#so I’ve been thinking about whether the things I have lined up for E make sense or not

[thetwilightroadtonightfall]

I love putting myself waist deep in writer problems that aren’t really a huge deal in the grand scheme of things but still bug me to no end [disclaimer: this post consists of fic planning rambles that can be construed as genuine questions for canon too]

Currently I’ve given myself a headache trying to figure out whether or not there’d be Heartless in Scala if Ephy (or anyone really) seals its Keyhole

Because what does locking a world’s Keyhole do exactly? Does it prevent Heartless from destroying the world? (they still appear, but just can’t destroy everything on a huge catastrophic scale) Or does it stop Heartless from appearing entirely, meaning there’s no need to worry about Heartless at all anymore?

My current working solution (for my own project, not necessarily for canon) is that Scala is a special case. As the hub for keyblade wielders, Heartless appear regardless of whether or not its keyhole is locked simply because they’re attracted to the keyblade and the numerous wielders that live there.

[oohnotvery]

Hand To Your Heart - Chapter 7

Hello hello—

I know I’ve been away far too long, but it’s because I was quite sick for nearly three months. I never would have started this story had I anticipated the life circumstances that forced me to temporarily abandon this work.

But I’m back and I’m feeling so much better. Thank you for your patience.

Feeling just a bit guilty because this chapter is super angsty, but that’s kind of my thing, and I do intend to update far more frequently going forward.

Thanks again.

Love, E.

P.S. This is important!!!! Please, please, please remember that this isn't ever going to be Mulder/Fowley or Scully/Other. This is MSR all the way, but I have to build some intense angst to make it gooey in the end.

Read Chapter 7 on AO3 here.

Life goes on. For the next few days, Mulder is absent from the office. Scully assumes he’s working the case with Diana and she does all she can not to think about it. Not to think about him. Or them. He hasn’t bothered her since he left her apartment a few nights ago; hasn’t asked her whether she’s going to rejoin the case; hasn’t made any attempt to contact her at all. 

She is surprised, then, when on Friday morning, she enters the bull pen and sees him sitting at his desk. She shouldn’t be shocked; he works here, for heaven’s sake. But he usually keeps her at least somewhat informed about where he is, so seeing him so unexpectedly fills her with anxiety.

Cautiously, she strides to her desk, trying to ignore the fact that Mulder doesn’t even glance at her in acknowledgement. So. That’s how this is going to go then? I tell him what’s wrong and he ices me out?

Swallowing her bitterness, she boots up her computer and tries to focus on her work.

They have been working in somber silence for two hours, each dutifully ignoring the other, when the elevator dings and the familiar clack of heels draws Scully’s attention up. Mulder seems to notice the shift in the atmosphere as well, glancing up and unintentionally locking eyes with her, only to look away the instant their gazes meet.

Diana strides purposefully to his desk and perches on the corner like she owns it. Scully tries not to notice the way Mulder’s body seems to open welcomingly to Diana’s presence. Her gaze wanders down the sharp lines of Diana’s suit, lingering on the graceful sway of the other woman’s feet as she speaks. And then she realizes something, and her stomach curdles.

Diana’s shoes are the same pair of heels she saw in the motel room the day she went snooping. Spotting them unexpectedly plunges her into memories she’d rather leave behind—finding Mulder’s hair products in Diana’s shower, seeing Diana’s lingerie laid out temptingly on her bed.

Scully realizes she’s been caught staring when an oppressive silence envelops her. She glances up, cheeks coloring, and sees them staring.

“Dana,” Diana says with a charming smile, “so glad to see you’re feeling better.”

Mulder’s eyes widen slightly, and without exchanging a word, Scully realizes he must have informed Diana that she was unwell to excuse her absence from the case. She licks her lips, nodding, then ducks her head to return to her paperwork. In her peripheral vision, though, she sees Diana’s long fingers settle against Mulder’s shoulder.

“Still on for dinner tonight?” Diana asks, her tone slick with suggestion.

Mulder clears his throat and swivels in his chair with a nervous energy, unbalancing Diana’s hand from his shoulder. He hesitates before mumbling something affirmative about giving her a call, but Scully can barely focus on his answer. Color drains from her face. Another memory is surfacing in her mind, pushing its way to the forefront.

“We agreed to be friends with benefits,” Diana told her a few days ago, outside the motel room. “But I can see he wants more. You don’t take a woman out for dinner and drinks every time you sleep with her if you don’t want something more.”

Scully stands abruptly, startling Mulder and Diana. She mumbles something about an urgent matter and darts towards the elevators, stabbing the button furiously until the doors close behind her, offering a moment of privacy.

They’re going to have sex tonight. Mulder just made plans to have sex with Diana tonight in front of her.

A cold sweat breaks out on her forehead and as soon as the elevator doors open onto the next floor, she sprints towards the ladies’ room. She barely makes it to the toilet before throwing up the contents of her breakfast.

All this time, she realizes she’s been holding onto a dim flicker of hope: maybe after telling him how much he hurt her, things would soften between them. Maybe he would admit to having stronger feelings for her. Maybe everything would work out. But if he’s making plans for sex with Diana right in front of her, it’s clear she means nothing to him.

Rage and humiliation flood her veins, but she stops them cold. Now isn’t the time for feeling. It’s the time for action.

It takes her ten minutes to clean up and another five to locate a coffee. By the time she finally returns to the bull pen twenty minutes later, Diana is gone. Mulder turns slightly in his chair and regards her with a furrowed brow, but she disregards him. He starts to speak, but she yanks up the phone and dials reception, a stupid, wild, reckless idea taking shape in her mind.

“Transfer me to Agent Stephens,” she demands, her heart pounding in her chest. “Yes, that’s correct, Mike Stephens.”

Mulder has now turned to face her fully, but she keeps her eyes glued to her desk. She cannot let him see her face. If he sees her face, he’ll know exactly why she’s doing this. He’ll understand that this is how she settles the score, how she gains the upper hand.

Since when did their relationship become a competition to see who could inflict the most pain?

And will her actions even hurt him?

When Mike finally answers, Scully’s eyes dart traitorously to Mulder’s. His eyes narrow with suspicion, and his mouth contorts into a grimace. It fans the fire of indignation inside her and she spins away, turning her back to him.

“Mike,” she says with as much warmth as she can muster, digging her nails into her palm.

On the other end, she hears a confused chuckle. “I have to say, Dana, I’m surprised to hear from you. Is this about a case?”

She clears her throat, all-too-aware of Mulder’s gaze burning into her back. Lowering her voice, she cups her palm around the receiver, suddenly anxious for privacy. Why is she doing this to herself? To Mulder?

“Actually,” she starts, “I’d like to discuss . . . our arrangement.”

A long pause follows. “We have no arrangement, Dana.”

She fidgets in her chair, nerves clawing up her throat. “I was hoping that could change.”

There’s an intolerable silence on the other end of the line and humiliation stings at her cheeks. Alarm bells in her head start to clang, and she realizes she’s crossed a line. Dammit. She never should have risked calling Mike in front of Mulder, because now Mulder is about to bear witness to her complete mortification.  

“I’m sorry,” Mike finally sputters. “You—you just caught me off guard there. After our last conversation—”

“It’s okay,” she interrupts quickly, clinging to the remnants of her dignity. “Just forget it—”

“No!” comes a loud shout. “No,” Mike adds more quietly. “I’m . . . I’m still interested. Very interested.”

A wave of relief washes over her and she blows out a steadying breath. “Okay,” she says, suppressing a smile. “Okay. I’ll—I’ll talk to you later, then.”

“Yeah, later.”

When she turns around, hands shaking but eyes triumphant, she is shocked to see that Mulder is gone. She didn’t even hear him leave. How much did he actually overhear? And how much did he infer from what he did hear?

She scoffs at the persistent hope that she can’t seem to beat out of her system. None of it matters anyway. Mulder isn’t hers. He never was. That man belongs to Diana.

[neutron-stars-collision]

Deadlines & Commitments

Neil x F!Reader

Chapter 4 - North Greenwich Underground Station

Masterlist; Chapter 3 Summary: Neil's brief disappearance does nothing to extinguish the sparks. As he returns, you make a series of discoveries about each other and grow ever so much closer. Warnings: Swearing, E-rated language, ridiculous amounts of flirting as per usual. Buckle up bc we're amping the pace a little... ;) Author's Notes: Well... that was a long break between the chapters 🙈 My apologies, turns out that having a job takes away the little joys in life like writing silly stories. Anyways, here we are, at last. With another 10.7k. And this one's packed with many good, fun things ;))) Some of those scenes had been months in the making (if not years, considering I first mentioned this AU to Shet in like 2021? I think?). So, yeah. They had it long time coming. More cameos, more nonsensical POV changes and, above all, more certified idiocy by them two kids. Hope you enjoy and let me know what you think? 💕 Taglist: @hollandorks, @kristevstewart, @stargirl25 (let me know if you want to be added)

What Neil’s departure from London did not do was change the way things worked between you. Although you only had meagre information about his whereabouts (such as that he was within the same time zone but in a different country), there was no sense of a breach building in the space of that strange yet solid connection. With the anxieties surrounding the imminent ‘Don Quixote’ premiere keeping your blood pressure high daily, you more than enjoyed being able to pick up your phone and message him whenever possible.

He did not always respond immediately, but it was not a must. What mattered was that Neil eventually got back to you. Never disclosing any information about his work trip, apart from the fact that it was warm there even in mid-October, he still made the effort to keep up with your antics. In that sense, the insanity of the date you had risked changed absolutely nothing.

But it also changed everything.

It was as if your free will chose to conspire with the soul’s desires to get what they wanted. Namely – Neil. Because as soon as you had even begun considering breaching the line separating friendship from every other kind of relationship, your brain decided it was done.

Being his girlfriend was not on the list of priorities or wants, but getting in his pants definitely was. It was almost freeing to admit.

The only question left after all that soul-searching was whether Neil wanted you like that, too. Sometimes there were no doubts about that, either.

Almost a week in, with the ballet previews looming on the horizon and no chance of sleep anytime soon, you huffed an annoyed sigh and picked up the phone from your bedside table. Bleary eyes registered the hour (five past midnight) as you opened apps randomly, already giving up on the promise of sleep. It took you another few minutes to make up your mind, open the texts and stare at the conversation with Neil. It had been a few hours since the last exchange concerning the warmth of the climate wherever he was. You had been (fruitlessly) trying to make Neil send you a picture. Of himself. Not necessarily without clothes, but that was the dream. And a girl was allowed to dream, right?

Squinting at the screen, you hesitated for another millisecond before typing out the simple question:

/ 🏹, 00:15 am/ Are you missing me yet?

Neil did not make you wait for long.

/✝️, 00:26 am/ Obviously.

/✝️, 00:26 am/ I’m barely coping here, sunshine.

/ 🏹, 00:29 am/ Gee, you’re making it too easy.

/✝️, 00:30 am/ Making what too easy?

/ 🏹, 00:33 am/ Missing you.

/ 🏹, 00:34 am/ See, I thought my cheeky line would get a lukewarm response, so I was prepared to tease you further.

/ 🏹, 00:34 am/ And now I’ve no quips to offer.

/✝️, 00:39 am/ Apologies. I’ll do better next time.

/ 🏹, 00:40 am/ I’ll make sure of that.

/✝️, 00:42 am/ And what punishment do you propose?

/ 🏹, 00:43 am/ I’ve always wondered what you’d sound like if you begged.

/✝️, 00:44 am/ It could probably be arranged.

/✝️, 00:45 am/ I’ve no qualms about getting on my knees for a beautiful woman.

/✝️, 00:45 am/ But that would hardly be a punishment.

/ 🏹, 00:48 am/ Yeah, but if I let you have that and then left you… on your knees, so painfully hard with no release… How would that feel?

/✝️, 00:51 am/ You win this one.

/✝️, 00:52 am/ And yes, I’m blushing. Fiercely.

/ 🏹, 00:59 am/ Good, I was hoping you are. Goodnight, Neil.

As you hit send on the last message, your head hit the pillows with an audible ‘oof’. Your cheeks burned; the blush invisible in the dark yet still very much there. That was the problem with Neil and your chats. It was impossible to say when they would turn in that direction. When you would both lose control and follow a line of conversation that probably never should have happened. Not that you were complaining.

It was good to know what you could expect from Neil. If things happened the way you wished, they would. Admittedly, he’d look good on his knees. That was a fact.

That night you only got five hours of sleep, but who counted it anyway. What mattered was that you had some excellent dreams. Dreams that you hoped would end up prophetic.

On other days, your conversations were a little more serious. Like that early afternoon when you just finished the final in-costume run of the Cupid variation and exited the ROH to wander the streets of Soho. Whenever you felt close to losing your sanity, the walk around those familiar spots always did the trick. It was easier to breathe, to hope that you would not fuck it all up when the curtain call came. To believe that imposter syndrome was nothing more than a vile bitch.

Sighing against the thoughts muddling your brain, you took out the phone and immediately noticed the new message:

/✝️, 1:49 pm/ How’s the garden of the Dryads coming along?

/✝️, 1:50 pm/ It probably goes without saying that you’re my favourite ballerina.

/ 🏹, 2:06 pm/ Damn, that’s high praise. Especially considering that I’m the only ballerina you know.

/ 🏹, 2:06 pm/ I think the garden is coming along nicely. Not so sure about Cupid, tho.

/✝️, 2:08 pm/ I call bullshit on that.

/✝️, 2:09 pm/ I just know that you’re brilliant.

/ 🏹, 2:12 pm/ Doubt, she said.

/ 🏹, 2:12 pm/ ‘Cause like… How do you deal with the overwhelming weight of expectations?

/✝️, 2:18 pm/ I mean, I panic and lose it instantly, but generally speaking, I think you just sort of… ignore it and trust you are good enough.

/✝️, 2:19 pm/ I know that you are, Cupid. This role was made for you.

/ 🏹, 2:22 pm/ Elaborate, please. I need my ego stroked.

/✝️, 2:23 pm/ Well, she sorts of saunters onto the stage and has a minute to dazzle everyone, yeah?

/✝️, 2:24 pm/ Which is exactly what you did to me.

/✝️, 2:24 pm/ You’ve got this.

/ 🏹, 2:26 pm/ God, you’re irreconcilable. Better come back so I can force you to sit through this.

/✝️, 2:27 pm/ Working on it as we speak.

A smile painted itself on your face with an inerasable stroke of brush. Neil’s constant support and cheerleading were a welcome surprise. Sometimes, your meeting almost felt like a divine intervention. That is if you believed in such things. Because the odds of gaining both a fascinating man to pursue and a friend were quite low. And yet.

As you looped your steps back towards Covent Garden, you made the mental note to visit the box office and add a request for the guest list. It was a rare enough event to have someone you could invite to the performance. And have the right to believe they would come. You were not going to squander that sort of chance.

***

The whirring ceiling fan was starting to get on his nerves with its endless sputtering. And it was not even working, as far as Neil was concerned. The sweat still clung to his skin and trickled down his back to a point where he seriously contemplated ditching the shirt. And that rarely happened. Especially not on the job, with the whole squad confined to a medium-sized safehouse.

The bustle of the city streamed through the windows, cracked open so they could let in fresh air while still having a chance of keeping them safe from snipers and the like. Granted, one could never be fully prepared for an inverted shot, but it was worth trying not to get killed. Especially during a mission that technically was just a recon. Though Neil knew better than to believe The Protagonist when the man claimed something was perfectly safe. He meant well, sure. But despite the appearances, he did not know everything.

So, the windows cracked open three inches had to do. Neil sighed, annoyance digging deep beneath his skin to stay there for a little longer. It was another one of those boring, yet technically productive afternoons in the safehouse. Today, the task was to plan a hypothetical pincer movement. Just in case, they said. Well, Neil sure did hope the case never came to be.

He glanced at the blacked-out screen of his phone, the muscle memory betraying him as he picked up the device almost mindlessly and opened the conversation with Cupid. It had been a few hours since the last chat, which was pretty usual. They did not need to talk all the time. Neil knew that. He also knew that it was probably better they did not talk constantly. Considering that 3 out of 5 conversations always ended up dirty, up to the point where he was blushing like an idiot. And, sometimes disappeared in the bathroom to deal with some troublesome effects of those chats.

Yes, considering all that, Neil knew it was best they took some breaks. But also-

“Blondie, can you give us a hand with this?” the yell from further inside the apartment acted like a bucket of cold water tipped over his head unceremoniously.

Neil whipped his head up, glaring at the open doorway. Unfortunately, being referred to as ‘blondie’ was becoming more frequent. The petulant nature urged him to ignore it, but he knew that was hardly the last one. With another long-suffering sigh, he heaved himself out of the armchair and called back:

“I said I’m coming,” granted, that was over fifteen minutes ago, but everyone could get distracted. Right? “Would it hurt you to ask nicer?” he stalked down the corridor toward the living area with an arched eyebrow.

It was not surprising to meet a mirroring expression on the faces of Ives, Wheeler, and Jeremy sitting in a trifecta of judgment. Neil had no doubts about his place in that makeshift courtroom.

“Yes, when you’re slacking,” Wheeler dropped the disapproving glare with all the air of nonchalance and pointedly glanced at the table covered with maps and blueprints.

Neil had no choice but to sit down in the remaining chair and offer an apologetic pout to anyone willing to hear him out:

“I’m not slacking. I’m just-” whatever excuse he could whip out on a whim got interrupted prematurely.

“Otherwise occupied with your girlfriend. Yes, we know,” Wheeler raised her head once more with a dismissive wave of hand, making Neil consider the possibility that she was close to losing it right there and then.

That possibility was always worrisome, for no anger could compare to that of his friend. Especially when she was pissed off.

But that careful consideration was nothing in the face of the two realisations brought forward by that simple assumption. Firstly - Cupid was decidedly not his girlfriend. Secondly – fucking Ives.

Neil glared at the man in question, hoping his eyes would reveal the murderous intents hidden underneath as his clarifying statement broke the awkward silence:

“She’s not-” he never finished that sentence (perhaps for the better), for the harsh sound of his ringtone filled the room with cacophonic clamour. Neil scrambled to pick up the phone without as much as glancing at the screen, “Hello?” the tentative opener sounded ridiculous even to his ears.

Soon, it was clear he should have checked the caller before picking up.

“Hi, Neil,” Cupid’s silky tone caressed his ear through the device.

Neil knew she did that purposefully, solely inspired to make the idiot inside him blush and giggle like a loser. Make no mistake; Neil was certainly a loser. And an idiot.

Once he felt the shock pass enough to ensure he would not drop the phone he repeated the greeting.

“Umm, hi,” from the corner of his eye, Neil could see the accompanying trio stare at him without trying to be covert about it. Absolute assholes “You’ve never called me before” trust him to state the obvious.

For a second, Neil considered faceplanting onto the table. Equally, the idea of jumping out of the window sounded appealing. The thoughts of potential demise were interrupted by Cupid’s reply:

“I know. I just thought it might be fun to spice things up,” she was definitely enjoying this and the damage she has caused. It was audible in the lightness of her voice, the vowels curled by a cheeky smile he could hear as she asked, “How’s your day?”

No longer happy to ignore his audience, Neil turned towards them with another glare. All three stared back, with Ives going as far as shooting him a knowing smile.

“It’s fine, except for my team being desperate to berate me,” Neil directed the venom in his voice at the trio as Wheeler casually got up from the table and put the kettle on.

The light chuckle from the phone almost made him feel better about it.

“That’s rude,” her remark contrasted with the laughter he could hear in her voice. Yet it was too late to raise the alarm or prepare for what would follow, “Would it be better if I reminded you what a good boy you are?” as soon as Cupid finished the question, Neil felt the full-body reaction she wanted.

A shudder ran through his spine as his face flushed pink. On a last conscious thought, Neil leapt up from the chair and paced towards the window, hiding from the group. A half-swallowed groan broke through his mouth as he tightened his fist, hopelessly trying to forget how those two words sounded on her lips. It was pathetic.

The more tragic outcome was that now Cupid had even more blackmailing material in her arsenal.

“Jesus Christ, you’re evil,” Neil knew he still sounded wrecked.

There was no way of hiding that. Of making her forget this had just happened and the conclusions she could draw from it. Neil barely resisted the urge to smash his head into the window.

“Oh, so it would help,” as expected, Cupid sounded delighted by what had transpired. The cheeky smile he liked way too much was undoubtedly present on her face as she added, “Not so dully noted” may he rest in pieces, apparently, “When are you coming back?” the question sounded almost out of place.

Yet even in his muddled mind, Neil knew it was genuine. That she wanted to know. If that fact meant anything at all, he did not know. And he tried his hardest not to think about it too much.

“Why? You miss me?” ignoring the chorus of ‘awws’ behind his back, Neil allowed himself to ask.

Even if only for emotional validation. Because while she has hinted at it before, Neil was never tired of being reminded. The whole thing with her might have been hopeless, but it did not change how he worked. How his heart ticked and what beat it chose. Tragically, romanticism was tricky to get rid of. Neil experienced that first-hand.

“You know that I do,” Cupid did not mind humouring his whims as she offered a simple admission without a fight.

With all his predictability, Neil could not hold back the idiotic grin from making an appearance. Sure, it had no future, but that did not make him less eager to play along. What’s the worst thing that could happen? Famous last words and all. Probably.

“I should be back in a week. More or less,” that was the hope, anyway.

The few stray thoughts that had somehow escaped the web spun by Cupid, and her attention reminded him about the work still left to be done. Like the fucking pincer movement plan. With threebastards taunting him mercilessly. So much fun.

“Fab. I got you a great seat for the premiere, so… You know what to do,” the hopeful note in her voice was worth the future pain.

He had no doubts about it. The fact was that Neil was looking forward to the ballet. The hazy memories of seeing ‘Swan Lake’, aged six, hardly compared to the Royal Ballet company. It was a good enough reason to attend. The other excellent reason was Cupid herself, but that was best unsaid. And unthought. Somehow.

“Got you,” ignoring the ridiculous thoughts, Neil offered her a smile she could not see and a silent prayer cast into the heavens that he was not lying unknowingly.

“I know you do. You’re a good boy, Neil,” Cupid’s strike came with no warning.

Yet again, she dropped her tone a notch and whispered the damned two words with a breathy sigh. The metaphorical nail to the coffin this time was how she said his name, almost caressing the letters. And yes, this time it worked, too.

Neil had the mind to faceplant into the window and groan with frustration. The inescapable blush warmed up his cheeks as his body shivered. Some… particular parts of his physique also showed interest in what was happening, eternally oh so eager to betray his wish to stay unbothered.

“For fuck’s-” the choked curse got swallowed by the mightiest effort on his side as Neil took a steadying breath and asked, “Why?”

As if happy to punish him, Cupid laughed.

“Because it’s fun,” the unspoken duh made him both more annoyed and more bewitched by her, “I’ll let you work now, but…” as did the carrot dangled in front of his face like the sweetest of baits.

Always the idiot, Neil could not possibly ignore it.

“Yeah?” he could hear her take a deep breath as if steeling herself for a difficult admission.

“I’m glad we’ve met,” Cupid whispered the confession without as much as a pause between the words.

“Me too,” his reply got lost in the static as she hung up.

Letting out the breath he did not know he was holding, Neil lowered the phone onto the windowsill and stared at the city outside. Well then. The call would take a while to process; that was unquestionable.

“Aw, aren’t you two cute?” Ives’ teasing threw Neil out of that pleasantly fuzzy mind space with all the grace of an elephant.

He turned around with the glower at the ready. This time, he could not bite back the curse:

“Shut the fuck up,” on an afterthought, Neil added, “Please,” noticing the soldier open his mouth for a quip, he dropped his tone to a warning timbre. That called for a final caution, “Unless you want to start looking for a new physicist,” his glare slipped over the trio before Neil settled at the table and unfolded the blueprints without another word.

***

When that awaited text from Neil came, bearing the information that he was back in London and happy to meet you whenever you did not jump for joy. Definitely not. What you did do was grin and discuss the possible rendezvous immediately. When that Tuesday afternoon arrived, with the glory of a decent rehearsal and a good coffee in your paper cup, you happily bypassed the crowds at Green Park and skipped the steps down to the correct platform.

That twenty-minute walk to the station was a blessing, just as much as a curse. When Neil proposed the time you could meet on the train, you did not correct him about your location that day. Or that grabbing the Jubilee line would be entirely off the quickest route back home. You just accepted the time and place and ignored the voice at the back of your head reminding you that this was not how you usually behaved.

It could go fuck itself.

Once you settled on the platform, one glance at the watch told you the next train would be the right one. The strange giddiness sparked in your veins, but you blamed it on the three-week gap between the meetings. It was just that, nothing more. Obviously.

The autopilot carried you through the motions until you had boarded the carriage and came face to face with the cause of all this idiocy. Neil smiled, instantly clocking you before you had even placed both feet inside. It was impossible to keep your face neutral, returning the grin and manoeuvring around the commuters to sit next to him on the three plastic chairs facing the sliding doors.

Then, as if seized by insanity, you propelled your body forward with the arms coming up around Neil’s neck to embrace him tightly. His freeze took approximately twenty seconds to thaw as he returned the hug with equal strength. You could feel the warmth of his breath hitting the crook of your neck and making you fight back a shiver that would not do. Instead, you let yourself breathe him in, rest in the moment that was potentially a mistake. Still, you were not going to treat it like one. Not when the warmth of his hands seeped through the clothes as they rested on your waist.

When the lurch of the train reminded you of reality and all its flaws, you ruefully disentangled from Neil and met his wary gaze. His blue eyes scanned your face as if looking for clues towards the reasons for the madness you just allowed yourself. When that offered no answers, Neil broke the silence with a careful observation:

“I didn’t know that we’re doing hugs,” his impassive face offered no clues either, triggering a wave of uncertainty you had to smother.

Because what if you went too far? What if that was not what Neil wanted?

“We are now,” the confidence was missing from the statement, making you add a crucial question, “Is that okay?” you could hear the insecurity in your voice, betraying the worries.

They disappeared the moment Neil flashed you a smile, his hand lightly patting your knee as a complement to the simple reassurance:

“Sure is,” lowering his gaze to catch yours, Neil winked.

Thank fuck. It surely made life much easier. Or the plans you might or might have not made regarding him. Now that the crisis had passed, you shifted in the seat to find a more comfortable position and allowed yourself a selfish look, measuring him up as usual. The slight tan line revealed by the rolled-up sleeves confirmed what you did know about his disappearance. The minor tiredness in how he carried his body strengthened your guesses. The rest of him blinded you as always.

Especially the three buttons left undone, revealing a strip of his chest. And inspiring ungodly thoughts in your head. Ignoring that what could not be addressed. Especially not right now in a carriage full of people. You switched your attention to the other crucial topic. Everything was better than being arrested for public indecency. At least you did hope so.

“How was the trip?” you noted the shift in Neil’s posture.

How he strengthened in the seat, the mask back in place. Although his mystery had fallen into the background over the acceleration of your dynamic, it was still very much present. You had to figure him out. Had to crack the case. Even if it killed you.

For now, though, simply asking mundane questions had to be enough.

“Well… it was fine. The usual” the answer did not help much, however.

Neil looked as if he knew how enigmatic it sounded but could not do anything about it. Upon your questioning look, he only shrugged and offered no further details. This time, you could not let the moment pass without a comment. You rolled your eyes, a frustrated huff interrupting the silence with petulance:

“God, you couldn’t be any less mysterious if you tried,” although anger was not one of the present emotions, you knew Neil would understand the message as you glared at him without heat.

He winced as if admitting to the guilt you hinted at and turned to you with a more open expression on his face:

“Sorry, it’s uh… maybe one day,” Neil met your gaze meaningfully, making you keener to believe him.

You held his gaze for a beat, even if only to have an excuse to look into his eyes and see Neil without the veil of pretence. It was easy to hope one day he would tell you more. That there was one day, somewhere along the line, waiting for you. That whatever was happening would not burn to a cinder in two weeks and leave you bereft. As things like this tended to do.

“I’ll hold you to that,” before breaking the eye contact, you reached for his hand.

It was another insane reflex that was difficult to explain, even to yourself. Yet, still, Neil went willingly. His long fingers tangled with yours without resistance and allowed you to rest your joined palms between the seats, almost like a beacon to whoever was curious about your meeting. And you could see the nosy stares, the inquisitive grandmas eager to judge and label everything and everyone existing within their vicinity.

You used the warmth of your connected hands to anchor you in the present as Neil asked:

“How’s the imposter syndrome? Did it fuck off at last?” the softness in his eyes could undoubtedly be fatal.

As was the way he knew what to ask and hit the jackpot without even trying. Because, of course, the feeling of not being good enough did not disappear. Of course, you still got up every morning with the vague desire to approach the ballet director and tell her you are giving up. That you cannot do this. It almost seemed like Neil could sense your thoughts.

Which was both terrifying and appealing, if you were to be honest. It would make your job easier if he knew exactly what you were thinking. About him.

“I wish,” the suffering sigh was a cheap trick, but viable in your books, “I still think I’m going to embarrass myself, but well,” not willing to give up the comfortable weight of his hand in yours, you offered Neil a one-sided shrug “Can’t exactly capitulate now” the desperate edge to that sentence did not escape his attention.

Sure, you would not actually give up, but that did not mean you were not half-heartedly wishing it happened anyway. Ideally, in the form of someone else doing the job for you. Pathetic, innit?

Neil squeezed your hand, capturing your attention without needing to try at all. The frown was still present on your face, its force turning the corners of your mouth downwards. As always, Neil seemed to see through all that you were not saying. He met your gaze (which was a feat considering you were happy to look anywhere but at him) and spoke:

“I wouldn’t let you,” there was an edge to his voice, a steely resolve that told you the conversation was gaining another layer.

A different destination to the one you had expected at first. Although, with how your chats recently played out, it was to be anticipated. Probably.

Without giving yourself the time to overthink, you leaned closer to Neil and placed a hand on his thigh. You could see his eyes widen upon the move, the pupils blowing up in the quickest form of flattery a man could give you. Sharpening your smile to the perfectly saccharine variant, you delivered the prepared lines:

“Oh yeah?” his thigh muscles tensed underneath your hand as Neil’s mouth fell agape without him being fully in control of the reaction. It was adorable. And an ideally ripe ground to lay the final strike, “You’d force me? Have your way with me?” the sparks in his eyes were a pretty addition to the already gorgeous picture.

At that moment, you knew that you had missed this. No texting could ever replace the real thing. The back and forth with the arresting strength of his eye contact and the unpredictable suspense of what would come next. Like the sudden softening of Neil’s features and an unexpectedly tentative counter to your bold questions:

“If you’d let me,” he swallowed hard as if desperately trying to get rid of the thoughts in his head and simultaneously unable to shake them off.

As if ripping the thread connecting him to you and shortening it at an alarming rate was causing Neil physical pain. The revelation acted like a hot poker pressed against the tender skin of your palm. It was difficult to shrug it off as if it was nothing. It nagged and prodded until you could do nothing but stare dumbly at him, feeling every passing second like a wasted beat of time you would never get back.

Before you could get your shit together in any way, it was too late. Neil had already jumped to conclusions, as you worried he might. His brows furrowed as his teeth nibbled on the chapped bottom lip in a familiar nervous tic. Slowly, as if navigating a mined battlefield, he shifted in the seat, widening the space between you by a fraction. You noticed it anyway.

“You don’t mind that this sort of thing keeps happening?” the question was completed with a vague gesture, slashing the air between you awkwardly.

The inflexion offered no space for doubt. Neil concluded that you very much did mind. That somehow you were not an active and eager participant in the heavy flirting and mutual teasing. Neil was an idiot.

And you had to put that point across instantly.

“Why would I mind?” without thinking, you let your fingers repeatedly stroke his forearm as you leaned back into his orbit to confess what ought to have been obvious, “I mean every word I say to you. Including all that post-Watershed talk” it was delightful to see your favourite smile disrupt his frown.

At the same time, it was nice to have it out in the open, no longer unsaid and implied. Because you did mean it. And you did want it. Whatever Neil would offer, be it a friendship or more. The choice was his.

You could pinpoint when the weight lifted off his shoulders and let him breathe deeper. You stared as Neil absorbed and processed the information, his blue eyes showing a spectrum of emotions. Some were unreadable. Other more obvious, like the devilish sparks that always guaranteed the conversation would take a curious turn. Or the cautious hope, making him look so much younger and innocent. Your unoccupied hand itched with the desire to brush his golden locks from his forehead, so you tightened it into a fist hidden in the coat pocket.

Just like you hid everything that had no place in your life.

At the periphery of your attention, you could register the called stations. Or the fact that your stop was mercilessly getting closer. Only one question could make you forget the reality altogether:

“So, what would you do if I kissed you?” when Neil asked, you were glad you had never forced yourself to look away from him.

That hesitant hope was still there, lightening up his eyes. You let it pull you in, as there was no need to search your heart for an answer. It was fair to assume Neil knew that, too. The question was only a preliminary. But it was still admirable he asked. People rarely did.

You shrugged, highlighting the evident conclusion he hopefully had already reached. It would have been easy to close the gap and let that be the answer. Too easy. It was enough that you could hardly ever look away from him, constantly drawn and arrested by his eyes.

Forcing yourself to break the spell, you met his gaze and offered him an impassive smile. If only to keep up the façade for a little longer.

“There’s only one way to find out, Neil,” you hoped that was enough, that he would understand the ball was back in his court to do as he pleased.

You also hoped Neil came to the right solution. Sadly, that did not seem to come to be just yet. One glance outside the window alarmed you about the surroundings and that you were arriving at your station. The frown twisted your mouth downwards as you risked a glance at Neil. The disappointment in his eyes told you he already caught up.

Two choices were waiting at your disposal. You could either stay, miss your stop to find out what would happen next. Or you could choose cowardice and leave the carriage, delaying the fateful moment a little longer. Definitely not forever.

It was hard to say why you chose the second option. Why you stood up without as much as a look at Neil and feigned a cheery farewell that felt foreign on your tongue. Later, you were keen to pretend it was just the influence of the moment. A sudden spell of insanity.

“Oops, that’s me. See you soon,” it was a miracle that you did not trip in the haste to get out.

You barely registered the surroundings as you bolted towards the sliding door and stepped onto the platform, missing the gap by mere millimetres. It was pure luck that you did not walk into any poor soul as you attempted to get away from the train as fast as possible.

You did not get the time to flee. All because you did not consider one thing – Neil had a choice, too.

When you felt a hand take yours and pull you back, there was that split second of panic. Your disoriented mind rapidly flicked through at least ten different disastrous scenarios, starting at a random appearance of Liam and ending at a violent assault you were about to be subjected to. Only then, at the very end, your brain pushed forward another observation. There was something familiar about that handhold.

Before you had a second to follow that thought, the interrupter pulled at your hand, making you whirl around to face them. Your widened gaze fell upon the undone tortoiseshell shirt buttons and wandered up the neck to land on Neil’s blue eyes, patiently staring back at you. It took you another second to understand what happened. And another one to begin processing what it could mean. Why he did it.

Without being aware of the movement of your body, you stepped closer to Neil, tightening the bubble you both had created in the middle of the platform. People bypassed you as they rushed to the train with the beeping doors hastening their steps. But that hardly mattered. It was just white noise. Unimportant and ignorable.

Unlike Neil, who closed the gap between your bodies to mere millimetres, and wordlessly repeated the question from before. The answer did not change. You offered him a tiny nod, not feeling the need to speak. The surrealism of the moment could not be labelled anyhow.

From the second you had tasted Neil’s lips, you knew it would not be something you could forget. That the feel of him would burn into the cortex of your brain and stay there to haunt you for eternity. You were right.

Your eyes snapped shut as soon as he closed the distance and covered your mouth with his in a soft kiss. His gentle and pliant lips caressed yours attentively without effort, making you cling even closer to him. Your arms came around Neil’s neck as your fingers toyed with the hair at the nape of his neck. It took another second, a blissful beat of existence, to make you kiss him back. Just as carefully. Just like you never kissed anyone before.

Neil’s relief came through in a short gasp, let out into your opening mouth, and the warm weight of his palms came up to rest on your waist beneath the open coat. Following the logic you did not understand, you tilted your head and allowed his prying tongue to lick into your mouth. The liquid heat traversed your veins, warming up your skin as Neil took his time to map out the inside of your mouth. Suddenly, the instant connection you felt made sense. Things clicked into place as you breathed the taste of him and breathed out the uncertainty. It felt right. Good. Unforgettable, even.

It felt like no first kisses and endless one-night stands ever did. And that made no sense.

Soon, that first kiss evolved into another and then the next. The platform, the people and the noise faded into the background as you swapped kisses, barely interrupted by quiet groans and swallowed gasps. On its own accord, your hand ventured up to tangle in his hair, grabbing a fistful of the golden locks and tugging in time with a particularly hungry nip taken out of Neil’s bottom lip. The reward of a barely stifled moan was more than worth it.

As was how Neil held you close and returned your kisses with equal zeal. He matched your energy and pushed you further until the remaining part of your conscience worried about being arrested for public indecency.

When the burn of your lungs excelled that of your soul, you placed a palm over the centre of his chest and pushed Neil back. Just a fraction. Just to catch your breath. His answering whine felt like another spark of pride, making your eyes glow with self-satisfaction. That was better than any other form of gratification you could think of.

When you finally forced yourself to blink your eyes open and look at Neil, you were met with kiss-bruised lips and darkened blue eyes, showing nothing else but hunger. At least ten increasingly ridiculous religious metaphors battled for leadership in your mind, but you pushed them all aside. The most accurate comment went to two simple words, pushed forward by the strength of your soul’s crudeness. Fucking hell. In the best of meanings, that is.

Following deeply rooted instincts, your tongue darted out to thoroughly trace the expanse of your bottom lip. And get remains of his taste, that you had already started missing. As far as kisses had gone, this one was pretty damn spectacular.

Neil seemed frozen, his eyes fixed on your mouth as if that was the only thing he could do. Admittedly, it was adorable. Yet, still, you decided to break the spell, the only way you could think of:

“I think your train has left,” you glanced over his shoulder, noting the expectedly empty platform.

Only now, when the haze of the kiss (or rather a whole make-out session) had begun to lift, you could understand what had transpired. And that Neil was keen to delay his return home for the price of a kiss. Or for the hope of a kiss, for clearly, he did not think he would get that far. Idiot.

You could see it now, back on his face. The slight disorientation and confusion suggested Neil could barely believe that what just happened was real. He blinked twice, then again, as if forcing himself to wake up and met your gaze with wide eyes. Without thinking, you allowed the hand you had pressed flat to his chest to venture up, stopping when your fingers started grazing over his neck. That was the trigger Neil needed to return to reality. He seized your adventurous fingers in a loose hold and placed your joined hands back over his heart. You could feel it racing.

“I’ll wait for the next one,” Neil offered you a half-smile, the uncertainty shining through the tentative joy in his eyes.

It was not something you were used to. Usually, after a kiss like that (never even preceded with a question, because who the fuck still asked for kisses?), you only ever got smugness. And an attempt at a smooth transition to sex, which did or did not succeed, depending on the participating party). Never uncertainty. Never shyness. Never contentment with what happened without pushing you for more.

You didn’t know what to do with any of it.

“No regrets?” the question was also one that you never asked before.

Not after something as trivial as a first kiss. But then, nothing was the way it usually went with Neil. That much was quite clear.

“Not really. You?” as if sensing your growing uncertainty, Neil did not hesitate before answering the question.

He squeezed your fingers, still wrapped in his palm and met your gaze with something almost resembling confidence. Somehow, that was enough. You took a fortifying breath to gather courage and discard the doubts. There would be more than enough time to deal with them later. Hopefully.

For now, there were other things to do and say. Like answering Neil’s question and reclaiming the conversation from its sombre paths. Especially since no cell in your body regretted the kiss. Or any other thing you had ever said or hinted at to him. It is just that somehow, somewhere along the line, your normal confidence had been wiped off the table. And it felt like it was never to be seen again. Not like before.

You hoped to ignore that bit of revelation, too.

“Nope. I’d offer a coffee at mine, but… I think some things need a better build-up,” you hoped the chaos in your head was not easily seen as you dropped the line with an attempt at the usual smoothness and met Neil’s eyes with remaining poise.

You meant that, too. A part of you, the same that had difficulties ending the kiss, wanted to continue it wherever it may lead you. You were quite sure you knew where it was going. And you certainly wanted that. But, at the same time, rushing into it seemed… wrong. As if the fact that you also wanted to be friends with Neil needed a little more respect. A little more time.

You could tell he understood from the way Neil nodded, his eyes still blown out by the darkened pupils.

“Agreed,” he shook his head slightly as if trying to clear it before glancing at the timing screen over your heads. Whatever the impact those 7 minutes of waiting had, the next thing Neil did was to heave a sigh and set his weary eyes on you, “Actually, I might walk back home. Should probably clear my head,” a small smile lifted the corner of his mouth.

Without overthinking the act, you seized his hand and started for the stairs. Just because you were not yet taking him home did not mean you could not drag out the goodbye. Right?

Right.

***

Although the kiss was not forgotten and only added to the general restlessness, you never mentioned it again. It was another layer added to the sprinkled, complex mess that was your relationship. A tiered cake that had so many flavours it was impossible to label it using a concise, less than five-word description. It just did not get discussed.

That was both a blessing and a curse, considering that with mere days left till the public Don Quixote premiere you could barely handle one type of stress and uncertainty. Let alone two. The reality check deadline crept up on you without warning, catching you pacing the flat for over an hour the evening before the official pre-premiere. The event always happened at least a night before the opening soiree and was reserved for the press, Royal Ballet directory and special guests of honour. It also meant that every detail of the performance had to be up to par if one wanted to continue advancing the career in the company. Which you did want. Desperately. It was just bloody unfortunate that the usual insanity of anxiety now was interlaced with something else.

Something that made you stop the pacing and pick up the phone only to open the messages and stare at the text conversation with Neil. It had been a few hours, and considering the 9 pm on the clock, you had a fair right to believe that he might be asleep. Maybe. But that could hardly deter the part of your brain that tended to get ahead of itself. Especially fuelled by stress and anxiety.

Without letting yourself falter, you typed the question:

/ 🏹, 9:04 pm/ Are you still up?

Luckily, you only had to hold your breath for an answer (or a lack of it) for less than 5 minutes. For that, your lungs were eternally thankful.

/✝️, 9:08 pm/ Is this the moment you ask me for dick pics?

A ridiculous guffaw broke the silence of your flat, along with that necessary intake of oxygen. Conversations like those still happened daily and only increased the want you could not get rid of if you tried.

And you didn’t try. There was no point to it.

/ 🏹, 9:09 pm/ Nah. Not yet.

You were having fun, chatting the shit on the daily with someone who seemed more than eager to keep the ball going. That was partially why you reached out on a whim, desperate to get out of the flat even for a little while. After all, asking Neil offered a fifty-fifty chance of an entertaining evening. All other intentions did not have to be disclosed. Even in your mind.

/✝️, 9:10 pm/ That’s a relief.

/✝️, 9:10 pm/ How can I be of service, my lady?

/ 🏹, 9:11 pm/ You’ve no idea, babe.

/ 🏹, 9:12 pm/ I was thinking of going to the dance studio, that’s open till midnight. Do you want to come?

/ 🏹, 9:12 pm/ You’ve said you wanted to see me dance so…

After sending the third message, you put down the phone and exhaled. That nervousness residing in your bones was new. It was almost as if it mattered what Neil’s answer would be. As if you cared whether he would say yes to the tentative proposition. None of that had ever happened before.

The urge to faceplant into the pillow was derailed by the buzz of an incoming message. With embarrassing speed of reaction, you read the texts:

/✝️, 9:15 pm/ Happily.

/✝️, 9:15 pm/ When and where do we meet?

You grinned. As you copied and pasted the location pin into the message, you could already feel a different type of nervousness enter your system. It was time for Neil to see you dance. You would also see him for the first time since the kiss. It was high time someone covered this topic on wikiHow. Or, at least, you thought so.

***

Although the Royal Ballet had more than good enough facilities at the Covent Garden building, the company could also use a studio by the Southwark Underground Station whenever you felt like it. Conveniently, that alternative place was open till midnight on weeknights, offering a one-in-a-million chance to run over the choreography for a billion times more before the pre-premiere. Without an audience of your fellow ballet dancers and their critical eyes, at that.

The other perk to the external studio was that nothing stopped you from bringing someone from the outside along. Nothing except for maybe the deeply rooted fear of showing Neil what you could do. Or couldn’t do.

That fear had not left through the Uber drive from your flat, growing in force from the moment you set your eyes upon Neil waiting outside the studio with a smile on his face. You exchanged the usual niceties, bypassing the awkward tint to the interaction with an avoided hug and nonsensical commentary from your side.

The nerves seemed to reach the peak as you left Neil in the main ballet studio room, the space lit up sparsely to maintain the strangely surreal atmosphere of those late autumn nights in London when nothing seems to be tangible and real. Having left the house in a pre-planned rehearsal outfit, you only took off the unnecessary layers, leaving you in a simple bodice and a wrap mid-thigh skirt and pulled on the woollen leg warmers to keep the chill at bay.

Luckily for your racing heart, the ritual of putting on and lacing up the pointe shoes always did its magic, allowing you to centre yourself and take a couple of deep breaths. Until there was nothing left but to march out of the changing room and connect your phone to the speaker, the right track ready for you to press play.

But before you could go that far, you made the mistake of locating Neil in the room. He had settled on the floor opposite you, his back pressed to the mirror-covered walls of the studio. He stared as you entered the invisible stage and offered you an encouraging smile. A slow, gentle warm-up was a valid opportunity to falter. A necessary step you had to take while also admitting that it was convenient. Although, Neil’s attentive gaze following your every move was much less convenient.

Once you had run out of all other options, you started the music, put down the phone and took up position. Desperate to rehearse as much as possible, you chose to go through the entire dream sequence at the end of Act 2. As always, the Minkus score did its magic, helping you settle into the movement and almost forget about everything else.

You followed the steps with practised ease, hearing the dull thud of pointe shoes hitting the hardwood floors with each landing between the orchestral notes. When the cue to finish was near you were almost out of breath. The pearls of sweat clung to your temples as the sweetness of exertion burned through your muscles and tendons. When those final notes rang off in the quiet studio, you held the finishing pose and waited for the music to end. The resulting silence was deafening.

Slowly, as if pained to do it, you opened your eyes. Neil was right where you had left him; his gaze seemingly never trailed away. But the exact look on his face was different. Instead of the ease and unbothered nonchalance he tried to emit earlier, Neil was now speechless. Dazed. His mouth was still agape, and he had to remind himself to close it before swallowing hard. You tried your hardest not to let that get into your head. You failed.

“So… what do you think?” unable to keep quiet for much longer, you released the question into the ether with a permanent frown and a minimal level of conviction.

It seemed to be what Neil needed to wake up from the stupor. He shifted, pulled up his knees to his chin and eyed you with a bright gaze. The desire to look away rose with every minute, but you tried to endure it. Somehow.

“You’re brilliant. Do you know that?” the matter-of-fact tone threw you off kilter, bringing out an automatic (albeit manic) grin from its hiding back onto your face.

Neil mirrored the expression instantly, only widening your smile in the process. Feeling the need to move again, you flexed your calves, completing a set of rapid changements. Only once that was done you could attempt to answer the question.

“Maybe,” you shrugged, unwilling to stray onto that sort of honest territory just yet, “It doesn’t hurt to hear it again, though,” unable to ignore that one voice at the back of your head that had not been convinced, you asked, “Was it actually… good?” the emphasis on the word was automatic.

You could tell Neil saw right through your faux nonchalance as he smiled, a different type of fondness shining in his eyes. That, too, was best left alone for now. The observation was shelved among others of its kind in the darkest cavern of your brain. Ideally left alone for good, never to be touched or thought of again. Just in case.

Neil’s gaze never strayed from yours as he offered you an answer without a hint of exasperation:

“As far as my virgin eyes could tell, it was perfect,” the corner of his mouth rose in the makings of a familiar smirk.

It eradicated any illusions that he did not know what he was saying. Or the effect the sentence would have. You closed your eyes against the sight, hopelessly willing the inconvenient feelings to disappear.

By now, it was painfully clear that Neil could be a bastard when he wanted to. It was just another thing that you liked about him. Perhaps too much.

For a second, you debated following the easy way out he had offered. It would have been effortless to take up the tone and turn the conversation into yet another pleasant back-and-forth that could potentially lead you past the talking. Past that one kiss, that had lowkey driven you insane with the promise of potential.

But the doubts were still there. They still clouded your mind like a flock of hungry birds of prey hunting for a bite of flesh. And Neil was the only person you could talk to and know he would listen. That he would care. For some reason, it was a crucial thing to share. An important topic to raise. Here and now.

“Allow me to ignore that double entendre potential for a second,” your apologetic frown was accepted with a subtle nod and meaningful glance.

“You’re excused, Cupid,” Neil grinned, evidently taking pleasure from the nickname you became fond of.

Especially because it was him, who bestowed it on you.

“Thank you,” shaking off the sudden rush of affection, you completed the gratitude with a cheeky addition, returning Neil’s smirk, “Sir,” only once noted his answering blush, it was safe to delve into what you really wanted to tell him. You took a deep breath, completing half a pirouette to face the mirrors on the wall and asked, “Do you ever feel like you’re just constantly pretending? Like the whole ‘fake it till you make it’ deal, except you never stop faking it?” training your gaze on the hardwood floors, you stared at the tips of your pointe shoes.

The worn-out, ragged edges caught your attention for a split second. You took a mental note to break in the brand-new pair and prepare them for tomorrow’s show. On the periphery of your vision, you could see Neil’s reflection. You could feel him staring, the intense gazing boring holes in the back of your head. But not even that could make you turn and face him.

“Pretty much every day,” Neil’s reply made you look up, meeting his eyes in the reflection. That was not an answer you had expected, “I’ve found that sometimes, if you’re lucky, all that pretending can fool the brain, too,” he signed off the addition with another reassuring smile.

Still, the scepticism reigned free as an unbidden scoff tore from your throat, forcing you to swallow down the sudden desire to retreat from the conversation. Years of practice did not seem to share Neil’s thesis. Things never got easier. You doubted they ever would.

“I’d hope so. Except that, I’m not sure I am that lucky,” that was a given, an undeniable fact of life like the laws of physics or the ignorance of the Tories. Unchangeable. The familiar wave of frustration threatened to pull you down as you allowed the insecurities to speak their part,“I may appear as a fucking cool cat, confident and all, but… I’m not,” hearing the broken note in your voice, you swallowed hard, unable to look at Neil anymore. There was only one final thing to add, “And I wish I could be,”

There. The curtain has fallen, revealing the truth underneath. Now, it was clear Neil had no illusions left about you. No reason to think of you highly. Somehow, you felt lighter. Sure, still unable to meet his gaze, even in the reflection, but it was better that way. Now, when you did disappoint him somewhere along the line, for whatever reason, it would be much less surprising.

You had no doubts whether that moment of disappointment would happen. It always did.

“You have every right to be. Because you are” when Neil spoke, at first, you did not register it. His words flew right over your head before being caught by your heart, desperate to find anything to hold on to. Only then did you hear what he said. You looked up in time to see the remains of the fading blush on his cheeks, “If that even makes sense,” he shook his head slightly as if scolding himself over the awkward reassurance and stood up. The tense shoulders betrayed the lightness he still tried to emit, “Trust me when I say I feel useless and stupid every minute of every day,” the weariness in his voice clashed with the disbelief you felt when hearing what he said.

That made no sense. The turmoil made you turn around in a half-pirouette and face Neil with wide eyes and mouth agape. Your brain was experiencing severe computing issues, the smoke almost sizzling out through your open lips.

He was none of those things. You barely resisted the urge to close the miles between you and shake him by the shoulders, all the while screaming at him to stop saying such bullshit. You did not do any of those things.

“But you’re… you,” instead, you gestured vaguely towards him, armed with words that were not enough.

No words seemed to be apt to describe him. Neil was just… impossible. Ineffable in his wonderfulness. Much better than anyone you had ever known. But that was something you could not say. Not now.

“In my books, that’s not necessarily a good thing,” Neil glanced at you with tired eyes, kicking around at nothing as he slid across the parquet in his socks.

When you entered the studio, he started unlacing his shoes before you could protest. Said something about not wanting the cleaner to have more work. The comment made you smile too brightly before you excused yourself into the changing room and hid your face in the palms of your hands. That state didn’t seem to have passed.

In an effort not to do anything stupid, you backed away till you could feel the barre against your back. Only then you met his searching gaze and made sure to show Neil the extent of earnestness on your face:

“It is. I’ve never met anyone like you, Neil,” the admission was met with a surprised double-take, so you decided to soften the tone with a stupid addition, “The hottest priest in London and whatnot,” you did mean that one, too.

Neil’s huff of laughter felt like a dodged bullet.

“Funny,” the bright sparks in his eyes confirmed the praise with doubled force, making you turn back towards the mirror to avoid being blinded by the strength of his affection. That stuff could be dangerous, “You’re the hottest ballerina in London, so we’re even,” once you registered Neil’s words, the silky tone of his voice that had not been there just a second ago, you knew that trouble was coming.

Out of the corner of your eye, you could see him close the gap. The warmth settled in your cheeks as you felt the comfortable heat spread around your body. That pleasant anticipation ignited in your bones with every step Neil took. Somewhere, at the edges of reason and logic, you knew you still had a choice. You knew that whatever he had envisioned in his mind, could easily be stopped with one word from your side. What was the problem?

Mainly that you didn’t want him to stop. Did not want to cut short the moment slowly blooming into something crucial. You could feel it buzz beneath your skin as Neil took the final steps towards you and leaned in. His hands came to rest upon the barre, millimetres from yours. Not quite touching but enough so you could not ignore his presence. You could feel the heat from his body as Neil pressed his chest to your back and whispered into your ear:

“A cool cat,” in normal circumstances, the call-back to your rant would have made you laugh.

But those weren’t normal circumstances. Not with Neil’s proximity, his hands slowly tracing invisible lines up your arms. You could feel his breath on the nape of your neck, creating goosebumps effortlessly. And the thing was – this wasn’t anything new. It was far from the first time someone had done this. Far from the first time you had been tempted by someone who desired you. But it was the first time they seemed to take their time for it.

Your head felt dizzy with the revelation as Neil’s fingers lightly brushed the neckline of your bodice and journeyed down. It was a first in the fact that he did not even try touching your breasts, instead respectfully settling over your ribs and tapping a vague rhythm over your heated skin. Without searching your heart, you knew that you did not mind it. Not one bit.

You covered one of his palms with yours, firmly pressing it against your waist and raised your head to seek Neil’s gaze. He was already looking back at you, the blue eyes of his eyes dark and consumed with something you wanted to call hunger. The same feeling could be easily found on your face.

“Are you trying to seduce me?” you frowned at the hoarseness of your voice and the breathless tint to the question.

For the first time, it was impossible to fake your reaction. Impossible to pretend you were not affected. Neil’s answering smile, full of confidence and mischief, made that discovery seem fine. Not troubling at all.

“Is it working?” the warmth in his eyes made you feel safe, not threatened by the potential of what could happen.

Not viable to the pains of consequences. That seemed enough.

Enough to make you gently tug at his hand, asking for the freedom of movement to turn around and face him. Only then, with Neil’s curious gaze beaming down on you like a desirable spotlight, you placed his palm back on your waist and offered an honest reply:

“I think you already know,” as proof, you picked up his other hand and guided it to press against your chest, feeling the rapid heartbeat.

The wolfish grin you received in return was worth any leftover sense of shame and embarrassment. Neil leaned in, and just as you were about to close your eyes, awaiting another life-changing kiss, he left a promising peck on the edge of your jaw. On its own accord, your hand tightened over the wooden railing as you exposed your throat for his use.

Neil wasted no time leaving a trail of kisses down the slope of your neck, only just being careful enough not to leave marks. Each kiss felt like a hot poker pressed against the tender skin of your neck, blazing hot and impossible to shake off. You closed your eyes, letting the sense take in the sensation of his tender care. Of the contrasting burn of stubble, scratching at your skin with a delicious sting.

Every kiss took time, only then to be sealed with a lick of his tongue, eliciting your quiet gasps and barely kept in groans of pleasure. The wave of insanity rose, threatening to take over your brain, save for one consistent thought. One revelation.

No one had cared this much before.

Letting go of his hand, you tangled your fingers in his golden strands, lightly tugging to gain his attention. The answering groan was sure to enter the library of sounds and images you liked to relieve in private. But before you could attempt to formulate the desire painted across your face, the door to the studio creaked, disrupting the silence.

You gasped in shock as Neil took half a step back, warily eyeing the doorway. A thousand curses lodged themselves in your throat as a silhouette of an older man, armed with a bucket and a mop, peered inside the room with a scowl. Fucking Rich, the Janitor.

The older man scanned you both from head to toe and sighed.

“It’s closing time, kids. Go home,” his gravelly voice acted like the much-needed bucket of cold water.

As he turned back towards the darkness of the corridor, you met Neil’s eyes. The depths of exasperation visible there told you this business was far from over. You certainly hoped so.

[jjsstars]

thiamweek2023: Day 5, The Pack

|| for @thiamappreciationweek event

|| tags: lowkey stiles bashing but it’s more him just being a dick yk, references to liam’s parents not being supportive of him being bi (nothing graphic)

“Him? You’re dating him?” Stiles scowls and Liam’s jaw clenches, gripping Theo’s hand tighter because he feels like he’s going to pass out or burst into sobs- the smell of concern wafting off of Theo helps nothing.

“I know he’s not part of the pack y-.” The yet gets cut off.

“Damn right he’s not. What the hell Liam?” His eyes tear away from Stiles and his harsh words, landing on Scott instead, he doesn’t look nearly as upset. Thank god.

“My parents don’t know, please don’t tell them.” It softens something on Lydia and Kira’s faces; Liam can’t tell if it’s how normal-teenager that sounded or them getting more okay with the fact that Theo and Liam are dating.

“We’d never, don’t worry.” Lydia assures and gives a smile that probably shouldn’t be as reassuring as it is considering Stiles is all but seething next to her.

“Like hell we won’t- you’re dating a murderer!” It makes Liam’s stomach drop- whether it be the idea that he might be outed or the way Theo’s whole body tenses up hearing what Stiles called him is up for debate, but Liam’s pretty sure it’s both, and probably a million other things about this situation.

“No you won’t.” It’s the first thing Theo’s said throughout this whole thing, his voice sharp and eyes even harsher.

“He speaks! I thought you were going to sit there brooding while Liam tried to convince us you’re not the monster I know you are.” There’s already so much anger built up in Liam’s system, specifically towards Stiles for how he talks about Theo, that the comment almost sends him spiraling into something that’d earn him a forced cold shower a year ago- but Theo rubs his thumb across Liam’s knuckles and that helps, it always does. He wishes he could shove it in Stiles’ face and show him that Theo isn’t a monster, that he cares, that he deserves a second chance, that he’s already changed significantly.

“Out Liam to his parents and I’ll have a lot more to say.” It must just dawn on Stiles that what Liam meant by not telling his parents is that he’s not out to them yet as his face falters, shaking himself out for a moment before he gives a short nod.

“I- I’m not going to out him. But I’m not okay with you two dating.” A beat passes where Stiles and Theo hold too strong eye contact before Scott interrupts them by clearing his throat.

“Stiles that’s enough, if Liam’s happy and nobody’s getting hurt then we’re all going to do our best to support him and Theo.” He says easily and turns to look at Liam and Theo head on, holding a hand up to Stiles’ open mouth as he was obviously going to start arguing.

“I’m not promising it’s going to be easy or there won’t be tension for a little bit, but I’m happy you guys are happy. And I’ve seen that Theo’s already been changing, I know he’s not a monster.” Liam would go bear hug Scott right now if he wasn’t in a room full of people that are still divided on opinions about his relationship- he thinks Scott gets it anyways.

“Thanks Scott.”

“I can give him a chance for you Liam but one step out of line and I’m killing him.” Ever so blunt, Malia gives a short nod and eyes Theo for a moment, she’s not lunging to rip his throat out so Liam will take what he can get.

“We gave Peter a second chance, I don’t see why we shouldn’t give Theo one too.” Lydia isn’t looking at Theo or Liam as she says it, instead staring straight at Stiles with a challenging look in her eye. Sometimes Liam forgets how scary the redhead can be with just a simple expression and crossed arms.

“Fine. But when he goes evil again, I know he will, I’m not going to let him off easy.” It’s a middle ground and that’s all Theo and Liam were really looking for from this conversation— they knew the pack wouldn’t be jumping up and down with support, but no blood has been shed and that’s enough, and Liam knows they’ll come around more. Eventually.

[carmenized-onions]

chapter 1 - going back to my roots!! (spoilers for those who haven’t rear the most recent chapter)

the way you mirrored that first sentence with the mikey - EVIL

if it’s a love confession she should definetely answer😁 - imagine if it was…imagine that

if carmy knew her neighbourhood wasn’t peaceful he’d have her in his apartmentment at once!!

But a part of you is relieved it’s a thing that’s broken, and not her - oh this hurted

“The doorknob on the inside, broke off. And right now, or, more like, 5 minutes ago, the handle on the outside broke off too.” - the way it all goes back to her, mikey and richie ugh your mind

Now that’s an uncomfortably familiar voice. - RICHIEEEE. ugh reading it with all the contexr is just wow!!!powerful stuff

Nobody has to know you’re wearing pajama shorts under this - lowkey hot tho😁

an older woman smoking and having an emotional spat - donna!! makes sense that chippy never met her but oh i wonder how that would’ve gone

She gently slaps your cheek - tina is so cuteee

You’ve never said his name to him - the way everything makes sense now oooof

love the switch up between “Sweetheart, I need you to stand up for me, Carmen Chef Sir.” and “….Who the fuck is Tony?”

“Aye… Cousin?”- i used to think the cousin was for carmy but it’s for her 🥹🥹🥹 my fave besties 🥹💕🫶🏼😭 (also i’ve had two dreams now about richie being my best friend… yeah the mental illness is,,,)

Girlfriend? Probably - that could’ve been you already if you listened to mikey’s advice but i guess claire had to happen *for the plot*🙄

“You’re just. Cold.” - sobbing actually

you lower your arms— But. He opts to place his chin on your shoulder - 😭😭😭 them!!!!!

retaining - the bold on retaining 💀💀💀

definitely a virgin - ajajsjejrjri not for long (well i can dream 😁🫶🏼)

sweetheart, asshole - so true 💕💕

omg remember back when the chapters were this short (compared to the newest ones)yeah me neither. love you love your dedication!!<3

this is the best day of my life, getting people's re-reading thoughts is the best experience of my life AND FROM YOU TOO LU!! LOVE YOU!!!

ANyways. CHAPTER 1 THOUGHTS BUT WITH C O N T E X T now.

I can't remember if I always planned to mirror the intro line with Mikey. I'm pretty sure I did? I think I went back and forth a couple times on whether or not it was stupid-- And it very well might be, but I know it makes everyone rereading mad so I think it was worth it and good and cool of me.

Everyone gets so hung up on the love confession line now it makes me so happy. I'll be so fr I didn't plan Squidink to happen in the beginning-- Though I did originally concept this whole series as x Syd before switching lanes, I don't remember when it locked in for me that I was going to be gay about it. Probably Zero Pulse? Yeah probably.

carmen's gonna crash tony's credit score on purpose so she has to move out: canon-- canon i said it it's canon! kidding

THE DOOORKNOOBBB this I always planned-- I don't know if they go over it in canon but fr why the fuck did the inner knob break off so easy that's so deeply concerning man.

RICCHIEEE, he IS powerful stuff bro.

"lowkey hot tho😁" so tony is now a character and it's Tony x reader now, i see?

DONNNAAAAA, it only makes sense for Tony to be in a rush and avoid Donna in this opener, but I do also wonder how violently different this night would've gone if she listened in on their convo for like even two seconds.

It's extremely funny to go from "i need to be so nice to this kid, he meant everything to my best friend" to "what the FUCK are you yapping about?" in two seconds.

I THINK A LOT OF PEOPLE USED TO THINK RICHIE SAYING COUSIN WAS FOR CARMEN, I remember for chapter 2 so many people going awe he calls her cousin-- baby, always has! Also were you a handyman in those dreams be HONEST!!!

smh chip if you simply just followed big bros advice you could probably be living together by now but NO Carmen had to get with the ACTUAL DOCTOR instead of the EMT!!!! bro loves women in healthcare

JUST COLD!!!! JUST COLD!!! man if i had a hat i'd throw it and i literally wrote all this. The little descriptions Mikey gave of his siblings were also honestly some of my favourite bits to write from this first chapter. Had to look at me and my two brothers and go how would I honestly describe these two and how brutal would I be about it? 100% older brother Mikey has to humble Carmen's ass with a ALWAYS EMPHASIZED R E T A I N I N G. He's proud but like. come on you didn't get them, carm.

i miss the days of short chapters. though I think we're kind of going back to it if not taking a brief pitstop of short. This next one I pray to god is under 10k i'll 86 myself i swear to god. LOVE YOU!!!

memes are so good, who the FUCK are you cousin!!! sydney's new apartment in S3 should be free-- rent should be free during pride month actually that's the law also i'm pretty sure everyone IS making sex up anyways anyways do i have a piece of wip i could give you my darling let's see

oh i do but i'm gonna be so fucking mean about it.

WHAT THE FUCK ARE THEY YAPPING ABOUT!!!!??? WHO KNOWSSS (i know)

anyways i have to pack up from work and get the FUCK out of here see you all later conspire over this screenshot losers love u

[nani-nonny]

Tiny snippets that didn’t make it to the current apaf or the other storyline for apaf :D

Well, there not exactly tiny snippets… one of them is 2k words long hehe

But I’ve been holding on to these long enough, especially since we’re finally getting into the “learning how to be a dad” phase of apaf in a few chapters :D

Have fun reading! vvvv

This dialogue is from the other storyline, aka apaf 2.0 (/hj) aka aka the plot line we avoided lol

”No, Dad, you should take it, I really shouldn’t—.”

“Hush, Big Blue, be kind to her.”

“Her? How do you know?”

“I raised four boys, I think I know a girl when I see one. Now, take her. She needs her father.”

“No, I’m not her dad. I can’t—I shouldn’t.”

“Why not?”

“What if… what if I mess up? What if I’m not cut out for being a dad? No—I mean, I’m not ready.”

And this is 2k words of a snippet, also for plot 1 aka the plot where CJ dies :( and Leonardo tries to heal from that recent death that haunts him :D but anyways, this is a different opening to how Leonardo wakes up in the lair after stealing the key and passing out. This time, Leonardo isn’t immediately stressed by CJ’s disappearance, but he is stressed about CJ’s death.

“————! No!”

Leonardo turns, eyelids scrunching tightly closed.

“Come back!”

He reaches with heavy hands, desperate to grab onto the voice.

“Leo!”

His hands shake, fingertips burning as if he reached into the heart of a flame.

“I’m sorry…”

He can feel his throat closing in on itself, muting any sound he tries to make.

“I’m so sorry…”

—chirp! Peep peep! Chirp!

Leonardo was sleeping on his side when he heard the sharp, distressed chirps of a small creature. The chirps beckon him, cry for him to come and help. Scared. Scared. Help, it cries.

And without realizing it, he’s rising out of bed. Perhaps out of pure instinct or some kind of fatherhood that was pushed deep down surfaces in this moment as his body flips its switch to high alert. The only thing on his mind that manages to make itself known is to protect.

Protect Draxum’s treasure.

He chirps in response, weary eyes blindly searching for the small turtle.

Where? Protect. Come. Protect.

But the second he kicks his feet off the bed, he hears the small chirps from behind. He turns around, flops onto his stomach—wincing when a sharp pain erupts from his torso at the movement—to reach the other side of the bed and easily catches the small turtle just before it falls off the edge.

The turtle in his hand releases a small, surprised chirp. Safe.

He exhales a sigh of relief as he sits up, careful with the baby in his hand and holds her close to his plastron. He looks around as his heart begins to calm, slowing to its normal pace.

He’s in a room, unfurnished with all the unopened boxes and lack of decorations. It’s quite literally a bed-room as the bed is the only piece of furniture that is of use. But the room he recognizes to be an abandoned train car, cleaned out and left with nothing but its skeleton. The windows have been blocked out with newspapers to prevent any light from coming in, and the sliding door was replaced with a raggedy blue curtain.

He doesn’t recognize this place to be the lair, so he doesn’t have a clue where in the hell he is except for what could possibly be a subway station.

He looks down to see his torso is covered in bandages, clean and pristinely wrapped around his shell. His pants have been replaced with clean sweatpants, his utility belt with his pockets nowhere to be seen. Even his sword is out of sight, and whether the tied masks on the hilt were noticed or not, he wasn’t sure.

But more importantly, the small creature resting in the palm of his hand.

He looks down at the small turtle, stares at the sleeping face that distortedly mirrors his own. The rounded head, the familiar red crescents that signify a red-eared slider, the small beak—a turtle mutant. Although, he doesn’t have that skinny, stretched diamond-shaped stripe that rests barely above the middle of this mutant’s eyes.

That, in itself, is enough to relieve Leonardo that this isn’t his child.

It’s not possible. After all, he never got close to anyone like that. And with the war against the krang, he would never dare to bring a kid into that world. Especially not after… that situation.

And yet Draxum did. It must have been Draxum, he was the one to hand the child over with the order to protect it. He died passing the child over to Leonardo without warning.

Protect Draxum’s treasure…

And here he is, a mutant from the future with a child in his hand. But the slider specifically remembers handing the small child off to Splinter.

Leonardo looks down at the small turtle, surprised it can be sleeping so soundly after almost falling off the bed and making those distressed sounds. And what the hell was that? When was the last time he actually made turtle noises? He thought he had forgotten how to do it.

If Mikey were here, he’d hear no end to it.

“If he was here…,” Leonardo mumbles aloud only to finish the thought, He would know what to do with this.

The child makes a strange sound, snapping Leonardo from his thoughts. In the palm of his hand, the child is shivering and he realizes the noise must have been a sneeze.

“How are you catching a col-oh…,” he questions the child before he realizes mid-sentence that he did dive into the ocean at night. In his defense, he didn’t know he had been carrying a child in his arms. He thought it was some priceless artifact that Draxum didn’t want destroyed or taken by the krang. Hell, he thought it was going to be something to help him in retrieving the key—better yet—destroying it.

But where did Draxum get this child? Did he rob someone?

Feeling the small child shiver in his hand, he pushes the ceaseless questions aside and exits the subway car. Slipping through the curtains, he’s immediately blinded by the bright lights of the subway station.

“That’s right… the new lair,” Leonardo realizes as he takes note of the unopened boxes scattered everywhere.

Down the pathway, he sees more train cars lined up on both ends of the platform. Four cars in particular are color-coded with the familiar colors of himself and his brothers, and he recognizes the lobby room-changed-to-living room. It still has a few unopened boxes, some are opened and barely cleared of a handful of items. The skate ramps and the game table is lit up from a recent game of air hockey.

There’s a wet caution sign set up in the middle of the room on top of a recently mopped part of the floor. Was that because of him?

A few steps closer and Leonardo notices a note taped onto the other side of the caution sign, “Leo did it”.

Under that note, he sees another that says, “Days without a Leo incident: 0”.

Leonardo playfully glares at the second note and laughs dryly, “Haha, funny.”

“No, stop, don’t touch that! We don’t know how long that’s been there,” a younger Donnie’s voice yells from a nearby room.

In response, a symphony of Ewwws and Grosssss erupted from the same room, and Leonardo followed it to find himself walking into the kitchen.

Inside, four turtles are standing in the midst of an unpacked kitchen only filled with a fridge, a stove, a few uncleaned kitchen counters, and a large rectangular dining table. Three turtles are gagging and holding their hands over their mouths, clutching utensils like a wooden spoon and a rubber spatula as the stove continues to burn whatever sits on the skillet.

Crouching on the floor is a smaller Raphael than Leonardo remembers, hands over his mouth as he chews slowly. The snapper’s eyes seem to scan nothing as all thoughts are focused on whatever is in his mouth.

Donnie looks so much more like Leonardo’s photo of April’s first day of college. The purple tech shell, the uneven goggles, the purple stripes on his upper arms and thighs—even the ridiculously drawn eyebrows. The softshell has yet to grow into the same build as Leonardo, and only has the lanky, toned muscle that Leonardo doesn’t remember being so funny to look at. Had they always been so oddly shaped in their teens?

The softshell turns away holding his mouth closed to keep from gagging anymore, but freezes when he makes eye contact with Leonardo. Donnie swallows nothing and stares at the elder slider.

Leonardo blinks, a little uncomfortable with Donnie’s eyes locking on him in what could only be shock or possible amazement? He’s a little uncertain because Donnie hasn’t blinked. Or moved. The teen just keeps staring. He feels like they’re the perfect reenactment of a car and a deer in headlights—frozen and too afraid to make any sudden movements.

Suddenly, the small child sneezes, breaking the staring contest between the two and Leonardo sets the child onto the dining table. Donnie nudges the closest brother, which happens to be Mikey, who was too focused on the “all kinds of bad” that could come from eating an old, soggy piece of unknown meat from an abandoned subway station.

The box turtles pivots on his heel until his eyes meet Leonardo’s, his draw dropping immediately. His eyes flicker between the small child that searches for Leonardo’s hand, and the huge, towering mutant slider that is Leonardo. He nudges the smaller slider at his side, whispering a sharp psst!

The younger slider points at Raph’s mouth, “Spit it out Raph! That’s gross and you’ll get sick.”

The snapper shakes his head vigorously as he continues to chew—how much longer does he need to chew?

Mikey pushes Leo, making the young slider stumble forward. The young slider pushes the tails of his mask off his face as he looks over his shoulder, “Mikey! What the hel—llll…. oh.”

The slider’s annoyance dies in seconds as he, too, has locked his eyes on the elder slider standing near the dining table.

And there it is. It’s almost like staring at a reflection of the boy he used to be. The red and yellow stripes that distortedly mirror his own, the blue mask—his youth. The kid should be—what?—sixteen? Seventeen? Somewhere in the teens if the little guy looks the same as his photo.

“Hey… uh, morning?” Leonardo finally greets, making the snapper flinch.

The snapper looks over his shoulder, mouth full of the unknown meat and swallows. He rises to fully stand, wiping his mouth as he does, and smiles sheepishly. “Oh, morning Leo,” he greets cheerily.

The snapper’s eyes trail to the small child laying on the table in the fetus position. He glances at his brothers for a response, and Leo is the first to respond.

Immediately striking up a confident smile and a step forward to match, Leo sweeps his mask’s tails off his shoulder. “G’morning ‘Older Me’, I see we haven’t lost our devilish good looks,” he greets with what Leonardo can describe is an expression too confident for how ridiculous he actually looks.

The smaller Leo walks up to Leonardo to rest his arm uncomfortably on the elder’s shoulder, he motions between them with his free hand. He marvels at his nails as he says, “So, what do we call you Big Man? Winter Soldier? The Mutant Watchmen? Turtle Titan? Terrapin Warrior?”

Just as the smaller Leo is about to come up with yet another horrible nickname, Leonardo’s hand envelopes the entirety of the younger’s face. “Let’s just go with something simple, save you the thinking. Leo, Leonardo, Nardo, Leon, pick your favorite.”

The younger Leo pries Leonardo’s hand off his face and slaps the large hand away. “Get off, get off, Grandpa,” Leo hisses as he bats away the calloused hand.

Donnie steps forward with excitement flurrying in his eyes, his hands are folded together but pointer fingers extended at Leonardo. He can’t hide his giddy smile as he asks, “So… are you a clone? Or another mutant that looks exactly like what Leo might look like when he’s older? Or are you from the future? If you’re from the future, how did you get here? I thought Leo’s portals only work with destination and—.”

Leonardo lowers Donnie’s hands and interrupts, “I’m from the future, and I didn’t make the portal to the present.”

Donnie’s hands fall to point at the small child now shivering on the dining table, “And that…?”

Leonardo doesn’t look back at the child and answers a little too sharply for the softshell’s liking, “It’s Dad’s.”

“‘It’?” Raph questions, his eyes glancing back at his brothers again.

“Doesn’t matter,” Leonardo interrupts and quickly adds, “Where is he? Does he have the key?”

“You mean Dad? He went to the surface to pick up some things with April for the… for his kid?” Raph answers for the turtles. He points to the stove, “Are you hungry? Pops said we should make you some food.”

Leonardo looks at the stove that is starting to release an alarming amount of smoke from the skillet. He points to the stove and asks, “Would the charcoal happen to be my breakfast?”

Mikey pushes past his brothers in a panic and cries out, “My omelet surprise!”

Wasn’t that fun? Anyways, another tiny dialogue snippet from plot 1 that I ended up not liking, which didn’t matter in the end since we didn’t choose plot 1 lol

“What’s more important the key or your daughter?”

“The key, of course!”

F!Leonardo didn’t mean this inherently, but he was very stressed at that point when the lair was attacked by the Foot and the baby was injured in the attack :(

Let’s continue the stress and angst! Here’s another plot 1 snippet :D

“I can’t, Dad… I shouldn’t,” Leonardo admits in defeat.

Splinter sets the baby in his lap, accepting Leonardo’s defeat but he questions, “Why not?”

Leonardo swallows. “Because what if I fail her too? What if I’m the reason she… —I can’t. I don’t know if my heart can take it. I’ve already lost so much. And you might be here, but not like how you were—are?”

The slider shakes his head and looks away from Splinter and the baby. “I lost my kid, Dad. I can’t take her in, it wouldn’t be fair to her. She deserves a father that will love her and protect her, someone who will dedicate their time to her. I can’t do that for her. Not while the pain is so… so fresh. I… I’m losing the fight. And I’m not sure I can get up anymore than you tried to pull me up. I’m sorry.”

Here’s a snippet that I removed from the canon apaf storyline because I decided to move it along a little faster. Before they find out that CJ was hiding with the Foot Clan, Leonardo wasn’t supposed to abide to Leo’s demand of letting him tag along. Leonardo was actually going to reach his breaking point in his stress because he had been searching my alone for weeks and nearly explodes on Leo—in a sad way, not anger hehe.

“Because Casey’s all I have left!” Leonardo snaps suddenly.

The elder slider momentarily freezes when he realizes what he has said, wrapping his fingers around his sword’s hilt in an awkward attempt at hiding the bandanas. He swallows, realizing he has dug himself a whole deeper than the trenches. “I… Sorry. I didn’t mean to say that. I should have worded it better. But believe me when I say I care. I care so much. Maybe a little too much—to the point where I’m only thinking straight ahead and instead of everything else around me.”

Leonardo winces at the way his words come out of his mouth, but he continues, “And I’m sorry that it’s hurting you. I really am, but it’s been really hard and I’m trying not to focus on… other things when Casey is the only one here. I promise when we reach CJ, I’ll take the time to—I don’t know—process? —everything? I just really need CJ to be okay. If he’s okay, then I can finally breathe. Alright? Can you give me that at least?”

Leo’s eyes flick downwards to the elder’s grip on the multicolored hilt, finally noticing the red and purple bandanas. Shit…, he thinks, I’m an asshole.

Wasn’t this fun? A lot of stuff was avoided because we picked plot 2 for apaf hehe, and we’ve moved faster onto the “raising baby” part

Although, I do miss the potential angst that could’ve been in plot 1 lol

I’m not sure if these were already shared or not hehe but it’s nice to go through them again

Sorry for the bad grammar or spelling if you spotted any, I didn’t bother to edit these haha

[mybrothercainmybrotherabel]

Exploration

TW: hanging, colonial gun violence

Jasper led the way through the woods of the Human Realm with his friends Dexter, Kirce, Archie, and Blythe behind him. Was he using this excursion as an excuse to show off?

Perhaps a little.

Out of the five of them, he had the most experience in the Human Realm. So when Kirce, the girl he had a massive crush on for the past six months, started talking about how much she wanted to visit, he had jumped on the opportunity to be a guide.

“It’s kind of creepy here, isn’t it?” Dexter said. He had been reluctant to agree to come in the first place, ever since people started going missing a few years ago rumors were circulating that the Human Realm was no longer safe.

“What do you mean?” asked Archie.

“I figured in the Human Realm we would see Humans.” Dexter said, “But we’ve been walking for at least a mile and I haven’t seen anything. It’s weird. It makes the hair on the back of my neck stand up.”

“You can always go back if you’re too scared.” Blythe teased.

“I am not scared!” Dexter retorted quickly. “If anyone should be scared it should be you. You don’t even have a palisman yet.”

Blythe, who was Dexter’s younger sister turned red. “If you brag about that stupid thing one more time I’m going to shove the whole staff up your…”

Kirce’s palisman, Toadles jumped on Blythe’s head and croaked loudly.

“Knock it off,” Kirce said, “You two are worse than children.”

Jasper’s palisman, a blue jay named Elinor rolled her eyes. Jasper smiled at Kirce, to show that he agreed with her and was happy that at least the two of them were mature and reasonable. Kirce however wasn’t looking back at him, his heart sank a little.

“What was that?” She asked.

“What was what?” Jasper followed her line of sight, he couldn’t see anything out of the ordinary.

“I saw something move in the trees.” Kirce said.

“It was probably just an animal,” Jasper replied,

“There are a lot of them over here.” He hoped whatever she had seen was familiar to him, he would love to have the chance to impress her with his vast knowledge of Human Realm fauna.

“What if it’s a human?” Blythe asked excitedly. “I’ve always wanted to see one!”

“It could be a witch hunter.” Archie said, “OoooOOOOoooooOoo….”

He wiggled his fingers right behind Kirce’s ear. Kirce elbowed him in the stomach.

“Knock it off, it’s not funny!”

“Kirce, I have been coming here for years,” Jasper reminded her, “and I have never seen one of these so-called witch-hunters. Relax. Most humans will go out of the way to avoid you, and the ones who don’t are more curious than dangerous.”

“Hmm…” Kirce didn’t looked convinced. “Toadles, go check it out anyways.”

Blythe rolled her eyes. “Worry wart.” She said, “No offence, Toadles.”

Toadles responded with a croak, though Jasper did not know him well enough to tell whether or not he was offended.

What happened in the following few moments happened so fast that Jasper could hardly keep up. There was a loud cracking noise immediately drowned out by a scream of anguish as Kirce nearly collapsed onto the ground. Jasper rushed to her side as Dexter and Archie cast a plant spell to pull whoever was hiding out into the open. A human boy fumbled to hold onto his own strange looking staff as he was hoisted into the air by Dexter and Archie’s vines. He dangled by his ankles and the staff slipped from his hands and clattered down amongst the tree vines. It took Jasper a moment to realize that the boy’s staff was dripping in bright green magic. Palisman blood…

Kirce was nearly hysterical.

“You’re going to pay for that!” She screamed, summoning fire to her hands.

“Kirce, stop!” Jasper grabbed her arm.

“He killed Toadles!” Kirce screamed, “I’m going to kill him! I’M GOING TO KILL HIM!”

Dexter, Blythe, and Archie all turned to try and console Kirce, or restrain her. Jasper had heard it said that the pain of losing one's palisman was enough to drive a witch mad with anguish. Kirce wasn’t thinking straight. In the state she was in, she could easily lose control and end up hurting herself or one of them. Jasper was too preoccupied trying to calm her down that he didn’t even think of watching the human. The next thing anyone knew, the human had escaped.

Kirce ripped herself away from her friends’ restraint.

There was a loud bang that rattled Jasper’s eardrums.

He saw Kirce’s body fall back and hit the ground as if time had stopped moving properly.

“KIRCE!” He screamed, he fell to his knees beside her. Blood poured from a hole in her chest.

Her eyes stared blankly at nothing.

Jasper shook.

She was dead.

She was dead.

For a moment no one could move. No one could breathe. No one could think.

When thoughts returned to Jasper’s mind they all repeated the same thing.

He killed Kirce.

The human killed Kirce.

Fury filled Jasper’s mind and body.

The world seemed to turn red, red like the blood blossoming across Kirce’s dress.

Instantly, Elinor transformed into a staff in Jasper’s hand. This human was going to die. He was going to pay for Kirce’s death with his own blood.

Before they could act there was another boom, like the one that had killed Kirce. More humans rushed forward from the trees, several of them carrying the same staffs that the boy had. Others had various other weapons.

Outnumbered, Jasper mounted his staff and took to the air.

A moment too late he realized that Blythe did not have her own palisman yet.

He summoned shards of ice around her to try and fend off the humans, Dexter and Archie each summoned their own defenses, but there were too many humans.

“BLYTHE!” Dexter screamed, as his sister was pinned down by the mob of angry humans.

“We have to go!” Archie shouted.

“Not without Blythe!” Dexter insisted.

Jasper dove for his younger friend.

BANG!

Before his eyes, Elinor exploded from the front of his staff. He felt it in his chest.

One moment she was there, the next she was nothing but a spray of bright green magic.

One moment his heart was beating, the next it was shattered like the shards of palistrom wood that flew back to hit his face.

The world was spiraling.

There was no up, no down, no future, no past.

Just that moment of watching Elinor explode in front of him.

He felt an arm around him, but was too disoriented to realize it was Archie’s until they were almost back to the portal. They crossed the threshold and collapsed into the red grass on the other side.

“We have to go back!” Dexter shouted. “We have to go back!”

“Are you insane?” Archie asked, “They’ll kill us!”

“They have Blythe! They have my sister!”

“Did you see how fast they murdered Kirce? That human didn’t even draw a spell circle. Blythe is probably dead already.”

Dexter jumped on Archie and started punching him.

“She’s my sister!” he screamed, “She’s my little sister!”

Jasper was still in shock, still covered in the splatter of Elinor’s blood, but Dexter was right. They couldn’t leave Blythe.

He forced down his own grief and tried to keep his hands from shaking as he pulled out the vial of Titan’s Blood and re-opened the portal.

“You’re mad.” Archie said. “They’ll kill you, too.”

“If she’s still alive, we have to try.” Jasper said.

Dexter and Jasper returned to the Human Realm. They stumbled through the underbrush, trying to follow the sounds of shouting. Jasper felt half asleep. The world seemed like a blur of nightmare and reality.

They caught up with the crowd of humans. Dexter tried to run ahead, but Jasper held him back, evaluating the scene before moving. Jasper didn’t think there was anymore room in his mind for horror. Between seeing Kirce’s body lifeless on the ground and watching Elinor explode before his eyes, it seemed impossible for any more atrocities to take place within such a short amount of time.

Then he saw Blythe’s body.

She was hanging from her throat in the branches of a tree as the Humans gathered around. Her face was bloated and purple, blood seeped from her eyes which were bulging out of their sockets. Jasper had just enough sense left in him to body block Dexter before he could run out and expose them both. He put his hand over his friend’s mouth and wrestled him back deeper into the woods. They managed to make it back to the portal before Jasper vomited. Before he knew what was going on, Dexter was on top of him. Jasper didn’t even feel the first couple of punches. He wasn’t even fully aware of what was going on until Archie pulled Dexter off.

“You said it was safe!” Dexter shouted. “You told us the Human Realm was safe! You had been there dozens of times! You said there was nothing to worry about!”

Jasper tasted blood in his mouth. His brain still couldn’t quite connect the pain coming from his face with the blood pouring from his nose or the fists that just assaulted him.

“I…I thought…” He struggled to speak, “I…Nothing like this had ever happened before…”

“Blythe is dead!” Dexter screamed, “Kirce is dead!”

“I…” The world still didn’t make any sense. Jasper was shaking.

“It should have been you!” Dexter shouted, “You were the one who led us there! If anyone should have died, it should have been you!”

Jasper couldn’t disagree.

He was still in a daze when he stumbled home. Upon seeing the blood covering him, his mother ran to his side. His little sisters stared at him in terror. Both of them were still in their nightgowns, stuck in the house after catching the common mold at school. If they hadn’t been sick, surely, they would have gone with. Evelyn was older than Blythe by two years after all. What if they had been there? They would be dead now, too, just like Blythe and Kirce were.

Jasper couldn’t breathe. He broke down. None of the boys talked to each other again after that. None of them fully disclosed what they had seen. Jasper made a new palisman, and Blythe and Kirce’s deaths were chalked up to tragic accidents. But Jasper never forgot, and he made a vow to himself that he would never lose anyone else like that again.

[arcadiabaytornado]

As an Amberprice fan, I’ve always been under the opinion that Chloe and Rachel aren’t necessarily in a relationship by the time Life Is Strange rolls around. There’s a lot of reasons I think this, so I’m going to make a list under the cut. (Also, this post isn’t meant to invalidate Amberprice or the people who like the ship. I love them and wish they had a better ending.) 

Reasons Undercut

A: In Before The Storm Rachel and Chloe never make their relationship official. They can kiss and promise to leave Arcadia Bay together, but they never refer to themselves as an item. In fact there’s two lines of dialogue in Before The Storm that shows their relationship is complicated and romantic, but not exclusive. If Steph asks you if Rachel is single can say “I’m not sure.” “She’s single.” or “You think we’re together?” If you kiss Rachel after telling Steph she’s single Rachel will point this out to Chloe to which Chloe will respond “You are single... technically... right?” to which Rachel will say “Guess so.” 

B: Chloe refers to Rachel as her friend to Max multiple times. Chloe is close to Max and I don’t see why she wouldn’t be honest with her about her relationship with Rachel. 

C: Chloe can have a romance with Max, which I don’t think she would do if she was still technically official with Rachel. Chloe doesn’t seem like the type to cheat, and I just don’t think she’d go for Max if she was still in a relationship to her knowledge. 

D: When Chloe finds Rachels letter to Frank she doesn’t accuse her of cheating. She just says that she lied and didn’t say anything. Which to me implies that Rachel didn’t technically cheat, but she did have a complicated relationship with Chloe that made it feel like a betrayal. Also in the junkyard letter Rachel writes to Chloe she never insinuates that they’re together. She just says that Chloe will think the guy she’s seeing is gross and will give her major stink eye for it. Which sounds more like Chloe still had some feelings for Rachel, but Rachel was doing her own thing. 

E: Frank has Rachels bracelet, which implies that Rachel took the bracelet back at some point if she gave it to Chloe in Before The Storm. It’s weird to ask for something so important back from someone your dating, but makes more sense if you aren’t together.

I honestly don’t think it’s crazy to think that Chloe and Rachel’s romantic relationship between Before The Storm and Life Is Strange fizzled a bit. Chloe and Rachel were both so young when they met, and they came into each others live at a point of chaos. Once everything became calmer and they grew up a little their feelings very well might have changed.

That doesn't invalidate the ship at all to me because Rachel and Chloe still had a huge impact on each other's lives. Rachel will always be important to Chloe no matter how much time passes, how far away from Arcadia Bay she gets, or if she enters a new relationship. Rachel will always be her angel. And I think that's more meaningful than whether or not they were together.

[eisforeidolon]

https://www.tumblr.com/eisforeidolon/717151384192090112/the-latest-jensen-is-evil-conspiracy-is-that-he

So, I actually do think Jensen posting during Walker (well, just before and then during) was intentional. But I don’t think it was some super secret way to sabotage Jared or anything like that, or distract from the show because, you know, people can watch a show and check Twitter at the same time. But, whether we like it or not, Jared and Jensen are celebrities as well as friends, and the moves they make on social media are about their brand/image, not just about supporting friends.

I think Jensen did post when there was likely to be a good amount of fans online since many Walker fans are SPN fans. Also, despite how it might seem at times, there are plenty of people who watch Walker and still like Jensen, and who even watch both shows.

So, do I think Jensen chose his posting times to capitalize on potential SPN audience because during Walker is a likely time to catch them online? Yes. Do I think Jensen premeditated this move for weeks/days or longer than maybe that afternoon? No. Do I think he was trying to sabotage or show-up Jared? No.

To me, saying Jensen posted to undermine Jared in some way is needless shit-stirring. But saying he doesn’t even know when Walker airs (like I’ve seen some claim) and the timing was all a coincidence is potentially a bit naive.

Yeah, my very first thought was along the lines of, "Just how distracting do you think a couple tweets could realistically be, ffs?" If it was some kind of deep sabotage on the viewing audience to tweet during a show, no cast would ever live tweet their own show!

It's a valid point that Jensen especially uses social media for promotion and branding moreso than in any kind of personal way. So, no, it wouldn't be at all surprising if he specifically was timing his posts for when more SPN fans were likely to be active on social media - because yeah, as you say, the GA especially isn't nearly as polarized as the stan corners try to paint things. In the original post, I was sarcastically pointing out the new conspiracy contradicts one of the common stan assertions that nobody but Jensen stans/hellers care about TW - if there are no mutual fans, Jensen posting during Walker shouldn't be able to sabotage anything, even if it wasn't patently absurd to suggest tweeting was some massive distraction from the show that could hurt it (uh ... somehow) even though it had already been officially renewed. Like, at least pick a consistent lane.

It's not the idea Jensen might purposely tweet during Walker hoping more SPN-related eyeballs are active that's absurd. It's the conspiracy-think that doing so is some Wile E. Coyote level scheme to sabotage Walker and Jared (uh ... somehow) because he's pathetic and ~*dEsPeRaTE*~ and is trying to trick Jared's audience (uh ... somehow). It doesn't makes sense as something Jensen would do, but even more than that? It doesn't make sense as something anyone would do - it's so obviously pathetically inept as a scheme only a braindead stan desperate for something to get pissed about would read a conspiracy of malice into it. And yeah, it's also silly to claim Jensen is just totally clueless as to when Walker airs. It may or may not have been the primary concern in when he tweeted (I have no idea what twitter tells you in terms of engagement metrics on your posts and therefore what other factors might be involved in the timing of posts), but saying he wouldn't even know? C'mon.

Seriously, some stans get so caught up in trying to [prove the other guy is bad/defend their guy] they sometimes seem to completely lose all track of anything even resembling common sense.

[spurious]

laura seeing all your sga reblogs is making me want to read mcshep again. what are like... your top five fics. whether or not i might have read them before!

OH MAN okay so i have been wanting to make a McShep fic recs post for a little bit and now you've given me the perfect excuse...only FIVE though i am gonna do my best but idk if i can contain myself tbh. (narrator voice: she could not)

Silly wrong but vivid right by SquaresAreNotCircles | ~4k words, rated T

John is leaning in, head bent low towards the curly-haired guy he’s talking to. Rodney is a little annoyed instantly because hey, what’s so important they would need to whisper it? Why isn’t John pulling him into this?

And then John reaches out and pulls the other guy in. Over the table, by his neck, and suddenly this other guy is kissing John.

Or: With DADT gone, John starts kissing guys. Rodney is (very mysteriously!) not having a great time.

➞ the idea of Rodney being so out of touch with his own emotions that he thinks he’s homophobic rather than into John is just…chefs kiss.

Tutorial by objectlesson | ~3.5k words, rated E

This softness—John doesn't know what to do with how good it feels, how much he wants it. How temporary it probably is, how much it’ll hurt when it’s gone.

Or, Rodney's never touched John's dick, until now.

➞ ok it’s no secret that “we’re fooling around and I’ve got Feelings but he definitely doesn’t (but actually he DOES)” is one of my favorite tropes and this is it done to PERFECTION. (one of the great things about this trope is that it allows for sex scenes and pining at the same time and who doesn’t like having their cake and eating it too?)

Loop the Loop by alsaurus | ~9k words, rated T

One man's quest to comfort a friend. And maybe himself, just a little.

(AKA the one where John takes Rodney out on a million dates without realizing it.)

➞ Every time that someone mentioned Rodney's poor social skills, John had to suppress a smile. In the private universe of his mind he'd come to interpret "bad with people" as "made for me".

This line has lived rent-free in my head since I read this fic and it is wonderful. The whole fic is wonderful. They fit together SO WELL and it’s just. It’s nice ok

Harmonic Function by shaenie | ~8k words, rated E

"Let's go with Banach-Tarski as your safeword," McKay says almost absently, lips tracing lazily along John's hairline, and John blinks.

➞ alright this? This is just really hot. Like, really hot. I bookmarked it for a reason. You know my tastes so, you know. Lol

Little Storms by Chandri | ~18k words, rated T

None of them like to admit it, but sometimes John's wrong. Usually it's Rodney who has to say so.

-> I have several fics by Chandri in my bookmarks, and I felt it might be a bad idea to subject you to the one that’s 50k (though, if you’re interested…) so instead I’ve chosen this one, which made me cry in family mart at 11 o clock in the morning.

Rebuilding Babel by fiercelydreamed | ~20k words, rated E

He wondered if this was how it felt to go crazy -- you didn't lose your mind, it just stopped synching up with the world around you.

The Pegasus galaxy makes Rodney an expert in what he can survive without.

➞ I remember being just floored by this fic when I finished it, like just, daaaamn.

Holy Rivers by objectlesson | ~21k words, rated M

Once they’re back on Earth, things start falling apart.

➞ ok I intended to only link one fic per author BUT this is the perfect post-series fic where Rodney figures his shit out

Monomial Factors by anonymous | ~12k words, rated T

“A cat café,” Rodney says, as he sits—sprawls—on the loveseat. John scopes the terrain before settling himself down beside him, careful to keep his knees tucked safely away from where Rodney’s leg is stretched into his space so their limbs don’t knock together. “You remember that I had a cat, before Atla—we went away?”

John nods. “Sure, yeah. Quirk.”

“Quark,” Rodney corrects. “Well, he’s been with my neighbour for so long, and he’s getting older, and when we got back it just didn’t seem fair to upend his life all over again by having him move back here with me. Putting him on a plane, taking him away from his dog friend—so I’m, well, I’m interested in adopting.”

Rodney wants a cat. John's always been a dog guy.

➞ tagged “cat adoption as a catalyst to romance” I MEAN. HOW COULD I NOT. It’s soft and sweet and in character and I loved it.

It’s been absolutely insane to me to come into this fandom because like. You know that I spent years being The Person who wrote my ship and it’s like going from this tiny little trickle to a fucking…FIREHOSE of content and so much of it is GOOD? And LONG? Like……….how is this happening. Hence why I failed to choose only five fics lol. Anyway if you or anyone else want more recs or specific recs, hit me up because i am READY FOR IT.

[lgcshion]

hello, new friends ! my name is rover — yes, like kai’s latest cb, thank you, kai — & i’m here to introduce you to my muse, 櫻田詩音 ( sakurada shion ) ! he’s a 2005 liner — the only one in the group rp now heheh ( ^^ ; ) — & an aspiring vocalist from tokyo, japan. for reference, he’s in the male junior evening training group, & male dorm e, & he also attends sopa atm, too ! you can find more information about him below the cut, but please check out his DETAILS & OVERVIEW pages, if you’d like some extra reading material. lmk if you want to plot & i’ll reach out via tumblr dm. i’m primarily plotting through tumblr right now — i’m so sorry (╯_╰) — but if that changes, i’ll let you know. anyway, thanks for having me, & thanks x2 for the welcomes !

& M I S C

shion has this really bad habit of scribbling new song lyrics & lines of poetry he thinks of on literally anything he can get his hands on. this includes the whites on his sneakers, the corners of old newspapers, the palms of his hands, the notes app in his phone, & sometimes even the backside of important paperwork the company gives him. it bums him out so bad whenever he forgets what pops into his brain, so anytime inspiration hits him like a ton o’ bricks, he needs to write it down & carries at least one pen with him at all times.

on his pages, i’ve described him has “slow-paced” many times, & there’s a reason for that. he will never rush to do anything, no matter how important it is. he’s a firm believer in slow & steady wins the race — acting more like a tortoise, but resembling a hare... i see you, shion — & takes his sweet time with everything. whether it’s getting ready in the morning, eating his dinner, learning a song, or even cleaning his side of the dorm, he works sluggishly. things will get done, & his work will often be great, but he does it on his own terms.

branching off from above, he can be somewhat stubborn & stuck in his ways. he takes a long time to make decisions & that’s because he puts way too much thought into them, but once his mind is made up, it rarely changes. if people disagree with him, he’s comfortable with that as he’s patient enough to hear out & respect different povs, but he’s not known to budge from his opinions. this has gotten him into some light trouble in the past, but nothing major.

shion is a huuuuge sucker for romance, & themes of all types of romance, love, passion, heartbreak, etc. are explored in his poems & lyrics. however, the kicker here is that he’s never actually been in a relationship himself. ╥﹏╥ it’s something he’s always wanted, but ya know — being a gay kid in japan ( & now in south korea ) isn’t easy, & his shyness works against him here, too. he daydreams about what it’s like to have a boyfriend all the time, & his sweet little heart falls for people very easily. he’s kinda pathetic in a way, but it’s outta his control.

really, he’s still very young & he’s very much still figuring himself out, & he’s making mistakes, & learning lessons, & flopping, & failing, & basically doing literally everything he should be doing at his age, & i’m just here to help him grow in this verse. if your muse wants to take part in his journey in anyway — like literally anyway i mean that; the good, the bad, & the ugly, i want it all — lmk & we can figure it out together ! (*>ω<*)

& P L O T S

i love the idea of shion having a found family, if you will. people in his life who he’s not related to, but who feel like sisters, & brothers, & cousins, etc. those he can lean on if he needs a breather from training, those he can cheer up when they’re feeling upset, & those who can help him become the person he’s meant to be. if your muse has, like, parental instincts, even, they could just “adopt” shion as their own, like ig it, he is pretty babie in the grand scheme of things. (⋟﹏⋞) gimme gimme !

as it’s a dream of his to become a main ( or lead ) vocal of a k-pop boy group someday, shion wants to make sure that his efficiency with the korean language is up-to-par, especially his pronunciation while singing. he knows it’s crucial to have clear diction, & since korean isn’t his native tongue, he’s really leaned on your muse to pick up the basics. he’s very patient & will take these lessons seriously, but you’ll have to forgive him if he nods off from time-to-time. maybe this could even turn into real friendship !

maybe your muse & shion got into an argument when they were working on something together, & ever since that moment, things have never really been the same. shion is admittedly really awful with confrontation, & his stubbornness can sometimes make him hotheaded if he does lose his patience. it’s rare that he does, but it happens once in a blue moon. to make the scenario more broad, the point of this is that i think it’d be great for shion to have some conflict in his life. it’ll be interesting to see how he responds, so if you have other ideas for how this could happen, lmk. up for anything !

i would adooore for shion to have a big dopey crush on someone (─‿‿─)♡ this also doesn’t have to turn into anything deep, i just think it’d be fun for him to think the world of someone in that way, & write silly songs/poems about them, & be all (´♡‿♡`) when they’re around. feelings could be mutual, not returned, or it could even end in some kinda confession/heartbreak scenario, like, idc... give him something to write ab, please ! literally begging you rn, #shameless ! c’monnnn just think of how cute it’d be... 

other japanese muses that remind him of home would be awesome tbh. he’d love being able to be homesick with them, & think about their childhoods, & dip into some good ol’ fashioned nostalgia here & there. maybe they can go out to traditional japanese restaurants in the city whenever they can or something cute like that, too; bond over shared cultures & stuff !

[makesometime]

twenty questions for fic writers

I was tagged by the lovely @icescrabblerjerky

1. How many works do you have on AO3? 396! I had no idea I was so close to the big 4-0-0.

2. What’s your total AO3 word count? 1,161,641 since 2011

3. What fandoms do you write for? The top five above the ‘expand fandoms list’ section on my dashboard are: Rusty Quill Gaming, Terra Nova (the terrible 2012 TV show), Assassin’s Creed (Odyssey), Stranger Things and Baldur’s Gate 3. Honourable mention to Final Fantasy 14 which is likely to inspire more in me at some point.

4. What are your top five fics by kudos?

You are the reason I stay alive (Stranger Things) at 1,557

Hold me deep beneath your waves (Our Flag Means Death) at 1,237

Broken Regrets (Castlevania) at 1,219

Swallow my breath and take what is mine (Castlevania) at 967

You kissed me just to kiss me, not to make me cry (Our Flag Means Death) at 936

Amusingly, none of these feature in the top 5 for comments. Those are all Rusty Quill Gaming, which doesn’t surprise me at all. Of all of them, only 2 feature in the top 10 for comments.

5. Do you respond to comments? I always do, yes!

6. What’s the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending? I don’t think I ever write an angsty ending, because I am a happy ending queen. In fact if I search my almost 400 fics for the word angst, it only features in 7. I suppose Shield (An)other (RQG) would count but it was written from a place of bitterness so the angst is really all self-imposed.

7. What’s the fic you wrote with the happiest ending? This is actually a harder question to answer, because that’s what I always aim for. The first one that came to mind though was I don't know where this road will end, but I'll walk it with you, hand in hand (RQG) because it was probably the last time I was truly happy with what was happening in RQG and I think it shows in the story. Everything since has been me fixing canon, with equally happy (blissful) endings.

8. Do you get hate on fics? I am very lucky - I’ve only ever had one comment that tended towards the negative and that was because I mentioned a canon female love interest too much in a m/m fic. That one got deleted.

9. Do you write smut? If so, what kind? Heck yeah I do. Of all my fics, 179/400 are rated E and 39/400 are M. I write all sorts - from soft to hard kink and everything in between. It’s also the far easiest thing for me to write.

10. Do you write crossovers? What’s the craziest one you’ve written? I only have two, my favourite one is probably 34 Tite Street which is a TMA/RQG crossover. I did write a Hades (game)/RQG crossover which is probably a bit crazier.

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen? There was once upon a time that I’m pretty sure an RQG fic was heavily inspired by one of mine. But that’s okay, I don’t think it got much attention and I wasn’t going to throw my weight around about it.

12. Have you ever had a fic translated? Yes! One of my favourite fics for a very small fandom (Appropriate Punishment from And Then There Were None) was translated into Russian.

13. Have you ever co-written a fic before? Very many things, with some truly wonderful friends <3<3

14. What’s your all-time favorite ship? Absolutely Zoscar from RQG. Nothing has inspired me quite like them, and nothing has got me so many wonderful friends.

15. What’s a WIP you want to finish, but doubt you ever will? I only have three on ao3 and tbh I don’t really want to finish any of them.

16. What are your writing strengths? Characterisation - I have been writing long enough that I can trust if something isn’t working, it’s because I’ve fucked up the characterisation at some point. Whether that’s a line of dialogue that doesn’t sound right, or a whole section of ‘they wouldn’t fucking do that’, I have to fix it to make the fic work.

17. What are your writing weaknesses? Like Miri, I hate description so very much. I feel like I’m bad at it and I make it boring. 

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language for a fic? I don’t mind unless it’s not translated. There have been a few fics I’ve seen in my time where another language has been used as a purposeful exclusionary tactic and no translation was given. (An RQG one comes to mind - the smugness radiating off of it was repulsive.)

19. First fandom you wrote for? Gosh, probably Stargate SG-1. Many many many years ago, you’ll forgive me for not checking ff.net to get a precise date for myself, but it was at least 20 years ago…

20. Favorite fic you’ve ever written? This is very hard to answer! I love all my children equally. Most recent favourite? Not broken, just bent, and we can learn to love again for Baldur’s Gate 3. Overall favourite is probably Pieces of me are pieces of you for RQG <3

I'll tag @sky-kiss, @wordsandstrangeways and @gorgongorgeous if you would like to!

[myenemystolvrs]

April 2021

completed fics that i read this month.

~read the tags~

▶ more than 1 chapter

Sasunaru

1. Left in the Past (Rewrite the Future) by Lohrendrell [T, 20K, 2ch]

“By pure chance, Naruto comes across a little book. It has no title, no author, not even a signature, but it does contain long lost memories of a romance that could have been. He can’t help being drawn to the story on those pages, neither could he imagine how much finding the journal would influence his own life.“

2. Idioms and Idiots by cyberflamingo  [E, 53K, 10ch]

“The transfer student is a country hick—which is just a nice way of saying he doesn’t belong in the private boarding school where Sasuke has calculated his life’s trajectory. It’s fine if the idiot steals all his friends, it's absolutely bearable if he’s forced to partner up with him in gym class, and it's definitely not a problem at all that his dorm room is right next door.

But joining the soccer team where Sasuke is team captain? That’s where he draws the line.

And if Naruto could stop calling him a pussy, that would be great.”

3.  A World of Truth by luchia  [E, 23K, 10ch]

“The world is trapped in an illusion which removes anger, hate, and death. It's paradise, giving everyone everything they've ever wanted and reviving anyone they've ever lost. Nearly two years into the illusion, Sasuke snaps back to his senses and must decide whether to keep the world in false bliss, or return it to war-torn reality.”

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▶ one shots

1. Almost, Not Quite, Us by xxjinchuurikixx [E, 34K]

“Sasuke gets an unexpected heat, and his oldest rival and once best friend Naruto is there for him.

“I promise I won’t… make things awkward.”

“It’s already kinda awkward, admit it.”

He relinquishes his hold on Naruto’s hand and sighs. “Alright, well then, I promise to be a very good omega and not claw your dick off.”

“Do omegas do that?”

“This one will.”

2. A Night of Poor Choices by KinomiAkai [E, 13K]

“Sasuke is sober, tired, and bitterly regretting letting his friends drag him out to a bar. At least he can pet this dog, though.”

3. Underwater by Dae [E, 12K]

“Sasuke didn't really need therapy, but he figured he'd give it a try. It wouldn't have been so bad if the annoying blonde didn't keep showing up with his damn crosswords and magazines and stupidly attractive smile and bright blue eyes.

Whatever.”

4. Adoption by Defenestration; or, A Family Can Be A Fox Demon, Its Jinchuuriki, and Three Dozen Highly-Trained Assassins by elumish [T, 4K]

“He will not be the ANBU who let the jinchuuriki plummet to his death out a fourth story window. Let that be another ANBU’s legacy.”

5. How Naruto and Sasuke Became Friends by prettypriestess [T, 5K]

“The heavens have chosen the accidental kiss as their running gag.”

6. head spinning thinking about this boy by sausegay [T, 10K]

“Sasuke continues, “it’s different when it’s your best friend you’re trying to ask out.”

“You sound like you speak from experience.”

Sasuke takes a moment to respond, gaze shifting to a spot over Naruto’s shoulder then back to his eyes. “Just casual observation.”

or where sasuke has a really bad crush on naruto and he thinks it's unrequited until he finds out it isn't. featuring soccer practices, cheer stunts, a shared bento, and other events taking place over the course of a school term.”

7. on the verge of things like truth, things like love by PurpleClouds_001 [M, 16K]

"Whatever I've done Hinata, I assure you I'm sorry"

She laughed again, bitterly "You must say that a lot" then she caught her cruel tone and blushed "I'm sorry, I mean, you don't even know what you're apologizing for"

"I've done a lot of things I need to be sorry for, I've learned not to ask"

or... Naruto has died, so Hinata and Sasuke talk for the first time.”

8. Funny Way to Fall by Atanih88 [E, 9K]

“Naruto's favourite late night customer has a set of wings. Yeah. Big ones.”

[aimmyarrowshigh]

2022 Fic Roundup Meme

Total Fics Posted: 975 so far (two are hidden right now because they're for anonymous exchanges!) but by the end of the year, it SHOULD be 1,108. I've got three more exchanges due by the 31st, plus 40 #hanukkahbingo drabbles, and then hopefully daily drabbles are back now that the Star-Spangled Big Bang is over and my brain is being a little less eaten. We'll see if Fandom Trumps Hate starts eating my brain, though, because that's the longest of my remaining 2022 stuff!

Total Words Posted: By the end of the year, it should be ~175,000. Currently it's 150,181.

Total Words (of Anything Excluding Blogs) Written: Somewhere between 200,000-250,000, I think, which is pretty usual for me. Most of what I write I just kind of immediately post, but I do have some WIPs kicking around the ol' WIP folder. I didn't start using a comprehensive wordcount tracker until mid-October, so I don't know exactly!

My favorite fic story this year: Either Not In The Answer But The Question or Five Times Captain America Fucked A USO Girl & One Time Steve Rogers Got Fucked -- I'm proud of both, but in different ways. I think both really challenged some of my writing hang-ups and turned out well. I'm happy with all of the longer-than-a-drabble stuff that I wrote this year, though! And I mean, most of the drabbles, too, but there aren't any that necessarily stick out in my head as far and away better than the others.

My best story this year: Not In The Answer But The Question, although I do feel like I rushed the pacing on the last quarter because I had to make the BB deadline (hah). People seem to think it still sticks the landing, though!

Story most under-appreciated by the universe, in my opinion: I'm actually going to give a real answer for this one this year, which I usually don't, but I'm going to say that I thought both a smile on your immortal face and Gee, I Hope You're Ready for a Fic About Death would get a couple more hits than they have. I know neither is a massive fandom, but Beetlejuice The Musical DOES have over a thousand fics and there ARE a lot of WLW American Girl fans, so I thought both would get a little more traction than they have. But it's okay! I had a ton of fun writing them either way, and I'm really happy with how they turned out.

Sexiest Story: Five Times Captain America Fucked A USO Girl & One Time Steve Rogers Got Fucked is the smuttiest thing I've written in YEARS and I think the sex all turned out pretty well! I don't write many E-rated drabbles because it's difficult to create sexual tension within the word limit in a way that's ~satisfying, so there isn't a ton of competition haha. I am going to attempt the MCU Kink Bingo in 2023 though!

Most fun story: Ooh, good question. I'm gonna say Gee, I Hope You're Ready for a Fic About Death because it makes me laugh and because it was a really quick writing process because I was having fun. "Fun" isn't necessarily my brand when it comes to writing? For someone who only likes bubblegum pop and Disney Channel Original Movies, I pretty much only write super thoughtsy-feelsy quiet, meditative character studies, lol.

Story that shifted my own perceptions of the characters: To coopt myself from the 2012 meme, “if I write a fic and it doesn’t change my feelings on the characters or fandom in some way, then I don’t think I wrote it correctly.”

Hardest story to write: I'm going to answer this with one that isn't posted yet and say my massive shrinkyclinks longfic that I started in 2021 and had hoped to finish and post this year! It's been a much slower writing process than I wanted it to be, just because I want to get it Exactly Right and because longfic makes me super anxious about My Value And Worth In This World Hinge On This Story And Whether People Like It.

Biggest surprise: Reiterating from last year's meme -- "Actually sticking to the drabbling! In the past when I tried Three-Line Fic Thursday and Five-Sentence Friday, I failed miserably, and I’ve failed myself at drabble challenges, too. But for some reason this time it’s stuck and is genuinely working to remind me that I can get words out, I can have ideas, and I can get those ideas out in words. Yay!"

A story I want remembered: I mean, if I wrote anything this year that anyone remembers fondly, that makes me happy. But I do have a soft spot for Not In The Answer But The Question.

Resolutions for 2023: FINISH LENT FROM TOMORROW (TODAY WAS TOO SMALL FOR US). BE A FINISHER. FINISH THE THING. Also, do Femslash February and a drabble March Madness again because they were really fun this year!

[dattvnguyen]

Hey, I change for myself. I love for me, because I am me. I love so much more of everyone and everything else so much more than I do myself every time I decide to lock eyes and gaze - just to fall into something I knew might hurt me and kills me everytime, in mind and heart and have shattered nearly a crack through to my spirit but fortunately it wasn’t enough to take me down because I remember who I am. I am who I am. I don’t care if anyone thinks I’m younger, not thinking straight or positive because I’ve never ever had to even come to comprehend as to why in the first place tell me something so obvious and true as I have always been curious. I have always questions and shalt always continue to do so because I enjoy the shit outta learning. I am a master of knowing what it is that I know that I know and reach conclusions through and from another persons confusion about me? I ain’t confused. I just ask the damn rightest questions being = to be amongst the brightest of all knowing. You know how I know this now? It is thanks to all of you. I am truly fearful and you know why? Because though I left myself in the dark. I found myself to be the light. I thought I heard you all knocking in the place I left myself to not wanting to leave to make sure no one stepped through. Everyone thinks they got a clue and they had me telling them the every parts of the places unknown and you know what? I only tell of the prettiest and no where near even the worst part of what it is all even about as to why they think they know and as to why, I come off as less sharp and more broken. I don’t mind and I don’t care. I will do me and I will live in despair and continue to still love all because these are the sounds I hear each day and night, when you all get to live in it. I am here. I am also not really able to stay the same way as you guys, to think I am so careless and absolutely clueless to say dumb jokes like I don’t know much more. I know everything. I say this with sheer force of no fear because the only thing I fear now is nothing and no one. I am only afraid of love and how it brings me back and forth through these doors just to save everyone else knowing what I go through many times over for the sake of knowing again. But it barely is explainable to what people think they witness pain to be. Whether stories about Jesus or Buddha are true, it is about the lessons, morals and points too. Not which one is more true or what is not believable to you. Funny thing is, you all think you get what you do know but yet, you don’t take the time to get to know one another and think for yourselves to turn on eachother. It has been amusing but I am over these dumb ass fucking kinds of thoughts. Stop being so little to your own demeans and demand that it comes from a place whether hard to scratch or follow, it is there a whether you sleep or wake up tomorrow . Or shalt I state it to be here? You hear? Yeah? Loud and clear. I can only hope. One can only hope. Once one’s way say nope, antelope. Upon an arrival as one does do possibly hold dear without having to be physically but just even sincerely by being then expect a magic envelope.

Yes, being ungrateful for life and getting rid of one is and one of the most greediest, selfish and disgusting ways to go out. I am saying this from travels back and forth as I am not to judge, nor disrespect but pay respects even to those whom I still spend time from their presence in knowing which they come from and yearn to share as I lie and they stop to also lie - rest and seek peace. I am a peace maker so obviously I easily pick up the natural rhythms closest to my heartbeat so I hope for now, shalt being as I followed from what I believe in- to say at the very least for any-one that may read these lines to fall back behind and seek seldom from within thy chest and pay attention to each question of the five E’s being which what where when why and I do support you in finding how from this moment in reaching from down below and beyond the depths in which we may or even come to know as if though, it made sense the whole time when it didn’t as it has to be made sense of now somehow? Just another possibility. Unless, you think I’m just speaking from tongue without a rhythm from a flow or source that knows (more or less), doesn’t matter to me / everything is made up of or of thing-every makes is of matter which can be seen but I guess maybe this world has always been here? This is a coincidence? Somewhat or somehow? A big bang? Think deeper of what a bang is, what a lightning or thunder is. What Tis’ beyond that? The mystery may continue as I believe I hath shared plenty for now. Yes, simple enough, complex to figure but one may think they know when they say they do but they forget what understanding is each and every time they gotta start thinking and forget how. Follow your hearty self and stay humble. I could speak endlessly in which I am trying to guide gists of but for now, I am going to finally make my time count for me, then ones like domino of uno becomes into uni -in I that be here to say that the one and only DAT is here. I no longer need to give a shit about what you may think (though I technically have and still do). I will only spare extra time for those whom seek more than just their own in their own to find reaching out to even those whom align with them as one’s own two too. Takes one to know one right? What’s left? Well, to taking from that is to let’s say ..”time and place” for one to take but to think only one is the only way and nothing else but the high way? Have fun with no way of alternatives in which is the thing in which that comprehension exists but that’s all it may be and I do still hope you are in bliss. True bliss though, is to know of love and love has always been given to us so “sharing is caring” not to “do to see what they do for you”. Though, I only picked on half of 6:10 . 1-2 still comes back from having 0’s front thinking it is after but what’s even after before of after and before?

I ask an impossible yet made many possible just now. Think it doesn’t make sense? Good. Think deeper. But don’t think you got it til’ you are through to figure and know thyself to bother as I have played my part in sharing and opening up during the roles with the universe. Now? I will show my source and power in which I am blessed by All’ (God & I shalt allow Dat to do so when Dat believes He does endeavour to do so). If you get lost and think of me because of what I meant from there? Silly, I am done and am always open to help if asked. Now I am back to being, whom I be knowing within me myself and I from without being Dat but always knowing of my own in the end as I started it because I am true. I am not just me or you, I am …

Dat.

Tis’ is all I need to say here on out, hate it or love it? That’s your choices, I do hope you may get the chance to allow me to assist and meet you one day, as I would love to make sure the spirit finds its way to safe keeping and peace.

Speaking of peace, try to ask or seek for it for yourself and just be. I am also just being me. Unique and also authentic. Nothing special, we all are but is it ever rare when it’s so obvious?

I don’t know,

I only see All and know everything until the last question from what I am seeking from the question in which I known now each time I do ask but enough from me for now (it’s 1:11).

[pesterloglog]

John Egbert, Roxy Lalonde, Calliope

Prologue, page 3

JOHN: she looked alright. mostly just tired.

JOHN: at least she seemed to have enough energy to babble at length about philosophical gibberish, and things about canon and such.

ROXY: lmao

ROXY: guess she filled you in on all the ultimate self junk then

JOHN: the what?

ROXY: the shit where she starts knowing everything and feelin bad

JOHN: oh. that’s not the term she used. she just kept describing it as a condition.

JOHN: you haven’t been feeling anything like that, right?

ROXY: what getting to know my ultimate self?

JOHN: yeah.

ROXY: man ive barely got a hold of my basic ass self

JOHN: heh.

JOHN: yeah, she said she was the only one going through this, that she knew of.

JOHN: poor rose.

JOHN: at least all that medication seems to be keeping her sort of functional.

JOHN: she said it wasn’t like that!

JOHN: i mean... she said it was under control.

JOHN: well, what the fuck do i know. the only illicit substance i’ve ever done is lick that STUPID trickster lollipop.

JOHN: NEVER AGAIN.

ROXY: yeah w/e

ROXY: cant say its much my business anymore

ROXY: rose and i arent as close as we used to be

ROXY: maryams been keeping her real busy since they got hitched

ROXY: they both vanished down the brooding caverns and that was p much that

ROXY: only since she got sick and spent more time at home did we start talkin more again

ROXY: its been great but our conversations have been a lil bit upsetting

JOHN: so, are you and callie still living at the same place i last saw? the one near the tower?

ROXY: yup

JOHN: that’s cool.

JOHN: it’s a nice place.

ROXY: yeah i like it here

ROXY: ive thought about it but ill probably never wanna live in a different kingdom

ROXY: still feel most at home around the chess guys

JOHN: makes sense.

JOHN: that’s about how i feel about the salamanders.

JOHN: which... i realize actually makes no fucking sense.

ROXY: haha

JOHN: they lead simple lives.

JOHN: i don’t really care for the chaos of human or troll cities.

ROXY: neither do we

JOHN: uh, so...

CALLIOPE: ahem.

CALLIOPE: john!

JOHN: what?

CALLIOPE: please forgive me if i come across as impatient. bUt if we are finished with the pleasantries, i believe yoU have a choice to make.

JOHN: huh?

CALLIOPE: the choice as to whether yoU will go defeat my brother, or stay here.

CALLIOPE: have yoU decided yet?

JOHN: there’s a choice??

JOHN: i was just assuming i had to go.

JOHN: because if i don’t, then...

JOHN: a lot of stuff will stop being real. or i mean, stop being canon?

JOHN: to tell you the truth, i’m a little confused about what will happen if i don’t go.

JOHN: but it sounds like it will probably be bad!

CALLIOPE: that may be so.

CALLIOPE: we are not here to caUtion yoU aboUt the conseqUences of yoUr decision either way.

CALLIOPE: bUt there is always a choice!

CALLIOPE: roxy and i merely wished to invite yoU here for a nice hUman picnic, and show oUr sUpport for whichever decision yoU make.

ROXY: tbh its a relief to finally be doin this

JOHN: it is?

ROXY: mm hm

JOHN: how much have you actually... talked about this? i mean, how many people knew this was going to be a thing?

ROXY: just us and rose. well dirk too i think

ROXY: shes been talkin to me about it a bunch

ROXY: and him too but i dunno how much

ROXY: hes got like

ROXY: “thoughts” about all this shit

ROXY: but whatever thats not important or even remotely surprising

ROXY: bottom line, rose has been tormenting herself about having to tell you

ROXY: im just glad she finally said it so she can rest

ROXY: now its up to you

CALLIOPE: yes. take all the time yoU need.

CALLIOPE: again, we aren’t here to inflUence yoU. it’s very important that the decision come from yoUr desire to go throUgh with it, one way or another.

CALLIOPE: any tampering coUld taint the resUlts.

JOHN: taint the...

JOHN: wait, what?

ROXY: so whatll it be john

ROXY: john u ok?

JOHN: ...

ROXY: looked like you were gonna pass out there for a second

CALLIOPE: of coUrse! what was i thinking.

CALLIOPE: this decision is far too important to be made on an empty stomach.

CALLIOPE: here, before yoU choose which path yoU’re going to take, yoU shoUld decide what yoU’d like to eat!

CALLIOPE: i have packed a wide variety of provisions. easily enoUgh to satisfy even the most ravenoUs picnic-goer’s appetite.

CALLIOPE: behold, an array of savory delights for the carnally inclined.

CALLIOPE: or perhaps something for yoUr sweet tooth, if a lUst for treats is what stokes yoUr desire?