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bookworm-2692 · 4 years

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About a week ago I finally finished bookbinding @airdeari‘s beautiful Zero Escape fic The First Nonary Game. It took about a month (between all the waiting for glue to dry and also several days each week when I was unable to work on it), and was so much fun! It’s so satisfying to just... hold this book in my hands.

Details about how I made it, along with additional photos (and commentary) below the cut.

So I came across this post on Tumblr, which immediately inspired me to try bookbinding myself. I spent a few days watching so many tutorials from the youtube channel linked in the post (I’ll link the specific tutorials I used in this post), and googling how to actually manage to print pages so they form proper signatures, because the inbuilt booklet creator in Word doesn’t exist in my Word apparently so that’s fun.

Anyway, once I started, I asked @airdeari for permission to print and bind his fic, and he immediately said yes, so that was good. Then I spent a good couple of days copying the entire fic into a Word document, and fiddling with formatting so it would look like an actual book (section breaks, page numbers, headers with the fic title on the left page and chapter title on the right page (this took ages to work and I kept on stuffing it up), and making sure things just... looked nice. I added in the art After The War that @keycrash created specifically for the fic (third pic above), and an “afterword” containing credit and links and the author’s notes from AO3 (because even if I’m the only one who will ever see it, it still feels weird to not add the credit stuff in so it’s there).

I then saved the document as a PDF, and used CheapImposter to correctly shuffle (impose, hence “imposter”) the pages so when folded into signatures, each page would be in the correct order. This program was the first free one I could find, and was great because you could specify the number of sheets you want per signature, rather than stuck with a default. I chose to have 11 signatures of 6 sheets of paper, since that was the amount that would have the least blank pages and the end of the book. The file was 261 pages, so with two pages per side, and two sides per sheet, you divide the number of pages by 4 to get 66 sheets of paper

I then printed. There was only one (1) paper jam in the process, which was great. Unfortunately, I realised after I printed that one of the headers for one chapter was wrong (I hadn’t properly disconnected the two chapters), but fortunately that only involved reprinting 4 sheets of paper.

I used the following tutorials to make the books: DIY Textblock, a general “how to make a textblock” tutorial; DIY Kettle Stitch, a specific look at the stitching for a textblock, since the first tutorial doesn’t focus on this; DIY Book Cloth, since I chose to use fabric for my cover; and DIY Hardcover Book, how to put all those pieces together.

So then I started folding all the signatures. I was watching so much Brooklyn Nine-Nine during both the folding and stitching sections, since it was repetitive actions I didn’t need to concentrate on that lasted hours.

It was at this point that I sliced each signature one by one to make the end smoother and less pointy. In future I recommend not doing it at this point - wait until the very end. Instead, move straight onto stitching.

I don’t have any photos of the stitching portion, since my phone died the morning I started the stitching, and I wasn’t able to replace it until after all the stitching was done. In fact, originally all the photos from before the stitching were lost too. It was only about two days ago that magically the My Photo Stream thing kicked in and brought back all the photos - if it had worked two weeks earlier I would’ve had more. As it is, all photos from September to January are gone forever, unfortunately. But that’s another discussion entirely.

The above is the first book photo on my new phone, so as you can see, all the stitching was completed, the spine was glued, and the purple paper attached. I couldn’t buy two A4 sheets, so instead I had to buy one A3 sheet and cut it in half. Which was difficult cycling home from the city with an A3 sheet that didn’t fit in my bag on account of being A3 and not A4, but oh well.

I don’t have a book press, so I used a pile of DND books and my brother’s weights instead, as shown below.

I then had to re-slice the book after this point bc my first go wasn’t even, on account of slicing each signature separately. Next time definitely I’ll just do it at the end like this. I then also sanded it to make it smoother. It’s still not perfect, but it’s something that’ll take practice and patience so.

Next I made the book cloth, which involves using appliqué sheets to combine cotton fabric and tissue paper. But first I want to talk about the fabric I chose for the cover, because I’m quite proud of it. I spent ages wandering around the shop, trying to find something that fit the feel of the book. Spoilers for the content of the fic if you haven’t read it yet, and also for the source material (999/Zero Escape). I was thinking about some sort of blue swirl thing, because of the Gigantic sinking. I found that, but hesitated because it didn’t fully fit, and my favourite colour is blue so I always pick blue. I also considered flames/fire because of the incinerator thing, but couldn’t find any. I can’t remember if I just couldn’t find any four leaf clover fabric, or if I’ve just since thought about that as a cover. But instead I chose the butterflies below. They fit in several subtle ways that I’m proud of. The colours of blue and pink(/red) matching the receiver and transmitter coding all throughout 999, as well as the moments of purple as well (I don’t think I need to get into that, I’m sure it was analysed to hell and back when the game first came out). The butterflies also point towards the butterfly effect, and in turn the different timelines present in the series. So together it just works. /spoilers over

It’s also just a pretty fabric.

Now the making of the book cloth. I had to make it twice, because I was too impatient the first time, so the iron was too hot and it steamed, which wrinkled and warped the tissue paper, so the fabric was all wrinkly too. The second time took ages and was a worse quality appliqué sheet, but worked well enough anyway.

(My parents: did you have the iron out? what were you ironing? you never iron)

And then I cut the book board to size, using the measurements from the tutorial video. I’ll repeat them here: front and back cover: width = width of textblock minus 3mm, and height = height of textblock plus 6mm, and spine width = width of textblock spine, spine height = same height as covers

I then glued the board onto the book cloth, and put it under the book press. The dnd books are not large enough to cover the whole thing, and also I really wanted the board to stay flat and not curl, so I grabbed way more dnd books and way more of my brother’s weights. I also accidentally started putting the glue on the wrong side of the board (bc one side is smooth and the other is rough), hence the colour difference as well.

The corners were cut and folded and glued over...

And then the textblock was glued in, and put in my book press for a whole weekend. I added a sheet of paper to absorb the glue so the pages wouldn’t become wrinkly, but instead the sheet I added was fine and every other page in the book is wrinkly. So I dunno what happened there. After the weekend I took it out and looked at it, and then put it back for another week to be sure.

And then the complete book is shown at the top of the post!

As I was starting I was talking a lot about it, like about the process I had to go through, or how I was going to obtain what I needed, etc. Mum asked if she could read the story. I froze, like a deer in the headlights... because this is a fanfic. She saw my fear and immediately backed down, explaining she only wanted to read it because if the story was that important to me that I was going to literally turn it into a book, she wanted to read it to yknow like know me better or something? Which makes sense. And when I got over my initial reaction, and remembered that indeed it was technically my dad who introduced me to fanfic, and thought about it more, I said okay. Because since the fic is technically a prequel to the first game, and most of the characters are technically OC’s (like, from the first game we know that all eighteen children must exist, but most of them don’t have names or anything so they are effectively OC’s), then knowledge of source material isn’t strictly necessary. This fic can probably be enjoyed on its own. I mean I’ll probably have to explain the concept of morphogenetic fields, and the last four chapters might not make sense? But I’m okay for my mum to read it. So when she’s less busy at work I’m going to download the epub onto her phone for her - we’ll see how it goes.

Anyway, this fic is a masterpiece, extremely well written and I highly recommend it. As said, most of the characters are effectively OC’s, and yet they are all given such rich histories and personalities. All of them have access to the morphogenetic field, so I’m just so glad that @airdeari explores nine unique relationships with the field - nine unique sibling dynamics, and esper powers and abilities. It’s just so good.

#bookbinding #zero escape #999 spoilers #999 #the first nonary game #airdeari #i forgot to mention the most essential step of making the book #before i printed the pages i read the entire fic again through word #its still so beautiful #i cant wait for my first read of the fic using my physical book #if youre in the ze fandom and still have not come across this fic yet #first of all who are you and what rock have you been living under #and second of all please read this fic bc its anything and everything you could ever want from a fng fic #feel free to ask more about this and what i did btw #it was so fun binding this book #i want to do more of my fav fics now haha #this fic is 100k and it was like the perfect size for a fic to print #most of the other fics i really like are much much longer so i'd probably have to split them in half #and idk if i could do that #too much pressure to split between the right chapters #oh well uni has started so i have a while to think about which one to do next #ive already promised a version of this fic for a friend who wants to draw her own cover #so we'll see how that goes!

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meetthetank · 5 years

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Peccatum Chapter 9: March

Ao3 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14454675/chapters/33391545

Rating: Mature Archive Warning: Graphic Depictions Of Violence Category: F/M Fandom: NieR: Automata (Video Game) Relationships: 2B/9S (NieR: Automata), A2/A4 (NieR: Automata), Jackass/The Commander (NieR: Automata) Characters: 2B (NieR: Automata), 9S (NieR: Automata), A2 (NieR: Automata), A4 (NieR: Automata), 6O (NieR: Automata), 21O, Jackass (NieR: Automata), The Commander (NieR: Automata) Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Alternate Universe, genre typical violence, long fic, Slow Burn, War

“So you shat your pants?” 11S asks.

The other scouts at the table can’t help but laugh at 9S, who buries his face in his arms in an attempt to make himself as small as possible.

“No! I keep telling you I didn’t shit my pants!” he yells just loud enough for the whole mess tent to hear him. He catches a glimpse of 2B giving him an odd look before he sinks into himself more, “She just...We were sparring and she won and I got embarrassed. That’s it!”

“Oooh no, that’s not it,” 801S, an older scout, says with a sly grin, “You were all sweaty, squirming, acting all hot and bothered.”

“I was not!!”

“Yes, you were!” 801S’ singsong voice makes 9S groan, “Did getting your ass kicked by a lovely lady...excite you? Is our Nines a little deviant?”

9S feels his face flush beet red, prompting a round of laughter from the table, “I’m gonna kick your ass if you don’t stop!!”

“What a story this will be!” shouts 42S, an aspiring bard, “9S, the young scout with a troubled past, returns from his northern excursion with an exotic and mysterious Coatyl woman! Her beauty only matched by her ferocity! A simple sparring match goes awry when things become deliciously heated and they-”

“That is if 6O doesn’t snatch her up first.” mutters 32S.

The table erupts into laughter once again. Fed up with their antics, 9S abruptly stands up and tries to make a hasty exit from the mess tent.

“Attention!!”

The bellowing voice of Commander White stops him in his tracks and silences the tent of hungry soldiers in an instant. Her steely gaze scans the tent to make certain she has everyone’s full attention.

“Tomorrow at dawn,” she begins, “We will be beginning our march towards Vigo.”

Murmurs ripple through the mess tent.

“I realize this is a month earlier than when we had planned originally, but we have received word that an aquatic demon of unknown size has been sighted in the bay. All ship traffic has been halted until the demon is either destroyed or moves on.”

Again, she waits until the muttering amongst the soldiers comes to a stop.

“Our task remains the same, however. We will assist Vigo in the evacuation of civilians, defending refugee camps, and transportation of supplies. The only thing that’s changed as of now is when we’re expected. Dismissed.”

The moment Commander White turns to exit the tent, conversation erupts from all the tables. All except the scouts, who share concerned looks with each other. Even 9S returns to his seat, his annoyance with the others quickly abandoned.

“A demon in the bay? What do you think it could be?” 32S mutters.

“Maybe a siren type?”

“I thought those were smaller…”

“They can get big, I’ve read reports of one that was the size of a mammoth.”

“That wouldn’t be enough to shut down a whole trade city.”

“Maybe it’s just a whale?”

“Whale’s don’t come into bays, dumbass.”

“What if…” 9S says, staring through his friends, “What if it’s something new?”

The others give him odd looks, “What do you mean, new?” 11S asks.

“I mean what if this is something we haven’t seen before? An aquatic siege engine type? Transport type? Or maybe some weird whale hybrid they’re trying to roll out.”

“...If it’s that, how in the world would we get rid of it?” 801S rubs his chin in thought.

9S shrugs, “Dunno, but that’s not really our job, is it?”

“No, but I’m gonna guess you’re gonna try and find out what the plan is,” he says with a grin.

“I won’t be doing anything if you lot don’t keep your mouths shut.” he growls.

The scouts ease back into their normal conversations, mainly complaints about the early start tomorrow. Before he gets drawn back into the group, he spots 2B on her way out and gives her a small wave. She returns his gesture, and he can’t help the wide smile that spreads across his face.

“Have you ever been to Vigo, 2B?” 6O asks as they exit the mess tent.

“-M made a point t’ stay away fr-...m human settlements.” she responds with a mouthful of potatoes, “There were too many stories we were told as cubs of Coatyls being hunted for sport or paraded around circuses.”

“Right…” 6O sighs, “so, does that mean you’re not gonna stick around when we get to Vigo?”

“I...I’m not sure yet. I still don’t have a good lead on where A2 is. Maybe this city will have something.”

“You think they might be hiding out in Vigo?”

“Or someone that may have seen something.”

“You’re not seriously going to ask every person in the city if they’ve seen them, are you?” There’s a hint of genuine concern in 6O’s voice that makes 2B huff, “Well when you say it out loud…”

6O giggles and playfully jabs her in the side. “I’m just teasing you. I’ll help you ask around when I’m off duty.”

2B mutters a quick thanks, then quickly looks over her shoulder as the laughter of the scouts' echoes through the tent. For such small men, they could certainly be quite loud.

“Well, we’d be glad to have you stick around with us, 2B. I know there would be some of us that would be sad to see you go.”

“Hm...Perhaps.”

True to her word, Commander White’s wake up call came before the sun had begun to rise. Or rather, Lieutenant Jackass’ wake up call. She parades around the camp, slamming two iron cooking pans together and shouting as loud as her lungs will allow. One by one, annoyed soldiers emerge from the tents, only to be immediately assigned a task to break down the camp. Within minutes, activity surges through the encampment and it begins to disappear, packed into crates and carriages, piece by piece. The sun is just cresting over the horizon by the time there’s nothing left but a worn down patch of dirt.

9S and the other scouts are assigned to helping the stablehands with the horses. They hitch up the temperamental beasts with little resistance. Despite being bred for war, they seem to sense that something is about to change and need to be calmed down with pats and bribery treats every so often. 9S isn’t too bothered, however. He’s been around horses as long as he can remember; their bizarre behaviors comes as no surprise to him. In fact, they seem to be fairly comfortable around him, one of the large chestnut geldings even nibbles at his hair to get a laugh out of him.

2B, on the other hand, does not mix well with horses.

With her dragonic strength, she volunteered herself to lift some of the heavier crates. Things that would take two or three full-grown men to lift, she would carry like it was nothing. Occasionally, 9S will stop in his tracks as he watches her heft box after box into a carriage, with 6O standing close by cheering her on.

Other times he watches her try to pat the dappled mare that’s hitched to the carriage she’s loading, only for the agitated beast to try and bite off her fingers. She squawks and leaps back, yelling profanities and jumping between common and a strange language 9S presumes to be dragonic. The mare, of course, doesn’t yell back. She just snorts and shakes her head at nothing in particular while 2B hisses at her.

It’s...much less impressive than watching her feats of strength.

Still, he can’t help but laugh. It makes her seem far less intimidating. Endearing, even. It’s nice to see she’s not always so dour and serious, or at least not the point that she isn’t above arguing with a horse.

She really is something...

He snorts as 6O eventually steps between the huffy Coatyl and the horse as if she’s separating two brawlers. They’re too far away for him to hear the conversation fully, but he swears he hears 6O telling 2B that she would lose that fight. 9S makes a mental note to tease her about this later. For now, though, he has a list of tasks to deal with, including helping his mother load fifteen cages of ornery ravens into carts.

Being the unofficial assistant to a healer means 2B is volunteered to help sick and injured soldiers into a cramped carriage set to be in the middle of the march. Her strength makes lifting full grown men easy, but 6O and the other healers have to guide her into not jostling broken limbs and tender stitching too much.

By the time the army would normally be settling in for breakfast, they begin the march towards Vigo. By 21O’s rough estimation they would reach the city within the week, but they would have to keep a quick pace. Traveling alone is one thing, but traveling with the entire company is another. No falling behind or rushing ahead. Everything must be in time with each other, otherwise, the whole caravan would fall apart. Commander White rides at the front, flanked by Jackass and several high ranking officers. Behind them, most of the army keeps pace with supply carriages dotted within the ranks. A troop of the best performing soldiers brings up the rear as a precaution against surprise attacks.

However, a solid mile ahead of the main army, the scouts travel in a loose and unsuspecting band, with one addition. 2B circles above them, flying ahead for a mile or so and then doubling back to circle a few times, then repeating the process. She insisted on staying with the scouts despite the protests of 9S. He did not take too kindly to her pointing out that they were small and easily targeted by anything larger than a house cat. She was right, but she didn’t have to say it so harshly…If a fight did break out, having a dragon overhead would be an incredible boon.

He could do without the teasing, though.

“You’re a lucky little bastard, you know that?” 11S says as 2B circles their group.

9S looks up at his friend and sighs, “What?”

“You know what people would give to have a godsdamned dragon be interested in them?”

He feels his cheeks heat up, “She’s not interested in me.”

“Why is she literally hovering above you, though?”

“Cause we’re easy targets!”

“Getting a bit defensive there, aren’t ya, Nines?” 801S says with a sly smile.

“Yeah, you’re not subtle there, buddy.” adds 11S. “It’s pretty obvious what’s going on.”

“And what exactly is ‘going on’?” 9S huffs.

“You fancy her.”

9S sputters and stops in his tracks, “I d-...Bu-....Y-...Shut up! She can probably hear you!”

801S cackles and 9S swears he sees 2B’s head tilt downward before she soars on ahead once more.

“So you do!”

“Well it’s obvious isn’t it?!” 9S growls. “I mean, you’ve seen her, she’s gorgeous and strong and-!”

He feels a roiling in his stomach at the admission of his feelings coming to light. It’s nonsensical though! It’s not like he’s about to propose to her, he’s just admitting to finding her attractive. So why does it feel like he’s about to vomit?!

“Tell her then,” 32S mumbles bluntly.

“Are you mad?! No! She’d eat me alive!”

“She didn’t eat you alive when you got a hard-on from her kicking your ass, that means she likes you, right?” 42S says to himself mostly.

“I did not-!!” 9S takes a deep breath and tries to calm his embarrassment before he ends up shouting loud enough for the Commander to hear, “...Look, so what if I do...fancy her, there’s no way she’d ever give a moment of her time to someone like me.”

801S gives him a sideways glare, “What the hell are you talking about, 9S?”

“2B’s the kind of person who’d end up with a legendary hero or something, not some scrawny half-breed.”

“You might not be entirely wrong, but there’s plenty of self-made heroes in this army,” 801S says with nothing but sincerity in his voice. “Yet she’s spending her time with you.”

“And 6O,” 42S adds quickly.

“And 6O but, let's face it, Nines. 6O is more likely to be your new step-mom than she is to snatch up 2B.”

“Hey, wait a second, what the hell does that mean?!”

Their conversation switches in the blink of an eye and as 9S gets drawn into another round of teasing, he sees 2B flying a bit closer to the ground than before. Their eyes meet for a brief moment, and in an instant, she’s soaring ahead of the group once more.

9S feels his stomach drop and flutter at the same time.

#nier automata #nier fanfiction #fanfiction #fantasy au #2B #9S #6O #801S #2B9S

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drizzitwrites · 5 years

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Deleted Scenes

So... I still feel badly that I (a) haven’t managed to get this fic done in SEVEN ENTIRE MONTHS and (b) don’t have anything written for the lovely @heatherxlovett‘s birthday OR a fic for Christian’s birthday (I have one planned, but I need to write these other two first, so probably in three years you’ll see it).

To remedy that, here’s the chapter I’ve been working on editing for the last week and then on Sunday realised I needed to change it because there’s a storyline in here that I LOVE, but am planning to work into the AU I’m writing so I didn’t want to work it in here in an effort to maybe pretend I don’t just write the same fic over and over again.

So... here you all are. To one of my most loyal readers, who always leaves the comment I want to come back to when I’ve had a terrible day and am convinced I’ll never be any good at this writing thing.

Gelukkige verjaardag, lieverd! I hope it’s a good one!

(For context, a few chapters ago, Vincent found out that Ben knows he and Christian are together, so that’s what they’re talking about in this scene)

“Vincent,” Ben said as he slipped back into the living room. “Hold on a second, mate. I’ll give you a hand with all that.”

“There is no need,” Vincent said, glancing down at the stack of crockery in his hands. “It isn’t much.”

It wasn’t. Three plates--one still at least half full of the small sandwiches Vincent had made earlier, despite his insistence that Ben and Coco help him out and eat a few of them. They’d obliged, both of them complimenting his pairing of flavours if not his presentation, although he still wasn’t convinced their praise hadn’t been out of some sort of sense of politeness. Christian, for his part, had dutifully finished the one he’d been given earlier and grabbed a second one absentmindedly a few minutes later, but hadn’t offered Vincent anything more in the way of comment.

In fact, he hadn’t offered Vincent much more in the way of anything, instead focusing in on the match and engaging Ben and Coco in an in-depth analysis of tactics, positioning, and ball movement. Vincent could have joined in, but he’d found he didn’t have much to say on the subject.

After all, who wanted to listen to someone who’d failed out of club football, gotten himself injured, and then spent their summer watching the competition instead of participating in it?

He might have been the one to call this little gathering into being in the first place, but all it had done was make him feel resentful—of the easy way Ben and Coco fit into Christian’s life, of his teammates and friends cheering and hugging as they cleared yet another hurdle on their path to the World Cup trophy. Of his entire place in the world, or lack thereof, if he was being honest.

It was stupid, he knew, but if there was one thing he’d learned in the past few years of his life it was that you couldn’t help the way something made you feel. All you could do was process those feelings and move on.

So move on he would. He’d done his best to enjoy the match alongside his friends. Later, he’d thank them all for coming, wish them well, and tell them he would see them at training on Monday.

Then, hopefully, he could finally fall into Christian’s arms and forget all about the World Cup and Oranje and Spurs and Fenerbahçe and everything that wasn’t the heat of Christian’s body against his own.

Clink of glass, and Vincent looked up to see Ben attempting to gather up the empty bottles of beer, water, and fruit juice from where they’d been strewn about the various tables. Vincent had planned to drop the crockery in the kitchen then retrieve the drinks bottles and sort them into the bin for recycling, but he certainly wouldn’t refuse the help.

“Thanks.”

“Anytime. I thought…” Ben’s face went suddenly serious, an expression Vincent rarely saw him wear off the football pitch. “Are you alright?”

“Am I…? Yes, I think so,” Vincent responded. “Should I not be?”

An interesting question. Vincent could cover the front and at least half the back of an A4-sized paper with all the reasons he had to not be alright, but Ben didn’t need to know about most of them.

“Dunno. I just thought…about our conversation earlier.” He reached up and absently scratched at the back of his head.

“Oh. That.”

Truth be told, Vincent would rather they just forget the incident in the kitchen had ever occurred and go about their lives.

“I admit it was not what I expected,” he said. “But… everything is good. You’re never sure about these things and how people will react. So. Thank you. For not being…” He finished the sentence with a shrug and a vague sort of hand gesture.

Ben rewarded him with a soft laugh. “I’m not one to judge. Especially not when it comes to something like this.”

“Still,” Vincent said. “Thanks.”

He reached down to lift a stray fork from the table and found that his hand was trembling slightly. Clearly, he still wasn’t ready to face this new reality where Ben—and probably others—knew about his relationship with Christian, no matter how accepting of it they might be.

It should be a relief; a weight lifted off his shoulder, allowing him to breathe easier. But somehow, the idea that Ben had somehow managed to figure out the secret Vincent thought he’d so carefully kept hidden only made his heart slam in his chest and a lump rise in his throat.

And…how the hell did Ben know?

The words rushed out of he mouth before Vincent could even hope to stop them. “How did you find out? About Christian and I?”

Flash of white teeth as Ben grinned over at him, eyebrows raised. “Seriously? I mean… you two aren’t exactly the most subtle about things.”

At the look of panic that had clearly flickered onto Vincent’s face, Ben held up a hand.

“Okay.” He dropped his gathered up drinks containers to the table with a series of clinks and thuds, then lifted the stack of plates out of Vincent’s hands. “First things first, I’m taking these before you drop them. The last thing either of us needs is a broken foot. Or Christian rushing in here wanting to know why there’s a mess of sandwich remnants and broken pottery all over his floor.”

Vincent thought about protesting, but he realised Ben was right. This wasn’t a conversation he should be having while carrying anything heavy or potentially breakable.

Ben set the plates on the table beside the collected drink containers then sat down on the sofa, motioning for Vincent to join him.

“Was I that obvious?” Vincent asked once they were both seated, Vincent once again in his customary seat by the door, Ben in Christian’s seat in the centre. “I mean…does everyone know?”

“Not everyone,” Ben said. “Probably. Its not as though you’re telegraphing your passes or anything, just…”

Ben tipped his head back to stare up at the ceiling for a few seconds before turning back to Vincent, his usually cheerful face now sombre. “Let’s just say that when it comes to Christian… I have some experience with things like this.”

“Hm. Yes,” Vincent said. “I suppose that is true. You and Christian have been friends for years. I forget sometimes, because I feel I’ve known him forever, but… Sometimes I think you know him better than I do.”

This time it was Ben’s turn for an impromptu coughing fit.

He doubled over beside Vincent, chest pressed against his thighs as his body shook and his eyes widened, face turning red as he gasped for air.

Vincent stared over at him, hands raised in some futile gesture to do something, although he had no idea exactly what.

With his luck, he’d try to intervene and end up making it worse. Better if he stayed out of it. He could see the headlines already: FAILED SPURS STRIKER NEARLY STRANGLES EX-TEAMMATE TO DEATH. No thank you.

After what felt like an eternity, Ben slowly sat up, sucking in breath after breath as he leaned back into the sofa cushions.

“Wow…” he managed to choke out. “That’s… I mean… Wow.”

He drew in one last deep breath and blew it out in a slow hiss, his eyes closed, his cheeks and ears still pink.

“That’s…” He flicked his eyes open and glanced over at Vincent. “Not quite what I meant. I mean… time was I would have been thrilled if you were right, but…”

“What?” Vincent asked, tipping his head to the side and studying Ben’s face as though it might reveal something he’d missed—some odd turn of phrase or alternate word meaning he hadn’t picked up on. What had Ben meant? What did Ben think he’d meant?

Not for the first time, he wished he could have this conversation in Dutch. His English had improved massively since his move to Turkey, where the only way he’d been able to communicate with just about anyone had been halting conversations in broken English on both sides, but he still wasn’t very good at getting his point across, let alone parse the alternate meanings of everything.

Ben’s choking coughs turned to laughter, and Vincent held up a hand to cut off whatever he was about to say.

“Godverdamme, I didn’t ask to have this conversation.”

He flung himself backward into the sofa cushions until the back of his head collided with the rounded top, wondering if there was any way he could manage to absorb into the smooth fabric and disappear.

Ben made a noise that was half-cough, half-laugh. “Honestly, mate, I didn’t even mean to take the piss with that one, it sort of just happened. I can’t help it. I’m British. We’re always a half-step away from utter buffoonery.”

“Of course. How lucky for me.”

“Right,” Ben said. “Let me just… start over. Or something.”

Vincent twitched both his eyebrows upward in response, then realised Ben couldn’t actually see him with his face tipped up towards the ceiling and begrudgingly sat up, arms folded across his chest.

“Christian and I are good friends, and I’m glad of that. Wouldn’t change it for anything, but…”

He shook his head, face set in a wry smile. ��“I don’t know if you know, but Christian tends towards the oblivious when it comes to these things. Relationships and the like.”

“Yes,” Vincent said. He couldn’t help but return Ben’s derisive laugh. Did Vincent know? He’d spent months of his life completely convinced that Christian hated him, despite Jan and Mousa’s repeated reassurances to the contrary.

“Thought you might,” Ben said. “Honestly, trying to get through to him is like repeatedly slamming your entire body into a wall at full tilt. You keep doing it, hoping somehow you’ll budge it or break through or whatever, but eventually, the day comes when you realise what you’re doing is pointless and you’re never going to get anywhere. Unless you’re either really stubborn or really stupid.”

Vincent narrowed his eyes, trying to keep up with Ben’s logic He was fairly sure there was a thinly veiled insult in there somewhere, but he wasn’t quite sure.

“Don’t worry, mate,” Ben said, clearly noticing Vincent’s confusion. “Pretty sure you’re the former. Or… more the former than the latter, at least.”

And that was definitely a thinly-veiled insult, although if Vincent thought about it, he couldn’t really argue with it. These days, it seemed like his entire life had been built on stubbornness and stupidity.

Ben barreled on, not giving Vincent an opportunity to speak any words in his defense even if he’d had any.

“It’s not as if I’m any less stubborn. Or stupid. I kept trying for years. Long past the point where any sane person would have admitted nothing was ever going to happen between him and me and packed it in.”

He let out a wry laugh. “But that’s my way, I guess. Honestly, if you hadn’t rocked up I’d probably still be at it. So, really, I ought to thank you. For saving me from myself.”

Vincent felt his mouth drop open as he stared over at Ben. He knew he should close it. Could hear his mother’s voice in the back of his mind. ‘Doe je mond dicht, Vincent. Je zult vliegen vangen.’ But… had Ben just implied…?

“You…?” Vincent finally managed to stammer out. “But…”

He dropped his chin to his chest and ground the heels of his hands against his forehead. What was his life today, seriously?

He’d spent months convincing himself that the little spark of jealousy that had always flared in his chest whenever he saw Ben and Christian together had been ridiculous and his suspicions of something more between them unfounded.

They were close friends, and nothing more. A mantra Vincent had chanted to himself on repeat until he finally convinced himself.

Ben and Christian had been friends for years before Vincent had flickered into Christian’s orbit. He had no claims on Christian and no reason to feel any anger or resentment towards Ben for simply existing in Christian’s life.

And now Ben was telling him that all his suspicions had been right all along?

Vincent’s head was back to spinning again; this time with a completely new set of questions. The first and foremost being a simple, “What?”

“What?” Ben echoed. “Me and Christian? Oh my God, mate, did you honestly not know?”

The pitch of his voice ascended with each word. He stared at Vincent, mouth slightly open, eyes wide.

“No,” Vincent said, blinking over at him. “Was I supposed to know?”

“I just…” Ben said. “I thought everyone knew. Well. Everyone but Christian, of course.”

He let out a huff of a laugh. “Apparently it’s ‘accidentally spill your deepest secrets to your mates’ day. Good job we’ve already had the party.” He punctuated this by lifting his hands in front of them and shaking his wrists, making his hands flutter “jazz hands” style.

And…did Ben seriously think Vincent had known he had feelings for Christian and then charged ahead with his own feelings regardless? He’d like to believe he wasn’t quite that insensitive.

Then again, considering Vincent had performed twelve different kinds of mental and emotional acrobatics to convince himself there was nothing going on between Christian and Ben, he honestly couldn’t say he would have done anything differently had he known.

Would his feelings towards Christian have changed? Would he actually have backed away from his pursuit and given Ben space? Or would he have blundered on as usual, only with the added foolishness of turning it into a competition that no one could hope to win.

More than likely, the whole thing would have dragged into endless tension between them, all of it undoubtedly spilling out into the dressing room and onto the pitch until it crashed to an end— Vincent and Ben forcing themselves into professional civility and nothing more; Christian still single and blissfully unaware.

Which… might have been alright for Christian, really.

“I’m sorry,” Vincent said. “If I had known…”

Ben waved him off. “None of that. Honestly, I’m long past it. I admit I was a bit put out at first—I think I’d convinced myself that Christian just wasn’t the type to go in for any sort of relationship with anyone, so when he started turning down invites to go out in favour of spending time with you, I’m not afraid to admit that it stung a bit. But when I see the way he looks at you when he thinks no one is looking. I mean… here.”

He slid over to the other end of the sofa and examined the long shelves lining the wall, index finger raised as he scanned back and forth over the rows of framed photographs. Finally, he let out an “ah”, snapped his fingers, grabbed two of the pictures, and slid back over towards Vincent.

“So what it is is… consider this, right. I mean, look at this photo of Christian and I during Pochettino’s first mid-winter training camp in Barcelona.”

He held out the frame, and Vincent took it. The photo depicted Christian and Ben seated together behind a table in a restaurant, heads tipped together and arms slung around shoulders. Now that Vincent knew about Ben’s feelings he could see them written on his face as plain as day. He was looking at Christian with more than just his usual bright smile, this one instead laced with all the longing and adoration Vincent had grown all too familiar with in his own pursuit of Christian.

Christian, for his part, was also smiling—grin wide, blue eyes squinted slightly as he laughed at whatever Ben had just said. It was a genuine smile, not one of those forced, strained things he tended to put on for the media, but it didn’t convey anything more than his joy in the moment—Christian surrounded by friends in a place he loved.

Ben shoved another photograph at him.

This one Vincent was intimately familiar with. He and Christian side-by-side in a dimly lit restaurant. It was the night before they’d all left on international duty at the start of last season—Vincent still in London, for the time, but not expecting to return.

He had the same photo on his phone Had printed it out and framed it to sit beside his bed in his lonely, cramped Istanbul flat so he could look at it every night before he went to sleep—a cautionary tale of the mistake he’d made by not saying yes to one of the loan offers that would have kept him in England. He’d gotten arrogant and greedy, and while he’d enjoyed his time in Istanbul and truly hoped to return there in a few weeks time, he’d wanted to remember that moment. To learn from it.

“Look,” Ben said. “ Same setting—or at least, the same idea—but… I mean, look at him, Vincent, he’s positively glowing. I’ve known Christian for a minute now, and I don’t think I’ve ever seen him look at someone the way he’s looking at you there. So yeah, mate, if I hadn’t conceded defeat long ago, I’d be stupid not to do now.”

Vincent stared down at the two photos for a while longer, studying each of them in turn before slotting them back into their places on the shelf.

He smiled, then shook his head and punched Ben lightly in the arm. “Still. I will have my eyes on you, Davies.”

Ben let out a laugh and held up both his hands in a gesture of surrender.

Friends, mate, nothing more. I swear it.”

“Good. Christian is lucky to have you. And so am I.”

#writing #drizzit writes #football rpf #christian eriksen x vincent janssen #thoughts on writing and life #deleted scenes

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peeppeephellofatface · 7 years

Text

Tagged by @magnificentmallard on my main but pretty sure she’s more interested in the characters here (unless you really wanted my non-loco OCs on @lerrengwesten)

I’ll just do my interpretation Spencer for now, unless you specifically want someone else. I’ve just been thinking about him the most recently even though I haven’t looked through all his eps yet.

Name: Spencer

Nickname: Spence, Mr. Silver Steam, Streak

Age: Technically 82, appears considerably younger (how he looks in Thomas except with proper A4 shape/proportions in loco form)

SPecies: A4 Pacific steam locomotive with a face and sometimes an entire body if he decides to come out of his metal body.

||Personal||

Religious Belief: He’s a steam engine lol

But probably believes in some sort of afterlife, probably doesn’t think too much about higher powers but might have a somewhat Anglican/generally Christiam view of them as that’s the predominant religion of where he lives.

Sins: lust / greed / GLUTTONY / SLOTH / PRIDE / ENVY? / wrath

Virtues: Chastity / charity / diligence / HUMILITY (?) / kindness / patience / justice

Primary goals in life: He just wants to be useful and loved even though he tends to go about it the wrong way and make a fool of himself.

Languages known: English

Secrets: He’s actually very lonely and somewhat doubtful of his abilities from how much he’s fucked up in life.

Quirks: It’s a physical thing, but he’s pretty much the only A4 with chubbier facial features and wider eyes.

Savvies: Really fast and pretty strong in both loco and humanoid form (which seems more surprising in the latter due to his size). Does being adorable count?

||Physical||

Height: A4-sized as a loco (not sure how tall they are), 6′5″ as a humanoid

Weight: Over 100 tons lol. As a humanoid I don’t really know, probably 2-3x my own weight hahaha

Scars/Birthmarks: Might have scars from past accidents or overhauls in humanoid form? Not really sure about that. Tempted to say he might have some stretch marks on his tummy/butt but also not really certain.

Abilities/Powers: A4 speed/strength as a loco of course and generally stronger/faster than regular humans as a humanoid. I guess he doesn’t sunburn or really die/get permanently damaged in that form either?

Restrictions: He whines if conditions aren’t ideal and being an A4, can be maintenance-heavy and finicky. Not really the greatest loco on hills either. Often unaware of his physical state as well.

||Favorites||

Favorite drink: Still not sure if these guys can really drink or not but I mean, he does drink a lot of water.

Favorite Pizza topping: Mod has never had pizza, no input here lol

Favorite color: Silver/light grey and black of course, might also be fond of blue or hate it.

Favorite music genre: Not really sure if people ever play music for him? Might go for classical? Or something popular in the 30s? Dunno

Favorite book genre: Don’t think he reads a ton, but I could see him enjoying bird watching guides or something because like Mal, he probably has a weakness for birds inherited from his bird watcher designer.

Favorite movie genre: Probably videos people took of him XD Or just train-related movies in general.

Favorite season: Maybe summer?

Favorite butt type: He’s not really a butt guy

Favorite swear word: tbh he probably doesn’t swear a lot he seems pretty uptight. He’s more likely to insult someone/something when he’s mad or just be sad instead.

Favorite scent: Seems like the kind of guy who might like very clean smells, but probably likes the smell of things baking as well. I kind of imagine locos don’t have a very good sense of smell and they’re more reliant on sight/hearing or feeling in humanoid form since it’s much more sensitive.

Favorite quote: Anything about him being a good boy XD

||Fun stuff||

bottom or top: Honestly? Bottom. He likes being dominated by chicks that are smaller than him.

Sings in the shower: If he knows nobody’s around :P

Likes bad puns: Probably not

Morality: True or chaotic neutral maybe?

Build: A big boy who’s strong and muscular beneath quite a bit of squish

Favorite Food: As much as the mod hates cheesecake, I can’t help but associate it with him. Though he probably loves fancy deserts in general.

Theme music: His theme from S7 :P

Opinion on the mun: Probably embarrassed by how much embarrassing stuff about him leaks out :P

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