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beckydoesthings · 3 years

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various fics of hxl that i adore reading! this list is quite lengthy, but feel free to message me if you have any questions!

*will continue to be updated. also, if i mistagged you, i apologize, i do not know how to tumblr*

Love Is a Rebellious Bird

E | 134k | @100percentsassy and gloria_andrews

AU in which the boys still make music. Louis is the concertmaster of the London Symphony Orchestra, Harry is the New! and Exciting! interim conductor/ex-cello prodigy who "has made Mozart cool again" according to Esquire Magazine (Louis hates him immediately, which is definitely why he internet stalked him in his dark bedroom late at night that one time), and Niall is the best. Zayn and Liam are around too.

Don't hum Bolero.

i think this tickled every bone of my musical self and also made me cry (are you seeing a theme here??) one of the first fics i fell in love with and one i keep coming back to.

Collision

E | 226k | @tequiladimples

Mythology/Fairytale!AU in which Louis is a dainty fairy with a temper who wants to be intimidating and Harry hurts people. Naturally, they hate each other.

(Featuring Liam, the big and not-so-bad wolf who’s got a thing for humans, Zayn, a human with supernaturally good looks, and Niall, the cupid who just wants his job to be easier.)

the world building in this one is insanity - so much good mythology mixed in and it made me screech with joy. i think i can firmly say that i did not expect where the plot went, but that made the story so much better.

Flour and Chocolate

M | 145k | @danosphere91

It was nice, for a bakery he supposed.

Then he approached the display cabinet.

And the foreboding slammed into him. Because every product had letters next to it. Letters. GF, DF, V, O, VGN.

What. The. Fuck?

Lifting his eyes to the chalkboard menu spread across the back wall Louis felt physically ill. ‘Gluten-free’, ‘organic’, ‘vegan’, ‘paleo’, ‘dair-…’ Wait, what the fuck was a paleo? He had entered some hipster-trash establishment and it was more than time to get out.

Louis is a single dad and Harry works at the newly opened bakery down the street.

the miscommunication in this fic is SO REAL and makes for a good read. the rest of the flour and chocolate series is also fantastic. i thoroughly enjoyed both the ziam and ed/niall arcs that bring the whole story together.

run away home

E | 106k | @hattalove

Louis stands, in the middle of a clearing with his hands in his pockets, and stares. This boy—God, this gorgeous, gorgeous boy. He seems so clumsy, confused at the best of times, but there’s a wisdom about him as he speaks, a maturity that belies his age.

Louis is hopelessly, wildly attracted to him.

or, louis is a successful jockey down on his luck, struggling to get his life back on track after an injury. harry has a horse, a house fit for a prince, and a broken heart.

it takes them a while to figure out that they need each other.

this makes my inner horse girl extraordinarily happy - even if i don’t know anything about horse racing. louis’ story in this is beautiful and makes the whole piece worth a read.

waiting for the tides to meet

E | 60k | @nauticalleeds

Louis lets out a deep breath, thinking about Harry’s soulmate. Thinking about how Harry’s soulmate is probably as beautiful as Harry, some person that Louis cannot compare to, and how the universe has chosen them to be Harry’s. Fuck the universe. “Fuck you,” he calls out to the universe. He’s aware of how crazy he sounds.

Maybe he is crazy, with how he’s falling for Harry. And fuck that, too.

Soulmate AU. Everyone is born with heterochromia — one eye is their own eye colour, while the other is the colour of their soulmate's. It's only when they meet their soulmate for the first time that their own eyes match properly. After a hazy night at a frat party, Louis wakes up to blue eyes and the shocking realization that he had met his soulmate, without any sober recollection. Seven years pass where Louis comes to terms with the fact that he'll never know who his soulmate is. Then one fated summer, a beautiful green-eyed photographer arrives at Louis' workplace, with promises of endless laughter and a familiar feeling in Louis' heart.

Featuring a lovely cup of OT5, a road trip down the coast, and a scene where Harry eats a whole head of lettuce. Don't ask why.

gorgeous soulmate AU that gives me summer cruising vibes. worth the read for the lettuce scene alone (i kid, i kid)

Do Not Go Gentle

E | 70k | @afirethatcannotdie

“This is all a game to you, isn’t it? Well, it’s not for me. This is a real life or death situation,” Louis says, spitting the words at him. “And I just don’t think you’re cut out for it.”

For a moment, they stare at each other in complete silence. Harry can feel his blood thrumming between his ears, can see Louis glaring at him, feels red-hot anger. And then all he feels, oppressively and desperately, is lust.

Suddenly Louis is surging up to him to press his lips against Harry’s. Harry walks the two of them backwards, pressing Louis back against the door. Louis oomphs in surprise and brings his hands under Harry’s scrub top, scratching at his lower back.

“Lock — oh — lock the… fucking door,” Louis mutters.

When Harry Styles starts his first day as a surgical intern, he expects a lot of things: to treat patients, to observe a surgery, to feel a bit overwhelmed. What he definitely doesn't expect, however, is that the handsome guy he kicked out of his bed this morning is also an intern.

A Grey’s Anatomy AU where tensions are high, Harry and Louis are hooking up in secret, and no one has time for love. Or do they?

okay i’ve watched maybe 3 episodes of Gray’s Anatomy, but i feel like this encompasses the vibe of the show: medical stuff with a hefty dose of angst and sexual tension

Falling For Me Won’t Be A Mistake

M | 58k | @all-these-larrythings

Harry is married to his job and so overworked that he doesn't know how to stop. All it takes is a forced Hawaiian get-a-away, the warm tropical breeze of the island, and the most beautiful, elusive man he's ever seen to make him remember what living is like outside of work. Well, that, and the little souvenir he accidentally takes home with him.

one of my favorite mpreg fics so if that’s not your cup of tea, then don’t read it. i love surgeon harry with a vengeance, but honestly Gems and Niall are iconic in this one.

Watching the World Fall

E | 11k | @crazyupsetter why won’t it let me tag :(

This segment has been going on long enough that Louis knows what’s coming before James starts in on it, trying to sell him on something he knows that Louis wouldn’t normally be buying. But there’s four cameras surrounding him, and an audience watching him expectantly, so if Louis wants to continue convincing people that he’s doing just fine, he’s going to have to go along with it.

“We have a whole host of single men backstage waiting to meet you, Louis,” James tells him. “We want to help you find love tonight, on Late Late Live Tinder. Is this okay? Do you want to play?”

It actually kind of makes sense that his first date after the break-up is going to be just as public as said break-up. Something like coming full circle.

“Alright, James,” Louis agrees, hopping down off his stool.

“Okay, come down to the stage,” James says. Louis can’t even tell whether the excitement in his voice is genuine or not. “Right now, come on down!”

i have a soft spot the size of Antarctica for Late Late AU fics (we stan James Corden) and for exes to lovers so this checks all the boxes.

autumn leaves

E | 27k | @suspendrs

“Brave?” Harry frowns, caught off guard. “No, not particularly.”

“You seem brave,” Louis decides, pushing off the wall and stepping on the butt of his cigarette. “You are strong, and you are not mean. That’s good,” he assures, touching Harry’s arm gently.

“Thank you, but that’s not true,” Harry smiles ruefully. “I’m really not anything special.”

Or, Harry is an American soldier in France during World War II, and Louis is a French waiter that doesn't mean to fall in love with him.

love love french AUs and while this one isn’t sunshine and rainbows, it’s a beautiful yet heart wrenching piece. warning for period typical homophobia

caught up in your love affair

NR | 8k | @disgruntledkittenface

“And the corgis took to you straightaway,” Harry remarks.

“That’s true,” Louis chuckles.

“I’ve spent the last 29 years being barked at,” Harry deadpans, jerking his hand toward Louis, “this one walks in, absolutely nothing.”

Louis outright giggles at that, saying, “They were just lying on my feet during tea.”

“Wagging tails,” Harry says, shaking his head.

“It’s because they don’t understand flirting,” Louis tells him, “you can’t charm them the way you do everyone else.”

Royal AU. Prince Harry announces his engagement to Louis Tomlinson in an interview with longtime friend and BBC host Nick Grimshaw. Inspired by Prince Harry and Meghan Markle.

just. 8k of royal fluff. that’s literally it and i adore it so much.

Apples Always Fall (As I Do For You)

M | 54k | @rainbowsandgucci

”Due to unforeseen circumstances, help is needed here at the orchard for the impending apple season. Looking for someone able to start within the next week or two at the most, is willing to do whatever miscellaneous tasks are needed, such as picking & packing apples, running the cash register, and other handywork that may need to be done. Must be good with customers, and able to lift up to 50lbs. Help will be needed until at the least the end of October. Please contact the number found on this page, or come out to the orchard and ask for Harry. All the love xx” --- Louis is staying at his Aunt's farm in a small town in Minnesota for four months. To deal with the boredom that sets in a week into his stay, he starts working at the local apple orchard, owned by twenty six year old Harry Styles. Louis quickly finds himself falling in love with the orchard, and he finds a family in Harry's friends Niall, Liam, and Zayn. He also starts to fall in love with Harry. Falling in love with him turns out to be the easy part.

i never thought i would enjoy an apple orchard fic?? but it’s so good?? farmer harry makes me laugh to think about, but the heartbreak in this fic is so. real.

Mine Would Be You

E | 114k | @crinkle-eyed-boo

Louis blinks his eyes open, his eyelids fluttering as the room swims around him. He takes several gulps of beer once he confirms that he’s definitely not hallucinating, that the very first portrait Harry Styles ever painted of him is hanging on that wall.

Louis stares at the wall, his heart jackrabbiting in his chest as he realizes that there’s not just one painting of him, there’s five, the portraits lined up like they’re some sort of storyboard depicting the rise and fall of his deepest love. His greatest heartache. A pain that cut him so deep that he left the fucking country, severing all ties with his life in New York, now suddenly surrounding him as if he’d never left.

Fucking shit motherfucker fuck.

Louis returns to New York City five years after he left it – and the love of his life – behind. He didn't intend to see Harry again, but fate has a funny way of pulling them together, whether they like it or not. After making a begrudging truce, they both start to wonder: Would it be so bad if history repeated itself?

exes to lovers drama but make it extra sad. the fact that we see so many facets to this story just makes it all the more painful, yet beautiful. this fic also reminds me of how much i love one mister niall horan.

One for Luck

E | 96k | @leavingonatrain

The very first time Louis remembers hearing Harry Styles' deep, deep voice, he's just won gold at the World Equestrian Games and he's officially back on Great Britain's Olympic team. He's also three sheets to the wind, drunk on victory and champagne, and there's a gorgeous boy whispering in his ear. Life's grand.

(AU: Louis and Harry are professional riders on the British Olympic team.)

again, i know nothing about horses, but i like to pretend i do for the sake of this fic. it’s beautiful, it’s smutty what else could you ask for?

Nothing But You On My Mind

E | 83k | @absoloutenonsense

Louis Tomlinson is a PR manager hired to improve the image of royal bad-boy Prince Harry Styles. Unfortunately for him, that means being faced with the Prince's constant innuendos, incessant dirty jokes, and relentless flirting. Louis just wants to make it to Princess Gemma's coronation; once she's crowned Queen, his contract is up and he never has to see the Prince again.

i absolutely. definitely. sobbed tears at this fic. it’s just so beautifully painful to read. don’t want to spoil anything, but this is a must.

Adore You

M | 67k | @isthatyoularry

“We invited our new acquaintances from uptown. You’ve simply got to meet their oldest son!” said his mother with a flourish, and suddenly it became abundantly clear as to why his parents had so adamantly demanded he join them in Deansville for the entirety of the summer.

Against his wishes, Harry spends the holidays at his family’s summer estate, and is reluctantly pulled into a courtship he didn’t ask for. Harry doesn’t want to get married, but Louis does. They don’t fit, but then again they really, really do.

Vaguely set in the 1920’s. Headpieces, jazz, fashionable canes, and flapper dresses, and that.

i strongly relate to harry in this one! one of my favorite historical AUs and honestly i love the thought of louis in well fitting suits.

leave it to the breeze

E | 81k | @hattalove

Louis couldn’t be prouder of his bake, but there’s something—there’s something. Something about Harry Styles and the earnest way he measures, pours, mixes, scrapes. Something about the tip of his tongue poking out of his mouth as he knocks the air out of his batter.

or a great british bake off au in which louis cares about winning and winning only, harry is made of sunshine and rainbow sprinkles, and niall sticks his nose into other people's business. also featuring liam as louis's best friend-slash-concerned mother, and zayn as a macaron connoisseur.

i. love. the. great british baking show. baking + h&l is amazing. and another reminder as to why niall is the absolute best.

Paint The Sky With Stars

M | 62k | @icanhazzalou grrr let me tag

On 10 April 1912, Harry Styles boards the finest ship the world has ever seen. Still grieving the death of their mother, he and his sister are being sent to America to live with a callous uncle who cares more about his business connections than family. Harry prepares himself for a long, disappointing voyage alone in his stateroom.

Louis Tomlinson has borrowed and saved, and finally has enough to purchase a Third Class ticket to America. With all of his belongings in a single ruck sack, he boards the Titanic filled with hope for a brighter future. Never one to sit still, he can’t resist exploring the massive ship, and soon goes sneaking into First Class in a stolen steward’s uniform.

By a twist of fate, Louis finds himself in Harry’s stateroom, entranced by the most attractive man he’s ever laid eyes on. He keeps returning day after day, even if he doesn’t understand what it is about Harry that continues pulling him in. That’s all right; Louis has a week to figure it out, and Harry is plenty willing to help.

Except they don’t have a week. They have four days. Because on 15 April, their entire world will be turned upside down.

Or, the historically accurate Titanic AU with a happy ending.

gorgeous historical fic that’s so accurate and painstakingly written. i keep coming back to it!

When It’s Late At Night

M | 25k | @all-these-larrythings

Louis has zero interest in an ex-boybander turned solo artist when his appearance on the show gets announced, but that's exactly who he gets stuck with when Harry Styles shows up at the Late Late show to promote the release of his debut album. For an entire fucking week.

The Late Late prompt that we all need to get through this excruciatingly hard time.

remember when i said i love Late Late AUs? yeah. i love that louis gives absolutely zero shits in this fic until he gives all the shits.

Chasing Empty Spaces

E | 79k | @domestic-harry

The year is 1934 and Harry Styles was to inherent the largest tobacco firm in the south. His parents have picked out the “perfect” girl for him to marry and he has the privilege of receiving the highest education possible. The problem was, Harry hadn’t realized he didn’t actually want any part of that future until he met a mechanic named, Louis Tomlinson.

gorgeous historical AU that goes through Harry’s struggle with his sexuality wonderfully. this one also made me cry.

Resist Everything Except Temptation

E | 100k | @domestic-harry

The lethargic sound of heels clicking against wood resonated across the sea. Footsteps descended the staircase, every assured step creating a menacing aura as it grew closer. Perspiration gathered along Louis’ palms as the rhythmic sound halted in front of him.

“Captain,” Malik greeted.

Louis watched out of his peripheral as Malik’s boots shuffled back a few steps. Sweat matted the hair along the nape of Louis’ neck as he waited for something to happen. He felt as if a sharp blade was twisting his gut as the silence became tangible. There was a metallic slide of a sword being pulled out of its sheath, the sound startling Louis out of his cocoon of sterile shock. His shoulders jumped as the tip of a blade flattened underneath his jaw. Louis’ distorted reflection stared back at him in the polished metal. Engraved rose petals twisted his appearance as they crawled up the length of the sword. The sword lifted and took Louis’ chin with it.

Standing in front of Louis was Captain Styles.

The one where Louis is the commodore's son who is forced to become a part of Harry's crew when he is captured.

love this pirate AU that’s got one badass gemma styles. also, harry as a super cool pirate in gorgeous clothes makes me super happy!

i’ll make this feel like home

E | 49k

Harry to groans himself and then takes a deep breath. “Okay, well. Here’s the thing. I peed on a stick.”

Louis isn’t able to get more than a shocked “What!” out before Harry’s steamrolling on.

“I peed on a stick and it says it’s positive, but you always prattle on about how it’s best to go to the doctor’s before you get excited, you know to confirm it because sometimes hormones are off or you have like a tumor or some shit and get false positives and what if I’m dying and-”

“You’re pregnant?!” Louis shouts out, stomach dropping as the words leave his mouth.

“Um, yeah… maybe.”

[the one where Louis' hopelessly in love with his best mate... who just happens to be pregnant with another man's baby.]

baby momma harry with hot mess!Louis is a recipe for disaster, but this one has plenty of fluff to make up for it.

Hands Clasped Tight

E | 44k | @afirethatcannotdie

“What am I looking at here?” Harry asks.

“This, my friends, is a ‘proof’ Instagram account, run by your students,” Liam announces.

“It’s got all this stuff about how the two of you are together,” Niall adds.

“I heard about that,” says one of the math teachers. “Confiscated a kid’s phone today when they were looking at it. I have to say, the evidence that you’re dating is pretty damning.”

“Really,” Louis says dryly. “Do you think being married for three years might have something to do with it?”

Or the one where Harry and Louis are high school teachers and their students have been playing matchmaker for over a year. Little do they know, Harry and Louis are already married.

love love teacher harry and louis that’s mostly funny fluff with a little angst. just a teeny amount. reminds me of my own experiences with meddling students haha.

*updated 2/16/21*

#fic recs #hl #hlcreators #ao3 #in no particular order #message me for other fics!#yourlarrysource

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chandelier-s-notebook · 3 years

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Doodlewash April 2021 prompt 18: Dragon

I made another AU. Because I don’t have enough of those I guess.

Also. I don’t really know how I feel about the pacing of this, and there is so much telling. It’s just a first draft, I need to sleep on it before I like it, but I don’t have time to do that. So while it’s fresh off the line, please enjoy this fic.

If anyone wants to be part of a taglist of this Dragon Rider AU, feel free to message me/send an ask/or mention it in reblogs.

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This was the best school fieldtrip ever. Ridiara Prep had taken its students to the Premier League Juniors’ Dragon Racing Finals.

The day’s races were not only for national championship spots, but it was also a school day – which meant that huge swaths of the stands were reserved for half price student tickets.

The Manbri National Junior’s Dragon Race Eventing had space for four jockeys from each of the sixteen districts. Even before the Finals the people of The Yaston District knew that two slots would to go Number 35 and Number 13, or as their names, Technoblade and Dream. It was just a toss up to see who slots three and four would go to.

Tommy, Tubbo, and Ranboo sat in a cluster about as far away from the action as you could get. Not my choice, no they’d much rather be pressed against the rails, leaning over the edge watching the events unfold. Unfortunately, the seats provided by Ridiara Prep where all the way in the back corner. And if they were going to be confined to the back-most section, then these boys were going to sit all the way in the back and be petty.

The air in the stadium was electric as school started pouring in from all over Yaston.

Tommy was a bored kind of excited. The kind where you sit still and do other things while the anticipation builds internally. The kind where you know what to expect, but the energy and the thrill gets you going.

Tubbo was to bouncy type of excited. The kind where you can’t stay still and can’t help but look around at everything. The kind where you absorb the energy of everyone else in the room and let it out with your movement.

Ranboo was the talkative kind of excited. The kind where you can’t contain yourself; where you ramble on and on about the things on your mind. The kind where you know that you might be annoying everyone around you, but you don’t care.

At 10:50am the first fleet of four racers came onto the course. The crowd screamed. The racers flew their dragons into the cages. At 11am the jumbotron screen showed the gates fall down and the cages lower below the course as the jockeys shoot forward.

The dragons weaved around each other and the course. Six laps around, the first two to cross the finishing line on the last lap would move onto the next round.

The course had a simple winding fight path with straight-aways, sharp turns, and more rounded ones. There was also a lower and upper flight limit, the dragons could overtake each other by going around or over or under, but you had to catch up first.

There were sixteen racers in the Finals, which meant seven races over the course of the day. Technoblade and Dream were on opposite sides of the tournament bracket so it would be in the afternoon when they faced off – if neither of them choked on their way to qualification for the Nationals placement flight.

The crowd had just as much energy at the end of the day as the beginning. The Nationals team was going to be Number 35, Technoblade; Number 13, Dream; Number 54, Punz; and Number 3, Puffy. The final race of the day was simply to put them in the tournament brackets.

Ranboo and Tubbo were Technoblade fanboys. They were screaming for their favourite to win. Tommy was just as excited, but it was infinitely less obvious. He just didn’t express his joy, but he did have on a dopy smile the whole time, and his eyes narrowed when anyone overtook Technoblade.

The thing about the Juniors’ League was that it was the lowest age category with the over sixteen rules. And honestly the only difference between above sixteen and below sixteen was the saddle. Those under sixteen raced with a saddle, while those over had foot stapes attached to a harness wrapped where the saddle would sit on the dragons. Don’t worry, it wasn’t a hard shift when kid turned sixteen, they could start practicing with foot stapes at twelve, but racing rules changed at sixteen.

Techno had his reigns held tightly in his hands. Held perfectly so when his dragon pulled forward, he could lean back comfortably. So when he did turns he could shift is body weight easily from foot to foot. Techno’s hair had been braided and curled into a bun at the base of his skull, his roots where very brown as he hadn’t had the time to dye it back pink recently.

Unlike Techno, Puffy was leaned all the way forward. She held the reigns much closer to the bit and saw hunched over close to her dragon’s neck. She was concentrated and gave a little shout whenever she passed someone. Whether she was falling behind or pulling forward.

Dream was much the same as Techno, but his blond hair was cut pretty boy short. He held himself with confidence and seemed to be outwardly enjoying himself while staying super competitive.

Punz was leaned forwards as well. He pretty much stayed super competitive the whole time. He trades spots with the rest of them a few times. None of the four was ever clearly ahead.

In the end, the standing where: Techno, Puffy, Dream, Punz. The crowd blew up when they realized that Puffy got second, she was a fan favourite and it was always an event when either Dream or Techno were knocked down a placement. And neither where salty about it, so no one gave a shit. They gave cheers.

Then it was time to leave. There were only so many so many school busses and Ridiara Prep hadn’t managed to book the first wave, or the second, they were on the third wave of busses. So they had a lot of time to kill. And after the second wave of students left, the teachers let the kids run free.

Tommy had a plan. He was going to sneak into the dragon stalls and see the racers. Tubbo was all for this plan. Ranboo wasn’t.

But Ranboo did give in, in the end.

The three of them whispered to each other as they ran around and tried to find what they were looking for. And they did, Tubbo had found a map and they slipped past security. Of course once they were inside the dragon stables Ranboo warmed up to the idea.

“Can we go find Carl?”

“Carl? Technoblade’s dragon?” Tubbo asked. “Oh my god we could go find Technoblade’s dragon. Let’s go find him.”

“Come on!” Tommy bolted. “Let’s go find the red dragon.”

“Carl’s scarlet.”

“Fanboy much Ranboo.”

“Shut up Tommy.”

The three kids looked at every dragon they passed and named which racer they belonged to. They finally reached Carl’s stall.

Ranboo put his hand up for the dragon to sniff. Carl came closer and bonked Ranboo’s hand with his snout. Then Tubbo did the same. Tommy was keeping watch while the other two interacted with Technoblade’s dragon.

“Hey!” a voice called. “I don’t think you kids should be here.”

“Is that Dream?” Tubbo whispered.

“Yes,” Tommy whispered back. “Hey big man!” Tommy shouted to the third place winner. “I’m allowed to be here.”

“You are?” Dream humored him. “What about your friends? Are they allowed to be here?”

Tommy pointed to Tubbo, “He has plus one privileges, not sure about that guy though.”

Ranboo snorted. “Thanks man.”

Dream walked up behind them. “You kids should leave. Just go and I won’t call security. Also, Techno really doesn’t like people messing with his dragon.”

“It’s fine,” Tommy dismissed. “Carl loves me. Don’t you boy?”

Dream shot Tommy a strange look. Then there was thumbing from Carl’s stall, like he was waving his tail and there wasn’t enough space. Dream glanced at Carl. “Huh.”

“See?” Tommy in all his bravado put his hand through the bars on the door into the stall. Carl started rubbing his snout on Tommy’s palm. “We’re good man.”

“I will call security.”

“Do that.”

“Don’t do that.” Ranboo grabbed Tommy and started pulling him away. “We’ll be on our way. Sorry for breaking and entering.”

“Ranboo!” Tubbo scolded. “Don’t make it seem worse than it is. We didn’t break anything.”

“I believe you.”

“Good.”

“Tommy. Come on. We should really get back to the class.”

“Why? I’m just going home?”

“Yeah?” Tommy continued to shrug off Ranboo and play with Carl. “Who’s a good boy?”

Dream smiled softly at the exasperated and apologetic looks Tubbo and Ranboo were sending him. “I’m very sure that Technoblade doesn’t like when people mess with Carl.”

Tommy waved his free hand. “I’m not messing with him.”

“Messing with who?”

And that was went Tubbo and Ranboo froze. On the one hand; Technoblade, they were messing with his dragon and should apologize and dip. On the other hand; Technoblade, must fanboy.

Dream gestured to Tommy petting Carl with no regard for his safety.

“And?”

“And?” Dream gestured more expressively. “Kid petting your dragon?”

“And?”

“You don’t let me do that?”

Tommy turned around to stick his tongue out at Dream.

“You aren’t the kid?”

“But why can the kid? I let you interact with Spirit!”

“Carl’s not Spirit.”

“Obviously.”

“Techno can I ride with you home? I don’t want to take the bus.”

“Yeah sure,” Techno said without a first thought. “My dragon. I make the rules.”

“Did you just?”

Techno turned to the sound. “And you are?” he asked Tubbo.

“Uhm.”

“That’s Tubbo.”

“This is Tubbo?”

“Yeah. But of a bitch isn’t he?”

“No?”

“Other guy is Ranboo. My other friend.”

“Right.” Techno turned back to Tommy. “They coming over for dinner?”

“Can they? Will we all fit on Carl?”

“No. But I brought Andrew. He could probably fit all three of you. You’re all tiny.”

“Well Technoblade.” Tommy’s voice took on a bratty quality. “We’re only fourteen, that’s not super small Mr. nineteen.”

“Do you want to ride Andrew home or would you rather crawl back into the hole you came from and take the school bus on?” Techno deadpanned.

“Andrew.”

“Cool. Let’s go get him.” Techno kept walking down the corridor to Andrew’s stall a little further down.

“What just happened?” Ranboo asked, still processing a few sentences behind.

“Technoblade’s my older brother.”

“Wilbur’s your older brother,” Tubbo corrected.

“Wilbur has a twin.”

“Huh?”

“Come on. Let’s go. We get to ride Andrew home. I’ll drive, you two and just sit tight.” Tommy took both of his friends’ hands; he knew they wouldn’t be walking on their own for a few minutes more.

The racers were all tacking up their dragons for the return journey and the busses had yet to come for the third wave of school children. Tubbo and Ranboo settled themselves into Andrew’s saddle ina daze while Tommy strapped his feet in.

Dream was still following, pestering Techno about his little brother.

“Hey Toms. Do a few loops around the track while you wait for me.”

“Yessir!”

And they were off.

Tommy waved to the teacher before flying off into the skyways behind Techno. Just letting him know not to wait up for the three boys.

#TommyInnit #Tubbo #Ranboo #Technoblade #Dreamwastaken #Captain Puffy #Punz #Dragon Rider AU #DoodlewashApril2021

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fandomlurker · 3 years

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A Ponderous Rewatch: Jockey For Position

Now that we’re done with that long cameo, it’s time for our feature presentation for tonight, and it’s a doozy!:

We open with Pinky frantically running on a spinning globe while Brain stands above him on the…globe holder? I don’t know if that part has a name or not.

“[winded gasps] Can I stop now, Brain?”

“Not until I finish my demonstration.”

Brain, that’s just… Well I was about to say it was mean, but given that Pinky understands the details of his plans better when Brain demonstrates it or draws elaborate diagrams, maybe it’s for the best? I doubt Brain could make that large globe spin just by using his hands, and Pinky’s been seen a lot of times running on the mouse wheel in their cage so he’s gotta be pretty in shape. Still, it feels like Pinky’s been running for a lot longer than he needed to…

You know what? I change my mind. It is a bit mean, Brain.

“When I build my reverse geotropic arrestor, Pinky, and throw it from the North Pole like this…”

The word “geotropic” doesn’t quite sound right. I wonder…

…Okay, yeah, Brain’s getting worse at naming things.

“…In a matter of seconds the cable will become taut, gravity will cease, and everyone will fly off the face of the Earth!”

Oh my GOD, Brain. This has got to be the stupidest plan you have come up with yet! Nothing about this will work.

Well, there goes poor Pinky.

“Leaving us alone to assume control.”

It’s still “us”, huh? Noted.

Long Pinky.

“Egad, Brain, brilliant! Haha hehe heh—!”

Pinky, sweetheart, I know praising Brain is kind of your thing but this is one time I’m going to have to call you out on your bias because this is super not brilliant and I’m actually a little worried for Brain’s mental state.

“—Oh wait, no, no. What’s going to keep us from flying off the Earth?”

That’s one flaw of many, Pinky, but I guess it’s as good a start as any.

“We will duct tape ourselves to a tree.”

Because the tree will totally stay in the ground when the Earth abruptly stops spinning. Not that it will stop spinning, because none of this makes any sense.

Brain, did this idea come from, like, a dream you had or something? Is that why the plan is working on dream logic?

I know this is a comedy cartoon and this is all a joke but sometimes Brain’s plans are so fucking out-there I just have to roast him for it.

“Unfortunately we still need to raise money to buy a one billion ton magnet. But I have a solution!”

Oh boy, can’t wait to hear the solution to this one. It’s gonna be stellar if the whole plan today is anything to go by.

Oh nice, Brain’s the one sewing for a change! Usually this is Pinky’s area of expertise, but it’s always nice to see that Brain can do some classically domestic things too.

“Tomorrow is the running of the Kentucky Derby. Do you know what that is?”

Most of my knowledge on it comes from “My Brother, My Brother, and Me” goofs, so my mind keeps autocorrecting it to “Kenfucky Derby”, but go on.

“Umm… Oh! A very large hat?”

“Promise me something, Pinky. Never breed.”

“I’ll try.”

Well, that’s going to come back to haunt them.

“The Kentucky Derby is the biggest horse race of the year. There’s a one million dollar purse going to the jockey riding the winning horse.”

“And I am going to win that purse!”

Okay, first off: Pinky, are you just going to stand there and stare at Brain as he gets changed? Like, I understand they’re naked normally and this is the exact opposite of stripping but umm…

Secondly: Brain, did you really have to get that up close to tell Pinky this? You two are making this too easy for me.

“Zort, Brain! A million dollar purse?!? Ooooh!~ You’re going to need matching pumps and earrings for that!”

Pinky’s got his priorities in order.

“Focus, Pinky, focus!”

“Now watch.”

And now Brain’s ordering Pinky to watch him dress and I just…I have no words. This is all so suspect. Why do you two even need a dressing screen if you’re usually naked anyway? And it shouldn’t matter if anyone sees you get dressed unless this is some weird reverse nudity taboo you two have developed and if that’s the case, why are you allowing Pinky to watch? And if it’s for a dramatic reveal WHY ARE YOU ORDERING HIM TO WATCH YOU CHANGE???

This episode is already so goddamn wild.

I am really not sure how I feel about that pan-up of Brain when he’s thrust his pelvis forward. At least the outfit is cute, though.

“Narf! Oh, Brain, I get it! You’re a beautiful lawn ornament!”

“Beautiful”, huh? Also noted.

“Look at me, narf, I’m a pink flamingo! Ahahaheh!”

Oh LORD, Pinky, how are you—?!?

“I’m a cement deer! Ah hah!”

PINKY, STOP, YOU’RE SCARING ME! D:

“Oh, I’m one of the seven dwarves, Brain!”

That’s more acceptable but Pinky, sweetie, warn me if you’re going to nightmarishly shapeshift again, okay?!

I guess we can add that to the list of random abilities Pinky has.

“Stop it, Pinky, or I shall have to hurt you.”

You are much calmer about this than I would be if this happened in front of me, Brain.

“Oh. Right-o, Brain. Narf.”

“Now let us make haste, for we have much to do before the race begins.”

“Poit.”

So then we cut to Churchill Downs, and I can only assume another roadtrip adventure was had off-screen.

“First, Pinky, we must visit the stables.”

“Inside, we will find the winning horse.”

“Err… How are we gonna do that, Brain?”

“The racing form, Pinky.”

My bet’s on... [squints] hLUUNO the horse.

“By analysing the velocity-based pace line, mile turf win and bayer speed figures, we’ll find a grade one stakes claimer who’ll give us a key horse situation.”

“Key Horse Situation” would be a great band name. Also, whoops, little bit of an error on the name plaques, background artists.

What do your mouse eyes see, Pinky?

“Err, can’t we just ride the pretty one?”

SHE!

So here she is, one of the few characters debuting in the Animaniacs run that will matter to PatB lore going forward aside from our main duo.

A fun fact for you all: Phar Fignewton’s name is a triple reference joke. “Phar Lap” was a champion thoroughbred race horse in the late 1920s and early 1930s. Fig Newtons are small pastries filled with fig paste. Lastly, “Fahrvergnügen” was a slogan for Volkswagon starting in 1990. Translated, it means “driving enjoyment”.

Phar Fignewton makes a whinnying noise and ends it off with a goofy laugh.

Brain is not impressed.

“Heavens, they’re multiplying…”

Pinky is instantly smitten with her.

BONK!

“This is a business trip, Pinky!”

“Oh. Right. Sorry, Brain.”

“Here is our horse.”

“’Daddy’s Little Angel’…”

I guess it’s an ironic nickname.

“Pinky… Are you pondering what I’m pondering?”

“Whu… I think so, Brain, isn’t Regis Philbin already married?”

…

Now I’m wondering if Pinky is suggesting that one of them marry Regis or if he’s suggesting that Regis marries the horse. Either way, what the fuck?

Yeah, same.

“The race, Pinky. By combining the statistics and my low body weight, this horse cannot lose! The prize money will be ours!”

GAH! Brain, I’ve had enough minor heart attacks from this episode because of Pinky’s eldritch morphing ability, I don’t need another one of your bizarre close-ups to do the same!

“Now I must take the place of the real jockey.”

“Hello?”

“Is this the Jockey who’s going to ride ‘Daddy’s Little Angel’?”

“Yeah.”

“This is Ed Mcmahon from Publisher’s Smearing House. You’ve just won ten million dollars.”

Pinky delightedly and silently listening in and chuckling in the back is precious.

And honestly, Brain, I don’t know why you’re crouching here, but it’s also cute.

“I won ten million dollars… I WON TEN MILLION DOLLARS! I am outta here! Later!”

The mice are lucky that he’s so excited about winning all that money that he forgets to do basic things like ask when and how he’ll get the money.

“Louie! Louie!”

“Later!”

“Who’s gonna ride my horse? I mean, Louie is the smallest, lightest jockey in the entire world!”

Did you know that there’s a weight requirement for jockeys, but no height requirement?

“Not anymore!”

“[GASP]”

Whoops, I just noticed another error, though it’s minor: Brain’s jockey outfit throughout this scene is light tan and purple instead of the pea green and purple that it’s supposed to be.

“You’re a jockey?!”

“Actually, I am a mouse in the early stages of an elaborate scheme to take over the world.”

The more this happens, the more I’m starting to think that Brain does this shtick on purpose to emotionally and mentally disarm people who would otherwise suspect that he’s not human. The fact that it works shows you just how idiotic the human beings of this world are.

“Well, fine, we all need a hobby but…will you ride my horse?”

Oh, sir, I think it’s much more than a hobby at this point. If only you knew…

“I shall ride! And win!”

His design is a little odd here, but it’s still a good pose.

So Brain next has to be weighed to make sure he meets the requirements.

“Saddle: Seven pounds. Saddle and rider: Seven pounds 3 ounces.”

So if you can recall from the previous rewatch post, a house mouse on average weighs 19g, and a common wood mouse weighs 23g (it can be up for debate which type of mouse Brain is). Converting Brain’s 3 ounces of weight to grams would result in him weighing 85.0486g.

Brain does have a bit of a cute little potbelly thing going on, but he’s also consistently much smaller in height and width than the average adult mouse in the series. I think the incredible difference in weight is mostly coming from the heft of Brain’s, well, brain and skull…and the muscle mass packed into that tiny body to help keep him upright.

“A genetically perfect jockey! This is fantastic!”

Please don’t phrase it like that.

“…Let’s look into early retirement.”

That jockey on the left is going through some shit, man. He looks like how I feel after working an eight hour shift on the holidays.

And so we skip to the beginning of the race!

That poor, poor jockey…who changed colour schemes for some reason.

There’s Phar Fignewton with a jockey who honestly looks like he’s high.

And here’s our little mousey fella, who has somehow managed to make this aggressive horse obedient.

“Camptown race is five miles long, do-dah, do-dah.~”

He’s so happy he’s singing to himself! This is honestly so precious that I completely forgive him for not getting the lyrics correct.

Coincidentally, Daddy’s Little Angel is positioned next to Phar Fignewton.

“Ooh, isn’t this exciting, Brain?”

Uh oh.

“Pinky, what are you doing here? Your weight will disrupt my winning calculations!”

I don’t know if it’d be that off, Brain. The combined weight of two mice is still much less than that of a human jockey.

“But Brain, it’s too exciting! I—“

[TARGET LOCKED]

“Oooh! Heh. Hello.~”

I think I’m going to save my thoughts on this whole…thing until the end. Right now I will say, however, that I wasn’t quite expecting the tongue-hanging-out-of-gaping-mouth lovestruck/horny??? reaction.

“Pinky, the race is starting!”

Too late, Brain.

And we’re off!

Bye, Pinky.

“There’s baloney in our slacks…~”

Pfft.

So as the race goes on, we get to know a few more of the horses’ names: Isle of Yap (a nice callback to the first PatB short), Flamiel (which is apparently the WB writers’ favourite word?), and Leggo-my-Egoiste (a double reference to an old Eggo slogan and the name of a cologne).

The other jockeys are more than a little surprised by Brain and his steed taking the lead early in the race.

Phar Fignewton is trailing way behind.

Meanwhile, Pinky’s woken up from fainting, seeing the oncoming horses—

--and promptly freaks out and stumbles back down again.

“Victory, she waits for me! Oh, the do-dah-day!”

You really have to stop tempting fate like this, Brain.

Phar Fignewton’s very tired, but what’s this?

Is that…Pinky in harm’s way?

ThePowerOfLove.mp3

Determined and fueled by her inexplicable crush, Phar Fignewton starts gaining ground on the other horses.

Brain didn’t calculate for this!

…Oh! Hi, Warners! Looks like they’re cheering Phar on.

“Oh no! Yah! Yah! Yah!”

I didn’t think whips were allowed in races like the Kentucky Derby, but apparently they are. Their use was only restricted—not banned—in the summer of 2020, which is alarming to say the least.

On a different note, I know some of you folks are now jotting down the fact that Brain knows how to use a whip. I see you.

She makes the save!

And she also wins the race! Way to go, Phar Fignewton!

“In the words of the great Willie Shoemaker: ‘Nuts!’”

It was a good try, Brain, but honestly I’m glad you failed this time if only so that you wouldn’t embarrass yourself with your actual world domination plan’s failure later. Maybe take a couple nights off to rest up a bit and formulate plans that aren’t totally bonkers, hmm?

I might as well go ahead and talk about this now. I…am conflicted on this whole Phar Fignewton thing. It makes for a very strange one-off joke about Pinky instantly falling in love with a distaff counterpart of his that’s a horse for whatever reason…but the fact that she’s not a one-off character is baffling in and of itself. Like I’ve said before, she’s mentioned a couple of times going forward as being Pinky’s girlfriend, or as a bizarre joke at Pinky’s expense about him being in/having been in a relationship with a horse. There’s even a small running gag about Pinky’s reaction to people’s disgust about it: “People can be so intolerant!”. I don’t know if the joke is supposed to be one about racial segregation or a wink and nod to queer folks in the only way that the writers could get away with in a cartoon at the time (in a “see, Pinky’s down for a relationship with anyone, even outside of his species!” type of way).

Phar Fignewton herself is a sweetie but besides that she has no personality to speak of and we’re just meant to assume based on physical appearance that she is equivalent to Pinky. And like, she hasn’t been uplifted to human levels of intelligence and sapience like Pinky has because of Acme Labs, but she seems to be naturally sapient for some unknown reason and just simply unable to speak English.

On top of all this, the relationship is very shallow and the only reason we’re given as to why Pinky likes her is because he finds her pretty. It’s perfectly in character for Pinky to easily fall in love, as he does so with other animals a couple more times in the spin-offs, but it just feels weird that this is the one that sticks around purely to become a running gag that gets mentions that are sometimes literal years apart from one another.

And listen, I know the writers most likely made this a thing just because they thought it was a funny joke and a few of them managed to remember about Phar and would use Pinky dating her as a gag. I know this. But it doesn’t make it any less confusing and weird. I remember the jokes about Pinky and horses from way back when I first watched Animaniacs and the PatB spin-off when I was a kid and I never had any context for it because I don’t think I ever saw this specific episode. Coming back as an adult and seeing all these episodes in order and watching this one in particular and finding out the context is “Pinky thinks a horse is pretty and the horse and him are in love and long-distance dating now” is both underwhelming and leaves me with more questions than answers.

…Also, if my earlier theories on why the writers made this joke are correct, does this mean Phar Fignewton is metatextually a beard for Pinky?

I just don’t know, folks. You’re welcome to leave your thoughts on this in comments.

Let’s wrap this up.

So as we can see, Brain is, as usual, back to work on another plan that involves—

—a goddamn cannon, holy shit! What is he using the glue for? That’s a little ominous, given what’s been involved in this episode.

There’s a hammering noise in the background and we see Pinky putting up a photo of Phar Fignewton.

“Pinky, will you please stop that? I’m trying to concentrate on tomorrow night!”

Wow, you’re more irritable than usual, Brain. I didn’t think some delicate hammering would annoy you that much.

“Mwah!~”

…Despite my ramblings earlier, that’s very cute of you, Pinky. I’m sure you could’ve gotten a better photo, though.

“Why, Brain, what’re we gonna do tomorrow night?”

Try to take over the world, of course! Right, Brain?

“Guess.”

…

Umm, wow. That’s a first. You look like you’re absolutely enraged, Brain. All this over some hammering sounds?

This had me taken aback a bit when I watched it the first time, not gonna lie. We’ve seen Brain after a plan’s failure plenty of times before. He’s been frustrated, sure. Humiliated at times, or maybe he just sighs in resignation and walks off into the sunset. It always ends with him simply using these feelings to fuel the fire in him to do better tomorrow night.

This is the very first time we’ve seen him jumpy and irritated at the most minor of things and so angry that he literally refuses to participate normally in his and Pinky’s shared catchphrase. And this was for a plan that was just to fund the real plan! So why is this time any different?

Oh.

OH.

Okay, that’s… That makes a lot of sense, actually. Damn.

Hey, fanfic writers? Ya’ll ever use this as the very first time Brain experiences romantic jealousy? Let me know.

“Oh yeah, try to take over the world. Right.”

I think even Pinky’s put off by this development, if his hesitant and quiet finishing of the saying is anything to go by.

And that’s what we end off with.

All in all, this episode is a wild ride of strangeness in small moments and bizarre additions to lore and ends on the first subversion of the long-running closing gag of the series. It’s not exactly a great episode, but that ending is intriguing enough for one of the main purposes of this rewatch. In short, I’m just baffled.

Luckily the next episode is much better. Next time, the mice head on down to Tennessee to seek world domination via country music.

See you then!

#Pinky and the Brain #PatB #Jockey For Position

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snowdice · 4 years

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Finding the Time to Study Fic 2 [Day 15]

Here is my starting post for today’s study break stories session. See this post for more details and feel free to send me asks to keep me going! It’s been a lot of fun so far! I will reblog this post with the story as I write them today. I’ll be constantly looking for ideas of times and places for Janus to have missions, so feel free to send in any you can think of at any point!

If you are a new follower or just 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 edited chapters below. Chapters 3-7 and what I have of Chapter 8 are under the cut.

My Masterpost Part 1 Part 2

I also have a playlist on youtube (because Spotify didn’t have one of the songs I wanted). It’s short, and not really for serious listening, but I had fun with it.

This thing is going to be 1K words with the semester I’m having. :P The plan is to do a lot of work today. I even have my dinner in a crock-pot. I’m giving a presentation on October 13th and want to basically knock out the prep today so I don’t have to have it hanging over my head. Not sure if I will achieve that, but that’s the plan! I have big goals! Wish me luck! :D

Chapter 3

Janus and Remus both appeared at the same moment a couple of feet apart in what looked like the inside of a garden shed. There was already a man waiting for them a few feet away. “Sup babes,” Remy said, just like he always did. The T-Agent looked their costumes up and down and whistled. “Now that,” he said, “almost makes me want to be one of you time jockeys.”

“They wouldn’t let me have a gun or a canister of moonshine,” Remus pouted.

Remy snorted. “Sorry, babes, but that makes my job a lot easier. If I’ve gotta fish you outta the 1920s criminal justice system, I’d rather it not be because you shot someone on accident ‘cause you don’t know how to use the safety.”

Remus groaned dramatically. “Everyone is lame.”

Remy just shook his head. “Meet back here when you’ve got the necklace,” he said. “Don’t make a move until after 11:05pm and before 11:17. That’s your window.”

“We know,” Janus said. “See you then.”

“Have fun at the party boys,” Remy said and then lowered his shades to look at Remus, “but not too much fun.”

“Yeah, yeah,” said Remus, already towing Janus out of the garden shed. The way had been specifically cleared for them, so they met no other people before they’d rounded the house the party was taking place and had gotten onto the driveway in front of the house.

Without missing a beat, they strolled up to the front of the house, just as a car pulled into the end of the driveway. Janus rang the doorbell, and a few moments later, a man who was clearly the butler answered the door. They handed over their invitation, and the man immediately let them in.

The party had already started when they slipped into the medium sized ballroom that had been decked out in streamers and other decorations. Janus’s nose immediately wanted to scrunch as the smell of sweat from all the dancing already going on as well as the too strong perfume meant to cover that stench wafted over him. It was by far not the worst smelling time period, but he was pretty sure some people still weren’t aware deodorant had been recently invented.

He checked his time piece which had been disguised as a fancy wristwatch for this trip. “Okay,” he said. “We have about two hours before we need to make our move. We should…”

Remus’s attention was already being dragged away by a young man who seemed to be providing guests with food. “I’m going to go ‘mingle’,” he said, winking.

“No!” Janus hissed. “Re- Richard! No!”

Yet, he was already disappearing into the horde of stinky bodies, likely to go scandalize a bunch of rich folks, and leaving Janus alone. Janus mumbled a curse under his breath that he was sure no one around him would understand even if they could make it out.

Unsure what to do with himself, he wandered over towards where the live musicians were playing jazz music, being sure to keep out of the way of the dancers. He was edging around the makeshift dancefloor, when one of said dancers must have misstepped and knocked into another one. The second man stumbled right towards Janus, arms pinwheeling. Janus reached out on instinct to catch the man as he fell.

There was a moment where the two of them just stared at each other, surprise evident on the other man’s face. He was wearing a mask that just covered the area around his eyes and the top of his nose, revealing a smattering of freckles across his cheeks that Janus imagined extended to his nose.

The mask was a light blue velvet with a flower stuck on the side near his right ear, and a trail of curled golden ribbon bobbed down around his chin. The party continued on around them, a blur of movement and sound.

“Are you alright?” Janus asked.

The man blinked up at him and then tilted his head slightly to the side as though confused, before a smile slowly grew on his face. “Oh, I’m fine Dove.”

“Dove?” Janus asked.

He giggled. “You have dove feathers on your mask,” he explained, reaching up a hand to touch one. His finger brushed the tip of Janus’s ear, “and I don’t know what else I am supposed to call you.”

“My name is Lee,” he automatically lied.

“Is it?” he asked, sounding amused. “Doesn’t seem to fit you well. I like Dove better.”

“Oh?” asked Janus. “And what’s your name so I can not call you that?”

The man chuckled. “Call me Pat.”

“Hello Pat,” Janus said.

“I thought you didn’t want to call me by my name.”

“I changed my mind.”

“Hmmm,” Pat said, finger tracing idly across Janus’s forearm which was when Janus realized with a start that he was still holding the man in his arms. He quickly went to release him, which Pat allowed with clear amusement.

Yet, instead of completely stepping away, Pat grabbed Janus’s arm. “What are you doing all the way over here by the way?” he asked. “Don’t you want to dance.”

“Oh,” Janus hesitated. “I don’t really dance.” Or at least not in the way the people around him were. He’d had basic training for this style, but it had been a while and he was a bit rusty.

“Everyone dances Dove,” Pat claimed. “At least if they know the steps and have the right partner.”

“But I don’t know the steps,” Janus said with an eyebrow raise.

He hummed. “Well, I know the dance pretty well by this point,” Pat said. “Why don’t I teach you how it goes.”

He was agreeing with the soft beseeching tone before he even realized it. Pat pulled him into the middle of the throng of people. He seemed to think, bopping his head to the music playing for a moment, before looking back at Janus. “Heard of James Johnson?”

Janus inclined his head.

“Well, have you heard his new song? Because there’s a dance that goes with it.”

He took a few steps away from Janus and started to dance. Despite his claim to know the steps, he wasn’t particularly good, but he made up for any loss of rhythm with pure enthusiasm.

Janus found himself smiling at the man, and after a few moments, joined in with the dance. Despite his lack of practice, he ended up having a better natural rhythm than Pat. Pat didn’t seem to mind that he was being outperformed, however. On the contrary, he giggled at himself the couple of times he stumbled.

When he fell into Janus’s arms for the second time that night, Janus decided he’d probably had enough dancing for the moment and pulled him off to the side to get something to drink and cool down a bit.

He watched the man take a snack and some punch from one of servers and thank him happily before turning back to Janus. Pat was easily able to keep Janus’s attention as they chatted. He was bubbly and soft, and Janus found himself enchanted as they talked.

He was explaining the steps of a different dance, a couples one. “Knowing how to perform the tango will entrance any girl you want,” Pat said, something mischievous sparkling in his eyes. “Assuming you’re that type of fella.”

“As opposed to what?” Janus asked.

Pat leaned in a bit closer. Not too much, but enough that he was definitely in Janus’s space. “A different type of fella,” he said simply, before smiling and leaning back.

Janus let out a shaky exhale and took a sip of punch. He glanced over at Pat. “Tell me about yourself, Pat,” he said.

Pat hummed in contemplation. “Well, I went to France recently.”

“You did?”

“Oui, c'était amusant, mais j'ai eu des ennuis”

“What kind of trouble?” Janus asked curiously.

“Oh, the kind with a pretty boy and crepes that were way too sweet. Anyway,” he continued. “Other than that, I mostly help out my friend. He’s an inventor.”

“And how do you help him.”

He shrugged, “Running errands mostly, and making sure he gets enough sleep, because otherwise he gets distracted and forgets. And you?”

“I’m a banker,” he said, remembering his cover, but felt compelled to add, “but I like to travel as well.”

“You do look the type?”

“And how is that?”

Pat shrugged. “I can always tell a wandering spirt from the masses, and you are easy to spot.” Pat looked at him then with a secret smile on his face, and Janus felt suddenly known, like the man in front of him had known him for years even though they’d only just met. Looking at him then, he wanted suddenly for that to be fact and not a flight of fancy.

He was brought firmly back to reality in the next moment. “Lee,” a pointed and familiar voice said. Janus’s head snapped up to see Remus, staring at him. He tapped his wrist. Janus glanced at his own wrist: 10:58pm. He just barely managed not to curse.

“I,” he said looking up at Pat. “I’m sorry, but I have to go.”

“That’s okay,” Pat said easily. “It is getting rather late.”

“Yes,” Janus agreed. “Well… goodbye.”

Pat, titled his head, a half smile on his face. “I’ll be seeing you around.”

Janus nodded, and turned away from him towards Remus. He didn’t look back as they excited the ballroom. They snuck into a small side closet for coats that wasn’t being used as it was summer.

“So,” Remus said when the door closed behind them.

“Don’t,” warned Janus.

“I’m not one to judge,” Remus said.

“Shut up.” He glanced at his watch. It was 11:02. “We’ll go in 5.”

“I have to give it to you. He was very cute.”

“We’re not talking about it.”

Remus just laughed joyfully, and Janus did his best to halt the blood rushing to his cheeks.

At 11:07, well into their window, they slipped back out of the closet, and towards the stairs as the party raged on.

Despite how Remus usually never shut up, he was able to be quiet when it counted. They snuck to the master bedroom of the home’s owners in silence. The door was already wide open by the time they got there, and Janus didn’t think anything of it. At least, he didn’t until they entered the bedroom, and there was someone already there.

He turned from the dresser he’d been standing in front of to face them, sending Janus the same smile he had down in the ballroom. Janus and Remus both froze. “Sorry, sweetie,” Pat said. “Were you here for this too?” he held up the necklace they’d been sent for. He closed his fist around the charm made out of time travel tech.

“What?” Janus said.

Pat giggled and winked. “Unfortunately, I need it a bit more than you at the moment. So, I’m gonna have to go.” Janus stepped forward, not really sure what he was intending to do, but Pat just smiled. “See you some other time, my Turtle Dove.” With a snap of his fingers and loud crack, he disappeared. The mask he’d been wearing fluttered to the ground.

Arc I: Finding Cinderella

Chapter 4

Janus was frozen in surprise for a few long moments after Pat disappeared. Which had been, admittedly, his mistake, because, while their window had technically been until 11:17pm and it was only 11:10, the loud crack that whatever Pat had been using for time travel made, garnered the attention of someone else.

“Uh oh,” Remus said, likely hearing footsteps. “Hide.”

That snapped Janus into action, but instead of hiding immediately like a sensible human being, he chose to go for the only link to the man who’d just stolen time travel tech and waltzed away, the mask.

Which was why he ended up getting arrested.

Remy tsked the moment they were all alone in the police car having come to ‘transfer Lee to another facility.’ Remus was already waiting in the front seat, and flashed Janus a smug smile. If Janus wasn’t still handcuffed, he’d slap him.

“Well,” Remy said. “At least you didn’t shoot anybody like I asked. I was joking by the way. I didn’t really want to pick you up from a 1920s police station period.”

“It wasn’t my fault.”

“Mmm, nah, ‘cause Remus managed to not get arrested this time, so you defiantly screwed something up.”

“Oh, he defiantly wanted to screw something all right,” Remus said joyfully.

“Remus,” Janus hissed.

“What?” he asked. “I’m not the horny one for once. Well, no, that’s a lie, but it didn’t affect the job this time.”

Janus groaned and leaned his head back against the seat.

Remy pulled into a seemingly random garage around 20 minutes later. “Alright,” he said. “Here we are.” He got out of the car and then helped Janus out before uncuffing him. “Here’s your ‘watch,’” Remy handed him the timepiece that had been confiscated when he’d been arrested.

Janus put it on and activated it. “Shit,” he said.

“What?” Remus asked.

“An appointment with cultural outreach has already been downloaded to my calendar for once we get out of decon.”

“Oof. Going to baby jail,” Remy laughed. Remus was cackling.

“This,” Janus said, “was not a cultural faux pas. I did nothing that indicated that I was not from this time. I am not some rookie.”

“Don’t forget cell phones don’t exist in the 1920s,” Remus sang.

“The real question is whether or not my foot exists in your…” Remus disappeared before he could finish, a smirk on his face. Janus growled. “By Remy,” he gritted out. He selected the decontamination chamber from his queue, ignoring the appointment that came after it for now.

He knew exactly where Remus would be standing when he landed, which was why he stepped forward on reentry to ram into him.

He yelped in surprise. “Sorry,” Janus said pleasantly. “I must have also forgotten landing procedures.

Remus laughed good naturally. “Aw, come on Jay,” he said, bumping Janus back, albeit much gentler than Janus had been. “It’s not a big deal. You just go talk with some crusty old college professor who is far too interested in spoons and then everything’s fine.”

“It’s the principle of the thing,” he growled. “They’re treating me like I’m an idiot who accidently invented disco in the 1920s when I was conned by some free agent time traveler.”

“‘Conned,’ Remus said. Is that what they’re calling it now?”

“I know where and when you live Remus,” Janus said.

Remus gave him a dopey smile as the decontamination cycle finished and the door unlocked. Janus’s wrist buzzed telling him that the coordinates to the cultural outreach office were now unlocked. Instead of pulling them up, Janus walked to the door.

“Um,” Remus said, following him. “Aren’t you supposed to be going to your appointment?” Janus just kept walking towards their office. “Uh… Jan?”

“It’s absolutely ridiculous that I have to go to cultural outreach,” Janus said. “In fact, no one can make me. If they want me to go have a discussion about the definition of ‘bushwa,’ they’re going to have to have me dragged there.”

“Mmm, I feel like The Boss won’t be too happy about that, and I have a feeling she’d be 100% down to dragging you there herself.”

“Well, then, let her,” Janus said, stalking through the door to his office. “I’m not going to…”

“Ah, Agent Picani,” the woman standing next to his desk, clearly waiting for him, said when he came through the door. “Dr. Picani was informed that there were complications with your last mission and wishes to have a conversation with you and asks that you meet him in his office at the AMO.”

“Oh, um,” Janus said, stumbling a bit before plastering on a regretful half smile. “Unfortunately, I actually have an appointment right now at Cultural Outreach. It’s mandatory and very important, and I have to go now. So, I’ll have to take a raincheck on that.”

“But-” she started, frowning.

“Remus, work on the report!” Janus said quickly as he waved his hand to bring up his timepiece display and jammed his finger at the glowing appointment card in his queue. A few moments later, Janus was at Cultural Outreach.

Cultural Outreach was not part of the TPI, though it often worked very closely with them. It was a collaboration between the government and multiple universities to help government workers, politicians, and other citizens understand and bridge cultural gaps. It had existed before time travel was invented but had expanded to also teach people who needed to time travel how to behave in unfamiliar times and cultures.

After it had to be expanded to provide for the TPI, it had been moved to Silver Mountains University. The building had once just been a museum, but it had been thoroughly renovated and there had been add-ons for office space and some classrooms. It was still a museum, however, its purpose had expanded greatly and there were many areas that were off limits to the general public.

One of these areas was the fourth floor, where Janus’s timepiece had dumped him. This was the floor that was almost exclusively for TPI agents and staff of Cultural Outreach who worked with them.

He immediately turned away from the reception area, hoping that he could escape and go sit on the university’s quad or something of the like for the next hour or so in hopes the woman his brother sent to fetch him would give up and go back to the AMO. Yet, the receptionist apparently saw him.

“Janus Picani?” he asked.

Janus grimaced and turned back towards him. “Yes,” he said.

“Is something wrong?” he asked. “You’re 5 minutes late for your appointment and seem disoriented.

“Nothing’s wrong.”

“Is your timepiece malfunctioning?”

“No.”

“Uh… okay. Well, if you sign in here, I can take you to your appointment.”

“…Fine.”

He begrudgingly stepped forward and touched the screen he’d gestured to sign with his fingerprint, and then let the man lead him down the hall.

The door they stopped at was propped open slightly, but he still paused and knocked. “Professor Eran? Your 2:30 is here.”

Janus had just a moment upon hearing the name to think that maybe there was actually some sort of intelligent design of the universe and whatever being of ultimate power had crafted it was a dick.

The door opened and Virgil Eran’s eyes immediately narrowed on him. “Janus.”

“Virgil.”

“I see you’re still late for everything.”

“I see you’re still a bastard.”

Janus saw the receptionist slowly back away in the direction they’d come.

“Why don’t you come in?” Virgil said faux pleasantly.

Janus did, because he really didn’t have much of a choice at this point unless he wanted to jump out of a window… or push someone out of a window.

Virgil turned back into his office and took a seat behind his desk. Janus unhappily followed him in and sat across from him.

He took his time pulling up whatever the TPI sent him and reading it over. “So, I see you failed your recovery mission and were arrested in 1923.”

“It wasn’t like that,” Janus said. “I shouldn’t be here.”

Virgil gave him that same suspicious look he used to give Janus whenever Janus claimed to have not eaten his hot pockets out of the freezer in the middle of the night. He’d only been lying 80% of the time. Virgil had a tendency to forget what he’d eaten in a half-conscious state at 3 o’clock in the morning.

“I shouldn’t,” Janus snapped defensively. “Nothing went wrong with anyone from the time period. An illegal time traveler screwed up the mission details.”

“Well, it is still protocol to make sure nothing slipped when agents go off script. You weren’t prepared to be in a jail cell, and it is possible that you screwed something up.”

“I didn’t screw anything up,” Janus growled.

“Alright,” Virgil said pulling up a document on his desk. “The mission started on July 27th, 1923 at 9:58pm, correct?”

“Oh, god, we’re not really going to fill out a time sheet. I don’t have time for that today.”

“It is protocol and best that the information is documented when it is still fresh in your mind. Besides, your schedule has been cleared for the rest of the workday.” The bastard was enjoying this. He knew how much Janus hated this stuff.

“I didn’t do anything wrong,” Janus said, “it was the damned illicit time traveler.”

“And I will be the judge of that,” Virgil said. Janus should have just bit the bullet and had coffee with his brother. “If you truly did nothing wrong, your supervisor will see that when I send this to her.”

Yet, despite the fact that Virgil clearly relished in his suffering, he was charitable enough to do most of the actual filling out of the forms. He’d read out the questions and write down what Janus said instead of making him do it himself. Janus really only had to do a quick quality check and sign it at the end.

He still was an asshole about the details, but really he’d been like that about stupid thing like the settings for the dish washer and how the pantry was organized during their college days before they’d had their falling out, so Janus wasn’t particularly surprised. When they were finally done, Virgil sent it off to get filed by the TPI.

Then, they were left staring at each other with nothing between them but almost a decade of radio silence and a whole lot of awkwardness.

“I should go,” Janus finally said, standing up.

Virgil tilted his head slightly to the side and gave him a half smile. “Don’t lock the door behind you,” he said. “Not that I’d expect you too.”

Janus took it for the clear attempt at a joke it was intended to be and puffed out a breath of amusement with a head shake. “No risk of that,” he said. Then, he turned and walked out of the office.

Chapter 5

Janus stepped back into the reception area and booted up his time piece. Instinct said to go back to the office despite the fact that it was late enough that most people had gone home, but he hesitated. Surely Emile had given up by now, but considering he’d sent someone to ambush him in his office, Janus wasn’t sure if he should trust that. He could just go home, but he already knew his mind was racing too much to sleep tonight so he’d probably just end up staring at the lake for the next 6 hours. So, he decided on the only other legitimate option he had. He pulled up Remus’s home coordinates and selected.

The home that Remus had chosen (after his long line of rejected requests) managed to somehow make no and absolute sense simultaneously to anyone who knew him. It was a small farm in the United States just west of the Mississippi in 1842 in what would be ratified as the state of Iowa in a few years. When asked why he would choose that time and place, Remus always responded with “I thought it was funny,” whatever that meant.

Unlike most time agents who simply used the identities assigned to them by the AMO as a cover, Remus actually lived his part time.

Janus was… fairly certain he was cheating a bit to get everything done, but he maintained his small farm all on his own, growing most of his own food. The neighbors he had lived very far away, but he still spoke with them far more than Janus did his own.

Janus appeared inside the small home, his eyes already shut. “Are you hear and dressed?” Janus called. Something bumped lightly into his legs.

“I’m in the kitchen!”

Janus peaked his eyes open and squatted to pet the cat at his feet. “That doesn’t answer my question!” he called back to Remus.

“It’s a surprise!” Remus said.

“Remus.” Diesel Fuel the cat flopped to her side on the ground as Janus continued to pet her ears. He heard Remus’s footsteps, and saw cloth covering his legs, so risked looking up. He was currently not only dressed, but wearing an apron that Janus was fairly sure was not time appropriate judging by the fabric and cat pawprint design. He had a bit of flour on his hands, and it may have been a bit too white for the time and place, but Janus couldn’t be completely sure.

“What’re you doing here?” Remus asked.

“My day has been an endless series of frustrations,” Janus said. “So, I have come to see the only tolerable being in the history of the universe.”

Remus snorted. “Since I know that isn’t me, I’ll assume you’re talking about the cat.”

“I still don’t understand why you tolerate this creature,” Janus addressed Diesel Fuel. She blinked slowly up at him. “To be fair, he was assigned as my partner. I didn’t have much of a choice in it. You could go always run away and become feral in the woods if you’d like.”

“So could you, technically,” Remus pointed out.

“I’m thinking about it after today.”

“Would you like some bread?” Remus asked. “That’s all I’ve been making this afternoon. Some fresh should be coming out of the oven in a few minutes.”

“Do you have anything stronger made out of wheat?”

“Ew, no, but I do have vodka.”

“Vodka works.”

“Want me to mix it with something?”

“No.”

“One of those night then,” Remus said, easily. “Let me finish up the bread, so I don’t burn the kitchen down. You can go get the alcohol from the cellar while you wait if you want, or you can just flop down on the couch.”

He was going to just flop down on the couch.

He did just that as Remus disappeared back into his kitchen. The cat hopped onto his stomach, proceeding to purr loudly and kneed at chest. Janus petted the cat and listened to the noise of Remus moving around in the other room, letting his mind drift. His mind drifted to Virgil for a bit and he steadfastly did not allow it to drift to his brother. Yet, the thing that most was on his mind was the strange man who had flirted and charmed Janus all night before mercilessly screwing him over. ‘Pat’ he’d said his name was, but surely that was not his real name.

Janus sighed and scratched the cat’s ear. “He certainly wasn’t an amateur,” Janus mused to the cat. “With that amount of precision to get in before we did, he must have someone not on the ground feeding him information. Perhaps more than one.” He was part of a group of time traveling thieves perhaps or something worse. “I didn’t get a good look at his face since he was wearing a mask,” Janus said, “but I spent a lot of time with him, and I’m sure Remy swiped the mask from the police since it had been on me when I was arrested. It’s a good lead.”

He continued to pet Diesel Fuel. Eventually, Remus came back in, noticed Janus hadn’t bothered to get the alcohol and went outside to the cellar. “I’m going to find him,” Janus told Diesel Fuel. “I’ll stop whatever it is he’s doing, and I’ll bring him in.” Diesel Fuel mewed her support, and Janus patted her on top of the head.

Remus came back in with the bottle of vodka and handed it to him without a word. He sat down on the couch near Janus’s feet and patted his lap so Diesel Fuel would come over to him and allow Janus to sit up.

The bastard waited until he was approximately 3 shots in (he didn’t have a shot glass and was just taking drinks from the bottle) to ask the questions Janus really didn’t want to answer. “Are you mad at Emile?” Remus asked.

Janus groaned, trying to wash out the bitter taste of shame and grief with the sharp sting of vodka. It didn’t work. “No,” he said to Remus.

“Then why have you been avoiding him?”

“Shit, I’m here because I didn’t want to think about it. Can’t we just not.”

“Don’t want to think about what?

“It’s none of your business, Remus.”

He could feel Remus frowning at him, but Janus stared resolutely ahead. At least, he did until a foot poked his face. He slapped it away, but it did the job of getting Janus to look at Remus.

“It is my business,” Remus said, foot still in the air. “I’m your partner and your friend.”

“If I’m your friend, you’ll drop it.”

“So, you’re not mad at Emile,” Remus continued, contemplatively. “Did you do something to him, then?” Janus bit his lip and looked away. “What?” Remus asked. Janus didn’t respond. “Look, I’m sure he’ll forgive you for whatever it is. He’s a good guy. Just talk to him about it.”

“I can’t,” Janus said.

“Whatever it is, it’s probably been long enough that he forgives you. You literally just have to have a conversation, say you’re sorry, and everything will be A-OK.”

“I can’t,” Janus repeated.

“Why not?”

“He doesn’t know about it.”

Remus paused. “So, as far as he knows, you just cut contact with him all of a sudden for no reason and have been avoiding him ever since?”

Janus looked at his shoes. “Yeah.”

“That…” Remus said, “is not fucking fair Janus.”

“I know.”

“Then why the hell are you doing that to him? He’s like… soft and feeling-y. He’s probably really upset.”

“I know, Remus.”

“Tell him. Whatever it is.”

“I can’t.”

“Look,” Remus said. “You tell him and he either forgives you or he doesn’t. If he does, everything’s fine. If he doesn’t… well, it’s not like it would be any different from you two never being in the same room the last few years. Either way, you can’t just do this to him. He’ll probably forgive you. He’s your brother. Brothers don’t… brothers would forgive each other.”

Janus laughed softly and met Remus’s eyes. “That’s the problem,” he said. “He’d definitely forgive me.” He turned away and opened the vodka bottle again. “Now, if you’ll shut up for a few minutes, I’m going to drink until I black out.”

Chapter 6

“Really, Khalid,” Janus said, storming into his boss’s office. “A yellow?” It had been about a week since the 1920s incident, and his incident report had finally been cleared. Sure, it wasn’t a red or a black and he wasn’t facing any reprimand, but it should have been a green.

She looked up at him, clearly unconcerned. “There was an incident,” she said. “You handled it well, but there was one. Therefore, yellow.”

“It wasn’t a time travel incident! It was a rouge time traveler.”

“Janus, you helped me make these rules,” she said impatiently.

“Which is why I know this is bullshit,” he snapped.

She rolled her eyes. “If it was anyone else, you would agree with me. While you didn’t go against protocol and had no time related incidents, the fact of the matter is, you were still distracted by this ‘rouge time traveler,’ didn’t complete your mission, and were arrested.”

“He was good,” Janus said. “You can’t fault me for that. He also could be dangerous and you’re busy handing out yellows instead of working to track him down.”

She raised an eyebrow. “We are working on tracking him down,” she said. “We have done an analysis on the mask and found fibers dating to the 2010s and some DNA. Though it isn’t exactly a high priority.”

“We have no idea who he is or what he’s planning to do. Why is that not a high priority thing?”

“At the moment?” she asked. “Because we have reports of a time bomb being activated.”

“What?” Janus asked sitting up. “When?”

“New Years Eve going into the year 3,000 in Brazil,” she said. “Which you’d know about if you’d bothered to check your integration port this morning before storming into my office.”

“It’s my mission?” Janus asked.

“The incident investigation is over and your active again despite the dreaded yellow,” she said, clearly making fun of him a bit. “So, yes, and it’s a high priority mission, so I’ll be running it.”

“Who all is going?” he asked.

“Other than the two of us, Remus, Lena, and Fred,” she told him. “We leave in three hours, so, you might want to run off to Rhi before Fred gets to her and ties her up for an hour on details.”

Janus nodded and got to his feet. He turned back at the door. “I still don’t deserve the yellow,” he hissed.

She waved him off. “I’ll see you in a few hours, Picani.”

He ground his teeth a bit about the dismissal of his worries, but his resentment was slightly soothed by the fact that she’d assigned him to go on such a high priority mission and with only senior agents.

He took the advice and grabbed Remus from the office, noting Lena hadn’t been able to wrangle Fred yet as she was still at her desk, and they both headed off to see Rhi.

A few hours later, they were all in decontamination together, decked out in truly god-awful costumes. The turn of the third millennia had been a wild event, and the best way to fit in was to look like you’d grabbed something from every century in recorded human history, dyed it in neon paint, and rolled around in a vat of glitter.

Remus had opted to stick his head in a vat of glow in the dark green paint that costuming had offered them, and it wasn’t even going to be slightly disruptive to their covertness.

In fact, costuming had frowned when Janus had insisted he not get his hair dyed and instead wore a bowler hat. They had required him to have flowers made out of glitter on it.

There were five people waiting for them when they landed 6 hours before the turn of the millennia. Three were touchdown agents, including Remy, and two were on location tech support. Usually it would be overkill to have that many people there just for support even with five agents in the field, but today the TPI needed to be cautious because they were planning on instituting a time lock.

Time bombs were dangerous things that would ripple through time if not contained. Even if it did end up going off (killing everyone in its reach), the time lock would serve to prevent most damage outside of the city and, more importantly, the year it was planted.

Janus had only been in two time locks before, and he was one of the most senior agents in the TPI, outranked only by the founder: Lia Khalid. Time locks were designed to keep all time linear in a certain fixed time and geographical area as well as prevent any time travel in and out. Once it was engaged, all forms of time travel would not work for the duration, bar the pin device. Khalid was already switching out her regular timepiece with the slightly bigger one that was designed to support the time lock.

There was a failsafe back at the TPI that could be engaged in an emergency, which was why tech support was here, but other than that, the only thing that could break the time lock was that timepiece, and it would break the moment the time lock ended.

As soon as it was on Khalid’s wrist, she looked up at them all. “Our information says the time bomb was planted in the costume of one of the ‘Millennium Birds’ who are the organizers of the different events,” she said. Janus had seen a photo of the identical costumes in the mission details. They were all robe like garments with giant fans of feathers coming from the neck that coalesced in a peak a foot above their head to hold a fake bird egg. At least they’d be easy to find. “There are 25 of them throughout the city. We need to find each of them. So, we don’t double count, you’ll need to subtly,” her eyes touched on Remus, “scan each one you find for the bomb and tag them with a tracker if it’s not on them. You can view the already tagged ones, as well as the rest of us on your timepiece even once the time lock is engaged. When you find the bomb, call it in.”

They all nodded, and Khalid looked over at one of the techies. She nodded at her and then the techie flipped a couple of switches. “Three, two, one,” the techie said. There was a slight shift in the air that most people would disregard, but Janus as a seasoned time traveler could feel the change even before his wrist buzzed. He glanced at his timepiece to see it had a big red ‘X’ across its display. He tapped it and was still able to bring up the map of the city with 10 green dots on it all clustered together in their current location.

After that, he tested the scanner on his timepiece that he would use to search for the bomb, just to make sure the time lock hadn’t messed anything up with his equipment. He glanced up to see everyone else was doing the same.

“Keep in contact,” Khalid said before everyone split up. Janus and Remus started by going North while Fredrick and Darlene were to go South. Khalid was a floater who would tag any Birds she saw but was mostly there for backup and orders.

Janus and Remus stepped into the chaos of New Years Eve before the turn of the third millennia. The streets were already swamped with people and it would only be getting worse the later it go.

“Where should we start?” Remus asked.

“Let’s go all the way North to the games area,” Janus said. “We can work our way back here.”

“Okay!” Remus said. “I wonder if they have those fun little genetically modified goldfish as prizes. I’ve always wanted to eat one and see if I end up getting whatever design was on the fish on my body.”

Janus gave him a disgusted look.

“What?! People eat fish all the time!”

Janus shook his head. “We’re not playing the games anyway. We have work to do. Important work.”

“Boo,” Remus replied. Janus chose to ignore him as he spotted one of the Millenia Birds letting people into the gaming area.

They walked over towards the entrance. Janus got in range first and moved to subtly scan the Millenia Bird, Remus doing the same the next moment. After a second, Janus’s timepiece buzzed and lit up red, meaning the bomb was within range. “Well, that was easy,” he said. “It was on the first one we found.”

“Uh…” Remus said. “Jan.” When Janus looked, he was holding up his wrist to show his green lit time piece.

“What?” Janus asked. He quickly moved to rescan the Millenia Bird, and his timepiece came up green as well. Which, meant the bomb was not in range, even though the Millenia Bird had not moved. “But…” He and Remus’s eyes met, and they quickly both started turning in a circle to look at the crowd around him. No one looked like they’d just stolen a time bomb off the Millennial Bird, but then Janus’s eyes caught on a man. He blended in perfectly to his surroundings. He was wearing the disgusting garb of the times, a large light blue piece that bubbled near his hips, and had most of his skin covered in rainbow neon paints. Yet, something about him, the curl of his hair or the way he moved, drew Janus’s eyes to him. He recognized the man immediately even in a completely different dressing style. Yet, what cinched it was the moment Janus’s eyes met his and they seemed to sparkle slightly in the afternoon sun. The next moment, the person Janus knew as Pat, turned to disappear into the crowd.

Chapter 7

“Him,” was the only thing Janus said before taking off after the figure who had just disappeared into the game area.

“What?” Remus’s voice followed after him. “Janus! What?!”

Janus did not pause, just continuing to run after Pat, hopping over two barricades as a shortcut. Janus cursed when he lost sight of the man for just a moment near the prize table filled with colorful goldfish, but he was able to spot him once again walking into one of the tents. Janus blasted into the tent. It was a game where they raced rats, and when Janus entered, Pat was cooing at one of them.

“Who’s a tiny little squishy precious baby?” he was asking one of them, wiggling his pointer finger at it.

“You,” Janus growled stepping up to him.

He turned and tilted his head at Janus with a frown. “Um, me?” he asked, pointing to his chest, all sorts of innocent, but Janus could see a spot of hidden amusement in his eyes.

“Where is it?”

His eyebrows drew together, but it was an act. It was clearly an act! “Where is what?”

“The…” he glanced around them at the people surrounding them. “Thing you just took.”

“I didn’t take anything,” Pat said with a frown.

“Oh, no,” Janus said. “Fool me once, shame on you. Fooling me twice is not an option.”

“I’m sorry sir,” Pat said. “I really don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Bull. Shit.”

Just then, Remus jogged into the tent. “What’s going on?” he asked.

“It’s him,” Janus said pointing. “He took it. He has it.”

“I… don’t know what you’re talking about,” Patton said. He looked over to Remus with a confused frown.

Remus looked at Janus. “Are you sure?”

“Yes,” Janus said. “It’s him. It has to be him. He’s the mask guy.”

Remus squinted at Pat. “He is?”

“Whoever you think I am, I’m not. I haven’t worn a mask all night. I just did the face paint,” he pointed to his cheeks.

Remus raised his wrist and his timepiece lit up green. He looked at Janus.

“I lost sight of him for five seconds. He must have stashed it somewhere,” Janus said. He turned on Pat. “Where did you put it?”

“…Are you,” Pat asked, his eyes going back and forth between Janus and Remus, “… the police?”

“We are, actually,” Khalid said as she stepped into the tent. Remus must have called her. She inserted herself between Janus and Pat. “Agent Khalid,” she said, offering a hand with a smile. Pat looked at it in surprise and then smiled back hesitantly as he took it. “Apologizes, one of the big game prizes was stolen by someone matching your description. Would you mind coming down to security for questioning? Just to clear it up.”

“Oh,” Patton said, hesitant. Janus expected him to refuse outright, but then he said. “Uh, sure.”

“Thank you very much, Mr…”

“Jonas,” Pat told her earnestly. “Do I need to be handcuffed?”

“No,” Khalid said. Janus frowned at her, but she ignored him. “It’s just a talk for now.” She gestured to the tent entrance. “Come with us.”

He did without argument, and Remus and Janus followed behind the both of them. Khalid did not lead them back to the base, but to a little spot that said “security” near the center of the event. Remy was already there waiting for them at a desk.

“Remy, would you please take Mr. Jonas to go sit down?” she asked.

“Sure, boss,” Remy said, standing up. He led Pat away.

Khalid turned to Janus and Remus once they were out of earshot. “What is going on?”

“It’s the mask man,” Janus said, “the one from 1923, and my scanner said the time bomb was on the Millenia Bird outside the games entrance, but then it was gone the next second, and I saw him, and then he ran away.”

“So, does he have it on him?”

“No. I lost sight of him, and he must have stored it somewhere, but I know he took it.”

10264

“He’s the man from 1923?” she asked.

“Yes! Remus, that’s him, right? You recognize him.”

“Well,” Remus said thoughtfully. “He was in a mask, and it was dark in the room with the necklace. Other than that, I only really saw his back, and he was wearing pants. Mr. Jonas is wearing a dress, so I can’t really tell if their asses match.”

“Okay, but I was with him for hours. I swear it’s him, and I swear he took it,” Janus just about shouted.

“We’ll question him,” Khalid placated, “and Fred and Lena will keep looking in the meantime.”

“He knows where it is,” Janus insisted. “I swear.”

“Okay,” Khalid said, before leaving to follow where Remy and Pat had gone. She stopped Janus with a hand on his shoulder. “I think Remus and I will do the interrogation.” He opened his mouth to argue. “You know the most about him, so observe from the sidelines and see if he makes any mistakes that indicate you’re right.”

“That’s just to placate me and you know it.”

“Observation’s over there,” she said pointing.

He got a thumbs up from Remus as he walked by, and Janus glared at his back before walking off to the indicated location.

He watched as Remus and Khalid entered the room, and Remy left it. Remy joined him in the observation room after leaving and leaned against the wall.

Pat was sitting at a table and watched Remus and Khalid with that same rubbish placid confusion that he had before. “So,” Khalid said, “Mr. Jonas.”

“You can call me Nick,” Pat interrupted.

“Lia,” Khalid replied. He smiled at her happily. “So, are you enjoying your day?” she asked.

“I am!” he replied. “It’s a big day. You only get to see the turn of a millennia once in your life.”

“Ah, yes,” Khalid said. “Doing anything special for it?”

“Um, not really,” he said. “Other than the party. I’m going to meet up with my roommates after dinner. Kevin doesn’t like this sort of thing, and Joe couldn’t come.”

“Your roommates,” Khalid said, considering him. “Do you live around here?”

“Uh huh,” Pat replied.

“Do you have any ID?”

“I do, want me to get it?”

“If you wouldn’t mind.”

Pat unzipped one of the bubbles on his waist and handed her a chip. “Remus, would you mind going out and getting the ID scanner?” she asked, even though her timepiece would be able to read it.

“Ah, shit,” Remy said. “Props. What do those things even look like?”

As Remy scrambled to find something that would pass for an ID reader so “Nick” didn’t get suspicious of Khalid using her timepiece, Janus watched the two alone in the room like a hawk.

“I see you’re wearing a dress inspired by the 2770s,” Khalid noted, as Remus came to stand next to him.

“Yeah!” Pat replied. “Joe made it for me. He’s really good at fashion design!”

“Can I see?” she asked.

With a happy smile, he reached over the table to let her get a look of the sleeves. Janus saw her subtly scan the fabric, probably to make sure it was from the 2990s and not actually from the 2770s. Considering she didn’t mention it, Janus assumed it checked out.

Remy came back with some sort of device then and handed it to Remus who saluted and wandered back into the interrogation room. Khalid pretended to scan the ID in her hand. She handed it back to him without comment. “So, you said you live with your roommates: Joe and Kevin?” she asked.

“Yep!” he replied. “We’re practically like brothers.”

“Would you mind calling them?”

“Erm,” he titled his head like he was confused by the question. “Well, like I said, Joe is a bit busy, but I could definitely call Kevin.

“Here,” Khalid said, “use my phone.”

“I have my own,” he said with a frown.

“Humor me,” she requested.

“Uh, okay,” Pat agreed. He took the offered 2999 phone and dialed a number on it. Khalid reached over to put it on speaker.

“Hello?” a voice asked after a few seconds.

“Um, hey Kevin, it’s Nick.”

There was a sigh on the other end. “Hello Nick, is something wrong? Why are you calling me from someone else’s phone?”

“I’m fine, I think.” He looked up at Khalid. “Why am I calling him exactly?”

“Hello, I’m Officer Khalid,” Khalid said. “I just wanted to confirm that you are Nick Jonas’s roommate, and he does live in Manaus.”

“Yes, we live together with our other roommate,” the man replied flippantly. “Officer? Is something wrong?”

“I believe there was just a case of mistaken identity,” Khalid said.

“Bullshit there was!” Janus hissed, though she could not hear him.

“No need to worry,” Khalid continued.

“I’m good Kevin,” Pat said.

“Are you absolutely sure?” Kevin asked.

“Don’t be Paranoid, Kevin. I’ll see you Tonight for the New Years Celebration. You know I Live to Party.”

“I am hanging up now,” Kevin said.

“No! Comeback.” The line went dead. Pat handed the device back to Khalid.

She took it and smiled at him. “Give us just a couple of minutes,” she requested. He nodded easily, and she and Remus exited the interrogation room. “I… think we’re done here,” Khalid said.

“No, he’s lying,” Janus insisted, and got a dubious look in return. “I know he is! Remus!”

“The alibi is pretty solid…” Remus said, “and he doesn’t have the bomb on him.”

“Oh, come on,” Janus said. “You can’t say there is nothing fishy going on here.”

Khalid and Remus shared a look. “Janus,” Khalid said. “I respect your intuition. It is usually very good, but you have been a bit intense about the man from the 1920s, and I think that may be blinding you a bit...”

“I am not imagining this!” Janus said. “That’s him and he took it.”

“You only met him once while he was wearing a mask,” Khalid pointed out with a frown, “and you didn’t see him take the bomb, did you?”

“No, but he looked at me and I knew,” Janus argued. They both gave him a skeptical look. “Oh, come on!”

“You know that’s a little weak, Jan,” Remus said.

“Let me talk to him,” Janus requested. “Just give me five minutes to talk with him.”

Khalid raised one eyebrow. “Fine,” she agreed. “You have five minutes, but after that, you have to let it go. We can’t waste any more time.”

Chapter 8

Pat looked up as Janus stepped into the interrogation room. “Hi,” he said with an innocent smile that could cut steal.

Janus didn’t say a word as he took a seat; he just watched him intently. He leaned slightly over the table and steepled his fingers in front of his chin. “So, your name is Nick this time?” Janus asked.

“Nicholas Jonas,” he said. “Always has been.”

“Stop it,” Janus said.

“Stop what?”

“Cut the crap. I know.”

Pat leaned forward, mirroring Janus as he leaned closer, interlocking his fingers and laying his chin on top of his knuckles. “What did you say your name was again?” he asked, pleasantly.

“Janus,” Janus replied.

“No, I’m Jonas,” he said, pointing to his chest.

“Not Jonas,” Janus spat. “Janus.”

“Um,” Pat said, eyes alight with amusement. The bastard. “Those are the same words.”

“No, they’re not. It’s Janus. J-A-N-U.-S.”

“Well, that’s confusing,” Pat said with a frown, but his nose was crinkling. “It’s close to my name. You should go by a nickname instead.”

“What?” Janus said. “No.”

Pat hummed. “How about Love Bug?”

“What! No!” Janus sputtered, almost flipping the table, as Pat winked at him.

“BB Good?”

“What does that even mean?!”

“Mandy.”

“No!”

“Okay, okay, how about Macy Misa.”

11594

Janus stared at him for a moment. “Fine. Whatever. What was I even talking about?”

“Hmm. I Believe we were talking about my name and how you think it’s not my name.”

“Right,” Janus said. “So, Nick. That was your roommate, Kevin on the phone, right? He seemed a bit unhappy with you. Any reason?”

“Nah, we’re Cool” said Pat. “That’s Just the Way We Roll.”

“Not because you’re messing up a mission right now?”

Pat’s eyes crinkled together. “A mission?” he parroted. “I’m not messing up a mission.”

“Oh, really?” Janus growled. “Because you’ve been captured by the TPI, and I know who you are and what you’ve been doing.”

“I have no idea what the TPI is,” he claimed.

“Yes, you do!” Janus said, standing up. “You obviously do! Or you wouldn’t be playing this game!”

“Game?” Pat asked. “Macy I ask you what you’re talking about.”

“This is all just a game to you isn’t it!” Janus said, slamming his hands down on the table in front of them.

“Whoa,” Pat said, putting his hands up. “Calm down. Your face is getting all red. You must be Burnin’ Up.”

“I’m not sure what, but something about what you just said pisses me off.”

“And that is five minutes,” Khalid said, bursting into the room. He felt a tug on the back of his shirt and glared back at Remus who was putting his own body between Janus and Pat.

“There was no way that was five minutes,” Janus growled.

“It was five minutes,” Khalid gritted out. “Remus, get him out of here.”

“Come on Jay,” Remus said, dragging him back towards the door.

“Remus, I swear to god.”

“Just chill, Janus,” Remus said, slamming the door closed behind them.

Janus shrugged him off. “You chill!” he snapped. “He’s playing you all for the fool.”

“Wow, Macy,” Remy drawled like an asshole. “I’ve never seen you so fired up.”

“Oh, my gosh. No one is going to believe me, and he’s going to get away with this.”

“You’re not really helping your case, babe,” Remy said.

Remus grabbed him by the shoulders again. “Here, let’s go get some water.”

“I don’t want water,” he said even as he let Remus lead him to another room to get a glass of water.

“Look,” Remus said. “I know the Mask Guy thing really sucked, but you have to look at the facts.

“I am looking at the facts,” Janus insisted, “and the facts are, he’s fucking with me.”

“You don’t know what mask guy looks like,” Remus said. “You didn’t see Nick take the time bomb, he has an ID from this time period and a roommate in this time he called on the phone, and he legitimately seems to not know what any of us are talking about.”

“Did you even listen to our conversation?” Janus asked. “He was screwing with me the entire time!”

“Janus…” Remus said.

“What?” Janus said, narrowing his eyes at Remus’s tone.

“I know you recently had a bad experience, but not everyone who flirts with you is doing it out of evil.”

Janus’s mouth hung open for a few seconds. “That’s what you got out of our conversation?”

“He called you Love Bug.”

Janus felt his face heat a bit at the reminder. “That’s not… I. I’m stealing your cat and then never speaking to you again.”

Remus laughed. “Ah,” he said. “Young lust.”

Janus elbowed him roughly in the side. “No!”

“Yes!” he crooned, pleased.

#study break stories #not writing

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paulfwesley · 4 years

Text

A Split Second (Part Four) [Bryce Lahela x f!MC]

Pairing: Bryce Lahela x f!MC (Dr. Claire King).

Chapter Rating: T.

Word Count: 3.3K.

Description: She might not know what her faith is, but someone reminds her how to hold on to it. TW: guns, violence, blood. Part 1. Part 2. Part 3.

Disclaimer: Characters, storyline, and parts of the dialogue are taken from Pixelberry’s Choices’ Open Heart. They fully own the characters, dialogue, backgrounds, etc. MC Claire King’s background is my own creation, based off of MC in-game’s personality.

Author’s Note: I’m sorry this took so long!! And I’m also sorry because there is one more part after this XD But that will be the last part, I promise!! This chapter took on a life of its own. Bryce isn’t in it, but it’s definitely something that I realized Claire needed in the development of this story. If you’d like to be tagged please let me know! I don’t count people liking the actual post because I don’t know if that’s you wanting to be tagged XD so be sure to comment and tell me!

Tagging: @commander-rahrah @jaydito-tjjd @anotherbeingsworld @shakespeareanwannabe @bitchloveskcbaseball @wisegirl9 @rookie-ramsey @mrsdrakewalkerblog @omgjasminesimone @frenchieswiftie @jamespotterthefirst @elladines @thanialis @lucy-268 @sherrylove @bloomingsivan @lahellacute @araihc-ce @ltimeisanillusionl

Enjoy!

Claire’s favourite time of the year was Christmas. She loved decorating her home, she loved watching Christmas movies, she loved giving gifts, really loved getting gifts. But despite her favourite holiday centering around the birth of the figure of the religion, she didn’t know if she could call herself a Christian.

But that didn’t stop her from sitting in the back pew of the hospital’s multi faith room. It was a small place, roughly the size of the diagnostic team’s room, with three pews on either side of the room. She had expected for there to be a giant figure of Jesus painted in stained glass on the window, but because of the place being a multi faith room, they couldn’t. A tall podium sat at the front of the room, probably for when leaders of the faith came to speak to the people desperately seeking any kind of reprieve from the worry that plagued their every waking moment.

Admittedly there were a lot of places Claire could have gone. The cafeteria, where she could have stress ate until Bryce’s surgery was over, but with G.S.Ws there was always the chance that complications could arise, and she wasn’t sure how much her poor stomach could handle, especially when she thought about eating anything her stomach clenched.

She briefly considered a supply closet, but she could still remember the burning shame she felt when June found her there crying her eyes out at the news of Kyra’s relapse. It was too risky, especially because of the coming and going that arose with the need for supplies in there.

Then she thought about waiting it out in the resident lounge, but there she’d be surrounded by her friends. She’d have to talk with them, listen to them give reassurances that nothing would happen to Bryce, but Claire didn’t want to listen to empty promises. Her friends had seen her in bad states before: blood soaking her scrubs, exhaustion draining her face, the occasional stench that emitted off of her when she was so caught up in a case she forgot to shower. But she didn’t want them to see her like this: eyes bloodshot, nose red, tissue tucked into her sleeve for easy access when a rack of sobs hit her like a freight train. She just wanted to be somewhere she could shut her brain off.

That was when her mind flashed to the multi faith room. It was always quiet in here, save for the odd sniffle or sob that came out of a person while they prayed for their husband to make it through the night, their sister to make it through her surgery, their grandfather’s diagnosis to be anything but what they feared the most. Otherwise, it was a place where people came to find some shred of peace. The silence was comfortable; it was a recognition that everyone in the small room was suffering somehow, but who found companionship with each other in the sense that they all sent their pleas to a guy sitting on a cloud in the sky.

Tonight, though, the multi faith room was surprisingly empty. Someone had to have been in there earlier, because the collection of candles that sat on the table in front of the podium were lit, the flames of each individual candle small but creating a larger, stable symbol of hope. Each candle represented an unknown person, a life no one knew, a story untold, but every tiny wick created a sense of solidarity, the knowledge that someone was thinking of you, that this point in time, there was a place in the darkness where all hope was extinguished, but burning on as a deliberate point to prove that your life mattered, that it was being prayed for, that you were being fought for. An ember to glow with the reminder that someone wanted, needed you to stay.

All the same, she chose the pew in the very back. She huddled against the armrest, tucking her knees under her and curling into the side as much as she could. She rested her joined hands under her head in the hopes that she would be less tempted to check the watch on her wrist and despair at how long the surgery was taking. She made Dr. Emery promise that she’d page her as soon as the surgery was over, but she didn’t know how long that would take, so Claire settled in for what could possibly be the longest night of her life.

Her eyes hurt, her head aching with exhaustion now that all the adrenaline had flushed out of her system. She was still in the blood soaked clothes she had been in when she tried to cover Bryce’s wound, but she couldn’t bring herself to get up and change out of them. Instead she lay there, the high air conditioning blasting through her clothes and stiffening the material, chafing against her chest. Still she didn’t move. Her memories of Bryce paralyzed her.

She relieved every single moment backwards right from the moment he had been whisked into the O.R. room all the way back to the first time she had seen him in the changing room on her first day in Edenbrook, when she had no idea who he’d become to her. Back then, he was just a meat headed jockey; someone fun to hook up with, but who Claire thought was the ‘no strings attached’ type, which was fine with her, because as each day passed she found herself more and more enamored with Ethan. But then Ethan left, and Bryce stepped up to help, and she finally started to see him in a new light. No, he wasn’t the type to buy you a drink at the bar, flirt with you just the right amount, laugh when he knew you wanted him to, knew just what to say to reel you in, and then go with you back to your place and then be gone without a word before you even woke up the next morning.

No. Bryce Lahela was the type to make terrible jokes. He talked during movies. He bought shots for his friends because he had heard they were going to compete against each other. He laughed at everything you said: your good jokes, your bad jokes, especially your terrible jokes, the ones you made because you knew only he would laugh at them. He’d bring you back to his place, lavish you, make you feel warm and loved and safe, and then the next morning he’d bring you breakfast in bed to share, even if it was just toaster waffles and he ate all of the strawberries even though you pleaded for him to spare you at least one. Bryce was safe. Bryce was loving. Bryce was home.

And she didn’t know if he’d die not knowing how much she loved him.

The idea twinged her chest, slowly spreading through her like a parasite, devouring all threads of hope and spitting out something that was ruined and beyond repair. She squeezed her eyes shut when she felt tears brimming, and she curled herself into a smaller ball, if that was even possible. It was as if she was hoping that the more she compressed herself, the more she’d be able to crush the pain that snaked her muscles.

She faintly heard the doors to the chapel opening. The thought of sitting up crossed her mind, because she was technically in a place of worship and she really shouldn’t have her feet up in a pew, but then she thought that this was a place people came when they were desperate, when medicine and hopeful statistics and the comforting words of doctors weren’t enough for them. Those people who were in no place to judge how she dealt with her emotions. So she kept her eyes shut, drinking in a shuddery breath through her mouth.

Movement in the chapel, footsteps echoing softly on the carpeted floor. The footsteps grew louder, and suddenly the seat next to her dipped with a weight of someone sitting down, the body heat of their dress pants brushing against her feet. She still kept her eyes shut, though. If someone needed her presence just to feel like they weren’t alone, so be it.

“I’ve known you for a little over a year, yet I never knew you were religious,” the agonizingly familiar voice said and Claire’s eyes immediately snapped open. She dropped her feet to the ground and sat up, turning her head so her eyes met his soft blue ones. Ethan gave her an easy smile, the look you’d give a child to reassure them that a needle was nothing to be scared of. “You didn’t peg me for the type to be singing Christmas carols about Jesus.”

Claire sniffled, blinking heavily before finally turning to face the front. “I mean, I decorate a Christmas tree and I paint Easter eggs, but I don’t know about church every Sunday or not mixing certain types of cloth.” She tilted her head back, letting her neck rest on the back of the seat. “But when I needed a place to be by myself, to be quiet, to feel some sort of peace… this is where I ended up.”

Ethan stared at her. At the wrinkles around her eyes. The dryness of her nose that came with the repeated rubbing of tissues. The redness in her swollen cheeks. “Lahela’s still in surgery.”

Her chest dipped. When she didn’t respond, Ethan continued. “That was the last update I could get from Harper. She’s the best. She’ll do what she can for Lahela. She--”

“I don’t need you to tell me what I already know, Ethan,” she cut in dryly. The words came out harsher than she intended. She always spoke cordially with Ethan, professionally, nicely even, considering that their split hadn’t really been… amicable. But now, tonight, she didn’t have the room to decipher the lingering tightness in her chest whenever she looked at him. Any emotions she felt tonight were for Bryce, the man she had only become certain of when she was on the verge of losing him.

Ethan went silent. “Then what do you need?”

“Just distract me.” She turned her eyes to him without lifting her head. “How did you find me here?”

“Aurora Emery saw you in here,” he responded. “She didn’t want to disturb you, though. But when I ran into her and asked if she’d seen you, she told me.”

She wasn’t sure if she should murder Aurora or thank her. She didn’t necessarily want to see Ethan but… but even after all this time, she still associated him with comfort, especially when he wasn’t open about it, which wasn’t what she wanted.

His leg bounced, his foot tapping against the floor. “The cops were looking for you. They wanted a statement.”

She cocked a brow. “And?”

“And I told them I didn’t know where you were,” Ethan answered. He gave her a once-over, taking in her frazzled appearance. “I figured after what happened, you wouldn’t be in the mood to really talk to anyone. Besides, Sienna had already filled us in on what had happened, but they wanted an eyewitness report.”

The corner of her lips turned up slightly. “Thanks for that.”

“I know this is probably a stupid question,” he started. “But are you okay?”

“Someone pointed a gun in my face today,” she hummed. She lifted her head and gave Ethan an incredulous look. “Would you be okay?”

“No,” he admitted. “But I’m honestly surprised you’re as calm as you are.”

The anger she thought she had suppressed, that she hadn’t felt in months, flashed through her. “I’m not as fragile as you think.”

“Right,” he acknowledged, the word lingering in the awkward air she had created. Claire squeezed her eyes shut and crossed her arms over her chest, sinking back into the weathered cushion while ignoring the discomfort of the wooden top.

After a few more silent seconds, Ethan finally said, “So… Lahela, huh?”

She didn’t even bother opening her eyes. A snort escaped her lips before she could stop it. “It’s a little late to play the jealous ex, don’t you think?”

“No, I know,” Ethan quickly backtracked, his tone filled with alarm, but with a forlorn undertone that Claire only recognized because she was well versed in the language of Ethan Ramsey. “I just meant… he’s a good guy, if you had to pick someone.”

Claire couldn’t help but wonder if Ethan was trying to imply that he wasn’t a good guy, but she didn’t have the strength or energy to launch into that discussion. Instead, she said, “He is a good guy. The best, really. It just took me a while to see it.” Her shoulders deflated. “Too long, if I’m going to be honest.”

“I’m no stranger to feeling like you’ve waited too long,” Ethan said quietly. The words cut through Claire, though only deep enough to leave a superficial wound. “But I’m sure Lahela knows how you feel.”

“He doesn’t,” she retorted. She opened her eyes to see Ethan staring at her, confusion raising his brows. Claire pushed herself up so she sat properly. “He thought all he was to me was just a rebound. But he’s not. He’s everything to me. He makes me happy, feel warm, feel safe…” To her horror tears blurred her vision. She didn’t want to be the type of person that cried to her ex about her current boyfriend (though Claire wasn’t even sure that was who Bryce was to her) but here she was. Yet instead of making her feel awkward, Ethan just waited patiently, his face neutral, his eyes betraying none of the emotions she wondered he felt hearing her talk about someone else to him. He dipped his chin for her to continue, and encouraged, she did. She bit her lip to keep it from wobbling and sobbed, “But I couldn’t do the same for him. He got shot because of me.”

Ethan put a hand on her shoulder and gave it a firm squeeze. “Rookie, pull yourself together.”

That nickname. One she hadn’t heard since her final day as an intern, when he had accidentally let it slip before correcting himself with the reminder that she was no longer an intern. It was a nickname she had loathed when he gave it to her; it made her feel impossibly small and feeling like she had to live up to it. But over time she began to associate the challenge that came with the word rookie, the drive that made her want to work harder, the validation when she realized that at some point, the word had turned from a nickname that Ethan had given her because he hadn’t known her name to a name that she had built a positive reputation around. Claire King: the Rookie of the intern year of 2019. The best of the best, the woman who refused to let herself be broken. And now, with Ethan using it just now, those feelings came rushing back to her.

She straightened her back and instinctively raised her chin, like she was poised to report a diagnosis or defend her actions. Ethan gave her an approving smile. “Bryce didn’t get shot because of you. If he did, it was because he loved you, and he would rather it be him in pain than you.”

“But I didn’t ask him to do that!” Claire sobbed, unable to contain the despair slugging through her veins.

“You didn’t have to,” he pointed out. “The moment Bryce had seen that gun pointing at you, he had made up his mind.”

She gave him a look. “And how do you know that?”

“Because if it were me, I would have made the same decision,” he revealed,

The tension was so thick in the air around them it could have been cut clean through with a knife. “Ethan…” she breathed.

“I know,” he said, whispered. The words were so simple. Short, one syllable each. Yet they were heavy, wistful, filled with the joyous memories of a life that had been, haunted by the possibilities of a future that might have been. If she wasn’t Claire King, junior fellow on the diagnostic’s team. If he wasn’t Ethan Ramsey, the country’s best diagnostician, and the leader of the diagnostic’s team. It was a truth that went unsaid, the mournful melodies hidden by the words of a promising love song. Their love was one that was fleeting, never meant to thrive, never meant to see the light of day, never meant to go beyond the secret wishes that things were different.

She darted her gaze away from him, focusing on the stain on the patch of carpet that she was praying was coffee. Ethan cleared his throat. “You can’t blame yourself for Bryce’s choices, or even for the gunman’s choices. All you can do is have faith that Harper is amazing at her job and that Lahela is strong enough to make it through the other side.”

She chuckled humourlessly, giving the empty space around her a long look. “Ethan Ramsey, I had no idea you were such a poet.”

Ethan snorted, and that launched the both of them into a fit of laughter, tears streaming down their cheeks and clutching their aching sides. They would finally sober up, but then one of them would break again, and then that would make them lose it again.

The door to the chapels opened, and a short old lady took one step in and turned to find the source of laughter. When her disapproving gaze landed on Ethan and Claire, they both stopped laughing. Instead of stepping inside, the woman clicked her tongue in disbelief and shook her head in disgust before stepping out. Ethan and Claire looked at each other again before dissolving into another round of laughter.

Finally, after what seemed like ages, Claire’s laughs ceased. She wiped at the corner of her eyes. “Thank you, Ethan,” she said. “I needed that.”

“Hey, I’m a doctor,” he offered, a familiar twinkle in his eyes. “It’s my job to make people feel better.”

A smile graced her face, while the ghost of one tugged on Ethan’s lips. It was a gesture of understanding between two people who had loved and lost, and who recognized that while ending things had been the right decision, they would always need each other in their lives. It was in that moment that Claire realized that she and Ethan had needed each other, but were never meant to end up together. In Ethan, Claire had found a mentor, someone who understood her passion and who recognized her talent, who could push her to be the best she could be. In Claire, Ethan had found someone he had been wandering for years without-- a true friend. Someone who listened without judgment, who offered solutions, who reminded you of what mattered in life, someone who was just there when they needed you to be.

And in Bryce, Claire thought, she had found a true partner. In Bryce, she had found the person she was meant to end up with, who would swing their joined hands obnoxiously while they walked down the street while she apologized to passerbys but who did it because it brought a smile to her face. In Bryce, she found someone she knew she could count on to never run away. In Bryce, she had found her soulmate.

Her pager buzzed. The vibration froze her, rendering her unable to move. With an encouraging nod from Ethan, Claire sucked in a steadying breath. She was ready.

She pulled her pager out of her pocket. Looked down at the words that, regardless of what they were, would change her life forever.

He made it.

#open heart #playchoices #bryce lahela #bryce lahela x mc #open heart fanfiction #open heart fanfic #bryce lahela x mc fanfic #alinas fanfic #my fanfic #choices: stories you play

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jeanna-nottaylor-swift · 5 years

Text

Part 3.) Swamp Fever

I Can't Fight Without You

The helicopter flew and everyone relaxed. Ellis enjoyed leaning into Nick as he slept. Nick enjoyed his slow heavy breathing. The helicopter shook slightly, waking Ellis. Nick shushed him, while he was half conscience. It was just a small shake, at first. It quickly gotten worse.

"Pilot! Take it easy!" Coach called from the back.

The pilot groaned a familiar groan.

It turned around and lazily threw itself at Rochelle. Trying to get her.

Nick shot it square in the face, killing it.The helicopter was going down and fast. They tried to control it but it didn't do much good. It crashed into a parked train, throwing half of it off the tracks. Hazily, the group hid in one of the carts.

"Nick, what the hell?! You shot the pilot!" Ellis whined.

"Well he wasn't doing a good job once he became a zombie, now, was he?"

"True true, he was a zombie, but he was also our only pilot."

"I shot a zombie. He was a zombie, Ellis. He must have gotten bitten before he picked us up."

Coach broke up the fight and scowled at them.

They grabbed left over health packs and scrap guns.

They ran through the run down town, Ellis notices a 'Gator Danger' sign, "Swim with gators? Why no thank you."

Running around gates, the small group ran through an abandoned gas station, then they ran into a storage unit, and found little essentials.

Rochelle deployed frag rounds, and the group filled their guns with them.

Little crawling zombies covered in mud ran towards the survivors, they were vicious and with each hit, they temporarily blinded the survivors.

"Y'all shittin' me now? Mud people?" Ellis whined. At least they didn't attract zombies like the clowns.

"Check these houses for supplies." Coach commanded as he ran into a run down shack of a home.

The group split up and searched the houses, desperately in need of some new weapons.

Coach found a working chainsaw, and Rochelle grabbed a baseball bat.

Ellis found an extra pistol to accompany his other one, and Nick found a frying pan on a non working stove. He wasn't happy with his melee weapon, but it was efficient. Ellis had to admit, Nick sure looked cute angrily gripping the small pan as he swung it at the infected.

Taking a right, they walked down a dirt road, and walked past a store with a loft on the second floor. The store was empty, the loft had a health pack, and pipe bombs inside. Nick spotted a ferry operating machine.

Ellis looked in that direction, "Awe that's smart, 'cause zombies can't call a ferry." He ran and hopped down to start it, little did he know the squeak of the ferry would attract so many. A boomer hiding in the bushes puked on Ellis, sending the zombies in his direction. Nick sniped it from the roof and it explodes more. A smoker dragged Nick off the roof, causing him to hit his back on the ground, knocking the wind out of him. Rochelle ran to Nick's aid and rescued him, Coach fought the horde around Ellis.

The ferry boat arrived and they barely made it on there. Shutting the gate, Rochelle shot the remaining zombies or they fell into the water.

"Ellis, does that tattoo mean anything?" Rochelle asked.

"Oh, this here?" He rubbed his arm,"It means I'm a bad ass zombie-killin' machine."

"Wow. You must have amazing foresight to get that."

The ferry came to a stop, and the gates reopened. The group ran along a series of docks, to keep out of the mucky water. Passing an outhouse, they proceeded south. At a certain point the walk way split into two stair ways.

"Left or right, my friends?" asked Ellis.

The group agreed on left, and up the stairs was an old shack. Nick quickly replaced his frying pan with another axe. Ellis admired how he could wield one; almost with ease.

An echo cried out and a hunter was on its way. He ran through the trees, Coach's aim was perfect and the hunter was dead before he could make it to the survivors.

They continued on the walkway. Keen and quiet, not to disturb any zombies, the less bullets used the better.

A witch sat at the bottom of the stair case. Nick jumped down the side and helped Ellis down. Coach brought Rochelle down on the other side. Tip-toeing around her, the survivors managed to sneak around the witch. Nick grimaced at the thought of his suit in the swamp, Ellis just smiled and grabbed his hand. Nick didn't pull away like he normally would. Ellis felt like a safe haven. His green-hazel eyes shined in such a dark world. His smile made Nick smile, and he hasn't genuinely smiled in a long time. Along a wooden pathway, just thin planks nailed together, they walked over the swamp. Coach and Rochelle found the red door, signaling a safe room.

"Safe house in the drainage pipe."

The boys were the last in and they shut the door. They weren't in that safe house long, it smelled and they had to get moving.

Just as they were walking out of the safe room, Rochelle asked, "Hey, any of you got bug spray?"

"Ooh- you could always try covering yourself in mud~" Ellis joked.

Taking off his hat, Ellis ran his hand through his slightly dirty hair.

There was no walkway out of the drainage ditch just musty water. Nick wasn't enthused, but he'll survive. The water was about waist high, and Nick just watched Ellis walk through it, of course he followed. Coach and Rochelle took the end of their train.

A row boat was stuck up on land. They used that as indication of where they're to go next.

They knew they had to go to New Orleans, but they didn't know where they currently are.

Finally on land, they mushed onwards and ran along the grass taking out the 10 or so zombies hiding in the grass and behind the trees. An angry tank shook the ground sending a fallen tree in the survivors direction. It missed, but only by a few inches. He wasn't too pleased with being shot at. Taking a swing at Rochelle first, he sent her into a tree and she moaned in pain. Coach and Nick killed it, and Ellis helped Rochelle up. A charger charged, missing the people and hitting a tree. That allowed them to kill it. The group trotted through the swamp until they had reached a crashed plane.

"Bet this plane ride was scary!" Ellis teased, almost sounding serious.

Climbing in the plane, Coach realized there was no way around it, so they had to open the exit.

"It'll sound the alarm."

It took some force but Nick and Rochelle were able to get it open. It shot out and a ringing sounded, and zombies ran towards it. Nick didn't waste any time fighting at all, he was so done with the hordes and zombies and swamp. Grabbing Ellis' hand he sprinted around a group of trees and Coach and Rochelle followed swiftly behind them.

Land returned and they were out of the water.

Spitter goo was there though, and the group had to back out of it.

Rochelle shot it, and it jiggled to the ground. A run down house they passed, didn't have much, so they carried on. Down into a watery ditch they proceeded over an old sofa and a bathtub. Around the bushes was a burned down house they went through. Nick grabbed a pipe bomb that was inside the ruins. A house half emerged in water comes into view and the survivors go inside, hoping for any indications on the path to New Orleans. They notice lights on a nearby road, and advance towards it. A stopped truck surrounded by ran over bodies was the first thing they saw. They decided on going the way in which the truck had came from, and they found a village. A safe house was first and they all entered. They took a load off it's been a long day. In one of the rooms was a mat on the floor and a washer machine. Gratefully it worked, Nick thought of washing his coat and Ellis' shirt from the witch incident. Letting their clothes clean and dry, they stayed on the mat. Nick on his back and Ellis had curled into his side. One leg over Nicks and a hand on his hat.

They drifted asleep.

Rochelle thought it was cute and Coach didn't really care. But they had to wake them up in a few hours to get going again. The village was crowded and run down. Searching houses, there was nothing but old clothes and broken windows. And zombies of course. Ellis lit a pipe bomb and threw it, "Chase this!" A left took the survivors into a house. And exited out the back door. There was a tree toppled over onto a trailer. The group knew the houses they passed would be completely empty of anything useful, so they carried on and walked under a bridge to a series of houses connected by a draw bridge that had to be lowered. An awful screech was made when Coach lowered it. Yet another horde ran to the survivors and fought them. Nick couldn't run this time. He had to wait and fight it out.

The draw bridge was down and they were able to move along. A jockey ran through the water and at the survivors. Jumping onto Rochelle and pulling her down with it. It kept maneuvering her through trees, causing the boys to keep missing the target. Coach finally was able to shoot it and kill it. Through the woods and along a descending walk way they can across a safe house. Running along the docks that led to the entrance, a hunter hid inside the house, launching at Nick who was the first to enter. Coach killed it and they all made it inside. Hopefully they'd find safety soon. They were in a hurry so they packed and left.

Outside the safe house were 20-30 zombies. The heavy door slammed shut and the zombies ran at them. It took a little while to kill them all due to the special infected that decided to join them, but they did it and carried on their way for a search of safety. Down a dirt road there was an alliance of houses on both sides. And a big red one at the end of the street. The group searched the red house for supplies they might need.

A spitter spat at them causing them to run back down the stairs.

Rochelle shot it twice before it died and leaked more acid. There wasn't much in the house so the survivors continued onward. There was a huge plantation house off the side road. Ellis took the lead and decided that that's the closest thing to safety. Zombies swarmed the outside, that the group had to kill. A jockey, that was hiding in the shadows, jumped on Coach. At the same time a charger charged at Ellis. Rochelle killed the charger and Nick axed the jockey.

Up a yellow ladder was their entrance to the inside. A hole in the floor was their way in. A few zombies were in there but the survivors quickly took care of them. They split up and searched the house, Ellis was on the top porch when he heard a radio. It was quiet, indicating it was far away. He couldn't see it, but he went outside and walked through the garden. Near a gate was the radio.

Nick saw him out there and ran after him. Coach and Rochelle followed.

"Uh. Hello?", Ellis hit the button on the radio.

"Bonjour! Oh, it's real, real good to hear from somebody. It's been quiet out here, now. All right now, where y'at?" Was the response on the radio.

"We're uh... We're at a plantation house."

"Just hold on, old Virgil will be there shortly."

The group realized they had to protect themselves until Virgil showed up.

This could be it. This could be their way to freedom!

Zombies came by the dozens. From over the fence, from inside the house, the garden. Everywhere.

The group fought them off and special infected were there too. A hunter ran from the house and pounced on Rochelle. And a smoker pulled Nick into the radio table.

Once they were dead another group of zombies came into the picture and the people had to kill them. A spitter spat and the group separated. A tank came from inside the house and ran through the garden, hungry for survivors. It launched Ellis into the hedges, and Nick into him. Rochelle managed to stay hidden and shot it from behind.

Coach did the same as Nick and Ellis rose to their feet. Once the tank was dead, the pattern repeated. Two hordes and a tank. Everything was dead and the gate exploded allowing the survivors to run to the boat.

Nick was faster than Ellis, so he grabbed his hand and sprinted. Within minutes everyone was on the boat and Virgil drove away.

They were relieved. It always feels so good being safe. Even if it's for a little while. Hopefully CEDA is in New Orleans so they can be safe. Rochelle leaned on Coach so she can sleep.

The sun set and Ellis slept on Nick. Tomorrow starts day three, and to Nick it's felt like a life time. Three days with Ellis was better than three years with anyone else. He could stay like that forever.

#fanfic #l4d #l4d2 #nellis #nick x ellis #left 4 dead 2 #left 4 dead #gaybies #lol

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jikooklaundryroom · 5 years

Text

Dry Pancakes

Gather around folks. It’s time to have an open and honest conversation about – yep you guessed it – Jimin and Jungkook and the behavior that mystifies the entire fandom. And notice I say Jimin and Jungkook, not Kookmin or Jikook, because this talk is less about them as a couple and more about them as individuals. A fair warning to everyone, only grown, competent adults are invited to this conversation. If you are a twelve-year old who wants to scream about top/bottom sex positions and Omega slick and Jeonlous tongue thing – please move on. This conversation is not for you. Adults will be talking here.

In this essay, I will NOT discuss Jimin and Jungkook as an intimate- romantic couple, or as boyfriends, or as domestic partners, or as husbands. In fact, those topics are so complex, that they will definitely need to be saved for another day. Lastly, the only time Tae will be mentioned is in this sentence because I plan to write a full separate tribute to this precious man so that I can properly call out how poorly he is treated and perceived because of shipping wars. Again, I give you fair warning, if this ain’t for you, move on because I can’t help you. OK? I am going to give you my honest opinion here and I won’t be nice about it. Pancakers, you should also be warned, you may be offended as well. I leave no stone unturned. Now that we have a proper filter in place, let’s get it.

The month of May gave us nauseating amounts of Jimin and Jungkook being seen together occupying each other’s space. For those of you have been living under a rock, I will do a quick break down of some of their time together: stage moments of laughing and teasing, stage moments of them comforting each other through difficult emotions (aka: the infamous ear sucking confusion), stage moments of them holding hands, sudden VLIVE, the two of them sharing a car, the two of them presumably sharing a hotel room, each one watching the other during rehearsals, the two of them watching fireworks, the elusive selca, the hand jockeying during the unboxing video and last but not least, the full day of sight-seeing they did with their friends in London. And of course, for every moment they DO spend together there is a sea of people who only care about the moments that they DON’T spend together. I’ll address both sides. Within this flurry of activity/inactivty, comes a flurry of narratives from different factions within the fandom attempting to define what is happening, attempting to brain wash the neutral observer into taking their side over others. These folks are literally and figuratively battling across social media to reign supreme in the war of narratives that explain Jimin and Jungkook.

Let’s break down some of these narratives and discuss why they are ALL bullshit shall we?

Narrative #1 -The “Bighit is forcing them to be together for publicity” crowd – This group thinks that everything that Jimin and Jungkook do is strictly for the sake of bringing publicity/attention to Bangtan. This shit has never made sense to me. Exactly what additional publicity does Bighit and Bangtan need? They just reached 20.2 million followers on twitter. They just won TWO Billboard music awards in America despite singing in only Korean. They’ve been announced as members of the Grammy Recording Academy, they received the Order of Cultural Merit award in South Korea, they spoke at the United Nations. They are the biggest boy band in the history of the world and if I am not mistaken they are currently on a sold-out stadium tour that has sold out over 600,000 seats in just ten shows. SO, tell me, what bitch doesn’t know who Bangtan is? Let’s pretend for a moment that Bangtan needed more publicity. What additional publicity would be achieved by insinuating a homosexual relationship between two members? Especially when you consider the vitriol that explodes when these two particular members are together. Do you really think that forcing Jimin and Jungkook into a touchy-feely spree will help Bangtan sell more CDs or get more YouTube views? If we consider how many homophones exist within the fandom, do you really think that highlighting the intimacy between Jimin and Jungkook would be viewed as positive and promote deeper engagement with the group? Absolutely not. Bighit is not encouraging Jimin and Jungkook to be fake gays for publicity. So again, I ask you, what additional publicity does Bangtan need? The answer is NONE; I think they’re good bro.

Narrative #2 - The “This is just fan service to satisfy the shipping culture” crowd – No other “ship” makes the fan more unhappy than Jikook. In fact, SNS explodes with negativity almost every single time that Jimin and Jungkook even breath near each other. Fans get extremely upset OR they ignore and refuse to acknowledge the interaction. So how can it be fan service if it pisses off the majority of the fans? Isn’t fan service supposed to make fans happy? I would go even further to say that Bangtan, Jimin and Jungkook in particular know full well how polarizing their interactions are for the fandom. Seems to me like they don’t give a fuck though. Fan service is to service the fans and give them what they want. They don’t seem to want Jimin and Jungkook as unit. And for those of you who think their relationship is manufactured to feed the pancakers out there, you’re mistaken and here’s why: Jimin and JK work very hard to avoid being caught or showing us too much. It is pretty common knowledge that most of their most intimate interactions are done AWAY from the cameras – a fact that we would never know if they didn’t accidently tell us. (“I go to Jungkook’s room at night when I can’t sleep because he also stays up late.” - Jimin) Often times, pancakers are VERY unhappy with the amount of interaction we get between Jimin and Jungkook and we are quick to yell foul if we aren’t “fed”. This once again proves my point, it is not fan service if it doesn’t please the fans.

Narrative #3 – The “We just don’t understand Korean culture “ crowd - Uuum what? Talk to K-Army and even they will tell you that the intimacy and togetherness between Jimin and Jungkook goes far beyond typical “fan service” or “cultural norm” that would be expected from the Korean culture. It also extends beyond typical friendly male behavior given their closeness. Westerners often get accused of “oversexualizing” Jimin and Jungkook or claiming something as homosexual because we “don’t understand” how Koreans interact. BULLSHIT, BULLSHIT, BULLSHIT. We know what we see. We know what K-ARMY has explained to us. We have taken the time to study the culture in Korea and talk with our fellow ARMY about Jimin and Jungkook. The conclusion is always the same; there is an entire relationship being played out in front of us and it is consistent, predicable and progressive. These interactions are not just fortuitous bits of circumstance by two friends. It is not just Korean culture.

Narrative #4 - The “Bighit is forcing them to be apart because they are too loud” crowd – Sorry Pancakes, but shut up. This has become a ready-made excuse for us pancakers whenever we don’t receive the interactions that we expect (demand, crave, obsess over). Do you realize how much influence Jimin and Jungkook have over their own choices? They are not mindless dummies who are mind controlled by their management. I will concede the fact that both of them are thoughtful and considerate of the feelings of the other members and they are also respectful of the wishes of management. So if either of the two entities gives them advice with regard to watching their proximity then YES, this could affect their natural behavior’s. You have that concession from me. But that is NOT WHY THERE ARE LULLS IN THEIR INTERACTIONS. Bighit management and Bangtan members are not playing some sadistic game of RED LIGHT – GREEN LIGHT with Jimin and Jungkook’s emotions. Think about how ridiculous this sounds to say to grown men, “Ohh well you two were too intimate and too loud and you could expose yourself so you better repress your natural instincts as best friends and then pretend that the other doesn’t exist.” And then conversely, “You two have behaved and been good boys, so now you are allowed to interact and act like you’re in love again.” If Bighit was trying to hide anything, they would shut it down completely, permanently - NOT IN RANDOM SPURTS. The two of them would be threatened beyond belief and I guarantee there would be contractual implications.

It is simply ridiculous, not to mention reductive to attempt to exercise that level of control over two rich, popular and very grown individuals. Guess what? It’s also impossible. Have you ever noticed that neither Jimin nor Jungkook are very good at following directions? If they are being told to stay away from each other, how come they never seem to do it? At best, they manage to tone things down for short periods, but inevitably they always go back to just being them. My fellow pancakers have even gone so far as to develop a theory that Bighit was keeping Jimin and Jungkook from ever doing VLIVES together. But just recently, we saw them splash tension all over the screen in a VLIVE between the two of them. If they were restricted from doing VLIVES, then why did they do one all of a sudden after a 2-year hiatus? Did Bighit suddenly change their mind and allow it? Of course not. There is a much simpler explanation and I will explain later.

Narrative #5 - The “They are just brothers, nothing they do is a big deal or any different from the rest of the members” crowd – Guess what? I actually agree with you, sorta’. So much of what Jimin and Jungkook do is the result of them being very close and loving friends who have been together forever. Even some of the gentler physical contact between the two is not exclusive to just them when compared to the other members. But the situation is not quite that simple is it? Brothers (not blood brothers) is just ONE of the many layers of the Jimin and Jungkook dynamic. There’s more, a lot more. I will come back to this one.

Hm. So if none of the prevalent theories above define the incongruent public intimacy of Jimin and Jungkook, then WHAT IS THE ANSWER? Simple. It’s called FREE WILL! No one, especially Pancakes with butter and syrup, want to ever admit that Jimin and Jungkook do exactly what they want to do. The reason they interact and the reason they don’t is because it’s what they want to do at that moment. They are exercising their FREE WILL. If Jimin and Jungkook don’t speak, it’s because they don’t want to. If Jimin and Jungkook don’t post on twitter, it’s because they don’t want to. If Jimin and Jungkook don’t post a selca, it’s because they don’t want to. If Jimin and Jungkook don’t do a VLIVE for two years, it’s because THEY DON’T WANT TO! There could be months that go by where they CHOSE not to let us into their private lives and we as Jimin and Jungkook supporters have to be accepting of that choice. Allow them to exercise their free will. In most cases, their free will is to self-manage their own interactions. Think about it this way – is everyday a good day for you? Probably not. Some of us have really good days and some of us have really bad ones. Our moods can be dictated by so many things such as: hunger, bad news, fatigue, negativity, irritation, anger, jealousy, illness, depression – so many things can affect how we feel and how we project our energy. These two men are no different. They are not immune to the emotions that plague the rest of us mere mortals. Travel with me for a moment as we reflect on just how much Jimin and Jungkook are together,

Sharing a car during transport to and from the airport

Sitting next to each other on the plane

Spending time outside of business schedules to attend personal events (movies, dinner, tours)

Visiting each other’s parents

Presumably living together

Presumably sharing hotel rooms when they travel

Working together

Practicing together

Filming together

Presumably engaging in intimacy together

Together- Together -Together –Together- Baam

That’s a lot of freaking togetherness. When we see them keep their distance, why are we surprised? It is clear that they are using their free will to be together MOST of the time and that is a sign of a very solid symbiotic relationship. So why can’t it be conversely true that they are also using their free will when they are apart? We pancakes are so quick to blame external forces when Jungkook and Jimin aren’t stuck to each other as opposed to blaming Jimin and Jungkook themselves. Personal growth can only occur when you broaden your horizons and experience new things, new environments, new opinions and new people. YES NEW PEOPLE. It is an exercise in self-care for them to be apart from time to time. We can’t and shouldn’t expect them to be together 24/7. It just isn’t healthy. I would say they live a well-rounded life when they can be happy apart but still prefer to be together. It’s beautiful. It you are truly a part of the Jimin and Jungkook nation, then your attitudes and opinions toward the strength of them individually or as a couple should NOT be predicated solely on what they do together and how often. Do I need to repeat that last sentence for the 14YOs who read this post even though I tried to filter you out? Just because the two of them don’t show us blatant interactions does not meant that is an indictment or indicator that the friendship/relationship/companionship/brotherhood is dead. Please stop posting fatalistic admonishments because their interactions are not timed according to your schedule. Let them live. Yes, I am saying that when we go through a pancake drought, it is because Jimin and Jungkook themselves want it to be that way. Not because they are being forced to do so.

Now let’s talk about the nature of their interactions by using myself as an example. I love my husband with all of my heart. He is truly my soul mate and we get along very well. Our relationship is so complex and has so many layers. We are friends, lovers, parents, mates, partners, business owners, even at times like siblings. So, when he and I interact, the definition of that interaction could fall within any of the categories that I just listed. It could be a friendly touch, or a sexual touch or a business partner touch – understand what I mean? The same is true with Jimin and Jungkook. Their interactions are highly conditional and must be reviewed within the context of the moment. Which means, when they are in friend mode and they hug, they honestly are just hugging as friends. Over hyping meaningless moments without placing it within proper context, makes pancakes look petty and delusional. Another example, when one is sucking the other’s ear – aww shit – I have no idea what category to put that in – but it ain’t friends – we need to hype the shit out of that one. That was a bad example. But you get my point. Moving on…

Let me make this really clear. Do you remember when you first fell in love with Bangtan? We fell so hard right? The music, the dancing, the talent, the fashion, the creativity, the visuals – we fell hook line and sinker. But there was more wasn’t it? Think back. There was soo much more. Yes my pancakes, we fell in love with their hearts. We fell in love with them as people. Above all, we fell in love with their AUTHENTICITY. You see, Bangtan was never fake. Bangtan never presented a closed-off image to us. They provided as much transparency and honesty as they possibly could, which was a HUGE change from what we were accustomed to seeing from KPOP artists (any artist really). They allowed us to have a real-world peak into their emotions, vulnerabilities and personalities. Bangtan’s authenticity is why we love them most and why we continue to love them. So when we see the love that exists between all seven of them, we know it’s real. Accordingly, there is an extreme affinity that Jimin and Jungkook have towards each other that cannot be faked. Even if they were being forced for publicity purposes to spend time together, they could not do it successfully unless there was already an underlying desire to be together. Furthermore, forcing someone to be together when they don’t want to be is paramount to torture and that would greatly affect the overall happiness and chemistry of the entire group. Imagine being forced to spend that much time with someone you don’t like. It also explains why we don’t see other couplings “forced” upon the members because it’s not natural. None of the members have a strong ability to vacate authenticity. They all truly exercise their free will.

And for my very last point, I want to talk a little tiny bit about the VLIVE (again). I have insisted throughout this rant that Jimin and Jungkook were never prohibited by Bighit from doing a VLIVE together. So why the 2-year hiatus? I think the explanation is pretty simple. As we saw, it is very difficult for the two of them to maintain “composure” when they are together. They show us so much when they fully intend to show us nothing. They are acutely aware of how they appear on camera – which is why I argue that their two-year hiatus was self-imposed. Think about how hard it must be in that intimate setting, sitting that close, talking that freely to repress their natural instincts to touch, or call each other pet names or possibly even kiss. It’s like freaking impossible. So why risk it? It is so much easier to just keep themselves out of that situation and instead watch each other do the VLIVES from off camera. As we know, even when one of them is off camera, they still freaking flirt. Imagine if they were both in front of the camera on a consistent basis. This goes back to my theory on free will. I honestly believe that these two are being very smart to exercise their free will to stay away from Jikook VLIVES.

I have probably not changed anyone’s mind and you will likely continue to incessantly spew your narrative, whatever it is. But for those of you who are a bit more open-minded, I hope you found some insight as well as clarity in my words. Here’s to loving our seven boys and obsessing over two of them.

So in conclusion, I have concluded. Thank you. Love you Pancakes – don’t be mad, k?

#laundryroommusings #jikook #kookmin #PancakeQueenRamblings

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fibrielsolaer · 5 years

Photo

Smash Ultimate tier list based entirely on which characters I like and which I hate

BSP = Big Sexy Personality

FBNIS = Fun, But Not In Smash

MPATBUD = Mario Princesses Are Terrifying Blow-Up Dolls

S Tier

Kirby: absolutely the man, if you don’t love Kirby you’re probably the asshole who got this roster flooded with Marth World pricks

Pikachu: He quicc. He thicc. He’ll Thunderbolt you to hicc

Except it’s a she because I only ever play Librechu ;p

Bowser: BSP

Zelda: She is so cute, I can finally stand playing as her

Pichu: He is so cute, it almost makes up for how stupid he is

Ganondorf: He’s finally fucking cool. He uses the goddamn sword now

Lucario: What if Mewtwo was a Shaolin monk hunk

I only play purple Lucario for reasons you’re best not knowing

Toon Link: He’s the cartoon that Link and Young Link watched and modeled themselves on

Ridley: HOLY SHIT IT FEELS AWESOME TO PLAY RIDLEY

I love how the game designers know he’s way too small so when you fight him in Classic Mode as Samus he gets Giant modifier

K. Rool: BSP

Piranha Plant: The pain from the pipes, this disrespectful piece of shit is so stupid he wraps around to greatness, with his inclusion I’ve changed my mind and now say fuck it, add Bandana Waddle Dee, hell add a regular Waddle Dee if you want, I don’t even care anymore

A Tier

Luigi: Few people know that he and Mario are actually identical twins, his brother merely wears a fat suit (the weight of which has crushed his spine) so they can be told apart

Ness: I like the picture you get when you play for 20 hours

C. Falcon: This is the guy who beats up Incineroar. As the positive icon of the people he never shows any emotion except for “YUS!” and “SHOW ME”. All Might was probably based on this jackass

Jigglypuff: Like so many other Pokemon, its adorable facade is a veneer for an expansive and unfathomable eldritch demon. The difference is, despite how fucking many Pokemon like that there are, nobody has found Jigglypuff’s secret and lived to tell

Young Link: He’s actually Link’s son, who idolizes his father and wants to follow in his footsteps. His dad has strayed from the path but young blood here carries on the true faith. Also, FBNIS

Mewtwo: He was the original Damn Cool Pokemon. He jockeys with Lucario for that role now but all they ever do is sit there charging their neutral Bs talking about how the planet will explode in 5 minutes

Roy: He knows that the Marth World infestation is soon to be purged, because there are like five actual Marths including him, so he decided to become the best Marth World character so he alone will survive

Pit: The only cunt from his series besides Dark Pit who had the decency not to change voice and try to pretend it was the same fucking one. I never play as him ever but Sakurai sure cared more about making him fresh & fun post-Uprising than any of his other goddamn characters

Charizard: BSP

Dedede: BSP

Bowser Jr.: This rude little shit is the guy who you invite to a party and he brings his whole crew, excuse me no I didn’t invite Wendy and Horton and Lenny and all these bitches, but fuck it y’all cool

Simon: I like his funny walk and he looks like Conan the Barbarian

Richter: I like his funny walk and he looks like a dork

Isabelle: Do you know this literal bitch killed me with a fucking stop sign 3 times before I unlocked her, why isn’t that a reaction macro

Incineroar: He pretends to be a bad guy so that kids’ heroes will beat him up on TV and they will be happy. He is so sweet

B Tier (Everyone Is Meh)

Mario: Meh

Donkey Kong: Meh

Link: The dad who strayed from the path, I really don’t like the Breath of the Wild Link, FBNIS

Fox: Meh

Sheik: Meh

Dr. Meh: Mario

Falco: Hands off my meh

Mehrth: He’s kinda cool but Roy is way cooler

Mr. Game & Watch: What an annoying asshole

Wario: It’s not the cool Wario, it’s the stupid Wario Ware one, and he brings all his obnoxious waifu friends with him. It’s Wario after he retired from his teen Youtube star days at the age of 30 and he’s trying to stay young and cool-looking but his stoner friends keep fucking it up

Solid Snake: Meh, too indirect for me, FBNIS

Squirtle: Meh-est of the Pokemon Trainer trio, he just doesn’t provoke like any reaction from me at all unlike the other two

Diddy Kong: Meh

Olimeh: This is the most boring goddamn character, everything you do you have to pluck fucks

ROB: He barely animates

Villager: I kinda wish Animal Crossing let you be an animal too. The lone human character is really boring

Mega Meh: You got: FBNIS

Little Meh: I dunno I’ve just barely ever played him

Mehninja: Maybe I should actually try playing it once ever

Duck Hunt: If there was a B-and-a-half tier I’d put this one there because you can delay the side-B and set up Snake-level GOTCHA combos, otherwise the novelty wears off fast

Ryu: He is the 2nd-least likeable guy, what a turbo douche

Bayomehtta: She’s rule 63 Dante, her game was always just a DMC ripoff that relied on her tits & ass to differentiate from it

Inkling: I like the yellow hair girl one but I ABSOLUTELY HATE THE CRINGY-ASS ASSIST TROPHY AND WILL ABSOLUTELY UNFAIRLY BLAME THE CHARACTER FOR THIS.

C Tier

Samus: She is the most FBNIS character

Ice Climber: They’re really un-cute and I hate their desync thing

Metaknight: This guy was so much cooler before he talked, or rather, before he screamed AYAYGYGYAYGYAGA

Ike: Marth World has like 2,000 characters ranging from pegasus knights to barbarians to psychic dragon-girl dancers, and yet we keep getting these boring fucking swordsmen

Pokemon Trainer: Get absolutely the fuck out you twerp you don’t even do a goddamn thing and you die the second any one of your THREE fighters is KO’d so you don’t even incorporate the actual spirit of your original character unlike literally everybody else

Venusaur: If I evolved this ugly fucker I would delete my save

Lucas: If I had an Absolutely Gone Machine that could erase anything in the world and delete everyone’s memory that it ever existed so they would shut the fuck up about it, Mother 3 would be precisely the fourth thing I deleted

Robin: Least shitty post-Melee Marth World character but I just haven’t bothered to try it out to see if it’s actually good or not, probably because I’m just too allergic to Marth World by now

Dark Samus: Cool, but why

Daisy: MPATBUD, but this one has the closest thing to a personality. Unfortunately it is a fucking terrible and horrific personality

Zero Suit Samus: hey cool Samus is Barbie now

Ken: Remember how I said Ryu was the 2nd-least likeable? Well here’s Liquid Ryu to seize the coveted spot

Cloud: Yeah hey, let’s take the one Final Fantasy protagonist with like the least connection to Nintendo, no it’s fine, every goddamn Marth World game except the one that justified its worldwide presence has a character in but we’re not gonna use Cecil or Buttz or Terra

Corrin: Any hope this bitch had to go on my “Is a dragon so I like it” list was ruined by how absolutely infuriating it is to fight against Corrin especially that one Spirit match where he spams his INSTANT FINAL SMASH THAT HAS LIKE AN INFINITELY VERTICAL HITBOX fuck this goddamn digimon

D tier

Yoshi: I’ve hated this thing ever since it stopped going BAWONKA WONKA and started going blblblblblbl

add Birdo as an Echo and I might forgive you

Peach: MPATBUD, Peach is usually able to manifest either the behavior of a real person (Paper Mario) or the appearance of one (Smash), but sadly never both, she is doomed to blow-up-dollery forevermore

Sonic: Please add any other Sonic character, any at all, I’ll even take Charmy, I fucking hate Blue Bubsy

Wolf: The only reason he is not the furry-trashiest character in Smash is because Krystal is an AT, this cocksucker deadass awoos

Wii Fit Trainer: Next to her, Mario Princesses almost look human

Rozzalinda: MPATBUD and this one is the worst, far and away the worst Mario Princess, she is the creepiest fucking woman. WHY IS IT THAT NOBODY IN MARIO ACTS LIKE A HUMAN FUCKING BEING EXCEPT THE CHARACTERS WHO AREN’T FUCKING HUMAN. tl;dr the only people who say rosalina is their waifu collect people’s faces

Mii Fighters: you dress them up to make a parody of a character and then never once actually use said parody because they are stupid

Palutena: remember in Uprising how they could make fake Palutenas, this is one of them, they have a fake Viridi too, you know it is because starting in smash 4 it is clearly two different actresses trying way too hard to sound like the old ones and i can’t get over it sorry. (also she plays like shit)

Pac-Man: I only liked him when he was a pizza

Shulk: does he ever shut the fuck up

Lucina: add a red nose and it’s Marth: Tumblr Edition

Chrom: oh fuck off

Robin’s bitchass final smash still calls this clown

even if you use it on Chrom

he is so ashamed of his audacity he fucking fucks himself

#smash ultimate #tier list #tier #tiers #smash #ssbu #ssb

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stone-man-warrior · 3 years

Text

April 18, 2021: 4:16 pm:

=============================================

Horrible poison Corona injection attack update:

There is no visible healing happening after two months.

(terror bastards are hijacking my computer, they prevent letter M from working, and have access to the Paint program where they prevent me from adding the StoneMan water mark, I am not able to continue with the explanation at this time. I need medical help, there are no doctors)

===

4:36 pm: The letter m is very important, the terror bastards are there, live, preventing letter m from working ... I have to repeatedly push the m button in order to write a Tumblr entry, today and last night is worse than usual.

I’ll try to explain again what the photos show:

I used peroxide about 8 times today, and many times during the night. This is the result:

Those big sores all started out as tiny puncture wounds from a needle that I was attacked with that contained the poison that is eating away at my leg.

This sore here below is hard like granite in the dark area. Today there is a white circle of dead skin, and that is the very first sign of healing that I have seen there, the poison I was attacked with was injected there, and the red areas around there are where the poisons are still pooled up inside my ankle. Those small sores there beneath the bigger one happened over time as the poison is burning through the skin trying to get out, The small sores are not part of the original attack wounds.

These places highest on my leg are the most painful, and they are the smallest of the sores. They are extremely painful and are slowly growing in size and in depth over time. The poison is inside my leg right there, and gravity makes the poison move around. Look at the photos I took two weeks ago to see that those got much bigger since then.

This area below is where the gravity is taking most of the poison. no matter what way I put my leg, that area is at the bottom, and the poison moves with gravity. That is the very most painful place of all. All of that red inflamed looking area is all filled with poison from when I was attacked in February, That small oval shaped sore is not part of the original attack wounds, that one happened when I scratched an itch, it became a sore, and is very painful. If I were to cut a drain hole in my leg, that would be the place, as most of the poison is staying right there. I am reluctant to cut a drain hole due to lack of healing of the sores, so, It would be another sore, even if I could squeeze some of the poison out right there.

Other symptoms are my toes hurt, they don’t move as they should, and they feel ice cold most of the time.

There is a extremely painful burning sensation throughout my hole leg. I raise my leg to move the poison to my torso with massage, but the burning sensation is so painful that I am not able to tolerate much of that.

When the poison reaches my torso, my sternum and chest begin to burn within.

As I try to walk, after about one hundred feet, the calf muscle is involved in severe painful muscle spasm/leg cramp and swells up like a balloon.

The more I move around, try to walk, the more poisons come dripping out from my eyes, it’s ice cold, is tears, is not crying but just is poison pressured out through my eyes. Thankfully it is not the burning pain like the leg is.

There are no doctors. I went to two places, and one of them I have been to many times, they always turn me away, tell me to go somewhere else for help.

=================

512 pm: Please send medical services to Josephine county Oregon.

=================

5:14 pm:

Music industry advertisers love to see the results of the Corona COVID attack they do, they make fun of it, watching my account to see if I am dead yet, and they relish in the pain they inflict on US disabled citizens. When they are successful at killing the disabled citizens, the people at Zzounds music and their comrades will get to maximize the medications they will get from a SAGClubMed doctor, and no one will ever know that I was killed, as the rock stars are getting high on the pain meds that are kept from me.

=============

7:23 pm:

I just returned from shopping in Dystopia, Grants Pass Oregon, where the whole town is composed of a terror army from Canada who pretend to be store employees and customers in the stores, all are driving around doing terror scouting to seek outsiders, mark them as victims, then swoop in for the kill later.

I went to Fred Meyer gas station and then to Walmart.

At Fred Meyer, the place was nearly void of customers, is extremely unusual for that, there are usually more than fifty cars waiting for fuel at the Fred Meyer gas station as that station is the only one I am aware of that does not sell fuel that makes the car stall. thereby setting up the victims for a hit. simply because the entire terror army knows not to purchase the fuel elsewhere. Arco fuel will make your car stall within a mile of leaving the gas pump.

At Walmart, the parking lot was about half as full as usual. There were only a couple of cars parked at the very left most part of the parking area, where I like to park, it was wide open for spaces there.

Inside the store was clearly something is happening where there are no people at the Walmart. I estimate the store was about 25% of usual number of people inside, it was as if shopping at 3:00 am, almost empty inside.

You cannot judge the amount of people that are inside of a shopping center in Oregon by looking at the number of cars parked in the parking lots. The reason for that is that the store parking lots are used for temporarilly storing the cars that belonged to the murdered US citizen victims. The terror army needs to do title transfer work on many of the cars they wind up with after a kill. Also, the individual terror family residences are used for the same thing, to store vehicles and travel trailers that belonged to the murdered victims. Clyde Baum’s house and the Monroe terror cells are examples of places where many surplus. good, modern vehicles are stored after the owners were killed. Almost all of the residences in this area have at least one modern travel trailer, motor home, boat, Quad, or other RV that is stored at the residences ... vehicles that belonged to US citizens who were murdered are scattered around all over the place, and the Walmart parking lot is one of those kinds of places where surplus stolen vehicles are jockeyed to and from. It’s not uncommon to see a full parking lot at Walmart, about 500 cars, then go inside and there is not enough people for all of them to be there. Today, I estimate there were twice as many cars as people to drive them at the Walmart.

The only other thing I want to say is that I overheard two people talking about me, and wondering where Clyde is at.

The other thing, is that the checkout lady at the tobacco service counter made a comment, she said: “you two-cowed Brown and you are not in jail?” (the terror bastards all speak with a French Canadian accent, where “two-cowed” means “took out” and that means “killed”. She acknowledged that Kate Brown is dead, and was the woman that I saw burst at the Monroe Offensive Surveillance Travel Trailer.

One other group of people inside the store also said: “that’s the guy that two-cowed the governor” and, the Walmart Blue Vest who stands by the front entry making sure everyone wears a mask also said the same thing into his personal communication device as he handed me a mask; “The guy who two-cowed Brown is here”, then, he quickly left his post there, and went into the store as if some kind of emergency was happening,

I was followed into the restroom by a Walmart Blue vest but I came out as he was coming into the restroom. I suspect he was going to attempt a hit right there, and he was called to go in there by a command made on the store PA.

That’s all I have. My leg is on fire, is very painful.

One more thing about Brown having been “Two-Cowed”:

If you put a bomb up your ass, you could explode.

===============

7:57 pm:

Some quick info for investigative persons doing audio surveillance:

In event that nsa persons had opportunity to hear the way the terror soldiers speak to one another, I have these offerings:

“Two-Cowed” = Took Out = killed

Don‘t be surprised when the people speaking are elderly female church goers who speak the way a Chicago gangster spoke in the 1940′s. They adopted many of the terms they use from Edward G. Robinson movies.

So, with that in mind:

“We’ve Bean Made!” = the terror bastards were spotted while doing the terror activity. They pronounce the word: “been“ as “bean“ so, “we’ve bean made is spoken into the communication device to other terror soldiers for support.

“I’m Caught! = the terror soldier was physically caught. The terror soldier will speak “I’m Caught!” into the communication device if someone physically apprehends them.

“Let’s Peak In“ = a term used when the terror soldiers are deciding that they are going to spy on someone, in a house or car for instance. “Let’s Peak In“ sounds like: “Let’s Begin“ intentionally. They all trained at the same church, and they all use these terms I am telling of.

Also, I have reported many times that the terror army uses the term: “S-word” for describing a sword. “Ess Word” = Sword, however, that has changed over the past three years gradually to “Saber” for talking about swords.

They are often elderly women who speak like Chicago gangsters.

==================================================

8:25 pm:

One other observation that was unusual, have not seen before:

There were two Walmart Parking Lot Security cars parked in the Motor Home Parking area when I left the store. One was white, the other was black, the Walmart uses a “private security company” is really just a special rank and cell of terror soldiers. The cars have signage on the doors that say “Community Watch” or something like that, are Crown Victoria looking sedans with flashing yellow lights on them.

The two cars were parked caddy whompass in the parking area there, and the driver of the black security car saw me leaving, motioned to me, and pointed at the white security car. The only thing I can say about that is that there was no driver of the white Walmart parking lot security car anywhere around there. The driver of the black car was standing next to the drivers side door of the black car. I don’t know why he motioned to me or why he pointed at the white car. My guess is that the people of Walmart were expecting to see Clyde Baum at the store after the Monroe terror cell alerted them that I was on my way there. Monroe terror cell watches everything I do, and Sandy Monroe reports to someone every time my car leaves the driveway.

I suspect Clyde Baum and Sterling Chartrand were killed last night, as I was attacked in my home after I made the report about trying to check my mail, and there was a “shark” car waiting there for me.

There was a fight in my bathroom last night after that. I don‘t know who it was, but I’ll guess it was Sterling and Clyde were in my house.

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bazypitchandsimonsnow · 6 years

Text

Family (Children Part 3)

Rating: T

Genre: Fluff

Word count: 4858

Summary: The big day arrives a bit sooner than expected.

Read on AO3

AN: So this prompt is what inspired this whole "having a baby" idea. You can guess what happens :)

Disclaimer: I have never been pregnant, dealt with a surrogate, or been to Guy's Hospital. Sorry for any inaccuracies.

Baz

Work is dreadfully boring. It has been for the last few weeks. I’m mindlessly filing away client reports. It’s weirdly meditative in it’s repetitiveness. It keeps my mind off worrying. Simon said I should keep going to work. Otherwise I’d just spend hours fussing over Helen with him, and she would not appreciate the extra worrying father to be hovering over her. So I’m sitting here, rearranging documents, being bored into weird zen coma. I barely register my phone ringing, picking up the receiver calmly like I always do.

“Basilton Snow-Pitch.”

“BAZ!” Simon’s voice is so loud I have to pull the phone away from my hyper sensitive ear, wincing painfully.

“Aleister Crowley, Snow, are you trying to make me deaf?”

“Sorry sorry, it’s just- you gotta- you should really get up and go- cause cause-”

“Simon, please slow down! Take a deep breath, then talk, okay, love?”

“Okay okay.” He takes an audible slow inhale and exhale. “Baz, you have to make your way to Guy’s Hospital. Because Helen is going into labour and we’re about to drive there right now.”

“What?!” I jump so suddenly my office phone rattles on my desk. My heart is beating so fast I fear it may stop. “But Helen isn’t due for another week!”

“Tell that to your baby, Basilton!” Helen shouts from somewhere in the background.

“What she says,” Simon puts in, trying not to laugh. “Just get there quickly. We’ll meet you there.”

“Yes yes, good. See you soon.”

I put down the phone. For just a moment, I freeze. The whole world sort of stops for a second. It’s really happening. I’m about to have a baby. I’m about to be a Dad. I think I’m going to be sick. Whether it’s from nerves or happiness, I’m not sure. Doesn’t matter, I need to go!

I gather up all my stuff quickly and shove it into my work bag. Running down the hall, I luckily spot my supervisor.

“Martin!” I shout. He turns around, smiling politely.

“Hey Basil. What’s up?”

“I-I have to go. My surrogate has gone into labour early, and I have to get to the hospital. Can my parental leave start, well, now?”

His eyes go wide. “Oh my god! Yes, yes of course. Please go. Congratulations, mate!”

“Thank you,” I sigh, and dash off out of the office. I hope I don’t get sick in my car.

I have prided myself on staying calm in stressful situations. When Snow would freak out and just attack frantically or simply go off, I would use logic and precise spells. But it seems my serene personality has decided to take a vacation today. Hooray.

I sprint into the hospital lobby and practically crash against the front desk. The man sitting there jolts up to look at me.

“Hello,” I pant out (Merlin, I’m out of breath). “Where is the maternity wing?”

“..why?” He says nervously, probably scared by a weird disheveled man asking where the babies are. (Understandable.)

“M-My husband is here. We’re having a baby. He’s probably already arrived with our surrogate. Should be under Snow. Or Pitch. Or Snow-Pitch, I don’t know. He's not consistent with which name he picks.”

“Uh, let me check.” His fingers rattle across his keyboard. “Are you Basilton?”

“Yes! Yes, that’s me.”

“Alright. Your family is in Room 224”

“Thank you, good sir.”

Once again, I sprint down the clinical hospital, trying to block out all the smells. Hospitals always smell disgusting. I’m so distracted by scents of blood and antiseptic that I nearly miss the room. But a certain voice tips me off.

“Breathe, Helen, breathe.”

“That’s what I’m bloody well doing!”

I burst through. Snow’s head whips up, a relieved smile spreading across his face. Helen is laying on the hospital bed, breathing deeply and gripping my husband’s hand like her life depends on it.

“Hello,” I say as calmly as possible. “What did I miss?”

“Your baby is very eager to see the world,” Helen groans.

“Apparently so. They’re over eager like their father. Here, give Snow’s hand a break and take mine.”

I stride forward and hold my hand out to her. Helen releases her death drip on Simon’s and he sighs heavily, shaking it out. She clutches mine instead. I hiss slightly. Damn, she’s strong. But she’s not vampire strong.

“Wow,” Helen gasps. “For a desk jockey you’re very tough.”

Snow and I share a knowing look across the bed. His eyebrow nearly reaches his hairline, matching his smug smile. “Yeah,” I say. “Working out pays off.

Simon scoffs and rolls his eyes. I glare, but can’t help but smirk.

“You’ve called everyone, right love?” I ask

He nods eagerly. “Yup! Your family, all the Bunces, even Agatha. Oh, she says she wants many pictures of our, I quote, ‘demon spawn.’”

“How eloquent,” I deadpan.

“Hey, if any kid is going to be a demon spawn, it will probably be our’s.”

Of course this is when the doctor decides to enter. She’s a lovely young woman with dark curly hair and glasses. Crowley, she looks a lot like Bunce. That’s a bit freaky.

“Hello!” she greets cheerily (well, she’s more perky than Bunce). “I’m Dr. Gerald. Now, who are the lucky parents today?”

“Uh,” Simon say. “Well, I’m the father.”

I raise my free hand. “I’m also the father.”

“And I’m the incubator,” Helen chimes in.

Dr. Gerald nods slowly. “Okay then. Sounds good. You’re not the first ‘non-traditional’ family I’ve helped. Now, let’s check on how your baby is doing.”

She sits down on the stool and reaches under the medical sheet covering Helen’s lower half. Her face scrunches up in concentration, nodding with little “hm” noises. My worry just increases with every “hm”, twisting and pooling in my stomach.

“Well?!” I snap. Helen lightly smacks my shoulder, glaring harshly.

Dr. Gerald smiles. “Everything seems good. Your baby is well on its way. I think we should expect a quick delivery.”

“Thank god,” Helen sighs.

I squeeze her hand once. “Agreed.”

The doctor sheds her blue plastic gloves still grinning at us. “I’ll be back in little bit to check on you again. In the meantime, try to relax.”

We watch her walk out the door. Helen glares viciously. “Easy for her to say. She doesn’t have a watermelon trying to force its way out of her vagina.”

“Yeah, sorry about that, Helen.” Simon says, genuinely apologetic.

“Not your fault, Si. I signed up for this. Literally.”

“Want me to get you anything?”

“Ice chips would be lovely.”

“On it!” Snow bounces up, giving me a peck on the cheek before he dashes off.

I pull up a chair while not letting go of her hand. She’s breathing deeply, clutching and loosening her grip on my hand with every inhale and exhale.

“How are you doing, Helen?” I ask quietly.

“Considering everything? Pretty well. How about you?”

“I’m fine.”

“Baz.” She gives me a knowing look through her sweat soaked auburn bangs. “You don’t need to play tough for me.”

I straighten up instinctively. I still don’t like when people see through my facade. “I don’t know what you mean.”

“You’re about to have a baby. An actual, honest to god, human baby. You’re freaked out, and so is Simon. Which is entirely reasonable. So you don’t need to pretend to be calm in front of me. I understand if you’re not.”

I try to keep my composure. But I’ve been keeping it for months, trying to be the confident one for everyone, especially Simon. But he’s not here right now. So I let out a long sigh, shoulders slumping.

“I’m certainly freaking out,” I say quietly. “All of this has been so far away. But now, it’s actually happening. And...I’m not sure I’m ready.”

“Well, as my sister with four kids says, ‘no one has a script for this shit. Having a kid is life’s ultimate improv’.” Script? Improv? I give her a curious look. She shrugs. “She’s an actress. Everything is a theatre metaphor. But she’s right. No one is ever fully ready to have a kid. Anyone who says otherwise is a fucking liar.”

I groan, leaning my head on the hospital bed. “I just don’t like being unprepared. I usually have a plan for everything. But I’ve read every book and article I can, and I still don’t feel ready. And...and I need to be the ready one, for Snow.”

Helen sighs heavily. I look up at her, and she looks back annoyed. “What?” I snap.

“Baz, you don’t need to be the calm one for Simon.”

“Of course I do! He’s terrified enough, considering his childhood and shitty...foster father. I can’t add to his stress.”

“Y’know, if you ask me, I think Simon would prefer if you were just as freaked out as he is. Then you wouldn’t hide, and he wouldn’t feel weird for being freaked.”

I furrow my brow. What is she talking about? I open my mouth to ask, but suddenly the door bursts open. Snow strides in with a bucket of ice chips.

“Found some! You wouldn’t believe this place. It’s a goddamn maze!”

Helen grins. “Wonderful. Hand them over, Si.”

He puts the bucket in front of her, and Helen scoops out a few to chew on. Snow sits on the other side. They start chatting about random crap while I roll around Helen’s words in my head. I thought I had to be strong for Simon, but now I’m questioning if that’s the right thing to do. Does he need me to be scared too? That doesn’t make sense. At least, not to me.

Helen groans, clutching her stomach and crushing my hand. Simon takes her other one.

“Shit,” she huffs. “I hope that annoying doctor is back here soon.”

“I actually agree with you,” I chuckle.

“It’s okay we’re here for you, Helen,” Simon says. “Thank you so much.”

“Yeah yeah, you’re welcome, you big softie,” she replies. “Buy me a drink after all this. That will be a true thank you.”

“We’ll buy you an entire goddamn bar, I promise.”

“I’m going to hold you to that, Sim- Shit!” She grips us again, teeth clenched and muscles tensing with another contraction. We let her crush our hands. It’s the least we can do for her. Part of me hopes this is over soon, for Helen and for us. But a smaller part of me hopes time will stop, just wait a little longer, until I’m ready. Though now, I’m not sure I ever will be.

“Should I push yet?” Helen pants. “I feel like I should push.”

“Not just yet,” Dr. Gerald says. “You’re almost there though.”

“Thank the lord.”

“Agreed,” Simon says, subtly shaking out his hand from Helen’s grip. I don’t blame him. I’ll be surprised if I’ll be able to do anything with mine ever again.

I read that labour takes awhile, but this seems to be speeding along. Only two hours and a half hours after we arrived and the doctor says our baby is almost here. My heart is beating so hard it threatens to break my ribs. I’ve been trying to stay calm throughout all of this. But that’s slowly been ebbed away and replaced with utter dread. There’s so much that could go wrong, so much we could do wrong.

I look up at Simon, still standing on the other side of Helen. He’s chewing on his lips to the point it’s probably almost bleeding. I see him picking at his nails on his other hand. He hasn’t done that since uni. I reach behind Helen’s head, palm up in offering. Simon notices, and grabs it firmly. His hot skin fits perfectly my tepid body temperature, like always. We look at each other. His eyes are wide and open and more than a bit scared, silently saying two words. I’m scared.

I nod and mouth, me too .

He sighs and nods back, giving my hand one firm squeeze.

“Okay,” Dr. Gerald says, “it’s time. Helen, on three, I want you to push. Okay?”

“Okay, okay,” she sighs shakily. “Hold on tight, boys.”

“One, two, three, push!”

Helen pushes with all her might, gripping our hands like a vice. My lungs and heart feel tight. My stomach feels like it’s about to drop out on the floor. But for once, I don’t try to hide it from my face. I’m scared, for many reasons, and that’s okay. I’m not above fear, and I’m allowed to show it.

A wail rips through the air.

“It’s a girl! Congratulations, dads!” The doctor announces. She holds up the screaming baby. And my heart officially stops beating.

She’s tiny and crying, as she should be. Her skin is tan, a shade or two darker than Snow’s, and covered in freckles. Little black hairs poke up from the top of her head. I let out a happy, breathy chuckle. My fear doesn’t go away, but joy overwhelms it. This is my kid. I have a daughter. And Crowley, she’s fucking perfect.

“Which one of you wants to cut the cord?” The masked nurse asks.

Snow and I look at each other. He seems just as happy and bewildered as me. My hands are shaking, far too much to do that right now. Snow’s eyes flick down where our’s are joined. He nods knowingly.

“I’ll do it,” he says.

Crowley, I love him. While he does that, I lean down to Helen, who’s breathing heavily and still clutching my hand tightly. “You did so well,” I whisper. “Thank you.”

Helen smiles sleepily. “You’re very welcome. Still scared?”

“Terrified. But far more happy.”

“Good. That’s how it should be.”

“I know.”

Soon, Simon taps my shoulder. “Hey,” he says quietly. I turn around. He stands there, smiling widely, the little bundle in his arms. “Take a look at her.”

Cautiously, I straighten up. She’s still making adorable little cries, though not the shrieks from a few minutes earlier. She stretches towards the sky with her tiny chubby hand. Slowly, I reach out my index finger, and she wraps her own fingers around it. Her grip is strong and warm and so alive . Almost immediately, she stops crying. She’s amazing. And she’s mine.

“Holy shit,” I chuckle. “We have a daughter.”

“Yeah,” Simon sighs. “Which means we need to work on our language.”

I lightly knock his shoulder. “Oh shut up.”

“Wanna hold her?”

“Of course.”

Simon carefully passes her over to me. She fits perfectly into my arms. I lightly cup her little cheek. She yawns and leans into it. Simon giggles.

“She likes you,” he teases.

“I bloody well hope so. She’s going to have to put up with me for a long time.”

“Very true.” He strokes her head softly. “Baz, are you scared? I-It’s really not just me?”

I turn to him. He’s still looking at the baby, but I see the tension in his face, the way all his beautiful features are pulled together. I put my hand over his, stilling it on her soft head. He finally looks at me. I smile.

“No, it’s not just you. I’m terrified. But I’m also very, very happy.”

He sighs, and smiles warmly back at me. “Me too.”

“Then we’ll be terrified and happy together.”

“Damn right.”

“Language,” Helen mumbles sleepily. Simon and I both laugh.

Simon discreetly wipes a few tears from his cheek and snuffles unceremoniously. “Now, I should go inform our horde of relatives. You okay if they come in, Helen?”

“Yeah sure. Bring on the horde.”

“Alright,” Simon chuckles. “Be right back.”

I kiss his cheek. “Thank you, love.”

Simon practically skips out the door. I sigh, and sit the chair, my baby still close to my chest. Crowley, my baby. I have a living breathing infant who I’m responsible for. And I already love her more than anything.

“See?” Helen says. “Told you it was better to tell him.”

“Yeah yeah, you were right.”

“Penelope’s got a point. You two really do have trouble communicating.”

“Ha, you think this is bad? You should’ve seen us when we were roommates at school. There were many reason it took us 7 and a half years to confess our feelings. Lack of communication was certainly one of them.”

“Damn. Were you a great love story filled with toils and trials and tragic miscommunications?”

I smirk, flicking my eyes over to her. “Something like that.”

Suddenly, the door bursts open, and the horde pours in. The Bunces and my family, including all my little siblings, rush inside. Penelope is at the front (of course she is), smiling so hard her face hurts.

“Let me see!” She shrieks.

“Shhh!” I hiss. “Helen’s tired and the baby is tentatively sleeping.”

“Sorry sorry. Just let me see her, please?”

I shift the baby slightly, facing her out more. Bunce gasps quietly.

“She’s so cute,” she whispers. “Got Simon’s freckles, huh?”

“Yes, certainly. Hopefully she’s inherited a better sense of humour though.”

“Hey!” Simon snaps from beside me.

I press my lips to his cheek “Love you, darling.”

He rolls his eyes. “Yeah, yeah, love you too. Now go talk to your dad.”

With some very short mental preparation, I stand up and stride over to my father, who’s standing with my step-mother and siblings. He looks stern, wearing a crisp black suit with his hair slicked back, but that’s usual. For once, I do wonder what he’s thinking.

“Father,” I say.

“Basil,” he replies, voice flat.

I shift my bundled baby towards him. “This is your first grandchild.”

“Yes, I can see that.”

“Would you like to hold her?”

His bored mask breaks a little. In a very rare instance, he looks nervous. Our relationship has certainly improved over the years but it’s far from perfect. We still tend to tiptoe around each other a lot, afraid we’ll do the wrong thing.

I hold the baby out further. “It’s alright. You’ve had five children, I don’t think you’ll drop her or something.”

He scoffs out a small laugh. “Alright, let’s see her.”

I pass my daughter over to him. He holds her carefully. I know that my father is precise and cautious, but that’s usually in regards to schemes or magic. But now I see it applied to my child, and it’s much less menacing. My siblings peer over, smiling and giggling over the baby.

Daphne walks up next to me, placing a hand on my arm. “Congratulations, Basilton.”

“Thank you, Daphne.”

Suddenly, Mordelia crashes into me. Even as an official adult, she’s still boisterous as anything. And after years in America, she talks like them, unfortunately. “Yeah, congrats, broseph. Try to be nice to her, okay?”

I elbow her side. “Fu- Screw off, Mordelia. I’m plenty nice.”

“Liar.” She peers over at the baby, tickling her little cheek. “Does this little munchkin have a name yet?”

I turn my head to look at Simon, who’s talking with Bunce quietly near a snoring Helen. I raise an eyebrow, silently asking the question. We picked names for a boy or a girl a while ago, but kept them both secret, despite Bunce and others pestering us. Simon nods with a smile. I turn back to my father.

“Her name’s Natasha,” I say loud enough for all to hear. “Natasha Penelope Snow-Pitch.”

Everyone goes dead silent. Father inhales sharply, probably in shock and happiness. Micah, standing with Gil a bit farther away, goes slack jawed. Gil laughs loudly.

“That’s Mamá’s name!” He shouts.

I turn around. Bunce is frozen where she stands, brown eyes as big as saucer plates behind her glasses. When she speaks, her voice is nervously cracking.

“S-Seriously?”

“Yeah, Pen, seriously,” Simon says, throwing an arm around her shoulders. “You’re my best friend. I’d probably be dead by now if it wasn’t for you. So when Baz suggested I pick a middle name for a girl, it was sort of a no-brainer.”

Bunce opens her mouth to speak, but I think for once in her life, she doesn’t have anything to say. Instead she just hugs him fiercely, burying her face in his shirt. Simon chuckles and hugs her back. It’s the second most adorable thing I’ve seen today (my baby takes first place, of course.) When she pulls back, there are tears rolling down her cheeks.

“Areseholes,” she sputters. “This was all some ploy to make me blubber in front of everyone, right? You bastards.”

Simon laughs with his head thrown back and everyone joins in, including Bunce herself. Snow presses her to him in a side hug. “Seriously, though. It’s a big honour. Thank you,” she looks at me, “both of you.”

I nod once. “You’re most welcome, Bunce.”

“Welcome, Penny.”

A hand claps over my shoulder, arm snaking around them. I turn to my father. He’s smiling, more genuinely than I’ve ever seen him do so in my entire life.

“Your mother would be very honoured as well, Baz. And incredibly happy for you,” he says with actual real affection.

My heart stutters. For years, I’ve been scared of what my mother would think of me. Her gay, vampire son. But that sentiment, from my father of all people, makes me feel a whole lot better. My lips press together, trying to will back tears. I’ve been dangerously close to crying for awhile now and this isn’t helping. I feel a few tears leak out, but quickly wipe them away. I have a reputation to maintain, dammit.

“Thank you, father,” I reply, voice cracking slightly.

He nods once. I feel a tug on my trouser leg and look down to see Gil, sucking in his thumb. “I see baby, uncle Baz?”

“Of course, Gil. C’mere.”

I lift him up in my arms. He peers over at Natasha in my father’s arms, eyebrows pulling in and mouth turning into a frown.

“She’s so...” he says. “Squishy.”

All the adults chuckle. “Yes, she’s very squishy looking.”

“Papá, was I squishy?”

“Yes, mijo,” Micah says, ruffling his hair. “You were just as squishy.”

He sticks his tongue out. “Gross!”

Everyone laughs again. Gil stays on my hip for a bit, zooming his toy car up and down my shoulder, while we all chat. Natasha gets passed to other people, but I always keep an eye on her. Daphne coos over her happily with Mordelia and the twins. Even my usually Grimm-family-level-solemn little brother smiles. Eventually she makes her way into Penelope’s arms. She, Snow, and a newly awake Helen look over her, giggling at her every little movement. I sigh under my breath. Part of me can’t believe this is happening to me. All my family is here, including my child. My own living, breathing, perfect child. Aleister Crowley, I’m living a charmed life.

After about a few hours, we’re all quite tired, Helen especially, who’s been falling in and out of sleep. The nurse says, barring any complications, she can go home tonight. (She’s going to stay with her sister, who she wants to take care of her post-pregnancy.) We shuffle everyone out so she can get some rest. Daphne gives me one last cheek kiss, Father and Micah shake my hand, Mordelia says goodbye with a fist bump, Gil hugs my leg, and Penelope reluctantly gives me back my own baby.

“Am I going to have to worry about you kidnapping her?” I ask with a playful smirk.

“Hey, you just might,” she replies with a nudge. “She’s absolutely precious. If you ever need a babysitter, I’d be happy to help.”

“I’m going to hold you to that.”

“Of course.” She gives me one more hug, careful not to crush Natasha between us. “Congrats again, Baz. I’m really happy for you two.”

“Thank you, Penelope.”

She pulls back, patting my arms once. “Try to get some sleep tonight. You’re not going to get a lot for awhile.”

“Wonderful...”

“Welcome to parenthood, Basil. Have fun!”

She walks off with final swish in her step. I roll my eyes. Of course, smug as usual. Should I expect anything else at this point? I go back in and pull up my chair next to Snow. He’s lounging with his eyes shut, a sleepy smile playing on his face. I lean my head on his soft shoulder.

“Hey,” I whisper.

“Hey,” he replies. “How’s she doing?”

“Still sleeping, thank Merlin. Hopefully she’s not a restless baby.”

“Knowing our luck? She’ll be up all hours of the night.”

I let out a scoffing chuckle. “Very true. She is cute though.”

Simon hums, playing with her little black hairs. “Incredibly so.” He sighs happily. “She’s perfect.”

“M-hm.” My mouth twists slightly. “I hope I don’t mess her up.”

“Hey, remember what you told me? Back when we started this craziness?” He puts his strong arm around me, pulling me closer. “‘We’ll both fuck up. No parent is perfect. But we’ll try our best. And I know your best will be fucking amazing.’”

I chuckle. “Yes yes, I remember, I said it.”

“Well, I know you’re best will be fucking amazing too.”

I lean into him more, holding Natasha between us. She breathes very quietly but I can hear her (yay vampire senses). Every inhale and exhale makes me happy and relieved, because it reassures me that she’s alive and well. “Thank you, love.”

He carefully takes Natasha from me. “You look tired. Sleep for a bit. I’ll take care of Natty for now.”

“We’re not calling her that,” I mumble before turning over in my chair. Simon chuckles. Quickly, I’m whisked away into into welcome sleep.

Even more hours later, after tests and talking to doctors and getting our stuff together, we’re allowed to take Natasha home. Helen still dozes on and off in our car. She says she wants to sleep for a thousand years. As we let her off at her sister’s house, we promise to call and visit her in a few days. She tiredly agrees, and we thank her for the millionth time before shutting the door gently behind her.

When we arrive at our own home, it’s very dark. Natasha hasn’t woken up, thank Merlin and Morgana. I drop all our heavy baby bags with a sigh.

“Home sweet home,” I say happily.

“Wonderful,” Simon sighs. “I need real sleep. In pyjamas. In our bed.”

“Me too.” I take his hand in mine and lead us to our room. In there, Snow lays Natasha in her little green bassinet that we had ready. She stretches and yawns, smacking her tiny lips. I spend an inordinate time just staring her. Even though that’s what I’ve been doing all day. Maybe I’m still absorbing it all. Will I ever get used to this? Having a child in my house, in my life? I think so. But right now, I can’t help but stare at her.

“Baz,” Simon whispers. “C’mon, you’re tired. You can look at her tomorrow.”

I lopsidedly, half my mouth pulling up. “Yeah, I guess I can.”

We get changed as quickly and quietly as possible. (Just because Natasha hasn’t woken up yet doesn’t mean she won’t very soon.) Silently, we slip under the covers. I pull Simon against me, my body curled around his. He holds my hand tightly over his heart. Our fingers slip together easily like they always do.

Simon sighs. “Today has been...”

“A day ,” I finish.

He chuckles, back rattling against my chest. “That’s one way to put it.”

“I’m excited though.”

“Me too.” He turns in my arms to face me. His beautiful face is half lit up in moonlight, accentuating his freckles and making his bronze hair glow. He traces a finger down my cheekbone, then cups my face softly. He smiles, blue eyes almost sparkling. “We can do this. We’ve faced a lot worse. So we can certainly do this.”

I put my hand hand over his, nodding slowly. “Yes, we can. Together.”

“Together.”

He shuffles forward, pressing his face into my shoulder. I rub slow circles into his back and run my fingers through his hair.

“I love you,” I whisper against his scalp.

“I love you too,” he replies, voice muffled by my shirt.

I let my eyes slide shut. The exhausting excitement of the day makes my bones and muscles soft. Sleep is a welcome guest in my body. My husband is snoring softly into my skin, my daughter is right behind me. Everything is okay. Better than that, everything is great. I can sleep.

Then Natasha starts crying.

She lets out a loud piercing wail that tears through my sleepy calm. Simon groans and starts disentangling himself from me.

“No no,” I mutter. “I’ll get her.”

He makes tired sound of gratitude and rolls onto his other side. I swing my legs off the mattress, hanging my head for a second to get my composure, then scoop up my screaming child. I pat her back lightly, bouncing her up and down the hall.

“There there, little puff,” I say softly. “It’s alright, I’m here. Everything’s alright. Don’t worry, love, I’m not going anywhere.”

AN: Baby's here! And in my mind, of course her name would be Natasha, and with the middle name Penelope. I've used this name in my other fics too because I feel it works really well. Penny would certainly blubber :) Also the final situation is based on exactly what happened to my parents the day they brought me home. I was a loud baby. Even as an infant I liked to scream all the time. Now I scream about fandom stuff instead of food (still sometimes about food, tbh.) Tomorrow: snowy day!

#carry on countdown #coc 2017 #carry on #snowbaz #simon snow #baz pitch #penelope bunce #micah #malcolm grimm #daphne grimm #mordelia grimm #fluff #children #mysnowbazfic

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supernaturalghostwriter · 7 years

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The Punk And The Nerd! (BrOhm)(OhmBryce)

((a anon asked me and here you go, also school au, : 3 i tried, help me ;___; ))

it was the beginning of a cold morning. Bryce was heading to school. he was the world's biggest nerd. a freshman. he can't help it, it was in his blood. to some he was a goody to shoes. always doing homework. always doing good things. just your normal kid. Bryce enters the school and went to his locker. he opens it, getting some things out and ready for class. as he got his last book. his locker was slammed shut by a hand, making him jump and turn, seeing a certain senior smirking down at him playfully. "hey Brycey~" Ryan smirks. he was a punk. a bad boy around the school yet he's a senior. he also went by a nickname of Ohm and known with his famous Ω symbol on his cheek. they met through, Jonathan, another freshman as Bryce but ever since that day, Ryan would always corner the smaller male, flirting with him or just loves to tease the shit out of him. this has been happening since Bryce began school some months ago. Bryce blushes deeply, Ryan's hands on the lockers, no chance of escape at all. "R-Ryan, please, i need to get to class" the senior smirks, leaning down, making the other blush more. "awwww why hide the feeling Brycey? also wouldn't help to be bad wouldn't it?" he winks. Bryce quickly hid his face with his books. "Ryan, just go away please" he wouldn't lie, he felt attracted to the taller male. something about Ryan made the freshman weak to his knees and heart hammering in his chest quick. "c'mon Brycey, it will be fun, also the classes are annoying" "only to you but not to me" Bryce stated, finally looking up at him. big mistake. because now he was staring into those eyes. those hazel brown eyes. he felt lost, trying to look away. Ryan held his stare, smug smirk. "look Brycey, admit it, you really like me don't you?" he purrs. before Bryce could said anything back, the bell rings. he quickly got passed the senior and quickly walked off, blushing mess. Ryan watches him leave and signs. he will get his freshman to be his. he decided to walk around, probably will get detention but whatever. after some classes, Bryce was heading home. he got his things ready to go home and shut his locker door. he signs, blushes, thinking about this morning. how in the heck did he had to fall so hard? especially for a bad boy senior which was sexy as hell. he wanted to slap himself in the face for that. he walked outside, his backpack on his shoulder. he looks around, looking for his friends, Jonathan or Minx, they normally walk home with him. but then he bumped into someone, making him step back quickly. "what the hell's the happen with you?" a jockey on the football team glares at him. "s-sorry i didn't mean to-" Bryce tried to retreat but the jockey held him by the shoulder quickly, causing him to whimper loudly. "louder geek" the jockey was very pissed, smirking. "give me one reason not to beat your shitty face in? HUH?" he shook the smaller male, causing him to cry out to the grip on his shoulder tightening. "HEY!" when the jockey turn around, he wasn't fast enough to dodge a fist hitting him very hard in the face, knocking him to the ground, making him release Bryce. Bryce held his shoulder in pain. when he looked up, he saw a very pissed off Ryan, glaring coldly at the jockey. the jockey got to his feet and glares. "what the hell do you want Ohm? can't you see i was going to teach that nerd a reason of watching where he's going" the jockey glares at Bryce but Ryan punches the jockey again. people surrounded them as Ryan was beating the shit out of the jockey. "RYAN STOP!" Bryce shouted, grabbing the taller male from behind, his arms tightly around his waist, his eyes shut tightly. "please....stop" he spoke softly, teary eyes. Ryan pants hard, his knuckles bruised now. he signs, looking over his shoulder at the freshman and calm down. Ryan grabs his hand, pulling him with him as another boy went to help the bloody jockey off the ground. Bryce was hurrying to catch up with Ryan, who was still pulling him down the streets. after a minute, they stopped at a park where Ryan signs and sits on a bench. Bryce watches, frowns as he also sits. he looks over at the senior, seeing him watching the ground. hesitantly, he slowly reaches his hand up and places it on the other's shoulder. "y-you okay?" he managed to said without stuttering. Ryan looks over at him and watches him, making him nervous. "R-Ryan?" Ryan gently took his hand and held it gently, making Bryce blush to this. Ryan signs, nuzzles his face against the soft hand. "sorry...." the freshman was surprised. then he gently reaches out, hugging the taller male close. "don't be. thank you" he held him close. Ryan was surprised by the hug but he slowly hugs back, his arms around the other's waist. they stay like that for some time. "you okay now?" Bryce asked. Ryan slowly nods. "yeah" then the freshman realize, the other's face was against his neck and his neck was super sensitive. Bryce slowly pulls back, or tried to, but Ryan still held his waist as he nuzzles his neck. Bryce blushes deeply. "R-Ryan, you can let go now" he whimpers cutely, feeling the taller male's hot breath against his neck. "i don't want to" he spoke softly, his lips inches from his neck but it felt like feathers against his neck. the smaller male shuts his eyes tightly, his hands now holding onto his shoulders, blushing mess. he felt the senior pull back but still held his waist. "Brycey, open your eyes" Ryan whispers. "look at me" the way Ryan spoke in that gentle, sweet voice. the other slowly opened his eyes, blushing mess. "fuck, you have no idea how adorable you are right now i could just kiss you" Ryan stated, blushing also. it was clear he had a light pink color to his cheeks while Bryce's cheeks were painted red. he was shocked to hear this. he felt his heart going quickly in his chest, ramming against his ribs. but Bryce saw Ryan standing up after releasing him. "never mind, anyway its a school day tomorrow, you should head home" Ryan spoke, starting to walk off. Bryce watches him walk. then he felt his body acted on his own, quickly getting up and rushes over, hugging the senior from behind. "d-don't go.....please" Bryce spoke softly, blushing mess, his hands gripping the front of the other's shirt, holding onto him for dear life. Ryan was very surprised by this. then he gently held the freshman's hands. "Bryce....if you don't leave now, i will do something to make you un-comfy right now" Bryce, determinate, walks in front of the bad boy and looks upwards at him. "then do it....because if you don't, i will" Ryan growls softly, his hands gripping the other's shoulder. the freshman felt a sting in his shoulder where the jockey had grabbed him but he ignored it. Ryan slowly leans down, blushes softly. Bryce blushes, also leaning in slowly. Ryan decided to be a tease and stop just above Bryce's lips, making the other whimper impatiently. "j-just kiss me" Bryce spoke out, standing on his tip toes now and that did it for Ryan. he smashes their lips together in a gentle but very passionate kiss. Bryce slowly closes his eyes, his arms finding around the other's neck as the senior held his waist more to his hips. Ryan gently moves his lips with his freshman, holding him close. Bryce made a soft moaning noise into the kiss. he froze, hoping the other didn't hear that. but he had no lock as he felt the taller male smirk. then Bryce felt something wet and very hot run across his lips. he shudders, gasp as he opens his mouth. Ryan's tongue slowly slips into his mouth, tangling with his. their tongues wrestling each other as Bryce moans softly. slowly they broke the long kissing, panting, mouths open, saliva connecting their tongues as they stare into each other's eyes, both blushing deeply. Ryan then leans in and whispers against his ear. 'i love you Bryce. i really do" he held him close. the smaller male blushes, slowly hugging his senior back. "i love you too Ryan" his forehead against his shoulder, both holding each other close. "want to go out with me?" Ryan asked, looking into his eyes. Bryce blushes and smiles, he could get lost forever in those eyes. "sure" the senior grins. "good because i wasn't going to leave you alone until you said yes. but then again i never leave you alone" the freshman giggles to this softly. they looked at each other, leaning in for another kiss when a voice screams out to them "BRYCE MCQUAID, WHERE THE FUCK ARE YOU?!?!?!" the couple jumped to Jonathan's voice screaming, looking for his friend. Bryce blushes deeply as he stutters. "i-i-i got to go" he blushes. Ryan still held his hips as he smirks. "well i guess Jonny's going to have to wait" Bryce gave a nervous laugh. "you know how he gets" Jonathan was like a mother hen if you picture it. Bryce frowns. "i should go before he starts a scene" Ryan chuckles. "didn't he already just now?" the senior slowly releases him. Bryce gave him a quick kiss to the cheek and runs off quickly to his angry friend, wondering where he had disappeared to and leaving him and Minx standing by their meet place. Bryce blushes, saying a excuse of seeing something, not telling them really that he was really making out with Ryan. he headed home with his friends, Ryan watching his freshman go as he smirks, doing a happy cheer that he got his Brycey now. the next day, Bryce was walking to school with Jonathan, Minx and Evan. they were just chatting up a storm. Bryce wasn't listening, his mind in the cloud. "hey, isn't that Ohm?" Minx stated, everyone even Bryce looked. sure enough, Ryan was standing by the gate of the school, waiting. "hey Brycey~" Ryan smirks. Bryce blushes and smiles, walking over, earning confused looks from his friends. "hello to you too Mr. Ohmwrecker" Ryan chuckles. "ready?" the other nods. "yeah" they slowly walked in, Ryan's arms around the smaller male's shoulder. Bryce head against the taller male's shoulder, blushing deeply as they walked. Jonathan, Evan and Minx, still staying there, confused. they looked at each other. "did we fucking missed something?" Jonathan asked and Evan shrugs. "i don't know"

#brohm #ohmbryce #ohmxbryce #ohm x bryce

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deltaengineering · 7 years

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spring anime 2017 part 2: girlfriendship is magic

I can’t believe Maidragon was so powerful it brought the entire 90s back.