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phykios · 3 years

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honesty and promise me part 6 [co-written with @darkmagyk] [read on ao3]

Ah, the age old question: what to get for the guy who has everything and also when you’re trying make up for the fact that you actually missed his birthday entirely while spending as little money as possible?

“Where the hell are you taking me?” Percy asks as they wait their turn to disembark. “I haven’t been to Staten Island in ages.”

Annabeth has never been at all. She knows there’s a handful of Greek revival buildings in the Historic District, but she’s never had a car to get there, or the stomach to get on the ferry. Percy had practically climbed onto the bow, his own personal reenactment of Titanic, arms thrown out to the wind, while Annabeth attempted to keep her breakfast down.

Having spectacularly flamed out last week in Philadelphia, she can’t let Percy’s birthday go without some sort of commemoration. The Staten Island Ferry is just part one. “All in due time,” she says, checking her phone for directions. They still have a bus they need to board, and Annabeth is getting sweaty in her leather jacket. Thank God Percy volunteered to carry the backpack with all their gear; otherwise, when this jacket comes off, it’s going to smell worse than his tights at the end of a long day.

Like a magnet, his gaze is glued to the strips of the bay he can spot through the bus windows, his head resting on his chin, a soft, serene smile lifting his lips. All the tightness, all the stress he’s held in his shoulders the last few times she’s seen him, it melts away at the sharp, salty tang of rust and sea air which suffuses every corner. She doesn’t even mind that he isn’t looking at her.

Hand in hand, finally, they get off the bus, and walk to the overlook. Slinging the backpack off his shoulder, he sets it down at his feet, eyes fixed on the strip of shoreline which can be seen, even all the way over here. “What is that?” he breathes, shielding his eyes against the glint of the sun on the water.

“That,” says Annabeth, “is the Staten Island ship graveyard.”

Still stewing in her guilt over how she missed his birthday--despite the fact that he didn’t even tell her--Annabeth decided to swallow her pride and ask for help. It took an inordinate number of coffee orders and one instance of her actually getting down on her knees and begging, pleading to their long friendship together and swearing that Annabeth would never use this information for evil, but she had finally wheedled the secret out of Thalia: Percy’s greatest love, after the ballet, was sailing. Ship construction, naval battles, maritime history, they were, according to Thalia, the only things which could entice Percy to actually set down the tights and “get some frickin’ sunshine for once in his life.” Annabeth hadn’t believed her, until Thalia had dug up an old photo which had never been posted to his socials--and Annabeth had certainly scoured them for long enough, she would have recognized it had she seen it before--of Percy, on a glittering, jewel-like sea, a rope wrapped around his fist as he leaned over the side of a sailboat, eyes squeezed shut, mouth wide in a graceless, unrestrained joy.

“Back in the eighties, there used to be over four hundred ships down there,” Annabeth says, coming up beside him. “A lot of it’s been scrapped or sold, but there are still maybe a hundred or so boats, including the USS PC-1264, one of the--”

“One of the two predominantly African American crewed Navy ships from World War II,” he interrupts, eyes light. “No way!”

“Yes way,” Annabeth grins, unzipping her jacket. The midday sun beats down on them, the air sticky and heavy, and she needs this thing off, pronto. “And, there’s a ship that was supposedly the command post for the General Slocum disaster.” Not that she really knows what that is.

He whirls around. “The Abram S. Hewitt is there? Holy sh--”

His jaw drops. His eyes bug out.

Part two of his present was the ship graveyard. Part three is the outfit.

Annabeth, one hand on her hip, slings her jacket over her shoulder with the other, the leather hot against her bare skin. She has chosen to forgo a shirt entirely, wearing nothing but her nicest pair of black jeans with the thick suspenders and a shiny, red bra. And yes, she had Thalia touch up her hair, five inches of curls lopped off on one side, undercut sharp and severe.

“I thought we could have a picnic here,” she says, a smile curling her lips without her permission. “Then, if you want, we could do some light trespassing? See the ships up close?”

Percy swallows. He breathes in through his nose, shuddering. “Sure,” he whispers, hoarse. “Sounds good.”

Dropping to the ground like a rock, studiously not checking her out, Percy unpacks their picnic, laying out the blanket, something blue, old, but soft Annabeth had knitted in a fit of pre-finals’ anxiety in college. Annabeth had hinted the night before that he should make them some food, as no one could make a grilled cheese like Percy, and she sure as shit wasn’t going to buy them some prepackaged, tasteless garbage.

Percy’s sandwiches, just like the man himself, are stacked: thick, sourdough slices (which she suspects he made himself), bacon, turkey, apple, tomato, lettuce, avocado, mayo for her but none for him. She’d always been under the impression that dancers needed to watch what they ate, endlessly in pursuit of some unattainable ideal of beauty. Nope. Percy eats everything and anything he can get his hands on, high carb and high protein and high everything else. It makes sense, she guesses, for someone who basically has to bench their own body weight daily. Every inch of him is tailored for power and velocity, to propel him out of the grasp of gravity--rabbit food just isn’t going to cut it here.

Munching down, he maneuvers himself into a number of splits and stretches, unable to give up his routine for a single day. “When I was probably thirteen or fourteen,” he says, halfway through a tirade of reminiscence, “my dad took me and Triton and Kym to Cyprus, for some family bonding time.” He rolls his eyes. “You can probably imagine how well that went. Most of that trip was… well, Cyprus was definitely the best part. We went to Kyrenia Castle, which has this amazing museum that holds one of the oldest known ships in the world. Like, this thing was operational during the lifetime of Alexander the Great, and it sank about a mile away from the harbor.” He takes a heroic bite, chewing with his lips firmly shut.

“Cool.”

He swallows. “Very cool. I love really old ships, but you can imagine how few of those are still left, and not just because we haven’t found them.”

Annabeth feels her neck heating up, despite the shade they sit in. “Well, I hope these ones are old enough for you.”

“Oh, these are incredible--don’t get me wrong! I had no idea there was anything like this so close to home. Who needs Cyprus when you have Staten Island?” He grins, placing his sandwich down, throwing his arms in a stretch.

“I know it isn’t Tokyo or Moscow or anything…” she trails off, self-conscious even as she doesn’t actually ask the question that’s on her mind.

Shamefully, she has found that she still thinks about what Will had said at his apartment over a month ago at this point: Percy Jackson, boy toy of the rich and famous. But if she actually asks, it will make her look like some totally jealous girlfriend or something, like she honestly cares about Percy’s past sexual conquests.

She doesn’t care. She doesn’t.

He’s just led a really interesting life, and she wishes she could relate. That’s all.

“It’s not,” he agrees, bending his back with an audible pop. “It’s better.”

“Really? A little ship graveyard is better than the sites of Tokyo?”

“I didn’t see any sites in Tokyo,” he said. “Mostly just Mittie’s hotel room.”

“Mittie?”

Percy looks at his sandwich, suddenly very interested in the crust.

“She’s someone important, then?”

Silence.

Annabeth laughs to break the tension. “Okay, I'll bite--who’s Mittie? Another model?”

Taking a small bite of sandwich, he chews, methodical and deliberate. He swallows, clearing his throat. “Margherita Savoy.”

The name doesn’t ring a bell. “Who?”

“Princess Margherita Elisabetta of Sardinia.”

Her mouth drops open a little. “A princess?”

Percy shrugs. “Technically. The throne of Sardinia doesn’t exist anymore, obviously, but she’s big into the money and the titles and stuff.”

A princess. A fucking princess. “But she lets you call her Mittie.”

He looks a little constipated. “She didn’t… until she took me to Tokyo.”

“Oh,” she says. Because what else is there to say? She’s certainly no princess.

“She was nice,” Percy says, softly. “You know, eventually. Once we got to know each other.”

Her phone is hot in her pocket, like it’s preemptively searching Google for pictures of Margherita Elisabetta of Sardinia, downloading them all so Annabeth can scribble all over her face like a bad high school movie. “A pretender?” She scoffs, exaggeratedly, her fists tight against the grass. “Talk to me when you get a real princess.”

His ears go red. “Um…”

No way. “No fucking way.”

“Look, Eugenie was just kinda pissed when Triton broke up with her, and so she just thought that we’d have some fun.”

“Oh my god.” She says, looking at him in something like horror. And telling herself at least it wasn’t her distant cousin Madeleine.

“It was only for like a week or two,” Percy protests. “We went to a club in Berlin she knew Triton liked to go to so he would see us and get annoyed.”

“A princess dated you because she was pissed at your brother?”

“Only twice,” he says, casual, like any of this is normal and not absolutely insane. “Eleonore is one of Kym’s friends. And she’s technically, like, an archduchess, not a princess. But I don’t know. A couple of his other girlfriends wanted to get back at him, and I was in Europe and available, so we just…” He trails off. She can hear the ellipsis, hanging hot and heavy over them, each dot dropping like a stone. What is this, fucking Mamma Mia?

“When was the last time this happened?” she asks, not really wanting to hear the answer.

He rubs a hand over his mouth, gaze unfocused as he thinks. “Um… not since the week after Frank left, I think. Mittie wanted to go to Bora Bora but she didn’t want to go alone, you know?”

“No, I meant,” she pushes through as her stomach flutters, tight and uncomfortable, “girls using you to get back at your brother.”

His face falls, just a bit. “Oh. Last year, I guess.”

“Who was she?” And where is she so Annabeth can punt her off a building?

“Calypso Atlas.” He sighs, wistful, with more reverence than he had given any of the princesses, and Annabeth’s stomach flops, different from the flutter. Painful this time. “She actually liked me.”

“Everyone likes you,” she says, faintly. Maybe wearing the leather jacket is giving her heatstroke.

“You know, they really don’t. Not how it counts, anyway.” He picks at a blade of grass, rubbing it between his fingers. “Most of the girls who wanted to use me to get back at Triton only did it because they knew how much he liked to bitch about me--the ‘half-breed bastard.’” He rolls his eyes, huffs a laugh. “And even Kym’s friends didn’t actually like me. Like, yeah, they’d fly me all over with them, but they didn’t want to be seen with me. Mittie and I were on and off for years, and she gets photographed constantly. I’m not in any of them.”

Annabeth thinks she might actually be sick.

But he doesn’t stop. “It wasn’t so bad when they went around saying that I was a dancer with the Paris Opera, because I was, and I was proud of it. But it wasn’t… I don’t know. It wasn’t like with Frank, whose family does have a ton of money, but who only ever dated me because he liked me.” He picks another blade of grass, tearing it between his fingers. “Calypso, though. She was different.” And he smiles, a little.

“How?”

That smile grows wider. “She just called me one day, out of the blue, and very publicly asked me to be her date to Milan Fashion Week after she and Triton broke up and he immediately turned around and got engaged. She was super up front about it, didn’t try to sleep with me or anything, even though I know she was friends with some people and probably heard about my various talents.”

She knows exactly which talents he means. He winks at Annabeth, ironic and self-conscious, and she forces out a little laugh, as though the idea of him going down on someone else is charming.

“But then we actually had a good time together, and a few weeks later, she called me up again, and again, and again, until eventually she introduced me to her father--which was a hell of an experience, let me tell you. The Atlas family puts the Olympianides family to shame as far as dysfunction goes. But it was nice, in its own way; if I’d ever asked Mittie to introduce me to her dad, she’d have laughed in my face.”

“Sounds like you were pretty serious,” Annabeth manages.

“That was the problem.” He looks away, towards the sea. Always towards the sea. “She wanted to leave Paris, travel the world. And she wanted me to go with her.”

“To leave the Paris Opera?”

“To leave ballet entirely. I just…” He holds the silence for a moment, lost in the fog of reminiscence, the mist of possible futures long since dissipated. Sighing, he shakes his head. “I couldn’t do it. So, in March, she went to Dubai, and I started making calls back to New York.”

“You broke up with her this year?”

“She broke up with me,” he clarifies, turning back to her. “It was all very romantic. I always left my comp at the box office for her. She didn’t come to my show, but she showed up at the stage door the day before she was set to leave, telling me that she had an extra ticket with my name on it. I turned her down.” And then he looks her in the eye as he says, “I don’t regret it at all.”

She swallows, her face flushing, tongue numb as she searches desperately for something to say to that. “Atlas, you said her family was? It sounds familiar.”

“Oh, you’re probably thinking of Zoe Atlas,” Percy says, easing off for the moment. “You probably know about her because she and Thalia were archenemies in boarding school. Or maybe girlfriends? I have yet to get a straight answer.” Annabeth’s eyes nearly bug out of her head. Thalia, in boarding school? What? “But I like Zoe. She’s an activist, and absolutely hates her father. Like I said, there’s a lot of dysfunction. And she came to my first show way back when, and she wasn’t even weird when I dated her sister when we ran into each other in Paris. So that was nice.”

“She went to your first show?” What in God’s name is up with these one-percenter families? It’s like they all overlap in one big incestuous slurry. And as the daughter of the Chases and the Pallases, she tries not to think where she might fit into that.

“Thalia brought her. Her first not-date. It was Thalia’s first ballet ever, too. It… it meant a lot.”

“What show was it?”

He smiles, wistful. “The Nutcracker. I was one of the kids at Clara’s party. Most scared I’ve ever been. When I got out backstage after intermission, Thalia was waiting for me with my mom. She punched my shoulder, called me ‘Kelp Head,’ and told me I did great. Then I hugged her,” he says, snickering. “She punched me again.”

Annabeth laughs, huffing through her nose. “Good to see some things never change.”

“That’s our Thalia for you--looking out for everyone, even when it kills her inside.” He glances at her pointedly.

It’s her turn to share.

Annabeth’s mouth is dry, like sandpaper.

She grabs her backpack, pulling out a sketchbook and a pencil. Beside her, Percy sighs, deflating a little.

Annabeth flips open a new page, and starts drawing.

Each sketch delivers a challenge: bringing order to the whole through design, composition, tension, balance, light and harmony. Sometimes, buildings spring to life on the page, fully formed. Sometimes the page stays blank, an empty pencil.

Pencil to paper. Letting whatever wants to come out, come out. “My mom invited me to lunch one day,” she says. Her eyes follow the line of her pencil, ninety degree angles and symmetrical shapes. “I had moved to New York like six months before. Single girl, in the big city, to follow her dreams.” She’d gone to boarding school in New York before that, but it wasn’t the same as picking out her apartment and taking the train to the Manhattan skyscraper her office was held in. Sometimes she’d walk down the street, feeling like she was smack dab in the middle of Sex and the City, which she and Piper use to watch in secret, huddled under the covers in the dorms at Miss Minerva’s. “Unfortunately, my mom didn’t love my dreams.”

“She didn’t approve of anarchist architecture?”

Annabeth’s laugh is hollow. “She thought I should have been charting some new path in business for a woman. But not in a feminist way. In, like, a capitalist way. But architecture was not really negotiable for me. And once that became clear, she had her own expectations about that, too.”

Annabeth has always been a prideful know-it-all. If all her mother had wanted from her was ambition, they probably could have made it work. Annabeth wanted to reshape the skyline, she wanted her name on buildings that would last and impress.

But even Annabeth couldn’t do that in six months.

“She wanted the best schools, the best companies, the best projects.” She sighs. “I was lucky to find a job in New York that wasn’t just carrying coffee.” She had gotten a bigger offer from a more well-known firm where she had interned one summer, but it had been for an assistantship, heavy on the assistant. Her eventual Junior Architect label hadn’t been great, but it had been something, being a rising star at a smaller firm. It seemed like a good fit. “I did not make my mother proud. I… she lived in New York, and I lived with my dad all over.”

Percy frowns. “Your mom didn’t have custody of you?”

“My mom didn’t want custody of me,” she laughs, bitter. God, it feels weird to tell someone else this. Piper and Leo and Luke knew, obviously, but they had witnessed it all firsthand. Telling someone else, out of the blue… Well, Percy had divulged his tragic backstory without complaint. It’s only fair that she does as well. “I mean, my dad didn’t either. But when it became clear my mom wasn’t an option, well, there we were. He stepped up as best he could. That wasn’t always a lot, but when compared to my mother, he seems like a perfectly involved parent.”

“Are you trying to make my parental situation seem more reasonable?”

“Is it working?”

“If you ever meet my dad, we can compare notes.” He shudders at the thought, playfully. “So, what happened with your mom?”

“She made her displeasure known.” Annabeth sighs again, shading a corner. “I mean, she’s always made her displeasure known. I wasn’t getting good enough grades, I wasn’t in the right activities, I wasn’t going to get into the right school, yadda yadda yadda. But for a long time… I don’t know, it at least seemed like she was worried about me.” She thinks of the Eta party, of the man in the brown suit, tutting about Athena Pallas’s druggie daughter, and scowls. “My mother has always had an all or nothing outlook. If I wasn’t the best, I might as well be nothing. But the thing was, this time I thought I was making real progress. And when she invited me to lunch after six months in the same city, I thought she would see that.”

She had not. Because to Athena Pallas, having a daughter who was an architect instead of an executive Vice-President on her way to CEO, having a daughter at a small but growing architecture firm instead of the best one in the country, was like having a daughter who was drunk in a gutter somewhere.

And Annabeth had realized as much that lunch.

All her work was never going to earn her mother’s love.

And suddenly, she wasn’t sure what work had been her’s and what had been her mother’s ambitions.

She’d started crying. In the cafe and right now, on Staten Island, with Percy. “I’m sorry,” she sniffs, wiping her nose on her arm. “Wow, I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay.” He reaches over and wraps an arm around her, gently, rubbing her shoulder, and she more or less crumples into his side. “It’s fine. Take your time.”

Her arm, still free, keeps moving. The drawing takes a shape that she can’t quite name yet. A tree, maybe, in a box. A window to another world, possibly. She spills tears on the paper.

“She disowned me.” Her thin line trembles, before righting itself. “I ran out of there. I stumbled into the first tattoo parlor that didn’t smell like piss, and got my owl done.” She brandishes her left arm, the grey shape blurry and faded against her elbow. She had had a stuffed owl as a little girl, her protector against the spiders in the closet. “I cut off my hair, got my eyebrow pierced, found a club, and just… had a rough couple of days. Got really really drunk that night.” Like, too drunk. Crying on the floor of a filthy bathroom drunk. “Thalia found me under the bathroom sink, took me back to her place, helped me kick the hangover the next day, and that was that.”

“I’m sorry.”

“I’m not,” Annabeth says. And most of the time, she isn’t. She wipes her eyes, smudged makeup getting smudger.

“Your mom sounds like she sucks.”

“She does.”

“What about your dad?”

She sniffs. “What about him?”

“You just haven’t really mentioned him. What’s he like?”

Shrugging, she wipes a tear from her cheek. “He’s a history professor.”

“And?”

“That’s about it.”

“I mean, do you like him?”

She shrugs again. “Sure.” There was a lot to like about Frederick Chase. “I haven’t really spoken to him in a while.”

Mouth in a sympathetic twist, he brushes the curls from her eyes, a gesture so sweet it makes her heart pound. “You should call him,” he says. “I’m sure he misses you.”

Her phone burns in her pocket, heavy with the weight of unread texts. “Maybe.”

“Do you want to change the subject?” he asks.

“Please,” she blurts out, digging the heels of her hands into her eye sockets. “God, please. Let’s go back to your cute backstory. Tell me more about your first ballet. I want to hear all about the time you were in the Nutcracker.”

Percy fishes out a napkin from somewhere, handing it to her. Grateful, she blows her nose into it, wet and disgusting. “I hate to tell you this,” he says, “But I have been in the Nutcracker, like, fifteen times.”

“Seriously?”

“Seriously,” he nods, “It's the big moneymaker. Have you ever seen it?”

“It's a holiday classic,” she scoffs, a little wetly. “Of course I’ve seen it.”

He snorts. “Like, for real, or the recorded one they play on Netflix with Macaulay Culkin?”

“I've seen it live! My dad lived in San Francisco when I was in high school. They have a fancy ballet there.” She’d seen it as a little kid in NYC, she thought, too. Maybe when her parents were still married, or her mother was still willing to take her for Christmas.

“Would you be willing to see it again?”

“Like, for real,” she parrots back at him, “or the recorded one they play on Netflix?”

“Ha ha. I mean for real.”

“I mean… maybe if they switched things up a bit.”

“It's a classic!” He protests. “I mean, it isn’t like we do the Balanchine everywhere, every time. But… it's a classic.”

“I’m sure the dancing is fine.” Annabeth says. She remembers going with Luke in Boston and thinking it was nice, but also hoping Luke would kiss her at the end of the night, so she hadn’t really paid attention. “But they get to design a land of magic and sweets and fairies, and every time the costumes and the sets are just, like, pink glitter and white gauze mixed with weird racial stereotypes. There’s no imagination.”

“Well, okay then.” There’s something in his smile, in the turn of his head that she can’t quite identify. “What would you do?” he challenges.

She holds his gaze for a moment, looking into those eyes that almost reflect the color of the sea around them. Her eyes feel a little puffy still, but he doesn’t look away. Then, without breaking away, she flips open a new page in her sketchbook.

“Space,” she says. “It needs space.”

“Outer?”

“Negative. Lots of space for dancers to move around.” Her pencil scratches over the paper, familiar blocky shapes springing to life. Doric fluted columns split the wings, because of course. “It’s Christmas, so we want color: no sterile, snowy landscape. We know it’s all frozen over--we don’t need to see it again. Obligatory Christmas tree here,” she sketches a crude triangle off to one side, approximately along the golden ratio, “and a big fireplace in the center, preferably a functional one.”

“You know there was this dancer in the nineteenth century that died because her costume caught fire, yeah?”

Annabeth tilts her head, capitulating. “Fair point. We’ll raise it up on a pedestal, keep it out of the way.” She draws a little platform beneath it. “But color is key.” Up above, she draws a pediment crowning the proscenium. She scribbles in the empty space, a placeholder. “Everyone knows the story, so you lay it out up here, episodes merging into each other from start to finish.”

Percy peers down at her page, his chin perilously close to resting on her shoulder. She can’t draw like that. “Kind of reminds me of the Parthenon.”

“You’ve been?”

He nods, his hair tickling the side of her face. “Couple of times. I thought you said you wanted color, though. The Parthenon’s all white, isn’t it?”

“Not originally,” she says. “Do they not explain that on the tours?”

“Um…” Sheepish, he looks away. “I, uh, I’m not always great at listening.”

God. It’s so endearing. What the hell. She kisses him on the cheek, enjoying the way he flushes lightly. “Me either.” He is so fucking handsome. “But no, the original Parthenon, all those white statues, they were painted. Ergo, color.”

He blinks, momentarily stunned. “Wouldn’t--uh, wouldn’t that distract from the dancers? People would just be staring at the ceiling.”

“Then… it’s only lit up before and after the show. During the show, you turn the lights down, bring the focus back down onto the stage.” She considered it. Something she’d worked on for a production once, a fashion show Piper had done at Pratt. “Or, you set it up so the colors are mostly lights. Lights that shine through during the snowflake dance and when Clara rides off with the prince. But then you also get the white for the frosted look. But, they’re still too pink, so I don’t think some color variety is bad.”

“So, not to kill your vibe,” Percy says, pulling back a bit, “but I gotta say, I don’t see how this is that different from the billion other Nutcrackers out there.”

She glares, lips pursed. He’s trying so hard not to laugh. Dick. “The set is only half the problem,” she says. “You'd need to redesign the costumes, too.”

“Tell you what. Why don’t you come see my show in December, and then you can tell me all about how you’d fix it.”

“Me and every tourist in New York at Christmas time?”

He nods, like he was expecting it. “Then come to my current one. September isn’t Christmas, so it’ll be a lot less crowded.”

“I don’t know,” she grimaces, sketching a star in the corner of the page. “I don’t really think I’d fit--'' Fit in with those people like the ones from the Eta awards, who thought not being her mother’s lackey was the same as being in rehab.

“Annabeth.” Percy takes her drawing hand, lifting it off the page entirely. The pencil is caught between them, an ineffectual barrier to the sweet, rubbing thumb on the mound of her palm. “I want you to come to my show. I’ll leave you a ticket. No one will care what you look like, I promise.” He stares at her, baby seal eyes in full effect.

Fuck.

“As long as you leave me a ticket,” she says, weakly. “I mean, I wouldn’t be able to afford a good seat.” The lie slips out, easy as anything. She can’t help it.

He smiles, soft and warm and way too inviting. “And in the meantime,” he says, softly, you can come with me tonight.”

“Tonight?”

“I’m going to my parents’ for dinner. It’ll be just my mom, Paul, and my sister. They’d love to meet you.”

“I can’t,” she replies, immediately, almost without thinking. “I’ve got--I’ve got work to do.”

She doesn’t. But boys don’t bring girls like Annabeth home anymore. She isn’t meant to settle down. She’s meant for grimy bars and ship yards. She'll leave it to the princesses to be brought home.

He deflates, just the slightest bit. If she hadn’t had so much up and personal time with his naked chest and the movement of his shoulders, she probably would have missed it. “Maybe next time, then?”

“Yeah,” she agrees, not entirely certain if she means to follow through. “Maybe next time.”

#ballet au #percabeth #pjo #the rivalry ends here #darkmagyk #perseannabeth #byima #uhhh whoever else #my fic #pjo fic #look at them having a real conversation and then immediately blowing it

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greatworldwar2 · 4 years

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• Yokosuka MXY-7 Ohka

The Yokosuka MXY-7 Ohka (櫻花, Ōka, "cherry blossom") was a purpose-built, rocket-powered human-guided kamikaze attack aircraft employed by Japan against Allied ships towards the end of the Pacific War during World War II.

The MXY-7 Navy Suicide Attacker Ohka was a manned flying bomb that was usually carried underneath a Mitsubishi G4M2e Model 24J "Betty" bomber to within range of its target. On release, the pilot would first glide towards the target and when close enough he would fire the Ohka's three solid-fuel rockets, one at a time or in unison, and fly the missile towards the ship that he intended to destroy. The design was conceived by Ensign Mitsuo Ohta of the 405th Kōkūtai, aided by students of the Aeronautical Research Institute at the University of Tokyo. Ohta submitted his plans to the Yokosuka research facility. The Imperial Japanese Navy decided the idea had merit and Yokosuka engineers of the Yokosuka Naval Air Technical Arsenal created formal blueprints for what was to be the MXY7. The only variant which saw service was the Model 11, and it was powered by three Type 4 Mark 1 Model 20 rockets. 155 Ohka Model 11s were built at Yokosuka, and another 600 were built at the Kasumigaura Naval Air Arsenal.

The final approach was difficult for a defender to stop because the aircraft gained high speed (650 km/h (400 mph) in level flight and 930 km/h (580 mph) or even 1,000 km/h (620 mph) in a dive. Later versions were designed to be launched from coastal air bases and caves, and even from submarines equipped with aircraft catapults, although none were actually used in this way. The Allen M. Sumner-class destroyer USS Mannert L. Abele was the first Allied ship to be sunk by Ohka aircraft, near Okinawa on April 12th, 1945. Over the course of the war, Ohkas sank or damaged three ships beyond repair, significantly damaged three more ships, with a total of seven U.S. ships damaged or sunk by Ohkas. The only operational Ohka was the Model 11. Essentially a 1,200-kilogram (2,600 lb) bomb with wooden wings, powered by three Type 4 Model 1 Mark 20 solid-fuel rocket motors, the Model 11 achieved great speed, but with limited range. This was problematic, as it required the slow, heavily laden mother aircraft to approach within 37 km (20 nmi; 23 mi) of the target, making them very vulnerable to defending fighters. There was one experimental variant of the Model 11, the Model 21, which had thin steel wings manufactured by Nakajima. It had the engine of the Model 11 and the airframe of the Model 22.

The Ohka K-1 was an unpowered trainer version with water ballast instead of warhead and engines, that was used to provide pilots with handling experience. Unlike the combat aircraft, it was also fitted with flaps and a landing skid. The water ballast was dumped before landing but it remained a challenging aircraft to fly, with a landing speed of 130 mph (210 km/h). Forty-five were built by Dai-Ichi Kaigun Koku Gijitsusho. The Model 22 was designed to overcome the short standoff distance problem by using a Campini-type motorjet engine, the Ishikawajima Tsu-11. This engine was successfully tested, and 50 Model 22 Ohkas were built at Yokosuka to accept this engine. The Model 22 was to be launched by the more agile Yokosuka P1Y3 Ginga "Frances" bomber, necessitating a shorter wing span and much smaller 600-kilogram (1,300 lb) warhead. The first flight of a Model 22 Ohka took place in June 1945; none appear to have been used operationally, and only approximately 20 of the experimental Tsu-11 engines are known to have been produced. The Model 33 was a larger version of the Model 22 powered by an Ishikawajima Ne-20 turbojet with an 800-kilogram (1,800 lb) warhead. The mothership was to be the Nakajima G8N Renzan. The Model 33 was cancelled due to the likelihood that the Renzan would not be available.

The Yokosuka MXY7 Ohka was used mostly against U.S. ships invading Okinawa, and if launched from its mothership, could be effective because of its high speed in the dive. In the first two attempts to transport the Ohkas to Leyte Gulf using aircraft carriers, the carriers Shinano and Unryu were sunk by the U.S. submarines Archerfish and Redfish. Attacks intensified in April 1945. On April 1st, 1945, six "Bettys" attacked the U.S. fleet off Okinawa. At least one made a successful attack; its Ohka was thought to have hit one of the 406 mm (16 in) turrets on the battleship West Virginia, causing moderate damage. Postwar analysis indicated that no hits were recorded and that a near-miss took place. The transports Alpine, Achernar, and Tyrrell were also hit by kamikaze aircraft, but it is unclear whether any of these were Ohkas from the other "Bettys". None of the "Bettys" returned. The U.S. military quickly realized the danger and concentrated on extending their "defensive rings" outward to intercept the "Betty"/Ohka combination aircraft before the suicide mission could be launched.

On April 12th, 1945, nine "Bettys" attacked the U.S. fleet off Okinawa. The destroyer Mannert L. Abele was hit, broke in two, and sank, witnessed by LSMR-189 CO James M. Stewart. Jeffers destroyed an Ohka with AA fire 45 m (50 yd) from the ship, but the resulting explosion was still powerful enough to cause extensive damage, forcing Jeffers to withdraw. The destroyer Stanly was attacked by two Ohkas. One struck above the waterline just behind the ship's bow, its charge passing completely through the hull and splashing into the sea, where it detonated underwater, causing little damage to the ship. On April 14th, 1945, seven "Bettys" attacked the U.S. fleet off Okinawa. None returned. None of the Ohkas appeared to have been launched. Two days later, six "Bettys" attacked the U.S. fleet off Okinawa. Two returned, but no Ohkas had hit their targets. Later, on April 28th, 1945, four "Bettys" attacked the U.S. fleet off Okinawa at night. One returned. No hits were recorded. May 1945 saw another series of attacks. On 4 May 1945, seven "Bettys" attacked the U.S. fleet off Okinawa. One Ohka hit the bridge of a destroyer, Shea, causing extensive damage and casualties. Gayety was also damaged by an Ohka's near miss. One "Betty" returned. On May 11th, 1945, four "Bettys" attacked the U.S. fleet off Okinawa. The destroyer Hugh W. Hadley was hit and suffered extensive damage and flooding. The vessel was judged beyond repair. On May 25th, 1945, 11 "Bettys" attacked the fleet off Okinawa. Bad weather forced most of the aircraft to turn back, and none of the others hit targets. On June 22nd, 1945, six "Bettys" attacked the fleet. Two returned, but no hits were recorded. Postwar analysis concluded that the Ohka's impact was negligible, since no U.S. Navy capital ships had been hit during the attacks because of the effective defensive tactics that were employed.

In total, of the 300 Ohka available for the Okinawa campaign, 74 actually undertook operations, of which 56 were either destroyed with their parent aircraft or in making attacks. The Allied nickname for the aircraft was "Baka", a Japanese word meaning "foolish" or "idiotic". Several surviving examples of the Ohka still exist. A Model 11 on static display at Iruma Air Force Base in Iruma, Saitama. Model 11 on static display at the Fleet Air Arm Museum in Yeovilton, Somerset. Model 11 on static display at the Imperial War Museum in London. Model 11 on static display at the National Museum of the Marine Corps in Triangle, Virginia. Model 11 on static display at the Planes of Fame Air Museum in Chino, California. K-1 on static display at the National Museum of the United States Air Force in Dayton, Ohio. K-1 on static display at the National Museum of the U.S. Navy in Washington, D.C.

#second world war #world war 2 #world war ii #military history #wwii #history #aviation #kamikaze #imperial japan #japanese history #japanese #cherry blossom #pacific campaign #okinawa

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snowdice · 4 years

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Finding the Time to Study Fic 2 [Day 18]

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 3-8 and what I have of Chapter 9 are under the cut.

My Masterpost Part 1 Part 2 Part 3

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.

I have homework due tomorrow, so let’s go.

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.”

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“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.

“You are the worst partner,” Janus hissed. “When I’m right you owe me 10 loafs of your fresh bread.”

“Branching out from poptarts?” Remus asked.

Janus shook his head. He still wasn’t happy about the state of things, but he could feel himself cooling down a bit.

Khalid came out of the integration room after a few minutes, leaving Pat with Remy. “What was that?” she asked him.

“He got under my skin,” Janus said.

“We’ll talk about it later,” she said. “For now, we’re letting him go and then going back to looking for the bomb like we’re meant to be.”

“Fine,” Janus relented. “Just do me the favor of tagging him before he leaves. Just that. I beg of you.”

“Sure,” she agreed. “If it will calm you down.”

He nodded.

“Then, let’s go,” she said. When they met back up with Remy and Pat, he saw Khalid make the subtle gesture that would tag Pat like they would have for the Millennium Birds. Pat sent him what could pass as a sweet smile if Janus didn’t know better. Then, they walked him outside, leaving Remy on clean-up duty for the make-shift security office.

“So, I’m free to go?” Pat asked. His bemused expression edged far too much on the side of amused verses confused for Janus’s taste.

“You are,” Khalid said. “Have fun at the festivities.”

His hands went flapping about. “Oh, you too!” he said. “Well, I guess you’re working, but you can have fun anyway, I’m sure.”

“We’ll do our best,” she said.

He gave her a blinding smile and reached forward to shake her hand enthusiastically. Janus rolled his eyes and looked up at the heavens. “It was nice to meet you!” he said, “and you too, Remus!” He turned to meet Janus’s eyes. “Macy Misa.”

Janus pressed his lips together.

Then, Pat turned and walked away.

“Well, now that we’re done with that,” Khalid said, turning to them. “We have only a few more hours before midnight and we really need to find the time bomb.

“Oh,” Pat called. He’d paused a few yards away and turned back to them. “Thanks for letting me go so easily by the way,” he said, “and just in the Nick,” he winked, “of time too.” Janus narrowed his eyes at him. He smiled back. “Wrist check,” he said holding up his arm to show off the timepiece there. Khalid immediately looked down at her own wrist just to see that the one timepiece that could move through the time lock was no longer there. Pat made a gesture and disappeared.

All three of them stared at the spot he’d been for a long moment.

Janus was the one to speak first. “I want. The yellow. To be erased. From my record.”

Chapter 9

Khalid immediately called everyone back to base.

“What happened?” asked Fred when he and Lena arrived. The tech people were already scrambling to get through to the TPI and get the time lock broken from the outside.

“Remus, Remy, and Khalid got played by Pat or whatever his name is. It certainly isn’t Nick. He was just setting up a joke,” Janus told him.

“Stop being smug,” Remy said. “It’s not a good look for you.”

“Pat is…?” Lena asked.

“They guy who fucked me over in 1923,” Janus said, “and is currently in the middle of fucking us all over because he stole the pin timepiece, and by extrapolation, probably the time bomb too.”

“It will be fine,” said Khalid, “because what he doesn’t know is that timepiece has a tracker on it. Wherever and whenever he went, we’ll have his coordinates.”

“Speaking of,” one of the techies said. “It’s about to break. You might want to hold onto something.” Janus grabbed for a support beam next to him as the techie put a device on the ground in the center of the base. It blinked once, twice, and on the third blink the ground rumbled. There were sounds of panicked yelps outside. The fail safe for the time lock was not nearly as gentle as ending it correctly.

Everything settled after a few moments, and they all straightened themselves out. Janus’s timepiece buzzed to indicate it was now functioning normally. Khalid had returned her usual timepiece to her wrist and now used it to open a display they could all see. “The pin timepiece’s closest time/space coordinates are…” she trailed off. “Right outside?” She frowned. “That’s strange. Why would he still be here?” She turned to march outside, following the coordinates to a trash can. She pulled the pin timepiece out and stared at it. “Fuck,” she said.

“What just happened?” Remy asked.

“He ticked us,” Janus said. “Again.”

“He was stuck in the time lock,” Khalid said. “That’s why he got our attention. He couldn’t leave with the time bomb unless he had the pin timepiece or we broke the time lock. Apparently, he’s smart enough to know that if he took the pin timepiece away from here, we’d probably be able to find him, but he knew we’d break the lock as soon as the pin went missing. So, he must have stashed his own timepiece and went back in time within the time lock to grab it while we were distracted with the past version of him. As soon as the time lock went down, I imagine he left.”

“Probably with the time bomb,” Janus said.

“Probably with the time bomb,” she confirmed.

And everyone knew the only thing worse than a time bomb was a time bomb you didn’t know the location of.

They evacuated after that, of course, and time locked the location once they were out just in case they were wrong, but midnight 3000 struck without thousands of people dying in Brazil, so the time bomb had defiantly been removed from then.

The, they initiated a time travel lockdown for all nonessentials, not willing to let random history students get caught up in an explosion if Pat decided to set the thing off somewhere.

Then, it was a matter of figuring out everything they could about ‘Pat.’ First, they checked the tracker data as Khalid had tagged him with one of the Millennium Bird trackers. It wouldn’t work outside of the zone they’d set up that day, but the record would show his behavior during the time lock after he’d escaped with the pin timepiece.

There had been many little green dots on the map that day as Fred and Lena had actually been doing the job they’d set out to do, but most of those were running around in the south. There had been one green dot, however, that appeared suddenly in the game area about 10 minutes before the time bomb had been stolen.

They could see Janus’s yellow dot almost brush his when he’d been chasing the earlier Pat down, around when he’d lost him briefly. The earlier Pat must have all but handed it off to his future self.

“He doubled back,” Remus commented when they watched the recorded data. It was a ballsy move and one that most people balked at, because there were inherent dangers any time you interacted with yourself from a different point in the timestream. It was ripe for paradoxes. It made everyone at the agency even more worried, because if he was willing to risk that, then what else was he willing to do?

Because of the lockdown of all nonessential time travel, people working for the TPI were not allowed to go home for the night. They were allowed to pick up anyone or anything dependent on them for care like kids and pets if there wasn’t someone in their home time to care for them, but other than that, they were unfortunately all sleeping in their offices for the foreseeable future.

“You are the only tolerable one,” Janus told the cat who upon being let loose in the office by Remus, immediately jumped on Janus’s lap.

“I have literally done nothing to you,” Lena said, but then added. “Yet.”

“You exist. In my space.”

“Can’t we just all get along?” asked Fred. “It’s only been an hour past when we’d usually go home. I went and grabbed milk and I have my giant thing of different flavored hot chocolate under my desk. We can try them all and vote on which is better.”

“Fuck your hot chocolate, Fred,” Janus growled, having been one of the three who had chipped in to buy it for him on his last birthday.

“Don’t go after Fred, jackass,” Lena spat.

“He’s just testy because his boyfriend escaped,” Remus contributed.

Janus’s lips turned down into a frown and he cupped Diesel Fuel’s face. “We agree we’re eating him first, right?” he asked her.

She purred her agreement.

“I’d have it no other way,” Remus replied.

“There is plenty of food,” Fred said, sounding stressed. “In fact, I was thinking we should all chip in on ordering take-out soon. “What does everyone like on pizza?”

“This is not a slumber party, Fred,” Janus pointed out.

“Shut it,” Lena snapped and turned to Fred. “I’m fine with almost everything, except…”

“Bananas and tuna salad!” Remus interrupted.

“…whatever Remus is about to say.”

Janus rolled his eyes as that started a debate about whether or not fruit and/or fish belonged on pizza. He leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes, which was when there was a knock on the door.

He froze when he heard the familiar voice. “Hello, hello,” said Emile, cheerfully. Janus looked up to see Emile standing at the open office door. Shit. Apparently, the man had decided to give up on sending lackeys to come fetch him and had decided to track him down himself when Janus couldn’t even escape without breaking a time lockdown. They met eyes briefly and Janus could see irritation if not anger in his eyes despite his otherwise cheerful expression and tone.

“Janus,” he said when he’d gotten their attention. “I’d like to have dinner with you.” The word choice told Janus everything he needed to know. Usually Emile was careful with how he said things to make sure people knew they had a choice. Typically he’d say something like, “I was wondering if you’d have time to have dinner with me tonight,” or “I’m about to go get food, would you like to come?” Today, there was no choice in the statement.

Janus still dried to dodge anyway. “Uh,” he said. “We were actually about to order pizza.”

“Go ahead,” said Fred kindly. Janus wanted to strangle him. “We can order pizza with olives if you’re not here.”

“I…” said Janus. “Guess, I’ll be going with you.”

“Great!” Emile said. “Let’s go.”

“Oh,” Janus said. “Uh, now?”

“Now,” Emile said a bit of uncharacteristic steel to his tone.

Well, Janus was screwed. He swallowed his nervousness and got to his feet, taking Diesel Fuel with him. He turned to hand her off to Remus with a plea in his eye, but he just got an eyebrow raise in return. Traitor.

Then, he followed Emile out of the office door. “What would you like to eat?” asked Emile.

“Uh,” Janus said. “I don’t know. You asked me to eat, don’t you have any ideas?”

“I don’t actually,” Emile replied. Right.

“…Noddle Bar?” Janus threw out the nearest restaurant he knew.

“The one noodle restaurant? Sure,” Emile answered simply. They walked side by side out of the front doors of the TPI building. Janus actually couldn’t remember the last time he’d taken these stairs. He usually used his timepiece to get in and out.

The noodle bar was only moderately busy at this time. They were quickly able to find a table near the back and Emile pulled his menu up in front of him. Emile hummed as he flipped through the different displays. “What are you having?” he asked.

“I don’t know,” Janus said, only then pulling up the menu himself, but still not quite looking at it.

“What about the fortune noodles,” Emile suggested.

Janus shook his head. “I don’t like those,” he said.

Emile glanced at him through the menu displays. “You used to.” Fortune noodles were a bit cheekily named. They didn’t actually indicate anything about your future. They were just supposed to taste like what you wanted from your future. A grad student might experience a feeling like they’d just aced a paper. A child that they got to stay up an hour later that night. Janus had liked the experience when he was younger, but in recent years, he’d begun to taste the underlying chemicals in the dish until that’s all he could.

“Well,” Emile said lightly, eyes on his menu. “That makes me even more worried for your mental health than I already was because of the almost three years of you avoiding talking to me.”

“No small talk, huh?” Janus asked.

“Forgive me,” Emile said, eyes now focused on Janus, and tone much darker. “How has your life been since I last saw your face 5 months ago during a business meeting and you refused to look me in the eye? Anything interesting happen? Shave your head and let it all regrow? Develop an allergy to peanuts? Join a convent and take an oath of silence that you only just broke today?”

“No,” said Janus quietly into the table.

“Great,” Emile said clipped. “Small talk over. Order your food.” Janus reached up blindly to select the first thing that came up on the food and drink menu as Emile punched something into his own and both menu displays disappeared, meaning there was nothing between their faces anymore. “You know, I was willing to give you a year,” Emile said. “I was willing to let you deal with it on your own because I thought eventually, you’d come talk to me about it, but apparently I was mistaken. The next year, I thought maybe you thought I didn’t want to talk to you, so I subtly made myself available, and you never took me up on the offer. I thought maybe I was just not being clear, and I should make my desire to talk to you more explicit, but as you have been routinely, clearly avoiding me at every single turn, I’ve decided I’ve had enough. So, let’s lay it all on the table. Is it me or do you need help?”

Janus closed his eyes. “It’s not you.”

“Then you need help,” Emile concluded.

Janus shook his head.

“Yes,” Emile snapped. “Whatever this is has gone on far too long.”

Janus stood up and slammed his hand down on the table. “And it’s going to keep going on!” he said. The food popped up at that moment. It appeared Janus had ordered lasagna and bubble tea, and Emile had ordered something with spaghetti and a fizzy drink.

“So, you’re just planning to go on being miserable then?” Emile asked, and Janus wasn’t sure if it was worse or better that he didn’t sound angry anymore.

14656

Janus slapped his hand down on the “To Go” button and his dinner was insta-wrapped by the table. “Yes,” he said.

“What exactly do you think you’re paying penance for, Janus?” Emile asked.

“You wouldn’t understand,” Janus said, paying for both of their meals with his fingerprint.

“That’s a cop out and you know it,” Emile said. “All you’d have to do is talk to me. Or even just talk to someone else. Please.”

“Just…” Janus said, grabbing his bag of food to avoid looking at him. “Just, leave me be.” He walked out of the noodle shop without another word.

Chapter 10

“And I thought Remus was going to be the most disgusting roommate in this equation,” Lena grumbled. Janus and Lena were apparently the earlier risers in the group as Fred was still curled up around a pillow and Remus was sprawled out under his desk.

Janus flipped her off.

“Protein infused Poptarts and caffeinated orange juice for breakfast?” she asked. “Just eat an energy bar and have a cup of coffee like a normal person.”

He took another pointed bite of his Poptart.

“You’re a horrible roommate. This is why they gave us different partners.”

“Yeah, well you snore, asshole,” Janus said after finishing off his meal.

“I’d tell you to go eat shit, but you already did that once this morning.”

A pillow flew across the room and somehow managed to hit the both of them. “S’op fighting,” Fred mumbled. “It’s sleep time.”

“It’s morning Fred,” Lena said.

“No,” Fred mumbled.

Janus ignored them, turning back to his integration port to continue to keep plugging in phrases of interest, but he kept getting nothing.

“What are you doing?” Lena asked after a few moments of him huffing at his screen reader.

“Trying to do anything that may change our current living arrangements.”

She puffed out an amused breath. “Can I help?”

“Can you see any connection between these words and phrases?” he asked, pulling away his screen reader and tapping at the words he’d typed out.

“Paranoid, tonight, I live to party, comeback, love Bug, BB good, Mandy, Macy Misa, I believe, cool, that’s just the way we roll, burnin’ up,” she said. “What are these?”

“They’re things Pat said when we interrogated that struck me funny,” Janus explained. “I feel like he was saying something more than what he said.”

“Hmm,” she said. “PTI for the first three?”

“Maybe,” Janus agreed, “but what about the rest of it? I feel like I’m missing something.”

15080

“Millennia,” Remus mumbled from under his desk. Janus hadn’t been aware he was awake. “He said something something about it being the only time he could see the change of the millennia.” He turned his head to look at Janus. “Considering he’s a time traveler, that’s definitely a weird thing to say.”

“Millennia,” Janus contemplated. “A different turn of the millennia. Oh no.”

“What?” Lena asked.

Janus sighed, and rubbed his temple. “I know someone who studied the 1700-2200s.”

“Isn’t that good?”

“No,” Janus groaned, “because now I have to go talk to him.” He stood with a sigh and then paused. “How do I even get to Silver Mountains University without my timepiece?”

#study break stories #not writing

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missmeltycat · 4 years

Note

i see u have an oc for the real ghostbusters!!! i dunno if u already paired them or anything but can u do some pairing headcanons for each guy and janine maybe too??

Ohhh wow. OK. This is definitely an interesting challenge. Amusingly, waaaaay back when (We are talking a long time ago) she was paired with Egon, but I have made a number of changes since then and she’s not now.

OK, let’s do this! *Cracks knuckles*

Egon Spengler

Probably takes a LOT of time to actually get anywhere because... Well... It’s Egon!

Either happens as a moment of experimentation seeing if there’s anything between them worth pursuing or not, or part of an adrenaline rush moment.

GUILT. REGRET. “OH GOD WHAT HAVE I DONE! I’M NORMALLY SO LOGICAL!”

Sex? What’s that? Oh, that thing that only happens once in a blue moon?

Nights spent reading together. Egon tries to teach her things since she’s not a scientist like he is.

Kisses are quick and fleeting. Pecks and nips, rarely deeper unless adrenaline or hormones play a part.

Equipment experimentation made purely for Rae’s build and work method.

Love language of reminding the other to eat/drink/sleep. Cleaning of glasses. Maintaining fitness equipment.

Night’s out at the opera/theatre.

Dates at the museum. Egon explaining in great depth about everything.

Rae dragging him to the gym. He doesn’t enjoy it until she gets him to think about it from a scientific and biological standpoint. (He wears a sweatband.)

Yes. Problems with Janine. Oh boy.

Arguments are quick, never long-lasting. Usually a sudden explosion of irrational anger, followed by parting ways in different rooms and coming together with apologies laced with tremendous guilt.

Rae’s family are pretty pleased with Rae’s choice.

Pros:

Sweet and considerate pairing

Comfortable silences and just existing in each other’s spaces

Mutual respect

Maturity

Dependability

Cons:

Janine conflict

Occasional fights due to differences in interests and intellect

Late nights make for cranky people

Egon is all logic, Rae is all muscle - Technically opposites

Egon’s attitude could rub Rae the wrong way, as it can come off as slightly big-headed

Rae can be a bit rough. Egon not so much - Ouch!

Peter Venkman

Probably happens after a fight. Sudden!

Lots of angry, make up sex

Huge amount of flirting

Dates to fast food joints, pizza parlours and ice-cream shops. Possibly music venues

Fights over expenses. Let’s face it. If Peter can get out of paying, he will

Playful punch-u-punch-me matches that usually end up with Peter with bruised arms

“Goals? How many places we can do it in. The storage locker is next!”

Bets. Lots of bets. “Ten bucks says Ray can’t X.” “Ten bucks says Egon messes up.” “Ten bucks says Slimer eats X.” Occasionally “Ten bucks and I’ll eat X” and “Ten bucks says you can’t lift X, Rae!”

Gaming. Competitive gaming. Peter will sulk if he loses.

Evenings spent sleeping happily

Table hockey with utensils and condiments

Kisses are passionate, dirty, messy, lots of tongue

Love language? You mean making out lots? Yeah, that...

No shame in PDA, but not sentimental in nature. More like copping feels

No pressure. More like friends with benefits.

Arguments are usually about Peter’s flirting, or immaturity. They last a while and always end as if they never happened.

Rae is active, Peter prefers slobbing when he can. Rae tries to get him active, he tries to get her to chill more.

Creativity in the form of music. When people say they’ll make sweet music together? They were wrong in this case. Terrible music is more like it. But it’s all good fun.

Rae’s family are charmed by Peter. Wary, but charmed nonetheless.

Pros:

Fun and humour

Amazing physical encounters

No pressure or expectations

Passion

Creativity

Cons:

Immaturity

Overly flirtatious with others (Peter)

Lazy and active don’t mix all that well

Hot tempers

Trust issues

Ray Stantz

Known as ‘The Rays’

Lots of shy glances (Ray)

Self-confidence issues and inadequacy worries (Ray) because Rae works out and he’s... Ray

Anxious confessions

Sweetness, consideration, caring words and actions

Absolutely 100% serious. No room for messing about when it starts

Love language of soft touches, fingers over the hair, face cupping and cheek stroking... Oh and FOOD!

Nights spent on the sofa in blankets and PJs with popcorn

Sex? “Oh boy, are you sure? I mean, are you a hundred percent sure you wanna? I’m not hurting you am I? Am I squishing you too much? Sorry, was that right?”

Cook together a lot. Ray isn’t quite as good, so Rae (Who is knowledgeable on nutrition since she works out etc) often finishes off the dishes and lets him take credit

Dates could be anything. It doesn’t need to be fancy, as long as they’re together.

Kisses are sweet, tender, passionate without being over the top and usually combine with fingers in hair

Mutual respect and love/fascination of the paranormal, ghosts and creatures

Alternating big spoon, little spoon and always very comfortable

Fights? Not very often, but usually doesn’t last long and ends in flowers, chocolates and lots of snuggles

Soft neck kisses, breathless terms of endearment, wandering hands, confidence boosting body worship

Rae lifting Ray with one arm for training, resulting in gushing

Fawning, doodling, love-sick teen type behaviour

Comfortably discuss the future together without awkwardness

Rae’s family are surprised by Rae’s choice, but are absolutely happy with him

Pros:

Sweet and caring

Dependable and loyal

Kind to animals, ghosts and other such creatures

Willingness to always be better

Cons:

Self-confidence issues

Sometimes naive

Occasional know-it-all behaviour

Curiosity that almost kills the cat

Can’t cook so well and has questionable ingredient choices that border on imminent food poisoning danger (Ray)

Winston Zeddemore

Happens smoothly, gradually over time as the pair gain the bond naturally through companionship

Chill as fuck, but absolutely committed and serious

Love language of gifts and showing off in public

Dates at ball games and other sporting events, sometimes at sports bars showing various games

Clubs and music venues until extremely late

Workout buddies

Love to tease Peter together

Will chill out to horror movies together on the couch

Sex is passionate, but considerate, full of respect but occasionally borders on kinky. Sometimes in the shower. Did that door get locked? Oops!

Will discuss relationship stuff anywhere, no shame

Kisses are deep, long-lasting, skin-tinglingly good

Sports in the park on afternoons off

Will gladly spot Rae when she lifts weights

Games of catch with equipment and contests with how far or how high things can be thrown

Rae cooks his favourite meal every month just because

He will give her full body massage after her workouts

Arguments are strong, as they are both strong willed people. They last a little longer than they probably should, with lots of huffing and passing messages through other people. Making up, though, always the best part

Mutual enjoyment of harder music genres

Rae tries to encourage him to be more active in the group, as he’s sometimes overshadowed by the others

Always help each other out and share chores equally

Nudes exchanged. Absolutely

Rae’s family take to him quite quickly and are absolutely pleased

Pros:

Active

Mutual respect

Openly proud and shows off the other

Responsible

Loving and passionate

Open to new ideas

Cons:

Strong personalities, so sometimes clash

Sometimes shies away from challenges

Some PTSD issues (From the canonical military experience)

His passion for things sometimes trump other things, such as date nights or other promises

Janine Melnitz

This one was a random one and happened as a result of harmless flirting at the reception desk, probably as an assurance that Rae wasn’t after Egon, but it ended in something surprising for both

Bitching to each other about the guys a lot, a little club of two

Janine drags Rae shopping a lot, mostly to spend time together, but also because Rae can actually carry the shopping with no problem with her muscles

Dates at fancy restaurants and wine bars where Janine gets dressed up and Rae feels uncomfortable in a dress

Janine will offer to give her make overs, which always amuses the guys

Love language of comforting hugs, washing each others hair, giving each other shoulder massages, doing small things such as put incense on when the other is feeling stressed out and little notes left around for each other to find

Mail order flowers

Both of their apartments become used equally as bases and it’s never known which they will be at at any given point

Arguments are loud and sometimes vicious in nature, which prompts the guys to demand they make up. Usually ends with crying and hugging and huge apologies

Nights binging series or movies with pizza, ice-cream and soda

Will both kick Peter’s ass if he’s not careful

Intimacy is usually sweet and loving, but with a spark of passion. And, yes, absolutely open to others to join... By others Janine means Egon

Kisses are sudden and big smooches, or quick pecks on the fly

Janine will phone to make sure Rae is OK when out on assignment, sometimes becoming a nuisance. She will also threaten everyone to look after her, or she’ll kick the crap out of them

Rae’s family are a little shocked over her choice, but completely pleased with Janine.

Pros:

Playful banter

Reliable, responsible and loyal

Conscious of feelings

Pretty badass, let’s face it

Cons:

Cranky and overly emotional

Jealous

Sometimes clumsy to the point of endangerment

#Ghostbusters #The Real Ghostbusters #Egon Spengler #Ray Stantz #Peter Venkman #Winston Zeddemore #Janine Melnitz #Rae Taylor #OC #Original Character #Prompt #Headcanon #Headcanons #Anon

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queerbutstillhere · 5 years

Note

another damijon prompt if you’re still taking them: damian likes country because it reminds him of jon and jon thinks it’s cute and confessions ensue????

(So another prompt that ran away with me. This was actually inspired by a thing that actually happened to me. Unfortunately there was no confession/kiss at the end. But the boys get that! Thank you for sending in a prompt!)

"Suffering has been stronger than all other teaching, and has taught me to understand what your heart used to be. I have been bent and broken, but - I hope - into a better shape."

Damian looked over at Jon, sat in the passenger seat of the Jeep Damian had found in the back of the garage. His feet were up on the dash, wind whipping his hair around due to the open windows. The teen had a tight grip on his book to keep the pages from going wild.

"Great Expectations?" Damian asked, having not seen the title earlier.

"Yeah. English Lit."

Damian hummed, reaching to grab his cup and accidentally bumped Jon's arm.

"Oh, sorry," they both said at the same time, then exchanged a grin.

"Anyway, that quote just kinda reminded me of you."

"I can see why."

"Yeah."

Jon marked his place in the book, it was getting to dark to read anyway, and shoved it into his backpack, reaching forwards to adjust the radio.

They were going on an impromptu road trip. Nowhere far, it wasn't like they had the week off from school or something. No they'd probably be back Sunday afternoon, and seeing as it was Saturday evening currently... They were taking an impromptu roadtrip to the Middle Of Nowhere, New Jersey. Why? Because Damian wanted to star gaze, properly, and you couldn't do that in Gotham or Bludhaven or Metropolis. They had been doing this since Damian got his (official) license. Sometimes without warning, he'd just show up, pick Jon up, and start driving. The younger teen never complained, he was always content to spend time with Damian, whatever they were doing.

Jon flicked through radio stations until he found the one country station that they could pick up at the time. Damian huffed an annoyed sigh but didn't say anything, because he wasn't really that annoyed. For the most part when they did this, they just drove in silence, just the radio, and the open road. It gave both teens a chance to clear their heads, to get away from their families and their responsibilities. They would camp out at whatever location Damian had dug up for them this time, spending the night under the stars, and then head back the next morning.

"Damian, pull over, I wanna get a picture of the sunset."

Damian obliged, slowing the car and pulling over to the side of the highway. This was technically illegal, but he hadn't seen a house for miles, let along a cop, so he just did it. Jon pulled out his camera from his bag, flicking through the settings for a moment before leaning out his window and snapping some photos, looking at them, correcting his settings and taking more. Damian just leaned against the steering wheel and smiled faintly at his friend.

He'd never get over the excited look Jon got when they did things like this. Like a little puppy.

"Okay, come here."

Jon set down the professional camera that had cost an entire summers worth of work at a farm, and instead pulled out his phone, snapping a few pictures of the sunset with that and then handing it to Damian. They took a few obligatory selfies.

"Are we good to go?" Damian asked. He was in no rush, he would be content to watch Jon take pictures for hours.

"Yeah, I'm good."

An hour (and a stop for dinner) later they arrived at this week's location. It was this open grassy field, that almost looked like an old pasture. Damian just parked and then grabbed the sleeping bags from the back of the Jeep, Jon grabbed their snacks and the duffel bag full of blankets and pillows and what not, and they started walking. Just across the field, with no particular destination. They climbed a hill finally and set up their things on top.

"Here, you can play music," Damian said, passing Jon his unlocked phone. After all, he had unlimited data and Spotify premium, might as well use it.

Jon grinned at him and took it, using one hand to scroll. The other one found its way into Damian's, interlacing their fingers. Damian looked down at the hands with a small amount of shock. Not much, though. Kent was very physical, and this wasn't the first time he had done this.

"Damiiii," Jon said, shooting a mischievous smile as Damian.

His face was lit up by the phone screen, and it was mildly concerning, the look he was giving Damian.

"What?"

"You've been listening to an awful lot of country," Jon practically purred out, gently bumping Damian's shoulder.

"Oh. Yes. Well," he shrugged and looked away, grabbing a blanket and pulling it into his lap, trying to unfold it with just one hand.

"I thought you didn't like country music?" Jon asked, setting down his phone and grabbing a corner of the blanket, unfolding it and pulling half of it over his own lap.

Damian shrugged again.

"Have I finally converted you? I thought you said it was the "saddest excuse for a musical genre in existence and didn't hold a candle to the classics or even Indie pop". Those were your words, right?"

"It reminds me of you," Damian said. And then stiffened. He had actually said that outloud.

"Awwwww." Jon squeezed his hand. "Cute."

Soon soft music was floating over them, as they laid on their backs, looking up at the sky and watching stars slowly appear.

Been flyin' solo for so long

Nobody's singin' the harmony

Up there just me and my shadow

No bass, no guitar, no tambourine

Damian glanced over at Jon, and found him already looking over, not at the stars above them.

"What?" He breathed out.

It was chilly enough that they were both wrapped in blankets, arms pressed together, hands still clasped.

"I like listening to Indie pop because it reminds me of you," Jon confessed. "And I read poetry because I know you like poetry, and whenever i go to Art museums I can't help but think of everything you would like, which paintings would be your favorites. When I see dogs or cats, I want to take pictures of them because I know you would love to see them, even just a picture. I eat vegan when I go out, and I don't like mint chocolate chip ice cream because you don't like mint chocolate chip ice cream."

"Jon-"

"Whenever I hear certain songs, I think of you, and when I watch new shows or movies, I can't help but wish you were watching them with me. I think of you whenever I see green clothes, or tea, or cows - and I see cows a lot - and whenever I watch copshows, I can't help but think about how you would be criticizing every minute of it. I watch The Office because I know you like it, and I like watching that really dumb knight movie because it was the first time I heard you laugh at a movie, and I knew it was real."

Jon had pushed up onto his elbow now, looking at Damian with such an intense, passionate gaze.

"I do all these things because I want you in every aspect of my life, Damian. I want you to always be beside me, and yeah sure, I'm only sixteen and maybe I'm too young to be saying that, but I've never been more sure of anything in my life. I want to be with you."

Damian blinked. His breath was caught in his ribs, and his words had died in his throat. He didn't know what to say to all that.

They sat in silence for a moment, One Man Band by Old Dominion fading out, some old country Tim McGraw song started playing next.

"I-" Damian started, and then stopped. Where did he even start, really? He huffed, shoving Jon lightly. "Damn you, Kent. How am I supposed to top that?"

Jon gave a relieved sigh and then laughed, falling onto his back.

"I dunno, you got time, I suppose. I'll just sit here and make up constellations by myself until you figure it out."

Damian looked over, and he immediately knew. He pulled his hand from Jon's, shed his blanket and sat up, turning to Jon. The other teen looked over, but Damian didn't wait. He gently put a hand on Jon's neck, pushing his chin up slightly, then he leaned down, pressing their lips together lightly. Jon made a mildly surprised noise, before his hand snuck up and an arm circled around Damian's neck, holding him in place.

The kiss was like a perfect story book first kiss. Damian never wanted to pull away, just to stay in lip lock with Jon Kent until he died. It was gentle, and sweet and almost timid, both boys afraid of doing the wrong thing and scaring their crush away. Finally Damian pulled away first, gently pecking Jon's lips once more before sitting back, smiling at him like a love drunk fool.

"Does that suffice?"

"It does," Jon told him, grinning back.

The younger teen sat up, reaching out and gently grabbing Damian's jacket, pulling him in for another kiss.

"Man, I'm glad we went on this trip," the superboy murmured against Damian.

"Me too. Me too."

#writing prompt #prompt ask #give me prompts and shiz #ask prompt #my prompts #ask me #send me asks #thank you for the ask!#ask me anything #damijon #damianxjon #damian wayne #jon kent

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beardycarrot · 5 years

Text

Okay, now that I’ve finished the first book in the Youjo Senki series, I feel like now is a good time to talk about both it and its adaptations.

Youjo Senki (written 幼女戦記, basically “young girl’s war record”), is officially localized in English as “The Saga of Tanya the Evil”... which in my opinion really changes the tone of the whole thing. Obviously that name sounds better as a title than going with a more accurate localization like Girl at War, or, like... The Accounts of a Young Girl’s Battles, but still, I’m not a fan.

Maybe calling the protagonist “Tanya the Evil” will make sense later in the series, but as far as I’ve read/watched, the only people who would view her that way are her enemies (who call her The Devil of the Rhine) and Erich von Lergen, who I guess could be seen as a minor antagonist, even though everything he does trying to halt Tanya’s career is exactly what she wants to happen as well... it’s complicated. There are also portions of the story set forty years in the future with a reporter trying to learn the truth of went on during the war, which could be related to the “Tanya the Evil” title, as you only get brief glimpses of it and don’t know what became of Tanya.

ANYWAY, the specifics of the story vary a bit between the different versions, but the basic concept is that capital-g God is unhappy with how faithless humanity has become. The protagonist (an HR manager murdered by an employee he fired) argues that, hey, why would I be faithful? People cling to religion in times of strife, and being a reasonably well-off man raised in a scientific society where Abrahamic faiths aren’t a very big thing, belief in God is a bit much to ask for. How Big G responds varies a bit between the light novel, manga, and anime, but it’s basically: “oh yeah? so if you were born a poverty-stricken female in a highly religious magical world at war, would you be faithful then?”, and reincarnates him as an orphan named Tanya in alternate-timeline Germany.

The biggest difference is the tone. In the anime, Being X (as the protagonist, refusing to believe in gods, calls him) basically just gives him a cool middle finger, and, speaking to him through the time-stopped people on the platform, seems pretty impersonal and detached. In the manga, you see full-white-beard God in person, where he’s pretty vengeful, going all biblical. In the light novel... well, Being X is just an old man, talking to himself as much as to the protagonist, musing and seeming distracted. The “oh, so if I reincarnated you in this situation, you would have more faith” isn’t so much about punishing the protagonist as it is just deciding the best course of action. The light novel is later shown to have an entire pantheon of gods, which the adaptations drop completely.

Again, very different tones... and that carries throughout the entire thing. For example, the anime is mostly about high-flying action and battles of wits, with lots of crazy facial expressions from Tanya. The manga, meanwhile... is much more a comedy than the other versions. There’s still action and stuff, sure, but for some reason the manga puts more focus on the “Tanya says something, and everyone misinterprets her intentions” aspect, and uses a lot of caricatures of historical figures and diagrams with cartoonie animals when explaining things.

The light novel... uh. Well, it’s literally unlike anything else I’ve ever read. In most novels, you would expect the content to be made up of descriptions of what characters are doing, dialogue, the viewpoint character’s inner thoughts, maybe the occasional soliloquy to wax poetic about ideas the author thinks are important to convey but don’t fit into and of the other categories. Youjo Senki is made up almost entirely of the latter, with bits of dialogue sprinkled in... but also unspoken dialogue that’s implied, and also, the tense used changes depending on the current viewpoint character?

For example, when it’s focusing on Visha, it’s pretty normal, third person past-tense. Visha DID this, Visha THOUGHT that. When it switches to Tanya, it becomes present-tense... but also first and third person? Tanya does this, I think that. The protagonist consistently refers to themselves as “I” internally, but when it’s something happening externally, it’s happening to Tanya. “I can feel Tanya’s small body shiver”, or whatever. As if Tanya is something that the protagonist is piloting. Take this paragraph... I took this screenshot while reading on my phone in the middle of the night (hence the dark mode) because I was like 90% sure it’s a reference to Vermouth from Detective Conan, but it’s a pretty good example of what I’m talking about:

Which conveniently brings me to the next big difference, the Elinium Type 95. The characterizations of Being X remain consistent here: in the anime he’s just being a dick (in the form of a nutcracker), in the manga he’s being all biblical and vengeful, and in the light novel... honestly, I don’t even know if the same god from the start of the story is involved. What happens is that the Type 95 computation orb (a piece of magitech that allows mages to cast spells) has been blessed to give Tanya some proper OP Isekai Protagonist Powers, but only if she prays for it to happen.

In the anime and manga, it’s as simple as that: she just has to pray, and this orb gives her crazy boosted magic. She doesn’t even have to mean it, she just has to say the words. In the light novel, it’s the other way around; any time she uses the orb, the protagonist loses control of Tanya’s body, which starts praying. That’s a bit of an element of body horror right there, and while I personally like the vindictive nature of the “if you want to use this magic to keep yourself alive on the battlefield, you MUST pray to me” angle from the adaptations, I’m curious to see where the light novels go with their version.

Again, I’m not even sure if Being X was involved in that case... the gods all decided to make a new holy relic as a way to increase faith (since all the old holy relics they’d made in centuries past had ended up in museums), and I guess decided to use Tanya’s computation orb for that purpose since they were doing an experiment with her faith already? I’m not really clear on that... due to how it switches between characters and rarely describes actions as they’re occurring, a lot of specific details seems to be left to the imagination of the reader.

Despite being kind of a pain in the butt to read, I think I’m going to get the next one in the series. While I enjoyed the anime as I watched it, and would probably watch a second season (which is likely to come, considering the spin-off series Isekai Quartet seems to have been popular), I need answers sooner than that. Tanya is basically this world’s version of The Red Baron, but in the flash-forwards to the 1960′s, the reporter doing research on the war never really seems to find any concrete evidence that she or her unit existed. Why is that? Did she become a top general and have all reference to herself wiped from the records? Did she commit atrocities so terrible that the “technically not a war crime” workarounds she was famous for no longer held up? Did Erich von Lergen finally put an end to her career? Is she still alive in the 60′s, and if so, will the reporter eventually find her??

...So yeah, you could say I’m kinda invested.

#youjo senki #the saga of tanya the evil

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bcbdrums · 4 years

Text

More Drakgo! Because the world needs more!!!

FFn link ---> https://www.fanfiction.net/s/13578348/1/Choose-Your-Side

A/N: The flash-fic well is drying up, but I've still got Tumblr prompts to fill. This prompt actually comes from an AO3 user and a faithful reviewer, shrijver. '26. Jealous kiss' for you, m'dear! This also randomly became a semi-songfic. @theiconicgwen, here's your karaoke. Enjoy, everyone!

---------------

Having common sense kept them out of most trouble, except for that which came with their schemes. Of course, Shego would argue that total and complete recklessness wasn't part of the territory. Even so, for being villains, neither of them drank much alcohol.

Shego sipped at her Blinker and stared at Drakken's Pan American Clipper, half-empty on the table. Her shoulders were tense as she felt everyone's eyes on her more than usual in the karaoke bar. But it was to be expected—they had saved the world, after all.

She wished for what must have been the hundredth time that he hadn't chosen a table in the center of the restaurant, but he seemed oblivious to the fact that there were always eyes on the pair of oddly-colored villains. And that night it was worse, as people were constantly approaching them with questions or wanting autographs.

It was probably why they were each on their second cocktail.

Drakken had excused himself to use the restroom before his next turn on the mic. He had already sung his usual favorites that Shego now had memorized, to her dismay, as well as a few she had only occasionally heard either on the radio or at other times there at his favored karaoke bar. Usually he topped out at about five or six songs in a two-hour period, as plenty of other patrons were having turns at the mic. But that night they were on their third hour and he had shown no signs of slowing down.

He had tried for years to get her to sing a duet with him, but always she refused, sometimes with a threat if he was especially persistent. But that night he hadn't asked her once. In fact, his conversation had been oddly surface-level and conservative for his boisterous personality, usually cranked up to the maximum on karaoke night.

Shego sipped at her cocktail again and wondered at his behavior. Of course, she knew she wasn't herself either. Neither of them had been since the invasion.

It had been almost a month since that day that changed everything. Terror and sleeplessness and fighting blindly against a foe they knew could truly destroy them... And then mutated plants. And Kim Possible's side-kick. And then a shining gold medal hung around Drakken's neck at the United Nations, crowds cheering in thanks and praise.

Since that day, their lives were no longer their own. They had magazine interviews, TV spots, invitations to lectures and conferences and universities and museums... There was even talk of a documentary about Drakken's life.

And that was the thing—it was all about Drakken. She was never actually invited, she was just...automatically included. By him. He didn't seem to notice that she wasn't in the picture, as far as the public was concerned. Even the awkward moment at the UN when his vine had wrapped them together had blown over with the major media outlets inside of a week. And when patrons at the karaoke bar approached her, it was always with questions about him.

She was curious as to why she had been ignored...but that curiosity kept getting pushed aside in favor of a bigger question: just what were they?

Drakken was thrilled beyond description with his newfound hero-status. Finally, people wanted to hear him talk for hours about his scientific theories and inventions. And he reveled in it each day to the point of exhaustion.

And each day they returned home...to their villain's lair.

So what were they? Was the hero-thing temporary? Was it permanent? Was he even aware that he was dragging her all over the world only to sit in the back of a hall or stand in the wings while authorities and the public alike praised and revered him?

But whenever he wasn't engaged by others, he was always at her side... Asking her how he looked, telling her how amazing it was to have his ideas praised... But other than being his...his...sounding board, what was she?

And why did she keep going with him?

Why did she go with him to karaoke?

Karaoke was technically in her contract, but, she knew he wouldn't care if she just refused to go. And yet she had gone, for years. And now on their first night out of their own accord since the invasion, that was where he'd wanted to go, and she was with him again.

She glanced across the darkened room toward the hall that led to the restroom, and then her eyes glimpsed Drakken leaning against the end of the bar. Why hadn't he come back to...?

He grinned shyly. And then she noticed the two women standing far too close to him.

Shego could tell their type instantly. Too much makeup, too much skin showing, and very clearly drunk from their wobbly posture and their giggles. Drakken appeared unsure what to do with their attention.

Shego's eyes darkened as one of the women began running her fingers around Drakken's medal—which he wore everywhere, of course—and the other woman leaned into his side and began twirling her fingers through his hair. Drakken looked between the two even more uncomfortably and Shego started to rise from the table, but then Drakken slipped between the two women and hurried up the steps to the stage.

Shego hadn't even noticed the previous song ending. And apparently it was Drakken's turn again. She felt the familiar tension coming as she knew people would be staring again.

It wasn't that he was a bad singer. He had potential. It was that he over-sang everything and put so much camp and drama into the performances that they were laughable. Although usually he got cheers. And that night, due to his new status as world-hero, he had gotten more than ever. The crowd seemed larger too, and Shego wondered if word had gotten out that he was there.

Shego watched as uncharacteristically, Drakken pulled the stool up to the mic stand and sat down, adjusting the stand to his height. He always stood and moved around while singing.

He looked around nervously over the crowd, which was also unusual. But when his eyes found her at their usual table, his face relaxed into a soft smile. He turned toward the DJ and held up a hand to signal him to wait before starting the music. Drakken cleared his throat into the mic.

"I know some of you are here to see me," he said, "but this will be my last one tonight."

A chorus of sad responses sounded from the audience. Shego felt a slight relief, knowing they could leave soon. But she was still tense knowing that they were going to get more stares before that time came.

"My last bow," he said.

His eyes met Shego's with a strange thoughtfulness and determination. She shifted uncomfortably in her chair.

Drakken looked back over the crowd. "On the surface it looks like the world has...been brought together by everything that happened. But it...it hasn't really."

Confused murmurings began in the crowd. Shego felt even more uneasy. What was he doing? He never made speeches. And he never, ever talked about anything other than himself.

"Maybe it can... This last song is called, 'Break Your Heart.'"

The DJ started the music and a soft alternative beat began with an instrumental that had clear jazz influences from the rhythm and melody to the instrumentation. Drakken scooted back on the stool a bit, away from the very front of the stage. He gripped the mic on the stand with one hand and bowed his head. His eyes remained open but his face was serious.

The instrumental introduction continued for a long time before Drakken took his first breath, but then he softly hummed and 'oohed' over the instruments. It was so contrary to every other performance he'd ever given that Shego began to forget about her insecurity of just being there.

When the song lyrics started, they moved so quickly at first that they almost ran together, but appropriate pauses showed up as well. Drakken sang so uncharacteristically quietly that she leaned forward in her chair to listen.

"People downcast, in despair, see the disillusion everywhere. Hoping their bad luck will change... Gets a little harder every day.

"People struggle, people fight for the simple pleasures in their lives, but trouble comes from everywhere... It’s a little more than you can bear."

Drakken had looked down the whole time, but suddenly he looked up with his face more earnest than she'd ever seen. He seemed to be trying to look into the eyes of every patron of the restaurant.

"I know that it will hurt, I know that it will break your heart, the way things are and the way they’ve been, and the way they’ve always been."

Shego sat up fully, watching the strange performance. She had completely forgotten her worries and questions about the strange existence they had been living since the invasion. Drakken's voice was soft and smooth, and every word was crystal clear.

"People shallow, self-absorbed, see the push and shove for their reward. I, me, my is on their minds... You can read about it in their eyes.

"People ruthless, people cruel, the damage that some people do. Full of hatred, full of pride... It’s enough to make you lose your mind.

"I know that it will hurt. I know that it will break your heart, the way things are and the way they’ve been. But don’t spread the discontent; don’t spread the lies. Don’t make the same mistakes with your own life. You never will let love survive."

The almost constant string of words was broken then by a solo from a jazz guitar. Drakken looked down briefly, but then he looked up above the heads of the crowd. His eyes were sad, almost longing.

Shego didn't understand. Clearly, the song meant something to him, or he wouldn't have chosen it. And why the strange introduction?

His eyes slowly moved down and found hers. She blinked, both in surprise and a bit of nervousness at being trapped in his serious gaze. Not only had he never looked like that before, but...he had definitely never looked at her like that before.

Some of the sadness seemed to leave his eyes.

"I know that it will hurt. I know that it will break your heart the way things are and the way they’ve been. Don’t spread the discontent; don’t spread the lies. Don’t make the same mistakes with your own life. Don’t disrespect yourself, don’t lose your pride and don’t think that everybody’s gonna choose your side."

The song continued with a soft trumpet solo, but it was clearly drawing to a close. When it was near enough, Drakken cleared his throat and blinked out of whatever had put him into such a strange mindset.

The crowd cheered. Drakken smiled shyly and took a deep bow. Then he left the stage and hurried back toward their table.

Shego stiffened as she suddenly felt nervous, but she didn't know why. She downed the rest of her drink in a single swallow, and then grimaced as it burned her throat.

When Drakken arrived he didn't look at her at first, but set his hands on the table and leaned over. His eyes, in contrast to the open way he had looked out at the crowd, now looked hollow as if he had seen some horror. But he quickly shook it off, cleared his throat, and straightened up. His eyes fell to his unfinished drink and he knocked it back just as Shego had hers.

With a grimace, he lifted his medal up and off from around his neck and set it on the table. Shego's brow rose and she looked at him in question. He looked down at her like he was about to say something, but he didn't get the chance.

The two women from the bar had suddenly appeared, one on either side of him. He jumped as the one whose hair had been bleached blonde too many times ran her hands up his chest and up his arm to his shoulder. The other who was somehow chewing bubblegum while drinking was pushing her cleavage out in a very obvious way as she tried to give him a flirty look.

"That was sooooooo sexy!" the blonde said with a giggle as she leaned against his side. Drakken chuckled and smiled nervously and leaned away, only to bump into the woman on his other side.

"I felt so...connected to you!" the brunette said, grinning in a way that reminded Shego of obsession.

"Ah, yes, ah...thank you," Drakken stammered. The blonde's hands were getting more friendly, and the brunette had picked up his medal from the table and looked to be contemplating wearing it.

"We have a place just around the corner," the blonde said. "Would you like to come over for a nightcap? I'd love to see what your vines can do."

"And maybe you can give us a private performance?" the brunette asked. She'd put the medal on and rested it right atop her ample cleavage. "You must have more songs."

Drakken's eyes were darting between the two women in confusion as he continued to smile nervously.

Shego was sitting so close she could have reached out and stolen from either woman's purse. But she had her jaw hung open in a mixture of awe and fury at the audacity of the two tramps, so much so that it froze her in place for several seconds as her anger built.

"Don't you want this back?" the brunette said teasingly, moving in a way that made the medal almost bounce on her chest.

Drakken's cheeks began to turn pink and his nervousness turned to discomfort.

The blonde stepped up on her tiptoes and brought her ninety-nine cent red lipstick-slathered mouth toward Drakken's.

Shego had had it. She stood up and fairly roared.

"What am I, wallpaper!?"

The two women, and Drakken, jumped with a start. And then Drakken took another step back as suddenly Shego's arms were around his neck.

"Sheg—"

It didn't occur to her until a few seconds later that her kissing him was probably just as unwelcome and offensive as one of the drunken whores kissing him. But she had done what she had done, and she couldn't take it back.

The fierce kiss she had laid on him had clearly startled him, as for the first several seconds his shoulders heaved and his lips were frozen in a thin line. But then he slightly relaxed in her embrace, and as she slowly pulled away she felt his sudden response as he tried to capture her lower lip between his.

She looked up at him with a mixture of anxiety and apology. He stared down at her in awe.

All around them, the crowd cheered.

The two women were huffing and complaining and hurling insults at Shego.

Drakken's eyes darted around, and for the first time since they'd been coming to that karaoke bar Shego saw in his eyes the anxiety that plagued her each and every time.

"Let's get out of here," Drakken whispered in a near-panic. Shego nodded her agreement.

Drakken tossed a handful of cash on the table and then grabbing her hand, began to run. Shego was only too eager to follow, but then she pulled on his hand to stop him.

"Wait, your medal!" she hissed at him.

He glanced over her shoulder toward the two tramps, and then with a grimace he shook his head.

"Leave it," he said, and turned to pull her away and out of the restaurant.

Outside in the dark, they ran around the corner and down the sidewalk toward the parking lot. When the karaoke bar and its sounds were far behind them, Drakken slowed to a stop and dropped her hand as he leaned against a lamp post to catch his breath.

Shego watched him curiously, her heart beating out of her chest.

She'd kissed him. Why had she kissed him? What was the point? She could have just as easily threatened the two women harassing him, or worse.

Drakken slowly straightened and looked at her, his cheek still leaning on the cool metal of the post.

The anxiety Shego felt covered her body suddenly, like a million crawling ants. Drakken looked about to speak, so she did first.

"You left your medal."

Whatever Drakken had been about to say died on his lips. His brow furrowed lightly and he shook his head.

"Wasn't worth it."

"But...it was everything to you!" she said quickly. She would say just about anything to avoid the subject of the kiss.

Drakken shook his head. "It was...it was nice," he said slowly.

"What was?" Shego said quickly. She took a step back as he straightened fully.

"The attention. People...finally praising me for my genius."

"You're talking like it's over."

Drakken took a deep breath. "It is. I'm done."

Shego felt her heart skip a beat. What did that mean? That he was...returning to villainy? He'd never said he wouldn't... Even so, another question burned in her mind and quickly found its way to her tongue.

"But why?"

Drakken blinked out of his inward-focus and looked her over. Shego took another step back and put more space between them.

"You kissed me."

Shego ran her hand back through her hair. "Uh...yeah. Sorry about that."

Drakken shook his head as his gaze darkened. "You did it on purpose."

Shego could feel the unspoken accusation as he stared at her. He wanted to know her motive. He wanted to know if it had been some form of mocking. She tried to think of an excuse... But either due to the alcohol or simply having no other answer, she blurted out the truth.

"Those women were all over you! As if I wasn't right there!"

Drakken considered her words. Slowly, a smile came to his face.

"You were jealous."

Shego's face flushed. "Psh, as if. I just wanted those tramps to take a hike."

Drakken's smile was soft as he looked at her. Shego didn't understand and it made her uncomfortable. She took another step back and hugged herself, even though the night was hot.

"It's okay. I'm jealous too."

Shego's brow furrowed. "Huh?"

Drakken took a step toward her. "The way everyone just ignores you...no matter where we go. And treats you like you're not there."

His expression had darkened, and Shego continued listening in confusion.

"You deserve as much of the glory for saving the world as I do."

Shego shook her head. "I didn't do anything really."

"I couldn't have done it without you."

Drakken had taken another step closer. Shego felt some of the tension from back in the bar return, and Drakken continued.

"If you hadn't been with me to help me get the super hypollinator, and distribute it at all of the attack sites...I couldn't have done anything."

"But you're the inventor. You're the brains behind it all. That's why everyone's interested in you. No one cares about the hired muscle."

Drakken took a slow breath as his expression became irritated.

"And so...I'm jealous."

Shego shook her head. "I think you've got the wrong emotion there, Doc."

"No. I'm jealous for your honor. For your glory. You've always had it in spades, and suddenly...we become heroes and everyone drops you like you never existed."

"Is that what we are now?" Shego asked quickly, finding herself even more tense. She angled her body slightly away from him. "Heroes?"

When Drakken didn't answer she glanced back at him. He looked thoughtful and a bit sad.

"I think...most of the world is really only treating me like those two women back there," he said.

Shego turned back to him in confusion. "What?"

He looked up. "We may have stopped an invasion and saved Earth from a horrible fate, but...it won't really change anything."

Shego considered for a moment and suddenly remembered the words of the song he had sung. He had sang of the injustices of the human existence, whether by chance or by selfish design, and the tendency of humankind to choose the negative over the positive.

"So you think as a hero the world is supposed to be some utopia? If we're villains we would just be making it even worse, you know."

Drakken grimaced and then an ironic smirk turned up one corner of his mouth. He didn't say anything, but turned to walk down the sidewalk. He paused and reached out his hand to her.

Shego felt a shiver even though the night was hot. He was looking directly into her again, like he had in the restaurant. Only even more-so. She noticed for the first time that his eyes were an almost impossibly deep blue.

She nervously placed her hand in his, and he gently tugged her to walk alongside him as they continued on slowly to the parking lot.

"So..." she began shakily, "whether we're good guys or bad guys, the world is gonna be a mess," she concluded.

Drakken hummed as he looked ahead thoughtfully with an almost melancholy in his eyes.

A few minutes passed. Shego felt that tension again and the night suddenly seemed to be too hot.

Or maybe it had something to do with the gentle way he held her hand.

"So...which mess do you want?"

They were a few feet from the hover-car, but Drakken stopped. He turned to her and reached for the medal on his chest out of habit, and looked down when he remembered it was gone. He pursed his lips.

"Neither."

Shego's brow rose, and she looked at him in question.

"All of this just showed me...it's not...as important to me as I thought it was."

Shego felt uneasy suddenly and carefully pulled her hand away from him, hugging herself again in the summer heat.

"No matter where we go, all I can think about is...that you deserve to be standing on every stage with me. And I can't wait until the speeches are over so I can get back to you. And how...even though there's no reason for you to come with me, you always do."

Shego shivered again as the thought she'd been pushing away was suddenly forced to the front of her mind by his words.

Why did she go with him?

She realized he'd fallen silent and she looked up. He was staring into her soul again, waiting for...something, from her.

She shrugged nervously, but couldn't think of any words to say. She looked away at nothing.

Drakken reached up to her arm and pulled her hand away. After a moment of resistance she let him.

He took her other hand and brought them together up in front of him as he stepped closer to her. Their hands nearly touched each other's chests for how little space he left between them. Shego's heart began racing. She looked up at him. Drakken's soul-searching expression softened.

"You don't have to be jealous," he said, a tiny smile taking over his features.

"Why not?" Shego asked. Why was her voice suddenly so thin? Why was she acknowledging what she'd felt back at the bar? Why was her heart pounding and her frame trembling?

"Because... There's no chance you'll ever lose me."

For what felt like an eternity they simply stared at one another in a mixture of awe and giddiness. And then the familiar pink flower led Drakken's vine down to their joined hands. Shego was startled when the vine wrapped around her wrists and lifted her her arms up and over Drakken's head, looping them around his neck. He placed his own hands comfortably on her waist and grinned. When Shego spoke, she was surprised at the tremor in her voice.

"D-didn't think you'd know what to do with a woman Doc, after that display back in the bar."

Drakken pursed his lips into a thoughtful smirk. "With the right woman," he finally said. The vine still on Shego's wrists tugged slightly and knocked her off-balance so she fell against Drakken's chest.

"So...so you don't want to be the world's hero...or dictator?" Shego said nervously, still trying to avoid what was becoming completely unavoidable.

Drakken shook his head slowly. "Either way...will just lead to heartbreak. No one is really, or would be, on our side."

Shego thought back to the words of the song he had sung that he had just echoed in the defining statement. And she thought also of the words he had spoken just moments before, declaring that she would never lose him.

She realized then that through it all, she had thought of them as a single unit. Even though the world had treated her differently, she hadn't been thinking of them as two separate lives that could diverge from one another at any moment. Her thoughts were always about what 'they' were.

Apparently, so were his.

"If it's not about the world anymore...then what are we?" she asked.

Drakken smirked and circled her waist with his arms, pulling her tightly against him. "You tell me."

He was giving her a knowing look. Shego was embarrassed by the flush that came to her cheeks. But he was right. She had started it with her impulsive kiss back inside the bar. And while she didn't yet understand the feelings surging through her and preventing her from maintaining any coherent thoughts, she did know...she liked the feel of his arms around her. She really liked it. And even though she was the one who started it...he was communicating with startling clarity how he wanted it to finish.

But he still left it up to her.

Her wrists had been released and the vine had vanished. She brought a hand down to lightly stroke his jaw as she smirked.

"I was jealous," she admitted. It was easier to say that, than any of the things his piercing eyes were communicating. "Maybe...of the world, too."

"Not necessary. I told you. You'll always have me."

She felt a fluttering of anticipation in her chest as she rose up on tiptoe and circled his neck with her arms. She thought of his song again.

"I'll always choose your side," she said.

The summer heat was overtaken by the warmth in her heart as they sealed the promise with a powerful kiss.

-----------------

A/N: The song he sings is "Break Your Heart" by Natalie Merchant.

#fanfiction #drakgo #dragko #drakken #shego #kim possible #drakken and shego #drakken x shego #shego x drakken #shegoxdrakken #drakkenxshego

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marianhellequin · 4 years

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Nulogorsk.fm - 01: Pilot

[[Author's note: I'm not so great in translating into English. So dear native English-speaking readers, I'll be really very glad if you leave a comment if something’s wrong! Thank you.]]

A friendly northern town where nights are white, days are dark, sea is cold like the hearts of the ancient gods, and arctic lights in their beauty can compete with a mysterious shining, which we are all scared to even glance at.

You're listening to Nulogorsk.fm!

First of all, an important message from the municipal government.

Nulogorsk government reminds that the military community located after the nothern highway exit from A-800 is former, closed and left under the decree of the municipal government from February, 29th, 1993. Noone lives at the territory of the military community. Noone works there. There is no living or nonliving soul. The military community is abandoned, closed and sealed for eternity - they say in the decree. The municipal government reminds you: if you see servicemen without military rank insignia, they are just a phantom of your imagination. If not only you see them, it is a phantom of your collective imagination. Do not try to talk to these servicemen. Ignore these phantoms of your imagination.

It's a significant day here today in Nulogorsk - after many years of repairs, the Palace of Culture is finally re-opened. Surely, all the important citizens will come for the opening, also a short briefing will be held, as well as a concert on the occasion of opening. Concert-bill is still elaborating.I remind you that the Palace of Culture was closed for a few years due to major repairs. The reasons were leaking roof, wall cracks and stucco moldings falling down off the walls. All the rumours about some kind of a way to some kind of an abyss opened in the vaults of the Palace, that artists and workers who stayed late after the concerts heard horrifying, ghoulish howl, which was coming like from every wall and every dark corned, that on the long, dark November days all the building winced and shaked as if because of the panoptic terror - that's all of course just idle rumours, and shame on them who pass it.

Now all the repair works are finally finished, the newest sound and video equipment is already brought, and Nulogorsk cultural life is ready to play out in fresh colours!

So, now everyone's waiting for the complimentary speech from our Mayor Pavel Borovik, who will officialy cut the symbolic ribbon after this. Our Mayor's speeches are always unforgettable! We can just recall his congratulations on last New Year, when he traditionally but in his unique manner wished success, health and luck to all of us, using frozen bull-trout, his expensive shoes in the colour of sycamore and his whole vocal range of 3-5 octaves. For sure today we will all be impressed by his words.Sadly I can't be there now at this wonderful event, but who would then tell you of everything happening in the town, dear listeners?

But I'm sure our new intern Olga would help us! She's waving, you can't see it but believe me as usual. I'll send her to the place for the most precise report, she'll sure deal great with it. See you, Olya! I'll be waiting for your messages as soon as possible!

And while Olga is going to the place, a little bit about traffic.

Due to technical difficulties, the central bus station will be closed from Thursday, 7 a.m. until Sunday, 5 p.m. All the arrivals will overpass. That's what the bus station operator says.

Somewhere far away a giant lorry rips in the highways, and a small woman is driving it. The teeth of this lorry, enormous, can grind a diamond. The lorry snorts fire, and it seems like to be all made of pipes. We don't know where it's coming from. We don't know where it's going to. I don't know what it carries. They say museums explode on the way of this lorry.

A giant lorry rips in the highways far away. How far is it from us? How close? Where does it go?

The bus station operator notices that the station closing isn't connected with this message.

This was the traffic.

To other news.

This morning a group of servicemen with military rank insignia arrived to Nulogorsk. As their leader, a beautiful woman dressed in perfectly fitting field jacket with Major's stars, says, they came because of safety issues. There were no details, despite legitimate questions from the journalists, for whom a short and quick news conference was held. But still there are many questions. What happened to safety in our little, cosy, quiet town? Why now? Why Major's hairstyle is so perfect, and her eyes are looking so strikingly right into your soul?

We didn't get answers to those questions.

Last news, on-the-spot message from Olga! Our Mayor Pavel Borovik has just finished his inspiring speech. He recalled how many events took place in our Palace of Culture, how we celebrated Town Day here, New Year, Knowledge Day, Gnosis Day, Harvest Day... Oh, I remember those wonderful New Year nights! The fun that united everyone, young and old... on such nights, teenagers for the first time tried 16-kopek plombiere ice-cream and "Kaliningrad" champagne! How strongly I wanted then to come back into my childhood and feel what they were feeling: the delight of novelty, the expectancy of unpredictable future and existentialist horror of it's imminence!

By the way about imminence.

"Blacker than darkness" coffee and bake shop invites the people and visitors of the town to try something new, double cake with orange jam and candied peel! Wonderful for to go and to get out, ideal with coffee. If you order the cake and any coffee except espresso, you get vague anxiety until next morning for free! For strict vegans: coffee on soy milk, carrot cake and a feeling of grievous loss. Offer doesn't include orders to go.

Let's get back to the main topic of the day. Just now, our esteemed Mayor Pavel Borovik has officialy cut the lily-white ribbon into thousand of smallest pieces which flew away with the wind just like our young hopes and dreams. Local amateur orchestra played a solemn melody, and doors of the Palace of Culture were opened for the first visitors chaired by Palace manager, Mayor and a representative of the press service of the municipal government. As Olga says, everyone just passed the red carpet covering the entrance stairs and came into the spacious lobby decorated with flowers and flecks from the gorgeous crystal chandelier. The orchestra refused to come in, saying it can make them go out of tune, but as Olga says, their eyes were suspiciously shifty. I wonder, what's this all about? Sadly, I don't have music education, so I even can't suggest!

In the same way, I can't suggest why our humble radio station is interesting for the servicemen with military rank insignia, but I can assure that I was really glad to see Major Andreeva with her perfect hairstyle, expressive eyes and even more expressive body language within our walls. I asked if I could help somehow or buy her a cup of coffee with orange double cake this evening, but seems like Major didn't pay due attention to my words. I think their packed and tight schedule doesn't let them such freedom as coffee. Though, orange double pie...

Anyway, Major Andreeva and her crew were interested in our humble sound equipment and my desk, and also in our regular technician Alexander, which, at the sight of visitors, made a loud hiss, blended into surroundings and quickly left the studio by draining into the sewer system.

And now, the weather.

[Frank Pourcel "Manchester et Liverpool" playing in the background]

It was a tiny cupboard of a room about six paces in length. It had a poverty-stricken appearance with its dusty yellow paper peeling off the walls, and it was so low-pitched that a man of more than average height was ill at ease in it and felt every moment that he would knock his head against the ceiling.The furniture was in keeping with the room: there were three old chairs, rather rickety; a painted table in the corner on which lay a few manuscripts and books; the dust that lay thick upon them showed that they had been long untouched. A big clumsy sofa occupied almost the whole of one wall and half the floor space of the room; it was once covered with chintz, but was now in rags and served Raskolnikov as a bed. Often he went to sleep on it, as he was, without undressing, without sheets, wrapped in his old student's overcoat, with his head on one little pillow, under which he heaped up all the linen he had, clean and dirty, by way of a bolster. A little table stood in front of the sofa.It would have been difficult to sink to a lower ebb of disorder, but to Raskolnikov in his present state of mind this was positively agreeable. He had got completely away from everyone, like a tortoise in its shell, and even the sight of a servant girl who had to wait upon him and looked sometimes into his room made him writhe with nervous irritation. He was in the condition that overtakes some monomaniacs entirely concentrated upon one thing.

A message for car owners. Petrol station number two informs that since tomorrow it will be impossible to pay with deadheads, body parts, saplings and karma. Use cash and credit cards, loyalty points and your immortal soul.

Olga who's on scene tells me that the first visitors of renewed Palace of Culture just walked into the main music hall. She says that the very first step into the large wooden doors made her heart tremble with inexplicable fear of the abyss of the existence. Mayor Pavel Borovik is determined as always.Seems like not everything is ready for the festive program in the music hall. The orchestra pit is empty and has the form of the sinkhole into the primeval abyss. Splendid velvet curtain isn't as determined as the Mayor and in every way blocks artists' attempts to sneak onto the stage and thereby save themselves from something which makes ghoulish... one moment, looks like Olga gives some details... Yes, thanks, Olya. Save themselves from something which makes spine-tingling, paralysing, dreadful howl. We'll make a pause for a message from our sponsor while I'm clarifying the situation with my colleague, stay tuned.

Everything for home and garden in the "Bad Seed" shop! New arrivals of strings, ropes, strands, cables, and also chains made of women's beard and noise of cats' steps! Never out of stock: seeds, sprouts, fertilizers, everything most needed for your homesteading or window greenhouse. In the housewares - new bed-linen arrivals. By popular demand, we returned duvet covers with chase nightmares effect, pillow cases with the paranoid thoughts aroma and sheets spawning invisible worms. Double discount with your loyalty card after sunset on Saturdays, come for shopping to "Bad Seed"!

An important message from the municipal government.Right now the press service of the municipal government informed about Mayor's decree regarding the Nulogorsk Palace of Culture. Due to the decree, Palace of Culture is closed for indefinite term until all the small defects caused by face-lift will be eliminated. Citizens are asked not to come to the building closer than 20 meters, and to cover minors' eyes while passing by the Palace.

The press service pointed out that it isn't connected with an echo of inhuman howl coming from the nailed up windows of the Palace, ghoulish and spine-tingling. With regard to all these cases of revealed breaches, an examination will be held by an independent commission consisting of active concerned citizens, mediums, shaman and Father Evgeny of the Holy Virgin Protection church.

All the planned events are moved to Youth Activity Center and local drama theatre.

Small announcement.

Internship opportunity is opened at the Nulogorsk town radiostation! It's a chance to get invaluable experience, try yourself as a real reporter, and for sure, make a great contribution into the town's public life! We're waiting for your calls, just dial ten zeros on any telephone set or whisper into your mobile phone that you want to become our intern, and we'll immediately contact you! Good luck!

That's the end of our programme for today, but not of this day. A clear, moonlit evening is waiting for the town, and a clear, disturbing night. Don't forget to check if you still have some salt on your cill and if you turned off your kettle. And now, I say goodbye to you.

Until we meet again, Nulogorsk, until we meet again.

Proverb of the day: You are what you eat. You have to revise your vegeterianism ideas if you want to be a human.

#Welcome to Night Vale #wtnv #Nulogorsk #fanfic

4 notes · View notes

fyrapartnersearch · 4 years

Text

Howdy there! How are you?

Self

My name is James Home. I’m a 23 year old trans male from Olympia WA. In time zones that’s PST (Pacific standard time) am a visual artist, graphic designer, and storyteller. My Briggs acronym ENFJ. In saying so I’m a huge talker and communicator, physically and literally! Personal interests of mine include BOTW, FFXV, and Hanibal atm. I have a lovely and incredible wife named Isabella. We both additionally like DND (were even painting our minis), collecting Halloween decorations, and watching Avatar the last air bender with our roommate. Though I do have a history in plenty of other fandoms as well and always on the lookout for recommendations.

Preference

So for myself I love to take care of my Rp partners in all accommodations possible.

Meaning if your heart has been craving fluff, rough smut, or a plain ol hug. IM GAME! If none, no biggie let’s make a plot spot!

Roles I usually fall under are but not limited too….

-DOM , Vers, Power bottom

-caretaker, guardian, teacher

-father, handler, knight

-beefcakes, robots, selfless leaders

And so much more!

The roles I lean towards are

-caretaker, strong and silent-ish type, and flamboyant entertainers.

-male roles, trans male roles, open to trying a female role?, non binary, pangender role.

- I do enjoy topping, some aspects of BDSM, and some hard kinks.

-fallen leader, relearning about a loving world, hopeful in a dark world.

-not taking their role as important as they should have or are, “I’ve been doing this for years. But this is new”, and “I brought you your favorite drink wanna cuddle, I’ll provide the sugar?” Types

And so much more!

As far as story things themes are

-highly complex kingdoms

-High pace fantasy

-society by the ocean

-abandon green houses

-heavily dense forests

-fae and fiend worlds

-AUs of pre-existing universes from shows

-magic incorporated

-supernatural

Worlds we design collectively.

My HARD NOs are…

NO MINORS ROLEPLAYING WITH ME, 19 AND UNDER DO NOT APPLY

-abuse in active Rp (can be used from background and really has to depend on circumstance)

-harm of any children

-harm of expected mother

-any form of r*pe play

-blood play, degrading play, hard impact play

-crying kinks, humiliation kink, and electric play

-no smoking kinks either or character usage of substances.

Writing

I’m not too big on proper grammar or sentence structure as long as there was an idea getting across. I’m ok with role playing as many people as you’d like to actively work on, so doubles, and even triples are okay. Plus working two different stories is fun! I do prefer paragraphing and we all know the feeling of one word responses. This is a hobby and creative outlet from myself so that’s why I have no big stressors about punctuation or spelling.

Storytelling

Here are some story concepts I’ve come up with. Yet if you’d like to imply your own let’s talk about it!

Counterpart pathways

A magical filled fantasy realm where all is possible including the bad. One summer day a incubus/demon hybrid named Jona, father of three, learns someone has kidnapped all three of his boys! He's on the hunt for clues and finding them at all costs. Gathering the best crew possible of Moof the best wolf bounty hunter in all the realm, Bell the boys spider caretaker shapeshifter, and Glover the bull/bison hybrid the green alchemist, set off to find the children. Along the way by gathering clues they encounter obstacles and trials of skill and pursuit! Will they ever find the three octopus babies ? Will Jona have closure and put on a shirt? Will Bell ever stop stealing everything shiny? Will Moof grow more confident in his teammates? Will Glover not stop shaking and being such a wuss? Who will help this odd 4 on their epic abnormal quest?!

Puddles

A time traveler that gets stuck in between dimensions due to their powers temporarily weakened from the extensive work they've been doing end up meeting a stranger who takes them in. Not used to the timeline they shows up in, they have to knowledge of normal behavior. They must figure out a way to recharge their abilities but has not of the slightly clue as to what it causing them to have lost them in the first place. Is the person that's helping them good or evil? Who's side are they on? How will they figure them out? Why do they find the stranger oddly familiar?

When men become mortal

An alien/robot/human species that survives by using different masks/chips for various occasions. It's like buying different clothes but they adapt or transform the hoist for a month or less of another body/form/identity. The main character experiences a technical difficulty where their head socket cannot adapt to a new face for long and has to get it repaired. Though along the way he seems to find that not wearing a false identity they actually enjoy seeing the outside world with no expectation of appearance. The other is a identity artist, the one whom develops different faces and identity. He spends hours tweaking details of bodies and faces. He always has the nicest things because of his work and from important commissions and work for certain clients.They meet at a gallery that the artist is hoisting at a museum. The individuals there are decorated like some of the model pieces and others artist curators-part sellers. The faceless one decides to go to the museum to see what's or who's being showcased and since he has a little bit of extra money he saved up for the occasion. Everyone finds him interesting since he doesn't have an appearance, they think he's a model. Thus they send him to meet with the artist for the show. The artist doesn't know him at all. They find eachother very different but most parts similar. From their meeting the artist gets inspired by his original face. Coming to realize that even himself that he has given into the world he never wanted to.The two of them hit it off. Both dwelling into the matters of the "perfect" vessel. Asking the serious questions such as what makes a body, a face, a soul attractive? They go on for hours and it starts to inspire the artists work into his new resorted craftsmanship. The faceless impressed by the purposed questions and also work. The two of them grow closer resulted from talking so much about bodies and meaning. All the while testing out the new creations, body parts, and vessels capabilities. Not all though is good while the two develop this hoist. There's a villain at hand who one of the artist's main clients that goes unsuspected. They want to use the designs to create a vessel for the bad and wealth. Only to include to kill off all humans.The two of them hit it off. Both dwelling into the matters of the "perfect" vessel. Asking the serious questions such as what makes a body, a face, a soul attractive? They go on for hours and it starts to inspire the artists work into his new resorted craftsmanship. The faceless impressed by the purposed questions and also work. The two of them grow closer resulted from talking so much about bodies and meaning. All the while testing out the new creations, body parts, and vessels capabilities. Not all though is good while the two develop this hoist. There's a villain at hand who one of the artist's main clients that goes unsuspected. They want to use the designs to create a vessel for the bad and wealth. Only to include to kill off all humans. Thus forces the artist to reveal his true identity. A human being. Not a hologram. Plus he's not just an artist but a ex-con scientist from the labs that have bloomed into a internalized war. Faceless becomes confused and also hurt that the artist to mention this. Only for the two of them being followed. The artist informs the robot that the hybrids (the children of the robot-species, generations of offspring) are the real threat to society. The one who hoists and is in charge of the power sorce is human and machine. The first of its kind, and also the previous mentor of the artist/ex-scientist. Who will get to the power source first. Our main dynamic couple or the robotic uprising that believe all humans should cease to exist once and for all?

Gay Cryptids

Themes

Active night life

Next to the ocean, sea, body of water.

Beach city/lost boys/Mad max?/punk/ regal?/neon lights/old mascots/vapor wave af

Carnival / festivals

Dark market authenticity

Biker gang(s)

Aquatic features, art, incorporated in surroundings

Lifestyles like fish importing, dock workers, sushi shops, fancy diners

Common foods are all fish and sea foods

The city was a work in process for a resort city, and a major violent storm came too early taking out some of the fancier parts of the island. Most of the higher end houses and mansions were believed to be damaged in the outer edges of the island. There had been a castle built as a main part of the hotel/resort. Old costumes, sets, mascots were left to rot by the seas breeze. Barnacles, ivy, and vines with exotic flora and fauna growing wildly cover the buildings. Possibly even growing in the mansion and other houses. The main part of the biker gang is in a abandoned church next to the sea caves is where the biker gang mostly resides and work primarily as hit men and women. The island would be decided by the two head family of vampires one powerful family versus the other in over control if the current situation of resort in the actual tourist location.A rambunctious gang of young cryptics disguise themselves as human during the daytime but during the night it's quite the time to be alive and young. Various story arcs of love and lust between the group members figuring out their own sexualities and forming adulthood. Though most of it is all of them just fucking around.A rambunctious gang of young cryptics disguise themselves as human during the daytime but during the night it's quite the time to be alive and young. Various story arcs of love and lust between the group members figuring out their own sexualities and forming adulthood. Though most of it is all of them just fucking around.

Plausible locations

Old mill

Carnival / freakshow

Rides and amusement

Abandoned Church

Greenhouse

Garden

Boat house

Log cabins

CAMP grounds

Old schools

Warehouses

The Docks or Port

Boat houses

Boat docks

Abandoned Hotel

Studios

Bike store

Surf or like diving store

Knickknack shack

Ma and Pa restaurants

Antique stores

Downtown

Library

Hospital or infirmary excotic masion

I have story plots for days SONNNN so these are at skim level for plot.

If you’d like to contact me the best ways are

Discord at

Agodnamedhome#4202

[email protected]

I work from 11:30 to 4 Monday-Friday

But available before, and after for sure.

Thursday’s at 5 are my therapist appointments

Weekends are 100% free atm

Looking for a long term, short term, a friend!

#long term rp #oc rp #mulitfandom rp #email #discord #writting #hobby #rp #roleplay #looking for an online friend #pacfic northwest #orginal content #submission

6 notes · View notes

agodnamedhome · 4 years

Text

Howdy there! How are you?

Self

Preference

So for myself I love to take care of my Rp partners in all accommodations possible.

Meaning if your heart has been craving fluff, rough smut, or a plain ol hug. IM GAME! If none, no biggie let’s make a plot spot!

Roles I usually fall under are but not limited too….

-DOM , Vers, Power bottom

-caretaker, guardian, teacher

-father, handler, knight

-beefcakes, robots, selfless leaders

And so much more!

The roles I lean towards are

-caretaker, strong and silent-ish type, and flamboyant entertainers.

-male roles, trans male roles, open to trying a female role?, non binary, pangender role.

- I do enjoy topping, some aspects of BDSM, and some hard kinks.

-fallen leader, relearning about a loving world, hopeful in a dark world.

And so much more!

As far as story things themes are

-highly complex kingdoms

-High pace fantasy

-society by the ocean

-abandon green houses

-heavily dense forests

-fae and fiend worlds

-AUs of pre-existing universes from shows

-magic incorporated

-supernatural

Worlds we design collectively.

My HARD NOs are…

NO MINORS ROLEPLAYING WITH ME, 19 AND UNDER DO NOT APPLY

-abuse in active Rp (can be used from background and really has to depend on circumstance)

-harm of any children

-harm of expected mother

-any form of r*pe play

-blood play, degrading play, hard impact play

-crying kinks, humiliation kink, and electric play

-no smoking kinks either or character usage of substances.

Writing

Storytelling

Here are some story concepts I’ve come up with. Yet if you’d like to imply your own let’s talk about it!

Counterpart pathways

Puddles

When men become mortal

An alien/robot/human species that survives by using different masks/chips for various occasions.

It's like buying different clothes but they adapt or transform the hoist for a month or less of another body/form/identity.

The main character experiences a technical difficulty where their head socket cannot adapt to a new face for long and has to get it repaired. Though along the way he seems to find that not wearing a false identity they actually enjoy seeing the outside world with no expectation of appearance.

The other is a identity artist, the one whom develops different faces and identity. He spends hours tweaking details of bodies and faces. He always has the nicest things because of his work and from important commissions and work for certain clients.

They meet at a gallery that the artist is hoisting at a museum. The individuals there are decorated like some of the model pieces and others artist curators-part sellers.

The faceless one decides to go to the museum to see what's or who's being showcased and since he has a little bit of extra money he saved up for the occasion. Everyone finds him interesting since he doesn't have an appearance, they think he's a model. Thus they send him to meet with the artist for the show.

The artist doesn't know him at all. They find eachother very different but most parts similar. From their meeting the artist gets inspired by his original face. Coming to realize that even himself that he has given into the world he never wanted to.

The two of them hit it off. Both dwelling into the matters of the "perfect" vessel. Asking the serious questions such as what makes a body, a face, a soul attractive? They go on for hours and it starts to inspire the artists work into his new resorted craftsmanship. The faceless impressed by the purposed questions and also work. The two of them grow closer resulted from talking so much about bodies and meaning. All the while testing out the new creations, body parts, and vessels capabilities.

Not all though is good while the two develop this hoist. There's a villain at hand who one of the artist's main clients that goes unsuspected. They want to use the designs to create a vessel for the bad and wealth. Only to include to kill off all humans.

Thus forces the artist to reveal his true identity. A human being. Not a hologram. Plus he's not just an artist but a ex-con scientist from the labs that have bloomed into a internalized war. Faceless becomes confused and also hurt that the artist to mention this. Only for the two of them being followed.

The artist informs the robot that the hybrids (the children of the robot-species, generations of offspring) are the real threat to society. The one who hoists and is in charge of the power sorce is human and machine. The first of its kind, and also the previous mentor of the artist/ex-scientist.

Who will get to the power source first. Our main dynamic couple or the robotic uprising that believe all humans should cease to exist once and for all?

Gay Cryptids

Themes

Active night life

Next to the ocean, sea, body of water.

Beach city/lost boys/Mad max?/punk/ regal?/neon lights/old mascots/vapor wave af

Carnival / festivals

Dark market authenticity

Biker gang(s)

Aquatic features, art, incorporated in surroundings

Lifestyles like fish importing, dock workers, sushi shops, fancy diners

Common foods are all fish and sea foods

A rambunctious gang of young cryptics disguise themselves as human during the daytime but during the night it's quite the time to be alive and young.

Various story arcs of love and lust between the group members figuring out their own sexualities and forming adulthood. Though most of it is all of them just fucking around.

A rambunctious gang of young cryptics disguise themselves as human during the daytime but during the night it's quite the time to be alive and young.

Various story arcs of love and lust between the group members figuring out their own sexualities and forming adulthood. Though most of it is all of them just fucking around.

Plausible locations

Old mill

Carnival / freakshow

Rides and amusement

Abandoned Church

Greenhouse

Garden

Boat house

Log cabins

CAMP grounds

Old schools

Warehouses

The Docks or Port

Boat houses

Boat docks

Abandoned Hotel

Studios

Bike store

Surf or like diving store

Knickknack shack

Ma and Pa restaurants

Antique stores

Downtown

Library

Hospital or infirmary excotic masion

I have story plots for days SONNNN so these are at skim level for plot.

If you’d like to contact me the best ways are

Discord at

Agodnamedhome#4202

[email protected]

I work from 11:30 to 4 Monday-Friday

But available before, and after for sure.

Thursday’s at 5 are my therapist appointments

Weekends are 100% free atm

Looking for a long term, short term, a friend!

#rp #rp partner search #rp search #oc rp #orginal content #writting #fantasy #smut #fun #art #self promte

4 notes · View notes

marshmallow-phd · 6 years

Text

Charming Instruction

Part of The Untamed - EXO Wolf Universe

Genre: Supernatural, Wolf Au

Pairing: Junmyeon x Reader

Summary: You were just an average, everyday college student desperately trying to graduate. Only one more year stood between you and that celebratory walk. However, due to an oversight by your adviser, it seemed that the one class you never wanted to take was required to take that walk. It wasn’t the subject matter that made you uncomfortable. It was the teacher. Your heart sped up every time you saw him and you didn’t want that distraction in your life, attractive or not. With meeting him now an inevitability, you swore that you would keep your hormones in check. But after your first day of class, a series of hi jinks and weird situations lead you to discovering the secret of your professor and why he seemed to bombard your every thought.

Part: 1 I 2 I 3 I 4 I 5 I 6 I 7 I 8 I 9 I 10 I 11 I 12 I 13 I Final

You scrambled off the bike as fast as you could, just wanting to get out of there. It seemed like every time your mind started to wander in Junmyoen’s direction, reality slapped you back on track.

“Thank you for the ride,” you mumbled quickly before taking off in the direction of your apartment.

“(y/n), wait!”

You didn’t wait. You didn’t even slow down or second guess your decision to run. The way that woman was looking at Junmyeon and his surprise at her appearance, there was something going on there and you didn’t want to be in the middle of it.

The whole way back home, your mind kept going back to that secured little room back in the museum. A tiny slice of your mind wanted to read into that scenario.

He’d driven you away from campus on a motorcycle, clad in a leather jacket and looking nothing like the college professor you were used to. And then he took you to a museum, to a secret room in a museum and let you just stare at the artifacts without any sense of rushing you. He said that he hadn’t shared that with anyone, putting you right back into the “special” category. That had to mean something, right?

The much bigger part of your brain that was a bit pessimistic reminded you that it was simply because you were an archaeology student. And that he was your professor. And that you were planning on moving far away once your final semester came to an end with your graduation. So, you shouldn’t care about any mysterious girl that randomly shows up and makes goo-goo eyes at Junmyeon.

You shouldn’t even be calling him by his first name whether it was just in your head or not.

Walking through your door, you sighed as it clicked shut behind you. Then you were bombarded.

“Who the hell was the hottie on the motorcycle?” Cam demanded. She didn’t seem angry at all. In fact, there was a sparkle of excitement in her eye.

Behind her, Gemma was bouncing up and down as she munched on a sandwich. Apparently, Cam had shared the little sight of you disappearing on the back of a motorcycle, most likely adding a few flourishes that made it sound much more adventurous than it really was.

“How do you know he was attractive?” you countered, searching for a possible get away. “He was wearing a helmet.”

“I’m not totally blind, (y/n),” Cam scoffed, leaning back a little to give you more room. Not enough to escape, but enough to have your own space back. “Even under that jacket, I could see that he was attractive. Now, who is he?”

She was not going to let this go. Especially after you had point blank told her that you weren’t seeing anyone just a few minutes before running off with some guy. That was the thing about a lie, once you created one, you had to string more of them along until you were completely entangled in the web. But you couldn’t confess the truth now. Junmyeon was counting on you to help him stay out of harm’s way, to keep his own secret. But the best way to keep a lie was to put just enough truth in it so keep your head on straight.

Entangling your fingers together in front of you, you started to mumble, “He’s a guy….”

“Yeah, we got that much,” Gemma giggled.

“A guy… in my class.” See, just a little bit of information that was technically true. Junmyeon was in your class. He just simply stood in front of everyone else and gave the lecture rather than being one of the students listening and taking notes.

“Ooo,” Cam wiggled her eyebrows at you. “What’s his name?”

“Jun-” Crap. Why did you answer so quickly? You couldn’t give them his real name. These two were too slick for that. They’d make the leap in record time if they just happened to come across your professor’s full name. But you already gave part of his name away. “Jun..ie?”

“Junie?” Cam snorted.

Gemma finished off her sandwich before adding, “Isn’t that kind of… cute for a guy in leather jacket?”

She had no idea how much she’d hit the nail on the head.

“I didn’t pick his name,” you grumbled. Letting out a hefty sigh, you begged, “Can I go to my room now?”

“Uh-uh,” Cam grabbed your wrist and pulled you over to the couch, making you sit down between her and Gemma. “Give us the deets.”

You frowned. “The deets? That’s not even a word.”

“The details,” Gemma elaborated with a groan. “How did any of this happen?”

“Where did you guys meet?” Cam asked excitedly. “Was it in class or outside and you happened find out you were in the same class? What’s his major?”

“How many times have you ridden the motorcycle? Is he at least a safe driver?”

Too many questions were being thrown at you in both directions, you were getting dizzy from focusing your attention from one friend to the other. This was like the night you came home from the woods all over again. However, this time, instead of jumping up and running away, you retreated into yourself, folding up and burying your face in your knees.

The difference was that, in this particular situation, you weren’t just telling lies to protect Junmyeon. If you gave your friends more details, then they’d be fake scenarios that you wished could be true.

It was almost too much, the strange happenings that you’d experienced over the last week were bizarre to say the least, but you didn’t wish for it to go away. It was just the opposite, really. You were almost… thankful for it. Who else could say they’ve lived through something like this?

Well, okay, the other pack members’ mates probably had similar experiences, but you doubted they were exactly like yours. None of the other boys were professors after all, nor did they have to wrestle with the fact that they had a crush on a person they could never have. And it wasn’t even a crush anymore. You were headed straight into the danger zone.

Crushes typically consisted of vague notions and surface level looks. And you would have certainly said that whatever was brewing inside you before Saturday. But now? Now you had to admit to yourself that you liked Junmyeon. You liked his smile and how open he was with you. You liked how he thought of you when he wanted to share his family’s history. And – as much as you hated to admit it – he was very appealing on that motorcycle, even if you liked the bookish professor look a little bit more.

“(y/n)?” Gemma called out soothingly. “Is everything okay?”

You lifted your face just enough to rest your chin on your knees as you sighed, “Yeah. Everything’s fine. I just don’t think it will last too much longer.”

“Why not?” Cam asked, all her earlier enthusiasm replaced by genuine concern. She placed a hand on your shoulder, squeezing it gently to reassure you that she was there for you.

“I think I like him more than he likes me,” you admitted, that woman’s – Soomi, did he call her? – face flashing in your mind. “And besides, I’m leaving next year anyway. No point in getting too attached right?”

Neither of your best friends said anything to contradict or confirm what you said. In your peripheral, you watched them exchange a look of worry as they took turns rubbing your back. They were only seeing a portion of the turmoil you were currently going through. Back and forth you went, trying to decide if you should continue accepting invitations from Junmyeon should they happen in the future or if you should just severe all contact outside of class now before you got hurt.

“(y/n), wait!”

You didn’t slow down at Junmyeon calling for you and he was helpless to watch you take off from the univeristy, headed for a cluster of apartment buildings that were havens for the students since they were cheap and could hold several occupants comfortably.

“Did I interrupt something?” Soomi asked, looking truly worried as she watched your retreating back as well.

Junmyeon sighed, swinging a leg over the bike and hopping off. “I honestly don’t know.”

Soomi raised an eyebrow at bike. “Is this new?”

“Uh,” Junmyeon cleared his throat. “Yeah, it is.”

“Did you buy it for her?” Soomi’s voice came out cautiously, like she was afraid of the answer.

“No,” Junmyeon answered defensively. “I bought it for myself.”

She nodded thoughtfully. “I don’t think even a seer could have predicted that.”

“Did you need something, Soomi?” he snapped. And immediately regretted it. He’d never once been so rude to Soomi, but the wolf was growling with irritation, overwhelming his logical thinking. It wasn’t her fault that she happened to be nearby when he was with you. She wasn’t a malicious person. It was simply terrible timing. “I’m sorry, Soomi. I shouldn’t have said it like that.”

A smile that used to make his heart flutter crept up in the corner of Soomi’s mouth. Its past effect no longer existed and Junmyeon was somewhat relieved.

The boys used to hound him, asking over and over what it was about her that made him feel that way. He never had an answer. Maybe it was her differentness. Maybe it was the fact that he didn’t have to explain who he was and fear that she’d run away. Or maybe it was simply due to the fact that he needed someone to fill that void until his mate came along. If it was the last option, then he felt incredibly guilty. That wasn’t fair to Soomi and that wasn’t right of him.

“It’s okay,” Soomi said softly. “I surprised you, so I understand.” She ran her fingers through her long black hair, looking at him shyly. “I was wondering if you had time to go get that cup of coffee.”

Junmyeon let out a long exhale. “Soomi… I can’t.”

The smile deflated from her face. “Listen, Junmyeon. If this is about potentially finding your mate someday, it’s okay. I’ll understand. Why not spend the time enjoying life? I promise, I’ll step aside when the time comes. No harm, no foul.”

“I still can’t,” Junmyeon exasperated, holding the inner wolf back from snapping at the suggestion. She didn’t mean any harm by it. While she knew about it, she didn’t really understand it. “Yes, in the past, it was about the fact that my mate might show up any time and I didn’t want to hurt you, but now….”

She frowned. “But now?”

Junmyeon let the answer hang in the air, not verbalizing it. Understanding blossomed in her eyes, smothering any sign of hope that used to grow there.

“Oh,” Soomi avoided his gaze, keeping her eyes down at the sidewalk. Then she looked back up at Junmyeon, resigned. “That was her, wasn’t it? The girl who ran off?”

Junmyeon nodded. “Yes. But she doesn’t know yet. She knows about me and what I am, but she doesn’t know she’s my mate yet.”

“Well, I’m sure she’ll feel extremely lucky once she does find out,” she mused.

“I hope so,” Junmyeon mumbled, more to himself than to Soomi.

“Well,” Soomi said, a bit louder and firmer than necessary, “I guess I’ll head out then. Have a good night, Junmyeon. And good luck with your mate. I know the two of you will be very happy together.”

“Thank you,” Junmyeon forced a half-hearted smile on his face. The kind where both parties know it’s purely out of politeness and not because the giver is happy about the situation. “And I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be,” she insisted. “It’s just the name of the game. Good night.”

“Good night, Soomi.”

For a few moments, Junmyeon just stood there, leaning up against his bike and watching Soomi walk to her car. It was only when she drove away did he finally get back on the bike to head home. This time, though, he didn’t put the helmet back on. He knew it was dangerous, but that didn’t stop him from strapping the protective gear to the backseat and roaring the engine to life.

Junmyeon loved the way the engine purred, vibrating the whole bike while it anticipated the jump to get going.

Kicking off, he headed back to the farmhouse, taking advantage of the long ride on the deserted road. The wind whipped at his face and tousled his hair, but he didn’t care. It was an almost freeing feeling. Like when he was running in his wolf skin, the forest blurring by him as he kept his focus on what was immediately ahead of him.

That focus helped keep his mind from wondering off to other paths with dangerous ideas. Like turning around to find you, to explain everything. But he couldn’t do that. You weren’t ready yet. You were still so quick to run away after Soomi showed up, he could only conclude that you misunderstood the situation.

Junmyeon slammed his hand down on the handle, making the bike falter and wobble just for a second before he was able to correct it.

He just wanted to tell you everything. Why couldn’t he be brave enough to just say it, out loud for you to hear and accept him so he could stop feeling like this and be with you?

The farmhouse came into view and Junmyeon slowed down until he came to a complete stop just outside the garage before walking the two wheeled vehicle the rest of the way in. Minseok’s car was gone from the garage. So the house wouldn’t be too full. Meaning there wouldn’t be too many to watch during the night’s run. If they hadn’t already headed out without him.

The living room was deserted, but Junmyeon could hear voices and movement coming from the kitchen. He shook his head. They had a perfectly good living room that was bigger than the kitchen and yet everyone preferred to hang out there.

Everyone who didn’t choose to go back into town was sitting around the table, watching Luhan and Sehun play an intense card game, picking the flimsy pieces of laminated paper and putting them back down in a flash.

Egyptian Rat Kill.

Junmyeon could never figure out why the game was called that. According to Luhan, it had several different names, but that was the one they stuck to.

“I thought you guys would have been gone by now,” Junmyeon said as he took his jacket off and slung it over the back of the breakfast booth. If Minseok had been there, he would have given the leader a death glare, but for now, Junmyeon did what he wanted to. This was his house after all.

Maybe if he kept telling himself that he would actually exert that authority. Maybe someday.

“Those two wouldn’t pause their game,” Baekhyun grumbled, tapping the table with his fingers impatiently.

“This kid will cheat if I take my eyes off the game for a second,” Luhan pointed out, his comment emphasized by the fact that he did indeed refuse to look away from the cards.

“That’s not true!” Sehun whined. “You’re just a sore loser.”

Luhan rolled his eyes before slamming down his hand on the pile of cards between and jumping up in victory. “Take that!”

With pouting lips, Sehun swiped away the scattered cards, grumbling to himself as he folded his arms across his chest. The rest of the pack was cheering or shouting. Junmyoen even noticed a few bills exchange hands. These boys. They bet on everything.

Above all the noise, though, Yixing seemed to notice Junmyeon’s lack of smile or any sort of emotion that showed he was entertained by the scene before him. Typically, Junmyeon would have been grinning and laughing at his brothers, but his face remained somber.

“What happened?” Yixing asked as he stood from his seat. “You look like you got booed out of the classroom.”

“I ran into Soomi on campus,” Junmyeon murmured, keeping his eyes down.

“Ah,” Tao snapped his fingers like he was the cleverest one in the room, “so you had to let her down and tell her about how you’re no longer on the market and a free man – ow!” Luhan, who was right next to the self-professed playboy, had smacked him upside the head.

“Yes, I told her,” Junmyeon confirmed.

“But that’s not all that happened?” Jongin guessed.

Junmyeon groaned, running a hand through his hair. It got caught a couple time from being tangled by the wind. “(Y/n) was with me when we ran into Soomi.”

“Tell me you didn’t freeze,” Baekhyun pleaded. When Junmyeon didn’t answer, Baekhyun gasped. “You totally froze, didn’t you?”

“I don’t get what the big deal is if he was surprised to see Soomi,” Sehun shrugged. “He wasn’t expecting her. It’s only natural.”

“You need a better understanding of how the female mind works,” Chanyeol scolded.

“Yeah, you’re one to talk,” the maknae bit back.

Luhan gave Junmyeon a sympathetic look. “I’m going to go out on a limb here and say that (y/n) high tailed it out of there.”

“Like a cat after someone stepped on its tail,” Junmyeon confessed.

“Ouch,” Baekhyun winced.

“Whether she knows about being your mate or not,” Yixing said, “you’re going to have to explain to her that you and Soomi are just friends.”

Sehun raised an eyebrow. “But I thought once you find your mate, you don’t have feelings for anyone else? Why would you freeze at seeing Soomi?”

“I was just shocked,” Junmyeon argued. “All those feelings really do go away. I just didn’t expect to be caught like that. And by Soomi, no less.”

Baekhyun raised an eyebrow. “Caught like what?”

Junmyeon picked up a napkin from the counter and crumbled it up before throwing it at Baekhyun. “Get your mind out of the gutter! I just meant on the motorcycle. (Y/n) was sitting behind me. That was it.”

“Perfectly understandable,” Tao snickered.

“Why don’t we go for a run,” Luhan suggested. “Maybe that’ll cool you down and help you figure out how to explain things to your mate.”

Junmyeon nodded. “Yeah, good idea.”

“Finally!” Tao whooped and hollered as he ran out the back door, already shirtless and working on jumping out of his jeans.

“That boy has issues,” Baekhyun mumbled.

“Just go,” Junmyeon sighed, already headed out himself.

By the time he’d shifted and his front paws his the dirt floor of the forest he knew best, he already felt a little better. He could fix this. He could make this work and get his plan back on track. Every journey had a few deviations, didn’t they?

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snowdice · 4 years

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Finding the Time to Study Fic 2 [Day 17]

My Masterpost Part 1 Part 2 Part 3

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.

I have homework due Friday and it’s long so let’s go.