t from fear. 

No, she was fairly sure she had a crush on the Red Robe. 

Shit. 

193 notes - Posted May 31, 2022

#4

I recognize that I am a million Jeremy Beremies late but goddamn the good place was kind of a perfect show telling exactly the story it wanted to tell

237 notes - Posted April 28, 2022

#3

Ok tho the fact that dead end paranormal park isn't huge on here is a crying shame

290 notes - Posted October 19, 2022

#2

So the line 'he's here!' In We Don't Talk About Bruno is explicitly the family announcing that Mariano has arrived, but it's also pretty strong and straightforward foreshadowing of the fact that Bruno never actually left, he's here

457 notes - Posted January 18, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

Have I ever talked about the time I lied to a priest, committed blasphemy, and made up a whole church when I was like, eight?

So I went to catholic school for six years, despite the fact that neither of my parents went to church, were not religious, and my mom isn't even catholic. But I went to this school which had us do all the pageants and advent calendar and the stations of the cross, during lent we had morning announcements in the attached church and sometimes we couldn't have recess outside because our playground was just the church parking lot, and whenever there was a funeral it was too full of cars for us to play.

And one thing they do in catholic schools is have you do the whole church service on occasion, which includes things like communion. But it was the school church, and most of the kids had their first communion, ya know, one of the holy sacraments, at their own personal churches.

I didn't have a church though, the only time my family had ever stepped foot in a church was to come see me do school plays. I had never even been baptized.

So what was the already heavily bullied, autistic, must-not-make-adults-mad child to do?

Why, lie of course!

We had to fill out a paper saying what church we had been baptized at for a project. At 8 I lied and made up a church. I do not remember if I gave the same name when asked where I got my first communion by a teacher who was disappointed that she 'missed' it, but I was never called out on it if I didn't.

When we moved to third grade and were allowed to start doing communion with the rest of the church, since we were all supposed to have done first communion at this point, I listened incredibly carefully to the kids in front of me, watching and observing to be able to mimic what they did so that no would realized I'd never done it before. It turns out having to learn how to mimic at a young age to avoid bullying for the autism was a very useful skill.

Also, just rinse and repeat the same steps for when I lied and did confession without the sacrament as well.

Ya know, this would probably be the exact type of thing to admit to in confession. Every step here was definitely a sin.

677 notes - Posted February 15, 2022

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[seventhrounder]

I went thru my folder with old hockey magazines I had saved from around 2011 to 2015 and came across this one and thought it could be a fun to make a post about now in hindsight.

This is Jääkiekko magazine from May 2012, they always have a section of "99 questions with ..." and in this issue they interviewed Teräväinen.

I’ve translated the questions I found interesting under the cut! It ended up being about half of the interview. (*) are my additions.

On the cover "seuraava superjokeri" means the next super joker, he played for Helsingin Jokerit so it's a word play from that. Under, on the blue print it says: "The 17-year-old forward will become a first round draft pick in the summer. The natural goal scorer can dominate in SM-Liiga as soon as next season."

In the 2nd photo the headline and lead paragraph goes:

"A post with dents* - A year ago Teuvo Teräväinen was known only within a small number of hockey insiders. Few passers-by recognize him now either but after a flashy rookie season the Jokerit sensation is on the radar of every NHL team and is a strong contender to become a first round draft pick. Next season with Jokerit the talented second line center will be one of the main talking points in the SM-Liiga."

(*references the net Teräväinen had in his backyard and into which he practiced his shooting)

3. You've been described as a magician, top scorer, wunderkind and a prodigy. What do you think of these descriptions?

TT: Heh, those are some descriptions yeah. What can I really say? Don't really wanna comment on them much.

4. How nervous are you about the Draft?

TT: I try not to be nervous as best as I can. In a way I don't have anything to be nervous about since I don't care which team picks me or at what number I go.

6. Which is stressing you more, English interviews or physical tests?

TT: Maybe both. Bench press (laughs) and English interviews can be tough.

12. How far along have you planned your career with, for example, your parents or your agent?

TT: Haven't really planned things with others but I've thought about them myself. I try to go step by step and not jump too far ahead.

14. How does it feel to be so young with all the star players in Jokerit?

TT: How to say it? I haven't felt like I was young but a part of the team instead. The team's been very good with me and they haven't been looking down at me like: "oh he's young". It's been fun to play in an experienced team.

15. Is there a generational gap between players?

TT: You can see the age difference, older players look older but we're all childish, at least with our topics.

17. What does a 17-year-old do in the sauna nights of the team?

TT: I actually haven't been in any yet. I've always been at national team's camps or something.

19. Did you get the number you wanted?

TT: I did, yeah. I could've taken #18 but Semir (Ben-Amor) has it. But i'm happy with #86, it's good.

23. What are your strengths as a player?

TT: Offensive play and with that playing with the puck, passing, IQ, power play and skill, just the usual skill - skill with hands.

24. And weaknesses?

TT: They are to do with defensive play, strength and physicality. Battles and such but I think I took a step forward last season. That's a good thing.

25. Have you ever been "pressed into a mold" or has your playing style gotten to develop naturally?

TT: As a kid the play was mostly offensive/attacking, I didn't have to think about playing defence. Up until 15 years old, I got to attack pretty freely. Playing defence became more important when I started to play in A-juniors a couple seasons ago.

26. On a scale from 1 to 10 how determined are you?

TT: Maybe 8, feels like an 8.

32. What kind of role are you planning to take with Jokerit next season?

TT: I think a pretty big one. I try to be a top player and not just take others' example but give others example myself too. So that someone in the team can take something out of the way I do things on the ice and off the ice.

35. If you could pick anyone, who would be your car driver?

TT: Nico Manelius for sure. He's been my driver this season. I've had others too, like Riku Hahl but he's not nearly at the same level. Nico’s clearly the best.

36. What are the most important qualifications to be a good driver?

TT: The car is obviously important. Hahl's car is totally awful, he takes a lot of heat for it from the guys too. I wouldn't dare driving with him. Manelius is a steady performer, never lets you down.

38. What sports did you play as a 10-year-old?

TT: Hockey and floorball, probably football (soccer) during the summers at the time too.

42. When did you decide to focus only on hockey?

TT: So when I stopped playing other sports? Three years ago, before that floorball was kind of a side thing, I played a couple of games in the regular season and playoffs.

45. Do you follow floorball or other sports? Go to games?

TT: I don't go to games but I like to watch floorball on TV, it's an interesting sport. Sometimes I watch football too but I don't follow it much. Feels like they never score there.

47. Have you ever played with a wooden stick?

TT: As a kid I did play with a wooden stick.

49. You won the hockey players' golf tournament last summer even though there were more experienced players too. Are you good with all stick games?

TT: Well, I've been pretty good in all of them. I've played golf for a long time and still play it.

50. How is your swing?

TT: Pretty bold, kind of a hockey swing. I don't really care where the ball goes - as long as it goes far.

52. What do you think of off-ice training?

TT: Let's just say it's more stupid than being on the ice but you still gotta do it to be better on the ice.

56. Which word describes your professional relationship (with his coach, Tomek Valtonen), tranquil or colorful?

TT: Colorful of course. At times we're joking around, other times it's more serious but the relationship is really good.

57. Coaching you has been described in many words: good, bad, worse. What are they?

TT: Heh, well... I won't tell them here. He (Tomek) keeps the discipline during practices but sometimes when things haven't gone to a plan I've had to jump on an exercise bike in the middle of a practice.

58. What have been the reasons?

TT: I'll quote Tomek: "when I haven't been present".

59. Have you ever tried to turn the resistance of the bike to zero?

TT: (Laughs) Of course I have and sometimes I've even succeeded.

60. Describe your diet in three words?

TT: Greasy, healthy and good!

64. Your first name is not common for people your age. How did your parents come up with it?

TT: I actually don't even know. Maybe they didn't want a usual Ville*....

(*very common name for men of all ages in Finland)

66. Which of these is the most important: skill, unexpectedness or courage?

TT: Skill!

68. Your longest video game stint?

TT: Six hours, at least. I've played a lot of War of Duty lately.

72. The dumbest thing that has made you upset in hockey?

TT: Probably if I didn't get an assist on a goal even though I should have. Or even worse is if I score and they mark it down for someone else.

79. Have you had any concussions?

TT: I haven't had any, I've managed to always dodge them.*

(*ouch, tho it's good the recent one is his only as far as i remember)

84. In 2011 Team Finland finished in the 5th place at the U-18 tournament. Why only as 5th?

TT: Because we lost to Team Russia in the quarter final, just as well we could have won that game too.

89. You didn't get to be on the ice to accept the SM-Liiga bronze medal (because of the U-18's). When and where did you get it?

TT: I actually still haven't received it, I don't know where it is.

93. What is the population of Helsinki?

TT: There's like 5 million people in Finland so maybe around 500k in Helsinki? (to be exact 596k) Did i really get it right...?

94. Who's the mayor of Helsinki?

TT: I don't know, I barely know the president.

95. Do you think the municipalities in the capital city area should merge?

TT: Luckily I don't have to decide but they probably shouldn't.

96. What do you check first in the news paper?

TT: The sports section.

97. Your favorite tv show?

TT: Putous* was pretty good, I liked a lot of the characters. The grandma was pretty good.

(*Finnish live improvisation comedy/sketch show (there are still new seasons, the latest just finished). Every actor comes up with a humor character with a catchy phrase and one of them wins. "The grandma" is Marja Tyrni and I just got such flashbacks from typing this sentence.)

98. Last book you read?

TT: I don't read many books. The last book was a study book, a Finnish book. I wrote an essay on Tiki (Esa) Tikkanen's biography. An eventful book, great career and a lot of chirps.

99. Who should we ask the 99 questions next?

TT: Riku Hahl could have good stories, he's also seen a lot of the world.

[timelordthirteen]

Desperate Souls 6/?

Mr. Gold/BelleFrench, Explicit

Summary: A broke and heartbroken Belle French comes to an agreement with Mr. Gold to do a little modeling, just for him, in exchange for the money she desperately needs, but it isn’t long before they both realize they’ve made a deal they didn’t understand. Based on this prompt.

Chapter Summary: Another evening, another dinner, but this time Belle surprises Gold and herself.

Notes: IT HAS BEEN 84 YEARS. I am so sorry. Basically March and April were catastrophes, mostly of a work variety. A lot of things happened, I got super burned out, and I thought a lot about quitting my job. BUT... things are looking up significantly, and the muse is back. This is what Belle is wearing. ;)

[AO3]

Thursday evening, Belle arrived at ten minutes to six.

Gold seemed surprised when he opened the door, and she wondered if the events of the previous day, including their little tiff in his shop, had made him think she wasn’t coming for dinner. He was wearing a deep purple shirt, striped with a darker shade, and a plain tie in yet another purple tone. The look was topped off with a set of gold sleeve garters just above his elbows.

He’d held the door, taken her coat with little more than the usual Miss French, and guided her into the dining room, where he presented her with a plate of lamb chops and sizzled garlic, dressed with a mint and rosemary, chimichurri style sauce. To the side was a mix of roasted carrots and parsnips, sliced and blistered under the broiler, and tossed in the drippings from the lamb. It smelled amazing, and though she had initially thought the mint sauce would be too bold and overpowering, it melded perfectly with the earthy flavor of the lamb and vegetables. It was as if Gold was overtly trying to impress her with his prowess in the kitchen.

“Do you - like lamb?”

Belle looked up from her plate and blinked at him. “Um, yeah, yeah it’s good. The sauce especially.”

He nodded and stabbed his fork into the center of a carrot. “Good.”

She picked up her wine and took a long swallow as he focused back on his food. Perhaps she had made a mistake in coming over early and assuming that what had happened yesterday wasn’t going to affect anything. The silence lingered, broken awkwardly by the occasional scrape of silverware, and despite the food being delicious, she had barely eaten anything. Her stomach felt even more hollow than the first time she’d come over, and all she wanted was for the whole thing to be over so she could go home and ruminate on the mess her father was in.

She hadn’t quite sorted out what the hell to do about that situation, and though she didn’t know for sure where the money had gone, she worried that Moe had slipped back into the old, bad habits he had developed in the years after her mother died. They had been part of the reason for their move from California all the way to Maine. She’d promised herself that she wouldn’t be pulled into that again, that she wouldn’t let his vices upend her life.

The abrupt sound of a fork clattering against a plate shook her from her rumination. She looked up to find Gold staring across the table at her, his silverware resting against the china, and his hands folded and held up in front of him.

“I’m sorry,” he said simply.

Belle’s head tilted slightly, and he sighed.

“I’m sorry that I didn’t let you know about the - situation - with your father.”

She shook her head. “No, I’m sorry. I put the blame on you instead of where it should be, which is squarely on my father. The terms of his loan are between you and him, and probably confidential anyway.”

Gold lowered his hands and shifted in his seat. “Yes, but I still could have said something, perhaps hinted, or suggested that you speak to him about the loan for the flowers. Instead -”

It was her turn to sigh. “No, it’s fine, really I -” He held up a hand, and she stopped, her fingers twisting her napkin against her thigh.

“Let me finish,” he said softly. “My business with Moe, and my arrangement with you, are completely separate things as far as I’m concerned. One does not have any bearing on the other. I understand that isn’t the case for you, and that your father’s financial situation has possibly made yours worse.”

“Yeah...” She looked away, turning her gaze towards the living room doorway which had a view through to the front window. The porch lights illuminated the light snow that had started falling shortly after she arrived.

“As for your father not being truthful with you...” He trailed off and exhaled heavily.

She let out a humorless, scoffing laugh and glanced at Gold’s face before turning her gaze to her barely eaten meal. “It’s not the first time, and it won’t be the last, sadly.”

He gave her a look that was as much a smile as it was a grimace. “It’s deplorable, and I’m sorry for that as well.”

Belle shook her head again. “It’s not your fault, but thank you. I should probably apologize as well.”

“What for?” He frowned and reached for his wine glass.

“For marching into your shop and yelling at you.”

He waved a hand and gave her a half smile before he sipped at his drink. “Consider it forgotten.”

She relaxed at his words, and the awkward tension that had been present since he had first opened the door faded as they went back to their meal and companionable small talk. She hadn’t expected him to apologize. He was known to do so rarely even when there might be blame to lay at his door, but in this case there was none at all, and yet he had seemed compelled to clear the air. To her surprise, he appeared genuinely contrite, and his concern for her situation with her father felt quite sincere.

Gold frowned over his glass as he watched Belle make a little grouping of carrots at one side of her plate. He was glad that they had resolved things between them, but not knowing what Moe French was doing with the money he’d borrowed was concerning. He presumed Belle still didn’t know either, or if she did that it was bad enough she would never say so. At this point, Gold would consider it a miracle if Moe managed to pay him back by the deadline he’d set. Given her current financial situation, helping to pay her father’s debt as well would only make things worse for the both of them.

He was mulling over how to handle that particular situation, when he noticed Belle was watching him. “Finished?”

She smiled and glanced down at her empty plate. “Yes, and it was amazing and delicious, as usual.”

He chuckled, secretly pleased by not only her praise, but also by her choice of words. As usual. There was something shared and familiar in that which he liked far more than he should.

Abruptly, Gold pushed back from the table, and Belle watched as he stood and began to clear the dishes. When he reached across for hers as well, she tried to catch his gaze, but he seemed to be focused on his task.

She stood as well, and eased her way towards the doorway to the living room, intending to take the long way around to the foyer and the small half bath where embarrassment inevitably awaited her. “I’ll um, just go and - and change.”

At that he paused, plates stacked, silverware crossed over the top. His shoulders moved slightly as he let out a breath, and then gave her a brief nod. It was the first time she’d actually said it out loud. Before it had always been the unspoken next step; he cleaned up from dinner, and she went to put on something scandalous. It was the thing they both knew was coming, yet seemed content to leave in a state of plausible deniability.

The closed door of the powder room loomed, and the flutters in her stomach increased with every step, until she almost stumbled through it. A faint gasp slipped out when she flipped the lights on and saw what Gold had left out for her to wear. She pushed the door closed with her weight as she leaned back against it, her eyes trailing over the sheer lace.

This piece happened to be one of her favorites; a lacy, flirty babydoll nightie in a deep purple with a matching panty. Belle took a breath and licked her lips, steeling her nerves as she shrugged off her cardigan and unbuttoned her blouse. A few minutes later, she was tugging the flimsiest pair of purple underwear up her legs, adjusting the thin elastic over her hips before regarding herself in the mirror.

The front of the garment was low, covering the majority of her breasts with a soft lace pattern, but leaving ample cleavage exposed all the way down to the ribbon where the seams met. There was no underwire, but the elastic that went around her chest combined with the cut of the fabric had a slight lifting effect, which in another circumstance might have pleased her, but in this felt like she was offering herself for something. The fabric was even more see-through now that she had it on, and she was thankful that the lighting in the study was soft and dark.

The lower half of the nightie overlapped in the front, and fell in soft pleats above a wide strip of lace near the bottom. The overall effect made it slightly less sheer, but still transparent enough to reveal where the panties did and didn’t cover her. She turned around and looked over her shoulder to see that the hem ended just passed her backside, and swallowed hard.

Facing the mirror again, she braced on the wall and wiggled her feet back into her strappy black heels. She had decided when she was changing clothes after work that she was tired of walking around in bare feet in Gold’s house, and black heels went with nearly everything.

As she was about to exit the powder room, a thought occurred to her. It seemed almost certain now that Gold was working his way towards more and more revealing items, pushing her limits one week at a time. Perhaps she could push back.

Belle smiled to herself as her eyes perused the floor to ceiling bookshelves. Towards the top she could see wide, hefty tomes that reminded her of the encyclopedias she’d grown up with in school, before the days of Wikipedia and Google. Down at a more reachable level, there was a row of well worn volumes, and she touched the spines as her gaze took them in. He had several limited and first editions the likes of which she’d only had access to because she’d worked in libraries, yet here they were one shelf above more contemporary titles. He seemed to have everything from murder mysteries to classic poetry, and her smile grew as her fingers brushed over every published Bronte sister.

Shifting to her right, she came to stand next to the case with the kintsugi tea set, and a strange, warm feeling washed over her as she gave it a fond glance. Above the case however, was something quite unexpected. She’d initially thought it was an art piece, but now that she was truly looking and taking it in, it appeared to be a page from a manuscript in a gothic style lettering. Her eyes scanned the words, going wide as she realized what she was looking at. The title, the bold capital letter surrounded by scripted decoration, the odd, 17th century English spellings...

“I was wondering how long it would take you to notice it.”

Gold’s voice startled her, and she gaped at him for a long moment before her eyes drifted back to the framed page. “Is that from -?”

“From a 1611 King James version of the Bible?” he finished for her, sauntering into the room with a bemused smirk.

Belle blinked. “Yes?”

He flashed his teeth and came to stand beside her, his cane planted in front of him and his hands folded calmly over the handle. “Yes.”

His voice was soft and almost reverent as he looked up, and she gave him a brief glance before skimming the words on the page, her mind automatically adjusting to the strange letters as she read.

“The Apocrypha?” she asked.

Gold smiled crookedly. “Yes, again. I’m surprised you recognized it, considering it’s not the the title page.”

She shrugged, and looked at him, her lips curving. “I have an affinity for the texts that were removed from the Bible. And other religious books too. I always wanted to know what the powers that be didn’t want people to know.”

Her gaze moved back to the page, while his stayed fixed on her, watching the quirk of her lips as she read the words again.

“You were the kid that read all the banned books, weren’t you,” he said, finally.

Belle bit her lip and grinned at him. “I considered it a matter of pride to read all of them as soon as I learned there was such a thing. It’s why I became a librarian. I wanted to make sure that people could always find them if they wanted to.” She looked up, nodded her head towards the Bible page. “There’s always a reason a book ends up on that list, something that makes the man say you shouldn’t read it, and most of the time it’s precisely the reason you should.”

After a pause, she met his eyes and shrugged. “You disagree?”

He shook his head slowly, somehow managing a reply through the dazed fog in his head. “No, no. Quite the opposite.”

He had meant to tease her, and to distract himself from looking too long at what she was wearing, but her response was so earnest, and so well matched to his own thoughts on the matter, that he could do nothing except hold her in even more esteem than he already did. It was another sign that his plan was failing miserably, and yet he refused to be the one to end their deal. He was certain that there would come a point where her sensibilities would get the better of her, pushing her to refuse the silent request hanging in the powder room, and that, combined with whatever disaster was brewing with her father, would be the end of it. He need only be patient.

She looked away and shifted from one foot to the other, temporarily relieving the pressure on her toes. Her shoes were starting to pinch, but the strange, post-dinner conversations she kept having with Gold gave an air of comfortable intimacy to the moment that she didn’t want to dispel. He seemed as surprised by her answers as she was by all the books and objects he’d collected. The pawn shop had always been an eclectic mix of things, which she’d attributed to the nature of the business, but she now suspected it was entirely due to the eclectic inclinations of its owner. Inclinations which only made her want to know more about each one of his possessions, and Gold too, if she was honest.

Abruptly, Belle turned, blowing out a quiet breath as she crossed to the bar next to the fireplace. Behind her, she heard the thump of Gold’s cane, and looked back at him with as much of a smile as she could manage through her nerves.

“Why don’t you sit down,” she said, “and I’ll get your drink.”

Gold blinked at her, his head tilting slightly, before he nodded, and by the time she was done filling the glass with scotch, he was seated in his usual place. She took her time replacing the bottle on the shelf, and then pivoted slowly on her heel, smirking inwardly as she walked towards him.

He was noticeably off kilter, if his wide eyes and white knuckle grip on the arm of the chair was anything to go by, and she decided at the last second to push the envelope. She came close to the right arm of the chair, a hair’s breadth from his hand, and leaned forward ever so slightly to set the glass down on the side table. It was an unnecessary motion that served only to give him a full look at her breasts, but the way his lips parted, and the faint intake of air, sent a tingle down her spine. She returned to her usual spot by the end of the ottoman, and turned around all the way, once, before facing him again and letting him look.

Gold had no idea what was happening. His head felt almost dizzy, and he was vaguely aware that he’d lost control of the evening. She had been so close only a moment ago, her bare thigh a whisper from his fingers, her chest filling his vision for too brief a time. The glow of the fire had illuminated her as she turned and moved to stand by the ottoman, her silhouette leaving nothing to the imagination through the sheer fabric.

She stood still as he openly looked her up and down, and then, without a word or gesture from him, she turned slowly for a second time. He could feel his body react as the hem danced against her backside, and he reached for the glass of scotch, taking a quick sip to calm himself.

Belle found herself oddly amused as she watched Gold take a second gulp of his drink. She’d wrested back a little bit of control, and it had clearly surprised him even more than she’d intended. After a few seconds, he sent the glass aside, and she felt the weight of his gaze settle on her once more. It wasn't lecherous or discomfiting, as she thought it might feel were it anyone else. Instead it made her feel - warm.

“Thank you, Miss French.”

She gave him a small smile, and left to change, but something was different, she was different. She had put Mr. Gold on his back foot, something which few, if any, in Storybrooke could claim. The bathroom door closed, and she kicked off her heels, giving her feet some much needed relief on her way to leaning over the sink. She let out a slow breath and looked up, meeting her own gaze in the mirror and shaking her head.

The way he had looked at her, both when she was going on about banned books, and when she was modeling for him, gave her an unexpected rush. It was - intoxicating - and she was surprised to discover that she liked it. There was something powerful about what she’d done, owning the moment, and leaving no room for the usual embarrassment or awkwardness. A smile crept over her face as she remembered leaning towards him and the sensation that had come over her.

She shivered and rubbed her arms as she straightened, then set about changing back into her clothes. The babydoll was left on the same hanger on which she’d found it, panties included, which felt just a little bit dirty and wrong. Before she stepped back into the hallway, she looked back at it, wondering if she should take it with her or not. So far she’d chosen to leave each item behind, not wanting to take home something that had made her feel so uncomfortable to wear. She didn’t dwell on what he might do with them afterwards, but this piece, and this night were so different that she was almost sad to be leaving it.

Gold was waiting for her by the front door, holding a plastic container. She frowned and then realized it was leftovers from dinner.

“You didn’t need to,” she said, but he only shrugged in response as he handed it over.

The prospect of a second helping of a delicious meal made her smile, but it faded quickly when the yellow envelope came into view. He held that out for her as well, a simple, nondescript thing, but bulging a bit to one side where the money was tucked. It had dulled her good mood with the reminder of what their deal was all about. Still, she managed to thank him, awkwardly, and he bid her good night.

He waited by the door until she was out of sight, swallowed up by the late winter shadows, and then made his way to the powder room. Sighing, he reached for the hanger, and the lingerie that she had once again discarded. It wasn’t part of the deal in any way, but his assumption that she would want the items back, was obviously wrong. She probably saw them as even more tainted than when the fiancé she'd bought them for left her flat broke.

Upstairs, Gold made his way down the long hall to his bedroom, feeling the telltale ache in his bad leg from too many hours on his feet. Moving around the kitchen to make a rather complex dinner had been the last thing he’d needed to do after standing most of the day at the shop, rearranging a couple of the display cases, but it was worth it. Belle had enjoyed the meal, and they had cleared the air between them, at least somewhat.

He stepped into the walk-in closet, passing the neat row of suit jackets and trousers, and the angled shelves of polished dress shoes, to a short hanging area at the back wall. The hook of the hanger made a light clank as it went over the bar, and he sighed. The purple nightie swayed for a few seconds before the fabric stilled, hanging next to the two other items abandoned by Miss French.

Hesitantly, he reached out and touched the black chemise from her first visit, drawing the silk between his fingertips. Swallowing hard, his hand brushed the softness of the pink nightie, up and down with the back of his hand from hem to the edge of the lacy cups and back again. There was another pause before he slipped his hand under the sheer purple fabric from this evening, seeing for himself how transparent it truly was, and recalling once more the shape of her in the firelight. It was still slightly warm, and he sucked in a breath, catching a hint of her lingering scent.

His eyes closed as he inhaled again, and though there was no need for a cold shower tonight, he had begun to consider the fact that he may have made a deal he didn’t understand.

[juliettalfacharlie]

Day 4, alt: Visiting a Grave

CW graphic death, gun violence, suicide, acceptance of death, and drugs.

The previous two years, she'd shaken with emotion. First with anger, then grief. Anniversaries weren't necessarily special dates; they weren't anything she looked forward to or dreaded, but it was still jarring to realize how much time had passed. She'd experienced a minute of disbelief when she first recognized it'd been a year since her wife was with her.

It was customary in the Earth Kingdom to show respect only towards elders. When parents lost their children, no vigils were held, for it wasn't acceptable to honour those your junior.

It was a practice that thankfully hadn't taken roots in Republic City. Kya wouldn't have cared, regardless. She was hurting, damnit, and that wasn't lessoned because Lin was three years younger than she.

Now, 1,095 days past her lover's death, Kya was finally in a place of peace. Not with Lin's killer, or the circumstances surrounding it. She didn't believe she'd ever accept that.

The two had been walking out to their car after an evening dinner, and Lin sensed an altercation a block away. Kya sat in the Satomobile while Lin cautiously neared, concerned over a potential mugging or assault. It hadn't felt like anything serious, especially compared to what both women had already seen.

Lin used her seismic sense when she'd crossed half the distance, seeing two figures. One was pressed against the wall, the target, while the other stood in front of them, the instigator.

She treaded as quietly as possible, peeking around the corner to assess the situation.

There were two men, both tall and muscular. The assailant held something Lin originally believed to be a small baton, but as it caught light from the streetlamps, Lin saw it was a handgun. They weren't exceedingly common, due to being new inventions that were quite costly, but the amount of nonbenders in Republic City meant they were more concentrated here compared to other nations.

Lin desperately wished for her old spool of cables, but she'd retired them fifteen years prior, and they'd been gifted to the top metalbending prospect at the time of her departure.

The weapon was pointed at the victim, so any surprise attack risked him firing. She instead went for a civil approach, calling from behind the corner, "Step away and put your weapon down." she instructed, hearing his loud gasp.

"Who's there? Don't come close or I'll shoot!" the attacker yelled. His voice was strained, likely from fear.

"You haven't done anything yet, kid. Just set the gun on the floor, and we can talk about it." she replied, using a tone of placating authority. She displayed power without intimidation; the other man was acting on pure emotions, he needed to feel like he had an ally.

"I don't want to talk. That's not going to do shit to bring back my brother." he said, and Lin heard a head hit the concrete wall.

"Killing someone else won't either. It's also not going to make you feel the pain any less. The only thing it'll accomplish is ending your own life as well." she told him, voice softening just slightly. One constant in life would always be violence, and there would always be people hurt by it. Lin stepped around the corner, hands up in submission.

The gunman yelped, swinging the weapon towards her. "Hey, I know you! You're a cop!" he said, and Lin had a full view of his face. He was young; not boyishly so, but somewhere in his early 20's.

"I'm not an officer anymore, but the experience I have means I know exactly how this can end up. I don't want to see that happen to you; there's so much left to experience." she told him, calm under his pressure.

His hands trembled just so, eyes full of pain. "There would have been if it weren't for him!" he yelled, turning his head to the other man.

His face was bloody but he looked otherwise unharmed. "It's not my fault the idiot overdosed, I just gave him the shit." he argued, and the young man clenched more firmly around the gun.

Lin intervened quickly, taking attention off of the loudmouthed dealer, "I know what it's like to lose a sibling. My younger sister. My mom took her side, so it felt like I was entirely alone, but I found joy in my job. In my hobbies and friends. It made that pain feel much more manageable, and I couldn't be happier right now." she explained, eyes not straying from his face.

"I don't have any of that. I just had him." he said, shaking his head.

"For a long time I didn't either. I held onto my anger for decades, and it prevented me from fully enjoying myself. I don't want that to happen to someone else," she told him, "It wasn't until I was 52, actually, until I let that go. I didn't get closure, and the people who hurt me never apologized, but I saw how much harm it had done to me. Shortly after, I started talking to the woman I came to marry. She's the best person I know; beautiful, kind, insightful, she brought out the best parts in me, and I found myself wanting to be happy for her.

"If it's too difficult to feel joy with yourself, would you pity an old woman and feel it for me? I promise you, this hopelessness isn't permanent." Lin said, watching as the man slowly relaxed his grip and lowered the weapon.

"How about you start by telling me about him, hm?" she encouraged. He kept the weapon up, pointed at her knee, but his shoulders had dropped.

"His name was Mingyu. I was eight when he was born, and I was so excited. We didn't have a lot of money, and mom and dad were always working, so I had to look after him instead of going to school.

"I taught him what I had learned, and he was so smart. I got a job to make sure he could go to school when he turned 6. He was so good at kuai ball.

"We lost our dad this year, and Yu took it so hard. I was too busy with my job to see it, but he at school he started- why didn't I just-" the man finally lowered the gun, eyes welling up.

"Kids make mistakes. It's not your fault that Mingyu slipped." Lin told him, taking a cautious step forward.

The man didn't respond, so she continued to close the distance.

Lin straightened, feeling the distinct thud of metal-soled boots. The police had been called before she showed up.

"Hey, give me the gun and we can keep talking." She urged, and he looked up at her, startled by her change in tone.

"RCPD, hands where I can see them!" an officer behind her bellowed. Lin felt a pit open in her stomach, watching the emotions flash across the man's face.

In a moment the gun was back up, four feet away and aimed right between her eyes. "You lied to me!" he shouted, and pulled the trigger.

Kya had heard the shot, and immediately she knew what had happened. She felt a tug in her soul, similar to the feeling when her mother passed, and she sat in the passengers seat for hours, unable to move.

The man who murdered Lin was only 22. His name was Han. He ended up receiving life in prison for killing the former police chief, compared to the 30 he would have gotten if he killed the drug dealer, but he instead hanged himself in his holding cell. He was survived solely by his mother, and Kya deeply pitied her, but it was because of her son that she was now a widow.

It was unbelievable to imagine Lin losing her life there, in the alleyway fifteen years retired from the police force, instead of the dozen times she'd been severely injured, or the hundreds where she'd faced worse danger. Kya forgot, sometimes, in the beginning. She'd return to the empty house and think Lin must be in the backyard, or wake up in a cold bed expecting the smell of Lin's favoured morning tea, tieguanyin, to have permeated upstairs.

Kya had been so achingly raw with pain. She'd felt nothing like it before, where the jagged edges of her grief made her lash out instead, but for months she hated Lin for having left her. Spirits damn her noble nature.

After five months the wounds finally soothed, but she'd been terribly surprised to feel its return when she visited Lin's grave a year past her demise.

She then felt guilt over her reaction; Lin had told her countless times how Kya had "saved" her. Shown her love, and helped her realize to be cared for wasn't negative. Kya wished so desperately just to speak to her once more. To thank her for all that she gave, and ensure Lin knew how deeply she'd been loved.

The second anniversary was when she felt sorrow, but in the past year she'd received news that wasn't altogether bad. It made the third occurrence pass with far less grief.

Kya had been experiencing chest pains and severe shortness of breath. From her own diagnosis, she surmised her heart was giving out, but a healer in the city confirmed it with ease. There wasn't too much surprise given her age, approaching 84, her lifestyle, not always the healthiest, and the compounding emotional experiences she'd weathered.  While she'd never looked forward to death, she found that she was ready for it whenever the time came.

It was almost freeing, sitting in front of Lin's grave without the cloud of overwhelming emotion. She didn't visit her final resting place except for this anniversary, as she'd been buried in the Beifong family's tomb all the way in the Earth Kingdom. Lin had been rigid on tradition that way, even if Toph insisted against it and Su planned to start her own in Zaofu. Kya had only wanted to honour her wishes; being with her mortal body didn't give her a particular sense of closeness. She sensed Lin at random moments regardless of her location, which had been one hint she hadn't yet chosen reincarnation. Her spirit had remained hidden despite thorough searching in the Spirit World, but Kya knew she was only waiting for Kya's time.

And with it nearing, for the first time she faced the gilded headstone with a glimmer of hope.

[redsector-a]

AO3 Ask Game

I was tagged by @themarshalstale which, thank you so much! I feel like I always get missed on these (I know why, it’s been 84 years since I published anything but still). 1. How many works do you have on ao3?

46 it seems. Which...look I’m slow man so that’s not surprising. lol Also crippling depression does not make for much production, at least for me.

2. What’s your current AO3 wordcount?

309662 according to the stats.

3. How many fandoms have you written for and what are they?

So do I could only AO3 or in like life? lol I suppose it should only be on AO3 since this is an AO3 ask game. Hrm. Basically AO3 can be summed up as: Marvel (in several iterations - all Avengers related) Torchwood Highlander But isn’t it more fun to consider my entire fandom life, which, I’m sorry, I’m old so...yeah. Not all of this is was published and beyond that a lot is not available anymore...which is likely for the best. Highlander Star Wars Babylon 5 Ronin Warriors/Samurai Troopers Marvel (again, several iterations also of note Avengers and X-Men both count) Torchwood Star Trek LOTR Stargate (SG-1, SGA) Mortal Kombat I dabbled with the idea of Potter fic but never got past the ideas stage.

4. What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

1: You rearrange me till I’m sane Clint finds himself spiraling into a deep depression after the Battle of New York...until the Winter Soldier ends up saving him and inadvertently giving him a new purpose – to save the man that the Soldier had once been – Bucky Barnes. Not one to be outdone, the Soldier decides that his new mission is to ensure that Clint remains alive himself. Protecting a blonde man with a self-destructive streak is somehow very familiar to him. Through the back and forth of who is saving whom they cross the country and learn more about themselves and each other – and perhaps find a reason for living. 2: Five Dates Bucky Didn’t Realize He Was on And the One He Planned Himself To say that Bucky was surprised when Clint kissed him was an understatement. But it was nothing compared to the shock he felt when he learned they'd been dating for months without him realizing it.Clint gets whisked away for a mission before they have time to talk and Bucky is left to figure things out on his own - hindsight being 20/20 he can't help but wonder how he missed things the first go around.

3: Puck Luck Bucky Barnes is used to the ups and downs of an NHL season. He's used to the unpredictability of the game, knows that bounces don't always go your way, but that doesn't make a broken hand in the final third of the season any easier to deal with. Especially not when he ends up with an impromptu roommate/personal assistant in the form of one Clint Barton - his agent, Natalia Romanova's (rather attractive) friend he hadn't known existed before his injury.

It's just for six to eight weeks - what could possibly happen in that span of time?

4: Loose Lips Launch Ships

Based on the following prompt: “We go to school together and I think you’re cute and apparently you’re also the pizza delivery guy and my little sibling opened the door screaming hey sibling! you know that kid you’re in love with? you really weren’t kidding when you said his jawline could cut steel holy shit-” Bucky is the pizza delivery guy. Clint's younger (foster) brother has a big mouth.

5: Indelible Bucky Barnes has a pretty decent life – a good job, good friends, a cat that adores him - but something is missing. He’s always found body art to be beautiful and inspiring, and on a whim (and with the hope that maybe he can find what he’s missing) he decides to take the plunge and get a tattoo. That's how he meets Clint Barton. Clint's talented and compassionate and there is an instant spark between the two of them. It's not long before Bucky finds himself wondering and wanting more from the relationship despite the ghosts of the past that crop back up. Because Clint makes him feel normal in a way he truly hasn't for years...

(this was pre-Alpine so I was totally chuffed when canon confirmed Bucky’s status as a crazy cat lady (affectionate).

5. Do you respond to comments? Why or why not.

I really really really want to do it but I often times don’t end up doing it. There are a few reasons. First, I am akwward AF and bad at interaction adn I feel like just saying thank you would be...not enough? Second - I often times tend to like...turtle (aka retreat into myself) when life gets Too Hard/Busy which happens a lot to me (sigh) and then I miss the vague window in my mind in which it would be okay to respond and then it’s even more weird. I do love and cherish all of them. Like there was one months ago that made me go “hmm...I didn’t think I was going to do a sequel to that fic (You rearrange me till I’m sane), timestamp glimpses sure but a sequel hadn’t come to mind” but then the comment made me think! So...who knows? lol Anyway, I literally have been rereading some in an effort to try and get myself going again. Know that if you have commented, I love you.

6. What’s the fic you’ve written with the angstiest ending?

At the moment? Probably: Look at you look at me Bucky's in love with Clint - problem is he's really not supposed to be. For Winterhawk Week 2019 - Forbidden Love (I really don’t want to give away the spin in the fic but...if you’re familiar with the Secret Avengers Vol 2 run circa 2013ish (aka when SHIELD initially ‘took control of the team’) that’s a bit of a hint as to the spin). Were it done, Torch Song would be up there. ;) Torch Song Clint is sent back in time, via an alien device, to 1938. While he tries to figure out how to get back home, he takes up singing and entertaining to make ends meet and does his best to not disrupt the timeline.Then he meets a 21 year old Bucky Barnes. --- A torch song is a sentimental love song, typically one in which the singer laments an unrequited or lost love, either where one party is oblivious to the existence of the other, where one party has moved on, or where a romantic affair has affected the relationship.

7. Do you write crossovers? What’s the craziest one you’ve ever written?

Does *wanting* to write crossovers count? lol I want, so badly, to do more crossovers and fusions (which...are kinda deeper versions of crossovers in a way). The only one I do have posted is a crossover between Highlander and Torchwood -

The Immortal Mr. Jones A series of vignettes (some long, some short) in the life of the newly immortal Ianto Jones. My most ambitions project that I have been working on since late 2011/early 2012 is a fusion of the Avengers with Stephen King’s the Stand. I will get that done at some point *shakes fist*  The Stand, for those who don’t know it, is an epic 1000+ page novel about a flu epidemic (I know) that wipes out over 99% of the population and then two figures representing Good and Evil pull the survivors in two directions for a showdown. So basically it’s a non-powered modern AU set in that universe. It’s a passion and comfort project. lol

8. Have you ever received hate on a fic?

Yes. Well, minor bitching back when I was in a prior fandom because I tagged a pairing in a fic but it was pre-slash and not labeled as pre-slash. I got hate on...I think it was Torch Song? And I’ve gotten hate on tumblr re me and my fic in general as well. Fandom! *jazz hands* Oh! And I’ve also been hit by those reviewers within Winterhawk (among general Clint pairings actually) who like rate you on either number scales or the “meh” scale. Which isn’t hate exactly but...it’s passive aggressive bullshit because I can’t believe none of them realize at this point that the authors can see their bookmarks - you know?

9. Do you write smut?

Yes. Do I write it well? I have no idea. lol

10. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Not that I am aware of. Well...there was, I think, one of those reposting sites that had a few fics on it but I don’t think it was being passed off as someone else’s? I can’t quite recall. It’s why I have a note on AO3 about reposting my work anyway.

11. Have you ever co-written a fic before?

Not entirely, but sort of. Let me explain - I am part of a PBEM game; which for those unfamiliar since it’s a term that was most heavily in use 15-20 years ago, in which you basically do a round robin type writing thing but rather than everyone writing the same characters you write your own characters and you play off what other people have done. Another way of looking at it is  it’s basically DnD without dice and written down rather than done out loud. You also don’t have to all be around at the same time. It’s a lot of fun and yes I have been in it for 20 years even though there aren’t many of us left but they are some of my dearest friends and fabulous writers. Wins all around.  One of the other writers and I have actually toyed with the idea of doing a co-written fic actually, mostly because we work super well together and keep getting ideas for things but can’t really do them as rpgs since the pbem style isn’t used much anymore.

12. What’s your all time favorite ship?

Winterhawk probably. Though, let’s be real - Han & Leia are epic and amazing as are John & Delenn (from Babylon 5).

13. What was the first fandom you wrote for?

Does wanting to expand The Black Stallion books as a wee child count? lol Not much of that was written save for world building ideas but there was a great oral tradition of telling stories to my friends. Otherwise...maybe a tie between Star Wars and Highlander. Star Wars was a love since I was super young but the writing bug didn’t hit me until around the same time Highlander was a thing as well.

14. What’s your favorite fic you’ve written? You rearrange me till I’m sane for sure. Though Torch Song, if it were finished, would be tied I imagine (I suck at picking favorites). Honorable mention to Puck Luck and Indelible. Tagging: I have seen this like a million times (okay 5) so I feel like everyone has been tagged already that I know. But...I guess... @vexbatch @crazycatt71 @heartonfirewrites and @disruptedvice sorry if anyone has been tagged before.

[lilypixels]

...............all of them.....?

It took me an hr to do this....🥲💀

1. coffee mugs, teacups, wine glasses, water bottles, or soda cans?

Teacupsss

2. chocolate bars or lollipops?

Lollipops

3. bubblegum or cotton candy?

Uhhh cotton candy

4. how did your elementary school teachers describe you?

Probably quiet and smart lol I did my school work and was friendly with everyone so I was a favorite and heard all the nice things 🙈

5. do you prefer to drink soda from soda cans, soda bottles, plastic cups or glass cups?

I kinda like bottles more but like the glass ones with the caps that could slice your fingers-

6. pastel, boho, tomboy, preppy, goth, grunge, formal or sportswear?

I’m for all but sports lol

7. earbuds or headphones?

Earbuds

8. movies or tv shows?

Shows cause I’m the type to watch an hr long episode vs hr long movie idk why but I’m rarely in mood for them

12. name of your favorite playlist?

Drop the beat (ie songs that are upbeat and I like most)

13. lanyard or key ring?

Hmm...I guess lanyard?

14. favorite non-chocolate candy?

Skittles or twizzlers

15. favorite book you read as a school assignment?

I had lots I had to read in school but only ever finished a handful lol my favorite I think was maybe Macbeth? I would say Odyssey but I don’t think we read the full thing cause I remember being disappointed about something like that...

16. most comfortable position to sit in?

Sitting with my legs bent up in seat with me in some way

17. most frequently worn pair of shoes?

Converse and some nice but cheap sneakers from Walmart

18. ideal weather?

Not too hot, not too cold, mild like before/after a rain (most the time), idc if it’s raining or sunny but as long as temp is comfortable I’m fine

19. sleeping position?

On my side most often

20. preferred place to write (i.e., in a note book, on your laptop, sketchpad, post-it notes, etc.)?

Phone and notebook

21. obsession from childhood?

Oh gosh uhhh I guess my like of dolls maybe? Or obsession with anything ✨unexplained✨ like ghosts, aliens, cryptids, etc

22. role model?

Kim Namjoon lol just kidding (sorta)

23. strange habits?

Ok I know I have some and my friends would be more than happy to point them all out but hm let me think...idk if these count as habits but I’ll never place a mirror facing a bed (this is more superstitious I guess than habit,,,) I can’t stand my food touching, if I have a tray like in cafeteria I have a certain spot for everything and uh my mind just went blank-

24. favorite crystal?

Moonstone, lapis lazuli, and I feel obligated to say garnet cause it’s my birthstone

25. first song you remember hearing?

Circle of Life maybe who knows xD

26. favorite activity to do in warm weather?

Walk or clean,,I’m more active and about with warm/nice weather

27. favorite activity to do in cold weather?

...stay inside where it’s warm

28. five songs to describe you?

Not this again😭 uhhh idk you tell me ajdbd

29. best way to bond with you?

Indulge me when I go off about things I like or learn 😔✊ I know I’ll talk your ear off and I’m sorry but know I don’t often talk about these things with people so once I start it’s hard to stop,,and it makes me really happy when people do listen to me about these things and send me related items every so often or even look into it themselves to learn more 🥺

30. places that you find sacred?

For some reason this feels like a trick question...um cemeteries and anything with ages of history I guess

31. what outfit do you wear to kick ass and take names?

Oof do I really have a true outfit?? I have shoes for this which are just black platform sneakers I call stomping shoes

32. top five favorite vines?

I never,,,watched these,,,

33. most used phrase in your phone?

“Yes”...?

34. advertisements you have stuck in your head?

State Farm and McDonald’s, always

35. average time you fall asleep?

10-11...usually...

36. what is the first meme you remember ever seeing?

Uhhh that one with the ginger dude (I think it was someone’s yearbook photo??) I don’t remember much else about the meme but it was on ifunny, or whatever the app was, a lot

37. suitcase or duffel bag?

Suitcase

38. lemonade or tea?

Easy, tea

39. lemon cake or lemon meringue pie?

...neither

40. weirdest thing to ever happen at your school?

Dude these questions really testing my brain power here- for senior prank someone put cereal in some bathroom sinks I think

41. last person you texted?

My mom

42. jacket pockets or pants pockets?

I’m gonna say jacket since I wear those often

43. hoodie, leather jacket, cardigan, jean jacket or bomber jacket?

Hoodie or cardigan

45. which genre: sci-fi, fantasy or superhero?

Fantasy

46. most comfortable outfit to sleep in?

Usually whatever shirt I’m wearing that day and some pj/lounge pants 🤷

47. favorite type of cheese?

Mozzarella

48. if you were a fruit, what kind would you be?

I-what kind of question is this? How does one even answer this?

49. what saying or quote do you live by?

What comes around goes around lol (yes I’m a heavy believer of karma)

50. what made you laugh the hardest you ever have?

Lol who knows, probably something dumb me and my siblings were doing or something we watched cause there’s been plenty times of that xD

51. current stresses?

Homework vs free time e-e

52. favorite font?

I like the gothic looking ones but it’s usually not practical to use so idk

53. what is the current state of your hands?

My hands...? They’re fine ??

54. what did you learn from your first job?

How to care for babies and little kids, how to put on a diaper lol

56. favorite tradition?

I can’t remember a particular one off hand but I’m trying to start few new ones like decorating cookies for Halloween uwu

57. the three biggest struggles you’ve overcome?

Uhhhhh like personally or...? Cause we’ve overcome homelessness before, um finishing assignments idk😭 oh maybe bullying?? That’s all I can think of since I still struggle with a lot,,

58. four talents you’re proud of having?

Alright let’s do thisss: creativity (mostly in writing sense), I can bake/cook, I have amazing organization skills and many work places have used that lol (bonus is I don’t mind, I actually really enjoy it, very peaceful), surprisingly good balance all things considered, I’m a quick learner

59. if you were a video game character, what would your catchphrase be?

“I’m too tired for this.”

60. if you were a character in an anime, what kind of anime would you want it to be?

Good question good question🤔 I don’t think I’d last in any of them/have a terrible side character role so 💀

61. favorite line you heard from a book/movie/tv show/etc.?

“Life’s too short to hold grudges.”

62. seven characters you relate to?

Dude this is gonna get embarrassing I can feel it🤠

Itaru, Iori, Sogo, Belle, Simeon (obey me), Nozaki (he’s clueless about romance irl and doesn’t know when someone has a crush on him yet can write romance well enough and yeah it’s me lol), and uhh Swindler/Ordinary Person in Akudama Drive (still can’t believe no one really has names in that anime but the way she gets wrapped in everything felt like something that’d happen to me lol)

63. five songs that would play in your club?

Like nightclub...? I’m skipping this ajdbd

64. favorite website from your childhood?

Probably the Barbie site, me and my sister played all the dress up games almost daily istg

65. any permanent scars?

Appendectomy scars and then looks like I have one on a toe but it’s possible it still might heal...

66. favorite flower(s)?

Nightshade, foxglove, baby’s breath, bellflowers, roses

67. good luck charms?

I don’t think I have any...

68. worst flavor of any food or drink you’ve ever tried?

Lemon

69. a fun fact that you don’t know how you learned?

Let me think...I read something once about flowers having ears(?) but like not ear ears just something about having a part that picks up sound waves

70. left or right handed?

Right

71. least favorite pattern?

Lolll animal print I think

72. worst subject?

Physics...the worst science

74. at what pain level out of ten (1 through 10) do you have to be at before you take an advil or ibuprofen?

6...?

75. when did you lose your first tooth?

I don’t remember, it probably happened when i was 6. I do remember losing one of my front teeth during my birthday one year and I was happy since the tooth had been loose for some time xD

76. what’s your favorite potato food (i.e. tater tots, baked potatoes, fries, chips, etc.)?

Chips I guess or just like fried in skillet

77. best plant to grow on a windowsill?

A succulent probably

78. coffee from a gas station or sushi from a grocery store?

Neither ew

79. which looks better, your school id photo or your driver’s license photo?

They are both about equally terrible

80. earth tones or jewel tones?

Earth

81. fireflies or lightning bugs?

Fireflies

82. pc or console?

I am on pc side now

83. writing or drawing?

Writing

84. podcasts or talk radio?

Podcasts I guess

84. barbie or polly pocket?

Barbie

85. fairy tales or mythology?

Mythology, it’s too fun and chaotic lol

86. cookies or cupcakes?

Hm...cupcakes

87. your greatest fear?

Uh,,,I don’t have many fears but I guess one would be falling from a great height? So I would get scared of crossing a bridge and it collapsing or riding a plane and it falling easily

88. your greatest wish?

World peace🥲

89. who would you put before everyone else?

My mom maybe...?

90. luckiest mistake?

I honestly don’t remember but something I do remember is I out semicolon instead of period and turned out to be correct grammar lol

91. boxes or bags?

Boxes

92. lamps, overhead lights, sunlight or fairy lights?

Sunlight or fairy lights, I don’t require much either way and prefer more natural lighting

93. nicknames?

Lassie, twinkle toes, Ash, poody butt (by 3 yr old I sometimes watch and play with lol he means it affectionately; I call him monkey butt and it’s catching on slowly instead)

94. favorite season?

Starting to be fall just a little more but I like transition times most

95. favorite app on your phone?

Let’s go with twitter

96. desktop background?

It is a moriarty and gang pic

97. how many phone numbers do you have memorized?

2: mine and my moms

98. favorite historical era?

Ooo tough one but I’ll say renaissance as some of the coolest things came from that time

[battlestar-royco]

IT'S BEEN 84 YEARS. LET'S TALK ABOUT NETFLIX'S SHADOW AND BONE.

8.7/10 ⭐️

spoilers for everythingggg under the cut! i'll be discussing its merits as an adaptation vs as a show, characters and plots, and the overall aesthetic and magic/world.

SHOW VS ADAPTATION:

i say this as someone who knows all the books very well and has been in the fandom for nearly a decade, so i'm biased. but. s&b functions better as an adaptation than as a standalone show. alina's plot moves so well, and satisfyingly renders so many iconic scenes and sites from s&b. the worldbuilding is also pretty easy to fall into, with a forgivable amount of voiceover/infodump. and, hurting budget aside, i mostly liked this visual interpretation of the gv.

(sidebar: the in-universe racism... doesn't work. i tried to view it in good faith but imo it was very heavy-handed. if it was framed like, "wow it's a SHU WOMAN saving the world!!!" it might've been better, but it's just racism without recompense. and it's a terrible look to make other characters of color racist. i just. why?)

as for the crows, however... i'm just not sure how strong they'll be for new viewers? i totally understand why they were included, and i really like certain connections the show made between the two series. it was a great decision to introduce the druskelle in the first Cut scene, and showing nina as a ravkan spy.

the new crows stuff felt in character, but i think the show is at its height when it sticks to the books. the first couple episodes switching between tgt and proto-soc gave me whiplash, but luckily it got more organic as it progressed. if i didn't know and love all the crows before going in, i wouldn't be that invested in them based on season 1. aside from a couple fantastic scenes, it really felt like the writers were trying to make fetch happen for like 4 episodes before they figured out what to do with everyone. plus, ravka is such a different vibe from ketterdam--tonally, sartorially, technologically, etc they didn't totally feel like the same world. it was pretty jarring. although i prefer the duo to the trio, s&b is alina's story and she is That Bitch who walked so the crows could fly. so i didn't hate their inclusion but the shoehorned content did at times disservice both plots, imo.

CHARACTERS:

way too many, which is yet another consequence of smushing everyone into one season.

MAL/ALINA/DARKLING: first and foremost, and i PROMISE i'm not saying this just to be a hater, but there needed to be less malina. i'll be the first to say that show!mal really has what book!mal wants. the new pre-fold scenes were so good. li and renaux have amazing chemistry, and their laughter over stolen grapes was a highlight. his stag plot was also good. THAT SAID, there were way too many keramzin flashbacks and malina parallels like.. 🤢🤢why do they want us to love mal so much. for what. they only needed the teacup scene but they clearly thought they were doing something with micro-aggressions and that meadow shot they showed like 6 times. knowing mal's original character, and how they scrubbed his show counterpart almost to the point of flawlessness, he's just never going to be my fave even though i do respect what they did with him. also, why were there like 5 fake deaths for this dude? boring.

the darkling was great. ben barnes knows what the fuck he's about, and he funneled manipulation and charisma into every scene. as for the backstory: at first i really wasn't feeling it, but i eventually did warm up to it and i'm so glad they showed it because oh god the cut and the creation of the fold were SO FUCKING ICONIC. also, love love love the baghra development. WE LOVE TO SEE OLD WOMEN/MOMS WHO AREN'T "EVIL"/"CORRUPTED" BY THEIR MAGICAL POWERS!!!!!!! BITCH! it didn't have to be 12 minutes long though.

i honestly don't have much to say on alina. jml was excellent in her role and very true to the book. without her book narration she feels much more consistently written.

TRILOGY CHARACTERS: i really felt the lack of genya and zoya. genya's character and actress are perfectly layered and effective, even though their roles are relatively minor. i'm so looking forward to her razrushost moment, but i wish they'd laid more groundwork for it. (and i hope throw out the wig and just dye her hair next season.) also like. WHY KEEP THE IRRELEVANT MEAN GIRL/DARKLING THIRST PLOT FOR ZOYA??? AFTER ALL THE EFFORT THEY PUT INTO IMPROVING MAL? they sacrificed so much for malina at the expense of other characters. finally, it was interesting how they decided to kill marie. i love the tailor magic flex. but also they clearly just did that to emotionally manipulate us and connect the crows so. hm.

CROWS: speaking of! the crows storyline felt a little like filler. honestly i wish they waited to roll crows into later seasons. i'd prefer little foreshadowings about them, a la the druskelle cameo or the references to nina and matthias. introducing the crows so soon makes the ice court heist feel less special. the recruitment was super tight and pragmatic, so this felt a little fluffy/fanservicey. kaz also comes off as sooooo old again. especially without the vulnerability of his book counterpart, he just seems like a 40-year-old in a 20something body.

i was pleasantly surprised to find jesper my favorite crow. like wow.... second amendment rights for jesper fahey only!! i like all the crows but book!kanej are my faves by a long shot. they felt a bit stiff tbh, like the actors were a little uncomfy with each other and/or their exposition-heavy lines. however, the one scene that felt EXTREMELY kanej to me was when they killed that dude in the church holy fuck oh my god. WE STAN AN ANGSTY BATTLE COUPLE WHO ARE BOTH DEAD INSIDE. highlight for sure.

and i actually kinda loved helnik? i know helnik is controversial for very valid reasons, but i thoughy their dynamic was fantastic and they were among the strongest performers. it was much less overwhelming than the constantly interweaving kaz/inej/jesper imo. they need to fire their location scout though. those green screen mountains and beaches were um. interesting.

aesthetic and magic:

i really hope they get a bigger budget for costumes, cgi, and sets next season! the keftas are serviceable, but they look a little cheap at times. i will also never forgive ANY of the crows' hats. it's mostly just a personal aesthetic thing but god i fucking hate them. the darkling was best dressed, but in general i liked the ravkan look more than the kerch. why were the crows always in the most elaborate getups? why couldn't they just chill in their waistcoats??? they never seemed relaxed in the way alina and co did; the clothes never felt worn or broken in.

favorite sets: the darkling's room, the crow club, all the grisha tents, the matthias/nina ship, the church where inej killed the squaller, outdoor fountain where they told the story of the black heretic. the lighting was almost always right for each scene, and there was so much detail in every one of them.

THE MAGIC WAS SO COOL! my greatest beef is alina's light--it often looked so fake, and it washed out jml. oftentimes it was fluorescent or blue, and it was used as a forcefield or orb. it's supposed to be sunlight bro. what is so hard about that? the darkling's magic looked good, other than the fold. i've always imagined the fold more like a huge black fog rather than a literal wall. so that was a bit game of thronesy, but not terrible.

and can we talk about the amplifiers? amplifiers are my personal favorite gv lore but season 1 barely gets into them. they never mention the bear zoya slew, nor do they establish the unique strength of the stag, sea dragon, and firebird. BUT THE ANTLER COLLAR FUSED INTO ALINA'S SKIN WAS SUPER DARK AND MACABRE AND I KINDA LIKED IT? ALTHOUGH I HAVE TO WONDER HOW TF IS SHE GONNA SLEEP???

if you made it this far, thanks so much! that's all i have for today.

[melstanaccount]

I posted 63 times in 2021

43 posts created (68%)

20 posts reblogged (32%)

For every post I created, I reblogged 0.5 posts.

I added 159 tags in 2021

#the last of us - 28 posts

#the last of us 2 - 24 posts

#tlou2 - 21 posts

#tlou - 20 posts

#mel j - 17 posts

#mel - 17 posts

#youtube - 9 posts

#fan fiction - 9 posts

#joel miller - 7 posts

#ellie williams - 7 posts

Longest Tag: 42 characters

#посттравматическое стрессовое расстройство

My Top Posts in 2021

#5

My first post and also my first fiction. A huge thank you to @abbystanaccount for the amazing artwork.

Dying Ground

Having freshly joined the WLF, Abby, Mel, Owen and Manny are thrown in the deep end when they face a Seraphite ambush and it’s aftermath.

They're challenged by the path they have taken and confronted by their grim new reality.

This fiction is written from Mel’s perspective. Mel is probably the character whose story felt the most tragic for me in TLOU2 and who I know isn’t the most popular character, so I thought it would be interesting to write something from her perspective 

Ultimately I wanted to explore how this new world and this new reality is changing these characters and the relationships between them, particularly Abby and Mel and their drifting apart as their values and what drives them start to come into conflict. In TLOU2, Mel lashes out and tells Abby she’s a piece of shit and has always been one, but I don’t believe she actually believes this.

I’m writing this through the lens of my own experiences. I have a military background, having spent 6 years in a Parachute Reconnaissance unit before working in the private sector providing training and support to security forces in other countries.

Although I am fluent and practiced. English is a second language.

28 notes • Posted 2021-11-23 08:03:56 GMT

#4

Tacticool

32 notes • Posted 2021-12-05 07:08:47 GMT

#3

See the full post

34 notes • Posted 2021-12-11 07:44:17 GMT

#2

Abby looking like a badass. Made in fallout 4

65 notes • Posted 2021-11-26 19:36:22 GMT

#1

See the full post

84 notes • Posted 2021-12-02 01:29:49 GMT

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