#tenet imagine

[cats-obsessions]

There’s been a lot of discussion around Gortash in particular showing no devotion for Bane beyond that which furthers his own interests, and Bane doing very little to help him. While that’s a very Banite thing to do, offering your Bhaalspawn babe true equality is not. There’s so many beautiful theories out there, but I offer my own: the goal of the Absolute was never to glorify Bane or Bhaal.

We know Durge and Gortash have a long history, spanning back before Gortash was even the chosen of Bane. They started out as essentially, two people robbing shit together- ancestral torture racks and all. In letters, we find both of them had proposed plans that involve each other. I like to think they got very attached before deciding to rule the world. But what would come of serving their gods? Durge would kill the world, Gortash would have to rule alone. In the end, failure or victory, their lives and souls would go separate ways, and one of them would have to fail, earning eternal torture.

But Enver doesn’t offer Durge servitude to Bhaal or mass murder or even Banes plan when they show up tadpoled to Wyrms Rock. He offers godhood- through the absolute, sure, but such an act would certainly deserve ascension. They could become actual gods. Maybe to him, that was the plan all along. Achieving true godhood together would be the only way to ensure their souls would be safe and together. Forever.

I like to think somewhere along the way he saw how doomed they were, how few options Durge has for personal autonomy, and he put his mind to finding a way. Maybe the implications of their plan weren’t fully discussed, or maybe promises of godhood were only whispered in private. Maybe Durge won’t admit the reality, but maybe part of them hopes for it.

[neutron-stars-collision]

Deadlines & Commitments

Neil x F!Reader

Chapter 9 - Southwark Underground Station

Masterlist; Chapter 8 Summary: Neil finally shows you what it is that does for a living. The answer is not something you are prepared for in the slightest. Warnings: Swearing, explicit language and a tiny teeny dose of angst because it's me. Author's Notes: Considering this one took just a little over a month to write, I think I should be proud. Especially if we consider the amount of pain that first sequence caused me to write. Let's reiterate - I hate descriptions. With passion. So I hope it's somewhat decent and is a not a terrible homage to good ol' Chris Nolan who made all this happen in the first place. This one is a bit unconventional, partially because Neil takes over the floor from the very first line, but also because it's the only point at which I'm dealing with the canon material. Yes, this is a reassurance to y'all ✨ This time, there'll be no Stalsk-12. Instead, there'll be human idiocy and feelings, terrifying as they can be. Thank you for reading and let me know what you think? 💕 Enjoy! Taglist: @hollandorks, @kristevstewart, @stargirl25 (let me know if you want to be added)

When TP not only agreed to Neil to telling Cupid about Tenet and inversion but also proposed he can make use of the headquarters for this purpose, he instantly decided that his friends’ idea was miles better than his half-devised plan, wherein the key equipment involved a piece of paper and a pen.

Neil knew from experience that practical demonstration always did the trick where words could hardly be enough, especially for a complete novice. And the last thing he wanted was to traumatise her so hard she would disappear from his life without further ado. No, that would not do.

So, with the green light from the boss himself, he set out to prepare everything for the event. After settling that Saturday morning was a relatively quiet time in the building with ample time for recovery on the following day, Neil texted Cupid with an invitation. Her enthusiastic reply sweetened the pains of facing Ives and Wheeler with their permanent smug grins and knowing looks. Rueing the fact that he needed their help with the plan, Neil convinced the pair to join him on Saturday and laid out the schemes. Simple as they were:

Lead her into the HQ.

Convince her he had not lost his mind as he introduced the concept of inversion.

If, by some miracle, she is still there, show her what it means through Ives and Wheeler doing a demo.

Answer multiple questions.

(Hopefully still have a friend).

Simple, right?

Nearly trembling from anxiety, Neil avoided coffee as he got ready and made his way to Canary Wharf an hour early. Having ensured his support was present and ready for whatever awaited, Neil made his way back to the station with ten minutes to spare.

Observing ducks from the docks could only take so much time after all.

Unsurprisingly, she was not late. At 9:00 AM sharp, Cupid ascended the stairs, her gaze scanning the people with the vigilance Neil was familiar with from every Wednesday morning aboard the Jubilee line. Her eyes would dart from face to face until she would locate him, often without Neil noticing he was observed. He had a feeling that was not something he should ever share with TP. The lack of awareness was glaring for someone who was supposed to be a part of an intelligence task force. Intelligence is the keyword.

This morning, however, he had the upper hand. His gaze swept over her before she had located him. An affectionate smile was a reflex, strengthened by the fact that this was the first time he had seen her since Thursday nightÔ. Another event which had earned the trademarked status in his head. Annoyingly so because, again, there was nothing special about it. Except for maybe another evening of memorable sex and unforgettable sensations. Yeah, just that.

When her eyes had finally found him, Neil was more than grateful. He pushed past the unhelpful recollections and stepped forward from his post by the wall, meeting her halfway. Before he could let himself overthink, Neil grabbed her hand and pulled her forward, gathering her in an embrace he suddenly needed. It only took her five seconds to reciprocate the hug, her arms wound tightly around his waist, slipping underneath the unzipped leather jacket. If he suppressed a shudder at the sensation, it was no one’s business but his own. As was the sigh Neil released into her hair, allowing himself to relax just a fraction.

Another beat had passed before Cupid let go of his, her hands sliding down his arms to take his hands into hers and squeeze them once. An impish smile on her face felt too much like home for Neil’s liking.

“Hello,” entangling her fingers with his, Cupid scanned his face, her eyes flitting between his, undoubtedly reading every thought he had ever had as if he were nothing but an open book. Neil supposed that, for her, he was one. For better or for worse, “Should I be worried that you look this nervous?” the question was asked with careful consideration, her piercing gaze still trained on his.

Yet Neil knew what it was that she was asking. Can I trust you? It was the one question he did not need to debate.

“No, not at all” he squeezed her hands back, offering a reassuring smile to make up for his internal turmoil.

Because this was the one thing Neil was sure of. Nothing would happen to her. Not on his watch. He knew Cupid understood, for she nodded and shot him a cheeky smile, clearly meaning to dissipate the remains of his uncertainty.

“Hmm. Very encouraging, Neil” the humour in her voice was enough to raise his spirits, always embarrassingly sensitive to everything she said or did. Slowly, she let go of one of his hands and started leading him out of the station entrance despite not knowing the direction. It was a clear signal where he was concerned – get over yourself, “I haven’t prepped my will, just so you know,” the quip was made with a familiar glimmer in her eyes, easily drawing out a laugh from Neil.

Too easily, perhaps. But who was he to judge? A light shake of the head had to do before Neil started leading her towards their destination, painfully aware of her curious looks. Still, somehow, he knew she would not ask questions; eager to understand but also conscious of his mind state. Aware of the fact that this would not be easy, even if she had no idea why. Or where they were going.

“That won’t be necessary” a glance sideways told Neil that Cupid was observing him with unwavering curiosity, a million questions multiplying in her mind.

“Very well” accepting his feeble attempt at reassurance, she added with confidence, “I trust you,”

The statement was strengthened by the look in her eyes and the firm hold over his hand. It was highlighted by the very fact that she did not question where they were heading or what he was about to reveal. She just followed without a protest. The weight of her trust settled comfortably on Neil’s shoulders, inspiring courage where before he would stutter. Suddenly, he needed to express this heady feeling in any way possible.

“And I treat that very seriously” he waited for her to meet his gaze before shooting an honest smile, reserved only for her. She mirrored the expression, an unexpected softness of affection making her eyes shine with something Neil did not understand well enough to name. Something hopeful “Come on, Cupid. Let’s go pray, shall we?” her answering laughter warranted a perfect response to cut short the worries.

At least for the present moment.

The light mood, filled with nonsensical conversations and multiplying reasons why it was probably a terrible idea to let her get that close, lasted as far as the first security checkpoint by the outer gates. When they approached the steel fencing, Neil could feel her tense up. The chatter ceased, replaced with silent consternation, millions of unasked questions visible in her wary gaze. Neil could only offer her a reassuring smile as he led her through the security check, signing his name under multiple white pages that outlined the severe consequences should things go awry. He could only hope they would be entirely unnecessary. Please.

Her silence lasted as far as the HQ lobby, which Neil strode into with all the confidence of someone who knew what he was doing. (He did not know what he was doing). Cupid stepped inside the high-ceilinged space and stopped, pulling him back instantly. One glance at her confused face told him there would be no more running away from that first dose of preliminary questions.

Blessing the quiet Saturday morning, Neil gently tugged at her hand to lead her over to the armchairs by the coffee table on the side and waited for her to sit down before he motioned for Cupid to speak:

“So, you are James Bond, huh?” the first question was not what Neil expected, yet it made all the sense in the world.

Her wide gaze roamed over the space, occasionally darting to his face with a palpable nervousness. She looked adorable in her skittishness, and Neil did not know what to do with this fact. He counted it a win that she was still present, waiting for the information.

“Not- Not quite” a crooked smile made it home on his face as Neil felt his hands twitch in his lap.

It felt strange not to hold her hand as he was about to share the groundbreaking knowledge which probably would change their relationship. But she needed the space. He could see her process every little piece of information with that thoughtful look in her eyes. The best he could offer was patience and answers.

“But you’re definitely not a priest” once her gaze wandered back to him, Cupid gave him another cursory glance and perfected it with a sardonic smile, “This doesn’t look like a church,” no matter how hard he looked, Neil could not find hints of distrust or anger in her eyes.

Instead, all he could see was curiosity, burning bright and strong. That he could work with.

“It’s not. Welcome to Tenet, Cupid” pointlessly opening his arms in an attempt at a grand gesture, Neil let his hands drop to his sides pathetically as he launched into a well-rehearsed speech, “We’re an independent intelligence agency. Kind of like MI5. But we’re more… specialised” with the easiest part out of the way, he paused and took a deep breath to organise his thoughts to provide a reply she would understand.

But before Neil could open his mouth to continue, she interrupted with a half-choked groan and covered her face with her hands with a curse ready on her tongue:

“Jesus… how the fuck-” he stared as she seemed to process it, her chest heaving with rapid breaths, just short of something resembling a panic attack. Leaning forward in his seat as if trying to get closer to her, Neil pondered reaching out, checking whether she was alright. Before he could decide, Cupid let out another deep sigh and raised her head, meeting his worried gaze with a shaky smile, “Okay, don’t mind me. Go on” the hysterical edge in her voice made his lips twitch in a bemused smile, an expression Neil soon wiped clean off his face.

It was no time to make fun of her. Surely. Instead, he took a deep breath, ever so grateful for the lack of company in their vicinity, and continued with the well-rehearsed explanation:

“We’re specialised in something called the inversion and the effects that has on our world. We’re basically protecting all of you innocent citizens from the inverted technology, warfare and the like. Only, the main thing is that most of these things, the conflicts we observe, haven’t happened yet from our point in time” as soon as the most significant part of his summary dropped, Neil could see her eyes widen.

As if on cue Cupid’s head snapped up to meet his gaze, evidently looking for any signs that he was joking. That she understood it incorrectly. Despite the sudden desire to shoot her a smile in reassurance, Neil maintained a serious facial expression, hoping that would push the point forward. It was not a joke, unfortunately. As much as he sometimes wished it was. Especially when dodging inverted bullets, and trying to understand what was coming in the upcoming years. What the Algorithm meant for the world. What had he missed in all of it?

“Time travel?” her unusually high tone immediately brought Neil back into the present. Before he could open his mouth to respond, Cupid launched across the space between the armchairs to grasp at his forearm, wrinkling the shirt with an iron-like grip as she barked out a question in his face, “Are you fucking kidding me?” plea in her eyes suggested what it was that she wanted to hear.

But it was not something he could give her. Gently, he covered her hand on his forearm with his palm and squeezed it until she relaxed the hold and allowed him to entangle their fingers together. It was much better that way.

“Wouldn’t dare, darling” allowing a soft smile to appear on his face, Neil tightened the hold over her hand before continuing. It was easier to get it all out of the way first, like ripping off the metaphorical band-aid, “The temporal nature of what we’re dealing with here means weapons and ammunition that have been manufactured in the future are streaming back at us. I’ll show you what I mean in the lab” he could see that utter lack of comprehension on her beautiful face.

But there was no judgement. Neil was prepared for that. The demonstration was prepped and ready to go as soon as he led them to the lab and the controlled environment inside. It was only fair that she was allowed to understand what he unveiled. Even if, currently, Cupid looked completely befuddled, a frown etched between her brows, mild panic in her eyes. The tight hold over his hand just short of crushing his bones. But that was alright. Neil could deal with that.

“Okay. I mean, not okay, but… yeah” as if waking from a daze, she nodded, a bewildered laugh slipping through her parted lips. Her gaze wandered over the space again, briefly glancing at the exit before she relaxed a fraction. Although Neil was not partial to her thoughts, he could tell a crucial internal conversation just took place within the pause. A conversation that determined she was staying to listen. When her eyes settled back on him, Neil suddenly felt breathless, “And what is it that you do? Because I doubt that you’re a nobody considering the level of security you have here” arching her eyebrow, Cupid glanced at the ID card attached to his lanyard.

Despite himself, Neil grinned. He already knew he would miss her attempts at guessing his profession during every Wednesday morning rendezvous. He only hoped the ‘priesthood’ banter was not going anywhere. Now, that would be a loss. 

“I’m one of the top agents, but my field is mainly in Physics” the strange uncertainty washed over him as soon as the words were out of his mouth.

That was another layer peeled back for her perusal. Another truth at her disposal. Another mystery gone and buried just to let her know all of him. Another thing he did not anticipate those months previously when he picked up her belongings from the carriage floor. For someone whose life’s work revolved around the future, he did not see her coming. Whether that was something worth boasting about was yet to be determined.

“Great, I’ve been shagging a nerd” Cupid’s groan acted like an alarm, blaring through the nonsense in his brain. Mostly because the indignation in her voice sounded almost like an endearment. Like a badge of honour. At least, Neil was sure about to treat it as one, “That’s just fantastic,” she rolled her eyes, briefly offering a peek at Cupid he knew and liked.

The unshakeable one, unbothered by anything in her path. The thought immediately brought a smile to his face despite an attempt at a stern glare directed her way:

“Very funny” squeezing her hand, Neil stood up from the armchair and pulled her up alongside him. It was time, “Are you ready to see an inverted bullet?” a cheeky smile seemed to be all she needed, for she begrudgingly squeezed back and sighed with pretend weariness.

“No,” grinning widely, Cupid stepped away from the chairs and the coffee table and looked at him pointedly, sending a signal Neil could not miss.

“Let’s go” mirroring her manic smile he led her towards one of the corridors at the far end of the lobby.

Cupid stayed silent as they entered the elevator and went to the second floor. Every now and then, Neil could feel her eyes staring and analysing, undoubtedly trying to understand how the fuck did she end up here with him on a Saturday morning. He could only hope that at the end of the visit, she had found at least some reasons to maintain their relationship. That this would not be the ultimate breaking point.

Only when he has opened the laboratory with the security code and a tap of the ID card against the reader, Cupid opened her mouth to let out a sound that can only be interpreted as an awed sigh. Whatever was to follow got lost between her head and her tongue, for his sidekicks took that exact moment to let their presence be known. In a truly typical fashion.

“Finally. I thought you two detoured to shag in the bathroom” Ives was heard much earlier than he was seen as the man strolled towards the lab entrance with a trademark smirk gracing his face.

“Ives, I swear-” Neil got as far as tightening his fists and taking one (hopefully menacing) step towards his ‘friend’ before Cupid interrupted the incoming promise of violent death and closed the gap with an unnatural pep in her step.

“Oh, hello. I didn’t expect you two here” from a bystander’s perspective, there was no flaw in her smile or a fake note in her voice as she greeted Ives and Wheeler with a wide grin.

But Neil knew better now. He could see the shaken foundations underneath the smile, the panic flashing in her eyes, quickly disguised by another chuckle. It was more than mildly concerning. To be frank.

“Neil called us in for support” Wheeler (God bless her soul) stepped forward, answering the real question.

She glanced at him, clearly checking for the true status of the situation. Neil could only offer her a shrug, allowing his gaze to show the extent of worries crowding his mind. They had to proceed carefully. That much was clear.

“I’m grateful. My brain is already fucked” a heavy sigh from Cupid interrupted his thoughts as she ventured further into the room, her eyes coursing over the equipment with frightful caution, “But then I suppose this is only fair since I’ve just learnt that time travel is real” approaching the glass separating the workspace from the dangers of the shooting range, and the cement slab in place of a shooting target, she threw a pointed look at him.

It was as much a plea for help as a call for answers - any clarity he could offer.

“Not quite” shooting her a reassuring smile, Neil cracked a grin as he joined her by the glass partition and chanced a joke to relieve the tension, “Don’t expect the Tardis here” it felt like a victory when Cupid met his gaze and allowed her lips to twist into a wry smile.

For a beat, as always, he found it impossible to look away, drawn to her in this indescribable way that never failed to pick up his heart rate or make him question the self-preservation instincts all homo sapiens were supposed to have.

Except for Neil, apparently.

“Or a DeLorean,” Ives’s comment burst through the fragile bubble, forcing Neil to step away, instantly urging his mind to get back in the game.

Instead of whatever this was.

“That’s a shame. I was getting excited,” feigning disappointment in the slump of her shoulders and a sigh, Cupid leaned her back against the partition and looked back at Neil.

Acutely aware of the company, Neil steeled his spine and took a deep breath. It was time for the show. Faking confidence, he took out the key for one of the cabinets from his pocket and unlocked the storage, grabbing two sets of protective gloves and safety glasses. Setting them down on the lab counter, he met Cupid’s wary gaze with an easy smile:

“Come here. This is the important part” motioning for her to approach the counter, he pulled on the gloves and glasses and handed the equipment to her, patiently waiting until she was ready to open yet another case and grab two .243 WIN bullets. Placing them on the counter, he met Cupid’s wide gaze and explained “One of these bullets has been manufactured in the future and then inverted and streamed back at us” that was the easiest part, yet Neil was not surprised to see her trepidation deepen as she peered at the bullets, trying to see a difference between them.

The trick was that there was none.

“But they look the same?” her brows furrowed as she looked up, her face suggesting that Neil was an idiot for even trying to convince her the reality was different.

Yet again, he was struck with an inconvenient thought of how ridiculously adorable she was. And how that was not something he should have been thinking in the first place. Ever probably.

“Well, yes. Except for-” ignoring the idiocy of his heart, Neil gave the rounds a quick check.

He made sure they varied as intended and adjusted the gloves. Feeling the intensity of her gaze following his every move, he reached out towards the inverted bullet and grasped the round as it flew up into his hand, mimicking the move of a dropped light object. He did not have the time to turn his head towards Cupid before her exclamation pierced the silence:  

“Oh, fuck” during her stunned pause, Neil picked up the other bullet to ensure she noticed a difference and put them back down before turning to address her panicked glare and a simple question, “How?”

But before he could open his mouth to reply, Ives reminded him of his presence with the usual cheekiness:

“Inversion, love,” and if Neil frowned upon his friend’s typical term of endearment, then it was no one’s business but his own.

If even that.

Instead, he motioned for Cupid to have her go at handling the inverted round, wordlessly showing how to best pick it up from the surface. The tension radiated from her body as she approached the bullets and followed his instructions flawlessly. His eyes instantly searched hers, hoping to find traces of fascination there. But the only thing he could see was unease, highlighted by the shaking voice as she muttered under her breath:

“Whatever the fuck that means” Neil watched as she tested the bullet and then quickly deposited it back into his waiting palm as if yearning to be rid of it instantly.

The worry he had managed to push to the back of his mind was slowly creeping to the front again. This time harder to ignore.

“Are you okay?” unable to shake it off, Neil got rid of the rounds and gloves and approached her slowly, fully aware of the unusual softness of his tone and the two pairs of eyes trained on them.

For a split second, he considered asking Ives and Wheeler to leave so he could manage this alone, but even Neil could not deny their use in situations that needed tension de-escalation. And this moment felt much too charged for his liking.

“I don’t know” sighing shakily, Cupid tugged at her pair of gloves to take them off and met his gaze with uncertainty, “This is completely not what I expected. Who had even invented that?” when it came to questions he expected, that was not one of them.

Count on the only person ever to catch him unaware every goddamn day. Count on Neil liking her way too much, too.

Before he could collect the facts in his mind into something comprehensible, not endangering her life, and at least a bit logical, Ives stepped forward. His summary effortlessly encapsulated within a one-worded response:

“Russians,” it was delivered with a deadpan tone and expressionless face, undoubtedly showing Cupid that it was true.

In this instance, Neil was grateful for having been spared. For someone else offering the answers in a way he never would have thought of.

“Oh,” the startled pause following a gasp of realisation showed that it was effective. For a second, she did not seem panicked anymore, but instead, Cupid appeared pensive. Her brows furrowed further as if trying to make sense of that revelation before she offered a sober reflection, “That- that makes sense, actually” raising her head to look at all three of them, she nodded curtly, intending to show that there was one thing about it all that she could understand.

Neil was grateful for even that tiny bit of reassurance. But where normal people would abandon the subject and perhaps follow it with something more productive, like the demo they still needed to give her, Ives had other ideas.

“Doesn’t it?” mirroring her incredulity, the man grinned, his jovial tone almost out of place, “Bloody Russians,”

The best Neil could do was hope Cupid had no Russian roots in her ancestry. The second-best thing he could do was speak up:

“Ives, this is neither the time nor the place for anti-Russian sympathies” he could hear the tiredness in his voice, and for once, he did not try to mask it.

But, as expected, remorse was nowhere to be found on his friend’s face as the man shrugged and offered another annoying grin.

“Eh, I’d say any time and place is good for that” usually, Neil would very much agree.

But nothing about this Saturday morning was normal. And he was aware of the confusion in Cupid’s gaze and the tension radiating from her body as if she was poised to run at the next opportune moment. Neil did not even want to consider that she could disappear from his life for good.

“Well, yes, but-” for the umpteenth time, his attempt to offer some sensible rebuttal was cut short.

At least this time, it was another voice of reason. Wheeler approached the group with her stoic expression broken only by an arched eyebrow:

“Shall we give our lovely ballerina a demo?” the pointed glare at Ives increased Neil’s gratitude.

It was high time to tick off the final part of the checklist today. It seemed like Cupid was slowly reaching her limit, and the last thing he wanted was to cross that line.

Neil waited for her nod, accepting this next phase of introduction, before he motioned towards Ives and Wheeler for them to lead the way to the turnstile. With the short walk down a back staircase and a corridor, he did not have the time to check in properly. All he could do was steal a glance at her, which only highlighted what he already knew. Cupid was tense, confused and uncertain. So different from her usual confident self, striding through life with the pretence of someone in control. It was startling to notice. It did nothing to stifle the anxiety.

Once they entered the room with the turnstile, her face somehow more astonishing, bathed in the red light and backlit with blue from the other side, separated by a thick glass, Cupid gasped. Her eyes widened as she took in the room, her gaze pausing once it landed on the turnstile itself, and it did not budge until he explained the basics about the machine. Even then, though, she remained frozen in her spot close to the exit. Another nod to proceed was all Neil needed to proceed with the explanation.

It was simple, really. Ives and Wheeler were to enter the turnstile, equipped with oxygen masks, and they were to give her a demonstration of how things looked like when someone was inverted. A walk in the park for the duo. A brief conversation and show of the physics of the other side and back out again. Except Neil did not take into consideration just how jarring the sight was. How shocking it would be to see “duplicates” of the people standing next to her appear in the adjacent room, looking and behaving strangely. How the warbled speech could rattle the mind of someone not used to this. How this could be too much for her.

A shaky gasp was all the warning Neil received before Cupid breathed out one simple sentence:

“I’m sorry, I have to leave” her terrified face was the last thing he saw before she turned on her heel and ran out of the room.

Fuck. Neil let out an impressive string of curses before he banged his head into the glass separating the room and closed his eyes. Yeah, that went splendidly.

Christ.

***

The late autumn sun shone into your eyes as you reclined on the wooden bench and sighed. Only within the past half hour, your heart rate had begun to slow down, and most of it you had spent getting lost on suspicious paths in the fields, wondering whether Neil’s message was a ruse to get you killed for having seen too much. You still considered that option. But that other traitorous part of your brain, once it has calmed down, could not possibly ignore his pleading message to meet. So, there you were – scared, tired, staring at the goats. And not in the Coen brothers’ meaning of the term.

For better or for worse.

Admittedly, the charity farm Neil has led you to was a peaceful, unexpected spot that soothed your brain with each subsequent breath. With the Canary Wharf skyscrapers visible in the distance and a couple of square kilometres of grass and trees, the place seemed like a perfect oasis for the farm animals lucky enough to end up there. In the background, you could just about make out less-favoured sounds of children, undoubtedly ecstatic at the prospect of spending the early Saturday afternoon feeding sheep.

You were less ecstatic at the prospect of hearing their screams.

“Cupid-” the unmistakable sound of your nickname, breathed out in relief somewhere behind your back, made you turn on the bench to see him approach.

Still so damn beautiful, even breathless and in a state of mild panic. Neil stopped a few paces away, catching his breath and watching you cautiously, almost as if worried you were about to get up and run away from him. Again.

A hot wave of shame coursed through your body as you swallowed hard and turned back towards the animals. Hoping Neil would understand that it was an invitation to come closer.

“Have you come to kill me? Now that I know everything?” an attempt at a joke fell flat as you struggled to keep the tension out of your voice.

Still, it must have worked, for you heard Neil’s approach. His footsteps stopped just a step away from the bench before you raised your head again and met his gaze with an uncertain smile.

“Honestly, I’d more be likely to kill myself,” chuckling mirthlessly, Neil shook his head slightly and measured you with an affectionate look that felt almost out of place, “I’m so happy you’re here,” you could tell he meant it.

That only now stood before you again Neil could breathe again. He could let go of the tension that seemed to permeate his soul by the turnstile. And for a good reason.

Anticipating another wave of guilt, you patted the free seat on the bench and shot him a timid smile as soon as Neil took the spot.

“I considered ignoring that text, but… This place is quite charming” it was not the real answer.

It did not disclose how you had spent at least an hour on a bench at the Canary Wharf station watching Jubilee line trains stop and pass, unable to get on and go home. You stared at his text the moment it came, contemplating ignoring it and cutting short this strange thing between you before it tangled any further. But you also knew that ignoring him was never an option. Not really.

None of that needed to be said. Neil understood what that shift in the conversation meant and what you needed him to do.

“I found it a couple of months ago when I went on a walk to clear my head. I thought that it’s a good spot to talk” his cursory look around the surroundings ended with another glance at you, a meaningful pause offering a space for you to decide the next step, “If you’d want to,”

Somehow, you did not have to ask Neil to know what it was that he wanted. It was written in a hopeful tone, and the sparks in his eyes inviting you to lean back into it. A tempting proposition you could not resist for much longer.

Letting out a bracing sigh, you stood up from the bench and extended your hand to pull him up. Upon Neil’s questioning gaze, you inclined your head at the animals in the pen and grinned:

“Sure, but first, let’s get some food for those darlings,” without waiting for Neil to catch up, you bravely started in the direction of wailing children and sheep bleating.

You knew he was following your shadow.

***

Shaking the bag with the feed to check how much you had left, your gaze scoured the horizon to find Neil among the children vying for the sheep’s attention. That was not a difficult feat, considering the height disparity. Still, his enthusiasm made him a worthy rival. Once you spotted him, you waded through the kids and tapped his shoulder, wordlessly asking him to join you aside. After a joyful half hour on the farm, you finally felt like talking.

You plopped down on another bench connected to a wooden picnic table, and waited for Neil to join you on the other side before meeting his gaze and letting the apology flow like it should. As silently practised in your head during that hour at the station.

“I’m sorry I bolted like that. It all caught up with me suddenly, and I couldn’t breathe, and I didn’t understand what I was seeing back there… I genuinely thought you had some boring 9 to 5 job, not… this” your hands flailed aimlessly atop the table as you stared at Neil, yet again feeling almost too perceived.

Too understood.

There was not an ounce of frustration in Neil’s eyes as he leant forward, bracing his elbows on the table and turning the contrite smile for you to do with as you please:

“I’m only blaming myself for dropping this on you without a warning. None of this is your fault” you started shaking your head vehemently, trying to interject an undeniable fact that this was your fault. Undoubtedly. Yet it seemed that was not something he wanted to hear, “But believe me when I say that I waited this long to tell you the truth only because of how unusual this is” the earnestness in his eyes added weight to the statement, rendering you unable to do anything but believe him “Not out of the lack of trust” his hand flexed on the table, as if unsure whether he still had the right to reach out to you.

That was an issue you did not mind solving. You extended your hand to cover his and give Neil a gentle squeeze. The simple gesture strengthening the believability of your assurance.

“I know” raising your head to meet the blue of his eyes, you added, “I hope it goes without saying that I’m not going to share anything I’ve learnt today,” resisting the urge to do something idiotic like crossing your heart, you endured the eye contact and hoped it would be enough.

Because, truly, what would you even share? Who the fuck would believe you? There was no point in entertaining the idea, let alone acting upon it.

Yet, still, you were grateful that he told you. Neil’s enigma was no longer that impermeable. It added another layer to the person sitting before you now. A little more context to the scars littering his body and to the wit in his eyes. A little more understanding of who he was.

“I hope so. Then I would have to kill you” returning your earlier joke, the corner of his mouth twisted in a smirk.

It also marked the perfect opportunity to lighten the conversation, even just by a notch. Taking a beat to appreciate the man sitting in front of you with a selfish look, you allowed your eyes to skim over his body leisurely before mirroring the cheeky smile:

“Spoken like the real James Bond” his easy grin was the invitation you had been looking for, allowing you to let go of the apologies and shifting guilt that would never have a place to settle, “Granted, you’ve got the looks” without thinking about it, you picked up his hand from the table, flipping it to play with his fingers as the effortless complement was received with another bashful smile.

It was true, though.

“And the gun” arching his eyebrow, Neil captured your hand in his, loosely trapping your fingers.

You did not feel like tugging it free. Not yet. Feeling desperate to extend the banter for a little longer, you chanced a suggestive glance down his body and dropped your voice to a sultry tone:

“Oh yeah, you do” twisting your mouth into a smirk, you met Neil’s startled gaze and barely stifled a laugh at the look on his face.

Bewilderment did not quite catch it.

“Not th-” he sputtered, confusion blending into his voice as Neil stared at you with wide eyes and asked, “What sort of gun are you thinking about right now?” it was the sort of reaction you wanted from him.

The thrill you had been seeking for the past few hours, and yet also something you would never admit. Except that, now that you had it, the light of his awed smile shining upon you with just the right amount of disbelief at your existence, you did not know how you had survived so long without it.

“Take a guess” standing up from the bench before you could begin to feel even more things, you tugged at Neil’s hand and signalled that it was time to go.

Somehow, you knew that he would follow.

***

Over an hour later, when all the animals had been fed, and you worried you had caught permanent tinnitus from the proximity to screaming children, you took Neil’s hand in yours and allowed him to lead you back to the Isle of Dogs marina. With the early afternoon sun presenting a golden hue on the horizon, you slowed down your walk and asked a question that had been stewing in your mind since the morning:

“It’s dangerous, isn’t it?” you could not help the nervous tone that permeated your voice.

It could not be shaken off or ignored. It just was.

Much like your general, unspecified feelings towards Neil that were never acknowledged. Or even identified. They, too, just were.

You could feel Neil’s eyes on you as he seemed to think on an answer before replying:

“Yes, quite. I won’t go into details, but getting shot by an inverted bullet is worse than getting shot by a normal round. And there’s much more to this than weapons, but it’s… There’s been a few close calls through the years” the weariness in Neil’s voice did just enough to soften the blow caused by his honest words.

But the impact still hit. Ever since learning about Tenet this morning, you did not try to delude yourself into thinking that what he was doing was safe. Or that no harm could ever come to Neil because of his job. It was another thing to have those exact worries confirmed as not only probable but also inevitable. A shiver coursed through your body as you swallowed past the anxiety building in your gut.

The fear you could already feel crawling to the front of your brain was another reason why getting involved was a bad idea. Hookups were supposed to be just that. Not a friendship, spiced up with amazing sex and afternoon walks hand-in-hand along the Thames. And yet, you were already in too deep. Attached on an unprecedented level. There was nothing else to do but shut away the anxious thoughts and ask another pressing question.

“How long have you been doing this?” almost as if rebelling against your better judgement, your hand flexed in his hold and tightened the grip.

A betrayal of that sort was ridiculously predictable. Frowning at your hand for a split second, you directed your gaze back at the Canary Wharf. The pyramid atop the One Canada Square building reflected the sunlight straight into your eyes, the sharp sting of light hitting your retina and waking you up from the strange haze.

“Not that long. I think John recruited me two and a half years ago. Roughly,” Neil paused, his wistful tone painting the picture the way you hope it would – with facts and figures, “I didn’t think this is what I’d end up doing as I’ve picked up my Cambridge master’s degree in physics” the note of an apology hidden somewhere between the words made you grimace.

You did not like that he could feel somewhat guilty for doing what he did. That he could be looking for excuses instead of owning it like you knew he wanted. It took no genius to understand Neil was simply extraordinary.

But you could not exactly tell him that, at least not without a fight.

“God, you’re a nerd” rolling your eyes to show the extent of annoyance, you shot him a grin.

Yet you knew he could see the depths of affection and admiration in your eyes.

“It’s not like you haven’t noticed before” mirroring your faux exasperation, Neil returned the smile and squeezed your hand.

You have noticed, admittedly. Less admittedly, however, you liked that about him. The nerdiness hidden underneath beauty and wits. A heart so full of feelings, you often wondered how it had not yet burst. Someone you were grateful beyond measure to have met and got to know.

“No, but now I have proof” you did not need to add that you wanted to have even more proof.

You were looking forward to knowing more about him. Especially about that nerdy side.

“So?” as if reading your mind, Neil arched an eyebrow, the challenging gleam in his gaze luring you like the siren song.

It helped to set the stage for your bravery to take the lead. For what you wanted to do next.

“So… Tell me more about Tenet” halting your steps for a second, you pulled Neil to a stop and looked up to see his delighted gaze. The brightness in his eyes was one of the best sights you could think of, “And then buy me dinner” upon seeing his smile widen, you raised your joined hands to your lips and pressed a fleeting kiss on his knuckles to seal the deal “For the trouble” it already sounded like the perfect conclusion to the eventful day.

One that you did not expect when you ran out of the building with tears in your eyes and fear crawling up your throat. Nothing went as you expected it to. Yet you could not find it in yourself to regret what had occurred instead. You couldn’t. Because alongside the anxiety and shock that still ruled your mind and soul, the gratitude was there. And the dawning understanding that Neil trusted you with something this grand. You were important to him in a way that could not be easily dismissed.

You mattered enough. And that, perhaps of all things, was the prime reason you could not regret it. All that you wanted right now was to have more of him. Just for a couple of hours. It was impossible to say if Neil understood all you did not say, but still, he smiled and tightened the hold over your hand to offer an easy agreement.

“It’ll be my honour, sweetheart” his blue eyes searched your face a beat as the affectionate smile made its home on his face.

As always, it was impossible to look away. Impossible to do anything but stare back, hoping that you had the answers he was looking for.

After what felt like ages, Neil ended his scrutiny with a seemingly appraising nod and tugged at your hand to lead the way back to the station. You did not know what happened just then or why it felt monumental.

You only knew that something had changed, and things would never be the same ever again.

[cakemoney]

i don't want to put my uninformed foot in my mouth or get involved with the Discourse but i've been seeing the two extremes of reactions to the korean low birth rates issue (on tumblr and twitter both) and i'm just kind of like. look. i feel like "low birth rates (in many countries but especially japan and korea as part of this conversation) are more broadly the result of capitalism/a culture of overwhelming overwork that makes social relationships and having families incredibly inaccessible to young people" and "low birth rates are very much a part of the current conversation about misogyny and social expectations for women in korea especially in the context of reproduction as 'unpaid labor' for women" are statements that can both be true

[swordmaid]

braeryn mention!!!! also 'willing to wade through the squalor' shri’iia’s like?? girl thats my home ur talking about

[fortes-fortuna-iogurtum]

sooooo……. there’s some ConversationTM* going around the theology (and adjacent) girlies tonight and it’s got me very intrigued—are there really more options than just Calvinist/Arminian?? bc I’ve always been raised with this idea that those are The Two Options regarding salvation theology and how exactly it all plays out. but apparently that’s…. not the case??

Iwill add that yes, Molinism is a thing that exists, and I know of exactly one guy who’s a theologian and philosopher and who believes in that lol. it’s not exactly a super common alternative to the others. and then I do believe Catholics have a slightly separate view as well, but I’m mainly just talking about soteriology within Protestant theology here anyway.

*(I won’t say ‘DiscourseTM’ bc that seems more antagonistic than what I’m seeing around here rn; everything seems to be in good faith and just for the sake of pointing out minor discrepancies atm)

[imaginealpha]

Saw gladiator ii last night and it was pretty good but the entire time I was like it could've gone so much harderrrr if you got more creative with the plot!! Which reminds me of my current wip which borrows cultural elements from various ancient societies and makes me want to write that. which is the worst possible decision I could be making right now

[lilmaymayy]

idk what brought me into an edward/rob phase but woo😮‍💨😮‍💨I LOVE THIS

Why he broke up with you

Rob Pattinson character dump

✨ Cedric Diggory, Neil, Edward Cullen, and Bruce Wayne

✨this is just filler. I have a spicy mcu! May Parker fic coming up (gender neutral reader!) but I'm writing this at Harris teeter lmao. I've gotten some GOOD ASS requests and I'm so excited to write them all! For now, here is this Rob Pattinson character thing

✨masterlist | requests are open for fics and for ships, but only for one more day!!! Send any in if you have them! My rules and fandoms list are here

Cedric broke up with you because his father. His father didn't like you because your father and paternal side of the family were death eaters. Your mother managed to get away with you and any of your siblings.

If you're a Slytherin then that makes it a little bit worse. Amos is truly a good man. It's not so much that he doesn't like you as much as it's the fact your father was a death eater. Your father was an active death eater.

Cedric always loved you, even after the break up he remained close to you. He insisted yoh tei could be friends. You were the one taken into the lake. "I'm just his friend," you told the headmaster meekly as you agreed to be apart of the task.

Dumbledore's just sent you a little look over his crescent glasses. He didn't press the matter but hell, even he knew that you and Cedric would never be "just friends."

Cedric took you to the Yule ball as a friend. He stole kisses from you, but as a friend. Before he went into the final task of the tournament he swore to you he'd win you back. He'd make it all up to you. He didn't care what his father thought. "Just wait here. Watch me win. I'm not doing this for anyone else but you."

After Cedric dies, Amos takes it out on you.

Cedric's mother keeps in touch with you, on the down low. She sends you some of his things. A few of his sweaters and one of his house ties.

If you're a Hufflepuff (hufflepuff pride runs in my blood) then you wear his tie every day with your uniform. If you're another house, you wear his tie like an accessory, or you cuddle with it at night.

It hurts to know that when Cedric died, he wasn't your boyfriend.

Especially when you're older. As an adult, meeting for lunch with Cedric's mom, she tells you that Cedric swore up and down he would marry you. Cedric never paid mind to his father's quarrels with you. It was always Cedric's intention to go back after you, despite breaking up.

Neil

"What's happened's happened."

That's generally the philosophy Neil goes by.

But you were the one person he was willing to break all the rules for.

You were dead. You died, pregnant with his child, all because of your relationship with Neil.

Neil, who typically was so logical and strict, defied everything he stood for and he went back to make a different choice. Not even Protague could stop him.

It was hard work. And it didn't pay off. Fixing that one mistake didn't save your life. What he thought was over happened again, and you died, and your child died.

So he did it again.

And he did it four more times after that.

And finally he realized there was one more option; the last resort.

He stopped himself from ever pursuing you.

Your relationship was done. It had never happened. You were just some person apart of Tenent. Only Protague knew about why could have been; what had been. It pained Neil to watch you work without even realizing he had been the love of your life.

You talked to him and regarded him as strange because he always looked at you with weird grief.

It hurts to watch you live your life. You were ever ignorant of the very person you had to work side by side with.

^ @robpattinsongifs

Edward Cullen

Jasper almost killed your mother.

A close call. Very close.

You and Edward sat down that night as Carlisle tended to her wounds. You asked Edward how to proceed from there. How could you keep the Volturi away from your dear mother? Now two humans knew the secrets of Forks, and the Volturi wouldn't take kindly to that.

"What can we do?" You pressed as you squeezed Edward's hand. "Maybe there's a vampire that can actually use that kind control. That compulsion. It's a myth for a reason, right? Some vampire can likely just make her forget it ever happened?"

Edward told you he would take care of it.

And of course that meant he was leaving town. Leaving the entire country.

Saying goodbye to you was hard, because you knew what he was doing. You didn't belive any of the "I don't love you anymore" bullshit Edward tried to pull.

But you ultimately couldn't stop him from leaving town. It hurts to know that, in spite of the disasterous split, Edward still loves you too.

Bruce Wayne

A continuation...

As his career as Batman progresses, he fades away. His entire life has been consumed by the devil; his other half had once been you. Now it's the Bat.

He will always love you. You will always be the one for him. But he's no longer living a regular life. Bruce Wayne isn't even his real self; the millionaire ceo is the real facade.

Batman doesn't make for a good lover. He can't love you right. He's afraid that he'll drag you down with him.

Similar to Edward, he says things to hurt you in an effort to really get the job done. And you belive them.

"I'll never marry you. I'll never want to marry you. I don't want a life with you. I don't want to have your children. I just want to be alone for once."

It hurts to watch the heartbreak in your eyes. Your spirit was snuffed out like a candlelight and you went numb. You quietly left his life; and he was, from then in, truly alone.

[cursedthing]

.staring at the wall after closing minecraft and discussing with the blings if a character would do something or not

[newborn-vessel]

I think John Egbert would like the movie Tenet

[phoenixyfriend]

Something something Dooku survives the Clone Wars, the Imperial Era, and even a few years past the OT...

And Luke finds him while looking for More Jedi to help him teach.

Chewie recognizes the decrepit old bastard, and there is yelling, but being A Hundred And Nine has mellowed Dooku out in his own dusty hermit hut, on the other side of the galaxy from Ben and Yoda's hermit huts.

All the Jedi ghosts are unhappy with this but Dooku is… not REFORMED, technically, but he's old and tired, even if the Force keeps him a bit more healthy and energized than the average Old Guy, and humans routinely live to pretty unreal old ages in the gffa anyway so really 109 for them is probably like 85 for us.

But yeah. Old mountain hermit (to contrast the desert and the swamp) who's been in hiding from That Dick Sidious since he lost both hands to babyface Vader in 19BBY.

@jebiknights (Sammie) said:

Dooku finds out Luke was also trained by Yoda and is like "oh Yoda finally gave me a younger brother like I always wanted"

Alternately he could probably get Luke to call him Great-Great-Grandfather.

Sammie: Funniest option is he's both which makes Luke even more confused lmao Ghost Obi wan in the background like "stop fucking using non Jedi terms to describe Jedi relationships it doesn't fucking work"

Luke calls him, irreverently, Gramps, but also. Leia definitely recognizes him as a Recent Historic Political Figure, but not until AFTER Luke has already integrated Dooku into his new Jedi school.

"Why did Chewie let him do that?" He thought it was funny. (And/or if you like Chewku, you can make this some sordid exes thing.)

"Why did R2 let him do that?" Best keep evil man in electrical prodding range.

Sammie: Leia comes to the school for her biweekly Jedi lessons and sees the newest teacher was a traitor to the Republic 😭

Best if they can find Quin or Ventress out in the black. Partly because like. Does this make Ventress their step-grandma (Quinlan's on-off something) or their great-great-aunt (Dooku's 4th apprentice)?

Sammie: Both and also Luke's niece. Luke has a migraine by the end of it and Leia is ready to disown herself. Ventress: I didn't realize the Jedi were so incestuous Luke: war flashbacks to before he realized Leia was his sister

Ahsoka in the corner with Spacebucks, five years late "Y'all suck. Hey, Quin."

Sammie: I know you likely didn't bring up Quinlan thinking of QuinObi but now I'm imagining Quinlan declaring himself their grandpa when he meets the twins bc 1) he loves to cause chaos 2) he does/did consider Anakin his kid even if not in neat non Jedi terms and 3) Obi-Wan thought being considered Anakin's father made him sound old, and Quinlan needs to harass him beyond the grave

Dooku must have a cane that the ghosts heckle him about because He Clearly Wants To Be Just Like Yoda.

@lyntergalactic (Lyn) said:

I feel like evil gramps could really bring out Ahsoka's snark once she shows up and that would be highly entertaining Ahsoka is simultaneously his most and least favorite grandchild

She's the most experienced as a Jedi (Ventress went full Sith, not just leaving the Order but following the tenets like Ahsoka, and Quinlan isn't in the lineage), has never Fallen unless you count that thing on Mortis.

Also she WILL bitch Dooku out at this age, and honestly he kind of appreciates the brutal honesty.

Ahsoka: I'm not a Jedi. All the old people: Lies

She brings up the Hondo incident since nobody else is putting in the effort. Anakin and Obi-Wan COULD as ghosts but nooooooo she has to do everything around here.

Sammie: Oh but it sets them off so hard they can barely get the story off from laughing NGL I think the twins did not understand how truly annoying Obi-Wan and Anakin could be together until the Hondo story gets told.

They are The Worst.

[andy-wm]

Say it with flowers

My thoughts on the SGMB live recording video.

I've had this in my drafts for months. It's one of those moments that I just can't move on from. If this has already been discussed at length I won't be surprised but just in case it hasn't....

WHO gave Jimin those flowers...?

When the SGMB recording video first dropped, i saw comments that the flowers were from Loco or from Big Hit or from the SGMB band.

I cannot agree. Did the commenters not SEE the flowers?

I believe the flowers to 'support Jimin's future endeavours' were from Jungkook.

Because of course they were.

And for those who need an explanation, here's why:

This is not a bouquet of flowers you would get from colleagues, or your management company, or even your friends. This bouquet screams PASSIONATE LOVE. It is so obvious that i can't even imagine giving a platonic friend these flowers without a lengthy explanation (or a confession), let alone a professional acquaintance.

Let's take a closer look at Jimin's bouquet:

I took the time to research all the components of the bouquet to make sure i wasn't overreacting (Me? Overreact?! Never!!)

Here they are:

Red roses - passionate love, romance, and desire - 12 of these roses if I counted correctly, which represents a declaration.

Mini red chrysanthemums - in red, the chrysanthemum means love and passion, or truth

Sacred bamboo (Nandina) - the berries represent changing hardship into good, the end of hard times, and prosperity. It also wards off evil. (7 is the leaves of the Sacred Bamboo)

More red roses - either bush roses or a smaller variety. Love, again.

Red viburnum - "To make red hot". Passionate love, Love stronger than death.

Silver Wattle - hidden feelings, hidden love. (wow)

Sacred bamboo (leaves see #3 for berries)

Difficult to identify but I think it's either Veronica or Salvia. Veronica symbolises loyalty, fidelity and love. Salvia is for protection, and red salvia means forever mine.

I think this might be pink muhly grass. It doesn't seem that common in floristry but it is a very romantic and beautiful seasonal grass in Korea.

Barley grass - time for relaxation, free time, or prosperity.

Those flowers are a grand gesture

They're a declaration of love.

Jungkook is after all the king of grand gestures...

... and he knows a thing or two about the language of flowers.

So it seems perfectly fitting for him to make his heart known with a huge bouquet.

Naturally the theme of the bouquet is very much in keeping with the theme of SGMB,

The central tenet of the song is the truth untold and, these flowers certainly tell the truth, loud and clear.

I find myself thinking about whether he chose to do it in front of a crowd of people and I actually don't think he thought too much about them. Based on what I know of JK's personality (admittedly very little, having never met the man) I believe he thought of Jimin, and Jimin only.

Did he take a gift that would not only celebrate Jimin's achievement, but also show his commitment to that love and to not hiding?

Both heart and my head say yes, that's exactly what he did.

💜💛

I also believe JK was at the SCMB live recording

Here's why:

Having seen AYS, we know Jimin does this parody of the SNTY choreo to tease JK. Would it have been as amusing for Jimin if JK wasn't there to see it? I doubt it, as the payoff (JK's grumbling) wouldn't happen. Where's the fun in that?

And also:

Jimin: "Can i come over for a meal?"

Loco: "We can all go together" points to someone off-screen

[Remember that Loco is friends with Jay Park, who Jungkook is also friends with]

Jimin: *looks at person off-screen* Dammit. So much for secrets

And also:

Jimin, looking to the right of the camera, which is where everyone else will be looking in a moment.

Yup, we see Loco, Pdogg, and several of the dancers repeatedly glance to the right of the camera. They seem very interested in something there, sharing their attention between Jimin and the distraction off-screen. It would seem rude if it weren't for the fact that Jimin himself is equally distracted.

And also:

Pdogg's cute head shake at this situation tells me there's more going on here than we can see.

This song remains one of my favourites. The lighthearted joy and humour that runs through the live performance, the choreo, the melody, and the lyrics is everything I want for Jimin.

I hope his happiness lasts decades, our beautiful flower boy 💛

While we're on the topic of flowers, let's recap on the meanings of the oversized flowers on the set of SGMB:

According to Korean floriography (that's the study of the symbolism of flowers)

Blue anemone - anticipation, and protection from evil

Purple aster - love triumphs

Orange lily - cheerful love (strikingly similar to JK's birth flower)

White Poeticus daffodil - connection to youthfulness and the awakening of desire, rebirth, hope (young forever?)

Butterfly - happiness and transformation

I do have a gazillion references for the floriography, which i will add.

Its such an awesome and fascinating topic. I never knew that it became not only popular, but empowering, because so many 18 century women were unable to access an education and were therefore illiterate.

The symbolic meaning attached to flowers became an important communication tool for them.

🌻🐰💗🐥⚘️

Edited to add references (these may not be all of them, I had SO many tabs)

https://simplybeyondherbs.com/daffodils-flower-meaning/

https://www.freddiesflowers.com/blog/floriography-the-lost-language-of-flowers

https://greg.app/articles/

https://en.namu.wiki/w/%EA%BD%83%EB%A7%90

https://kukka.kr/farmersmarket/

https://www.lovetoknow.com/home/garden/meaning-symbolism-different-color-chrysanthemums

[neutron-stars-collision]

Deadlines & Commitments

Neil x F!Reader

Chapter 10 - Waterloo Underground Station

Masterlist; Chapter 9 Summary: A spontaneous decision on your side takes you both out of London for the weekend. The proximity and a different setting forces you to address some reckless choices and face the tension. Warnings: Swearing, explicit language and, as always, a tiny dose of angst and confusion on both sides. Author's Notes: Publishing a chapter every 2-3 months is cool, right? 🙈 As always, I blame work and my brain for that. These two make life difficult on the daily basis. But, alas, it's here for all five of you to enjoy 🎉 This is the first of my 'Skegness chapters', which a nickname I gave to the weird concoction of ideas that required my setting to change for a moment. Said weird ideas included an ice bar, stargazing and swing dancing... Yeah, I know. I think there will be one more chapter finishing this part of the story, because as you can see, these two are only getting messier. Don't we just love that?? Thank you for reading and let me know what you think? 💕 Taglist: @hollandorks, @kristevstewart, @stargirl25 (let me know if you want to be added).

You could not exactly say if anything changed after that Saturday morning when Neil lifted the metaphorical veil of secrecy, but you knew that some things were different. Like how you perceived the world - at odd times aware that, for some people, movement was not always a forward motion. Some bullets could fly up instead of falling. During those days when Neil texted you to say he was away and would not be able to meet, he was most likely not sitting behind a desk, going through paperwork. Or listening to people confess their sins in a darkened confessional.

No, it was quite possible he could be dodging those inverted bullets and trying not to be injured. Or worse. Admittedly, you tried your hardest not to think about that whenever Neil was away. You filled your time with lessons and rehearsals, fully immersing yourself within the four realms of The Nutcracker. Which, if you dared say so, was going well. Suspiciously so.

But if there was one thing that changed on the sunny Saturday, it was the fact that you took one significant step back. At some point that day, faced with the reality of Neil’s occupation and the things he had to deal with, your brain decided to take one step back, withdrawing from any forms of intimacy that breached the carefully crafted line. The line was drawn in the sand, daily rearranged to fit the narratives you had tried to believe. That was how close friends behaved. There was nothing wrong with the desperate desire to talk to him whenever you spent as much as four hours apart. Lies like that.

But you no longer kissed him. Never let yourself get lost in the passion so easily ignited between you through something as innocuous as a touch of a hand. If Neil noticed your feeble attempts at stripping away the benefits part of your friendship, he did not show it.

If he ever asked, you were not sure you could explain it. Except that a naïve part of your brain wanted to believe that if something terrible happened to him, it would be easier to move on. To forget without the burden of memories filled with kisses and touches no one else could ever replicate.

In a way, it was a blessing that Neil was never the one to initiate a kiss or something more between you without a clear green light from your side. Yet, still, you did not consider it a blessing. More so a convenience that eased the burden of guilt. Slightly.

Still, your weekly standing dates on Wednesdays and other random outings continued, setting a routine you could not begrudge. It was easy (too easy) and pleasant (too pleasant) to have someone to talk to and share every little thing that came to your head, the good and the bad. And if, in exchange, you got to know Neil even better, confirming your assumptions that he was possibly the smartest and most wonderful human being to exist – then that was more than alright.

It was only at the end of October when that steady routine and daily schedule, without an ounce of variety, except for maybe a different idiotic song stuck in your head, started getting boring. Tiring with repetitiveness. It was that sort of excuse you repeated in your head as you typed into the search bar performances of travelling ballet troupes doing The Nutcracker and consequently chose a destination. There was never such a thing as too much inspiration. Surely. And a weekend away from the beloved yet chaotic London Town did not sound bad either. Certainly.

All was well until the subsequent Wednesday morning when you stared at the fluorescents on your descent to the platform, your eyes burning from a deficit of sleep and an early hour. Mornings like this meant trouble. They sounded like spontaneous decisions and recklessly made plans.

But as always, sense was hard to come by when faced with those beautiful eyes and a smile almost too good to be true. A takeaway coffee cup in his hand, placed under your nose as soon as you sat, was a key factor, too.

The gleam in his eyes zeroed in on you as you stifled another yawn and picked up the coffee with a grateful smile. The verbal response had to come after that first sip.

“You look like you need this” the affection in Neil’s voice was, as always, a dangerous, heady thing.

More so when you were sleep deprived and quite likely to say fuck it to things that you should not say fuck it to. You took the second sip of coffee before even trying to respond.

“Desperately” on their own accord, your eyes wandered over his face, cataloguing every tiny detail you could see from such proximity. The stray eyelash on his cheek caught your attention, so you reached out, brushing it away with a feather-light touch. Only Neil’s startled look told you he had noticed, “Thank you, sweetheart” before you could chicken out, you breached the minuscule gap and kissed his cheek. The victory in hearing his shallow gasp was fleeting, yet still very much there, “Waking up when it’s still dark is utter shite, innit?” frowning at the plastic lid, you sighed heavily.

It was even more damning to think about the return home that afternoon, also cloaked with twilight and the streetlights coming on, one by one, as you cowered from the wind and the drizzle. But that should wait. Without letting the sombre mood deepen, you moved closer to Neil, letting his warmth seep into your cold body and frozen heart.

Fuck knows if that was even an accurate metaphor. Or if it was something you wished to be true.

“Add jetlag to that and… yeah” unaware of your teeny crisis, Neil raised his arm to place it around your shoulders, pulling you closer. The nonchalance of the gesture, seemingly a natural habit by now, did not escape you “But I’ve only got the briefing to tick off today, and then I’m free for a week” the slight brag in his tone made you frown with feigned jealousy.

Or not so feigned.

It was good to have him back after two weeks of nothing but texting and occasional phone calls, cumbered by the frustrating invention called ‘time zones’. What did not need to be mentioned were the hours you spent worrying whether the next text would ever arrive. If he would call again. Every prolonged silence felt like a trigger, baiting the anxiety to come out of its hiding place and torment you. There was nothing you could do but harden the convictions you had tried to set for yourself.

Neil was just a friend. Definitely just a friend.

Well, it was good to have your friend back.

“Lucky you” ignoring the strange aftertaste that sentence left on your tongue, you snuggled against his side and asked “How did Canada go? Many inverted bullets?” sometimes, it still stung just how little you understood what his work entailed.

Sure, Neil has offered impromptu physics lessons and slightly extended explanations. And sometimes, you took him up on it, taking inexplicable amounts of pleasure from watching him gesticulate and light up when trying to make you understand how the laws of physics could be inverted. That gleam in his eyes whenever Neil had a chance to talk about something he was passionate about made it impossible to look away from him, drawing you in like a magnet. But maybe that was just Neil’s magic in general.

“Yes, but it was relatively calm. Just a stake out, really” sighing, Neil somehow pulled you even closer and rested his cheek against the top of your head, stoking the flame in your soul “I managed to fulfil the goal, so at least they won’t fire me” the chuckle rumbled through his chest, highlighting the insecurities dormant underneath.

Now and then, you could see them clearly like this. And each time, they made you frown. It made zero sense for someone so incredible to doubt himself. With a personal vow to never stay silent on the topic, you raised your head with a rebuttal prepared:

“Please. As if John would ever do that,” measuring Neil with a look that dared him to protest while also showing that you were not taking it seriously, you placed a comforting hand on his knee and squeezed.

You had abandoned the pretence that you could withdraw from intimate gestures of that kind a long time ago. The resistance was futile.

“You’ve met him once, Cupid” Neil’s wry smile broke through the attempt at seriousness, failing to convince you that he believed a word he was saying.

Because, yes, you might have met the boss once. But it was clear their bond was deeper than that. There was something profound in the affection they held for each other and in the faultless way they could communicate without ever saying a word. You wanted to understand it better but were still at a loss of how to ask. You worried that the simple: Neil, is John in love with you? -  would not quite catch it. Even though you were 90% sure it was true.

“Which doesn’t mean I haven’t seen him look at you with literal heart eyes” shrugging, you pointed out the bullshit in that flawed evasion and used your free hand to tip his head, so Neil had no choice but to meet your gaze. This type of sentiment necessitated eye contact, “And I get it. I do” it was easy to drop the mask and just let him see.

See how much you cared. See how important he was, nearly faultless in your eyes. A precarious position to be in, but no less coveted. Because your admiration was a rare thing, and Neil knew that as his eyes widened, instantly showing hints of vulnerability and uncertainty. They always made him look younger, less hardened by life’s experiences, and more like the self-proclaimed romantic Neil was.

“Truly?” the quiet eagerness in the single-worded question made you grin.

It was adorable that he still needed to ask.

“Madly and deeply, too” cracking a smile as Neil caught up with your joke, you leaned back on his shoulder and rested your head on his neck.

You already knew that a mistake was about to be made. You could feel the question settling on your tongue, impossible to swallow or ignore. You wanted to ask him.

And so, you did.

“I have a strange question…” admittedly, the preamble could have been more thought through.

Less menacing, perhaps. You could see Neil’s frown appear from the vantage point of your head, lying on his shoulder. He glanced down at you, clearly trying to foresee what you were going to say before he drew blank and replied:

“That’s the best starter. Shoot,” his hand covered yours, still resting on his knee as Neil tipped the coffee cup, downing the remains.

Right. You closed your eyes for a split second and took a deep breath, hoping against hope that it would do something to calm your racing heart. (It didn’t). As much as the idea was perhaps the worst one you had ever had (maybe except for sleeping with Neil that first night), it was something you wanted. And you were unable to deny yourself anything. Which more than once proved to be an issue.

“So, you’ve said you have the week off now… And I’ve booked a weekend trip to Skegness to see a different production of The Nutcracker for research” the words left your mouth in a rush, all melting into one another, barely intelligible and followed with a question as soon as you took another greedy inhale “Would you perhaps want to come with?” once it was done, you hid your face in the crook of his neck, nuzzling the collar of his leather jacket.

His scent permeated the material, calming you down a little bit. You chose not to examine that fact too closely. Or at all. But before you could successfully hide from him, Neil shifted so that he could gently raise your head from his shoulder and asked:

“Skegness? That sounds like a rash, dumb idea” his gaze calmly searched your face for something while a smirk tugged at the corner of his lips.

It was not like you did not know the idea was ridiculous. Resisting the urge to swat him, you rolled your eyes and shrugged. That was still better than an outright rejection. Despite the judgement and ridicule.

“It might be,” forcing yourself to maintain eye contact, you chose to add a vulnerable note to an invite that otherwise could have seemed thoughtless. It was as if you were asking for the sake of it, when instead you asked because you desperately wanted him to join “I just need to go somewhere” anywhere, in fact.

Anywhere but here. Because suddenly London felt too much like home. Too comfortable and familiar. But none of that needed to be said. Not yet, perhaps.

With Neil still refusing to drop your gaze, you fought the urge to turn your head away from him and allowed yourself to stare back. To be seen. After what felt like hours, he shot you a quick smile and took your hand to tangle your fingers in reassurance. It always worked.

“Well, as it happens, I love reckless ideas and bad choices” Neil’s grin widened as you sighed with pretend exasperation and glanced at the Jubilee map above his head to ensure you had not somehow missed your stop.

Fortunately (or not), you still had roughly two minutes to commit a dozen of fuck ups. More or less.

“Do you?” always devoted to the cause, you leaned in closer, stopping just a breath away from his face and slowly dropped your gaze to his lips.

By now, it was a reflex. Something you could barely control and never had to force. Only now, with your resolve to take a step back, very much crumbling but still there, it was much more destructive. An instinct, going against everything you tried to believe. Against logic. It took you another second to catch yourself and raise your head again, barely stifling a quiet gasp when you found Neil transfixed, too. The boundless depths of his blue eyes almost begged you to stop trying to fight the inevitable. Again. But you could not.

You should not.

“Quite,” the word left his lips in a whisper as you lurched back and stood up quicker than he could process the movement.

You closed your eyes against the uncertainty in his eyes and raised your hand in a silent wave as the carriage doors opened at Southwark. It was rude. It should not be done to Neil, of all people.

But it was the only thing that made sense at that moment. Or so you tried to tell yourself.

***

When Cupid randomly suggested a trip to Skegness over the weekend, Neil, for his part, did not even try to pretend he did not want to come along. It was a fact that later filled him with shame, proving that he could not separate himself from her to the point where he stopped trying. He did not need to ask himself whether his answer would have been different if she proposed Slough or Aldershot as a destination. He knew that it would not change a thing.

Although, perhaps, it should’ve.

But, if Neil was certain of one thing, it was that he was a masochist. Through and through. Because what could go wrong over a weekend trip with a woman he was absolutely not in love with? Nothing, surely.

An hour and a half into the drive up from London that he had heroically volunteered for, Neil had yet to question the decision. Swiftly changing the lanes on M11 to ensure they did not accidentally end up in Cambridge, Neil glanced at the passenger seat only to find her still deeply in slumber. The nap, excused by a confession that the past few weeks of intense rehearsals had been tough on her, happened after they had left Barking, and the traffic eased. Neil could not possibly find it in himself to begrudge her. Even though he had been left alone with nothing but her ridiculous playlist, filled with Euro hits and his thoughts. Both of which were not the best company a man could ask for.

Admittedly, the past few weeks, Neil was eager for anything that would distract him from the narrative his brain was desperate to thread. He could tell that Cupid was distancing herself, suddenly shying away from leisurely touches and moves that could lead further than an affectionate kiss on the cheek. And, despite countless attempts at ignoring this evident development, Neil could not seem to do just that. Instead, it was a thought that attacked at least convenient moments, sowing doubts upon doubts in his mind. If he were braver, he would have asked. But there was no bravery among the confusing thoughts and feelings, rendering him helpless in the uncertainty.

In those difficult moments, Neil could sometimes face the fact that he was 90% sure he understood what made her withdraw like that. He had seen it before, usually in the faces of fellow Tenet agents after a difficult mission or a close call. That hard but seemingly sensible decision not to pursue anything with someone with a lowered life expectancy. It was safer that way. A careful move to ensure one’s heart would not be broken because of the worst happening. A step back.

It was something Neil expected to happen just as much as he feared. Because there was nothing left to do but let her steer their relationship in the way she saw fit. Embarrassingly enough, he was just happy to be her friend.

In the traditional, non-fucked up way, that did not entail sex, that is.

Unfortunately.

And if that was part of why he jumped on the weekend trip without sparing a thought to the contrary, then it was no one’s business but his. There.

“Whereabouts are we?” the innocent question coming from the passenger side made Neil startle, instantly dropping the lid on the intrusive thoughts.

Stealing a glance at Cupid, Neil noted her mussed hair and bleary eyes as she blinked repeatedly, looking out the window. There was a certain degree of cosiness in seeing her like this - sleepy-eyed and comfortably existing in his space. Despite the uncertainty in his veins, Neil had to admit it proved that her trust in him was unwavering. The idea offered a sliver of comfort as he focused his gaze back on the road, answering her question:

“We’ve just passed Cambridge” her stifled yawn made him grin as Neil passed a slower car and changed lanes to avoid yet another slip road towards whatever the fuck Swavesey was, “You can go back to sleep. I can follow the nav,” another glance at the screen told him they were yet to get lost, which was a plus. Yet, still, it was better to manage expectations, “More or less,” a smirk made its home on his face as Neil stole another glance at Cupid, immediately noting her answering smile.

She looked almost radiant in the rare autumn sun as she stretched her limbs like a cat and twisted her body to face him more comfortably. Suddenly, Neil was very grateful for having a task that required his full attention. Anything was better than staring at her and losing his mind more with every passing minute.

“That’s encouraging” the sarcastic tone seeped through her voice as she settled in the seat and replied, “I might bother you for a bit now” Neil knew she meant it to be a threat.

Except that it was anything but. It was a promise of a distraction and a way to know her even better. Something he could not deny himself if he tried.

“Splendid idea” there was no point in hiding the affection in his voice. Even less so as he risked a relatively safe opener, betraying his sole motive behind the conversation, “How are you?”

It was one thing that none of the non-stop text exchanges ever covered. Sure, he would ask, but she would rarely answer. After some time, Neil concluded that Cupid was not keen on sharing her burdens. At least, not the ones that counted. The only times he succeeded were the face-to-face conversation when she seemed eager enough to open up. He could only hope this was one of those moments.

“Honestly?” thankfully taking his silence as an agreement, Cupid sighed before she let the words out, “I think I’m fine, but also that fear of self-sabotage is very much there, so…” she paused as if collecting thoughts to share. Neil patiently waited for her to continue. It was already promising, fulfilling the untold wishes he had for this conversation, “And sometimes I feel like my problems are so damn insignificant, it’s ridiculous” scoffing with frustration, she briefly turned towards the car window as if needing to forget about his presence for a moment to say what she wanted “But then I doubt you can relate” he frowned upon hearing the indirect jab. It was not vicious or spoken with malintent, but it felt wrong to consider himself somehow above her based only on his professional occupation. But before Neil could open his mouth to protest, she asked, “How does it feel to be saving the world?” the wistfulness in her voice matched the faraway look in her eyes.

But even that distant gaze was focused on him, ensuring that she wanted to hear an answer. It was enough encouragement to get him to share something honest. But not without righting a wrong assumption first.

“I wouldn’t go that far. But I know what you mean” carefully adjusting the speed to fit the limits of the motorway extending before them, Neil gathered the remaining bravery to share the thoughts no one else would be willing to hear, “Sometimes the shit I worry about seems so fucking stupid when I go to work and sit through hours of meetings discussing what could happen if we mess up” never quite able to stop feeling things long enough to speak words that were not impassioned, Neil swallowed past the sudden spike of anxiety at the thought and chanced a glance at Cupid.

She was always the perfect distraction. So utterly unwilling to pretend just for the sake of it. So true to herself that Neil frequently found himself consumed by jealousy at her bravery. Even though he knew she would disagree with his judgement.

“Which is?” now, she levelled him with a sober stare as the question brought him back to the present.

Neil did not need to doubt whether she wanted an honest answer. That much was written on her face and the sudden tightness of her features, bereft of humour. He must have done a good enough job introducing Tenet to her if she already understood the stakes with minimal information. It was both a blessing and a curse.

“Nuclear catastrophe. And that’s the best scenario” he could not help the weight of the words as they settled in the space between them, harshly contrasted by the Eurovision hits coming from the speakers.

If the topic were any lighter, Neil knows he would have laughed. But there was no space for laughter when faced with Cupid’s silence and the knowledge that he was the cause. If not for him, she would have been peacefully unaware of the dangers that could happen to their world if things ever went wrong. He was yet to determine whether it was a good thing that she now knew. If the moral weight added to his tally had been worth it.

“Damn…” Cupid closed her eyes as she let out a deep sigh and rested her head against the headrest, staring at the road ahead for a beat. The next time she spoke, humour had crept back into her voice. Neil knew it was mostly for his sake, “So, you better not fuck it up then, sunshine” she reached past the gear stick to squeeze his thigh and just as quickly dove into the tote resting by her legs, clearly in search of something. None of that whiplash could have prepared him for her next question, “Do you fancy crisps?” raising the crinkling packet from the bag, she offered him a bright grin.

Only the mischievous spark in her eyes told Neil she knew what she was doing. And that she knew she was successful in what she had envisioned. As always.

“Cupid-” a groan of frustration cut through a plea that was best left unsaid anyway.

Mostly because Neil worried if he did begin to express even an ounce of the things she made him feel, he would not be able to stop. He did not want to think about what would happen between them then.

Yet, still, he should have known Cupid would be relentless.

“What?” faux innocence permeated the question as she noisily opened the crisps and popped one into her mouth.

Neil was helpless against the wave of affection that spread through his chest.

“Nothing” shaking his head, he took a cautious glance at the nav before choosing how to answer the question. He knew there was no way in hell Cupid would accept anything less but half an honest reply. That much he could give her easily, “Sometimes I think you’re the penance gods sent me for being a menace to society,” fondness filled his tone as he chanced another look at her, immediately noticing her widening grin.

He had hit the jackpot. That was the type of compliment Cupid would consider the highest praise. Not peans towards her beauty nor poems about her grace. Those were never needed. It was another thing he liked about her.

Too much, probably.

“Is that a compliment?” as expected, she latched onto the praise with the hunger of a wolf, all sharp teeth and unbridled joy.

She seemed almost aglow with it. The warmth kept spreading through his chest like a firework. Neil was beginning to worry he would soon catch fire.

“Of the highest degree” a nod was the best he could offer as he shot her a quick smile, hoping Cupid understood he meant every word of that unconventional adoration.

Somehow, he knew that she did. She always seemed to know what he meant.

“Well, then you better repent” with her blinding grin turned towards him, she picked up the abandoned packet of crisps and extended it towards him.

Neil knew two things: 1) he had to take a crisp, or she would not give him peace, and 2) an undefined sense of balance had settled on his shoulders when they finished the peculiar conversation. Both realisations had led him to believe that, perhaps, this weekend would not be as much of a disaster as he worried.

***

It took you less than half an hour to complete a loop of the Skegness city centre. If it even was worth that label. It took another half hour of wandering around the pleasure beach, with its screaming children and blaring music, for you to develop a minor yet persistent headache. If you were to point fingers, you would blame the sudden, yet not unexpected, ‘Baby Shark’ appearance as you strolled past a nautically themed rollercoaster. An abomination, in fact.

Yet still, you were the only one to blame for this, having urged Neil to visit the town not even an hour after you had made it to the accommodation. The quaint, little holiday park was 10 minutes away from Skegness and seemed like a comfortable place for two nights. (Thank fuck for two bedrooms – was a thought you had but did not dare say out loud). But even the picturesqueness of the spot could not eradicate the tension building underneath your skin. That panic simmering beneath the surface, urging you to move, do something, anything at all, but stay in a tiny holiday house with Neil. Alone. Vulnerable to questions you could not afford to answer. At least not yet.

So, with no weapons at your disposal, you bated your eyelashes and offered a sweet smile, effortlessly convincing Neil to visit the town a day early. A choice you had now began to despise.

Supposedly, that had been your penance for being a coward.

Now, sat in the warm pub booth, waiting for Neil to pay the bill after your dinner, something he had insisted upon despite your protests, you were beginning to understand the depths of that punishment.

There was only one thing you could think of that would help. As soon as Neil returned to the table, the bill paid and a triumphant smile on his face, you extended the proposal:

“I saw an ice bar close just round the corner… Fancy a drink?” standing up from the booth, you wiggled your eyebrows and offered the most enticing smile you could muster.

Not that it was such a big deal. But ending this relatively taxing day with a drink sounded as close to perfection as one could get after everything that happened. You also hoped it would perhaps give you that necessary bout of bravery should Neil finally start asking the questions you expected.

Like why you haven’t kissed him for weeks.

You suppressed a wince at the thought before Neil could notice as his gaze settled on you with a slight surprise. After all, the plan had been to get food and an Uber back to the accommodation. And yet, here you were, changing your mind again. Except that Neil did not seem annoyed as he regarded you closely for a beat before asking:

“With like the ice sculptures and shit?” without waiting for an answer, he took your hand in his and tugged you towards the exit.

Grinning wide, you allowed him to lead you down the street as you tightened the hold over his hand and nodded.

“Mhmm” catching his side glance, you shrugged, throwing a random confession into the mix, “I’ve always wanted to visit one,” just so your sudden request did not seem so illogical.

Looking up to check the surroundings, you located the street where you spotted the sign and tugged on Neil’s hand to direct him towards it. Somehow, you knew he would not be putting up a fight about any of this.

“In that case… how could I refuse?” the humour in his voice widened your grin, and you forced yourself not to look at him until you were standing by the bar, vulnerable to any distractions.

As soon as your eyes landed on his beautiful face, you knew it had been the right call. With the sun long set and the clock tower nearby lit with a multitude of colourful lightbulbs, his golden hair had caught fire. As always, it was in complete disarray, half falling into his striking blue eyes, all so perfectly Neil that the affection in your chest could barely be contained. For a split second, not for the first time, you had considered breaking the rules you had set and surging forward into the kiss that seemed to be waiting just around the corner. But you couldn’t.

Instead, you took a tiny step back and shot him a smirk, falling back on what had never failed you before:

“I dunno… you could always tell me to fuck myself” even the joke felt somehow unsteady, tainted with the slightest catch in your voice.

It almost felt like an act of desperation.

But then, again, you supposed it was one.

“You overestimate my strength, Cupid” when you returned Neil’s stare, you found him smiling at you fondly, clearly not bothered by the sudden change of plans.

Before you could lose all sense of logic, you offered Neil a grateful smile and started towards the bar entrance.

Without any expectations, except for the need for an alcoholic drink and a curious place that would captivate your unbalanced sanity for a short while, you were sure this would be the perfect choice. As soon as you made it inside, paid the fee (this time, you did not let Neil get away with it), and donned the provided heavy coats and gloves, your assumptions had been confirmed.

The small room, guarded by a heavy door keeping the freezing temperatures intact inside, was lit with blue, purple and pink hues, all reflecting off the ice sculptures and the bar itself. As the cold hit your face and Neil closed the door behind you, you pulled up the hood and took in the surroundings, pleasantly surprised to have only one other party as a company. It was better that way. Easier to breathe and take time in soaking up the peculiar setting you had found yourself encased within. Your gaze flitted over the sculptures, noting their detailed artistry, and then towards the block of ice used as a bar, tended by two servers in their thermal attires. Without letting yourself think too hard about the instinct, you reached for Neil’s hand and led him towards the bartender, drink tokens at a ready. Reminded of one of the very first times you had met Neil outside of your Wednesday shared commute, you turned towards him with the drink menu in hand and offered a smirk:

“Will you do the honours?” seeing his hesitance, you took a step closer and leaned in, ensuring the rest of your intended tease would not be overheard by anyone else, “I remember you mentioned something about special talents… and I don’t mean the stuff you’ve done to me on your knees” delivering the punch with a teasing edge in your voice, you glanced at Neil just in time to see him burst out in laughter.

The complimenting blush tinted his cheeks as Neil hung his head for a beat, seemingly to compose himself, and then met your stare with a signature smirk.

“With such an invite, how could I not?” extending his hand for the menu with a flourish, Neil sent you a wink before he focused on the selection.

His furrowed brows drew you in as you leaned against the bar and let your eyes trace his features with concerning affection and detail. The blush on his cheeks has been overtaken by the flush caused by the cold, reaching as far back as the tips of his ears and nose. His blonde hair, backlit by the myriad of colours, made you itch to reach out and rake your fingers through the silky strands. Tightening the fist in your pocket, you blinked against the ridiculous thoughts and forced yourself to look away in search of any empty booth. At least you could be somewhat useful.

Wordlessly, you touched Neil’s shoulder to motion at the booth in a corner and started in that direction. Settling onto the bench (also made from ice, covered with a sheepskin), you let out an involuntary sigh. Considering the current situation was entirely your own doing, you did not feel like you had a right to complain. So, you didn’t.

Except in the quiet of your head, where no one else could hear or judge. Right now, as you watched Neil place an order at the bar, undoubtedly chatting up the bartender, there was only one complaint to be raised. A singular issue – you did not know how you were supposed to stay true to the limits you had set for yourself over this weekend. With his constant presence, it was getting increasingly tricky, and in those rare moments alone, you wondered how many more close encounters it would take until you snap. Until you say fuck it and cross the line once more.

The increasingly dire thoughts were interrupted by Neil’s approach, his smug smile telling you all you needed to know about the success of the endeavour:

“What did you get for me?” you watched with increasing curiosity as Neil set the glass (made from ice, naturally) in front of you and sat opposite you.

The light blue drink, decorated with a slice of pineapple and decorative snowflakes, had captured your attention without a fault. Before Neil could reply, you picked up the glass carefully and scrutinized it.

“Try it, and you shall see” the playful glimmer in his gaze drew out your uncertain smile as you raised the glass to your lips and took a sip, “So?” Neil leaned forward, seemingly anticipating your verdict so passionately that he did not even care for his drink, waiting to be tasted.

Admittedly, he had every right to be smug about it. The fruitiness of what you now recognized as Curacao blue liqueur mixed with coconut and rum filled your taste buds as you took another sip just after the first one. Whatever it was that Neil chose – it was perfect. You could tell he was able to read as much from your face as his grin widened. There was no point in holding back the praise, no matter how much you dreaded his ego inflating.

“Damn, you’re good at this” shooting him an impressed smile, you set down the glass and propped your chin on your hand, asking a question that had been long in the making, “How do you do it?”

You watched as Neil took a sip from his drink – some unidentifiable orange and red concoction – and raised his gaze to meet yours with a surprise in his eyes. Your question was not as apparent as you would have thought. A rogue thought appeared on the horizon, suggesting that perhaps you were the first to have ever asked him about it. You did not know why, but the idea made your chest tighten with pain.

To wash down the strange sensation, you took yet another sip of the drink and allowed the alcohol burn to do its thing.

“I suppose you can call it intuition. It comes in handy in intelligence taskforces, and if there are additional perks… Well, I don’t mind having an ace up my sleeve when it comes to wooing the ladies and gentlemen” closing the brief explanation with a telling half-smile, Neil seemed to drown his unwelcome thoughts in a drink as he avoided your eyes.

Only there was nothing in what he said that could have warranted your negative opinion. Nothing outside the realm of things you already knew or suspected. Nothing but facts that only made your affection for Neil grow. Ignoring the uncertainty, you stilted his fidgeting fingers with the weight of your palm as you decided to fall back on a trusted way that would get rid of the awkward pauses:

“So, is that your go-to seduction technique?” punctuating the question with a hand squeeze, you waited for Neil to raise his head before you shot him a smirk.

An open invitation to indulge in the conversation only the two of you could have. To stop overthinking confessions that changed absolutely nothing. You knew Neil understood the message when he returned the squeeze and met your gaze with his intense stare.

“One of them, yes” without backing away from the small-scale staring contest you had just entered, he flipped your joined hands over the table so that your hand was palm-up, covered with his.

You were definitely not against that development. Although, perhaps, you should have been.

“What are the others?” because a foresight was something you never quite grasped, you arched an eyebrow in what you knew Neil would read as a challenge.

Another permission to keep going. To repeat the patterns that had never failed you before. To allow the magnetism to do its job. Like you always knew it would.

“You know them all, Cupid” shrugging lightly with the answer, Neil glanced down at your joined hands, and you could tell that was the turning point. An idea had taken root in his mind, and all you could do was wait as he took off one glove with an almost perfectly smooth move. Your mouth parted in anticipation as Neil covered your hand again and slipped his fingers underneath the glove over your wrist. His fingers lightly stroked your skin over the pulse point as he looked up again, undoubtedly finding you entranced, “I’ve thoroughly seduced you,” the corner of his mouth quirked in the signature smirk.

He looked incredibly self-pleased. So much so that you briefly considered punching that smug look off his face. But then he would have ceased tracing circles on your skin, and it was not something you were willing to part with. Not yet.

So, you looked back at his outrageously beautiful face and said the only thing that made sense in the moment. A repartee handcrafted for the occasion.

“You’ve also thoroughly fucked me” dropping the tone a notch not to scandalize too many of the unfortunate fellow bar clients, you leaned forward so that your knee could bump into his underneath the table.

The sudden shock of warmth elicited by the simple contact was worth all the secondhand thoughts you evaded as Neil continued his meticulous caress and offered you a satisfied smile.

“Which I don’t regret, my dear” the endearment was highlighted with a tap of his finger against your pulse point.

You could tell he felt the thundering heartbeat underneath your skin. But the pause, strengthened by a meaningful look between you, kicked you into a mild panic. All because this was precisely what you were supposed to avoid. A line you were not supposed to cross ever again seemed to have almost vanished.

How had you managed to fuck up your resolutions so quickly and so spectacularly was beyond your comprehension. You stifled a wince as you retracted your hand from Neil’s tempting hold and picked up the glass with a half-smile ready:

“Cheers to that” without waiting for Neil to catch up, you downed the drink and relished in the burn it had left behind.

The pleasant buzz of the alcohol in your veins would hopefully be enough. At least enough to ignore Neil’s worried look as he finished his drink and wordlessly stood up to get the next round. You did not need to ask him for a repeat of the previous choice. He already knew.

You marinated in the realization until he returned to the table, sliding you the glass almost with resignation. As though Neil was upset that you had cut short the previous conversation. It was concerning that he had even noticed it happening.

Before you could find another topic to fill in the sudden silence, Neil asked the question that seemed safest, all things considered:

“Why Skegness?” an undertone of curiosity returned to his face as Neil leaned forward, seemingly eager to understand.

To know every single one of your thoughts, no matter how ridiculous. Or inexplicable. Admittedly, the whiplash of the two conversations, back-to-back, had you reeling as you took a deep breath and attempted to untangle the complex web of your mind to offer him something substantial:

“I think I just needed an escape, and this was the first thing that came up” shrugging lightly, you closed your eyes for a beat, gathering the courage to add more depth to the confession. With anyone else, you would not have felt the need to share, but for whatever reason, Neil escaped any bounds you had set up for every other relationship. You did not particularly enjoy dwelling on that fact for too long, “I know it doesn’t make sense, but sometimes I like to believe that if I leave London for a bit, maybe when I come back, the fears won’t be there anymore” with each word, you could feel the conviction waning, replaced by the crippling fear that Neil would find you ludicrous, not worth his time “Maybe in my absence, they too will disappear, and I’ll be able to start anew. Without burden,” there was something in his gaze as he held yours, not willing to let go even for a second, that made you continue, delivering the final notes of the confession with a resigned sigh “But then I know I carry them with me no matter where I go, so… It’s stupid” unable to withstand the weight of his gaze any longer, you looked down and picked up the glass to take a hearty swig.

The drink still tasted just as good as that first sip. But it barely eradicated the lingering shame, thriving in the silence. Sharing those most sincere and private thoughts was always complicated. Something you avoided unless you had no other choice. But for some unknown and terrifying reason, it was different with Neil. All he had to do was ask, and off you were, running your mouth like an idiot, spilling embarrassing confessions as though he needed to hear them.

And yet, somehow, Neil was undeterred. As though he wanted to know.

“It’s everything but stupid” as if able to hear your internal spiral, Neil bumped his knee into yours underneath the table to draw back your attention. Once you had begrudgingly complied, looking up at him with a pained expression, he continued, “A change of scenery, no matter how questionable or brief, can do wonders” despite yourself, you cracked a smile at the implied shade towards the lovely town you had found yourselves in. Neil’s resulting grin was a good enough reason to do so, “But the same goes for talking things over so… I’m here for you if you need me,” punctuating the sentiment with an affectionate smile, Neil met your gaze and once again extended his hand towards you, laying it palm-up on the table.

It was a clear message. One that you were free to ignore if you so choose. The trouble was that whether Neil knew it or not, there was no reality where you could deny him. Not now. Not with the alcohol buzzing in your veins and the recent memory of his touch on your skin. Now, you had no choice.

So, willfully ignorant of the blush on your cheeks, you met him halfway and allowed your fingers to rest in a loose tangle. There was no need to think about what the reply should be.

“Thank you,” offering a bashful smile, you took a deeper breath before allowing yourself to confess what he had not yet heard and what needed to be said, “You genuinely might be my best friend,” lacking the bravery to meet his gaze, you felt Neil’s fingers squeeze yours, forcing you to keep going “Which might be surprising considering how short we know each other, but… it just makes sense” as soon as the words were out of your mouth, you knew they were right. It made sense. Perhaps too much sense, at times. Like now, when you finally looked up to find Neil staring back at you with a curious look in his eyes. Unable to decipher it and not lose your mind in the process, you weakly gestured with your unoccupied hand at the space between you, strengthening the point “This makes sense,”

You did not want to think what would have happened if Neil had denied your bold statement right there and then. The following rejection would kill you long before shame or bad decisions ever could. Even if he would not mean it like that. That was the trouble with sharing confessions and the sincerest feelings – you never knew what you would get in return.

But before you could spiral further, feeling the familiar pull of anxiety make its way through your system, Neil squeezed your hand once more and replied:

“Yes, it does” the three words were filled with enough fondness and conviction to cut your ruinous ruminations short in a flash.

And, if just a moment later, they were replaced with another set of anxious thoughts, reminding you of lines you could not cross and inconvenient feelings that should never be present, then it was your business only. You buried them under pleasant discussions that filled the next fifteen minutes it took you both to finish the drinks and decide it was high time you left the bar. After all, catching a cold was not on the itinerary.

By the time you got up from the seat, it almost seemed like the tides of the conversations had turned for good. You had moved on past the worrying silences and tension between you, bursting with possibilities and disasters in the making.

Except that it was only an illusion.

Because as soon as you were both standing, Neil stilted. His gaze clouded once more with something you could not decipher, except that it was not something you had seen before. He searched your face for a beat, seemingly frozen in a decision you were not partial to. You got as far as opening your mouth to ask what was going on before Neil’s eyes focused, and he muttered the simplest of phrases:

“Fuck it,” he swore as he closed the gap between you and cupped your cheek to pull you in for a kiss.

As his mouth crashed against yours, all you could think was how much you had missed it. His taste filled your senses as you rose on your tiptoes to get even closer, throwing back the hood of your coat with the sudden movement. That first contact broke the walls you had tried to instil, and there was no holding back now as you moved your lips against his in a familiar dance. Neil’s hesitancy soon gave way to firmness as he confidently prodded with his tongue, urging your mouth to open and let him delve in. There was nothing you could do but comply with the unspoken request.

As soon as his tongue brushed against yours, you let out a quiet whimper, the sound lost between you, but you knew Neil heard it. He pulled you imperceptibly closer with his arm around your waist and groaned as though unable to hold back. It did not matter that you were in public. That you were making a scene. That the kiss should not have happened.

Still, after another beat spent blissfully kissing, the reality caught up, making you part with a sigh. Despite knowing better, you leaned back in to kiss him briefly, sealing the deal and resting your forehead against his. Just for a moment. Until you were brave enough to open your eyes and find Neil looking back at you like he always did. But where you knew he could see how shaken you were by the development, Neil appeared in control. Almost blissed out by what has happened. The sight gave you the necessary courage as you grasped his hand in yours and squeezed it, hoping to convey a simple message: I’m sorry.

It had to be enough for now. You swallowed past the anxiety and shot him a smile, hoping the daze would keep him from seeing the confusion in your eyes. Keep him from understanding how much you did not know what to do. How to act with the lines long crossed and no regret to be found in the depths of your heart.

***

Neil closed the sliding doors of the holiday house quietly and stepped off the wooden terrace to feel the soft grass underneath the soles of his shoes. This late, close to midnight, the holiday park was quiet, the silence only sometimes interrupted by a burst of louder laughter or a dog barking. He unfolded the blanket gathered from the pull-out sofa (and his designated bed) and placed it on the patch of grass. With a quiet grunt, he sat on the fleece cover and tipped his head up to look at the night sky. With his gaze slowly adjusting to the darkness, Neil could already tell the view was much better than he could ever find in London. Here, at least five miles from Skegness, it was possible to make out some constellations. Sure, it was still far from ideal, but it was something.

A good enough distraction from the fact that approximately four metres away, Cupid was showering and getting ready for bed in the bedroom. Briefly, she battled him on that, eager to claim the sofa as hers and offer him the bed instead. But Neil could not possibly accept that. The stubborn gentleman gene in his DNA, the same one that always insisted the lady must get off at least once before he would be able to come, was quite adamant on that front. So, without allowing room for discussion, he gently pushed her towards the bedroom doorway and ordered her to bed. She did not argue.

She did, however, insinuate that Neil could join her. For a moment, that is. Just long enough to ensure the aforementioned mutual orgasm and a brief respite from the tension. But, despite how enticing all of that sounded, he declined, somehow knowing that the kiss had not solved anything. It did not change her mind. It certainly did not suddenly untangle the complex knot between them. Sex would only make that worse. And while Neil was brave enough to take the first step, he knew this would have to come from her. Only from her. As an action instead of empty words. An active choice. Only that could break the impasse.

Well, either that or her outright rejection, sealing the deal on ‘just friends’ bullshit Cupid seemed set on. But, after tonight and the kiss she certainly did not reject, Neil did not quite believe that other option was still on the table. Sue him.

Sighing against the inconvenient recollections of how she whimpered when his tongue slipped inside her mouth, Neil reclined on the blanket and focused on the skies. It tended to do the trick, calming his mind on stressful missions and whenever life got too hard. There was something almost therapeutic about looking up at the stars and distant planets and being reminded of the insignificance of everything else. Of the vastness of the universe and how moments like this did not matter in the grand scheme of things. None of the heartaches and regrets held any importance. Not really.

Now, feeling the heavy weight of the day settle upon his shoulders, Neil stared at the inky skies as his eyes easily located the familiar clusters. The faithful Polaris was there, guiding him every step of the way. While it sometimes felt silly to admit whenever he was in the southern hemisphere, and Polaris was nowhere to be found, Neil felt untethered. As if something was missing and could not be replaced until he returned home. Other times, he was keen to admit that feeling was also something akin to insanity.

Sending an affectionate smile at both bears gracing the sky, Neil settled his gaze towards the west, locating his favourite neighbour within the solar system – Saturn. It shone brighter than any star, even this close to the Moon and dimmed by its light. It was close to the edge of darkness, likely to disappear within the half hour. But Neil knew that while the planet was still present, keeping him company, he would stay there. Thinking, resting, and letting the cold seep into his bones to remind him he was still alive.

Only like this, he could hope to process the evening and not make a mistake. Like knocking on the bedroom door and asking her to take pity on him. He knew she would. She would forget her inhibitions and do whatever he needed. But then, once the passion had burnt out and it was time to sleep on the sofa, Neil knew the regret would set and settle. No, that would not do at all. He had to be patient and let her realise this was meant to be. Just like she said – it makes sense. They make sense.

And not in the overly romantic version of the notion. That was not needed. He didn’t need that. He just needed her. As a friend, as someone he could be himself with. Someone who accepted him and sometimes even needed him. Even if only for a night.

Yes, that would be enough. It would be.

So, without letting himself get too ahead, Neil stayed on the blanket until Saturn disappeared from the horizon and the dew nipped at his clothes. Silently, he crept back inside the house and closed the terrace door, mindful of every move. From inside the bedroom, he could hear her quiet snores. The sound made him smile, swallowing the dangerous affection way down where it would not be found (until tomorrow) and turning off the lights he did not need.

This was enough.

[threepandas]

Bad End: Pray

Faith should not be transactional. Bartered to the highest bidder and sold as the winds shift. Bought with miracles and blessings. Heaped upon powerful champions and gifted at the sweet words of avatars. Perhaps it is old fashioned of me. Or maybe it is "naive" as I have often been accused.

To be honest, I am just not used to The Divine being so active.

Perhaps it is loyalty. Perhaps it is... faith. I do not know. But I can not imagine being swayed from the Goddess I serve. Not when... unlike BEFORE? I can... can actually FEEL Her presence.

I still laugh in disbelief sometimes. In AWE. Can you even IMAGINE? Sitting there, head bowed in prayer, in that quiet little temple of nowhere special, and... while expecting NOTHING? Feeling... feeling love. A gentle, all encompassing, hand that picks you up without moving you. Cradles your soul like a beloved child.

There aren't really words to explain what it feels like. It's somewhere between talking in circles, poetry, and gibberish. But BEAUTIFUL. So utterly, utterly beautiful. I can not comprehend why anyone would ever turn their back on her. Could EVER be bought with showy trinkets and bits of gold. Party tricks.

I am an outlier, in that regard.

Only myself and the Elders remain.

No one comes. Not to worship, not for blessings or wisdom. Not even to rest from the rain. Our humble temple more quiet then it has ever been. There was always SOMEONE. We are, after all, a temple too our Lady the Nox Viatoris. Keeper of those who travel at night, in places of peril, or should the worst occur... their soul's too safe resting. (Also, several small and fluffy nocturnal animals!)

"Night" was rather loosely defined, too. It honestly meant any place of low lighting. So a deep valley or cave worked too. Under belly of a city. Sewer system. We had smugglers, on occasion. They were generous. Honestly quiet devote. And as long as they didn't break the tenets of Our Lady's teachings? Well... what Oddly Weathy Worshiper with Working Knowledge Of Sewer Systems!

It was a well known joke. Everyone ignored them.

But one by one... they stopped coming.

The locals who's families had worshipped here for generations. The merchants who always came "just in case". The smugglers who "could use a bit of luck". Random travelers, guided by our Lady to a place of safety. I began to hear scoffs, as I went into town, from the younger generations. Get "concerned hints" from aunties and uncles I had know all my life.

Fellow priestess started too... drift away.

First seeming distracted, praying more, then praying less, going for longer and longer walks, their ceremonial robes getting increasingly half-hearted, then... after the final, damning stage of "staring off towards town a lot"? They would leave. Some with excuses. Others with vitriol. Our home colder and colder for each one gone.

The Elders heart's were breaking. They were watching the slow death of the only home they had ever known and could do nothing to stop it. The temple was dying. The children they had raised, the little ones who were all but grandchildren, abandoning them without second thought or simple discussion. For some whispered promise of foreign gods.

But I? I intend to stay, no matter what.

I who had been born to travels that did not want me, here in this temple that DID. Loved by these walls and this Lady. Who was given a second chance when my first ended so abruptly. Who would walk with Her one day. Proudly and with love. This was my home. Even if I had to take care of it by myself, I WOULD.

Things in town grew... vitriolic. Tense. Like a simmering heat had spread across the street where once, cool water flowed. It lurked beneath the surface. Volatile and burning, as bright colors seem to spread like sickness across the town. They felt... aggressive, somehow. Those colors. As though anyone NOT wearing them must answer for the crime of it.

I had them pushed upon me.

Again and again.

"It's cheerful!" "Look how bright and sunny they are!" "You'll look GREAT!"

I served a night goddess. The brightest color I was allowed to wear was off white to represent the moon and stars. Night blooming flowers if I could find them and justify it. It wasn't a matter of PREFERENCE. They KNEW this. I could NOT wear their gifts. Not the clothes. Not the jewelry. Not the decorations. None of it. Especially not with...suns... on it.

It was then I did more then just suspect. As I held the most recent gift, pushed upon me by well meaning friends. Struggling to remain patient. The sun sewn into the cheerfully dyed fabric MOCKED and sneered. Gaudy and ugly to my eyes. I turned, back to the temple, the rest of my shopping forgotten.

It could wait.

When I returned? I showed the Elders what I had been handed. Elder Antilla going so pale she nearly fainted. It was all that they had feared. At last, one of the major players had decided to swallow our tiny region whole. We were nothing but a small regional faith. Our Lady a weak but kind Divine in the grand scheme of things. She took care of us.

Could not offer us miracles and silks, honey and splendor. But she could love us. Protect our souls and guide us. The stronger Gods? Oh, they could offer SO MUCH more. Tempt and sway away Her faithful. Starve her into nothingness as they strip her of power. Consume her, as they had so many others before.

We had been safe.

Because we were far away and of little interest, tucked away between mountains that lead to nowhere of strategic worth. Few people to even convert. But seems... our time had run out. One of them had come for us. And oh... oh how EASY it had been for them to pour their power and wealth into swaying our faithful away. Buying their souls for a pittance of power and a laugh.

We had to sit down.

The mood grim.

The Elders would not live much longer, I knew. Perhaps that was why they were ignored. That, or the other God knew they could not sway them. They certainly would not sway me. I refused. Even if I had to worship alone. Became some cultist in the woods. I would NOT leave Her.

I prayed.

The silence felt deafening. But at least I was not alone. My Lady's arms held me close. As though trying to shield me from the world. Shaking, tears of grief that left no marks, dropping one after another upon my hair and skin. Suddenly the arms around me tightened in alarm. Pulled, as though commanding me to stand. To be ready to run. There was FEAR in that action.

I was on my feet at once. Turning towards the open air of the entrance.

Up the road, old and worn with the passing feet of countless travelers, came the crisp step of expensive boot leather. The rustle of leaves, the chirping of birds, all of it, seemed to hush as the sound of footsteps got closer. As though nature itself was afraid to draw attention of whatever was coming.

It was the light that changed first. No longer coming from just above us, yet somehow? It still was. The mid-day's sun was bright, cheerful, yet perfectly ordinary. Natural in the way countless summer day's have been. But the light coming from up the path? Low and shifting like a lantern swings, in a way that can only be ORGANIC?

It BURNED.

The sort of light that purges all in its path. That blinds and maims and burns. So hot everything becomes cold, as nerve endings char away. Like the blinding light off winter snow. Pale and reaching. Hungry. Consuming. W...What WAS that? It was getting closer. I backed deeper into the temple. Towards my Lady's idol.

The hush grew louder and louder, in it's terrible absence of sound.

The light brighter, as whatever IT was, got closer.

My eyes could see no shadows, so it probably wasn't real light. It hurt to look at. Yet it didn't hurt in the way staring at bright lights SHOULD hurt. It was painful because it had... claws? Thorns. Jagged, dragging edges that ripped at the something in me that SAW.

I could See because I needed to See, I think.

She NEEDED me to know what stood before me was not merely a man.

And THAT? That is the form it took. The liar and thief. A burning monster at the threshold of my home. Dressed in the finest silks and satins stolen faith can buy, the jewels glinting from his belt enough to buy several small nations. THAT was not a man. It just looked like one. Wore the face of one.

High Priest? Champion?

Goddess help me, an Avatar?

They were enmeshed. Woven so tightly they were all but an extension of the Divine. And it BURNED. Bright, holy, and terrible. A Sun standing before the Moon's own temple, with purging fire in its heart.

"Hello, little Thing. You've been quite stubborn, haven't you?"

They didn't raise their voice, yet still my bones felt like they rattled in my skin. The few windows we had, shook. Light fixtures swayed. I... I was afraid. I would NOT cower, but oh, Lady, I was afraid. His voice felt like the desert sighing against my skin. The edge of a threat.

"I lay out treats and you do not come. I invite the town and you will not hear me. You brothers and sisters kneel at my feet, yet you? You spurn me, too give your loyalty away for nothing."

I watch as he casually reaches to the air to his side. As though accepting something offered from someone who is not there. A cigarette. He tucks it into his mouth and cups the end, his finger glowing brightly as he lights it.

He takes a drag then exhales.

Letting the smoke whisp, rudely, past the unspoken barrier between us and into the temple proper. It's scent mixes discordantly with the incense. Making what was once lovely a cloying and choking mess. I watch him smirk as he takes another drag. Send more smoke inside.

His disrespect is deliberate.

"What can the festering night give, that the loving embrace of the day can not give better?"

His smirk rolls into the mimicry of a laugh. The monster's head tilted as though to consider my reaction even as the empty sound echoes against the temple's walls. It has the depth of a laugh track. The warmth of one. How... HOW has this CREATURE fooled ANYONE? Destroyed us so utterly? It is cruel.

"Ah~ so THAT'S what it is, you precious little Thing." He whispers, somehow the most terrible sound he has made so far. The power of it drags against me covetously, lingering like hands. "True Faith, given freely. You really do love her so, don't you? That wretched, unworthy, Nothing. Little Thing~, you should love ME instead."

It ended in a croon. As though trying to entice me. But all I could hear was static. The pounding of my heart as fear released adrenaline into my body, bringing the world into hyperfocus. "Me"? My ears had not deceived me, right? That THING in mockery of man's form... said "me"?

Oh, Nox Viatoris, our Lady who guides us, on darkest paths in deepest night... h.. hold my soul with kindness. Walk with me, on this broken, troubled path. That I may not face it alone. I... I am scared.

That... That was An AVATAR.

The extension of the Divine upon this mortal world. Not nearly their full power, but even a fraction of the INFINTE? Is beyond mortal capacity to fight. Only Avatars could handle other Avatars. On rare occasions, Champions, should they band together. But I... I was just a priestess. A humble child of nowhere.

Oh Goddess.

I back up. My back hitting the alter. I... I was probably going to die here. Our faith, wiped from the face of the map. I finally understood. He had come to stomp, like crushing ants, on what few hold outs dared linger at the fringes of his domain. Sent his Avatar to convert and destroy.

Our home would be nothing but rubble, wouldn't it? Generations of faith, gone. Our history, burned before his uncaring purge. At... oh Goddess, dear Lady, at least I would walk that final time with her. Could return the kindness she had shown so many. He was going to kill her. Kill US.

I...I refused to let her die alone.

Against my back, I felt the cool warmth of my Lady, leaning against me. Her unseen arms around me in comfort. For me or herself, I could not tell. It did not matter. I stood taller. Head high, shoulders back, feet shoulders wide. Shaking, yes, but unwilling to cower.

If I died today, I would walk proudly with Nox Viatoris.

The smile had slipped from the Avatar's face as it blankly regarded the spot directly behind me. Like a puppet sliding back into default in that absence of commands. I briefly wondered... who had he been? The faithful man, who gave up his form? Who was hollowed out and USED? He was beautiful. Had he been asked?

Or had he had this terrible thing inflicted upon him?

I would never know.

"That's rather annoying, you useless little parasite. She and I were having a conversation." The puppet's, the AVATAR'S mouth, barely moved. "Can't you go check on those wastes of space of yours? The ones that you've only barely managed to keep? They should be dead soon, you'll need to do your job. I'll take Good Care~ of this bright little soul. Don't bother coming back."

"No need." Came the deceptively soft rasp of the high priest. His normally kind face colder then I had ever seen it. Fierce and determined as he lead the other elders from the where they had been meeting in the gardens. Had the Goddess called them? Or had they simply sensed something was wrong?

"I am afraid that although the temple is said to be open to all, that is not, in fact, strictly true. Those that come here with malicious intent are not welcome. Nor those who come to cause trouble, intent regardless. YOU have caused grief and pain here. We do not welcome you to these halls. Please go."

Elder Lilam was subtly pushing me towards the back of the group. Their eyes somber as they met mine. I... I did not cry. There would been time for such things later, I hoped. I nodded back. Understood. Went, softly, on quiet feet. Past the alter, into the back, down the main hall on swift but not running feet.

To the back, where the wanderers bags were. For those our Lady calls suddenly to travel. To wander the roads in search of lost travelers in need of aid. I grabbed more then my fair share of bags. I... I did not suspect I would be coming back. Then into the back gardens. Where we grew herbs and vegetables for the kitchen.

The front of the temple SHOOK.

A terrible burning light. Heat and death. I barely kept my feet under me. Broke into a sprint. Away from the only home I had ever known. The Elders I was certain our Lady now walked to their rest. Towards the mountains and forests I had explored all my life. I... I could only hope they would protect me.

In my chest, the mantle of High Priestess settled. Heavy and mournful with our Lady's grief. I would have to carry the weight. There was no one else now. They were gone. With her. They had done all they could.

Felt their sorrow, their love, and it was all I could do not to let my tears blind me.

I needed to see the path. Could not risk missteping even once.

Behind me, down further below, and now hidden by the trees, I heard the temple crash and shake. As it was torn apart. Pillar by pillar, room by room, lifetimes of love and memories were destroyed. The murals painted in my childhood were surely gone by now. The hand carved doors that had lasted for centuries. Paint splatters and embroideries from generations of youth who had grown to call that place home.

Gone.

All of us, gone.

I ran.

I ran and I HATED myself for running. What could I DO? What could I POSSIBLY hope to DO? All I had left was to survive. Too carry them forward. It hurt. Worse then any breaking bone or burning skin. I couldn't even cry. I... I didn't have the TIME.

I hit the tree line. Didn't dare go too much higher. Didn't know if Avatars could fucking fly. Didn't want to find out the hard way. So many things I did not do. Was there anything left I DID do? Was GOOD for?

There was.

The shadowed place between two mountains. Mid-day had past. Afternoon was meandering towards days end. It would only get darker from here. Ha ha... where was this? When we need it? Oh, I knew. The monster timed his arrival well. At the height of his power.

But this was MY house now.

He may be stronger then me? But that meant NOTHING. I did not need power here. I needed SUBTLETY. A whisp of nothingness of a breeze of shadows. I could feel him, slow and steady, arrogant in his assumptions, pursuing me. He really did know NOTHING about those he destroyed. We were beneath his notice.

I hope the hubris burns as he chokes on it.

I slip between the mountains, into that deep rift of a valley, more crack then anything, and... VANISH. I am One with the Night. A traveler on Her path. Safe in her care. Sideways and one step removed from reality, as I race forward. No longer stumbling over uneven rocks and clambering on unstable terrain, the path beneath my feet is soft and smooth. I grin, as far away, that bastard falters.

"Oh, you clever little Thing. I forgot you still had tricks. Amusing~"

"It won't keep you from me though, I WILL have you in the end. And you will worship ME. Look only upon ME. And you will be my favorite, I think. I am going to chase you down, little Thing. So go ahead and pray. It will do you no good."

"You are going to be MINE, beautiful in the sunlight. You have no choice."

[peachdues]

I agree that sanemi isn’t heartless and has some issues with portraying emotions, but i definitely think being in a relationship with him would be toxic af especially at the beginning. I’m kinda into that with fics tho🫣😳

I actually have to disagree — there’s a big difference between being in a relationship with someone who may not be the most emotionally intelligent (but willing to learn) versus being in a toxic relationship. I think Sanemi falls into the former category — he may not fully understand his emotions or even the best ways to express them, but he’s willing to learn and try.

We only ever see Sanemi’s expression of anger in the context of training other slayers (who NEED tough love let’s be real) and Genya, whose presence in the Corps is a huge trigger for Sanemi. We have no canon material of his interactions with anyone outside the Corps except for the details that he’s incredibly kind and respectful towards women, children, and elders. Gyomei calls him kind hearted (or some variation of that) and bashful.

I think those core tenets of his personality are what shine through the most in a romantic relationship with him. He’s probably even a little more reserved with his emotions because I imagine he’s hyper-aware of his own anger and doesn’t want to take that out on someone who he’s supposed to share this intimate connection with. It probably takes a bit to get him to open up, even.

But no, I don’t think that would make a relationship with him “toxic” by any means. But to each their own!

[zelaznyharper]

Do you ever think that the other Vulcan kids (and adults) bullied the shit out of Spock because he was genuinely kind of disturbing to them. Not necessarily in a xenophobic way, but in an 'uncanny valley/eldritch horror' way.

How many actual human/vulcan hybrids have we actually seen in the series? Maybe 2? And that's in the Federation where interspecies interaction in the day to day norm.

Imagine you're a little Vulcan kid, and one day your introduced to your new classmate. He looks Vulcan, mostly, but there's something just a little 'off' about him. He does just as well as you in class, but he moves as if he has different bones than you. He spars as well as you in martial classes, and he does bleed green, but it's, possibly, the wrong shade of green?

He sets off primal warning bells in the back of your head, that say 'this thing, this thing that looks Vulcan, this is NOT Vulcan.' It's a natural fear, a basic inate fear. You know, you've been told, he is different because he is half human. You know to hold these differences against him is illogical. But he is terrifying to the part of your brain that knows not to touch fire or jump from high places. And so you hate him. Because he makes you feel a revulsion that you know is deeply illogical. Something you can't control. The very sight of him a constant reminder that you are failing the principal tenets of your cultural philosophy.

So, no. You will not be inviting him to your birthday party.

[jadeshifting]

★⋆. — THE ART OF MOODBOARDING ( & USING IT TO SCRIPT. )

˚　　　　✦　　　.　　. 　 ˚　.　　　　　 . ✦　　　 　˚　　　　 . ★⋆. ࿐࿔

AKA 25 DAYS OF SHIFTMAS (DAY 16)

Wrapping Paper — What is your favorite way to script? Why is it your favorite way?

( speaking—your resident moodboard obsessed freak )

if you’re anything like me, you’re tearing your hair out at the root at the thought of a “finished” script. what does that even mean? finished? there’s always more to add, always more to be said in a script—how are you supposed to put any limit on what you desire?

for me, someone who’s self-proclaimed as greedy and functionally insatiable, i can never get enough of shouting to the universe and my subconscious what i want. every car, item of chic clothing, piece of furniture that i can see myself lounging on, friend i’d like to get on with, imagined cute moment with a lover, it all has to be mine, very specifically

thankfully, moodboarding is how you can make sure your subconscious knows all of your desires in their specificity, rather than you having to run your poor fingers ragged typing every singular shred of wanting into your script

moodboards? absolute game-changers, babe. just by cobbling a bunch of photos together into a hastily assembled Pinterest board, you’re basically saying, “here’s my order, thanks—make it snappy” to both the universe and your subconscious. when you drag together those dreamy pics, perfectly tuned-in quotes, and curated color schemes, you’re not just daydreaming—you’re blueprinting. you’re locking in on the energy of what you want, and trust, your subconscious eats that up

౨ৎ … GETTING A CLEAR PICTURE

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moodboards provide the ultimate clarity. once you slap a picture onto a desire—whether it’s pinning it to your Pinterest, dragging it into your Canva collage, or just casually thinking, “that SO fits my DR”—you’re locking that vision in. it’s not just a vibe anymore; it’s an intention, babe. you’re adding more detail to the reality, saying, “yup, this is where i’m going :)”

plus, it’s fun. you’re not just scrolling mindlessly; you’re curating your future. picking that red vintage convertible? that’s you putting links on your Christmas list to make sure you get exactly what you were looking for. it makes your DR feel real—tangible. you’re not just talking about your DR or searching for the right words to describe it; you’re seeing it, feeling it, absorbing it. it turns abstract manifestations into, “oh yeah, I can taste it.”

attaching an image to anything makes it feel real, a basic tenet of visualization in any situation, even to those with no interest in shifting. it gives your mind something solid to hold onto, “I already know what this looks and feels like” so it’s immeasurably easier to convince your mind the truth: you’re already there. just from looking at your curated pictures, you can smell the salty ocean air, feel a cozy cashmere sweater, or taste that overpriced (read: in your price range in your DR) caramel swirl latte

when you specify exactly what you want to your subconscious, and all it takes to do that is to look at a photo you particularly like and declare “it’s mine” it starts plotting, aligning, making moves without you even realizing it. moodboards are more than just aesthetic—they’re manifestation GPS. set the intention, attach the visual—as many visuals as you want, and boom !! you’ve got a crystal-clear roadmap that ensures you not only wake up in your DR, but that you wake up in your DR equipped with everything you’ve ever even considered wanting there

౨ৎ … WHAT IF I’M NOT SPECIFIC ENOUGH?

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you know how the longer you have a phone, the more accurate the autocorrect and predictive text get? because your phone has gotten to know you and the way you talk, so now it can finish your sentences, and it knows what you mean.

your subconscious is like the OG predictive text but on steroids. it’s been clocking your every thought, feeling, and intention since day one. it’s taking notes, memorizing your quirks, and connecting dots you didn’t even know existed. so when you toss your desires out into the universe, you don’t have to micromanage the process—your subconscious is already way ahead of you

think of it like setting your GPS to “ideal reality,” but you don’t have to map every single turn and rest stop on the way there. you just punch in the destination (like that unbelievably chic house with the wrap-around porch, or the boyfriend who’s possessive but not in a gross toxic way, ugh) and your subconscious figures out the scenic route, including all the amenities you hadn’t even thought of. it’s the ultimate ride-or-die, working behind the scenes to align opportunities, ideas, and vibes without you lifting a finger

and the best part? it’s fluent in your language. you don’t need to over-explain, overthink, or stress the details (ahem, glances at your script pointedly)—your subconscious already knows you want the serena van der woodsen aesthetic, the red convertible, or the life that screams, “i’ve arrived.” it’s like handing the steering wheel off to an omniscient best friend who already knows your coffee order, your playlist, and how you like your fries. trust it. stay locked on the vision, and your subconscious will handle the rest, filling in the blanks like the intuitive, all-knowing God it is

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