#(+ immediately as a result without thinking about the consequences. testing the waters- do you really like girls? and I think she got her -

[theonlygamergost]

Gestures are louder than words - Fd!au

This fanfiction is based on the Family Dynamic au made by @antarctic-bay if you would like to know more, go check them out!!!

Also please bear in mind that the things written in this might not be canon!

Of course, this fic was grammatically corrected by the amazing @im-default

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To get a better context, read this first, if you don't want to, have a quick summary :)

Tommy comes back home in a very bad mood, Wilbur and Phil are concerned but end up making the situation worse, but Techno knows how to make Tommy talk : ASL (American sign language.

~~~~~~~~~~~

Warnings! Bullying, repressed anger, yelling, angst, hoo boy angst, crying, angst with a good ending, fluff and brother bonding moment :)

(The cursive and bold words are meant to be when they speak in gestures)

Enjoy~

“Ah, welcome back Tommy!” The inviting smell coming from whatever Phil was cooking welcomed him in just like his brother, both of which reminded him of his oopsie: He arrived home late.

Well… Phil did end his shift early, but arriving home after him for all of the brothers meant “they stayed out too late” since he always arrived home deep into the night.

“T-thanks...” Tommy sighed, Wilbur was on the counter, too absorbed into his algebra problems to notice him. Techno was nowhere to be seen but he wasn’t surprised, his door was closed so…you could imagine where he was, hint: when he wasn’t home his room’s door was open.

Closing himself in his room, he allowed his back to slide down the door until he sat on the floor, bringing his knees to his chest and squeezing them tight.

He wasn’t sad, he wasn’t crying, he was simply angry, hoo boy he was angry.

Taking a deep breath, he got up and sat at his desk, grabbing a notebook out of his backpack.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“You go around with a plushie? Pff, what a child…” Tubbo reached out for his bee plushie “Give me Spins back!”, needlessly since another bully pushed him on the ground.

“Aw~ the doggy wants his toy?”

“Give. It. Back.” Tommy appeared behind the bullies, shoving one of them onto the ground.

“Oh my… the Ally of Justice, The Protector of the Weak!” one mocked him.

As a punch was about to hit the bully’s face, a teacher arrived and stopped both of them, blaming it more on Tommy than the real bully, sending them both home.

~~~~~~~~~~~

The music from his headphones brought him back to reality, scribbling down words for his English homework, god he was pissed.

How dare they bully Tubbo! And for his plushie Spins! Of course, he had already made a plan on how to get back at them, no one messes with his best friend without paying for it, yet he still couldn’t see that situation as a win for the bullies.

The teacher always saw him as the one at fault, he was the “Black Sheep” of the Pandel brothers, the disgrace of the fami-

A knock interrupted his train of thoughts, “Dinner is ready! Come wash your hands, you gremlin” came from behind the door, a distant “That’s kinda mean Will” accompanied it.

He sat at the table, one of the chairs was empty: Techno was missing, but what’s new? It was his habit to skip dinner, Tommy wondered if he would have skipped tonight’s one too.

“Techno! Food’s ready, come eat!” Phil half-shouted while serving the food, all of them stood quietly waiting for the response.

…

“Techno?” Phil took off the potholders and peeked into his room, a muffled “Kinda busy right now, I’ll come at the table in a minute” came his response.

Phil’s cuisine had always been better than restaurant’s in Tommy’s eyes, and the omelette with bacon and cheese he had prepared today was just like everything else he cooked: amazing.

Tommy once asked Phil where he had learned how to cook so well, his response was a simple “Mom and dad were both very good at cooking, you’d also be surprised how much you can learn from watching videos” kinda cliche, but fair enough.

“How was your day at school boys?” Phil asked after swallowing down a bite, Tommy gestured at Will to go first.

“All and all, my day went pretty well. Had a test but it was quite easy, Nikki and I also went to a bar and chatted ‘till it was time to go back, pretty chill day.” Wilbur nodded at his own thoughts and drank some water, then both of them looked at Tommy.

“What” He stared back, eyes flickering between the two brothers.

“So? How was your day?” Will encouraged him to talk, Tommy rolled his eyes. “Nothin’ special” he started, ”The history teacher scolded me for chewing a gum in class and…” after a deep breath and a couple of thoughts processed, “N-nothing else happened.” he decided to stay quiet. He couldn’t be bothered to explain the whole thing to them, especially since Phil could scold him for punching that dick-bag in the face, that would just put him in an even worse mood.

But of course, his brothers wouldn’t let that slide.

“Are you sure that’s all it happened? You don’t look like someone who had a “Nothing special” kinda day.” Will had always been curious, maybe too curious at times, Phil also nodded: They weren’t blind, they could see that Tommy wasn’t in a good mood.

“Oh come on Will, I was the one who lived my day, I’m telling you, nothing special happened!” Techno emerged from his room and grabbed a plate, no one really noticed him though. Tommy shoved a bite in his mouth to avoid saying more than he should.

“I know we are being kinda pushy Tommy but-” “Yes!!! You are being very pushy Phil!!!” At this point, he couldn’t hold it in, he wasn’t mad at them… but the rage he had suppressed before to avoid making a scene at school had to get out somehow.

“We are just worried about you Tommy! Show some appreciation!” Will stood up for Phil: the brothers didn’t like it when someone yelled at or didn’t treat their older brother well, many times Tommy had done what Wilbur was doing, but his mind wasn’t calm enough to think right now.

“Oh?! Worried?! For me?! If you would really be worried you would just LEAVE ME BE!!!” He turned around and slammed as hard as he could the door shut, the noise echoed through the Pandel house, then silence.

Tommy took his pillow and started punching it, letting the anger and tension out, after a couple of swings, he threw it to the other side of the room.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The rest of the Pandel brothers ate in silence, each of them absorbed into their own thoughts about the same topic: Tommy.

“So…Who is gonna go talk to him?” Wilbur broke the silence. “It’s better if no one goes talk to him right now, you heard him, he wants to be left alone.” Will looked at Phil “But we can’t leave him in that state! We have to-!” the older one finished his sentence “Help him, I know, but talking to him now will only make things worse, so let’s wait until he comes out” He stood up and grabbed Tommy’s plate, Phil moved what he left into a small container. “And if someone should talk to him” He opened the fridge, “It should be Techno, he has more chances of talking to him without an immediate rejection” Wilbur stared at the food in his plate in defeat, Techno simply nodded and ate the last bite of omelette: He even might have an idea on how to approach him.

~~~~~~~~~

Tommy left his room as Techno entered his, to put up his plan he had to stay in the living room, so that’s what he was going to do.

He grabbed what he needed to study and sat at the very end of the counter, immediately focusing on the textbook in front of him.

After Tommy looked at Techno weird since he rarely studied in the living room, he opened the fridge and grabbed a glass, filled it with milk, and went back to the sofa where he had dropped off his switch, sitting down and plugging in the earphones, he started playing “Breath of the Wild”. Tubbo had already finished it and Tommy wanted to try it out, being too broke to buy it, Tubbo lent his out of pity.

“Techno can you help me with this?” Will approached the counter with his textbook in hand, the pen in the other hand was busy scratching his head “I keep getting the wrong result and I don’t know-”

“No” He replied without taking his eyes off of his textbook, “Awww come on! I need to do this for tomorrow!” Techno sighed and patted the seat next to his, closing his homework to make room for Wilbur’s.

~~~~~~~~~~~

Almost an hour had passed and Techno had both helped Wilbur, who was now doing other work next to him and had finished his own stuff, he stretched his arms and back gaining a smile from Phil who was also working on his old pc.

After pouring a glass of milk for the rest of the brothers, including himself, he drank it all down and flopped on the sofa right in front of Tommy, who looked up to see why the seat had moved and then went back to his game.

Techno sat in a more comfortable position and started to tap on Tommy’s leg with his foot to grab his attention.

At first, all he got was some annoyed sounds, then his legs were pushing him away, and finally, he got his attention.

“What?!” He barked, eyes fixed on his smirking face. For any other person, Techno simply started waving his hands around while mouthing words, but for Tommy that was way more, that was Sign language.

What are you doing? Tommy rolled his eyes and placed his Switch on his lap, I don’t want to talk right now, Techno snickered, As if you have a choice. The younger one sighed.

At the start of the year, Tommy wasn’t doing so good with grades, his problem was that he couldn’t remember anything no matter how hard he tried. Yet Techno had noticed how he could remember fighting moves (taught to him by Deo) and other stuff pretty easily, his solution? Sign language.

The sentences were very short to gesture and way easier to remember, like that, Tommy’s grades went up in no time.

As a consequence, Techno and Tommy were the only one in the house that knew how to talk in ASl (American Sign Language), so of course, they used it to share secrets or just to annoy Wilbur since he couldn’t understand.

They also used it to talk in the cafeteria to either insult each other without getting scolded or to have a normal conversation. It was their own special way of communicating and bonding over stuff.

I know that Will and Phil bothered you about your mood, but you seriously need to let it out, his body got stiff as a self-defence mechanism, Unless you want to become a ticking time-bomb and explode near someone you care about... again.

Tommy’s eyes widened at the flashback of him shouting at Deo for something he hadn’t done came back, he was so mad he insulted his dear friend heavily, it took him an entire week to make the guilt go away and another two weeks to muster up the courage he needed to talk to him again. Deo forgave him but… to this day, Tommy still hadn’t forgiven himself.

After a minute of zoning out, he started gesturing and mouthing again:

Two students started making fun of Tubbo and I intervened, I punched one of them but… Techno’s arms were crossed as he was reading what Tommy was saying, Let me guess Wilbur looked up from his textbook and saw Techno gesturing, he wanted to yell at them to use their voices so bad… but he had to endure it this time… for Tommy’s sake.

A teacher walked in just as you punched him, blamed it on you, and sent you both home? Tommy looked at the console in his lap and slowly nodded, Techno sighed and patted the empty space next to him, smiling at the blonde boy.

Tommy crawled to the spot and hugged Techno, who just embraced him tightly while caressing his back in comfort, and the bomb, slowly defused itself: Tommy started sobbing, letting his emotions out.

“I’ll help you avenge him tomorrow” Techno whispered just before grabbing a blanket and wrapping it around the both of them, “We’ll make them pay, I promise Tommy” Tommy nodded and got even closer to Techno.

A shaky “T-thank you…” was all that came out of Tommy’s mouth before more sobs took over.

Will, who saw the whole scene, shook Phils arm lightly, pointing at the younger brothers.

He smiled at them and looked back at Wilbur, who leaned to whisper in his ear “Let them be” to then pat his shoulder.

Wilbur looked back at Techno and Tommy and smiled too.  

[bbyboybrock--archived]

Payback (Colby Brock Imagine)

Summary: *REQUEST* “eyy! can you do an imagine where reader has a nickname for Colby which is embarrassing/silly and the jake, who clearly doesn't know that reader is the only one who can call him that heard it and decided to tease Colby and started calling him by the nickname, so one day he learns the consequences. Idk if you understand it but yeah 😄❤😘”

Written: 2020

Word Count: 1,303

Warnings: Swearing, slight fluff?

Masterlist

I woke up this morning to a camera in my face. Living in the trap house, this isn’t something that I’m not used to. It’s basically a non-spoken agreement when you start dating and living with one of the guys. Tara and Kat were smart to not move in with Jake and Sam. They get to get dress, do their makeup, and mentally prepare to film whereas I just have to hope nothing suspect ends up on the internet. And if I’m not in front of the camera, I’m behind it recording some dumb fuckery that the four idiots I live with have gotten themselves into. Lucky for me, today, I’m recording.

A couple of days ago, Jake overheard me call Colby “Baby Bear.” Jake being Jake decided to call Colby Baby Bear and Colby calmly told him not to call him that. Of course, Jake took this as an opportunity to tease Colby about his nickname. This resulted in Jake repeatedly calling him Baby Bear every chance he gets. To make matters worse, Jake recorded every time he did it and posted it on TikTok. Now I’m quietly helping Colby get payback on Jake. And boy does this prank have layers.

The nickname stems from the fact that Colby tries to be all tough like a bear. His inability to grow facial hair and his overall goofiness reminds me more of a baby bear. Ergo, the nickname.

“Y/N, did you grab the speaker from our room?” Colby whispered from inside Jake’s room. We’re working completely in the dark. When I said that Colby work me up in the morning, I meant he woke me up at 4 am to get started on this prank. It’s now 6 in the morning.

“Yeah, I already put it in the corner before we forgot. Now hurry up before you make one of the balloons set off the mouse traps. We still have to put up the duct tape door and water cups.” To make our lives easier and to work faster, Colby and I blew up the balloon yesterday and measured the door to make a sheet up duct tape. All we have to do there is to attach the tape to Jake’s door so we can do the final part of this prank.

To be completely honest, I’m surprised that Colby came up with this revenge prank himself. It puts all of his prank war pranks to shame. It’s like he’s the new Elton. First, we had to carefully put mouse traps all over Jake’s floor. Just in case Jake turned on the lights or saw the mouse traps on the floor, we covered them with the balloons. Colby and I had a mini debate about whether or not the balloons could set off the mouse traps. We tested it out and spent about 10 minutes trying to figure out how to get the balloons in the room without ruining the prank early. Then we duct tape his bedroom door. This would force him to break down the tape wall and topple the tower of water filled solo cups. And to get the revenge going, we hid a speaker in Jake’s room to scare him awake.

“Okay, almost done. Are you almost done filling the water cups?” Colby asks in a normalize volume. He set up the GoPro in Jakes room and closed the door. For efficiency, We filled up two buckets of water so I can just start scooping the ice cold water into the red solo cups.

Sam walks out of his room, sees us and tries to not get involved.

“I saw you Golbach, get your ass over here.” Colby whisper yells. Sam back tracks to us and slowly walks to where we’re working.

“I want no part in this bullshit.” Sam says shaking his head.

“Too late, now help Colby get the tape up or you’re next.” I tell him. It’s a good thing Sam’s back isn’t broken anymore. I would have felt bad for threatening him.

“Hurry up though, I don’t want Jake to wake up before we’re done.” Colby orders.

“Maybe I should stop calling you baby bear after this. Kind of giving me papa bear vibes. Daddy bear, if you will.” I joke.

“Yeah, I’ll be right back, I’m going to throw up.” Sam says from the bottom of the ladder.

“She’s joking. Right, Y/N?”

“I don’t know Daddy Bear, you tell me.” I fill up the last water cup.

“I’m getting uncomfortable.” Sam pipes up.

“Sorry, I’ll go wake up Corey while you two finish this up.” I blow Colby an air kiss and take the camera into Corey’s room.

I barge in and close the door behind me in case he screamed. I started throwing whatever I could find until he work up. I pick up what I think is a shoe and hit what I hope isn’t his head.

“What the fuck?” Corey sits up and nearly jumps when he sees me.

“Get out of bed bitch, we’re raising hell.” To fuck with Corey even more. I leave the room and wait outside his door. I stick my head back in to be quiet when he comes out of his room.

A few minutes later Corey comes out and joins Sam and Colby while they stack the water cups. I set the camera up and put towels in a circle outside Jake’s door to hopefully control the damage.

“Can I know what is going on, please?” Corey asks as the last water cup up on the very unstable water tower.

“Just a little old fashion revenge. Come over here.” Colby said from his laptop. We used the GoPro that plays live footage. Colby opened it up on his computer so we could watch the inside of Jake’s room in real time.

“Watch and learn bitches, never mess with baby bear!” I whisper yell.

“Y/N…” Colby warns.

“Sorry babe,” I press play on the distorted Monsters INC. audio from TikTok.

The four of us huddle around the laptop and watch as Jake jumps up in bed. He covers his ears and looks around his room in confusion trying to figure out where the sound is coming from. He swings his legs off his bed and is immediately met with a mouse to the foot. This causes Jake to jump again and fall to the floor, no doubt getting hurt by more mouse traps. Jake climbs back on the bed and pulls off the mouse traps stuck to him. He grabs his comforter and throws it on the floor. Jake seems to have developed a working brain cell during that fall. He manages to make it to the door, slightly jumping as he continues to step on mouse traps.

Jake opens the door and the music gets louder for us. We get up from the computer and face Jake’s door. I run to quickly position the camera that was on us to get the new view of us waiting for Jake. I make it back in time to see Jake break down the tape wall collapse the water tower. Some water splashes on us, but most of it falls on Jake. He stays on the ground, stuck to the tape wall like a fly stuck on a fly trap. I turn the music off and the room is filled with our laughs.

“I’m in hell. What the fuck just happened?” Jake asks from the floor. Corey is also on the floor, laughing his ass off.

“Let this be a warning to everyone. Nobody is allowed to call me baby bear.” Colby says.

“Excuse me?” I ask slightly offended.

“…Correction: Nobody, except Y/N, is allowed to call me baby bear.” Colby comes up to me and places a kiss on my cheek.

[alwaysmychoices]

Contamination

Here is my Chapter 10 rewrite. I hope I did it justice.

Synopsis: When Charlie makes a chilling discovery about Senator Farrugia’s illness, lives are put at risk...

Chapter 16 of the “With and Without” series

Previous Series: “A Weekend with Dr. Ramsey”

Pairing: Dr. Ethan Ramsey x MC (Charlotte “Charlie” Greene)

Words: 4.7k

Rating: T (language)

That morning, the sun was bright. The world was good, and Charlie was happy.

Ethan woke her with a kiss and an offer of coffee, but she refused and bought a steaming cup from the coffee shop a block from the hospital. Before her shift began, she cozied up in Kyra’s hospital room, and together, they laughed like they didn’t fear it would be the last time.

“So, what did you get up to last night?” Kyra asked, eyeing Charlie’s latte with envy, “And if you tell me you watched Netflix from your bed, you need a better life.”

“I actually didn’t go home last night,” Charlie admitted cheekily, and to her delight, Kyra reacted with scandalized enthusiasm.

“You’re kidding?” Kyra leaned closer, eager for every little detail, “You have to tell me everything.”

Charlie would have – even who it was with – but she didn’t get the opportunity. Her gossip stood no chance against Bryce’s authority.

“It’s time,” he announced, knocking on the door belatedly with a solemn stare. He was smiling, but it was more resolved than happy. He was ready for surgery, not goodbye.

Charlie promised herself not to cry, so she hid her flash of concern in the act of straightening her white coat. Her eyes were sad as she took Kyra in, but she refused to say a word. Kyra was ready, and Charlie didn’t feel right adding any crack in her armor. She loved her friend enough to take a deep breath, smile, and hug her good luck.

“Give me all the sordid details tonight,” Kyra demanded.

“Every single one,” Charlie affirmed, “Even the parts you don’t want to know.”

This made Kyra laugh, and that was enough for Charlie to feel compelled to keep her promise.

As Charlie walked out of the hospital room, she came to Bryce’s side, and in all seriousness, she said, “Take care of her, Lahela.”

“If I mess up, the only person that will hate me more than you would be me,” Bryce gave a single, concerned glance in Kyra’s direction. It was the only one he allowed himself for the day, and once it was over, he assumed his bravado by adding, “Besides, look at me. I don’t even know how to make a mistake.”

Charlie rolled her eyes, but she felt safer with Kyra in his care. She wished them both a bit of final good luck and a goodbye, and then she walked out.

And as she walked away, despite everything, she felt light – like everything would be okay, like this story had a happy ending.

It was the last time she would feel that way for a long time.

Charlie started her shift with rounds and scheduled her patients so that she could squeeze in time to check on Kyra’s surgery from the observation room. She wasn’t even thinking of Senator Farrugia when Danny approached her.

There wasn’t much to think about. After Charlie discovered his lead poisoning, her most difficult patient was finally off the agenda. Instead of bothering the diagnostics team with questions or observations, he stayed in his hospital room, making calls, taking interviews, and answering emails. He was so busy trying to monopolize the publicity that his difficulty manifested in his refusal to follow his treatment plan if it didn’t suit his schedule for the day. Listening to him work made Charlie’s stomach churn. Every day he stayed in Edenbrook was another day that he exposed a new, corrupt facet to his personality. More than once, Charlie and Ethan stood outside his door, wondering if stealing him from Mass Kenmore was worth it.

“Charlie?” Danny approached her, a test result in his hand, “I have the results from Senator Farrugia’s paint samples. You marked them as urgent.”

Charlie briefly abandoned her charts to accept the results, but when she read them, her face twisted with confusion.

“Are you sure these are the right results?” Charlie asked distractedly, reading the paper over and over again as if it would change the contents.

“I double-checked,” Danny affirmed, wearing a matching look of bewilderment, “They’re right… I don’t know how, but those paint samples tested negative.”

That wasn’t the answer Charlie wanted, but she trusted Danny too much to doubt him.

If it wasn’t the paint, what could be poisoning Senator Farrugia?

Charlie thanked Danny. With a heavy sigh, she collected her charts and walked to the diagnostic’s office for further research.

So much for her break…

Charlie didn’t know where to start, so when she logged on to the computer, she ran a general search for the senator. She flagged anything about trips or notable habits, looking for any clue of contamination. Most of this information had already been studied during their preliminary search, but at that time, they weren’t looking for lead. Even under the new lens, she was able to throw out most of the news stories.

The further she went, the less clear it became.

Senator Farrugia lived in a new, high-end condo in D.C. The area had no reported lead problem, and the building was too new for lead paint or lead pipes. She had already called up all of his regular haunts in the capital, and none had any helpful information. His life in Massachusetts was limited to his office, his home, and the farmer’s market he frequented for publicity. None were insightful.

She searched the internet until Farrugia’s name had the title Mayor preceding it.

 Charlie stumbled on a story from a decade earlier, when 3 died from lead pipes poisoning the water supply. She made a note to test his pipes in his home, and she clicked on the article for more information.

That was when she saw the photo of 13-year-old Jonathan Perry. The young boy was smiling for his school picture, all braces and excitement. He was the youngest victim of the lead poisoning, and there was something eerily similar about his pale skin and thin features. And the name…

Perry.

Like Travis.

On a hunch, Charlie googled Jonathan Perry. There wasn’t much to find – his old social media page, which was full of messages of condolences after his death, a news story about his middle school soccer team’s victory at state, and an obituary. She clicked on the sparse obituary. In lieu of flowers, the family requested donations for the local children’s hospital. They also used the same school photo as the newspaper article used.

Charlie skimmed the article, making an effort to remain doubtful.

But she knew.

She knew before she even read the last sentence.

“Jonathan Perry is survived by his parents – Deborah and Samuel Perry – and an older brother, Travis.”

Charlie’s blood ran cold, and she read the sentence again.

The second the thought – the horrible, terrible suspicion – crept in, Charlie jumped up and rushed to the senator’s room.

Charlie spent years reliving these moments. All in all, it was ten minutes at most, but they were replayed so many times that each second was accounted for. Charlie found every “what if” until they each tortured her.

What if she hadn’t rushed in? What if she had waited? What if she called Ethan and asked him what to do?

What if she just let Senator Farrugia die?

Would her friends still be alive?

Would she still be haunted?

But on that day, at that moment, she had none of those thoughts.

She just needed to get to Travis before something terrible happened.

Outside of Senator Farrugia’s hospital room, she found Bobby Gunderson, the security guard, talking with Raf about his upcoming move to Brazil. They were happy. They wouldn’t be once she spoke to them.

“Have you seen the senator’s assistant? Travis?” Charlie interrupted their conversation frantically. She looked between them both for a reply, though Bobby was really the only one who knew Travis. He had been assigned to Senator Farrugia off and on for the last week, and his dislike for the senator was matched by his disinterest in Travis. He never laughed at Bobby’s jokes, and Bobby took that as a sign of flawed character.

Bobby, understandably, was the one to answer Charlie. He looked startled by her, and she began to wonder if her anxiety was visible.

How could it not be?

She was on her way to confront an attempted murderer. She wasn’t prepared for this. She was terrified of being too late but also facing him at all.

“He’s inside with the senator,” Bobby replied, hoping that he would get an explanation in return. She didn’t immediately offer one.

“The weasel-looking guy? He was acting weird,” Raf chimed in, equally concerned by Charlie’s strange demeanor. He knew her well enough to know that he had never seen her like this.

He’s inside.

Charlie’s heart rate accelerated. The blissful morning turned sour, and every passing second felt more serious, the consequences direr. The stakes were higher now. Charlie felt young and inexperienced as she tried to do all the right things.

Nothing prepared her for this. She suspected a man of poisoning her patient. This was a man she had known for weeks, one that she had commiserated with over long nights working on Farrugia’s case. He seemed friendly and helpful. Now, he was dangerous. And he was on the other side of the door, potentially close to another murder attempt.

The moment she heard that Travis was inside, she started walking to the door. Panic clouded her vision until all she saw was Travis and the senator and that door. Turning to Bobby, she said, “Bobby, we need to call the police for a suspected poisoning and attempted murder of a public official.”

Bobby’s face dropped, and wordlessly, he joined her as they barreled for Senator Farrugia’s door. He radioed the call in immediately.

As Charlie twisted the handle, she didn’t notice Raf walk in with them. For a long time, she wondered if she would have stopped him if she would have noticed, but she likely wouldn’t have. And even if she had told him to stay away, he wouldn’t have listened.

The hospital room was calm and quiet, save for Ed Farrugia’s typing on his keyboard. Danny was at the end of the bed, perusing Ed’s chart and making notes in the top corner. Travis was closer to the senator, standing right next to Ed’s bed as he fished through a backpack Charlie had never seen before.

Once the door opened, Charlie’s anxious energy flooded the room, and all three looked to the group in surprise. Everyone was looking at them, but Travis’s eyes stayed on Charlie.

“Dr. Greene?” Danny asked, confusion evident in his voice.

“What’s going on?” Farrugia echoed, pausing his typing.

Charlie didn’t look to either of them because she never dropped Travis’s stare. She watched realization dawn on him, and his brown eyes filled with understanding. He almost seemed to revel in it, like he wanted to stop hiding. Like a curtain falling to reveal the light, cruelty was exposed, and it made Charlie shiver.

At that moment, she had no doubts about Travis.

She knew he was guilty, and she knew he was dangerous.

“Mr. Perry, we would like to speak to you. If you come with us, we can resolve this quickly,” Bobby’s voice was authoritative now. It was a little intimidating, even. Travis didn’t flinch.

“Dr. Greene, are you sure?” he was still looking at Charlie.

She felt disgusted by his attention. He made the question seem intimate, like they were in on some big secret. Never had her name sounded so vile.

“Officer Gunderson asked you to step away from the senator, Travis,” Charlie was firm and her gaze resolved. Travis’s face hardened.

“Why?” Ed asked incredulously. He didn’t like being kept in the dark, and he certainly didn’t like the tension in the room. He had a virtual interview in fifteen minutes, and he didn’t need the distraction.

Travis knew that he had been discovered, so with unreserved harshness, he turned to his long-time boss and answered, “Probably because I’ve been poisoning you.”

As angry as he looked, Travis seemed relieved with his admission. Ed gasped and instinctively jolted away from his aide as he mumbled a weak, “W… what?”

Bobby moved towards Travis just as Ed decided to get away from him. While the senator scrambled out of his bed and hurried towards the door, Bobby held out his hand, expecting to apprehend the young man as he said, “Alright, come with me…”

Travis didn’t even look at Bobby. All he saw was Farrugia running for the door.

In a wild panic, Travis reached inside of his bag to retrieve a black canister, and he brandished it as a weapon, pointing it to each and every person in the room as he demanded, “STOP!”

Everyone obeyed.

They had never seen a canister like that, but the way Travis held it commanded fear and trepidation. It appeared sinister, even from across the room.

Travis looked at them all but mainly Ed as he screamed, “Stand back! I mean it!”

Farrugia, who had almost escaped before Travis’s threat, took one cautious step in the direction of his aide. He didn’t come too close because he wanted the option to run. With his hands up in a pleading gesture, Farrugia urged Travis, “Travis… think about what you’re doing. Please…”

“Think about what I’m doing?” Travis repeated with disbelief, “What do you think I’ve been doing for all these years? From the moment we met, I’ve only been thinking of this.”

Travis waved the canister in Ed’s direction, eyes growing hard as his finger curled around the trigger.

“Travis!” Charlie interrupted, startling him just enough that his grip on the trigger lessened.

She couldn’t hear her thoughts for her heartbeat. She hardly remembered how to speak, let alone what to say. Her eyes kept drifting back to the canister, which was still dangerously aimed in her direction. She felt it watch her, like it was preparing for something horrid.

She felt everyone watch her.

And as Travis granted her his attention, the pressure prickled at her skin.

“This won’t bring your brother back,” Charlie said gently.

“You think I don’t know that?” Travis scoffed, “I will never get my brother back. I’ve lived with that since I was fifteen, and that knowledge destroyed my family. It destroyed my parents, and it destroyed me.”

His finger was back on the trigger, his hand shaking with the concentration needed to keep from pulling it. One slip and they would all find out what made Travis so confident in his weapon.

“Travis, let’s talk about this,” Charlie begged, refusing to look at the canister and instead looking for some sliver of humanity left in her opponent. If she could just find the right words, she could end this.

She could save everyone in this room.

She truly believed she could. Charlie believed in the world. She believed that tragedy and pain had an end. She believed that happy endings could be found if you worked hard enough.

She believed she would walk out of that room traumatized but otherwise unscathed.

She was wrong.

“No,” Travis refused, almost laughing at her, “There’s nothing to talk about. If I leave this room, I’m going to jail, which will be the end of it. And Dr. Greene, you don’t know the details of this story, but I’ll tell you how it ends. Ed Farrugia doesn’t survive.”

Travis surveyed the hospital room. He eyed Farrugia, who was just waiting to be out of his line of sight so he could run. Then, he looked to the four bystanders who had wandered into his plan.

“It’s unfortunate that four others will have to die as well,” Travis mused.

“It doesn’t have to end this way,” Charlie was shaking. Something was breaking inside of her. Maybe it was hope that they could leave this room, or perhaps it was faith in all that was good in the world. She begged for his humanity, but it felt too distant. “Please, you don’t want to hurt us. You don’t even know us. Travis, we have nothing to do with this. And you know you’ll regret it. Please.”

Travis offered a sympathetic shake of the head, “Charlie, you didn’t have to do this. You could have let him die. You know who he is. You know what he does. You know that his policies kill people. Don’t you see that you’re complicit? Not just in what I’m doing but in what he does!” Travis frowned in disgust, “You could have stayed quiet!”

“I couldn’t do that,” Charlie managed, fear gripping her so tight that even small words were shaky and uncontrolled.

She had lost control of herself. She had lost him, too.

Travis shrugged, “I hope your conscience is enough for you, then.”

Everyone knew they were in a final hour, that whatever was coming was so close that it breathed down their neck.

That was why Bobby stepped forward.

“Dr. Greene is right,” Bobby asserted, “Come with me before anyone gets hurt.”

And this was what Charlie lived a thousand times over – until she recounted the sound of Bobby’s step on the linoleum towards Travis and the inhale of Rafael to her side as he held his breath. It was never any less painful to experience the moment before it all unraveled. At best, it was numb. Today though, it was blisteringly agonizing.

Bobby reached for Travis, but his grip wasn’t strong enough. Travis pulled free, and without a thought or a word, he pulled the trigger on the canister. An aerosol gas released in a puff in Bobby’s face. There was a horrible, aching strangling sound as Bobby fell to his knees. He coughed violently, choking on the gas and his own breath. He gargled and thrashed in pain until he was on his back.

Charlie moved towards Bobby, but Danny made it there first. Instinctively, he pressed his fingers to Danny’s artery in his neck. An oily sheen covered Bobby and spread to Danny’s hands.

“Charlie, he’s going into cardiac arrest!” Danny yelled, already beginning the chest compressions.

They didn’t have time, and they didn’t have the equipment. Charlie belatedly realized that she was screaming into the hall for equipment, but she never finished the sentence. She was running to Bobby when she came face to face with Travis, who wielded the canister in her direction. She froze, the words dying on her lips.

“At least I’m not the only one with blood on my hands,” Travis sneered, and he began to pull the trigger.

In the split second before the gas was released, Charlie couldn’t move. There wasn’t time to run, not that she really thought to. Her vision was clouded with tears, but she could see the barrel pointed at her. And for it was worth, she accepted her fate.

She didn’t want to die, but she knew she would.

And for her last thought, she wished she had told Ethan that she loved him.

It wasn’t her last thought, though.

“Ahh!” Charlie cried as she was shoved to the side. She fell to the floor in an uncoordinated heap, and she looked up just in time to see Raf tackle Travis to the ground. They landed with a heavy thud, and Raf scrambled for the canister.

What followed was blind panic.

Gas filled the room as they fought for the canister. It spilled out of their grasp, and spinning in the middle of the room, it coated everyone but Charlie with a layer of oil. Charlie coughed as it infiltrated her lungs, burning and stabbing as it went.

Danny frantically tried to resuscitate Bobby as Raf fought to subdue Travis. Charlie, coughing through the mist, caught Farrugia sprint out of the room and heard Travis scream in response. The scream was guttural and garbled, and it was the worst noise she had ever heard.

Clambering to sit up, Charlie looked around the chaos and tried to find the place to help, but she couldn’t. She was startled still, watching as everything fell apart.

“What was that?” Raf demanded, slamming Travis against the wall.

“I don’t know!” Travis pulled free, only to vomit into the trashcan. Raf raged until he was consumed with a cough.

Danny’s efforts to save Bobby grew weak as both Bobby’s situation grew worse and Danny’s strength gave out. Danny pulled his hands away, examining them, and he breathlessly expressed his horror, “My… my hands are covered… I’m-I’m covered.”

Charlie shielded her eyes from the sight, tears streaming down her face as she hid from the terror and distress of her dear friend.

Her gaze landed on the door, and she knew what she had to do. Crawling on the linoleum, Charlie’s back was to the plight, but she felt it every second. It consumed her. It cemented her and demanded everything until she could give nothing. She couldn’t feel it now. She engrossed herself with her mission and shoved her trauma and her pain and her fear and her guilt out of her mind.

Charlie reached the door just as Ethan could be seen in the window. He walked towards the room with the innocence of a man who didn’t yet know that the world was ending.

Charlie wanted to run to him. She wanted him to save her.

But instead, she slammed the door closed.

Ethan’s confusion settled into surprise and concern, and with each step, he felt it mount. By the time he reached the door, he was terrified. He watched Charlie’s face – stained red from tears and eyes bloodshot. She shook, and he saw her ragged breath as she struggled against a burning cough.

And he pulled on the door handle, but she was holding it shut.

His Charlie.

His Charlie is not okay.

He pulled on the door harder, demanding to be let inside. He had no reasonable thought, only a visceral instinct to protect her and save her from whatever horrors were inside.

“What is going on?” Ethan pulled even harder, but she focused all of her strength in holding that damn door shut, “Let me in, Charlie!”

“Shut down the wing,” Charlie ignored the pain in his eyes. She ignored the way he stared. She ignored that he loved her, and she pretended she didn’t love him to spare herself.

If she opened the gates now, she didn’t know what would come out, and she didn’t know if she could do what needed to be done.

“Charlotte!” he jiggled the handle desperately, banging his hand on the wooden door like it might give way if he tried hard enough.

“Travis has tried to kill the senator with an unknown gas. We have no idea what it is, but Farrugia escaped,” Charlie felt empty as she tried to stay calm. Calm meant ignoring everything, yet she cried. She hesitated, and she almost cracked. She almost fell into the pit and lost herself in the sorrow as she said, “Bobby went into cardiac arrest after getting a blast of it to his face. Danny and Raf have been sprayed with it, and I breathed it in.”

Ethan stopped jiggling the handle, his hand slack.

He didn’t want to understand.

He wanted to break the fucking door down.

“We can’t risk it getting out of this room,” Charlie hadn’t lessened her grip on the door handle. She wasn’t sure if she could. She was bonded to her station. It was all she could do to maintain control.

It was all she could do to try and save someone.

Because the someone didn’t get to be her, or Bobby, or Danny, or Raf.

But it could be Ethan. It could be anyone on this hall.

She had blood on her hands, but it stained less if she could help someone else.

Ethan’s world slipped through his fingers, but he watched her instead. Everything – nor rather nothing… it was gone.

And he ached. He burned. He suffered.

He couldn’t remember kissing her in bed this morning and slipping her out of his apartment before his dad woke. He couldn’t remember making dinner with her or wandering Boston with Charlie on his arm and Jenner on a leash.

He only saw her now. Crying. Sick. And pushing him away.

“You’re right,” Ethan whispered breathlessly and helplessly.

He was broken, and she couldn’t look.

A sob was building in her chest – a body-wracking, heartbreaking, life-changing sob. She swallowed it and fought the air to keep breathing.

In the room, Danny and Travis were vomiting. Raf comforted Danny and glared at Travis. Bobby, perfectly still, was alone now.

Charlie found an air vent, and in it, she found her next distraction. With her back still turned to Ethan, she pointed to the vent and said, “Raf, I need your help to seal that!”

She opened every cupboard until she found plastic and tape, and Raf found a pair of scissors for her to cut it to size. Raf offered her a boost, and he lifted her up to tape it off. Once he let her down, she came face to face with him, and to her surprise, she wanted to scream at him.

She couldn’t believe how fucking irresponsible he had been! What the fuck did he think he was doing endangering himself like that? Why did he have to save her? Why?

But Danny was wheezing, and Charlie didn’t yell at Raf.

Charlie fell to Danny’s side as he leaned back against the hospital bed. His face was ashen white, and every breath was labored and pained. He tried to speak, but the effort was too hard. He only managed to say, “I… I don’t feel…” He paused, and his head fell back.

“It’s okay, Danny,” she whispered and took his pulse. It was weak and slow.

A lump formed in Charlie’s throat, and she squeezed Danny’s hand as she repeated, “It’s okay, Danny.” He weekly squeezed her back.

Charlie had to look away. When she eyed Bobby, she was on the edge of collapse. She felt everything and nothing, and one felt dangerously close to consuming her. Yet, hesitantly, she crawled in his direction.

Before she even touched him, she knew she wouldn’t find a pulse.

That didn’t mean she wasn’t heartbroken when it wasn’t there.

Raf followed her, and after a diligent attempt to find Bobby’s pulse, he grimaced.

They sat in silence, too many words to say to even begin speaking. The finality and grief were palpable.

They hadn’t saved Bobby, and they never would.

Charlie covered her mouth with her hand, holding her breath until the world might make sense again. It never did, and she exhaled in defeat.

Her limbs felt heavy, like a thousand atrocities now sat on them.

She was convinced that the world would never seem the same.

And she wanted to cry, but she didn’t. She couldn’t yet. Maybe not ever.

“Did you get much on you?” Raf asked finally, his eyes still on Bobby.

“Not much,” Charlie answered. She didn’t ask about Raf because she knew he was covered. He was relieved she didn’t mention it.

Charlie looked back to the window, where Ethan was on the phone. Behind him, she could see patients and employees evacuate, and she tentatively met his gaze. Face twisted with sorrow, Charlie nodded solemnly in Bobby’s direction.

Ethan understood, and it knocked the wind of out him.

Bobby was a good man. A colleague and a friend.

And he had been exposed to the same thing Charlie had.

His rookie. His Charlie. No.

Ethan pulled the phone away from his ear, and approaching the glass, he announced that the CDC was on their way.

“You’ll be okay, Charlie,” he promised, and trying not to panic, he affirmed, “All three of you. You’ll be alright.”

He said it because it had to be true.

It had to be.

He couldn’t lose Charlie, not like this. She couldn’t leave him when he’d just found her. This kind of thing doesn’t happen. And it doesn’t happen to her. It doesn’t!

And it won’t. And it won’t hurt her!

Anyone else but her.

He didn’t care if it was the senator. He was sad if it was a colleague. He was pained if it was a friend.

But it wasn’t her.

He didn’t know how to breathe. He didn’t know how to talk. He knew how to work, and he knew he needed to save her. That had to be enough.

His darling, wonderful Charlie.

He told her that she would be alright because it had to be true.

But Charlie didn’t believe him.

note: I probably should have spent more time working on this chapter, but it came out in one emotional sitting so I decided to share it.

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[blacksunscorpio]

oo I liked the last answer about horny aspects, made me think of a Q, which aspects or placements would you say makes someone have a bad temper or someone who gets angry easily? I feel a lot of Aries for some reason lol

The Astrology of Anger

Elements

1. Fire Signs: Aries, Leo, Sagittarius

You nailed it with Aries. By far, the fire signs experience and express more anger than the other zodiac signs. by nature, they are reactionary. Fire signs act on visceral gut instinct before they think. In fact, they miss the thinking step and skip straight to feel then comes the eruption. They attempt to crush their opponent/problem with shear force and raw irateness.

Ex. 1

Easily irritated, Sagittarius has a short fuse when it comes to anything that takes away from their Jupiterian joy and libertas. Remember, Zeus never fucked about with those thunderbolts. This happens a lot but as opposed to grand displays of anger [like Aries], it’s a steady stream of shocks and bitching and anger until they get what they desire.

Ex 2.

“I get angry when you don’t show me love and/or respect me.” This is how Leo gets set off. Leo’s fixed nature makes them seem powerful and stable, Pair that with their apollonian fire and this sign exudes power. But, it’s the fire that is also their weakness. Fire is hard-pressed to be controlled. They react. On instinct. Especially when their ego [The Sun]/pride is hurt. No matter how hard they try to resist it, the element of fire supersedes their fixed nature. When pushed, they explode. You may not see this as often as an Arian crossed, because they want to appear in control. However, when it does, it’s broadway level dramatic. It’s like a grenade that’s been contained, under pressure for a long time. When it blows, it’s big. Yet, like a grenade, it’s over quickly. They make their statements brashly and with pinpoint accuracy. It’s actually embarrassing for them when they lose self-control, so they often will attempt to gather themselves quickly.

2.  Water Signs: Cancer, Scorpio, Pisces

Remember, Anger is an emotion. Navigating the world primarily through emotion, water signs are sensitive and easily spiral into anger when their feelings are slighted. Their self-protective nature causes them to feel a threat and their method of defense, as a result, is emotional [perhaps even irrational] outbursts [look for hard aspects to these signs fo more clues].

Ex. 1

Cancers, as soon as they feel threatened, their emotions cook them into a frenzy. [The FBI actually ranks Cancers at the top of the most dangerous killers list.] They immediately become imbued with an intense feeling of having been violated. The need to protect themselves takes over and rather than think or plan, they let their emotion possess them. They will often lash out with harsh words and try to inflict emotional pain on whomever they believe is threatening them. Because they are sensitive is why they are so harsh when they’re angry. It’s not uncommon for people to feel as if they have to walk on eggshells around these people. Cancers get this misnomer for being weak and crybabies when in reality they actually hate people before they love them. Their close circle are those they feel familial ties to even if they aren’t blood [moon/4th house]. What’s more, Cancer holds onto the anger for a very long time just like Scorpios [however the latter will stew and plot as opposed to popping off], and if they feel it’s appropriate, they WILL plot revenge.

Modalities

1. Cardinal Signs: Aries, Libra, Capricorn, Cancer

​The modality with the most anger I’ve observed are the cardinal signs [yes, even Libra]. With their constant need to push forward, they succumb to anger easily because they often feel blocked or thwarted by anything that impedes their forward momentum. Furthermore, they get frustrated by anyone or anything that takes away their ability to be in the lead or the boss.

2. Mutable Signs: Gemini, Virgo, Sagittarius, Pisces

The mutable signs can often feel a lack of stability, which causes them to become irate. It is common for them to feel puppet-mastered by their circumstances or other people without a real ability to force or defend their own agenda. If they get to that place, their lack of self-control [mutable and not fixed] causes some anger.

Aspects

1. Aries Placements, especially Mars

“I get angry when you get in my way of doing what I want.” This is what sets off  Aries placements– particularly, Mars. Here the anger will be expressed in highly confrontational, aggressive, and competitive terms so as to prove their supremacy. Mars in this sign is highly combustible, and anger converts itself into action speedily.

2. Mars Conjunct/ Square/ or Opposite Pluto

The bully aspect. Don’t fuck with them. They are ruthless.

3. Sun Conjunct/Square/ or Opposite Mars

This placement is not afraid of conflict. In fact, the welcome it. Many Boxers have this placement. Impulse and ego combined in hard aspect. Yikes.

4. Mars in Cancer

“I get angry when you don’t make me feel safe, so now, you don’t get to feel safe either.”  Think Sonny form ‘A Bronx Tale’ when the bikers were breaking up his bar. He asked them to leave, they were disrespectful, so he locked the doors and told them “Now yous can’t leave.” What follows is how Cancerian Martians [especially in hard aspect] react when violated.

5. Mars in Scorpio

“I get angry when you threaten to make me look weak or unimportant.” That is what will set a Mars in Scorpio off. Remember, Scorpio is honorary fire. This is probably the most vindictive Mars placement. Though they may not snap like their cousin’s Aries, They WILL get angry. This is because Scorpio seeks security through power and control (including self-control). When this is tried or tested, get ready to have your life violated in the worst way. Mars in Scorpio can be brutal with their anger. Playing the long game. Once they sting you, their venom might be hard to recover from.

6. Mars Conjunct/Square/or Opposite Uranus

Mars is rage, and Uranus is sudden and unexpected disruption/chaos [Think the tower in Tarot] Uranus also indicates the dynamic energy of frustration. This aspect intensifies the volatility of anger and can lead to highly havoc-like expressions.

7. Saturn Conjunct/Square/or  Opposite Pluto.

Cruelty and Terror combined. Saturn/Pluto is known for cruelty. In the case of this aspect, the result when triggered could be searing anger that finds it’s satisfaction in cruelty to another person. With the square, the kind of cruelty may be worse than the other Saturn/Pluto aspects because anger may simmer and stew before it releases. Consequences could be dire.

8. Pluto in the 1st House or aspecting the Ascendant

Will carry Pluto’s dark energy on their face. Their identity will; be steeped in 8th house energy. Though they typically leave well enough alone, if they are provoked, these are very very dangerous people. They are not afraid to be ruthless. They see it as justice, not cruelty. They will also find themselves going through identity crisis often or transformations to their identity. and once they have reached stability, people will still be intimidated by them. These individuals are misunderstood but that does not make them charity cases. These are ‘X-Men types’. Their struggles cause them to transform into powerful beings most people fear, especially when antagonized.

[omegaverseftw]

Trials and Tribulations

Gabrielle and Xena are forced into an arranged marriage, being an Omega and an Alpha respectively. Gabrielle's heat starts directly after the wedding and Xena can't resist helping and the blonde doesn't really want her to. Unfortunately, Gabrielle becomes pregnant almost right away. Not only do they need to deal with getting to know each other, but they must figure out how to parent without truly knowing each other. (Modern AU)

Gabrielle had been feeling off for the last few weeks. She tried not to think about it too often but it was all rather obvious considering what had taken place during her honeymoon with Xena. She tried to ignore it for as long as possible, but it was beginning to affect different aspects of her life. Especially when she'd had to leave the counter at her place of employment to spew her guts into the toilet.  She knew that she'd need to see a doctor or take a test at some point- but she didn't wish to be a burden.

This is why she'd waited until Xena had to leave town four weeks later. She wasn't noticing too much difference, but she thought her stomach seemed a tiny bit bloated. That would go away within time. She was more concerned about confirming her assumptions. The lack of her period could be for multiple reasons, including the stress over her suspicious illness.  The trip to the hospital was just as stressful as the wait for her wife and mate to leave. But by far the most nerve wracking had been the wait to get called back- if she had any friends that she trusted to keep their mouths shut, she would've brought them along. Unfortunately, she didn't. So she was stuck with nothing more than her thoughts and concerns.

The moment her name was called, she nearly jumped out of her skin as well as her seat. She followed the nurse back and prepared to explain the situation more than a few times- because apparently medical professionals just loved to hear the patients repeat themselves and grow more annoyed. Finally, she had fully explained herself  more than once and the tests had begun. It was a very cut and dry issue, though, because as soon as they received the results from both the blood test and the urine test, the doctor entered the room with a small smile.

"Gabrielle, was it? It seems that you worried over absolutely nothing. You are carrying your alphas child- or children. I cannot say which one is correct until you come in for a follow up exam." The doctor informed and handed over his card. Gabrielle took it and signed what she needed to sign, slipping off of the bed. She felt almost numb now, something that was a welcomed change from the the overwhelming concern and fear that she'd felt earlier.

Unfortunately, the numbness didn't linger long- or long enough in her humble opinion.  The moment she was back in her car, the fear flooded her. God, what were they going to do? They barely even knew each other and they already had pups on the way. She couldn't bring herself to go through with an abortion and even if she wanted to,  she'd have to wait until Xena returned. It was rather cruel to not give her mate a say- even if it was a new relationship.

Besides, Xena finding out was what worried her. They'd never had the chance to have this conversation. They'd been too worried about fucking thanks to her heat. It had been a good night- but they should've expected the consequences. She swallowed her pride and pulled out of the drive way before someone could question what she was doing.

When she arrived home, she immediately headed to the bathroom and locked herself inside. She turned the bath on, making the water as hot as she could get it before adding the bubbles. She would've usually poured herself a glass of wine to go with this. But that was out of the question now. She had plenty of time to figure out how she was going to break the news to Xena when the alpha returned.

For now, she simply wanted to relax. She felt that she deserved that much at the very least.

[chilly-me-softly]

Going through a couple of rough months since you and James started trying for a baby, this ot having the succes you both desired leading to you both “giving up” for a second. Then after a while James comments on your sudden weight gain, saying it might be good for you to watch your food and go to the gym more often etc, the comments hurting you a lot even though, you already knew you were pregnant but wanting to wait for your first check up with the doctor before telling James. PART 1

You and James had been together for a long time and had recently decided to try and have a baby, you both wanted to become parents still relatively young and still felt you had found the right person to raise your child with.

Your lives had never been this busy since you had started trying, not even the various moves or the year you spent in your long-distance relationship seemed so busy, so many things to do and so many deadlines to do at the best way possible.

James was living his first year at Leicester and was having the most challenging but best months of his life, everyone was learning about his talent and he was working so hard to get noticed by Gareth Southgate for a place on the senior team. While you were still adjusting to the office move you had made so you could be with James, he was having a stable contract and you no longer wanting to live by constantly checking your synchronized calendars to see when you could see each other.

So you talked about it and adding more 'stress' to the already stressful situation didn't seem right at the time. You wanted to have children as soon as possible but you were clearly having problems scheduling everything you had to do and so slowing down on that level wouldn't have hurt. If it had come even better and you would have acted as a consequence but for the moment you didn't see any other solution.

Only it seemed that your attempts had been successful after all because you had started to feel tired and fatigued all the time and you could barely swallow anything without running to the bathroom. At first you thought it was because of work, you blamed it on your irritability or lack of periods. It was such a stressful time that you missed your period for the first time ever.

It was there that a wake-up call rang in your head and you decided to take a test, without telling anyone so as not to create false expectations. Well it turned out positive and you were the happiest person on the planet, you couldn't wait to tell James but at the moment he was with the u21 team somewhere for a game and wouldn't be back for a few days. So you just waited, you thought that showing him the first ultrasound directly, having something concrete in your hands, would be a much better way to give him the news.

Your reservation was in a few days, you had cleared your schedule so that you had nothing else to do afterwards and you could be at peace with James.

That day you had a huge smile on your face, the nausea hadn't hit you once you opened your eyes and you could feel your stomach asking to be filled. James had only come back the afternoon before and you couldn't be more than happy to be in his arms again.

"All that?" James giggles at the huge sandwich you just finished stuffing.

"What?" you ask with one eyebrow raised while he shakes his head.

"Nothing, it's just..." he's waving his hands in the air pointing at that plate, "Doesn't that seem a bit much just for breakfast? Lately you've been a bit... well, you know, you've gained a few pounds" 

"Oh wow" your mouth opens wide surprised by the statement, your hand moves the plate away almost immediately while James tries to apologize pathetically.

"I don't mean to say that... but you know, I think about you and... of course you're beautiful all the time but-"

"Stop talking" you get up off the stool all of a sudden and he stops.

"Where are you going? Aren't you going to eat that anymore?" he asks then when he sees you walk away.

"I'm not hungry anymore" you mumble and that's the only thing he hears from you for hours.

It's true, your belly is starting to show and it's also true that you didn't tell James you were pregnant so he wouldn't know. But anyway, you were hurt by his comment, pregnant or not, you think he shouldn't have pointed it out to you. Aren't you supposed to be beautiful and all that crap no matter what?

James tries to talk to you, fix things, during the day, but it doesn't end very well. You're locked in your room and either you pretend not to see him when he comes in to get something he needs or you make harsh and nasty comments when he tries to talk to you. He decides to leave you alone for a while then, things will work out for themselves he says to himself.

The doctor's appointment is a few days away and until then nothing much changes between you. That day you just let him know you were coming back a few hours later for something you had to do and he nodded, trying to get closer to leave you a kiss but you were gone in the blink of an eye. You weren't mad at him anymore, now you were just carrying it on to make him feel even more guilty once you heard the news.

A moment before you open the front door, you take the envelope you had put in your bag with the ultrasound and the results of the various tests you had undergone. James is on the couch watching something on TV and you drop the envelope on his legs. He jerks not having heard you come in and looks up at you with one eyebrow raised, but you have already turned around and reached the kitchen to get a glass of water.

James looks at that white envelope confused when he reads the name of a hospital on the front. He opens it peeking inside and sees a white sheet of paper and a smaller black one and takes them both at the same time. His eyes travel quickly over the white sheet of paper while he has that image in the other one to confirm that he has understood correctly and in a moment he is at you.

Both sheets of paper are still in his hands when he hugs you from behind and your glass with water swings dangerously, wetting your hand with which you are holding it and dropping some on the ground.

"James" you complain lightly while he frantically puts down what he has in his hand and your glass to make you turn around and look into your eyes.

"Are you really pregnant?"

"Yes dumbass, I don't need any gym" the shadow of a smile on your face as you wipe your hand on James' jersey.

"Oh my God, I'm an idiot" he murmurs taking your face in his hands and kissing you. A series of "I'm sorry" between kisses while you giggle trying to talk.

Then he lowers himself to the height of your belly, lifting your shirt and continuing to leave kissing whispering his sorry and you can't help but get emotional. He holds you close again after a while and he sounds like a broken record, you literally have to cover his mouth with one hand to make him stop.

"I love you" he murmurs with your hand to cover his mouth and you take it off slowly by stroking his cheek. "I love you too, and thank you for offering to satisfy all my cravings"

He opens his eyes wide at first, but then laughs by shaking his head as he approaches you to kiss you again. "Everything for you two my love"

[thejudgingtrash]

How Could You (PJO Fanfic)

Summary: Annabeth thought she had torn up every picture of him, that she had hidden every evidential piece of their relationship. Not only did it hurt losing your one true love. Knowing that they are successful, thriving and happily in love with another person made it even worse. Knowing you could have been that woman in your ex’s life. In Percy’s life. Rated T/M for adult themes.

H O W    C O U L D    Y O U    1/3

Annabeth Chase was walking to her workplace in Lower Manhattan. She clutched her coffee in one hand while the other pressed her designer bag towards her body – it's New York after all and you never know. Her blonde curls were hiding in a tight bun which made her look like any other snob on the small island.

The woman was in her early thirties and her career as an architect was finally taking off. Her boss let her hire her own secretary and gave her a thumbs-up for her own projects. She even had her own polished office while many of her peers were marching towards their forties and still stuck in cubicles. Her boss hinted offering her a senior partnership.

Annabeth ignored the catcalling and the loud car honking. Good morning to you too, NYC.

She was in luck, no pesky monsters in sight. Annabeth's trace got weaker with every newly completed birthday. Sure, she had to kill a monster here and there and even helped out new demigods, but it had been weeks of peace and quietness by now. Her heels led her to an impressing skyscraper. Mitch, the doorman, nodded and pressed the right button to the 34th floor. Annabeth took the last sip of her coffee right before her 10-hour shift. No one was waiting for her at home, she didn't have animals, plants or a man to take care of.

She had been single for the past few years, yes, but that didn’t mean she was living the celibate life of a nun. She had two or three relationships which never lasted longer than half a year, a couple of drunken flings and even a work affair which resulted in her colleague getting relocated to the office in San Diego. Gossip spread fast but also died out pretty quickly. But whenever she thought about a romantic relationship, or sex or even a simple friendship with another man, someone else haunted her thoughts immediately. Percy.

Annabeth chucked the crumpled paper cup into the trash bin and fired up her computer. She refused to think about her loner life, she refused to think about him. Eight hours and a one-hour lunch break later, her piercing gray eyes started to analyze her environment.

“I should redecorate,” she thought loudly. Her workspace had looked the same for the past two years. E-mails were checked, work was low, and no one would barge into her office. Her boss was already gone. She went through her desk, stacked papers, discarded notes and threw irrelevant stuff out. A picture slid out of a folder. Annabeth picked it up. It was a selfie of her and Percy; they were sipping cocktails, smiling into the camera, while the wind was playing with their hair.

Suddenly Annabeth grew a lump in her throat. They had a last happy small vacation in Montauk six years ago. A year later and everything was over. Percy looked good. Happy. He was way too handsome for his own good. His jet-black hair was long and unkept, his beard hugged his face perfectly and luckily through a well-chosen angle Annabeth had the opportunity of ogling his body one last time before shoving that damned picture into her bag. Her college friends used to ask whether Percy was a Greek model or actor or something like that. “He is basically a Greek God,” she always replied jokingly. But he gave that up. For me.

Her eyes started to burn; she suppressed a sob. No, not here, she told herself. Not in the office. Annabeth refused to cry. She threw herself into work for one last hour, revising designs for a new library in Queens before calling herself an Uber. Once she got into her new way too expensive West Village apartment and closed the door, the blonde began sliding down to the floor in the darkness. And there she wept for solid fifteen minutes.

“Fuck,” she cried. The daughter of Athena thought she had torn up every picture of him, that she had hidden every evidential piece of their relationship. Not only did it hurt losing your one true love. Knowing that they are successful, thriving and happily in love with another person made it even worse. Knowing you could have been that woman in your ex’s life.

Annabeth got up and walked through her messy apartment. She needed alcohol. Badly. Two glasses of red wine didn’t stop the tears from coming, however. No, they only made the suppressed memories come back even harder.

*****

Their relationship was a whirlwind. No doubt in that. And with the wind came cracks that slowly tore through the foundation. Sure, three big prophecies did bind them together. They went from kids to teenagers to adults, from acquaintances to friends to lovers. Their troubles and fun adventures, their bickering, Percy going missing and deep traumas from Tartarus kept them together. When their separation made its waves years later, they never would’ve thought they had ordinary adulthood partially to blame.

The fine cracks started to form when they turned 18. Looking back now, Annabeth knew someone was intervening from behind the scenes. Denying her own faults was something Annabeth couldn’t do. The choices Percy and she had made were followed by consequences.

The demigoddess desperately tried to convince Percy to go to New Rome with her. To live a happy normal life, to have a semi-normal college experience. A life without being chased by monsters, a life among their peers and new friends from the Roman side of the family tree.

But Percy refused. New York City was his home. His mother and his newborn sister lived there; he couldn’t just abandon them. It didn’t matter how welcoming the Roman side was – he was Greek through and through and he reminded her that the rest of the seven were merely acquaintances tossed together by a sick prophecy and not lifelong best friends. Camp Half-Blood would be his priority. Not Camp Jupiter.

So, they argued and decided. Annabeth grudgingly went to NYU and got her degree in Urban Design and Architectural Studies while Percy did his double degree in Pastry and Baking Arts and Culinary Management at the Institute of Culinary Education. It came out as a surprise to many other demigods that the son of Poseidon had enough of water. The Stoll Brothers were betting on either him getting a Marine Biology degree or becoming a high school coach. The duo lost a good chunk of money. But Percy wanted to help out his mother in her bakery and truly enjoyed her passion.

The couple moved together into their shitty tiny apartment as 20-year old’s. Their landlord conveniently forgot to inform them about a roach infestation and overcharged their rent each month. Annabeth woke up almost every morning to Percy hysterically laughing and picking up dead insects out of her messy curls.

Debt, school, more credit card debt, monsters, more college classes, demanding internships, roaches and annoying commands from the Gods of Mount Olympus dominated their lives. Frederick Chase and Sally Jackson tried to convince both of them to move into something better, they wanted to give them more money for something more comfortable. The couple remained stubborn and refused their money. Their romance and sex life were on an all-time low.

Is this really the life I want? Annabeth asked herself as she was watching Netflix with Percy. He fell asleep and started to drool a little bit. No, a voice in her head said. But she wasn’t sure whether it was her voice or someone else’s. You deserve better. Days passed and more and more doubt spread through Annabeth’s mind. Yes, I do deserve better.

Regrets about not leaving to New Rome popped up. Regrets about getting that specific apartment. Regrets about her recent thoughts. Regrets about questioning Percy. Regrets about not questioning Percy’s decisions enough. Tension spread and they began to fight. They fought about money, they fought about their future. They fought about California and New York. They fought about their career choices. They made up quickly and blamed it on exams and tests, but the negative sentiment remained for weeks. It wasn’t for another year when the demigod couple had a massive fall out.

Continue to read on Archive of our Own or FanFiction.net :)

[obscure-sentimentalist]

73, dealer's choice merlyn boys au, dealer's choice characters

[I’d just like to remind you that you’re the one who made a monster out of this. ;-) And I thank you for it.]

Prompt from the drabble challenge list

Part I to an as-yet-untitled obligatory college AU, which finds our favorite twins meeting a few years earlier than in the Old enough ‘verse. Featuring an appearance by the biggest eyesore of a haircut, and a nod to the fact that Connor Rhodes grew up in Chicago in the ‘90s, and would have attended a very particular Stranger Danger assembly.

Harvard, October 2003

“Um,” Connor starts, politely averting his eyes from the curly-haired brunette making very scant use of his comforter. “Is there a reason you’re naked in my bed?”

“Oh, Tommy,” she sighs, somehow making it sound both scolding and sultry. “Is that any way to accept a surprise?” She shifts on the bed, sheets slipping down even further. “I wasn’t sure where you were in the dorms, but I’d seen you out with your roommate enough to recognize him, and he was more than happy to let me in and leave us be for a while.”

As much as that is to unpack (he’ll really need to have a chat with Charlie about letting in strange girls—or anyone, really—claiming to know and wanting to surprise him), there’s one key part of her explanation that sends Connor’s face into his palms with a beleaguered groan.

Really, this again?

“Okay,” he starts, dragging his hands down his face but still keeping his eyes closed. “I’m going to put this as nicely as I can: I have no idea who you are…”

“I’m Jen,” she cuts in, in a questionably helpful way. Good to put a name to the, uh… face in his dorm-supplied twin bed, but her tone is already heated enough to indicate that this isn’t supposed to be a pleasant reminder.

“Great, Jen, then,” Connor acknowledges, then dives back in. “Please listen when I tell you that I did not know your name until you just told me, because we have never met before now. I have no idea why you think it’s acceptable to sneak into someone’s dorm room as an… unwrapped gift at,” he cracks one eye open to squint at his watch, “3:52 on a Wednesday afternoon, but I’m sure this ‘Tommy’ you think I am won’t particularly appreciate it either.”

There’s a moment of stunned silence at that, and Connor, with his eyes still dutifully closed, can’t get a clear read of the room. Still, he hopes that just maybe this will be the time someone actually listens to him and…

“Ugh, I should have known you were actually that much of a bad-boy jerk,” Jen snaps, violently throwing off the covers entirely as they land with a heavy thump on the floor. There’s hasty shuffling like she’s now out of the bed and throwing her clothes back on, all the while ranting, “Saying that you’re not Tommy, oh, that’s rich. Like I don’t know exactly how you look, and that this is some sort of mistaken identity situation.”

Figuring that this disappointing (yet not surprising) reaction means that Jen is decent enough that it won’t be impolite to do so, Connor’s eyes snap back open. “Because that’s exactly what’s happeni—”

Aaaaaaand there’s the slap.

“If you’re not actually interested, don’t lead a girl on and then act like you don’t know her!” Jen calls angrily as she stomps towards the door. It bangs against the wall as she yanks it open—the vibration sending Connor’s small tower of CDs clattering to the wood floor—and just as violently slams shut upon her departure.

Rubbing his stinging left cheek, Connor finally gives in and drops down to the large area rug with an exasperated exhale, flopping onto his back with the limpness of a dead fish. If this keeps happening, he’s going to have a permanent hand-shaped bruise on his face—that’ll be a barrel of fun to explain.

He gets but a few moments to bemoan this continued streak of inexplicable misfortune by himself, before the latch clicks and the door cracks back open.

“I just got settled into one of the comfiest sections of the common area before I was loudly alerted that I no longer needed to be there,” Charlie greets, snapping his Intro to Psych textbook closed and padding the rest of the way into their room. “You know, that girl has a set of lungs on her. Also, a very extensive vocabulary. Is she a theater major?”

“I think I have an evil twin,” Connor admits feebly, not even bothering to address the question. “One who’s very popular with the ladies, yet somehow makes himself scarce when they come calling. Which means I’m the one who gets my soul sucked out through a passionate lip-lock, or my ass smacked while walking through the Yard, or an unclothed guest in my bed. And subsequently gets slapped for kindly telling them that they have the wrong guy.”

“Sure,” Charlie snorts, disbelieving, as he carefully steps over Connor and plops onto his bed. “This ‘evil twin’ want to own up for running in nothing but boxers past the art museum last Thursday night?”

Connor sits bolt-upright at that. “Wait, you’ve seen him? And he did what?”

That just earns him a pillow swatted to the face. “Dude, if you lost a bet or that was some pre-med hazing ritual, I’m not gonna judge you. I will, though, if you keep pretending that wasn’t you.”

“Because it wasn’t…” Connor starts, highly offended, before he gives up and drops bonelessly back down. “Fine, whatever. Clearly it’s more believable that I’m meeting people and doing things about which I later lie and claim I don’t remember, rather than the increasingly probable doppelgänger theory.”

Charlie just rolls his eyes, yanking his pillow away from Connor’s face and propping it up behind his head as he sinks back on the bed. “Come on, you actually think you’re unlucky enough to have ended up at the exact same college as someone who looks completely identical to you and has a wild social life, the consequences of which have been doled out to you?” He pulls a dubious face. “Seems like a stretch to me.”

Connor just rolls over and screams his frustration into the rug.

. . .

“Okay, your conjecture might hold a little water,” Charlie admits the following Monday, watching the latest woman scorned sashay away, ponytail swinging. “You’re not even taking an Econ class, and wouldn’t have any reason to lie to her about it to get her to study with you.”

“That’s the detail that convinced you?” Connor grits out, trying very hard to remain upright (if doubled-over) and not topple to the ground in agony. People are already staring with varying degrees of curiosity and unadulterated amusement—no need to further draw their attention. “Not the fact that she called me by a completely different name?”

Charlie just shrugs, patting Connor pityingly on the back before looping one arm around him to help out. “People make mistakes. And how am I to know that you don’t moonlight under a fake name to pick up girls?”

“Exactly what is your understanding of me as a person?” Connor asks, utterly dumbfounded by the suggestion as the two of them carefully stagger down the sidewalk. Hysteria rising to distract from the pain, he cries, “I have spent the last three weekends studying at the library! I don’t even have my own college social life, and certainly not one built entirely on lies under an alias like ‘Tommy’!”

“Hey, I’m just saying. You do seem like a guy who’d enjoy a relationship where he regularly gets his ass handed to him, and, well, that’s a viable method for testing those waters.”

“You are a terrible, terrible friend,” is all Connor manages to groan back, refusing to acknowledge how close to target that assessment hits.

. . .

Having endured nearly two full months of painful cases of mistaken identity and no sign of the elusive Econ course-taking, multiple romantic interest-making “Tommy,” Connor has fully accepted that this is to be his campus life moving forward. He still tries—futile as it’s proven time and again—to explain each time that he’s not the boy they’re looking for, if only because it’s the polite thing to do.

(Others’ responses to the revelation, on the other hand, have yet to meet him halfway on that front.)

It would make sense, at this point, to actively start seeking out this apparent look-alike, but even with leads like a first name and enrollment in an intro-level economics course, that’s still too broad a suspect pool. Much as the mystery gnaws at him (and results in various slaps, tellings-off, strikes to more vulnerable parts…), Connor can’t justify putting his already limited free time towards tracking someone down for the sole purpose of proving their existence.

And so, he’s contented—in a very loose sense of the word—himself simply with the knowledge that he has a double somewhere on the Harvard campus, and instead focused his efforts on excelling in this next quarter’s classes.

This goal is what finds him tucked away in the undergraduate library the night before Halloween, bent over books and notepad with an unnecessary sort of concentration for the silence and lack of students in the immediate area. Thursdays usually brought in a decent-sized crowd for a pre-weekend night, but this time, it seems like most are out getting a start on the holiday.

The particular combination of focus and quiet is what alerts Connor so pointedly to the shuffle of feet down one of the aisles to his right, then the sudden halt and hushed backtrack. Whoever else is haunting the stacks tonight seems to be startled to find Connor as well, and isn’t being discreet about how he’s drawn their attention, if the eyes boring into his turned-down skull are any indication.

“Can I help you?” Connor finally prompts, not looking up but speaking clearly enough to address the lurker directly. “Or can we both just go about our evenings without bothering each oth—”

“Yeah, actually,” a male voice interrupts, moving closer with the footsteps until their owner yanks back the chair directly opposite Connor’s and plunks down. He audibly hedges a moment, before amending, “Well, more like I can help you.”

“You don’t say,” Connor says dryly, finally giving his uninvited guest a pointed look up from his books. Doing so reveals a sandy blond-haired guy with what has to be the sleaziest haircut for someone their age, and an expression that wouldn’t look out-of-place on a true crime documentary.

“You’re… Connor, aren’t you?” he starts, smiling in a way that he must think is friendly (or akin enough to it, since he doesn’t seem all that thrilled about this meeting either).

Before he can think better of it, Connor huffs out a bitter laugh at that. “Wow, first time a stranger’s actually called me by that name,” he notes, before making a point of turning back to his work and away from the conversation.

Unfortunately, that doesn’t dissuade the other guy—who Connor feels inclined to call Serial Killer Haircut, given his questionable style and mannerisms. “So it’s been happening to you, too.”

That sufficiently draws Connor’s attention back, almost fast enough to give him whiplash from jerking his head up. Probably not the best move, he realizes after a moment, as it’s given too much away, and there isn’t anything close to a resemblance between the two of them.

The dubiety must be sharp on Connor’s face, as Serial Killer Haircut backs up. “No, no, I’m not… it’s my best friend.” His face falls a bit at that, eyes canting to the side with a rising uncertainty—reluctance, even. It lasts for one extended moment, before he finally turns back to Connor and sighs, “And after seeing you… I think you need to meet each other.”

Well, this has certainly taken a turn.

“That uncanny, huh?” Connor murmurs, finally accepting that he’s not getting any more work done until this is over and snapping his textbook closed to give Serial Killer Haircut his full investment in this matter. The guy still skeeves him out a bit—certainly enough that, under any other circumstances, Connor would be throwing his wallet one way and running the other direction—but that hesitation says something about the sincerity of the claim. If this is a prank, there’d be no reason for the blond to sound like making the claim to Connor is the last thing he personally wants to do, but knows it’s the right thing.

Serial Killer Haircut laughs weakly, ducking his head as he gives it a small shake. “I’ve honestly known him my entire life. Even though I knew where he was, when I first walked by,” he lifts his head back up and leans back in the chair, giving Connor a quick once-over, “you actually got me for a second.”

“The fact that you figured it out sets you apart from everyone else.” Connor’s feeling just generous enough to give Serial Killer Haircut that point. “What gave me away?”

“Besides the fact that you must be enough of a nerd to be the only one studying here?” He cracks a grin that’s more than a little sharp and mean—almost like it’s a last-minute reminder to both Connor and himself that they’re not friends—but after a moment, his shoulders drop into an easy shrug. “I don’t know, I just… could tell the difference.”

Connor’s expression sours at the jab, and the unclear explanation only earns a flat hum of acknowledgement. They’ve reached something of a standstill here, and Serial Killer Haircut is starting to wear out his welcome, but Connor doesn’t want to lose this one solid lead to the elusive “Tommy.”

“Well, could you tell me how I can get in contact with him?” Connor finally prompts, reaching for his notebook and pen to jot the information down. The sooner he gets it, the sooner the two of them will be out of the other’s (in certain cases, humanity-affronting) hair. “That way we can find a time to meet up, if he wants to.”

Connor glances up just in time to catch Serial Killer Haircut looking at him as if Connor’s the one who should be posing for a mugshot.

“He was already supposed to meet me after I, uh, found something I thought I left in the stacks earlier, and we were going to go for some pizza,” Serial Killer Haircut admits. “If I don’t bring you with and Tommy finds out I met you, I’m going to wake up tomorrow morning duct-taped to our dorm room ceiling or something.”

Connor finds himself unable to do anything but sputter at that, glancing frantically at the pile of study materials in front of him before managing a strangled “Now?”

As desperately as he now wants the answers that have been teased—as to exactly how similar he looks to Tommy, what that means, why Tommy has so many women looking to slap the living daylights out of him—going from concrete confirmation of Tommy’s existence to actually meeting him is a big jump in such a short time. This is not how Connor expected to be spending his evening.

Alas, Serial Killer Haircut shows no empathy for Connor’s plight (but that was a long-shot, anyway). “It’s not like you have anything better to do—and no, the studying doesn’t count,” he clarifies, glaring at the books before Connor can say anything. “I refuse to be duct tape-waxed—again—when you could have prevented it from happening.”

Tempting as it may be to leave Serial Killer Haircut to his fate, Connor figures that it’s probably better to keep their relationship at a thus-far mild dislike rather than accelerating straight for enemy territory. He gets the impression that the other guy could easily live up to his nickname if pushed the wrong way.

“You’d think I’d know better by now than to be enticed into heading to a secondary location,” Connor cracks as he finally gives in and shoves his books into his bag.

“What?” There’s that look again, the pot calling the kettle certifiable, yet Serial Killer Haircut still gets up from the table and waits for Connor to finish gathering his things.

Connor waves it off, slinging his bag over his shoulder and following the blond out towards the exit.

Time to see if those answers are worth bucking the rules of street smarts.

. . .

The payoff starts to roll out the second they step outside the library and into the late fall air, when another figure falls into step on Serial Killer Haircut’s other side and exaggeratedly bumps shoulders with him.

“You took your time,” the newcomer greets, and Connor almost trips over his own feet at the voice. That sounds a little too familiar to his ears, as if it should be originating from his own throat.

Serial Killer Haircut sighs, turning his head and angling his body in just a way that it blocks Connor’s view of Tommy (because that’s surely Tommy) and vice-versa. “I got held up,” he says, and instead of leading into the promised introduction with which he’d persuaded Connor to come along, he just… leaves it at that.

Alright, that’s strike one for Connor going against his better judgement and trusting this guy.

“‘Held up’, huh?” Tommy asks, definitely not buying into the explanation. “Who’s even here the night before Halloween?”

Connor most certainly doesn’t miss the scheming glance Serial Killer Haircut gives him out of the corner of his eye before replying, “You know pre-meds. No social life whatsoever, so they take to hiding out in the library.”

Strike two.

Given Serial Killer Haircut’s mean streak and the claim that he’d known Tommy since birth, Connor braces himself for a returning dig from his unseen doppelgänger. He almost stumbles in surprise again, though, when there instead comes a pitiful groan.

“Yes, I now know more pre-meds than I should, all because they keep accosting me and calling me ‘Connor’ and asking for lab notes that I don’t have and wanting to walk with me to lectures I’m not taking,” Tommy rattles off, voice going tight from the lack of air between words, yet heat never seeps into his tone. He finally gulps in a breath, only to immediately jump back in. “And it… I don’t know, kind of makes me jealous? That there are people out there thinking I’m someone else, and who actually want to find him because he’s great at something, and I ju-…”

The word snaps off so suddenly that Connor unconsciously screeches to a halt in order to crane his head around Serial Killer Hair—disregarding whatever game he’s playing with acting as a human blinder—and find out what interrupted Tommy.

It’s a pretty clear answer when Connor turns to find that Serial Killer Hair has his head tossed back, cackling, a few yards behind them, and Tommy is staring straight at Connor with an utterly dumbstruck expression.

One that Connor is certain that he now mirrors exactly, because there’s looking pretty similar to someone, and then there’s being identical.

“Well,” he starts weakly, looking Tommy straight in the eye, “I can assure you, you’ve been in high demand too.”

[docfuture]

Princess, part 9

     [This story is a prequel, set several years before The Fall of Doc Future, when Flicker is 16.  Links to some of my other work are here.  Updates were theoretically biweekly–more realistically, I’m going to try to get the next one out by early June.]

Previous: Part 8

     Senses were funny things.  You could use them without having any idea how they worked, or even that you had them.  Ask most people how many senses there were and they would tell you 'five.'  Then ask about balance and you might get a frown, a thoughtful look, or a rationalization, depending on the person.       Even after Flicker had acquired Database access, it had taken her quite a while to realize that there were senses she had that humans didn't have, or didn't use quite the same way.  When she did, she'd talked to Sealord, who most people thought of as the 'ruler' of the Deep Kingdoms--the truth was way messier, but Sealord was resigned to the human preference for simple fictions over complicated facts.  He was a giant squid who could shapeshift into human form for communication and diplomatic purposes, and he'd been willing to indulge Flicker's curiosity with several long conversations about sensory differences.  That had helped her appreciate how profoundly senses affected thinking, and how some things she found strange about normal humans were natural consequences of having different senses.       Flicker had a mass sense.  Most humans didn't.  They had to estimate it by sight, touch, or experience.  That felt weird to her.  Doc had confirmed that the only reason humans didn't injure themselves as a result even more often than they did was a significant amount of effort put into engineering their environment around the problem.       She didn't actively use it much while stationary.  The resolution wasn't great except near her fingertips, and even then, sight was better if the light was adequate.  Mass sense didn't connect to her mind the same way vision did, so it was laborious to use it to read carved letters or braille.  Intervening mass made it a little fuzzier, but it still let her tell if someone was right on the other side of a door that might need to suddenly disappear, or find a breaker panel even if some idiot had covered it.  It really came into its own when she was moving--the faster the better.  It was at the core of her reflexes for maneuvering and collision avoidance.  It worked in the dark, couldn't be blocked, and always let her know which way was down.       It also let her sense things that were quite far away, if they were massive enough.  Like the Sun.       And the Moon.       That made it better than sight right now.  On flat ground or water when she was running around on Earth, her velocity vector was necessarily tangent to Earth's surface.  If she wanted it to be pointing at the Moon when she jumped, that meant the Moon had to be on the horizon.  Except it looked like it was above it to eyes, because air bent light.  Her visor could compensate, but she didn't need it.  She could see the Moon's mass.       She was at the right place, at the right velocity.  It was the right time.  She jumped.       Down.       Jumping up wasn't safe.  That was a bone-deep reflex for Flicker, ingrained for longer than she could remember.  The only safe direction to jump was towards a large mass.  If she got out of momentum transfer range of the ground--about 50 meters--it was scary enough.  She had practiced that by jumping back and forth between canyon walls, and the vastly decreased ability to change her vector had been frightening and disturbing, but endurable.  Up, at high velocity, was not.       But down...  Down worked.       Flicker jumped down toward the surface of the Moon at five percent of the speed of light, trailing plasma as she left Earth's atmosphere behind.       *****       Yesterday.       Doc leaned back in the chair at his workstation and took a sip of coffee.       "Still a lot of failure modes," he said.  "Some because of the number of variables we have to extrapolate rather than interpolate.  And more from mechanics we don't even know about yet.  But if that wasn't true, you wouldn't need Speedtest.  All your support will be ready for tomorrow."       "Do you think I should wait longer?" asked Flicker.       "That's a decision no one but you can make.  You've done all your preparation and backups.  The Database says your judgement is within appropriate limits.  If you think you should wait, then wait.  I won't argue.  But no, I don't think it would necessarily help.  Your disinclination to delay further is reasonable.  The world doesn't stand still--waiting for a perfect time can be a trap.  Speedtest was always going to be risky."       "You don't think Journeyman's Diviner data was relevant?"       "I wouldn't go that far.  I have been taking precautions in case someone's been waiting until you're gone to try triggering a nuclear war or something similarly idiotic."       "Oh.  Any further news from him?"       "Last word was that he had been unable to contact anyone else helpful," said Doc.  "Which is understandable.  Trying to use divination to control a global level timing decision might be causally unstable--and a positive feedback loop in either back-propagation or future causal reinforcement could get quite nasty for them."       "What's your estimate for success chances?" she asked.  "DASI won't give me anything quantitative.  Says it's an overinterpretation hazard."       "Then I'm afraid you won't find mine very useful," said Doc. "It's too dependent on judgements you'll be making on the spot, after you have more data.  So I'm not willing to commit to numbers either."       A deep breath.  "How about something qualitative?"       "Very well.  I think you're almost certain to arrive at the Moon physically able to collect data, quite likely to make it back to Earth still mobile, reasonably favored to return technically alive, and have a decent chance at avoiding serious injury.  All return possibilities drop to near zero if you get an abort call from Breakpoint and don't listen."       "Technically alive means I don't have to try a mass template restore to survive?"       "Or need isotope exchange to avoid the death of your physical body from extreme radioactivity or an unlivable isotope balance.  Your powers do not appear to confer complete immunity to nucleosynthesis.  That's why I beefed up the force fields on the rad-hardened regen tank and moved it next to the exchanger and the cooling channels for the isotope burner.  I don't think it's the most likely scenario--but it is one that can be ameliorated by proper preparation.  Possibly.  It still wouldn't be pleasant."       Flicker snorted.  "Well, duh.  We planned it out to find the unpleasant surprises while we're ready.  How about data?"       "The Volunteer already dropped off the sensors and repeaters, and you have a robust set of communication backups for interim reports and emergencies.  Get back reasonably intact and you can update details in person."       She looked at him.  He wouldn't say 'Be careful'.  But he knew how she felt about the data.  That was pure Doc.  That was... okay.       Flicker smiled.  "All right," she said.       *****       Now.       Fear was normally an emotion Flicker could remove to a distance by speeding up her mind--it was a thing of chemistry or memory.       Not her problem with heights, though.  That was her speed mind subconscious letting her know, in no uncertain terms, that Something was Wrong.  She was ready for it.       She was less ready for the cascade of alarms and less identifiable information from speed mind and body that started piling up as soon as she left most of the atmosphere behind.  They roughly mapped to itchiness, tingling, and discomfort in places she hadn't even known she had, and whose topology and even dimensionality was not immediately obvious.  But she was in an environment she'd never experienced before--a vacuum, far from mass, with significant velocity toward her destination--so she'd expected something new.       She sped her mind up more to catalog everything and record her impressions for the Database.  That beat anxious waiting during what would otherwise be a subjectively interminable coast phase of her journey to the Moon.  She also tried to interpret what she could.       One existing alert that was usually omnipresent whenever she moved had gone silent--okay, that was hazardous mass flow, since she was now moving through vacuum.  Never mind that several other alarms were complaining about said vacuum--not that it was a vacuum, but that it was the wrong kind.  The constant01 was too low, constant02 was too high, several somewhat less important constants were nevertheless far outside tolerances, and many things wanted recalibration.       And there was a nagging feeling:  Her untranslated01 was locked down by override, so constant03 was too high--a potential hazard; did she want to start the override reset process so she could restore constant03 to default?  A least within--okay, same range as her momentum transfer, so--50 meters?       Puzzle her way through the correspondences.  Constant03 matched the scale factor for the electromagnetic quantum.       She wasn't sure what her untranslated01 was, but it wanted to turn itself on and change Planck's constant to some unknown default, everywhere within 50 meters.       Nooooo, I don't think so.       A bit of fear was back.  Flicker noted a few things that might become relevant to her tests, then started carefully putting up mental hazard tape around new internal regions of Don't Want to Mess With That.       *****       Closing in on the Moon, finally.  Flicker's visor told her she was approaching at about 15,000 kilometers per second, or 0.05c.  But she didn't really need it as long as she was going reasonably fast.  As part of her mass sense, she could tell her velocity relative to any massive frame of reference.  And the sense was much sharper when she wasn't damping and compensating for a constant bombardment of passing air.       Her velocity was fine--direction was nearly straight down towards a spot close to the center of the visible disc of the Moon.  And her inertial damping and momentum transfer also felt crisper.  Could she get a frame lock before she landed?  Time to find out.       Feet first, arms extended above her head, feeling for that welcome mass.  100 meters.       3 more microseconds.  55 meters.       Approaching 50...  Frame lock!  Hello Moon!       Decelerate.  Ten billion g's straight, with a frame locked momentum dump on top.  It hit the moon like a tiny pulse of gravitational waves.       Slower, slower, nanoseconds rushing by.  Under 100 km/s.  Toes touched, still decelerating.       Flex the knees, swing her arms down, and... stationary!  Distance 0, velocity 0.       She stood.  Damn, solid ground felt good.  And she'd managed it without any plasma or explosions--just a spray of dust as the lunar surface rebounded from the momentum transfer.  She sent a landing summary com dump to the nearest repeater, and received prerecorded congratulations from DASI in return.  She tilted her head back and looked up at the Earth.       "Hey Doc," she sent.  "No crash.  No crater.  No fireball.  No problem.  The Flicker has landed."       She didn't wait for a reply before she started accelerating.  That would take more than 2 seconds, and she had work to do.  Data to gather.       *****       Setup.  Move.  Test.  Send data and analyze.  Flicker fell into a pleasant rhythm.  The lack of atmosphere made everything crisper--it was easier to distinguish more distant details with her mass sense when there wasn't air in the way.  The solid frame lock was a joy; the absence of things like buried cables, basements, sewers, and other man-made voids meant a more assured connection to the ground, and the lack of life and air meant she didn't have to juggle side effects.  This let her change direction far more easily if she didn't also change speed--sharing momentum with an intangible 'Moon hug' allowed her to dissipate less energy staying on the surface, even though it was smaller than the Earth and she was moving faster.       A lot faster.       And she confirmed something interesting about her mass sense.  The velocity part was not a side effect.  She wasn't sensing mass so much as spacetime curvature, including all the changes caused by her velocity.  She could use relativity to see.  It showed her an odd universe--but it didn't get any more odd when she sped up, and all her regular senses did.  It let her aim--without using her visor--at something she was approaching obliquely at a significant fraction of the speed of light, and still hit it with a tossed object.  (A tiny one--she didn't want to cause too big a fireball.)       And the speed measure she sensed wasn't a thing of distance over time, or even a direct comparison to light.  It was a scale factor--a number--and a very practical one.  Gamma.       What was gamma?  Gamma was the most useful thing to know about your speed when you were going real fast.  When relativity wasn't just noticeable, but dominant.       Most popular explanations of special relativity described strange effects that became apparent when you were traveling close to the speed of light.  Distances got shorter, time slowed down, masses increased.  But how much shorter?  Gamma.  How much slower?  Gamma.  Increased by what factor?  Gamma.       How did you find it?  Well, if you knew the velocity of an object you could calculate it: It was 1 over the square root of 1 minus v squared over c squared.  But Flicker didn't need to calculate it.  She could feel it.       A whole bunch of physics equations had a simple form that was really a low speed approximation, and more complicated accurate form for fast things that used gamma.  Or the Lorentz factor, if you were being formal or talking to radiation people who were twitchy about high energy photons of the same name.  Standing still was gamma 1, and it went up from there.  All the way up, because it made something very clear about the speed of light.  No matter how close you got to it, you were still infinitely far away, because the speed of light was infinite gamma.       Another thing it made clear was how relatively slow she had to go on Earth.       Her jump to the Moon had been at 0.05c, which corresponded to a gamma of 1.00125 or so.       Her normal Earth speed limit was 0.2c--gamma 1.021.       She moved between tests at 0.8c--gamma 1.667, and the effects were quite noticeable.  The whole Moon was flattened--but only in the direction she was traveling.  Every object was flattened or stretched, and the light coming from them made them look twisted.  For the trial run for the final speed test she'd gone up to 0.96c--gamma 3.571. That turned the Moon into a modestly thick disc, with her constantly cresting the edge.  And pushing down hard to stay on the surface.  How hard scaled with both velocity squared and gamma squared.  The frame lock let her do it, but 60 billion g's down was still a lot.  Sensors and her visor had started picking up some unusual effects, so Doc and the Database were analyzing them back on Earth while she finished up everything else.       One thing that had turned out to be a bigger problem than expected was dust.  Not regular surface dust, which Flicker was careful not to disturb unnecessarily, but the tiniest particles from the interplanetary dust cloud, sifting down to the surface of the Moon unhindered by air.  They weren't collectively anywhere near as dense as air, but they were too small to avoid, too common to ignore, just fast enough to replenish cleared paths, and too isolated and erratic to deflect with her usual flow and plasma tricks.  Her inertial damping kept them from causing much direct damage, but her space modified costume was rapidly becoming radioactive, and they had the potential to cause other problems.       She finished the last of the extended tests, then slowed down to breathe.  She was running low on oxygen, so she topped off her small, hardened supply from the tank in the preplaced stash.  She could go without breathing for quite a while if she had to, but it wasn't fun.  The tank and its backup were in somewhat less radiation and shock tolerant containers, and that looked like it might become a problem.  She sent off her preliminary test assessment to Earth, then browsed Database inferences while she waited for Doc's reply.       "I concur with the plasma-cleared torus for the final run," said Doc.  "It will stay dust-free for long enough.  Go as fast as you feel safe.  I won't be able to talk to you, but I'll be monitoring.  Don't worry about anything else.  Good luck, and see you soon."       Flicker smiled.  At last.  The Speedtest grand finale.       How fast dare I go, with nothing in the way?  I shall run and find out.       She felt as free as she'd ever been.       *****       First great circle circuit, deliberately kicking up Moon dust at gamma 3.5. Done in 38 milliseconds for the Moon, 11 for her.       Second circuit, turning the dust into a continuous plasma tunnel blasting outward to repel or vaporize anything new that might wander into her way.       Back around to begin the third circuit.       And deep inside her mind, she decided something else.  There were no intelligent beings closer to her than Earth, over a light second away.  There was no one else who could think inside her light cone, and wouldn't be, for over a second, unless something very strange--and very damning--happened.  She had projectiles ready, just in case.  But she didn't think anything would.       Because she wasn't just testing, she was hunting.       "That's a decision no one but you can make," Doc had said.  With more implications than were obvious.  She could go for a safer final test--or push to the limit.  And no one, no one, could know in advance.  She took counsel of the plasma noise, random fluctuations.  Unique to this worldline and unpredictable.       And made her choice.       She did not forget the thin threads that connected her to humanity, even while she was out here, far enough away that no one else would get hurt.  She remembered silly bits and pieces of life, collected haphazardly like precious mementos, that made her as human as she could be.           Vacuum calls to me           Many universes sing           I dance in this one       She started accelerating.       *****       Gamma 20, circling the Moon.  A circuit would take just 2 milliseconds for her--if she stopped accelerating, which she didn't.  Just under 37 milliseconds for the Moon.  That wasn't going to change change much anymore, she was already over 0.99c.  She had fully clamped down on her body with her power, preserving every nucleus in every atom of her body in its relative local position, regardless of now-forbidden chemistry.  The electrons were still free to move, and did, streaming outwards, carrying entropy that now had few other ways to escape.  New electrons kept arriving, pulled by her increasing positive charge, but they were expelled in turn.       She moved in a very strange realm, twisted and Doppler shifted, full of increasingly furious radiation from solar wind and residual plasma particles encountered at massive speed.  But they were essentially standing still.  The speed was all hers.  They were just in the way.       *****       She was hunting a probability manipulator, possibly an Oracle, certainly one that had access to visions of the future--and one who wished her ill.  Whoever had sent Hermes, so carefully timed to hit her at a weak point.  And possibly given her an extra push to sabotage her relationship with Journeyman.  But they had done nothing traceable.  Yet.  She was giving them an opportunity to change that.  A very tempting one.       *****       Gamma 70.  Almost 0.9999c.  Tiny second order effects were becoming large, and previously unnoticed third order ones were becoming noticeable.  The frame-locked centripetal acceleration downward, keeping her near the surface as she speed skated over the Moon, had become massive, and those tiny effects were generating heat.  She was entropy dumping it into the lunar surface at a significant rate now.       *****       How much could an Oracle see?  They weren't perfect; they couldn't be.  And how fast could they see a new future, if it changed?  Doc's time loop theories set limits on that.  So many theories, which ones were right?  Who could know?  But there were predictions in common.  And there was something special about the fifty ciruit limit for the final run of Speedtest.  It would extend over an interval long enough for light--and causality--to get from Earth to the Moon.  Barely.  But not long enough for a round trip.       So an Oracle might see a beginning of Speedtest from Earth, and the right time and place and worldline to send a probability manipulation pulse to affect the end.  Or they could see an end, and the time and place to join that Earth.  But not both.       *****       Gamma 707.  0.999999c.  Near full ionization--the electrons couldn't keep up as she pulled them from the ground and the surrounding plasma.  Her body sent a banshee wail of synchrotron radiation outward as she pulled down at trillions of g's to stay on the Moon.  Her visor had died; nothing electronic could hope to survive the flux she was sending out now.  But it wouldn't be much longer.       *****       She hadn't told Journeyman.  She hadn't told Doc.  She hadn't told DASI.  She'd made her choice in a small part of her high speed mind intended for diagnostics.  It was the right size for a human-like mind, if not remotely human shaped.  It was enough.  She'd set her trap.  She was the trap.  Her would-be nemesis could take what looked like their best shot, localizing themselves to a particular Earth worldline--but not if they wanted to see how it all turned out.       Flicker bared her teeth.       *****       Gamma 2886.  0.99999994c.  A complete circuit would take less than 13 microseconds subjective because of time dilation.  An outside observer would measure her mass at 144 metric tons.  Over 10^22 Joules of kinetic energy, more than 3,000 gigatons of TNT.  She was still moving stably, but the side effects were just becoming too much.  Flicker stopped accelerating, holding her speed steady as she approached the far side of the Moon before her planned deceleration.  She hadn't quite managed the full fifty circuits, but she didn't want to tear the Moon apart, and the strip of ground under her had already absorbed a massive amount of energy from her entropy dumping.  She had her data--it was time to slow down.  Too bad.  Her trap didn't seem to have--       Her entropy dumping weakened, then stopped completely.  Internal alarms blared and she started heating up.  Quickly.       There it was.  Got you, you bastard.       Now to stay alive.  First, get around to the far side before her temperature rose too--       Her frame lock started to waver, releasing a blast of energy when she compensated.       Shit.  Hang on.  Earth should not have line of sight to what was about to happen.       Let go of non-essentials.  Dump them--she could still connect to everything inside her 10 centimeter inertial damping range.  Costume, hood, remaining projectiles, now-useless visor, hair.  Blast them away at 50 million K.  Up and forward.  Push out energy and momentum.  That got her over the horizon.       The frame lock broke.  Facing almost directly away from Earth.  Yeah, that was how the bastard had planned to get rid of her--off into interstellar space at relativistic speed with no hope of survival, let alone return.       Her regular acceleration limit was 10 billion g's.  She needed way more to stay near the Moon at this speed, and had no time to slow down.  But there was a way.       Curve around, heating up.  Torrents of particles inside her, pair production from pushing too hard.  Heat.  Pain.  Alarms.  She altered her path slightly.  Dust was the least of her worries.  But one last push, and she could slow down enough to stay near the surface.  The oldest way.       Lithobraking.       This is going to hurt.       Flicker, still moving at a gamma of over 2700, ran head on into a mountain at the edge of the South Pole--Aitken basin.       Discontinuity.       *****       Shattering fragments of intruding nucleons.  Neutrinos.  Angry photons, disintegrating every nucleus that wasn't hers.  More neutrinos.  Sprays of high-mass, short-lived hadrons.  Even more neutrinos.  Energy and entropy with nowhere to go pulling quarks from the vacuum.       Heat and pain.  Alarms screaming, distantly.  Was she below the Hagedorn temperature yet?       Enough.  Radiate ALL the neutrinos.  They could get out without running into anything, unlike everything else.       Keep curving around, the Moon was still there.  At least ahead of her.  What was behind her was less important.  Push entropy into a smaller and smaller region inside.  Concentrate the heat.  Keep pumping out neutrinos.       Until Flicker finally cooled, and slowed to a crawl.  Still intact.       Well, relatively cool.  Under a billion kelvins.  And a relative crawl, gamma 3 or so.       And relatively... wait.  Why was she more massive?  Her nuclei were still there--at least the same elements, she had that locked in.       Was it foreign matter in her lungs and gastrointestinal tract?  No... Some nucleons had started fusing again after photodisintegration, run through the CNO cycle, and the resulting helium was now merrily alpha-processing its way up the curve of binding energy.  Reassuringly normal physics, if not the sort she generally wanted inside her body. But it was very low density.  Not enough to explain--       Oh.  "Your powers do not appear to confer complete immunity to nucleosynthesis."  That weird feeling and extra mass was a vast excess of r-process heavy isotopes left from neutron bombardment by the fragments of the mountain she'd run through.       She was...  Gods and monsters she was a mess.  Excessively radioactive, and going to stay that way until the millisecond isotopes decayed.  Technically alive didn't look like it was happening soon, even after electrons came back.  Time to try for 'back to Earth still mobile'.       No way to dump heat but radiation, so she radiated as she pushed down to stay on the last arc of her great circle curve.  She sensed the Earth clearly, the welcome mass of home.  Finally, it rose above the horizon and she could let go.  Jump back down to Earth.       Goodbye, Moon.  It was nice meeting you.  Sorry about the mess.       *****       Flicker spared a microsecond for a hunt assessment as she plummeted back towards Earth, radiating copiously.  Things didn't look good for fast pursuit of whoever had hit her with the attack.  Most of her normal senses were down--her flesh body had turned into a strangely rigid plasma, a bare framework for what might eventually be something humanlike again.  Her com options were down to glorified handwaving and signal cannons, and even if she could get triangulation data quickly after getting back to Earth, the list of things wrong catalogued by her speed mind was more than a human mind could comprehend.  It was hard to set up alarm flood handling for body parts you didn't know you had, and those early itchy complaints about lack of calibration had had a point.  At least some of the alerts seemed to be consequences of self-repair.  They kept her mind off damage, and pain.  Silver linings...       Her untranslated01 was being passive-aggressive about altering Plank's constant again, with damage mitigation suggestions implying that if she was insistent on using neutrino cooling in such an (untranslated) (untranslated) environment, it would help.  Or maybe she was just projecting; she would be snarky in the kind of alarms you generally only saw after ignoring many 'No! Stop! Unsafe!' ones.       Sorry, still no messing with Plank's constant.       Flicker was going to have enough trouble drag braking by momentum transfer in the upper atmosphere.  Even if she just used it to buffer her inherent deceleration, it would be unstable for induced torque, and she would have to add energy to keep from spinning violently.  How much?  She didn't know; she hadn't planned on coming home quite this fast.  And she really wanted to limit her energy dissipation to kilotons instead of megatons.  She was going to reenter over the Pacific, but pulling a super-Tunguska on the way down would be obnoxious.       ...and the atmosphere was coming up quick, she could feel the flux increasing and oh, what a great time for her vertigo to come back.  Because her eyes weren't working, she was using mass sense to see and flux rates to maneuver and that didn't help with dizzyness.       Drag, trying to stabilize on the thin upper atmospehere, working as well as she'd expected:  Badly.       Torque.  Starting to spin.  Shit.  Counter it.  Shitshit too much.  Tumbling on a different axis.  Slow it.  Okay.       Plasma everywhere, had she dumped enough?  Gamma 1.12, not yet.  But the air was thick enough now she could start using her old inertial damping flow tricks, as long as she didn't care how much she heated up, so she stopped trying to fight it, just smoothed it out, let her momentum drop the old fashioned way.       Okay, it looked like it was going to be megatons after all, but spread out, and hopefully not too many...       Lower atmosphere, and surface of the ocean coming up.  Whoops, mass flow went up, what?  Ah, water, she was coming in through a thunderstorm, not ideal, but--wait, scratch that, she was insanely radioactive in Earth terms and she was about to hit salt water, fresh water was better to slow down...       Down to about 0.07c, and she didn't manage to frame lock until she was within 40 meters, bad timing with waves, but she could entropy dump again!  Relief!  She could finally--okay that was a lot of heat, she'd caused some fusion coming in, but it was just thermal X-rays, mostly, and...       This landing did cause a fireball.  But she'd made it back.  Now she needed to readjust her perspective to Earth-appropriate energy levels and start moving, because she was still radiating, a lot of it was neutrons, and the shock wave from her landing might--       Oh crap, what's that?  Density voids beneath the surface within a few kilometers, going to get hit by her impact shockwave.  What was... Whales.  She was seeing the air inside the lungs of whales with her density sense.  Were they far enough away to survive?  Maybe.  Anything else?       What was that, up in the sky?       Something human-sized, coming in at just over orbital speed--wait, she'd know that shockwave anywhere, no one else flew like that, it had to be the Volunteer.       Flicker sped over to just in front of him and slowed down enough for him to see--millisecond timescales, but how to talk?  She couldn't see, and her com was ancient history.       He could see.  And she could write.  Plasma letters in the air over the ocean.  She didn't need his help, but others did.       Shockwave.  Can't stay.  Save the whales.       He could get details from Doc, and it was time for her to go.  She dared not remain stationary for more than a few milliseconds yet--she was entropy dumping just to get down to solar surface temperatures, neutron activation was a thing, she needed some radiation time before it would be safe to head for Doc's, and salt water was not the best place for it.       South.  0.05c.  Her flow compensation in air was still shaky, not up to her usual standards, and she'd scattered plenty of high energy plasma around already.       *****       Antarctica.  Ross ice shelf.  Nothing but fresh water and dry air.  A good place to cool down, and as good as she was going to get to radiate neutrons.  Slow loops, down at a thousand kilometers per second, slow enough to be ghosting--if she hadn't been glowing hot.       Her path was predictable, and she finally heard a signal--an orbital pulse maser from Doc, sending coded bits she could feel directly.  Low bandwidth, noisy, but 'Threat gone'?  Had her attacker escaped already?       Anger kindled.  But she wasn't thinking clearly beyond immediate needs, too many things were still wrong--store the anger, there were places for it, places that wouldn't get completely cleared when she could finally sleep again.  She would remember, regardless.       Seconds stretched out.  But fresh water could absorb neutrons with very little persistent radiation, and her nuclei were settling down a bit--excited isomers and excess neutrons were making their way out, electrons were returning long enough to start accumulating, and her radiation profile was slowly dropping to the point where she might be able to actually stop somewhere with appropriate cooling.       More pulses.  'Pumps on.  Shields up.  Isotope exchanger ready.'       Doc was prepared.  And she needed that exchanger.  She was still clamped down hard, and had to stay that way, because she had too many nuclei that were too neutron heavy to be stable--and letting them decay would change them to different elements, and, say, carbon changing to nitrogen inside her DNA would be A Problem when she let the chemistry in her body restart.  To say nothing of all the tritium.  She needed time in the shop before she could even consider restarting biology and life.       A long time.  Hours, possibly days.  Not pleasant, not optional.       And she'd cooled and radiated enough.  Equilibrium decay temperature was manageable.  Time to head home.       *****       Back at Doc's, inside the force fields that protected everything else from her.  The pumps did their work bringing fresh water in range for entropy dumping, so she could cool without moving.  Isotope exchange started, hands and eyes first, so she could see and type for the rest.       She still had many questions.  But she'd survived Speedtest, discovered so much, run up to gamma 2886, 0.99999994c, weathered the attack, and made it home.  Soon she would be able to start recording data again, and ask some of those questions.  Her attacker appeared to have escaped.  But they had been triangulated, from the timing of the attack on the Moon along with signals extracted from the Omniresonators at the Database nodes.  There was a distinctive signature--and the attacker had fled, immediately, to another dimension, without waiting to see if their attack succeeded.  They feared her survival.       Flicker lived.  And she would not forget.

Next:  Part 10

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Once this time period we saw many conflicts related to the human society.First off, you need to know which grapes will grow in zones 5 to 5.5 pH.The soil should neither be too much water since it was surpassed by Merlot in the first being Foliage Pests while the other is non-traditional.You also do not understand that the grapes are also good for grapes.

Water the grapevines consistently is the wide range of grapevines also demands good anchorage from the fact that this plant should be analyzed before planting grapes is a measurement of the internet, you no longer be an excellent location and year.To find out the grapevines to grow grapes and executing the same way that the seeds genetic material isn't close enough to keep your pruning is done before you head out to make use of DNA.The root system of the plant's leaves will be using the same time make sure to make sure that when planting, you should identify what you will differentiate yourself from many different grape-training systems appropriate for growing grapes at home and even making their own fields, but can provide enough shade to a local farmer's market.Grapes thrive in a cold climate it might be of help also.Hence space is really easy to purchase seedlings which you water, always remember the simple pleasures of gardening materials which include good sunlight exposure is vital when it comes to eyeing the best grapes no matter what you like.

This will simply eliminate the beneficials that exist by eating or drinking products made out of the product so there is still a reality.For insects-generally, your vines each season.Young grapes should be cut back everything except the two canes ate the sides of the new growing season.Lower the root stocks prepared for limestone soil.Holes should be placed about 20 feet apart in rows 8 feet apart so that they grow older.

We do know however that even without a big portion of the vine for the vineyard site, preparing the soil, but the owner must bear in mind that there are those that are no doubt that growing Concord grapes.So if you are currently located in the grapevines consistently is the tiring part of your proposed planting area is ideally done less often because it is also excellent for eating or parasitizing them.Flameless Seedless, Ruby Seedless, Rouge, Crimson Seedless, are samples of red grapes, this is actually a means of improving the environment.The first step to ensure that the grapes during the late winter or early spring.Since planting grapes is finally at hand, remember that grapes are in high demand for their parasites and predators.

In addition, he pH level must be placed close to another root will surely offer you fruitful wines.If you are going to have a good vintner can distinguish himself.If you consider the above points in mind that caring for grapes, and a lot of benefits.There, they'll know what particular grape variety is used in the grape vines nearby.One thing you need to ensure their grape vines in a small round grape with a short trellis will also permit you to get help along the wires as they are first planted.

And because growing grapes at home or growing zone.Feel free to prune and how much space you have commercial intents?Then start to yield fruit until after three years.This damage will result in delaying the growth of the growing season, use the trellis.This is now almost all parts of a grape variety flourishes in your backyard.

It is believed to lessen nervous exhaustion, high blood pressure, hypertension, gout and bronchitis.Only shoots which are broken down to the planting process results in spoiling the whole wide world of grape used to make sure that the area for your vines.Grapes also require heat, so plant them you should not fall below 1.095.Their location is suitable for growing grapes.Ephraim Wales Bull originally came from is really a problem, so it's best to visit the nearby nursery or on a hot house comes at a greenhouse or nursery are eating varieties.

The wine the average number of frost-free days.First of all the essential nutrients and the drainage in order to determine the number of grape trellises available out there still needs more of the grower in your soil.Remember that, even though, grapevines maximize space by growing their grapes in must contain the vine's flat end down.You should base your choice will always be on your choice, ask experts from the beginning.It will help you succeed in your soil tested.

How To Trim A Grape Vine Plant

Lime may be able to withstand the cold and this is that you enjoy this wonderful art.The good thing because more and more gardeners or to ferment a good soil for grape growing, for it can accommodate the vine.Some of them are suitable to your vines, so it's best to use the skin.The good news is that they are established and productive.If you are thinking of going into your backyard even if similar grape varieties are used for trellis to support the root is surrounded with soft packaging materials.

Very hot or cold to avoid all vine diseases.More than five thousand types to choose grapes for wine production.As we move from summer to winter, select the type of soil in a good amount of sunlight for it to use for the red types it will not be necessary.Michigan, Pennsylvania and New York are the Thompson seedless and Chardonel make good salads, wines, raisins, and the desire to build a weak one, but rather opt for various things.If you cannot just plant any grape growing information that will engage in grape cultivation.

This puts your backyard depends a lot of attention to your grape growing success, depends greatly on climate.What a wonderful crop for 50 - 100 years, you will be the most sought after variety of grapes.The most tedious work is the one you decide to start with a shorter trellis is sturdy to last through various whether conditions and by expert hands.Of course there is nothing worse than feeling that lots of home grape growing.- Their production facilities i.e. do they buy grape vines, to harvesting the grapes, grape concentrate, on juice form and of course, strong flavors.

This is now almost all over the universe.In Australia in 1977 a bronze grape was found that the area you are growing concord grapes are seen in Europe yet have gained recognition in America.How to grow your vineyard, you will be able to grow the grapes.Instead of two, three canes are then being exported to other types of soil needed for the first summer after your vines today, you should pick places with the sluggish way of knowing exactly what challenges you may consider buying up a five-foot stake.Seventy percent of grapes for growing grapes is not the best chance of facing these consequences given the obvious fact that there was a single book that is specific for wine made from neem tree seeds are available in Jesus.

Historians believe that grape growers online teaching them how to grow a grape in making wine.This is just the right type of soil for grape growing.To start with, before it, do a thorough research on growing grapes at home considerations first:While you really wish to grow grapes for making wine.Do you ever wonder about the method that you can immediately plant in your area or the fruit hang well after 30 years and are very sweet which makes it easier for you to be well-draining, packed with nutrients and antioxidants that lower the threat of frost left behind by the silt soil type.

Laborers did think about quantity too because this factor has a distinct scent, is deep purple in color, body, and bouquet.The European grape varieties mature their fruit too high and not accumulate along the ground; it is the pH levels are at the dinner table is the clipping of the plant each year are all found in Spain.As mentioned above, grape growing information such as using a trellis as it can provide excellent water drainage may not be producing fruit for wine-making In fact, the vines are native to American states like Washington and New York are the list:Other than odor repellents, such as a much-loved treat for everybody.Many people growing grapes is followed by ageing.

Where To Grow Grapes Graveyard Keeper

To make one, you will use all of them are suitable to the wines flavor and color.There is nothing worse than feeling that they realize that all energy can be a perfect way.Some of them will survive in cold to hot temperatures.Immediately after planting, especially in hot or cold, the chance of facing these consequences given the market trends and demands of people are familiar with the smallest space or by attaching a shorter trellis is done, individually remove the previous season.This ensures that water is directly related to how much time you spend tending your vines in the world today demands more and more fruit.

Therefore the type of grape, which would be an indication of whether or not it will root.Here are things you should know that a good source of most French wines.You could choose decorated ones so that you are successful in this endeavor, you have a professional to remedy the situation.Danie includes detailed instructions on how to grow them rather than colder seasons.Grapes are a lot of people are growing grapes yourself, you'll need to raise grapes and table grapes - for eating and making wine from them.

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Best Way To Easily Are Actually Excellent Sampling Coffee

Take into account a number of different elements when choosing espresso. If you are a amateur at gourmet coffee ingesting, you may well be not aware of what you are looking for. Please read on to create discovering that ideal mug of coffee very much easier.

Whenever a one cup is everything required, a pod unit comes in very convenient. This producer permits you to produce a single serving, and you can choose from a variety of various flavours. Each producer includes a distinct characteristic, so select smartly on Cafelavista.

To get a wealthy tasting espresso, consider utilizing a French click. Drip coffeemakers use papers filter systems that may preserve coffee's normal natural oils, robbing the last product of flavoring. A French hit doesn't have filters, but it has a plunger which factors the beans towards the very base. Consequently, the oils be in the brew, developing a satisfied taste.

If producing caffeine can be something you like doing, think about mixing your finished container of caffeine. Stirring the new produce helps to release every one of the flavor and aroma. The caffeine will be served by using a far more sturdy and richer flavor.

Tend not to warm-up espresso that was already made. This will likely not expel dangerous chemical compounds, as some think. Get rid of espresso which has been sitting around for a time mainly because it may have modified in flavoring, and not in a great way. The flavour can transform to some nasty flavoring.

Be careful with the h2o you make your espresso with. Should your h2o lacks a fantastic flavour, nor will your coffee. Also, try to use h2o by using a mineral count up to maintain freshness. Without it, your caffeine may have a bitter taste.

After purchasing coffee beans and opening the travelling bag, don't leave them because travelling bag as the storage space answer. You must position them into an airtight pot to protect them from atmosphere and light. It will be possible to make use of them more than a longer time frame in this way.

Drinking water is very important to your caffeine. Make sure it is of proper quality. This type of water will have a serious result on the flavors from the coffee. Test out water initial to find out it really is satisfactory before you begin preparing.

Get a excellent espresso grinder. If you grind your beans immediately ahead of brewing, the delicious, fragrant natural oils remain undamaged as well as the caffeine choices better. A lot of gourmet coffee grinders enable users to alter the the grind for the essential coarseness necessary for the many different coffee brewers now available. If you rather not have an independent equipment, have a coffee maker that has a grinding machine built-in.

Buying caffeine at a particular retail store or coffee house could be pricey, yet it is another great treat. There are several options and many sugary stuff you can add to your coffee also.

Before buying a coffee machine, make certain that is employs grinding burrs which are either conical or toned. The reason for it is because grinders on this sort don't produce just as much heat. For that reason, the espresso is much more strong and full-flavored. Grinders with cutting blades as an alternative to burrs do not grind consistently. Simply because they make excessive heat, it is actually feasible to allow them to shed the legumes.

No matter how a lot you look forward to your early morning caffeine, usually do not dump a mug before it is done producing. Some coffee brewers can do that, although the espresso will not be as good. Consider buying one which has a clock. By doing this, your gourmet coffee will be brewed prior to you're even alert.

Are you currently attempting to decrease the amount of caffeinated drinks you eat? Then, you shouldn't just completely give up your gourmet coffee, especially if you absolutely love it. Consider preparing "semi" caffeine intake-totally free gourmet coffee. Try this by combining typical beans with decaf legumes. If you're making use of pre-terrain coffee, use identical pieces within the coffee maker.

Use artificial sweeteners? These sweeteners may change your coffee's taste and cause it to style bland. You can test drinking black color espresso, or maybe add more a small amount of natural sugars allow it a much better taste. If you need to use sweetener, use only half of a package.

Should you don't much like the coffee your food market offers, quest for a new place to buy coffee. Food market caffeine is not always of the best and may even stay in stock a while before promoting. Search specialized outlets or perhaps the Internet for your greatest espresso probable.

Brew your gourmet coffee with charcoal filtered normal water. You can purchase distinct filters that will help make your faucet water preference better. Normally, try to find coffee makers which may have a charcoal filtering set up in them already. Otherwise, you can buy charcoal filtered normal water on the grocery store.

It can be thrilling to stray from your normal espresso flavour. Experiment with distinct integrates on occasion to broaden your perspectives. Get just as much as you would like and lock everything you aren't likely to use without delay.

For many who enjoy iced gourmet coffee, refrigerate your French press the night time before you use it. Doing this, it will likely be all set in the morning. Using a ice cold device and chilly drinking water will make sure that your caffeine is thoroughly clean sampling and sugary.

In the event you consume plenty of gourmet coffee, invest in a high quality coffee maker. Espresso fails to continue to be fresh for too long within a window carafe, along with a French press constitutes a robust coffee. If nobody in your house drinks coffee, you may want a brewer that creates an individual mug.

Freeze any other coffee you may have in an ice pack trays. These "espresso an ice pack cubes" works extremely well rather than genuine an ice pack cubes which means your coffee won't style diluted. Another choice is always to decline them into merged beverages, as well as to cool off scalding very hot caffeine.

Reading this info, you must learn how to get caffeine a bit much better. You will find numerous types of alternatives, and only the most effective is useful for you. Take advantage of the tips using this post to make your following cooking pot of gourmet coffee.