#I guess it's only touched on but that tag is definitely valid here

[dailyloopdeloop]

DAY 75: onehat

[therealcocoshady]

Recovery - Chapter 20

Eminem x FemReader Fanfiction

Summary : Y/N gets back home from the hospital and Em comes for a sleepover.

Tags : Fluff - SMUT (P in V, foreplay)

Y/N’s POV 

The whole incident had brought you and Marshall a lot closer than you already were. You took it to heart, when he said he was missing you, when you were talking in the studio that fateful night before you were assaulted. You had been so focused on your relationship with Josh, so eager to get Marshall out of your head (or rather, your heart), that you had probably neglected your friendship a little bit. Still, he had been absolutely amazing to you while you were in the hospital, basically acting like your personal guard-dog, pillow, assistant and dream catcher. It got to a point where it was annoying for other people. Josh didn’t complain about it, he never would, but he did make a few comments about Marshall “always being around”. Talia and Jamal even joked about Marshall moving in, because he would never leave you alone. You could tell that Talia was a bit pissed off. You knew she loved him, but she also wanted to care for you. So when you got out of the hospital, they were basically bickering at each other, fighting over who would get “custody” of you. Marshall offered for you to stay at his place and hang out, while Talia seemed to strongly disagree. 

You’ve been with her nonstop for five days, Em, you’re not her only friend, you know ? She said as she rolled her eyes. 

I know. I’m just saying she can chill at the house if she wants, he shrugged. 

We have a house too, she said. She can chill there. 

Or maybe she wants to enjoy the movie room or the pool, he replied. 

Or maybe she wants her room, Talia insisted. 

Or maybe she wants y’all to stop fighting like divorced parents ? Jamal chimed in. 

You couldn’t help but giggle. You had been cleared by the doctor and were ready to leave the hospital. You’d been ready for about an hour and couldn’t wait to get out of that dreadful place but they wouldn’t stop arguing over small details, like who would drive you home. You didn’t tell them, but on top of that, you had Josh blowing up your phone, asking when he would actually get to see you. You were actually touched by all of this attention : not everyone had this many people they could count on. As annoying as it could get - because you just wanted to leave - it was a blessing. 

We could just leave them here and grab food somewhere, you suggested to Jamal. 

I like that, he said as he grabbed your bag. 

I want to eat too, Talia said. 

Me too, Marshall added. 

Look who’s suddenly on the same page, Jamal grinned. So, what do you want to eat ? 

Of course, that was enough for the bickering to start again. You offered to cook dinner, but obviously, none of your friends would let you lift a finger, even though you had basically spent five days sleeping and were more energized than ever. Thankfully, everyone ended up agreeing on the food, and you managed to display some excellent diplomatic skills when it came to organizing your schedule. You sent Marshall home after dinner so that he could actually get some rest and a full night of sleep and had a movie night with your roommates. As for Josh, you made plans to see him in a few days. Initially, you wanted to invite him to dinner on the night you got home, but your friends made a valid point that it would be wiser to wait for a few days, so that your first night home would be more chill. After the movie, you and Talia went to your room to do some pampering and she could not refrain from grilling you about “Em”. 

So… First night without cerberus in a while, huh ? She playfully asked. 

I guess, you giggled. He wasn’t that bad, though. 

Oh he definitely was, she chuckled. You should have seen him when you were asleep. He was standing there like some sort of bouncer, making sure not too many people were in the room. And then, when it got too loud, he turned into a cranky old librarian like “Shhhhh”. 

She imitated him, with his serious demeanor and frown. You couldn’t help but burst out in a fit of laughter. 

It’s sweet, you said softly - you couldn’t help defending him. 

He’s too much, she said. I swear, he is the most dramatic person I have ever met. 

It’s part of the charm, I guess, you shrugged. 

Oh, really… “Charm” ? She grinned. I thought we already had a prince charming… 

You know what I mean, you said with a frown. 

Actually, I don’t, she said. I mean, you’re wearing his clothes all the time, he spent five days in the hospital with you, you guys are always hanging out… I’m telling you : I wouldn’t enjoy being your boyfriend if I had to deal with Em being all over you. 

I know, you sighed. 

Especially when you enjoy it so much, she added. 

You looked at her but said nothing. Had anyone else made that comment, you would have lied, but it was Talia, so there was no use. 

I knew it !!! She almost screamed. 

Yeah well, you can know it but not shout it, ok ? You said. 

You like Em !!! 

I do, you groaned. But believe me, it’s not fun. 

Oh, boo-hoo, “my crush is all over me and it’s hard”, she giggled. Yeah, must suck to be you, Y/N. Especially when the crush in question is the wet dream of millions of people across the world. Remind me again, why are you bothering with Josh ? 

You ended up explaining the whole story to her : how you had a chance with Marshall, that was ruined by the argument, how you had planned on confessing your feelings for him in NYC but didn’t because he ended up dating Nicole and how you ended up dating Josh. 

Here’s the thing, you said : I love Marshall, but he doesn’t love me back. And I like Josh too, you know ? Like, actually like him. I want to give this relationship a chance, because he is so great. 

I feel you, she said in a voice full of compassion. You deserve to be happy. Em is a fucking dumbass in my opinion… 

He’s not. He doesn’t like me like this, it’s ok. He’s still my best friend. 

Yeah, but I don’t understand, though. For someone who doesn’t like you like this, he is all over you. That doesn’t make sense, you know ? She said. Anyway, if Josh makes you happy, that’s what matters, right ? 

He’s just nice, you replied. And Josh does make me happy. I can’t wait for you to meet him. 

I can’t wait either, she said. But he’s no Em. 

Promise me you’ll still be nice to him ? 

Of course, she said. 

A MONTH LATER 

You had finally introduced Josh to Talia and Jamal and they seemed to like him. The four of you would go on double dates, even some triple dates with Hailie and Evan. You had lots of fun and it felt really nice to have your closest friends supporting your relationship. Talia’s birthday was coming up in a few days and she even invited him. Josh was being as amazing as ever, and you wished you could say everything was perfect but it wasn’t. You’d been together for more than three months at this point and you still hadn’t been able to seal the deal. You’d had plenty of opportunity and slept together a bunch of times but that was all it was : sleeping. Not that you didn’t want to do the deed, on the contrary, you were both up for it, but the attack had left its mark, so every time he tried to do more than kiss you or hold your hand, you ended up being triggered. He said he was fine with it but, obviously, you could tell he was a bit disappointed. At that point, you were a triggered, yet horny mess, which put you in quite a mood. You weren’t even sure you’d be able to have sex ever again. Thankfully, you also spent a lot of time with your friends, which helped you get your mind off things. You were either hanging out with Jamal and/or Talia, at the studio or with Marshall. 

That night was your first night sleeping alone in a month. Ever since you got home, you were prone to nightmares. The doctors at the hospital had offered to give you some medication for anxiety and even some sleeping pills, but given your past, you refused to pick up the prescription. You’d been sober for a while now, which was great, but you still didn’t trust yourself. So your friends, being as amazing as they were, took turns having sleepovers in your room. The most frequent guests were either Talia or Josh, but sometimes, Marshall would come over too. It was the middle of the night and you were waking up from yet another nightmare and, normally, you would have someone by your side, but you had decided to try sleeping alone for the first time, since Talia and Jamal had a romantic weekend getaway planned and were spending a night in a hotel, and you weren’t too sure about wanting Josh coming over. Not that you wouldn’t enjoy his company or that he wouldn’t happily cuddle with you, but you felt like he might get his hopes up about finally having sex and you didn’t want to let him down yet again. You tried to pace yourself by using some breathing exercises, but to no avail. It was as if you could feel the attacker’s breath down your neck. Plus, it was a windy night and every noise from the outside was startling you. So much for putting on your big girl’s pants. You decided to call Marshall. 

Hey honey, you heard his sleepy voice say. What’s up ? 

Am I bothering you ? You asked in a little voice. 

Never, he said softly. What’s up ? 

I’m scared, you said on the verge of tears. I’m alone in the house and I feel like… He’s watching me or something. 

Oh. Isn’t Josh sleeping over ? He asked. 

Not tonight…, you said sheepishly. 

Want me to come over ? 

Do you mind ? You asked. 

You know I don’t, he said. Movie night ? 

Sure. 

Great. Be there in 30, ok ? 

When he arrived, he gave you the biggest hug and you put on some random, crappy movie. You were both laying on your bed, watching the movie on your computer. He had an arm wrapped around your shoulder and was mindlessly playing with your hair. His presence was soothing, and his hilarious comments were keeping you distracted. At some point, a steamy sex scene came on, and it made you feel a bit awkward. It didn’t help that it reminded you of all the action you were definitely not getting. Marshall picked on it right away. 

Are you blushing ?! He asked with a grin. 

What ? No I’m not…, you replied awkwardly. 

You’re so red. You’re blushing. 

Shut up, please, you whispered. 

Come on, it’s a movie, he chuckled. 

It’s just… It’s so awkward, you know ? I hate love scenes in movies, you said. 

Oh, believe me, actors usually hate filming them, he said. More awkward to film than to watch. 

Have you ever filmed one of those for a music video ? You asked. 

Sort of, he said. But the worst was the scene in 8 Mile. Didn’t take long, but I definitely didn’t have much fun. 

Oh right, you said. I sort of forgot that you were in a movie. 

What ?! You haven’t seen my movie ?! He asked in a fake offended voice. 

I haven’t, you giggled. What’s it about ? 

He proceeded to describe the movie for you, explaining the plot. You thought it was absolutely crazy that you were friends with someone who had a movie based on his life. Once again, it reminded you of the big deal that he was. 

Can we watch it ? You asked. That sounds like something I’d enjoy. 

Sure, he chuckled. Haven't seen that in a while. 

You changed the movie and put on 8 Mile. It was both weird and fun to see Marshall twenty years ago. 

God, you’re hot, you said before you could catch yourself. 

He looked at you with a smirk. 

Why thank you, he said with a smile. 

No, I meant before, you said. I mean, in the movie… Uh, you look good in that. 

Better than now ? He asked with a grin. 

No, you said. 

So I’m even hotter now ? 

Yeah. I mean no, I-I…, you began to say as you felt your cheeks burning. 

Relax, I’m just fucking with you, he giggled. God, you’re blushing so hard it’s hilarious. 

You focused your intention on the movie and tried to ignore him. The movie was good and you enjoyed it. Marshall definitely had great acting skills. At some point, the love scene with Brittany Murphy came on and you found yourself biting your lip. It was just a movie scene, for sure, but it was a steamy one and you were lucky enough to know that Marshall was actually good in bed (or on a couch, or in a car…). In fact, he was the best you ever had. And the last. This thought had you hot and bothered, and equally frustrated. 

Like what you see ? He teasingly whispered in your ear. 

God, shut up, you groaned as you blushed. His voice in your ear wasn’t helping you. 

Not a chance, he giggled. 

It’s not funny, Marshall… 

He chuckled and kissed your cheek. It was an innocent peck, as there had been thousands before, but it definitely made matters worse. And obviously, you had no poker face, so he picked on it right away. 

Don’t tell me you’re horny, he chortled. 

Don’t you ever shut up ? 

What ? Isn’t the lobster up to the challenge ? He grinned. 

Well, I guess we’ll never know, you groaned. 

He looked at you in confusion and pressed pause. His eyebrows were furrowed. 

What’s wrong ? He asked. 

Nothing, you said. It’s just… Nevermind. Let’s watch the movie, ok ? 

You can tell me anything, honey, he said softly. What’s up with Josh ? I thought he was great. 

I can’t put out, you blurted out. So, yeah, he’s great, but he’s probably going to end up leaving me and I’m going to grow my hymen back and die a virgin. 

He couldn’t refrain from chuckling and you shot him a death glare. 

Sorry, he said as he caught himself. It’s not what you’re saying. It’s the way you’re saying it. I feel for you, though. 

You do ? You asked with a pout. 

Well, I mostly feel for him, but yeah…

He’s not the one panicking every time someone tries to touch him, you groaned. But yeah, whatever, let’s feel for Josh, I guess. 

No, he chuckled. What I mean is that having you as a girlfriend and not getting any action must be really hard. Pun intended. 

He managed to make you chuckle. He always had the silliest jokes. 

Come on, you horndog, let’s watch the end of the movie, he said as he shook his head, trying not to laugh. 

He wrapped an arm around your shoulder and pulled you to him and you went back to watching the movie. 

Is that alright ? He asked with a smirk. Or am I too hot for you ? 

Fuck you, Marshall, you whined. 

Well, yeah, you wish, he chuckled. Just kidding, I’ll stop. 

Thankfully, the movie was good and you managed to focus on it. Soon after the movie ended, you fell asleep. 

MARSHALL’S POV 

Showing 8 Mile to Y/N was pretty interesting. Marshall got to watch her reactions and it was a fun sight, especially when it came to the sex scene. He couldn’t help but notice her blushing and biting her lip and, obviously, he wasn’t going to miss that great of an opportunity to make fun of her. He didn’t mean to be an asshole, but learning she hadn’t actually slept with Josh made his day. Not that he didn’t want her to be fulfilled - he did - but the fucker didn’t deserve her anyway. He knew he shouldn’t rejoice in another man’s sexual misery, and karma made sure to remind him. As Y/N fell asleep, he kept on tossing and turning. For one, he wasn’t really tired anymore - somehow, being woken up at 2AM fucks up your sleep schedule. Secondly, seeing her all hot and bothered had him all hot and bothered. He could make fun of her all he wanted, but he hadn’t had any action in a while either. He probably would have if he hadn’t blown it up with Nicole, though. 

Y/N encouraged him to patch things up with her, but he couldn’t bring himself to do it. After realizing his feelings for Y/N were far too strong, dating Nicole seemed stupid. Years ago, he definitely would have used her to get over his feelings, but that wasn’t exactly the man he wanted to be. So he did the “right” thing to do : he sent flowers and apologized for lacking empathy being an ass, but decided not to see her anymore. Thankfully, none of his friends knew he was dating, so he didn’t have to explain his change of heart to anybody except Y/N. She didn’t understand at first but she ended up leaving him alone on the matter. 

He took a look at her as he tried to fall asleep. She was really cute and the sight brought a smile to his face. She seemed to sleep peacefully - at least for now - and he hoped she wouldn’t have any nightmares. He kissed the top of her head and cuddled with her before closing his eyes. He almost went to sleep when he heard her moan. Not an unusual sound since she kept on having these awful dreams. He almost woke her up when he heard something unexpected : his name. 

Marshall…, she moaned. Harder. 

Was she having a dream… about him ? He was about to shake it off when she moaned again. He had absolutely no clue as to what he was supposed to do. Leave ? Wake her up ? He thought about letting her enjoy her dream but as her moans got deeper, he felt as if he was about to go crazy. To make matters worse, she was squirming. She always moved when she slept but now, he couldn’t take it anymore. 

Honey, wake up, he whispered as he gently shook her arm and turned on the little lamp on the nightstand. 

She slowly opened her eyes and looked at him, flustered. She sat up and he could see her nipples poking through her tee-shirt. This woman was going to be the death of him and he knew it. 

Are you alright ? She asked in a small voice. 

Are you ? He asked as he couldn’t keep himself from smirking. 

At that point, it was second nature to him. He had to tease her about it. Anyone would do the same if they were laying in bed with a beautiful woman having a wet dream about them, right ? She looked at him and he could tell that she knew he heard her. She said absolutely nothing, though. 

So… sweet dreams ? He chuckled. 

She was biting her lip, looking away. She looked incredibly hot and it took everything he had not to jump on her this minute. Plus, he didn’t want to trigger her, obviously.  Not to lie, he was having a huge fucking ego boost, knowing it was him who had her in this state. Not Josh. Not anyone else. Him. As seconds went by, the silence was starting to become heavy. They were both horny, it was painfully obvious. She was looking down, obviously uncomfortable. 

Look at me, he said softly, coaxing her chin in his direction. 

Her beautiful eyes seemed lost in a haze. Her pupils were dilated and her chest was heaving. She seemed to be in some state. 

What did you dream about ? He asked. 

Y-You, she whispered in a husky voice. 

I didn’t ask who, I asked what, he said softly, his hand still on her cheek. Care to describe ?

She opened her mouth but no sound came out. He chuckled softly, amazed at the effect he was having on her. He could definitely get high on this feeling. He grazed her bottom lip with his thumb. It was swollen from the biting. All he wanted was to kiss her. He brought his face slightly closer to her. They were staring into each other’s eyes. He traced her features with his fingers : her cheekbones, her jaw, the curve of her neck… 

Marshall, she whispered. 

Tell me to stop, he said. 

But she didn’t. Instead, she brought her hand to his face and cupped his cheek. It was soft, intimate and unexpectedly sexy. Her breathing was heavy and so was his. He couldn’t resist her anymore. He captured her lips in a soft kiss. His heart was pounding. For a quarter of a second, he feared that she would push him away, slap him or run away from him. But she kissed him back. Thank God. Their kisses were delicate and soft, but they could both feel the passion brewing in each other. He gently bit her lip, causing her to moan. 

Tell me about your dream, baby, he said in a husky voice. Describe it for me. 

Y-You were…behind me and… I was in your arms, she said. Spooning. 

Her voice was breathy and her eyes were closed. He kissed her gently and grabbed her hand, interlocking their fingers. 

What else ? He asked. 

You were hum… kissing my neck… and biting it, she whispered. 

I know how much you love neck kisses baby, he whispered in her ear. Can I kiss your neck ? 

Yes, she muttered, almost pleading. 

He smiled and gently got her hair out of the way before planting soft kisses on her neck, in that soft spot he knew she had. This caused her to whimper, much to his satisfaction. She ran her fingers through his hair, maintaining his head where it was. He chuckled and gently bit her neck. 

Tell me more about your dream, honey, he commanded. 

You were pounding in me, she said hoarsely. 

Was it good ? He asked. 

So good. 

He kissed her neck again. He was dying to make her his, but he didn’t want to rush her. He just wanted her to enjoy the moment. He could tell she needed some release. 

How about you show me how good it was, baby ? He suggested. 

W-What ? She asked shyly. 

Touch yourself for me, honey, he said before kissing her shoulder. 

He knew he probably shouldn’t ask her to do that. But in this instant he absolutely didn’t care. He was burning for her and he could feel her desire. They were looking at each other, as if they were high. She nodded and began running her hands on her body, on top of her clothes. She was wearing a tee-shirt and shorts. She closed her eyes, seemingly enjoying the sensations. One of her hands went to her breasts, stroking and pinching her nipples, while the other rubbed her thigh. Apparently, it was enough for her breathing to accelerate. This was the sexiest thing he had thing in a while. He was so hard it was almost painful. This view was both a blessing and a curse. He needed to touch her. He gently cupped her cheek and she leaned into his touch while she kept on touching herself, her hand going from her thigh to her pussy. 

I want to hold you, he said softly. Can I ? 

She nodded softly, her eyes still closed. He settled behind her. He took her in his arms while she rested between his legs, still busy with herself. Her head was resting on his shoulder as he traced the features of her angel face. Eventually,her hands got underneath her clothes.

You can just take them off, baby, he whispered. 

Once again, she said nothing. Only sweet moans were escaping her lips. However, she seemed to agree, as she removed her tee-shirt and her shorts. She spread her legs a little and rubbed her clit, which made her whine. He kissed her temple while his fingers were gently tracing circles on her shoulder. Her moans got louder when she inserted a finger inside her pussy. He knew she was soaking wet and it was making him ever hornier. He knew how good it felt to be inside of her. 

Does it feel good, baby ? He asked in her ear. 

Yes, she moaned before inserting a second finger. 

He spilled kisses in her neck while she fingered herself, determined to see how loud he could make her moan. 

Come for me, babygirl, he whispered. 

I can’t, she replied in a croaky voice. 

Do you want me to help you ? He asked softly. 

She stopped what she was doing and turned to him and looked at him in anticipation. She looked shy. He placed a tender kiss on her lips and stroked her cheek. 

I won’t touch you if you don’t want me to, baby, I promise, he said. 

Ok, she whispered. 

Ok what ? He asked in order to make sure he wasn’t misunderstanding anything. 

You can… help me. 

He kissed her again. He felt so proud that she trusted him enough. All he wanted was for her to feel safe. He grabbed her hand and gently sucked her fingers, enjoying her taste. He removed his tee-shirt so that he could feel her skin against his. 

Come here, he said as he put her in a spoon position. Take my hand and show me what you want, baby. 

They were comfortably laying in bed, cuddling while he kissed her neck. She grabbed his hand and put it on her breast. He could feel her heart pounding. He gently pinched her nipple, causing her to moan and arch her back against him, no doubt feeling how hard he was through his sweatpants. He did it again, a bit harder, while he bit her neck. She started grinding her ass against him, still in the spoon position, driving him crazy with each one of her hip movements. He gently put his hand on her hip, stopping her. 

Hold on, babygirl, he chuckled. You’re driving me crazy here. Let’s focus on you for a bit, alright ? 

It was true : he wanted to focus his attention on her. She chuckled softly and grabbed his hand again. They interlaced their fingers. 

Can you… touch me ? She whispered. 

Anything you want, honey, he replied with a smile. 

He gently cupped her sex, feeling how wet she was. His palm was against her clit, his fingers teasing her entrance. 

Is this what you want, baby ? He asked in a husky voice. 

Yes, she moaned. Please, Marshall. 

He pressed his hand harder and inserted two fingers in her as she let out a gasp. She was squirming against him, rocking her hips in sync as he was moving his wrist. At first, his movements were slow. He wasn’t in a rush anyway. Plus, the last thing he wanted was to trigger her or hurt her. 

Are you alright ? He asked carefully. 

Yes, she moaned. It’s good. 

He buried his face in her neck as he went a bit faster. Her moans became a lot deeper and he could tell she was about to come. He accelerated the movements of his head and she let out a small cry as he felt her walls clench on his fingers. Her whole body seemed to contract before relaxing altogether. 

Oh God, she whispered. 

Did you like it, honey ? He asked with a smile - already knowing the answer. 

Yes, she softly giggled before burying her face in the pillow. 

He gently turned her so that she could face him, so that he could see her beautiful face. She looked relaxed and happy, though still hazy.  

You’re so beautiful, he said. I want to kiss you. May I ? 

Instead of replying, she kissed him passionately. He wrapped his arms around her as their tongues found each other. It was a deep, ardent kiss. Their legs were tangled together, as their arms were clutching at each other’s body. 

I think… I want you, she whispered shyly. 

Are you sure baby ? He asked softly. You don’t have to. 

I’m sure, she whispered. Just… be gentle ? 

Of course, love, he said. How do you want it ? 

Spoon ? She asked with a little smile. 

He chuckled. She seemed to enjoy this position. It wasn’t particularly his favorite, but he was happy to indulge. There was something about it that was soft and intimate, which he had to admit was enjoyable. He removed his sweatpants and boxers and they resumed the spooning position. He slowly positioned himself at her entrance and he felt her tense up. 

Are you sure, honey ? I swear we don’t have to…

Yes, she said hoarsely. I want you. And I trust you. 

He kissed her temple and entered her. She let out a groan and he froze for a second. However, she relaxed and he took it as his cue to start moving. He was thrusting slowly while peppering her face with soft kisses, holding her in his arms. He started to gently explore her body with his hands, making sure she was ok with every move. He teased her nipples with one hand and stroked her clit with the other. 

Faster, she begged. I’m… so close… 

He happily obliged and started to thrust faster, going deeper as well. He felt her clench around him again, slightly jerking as they both reached climax. He buried his face in her neck while they were both panting, gasping for air. He grabbed her hand and held her close to his body. 

Are you alright ? He asked after a few minutes. 

Yes, she said softly. Are you ? 

Absolutely, he said. 

She turned to face him. She had such a pretty face and reaching orgasm definitely gave her a nice glow. He chuckled as he cupped her face with his hand. 

God, I’m so in love with you, he said.

He didn’t even think twice before saying it. It felt natural to him. Before he could catch himself, he saw the soft smile of Y/N turn into an expression of shock.

[my-favourite-zhent]

Writer Interview

Tagged by the lovelies @commander-krios here and @coreene here

Tagging: @dustdeepsea @thisaccountisagainstmywill @fistfuloftarenths

@littleplasticrat @captainsigge @grossestjay

Questions under the cut!

When did you start writing?

I suppose depends what counts? Where I went to school we did creative writing as early as six. The first stories I remember were Halloween stories I wrote with very unhappy endings.

Writing purely for myself maybe not till high school? I dabbled in a little fanfiction and then didn't touch it again for years and years and then suddenly BG3 and Rugan happened, smdh.

Are there different themes or genres you enjoy reading than what you write?

Is there a writer you want to emulate or get compared to often?

Just like Krios I enjoy horror novels, although I actually prefer horror as short stories/novellas. If you look at my spotify history you will see a lot of NoSleep podcast and Knifepoint Horror so its definitely a running theme. I could never write horror though, would spook myself too much. I did rather like the tiny horror story in one of the books in Baldurs Gate.

I also enjoy reading low fantasy (low magic, more grit, considerably plucky, ensemble casts) which I think comes across in New Tricks, but in contrast the stories I read have very minimal if any romance.

Can you tell me a bit about your writing space?

Nope, as much as there are many writers I enjoy and at times think "I wish I were that talented" I also don't wish to be a perfect copy of anyone's style because what's the point of that?

I suppose if it was something more like "as funny as so and so" or "world-building on level of such and such" then probably Pratchett, Rothfuss, Sapowski or Glen Cook?

I will literally write anywhere, a lot of my ideas pop-up while daydreaming and I have to get them down when they happen or I won't remember clearly later. So at my desk, in bed, on the couch, on the train, standing in the shoppe, literally anywhere.

What's your most effective way to muster up a muse?

Consuming other media. Books, TV, movies, podcasts, etc. Seeing a scene or circumstance and imagining how the characters I write would react under similar circumstances.

Are there any recurring themes in your writing? Do they surprise you?

Hmm hadn't considered it before but I guess so far: grey morality, class differences (this likely due to my muse being Rugan) and overcoming betrayal? I suppose the last one surprises me a little, I think I might just like the angst of it.

What is your reason for writing?

Is there any specific comment or type of comment you find particularly motivating?

I mentioned earlier I haven't touched personal creative writing since high school, although I did consume fanfiction on occasion. I originally returned due to a frustration at the lack of Rugan content. I wanted to consume, but at the time there wasn't much, compounded by the fact that I did not have an AO3 account at the time so of the few that existed I could only see half. So I started by writing how I thought getting that drink at the Elf Song might go.

After that I got a bit attached to the OC and was inspired by the works of @dustdeepsea to write something with a little more emotional depth. I was prone to daydreaming these sorts of things before but I never put pen to paper till now.

I'm happy any time someone enjoys my work, but I suppose the best comments are when the reader notices the characterization I've been trying to get across. It makes me feel validated that I'm able to write certain qualities without (hopefully) being too on the nose with it.

How do you want to be thought about by your readers?

Me or my writing? Myself, hopefully reasonable and open-minded. My writing, I hope they find it funny and exciting in turns, I hope it makes people feel some sort of emotion even if negative rather than being boring. I hope the world I've tried to piece together from bits of Forgotten Realms lore feels consistent and cohesive, that the rules and stakes make sense.

What do you feel is your greatest strength as a writer?

Similar to Krios I think my dialogue comes across the best of all my writing, and it certainly feels the easiest to get down.

How do you feel about your own writing?

It seems to change by day and chapter. There are some things that when I write I'm quite pleased, and then come back a month later and am quite embarrassed by. Other things I didn't like originally but actually enjoy quite a bit on reread. I find myself having to just post things I'm unhappy with at times otherwise I won't get on with the story. I jokingly tell myself "we'll fix it in post!" and I have slowly begun some edits of early chapters so it's not a complete lie.

When you write, are you influenced by what others might enjoy reading, or do you write purely for yourself, or a mix of both?

It's mostly what I think the story needs at the time. There are times where I feel "augh we've been on this mood/theme for too long, the reader will get bored" but I try to reframe it to myself as "is the pacing good? is this scene necessary right now?" and that helps me make a decision that is hopefully a bit more objective. Sometimes we need that information for later, sometimes we don't. I have been known to go back and adjust a thing here or there if the current chapter is missing a bit of set-up and will continue to do so until the story is over. I'm treating it all as a work in progress.

Thanks for reading this far!

[twinkinspector]

kaminari denki ❥ astrology masterlist ❥ generational planets

❥ birth date: june 29, 2126

❥ birth time: morning (ATTENTION, WE HAVE OUR FIRST MORNING BABY)

❥ birth place: saitama prefecture

❥ pop astrology analysis: cancer sun, libra moon, leo rising. the only placement in his big three that strikes me as odd is his cancer sun. i don’t see a TON of emotion out of him besides anxiety, but that could be something we just haven’t seen yet. my guess for his sun would have been sagittarius, but i’m satisfied with his big three overall.

❥ in-depth under the cut ❥

❥ cancer sun: emotional. strong survival instinct. nurturing. sensitive. compassionate. seeks and offers security. loyal. protective. highly intuitive. associated with psychic abilities. charismatic. mommy issues. same sun as shinsou.

kami often goes out of his way to make others feel comfortable and confident, especially regarding their quirks. from the wiki: his role is to tie class 1-a together with his personality, just like eijiro. both of these point to him being intuitive – i wouldn’t say highly intuitive, but he’s definitely picking up vibes that others don’t. he seems to crack under pressure often, which shows his emotional and sensitive side. he often sticks up for his friends and is hesitant to use his quirk around anyone who could potentially get hurt. (the next part is just a guess.) i’ve seen a few people speculate that he could have some mommy issues, and that’s why he seeks validation from women.

i also wanna mention something that @fandomluke​ brought up in their tags! whenever kami overuses his quirk and goes completely brainless, he gives the thumbs up. i didn’t realize until TODAY that’s because he’s making sure everyone knows he’s okay. he’s trying to keep everyone confident and comfortable. i definitely think this ties in with his libra moon, but this feels more like cancer energy to me. he embodies this type of energy all the time – he always tries his best so his teammates don’t have to worry and it’s just sooooo uwu

❥ libra moon: peaceful. naturally charismatic. relationship-oriented. communicative. intelligent. witty. social. optimistic. easygoing. cooperative. excellent planner or strategist.

i think his libra moon really shows in his interactions with others even though the moon is more of your internal world. i think he really tends to wear his heart on his sleeve and isn’t very guarded, so we see more of this placement than his peers’ moon placements. he’s almost always kind and reassuring no matter who he’s talking to – big libra energy there. he doesn’t have the best grades, so he’s not often considered intelligent. but he randomly drops facts that he wouldn’t know unless he’d researched the topic. he also has a surprisingly large vocabulary...... but i’ll touch on this later :) he’s very cooperative in combat and often helps to come up with really intricate strategies to keep others out of harm’s way when he uses his quirk.

❥ leo rising: hair!!!! confident. generous. attractive to others. strong mind. clear intentions. self-aware. body-conscious. ruled by the sun!!! warm. eager to stand up for what he believes in. loves new tasks.

i don’t think i need to point out his hair, but i’m gonna. he has such distinctive hair – apparently, the lightning bolt is natural. from the wiki again: denki's surname contains the kanji for "above, hair." leo energy???? kami has two distinct sides – confident and anxious. his confidence definitely comes from this placement. he gets a lot more confident in combat when others are out of harm’s way. and he’s really confident when talking to women even though he’s rejected kind of often (my poor baby T.T) i have an interesting take on the “strong mind” aspect here. he fries his brain ALL THE TIME, right? he should be a bumbling idiot more often than right after he uses his quirk..... but he’s not. i think his self-awareness and body-consciousness come in with how careful he is in combat and how he knows when he should and shouldn’t use his full power. he also gives me SUCH SUN VIBES he just feels like a warm, sunny day to me.... i dunno. he also sticks up for his friends a lot!! especially during his provisional exam.

❥ gemini mercury: quick-witted. can come across as scattered, but this is because they have broad interests. seem to know a little about everything. knowledgable. mercury is in its domicile here.

kami gets anxious under pressure. even tests bother him. i think the “scattered” aspect could definitely manifest as anxiety here. like i said above, he shows knowledge about things aside from academics. THIS is where i think his vocabulary really comes in. he’s definitely quick-witted – he has to be with a quirk like his. he talks a loooooot. and that definitely comes from the fact that mercury is in its domicile, so his mercurial energy is expressed easily.

❥ gemini venus: social butterflies. curious. social chameleon. charming.

kami is literally friends with anyone and everyone. he’s a social butterfly AND a social chameleon. he can fit in with whatever group he wants. you can tell he’s curious because of his random knowledge. and i’d say he’s pretty charming to have so many friends. ALSO his little choker in his hero costume gives me big gemini venus energy...... again, i can elaborate but

❥ cancer mars: indirect. passive-aggressive. inclined to control their feelings but can seem moody. can later erupt. protects themselves. driven to action based upon emotion. mars is in its fall here.

this shows a lot in his combat style. he’s very hesitant to use his quirk when allies are around (for good reason) and tends to get anxious. when he knows everyone’s safe, however, he’s able to fight much more effectively. his quirk is a parallel to his feelings in a lot of ways. it’s tough to control and he can’t leave it unchecked. but the second he’s free to use it, it’s like an eruption. mars being in its fall makes sense. while he makes his combat style work for him, it’s not the most conventional or easy to use.

❥ sagittarius jupiter: this is considered one of the luckiest placements to have. optimistic. inspirational. can indicate a spiritual person. usually a scholar. jupiter is in its domicile here.

kami has always given me big sagittarius energy, although he doesn’t have many sag placements. i could just be picking up on his jupiter though! it’s funny because he’s not super lucky in his interactions with women, but he seems to be pretty lucky in most other respects. he’s definitely optimistic and inspires others to also better alongside him. again, he’s not a scholar. but he does seem to follow his interests and learn more about those specific things, which is a characteristic of a lot of scholars.

❥ virgo saturn: introspection and change as a result of that introspection. adaptability.

i don’t notice a lot of introspection as far as his own personality (I think this actually might come in the future.), but he’s definitely applied this to his quirk and is majorly adaptable. i keep mentioning his quirk and combat style, but i feel like that’s really the best and most obvious representation of his placements. he quickly learned that just going all-out wasn’t the best use of his power, so he changed his approach. 

❥ overall

kami’s chart is actually pretty similar to shinsou’s. this..... doesn’t surprise me. the fandom has really latched on to the fact that the two of them balance each other out, and i have no doubt that this is why. they both have similar natural tendencies, but their experiences (and the placements they have that are different) have shaped those natural tendencies into different things entirely. but they would be able to understand each other on a really deep level.

regarding kami specifically, i expected more sagittarius placements, but his gemini placements have a similar effect overall. do i agree with his chart as a whole? hesitantly, yeah. but i also think this is because he hasn’t personally had a ton of character development yet. like i mentioned earlier, he might get some more development soon – this would check out if he and shinsou had their development at the same time.

❥ chart

[ladyimaginarium]

helloo, i hope its okay for me to send this here… but! i saw you made a post on @multiplicity-positivity and mentioned indigenous people with a low quantum bloodline, and it got me thinking.

my maternal grandfather was a member of the blackfeet (specifically aamsskáápipikani) nation. he was born and grew up there, but moved to florida in the 60s, where he met my grandma. i never met him (he died before i was born), but i heard a lot about him growing up. his name was something like “barking yellow coyote” but everyone called him frankie, and thats how hes referred to by my grandma when we talk about him.

no one in my family is very interested in connecting with our indigenous roots, and i never would have considered myself indigenous since my family is so white passing. my mom turned out pretty light skinned despite being mixed, and all of my siblings and i are very white. but ive always felt so pulled to the blackfeet nation for my whole life. i used to ask about my grandpa all the time, and even though ive never met him i feel so connected to him and ive always felt this drive to immerse myself in his culture and learn more about the blackfoot nation. i feel guilty about it though, since im basically white and i dont want to intrude in a space that isnt for me.

i guess what im wondering is… is it okay to want to connect with the blackfoot nation if i have never been to the actual reservation, and have never even met my only relative who was a full-blooded member? am i considered partially indigenous, and am i allowed to try and explore that aspect of my identity?

idk your post really spoke to me and so i wanted to reach out. im sorry if this is breaking any of your boundaries or something. if im being totally honest i didnt really check out your blog too much before i hit the ask button… you can just delete this if you’re uncomfortable responding. either way thanks for reading, have a great day!

-🍓🌙 (my emoji tag just in case you do post this)

Hi, uh. Sorry, we& just woke up from an unexpected nap and I& guess I'm& fronting now? This shit is weird, it never happened to me& before but here we& are. Anyway, nice to meet you. To answer your question, we're& not bodily Blackfoot or anything like that but I& think it's only natural that you'd wanna discover and reclaim your heritage. Usually there's a reason for it. I'd& say go for it as long as you be respectful about it and do it for the right reasons. Blood quantum is colonizer bullshit. But keep in mind there's no "part" indigenous of anything, you either are or you aren't. That's all I& really gotta say on the topic. We're& glad it touched you and collectively wish you the best if you do end up reconnecting to your heritage, just know it's a long and hard journey and from experience, it isn't always fun because you also have to dig up intergenerational trauma and all that other shit, and you also have to be active and fight for your community, it's definitely not all fun and games, but it's worth it. To anybody else who's disconnected and who reads this: please don't give us& your whole entire life story and ask us& if you're Native enough, don't ask us& questions about your place in the Native community, or whether you're Native or not, or on whether you can do certain things, especially if you haven't even started your reconnection journey. I& realize we're& very vocal on our& indigeneity and the issues our& communities face, we're& collectively flattered you guys come to us& about these things, but that doesn't automatically mean that it's an invitation to come into our& inbox and seek validation, especially if we're& not from your nation. We're& not elders or knowledge keepers. Thanks.

— 🍊 / Clementine Maria Jasmine Cree&, she/her; they/them.

[scripted-downfall]

Lucifer May Be Rising, But So Is My Temper

I love Bobby Singer with all of my heart but also.  Listen.  His little speech to Dean in season 4 episode 22 “Lucifer Rising” just… pisses me off.

There is a big difference between being unhappy that family didn’t make you “feel good” or didn’t “bake you an apple pie” or “[made] you feel miserable” and said family lying to you, betraying you, choosing a demon over you, throwing you around a hotel room, and then strangling you.  Like… this isn’t a matter deserving of “I am so sorry your feelings are hurt, princess,” okay?

And no, Dean is not deserving of being told that he sounds “like a whiny brat,” much less that he sounds like his dad, because… I’m sorry, what?!?!  How is the situation at all comparable?  I mean, I guess in the Sam’s-getting-disowned thing, but that is such a tangential connection because the reason for said “disowning” is just… different?  With John, Sam was just trying to leave an unhealthy home life for one he could choose himself; with Dean, Sam actively allied himself against Dean, beat him up, and almost killed him??  Dean absolutely has the right to say that he doesn’t want the brother who — once again for the record because how is this not obvious — almost killed him?!!??! around him.  That’s perfectly valid.

Also, I find kinda amusing that the people I’ve seen arguing that Dean wanting his space after “When the Levee Breaks” is unsupportive of his brother are the same people who argue that Sam was perfectly in the right for taking control of his own fate, wishes, future, etc. in leaving for Stanford.  I know there are different headcanons out there for the homelife for the Winchester brothers, so I won’t even get into that; at best, it’s the same situation, and, at worst, Dean’s leaving a worse situation.  Thus, if Sam was justified in leaving for Stanford, Dean was absolutely justified in wanting to leave Sam.

Once again, I do, in pretty much every other instance, love Bobby.  He’s a good paternal influence on the boys, and he gave Dean a father figure that isn’t John.  But.  Speeches like this one aren’t helping Dean’s mental state.  They’re encouraging him to continue subverting his own emotions, feelings, and needs in favor of other people and, especially, in favor of Sam.  It’s not healthy, and it doesn’t do much to increase Dean’s self-worth since, once again, this conversation is basically, “you have to reach out to Sam, you have to take care of him, and you have to support him even if it harms you,” and I just… I can’t support that.

Bobby, you’re great, but that speech was awful.

[thefanficmonster]

Bouquet

Corpse Husband x Reader (Female)

Warnings: None

Genre: FLUFF, RPF (Real Person Fic)

Summary: Having come clean about being single for a very long time now and considering herself completely out of the dating scene, Y/N’s confession is taken and responded to with a ton of kindness, especially from a special someone...

Requested by Anon. Hi hun! Thank you so much for your lovely request, it was such a joy to write! I’m so sorry for the long wait you had to go through but the fic is finally here and I hope you enjoy reading it! Love, Vy ❤

I roll out of bed with little to no desire to start my day. We haven’t got a scheduled stream for today and the clouds glooming in the sky seem to be promising rain so really what do I have to get up for except that it’s a rule society installed?

Just kidding, I’m basically stalling and that’s all.

So what happened was the streamer gang and I were playing Among Us last night and our conversation during the pause between rounds somehow swerved into relationship territory. I stayed quiet the majority of if not all the time because I had no valid input to offer. 

If you know me you know I’m not one of the performers on the dating scene. I have never really confirmed it with my fans - well, until last night, that is - but I bet they have picked up on that fact considering I’ve been on YouTube for around a decade and have never had a partner. That being said, I’d have to also mention that I have in fact dated but someone but it was before my YouTube era started. Me choosing this career path, which back then was just a hobby, had nothing to do with the relationship ending but it still motivated me to not to actively look for a relationship while I’m still focused on my career. It’s too much work, too much stress and requires a lot of balance I most certainly either don’t have or I don’t have the energy to put in balancing my romantic and professional lives. Luckily, no one’s ever pressured me into finding a significant other, not yet at least, so no societal pressure for me!

But I gotta admit I felt real awkward admitting all this last night.

“Hey Y/N what do you think? You’ve been awfully quiet?“ Rae asks, causing me to jolt in my seat from where I’ve been reading my chat for the past five minutes, my mic muted.

I quickly unmute to reply, blushing ever so slightly, “Um, sorry I was reading my chat. What do I think about what?”

“The gesture of giving flowers to your significant other, is it romantic or a waste of money and plant murder?“ Rae explains, still managing to catch me off-guard with her question.

I ponder what my response should be for a little bit before deciding to level it to a neutral level where I almost sound indifferent, “It is in fact plant murder basically and artificial flowers would definitely be a better gift - plus they’ll last longer.”

“Mhmm yeah that’s true.“ Poki agrees with me, “But there’s still the question of whether it’s a romantic gesture or not. I personally don’t think it’s overrated or cheesy, I actually quite like it. What about you, Y/N?“

And now she’s got me in a real trap that I can’t wiggle out of without speaking my truth. I don’t know where this sudden anxiety around the subject came from but it now resides within me rent free and makes me feel self-conscious and embarrassed of the confession I’m inevitably make.

“Um, I wouldn’t know for certain, I’ve never received flowers myself...“ I say sheepishly, cringing at the sound of my own voice, “It’s not like I’ve dated plenty of people and the one guy I did date wasn’t really romantic or anything, I mean - we were teenagers, after all. But when I think about it in theory I think I’d like the gesture: it’s thoughtful, plus you get a temporary but beautiful piece of décor out of it.“

I’m gonna hope I didn’t sound too pitiful or desperate. Of course I’m not gonna check afterward on the stream cause I’d rather live in the illusion of having sounded humorous rather than be given the confirmation that I didn’t.

“Wait, wait, wait, did you date your last boyfriend like a decade ago?“ Corpse is now the one talking and that makes me feel even more anxious. This is not the impression one would want to give to their crush, is it? Oh well, no turning back now.

“Correct.“ I reply with a laugh that I hope didn’t sound as nervous as it was.

“And you’ve never, like in your whole life, received flowers from someone?“ He sounds astonished which sort of makes me want to shrink up in my shell like a turtle. Too bad I don’t have a shell though. I’m genuinely thinking of the option to rip the router out of the outlet right now to save me the troubles but I’m not that immature. I’m surprised I’m even reacting this way - this topic doesn’t usually bother me at all but now for some reason I’m red as a tomato and shrinking in my chair. 

I know what the obvious answer is but I’d rather die than admit to it.

“Yeah, yeah, I know it sounds bad but I really don’t care.“ I make an attempt at changing the subject, swerving it back to the main topic rather than my lack of a love life, “I do, in fact, find the gesture sweet - it adds vibrancy to the relationship just like the flowers would add vibrancy and color to the space they’re put in.“

“Oh my gosh, that’s such a cool analogy!“ Rae gushes, “You’re totally right, it might be an old trick, but it’s aged like fine wine.“

Phew, God bless you Rae.

“Exactly, exactly.“ Corpse agrees as well but I don’t think he’s fully heard what Rae said since he sounds to have fallen in deep thought.

At least I got away with it with only making a SLIGHT nervous wreck of myself.

Yikes, was that horrible, though I don’t people will remember it for long. Sure, my fans have sent me thousands of lovely messages and pictures of bouquets and will maybe continue sending them for another day or two - which I highly appreciate, don’t get me wrong. I’m severely touched by this gesture of theirs and it almost makes me glad I finally ‘came clean’ about my romance-less life - however, it’ll fade overtime. I mean, who the heck cares if I’m single or not?

As I pour the milk over my cheerios which I’ve been snacking on dry for the past half hour as I rifled through the many notifications clogging up my lock screen, I hear the doorbell ring. I’m understandably puzzled by this, seeing as how I never get visitors so that doorbell rings only when I’ve ordered something, be it takeout or a random item off Amazon. However, I can’t remember ordering anything, at least not anything that should be arriving at the moment or even anytime soon - that glow-in-the dark curtain isn’t supposed to arrive until next week.  I make my way to the door, unbothered by the fact I’m still in my pajamas, and take a look through the peephole.

It’s a delivery guy...and he happens to be holding a huge-ass bouquet.

“What the...“ I mutter to myself as I unlock and swing open the door in the blink of an eye, “Hi?“

“Hi there, are you Y/N L/N?“ The delivery guy, who I’ve seen many times before and who I’m on pretty friendly terms with, asks me jokingly, sending a wink my way.

“I sure am.“ I reply, my gaze fixated on the breathtaking flowers he’s holding, “But those can’t be for me, that’s for sure.“

He fishes looks at his clipboard one more time, nodding before he looks back at me, “I double and triple checked, Y/N, they’re for you. Here, have a look if you don’t believe me.” He turns the clipboard  for me to see and he is actually telling the truth. I mean, I doubt he’d have any reason to lie to me but mix-ups happen all the time.

“Um, ok thanks. Sorry for the halt, it’s just...I’d hate to be the recipient of the flowers meant for another girl.” I apologize as I take the bouquet for him, still in awe of the fact I’m the one it was made and meant for and sent to.

I say a quick ‘bye’ to the delivery guy before practically running inside to inspect this bouquet for a card from the sender. I have my guesses: it has to be someone who was present during the stream last night and someone who knows my address. Hopefully it’s someone from my friend group and not a fan who watched the stream and just happens to know my address. I’d still appreciate the gesture, but I’d also install security cameras if that was the case.

Something about the color scheme of the flowers - pink and black - gives me Rae vibes since she constantly teases me about my aesthetics contradicting each other. But then again, Poki does it too so it could be her as well....

Oh...OH GOD IT’S NEITHER OF THEM

                                                               ~ ~ ~

I’ve been sitting here, keeping myself a safe distance from my phone so I’m not the first one to send her a text. So I don’t ask if she got what I sent her. So I don’t ask what she thought of it, how the bouquet looks in her living room, how it smells, how it makes her feel. I have so many questions so that phone is best off at a major distance from me. I’m the one who’s better off with such a huge distance between me and the device, to be perfectly honest.

Was it a bad idea? Should I have slept on it - or just thought about it longer cause sleep and I don’t get along? Should I have at least waited a day or two? Should I-

My phone vibrates with a notification and I practically fly to it from across the room, grabbing it and unlocking it asap. My heart sinks and takes off like a rocket simultaneously when I see I’ve been tagged in Y/N’s Instagram story. I nervously tap the notification that sends me to the picture of the bouquet I sent her with some text written over it.

“Thank you, Romeo ;)“

Somehow that one sentence answers all those aforementioned questions.

Is this what people refer to as butterflies in one’s stomach? Cause it feels significantly more like a crush...oh wait.

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[snowdice]

Finding the Time to Study Fic 2 [Day 121]

Here is my starting post for today’s study break stories session. I will reblog this post with the story as I write them today. Feel free to send in asks about anything at any point, even if it’s not for the part of the story I’m currently on.

If you aren’t interested and don’t want all of these posts clogging your dash, please feel free to block the tag “study break stories” as all posts and voting about it will go there. You can still see the finished product of the story even if you are blocking that tag as I will not tag the edited chapters with “study break stories” but with the tag “folds in paper.”

See the Folds in Time Universe Master Post for edited chapters. Not yet edited chapters are under the cut. I also have a playlist on youtube for this story.

I’m starting late, so I’m probably not going to do too many rounds. Maybe 3?

Intermission Arc: Creased Hoodies (An Analogical Interlude) 

Chapter 41

Okay. Okay. Okay. Okay. Okay.

This was fine. It was fine. This was fine. There weren’t any problems with this. Nope. No reason to panic. No reason to have a panic attack. Nope. That would be very unproductive. It’s fine.

It was just a little bit of turbulence. Yeah. He wasn’t even dead yet!

Did time devices have turbulence? He didn’t remember the classes he took to get his researcher’s travel license ever saying anything about it, but maybe he’d just forgotten.

Virgil would not have forgotten something like that, because he would have known he’d panic about it if it ever happened and would have wanted to mentally prep himself for the possibility. Time devices didn’t have turbulence.

The sounds of people talking filtered to him as though through a wall. He couldn’t make out the words, but just the cadence of slight panic and concern. There were yelps, but no prolonged screaming, so that was a good sign.

Wherever Virgil was right now was dark; he could tell even with his eyes still glued shut.

He should probably open his eyes.

He wasn’t a child. He was well aware the ‘If I don’t see it, it doesn’t exist’ philosophy was not, in fact, valid. It didn’t matter that his mind was rebelling against his logic right now and insisting it was.

…

‘Virgil,’ he thought to himself. ‘Open your eyes.’

He took a deep breath. He needed to open his eyes because he knew himself, and the world he was making up in his head was probably a lot scarier than the one he was currently avoiding.

Opening his eyes honestly did very little, because it was almost completely dark, though he could see a bit of light near the ground a couple of feet away. The strip of light lit up a patch of short green grass that had been recently cut. It was at the earliest the 1900s then, maybe the late 1800s.

Well… guess he had no choice but to go towards the light…

He crawled over to where he saw the light coming from and reached out to touch the wall. It gave a bit under his hand: a tarp then, not a wall. He peered through the gap to look for any nearby feet or legs and upon not seeing any, pulled up the tarp and quickly rolled out from under it.

He glanced around himself quickly. There were people within sight, but he didn’t think any of them were looking his way to see him rolling out from underneath what looked to be a temporary stage of some sort. He was lucky he’d rolled out from under the back and not the front.

Cautiously, he got to his feet and moved away from the edge of the stage off towards a sidewalk. He hunched into his slightly grass stained and very wrinkled hoodie as much as he could. More people were milling around near the sidewalk, and he was relieved to see that his clothing fit in well enough. Maybe he’d been lucky, and he’d only been knocked off course spatially.

His destination was supposed to be New York 2005. He was supposed to land in the bedroom of an apartment he’d rented out for the summer. Yet, that was definitely not where he was.

Everything had seemed perfectly fine when he’d left the 4500s. There hadn’t been any alerts out that would have kept him from traveling. Most legal civilian time travel, what little of it there was, was almost ridiculously safe due to how regulated it was. Destinations were quadruple checked. Nothing was supposed to go wrong. Even Virgil hadn’t been more than slightly anxious when he’d been given the go ahead to push the button on the timepiece that was set to send him to 2005.

Everything had remained fine for half a second before it’d felt like he’d suddenly hit a brick wall and was tossed a few meters. The timepiece had sparked and shocked him as he’d landed on his back under the stage. A cursory glance at his wrist now confirmed what he’d already known; the display was black. There wasn’t even a warning message flashing on it. That was… not good.

He covered the device with his hoodie sleeve and walked closer to the crowds, eyes searching for clues about where and when he was exactly. It was summer and the conversations he could overhear were in early 21st century English mostly with American accents. That was good, though worryingly they seemed to be more Midwestern United States accents than New York accents.

Luckily for Virgil, plenty of people were using their cellphones, and identifying cellphones was one of Virgil’s specialties. Unluckily, many of them were iPhones. Virgil cursed to himself. Definitely not 2005. In fact, the latest model he could identify was an iPhone 9. So, it was 2017 or later. Judging by the large amount of people and the fact that it was summer, it was either 2017, 2018, or 2019.

So, he had a wallet with $200 cash in $20 bills, a New York driver’s license that had been expired for a decade, and a flip phone that was probably not supported by any current networks.

…

What the hell was he supposed to do? Would anyone even be able to find him in this time to rescue? God, he really did not want to be here for 2020.

Yet, just before he was about to tip over into an absolute freak out, he noticed a man making his way out of the crowd in front of the stage and onto the sidewalk Virgil was on. It took him a moment to realize where he recognized him from.

“Pat!” Virgil called as the man was about to turn and walk away. He did his best not to run full tilt at him as the man turned around at his name. Relief crashed over Virgil despite the clear confusion pinching at the brow of the man he’d just flagged down. “You’re Pat,” Virgil said, coming to a stop in front of him.

Technically, Pat was an enemy considering how closely Virgil worked with the TPI, but Virgil didn’t care about that right now. He had access to time travel.

“Do I know you?” he asked with a frown on his face.

Probably not, and the one ominous conversation Virgil had had with Pat a couple of weeks ago suddenly made a whole lot more sense. He’d have to thank him somehow once all of this was over. “Not really,” Virgil said. “I don’t even really know you, but I remembered your face.”

“…What?” he asked.

Virgil glanced around them to make sure no one was watching (though people from this time would probably just assume it was a smart watch) before pulling back his sleeve and showing him the timepiece on his wrist. Recognition flared immediately. “It’s broken. Please help,” he begged.

Pat nodded. “Alright,” he agreed. “Come with me.” He turned to start walking towards the street and Virgil followed closely behind, feeling like he could finally breathe again. Beyond Pat giving him directions, they didn’t speak again until they were away from the dense crowd they’d been in. “So, what’s your name,” Pat asked once they were out of the farmer’s market.

“Virgil,” Virgil replied.

“Well, it’s nice to meet you, Virgil,” Pat said with a genuine smile. “Though I am sorry about the circumstances.”

“Yeah, uh, thanks,” Virgil replied. “Er, thanks for helping me.”

“Of course,” Pat said. He tilted his head at Virgil. “Are you a time agent then?” he asked. There wasn’t any malice that Virgil could sense behind the question despite the fact that he knew his and Janus’s relationship was… something.

Still, he was glad he could truthfully say, “No, I’m a professor of anthropology. I was supposed to be on a research trip to 2005, but something happened.”

“They let anthropologists go on research trips to the past?” Pat asked curiously. Strange, Virgil would have thought he’d know that.

“Only certain ones with a lot of training and tests,” Virgil said.

“Interesting!” he said, turning a corner.

“Where are we going?” Virgil asked.

He hesitated subtlety enough that it could almost be ignored, but Virgil was nothing if not a paranoid bastard and noticed. “I have a contact that lives in this time period,” he said. “I’m taking you to his apartment. It’s not too far from here.”

Virgil narrowed his eyes at him, taking note of the reusable bags half filled with vegetables from the Farmers Market they’d just been at, but he continued to let himself be led to an apartment building a few blocks away from the market.

He saw the man’s hand twitch towards his pocket before he seemed to think better of it, instead closing said hand into a fist to knock at the door.

The door was opened after only a few moments by a man wearing a dark blue long sleeved night shirt and fuzzy nebula patterned pajama pants. He looked like he’d probably only gotten up recently by the way his hair stuck up on one side and his eyes looked sleepy behind the glasses perched on his nose. He looked at Pat, seeming confused for a moment before opening his mouth to say something.

Pat cut him off before he was able to speak. “Hi, Dr. Hartnell,” Pat said pleasantly. “Good to see you again. May we come in?”

He blinked slowly at Pat and then looked at Virgil.

‘This man,’ Virgil thought, ‘is not a good liar.’ His face was unknown to Virgil, but he so clearly recognized Virgil that it was almost comical.

The man shoved his surprise away after a few moments. “Ah,” he said. “Hello, I’m…”

“Let me guess,” Virgil interrupted. “First name, William?” He just got a blink of surprise. “I studied pop culture from the 20th and 21st century. I know Doctor Who.”

“Of course.”

“I’m not an idiot.”

He smiled slightly. “I am well aware,” he replied in a tone that was familiar even if his voice sounded slightly different in person than over voice chats. That in combination with the look on his face felt like a punch to the gut. “It’s nice to see you Professor Eran. Would you like to come in?”

  Chapter 42

           “Would you… like some tea?” Logan asked once Virgil and Patton shuffled into the apartment.

           Virgil was peering at him curiously, which was fair since while Logan had seen his face in Silver Mountain University’s directory and then in various video calls, Virgil had never seen Logan’s own. It made Logan feel suddenly out of place and self-conscious. Virgil seemed to be nervous as well, though Logan wasn’t sure if that was due to meeting Logan or the events leading up to meeting him. He was playing with the sleeves of his hoodie. Interestingly, his clothes were probably more in line with what a standard 21st century adult would wear than what Logan or either of his roommates typically wore. Logan could imagine meeting him at a local grocery store: a tired college professor hoping that if he wore unprofessional clothing on the weekends, then maybe his students wouldn’t recognize him while he was buying hot pockets.

           Thinking of unprofessional clothing, Logan suddenly felt extremely warm in his fuzzy pajama pants. “I should probably change,” he said, grimacing. “Pat-” he barely kept himself from completing Patton’s name. “Could you put the kettle on?”

           Patton was giving him a suspicious look, but Logan chose to ignore that as he dashed out of the living room to get changed and fix his hair. By the time he’d returned, Patton had herded Virgil into a chair. There was a plate with a cookie in front of him. It was chocolate chip. Good, good, Virgil liked chocolate chip. He always got them from the coffee shop on campus whenever he was hungry in the afternoon.

           “So,” Logan said, feeling at least a bit more put together now that he’d had a minute to process what was going on and was in presentable clothing. “May I ask what’s going on?”

           “I was going on my that summer trip to 2005 New York,” Virgil explained, “and my timepiece broke. I didn’t know what to do, but I ran into Pat and recognized him.”

           “Ah,” said Logan. “May I see the timepiece?”

           “Sure,” Virgil agreed, taking it off of his wrist and handing the watch like device over.

           Logan studied the timepiece for a few moments. He tried tapping the display and pushing different buttons, but the device didn’t respond.

           “Can you fix it?” Virgil asked, after watching him fiddle around with it to no results.

           “Hmm?” Logan asked, having gotten slightly distracted by the brand new piece of technology in his hands even if the device was broken. “Oh. No, absolutely not.”

           “What do you mean no?” Virgil asked.

           “I have no idea how this is supposed to work. Perhaps I could eventually figure it out, but the technology involved in it is doubtlessly incredibly unfamiliar to me. Paired with the fact that it isn’t currently in working conditions, learning how it works let alone fixing it will take a very long time.”

           “B-but you’re time travelers, aren’t you? And you’re the tech person. You don’t know how to fix time travel gear?”

           “Oh,” Logan said. “I could fix my time travel gear with the use of one arm in a dark room with no tools, but that does not translate to being able to even turn this on. At least not outright. We’ve found this technology has a completely different pedigree.”

           Virgil looked at him, brow pinched, and Logan realized far too late that he might have already said too much. They had agreed as a group after their first run in with the TPI to not let people from the future know when they were from or that their technology came from a completely different source. It was likely to cause more problems than it was worth, especially consider the first interaction they’d had from the time agency from the future and… Virgil did work with them.

           “Great,” Virgil muttered. “He can hack into a highly secure database with an iPhone 5 to rearrange my tv show files, but he can’t turn on a fancy watch.”

           “It is a bit more than a fancy watch, Virgil,” Logan said with a frown.

           “So…” Patton said. He’d taken a seat at the kitchen table and was leaning forward with his chin propped up on his fist. “Do you two… know each other?”

           “He is the person who plugged in the iPhone Janus stole from you once,” Logan said.

           “Mhmm?” Patton said with that lilt that said he thought Logan was leaving something out. He was correct of course, but it still made Logan scowl at him.

           “Virgil Eran,” Patton continued, “as in Janus’s ex-roommate who burned down the apartment.”

           “Oh, he fucking would!” Virgil seethed. His eyes lit up in full blow rage which was a new expression to Logan who had never seen him angry before. “I did not burn down the apartment. If anything, it was his fault! Towel with cooking oil my ass!”

           “Well,” Patton said, unconcerned with Virgil’s outburst. “At least we have a general idea of when you’re from in case we can’t fix your timepiece and have to drop you off.”

           Virgil’s face paled a bit. “Oh god, I would be in so much trouble for illegal time travel.”

           Patton laughed. “To be fair, I’d be the one doing the ‘illegal’ time traveling. You’d just be a passenger.”

           “I don’t know if they’d see it that way…”

           “Well, I can at least attempt to fix it before we try that,” Logan offered.

           Patton gave him a look, but it was Virgil who accused, “You just want to know how it works.”

           And then Patton was giving Virgil a look. After a few seconds of staring, he was looking at longa once again even more skeptically.

           “Yes, well,” Logan coughed. “It would be mutually beneficial.”

           “Also,” Patton cut in. “I’m pretty sure something caused him to crash. So, maybe I shouldn’t be trying any time travel before making sure whatever caused Virgil’s issues don’t cause any for me. I would rather not have another jungle adventure if I can help it.”

           “You think it was sabotage?” Logan asked.

           “It was too convenient,” Patton replied. “He ended up near a music stage during a concert. The crowd just thought the noise the crash made was an issue with equipment. That seems like it was specifically planned to cover it up.”

           “Not to mention he happened to land in a time period where we are based,” Logan added. “That is suspicious as well.”

           “I’m not a spy!” Virgil interjected.

           Logan quirked a lip. “I know, Virgil,” he said. Patton was looking at him again.

           “I would be way to anxious to be a spy.”

           “I know, Virgil.” Logan said. “It’s possible they were targeting you more than us or all of us.”

           “Why would someone target me?” Virgil asked.

           “Well, you do work with the TPI,” Logan pointed out. “In particular with Janus, who has been investigating some of the other time distortions with unknown sources. We’ve been running into those as well.” He paused to think for a moment. “Perhaps we have a common enemy we are not yet aware of.”

           Virgil groaned and put his head on the table. “But I don’t want to be all mixed up in time politics bullshit. I want to go to a Panic! At the Disco concert and observe the beginning of YouTube.”

           Logan chucked fondly. “Unfortunately, you seem to already be mixed up in it.”

           “This is the worst timeline.”

           “You could have gotten stuck in pre-history for 2 months,” Patton pointed out.

“Did that happen to you?” Virgil asked, sounding a bit horrified.

“It’s why I’m tanner than usual,” Patton said as though Virgil knew how tan he normally was. “You can ask Janus whenever he gets back from it.”

“And I get back from this.”

“That too.”

“Wait, so, Janus was stuck in pre-history?” Virgil asked.

           Patton hummed. “I do have to thank you for dragging him to that club that taught him to make clay pots. It was very helpful.”

           It was clearly they were intending to continue the conversation in that direction, but before Virgil could say anything else, they were interrupted. The apartment door swung open with the jangle of keys. “I’m back!” the voice of their third roommate called. “I know you said to get whole wheat bread, but you’re boring as hell, so I made the executive decision to buy Asiago cheese instead, and there was a buy one, get one 50% off deal, so I bought 6.”

           Roman wondered into the kitchen with his bags full of far too many loafs of bread that Logan did not ask for (and knowing him, likely some other bakery items Logan did not ask for). He paused in the doorway to the kitchen, visibly confused as to why they had a stranger sitting at their kitchen table. Virgil also seemed confused by his presence.

           “Remus?” Virgil asked.

           Roman froze and his mouth popped open at the sound of his twin brother’s name.

           Now, that out of all of the surprises of the day was the most unexpected.

 Chapter 43

Virgil wasn’t sure why everyone in the room was suddenly looking at him like he’d just revealed that he was alien in a human suit.

Pat was the first one who recovered from whatever had come over them all. “You know someone named Remus?” Pat asked. “Who looks like him.”

“Yes…” Virgil said. “Is he not Remus.”

Pat shook his head. “No. That’s Roman. Who has a twin brother named Remus.”

“Oh,” Virgil said with a frown. “I didn’t think Remus had any family.”

“Well,” Lo said. “That would make sense.”

The Remus lookalike, Roman apparently, who had been staring blankly at Virgil since he’d said Remus’s name finally closed his mouth. “Who are you?” he asked. “Why are you in my kitchen? Where are you from? How do you know my brother?”

 To be completely honest, Virgil didn’t really like his tone. Or for that matter, his bread choices.

“This is Virgil Eran,” Lo answered for him. “He’s a professor of anthropology who was supposed to be on a research trip to 2005 from the future, but something went wrong with his timepiece and Patton brought him here so we could help.” Patton, huh? Lo turned to him. “However, I would also very much like to know how you know his brother.”

“Remus works for the TPI,” Virgil said. He looked at Patton. “I’m surprised you haven’t ran into him. He’s Janus’s partner.”

 Patton thought for a long moment. “Gr-green paint guy?” he asked.

“What?”

“There was a man with Janus in 2999 who was covered in green neon paint,” Patton said. “Could that have been him?”

“That honestly sounds like something he’d wear, yeah,” Virgil said.

“Huh.”

Virgil felt like he was missing something, so he turned to Lo. “What’s going on?” he asked.

“Remus and Roman were separated a long time ago,” Lo replied. “We have been looking for him ever since.”

“Oh,” said Virgil.

“Since we were 8 in particular,” Roman said. He’d seemed to recover from his shock at least a bit (and it must, actually be quite the shock). He moved to put the sacks of bread on the counter.

 “I assume you can put us in contact with Remus once we sort out the current issues of getting you back to your time.”

Virgil eyed Roman who seemed to not quite have absorbed what was going on. “Sure,” he said. “It’d be easy enough. I’ll just send him an email.”

“An email?” Roman said, something funny in his tone. Virgil couldn’t imagine what was going through his head. He was pretty sure he didn’t understand the half of whatever was going on here.

Patton at least seemed to have some idea what to do because he stood up. “Hey, Ro,” he said. “Why don’t we go into the other room and talk?”

 Patton nudged him towards the door to the kitchen and Virgil looked at Lo once they were out of sight. “Do you want to…?” he asked.

“From experience I am aware that Pat is more adept at helping in these situations,” Lo said. “I will… take them tea when the water finishes boiling.”

“Ah,” said Virgil. “Also, you already let a Patton slip.”

Lo winced. “I did?” he asked, but then he sighed. “Well, we were already aware the TPI would eventually know our names anyway.”

Virgil tilted his head. “Do I get to know your name then?” he asked.

 Lo looked at him for a long moment and Virgil could swear he could see math equations in his eyes as he contemplated his response. He pressed his thumb to his lip briefly as he thought. “Logan,” he finally said.

“Well, it’s nice to actually meet you, Logan,” Virgil said, sticking out a hand.

“Likewise,” Logan replied, shaking his hand with a smile.

It fell silent then. It was a slightly awkward silence, but not enough to stress Virgil out too much. That, or he was just too emotionally exhausted from the last hour or so to register this new stressor.

 He spent the time trying to connect the stranger’s face in front of him to the person he knew fairly well through emails and a few phone calls. At least, the person he thought he knew fairly well, after all, there was a chance that he was completely different in person. He seemed relatively calm for the situation, though his brow was a bit pinched, and he’d tap the table with his fingertips every so often. Yet, for the most part he was still and steady unlike Virgil who couldn’t stop himself from fidgeting in his nervousness.

The water for the tea finished boiling finally, and Logan rose from the table.

 “You’d prefer peppermint over peach green tea or chamomile if I remember correctly,” Logan said. Was it strange for him to know that Virgil wondered? They had never exactly sat down and had a cup of tea together, but Virgil did know he’d mentioned drinking peppermint flavored things often enough. Was it weird that he remembered or sweet?

“Yeah,” Virgil confirmed.

Logan nodded and plopped a bag of peppermint tea into two of the mugs, a bag of peach into another, and chamomile into the third. He must know the tea preferences of his roommates as well. It was sweet, Virgil decided when he plopped the two peppermint teas down on the table and turned to grab the other two mugs. “I’ll be right back,” he said.

 He took the teas off through the door the other two had left through a few minutes before. Virgil could hear a brief mumbled conversation from down the hall and Logan returned without the teas.

“That going okay?” Virgil asked awkwardly.

“Roman is resilient to an idiotic degree much of the time,” Logan waved him off. “He’ll be perfectly fine given some time to absorb the new information and confront his feelings about it.”

“Can I ask what happened or is that invasive?”

Logan considered it as he took his seat. “They were separated by a dysfunctional timepiece as far as we can tell,” he answered. “Though Roman didn’t have the timepiece on him when he arrived.”

 “We’re not exactly sure what the conditions were that caused the issue. Roman was confused and 8, not to mention there was a language barrier where he landed. We’ve done our best to piece together what happened over the years and where his brother could have landed, but between not precisely knowing their time and place of origin nor knowing even the baseline conditions of the timepiece used to travel, let alone the corrupted ones, we haven’t gotten very far.” He paused. “Well, perhaps not ‘very far’ is not giving ourselves enough credit all things considered, but still, the goal of our project seemed out of reach.”

 “The goal of your project,” Virgil repeated. “As in the goal of your time agency?”

“Are we considered an agency?” he asked with an amused note to his tone.

Virgil shrugged. “Probably more like a band of time pirates,” he admitted, “but that’s what you guys have been trying to do?”

“Well,” Logan said. “I do have to admit we often get thrown off course by the TPI and Patton’s moral compass doesn’t allow him to leave a situation he stumbles upon when he is aware it could cause harm, but yes, that has been the driving force behind our actions.”

 That was honestly not the image Virgil had had of them, though to be fair, his information had been filtered through what Logan let slip in emails and Janus who was not an unbiased party. “I guess you’re almost done with that goal,” he said.

“Yes,” Logan agreed. “We’ll start working on fixing your timepiece and figuring out what caused your crash, so we can get you home soon. For now, we’ll need to figure out sleeping arrangements and clothing as you’ll be staying here. I do hope you enjoy Asiago cheese bread.”

“I fucking hate it,” Virgil said. “Your roommate is the devil and I hate him on principle.”

Logan sighed, but ended up cracking a smile. “Then this will be interesting.”

 Chapter 44

Logan was woken up earlier than he would have liked the next morning by chaos in the kitchen. He’d stayed up late on his laptop running through various programs he’d designed to track time travel related metrics and synthesizing the data from the last 48 hours. At some point he didn’t remember, he’d fallen asleep on the couch since he’d given up his bed to Virgil. Of course, both of his roommates tended to rise with the sun and were incapable of being quiet ever, so Logan had gotten a maximum of 3 hours of sleep depending on when he’d actually fallen asleep.

 Logan glared at Patton as he shuffled into the kitchen to get a cup of tea, but he didn’t notice. He was too busy trying to figure out the right flavor profile for making asiago cheese bread into French toast. Roman was hovering over him making loud, and likely inane suggestions while also vehemently defending his choices in bread. Patton was agreeing wholeheartedly with everything he said and adding his own ridiculous suggestions about how to make the French toast edible while blatantly not doing any of them. Logan pushed past Roman to get to the tea shelf without a word.

 “Oh no, he’s grumpy,” Roman said.

“I haven’t even said a word,” Logan replied, swatting him away as he began picking at Logan’s sweatshirt to remove a couple of fabric pills near the shoulder.

“Exactly,” Roman replied. “You didn’t sleep last night.”

“I did,” Logan replied.

“And for how long?”

Logan didn’t respond.

“You know, sleeping can be helpful.”

“So can keeping your mouth shut,” Logan grumbled back.

“I’ll have you know, people love when I talk. You’re just being a grouchy old man. Isn’t that right Patton?”

Patton hummed. “Yes, your voice is great, sweetie,” he replied.

“See,” Roman said. “Two against one.”

 “Two against two actually,” a voice even more tired sounding than Logan’s own spoke up from the door to the kitchen, “and since you’re the subject of the statement, your opinion doesn’t count.” Virgil was standing in the doorway looking as though he had never heard of the concept of mornings and did not like the information he was being given right now. He was leaning against the doorframe as though at any moment he might slump over and fall back asleep standing. The yellow bottom of the slightly too wide nightshirt Patton had given him the night before stuck out from beneath the black hoodie he’d came here in.

 Roman was sputtering immediately. “Excuse me?!” he squawked.

“My point exactly,” Virgil muttered.

“You’re rude!” Roman said. He turned to Patton. “Patton he’s being rude to me!”

“You woke me up,” was Virgil’s response.

“It’s seven am!”

Virgil glared at him.

Patton and Logan shared a look. Patton frowned scoldingly at Logan’s amused smirk as though he wasn’t also finding this argument amusing. “Well,” he interrupted the two’s staring match. “I’m making French toast for breakfast Virgil, but it’ll be a few minutes yet. I’m sure Logan has something to show you on his computer since he was working on stuff so late last night.”

 He didn’t actually have much to show anyone yet. It was all just numbers at the moment, but the look in Patton’s eyes said, ‘We’re separating the children.’ Logan half wanted to shrug him off and just see where it went because the look on Roman’s face was amusing, but then Logan looked at the tea bags in his hand, the disaster in the making that was the French toast, and the man tiredly rubbing his eyes.

“Of course,” Logan said, evenly. “We will just be in the living room.” He walked over and shoved Virgil gently through the door. “Go get dressed,” he said under his breath.

“Wha?” Virgil asked with a squint.

“We’re fleeing the morning people.”

 Virgil gave him a confused look.

“Unless you want to be forced to eat French toast made out of asiago cheese bread. We aren’t escaping it elsewise.”

Virgil’s expression darkened and he nodded, turning towards Logan’s bedroom. Logan had grabbed nightclothes and an outfit for the morning before Virgil had gone to bed the night before (not that he’d actually changed into the nightclothes). He grabbed the outfit and changed quickly in the bathroom. Virgil was already waiting in the living room when he finished. He’d changed into one of Logan’s own hoodies that Logan had offered him the day before as he rarely wore it and blue jeans from an unknown source (they had appeared in the laundry one day and everyone refused to claim them) that were just a touch too large and thus held up by a belt.

 Virgil raised an eyebrow at him without saying a word. Logan gestured with his head towards the front door, grabbing his keys and wallet off of the table near the entrance, careful not to let the keys hit each other and make noise.

He carefully unlocked and opened the door before gesturing for Virgil to go through. He went making less noise than Logan even thought was possible, but then again, his only experience with sneaking out of anywhere was with one or two of the loudest people that had ever existed.

“Where exactly are we going?” Virgil asked once the door was closed behind Logan.

 “We’re going to go get coffee,” Logan said.

“And we can’t just tell your roommates about that?” Virgil asked.

“I am not allowed anything more caffeinated than tea since the incident of 2011.”

“Do I want to know?” Virgil asked, lips quirked up into a half smile.

Logan hummed. “Did you notice the hamster cage in our apartment?” he asked.

“Yes.”

“I was sleep deprived and accidently invented a device that turns things invisible,” Logan told him. “It’s temporary on plants and inanimate objects, but it’s seemingly permanent on animals or perhaps just rodents. We haven’t tested it on any other animals.”

 “What the actual hell, Lo?”

“To be fair, I thought I was making the rocks and flowers I’d tested it on time travel a few seconds.”

“How do you accidently invent an invisibility ray or whatever while trying to invent time travel?”

“It’s a spray, and I missed a negative sign.” Logan told him. They’d been walking side by side but needed to make a sharp left turn to get to their destination and Logan found himself grabbing Virgil’s upper arm in order to guide him.

“Uh,” Virgil said which is when Logan realized it might be odd for a practical stranger to grab someone like that. “Er, where is the coffee shop?”

  It’s just a couple of blocks north,” Logan answered, letting him go after he finished the turn and flashing him a small smile. Virgil smiled back. “It’s a smaller place, but gets fewer actual college students, not that it matters since it’s summer break for them.”

“So, do you frequently perform coffee acquiring heists?” Virgil asked.

“Sometimes I drink tea there,” Logan replied, “but yes. How else am I meant to get my work done?”

Virgil laughed. “That’s probably not healthy. I don’t disagree, but it’s probably not healthy.”

Logan found himself chuckling as well as he led him down the path to the shop.

 Chapter 45

Logan did end up ordering himself more caffeine than a man who was banded from caffeine probably should have, but honestly, who was Virgil to judge. They also ordered pastries to eat for breakfast which Virgil could already tell were way too sweet, but he wasn’t complaining.

Logan got a text from one of his roommates as they were waiting for their drinks to be finished. He probably didn’t notice the fond smile he sent the phone as he answered.

“I told them I’m showing you the town a bit,” he informed Virgil. “Which isn’t technically a lie.”

 “Not, technically, no,” Virgil replied. He took a bite of the cinnamon roll in front of him and grimaced slightly. “Your time has a thing for artificial sweeteners,” he said, keeping his voice down. They were in a far back corner and it wasn’t busy at this hour, so he didn’t see too much of an issue.

“Apologizes, would you like something else?” Logan asked.

Virgil waved him off. “I’ll acclimate. If I could get used to 1950s post war, society is getting used to instant gelatin, recipes during my post-doc, I can figure out how to stomach an overly sweet pastry or two.

 “You spent time in the 1950s?”

“Mmm, not my favorite, but seeing the direct results of World War II are important.”

“In the United States?”

“For a bit, but I hopped around a lot and also went to the 60s and 70s. I was basically tracing the evolution of different social issues in the wake of World War II for both the Axis and Allied Powers.”

“An interesting topic,” Logan replied. “I imagine even in the 21st century, I would not have perspective especially on different countries.”

“Oh, you definitely don’t,” Virgil confirmed.

“Perhaps I’ll take a look at your work sometime.”

 “Oh, uh,” Virgil said, and he really shouldn’t be flustered about that. He’s gone to conferences and presented his work before. “Yeah, if you want.”

The barista called their drink names then, and Logan got up to go grab them. Get it together, Virgil, he begged himself while shoving another piece of too sweet pastry into his mouth.

Logan set the coffees down on the table in front of them and Virgil took his with a closed mouth smile of thanks, while still chewing on his cinnamon roll.

“So,” Logan began. “More than just escaping the disaster breakfast my roommates had in mind, I would like to perhaps return to the location you arrived at and see if there is anything there physically that wasn’t picked up on my devices. Do you think you’ll be able to find the location if I get you in the general vicinity of the farmer’s market?”

 “I don’t always have the best memory,” Virgil said, “but I’ve had a deep-seated fear of being kidnapped since I was a small child, so I could probably lead you to the farmers market, let alone to where I came from.

“Ah.”

“My mom let me watch a horror movie when I was too young about a boy my age being kidnapped and taken out to the middle of the desert to be hunted like an animal, and he had no idea how to get back home. So, then I would spend any ride in any vehicle trying to memorize the path we took with my eyes closed.”

 “I see.”

“And I’m really oversharing for having met you in person less than 24 hours ago, aren’t I?”

Logan crinkled his eyebrows. “Are you?” he asked.

“Uh, yeah, I think so,” Virgil said. “Traumatic childhood memories might be a bit much this soon.”

“I have never been the best at knowing social norms,” Logan said. “Would you like me to share a traumatic childhood memory with you, so we are even?”

“I…” Virgil said. “Can’t tell if you’re joking.”

“I am a bit,” Logan said with a small smile, “but if it would make you feel more comfortable, I am willing. We might not have known each other in person for very long, but we aren’t exactly strangers.”

 And that was true. Lo had been emailing him for months at this point. They’d argued about the correct order to watch a television show in, they’d watched videos together with Lo logging onto his desktop (promising not to dive into his search history and private files), and Lo had somehow attended all of his publicly streamed lectures without getting caught by the university’s firewall. He’d even managed to make Virgil feel better when he’d had one of his bad days by ranting for hours about airplanes.

He hadn’t known Logan’s face for long, but they did know each other pretty well in spite of that.

“I got distracted on a fieldtrip once,” Logan said, and oops, Virgil had taken too long to say ‘you don’t have to be emotionally vulnerable in a coffee shop to make me feel better’ and now it was too late.

 “Somehow, despite the fact that my teacher really should have been taking attendance before allowing the bus to leave the orchard we were visiting, they managed to overlook my absence. I had no friends in the class, and I was so quiet at that age no one noticed me not being there. I couldn’t find my way back to the entrance or find any workers. No one was aware I was gone until my parents came to pick me up and no one could find me. My parents were very unhappy with the teacher once they managed to find me.”

 “That experience along with others in my formative years gave me a dislike of being ignored, which combined with my innate desire to have time alone has made friendships difficult to sustain.”

“Oh,” Virgil said, unsure how to respond. “Er, well, that sucks.”

“Luckily Patton is hyperempathetic and Roman cannot be removed from a person he deems his friend with a crowbar,” he said, “which helped me at a younger age. As an adult, I am aware of the issue and am able to work through it with logic most of the time.”

“What do you think about someone who is so anxious he can’t ignore anything, especially a person?”

 “I think that would be someone worth knowing,” Logan said. He paused. “Though I would not wish social anxiety onto a person to be clear.”

“Thanks for the clarification,” said Virgil, amused.

They lapsed into silence for a few minutes then. It was still a bit awkward but not completely uncomfortable.

Logan took a bite of his pastry and spoke once he’d swallowed it. “Tell me more about what your plans were with your research before they were disrupted,” he requested, breaking the silence. “Why 2005 in particular? What had you planned to do? How long were you going to stay?”

Virgil smiled and drank his coffee as he did a short rundown of what his plans had been before they were interrupted by time travel. Logan listened careful and even though it sucked that he’d been stranded in a time he hadn’t even meant to visit, he wasn’t all too upset about it for the moment.

 Chapter 46

Virgil was correct about his ability to find the location of the farmer’s market. After they ate and finished their coffee, they set out to investigate the location of the time anomaly. “I ended up under the stage,” Virgil informed him. The stage had already been taken down, but it was easy to see where it had once been based on the depressions on the ground.

Logan had brought a few of his tools when they had left that morning and he pulled out a modified iPad.

“You hide your time travel tech as an iPad?” Virgil asked curiously.

Logan glanced at him and said nothing.

 “…You made your time travel tech out of an iPad!” Virgil exclaimed.

“It is one of the most easily accessible technologies of this time that is also portable,” Logan shrugged. “I use what I can get.”

“How did you manage to invent time travel with 21st century technology?” Virgil asked.

“It took me a couple of decades,” Logan replied.

“It took them literal centuries.”

“Well, I knew it could happen, so I simply made it happen.”

“You’re terrifying,” Virgil stated.

Logan just hummed and set the iPad scrolling through its diagnostic programs. It scanned the area around them for anything that might indicate time travel.

 “Well,” Logan said. “There is definitely an anomaly, but we already knew that. It’s a strange one, however.”

“What do you mean?” Virgil asked.

“I’d assumed whatever had caused you to end up here had dragged you here, but what I’m finding doesn’t seem to be remnants of something to cause time travel. On the contrary, it seems to be similar readings to what stopped Janus time travel to stop working in previous circumstances. I don’t know a lot about the time travel technology from your time, but I have noted they tend to briefly ping off of times near to your destination in order to recalibrate when going a certain amount of time. Perhaps your device did a brief landing here at the wrong time and then was deactivated much like TPI devices have been deactivated beforehand and you got stuck.”

 “What does that mean for me?”

“Well, it means your device isn’t broken,” Logan said.

“Then why isn’t it working?” Virgil asked.

“Because,” Logan said. “whatever is deactivating it is still here.”

Virgil looked at his feet as though expecting to see the device sitting on the ground somewhere.

“Not here here,” Logan clarified, “but close by. They have a limited range from what I understand, though I don’t know precisely how far. It’s definitely in this time however. But it’s strange,” Logan tapped out a few things on his device, double checking that he hadn’t missed anything with his regular monitoring.

 “It’s not causing any other problems.” Logan continued. “We’ve only ran into them once or twice before and we’ve never managed to get our hands on one too actually study it, but each time we’ve seen them, they created some sort of issue in the environment, but there are no obvious time abnormalities or weather problems. In fact, if I wasn’t looking for it, I wouldn’t have noticed.”

“Okay, well then, can’t we just find it and shut it off?” Virgil asked. “That’s what I know Janus did when he ran into them.”

“It is,” Logan confirmed. “The only issue is without the obvious environmental clues I have no idea where it actually is to turn it off.”

 “How the hell do we find it then?” Virgil asked.

“I’m not sure,” Logan said. “It definitely was here when it switched on, but it’s definitely not here anymore.” He looked around. “Perhaps it was attached to the stage or put in the musician’s instrument cases. Then again, by that logic, it could have been put in anyone’s bags or in a since emptied trashcan.”

“So, it could basically be anywhere?”

“Basically,” Logan agreed. “We will check the easiest possibilities to track down and if that produces no results, I’ll… figure out something.”

Virgil grimaced. “That sounds promising.”

“I will do my best,” Logan promised. “I just wish I knew more about these things.”

 Virgil seemed to hesitate. “How would you go about learning more about it?”

“Well,” Logan said, “if I can get my hands on a similar device, I could probably figure out a more reliable way to track it.”

“You do,” Virgil said.

“I do what?”

“You do have one.”

Logan frowned. “I assure you, I do not.”

“But you do,” Virgil said. “Eventually.”

“…Oh, I see.” Logan replied. “Do you perhaps know where we do eventually find it?”

Virgil pressed his lips together. “I think I might already be saying too much,” he said. “It’s stuff you shouldn’t know about yet in your personal future. People aren’t supposed to…”

 “Time is not nearly as sensitive as the TPI seems to believe,” Logan said with an eyeroll. “In fact, most of Janus and Patton’s interactions so far involve accidently giving more information than necessary.”

“I don’t know…”

“I’m a time traveler from the 21st century who lives with a French man from the 1800s,” Logan said. “I’m not asking for a run down of every part of the event, just a time and place to point us in the correct direction.”

Virgil still didn’t seem convinced.

“It would really only be a time saver,” Logan argued. “I could just blindly look for time distortions, but it’d take a while…”

 “Fine,” Virgil said after a moment. “This is probably entirely stupid, but fine. Give me a moment to think about what exactly I can tell you, so I don’t mess everything up.”

Logan smiled slightly at his overly cautious behavior but waited patiently.

“Janus met Pat once in Cuba. There was a time distortion during Camaguey Carnival of 1755. Pat took the device that had been causing the disturbance and left before Janus could catch him.”

“Camaguey 1755,” Logan repeated. “Got it. I’ll look into it, and we can see what we can do. It’ll still take a few days to prep however.”

 Logan would need to find exact coordinates and he’d have to talk to Patton considering he’d just recently gotten back from an unwillingly long trip to pre-history. He’d probably be willing to go, but he’d mentioned Logan making him a “time survival pack” before he was willing to go back into the timestream. They’d need to talk about what exactly that entailed and get the supplies for it. His mind was already making plans about what he needed to do.

Virgil nodded. “Should we head back to the apartment then?” he asked, interrupting Logan’s thoughts. Logan glanced at him. He had actually planned to show the man around a bit today instead of spending all of their time thinking about time travel.

 “I cannot be sure that my roommates will have cleaned up their French toast nonsense by now,” he said. “We should likely wait to return until at least the lunch hour. It is not as though we could do anything about it today. We will need to plan.”

“Okay,” said Virgil, “then what are we going to do for the next 3-4 hours?”

“Well,” Logan said. “Perhaps I can show you around the town a bit more so as to not make more of a liar of myself than I already have.”

“Sure,” Virgil agreed with a smile. “What will you be showing me.”

“I was thinking we could visit the local museum. We can compare notes about how wildly inaccurate the exhibits present history.”

Virgil rolled his eyes at Logan, but there was something warm underneath his expression. “Fine,” he said, “but I bet I know more than you.”

 Chapter 47

The museum was interesting, not because it taught him any more about the events behind the exhibits on display, but more that learning what people in the 21st century cared about and how they presented past events was an anthropological lesson in its own right. Their conversation became a game of not only finding the mistakes made in the exhibits, but also Virgil hypothesizing why those mistakes were made: prejudice, missing information, and unreliable secondary sources all contributed, and Virgil spent a lot of time talking through the possibilities.

They spent a few hours there before heading back to Logan’s apartment.

 Not without stopping at a small, hole in the wall, bar inhabited only by day drinkers. When Virgil gave Logan a weird look, he explained, “I have to bring back a peace offering for running off this morning if I want Patton to agree to a time travel mission for me.”

“…And Patton likes… vodka?” he guessed.

“No,” Logan replied, amused. “This establishment serves cheeseburgers which are apparently the ‘best in the city.’ They do not, however, cook anything else. Not even fries.”

When Logan handed him an unlabeled brown paper bag that looked as though it had been dipped in hot oil instead of just it’s contents, Virgil shot him a raised eyebrow. “Ah, yes,” he said, “the quintessential 21st century American meal.”

 “You once ate only bagged pepperoni meant for pizzas for breakfast for a week once.”

“I told you that in confidence,” Virgil said, smacking him lightly with the bag of grease.

“And I have told no one,” Logan responded. “Therefore, I have not violated any part of our agreement.”

“You’re making fun of me. That’s definitely a part of the agreement,” Virgil said.

“I don’t remember there being any clause like that in our verbal contract,” Logan replied with a slight smirk. Virgil rolled his eyes. “Besides, I’m not truly making fun of you. The decision to fuel your body solely with pepperoni is, while not the best strategy and one that would certainly prove detrimental in the long run, it is better to eat that then nothing.”

 “Oh,” Virgil said. “Uh, good.”

“I’m simply citing another example where not as healthy food in the long term can be good in the short term.”

“But in this case instead of depression eating to stay alive, the purpose is bribery.”

“Exactly,” Logan said. “Bribery to end the time distortion and get you back to the proper time.”

“Alright, fair enough.”

“You don’t have to eat any if you don’t want to.”

“Oh, no, I’m going to.”

“Then why are you complaining?” Logan asked amused.

“I just thought you should know your time has way too greasy food,” Virgil said.

 “Thank you for the information,” Logan said dryly. They’d made it back to the apartment by then, and Logan stuffed the bag he was carrying under his arm to unlock the door.

“And where have the two of you been?” Patton asked when they walked into the kitchen.

“I have cheeseburgers for you,” was how Logan answered.

Patton rolled his eyes as Logan set the bag down in front of him. He was sitting at the kitchen table typing on a laptop. “The French toast wasn’t that bad,” he said.

“I will take your word for it,” Logan said pleasantly.

 Patton just shook his head and reached into the bag for a cheeseburger. Logan kept looking at him, and that obviously meant something Virgil didn’t know, because Patton glanced up at him after eating a couple of bites. “What?” he asked suspiciously.

“Virgil and I went back to where he arrived,” Logan said. “There are signs that one of the devices that cause time distortions is present.”

“There aren’t any weather disturbances though,” Patton pointed out.

“It seems to be a more advanced version,” Logan answered. “Which will make much more difficult to track.”

“Okay,” Patton said, “then what are we going to do?”

 “Well,” Logan said, “if we could get our hands on an older version, we could probably use it to narrow down the current one’s location.”

“And how exactly are we going to get an older version?” Patton asked, eyebrow raised.

“I understand that you have only been back from your last trip for a little over a week and that your last trip through time was a bit difficult, but,” he nodded towards Virgil, “we do know of the time and place one exists that you would have a good chance of being able to find, deactivate, and bring home.”

 Patton groaned. “And judging by the source of this information, steal off of the TPI.”

“Yes.”

“Excellent.”

“At least, in this case, you will go into it knowing there will be no major disasters.”

…

Should Virgil… say something. It’d be rude not to mention the whole time shredding almost drowning bullshit, wouldn’t it? Then again… giving him foreknowledge could be a danger to the timestream. He debated with himself whether general social courtesy should outrank the possible destruction of time or not.

…

Maybe he’d just suggest a boat if they didn’t plan to take one? Just in case?

 “Fine,” Patton said, “but you’re finishing your tech updates and making me a survival pack before I make any jump. I’m not making the same mistake again.”

Logan nodded. “I can do that,” he agreed. “Just tell me what you want in your survival pack.”

“I’ve already been working on a list,” Patton said. “I’ll email it to you.” He turned back to the computer he’d been working on and typed a few things. “You can add to it if you think of anything.”

Logan looked at his phone as it dinged. “…Do you really need all of this?”

“Yes,” Patton said, taking another bite of his cheeseburger.

“…I’ll do my best?”

“You’ll do it,” Patton returned.

“Right.”

“I’ll start researching Cuba in the 1700’s,” he said.

Virgil saw him pull up google on his computer. He looked at the 21st century computer and then back to Patton. He couldn’t help but think of the museum he and Logan had been to earlier that day. “Do you want help?”

 Chapter 48

It took a little over two weeks to get everything set up. Logan had already been in the process of updating their equipment for quite some time, and this situation only spurned him on. He also then had to figure out a way to meet all of Patton’s demands for his new survival kit. His list had already been quite long before he’d started to add to it. He’d even slipped in a request for a boat at some point despite Logan’s protests that Camaguey Cuba was nowhere near the sea.

Thankfully, Virgil didn’t seem to mind the delays too much.

 In fact, he may have had a hand in the delays as his natural inclination towards anxiety seemed to infect Patton and cause him to add and add to his list of safeguards for Logan to make. He and Patton were spending a good amount of time together, actually. Patton was fairly good at researching the places he planned to go at this point, but Virgil was undeniably more experienced with that sort of thing considering he worked with the TPI. Patton seemed to appreciate his input.

Roman, on the other hand, decidedly did not. The two of them were prone to arguments about clothing which had gone beyond talking about Cuban clothing to arguments about clothing from pretty much all of time.

 Logan could not tell if they were friendly debates or not. He’d even asked Patton who had claimed he also could not tell. Neither Roman nor Virgil’s responses when asked directly about the nature of their relationship were helpful either. Logan did notice that Roman changed the fabric of the outfit he made for Patton after one of their conversations.

Virgil was not much help to Logan unless you counted the intel, he’d given that helped Logan choose the correct time and place. At least, not in the sense that he was able to help with the mathematics and physics Logan was dealing with.

 He was, however, good for company. Especially as his sleep schedule much more closely resembled Logan’s own in those weeks. Typically Roman and Patton went to sleep at a much earlier hour than he did himself and Logan would work alone in the living room, but with Virgil living in the apartment, there was constant companionship while he worked, and less volatile company than he was used to working with (assuming, of course, Roman had gone to sleep by that time). It was nice.

He seemed to fit into their little group in a way Logan had not anticipated. Or at least, socially he did. Physically, there were simply not enough beds and Logan had been sleeping on the couch for two weeks.

 Eventually, with all of their combined efforts, everything was ready to go. Patton had three different time appropriate outfits, a good amount of knowledge about the festivities he was about to attend, new time travel equipment, and a survival pack that could help him survive an apocalypse. Patton was planning to arrive in Cuba two days earlier than the TPI protocol would send agents like Janus. That way, he would have time to set up and get acclimated before the TPI sent in their surveillance and touchdown agents.

“This is cool,” Patton said, flexing his fingers to see the hidden screen on his palms light up with a map of the area.

 “It’s organized the same as your previous device, except for, of course, the control panel to control the cloaking technology and the access to the survival kit.

“Looks great, Lo,” Patton said, still fiddling with it. He changed it to its default state of a metal band projecting the screen and then back to the time appropriate bracelet Roman had designed. There weren’t many possibilities programed for hiding the device yet, but more could be designed in the future. For now, it only had the default band, the bracelet, and a wristwatch.

“I’ve already tested it a good number of times, but you should familiarize yourself with it anyway before leaving.”

 Patton nodded, flicked his fingers and disappeared for a moment before reappearing in the same place. Then, he did it again and reappeared directly next to where he’d been standing. He did similar things a few times before predictably getting bored and starting to do ‘tricks’ which mostly involved landing in ridiculous poses and also accidently jump scaring everyone in the apartment at least twice. Eventually, Logan confiscated it for the evening so they could have dinner in peace.

Patton went to bed early, planning on leaving the next day. Roman quickly retired to his room shortly after leaving Logan and Virgil alone in the living room.

 Despite knowing already his calculations were perfect, Logan still sat on the couch checking over them one more time just to make sure. Virgil sat on the floor with his back against the couch watching videos on Logan’s cell phone with headphones borrowed from Patton’s collection.

He glanced up when Logan shifted positions and Logan flashed him a smile.

Virgil removed the headphones to speak. “Thanks by the way,” he said, “I already said it to Patton and will again in the morning, but thanks for helping me out with all of this.”

“It wouldn’t have been particularly kind of us to leave you stranded,” Logan pointed out.

 “Yeah, but still, you’ve all been working really hard. Right now you’re up at 3am working on it.”

Logan shrugged. “I’d likely be up working at 3am on something anyway,” he said.

“Sure,” Virgil said, “but this time it’s for me so, yeah, thanks.”

“You’re welcome then,” Logan said. “Any time.”

Virgil tilted his head back to grin at him. “Was that a time travel pun.”

Logan scowled. “No.”

“It sounded like a time travel pun.”

“It was not intentional. I will never intentionally say a pun.”

“You’re telling me you live with Patton and never make puns?” Virgil asked.

 “I, unlike my roommates, am a responsible adult,” Logan insisted.

Virgil seemed skeptical. “Is that why you’re drinking forbidden coffee out of an orange juice carton at 3am.”

“Not so loud,” he hissed, leaning forward to put Virgil’s mouth and glancing back towards the hallway to see if anyone was about to come storming into the living room with another intervention.

His hand was bit.

“Ow!” Logan exclaimed, taking his hand back. “How do you know?” he hissed. The ruse had been working on Roman and Patton for years because neither liked orange juice.

Virgil rolled his eyes. “I can smell it,” he said. “I’m not dumb.”

 “It’s worked on everyone else.”

“No,” Virgil said. “It’s worked on one dramatic idiot and one man who trusts people not to lie to him way too much. I, however, am a paranoid asshole with a doctorate. You can’t fool me.”

Logan couldn’t help but smiled. “I suppose I have met my match,” he said.

He tilted his head all the way back, so his skull rested on the couch cushion and he was staring straight up at Logan with his piercing hazel eyes. “Heck yeah you have,” Virgil said, and Logan was not much more sentimentality, especially not romantic sentimentality, but there was something about the shadows making the room seem cozier and the almost golden glint in his eyes from the lit lamp beside Logan that made it more difficult to breath.

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He was relaxed here in Logan’s apartment at 3 in the morning, looking up at him with warm eyes. He fit, slotting into place with an ease Logan had not expect. He’d found Professor Virgil Eran interesting from the moment he’d first heard him speak and had glanced through his university profile for information on whoever had plugged his virus into their computer. He had found him endearing when they’d corresponded through emails and occasionally one sided video chats. It was different with him right in front of Logan, within arm’s reach. He could reach down barely a few inches and brush his slightly unruly hair out of his eyes.

 “You good man?” Virgil asked.

“I am perfectly well,” Logan said, clearing his throat. He glanced away from Virgil. “I think perhaps my roommates have a bit of a point when it comes to caffeine.”

“Maybe at 3am,” Virgil said in good humor. “You’re not a college kid.”

Logan glanced at the college professor on his living room floor. “Well, thank goodness for that,” he mumbled

“I think your calculations are fine anyway,” Virgil said, gently taking the papers out of his grip. “Why don’t we do something else?”

“Like sleep?” Logan asked.

“You think you’ll be sleeping anytime soon?” Virgil inquired with a raised eyebrow.

“Fair point.”

Virgil grabbed the television remote from side table. “Why don’t we watch a bit of that time inappropriate copy of the Epithet File I know you have.”

“Sure,” Logan agreed. “You can come onto the couch if you would like.”

“Nah. You can come to the floor.”

“…Fine.”

 Chapter 49

Patton left in the morning and from there it was just a waiting game. Which, was Virgil’s least favorite type of game. He tried to keep his anxiety on the down low considering it was Logan and Roman’s lifelong friend who was running around some other century, and they were both obviously nervous as well, since the last trip had ended in disaster.

…

This trip was going to end in disaster a little bit too, but Virgil was going to ignore that. At least he wouldn’t be gone for months.

The point was, Roman was constantly going to the gym which was, reportedly not normal behavior and Logan spent his days re-checking calculations that were too late to correct and had worked considering Patton had been in contact occasionally.

 Yet, despite the fact that he was clearly an anxious wreck as well, Logan eventually forced himself to put his lined notebook paper away for a bit. Roman was out once again when he did so and Virgil was doom scrolling on his phone.

“We should go out to dinner,” he declared suddenly.

Virgil glanced at the pile of take-out containers stacked near the kitchen trashcan. “Sure,” he agreed.

Which was why Virgil was leaving the apartment for the first time in the last three or so days. Logan had asked him if he wanted anything in particular, but he didn’t care and also didn’t know what restaurants were around, so he was just letting Logan lead him wherever he wanted.

 He should not have trusted him.

He glared at Logan, but the man only seemed entertained by his ire. “Really?” Virgil asked.

“I wanted to see for myself if you were really that bad with chopsticks.”

“I’m not,” Virgil said, crossing his arms. “It was just the anxiety about the social situation, and I resent this.”

Logan just laughed, knowing well enough that Virgil wasn’t actually irritated. Honestly, he felt fonder than anything that Logan had chosen to take him here. “It’s actually pretty good sushi.”

“21st century American Midwest sushi,” Virgil drawled. “I’m simply quivering with anticipation for that authenticity.”

 “It’s unanimously considered the best sushi in town by my friend group,” Logan said as if the fact that Mr. Asiago Cheese Bread For French Toast and Mr. Went Along With Cooking Asiago Cheese Bread French Toast approved of the restaurant would inspire any confidence in Virgil. If he could even call the place a ‘restaurant.’

“It’s. In. A. Mall.”

“So?” Logan asked.

“It’s a sushi stand in a mall. There isn’t even seating.”

“There is seating,” Logan argued nodding at the five chairs sitting in front of the counter. The seating was completely empty which could be because their eating schedule was off and they were eating dinner at 3pm, but more likely meant everyone else in the time had more sense than the man in front of him.

 “Where is your sense of adventure for trying new things?” Logan asked. “Are you not an anthropologist. Don’t you want to experience the culture of the time first hand.”

Virgil glared at him.

“Please try it,” Logan said sill amused. “It really is good.”

“If I get food poisoning, I’m blaming you,” he warned.

“Noted,” Logan said, inclining his head. Then, Virgil reluctantly allowed him to lead him over to the sushi stand from where they’d been hiding behind a trash can so as not to be in the direct line of sight of the man standing behind the counter.

 The man greeted them as they approached. He obviously recognized Logan and even asked about Patton and Roman as they took a seat. Virgil did have to admit, despite his instinctual misgivings about mall sushi, what he could glimpse of his set up seemed legit. It looked like a real sushi bar if a bit smaller than usual. Where they had sat, there was a glass case in front of them with chilled fish on display and Virgil could see a large rice cooker behind the man along with a normal refrigerator.

Laminated menus were handed to them. They were only one page front and back, but honestly that was probably a good thing. If it had a bunch of complicated or fancy stuff, Virgil might have been worried.

 Well, he was still worried, but he wasn’t running screaming. At least his setup looked like it probably wouldn’t give him too much food poisoning. Logan suggested a rainbow and a snake roll and they got some different types of nigiri.

The chef was nice, and he assembled the sushi fully in Virgil’s view which made him a whole lot less leery about the meal. He seemed to know what he was doing at least. Of course, the fish was not as fresh as it would have been in a coastal area, but it was clearly properly handled. When he was finished, he handed it to them all on one big plate.

 He had to admit, when correcting for ingredient availability, it was actually pretty good sushi. He would not say it was the best sushi he’d ever had, but it was worlds better than he’d expected. Logan could obviously tell what his opinion was and was overly smug about it.

“Yeah, yeah,” Virgil said when they were finished. “You’re good at picking restaurants.”

“I’m sure you are also when in a place you are familiar with.”

“I’m not actually,” Virgil said with a laugh. “I always panic choose the worst option.”

“Well, I tend to be quite decisive about such things,” Logan said. “I guess we make a good match.”

 “Yeah,” Virgil said. “Uh, what are we going to do when we get home? Because sitting there drowning in anxiety like we have been for the past couple of days isn’t the greatest.”

“Do you have anything in mind?”

“You guys have Blockbuster still?”

“No,” Logan said. He paused. “We do have a Family Video store I think.”

“Is it close? Let’s go there.”

“And why are we not just using a streaming service?” Logan asked. “Or using my… library of movies.”

Virgil shrugged. “It’s the charm of it,” he said.

“The charm of a business already made obsolete and on the brink of collapse?”

 “Exactly,” said Virgil with a smile.

“Very well,” Logan said. “If that is what you’d like to do I will look up its location on my phone.”

They were in a building that would look abandoned if there wasn’t a light on inside within 15 minutes. The video rental store had clearly seen better days. Its carpet’s pattern was clearly from another decade and had been trampled over so often it was basically like walking on the linoleum beneath. There was a door on the sign asking patrons to close it behind them because the spring used to close it had long since ceased working.

 There was only one person working, a guy in his 30s who glanced at them briefly and then went back to looking at his phone. Ah, yes, Virgil’s favorite type of employee.

“What movie would you like to watch?” Logan asked. He glanced at one small, but still surprisingly present section filled with DVDs.

“I don’t know,” Virgil said. “Isn’t that the point? Stop by a movie rental place on a Friday night, grab a more than likely crappy movie and some Milk Duds and proceed to sit and watch the stupid thing anyway because you already paid for it.”

 “Virgil, I grew up in the 90s. This isn’t exactly exciting for me. There is a reason streaming sites took over the market,” Logan replied. “Also, it is Tuesday.”

Virgil rolled his eyes. “Just panic choose a movie with me, nerd.”

“I don’t ‘panic choose’ anything,” Logan said. “I-”

“You do today,” Virgil interrupted.

“I…”

“Choose a letter.”

“…S?”

“Great!” Virgil dragged him off in the direction of the movies that started with ‘S’.

 “This is just… gross,” Virgil said a little under an hour and a half later and about an hour into the film.”

“It is a random romantic comedy from 2002,” Logan responded. “What did you expect?”

 “Yeah, but there’s weird sex jokes and actors that are probably from Mars and then there’s actual on screen physical abuse between the romantic couple.”

“I will concede that point,” Logan said, “but I will remind that this could have all been avoided if you had allowed me to do proper investigation of the movie choices before renting it.”

“Ugh, yeah, yeah,” Vigil replied, leaning back to stare at the ceiling. “Just turn it off.”

Logan complied, reaching over to eject the DVD from his computer. The three roommates didn’t actually have a DVD player connected to their TV, so they’d chosen to use the desktop computer in Logan’s room.

 Virgil was laying on Logan’s bed with Logan sat propped up against the headboard. Logan leaned over to peer down at him. “Thanks for helping distract me,” he said. “Despite the fact that we now know more about what we’re doing, I still get worried about sending Patton through time. His last time travel experience didn’t improve my confidence. I have been… rather nervous.”

“Well, I’m glad I could help, at least a little,” Virgil replied.

“You did,” Logan replied. “A lot.” His hand reached down to touch pat his shoulder, but then lingered there for a moment too long.

 Virgil sat up suddenly and Logan had to jerk back to keep their heads from colliding. “I…” Virgil choked out once he was sitting up. “Um…”

Logan’s mouth curled into a half smile. He offered a hand and Virgil took it.

Virgil glanced at the hand. “I, uh, I am an anthropologist.”

“I am aware,” Logan said with a raised eyebrow.

“And, uh, you were born in this time, so technically I’m studying you…”

“I’m a time traveler, Virgil,” he said amused. “I doubt I am a pure specimen for any studies you may be doing.”

“Right,” Virgil said. “That’s a good point. You’re right.”

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There was a pause. “So then,” Virgil said. “No moral quandaries. Just two people sharing a bed and watching a romance movie.”

“It was a bad one.”

“It really, really was,” Virgil said with a grin and then Logan was leaning forward and Virgil’s hand was on Logan’s shoulder.

And then the door was flinging open. “I’m home!” Roman declared as Virgil scrambled back, banging his head on the bed’s headboard.

“Fuck,” Virgil hissed.

“Roman! You need to knock!”

“Since when?” Roman asked, plopping down on Logan’s bed between them.

“Since we have a guest,” Logan said meaningfully. Virgil hid his reddening face in his hands, curling into as tight of a ball as he could.

“You were both in here, it’s not like one of you were naked,” Roman said flippantly. Virgil debated the merits of staying curled up in a ball for the rest of his life. There was a second of silence, and Virgil was glad he couldn’t see the expressions on their faces from his ball when Roman said, “Oh my god!”

 Chapter 50

The breakfast table was silent the next morning. Though if one could call it a breakfast table when Logan was only drinking a cup of tea, Roman was chewing on a slice of unbuttered, untoasted bread, and Virgil was still either asleep or avoiding them both in Logan’s bedroom was debatable.

“…Look,” Roman said.

“We aren’t talking about it.”

“How was I supposed to know the two of you were getting it on?! Put a sock on the door next time or something. It’s common courtesy!”

“We weren’t having sex,” Logan hissed. Roman opened his mouth. “Shut up and learn to knock,” Logan said, pointing his spoon at him threateningly.

 Yet, still, because it was Roman, the other man opened his mouth again. Luckily, before he could say anything else on the matter, there was a loud crack from the living room.

“I’m going to need a towel please!” Patton called.

“I’ve got it,” Roman said instantly, jumping to his feet, leaving Logan to walk to the living room.

“Why are you wet?” Logan asked immediately upon taking in the sight of his roommate. He was soaked, water dripping from his form like he’d just gotten out of a pool seconds before.

“There was an ocean in the church,” Patton said.

 “What?” Logan asked.

Patton pushed his sopping wet hair out of his eyes. “The time distortions were a lot more intense than ones we’ve seen before,” he said. He held out a small innocuous appearing device whose only mechanism appeared to be a switch to him. “Be really careful with that. It’s unstable and we might have damaged it getting out.” Patton winced and removed his timepiece. “Actually, speaking of that. This might need a checkup too.”

“Were there issues with the tech?” Logan asked taking both devices in his hand.

“…No,” Patton said looking a bit sheepish. “We just… may have turned off all of the safety protocols.”

 “Patton I just made this for you!” Logan said, horrified.

“And you did a really good job!” was Patton’s reply, “but we didn’t really want to drown in a church.”

Logan took a slow breath. “I’ll make sure it wasn’t damaged,” he said.

“Thanks, Lo!”

Roman entered the living room then, bright blue towel in hand. “I have returned bearing gifts!” he declared.

“My hero,” Patton said with a laugh, taking the towel and using it to wipe off his face and then start to dry his hair.

“So, an ocean in a church?” Logan asked.

Patton nodded. “I’ll have to thank Virgil for suggesting the inflatable raft.”

 He paused as he finished running the towel through his hair and started to dab at his clothing. “I saw Remus,” he said.

Roman froze. “You did?”

“Uh huh,” Patton replied. “He was with Janus. I didn’t think I should say anything to him since that trip was way out of sync though, sorry.”

“Yeah, no, that make sense. That’s fine.” Roman hesitated. “How was he?”

“He seemed good,” Patton said. He flashed them a smile. “Happy. He’s quite the character actually. He and Janus seem like they’re good friends.”

“Oh,” Roman said. “That’s… that’s good.”

Patton’s face screwed up slightly. “He did flirt with me though, so that was weird.”

 “He what?!” Roman practically screeched.

“It wasn’t particularly innocent flirting either,” Patton said, grimacing.

Roman took a moment to think about it before pulling a face that one would expect to see on a small child trying a lemon for the first time. “That’s disgusting! That’s like… that’s like my brother flirting with my brother. Gross!”

“It was… it was weird,” Patton said.

“What did he even say?” Roman asked.

“Mostly it was comments on my…” he made a motion with his head that apparently Roman could interpret.

“He talked about your butt!”

“…Well, he didn’t exactly use that word.”

 “That sounds about like Remus,” Virgil said, poking his head into the hall.

“Oh, you’ve finally decided to join the land of the living, Emo?” Roman asked.

“Shut up,” both Logan and Virgil said at the same time.

Of course, he did not. “You know, Pat-pat, speaking of posteriors…”

“One more word out of you and I will actually kill you,” Virgil threatened.

“Um, what’s going on?” Patton asked.

“I’ll tell you later,” Roman promised.

“You will not,” Logan said. “Keep your gossiping tendencies under control.”

“Okay, but now I want to know,” Patton said with a pout.

“You go take a shower,” Logan ordered.

 Patton shared a look with Roman that told Logan there was no way he wouldn’t have the whole story along with a good number of embellishments by the end of the night. Then he shrugged. “Yes, boss,” he said. Logan rolled his eyes as he turned towards the bathroom, the towel still on his shoulders. He was dry enough that he wasn’t dripping anymore, and he slipped off his waterlogged shoes and socks so he wouldn’t track water to the bathroom.

“Put that in the biohazard hamper,” Logan called after him.

“I know!” he called back.

“And you,” Logan said to Roman, “clean up all of the water he got on the carpet in the off chance there are any pathogens in it.”

 “Why do I have to do it?!”

“Because you’ve annoyed me,” Logan said, “and I need to insure these two devices do not explode.”

“Ugh, fiiiine,” Roman said, dipping back into the hall.

Virgil glanced over at him, the picture of awkwardness. “Uh,” he said. “Hey.”

“Hi,” Logan said.

“…Are those things really at risk of exploding right now?” he asked.

Logan glanced at him. “Technically they are always at least slightly at risk of exploding, but admittedly the chance is further from 0 than I would like it to be at this point.”

“Great,” Virgil said. “One more thing to be anxious about.”

 “You don’t need to be anxious about it, Virgil,” Logan said.

“Uh, I think I do need to be anxious about the maybe bomb in your hands.”

“That’s not what I meant.”

“I know,” Virgil said with a sigh.

“We are two mutually consenting adults. There isn’t any shame to it.”

“Can we please talk about our very embarrassingly interrupted kiss after you’ve dealt with the explosives?”

“Very well,” Logan said. He walked to the other side of the room to grab a statis chamber from a cabinet drawer.

“What’s that?” Virgil asked as the cube shaped device popped up.

 “It’s a stasis cube,” Logan said as he put the two devices in his hand into it and activated. “It will allow them to cool down completely from their earlier use in a safe environment. It will be less dangerous to work with them later.”

“If it just takes 5 seconds to deal with them, why are you making Roman clean up?” Virgil asked amused.

“Like I said,” Logan said. “He annoyed me. Speaking of,” he glanced into the hallway where Roman currently was. “How do you feel about leaving before he gets back to get coffee.”

Virgil smiled at him. “Sure,” he said. “Escape the apartment for coffee part two.”

 Chapter 51

It took a few days after Patton got home for Logan to first make sure the timepiece and the distortion device were not at a risk of exploding and then to study the distortion device.

“It’s similar to what little we’ve seen of TPI technology,” Logan had mused, sitting on the couch while studying the information he’d managed to get off of it. “It’s definitely derived from the same technology unlike my time travel device, but it looks a bit different, and this version at least is rather shoddily made. Of course, creating disorder and almost ripping apart time is easier than seamlessly moving through it.”

 “So, they’re probably from my time then?” Virgil asked.

“Most likely,” Logan agreed. “Though it could always be a Remus situation where they were from another time originally but accidently ended up in the TPI time. Either way, the origin of their purposeful time travel was certainly around your time.”

Virgil glanced at the device he’d set on the table in front of them all. It looked innocent sitting there, but it had the power to destroy so much, and they didn’t even know why. “Do you think whoever made this trapped me here on purpose?” Virgil asked.

“It would be a big coincidence if you in particular got trapped in this time in particular,” Roman said.

 “I was thinking the same thing actually,” Logan said. “You do work with the TPI and with Janus, a time agent who both often is caught in the middle of devices similar to this being used and who runs into Patton frequently. Plus you know Remus, Roman’s brother even if we didn’t know that connection before you were trapped here and we already had a correspondence before you landed here. It would be strange for you to have ended up here on accident.”

“But why?” Virgil asked. “I am somehow connected to all of you, but I’m still not a time agent myself.”

 “All I am to the TPI is a walking history book. I’m not actually involved.”

“Well,” Logan said. “Perhaps someone knows something we don’t.”

“Or maybe it’s just a happy accident!” Patton said. Virgil highly doubted that and it made anxiety churn in his gut.

“Well,” Logan said, “accident or not, we do now have a solution to the issue. I’ve managed to use this device to recalibrate my calculations and we’ve gotten a ping. I know where the signal blocking Virgil’s time device is coming from.”

“Where?” Roman asked.

“It looks like a local trash dump,” Logan replied. “It must have just ended up in a trashcan that day and was emptied before we checked.”

 “Well, that should be easy enough to get,” Patton said. “Give Roman and I the exact coordinates and we can go and get it now.”

“Wait, why are we the only ones who have to dig through a garbage dump?” Roman asked.

Patton gave him a look.

“Oh,” Roman said, eyes lighting up. “Oh right!” Then, he scowled remembering he was going to be going through a garbage dump. “Fine,” he sighed.

“Think of it as an adventure!” Patton said.

“We’re time travelers. We have so many more exciting adventuring opportunities than dumpster diving, Pat-Pat,” he whined, but he still got up. “I’ll go get changed.”

 Patton stood up and handed Logan his phone, so Logan could program the location of the distortion device into it while he changed as well. “We’ll text you when we’re heading back! I’ll give you a 15- and 5-minute warning,” Patton said with a wink. Virgil immediately hid his face in his hands.

“Do you think the TPI is hiring?” Logan asked as the door closed. “I’d love to move to a different century without those two.”

“Time agents don’t usually live in 4500s,” Virgil said, face still hidden behind his hands. “They’d probably still place you in this century, especially since you’re comfortable here.”

“No escaping them then,” Logan sighed.

 “Mmm,” was Virgil’s response.

He felt Logan shift on the couch next to him and a warm palm touched his wrist, gently tugging his hand away from his face in a way that Virgil could resist if he really wanted. Virgil let the hand fall with a sigh. Logan smiled at him when he could see his face and Virgil smiled back despite how he could still feel heat in his cheeks.

“You will be going home this evening, I’d imagine,” Logan said.

“Yeah,” Virgil agreed softly.

“I would like to give you a gift before you go, if you’ll allow it.”

 “Uh, okay,” Virgil agreed.

Logan nodded and leaned back to grab something out of the pocket of a jacket that was currently hanging over the side of the couch. “Ah,” he said when he found whatever he was looking for. He glanced at Virgil. “It is a ring, by the way, but this is not a proposal.”

“Well, I’d certainly hope not,” said Virgil dryly. “An impulse elopement would be a little off brand for us both.”

Logan smiled at him. “Very true,” he agreed. Then, he opened his palm revealing a small ring.

“So, then, what is it?” Virgil asked.

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“It is an emergency time travel device,” Logan explained. “It’s not particularly complex. It can only take you here to this room between 2 weeks and one year from now, but if you ever need something from me, you can use it.”

He offered the ring and Virgil opened his palm to let him put it in his hand. He studied the ring for a moment. It was a rose gold and very light.

“It also has some security measures,” Logan said. “It wouldn’t do to make an emergency time travel device that someone else might easily try to take from you. It’ll disappear when you put it on. You’ll still be able to feel it and take it off whenever you wish. It’ll become visible again if you take it off.”

 “An invisible ring?” Virgil asked, curious.

“Yes,” Logan said with a smile. “It is designed to store your space time coordinates for up to 48 hours just so you’re aware, but as I said you can take it off whenever you wish and… I won’t use it against you.”

Virgil looked at him. “Okay,” he said. “Can I put it on?” Logan nodded, and Virgil slipped it on his finger. As promised it disappeared from view as soon as he did. He could still feel the weight of it on his finger though.

“You turn it three times counterclockwise to activate it,” Logan said, making Virgil look up from the seemingly empty space on his finger he’d been staring at.

  “It would drop you right about where you are sitting.”

“Thanks,” Virgil said. It wasn’t nearly enough to say how much he appreciated the gift, but he hoped his tone said enough.

“Don’t use it against me?” Logan asked with a half-smile, and Virgil realized just how much trust was being put onto him by giving him a device that was directly linked to their base of operations despite knowing Virgil worked with the TPI.

Virgil shook his head. “I won’t,” he said. Deciding to throw out his nervousness and embarrassment over last time he shot forward to kiss Logan quickly on the lips. They bumped noses and Logan’s glasses ended up askew in the process, but Logan didn’t seem to mind judging by his delighted laugh when they parted.

“Thank you,” Virgil said again.

“Of course,” Logan replied.

 Virgil could still feel the ring on his finger even after Patton and Roman got back from the dump with the device that had caused this whole mess. He could still feel it when Logan turned it off and his time piece reactivated. He could still feel it there when he made it home and gave an excuse as to why he’d left his trip early. He could still feel it when he got an email from an unknown sender making sure he got home okay.

  Arc IV: (To Be Named)

Chapter 52

“What’s this?” Janus asked when a giant bowl was set on the coffee table in front of him.

“We’re eating on the couch tonight,” Emile said cheerfully.

Janus raised an eyebrow and switched off the tablet he’d been using to look at him. “Why?” he asked.

Emile shrugged and set a second huge bowl down next to Janus’s. “For fun,” Emile said. He turned back towards the kitchen and Janus leaned forward to look in the bowl. It was spaghetti with some sort of creamy sauce and a few different vegetables mixed in along with some shrimp.

“I made green tea,” Emile said, coming back into the room with two mugs.

 “Thanks,” Janus said, taking one of the mugs with a small smile.

“What were you doing?” Emile asked as he took a seat beside Janus. He nodded at the deactivated screen now sitting on the end table.

“Just doing some puzzle games,” Janus said.

“That sounds fun,” Emile said with a smile.

“Head doctor said they might be a good thing to do to pass the time when I told him to fuck off after suggesting reading.”

Emile sighed. “Dr. Figueroa is my colleague. You could try to be polite.”

“I thought I was supposed to be my authentic self in therapy,” Janus replied.

 Emile just huffed and rolled his eyes. Janus couldn’t help but smile as he picked up his mug of green tea.

The last few months had been…different. In a lot of ways, Janus’s life had become harder than it had been before. It had been easy to do nothing but eat pre-prepared meals, go to work, and pass out in his empty house every day. It wasn’t good for him. He’d known it even then, but it had been easy. This was not.

Emile had offered, insisted really, that Janus move into his house for a bit just to get back on his feet.

 He’d taken time off of the TPI which would have been given to him anyway since he’d spent so trapped in the past. He’d had to give a report of what had happened, and he’d mentioned Patton, but he hadn’t mentioned everything. They’d offered him a shrink when he’d asked.

Janus had told Emile he needed to tell him something about why he’d been distant, so he wouldn’t end up chickening out, but he’d asked for a bit of time to figure out what to say. He’d finally worked up the courage to talk about it with Dr. Figueroa two weeks ago. Much like with Patton, it was easier to talk to someone who hadn’t been involved in Janus’s mistake, but it still wasn’t easy.

 He was running up on the deadline he’d given for having that talk with him. It had to happen soon, and they both knew it, but Emile was just patiently waiting for him to suck it up. It felt… wrong to use his kindness without him knowing, but it was also nice to get to spend time with his brother. He didn’t even dare to hope that he’d still have the chance once he told him.

He was moving back into his own house in less than a week. He’d tell him then so if Emile ended up kicking him out of his life, he wouldn’t have to kick him out of his home too.

 For now, though everything was fine. Harder, more complicated, and in threat of exploding at any moment, but fine. Fine wasn’t something he’d really felt in a long time. Or at least, fine while in his own time wasn’t something he’d felt in a long time. There’d been a few moments with Patton sitting next to the fire outside the hole in the ground they’d slept in for those few months where the man would turn to look at him and he’d felt fine. Yet, Patton had been right. Those moments were unsustainable with how Janus was actually feeling deep down.

 “This is good,” Janus said, after taking a couple of bites of the pasta in front of him.

“Well, I always was the only one in the house that could cook,” Emile said, and that was true. “It was either learn to defend for myself or eat a cheeseburger for every meal.”

“Hey, I had a good burger seasoning.”

“Not for every meal, Janus.”

“Meat, dairy, bread. What more could you want?”

“Vegetables, Janus.”

“You could have put pickles on!”

“I don’t like pickles.”

“That sounds like your problem, not mine,” Janus argued.

Emile shook his head, turning his eyes to the ceiling. “How have you been surviving on your own?”

 “Well, I mean,” Janus said. “Badly.”

“Right…” Emile said. He leaned over to bump their shoulders together. Janus flashed him a smile.

“Speaking of,” said Janus. “Could you physically force me to pack tonight? I meant to do it today and instead I ended up playing puzzles games.”

Emile chucked. “Sure, I’ll help you after dinner.”

“You don’t have to help me,” said Janus. “Just make me do it.”

“Maybe I want to help,” said Emile.

“Oh, yes, packing. The most entertaining of Thursday night activities.”

Emile hummed and then glanced at him. “Remember when you helped me pack for college?” he asked.

 “Mmm, I do,” Janus replied.

“I was so stressed about going somewhere new,” Emile said, “that I avoided packing for weeks. Every time Mom would ask me how packing was going, I’d tell her it was going fine but in reality, I hadn’t even started. You’d come home two days before I had to leave because you were going to help me move into my dorm. It’s like you could sense no packing had been done the moment you stepped through the front door.”

“You were doing your ‘hiding the broken horse statue from mom’ shuffle,” Janus said with a smirk.

 “Well, you walked me straight to my room and we packed everything up in those two days,” Emile said. “You made it so much easier.”

“Yeah, because I hovered over you until you did it and did half of it for you,” Janus snorted.

“It wasn’t just that,” Emile said. “You also found the music streaming station run by the university and put that on and talked about what your freshman year was like. You also had tips on what things I should and shouldn’t pack when moving into the dorm.”

“You still took all of the cartoon stuffed animals despite my advice.”

 “I thought there’d be more space on the bed,” Emile frowned.

Janus snorted.

“But anyway, just having someone else around made me happier. It wasn’t just about the workload being halved either. You being there made me feel less lonely and reminded me I’d always have someone to come back to.”

Janus internally winced. He was sure Emile hadn’t meant to make him feel guilty in any way. In fact, he probably was trying to do the opposite, but him saying that just reminded Janus that it hadn’t been true. Janus had abandoned him for literal years and hadn’t been someone he could always come back to.

 Emile had proven himself to be at least close to who he was before Janus messed with time the few last months. There were a couple of differences here and there, and Janus could not be sure if they were from him changing time or from him avoiding his brother for the past three years and him naturally changing. Most memories they shared that Janus cautiously brought up or Emile mentioned on his own were consistent with what Janus remembered, but he hadn’t pushed too hard or dug too deep. It just made him feel more guilty about avoiding the man for so long.

 It made him want to ignore the man more, because it seemed every choice Janus ever made only hurt him.

…

Well, perhaps not the college radio station when helping an anxious 18-year-old pack up his childhood bedroom.

He should probably tell Emile that his words made him feel guilty because that was obviously not the intention and he’d want to know. He should probably apologize properly for leaving him alone for three years without an explanation. He should probably provide an explanation for those three years.

He should probably go see the head doctor again soon.

(He should probably stop calling Emile’s colleague who was in the same field as him a head doctor derogatorily in his head.)

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For now, he just glanced at Emile. “You’re trying to bully me into letting you help pack with logic, aren’t you?”

“I am,” Emile confirmed without remorse.

“Fine,” Janus sighed, “but only if you let me do the dishes for you.”

Emile took a long moment to consider the offer. “You drive a hard bargain,” he said, “but okay.”

“And no doing anything sneaky like getting bags ready for me on your own while I’m doing it or the deal is off,” Janus said.

“You always think of all possible loopholes, Janus,” Emile sighed.

There was a long silence.

“Agree, you prick,” said Janus.

“No promises,” Emile replied cheekily with laughter in his eyes, and things were good for a moment more.

 Chapter 53

Today Janus was moving into his house in 24th century for the second time in his life, and honestly, the house wasn’t going to look much different than it had when he’d first moved in. Janus had unpacked his things more at Emile’s house in the past almost 6 months than he had in the two and a half years he’d liven in his house. His house held clothes, bare bone furniture, and exactly one skillet from when he’d decided to be daring and tried to cook himself an egg. All he’d really customized for himself was the setting on the LXC device which controlled the lights, media across the home, and prepackaged food ordering and prepare.

 He almost felt embarrassed that his house was so empty. Emile, of course, knew that his mental health had been fucked, but the blankness of his house was a physical reminder of this fact especially considering how he used to keep house before all of this. He’d warned Emile about the fact that his house was empty, and he had said he understood, but still.

They gathered all of the luggage in a pile in Emile’s guest room. They’d had to get permissions from the TPI to allow Emile to travel to his house, and Janus went ahead and filed to give him permanent permission to travel there.

 The decision felt far too hopeful for someone who hadn’t had that conversation with his brother yet, but it had made Emile smile in the moment.

Emile took three of the bags and Janus took the rest. He waved his arm and selected the third saved location on the device. In a moment, he was standing in the living room of his dark, empty house.

…

His supposed to be dark and empty house. More of the lights were on than Janus had ever switched on himself, and half of the windows were open. (He didn’t even know some of those windows opened.)

 They were letting in the sounds of birds that made the lakeside their home as well as cool late fall breeze. There was also a racket coming from the kitchen. Emile was beside him a second after he himself had appeared. He looked around for a moment. “Did you leave it like this?”

“No,” Janus replied.

“Do you have squatters?” He had a security system from 2 millennia in the future on his house. He highly doubted it.

“I’m going to go check the kitchen,” Janus said, moving towards the noises coming from the other room.

He stopped in the doorway to his kitchen only to see Patton standing at his kitchen counter cutting up a carrot on a cutting board Janus didn’t think he owned, and if he did, it was buried in a box somewhere.

 “What are you doing?” Janus asked.

“Cooking!” was the immediate reply.

“In my house?” Janus asked. “How do you even know where my house is?”

“I may be just a little bit ahead of you,” Patton said with a wink while tapping the side of his nose.

Janus sputtered. “This is my house!”

“I know!” He said it so cheerfully while being a purposefully obtuse asshole that Janus could help but crack a smile and shake his head. He’d missed him after spending so long alone with him though he wasn’t go to admit that to him when he’d broken into Janus’s house to…

“Again, what are you doing?”

 “I’m making you soup.”

“Why?” Janus asked.

“Well,” Patton said. “I know it’s a bit of a rough time for you, so I thought I’d give you a nice welcome home present and what better present than food!” He smiled at him widely.

Janus looked closer at what he was making. “You’re trying to prove to me you can cook.” Patton frowned at him. “Have you considered I have had enough fish stew for a lifetime?”

“Nope!” he said. “It’s entirely different this time anyway. I have carrots!”

“I don’t like carrots,” Janus lied blandly.

“Liar!” Patton declared.

“No, I’m not,” Janus continued to lie.

 “I mean, that was definitely a lie,” Emile interjected from behind Janus. He was looking at them curiously. “Er, hello, who are you?”

“This is Pat,” Janus said.

“The illegal time traveler you’ve been tracking?” Emile asked with a questioning lilt to his tone.

“Ah, yes, well,” Janus said with a cough. “We came to an understanding when stuck in pre-history.”

“And now he is cooking you soup in your house?” Emile asked.

“I’ve long since stopped trying to make sense of him,” Janus grumbled.

“Well,” Emile said. “Hello Pat.”

“You can call me Patton,” he said easily. “I hope it’s nice to meet me, because I’ve already met you.”

 “We haven’t been meeting in the correct order,” Janus informed Emile. “So, he’s apparently already met you which will happen in your future. It is also something he shouldn’t be talking about,” he scolded. Patton took that with a shrug.

“I hate time travel,” Emile said, his nose scrunching up. “Isn’t life already confusing enough.”

Janus winced, not relishing the upcoming conversation with him about how confusing his life was now because of time travel.

“Don’t you work with the TPI too?” Patton asked.

“That doesn’t mean I like time travel,” Emile said. “I’m a stationary agent and I like that just fine.”

 “Time travel can be a bit complicated sometimes,” Patton acknowledged, “but I don’t think it’s all bad.” He finished chopping up the carrot and turned to put it in the self-regulating soup pot. Janus squinted at it. It was certainly not something Patton had in the 21st century. So, the question was. Had he gone out and bought time appropriate cookware before breaking into Janus’s house or had he gone through Janus’s storage to find it?

“You’re a free agent time traveler, right?” Emile asked.

“Depends on what you mean by free agent,” Patton said. “I have always worked with a group of people, and we have rules and procedures. It’s basically a time agency itself, just not the TPI.”

 “And you’ve met me before?”

“I have,” Patton confirmed, “but Janus is right in that I can’t say much more than that about it. In fact,” he said wiping off his hands on a towel hanging from his apron. (The apron was covered in cartoon squirrels and totted the phrase ‘I’m a nut for baking.’) “I should probably be getting out of here.”

“You’ve never been worried about us meeting out of order before,” Janus pointed out with a frown. He didn’t particularly want Patton to go even though the man had broken into his house and possibly went through his boxes of kitchen equipment.

 “Well,” Patton said. “There’s meeting wildly out of order, there’s meeting in order, and then there’s what I’m doing.”

“What are you doing?” Janus asked alarmed.

Patton just shrugged with a smile.

“No, Patton, what are you doing?”

“Soup should be done in about an hour, but you can leave it on all day. I got a pot that’s fridge safe, so just shut it off and stick it in there before going to sleep.”

“Patton.”

“See you later! Bye!” He said and disappeared into thin air.

Janus sighed and rubbed the bridge of his brow. “Why is he like this?”

 “Janus,” Emile asked. “Why did your self-declared mortal enemy make you soup?”

“Because he’s an asshole, that’s why.”

“Uh huh,” Emile said, looking at him oddly.

“What?” Janus asked.

“What exactly happened when you were stuck in the past?” Emile asked.

Janus sighed. “A lot happened. A lot.” He glanced at the soup pot happily performing its function on his kitchen counter. ‘I hope it’s nice to meet me, because I’ve already met you,’ rang in his ears. Fucking Patton with his little hints about the future. It gave Janus just a bit of courage though knowing that Emile at least didn’t flee the continent after the conversation they had to have. He was at least around enough to meet Patton. “In fact,” Janus said. “It’s probably time I told you what happened. Everything that happened.”

 Chapter 54

They sat down in the living room. Janus let Emile have the couch and sat on one of the matching armchairs. There was a squeaky sound when he sat. The plastic covering the chair had been delivered in was still on it.

Emile had a pleasant, open but curious expression on his face and Janus suddenly had an idea what it felt like to be his patient.

“I,” Janus began after a moment, shifting uncomfortably on the squeaky chair. “I don’t know how to start this conversation. I talked about what I wanted to say and possible ways to say it with Dr. Figueroa, but I… I still don’t know.”

 “I guess I should start by saying that I did something horrible that I need to apologize for and I’m not sure if apologizing will even be enough. The problem is you don’t even know what that horrible thing is.” Janus stared at his feet. “So, first, I should probably explain what I did. I just don’t know where to start.”

“Maybe start with what happened before it,” Emile suggested. “Just lead up to it. It might help explain why whatever it was happened too.”

Janus took a breath. “Okay,” he said. “That day was just like most that I remember. We both woke up early. I was going to the TPI and you were going to where you worked your residency. We ate leftover pizza for breakfast because both of us were exhausted. You because it sucks to be a resident and me because I’d been working on a big case.”

 “I was getting frustrated with the case. That was my first mistake: being impatient and angry. It was just a thief, but a slippery one. She’d stolen a half-broken time piece and was using it to rob banks within about a 50-year time frame. I had an idea of where she might go, but no one would listen to me. Or at least,” Janus quirked a half smile, “that’s how I interpreted it. They said they’d look into my idea, but they were being extra cautious because of how close in the timestream her actions were to most of the agents’ lives.”

 “I was so tired of the case and so egotistical. I decided to check it out on my own without being cleared by the TPI. I went back in time without thinking of the consequences and that was the worst thing I’ve ever done.” Janus took a breath. “I’m not sure how, but somewhere in the course of my self-appointed mission…” He trailed off. He didn’t know how to say it. He really didn’t.

“What happened?” Emile asked when he didn’t continue.

“I…” and his next words probably sounded like crackly nonsense to Emile’s ears because he couldn’t get his thoughts straight and his tongue wouldn’t make the words right.

 “I don’t even remember living in that town or the fact that Mom used to work at that bank,” he choked out. “I didn’t think and I didn’t check and…” There was a long silence. “I erased you,” he finally managed to say in a whisper, but in the quiet of his barely lived in house, the words were loud.

There was more silence. “But I…” Emile said after a moment.

“I went back and fixed it,” Janus said, “but I… didn’t do a perfect job. I don’t even know how much I messed things up. It would have been one thing if it’d just been me. If it had just impacted my life, but I did it to you and I don’t even know how to start to apologize.”

 Nothing was said for a long moment. Janus didn’t look at him.

“…Huh,” Emile finally said.

Janus risked a glance at him. He didn’t look irate, but he did still look confused which was probably the reason for that.

“I’m sorry,” Janus said. It was really the only thing he could say at this point.

Emile tilted his head to the side. He took off his glasses and cleaned them with the edge of his shirt with slow circles. Since he was 15, Emile only cleaned his glasses with specially designed wipes, but he’d held onto the habit of cleaning his glasses with his shirt anytime he needed a moment to think. Janus wasn’t sure if Emile even realized he was doing it, but he knew it was a signal for Janus to be quiet for a few seconds.

 The glasses were perched back on Emile’s nose after a few seconds. “I think I remember that,” he said contemplatively.

“…What?” Janus asked, and he was no longer avoiding looking at Emile. He was now blatantly staring at him.

“Well, I didn’t know what it was,” Emile said, “but I did have a very odd dream on the day you mentioned and suspiciously I had said dream in the middle of the day and woke standing up.”

“A dream?” Janus asked.

“A very vivid dream,” Emile said. “I don’t believe you actually erased me completely from existence. My life was simply shifted slightly. I was working as a social worker for about 5 hours and then I was back in my appropriate place.”

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“Why didn’t you tell me about that?” Janus asked, but then immediately wince at his own hypocrisy. “Er… never mind.”

“I didn’t know it was possibly real,” Emile said. “Honestly, I thought I was just really tired. I’d been overworking myself a lot. I took the rest of the day off after that.”

“You shifted reality for a few hours, and you didn’t realize it?” Janus asked.

“Like I said, I was really tired and nothing seemed to be wrong…”

“Wait, but things were different,” Janus said. “Didn’t you notice things were different.”

“Not… really,” Emile said. “Like what?”

“Like…” Janus said. “Like a whole bunch of things!”

 “Like…?”

“Like you had a different job title and you worked different hours.”

“I thought I’d fallen asleep standing up or had a vivid audio-visual hallucination at work from stress. I asked for a switch a couple of weeks later.”

“You used to hate time travel, but then you took a job at the TPI.”

Emile gave him a drawl look. “I still hate time travel,” he said. “I literally just said that not 5 minutes ago.”

“Well then why would you work for the TPI.”

“Because time travel is so confusing and distressing that people doing it on a regular basis as a career need psychological support.”

 “Plus, Lia asked for my consultation when developing the mental health part of the Agent Management Office,” Emile continued. “Considering I already knew quite a bit about time travel from being around you, she knew me personally, and I’d finished my residency, she decided to give me a job offer when my advice panned out.”

“W-well,” Janus said. “You were allergic to pineapples.”

“You mean my childhood allergy?” Emile asked. “That has since resolved itself in my adult life?”

“It has?” Janus asked.

“Janus have you considered,” Emile said, “that some if not all of the inconsistencies you were seeing in my life have to do with the fact that you hadn’t spoken to me in 3 years?”

 “I… uh… hadn’t considered that,” Janus admitted honestly.

“You were looking for information to support your incorrect world view,” Emile said sounding very much like a head doctor and not like a brother, “and you found some.” He sighed. “It makes sense after having faced a traumatic event where you effectively thought you’d killed a loved one that you weren’t thinking clearly.” The head doctor analysis voice slipped just a bit. “I just wish you’d talked about it with someone.”

“Sorry,” Janus said, because no matter which way this conversation had gone and no matter the revelations, the point was an apology. “I’m sorry.”

 Emile sighed. “I would have forgiven you even if you had erased me,” Emile said. “You didn’t mean to, and you did your best to fix it. You did fix it even if you were an idiot about it.”

“What about for being an idiot and not talking to you for three years?” Janus asked.

“I already did forgive you for that Janus,” Emile said pointedly. “What did you think the last 6 months were?”

“Pity?”

Emile gave him his disappointed and exasperated head shake. “Promise to never do anything like that to me again,” he said, “and I’ll forgive you.”

 “I promise,” Janus said immediately.

“And in the future, you’ll talk to me if you have any issue even if you think it’s horrible.”

“I think I’ve learned by lesson on that one.”

“And that goes for other people too,” Emile said. “If anything goes wrong with someone, you talk to them or if that’s too hard you talk to someone so they can convince you to talk to that person.”

Janus nodded.

“Great!” Emile said. “Then you’re officially forgiven for everything. Though I expect you to go to therapy and keep working on making yourself feel better, so these things don’t happen again.”

 And Janus… didn’t know how to feel about that. He should probably feel happy and thankful or at least relieved, but if he was being honest, he just felt kind of empty in that moment like an old well that had finally run dry. Fuck his head doctor and fuck Patton. Wasn’t this supposed to make him feel better? Everything was fine. He hadn’t actually erased Emile permanently from the timeline, in fact, he’d apparently still existed in some form in the alternate timeline Janus had temporarily made. Emile had forgiven him both for erasing him and ignoring him even though that was far more than Janus deserved. This was something he’d never even dared dream would happen, but it had been exactly what he’d wanted.

 Yet, he still didn’t feel good, not really, not like how he remembered feeling before all of this happened.

Though was that really a surprise? Things were not like how they were before. He and Emile were no longer close. There was love and affection there, but they didn’t really know each other. The last six months had been nice. He’d been able to pretend for a bit that everything was back to normal, but in the moments he hadn’t been able to pretend that, it’d been a bit stilted and awkward speaking to his brother especially at the start.

 Beyond that, Janus was just used to misery at this point. It was his default state. Not being miserable took effort and energy he didn’t always have. He felt himself slipping into sadness or numbness even during times he should be feeling good. He’d noticed himself experiencing a sense of desolation when Emile cooked his favorite meal or in the middle of watching a ballet performance Emile had suggested they go to and he’d been looking forward to in the days before or even now when he should be so happy, so ecstatic. Everything should be okay, but it wasn’t.

 “You doing alright over there?” Emile asked, and Janus didn’t know how long he’d been silent.

Instinct said to say yes and force himself to move on, but he wasn’t going to break his promise that fast. “Not really, no,” he admitted.

“That’s okay,” Emile said. “Anything I can do to help?”

“I really don’t know.”

“Why don’t we go taste the soup your arch nemesis,” there was a light teasing tone to his voice, “made for you. Some of the vegetables won’t be completely cooked yet, but I’m sure it’s already good.”

“Yeah,” Janus agreed. “Yeah, okay,” he got to his feet, the chair making that plastic squeaking sound again. “Maybe we could unwrap the furniture in here before you go home.”

“I think that’s a good idea,” Emile said with a smile.

 Chapter 55

Somehow, the strangest thing about his life right now was a picture on the wall. It was one that he’d gotten after college when he moved into his first actual house. It wasn’t anything special. It was just something that had caught his eye when he was specifically looking for something classier to put on his wall than the posters he’d hung in his college dorm and apartment with Virgil. It was a tall painting of a tree, but segmented into four parts, each representing the state of a tree in different seasons. In the top left, the three had small leaves and little buds, on the top right it had full leaves bathed in sunlight, in the bottom left the leaves had changed colors and started to fall off, and in the bottom right the tree was devest of leaves but covered in snow.

 It was on the wall near Janus’s bed. It was one of the first things he saw when he opened his eyes in the morning and was usually what reminded him that everything was different now when he woke.

The picture had been in a box in the houses garage up until the Saturday before the last. Saturdays had become his and Emile’s unofficial unpacking Janus’s house day. They would usually pick one or maybe two boxes that had been sitting untouched for years, unpack it, talk, and eat dinner together.

Notably, dinner was usually not provided by either of them.

 Patton had gotten into the habit of breaking into Janus’s house. Janus would sometimes catch him doing it briefly, but often Patton managed to avoid him. This was quite the feat considering Janus was not currently working and thus stayed at home a lot of the time. Patton had repeatedly reprogrammed Janus’s kitchen taking away the option for pop tarts entirely and replacing the option with real food. Janus’s kitchen was constantly stocked with something to eat that wasn’t trash. He also liked to leave around different smelling hand soaps, flowers, and paper cranes. Janus had an entire drawer in his nightstand dedicated to storing paper cranes now.

 The newest one was still on his nightstand from the night before, sitting cheerfully in the way of his view of the tree paining when his alarm woke up that morning. He sighed. He had not missed getting up early for work.

He was finally going back to working at the TPI this morning. His therapist had signed off on it last week, saying his was fit for duty. Considering they were apparently still understaffed at the TPI and Janus was a senior agent, this was met with much relief. Janus himself still wasn’t sure how he felt about it.

 He turned off the alarm and stood. Dr. Figueroa had him write out a morning schedule to follow when he’d expressed his struggle to get the day started. Either Patton or Emile had taken it upon themselves to copy the schedule on virtual sticky notes that appeared in every location necessary for getting ready in the morning.

First, he took a shower. He threw his nightclothes in the laundry chute. There were currently dozens of different scented soaps in his shower all in small bottles that had about 2 or 3 uses. Janus presumed they were curtesy of Patton. He decided to use one at random and it ended up being cotton candy scented.

 Next, he got dressed. That was easy enough since he always wore the same outfit to work every day. It didn’t matter what he wore much since missions would force him to redress anyway.

Then he went to his kitchen and sat down at the counter. He pushed the pop tart button. As expected at this point, he did not get a pop tart for breakfast. Instead, he got two eggs, toast, a sliced apple, and a few cherry tomatoes with green tea. He ate his breakfast while finishing one of the puzzles he’d been working on the night before.

 Once he finished, it was time to finally face going back to the office. He sighed, stood up and pulled up the screen on his timepiece. He selected his office as his destination and was off.

The first thing that happened upon appearing in his office was he got a face full of… something.

He sputtered, smacking the things fluttering about his face out of the air. “What is wrong with you?” was the first thing out of his mouth before he’d even really confirmed that the culprit of this attack was who he’d automatically assumed he was.

Remus, as anticipated was standing not 2 feet away from him.

 Remus had apparently gotten into the prop department again because he had some type of softly glowing glittery confetti was no all over Janus as well as their entire office.

“Remus, I told you no!” Lena snapped. “You know it’s impossible to clean up 3150s sparkle nukes.”

“Welcome back!” Remus crowed.

“I hate you,” Janus replied. “I just took a shower.”

“You’re fine,” Remus said with an eye roll.

“This shit doesn’t come off in decontamination,” Janus spat. “If my first mission back sends me to a time where I’ll be tried as a witch for glowing, I’m blaming you.”

 “We’re going to 2510,” Remus informed him. “You’ll fit right in.”

Janus grimaced. “Ugh, that decade.”

“It’s my favorite decade!” Remus exclaimed.

“Of course, it is,” Lena grumbled. “Just don’t bring anything gross back this time.”

“No promises,” Remus replied.

Janus chose to disengage from the conversation as Remus and Lena argued about was and what wasn’t allowed to be brought back to their shared office from what was well known as the least tasteful decade in history. It was also one of the least turbulent decades in history. The population was too busy making shitty ice cream flavors to wage war.

 At least they were giving him an easier assignment for his first time back. He turned to his desk and pulled up the files on his next mission, glancing through them. It was just a small blip that the TPI had noticed in a small town in 2510. It probably wasn’t much of anything, but they had no record of what had caused it, so they were going to send someone to look. Honestly, they’d usually just send in a surveillance agent and be done with it, but they’d probably handpicked this one for Janus in particular. He’d be insulted if he didn’t honestly still feel a bit off kilter being in the office.

 To his surprise, he didn’t have a scheduled meeting with Rhi. It wasn’t particularly important to see a mission coordinator for something this small, but it still wasn’t the usual protocol. Instead, he was just instructed to pick up his costume at the costuming department and leave in about an hour.

“Do we really not have an appointment with Rhi?” Janus asked.

“Senior agents haven’t really been meeting with Rhi unless it’s a high priority mission,” Lena told him. “We have too many newbies running around and there’s not time.

“That’s concerning…” Janus said.

“It’s better than trying to rush the inexperienced ones through. We at least have a general idea of what we’re doing. They’re trying to train up more mission coordinators, but that’s taking a while.”

 Janus still frowned, but he glanced back at the mission instructions. He’d have to make sure he thoroughly understood what was being asked of him before leaving if he wasn’t meeting with Rhi. “We should go get changed,” he told Remus. “2510s clothing is notoriously difficult to put on.”

“Five minutes back and he’s already dying to get my clothes off,” Remus said cheekily.

“I would rather tear my own eyeballs out of my socket than see you without your pants on again.”

Remus just wiggled his eyebrows.

“I’m so glad you’re back,” said Lena when Janus looked at her in exasperation. “He’s finally not Fred’s and my problem anymore.”

 Chapter 56

Getting ready for the mission was a bit of a mess honestly. The costume department barely even spared them a glance before sending them on their way. Remy at least was still there to give them one last debrief before sending them off into 2510, though he looked exhausted.

“Are you sleeping?” asked Janus.

“I’m drinking coffee,” was the reply as he shooed them out onto the streets.

The timeline disturbance that had been picked up was somewhere in one of the shops on that street.

“Do you want the bakery or the karaoke/stripper bar?” Remus asked.

Janus raised an eyebrow at him, and Remus clapped him on the back.

“This is why we’re partners,” he said.

 He plodded off towards the building to their right, and Janus turned to the building on the left. It was a small bakery and coffee shop painted in bright colors and sporting the Brazilian and Albanian flags.

There was a soft tinkling bell sound when he entered the shop, and the person behind the counter glanced over at him briefly before finishing putting a pastry in bag for a customer.

Unfortunately, their attention meant Janus wasn’t going to get away with snooping around the store without buying anything. He glanced around the interior of the shop as he walked up to the till.

 He glanced into the bakery display case the worker was standing behind. Oh… oh that all looked disgusting. He was not depressed enough anymore to willingly eat any of that.

“Uh,” Janus said when the worker looked at him. He glanced up at the wide selection of drinks over their head and winced at the ways the letters moved on the screen. He was pretty sure his dyslexia wasn’t quite that bad. Why did anyone choose to make letters move around and shake on purpose? As someone who had to deal with that on a daily basis, it wasn’t exactly entertaining.

 “Is it possible to get a banana and chocolate potato chip smoothie, but without the potato chip part?” he asked.

“Sure,” the worker replied. “Anything else?”

Janus shook his head.

“Can I have a name for that?”

“Jay,” Janus replied.

“Alright. It’ll be out in a minute.”

Janus nodded and turned, able to take in the rest of the establishment now that there weren’t eyes on him. It was as colorful on the inside as it was on the outside and seemed to have a retro cowboy-space theme mixed with posters from a contemporary werewolf romance movie. Janus had actually seen that movie one. It was surprisingly tolerable.

 The seats at least looked comfortable. There were a good number of tables and three couches. All of them were mix-matched. A few of the tables were outfitted with holographic chess and checkers, but most were normal tables. There were even a few physical boardgames and some bookshelves full of books, though he thought some of the bookshelves might just be there for decoration. He wasn’t sure which were and which weren’t.

He pretended to be very interested in the decorations as he waited on his drink, using that as an excuse to look around the entire shop. He was turned away when the door chimed again.

 “Hello,” a familiar voice said, making Janus turn around instantly. Janus could immediately tell that the man hesitantly lingering in front of the bakery display was not the Patton that he’d spent months holed up with or who had broken into Janus’s house repeatedly to replace his soaps and cook him meals. He seemed out of place which was saying something in 2510. He had the air about him that he was an 80-year-old grandpa trying to embrace youth culture, but not quite getting it. He also spoke in an accent that people around him would probably assume was him just not being fluent in Spanish but was actually him not being completely comfortable speaking Spanish from half a century ago.

 “Uh…” said Patton looking at the menu, a crease between his eyes.

“I’d suggest the banana and chocolate potato chip smoothie without the potato chips,” Janus said. Patton startled, whipping around to face him in surprise. “That’s what I got, though I would leave out the potato chips.”

Patton’s eyes narrowed on him. It was not, of course, the first time that Patton hadn’t been thrilled to see him, but it was the first time Janus had been happy to see him and he hadn’t been happy to see him in turn. Janus had gotten used to a Patton that liked him and he found himself not quite prepared for the way he pursed his lips in annoyance at the sight of Janus.

 “I’ll do the banana and chocolate potato chip smoothie, but with the potato chips,” he said in a way that made it sound like he thought he was getting one up on Janus for some reason.

“What flavor of chips?” the worker asked.

“Er, what flavors do you have?”

“Uh, I think drywall, oak wood, and limestone.”

Janus almost laughed at his expression. “Uh, do you have any naturally edible flavors?” he asked.

“We might have grass.”

Patton squinted as the worker bent to look under the cabinet. “Oh, wait, no, it’s glass. Is that alright?”

“…Maybe just no on the chips.”

 Janus did his best to school his features, so it wasn’t obvious he was laughing at him. He didn’t think he did a very good job considering Patton was glaring at him after turning around. That or he was just already pissed at Janus by default. It could go either way honestly.

“So,” Janus said when the worker turned away to start making Patton’s drink. “What are you doing here.”

“It’s none of your business,” Patton said with narrowed eyes.

“I mean, we could both be here for the same reason,” Janus pointed out. “We could share intel.”

“I doubt we’re here for the same reason.”

 “How would you know?” asked Janus.

Patton just looked away from him. He immediately looked confused at the movie poster his eyes landed on.

“Unless,” Janus said curiously, you aren’t here for a reason, reason.” Patton said nothing. “It was a pretty small disturbance, so it would make sense that your equipment might not pick up on it.” At least at this point. “Acting the tourist, Pat?”

“I’m just doing research,” Patton said, crossing his arms.

“Research?” Janus asked.

“I’ve never been here before,” Patton admitted. “I wanted to get a feel for it and other places just in case there ever was an issue.”

 “You just did France, didn’t you?” Janus asked.

Patton frowned and Janus smiled slightly. “It was recent,” he admitted.

“Well,” Janus said. “If you want some advice. I’d start with figuring out accents when you’re in different times.”

“I don’t need your advice,” Patton said and then smugly, “Janus.”

It took a bit for Janus to scan back through his memories and remember that Patton hadn’t known Janus’s name in France. He would have only figured it out after his friend Lo hacked into Silver Mountains University’s system and figured out Virgil had an appointment with him. Janus raised an eyebrow. “You sure about that, Patton?”

 He frowned, pouting like whenever Janus told him he wasn’t allowed to try to catch a bird and make it their pet. It was strange to meet a version of Patton who had not lived in a hole in the ground with him for months when Janus had already done that. Patton was on the back foot for once throughout this conversation. Every time before this, he’d managed to somehow twist it around even when he’d been younger than he was right now. When Janus had arrested him at the University, he’d managed to figure out his equipment wouldn’t be stopped by the TPI’s despite having no idea what the TPI was.

 In France, even when Janus had thought he’d been winning by taking his phone, he ended up getting access to a University in Janus’s time with information on the TPI, a situation that still had not been resolved.

Today, however, Janus knew far more about Patton than Patton expected. He still didn’t know exactly what his agency or whatever it should actually be called did, but he knew some things about it. He knew Patton was from the 21st century which explained the anachronisms in his speech in different times.

“You could help me look if you’d like,” Janus offered casually.

 “Why?” Patton asked suspiciously.

Janus shrugged. It was not because he missed him, he insisted to himself. It wasn’t because after spending so much time with him, not getting to talk with him all day was strange. It had nothing to do with the fact that the few times he’d ran into a farther along version of Patton since he’d moved back home, their interactions had been brief and tinged with something. No, the only reason Janus was inviting him along was so he could teach this younger version a few things, so he hopefully didn’t go about messing up time. “We worked well together in France, didn’t we?” he asked. “Besides, it’s just a small mission without much danger to the timeline.”

 “Pat,” the person at the counter called. Patton turned to him to go grab his smoothie, thanking the worker before turning back around and walking over to Janus.

“Fine,” he said. “I’ll help, but you have to answer my questions.”

“I’ll answer the questions that won’t endanger any timelines or secrets of my agency.”

Patton considered it for a moment, taking a sip of his drink. “Fine,” he agreed.

“Good,” Janus replied. “We’ll start by looking around the coffee shop for anything unusual. Did you have any questions now. It’d look more natural to be walking around if we were having a conversation.”

“Does the glitter in your hair have to do with the style of the time or…?”

Janus sighed.

 Chapter 57

Luckily, the cashier didn’t seem to think them snooping around was very odd. To be fair, the shop had quite a few odd decorations to look at. So, perhaps employees were just used to people walking around and looking at all of the different things. It helped that Janus and Patton were talking as they searched. They just looked like a couple… of friends… casually chatting and exploring the coffee shop together.

“So,” Patton said, keeping his voice quiet, though luckily the few patrons were on the other side of the shop. “What exactly is it that you do working for the TPI?”

 “Well,” Janus said. “I’m a senior field agent. That means I am the person who actually goes on missions in different times. These missions can range from tracking down people who are committing crimes using time travel, stopping anything or anyone that could damage the timestream, and helping waylaid time travelers.”

“So, there are different types of agents?” Patton asked, curiously.

“Yes,” Janus replied. “There are a lot, but only four type time travel on a regular basis.” Should he be telling a very young version of Patton this? Probably not, but he couldn’t find it in himself to care too much.

 “There are surveillance, touchdown, field, and cleanup agents,” he explained. “Surveillance agents do a bunch of things including research about the exact time field agents are going to and figuring out the best places for them to enter the timestream. Touchdown agents come slightly before field agents to do last second checks and stay when field agents are out. They mostly are just there to intervene if there are any unforeseen issues. Field agents actually interact with people from other times on a daily basis as they slip into the timestream and find whatever person or object they’re looking for. Cleanup agents come in afterwards and tie up any loose ends as well as observe the area for a few days to make sure nothing happened that no one caught.”

 “Everyone else who works at the TPI is mostly in research and management. They don’t usually travel, though everyone who works there is licensed to travel if necessary.”

“That’s a lot of people,” Patton commented.

“What we do is important. We want to make sure we are doing it correctly.” It was honestly not meant to be a jab, but Janus could see Patton frown. He decided to change the subject. “Right now, we’re looking for something that’s causing a small disturbance.”

“What type of thing could cause a disturbance? Is it always a machine like the one in France?”

“No,” Janus replied. “That was actually unusual.” He thought for a second. “At least that used to be unusual, but lately we’ve seen more and more of that sort of thing.”

 They were currently standing at a bookshelf, but nothing pinged Janus’s interest or time piece, so they moved on to look at a few of the movie posters. Patton seemed to grow more and more concerned the longer he looked at the posters.

“So, what is it usually?”

“Well,” said Janus. “Some things are natural events. No one’s really sure what causes those. There are theories, but I’m not really involved in that. We leave those alone for the most part if we find those. They’re usually small things, though on occasion they’re a bit bigger. Usually, time disturbances are caused by someone messing up. They say something wrong that gets someone curious and creates a butterfly or they leave an object that doesn’t exist in the time.”

 “So, what do you think this one is?” Patton asked curiously.

“Well,” Janus said. “It’s a rather small disturbance, so it won’t be anything too major. Probably just an object out of place.”

“Hmm,” Patton replied. “Well, I’ve always been good at those find the difference games.”

“Have you now?” Janus said, unable to stop a slight grin from ghosting over his face.”

“Mhmm,” replied Patton. He drained the rest of his smoothie and then turned around, facing away from the wall of posters they’d been looking at. He slowly scanned the room, an action a lot less inconspicuous than what Janus had them doing, but he didn’t protest for now.

 “That’s weird,” Patton declared, pointing rather obviously at a shelf. Janus noticed a woman looking at him funny. “Well,” Patton continued. “More like it isn’t weird, which is weird for here.”

Janus glanced at the shelf full of small figurines. Most of them were of mythical creatures: werewolves, dragons, and even one not even Janus recognized. Janus would guess, especially judging by the plethora of movie posters that they were all from movies or something of the like. However, Patton was correct there was one that stuck out from the rest. It was still a figurine, but unlike the rest, it was of a real animal: a cow.

 “That is odd,” Janus agreed, peering at the cow. Figuring Patton had already been obvious enough, Janus stepped over to the shelf to study it more closely. When looking at it more closely, it became obvious that the cow was very unlike everything else on the shelf. It wasn’t even really a figurine like the ones around it. It looked more like a children’s toy. It’s fur was made out of a soft looking material instead of the stiff plastic of the werewolf next to it.

“It doesn’t really fit in with the collection, does it?” a voice asked from behind Janus.

 Janus winced internally at the fact that a civilian had just noticed him acting oddly, but kept his face smooth externally as he turned to face the woman standing behind him.

“My friend and I were wondering what it was from,” Janus said evenly. “We recognized the rest of the figures, but I’m not sure where this one came from.”

“Well, that’s because it didn’t come from anything,” the woman said. “At least that I know of. I just didn’t know where to put the thing, so I put it on my movie figurine shelf.”

“Ah,” said Janus, a politely interested crinkle to his brow. “Where did you get it then?”

 “A young kid came by about, oh, a week ago. He looked like a high school kid or maybe college. He seemed right confused and upset. He said he didn’t have any money on him, and got weird when I tried to ask him about his parents. I ended up giving him a free drink and let him sit here for a couple’a hours. We got to talking about my collections. See, I have a deal that if someone brings me back something of interest for my displays, they get a free drink. He insisted on giving me that in exchange for the drink even though I told him I’d given him the drink ‘cause he seemed upset.”

 “I don’t even particularly want the thing, but he said he didn’t want it anyway, and he insisted, so I took it.”

“Interesting,” Janus said. “Do you mind if I touch it?”

“Go ahead,” she said with a shrug.

He reached forward to pick up the cow and felt the softest of fizzles that only someone who regularly time traveled would feel. Despite already knowing this must be what he’d come for, he still subtlety set his timepiece to scan it.

 Patton was peering over her shoulder now. “If both you and the person who gave it to you don’t care much about it, do you think we could buy it off of you?” he asked. “I’m a big fan of cows.”

She shrugged her shoulders. “I guess,” she agreed. “If you really like it. I don’t know what else I’d do with it.”

“How much?” Janus asked.

“Well it only cost me a Lemon CastelWalk and a scone, so about 12.”

“Sure,” Janus agreed, pulling out his wallet and forking over the currency. “Thanks,” he said.

“No problem,” she replied. “Hope you can find some use for it.”

 Janus gave her a smile and then looked at Patton. “I think it’s about time to go, don’t you think.”

Patton nodded. “Thank you for the cow statue,” he told the woman as they left the shop. They walked a bit down the street. Patton turned to him once they were out of sight of the shop window. “So, that’s it?” he asked.

Janus nodded and checked his time piece which had finished it’s scan. “The fabric is from the late 43rd century,” he confirmed, “but that’s not all. It’s stranger than that.”

“Stranger how?” Patton asked.

“The materials are definitely from the 43rd century,” Janus said, “but it’s not from the 43rd century.”

“What do you mean?”

 “This,” Janus said, looking at the cow. “This doesn’t exist. Every object has traces of where it’s been no matter how much you clean it. My timepiece can register debris sticking to an object down to the microscopic level and give a general idea where and when they came from. There’s no time travel residue implying it came from the 43rd century or even just dust or dirt from that time period. There isn’t even anything on it from this time period from more than the week the shop owner said it was in her possession. My scans seem to be saying, this thing popped into existence a week ago and didn’t exist in any time or place before that.

Patton frowned. “Well then, what does that mean?”

“I don’t know,” answered Janus frowning down at it. “I have absolutely no idea.”

 Chapter 58

Janus didn’t know what to make of the cow he’d gotten in 2510. He’d said goodbye to the young version of Patton and grabbed Remus before heading back to the TPI. He’d immediately handed the time anomaly over to the labs, but even after a few weeks, he hadn’t heard anything back yet. The labs seemed just as stumped as he was.

The older version of Patton still drifted in and out of his life, usually unseen, like a ghost in the night. Well, a ghost that cooked him plenty of healthy food.

It felt odd slipping back into his old routine of missions.

 Sometimes it felt like no time had passed, but then he’d see the faces of new recruits or get a mission where he didn’t see Rhi and remember that things were different now. The TPI was strained, constantly running after time distortions with no idea what or who was causing them. The new recruits were stumbling to catch up to the agents who knew what they were doing but were still needed to fill the gaps. It made Janus grimace, but he didn’t know what the solution was.

It was nice to be able to talk to Emile about these things.

 If Patton made sure he was taking care of himself at home with nice meals and an ever-changing option of soaps and shampoos, Emile made sure he was taking care of himself at work. Janus was now forced to have a water bottle at his desk to make sure he wasn’t spending the day dehydrated and, assuming he was not on a mission, Emile would either drag him away to eat lunch or bring lunch too him if he was too busy. Today was the later kind of day. Emile had messaged him about 45 minutes ago asking if he was free and then had taken his order for a local restaurant when Janus said he had too much to do.

 There was a knock on the door and both Fred and Janus, the only two occupants of the office at the moment looked up.

“I’ll get it,” Janus said, getting up before Fred did. He knew Fred was currently in the middle of a report on a trip to 2000B.C. he and Lena went to. They’d let a new recruit tag alone for training purposes. It had gone badly to say the least. Fred looked exhausted and stressed which was unlike the usually cheery man.

Janus shuffled to the door and opened it. A man in his early 30s that Janus didn’t recognize was standing there.

 “Hi,” he said. “I, uh, moved into the office next door. My name is Dave.”

There was a moment of silence. “Did you need something Dave.”

“Right,” he said. “Yeah, I was just wondering if your integrator is running, because mine isn’t.”

Janus glanced back at the report he’d been working on. “Yeah, it’s fine.”

“Well, is it, like, connecting to the TPI system?”

“I don’t know,” said Janus, “I was working locally.”

“Yeah, well that’s the problem with mine. I was wondering if anyone else was having the same problem.”

“Let me check,” said Janus, walking over to his desk. He went to open his email and an error message popped up.

[symptoms-syndrome]

Ok another rant but under a readmore this time bc of the weird tag search shenanigans and this has what would possibly be seen as "key words" that could come up in searches I don't want them to. Warning I guess that I'm really fucking angry rn and that this is about the introject thing again.

Ok so I haven't slept or anything so maybe this won't make sense, but I feel like a part of why I refuse to touch "introject" stuff as it currently exists online is because the struggles people post about (whether they're valid struggles or not is not my place to say) are utterly foreign to me and not relevant to my life or experience in the slightest and likely never will be. And also they're the only thing people talk about re:introjects and nobody ever shuts up about it. Primarily the issues are "people are treating me like my source and saying they love [character]" or "I saw some fanart of [character] and it made me uncomfortable" or generally? I guess fandom-y stuff. And I don't mean to victim blame here but 1. If you walk into a Danganronpa server and introduce yourself as Komaeda or smth. I'm not sure what you're expecting and 2. A lot of the issues IMO can be boiled down to "please just learn how to filter things and scroll away block tags block blogs not everything is about u"

Occasionally there's some things I relate to, but even then they're often parsed in a way extremely different from my experiences. For example, I have parts that have "memories" or feel like they miss people who never existed, but like. I am able to recognize that that's just my brain putting some new paint on old traumas to try and make them easier to swallow, for the most part, and are more symbolic than literal. I never understood "source calls" in the context of DID/OSDD, as I thought we all knew that introjects aren't from some parallel universe and are created by our brains, and thus any people in any false "memories" are not and will not ever be real people? Which I get is hard to swallow sometimes, but IDK what ppl expect to get out of meeting a stranger on the internet whos brain related to a different dude from the same thing ur brain related to. PwDID aren't like. Psychics. I feel like the advice given for these posts (if they're not just empty platitudes, which is the most common) is utterly unhelpful for me. "Do things that remind u of ur source" "buy some manga of your source" "remember ur valid as [character]" I don't want to do any of those things actually. I would actually prefer to not be validated as a character bc I am not one. It reminds me more of what I'd expect from old kin communities I was a part of as a teen than what I'd expect from people within the frame of mental illness and trauma. And like, back when I thought I was kin I guess sometimes stuff like that felt nice, but feeling nice isn't always the goal. Sometimes something feeling nice can be a detractor from something that actually does good.

Not to mention, it feels like a lot of these posts are operating on this idea that not only are introjects a Special Kind of Part (which people more eloquent than I have made posts about how that's bullshit at best) but that everyone puts their introjects front n center, "this is Naruto from Naruto and here's his pseudomemories and likes and dislikes and-" etc etc etc like I can eliminate 99% of posts about introjects from my consideration based on the fact alone that I don't tell people about my introjects. No shade to people who do share, but it's just not a universal experience like how people frame it to be.

There are definitely things that I struggle with related to introjection. I just feel like it's very uncommon to see anything beyond "people treat me like the real [character]" or "people DONT treat me like [character]" or other shit like that related to like. Entering a fandom space openly as an introject, something I could literally never imagine doing I'd sooner microwave tin foil than join a fandom discord for a media I introjected from. I feel like a lot of the things I struggle with are very internal. Between me myself and I. No pun intended.

Anyway this is more and more of an annoyance clawing at my brain every time I've made the mistake of looking at anything any of the hash tag fictives or whatever post online or even just any shit about introjects in general. And bc people can't shut the fuck up about introjects for two goddamn seconds and DID is basically treated as introject disease on tumblr.edu it feels like I can't escape it bc it's fucking everywhere everyone's gotta talk about fictives and factives and fucktives etc etc all the fucking time whenever we talk about DID bc it's sooooo important to treat the anime boys right and make sure all the shit u post online about [anime of the week] is suitable for if the real Joe Schmo from Joe Schmo Adventures sees your post about how Joe's pal Jake has a good ass or whatever. I'm sick of it.

Ironically one of the introjected parts of my sys is telling me to tone this shit down a little and the other main one isn't around RN but would definitely not approve. I don't fucking care though I need to talk about how sick I am of this shit. I know he's sick of it too even if he's nicer about it. I can bitch if I want to I'm not hurting anyone and I'm not calling anyone out or anything I'm literally just saying I'm sick of the entire DID conversation being turned into "how to make introjects comfy" esp when the answers are bullshit and only apply to niche communities but are treated like the word of fucking god. """Singlets""" getting """educated""" on why it's of utmost importance you make Bakugo from the shit system feel safe and supported and shield him from any criticism or people who just don't like that character or like him too much or whatever not to mention the fucking RACISM that keeps rearing it's ugly head every time some white motherfucker feels the need to make some weird out of touch post about racism re:introjects with "ohhh u can't say slurs" bc that's all white ppl ever talk about with racism is fucking slurs which have the least relevance to any systemic change at all.

[sisterspooky1013]

Liquid Courage & Promises Kept

Rating: Teen and Up

Words: 3558

Read it on AO3

Tagging @today-in-fic

December 20, 1999

She’d been standoffish lately. Well, she’d been standoffish today, yesterday she was actually borderline flirty. He was having a hard time reading her from one day to the next, unsure if the difference in her demeanor was real or if it only existed in his head. At times he was sure she returned his affection; the flutter of her eyelashes over her icy blue eyes and the slight part of her pouty lips appearing as an invitation, and he’d almost accepted it several times. Almost. Something always got in the way; a knock at the door, the ring of a phone, the sting of a bee or the sudden aversion of her gaze, self consciousness dragging her back inside herself and away from him. He thought he could see the internal struggle in the set of her shoulders and the tuck of her chin. She wanted him as much as he wanted her, but she couldn’t admit it to herself, and he wasn’t going to push her. He’d waited this long, what was a bit longer?

Today, the typical relief that comes with a Friday afternoon was overshadowed by her businesslike demeanor, the perfectly polite but impersonal way she answered his questions, and the thorough but unemotional way she engaged in conversation with him. The more she withdrew, the more he advanced, grasping for some feedback, some response that soothed his feeling of rejection.

“Any big plans this weekend?” He inquired, resorting to small talk, which they typically didn’t need.

She didn’t look up from the file she was reviewing. “I’m getting dinner with an old friend from undergrad tomorrow. That’s about it.” Her tone was flat and disinterested, but not annoyed. She didn’t ask him about his own plans, not that he’d have had anything to share.

“Scully….are you okay? Did I do something?” He hated the whiny tone in his voice, the insecure way he sought her validation.

She looked up then, her brow knit in confusion. “No, why do you ask?”

“You just seem kind of…off? Distracted maybe? You don’t seem like yourself.”

He saw her sit up a bit straighter, just a touch more life enter her eyes. “Sorry, Mulder. I’m fine, it’s just been a long week I guess.” She offered him a thin smile. She was placating him, that he could tell, but he still wasn’t sure why.

He returned her tight-lipped, not at all genuine smile, nodding. “Glad to hear it.”

They finished out their workday, she wished him a good weekend and left the office quickly, before he had the chance to attempt walking out with her. Part of him wondered if “dinner with an old friend” was a euphemism; did she have a date? Maybe she was going out with an ex? He’d certainly been less than supportive (not to mention mature) when he’d been aware of her going out with someone in the past, so it would make sense that she’d hide it from him. Heaving a defeated sigh, he locked up the office and headed into a weekend full of boredom and misplaced jealousy that he didn’t have any right to feel.

**********************************

Saturday he had slept in, played some basketball at the Y, and stopped by to check out the Gunmen’s latest research to pass the time. It was now half past 8 and he realized he hadn’t eaten dinner yet, so grabbed his keys and headed to a restaurant in DC that had the best burgers, in his opinion. The fact that Scully was probably out on her date right now entered his mind at regular intervals, and he pushed it away, wanting to give her space to have an actual life outside of him and The X Files. Regardless of his feelings for her, above all else he wanted her to be happy, even if it was with someone else. The thought of having to meet some guy she was dating and act like he didn’t want to rip his face off made his stomach turn.

He parked in a 15 minute space just outside the restaurant and headed into the lobby. It was a busy Saturday night crowd, noisy and boisterous with various sporting events playing on several TVs and people shouting over each other to be heard. He placed his order, to go, with the hostess and then leaned against the wall to survey the scene while he waited. It was hard to say what made him feel worse, the families with children dragging french fries through lakes of ketchup, or the couples with their heads titled close together in intimate conversation, oblivious to anyone and anything but each other. His solo status was always painfully obvious in a setting like this. Most of the time it didn’t bother him, but today, knowing Scully was somewhere with someone else, it felt like shit.

And then he heard a laugh ring out like a bell. It was a sound he knew in his bones. One that, while infrequent, was a balm on his soul. Well, usually it was, anyway. But when he turned toward the sound and saw Scully, one hand to her chest while the other lay flat against the table top for stability, leaning toward the recipient of this sweet sound with her teeth bared in a joyful grin, his heart sank. She looked completely incredible, her hair mostly pulled back with a few strands loose around her face, a blue v-neck sweater clinging to her tiny frame and showing just a hint of cleavage. She was leaning in closer to a man whose back was to Mulder, removing the hand from her chest and placing it on his arm as she practically fell over in hysterics. He had never seen her like this, and envy twisted in his rib cage. Who the fuck was this guy that could make Scully laugh like that? He forced himself to look away, to stare at the gaudy rainbow checkerboard tiles on the floor. He checked his watch to calculate how much longer it might be before his food was ready and he could get the fuck out of here. Mercifully, the sound of her laughter subsided and he willed himself not to look that way again; he didn’t want to see something he’d never be able to erase from his memory.

He was doing such a good job pretending she wasn’t there that he was genuinely startled when he felt her cool hand thread around his elbow, linking his arm in hers. He looked to her and saw that her eyes were glassy and a little bit red. She was drunk.

“Come here often?” She drawled, her smile and the weight of her body leaning against him sending a wave of electricity down his torso.

“I might ask you the same” he countered, working very hard to seem casual, though he probably didn’t need to, given her state.

“Come sit with me.” She ordered. The contrast between her behavior at work yesterday and the open, seeking way her eyes roamed his face now was jarring. He was so confused by her signals.

“Nah, I don’t want to intrude. You’re out with your friend.” He couldn’t bring himself to say “date.”

She waved her hand in the air, brushing away the concern. “It’s fine, Mulder, he wants to meet you, come say hi.”

So she’d talked to her date about him? He wasn’t sure whether to be relieved, flattered, or weirded out. He turned to tell the hostess where he’d be before allowing her to pull him by the arm over to her table. As they approached, a second man sat down at the table, appearing to have just returned from the bathroom.

“Guys, this is Mulder!” She said with a level of excitement that seemed, to him, to be unnecessary.

“Mulder!” They both repeated as though they were reunited with an old friend. One was tall and blonde with an athletic build, the exact kind of guy he’d expect Scully to be interested in. The other was shorter and lean with a bald head and calloused hands. After an awkward beat where he looked at her expectantly, Scully remembered her manners and began introductions.

“Mulder, this is Rob, he and I were good friends in undergrad” she motioned towards the tall blonde man, and then to the shorter, bald one. “ This is his husband, Michael.”

A grin spread across Mulder’s face as he understood that this was most definitely not a date. He stuck out his hand and shook both theirs enthusiastically, agreeing to Scully’s insistence that he sit down as she stole another chair from a nearby table.

“I have to pee” Scully announced suddenly, leaving the table. Mulder looked after her in amused surprise at her lack of decorum. This was a side of his partner he had not had the pleasure of seeing yet.

Mulder stood to remove his coat, noticing Rob discreetly flick his eyes over his body as he did so. He always appreciated being checked out, even if it wasn’t from his target audience. As he sat back down, Michael spoke.

“It’s nice to meet you Mulder. Dana has told us so much about you.”

Mulder smirked self-consciously. “Nothing bad I hope.”

“Nothing that we can’t see with our own eyes” Rob remarked, giving him another once-over with an appreciative nod of his head. Michael jabbed him in the ribs with his elbow.

“Sounds like you do a lot of interesting work together” Michael offered, distracting from Rob’s remark.

“Uh, yeah, something like that” he responded cooly, seeing the hostess approaching with his order.

Scully returned from the bathroom and plopped down beside him dramatically, putting her hand on his thigh. He eyed her skeptically, but didn’t move it.

“I gotta go, I’m parked in a 15 minute spot. It was good to meet you both. You’ll make sure this one gets home okay?”

“Of course” Michael answered, sliding his arm around his husband’s shoulders. “Rob is a drunk Dana whisperer, from the stories I’ve heard.”

“No one wants to hear those stories” Scully warned, draining her glass. “Anyway, I’m going with you, Mulder.”

Mulder looked at her quizzically “oh are you?”

She gave him a coy smile and nodded, her eyes bleary from the booze.

“How about I take you home instead, party girl.” He stood and put his jacket back on.

Scully shrugged, accepting this alternative, and hugged her friends goodbye. Rob held on to her a little longer than Michael, whispering something in her ear that made her giggle before she told him she’d call him tomorrow. They left the restaurant arm in arm, and when they reached his car outside he opened the door for her to climb in first.

“So chivalrous” she mused, beaming at him.

He shook his head and laughed at her condition. In the moment, she was the antithesis of everything he knew her to be. The Scully he knew would roll her eyes and pity this blatant show of flirtation. Throughout the 15 minute drive to her apartment, she continued to paw at him, sliding her hand up his thigh until he batted it away. He settled on holding her hand, which seemed to make her happy and distracted her from more nefarious contact. When he pulled up outside her building, he expected her to get out and go inside, but instead she turned to him and asked “aren’t you going to walk me to my door?” It seemed to be asked in earnest, absent any innuendo, so he agreed. She held on to his arm and leaned into his side as they made their way in, her footing unsteady in her heels. He took her keys and unlocked the door for her, his feet planted firmly in the hallway. He was intrigued by her behavior and he could admit that he was very turned on by it, but she was drunk, and there was no way in hell he was going to take advantage of that.

“Come inside” she suggested, pulling on his arm.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea, Scully. You get some rest, call me tomorrow and let me know you’re alive. I’ll bring you some coffee and a breakfast burrito.”

She pushed her lower lip out in a little pout and stepped toward him, sliding her arms up his and on to his shoulders. The height of her heels compensated quite a bit for their usual discrepancy so that she only had to stretch a tiny bit for them to be face to face.

“What cha doin, Scully?” He asked, his mind telling him that this was a bad idea, while his body urged him to proceed.

“Just giving you a hug. Is that allowed?” Her voice was sultry and smelled like whiskey.

“A hug. Sure, I guess that’s okay.” His hands found her waist. Just a hug. They’d hugged hundreds of times.

She slid her hands around his neck and pressed her cheek to his and the rest of her body followed, breast to chest, pelvis to pelvis, thigh to thigh. This was not their typical hug. She was draped over him, her breath hot on his ear. He was afraid if this went on much longer, she’d be able to feel how much he wanted her. She pulled her head back, keeping the rest of her tucked against him, and looked at his face. God, she looked beautiful, if not a bit out of it. He willed himself to pull away, but he couldn’t, not yet. She leaned in and brushed her lips across his. Electric. His body tensed, knowing it couldn’t go on. Next she pressed her soft full pout against his lips, her fingers digging into his hair. He sighed, and then pulled away, stepping back from her, breaking contact.

She looked at him with a mix of embarrassment and confusion. Not wanting to send the wrong signal, he took both her hands in his. “You’re drunk, Scully. It’s not right. I don’t want you to do something you’re going to regret tomorrow.”

She held his gaze, her eyes watery and tired. “I won’t regret it, Mulder.”

“Well if that’s the case, kiss me sometime when you’re sober and I promise I won’t turn you down.” He was smiling at her, captivated by this moment where he felt like he could say anything, where they could be completely honest for once.

“Why haven’t you ever kissed me, Mulder?” There was sadness in her voice. Regret.

He took a breath before responding. “I guess…I wasn’t sure you wanted me to.”

“I do. I want you to.” He was afraid that he was about to find out she was a tearful drunk.

“Okay, I promise that I will. Soon.”

She nodded solemnly, and he pulled her into a hug, a real one, with her cheek squished against his shoulder and her hair tickling his nose. Keeping his hands on her shoulders, he stepped back and looked at her, asking “are you going to remember this conversation tomorrow?”

She blinked slowly, her eyes working to focus on his face. “I think maybe not.”

He laughed, stepping through into her apartment and leading her to her bedroom, where he waited outside the door as she changed into pajamas. Once she was tucked safely in bed with a glass of water and a bottle of Tylenol within arms reach, he went out to the kitchen and got a piece of paper to leave her a note. By the time he returned to leave it next to the glass of water, she was already asleep.

***********************************

Scully woke in the morning to find her mouth dry and sticky. As she sat up, her head lurched and squeezed her brain in protest. She looked around, unsure how she got here. The last thing she remembered was spotting Mulder at the restaurant, and then….nothing. Turning to check the time, she was relieved to see a glass of water and she chugged it down, stopping halfway to take two of the Tylenol; she must have put them there before she went to sleep. As she turned to drape her legs over the side of the bed and prepare to stand, she spotted a slip of paper on her nightstand and unfolded it.

Hey Party Girl,

I’m willing to bed you have a mean hangover. Whether you remember it or not, I did promise you a breakfast burrito. Call me when you’re awake.

Mulder

Her eyes went big. Mulder was here? She felt strange not being able to remember it, and hoped she hadn’t done anything embarrassing. First she dragged herself to the bathroom to brush her teeth and then took a shower, pulling last night’s mascara from her eyelashes. As she stepped out, already feeling a little better, the phone rang.

“Hello?” She cringed at the volume of her own voice.

“Hey pretty lady, you make it home okay?” It was Rob.

“Apparently so, though I don’t remember much of anything. What happened after Mulder showed up?”

Rob chuckled softly and her stomach turned. What had she done? There was a scuffling sound on the other end of the line and she could hear Michael say “stop torturing her!” Before he wrangled the phone away from Rob.

“It wasn’t that bad, Dana, Rob is just being a jerk. You got a little handsy with him then told him to take you home. We could tell he wasn’t going to take advantage of you.”

“Uh, what do you mean by handsy, exactly?” She was starting to feel nauseous.

“I think you had your hand on his thigh and you were making some serious bedroom eyes at him, but that’s it, at least at the restaurant. I can’t speak to what happened after you left.”

“Oh god” she whispered.

There was more scuffling and then Rob was back on the line “Look, honey, it’s clear that you both want to be with each other so I don’t see the issue. Just get over yourself and fuck him already.”

“Right, thanks Rob, that’s really helpful.” She rubbed her free hand over her throbbing temples.

“It was good to see you, Dana. We should do it again sometime.”

“Yeah, it may be a while before I can stomach alcohol, Rob.”

“You know my number. Bye.”

He hung up and she replaced the phone on the receiver, dropping her head into her hands with a groan. Dragging herself to her bedroom, she put on sweats and a t shirt, brushed her hair, and then flopped down on to the couch, already predicting it would be a wasted day. She was too old for this. When she heard Mulder’s familiar tap tap on the door, she considered staying very quiet until he went away, pretending not to be home.

“Scully, I know you’re home, your car is outside.” She heard him call out. Fuck.

Fluffing her hair a bit as she walked to the door so she wouldn’t look like a drowned rat, she opened it and found him looking adorable in jeans and a blue sweater, a paper bag in one hand and a steaming cup of coffee in the other. Her eyes went big at the idea of food and she realized she was starving.

“Well it’s clear the burrito is welcome, do I also have permission to enter the premises?”

He was grinning at her in a way she found both endearing and infuriating. She hated not knowing what had happened. Taking the bag and cup from his hands, she turned and walked to the couch, leaving the door open as an invitation for him to follow.

“Thanks” she muttered, taking a sip of the coffee before setting it on the table and unwrapping the burrito.

“How are you feeling?” He asked, eyeing her curiously.

“Like I drank way too much” she returned without looking at him.

He nodded knowingly. “Do you remember…everything?”

She shot him a wide-eyed look. “What is there to remember?”

He shrugged “nothing, just wondering.”

“Look, Mulder, I don’t really remember anything after you showed up at the restaurant and if I did something embarrassing I’d rather you just tell me now instead of dragging this out. So what did I do?”

He shook his head nonchalantly. “Nothing, Scully. You were very pleasant, actually.” He smiled at her and she knew there was more to it, but he was taking the path of allowing her to remain blissfully ignorant, and she was thankful for it.

He turned on the TV and they sat quietly and watched the news while she ate and drank, slowly feeling more human as the minutes passed. He saw her check the time and took that as his cue to leave, and she walked him to the door.

“Thanks, Mulder, both for getting me home safe and for breakfast.”

“Anytime. You really don’t remember anything, do you?”

She gave him a rueful look while shaking her head slowly.

“Well, in the event that anything does come back to you, I want you to know that I intend to keep my promise.”

“That really means nothing to me Mulder, but thanks I guess?”

He chuckled a little, then turned and left her to nurse her hangover in peace.

[lilhawkeye3]

I don't know if they thought curly hair was too complicated to animate or something, but for some reason, ALL the clones in TCW have straight hair. It comes off as a simple stylistic choice with the standard crew cut, but then you have characters like Tup and Hunter. And since Trace Martez exists, we know they CAN texture curly hair now, and it doesn't look like it was all that complicated either. I guess in the case of Tup and Hunter we have to chalk it up to mutation in-universe.

Alright. Here’s an image of Trace and Rafa Martez.

I’m gonna say this kindly as a curly haired individual: I would not say Trace has textured curly hair in the show. She has a textured hairstyle meant to represent curls.

Rafa has some waves in her hair that do end in a little curl, and while in real life I would say she probably has one of the “B” classifications for curly hair and appears to have a stronger curl pattern than Temuera Morrison. That said, the animation is still fairly blocky and only represents her having curls.

This gif even shows it: Trace’s hair just... doesn’t move. It’s completely fixed. At least Rafa’s has a bit of sway and bounce at the bottom ringlet.

My honest opinion? The actual animation program itself is not designed to handle curls. What we see with both Martez ladies is that the CG part of their hair is very blocky, but the “texture” comes more from the hand-painted look.

This is something Filoni pushed from the start: CG animation was the new thing in 2005 and George Lucas wanted to use it for the show, but Filoni was a hand-drawing artist. He worked on Avatar the Last Airbender, for example. The way he could keep that feel with Clone Wars was to paint each “panel.” Thus, you had a merging of the two. Here’s a segment of a direct quote from Filoni, taken from this article.

“I wanted it to look like a painting— you see a textured, hand painted style on every character. I have texture artists who literally paint every character right down to their eyeball, because I wanted that human touch on everything.” -Dave Filoni

I actually looked into what program they used (at least for the earlier seasons). In 2008, it was produced by a company called Autodesk, and here is the announcement of them using the software. In the announcement, it mentions that one of Autodesk’s first (and main) developments is AutoCAD, and that their programs are meant to simulate real-world developments. Yeah... AutoCAD is an engineering/architechtural program. It’s very formulated and rigid because so are the materials it needs to simulate.

Here’s an example of a plant designed using a more recent version of AutoCAD (from the Autodesk website). Even with basic colors, it’s clear to see how its older versions would be best for a show full of armored troopers, ships, destroyers, walkers... pretty much every part of Star Wars except for the people, tbh.

The program, and thus any later ones developed off of it, was not equipped to program curly hair. It’s not in their coding.

The other problem is Lucasfilm was outsourcing the animating for most scenes to a team in Asia (as per the linked announcement). That’s not cheap. When you introduce a character like Tup, who is a smaller supporting character, it’s far easier to just use the already developed clone CG model and have his hair tied back so it lays flat. It’s logistically not worth figuring out curls for him.

Hell, look even at Anakin or Obi-Wan’s hair in the first seasons (just search gifs on tumblr tbh). It moves together in chunks, if at all. The last season does have more improvement, but by then 1) it’s ten years later, so animation programs have evolved significantly, and 2) they’re at Disney.

I may hate on Disney for a lot of things, but Disney and Pixar have pioneered so much for digital animation, including hair actually (i.e. Tangled & The Incredibles). And... it’s Disney. They’ve got some of the best technology out there, even if it’s just for a TV show. 

But, back to the clones. Take a look at any of the Sideshow collectible figures available for the clone troopers from the show. Even the short haired troopers have wavy definition to their hair, and for Tup it’s pretty clear he has a curl texture, just that it’s been tightly combed back into a bun.

To help, here’s a trio of images: the left is Temuera Morrison around when he was in Star Wars. The top right is the Showtime collectible of ARC Trooper Fives. The bottom right is Fives in the show. It’s clear they attempted Temuera’s curl texture on the figurine. If you look closely at Fives’ hair from the show still, it still attempts to show that but flat painted on the CG hair panel.

And here’s the clearest image I could find of Tup’s hair. Again, they tried to show his texture with the flat hand-painting.

¯\_(ツ)_/¯ They tried. Kind of. It just doesn’t translate well.

So, to sum it all up: the clones don’t have pin-straight hair. The animation makes it look that way because it is limited in its coding. But for the more realistic versions of the troopers, they’re shown to have some hair texture.

I don’t think they were being purposefully ignorant or racist by keeping the clones’ hair straighter. The style of animation chosen really was just not equipped to handle any type of curly hair pattern.

[For those of you wondering why they chose it though, one of the main reasons for the style was because they wanted motion capture for battle scenes. And y’know... after seeing the Ahsoka vs Maul fight in the final season... yeah, valid decision on that end.]

That said, something that was within the animation team’s control that we should be angry about is how they lightened/whitewashed the clones and Boba Fett in the series.

But that’s some tea for another time... ☕️🦅

If you like my research essays, consider donating to my Ko-Fi (18+ art gift included as thanks EDIT: this post was made in Sept 2020 and the gift is no longer available). If you want to be tagged in future Tea Times, fill out this form here!

[watchmegetobsessed]

Celebrity crush - Tom Holland

just a little something i thought about today!

word count: 3.1k

masterlist

“So this is how it’s gonna go. We’ll give you two options to choose from, you’ll say who you would rather choose to be your man, we’ll keep him and you’ll get a new face on the other side. Clear?” Ellen explains the game of ‘Who’d you rather’ to you as you nervously sit in the comfortable armchair. You shoot the audience a nervous look nodding your head.

“Sounds cool,” you clear your throat bracing yourself to whatever is about to come.

“Great, let’s see our first candidates!” she announces and you turn to the huge screen behind you when two faces appear next to each other. “We have Liam Hemsworth and Ansel Elgort. Who do you choose?”

“Um, tough start, I’ll go with Liam,” you say nodding to yourself. You’re satisfied with your choice.

“Alright next up we have Liam and…” Ansel’s face disappears and it’s replaced by a photo of Dylan Minnette.” Liam and Dylan!”

“Dylan is a cute guy, but I think I’ll stick with Liam.”

“Okay, Liam stays. Let’s see the next one,” Ellen nods and Dylan’s face is now replaced by Harry Styles. “Oh my! Harry or Liam?”

“Oh definitely Harry,” you say before you could even stop yourself from talking and the audience laughs, but totally agrees with your choice. “Just look at him! And I think you purposely used a picture where he has long hair. That was iconic.”

“He really did have all the looks,” Ellen agrees. “Okay, so we have lost Liam, now we are rolling with Harry. Let’s see the next contestant.”

As the picture changes on the screen your answer comes faster than you could even think about who you want to choose.

“Tom!” you snap immediately as Tom Holland’s photo appears on the big screen and the audience starts clapping at your fast response.

It’s been an open secret in your team that your absolute number one celebrity crush is none other than Spider-Man himself. You’ve seen all of his movies numerous times and on your latest birthday your friends even put a shirtless photo of him to your cake. You obviously didn’t post that one, but it did take a better place in your heart than the other, plain one.

“That was… pretty fast,” Ellen smirks at you and you can feel your cheeks growing warm at how unfiltered you were.

“I’m just a big fan of his,” you tell her, but your face gives you away.

“Who isn’t? Okay, let’s see the next one. Tom or Nick Jonas?”

“Tom,” you say without even giving Nick a second thought.

“Seems like we are picking up the pace of the game. Alright, Tom or… Zac Efron?”

“Tom.”

Ellen laughs at your eagerness to keep Tom, but she keeps going for two more rounds where you keep choosing Tom over Cole Sprouse and Taron Egerton, until his photo finally moves over to the middle as the winner.

“So I guess we have a winner over here. You didn’t seem to be willing to even look at anyone after Tom.”

“I told you, I’m a big fan of his,” you tell her with a shy, but flirty smile as you fix your designer dress and cross your legs.

“Have you—Have you ever met him?”

“Unfortunately not yet, but I’m hoping our paths will eventually cross. I’m a Spidey fan, seen all the movies and he is definitely my favorite so far.”

“What would you tell him if he was here now?”

You are quick to turn around and check he is not creeping his way up to you right now. You can never know what Ellen has in store for you, she is the queen of surprises when it comes to her show.

“He is not here, don’t worry,” she laughs as you sit back with a relieved sigh.

“I had to make sure,” you chuckle. “Anyway, my message to him is that if he ever wants to come and see my show, I can get him a free backstage pass,” you say and then flirtatiously wink at the nearest camera as the audience starts cheering.

“Tom, I hope you’re watching this and you are gonna take the next step. Y/N is waiting for you!” Ellen smirks before moving on with the second part of your interview.

Few days after the taping the interview finally airs and the internet goes crazy over your crush on Tom Holland. Your fans even make memes and montages of the two of you, some of them make you laugh hard when you are scrolling through your feed on your rehearsal.

To be honest, you thought it would be the end of the story, you quickly moved on since you had a sold out show next Saturday and you were in and out of rehearsals in the upcoming days, not even paying a second thought to what went down at the interview.

Saturday afternoon you are sitting at makeup when Rita, your manager walks in with the widest grin on her face you’ve ever seen.

“What’s gotten you so happy?”

“Guess who I just gave three passes to?”

You think to yourself, but don’t really have a valid guess. Unfortunately, Rita doesn’t want to give out the information that easily.

“Okay, if you can’t guess you’ll have to see it yourself. Pay extra attention to the VIP sector on the right tonight,” she hints before walking out.

“Rita! You can’t just not tell me!” you shout after her, but she is gone.

She successfully made you go crazy over who is going to be in the audience tonight, but also made sure no one gives you the info before the start, so you have to see it during the show.

“I fucking hate you,” you growl at her as you stand behind the stage, getting ready to start. The intro is already playing and the hairstylist is finishing up your hair one last time.

“Make sure to put extra effort into the Harder choreo today,” Rita winks at you and you scoff at her. Harder is one of your steamiest songs, and the dance you perform on stage is definitely a hot one where you truly feel like a badass woman in your tight, revealing costume.

The show starts off great, the crowd is going crazy and you are grateful to be with your fans tonight, but your eyes keep wandering over to the side where you are supposed to see the mysterious guest, but the lights are too bright for you to see anything other than pitch black. All lights are dimmed when Harder comes on and the red lights give just the perfect heated atmosphere the song needs. You’re wearing your skintight bodysuit and knee high boots, hair let down as you do your sexy dance with your female dancers in the back. In the middle of the song you go over to the right side where you are supposed to do a short routine on a chair, one of your favorite parts in the whole show. Singing the lines you sit down to the chair that was already waiting for you and just as you open your knees wide your eyes meet a familiar gaze and you almost forget to sing.

Tom Holland is standing in the VIP section with his pass hanging from his neck, he has his two brothers with him, but you pay little attention to them as you keep performing with your eyes glued to his handsome face.

Taking Rita’s advice you make sure the rest of the choreography is as sexy and heated as possible and you occasionally keep glancing in Tom’s direction who seems to be enjoying the show. It gives you the boost to bring the best out of yourself, he is smirking with amusement in his eyes and you catch him say something to his brothers from time to time who just nod in agreement. You’d die to know what his words were, but you can only hope he’ll come backstage after the show and you can ask him yourself.

By the end of the concert you are bursting from energy and this show will definitely be in your top ten for the rest of your life. You’re panting but grinning widely as you run off the stage and do a quick group hug with your dancers, something you never miss after every show as an appreciation and celebration of the good work you just did.

As you head to your dressing room you spot your manager who has a devilish smile on her face and you almost start lashing out on her, but then none other than Tom Holland shows up coming from the arena. You stop in your way as your eyes meet, eyebrows running up on your forehead when you see the big bouquet of flowers in his hands. He gifts you with a soft, shy smile, the one you’ve seen so many times on the big screen, but it’s a thousand times sweeter in real life.

“Hey!” he greets you waving in your way, as if you haven’t seen him. You don’t see anyone else in the room, to be quite honest.

“Hi! I… didn’t know you were coming tonight,” you admit tugging your hair behind your ear and you wish you felt less sweaty and smelly. You can only hope it’s not as bad as you think.

“I took your invitation serious,” he chuckles making you smile.

“I honestly didn’t think you’d ever see that, sorry if it was… too silly or something,” you tell him with a nervous laugh. It wasn’t in your plans to face him so fast after you admitted to the whole world that you have a fat crush on him.

“Well, it was hard not to see it when literally everyone was tagging me in posts about it.” He then realizes the flowers are still in his hands and steps closer. “Oh, I brought these for you. I hope it’s not too big of a cliché, but I wanted to give you something after the show.”

“That’s so sweet, thank you!” you tell him completely touched by the gesture as he hands you the beautiful bouquet. “Did you like the show?” you innocently ask, his look imprinted in your mind as he watched you in awe from the audience.

“It was fantastic! Really, mind-blowing. All the dancing and everything, I didn’t even know where to look.”

“Well, I saw you looking at me pretty often,” you flirt and hope you’re not being too bold. But there’s no way you are wasting this chance with Tom Fucking Holland, your all-time favorite Spider-Man and #ManCrushMonday. Though you haven’t posted about the latter, but you definitely thought about it before.

His cheeks turn red as he laughs nervously, scratching the back of his neck.

“Well, it was hard not to look when you were so breathtaking, to be honest.”

You can’t stop yourself from smiling like a teenage girl at the compliment. Even an idiot could feel that there is in fact something between the two of you and you truly hope he is feeling the same and it’s not just your crush talking from you.

“Hey, you guys should take a picture together,” Harry suggests and you suddenly feel ashamed you haven’t even acknowledged the twins’ presence.

“Oh, yeah, sure! But you guys should come too!” you tell him, but Tom is quick to differ.

“No!” he protests and you give him a surprised look before he corrects himself. “I mean—Let’s take one alone and then with the boys.”

“Okay,” you smile, and judging from the laugh his brothers try to hide you know his reasoning behind it. “I’m sorry if I’m sweaty and all,” you apologize as he stands next to you, curling an arm around your waist while you do the same and hold the flowers with your other arm.

“I think I’m just as sweaty after that show you just put out,” he admits and you can’t hold you laughter back.

Harry takes a few shots of the two of you before he and Sam joins you and a crew member takes a few group photos.

“Well, thank you for coming, I’m glad we got to finally meet,” you tell them, thinking about how you don’t want to part your ways so soon, but you have to start getting ready to leave.

“Me too, it was something to remember forever,” he admits with that same shy smile. “Hey, so I heard the big news that you’ll be performing at the Oscars!”

“Yes, it’s unbelievable! I’m so nervous just thinking about it!” you admit. It’s kind of an understatement, you’ve been practically shitting yourself ever since Rita broke the news for you that you’d be one of the performers at literally one of the biggest events all year.

“Congrats and… I guess we’ll meet in a week then.” The smile on his lips lets you know he is counting on seeing you on another occasion and you are happy he is on the same page as you.

“I guess,” you nod chuckling.

“Would it be too straight forward if I asked for your number maybe? Just to make sure we will meet that night.”

“Strictly for that reason,” you nod with a playful smirk as he hands you his phone and you type your number in quickly.

“I can’t wait to see you again,” he tells you as you hug goodbye to all three of the boys.

“Same here,” you nod before turning around and heading back to your dressing room.

 ***

 The Oscars is just as nerve-wrecking as exciting it is for you. It’s you first time doing such a huge performance and you definitely don’t want to be remembered for giving the worst show of all times. You smile your way through the red carpet even though you could break down in tears any minute. You’ve never felt this nervous before and you don’t like the effect it has on your mindset.

Sitting in your dressing room you are getting ready since your performance is just twenty minutes away. Your glam and outfit is completely done, but you just don’t feel the same in your thoughts.

From a sudden idea you send a text to Tom. It’s been an entire week since the show he attended and he texted you before you could even get back to your dressing room and you’ve been going back and forth ever since. He even FaceTimed you one night and you had a two hours long conversation about the most random things. Tom is easy to talk to and this is exactly how you imagined him. Your crush on him has just grown since you met him in real life. In this moment you feel like he is the person you want to talk to, but you doubt he even has his phone on him.

For your biggest surprise a reply arrives just seconds later.

“I’m on my way to you.”

It takes you a few moments to process that he indeed just left his seat at the Oscars to come and calm your nerves. Just about two minutes later there’s a soft knock on the door and after you call out, Tom appears in his perfectly fitted suit, looking better than ever and for a split second you forget everything and just think about how damn good he looks in a suit. When you return to reality panic sets back in and Tom can see it all in your eyes.

“Hey! Why are you so upset?” he gently asks as he steps closer to you taking your hands in his.

“I’m just so fucking nervous, what if I mess it up?”

“You won’t.”

“How do you know?” you whine, already seeing the worst things happen to you out there.

“I just know. I know, because you are literally the best. No one else deserves more to be here than you, alright? They asked you for a reason.”

“I’m just so scared something goes wrong,” you sigh, head hanging low, but he is quick to lift your chin up and make you look in his eyes.

“Everything will be alright. And if something do happen… I’ll just jump up to the table and pull my pants down so everyone will look at me and forget about what you messed up,” he tells you in an attempt to make you laugh and it works.

“That would be pretty funny.”

“Yeah? Do you want me to do it anyway?” he asks chuckling.

“No, keep your pants up,” you tell him shaking your head.

The door opens and an assistant pops his head inside.

“Y/N, we need to go, you are starting in five.” You nod your head and turn back to Tom.

“Can you come with me?” you ask him.

“Of course! Do you want me to stay at the side and wait for you?” You nod again, still feeling a little lost, but way better than before Tom arrived. “Alright. Let’s go then,” he smiles at you and the two of you walk out hand in hand.

He walks you all the way to the stage where you get your mic and earpiece, telling you encouraging words all along, calming your nerves as if it was his magical power.

“You got this,” he tells you, squeezing your hand one last time before you head out to the stage.

He was right, you got this. The song you performed was an excellent choice and the audience seemed to love the visuals and the dance. You get a standing ovation at the end and you almost start crying right there. You rush off the stage and immediately spot Tom still standing at the same spot you left him, his eyes and smile filled with pride and glory and your legs are just pushing your forward until you are in his arms, holding him tight, squeezing him happily as you squeal joyfully.

You lean back and your eyes move down to his lips the same time his gaze travels down to yours. In just a heartbeat you lean forward and your lips meet in a sweet, victorious kiss you’ve been waiting for so long. You melt into his lips, fingers tangled in his perfectly made hair as his palms lay flat on your bare back where the dress is not covering your shivering skin.

It takes quite some time for the two of you to let go of each other, one of you always goes in for just one more kiss as the backstage is rushing around you, people are running wildly to get everything in place when the show returns after the commercial break. Yet you just stand there with Tom, completely lost in each other.

“I think…” he starts quietly, a smirk hiding in his lips, “I think we owe Ellen a thank you,” he says making you laugh.

“Definitely,” you nod before pressing your lips back to his.

-

general/forever taglist for Tom Holland

i do separate taglists for different people, but not for different works of mine! if you ask to be on my Tom taglist, you’ll be tagged in all of my Tom fics!

@zaahidahhh​ @shawn-youth​  @wildflower-cth​ @imaginashawnns​ @haute-shawn  @learning-howto-be-myselfx3​ @cutepenguin1​ @madatmendes @harrysleftchelseaboot​ @sunflower6why​

if you’d like to be taken off or added to the list, please let me know!

[random-mha-thoughts]

Fidgety (LoV x Reader)

Pairing: League of Villains x Reader, platonic relationship

Shigaraki, Dabi, Toga, Mr. Compress, Kurogiri, Twice

Anon requested: “idk if you do requests, but league of villains with a suicidal parental abuse victim? you don't have to if you're uncomfortable”

Genre: Comfort/slight angst

Warnings: Implication of suicidal thoughts and abuse

Word Count: 1,255

Tags:  @yuki-osaki​ @liviitehe​ @iamsoftsodonttoucheume-blog​ 

a/n: I haven’t been inspired by a request in so long.  Either because it’s finally angsty/feelsy or because I found the perfect playlist on Spotify to listen to while writing it.  I really like it, it’s the first I’ve written that I’ve been really proud of in a while, so I hope you guys enjoy it.  And I hope if this is something you need right now, I hope it makes you feel just a little bit better, treat this as my hug to you.

"You're a weird one."

Shigaraki's voice comes out of the blue, startling me into jumping.  He's casually carrying an energy drink back to his room.  It's late in the night, I didn't think the rest would be awake by now.  I spare him one glance before resuming my activity.  "Says the alcoholic with chapped skin and scratchy neck," I mumble a retort.

"Yeah, says the one organizing Kurogiri's alcohol cabinet at 3 AM," the boy snorts back.  He seems amused by my position, standing on a metal stepladder to reach the top.

"I wish it was a bookshelf," I mutter barely above a whisper.

"What's that?"

"You're awake too, you know," I voice just a little louder.  Amaretto before the gin, Henny right after, I think as I move the bottles around.

I feel Shigaraki scan over my figure again before he shrugs.  "If you need me, I'll still be awake, you know where to find me.  You don't have to be up late alone."

My hands stop moving for a brief pause.  His casual offer echoes down the hallway as his faint steps retreat.  The fingers grasping my glass bottles slowly rest on the wooden shelf, letting the words linger in the air, my eyes closing slowly.

Once the moment is gone, I pull one of the bottles forward from the perfectly arranged lineup.  There has to be something slightly off, or else it'll look too clean.

.

"I thought you were gonna do the dishes tonight, what happened?"

The shift in Dabi's voice to something slightly more deadly makes my skin minutely jump and freeze.  My eyes downcast to the cards in my hand, flicking at the worn corner of the joker on top.  "I forgot, I'm sorry."

I hear rustling from him, and I keep an eye on his shadow on the floor.  He uncrosses his arms, one of them lifting up towards me.  I screw my eyes shut.

His hand lands on my shoulder.  "It's fine, just do it tomorrow.  I already did them so Crusty won't get annoyed."  His aquamarine eyes notice my frozen figure before resting on my hands.  "You must really love those cards since you carry them everywhere.  What do you do with them?"

I'm still shaken by his sudden touch.  "Nothing, really," I mumble.

After a pause, his hand on my shoulder rests on my head, softer this time but still elicits a flinch out of me.  "You're not bad, kid.  Remember that."

My head rolls up to meet his blank face before he turns around and heads back to his room.  The warmth of his hand still remains on my head, sort of as a comfort.  It's foreign, but satisfying, and I miss it.

.

"You always do that!"

I flinch at Dabi's sudden outburst against Shigaraki.  I don't know what they're fighting about, I tuned out sometime before the screaming happened.  A brief image of two people bickering and another of a man's face in full view pass through my head.

"God, you're the worst!  Why'd you come here if you can't handle me?" Shigaraki taunts back.  "Just go back to where you came from!"

"How about I just burn you to ash instead?!"

My mind chooses to focus on my tapping on the glass I'm holding, my back turned to the two, but I know they're probably up in each other's face already.

"Gentlemen!  Let's be more civil, shall we?" Compress's dramatic voice rings out to stop the two.  Kurogiri joins him in breaking it up and reprimanding them to apologize.

If only it were that easy sometimes.  If only they were there earlier.

A warm hand suddenly covers mine to stop my tapping.  "Aww (Y/n) sweetie, are you scared?  Should I go take care of them for you?"  Toga brandishes her knife, catlike eyes sparkling as the metal reflects off the light.

"No, I'm fine, just keeping myself present," I answer too quickly and rip my hand away from her to take a sip from my glass to seem more natural.

"You know, you shouldn't hide your feelings like that."  She leans her head on her hand, propped up on the bar.  "You're valid, you matter here.  Big sis Toga will take care of all your demons, physical and mental.  I'd have so much fun if you let me!"  Her wide smile shows off her sharp teeth.

My drink slides down my throat which much difficulty, passing the lump forming.  I finger my deck of cards near my left hand, playing with the soft, worn corner of the top card.  "Thanks."  It may sound like empty gratitude on the outside, but her words mean more to me than she knows.

.

Shigaraki, Dabi, and Spinner went out on a mission and they still aren't back yet.  I sit at the bar where Kurogiri left me, shuffling through my cards again.

"Oh, (Y/n), there you are," Twice greets as he and Mr. Compress approach and sit in the chairs on either side of me.  I barely nod in acknowledgment at them.

The latter man observes my nervously shaking hands as I move cards around the stack.  "Dabi said you play with those cards all the time.  What do you do with them?"

I sneak a glance at him just briefly.  "I just...organize them.  Put them in order."  My stack is already pretty much in order.  I add in the last of the cards I'd left on the counter to hold onto, save for the Jokers.  I stick those outsider cards randomly inside the perfect deck, ruining the order.

"They looked pretty worn in and creased, how long have you had them?" Twice asks.

My finger comfortingly plays with the corner of the ace on the bottom.  The cards have long lost their fresh white color, some of the colored parts have chipped, and they're all slightly bent instead of pin straight.  They and I have been through a lot.  "I don't know, pretty long."

"They must mean something to you, which makes me a bit reluctant to give you these."  Compress takes out one of his blue marbles and places it in his palm.  Once he opens it, an unopened deck is revealed.  "A brand new deck erases all the emotions and memories from the old one, but I guess I was hoping you'd give them up in favor of making new ones."

I take them from his hand, opening the top.  The smell of new cardboard and paper hits me immediately.

"Well, it's from both of us," Twice adds quickly.  "We know you're probably holding onto your old life and you might not want to move on from it."

That can't be farther from the truth, I wish I can move on.

"But we hope you can perhaps bury them among your more positive experiences with us," Mr. Compress finishes.  "You're part of the family now, and there's nothing we wouldn't do to protect you.  You're important to us, we want you to be happy even if it takes a while to get there."

"And we'll definitely be there to help you get to that point!"

My hands clamp around the box of cards.  I'm afraid to even take them out, fearing that I'll soil the precious gift I've been given if I just touch them.  My eyes fill with tears at their comfort, body trembling as I want to curl in on myself.

As both of them embrace me, I can't shake the lingering thoughts of disappointing them, but I'll be damned if I won't at least try finding my purpose in life, and I know they'll help me every step of the way.  It feels right being with them here, maybe I can live for them, if that turns out to be enough.

[kittyprincessofcats]

RWBY Volume 8, Episode 14 - The Final Word

Thoughts on the final episode of RWBY Vol 8 under the cut.

Also, I will from now on reblog spoilers for Volume 8, which will be tagged with “RWBY v8 spoilers” if you want to blacklist them.

tw: Since the episode itself had the same content warning, I should mention that I will be discussing themes of suicide in this post.

Also, everything I’m about to say is *my* personal opinion. I’m not trying to tell anyone else that they’re supposed to feel the same way about anything in this episode. In turn, please don’t tell me how to feel about it either.

- I should start by bringing up what I said in my post about episode 13, because all of that is going to become relevant now:

So... that all aged... interestingly.

- Next, I should say that I actually did end up getting spoiled about Penny’s death. I was trying really hard and didn’t go into any tags, but literally one day before this episode was released to the public, Tumblr recommended me two blogs with the titles “Penny deserved better” and “Justice for Penny Polendina”… so I drew my conclusions from that. And while I think those blog titles are valid sentiments, I do wish people would wait a week before putting spoilers in a blog title. But then again, I was weirdly glad to get spoiled this time, because it meant I was more emotionally prepared.

- And now, on to my very controversial opinion about this finale: I… uhm… I actually liked it. There, I said it. I liked it. I’m seeing a lot of takes from people who hated it, and that’s totally fair, but personally, to my own surprise, I liked it. (It’s kind of interesting that last time I said it would be “awful writing” to kill Penny now, then it happened, now the whole fandom is complaining about it being awful writing… and I’m here going “actually… that wasn’t so bad”.) That’s not to say that I’m a fan of everything in this finale, especially re: Penny – but overall, the good outweighed the bad *for me*. (Stressing again that this is just how *I* feel.)

- I think the main reason I feel that way is because I honestly expected way worse. If you read that thing I wrote last week^, you see I expected multiple character deaths. I was incredibly nervous. And after I’d already spent a few minutes genuinely thinking Yang died (because of a badly worded episode 13 spoiler I accidently saw), I had to think about the kind of deaths that would be a dealbreaker for me and make me drop the show. (Let’s say it like this: If either of Bumbleby ever died for real, I would be done with this show immediately.) So, in short, I was terrified of the finale and expected it to be the kind of finale that ruins the show for me (which has happened in far too many fandoms so far) – and it wasn’t. I have mixed feelings about how they handled Penny’s story, too, but this finale didn’t ruin the show for me and I honestly felt way worse after the Volume 3 finale. Maybe that’s because I wasn’t prepared for it at the time, but this time I spent a whole week being super anxious, so when I’d actually finished the finale, I just felt overwhelming relief.

- Okay, so let’s talk Penny: Back in Episode 12, I already wasn’t a huge fan of the idea to make her human (if that even is what she was?), but I think I said I’d reserve judgment on it until we see where they go with it. Obviously, it feels unsatisfying to have the show just kill her off after everyone’s been trying to save her all volume. And of course, it’s never fun to see a favorite character of yours (and Penny is definitely a favorite of mine) get killed off. The way it happened (a character who’s been trying to sacrifice herself the whole volume finally doing so through assisted suicide, even though there could have been several potential ways to still save her) feels incredibly unsatisfying and depressing as well. The “heroic sacrifice” cliché isn’t new, but there’s still a difference between a sacrifice that feels necessary and like it really was the only way (Hazel, Vine) and one that feels more like a character being over-eager to sacrifice themselves even though there might have been alternatives (Penny). So really, I understand why people don’t like this, especially because the narrative, so far, seems to validate Penny’s choice by having her plan work. And that does send the opposite of the “fight for every life”, “no one is replaceable” message this volume had been going for until then.

- And this is why, I think Penny’s death is meant to be awful. Volume 9 might prove me wrong on this, but I think we haven’t seen the end of this storyline yet. For me personally, it’s too early to judge this plot-point by itself because it depends a lot on how they deal with it in the aftermath and how things go from here. (For instance: I hated Pyrrha’s death at first because going into a fight she knew she couldn’t win also felt like a needless heroic sacrifice to me. It was only how the aftermath of it was handled from there that made me be okay with it.) So basically, what I’m asking is: How will the other characters handle Penny’s death now? Will Ruby (or anyone else) get angry at Jaune for agreeing to kill her? How will Ruby grieve in general? And, most importantly: Will the narrative really treat Penny’s choice as the “right” one or will it challenge that view? (And was there maybe more going on that we know because I’ve been reading those “Penny is alive” theories and… oh boy.) So yeah – for me it depends on how it gets handled from here.

- Also, I just want to say that I really appreciate RT putting a suicide trigger warning in the beginning of the episode and I wish people wouldn’t twist that into a bad thing. (I’ve seen some takes along the lines of “If they had to put a warning, that means they were aware it’s a harmful message, so that makes it worse” and… please don’t do that. Content creators putting trigger warnings on things is a good thing. Also, this might be a controversial take, but I don’t think fiction always has to “send a good message and teach you a lesson.” The important thing is that RT were aware that this episode could be upsetting/distressing to people and that’s why they put a warning and the suicide hotline’s number in the description.)

- Anyway, I’ve been rambling for too long. My point is: I understand the criticisms and agree with some of them, but I hope the writers know what they’re doing here and I want to believe that they do. I also love all the theories about Penny coming back (in Winter’s mind, for example) and I think they’re not actually that unlikely. And if Penny doesn’t come back, then honestly, I’m okay with that, too. At the end of the day, she’s a fictional character. I can always go and read fanfictions where she’s alive and lives happily ever after with Ruby and nothing that happens in canon can ever take that away. Canon only has as much power as you want it to have. I can enjoy the canon show and the story they’re telling (even if Penny is dead for good this time), while still also enjoying my AUs where she’s fine. One doesn’t harm the other.

- (Also, let me take this moment to shamelessly promote my favorite cartoon show because I think this is relevant to the interests of anyone who hates the “person who’s been trying to sacrifice themselves the whole time ends up doing just that” story: The main character in She-Ra and the Princesses of Power is self-sacrificial to the point of it being unhealthy, but the show explicitly doesn’t treat this as a good thing. When she tries to sacrifice herself for the greater good in the final arc and says it’s better that way, this is treated as a problem, and the lesson she ends up learning in the end is her life has value, too, and that she deserves to be happy. (The show’s also very gay.)

- I don’t know if brought any of this across properly. Basically… I’m not happy about where they went with Penny either, but I am okay with it. I still enjoyed the finale and will continue to enjoy the show. And I want to focus on the things that make me happy about RWBY and made me happy about the finale, so I’ll talk about the rest of the episode now (while rewatching it because I’ll forget stuff otherwise):

- Have I mentioned I really love the Volume 8 opening? Because I really do.

- That shot of the destroyed whale is still awesome.

- I love how the episode opens with all the fights we left off with (Winter vs. Ironwood, Penny vs. Cinder, Harriet vs. Qrow, Ruby vs. Neo) and cuts between them. Also, the music is amazing!

- Elm admitting that Harriet is their friend and that being what finally gets through to her was a nice conclusion to their little arc, I guess. Vine’s sacrifice and his admittance that they’re his friends and he’s doing this for them were touching. Honestly, Harriet is right to blame herself for his death. That said, while this volume made me strongly dislike her, I do hope she now gets an arc about actually dealing with her grief and changing. I think that would be way more interesting to see than still having her be bitter, especially after what happened in this episode.

- Qrow causing good luck to stop the bomb was a nice little moment and honestly makes sense. Good luck and bad luck are just a matter of perspective, after all. What’s bad luck for yourself will be good luck for your enemies and vice versa. So, maybe Qrow technically caused “bad luck” for the bomb? Either way, I like the idea of him realizing that his semblance is more than what he thought.

- Cinder breathing fire during the fight was awesome. I need GIFs of that.

- Blake was amazing in this episode! I love that she didn’t let her grief over Yang consume her, but got up and kept fighting, kicked Cinder in the face and told Weiss to get up. Good stuff!

- I wonder if Cinder’s “You should have never been born” line to Ruby was just a generic “I hate you” line or meant something more.

- Do people honestly think that Cinder betraying Neo was unexpected or like… super unreasonable for a villain? Neo did threaten her – most typical villains don’t react well to their underlings threatening them, so I really don’t see why some people are so shocked or downright offended about this (is it just because they like Neo?).

- Weiss being the last one standing and using Blake’s weapon in the fight was absolutely amazing.

- The tragedy of Jaune sending Nora to bring the Huntsmen and Huntresses back through the portal while not knowing the portal is a one-way deal…

- Cinder knowing that Salem is back because her Grimm arm started hurting was a super interesting moment. And Weiss’ shocked face in that moment was quite interesting, too.

- I wonder if Penny really meant dying when she said “Let me choose this one thing”. To me, it sounded more like she meant choosing the next Winter Maiden. Also, her “trust me” to Jaune is an interesting line. Between that and us not seeing how that conversation goes on, I wonder if there’s something we don’t know here. (*puts on my “Penny is alive” tinfoil hat*)

- I’m glad they at least didn’t graphically show Penny’s death – which is an interesting choice again, because this show doesn’t usually shy away from making deaths graphic and portraying them in all their brutality. So, the fact that we don’t see the act itself and then just cut to Penny’s conversation with Winter was interesting. (But I am glad about it because I didn’t want to see that.) It might honestly just be because of the nature of Penny’s death that they didn’t want to show it too much (and that’s fair).

- “You were my friend.” Gosh, this rewatch is making me cry now 😭. (I also think it’s interesting that Winter calls herself a machine and Penny is now the one who corrects her. It’s a nice callback to Ruby telling Penny she’s their friend and “not just a machine”.)

- I was also just reminded that Penny died thinking Ruby was dead… ouch. This possibly hurts me more than Penny’s death itself.

- People have also pointed out that when Penny transfers the powers to Winter, her aura looks yellow (like Jaune’s) with only some green sparks (like Penny’s). Hmm… I really wonder if there’s more going on here.

- “I won’t be gone. I’ll be part of you.” Who’s cutting onions in here?

- Honestly, the main reason I kind of forgave them for killing Penny was because THAT MOMENT of Winter opening her eyes with the powers while that epic music plays was just amazing to witness. And her fight with Cinder? EPIC. BREATHTAKING. BEAUTIFUL. I’m not even that into the idea of Winter as the Winter Maiden (I honestly thought Penny, the robot girl, becoming the Winter Maiden was a much more interesting plot), but the way it was done in this episode was great. I’m glad we’re finally getting that rivalry between Winter and Cinder, because their arcs parallel each other in so many ways. And I love the symbolism of Winter only getting the powers that Ironwood chose for her after she betrayed Ironwood. I like the idea that she only became worthy of them after turning on Ironwood (which does work well with her Volume 7 arc).

- Oh, by the way, I really hate the “Team RWBY will become the four maidens eventually” theory. Even if it didn’t require characters to die, I just think it would be cheap and way too obvious, and I think it’s boring to throw all the magic powers at the main characters. So, if they only made Winter the Winter Maiden so she can eventually die and pass it on to Weiss, I’ll be very annoyed. (But I hope that’s not where this is going.)

- I’m also just realizing that Cinder asking “How am I supposed to take her power if she’s dead?” about Penny a few episodes ago was foreshadowing… damn.

- Jaune’s sword breaking was a really cool and symbolic moment, too.

- Winter trying to save Weiss from falling and not reaching her in time really got to me. I’m mostly not that affected by any of Team RWBY falling into the void because… come on, we know they’ll be fine. But Winter thinking her little sister just died is… oof. Maybe it’s because I have two younger sisters, but stuff like that really gets to me.

- Also, Winter going through that portal and seeing her family after she just (as far as she knows) lost Weiss… ouch. They never got to all reunite with each other (yet).

- I absolutely LOVED that final scene between Salem and Cinder. They’re both such fascinating characters and I just live for their interactions. Cinder talking herself down (even though she got the relics, so she knows she succeeded at the most important part) was amazing on her part. She did learn from Salem! It’s also interesting that even though she got what Salem wanted, Cinder didn’t get what she herself wanted (the Maiden Powers). I feel like that’s eventually going to become important.

- I wonder if Salem believed Cinder’s lies or not. I’ve seen some interesting opinions in both directions here. (Also, again, I don’t get why some people are so shocked and offended about Cinder lying? I’ve seen so many “I hope she pays for her lies” takes and… really? That’s her biggest crime in your eyes? Lying to another villain?? I don’t think any of you villain-haters feel bad for Salem here, so why… oh. Oh, nevermind, I just understood. They’re not mad that Cinder lied, they’re mad because they wanted Salem to kill her. Gosh, that’s so dumb. Face it, people: That’s not going to happen because Salem still needs the Fall Maiden’s powers. She’s not going to kill Cinder anytime before Cinder opens the last vault.)

- Cinder killing Watts with the staff was kinda funny, tbh. Also Salem’s proud little smirk in that scene kills me.

- “And that’s checkmate.” THAT. Okay, THAT was the best line in the entire episode, I don’t make the rules. What an epic moment!! Gosh, have I mentioned I love Cinder to death? What a queen! This volume really completely changed my opinion on her. I’ve already said that she’s my standout character of the volume, and I stand by that. It was her volume in so many ways and it’s so fitting that she gets to say the last line. It’s also such an interesting line in so many ways: 1) Because this episode is called “The Final Word”, is the only episode in this volume that doesn’t have a one-word title, and the actual final word of the episode is “checkmate”, it implies that “Checkmate” is the real, hidden title of the episode. And that fits so well! They could have easily just named the episode “Checkmate”, but revealing it like this works even better. 2) I also love the chess symbolism in this volume in general. There was a really great analysis about it on here somewhere, but basically: Salem is the king, Cinder is the queen (the king can’t die and barely moves, the queen is out there getting rid of opposing player pieces). And the interesting thing about that here is that the king can’t actually checkmate anyone else, only other chess pieces can. So, it’s very fitting that Cinder is the one who says “checkmate”. Also, in a game of chess, you often have to sacrifice your own pieces to win, which is what Cinder did. 3) I also LOVE the realization on Ironwood’s face when he realizes that he’s been so paranoid about Salem, but he’s actually been playing Cinder all along. (Someone else on here pointed out that there’s something super poetic about Cinder, someone who was very much a victim of Atlas’ systemic problems, being the one to defeat Ironwood and destroy his kingdom. Ironwood was ready to sacrifice all the poor people from Mantle for his own goal, and a poor person who was hurt by people in Atlas is the one who destroyed him. Yeah, yeah, Cinder’s evil and all, but I love it! 4) It’s also really interesting to me that Salem said “This game is not yours to win, it’s mine” to Cinder in the first episode of this Volume, but in the end, Salem ended up being gone for the entire last part of the volume and Cinder is the one who got to say “checkmate.” IT’S JUST SO GOOD.

- And ngl, I’m super happy for Cinder. She really got it all. Yeah okay, she didn’t get the Maiden Powers (and I hope she never does, because one person being two maidens at once is lame), but she got the relics, got rid of her enemies and co-workers (or so she thinks), destroyed the kingdom that she was a slave to, got back into Salem’s good graces… good for her! And apparently one of the buildings that you see being flooded was the Glass Unicorn? Amazing. Love that.

- (Yes, I’m team “redemption for Cinder please”, but come on… it was never going to happen this volume. And if it never happens, that’s okay, too – I’m loving her as a villain as well!)

- Also, I hope that all the people who were specifically criticizing Cinder for not being a competent enough villain are very happy now. Because there you have the competent villain you said you wanted! I mean, I’m saying this as someone who used to criticize Cinder’s character for not being interesting/deep enough. I used to say that I’d like a backstory or something that makes her more interesting/compelling to me. But as soon as we got that backstory, I happily switched sides to team “I like Cinder now”. So, I better not hear any complaining from the “I just want her to be a more competent villain” faction now!

- Yeah, I admit I’m getting annoyed with the Cinder hate. Everyone has a right to their opinions, but it gets frustrating when you’re going through the tag of a character you like and half of the tag are people talking about how badly they want that character to die. (Maybe use a seperate tag for it?)

- (I’m just realizing that I said “Well, at least it was only one character death” earlier, but people like Ironwood and Watts actually did die… I just didn’t count those because I don’t care. Sorry not sorry.)

- We decimated Salem’s faction quite a bit this volume, didn’t we? There’s only Cinder, Tyrian, and Mercury left. I wonder if Salem will get some new people on her side.

- Overall, while I did like this episode, I feel like Volume 8 got weaker towards the end. Most Volumes were at their best towards the end, but I feel like episodes 8-11 were the strongest parts of Volume 8, while episodes 12-14 were still good, but not as good.

- My prediction is that Volume 9 will (of course) be Tearm RWBY’s way out of the void (or whatever that place where they ended up is called) – And I quite like the theory that we won’t see the other characters at all and it’ll be focused only on what’s happening in the void.

[shhh-no-ones-home]

rodeo clown jack daniels x reader

++++++++++

happy late valentines day! sorry ive been absent for a while ive been writing headcanons on my wattpad rather than new oneshots. if anyone would like to check them out they can be found here :)

Prompt:

"Right now i dont know if i want to kiss you or shove you off a bridge." "can i pick?"

song: shes too tough by def leppard

tag list: @cynic-spirit

+++++++++

I sat at the one end of the bar and watched whiskey on the other as he looked out the window from his spot in the booth. we had been assigned a new mission together, something small since i was still training. we just had to tag some guy and get out, nothing too serious. i was supposed to be doing all the work but if worst came to worst whiskey was here to pickup the slack. but its really just because he didnt think i could do it and expressed those feelings to champ. He said I was too young, and that he didn't wanna have to babysit me when they started assigning us more missions together. more strenuous missions.

i frowned at the thought and sipped from my glass, haphazardly pulling at the hem of my short black dress. it was already past ten and the target still hadnt arrived. our informant said he would be here. i was starting to lose hope, looking from the bartender as she topped me off  and back to jack again. he nodded at me once, his eyes shifting behind me. i drew my brows before turning, the man stepping up to the bar beside me and ordering.

"ill have what she's having."

he said slyly, looking to me with a smirk. i faked a blushy moment, looking down with a small smile.

"to what do i owe the pleasure?"

i asked, looking back to him as the bartender set his drink down. he offered his hand for me to shake.

"im matt, and im celebrating."

"oh?"

i asked as he downed the whole glass. he nodded quickly, standing closer to my side and placing his hand at my back. i just watched him with a knowing smile as he motioned for another.

"can you keep a secret?"

i nodded slowly, leaning in as he got closer.

"i just closed a very big deal. one that will push my company higher than we've ever been before."

i raised a brow, looking to jack for a split second. he was staring at us intently, his hand on his hip like he was ready to attack at any moment.

"and what does that mean exactly?"

i asked and the man just stared at me until i let out a nervous laugh, one he quickly copied with an enthusiastic boast. he draped his arm over my shoulder and downed another glass.

"it means that if tonight goes well, and im hoping that it does, you could be one very lucky girl."

he said and i drew my brows, sipping my own drink as me moved to sit on the stool beside me, scooting it closer to me.

"is that so?"

i said and he nodded.

"you ever consider being a sugar baby? cause i could take care of you for just a little bit of company."

he said with a wink and my eyes went wide.

"go with me to big branding parties, let me love on you a little bit here and there,"

his voice dropped at the last bit, his hand making its way to my thigh as i crossed one leg over the other.

"keep conversations with me over text, and you could be living very comfortably."

i laughed a little to myself as he began to sway back and forth. fuckin lightweight. i nodded.

"how about we start with a trial run?"

i asked and he wiggled his brows at me, downing a fourth glass.

"is that an invitation to get out of here?"

he asked and i stood.

"you tip that nice woman behind the bar very well and it sure as hell is."

i said and he stood too, stumbling a little into me as he reached for his wallet. i steadied him as he dug into it and slapped two hundred dollar bills on the lacquered wood separating us from her.

"you have a great night."

he told her boldly, wrapping his arm around my waist and turning us around. i nodded to jack quickly before he pulled us closer to the door. i could hear jacks boots against the floor a few feet behind us as we made it outside.

"is it hot out here or is it just you?"

matt asked and i half snorted.

"oh its definitely her."

jack said from behind us, making the guy turn around confused.

"hey man, can i help you?"

he asked and i sent jack a testing look.

"just worried for her safety is all."

jack said and the man laughed.

"shes the one taking me home, you have nothing to worry about cowboy, so just head on back inside."

he instructed, turning back around and trying to walk away with me. then jack grabbed his shoulder harshly, spinning him around and colliding his fist with matts face. i gasped as he hit the ground, seemingly out cold.

"what the hell?!"

i said, kneeling down beside him and turning his face towards me. he just groaned, his eyes still closed as his nose started bleeding.

"i dont like the way he was touching you."

whiskey said and i sent him a stern look.

"this was my mission whiskey, it wasnt up to you."

i said angrily, reaching into my pocket and pulling out the tracker.

"youre bleeding matt, im gonna touch your face."

he groaned again, rocking his head back and forth as he tried to blink his eyes open. it only sort of worked. i touched his nose gently and he hissed, closing them again. i just shook my head, placing the tracker at the tip of the napkin jack handed me, shoving it into the side of his nose that was gushing red. when my phone beeped i knew it was now in the wound and working. i stood up and pressed my finger into jacks chest.

"i cant believe you. in had this."

he sent me a look.

"but now the hard parts over."

he said and i seethed.

"yes i get that on one hand i dont have to go home with him but im mad at you."

i said half annoyed and jack smirked.

"Right now i dont know if i want to kiss you or shove you off a bridge."

"can i pick?"

he asked and i rolled my eyes, looking back down to matt on the ground, eyes closed and hand holding the napkin to his face.

"no."

i said sternly looking back to him and pushing him to the side of the building.

"seriously jack why did you do that? i had this under control."

i whispered and he just stared at matt on the ground.

"i told you, he was creeping me out. and the way he was groping you was just downright disrespectful."

i laughed, taking his attention.

"and what about it?! i would've gotten back to his hotel without you if we'd gone any further anyways, so what does it matter?"

i asked harshly and he looked a little mad.

"unless you're jealous? is that why you told champ you didn't want me here alone?"

i accused and he gripped my arms, turning me and pushing me into the wall.

"i don't get jealous."

he said lowly and i raised a brow.

"then why is the target on the ground and youre all hot and bothered?"

i challenged. his grip on me tightened. we just stared at each other for a moment. he was still fuming but with the silence hung in the air like a noose i could tell he didnt have a valid answer to my question.

"so how long have you had a crush agent?"

i taunted and he let out a long, deep breath.

"im a grown man, i dont have a crush."

he said and i snorted, pressing my knee in-between his legs.

"then whats this jack?"

i said lowly and his gaze darkened.

"that darlin, is desire."

i raised a brow.

"so should i be going home with you instead?"

i asked innocently and he smirked at me.

"think you could tame this horse?"

he said smoothly and i leaned forward, close to his ear as he still had me pinned to the wall.

"why dont you take me to the rodeo and find out."

i bit his earlobe lightly and he pulled away.

"this job is done right?"

he asked and i laughed, looking over his shoulder at matt still on the ground, rolling to his side and pulling the napkin out of his nose.

"i think so."

i said, looking back to jack and he let me go, taking my hand in his.

"sorry about that!"

i yelled, matt looking to me as jack dragged me down the sidewalk.

"so is that a no on the offer?"

he yelled back and i giggled, looking to jack who had a wide smile on his face.

"guess so."

[221bshrlocked]

Serial killer dream anon (can we take a moment to admit how funny some of our anon names are), i just want to say if Dangerous Line was a bit too much then me and so many others definitely love over the top. The dirtier the writing the better in my opinion👀 Mando/Javier/any Pedro fanfic has shown me I’m into things I would have never thought of. (Maybe just things Pedro and his life ruining tactics can do) Bless you and your fantasies, continue to get them out of your system as you need, we have no complaints, we’re all thirsty here. Like these gifs people keep sending you, how are we supposed to get a break from thots for Pedro🥵 but maybe another interesting dream will come out of these, I could go for more dangerous Pedro.

LOL we’ve got the serial killer anon, the gun anon, the spitting anon. Someone needs to take us to the next level, although I’m not sure if it gets worse than this. Anyway, back to the filthy fics and messages...I’m glad yall are as filthy as me (if not more) because that just validated my posts and the fic warnings. So I guess the tags and rants will only be getting much more nsfw/darker from now on. And definitely don’t think of Serial Killer!Pedro showing you around and inviting you to dinner and a movie back in his place because he’s cooking and you’re having a lovely meal and you go back to his couch and you’re watching something or other but neither of you is actually paying attention and you’re starting to get flustered, not because you’re afraid of him, but because you’re turned on by the fact that he could literally do whatever he wanted with you and then he’s throwing his arm behind you on the couch and leaning closer and the movie is forgotten and he just-

“Why did you accept my invitation baby? When you know what I am...when you know what I’m capable of.”

And you’re shivering under his touch and leaning into him and he grabs your neck with his other hand and squeezes just enough to tell you he’s very much in control before standing up and pulling you with him and he’s carrying you into his room and he throws you on the bed and Pedro doesn’t give a single damn that you could see the two guns on his nightstand and the rope peaking from one of the drawers and oh my god-

“You and I are going to have so much fun.”