#please send me more hypotheses such as this one

[myrinthinks]

I present to you a simple –very simple– hypothesis with no requirements of as-yet-unattested symbolism or historical allusion. Slugs are not outfitted with armor. Snails are. Sending a knight to fight a slug is unvalorous. That's a civilian! Snails are martial; they are slugs ready to do battle.

I have absolutely no idea what could have possibly prompted this message but let me tell you that I am completely and positively delighted to have received it! Like, sir, that's a civilian!!

#amazing #i feel so honoured that somebody would send me an ask like this #i also get the feeling that i might've reblogged or even written something about a medieval manuscript featuring snails before? #or something? #and that's where this is coming from? #but in any case #please send me more hypotheses such as this one #mutuals where you at? #get on with it! #loltag #sighinastorm #you ask my answers

[whoistartaglia]

delirious

does a confession count when it comes from someone delirious with fever?

alhaitham x reader

you’re clearly sick with fever, you know it, alhaitham knows it, and even your professor to whom you’ve never said a single word knows it. so why are you, wearing a black mask, coughing up a lung, and a second away from sleep, in lecture?

alhaitham has his own hypotheses to that particular question, but the fact remains is that there’s still about ten more minutes of lecture and he doesn’t know if you’re going to make it. not because of death—at least, he certainly hopes not—but because he meant it when he said you’re a whisp away from dreamland. one blink might send you head first into a fever dream, and you honestly think you might be in one when alhaitham silently packs his bag and silently moves through the lecture hall to sit next to you.

“what are you doing?” you whisper.

“taking you home.”

you cough before responding, and alhaitham cringes at the sound.

“home?”

“back to the dorm,” he clarifies.

you and alhaitham both live in the same dorm, though you only realized it when he came knocking on your door, with only the message of “you’re being too loud, i’m trying to study, please quiet down” when you opened it. your roommate was understandably annoyed by his obtrusiveness, and you were too, to an extent. until you told your roommate the very next day you thought he was cute and recognized him from lecture.

a lost cause, your roommate called you.

a lost cause was right.

“why?” you ask again through another cough.

alhaitham shrugs. “consider it me doing something nice.”

“but you’re not nice?”

alhaitham raises an eyebrow. your face is pale and laced with confusion, and if the statement didn’t come out as a sincere question, alhaitham would be much more offended. presently, he’s a little miffed—of course he’s nice, just when he wants to be, which may or may not be less than the average person—and has just realized something very interesting.

you don’t have much of a filter when sick with fever.

you’re also not very… present. he had to nudge you when the lecture ended and the professor started packing up. he had to subsequently coax you to pack up, because you told him you were so tired you could fall asleep right there and then.

“you can’t do that.”

“but why?”

“it’s too warm in here and lecture chairs are uncomfortable, and another class is coming in.”

“i don’t care,” you told him, a pout gracing your features.

“well, i do,” alhaitham says, standing. he looks down at you. “now, are you going to let me walk you back or are you doing to stay?”

“stay.”

so you have a streak of stubbornness when you’re sick, too. alhaitham rolls his eyes and starts packing your stuff himself, tossing in your laptop (which hasn’t been touched the entire lecture) and notebook (which also has remained unopened) and even takes your phone, plopping it in before zippering the bag shut, tossing it over his shoulder, and heading towards the exit.

it takes you a second in your hazed state to realize what happened before you pull yourself up and out of your seat and into the hallway. alhaitham’s nowhere to be found and you’re about to unleash a string of curses on his good name before you hear footsteps behind you.

“ready to go?”

you glare at him. “isn’t it a crime to mess with someone who’s sick?”

“a crime? no. morally wrong? maybe.” alhaitham shrugs, a slight smile tugging on his lips. “but that’s something for the philosophers to decide.”

you huff as you walk along side him, out of the lecture hall and onto the main campus. it’s a cold winter afternoon and you pull your sweatshirt around you tighter. maybe you wouldn’t have gotten sick if you didn’t insist on not wearing a winter coat when the temperature is near freezing. but then again, if you hadn’t gotten sick, then this serendipitous exchange might not have occurred.

as if reading your thoughts, alhaitham asks, “did your forget your jacket?”

“i didn’t wear one.”

“why not?”

“i am immune to the cold.”

“i assume that’s why your sick.”

“i’m not sick,” you tell him. a following series of coughs proves you wrong and has alhaitham raising his eyebrows. “okay, maybe i’m a little sick.”

“maybe just a little,” alhaitham agrees with you.

you spend the remainder of the short walk in silence, and it’s only when alhaitham leaves your side to open the door to your dorm that you realize you’re back. you think that, if this were any other time, you’d be thrilled and blushing that your crush walked you back to your dorm. he even insisted upon it. a part of you is, but it’s unfortunate you can’t outwardly show it—that is, you don’t really have the energy to.

you also can’t believe this is actually happening and real. your mind is currently afloat in a realm of feverish haze, a sign that you need a nap, but before you can unlock your dorm door, alhaitham pauses ourside of it.

he clears his throat and looks down at you staring up at him, like he’s a comet in the sky. “why did you come to lecture today? you’re clearly not feeling well.”

you stare at him through a sick-filled haze, like you might currently be lost in a fever dream you can’t quite wake up from. like you don’t know if it’s him asking or a fragment of your feverish imagination playing a trick on you.

“because i wanted to see you.”

the words, said so innocently, echo in alhaitham’s ears. you look as if you’ve either forgotten what you just said or unsure if you said anything at all. in the back of his mind, alhaitham wonders if him prying you for your feelings on him would also be a moral debate for the philosophers, but decides to press a little harder, dig a little deeper.

“why did you want to see me?”

“because…” you hesitate, tilt your head, consider the question. “because i like you?”

like the statement from earlier, it comes out as a question. as if it’s something obvious that you’re having a hard time believing alhaitham doesn’t know. as if it’s a simple truth, like the sky is blue, so simple it shouldn’t need explanation.

if you weren’t so sick right now, you might have blushed and looked down at your shoes before blinking up at him through your eyelashes and saying something coy. but like alhaitham realized earlier, you have little to no filter right now.

“i’m going to take a nap,” you tell him, before unlocking your door, waving goodbye, and shutting it firmly in his face.

alhaitham blinks, looks around for a second, then focused on your closed dorm door. he thought you might have liked him—especially when you started glancing at him more during lecture, and even asked to be his partner for a homework assignment. but could he really trust a confession from you in your addled state?

alhaitham shrugs and turns away from the door and walks down the hallway to his own room. when he enters, his roommate looks at him inquisitively, because alhaitham’s blushing, and alhaitham never blushes like this, but he brushes him off. alhaitham decides he’ll ask you again for confirmation when you’ve recovered, just to make sure.

but now he’s starting to feel sick, and wonders if he also might have a fever—from whatever sickness you have or a newfound lovesickness, he can only hypothesize. (it’s probably the latter.)

#genshin impact #genshin impact headcanons #genshin impact x reader #genshin headcanons #genshin impact fluff #genshin fluff #genshin imagines #genshin x reader #genshin impact x you #genshin impact alhaitham headcanons #alhaitham headcanon #alhaitham headcanons #alhaitham imagines #alhaitham x you #alhaitham fluff #alhaitham x reader #al haitham fluff #genshin impact alhaitham #alhaitham #al haitam x reader #alhaitham x y/n #alhaitham imagine #genshin impact imagines

[rensblade]

𝐒𝐎𝐍𝐆𝐁𝐈𝐑𝐃.

⟢ warnings/notes: husband! jing yuan x gender neutral! reader. toothrotting fluff, cute domestic banter tbh. husband yuan nation, please rise. not proofread, we die like tingyun. might be ooc. pls lmk if i got any of the hsr terminology wrong.. appreciate any type of feedback & please please pleaseee send me reqs if u have any ✩

“beloved, am i really that bad of a general?”

the all too familiar baritone of your husband’s voice fills in your ears, as you raise your gaze from the distance, only to watch him sulk from where he was sat upon the seat of divine foresight.

to anyone that squints, would be graced upon a phenomenon all too odd— jing yuan, one of seven arbiter generals, pouting.

“and what.. exactly makes you think so, ‘yuan?” you already knew the answer, but you still entertained the fact he was pouting, almost comically the same way yanqing does, when you deny him from making impulsive sword purchases.. or the same way mimi, your household lion, scrunches up her face and paws at your clothes when you tell her that she won't get any more snacks for the night.

said man sits up from where he's at, and abruptly makes his way down to where you're seated— at his desk. sorting through some of the things unattended earlier during his earlier escapade to fyxestroll garden.

“well.. you know.” he deadpans, staring down at you. you have to keep in a giggle, finding the way he waited so patiently for you to finish with the work at your side, almost akin to your precious lion who does the same.

you heave a sigh, but in an amused way, as you stack the last documents into a neat pile and turn in your chair, and upon being graced with your attention; your lover nearly falls dramatically into your arms.

“i can't help but think i should just hand over my resignation early. you know what, fu xuan probably saw this coming,” he fake-wails, as you caress his hair, cooing at the man who was currently at your feet.

eventually, he relents, when you tug a little hard on his fluffy white mane. “darling.. is this about cirrus?” the mere mention of the heliobus makes jing yuan glower, and you practically have to bite back your laughter at the expression, opting to clear your throat instead.

he stays silent for a second, then scrunches his face. “..absolutely not,” he retaliates in a serious tone. then, he slumps forward again, almost nuzzling into your lap as he tries to hypothesize. “it's just. i need some constructive criticism, before i actually hand over my position to someone else, you know,” he reasons, but you know better.

“right, why of course.” you humor him a little bit longer. pushing the general’s buttons has always been your favorite past time activity.

he pulls away, getting on his feet before he gathers your hands into his and gives you a solemn look. “you get me, my love. this is why we're married.”

that makes you crack a smile. jing yuan only raises a brow, but returns the smile nevertheless, a little hesitant. “yuan, i love you, but. you mean solid constructive criticism like.. i don't know, maybe it's about time you retired and took a big fat cat nap?” you suggest with a snort, and jing yuan simply huffs. (yeah, mimi definitely got the attitude from her dad).

you shake your head, dragging him to sit next to you as you elaborated. “in all seriousness.. you're not a bad general. not a bad mentor, father or husband, jing yuan. don't let that silly heliobi’s words get to your head.” the tall man, lets you cup his face, squishing his cheeks as you pepper kisses across them, as if to prove your point.

he simply gathers your form up into his arms, holding you tightly and you can't help but relax into the warmth he emits. he's truly a big cat. “you know, i’m starting to think this must be how birds that nest in your hair must feel.” you point out with a false-huff, after a minute of silence.

jing yuan chuckles at that, purposely tugging you by the waist; flush closer against his torso as he nuzzles into you— pale locks of his hair cloud your vision. “why, of course. a wise, little sparrow, you are.” he snuggles against you, golden eyes softening as they examine your reactions. “in fact, my favorite.” the baritone of his words send a pleasant wave of warmth through your body, you can feel him smile against your skin as he litters little kisses here and there.

to be fair, if you were held prisoner in his gentle yet steady hold forever, you were more than willing to be reduced to a mere bird, for eternity. okay, and maybe you would miss making snarky rebuttals at the general, but that's about it.

as you're resting yourself against him, a thought crosses your mind, and you'd bask in the silent affection but your loud thoughts cut you short. “and for the record, you still should've let me kick cirrus’s butt.” as expected, a hearty laugh booms from the man’s chest, the vibrations making your body tingle.

“i love you.” he says, practically purring, as the gigantic man nuzzles even further into the crevice of your neck, pressing yet another kiss to the spot he loves. his hair tickles your neck, but you love the familiarity of it all.

what a heavenly life you live, as the general’s personal songbird.

rensblade, 2023. please do not steal my writings or headers, i put a lot of effort into this. reblogs & comments are appreciated! pls send me asks/reqs, i write for most genshin or hsr or jjk characters as of now. thank u once again <3

#jing yuan #jing yuan x reader #jing yuan fluff #jing yuan imagines #jing yuan imagine #jingyuanimagine #hsr x reader #hsr x you #honkai star rail x reader #jing yuan x gender neutral reader #jing yuan drabbles #hsr fluff #jing yuan headcanons #jing yuan brainrot #jingyuan fluff #jingyuan x reader #jing yuan scenarios #luofu #xianzhou luofu #honkai star rail

[indigovigilance]

Bullet Theory

Thesis: Crowley passed Aziraphale a bullet during the Final Fifteen kiss. This bullet contains his memories. He tucked it under his tongue, then began to access the memories during the ride up the elevator.

Edit: debunked by God himself, in response to this post. As a reminder, please don’t send fan theories to NG.

Proof:

Glint in the mouth

Inspo credit to this post by @somehow-a-human

Yeah so we were already paying way too much attention to that very special four-letter word we thought Aziraphale was going to say, but it so happens that during that cut-off phoneme is the only time you can see this shiny object in his mouth. (catching this on the right frame was emotionally painful and I’m sending Gavin Finney my therapy bills (actually no I’m not I love you very much sir)).

So that’s the basis of this theory. Crowley passed Aziraphale a bullet that he then tucks under his tongue.

Add’l Evidence Post-Kiss

Aziraphale works his jaw after raising his fingers to his lips: [gif]

Then when the Metatron comes in, he turns his back on the Metatron and raises his hand. I originally thought he was wiping his eyes. Now I think he’s raising his hand to his mouth, maybe to spit out the bullet, maybe to make sure it’s secured under his tongue.

Credits Scene

Aziraphale has the craziest fucking look on his face through the credits, we can all agree. But towards the end, his eyes flicker back and forth, as if he is watching or reading something. Then he smiles. I hypothesize that he is still accessing his memories during this time, and getting the information he needs to [redacted].

Thematic Justification: The Bullet Catch

Aziraphale having a bullet in his mouth as part of a two-man act of deception is not a fresh concept by the time we get to The Final Fifteen.

Additionally, the use of surreptitious modes of communication, where messages are passed from person to person inaudabily, is introduced in this same magic trick. 

NB1: I wish I could credit the person who I first saw point this out (relatively recently). It wasn’t even tagged as meta, I don’t think. But the gist was there’s some parallelism between “aim for my mouth but shoot past my ear” and the “pin the lips on the lips” move that Crowley pulls in the Final Fifteen. If I find it I will properly cite.

NB2: One hypothesis that has circulated around, I think creditable to @sendarya, is that Aziraphale mouths “trust me” to Crowley just before he gets on the elevator. This isn’t necessary to the Bullet Theory but it would be thematically consistent.

Small objects carry memories

Why a bullet? Well, it’s a small object that has meaningful significance between the pair of people involved, much like:

Beelzebub introduces us to the idea that a small object like a fly can be used as a storage container for memories. We also see that the object entering the body of the person is a viable way for the memories to be delivered.

(btw Jon Hamm if you’re reading this, you have very pretty eyes)

“I keep a derringer in a hollowed out book”

K, so it’s not like Crowley is just carrying a bullet loaded with Aziraphale’s memories around with him at all times, is it? (I mean, it could be, but probably not. I’ll just point you to this meta for my theories on why, if Crowley had anything that needed to be kept safe, he would keep it in the bookshop.)

We learn in S2E4 that Aziraphale keeps a gun in a hollowed out book somewhere in the shop. A gun wouldn’t be any good without bullets, right? This may not be the reason the derringer was left as a Chekhov’s Gun for S3, but it’s a possibility. If Crowley wasn’t already in possession of a bullet, he knew that he could find one in the shop. Even more likely, the exact bullet used in the 1941 magic trick is a precious keepsake being kept somewhere in the bookshop, and Crowley chose to use that exact bullet because of the memories already directly attached to the object.

Why Aziraphale even has memories to be returned to him

We know that Aziraphale could have had his mind wiped because Heaven has done it before. Certainly once. Probably twice. We know this because when Metatron is announcing that Gabriel, alongside having his memories erased, is being demoted to 38th class, Muriel pipes up and reminds us that they are 37th class:

So this wasn’t a “just Gabriel” thing. Mind-wiping is a routine form of personnel management in Heaven. There is NO reason for us to believe that it didn’t happen to Aziraphale. But in case you need a reason to believe it, here goes:

We know from our interactions with Jim that the person whose memories are missing (1) doesn’t necessarily know and (2) isn’t necessarily distressed by that fact, even if they do. Muriel also fits this “cheerful empty shell” archetype. You know who else does? Ding ding ding. The one and only A. Z. “wiggles with delight” Fell.

I can already hear your very valid counter-argument. This guy is actually terrified out of his mind on any given day that his romance with a demon will be discovered. Yes. Because he’s involved in a romance with a demon. The other two angels we’ve met don’t have this issue. Beyond that, though, these three characters share more in common with each other disposition-wise than any of them do with the other angels we’ve met (Uriel, Michael, Sandolphon, etc.).

We also know that Aziraphale has been [demoted] at some point from Cherub to Principality. This is book canon: 

"Technically Aziraphale was a Principality, but people made jokes about that these days."

This has also been confirmed (insofar as Neil Gaiman ever confirms anything) by Word of God:

(marketing video screengrab clipped for brevity)

We don’t know for sure it was a demotion, but I think we have enough evidence to infer that with a high degree of confidence.

Anyways.

Summary: Aziraphale is a cheerful angel who was demoted and has a name that is not biblical canon. This evidence indicates that was probably mind-wiped. This is not the first time I’m proposing this. It won’t be the last.

How Crowley Did It

My meta on Continuity Errors gives the complete proof for why I believe that Crowley is able to stop time without Aziraphale knowing, and I propose in that meta that the kiss was a cover-up for the exertion of effort necessary to pull that off. I further proposed that during the pause, he retrieved something from the bookshop. At the time of writing, I didn’t know what. Now, I have an inkling that it was a bullet.

If you need a refresher on Clock Theory, here’s one. The idea is that the clock behind Aziraphale shifts by fifteen minutes from before the kiss to after the kiss. This is consistent with a theory that Crowley paused time (but the clock kept running) in order to retrieve the bullet, dump Aziraphale’s memories into it if he hadn’t already, and then return to transfer the bullet to Aziraphale.

Why Crowley Kept the Secret So Long

As with Continuity Errors, I am ending this meta with a very unsatisfactory “I don’t know.” The motivation for Crowley to keep Aziraphale’s memories from him until the very moment he’s about to leave must have been a strong one. I think it has something to do with why Crowley was so insistent on trying to get Aziraphale to run away with him, instead of dealing with whatever’s coming. But as with Continuity Errors, I suspect that the good omens meta hivemind (and the vast collection of people who are posting clues, you have no idea how important you are) will assemble yet more breadcrumbs that we can follow to some sort of hypothesis.

Until then,

iv

(here's my meta index if you would like to read more stuff like this)

#good omens meta #bullet theory #the final fifteen #crowley #aziraphale #good omens gabriel #good omens muriel #good omens #good omens 2 #ineffable husbands #good omens theory #good omens speculation #good omens analysis #good omens clues

[melbatron5000]

Wild theory, hold on.

(Please do not take any of my theories to Neil himself! Don't do it!)

I've already hypothesized that Crowley and Aziraphale have been working on a plan since Armaggedidn't in season 1. Here's where I go off the rails a little bit. Come along.

Saraqael is part of the plan. She's in on it.

I have only hints and suspicions, not too much for Clues, but hear me out.

In this post, we see a weird movement between buildings behind Shax. Almost like . . . a person in a floating wheelchair coming around the corner? And Crowley is in his spy turtleneck. He's doing something spyish. Meeting an angel he's not supposed to have a connection to, perhaps? About something that maybe interests both of them? Like, not having a second end of the world?

And in this post, we see that Saraqael has opened a spy porthole onto the book shop -- but the picture in the apy porthole is in 2019.

I do not think for a moment that tiny, weenie half-a-miracle-each accidentally blew up into a 25 lazarii miracle. I think someone else at around the same time did a huge miracle, someone powerful, someone who no one is supposed to know about -- or at least, doing something no one is supposed to know about -- and Saraqael hid it the best she could.

Show the arc angels the book shop when Adam reset it. You know, after it burned in 2019. That would be some crazy big miracle energy.

Then go to Earth with the arc angels and nudge Aziraphale into taking responsibility for the miracle. He's good at lying to them, after all, he can come up with something quick. And who is it that says, "Don't tell me you did it?" Why, sarcastic Saraqael. Translation, "tell them you did it, or we're screwed." And Aziraphale jumps right in and says yes, I did that.

Then send someone who won't give back good reports to verify the miracle. Saraqael, why would you send Muriel? Muriel is so sweet and naive, she won't come up with anything she shouldn't.

Then when Crowley is searching around in Heaven, who does he run into but his (doesn't exist) contact? And she tries to give him a reason to recognize her, they worked on the Horsehead nebula together. And he laughs and says, I meet a lot of people. He doesn't need her cover story, he'll just play dumb. She kind of snorts and shakes her head, she tried to give him an out but he took his own way. Headstrong demon.

When the Metatron shows up, who recognizes him? No one but Crowley and Saraqael. Could be because they just watched the trial, could be because they've been actively working together against him for years now. Hard to say. Hard to say. I honestly didn't recognize him in a full human form for a hot minute, it's not like it's impossible to imagine no one would know him. But those two do. Feels important to me.

I don't know if I'm right, but I'm suspicious now. What are they hiding? Who was doing a big miracle that needed covering up? Whatever was the miracle for?

Also, this. More evidence. They are up to something.

#good omens #good omens 2 #crowley #good omens meta #aziraphale #good omens analysis #good omens fan theory #saraqael #25 lazarii miracle #miraculous plume #ineffable mystery #good omens speculation #good omens clues #do not ask neil about this

[lostalioth]

𝐠𝐨𝐨𝐝 𝐛𝐨𝐲

→ premise: it’s just so easy to overstimulate peter, especially with how sensitive he is when his spidey sense is on overload.

→ paring: tasm!peter parker x fem!reader – sub!peter

→ warnings: smut, overstimulation, praise [praising peter], oral [m & f receiving], hair pulling [reader pulling peters hair], nicknames [bug boy, baby, princess]

→ a/n: 01 kinktober

Peter loves being between your beautiful thighs. He can spend hours upon hours with his face buried in your cunt, pleasuring you. you had no issue with that in the beginning but it became an issue when even after he made you cum twice, he hasn’t stopped.

“Mhm! Pete, wait, slow down just a bit baby” you whimpered as Peter wouldn’t slow his mouth's assault on your abused and swollen clit. You were already very sensitive and overstimulated, you didn’t wanna cum again just yet so you needed him to be a bit gentler. In an attempt to steady your shaking body you grip onto the closest thing your hands could find, Pete's hair. Threading your fingers through his brown mess of hair and pulling a bit. With a small whine slipping past his lips he reluctantly lets go of your clit and looks up at you with glossed over eyes. “Easy bug boy” you grin, your voice coming out very seductive and hypothesizing to the now very pliable boy buried between your legs. “I just want to please you princess please” He groans and pushes forward trying to latch his mouth back on your throbbing clit. With the grip you still had on his hair you pull him back releasing a small moan from Peter's.

“Nuh uh, you've pleased me enough baby, made me cum like a good boy” He lets out a whimper at the praise and his face begins to redden. “Now let me please you baby boy okay, let me make you feel good” you smirk and let go of his hair to pull him up by arm.

“Yes please” he frantically nods with his eyes glued to you the whole time you pull him up. You slip your hand around the back of his neck and pull his face down to yours, resting your forehead against his. Peter's brain is very hazy and all he can focus on is your hands all over his body. Quickly you flip the two of you so you’re on top of him, you begin sliding down his body. You slip one hand up and under his shirt to rub his side and one down to tug the waistband of his boxers down. Peter whines and bucks his hips softly. “Be a good boy for me baby, can you do that?” You ask slightly mockingly as you finish tugging off his boxers and wrap your hand around his leaking pink cock.

With his face full of heat and redness he whines as an answer. “I need words sweet boy” you run your thumb over the slit in his cock causing him to twitch in your hands. “Please princess wanna be your good boy, wanna feel good” he groans as his eyes dart between your hand around him and your face. “There you go sweet baby, im gonna take such good care of you.” You smile up at your boy as he begins melting into your touch needing more. you begin licking strips from the base of his balls to the tip of his cock making him buck his hips. seeing the desperate look in peters eyes makes an evil smirk grow on your face, it still makes you give in to him in the end.

You slowly sink your mouth down onto him while running your tongue over the protruding vein on the underside of his cock. “Mhmm princess” Peter grunts and covers his mouth with the backside of his hand to suppress a wanton moan. Using the hand that’s still wrapped around Peter you begin jerking off the base of his cock sense you can't fit all of him in your mouth. Your free hand began rubbing his hip bone, you can feel the goosebumps beginning to rise on his skin. You notice Peter is a lot more reactive and sensitive to your touch as you're sucking him off. “Such a good boy for me, being so responsive and obedient baby boy” you continue to mumble praises around his cock sending vibrations through his body.

The praises filled Peter's ears and sounded like heaven and he was quickly becoming overstimulated from the warmth of your mouth around him, the praise going to his head and his cock, and everything around him felt like it was buzzing. His spidey sense was quickly overactive.

Peters hips kept bucking and was a squirming, whining, muttering mess in your hands the closer his release came.he sounded so angelic moaning and mumbling how sensitive he was and how overstimulated he was wanting you to stop but not stop. His senses were very confused and his brain was clouded so he couldn’t think straight. “I’m right here sweet boy, such a good boy baby. Just let go you’re okay. I know your sensitive but its okay baby” you rub circles on his hipbone attempting to clam him down but he only twitches from your touch.

With one last tug of his cock peter starts to fall to pieces. Incoherently mumbling, panting and whimpering as his hot cum shoots down your thorat. You swallow around him as his hip are twitching as his high slowly fades, your mouth not leaving him yet though. You attempt to slowly and gentle remove your mouth to not stimulate his swollen tip but fail. Peter lets out a loud whimper at the stimulation. “I’m sorry baby” your voice is laced with sympathy but you weren’t actually sorry, he was very cute and needy when overstimulated.

“You were such a good boy for me sweeties, my sweet boy did an amazing job” you pull your body up to give him a big kiss, making him whine cause his senses are still overloaded.

a/n: hope you all enjoyed the first day of my kinktober lovelies!

#tasm fic #tasm peter parker #tasm!peter x reader #lostalioth kinktober #peter parker spiderman #tasm andrew garfield #tasm!peter parker oneshot #tasm!peter smut #tasm!peter parker #kinktober day 1 #tasm!spiderman x you #tasm!peter imagine #tasm fanfiction #smut #day 1 #peter!3 #peter parker #peter parker scenario #sub!peter parker #peter parker blurb #tasm!peter parker blurb #drabble #blurb #this isnt my favorite #reblog please #peter!3 x reader #f!reader #andrew garfield blurb #andrew peter parker #andrew garfield imagine

[falconcoast]

gift shopping | al-haitham x reader

day one. gift shopping ft. al-haitham.

event masterlist

your boyfriend truly doesn’t understand why you insist on shopping at the mall when you could do it online. you show him why by the end of it. 

a/n: IM LATE i know i had practice today T_T enjoy the first of the home for the holidays drabbles!

al-haitham really doesn’t get it.

with the conveniences of modern technology, he doesn’t understand why he needs to get up out of his reading chair, bundle up into a scarf, get in the car to drive, and get presents. hell, he had even bought a mug for cyno that read “world’s worst joke teller”. but you seem happy, so he goes along with it anyways.

arriving at the mall, there’s a sparkle in your eyes. you had always loved the holidays, he muses while threading your hands together. al-haitham was never one for going on shopping trips like you, but he hypothesized that you had some nostalgia for buying gifts in-store rather than online.

you first drag him into one of the department stores, where he swears there are a million people crowding the aisles. after a few minutes of shuffling around, you land in the shoe section. he leans against the wall, preparing for you to go through at least fifty pairs and require him to give his opinion on all of them.

for the first five minutes, you rapidly sort through all sorts of shoes, from flip-flops to high heels, to sneakers. eventually, you settle on a pair of pale blue flats. observing them carefully, you tilt your head. “whaddya think?” you ask, presenting them to him. “do you think nilou would like them?”

al-haitham knows that nilou would like anything you got her, but he decides to spare your feelings. “the blue color goes well with her color palette,” he nods.

soon after, he’s walking out of the store with a neatly wrapped shoe box. he’s slightly peeved that the glitter is coming off of the bright red bow, but he’s too focused on you to care.

he’s beginning to understand why you like shopping so much. the mall always has some flashy advertisements around the corner, and you’re easily swayed by the brightly colored sale signs. certainly a marketing tactic, al-haitian muses.

you weave through the mall. a stop at the flower shop and tea store for an egret orchid and curated peach tea bags for tighnari. a go around at another shop for a pair of golden earrings for candace. at the toy store, you picked up a rather complex puzzle for nahida and a nearly hundred-dollar tcg deck pack for cyno.

admittedly, al-haitham wondered about his own gift. as you practically climbed up the bookshelf to reach for an anthology for layla, he spoke up. “may i know what you’re getting me?”

“sweetheart, that ruins the purpose of a present,” you deadpanned as you leaped off of the bookshelf. “but, if you wanna know a little more about them, i can say i bought them months ago.”

“months ago?” he asked incredulously. he says it as if he hadn’t been planning out your gift since the beginning of the year: a series of love letters, one for every day on the calendar. there are also the matching golden chain necklaces, and an all-expenses paid trip to fontaine, but he knew you also went all out on your gifts for him in years previous.

his perplexed expression pleases you, and you continue to scale up the shelf for more books.

he continues to think about his gift, all while understanding why you like shopping in person more than you do online. you pointed out each store to him, telling him where you got all of your presents last year. perhaps you have a nostalgia for shopping as well, he thinks.

after finally getting everything you need, al-haitham can barely see over the top of the original shoebox you got at the first store. he waddles alongside you, hands full with bags upon bags and arms full of perfectly wrapped boxes. it’s almost comical to watch the two of you walk alongside each other. suddenly, you stop, sending him into a frantic state to balance everything.

“oh, archons,” you groaned, smacking a hand on your face. “i forgot that i wanted to run and get a new pin cushion for collei. she mentioned a few weeks ago that she wanted one. i’m sorry, darling, but would you mind staying put for a while? it won’t take more than five minutes, i promise!”

“quickly now,” he says, shifting the weight of the boxes. he doesn’t really mean it when you flash him a brilliant smile and kiss him on the cheek; for all he cares, you could spend another six hours there and wouldn’t be annoyed.

he lets out a breath as you leave, deciding to lean up against the wall to support himself. for a moment, he considers putting some of the bags down. pursing his lips, he begins to contemplate this before looking up.

“just the right gift!” the advertisement banner reads above the jewelry store in which you had purchased candace’s earrings. curiously, al-haitham looks at the product on display.

a shining, diamond ring is on show. the band is gold, and the diamond is cut into a cushion shape. smaller studs dot the band, cradled by the delicately crafted metal. his mouth drops as if coming to a grand revelation. the perfect gift indeed, he thinks.

“i’m back--oh? what’s got you starstruck?” you ask as you return with a tiny box. you place it on top of the stack, smiling at the ridiculousness of it.

you look at him expectantly, a grin still on your face. for once, the linguist is without words. any attempts to formulate a sentence fail, and he shakes his head with a reserved smile. “just thinking about your gift,” he says, kissing you on the forehead.

al-haitham will certainly go shopping in person for your final gift. after all, the smile that will be on your face when you receive it is well worth getting up out of his reading chair for.

#genshin impact x reader #genshin x reader #genshin impact #al haitham x reader #al-haitham x reader

[doegirly]

⭐️ free yes / no readings + astrology notes!

i’m offering free yes / no question readings & notes about your natal chart in order to further my craft! please note that this is practice for me, so kind feedback is wanted + appreciated.

for the yes / no question readings:

do not ask about things that may take place over a month into the future, as i feel i’m not strong enough quite yet to get a read that far ahead

one question at a time please!

please keep the questions personal. it has to ultimately relate more to you than to another party. for example instead of asking “does x like me back?” you could ask “should i pursue x?” or “are my advances towards x welcomed?”.

if i feel a question is too complex for just me, i will still answer you but i will offer some accounts from which you can get a second opinion :) just so that you have multiple views on it.

i would appreciate it if you would include a set of initials / a name / a sign off, your rising sign, any context you deem necessary, + the password at the bottom of this post.

for the astrology notes:

don’t ask me questions! just let me observe and hypothesize, please. my aim is to gain more understanding of how everything comes together.

you can, however, ask me to focus on a specific planet in a specific sign in a specific house. “what are your thoughts on this placement?” is a question always welcomed and adored.

you may send your whole chart, parts of your chart; whatever you wish for me to focus on. i would prefer if you have 1 or 2 specific placements you want notes on, but it’s not required.

again, i would appreciate it if you would include a set of initials / a name / a sign off and the password below.

please don’t ask for astrological notes + a reading in the same ask, thank you <3

congrats! you made it to the end of the post! i thank you for your reading of all the rules. the password is cervidae, as that genealogy is dear to me. just include it in your ask somewhere when you send it in. thank you!

#my post #free readings #astrology #astro observations #tarot readings #tarot #astro placements #astro community

[witchyafterdark]

The Statute of Secrecy 📜

Disclaimer: This is just my personal opinion. I'm sorry if this was answered late but... I just wanted to answer this properly. And perhaps a late birthday post! 🎉 I'd love to hear more thoughts in the comments section or give me more asks!

The anon was pertaining to a previous post of mine, which you can find here.

Once again, this is a very, very long post. ✨ Please take your time!

Thank you so much for sending me this ask. This is my first one ever, and I couldn't be happier! You have no idea how long I've been stewing on this topic but didn't know where to start.

Let's talk about it! I originally just wanted to post my vague take about this topic but I got to thinking 🤔 If we're really going to talk about this, let's delve deep into it, and get all the proper information out. Lots of people are divided about this statute; some in agreeance, some in complete opposition.

Also, I know that I'm no expert in the areas of government that I'm going to mention here. But I think I have a decent handle on the topic at hand, and for once, I'd like to put my degree on International Relations and Politics to good use!

What is the Statute of Secrecy?

According to the wiki, the International Statute of Wizarding Secrecy (commonly shortened to Statute of Secrecy) was a law in the Wizarding World that was first signed in 1689, then established officially in 1692. The purpose of this law was to safeguard the wizarding community from Muggles, and hide its presence from the world at large. This statute was inveterated by the International Confederation of Wizards — which is the equivalent of the United Nations in the muggle world.

The ultimate reason as to why this law had to be made and laid down in the 17th century was due to the severe Wizard-Muggle relations at that time. Witch trials were at an all-time-high across European nations. It was said that, "...[witches and wizards] that offer to aid their muggle neighbors with the use of magic was tantamount to volunteering to fetch the firewood for one's own funeral pure." This was evident in the many witches and wizards that were imprisoned and sentenced to death on the charge of practicing witchcraft.

On top of that, there had also been a time of widespread persecution of wizarding children by muggles, and both witches and wizards being forced by muggles to perform and teach magic for the latter's benefit; thus, increasing the numbers of persecution that inevitably included those of muggles mistakenly tried and burned as witches. At this point in time, the Wizarding World had to establish interventional measures.

During that period, Great Britain was ruled by King William III alongside his wife, Queen Mary II. There was a time during their reign when the newly-created Ministry of Magic attempted to convene with the muggle British Monarchy via a special Ministry Delegation. The British Wizarding World went as far as begging the muggle monarchy for the protection of wizards under muggle law. Of course, this attempt had failed, which promptly resulted in the collective decision of Wizardkind to voluntarily remove themselves from muggle societies, and went towards the direction of hiding and secrecy.

Now that the historical background of this law has been covered, let's now talk about what would happen if the Statute of Secrecy were to be abolished; which will make the Wizarding World known to all muggles. (Again, these are my personal views and hypotheses, backed by ample amount of research from both sides of the debate).

Of course, in an ideal world, we would all be accepting of each other, holding hands and singing Kumbaya. 😀🤝😀

But given the current status of wars we're facing today, we have to be honest with each other here. The power of love and acceptance is not going to be enough if the muggles themselves cannot even reach an amicable understanding between themselves. And this is without magic to begin with!

So, what will happen if the Wizarding World were to reveal themselves to the muggles?

I. Economic Repercussions

There are so many bases to cover when it comes to the economic impact of what the abolishment of the Statute would entail. If the Wizarding World were to reveal their truth during this time, I can only imagine the economic upheaval both the muggle and wizards will face. Assuming that the Wizarding World would unveil themselves today, year 2023, these are the highly anticipated events that may occur:

1. At least half of the Muggle jobs will be obsolete

The first that comes to mind are people who work blue-collar jobs. I believe they will be hit the hardest in the event that magic will be known.

Why would you need a couple of dozen of construction workers (who work at a slower pace, and costs more) if you have magic to do if for you; which is considerably cheaper, faster, more efficient, and safer for all who are involved? Sure, wizarding engineers do exist as Hogwarts was built both by hand and magic. But for the most part? Utilizing magic to build and construct infrastructure will be far easier and faster than its muggle counterparts. This alone would affect the economy of manual labor of the muggle workforce.

How about housekeepers? Servers? Customer service? Handymans? They are surely the backbone of our society. But with the integration of magic, again, it would be cheaper to hire one witch or wizard to do the job, and it would be faster if magic was involved with stacking grocery goods into shelves, enchanted clothing stores that automatically alter your clothes to your size and shape, and a swish of the Scouring Charm (a charm used for cleaning and washing things) will inevitably cut the muggle labor-force into considerable numbers.

Didn't we see the Leaky Cauldron's tables being cleaned and chairs being put up by one wizard? A restaurant wouldn't need lots of servers if this would be the case. That alone would wreak havoc on muggle economy. (Less workers = less income tax revenue for the muggle government).

We've seen in real life how the recent pandemic messed with our economic recovery simply because the service industry was not wholly available as it used to be during pre-pandemic times. Everything else became impossibly expensive and difficult to obtain.

2. Pharmaceutical Corporations and Insurance Companies

Come on, now. We all know this is a gargantuan beast to tackle.

The first thing that came to mind are the magical creatures and plants that will be harvested to extinction if the muggles knew of their medicinal properties. Poaching will be at an its height (poor Poppy) with both muggles and crooked wizards selling and auctioning these creatures for mass breeding programs. There will be a race to find and get ahold of the rarest magical creatures, such as the Phoenix, Unicorn, and some species of Dragons and Winged Horses.

Wizarding potioneers and apothecaries will be reaping the benefits of this, of course, but they will be swamped with millions (if not, billions) of desperate muggles who are in search of cures for their ailments. Skele-Gro for immediate regrowth of bone-related accidents, Wiggenweld for the immediate treatment of open wounds and post-operative incisions, and the Forgetfulness Potion and Draught of Peace for patients who are suffering PTSD or any other trauma-related symptoms; just to name a few.

But the most dangerous part is that there will be a race for the recreation of the Philosopher's Stone. This is the key to create the Elixir of Life. And this is something both the wizarding world and the muggle world will fight to the death over.

Muggle pharmaceutical corporations will be affected considerably due to the magical competition of potions and healing spells that are far better than some of the muggle medications. However, there are still medicines that are needed and irreplaceable at this time; such as post-operative maintenance medicine, emergency care, anti-psychotic drugs, chemotherapy, anti-seizure aid, and the like.

And as much as we all loathe our respective countries' insurance companies and policies, they are still an important factor in our economic system. These companies will also be affected by the decline of both muggle medicinal and medical procedures.

3. Doctors, Nurses, and Healthcare Professionals

In that same vein, all healthcare professionals and providers will be affected. There will be a demand for more wizarding healers than doctors, and there will be an influx of muggle patients seeking treatment from the Wizarding World. Yes, there will be muggles who will still be wary and untrusting of wizarding procedures. This will be the saving grace of the muggle doctors and nurses — but only for a little while. Once the legitimacy and credibility of wizarding medicine becomes apparent (which it will over time), lots of muggle physicians will be at a loss of employment as more and more wizarding healers will be on demand worldwide.

The bright side to this dilemma is if both wizard and muggle medical professionals learn to cooperate with one another and have an exchange of training information with each other. Wizarding healers can learn how to do first aid; such as CPR, resuscitation, defibrillation, Heimlich maneuver, etc. We also have to give lots and lots of credit to the muggles. We have survived thus far with our own studies and the sheer will to live.

And so, we also have a lot of knowledge to impart to the wizard healers. Surgery would be even more revolutionary with the brainpower of muggle surgeons and wizard healer's magic and potions; perhaps to the point where mortality rates would go even lower than what we currently have. Maybe the muggles would give the wizards an idea of replicating organs instead of relying on donors! These are some of the positives that can happen for sure.

The Wizarding World will finally get to know dentistry! 😂 I honestly can't believe they don't know the existence of dentists all the way to as late as the 1990's.

4. Transportation

Commercial air and sea travel will most definitely be hit by the presence of wizarding means of transport. Imagine: Floo Stations can be built almost entirely anywhere (from major cities to remote islands), Witches and Wizards can be hired to apparate and disapparate (making traveling much faster, given the Wizarding World could figure out a way to bypass splinching), and Portkeys can be made and sold for a price! (There had been an incident where a muggle accidentally touched a Portkey, and was transported in the middle of a Celestina Warbeck concert!)

Surely, the muggle way of transporting goods will still be there simply because there is just too many parcels and packages to deliver. But human transportation will be affected, putting a dent the industry of airlines and seafaring companies. Plus, wizarding travel methods are easier on the planet! They don't use fuel and gas to begin with.

Another thing is broom flight! Yes, it's fun for the most part. But there will need to be an entirely new set of transportation systems and rules to be implemented before it can even be introduced for public consumption. I assume it's cheaper to buy than a car, and so a lot of muggles will be enticed to opt for brooms instead of cars — and they can just hire the aid of wizards to enchant their bags with Extension Charms for their personal belongings.

But ultimately, automobile manufacturers and corporations will, once again, become obsolete. It would push for smaller car companies into bankruptcy, and the larger ones would probably have to sell their now-surplus stock of cars for a drastically cheaper price just to be sold. Can you imagine what this would do to the economy?

5. Muggle-Made Products vs. Magically Modified Products

Funny enough, I added this part last-minute. But I immediately thought about this from seeing a review of Lady Gaga's beauty brand, Haus Labs, and their "Atomic Lip Lacquer." A product review said:

I'm 100% convinced Lady Gaga found some glamour witches and hired them! This product is impossibly good and effective!

This set my idea lightbulbs off because true enough, I had sampled this product before — and it works! It's smudge-proof, transfer-proof, and the color is quite universal on a lot of skin tones. (This is not an advertisement, nor is this post sponsored by Lady Gaga). 😂

But of course, the caveat is that if this truly was enhanced by glamour witches, then there will be a problem. Right now, we know that Haus Labs probably just have really good cosmetic chemists in their lab. But if the world was to know that glamour witches can be hired to amp up certain products, there will be a power and economic impact in the market competition.

Sure, all major companies can hire their own witches and wizards to magically enhance their products. But what about small, family-owned businesses? What about those actually honest companies that pay their workers fair wages? What about small companies who rely on ethically-sourced products from indigenous communities; like woven garments and furniture? What happens to them, then? They will be obliterated by these major corporations who have the money to hire people of magic to modify their products that will ultimately (and unfortunately) overpower smaller businesses.

Even if we are to ethically buy muggle-made products in support of their honest work, it will become much more expensive to procure over time. Much like cultural products made by locals are more expensive than your factory-produced goods, even the masses will have no choice but to buy products that are magically enhanced because they're cheaper and they take less time to manufacture. And most importantly, the magical products are going to be much more effective.

Just like that Atomic Lip Lacquer.

6. Currency, Trade, and Stock Markets

This one's pretty straightforward. With the use of divination, legilimency, seers, and all sorts of other methods of prediction, the odds are in the wizards' favor. Even with muggle technology that aids them in stock market predictions, it wouldn't stand a chance against magical seers and divination. Not only that but it would wreak havoc upon the value of both muggle and Wizarding currency exchange.

Since their community is considerably smaller than the rest of the world's, their economy is pretty stable. The system of currency isn't really expounded in great detail in the books, aside from what we know that there are 29 Knuts for 1 Sickle, and there are 17 Sickles for 1 Galleon.

Interestingly, there have been systems from forums and websites that have shown the actual money exchange rates between the Wizarding and the muggle currency:

(This one, however, is no longer the actual rates because we all know that rates change daily. There used to be a website for daily conversion rates but it's currently inaccessible or have been taken down. Do try to see if this website's working by the time I published this post).

I am not an economist, and I suck at economics, but judging from how a Galleon is worth more than the Euro, the US dollar, and British pound, Wizarding currency is more powerful than muggle currencies. If the Statute would be taken down, the Galleon would now have to enter the International Stock Exchange! But the worst part is that the British Galleon is not the only Wizarding currency there is. In France, they operate with the Bezant (which was established around 1927), and in the US, they have the Dragot and the Sprink (from at least the 18th century).

Yes, Gringotts Bank do accept muggle currency for Galleons in the case that muggleborns needed to have them exchanged. But the goblins do find the way to put muggle money back into circulation. So, in reality, muggle money is worthless in the Wizarding World. Not only that, but assuming that Galleons are made from gold, that in itself will cause a lot of confusion as to how it would be converted, and which method of conversion would yield higher returns. The bottom line is that the Wizarding currency would suffer from the process of joining the muggle market.

—

🔹 Now these are the things that I can think of at the moment, but I'm sure there are tons of other things to consider. We're barely scratching the surface of the economic repercussions. Sure, there are advantages in the long run. But will the muggles and wizards even get to the long run with other factors to consider?

II. Religious Opposition

(Note: I am NOT pertaining to the derogation of any specific religion on this section of the post. Anything mentioned here is alluded to in a generic way or historical context. I am not siding nor criticizing any particular group or religious organization by refering to "real life" events; I am merely making historical references that align with the canonical events in the Harry Potter universe).

—

One of the other factors that I just mentioned is the religious opposition the Wizarding World will inevitably face. The contrasting beliefs and practices of the Wizarding World against the muggle religious organizations is the prime reason why the International Statute of Secrecy had to be made to begin with.

There are extensive historical references, records, and studies about the subject of the European Witch Hunts and Trials that go way back to the 1400's. There was a book — which is famous, even today — that is considered as the "handbook" of identifying, capturing, torturing, and executing a witch in captivity. This is called the Malleus Maleficarum, also known as the 'Hammer of Witches.'

It is because of this book that tens of thousands of people, 80% of them were women, have been put to death. Inevitably, this became the ultimate cause why the Wizarding World have decided to completely go into hiding. The differences in the acceptance of religious beliefs and practices were the driving force why the Statute of Secrecy had been passed and enforced.

Given that today's religious climate is arguably better than how it used to be during those days, there is a bigger and better chance that the youth will have a far greater sense of open-mindedness about the existence of witches and wizards. A lot of Millennials, Generation Z, and the oldest of Generation Alpha are scientifically considered smarter and the most educated generations in all of modern history. We are, as a collective whole, the most progressive and accepting when it comes to considering things that are unknown or are yet to be discovered. Most of us won't react with violence or have the need to gather our pitchforks against the Wizarding World.

However, the same couldn't be said for religious orders. Witchcraft and wizardry are real punishable violations under scriptures, and the history of this practice is one of dark times. If the Wizarding World is to be revealed to the masses, alongside the demonstrations of magic for everyone to witness, religious organizations will most likely take action against the Wizarding population. It would not be a surprise if religious extremists host groups of people willing to revive witch hunts and take matters into their own hands, citing holy scriptures and rights against the perceived enemy. (Keyword: Extremists; not the religious organizations as a whole).

Taking note of the political upheaval in today's warring nations (and to completely acknowledge the severity of what's going on these days without disrespecting real-life situations), muggles alone have taken part in religious crusades after another. Dominant empires of the past have conquered and colonized solitary societies who are living in peace solely in the name of their respective religions. We see this even today. It is not far-fetched to think that some (not all) factions within religious organizations will take up arms against the Wizarding World. It is easier to find a common enemy to attack and fight against. It is easier to wave white flags toward your usual enemy, and join forces to defeat the new threat.

On the other hand, we see a new wave of several revivals of pagan faiths by today's youth. More and more people participate in different forms of divination (such as tarot and astrology; here's my shameless plug: @tarotwitchy), some practice the Goetic rituals and methods of communicating with deities and spirits, others prefer to continue with their ancestors' lost pagan traditions according to their ethnic roots.

So, that is a good thing... right? Unfortunately for the youth, majority of world religious leaders are the elderly; who have grown accustomed to conservative and very traditional practices and systems. And while there's technically nothing wrong with that, I personally do not see them willing to put aside their beliefs in order to allow the Wizarding World to be acquainted and assimilated in the muggle world. Pagan and indigenous spiritual people (and those who have folk religions in their cultural heritage) have a higher chance of tolerance towards the new comers. Again, I could be wrong, and I'm very open for discussion. But the judging from the current situation of the world, muggles cannot even set aside their differences to realize that we're all human with the right to live. What more when it comes to a completely new "species" of humans that will most definitely be perceived as a threat?

III. Cultural Nuances

There are obvious cultural nuances when it comes to the acceptance of the practice of witchcraft around the world; as a matter of fact, it wouldn't be so popular in today's new age of spiritual resurgence if these nuances haven't been a part of ethnic cultures in the first place. Some countries in Asia, Africa, Eastern and Southeastern Europe, the Carribean, and in Central and South America, witchcraft is basically a part of "folk culture," wherein the practice is deeply embedded into the traditional heritage of the people. Some cultures do not necessarily look upon witchcraft and wizardry as evil practices but something to respect (or at the very least, steer clear from out of ambivalence).

I can only speak for my own culture, but here in my country, located in Southeast Asia, we are part of a handful of countries that practice "folk Catholicism." This is when the influence of colonial religions have meshed alongside the natives' pagan traditions and practices. The assimilation of the two groups make for quite an interesting culture! Here, as much as 86% of the population are Catholic. But in spite of the clear-cut religious law that witchcraft and wizardry are not to be tolerated, the indigenous roots of folk practices can never be forgotten nor erased. For example, whenever the Church has done all they could do to help someone under spiritual attack, most people would turn to the ancient pagan practices for cures and solutions.

And I know we aren't the only country that does this. The Haitians and Romanians also have these practices deeply embedded in their culture. (I don't claim to expertly know about these countries, and I understand that not all citizens of those two nations practice witchcraft and wizardry). Mesoamerican culture entails the assimilation of the Catholic faith and its indigenous beliefs as well! (This was a really interesting and enlightening read for me to have researched, and people should read about it, too).

Therefore, I think majority of the muggle population around the world would have a lukewarm reception of the revelation of magic, in general. Of course, there will be fear. There will be wary people who might even spurn the existence entirely. But with how the younger generations have been extremely curious and eager to participate in these practices with an open mind, I wouldn't be surprised if the culture of the Wizarding World will be assimilated into the mainstream in just under a decade. That is, idealistically speaking, if the younger generation would really push for the human rights of the wizards as well. None of this would matter if wizards won't be given the same human rights and freedom as the next muggle. Only then would the wizards be granted the lawful freedom of practicing their own culture (besides other lawful implications and regulations).

Nevertheless, as good as that sounded on paper, greediness and envy does not have an age bracket. Both young and old will be tempted to take advantage of magic simply because it is power, in its natural form. You can see this phenomenon happening in high school students' social experiments; wherein one group of students are being given good school materials, better grades, more attention from teachers than the other group. The less "privileged" group of students began to complain and raise their concerns, and some even gave up entirely. But at the end, since their concerns were left unheard, they plotted against the other group to covet what those students have for themselves.

Of course, these feelings can somehow be justified on the perspective of the muggles. Why should the wizards have all the power? Now that they revealed themselves, they should also share their magic! These muggle concerns, in turn, will alarm and scare the Wizarding World even more. Given their respective histories, they didn't have a good parting to begin with. And this is why, on the grounds of Cultural Nuances, it would really depend on the heritage of the country or region; and how they received and perceived witchcraft and wizardry throughout their histories.

IV. Sociopolitical Upheaval and Power Vacuums

[Note: I have seen and read different takes on this issue, and I must say, there are some who see this issue in an entirely new light that I haven't considered before. Alongside my own personal research and beliefs, I will try to put all of the information together in a cohesive way. Again, all of these are the amalgamation of my own opinions and of others'. This post is for entertainment purposes only, and I am in no way pertaining or pointing fingers to a specific governmental body of any nation in real life. If there are countries mentioned in this segment, it's only because of comparison, and I'm correlating the given information that coincides with the Harry Potter universe]. 🙂

—

A little interesting fact: It was common knowledge that the Malfoys used to be staunch and vocal protesters against the Statute. Why? Well, during the time before the Statute, they enjoyed being part of high-society muggle circles that ensured the steady rise of their wealth from collecting muggle artifacts, currency, and assets. They also used to align themselves with the muggle monarchy, providing discreet (and shady) services to King William the First. The Crown rewarded these services by giving them annexed land from local landowners in Wiltshire — that's why they have a huge manor! But when the new law was passed, the Malfoys became adamant in their denials of interactions with upperclass and royalty muggles.

Now, the discovery of the existence of the Wizarding World can most certainly go in so many different directions. I'm about 99.99% sure that at least half of the world's governments would not take kindly to this shocking revelation. Personally, these are the things I think would happen from the moment witches and wizards made themselves known to the masses, to name a few:

1. Governments would be on high alert

The first thing that I can imagine happening is that the muggle world will be in a state of frenzy. The simple fact that the Wizarding World has managed to hide under the muggles' noses this entire time could make the majority believe that they are not safe at all. If the wizards have lasted this long without the muggles knowing their existence, what else could they be hiding, right? Not only would the public masses become paranoid and fearful of their surroundings, their respective governments will issue a high-alert status all over their nations.

Remember, the wizards are considered the aliens and new outsiders in this scenario. We've seen time and time again in different movies (Transformers, The Fourth Kind, Signs, 10 Cloverfield Lane, Arrival, Edge of Tomorrow, and The 5th Wave) that humans in general will employ all strategies to contain and annihilate the foreign species. And so, this is most likely the first thing muggle governments would do. It wouldn't be far-fetched if these world leaders might also go as far as to call for martial laws to their countries for total control over all citizens. But of course, this would just be a façade for what would actually happen; which is the unlawful and literal witch hunt for the wizarding population that may have been living in muggle communities.

Looking back at when the existence of aliens have been "confirmed" by the US government, most people didn't even bat an eyelash or react with frenzied panic. Given that it's because these disclosed aliens don't pose a perceived threat, most of the youth didn't really react with hostility or fear. If anything, they treated the whole thing with a tired lightheartedness. People knew all along that aliens existed. While some muggles might have an interest for learning magic, the government would treat magic as an ultimate threat against their security, AND they would covet it at the same time. Which brings us to the next point. ⬇️

2. Political upheaval, and the struggles for positions of power in the government

Personally, I don't see fair play happening at all. The first thing that I thought of is assassinations. Dark witches and wizards for hire will do the bidding of high-ranking muggle officials "under the table." That is if the Wizarding World will even allow themselves to be henchmen for long. Can you imagine: the only reason why wizards would "work" for muggles is to truly get to know the entire system from top to bottom, then dismantling everything themselves? National security would be compromised, muggle protective and intelligence agencies will be on red alert, targeting all of the Wizarding World (even the good ones). It will all just be a disaster.

{I wanted to get into the entire Warfare and Security Issues but this post has gotten so long already. So, if anyone is interested in seeing that, I can insert that in another post. Maybe a presentation?}

Solution?

1. Develop a whole 'International Muggle Affairs and Intelligence Agency' for all Ministries of Magic.

As far as I know, the British Ministry of Magic only has TWO offices that cater to handling muggle affairs — not even official departments! One is the Misuse of Muggle Artefacts Office (the same one where Arthur Weasley is working for), and the other is Muggle Liaisons Office (which is more like catastrophe-handlers office at this point. They're in charge of fixing the collateral damages wizards have caused to the muggle world than anything).

But what they need the most is a wizard equivalent of a CIA or FBI. They need to be on top of all muggle affairs in each region and continent. There is a Japanese Ministry of Magic (since they also have Mahoutokoro School). They should work with other neighboring Asian wizarding bodies to stay on top of political, social, economic, and technological developments of the muggle world. The British Ministry of Magic should also get off their high-horses and collaborate with neighboring European wizarding officials to maintain the latest knowledge of muggle happenings.

The only reason why the Wizarding World was unscathed during the World Wars of the muggles was because they were sequestered and protected with spells around their secret territories. But I don't think that would suffice any longer against muggle technology and nuclear weapons. Drones are everywhere, the countryside are getting more and more urbanized, and the wizards communities are getting smaller and smaller. If I were them, I wouldn't wait until the very last minute to get to understand the importance of muggle powers and knowledge. I'd get on top of it now.

2. Secret Muggle Integration Project

On top of that, I truly believe there needs to be a Ministry project that hire muggleborns to report back the situation of the muggle world to their respective wizarding ministries. They know it best, as they were born and most likely raised in those communities. They need to collect gadgets, latest hand-held weaponry, books, clothing, and other materials for the Muggle Artifacts Office to study very carefully.

The Wizarding World needs to adapt to the changing times. The muggles are already looking to the stars and neighboring solar systems for new life and possible habitation for the next generation of humanity, whilst the wizards are stuck with their narrow-minded ways. Quill and parchment, really? This isn't to scoff at traditional ways. But we all know that they are severely stuck in the middle ages. They have become complacent and comfortable with the tried and tested magical methods.

Muggles have bled and learned the hard ways of life. That's why they soared to new knowledgeable heights. Muggles weren't handed things the easy way. People died from illnesses and catastrophes and accidents; and that's when we learned to advance ourselves as a collective whole. Wizards need to understand this, and assimilate this kind of thinking in their lives if they hope to catch up with the muggle status quo, or they'll be sorry they didn't once the muggles discover them in due time.

I understand the historical bad-blood between the two factions. The primary reason why wizards cloistered themselves away from the muggles were because they were being persecuted in the first place. And it would be very insensitive to force their communities to accept the muggle ways.

That's why in my honest opinion, they shouldn't lift the Statute of Secrecy.

They should only study and be up to date with everything else that's going on in the world while maintaining anonymity and secrecy.

—————

I hope this truly provided a complete picture and breakdown of what would happen in this scenario, and I apologize that I do not agree with your position. I still hope you enjoyed this, anon! Thank you for being my very first ask.

#witchy speaks #hogwarts legacy #ominis gaunt #sebastian sallow #garreth weasley #ominis gaunt x mc #ominis gaunt x reader #sebastian sallow x mc #sebastian sallow x reader #hogwarts legacy mc #hogwarts legacy headcanon #hogwarts legacy headcanons #harry potter #hphl

[snowdice]

Finding the Time to Study Fic 2 [Day 132]

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

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

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

Note, today I’m editing things so I won’t be doing consistent uploads, just whenever I take a break.

Chapter 47

The museum ended up being interesting to Virgil. Though, this was not because any of the exhibits taught him anything more about the events they displayed. No, it was interesting to learn what history people in the 21st century cared about and how they presented past events. It was an angle he’d never really thought about studying, but he might put a pin in the idea of going to different museums from this time period to study how the 21st century viewed history.

His and Logan’s conversation quickly became a game of not only finding the mistakes made in the exhibits, but of hypothesizing why those mistakes had been made: prejudice, missing information, and unreliable secondary sources all contributed. Logan’s contributions were a whole lot less technical than the theories Virgil threw out, however he seemed to keep up well.

They spent a few hours in the museum before deciding it was time to head back to Logan’s apartment. However, not before stopping at a small hole-in-the-wall bar inhabited only by day drinkers.

“I have to bring home a peace offering after running off this morning,” he explained to Virgil when questioned. “Patton will forgive me easier if I do and will be more likely to agree to a time travel mission for me.”

“…And Patton likes… vodka?” Virgil asked with an eyebrow raise.

“No,” Logan replied, seemingly amused at the thought. “This establishment serves cheeseburgers which are apparently the ‘best in the city.’ It is the only thing they cook. They don’t even serve fries.”

Virgil gave the location a dubious look but didn’t question it. Sometimes good food was found in the weirdest of places. The best tacos he’d ever eaten had been bought out of a window on the side of a laundry mat in the late 1900s.

When Logan handed him one of the unlabeled brown paper bags that looked as though it had been dipped in hot oil instead of just its contents, Virgil shot him a raised eyebrow.

“Ah yes,” said Virgil dryly as they left the restaurant, “the quintessential 21st century American meal.”

“You once ate only bagged pepperoni slices meant for pizzas as your breakfast for an entire week,” Logan pointed out.

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

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

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

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

“Oh,” Virgil said. “Well, good.”

“I am simply citing another example where not perfectly healthy food can be good in the short term,” Logan said.

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

“Precisely,” Logan said with a smile. “Bribery to end the time distortion and get you back to the proper time.”

“Alright, fair enough,” Virgil conceded. “It’s still horrible nutrition wise.”

“You don’t have to have any if you don’t want it,” Logan promised.

“Oh, no, I’m going to,” Virgil said instantly.

Logan paused and turned to look at him. “Then why are you complaining?”

“I just thought you should know your time has much too greasy food.”

“Thank you for the information,” Logan said dryly. “I’m sure it will be very useful going forward.”

They’d made it to the apartment by then, and Logan stuffed the bag he was carrying under his arm to unlock the door.

“And where have the two of you been all morning?” Patton’s voice called as soon as the two of them walked through the door.

“I have cheeseburgers for you,” was how Logan answered, following his roommate’s voice towards the kitchen. Virgil followed in his wake.

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

“I will take your word on that,” Logan said.

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

“Virgil and I went back to the location he arrived at,” Logan told him. “There are signs that one of the devices that cause time distortions caused the crash and is still active in this time.”

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

“It seems to be a more advanced version of the devices we’ve seen so far,” Logan explained. “Which will make it much more difficult to trace.”

“Okay,” Patton said. There was still a good amount of distrust in his tone. “Then what are we going to do about it?”

“Well,” Logan said, “if we could gain access to an older version of the device, we could likely study it and reverse engineer a way to track the current one’s location.”

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

“I do understand that you have only been back from your last trip for a little over a week,” Logan said quickly. Patton was already frowning, “and that your last trip through time was a challenging one, but,” he nodded at Virgil, “we do know of the time and place one of these devices exists and I have it on good authority that you have a good chance of finding it, deactivating it, and bringing it home if you travel to Camaguey Cuba 1755.”

Patton groaned. “And judging by the obvious source of this information, I’d be stealing it off of the TPI.”

“Well, yes,” Logan admitted.

“Excellent.”

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

…

Should Virgil… say something? It’d be rude to not mention the whole time shredding almost full party drowning experience, wouldn’t it? Then again… giving him foreknowledge could be a danger to the timestream and he was going into an already messy time disturbance.

Virgil debated with himself on whether general social courtesy should trump the possible destruction of all of space and time.

…

Maybe he’d just suggest a boat if they weren’t already planning to pack him one. Just in case.

“Fine,” Patton said with a sigh, “but you’re finishing your tech updates and my survival pack before I make any jumps. I am not making the same mistakes again.”

Logan nodded. “I can do that,” he agreed. “Give me a list of what you want in your survival pack by tomorrow.”

“I’ve already been working on a list,” Patton said. “It’s in the Google Drive.” He turned back to the computer he’d been working on and typed a few things to pull up a google document. “You can add to it if you think of anything.”

Logan looked over his shoulder at the list. “…Do you really need all of this?”

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

“I will do my best,” Logan said.

“You will do it,” Patton returned.

“Right.”

Patton sighed and turned back to his laptop. “And I’ll start researching Cuba in the 1700s,” he said.

Virgil watched him pull up google on his computer. He looked at the 21st century computer and then back to Patton. He couldn’t help but think of the museum he and Logan had been to earlier, in particular, all of that museum’s inaccuracies.

“Do… you want help?” he offered.

 Chapter 48

It took a little over two weeks for Logan to get everything in order. He’d already been in the process of updating all of their equipment for quite some time, and their current situation spurned him to complete these improvements even sooner. That was easy.

What was more difficult was trying to meet all of Patton’s demands for his new survival kit. His list had already been quite long when Logan had started, but Patton had continued to add to it. It seemed like the list would be endless for a short while as Patton had been adding things as fast or faster than Logan could address them.

He’d even slipped in a request for a boat at one point despite Logan’s protests that Camaguey was nowhere near the sea.

Virgil, thankfully, didn’t seem to mind the delays too much. In fact, he may have had a hand in causing some of them. His natural inclination towards anxiety seemed to infect Patton who had already been stressed given his last trip through time. Patton’s request for the boat had come after one of their brainstorming sessions.

Virgil and Patton were spending a good amount of time together, actually, as Logan worked on supplies. Virgil had offered to help Patton with researching. While Patton was fairly good at doing his own research for time travel destinations at this point, Virgil was undeniably more experienced with that sort of thing considering his profession and his involvement with the TPI. Patton seemed to appreciate his input.

Roman, on the other hand, decidedly did not appreciate Virgil’s input on things. The two of them were prone to arguments about clothing which had gone beyond talking about Cuban clothing days ago. They were currently refusing to speak to each other after a discussion about the fabric composition of Ancient Greek clothing over dinner the night before.

Logan honestly… could not tell if these fights were friendly debates or not. There seemed to be a lot of anger around the topics, but they also seemed to enjoy their arguments to an odd degree.

Logan had inquired after Patton’s opinion on the matter, but he’d shrugged and claimed he also could not tell.

Neither Roman nor Virgil’s responses when asked directly about the nature of their relationship was helpful either, but Logan had noticed Roman slightly change the design of the outfit he’d made for Patton’s trip to Cuba.

Virgil was helpful in preparing for the mission, taking some of the stress of research off of Patton and Roman which was nice. He was not much help to Logan’s endeavors unless you counted the original intel. He had a basic understanding of mathematics and physics, but not enough to help in that regard.

He was, however, very good for company. It helped that his sleep schedule much more closely resembled Logan’s own in those weeks unlike the other occupants of the apartment. Typically, Roman and Patton went to sleep at a much earlier hour than Logan did himself and Logan would work alone in the living room. However, with Virgil living in the apartment, there was constant companionship while Logan worked. If it was less volatile company than he was used to working with, that was just a bonus.

Virgil fit into their little group in a way that Logan had not anticipated. (Well, socially he fit. Physically, there were simply not enough beds and Logan had been sleeping on the couch for over two weeks now.)

Eventually, with all of their combined efforts, everything was ready to go. Patton was supplied with three different time appropriate outfits, a good amount of knowledge about the festivities he was about to step into, new time travel equipment, and a survival pack that could help him survive in an apocalypse if needed.

Patton planned to arrive in Cuba two days earlier than the TPI protocol would dictate Janus be sent in. That way, he would have more than adequate time to get set up and acclimated before the TPI sent in their agents.

For now, however, he was busy examining his new and improved timepiece.

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

“The controls are the same configuration as on your previous device. The only thing new is the control panel to control the cloaking technology and the button to access the survival kit features.

“It looks great, Lo,” Patton said, still flexing his fingers to get used to it. He changed it to its default state of a metal band projecting the screen and then back to the time appropriate bracelet Roman had designed. There weren’t many options for the device’s form yet, but more could be designed and added in the future. For now, it only had the default band, the bracelet, and a simple wristwatch.

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

Patton nodded, flicking his fingers. He disappeared for a moment before reappearing in the same place. Then, he did it again and reappeared directly next to where he’d been standing. He did a few other simple mini trips before predictably growing bored and starting to do ‘tricks’ which mostly involved landing in ridiculous poses and “accidently” jump scaring everyone in the apartment at least twice.

Eventually, Logan confiscated the device for the evening so they could have dinner in peace.

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

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

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

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

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

“Sure,” Virgil said, “but you still all have been working really hard. Right now you’re up at 3am working on it.”

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

“Maybe,” Virgil said, “but this time you’re doing it for me, so yeah, thanks.”

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

Virgil titled his head and grinned at him. “Was that a time travel pun?” he asked.

Logan scowled instantly. “No.”

“It sounded like a time travel pun…”

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

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

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

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

“Not so loud!” Logan hissed instantly. He leaned forward to put his hand over Virgil’s mouth while glancing back towards the hallways to see if anyone was about to come storming into the living room with yet another intervention.

Logan’s hand was bit.

“Ow!” Logan exclaimed, tearing the hand away.

Despite his childish violence (or perhaps because of it), Virgil’s eyes were shining.

“How do you know?” Logan asked in a whisper. The ruse had been working on Roman and Patton for years as neither of them liked orange juice.

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

“It’s worked on everyone else,” Logan said.

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

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

Virgil titled his head back all the way, so his skull rested on the couch cushion, and he was staring straight up at Logan with his piercing hazel eyes. “Heck yeah you have,” Virgil said with a grin.

Logan was not much for sentimentality, especially not romantic sentimentality, but there was something about the shadows softening the edges of the rooms and the almost golden glint in Virgil’s eyes from the reflection of the lit lamp that suddenly made it more difficult to breathe.

Virgil was relaxed here in Logan’s apartment at 3 in the morning. His eyes were softened with sleepiness as he looked up at Logan with a smile on his face.

He fit here, Logan thought. He slotted into Logan’s life with an ease Logan could never have anticipated. He’d found Professor Virgil Eran interesting from the moment he’d first heard him speak over the telephone. He’d found him endearing when they’d corresponded through emails and occasionally one-sided video chats. Yet it was different with him right here in front of Logan.

Logan could reach down right now and touch him with ease if he chose to. He could brush his slightly unruly hair out of his eyes. Logan wondered what Virgil would do. Would his eyes shine the same way they had after biting Logan earlier. Would he grin wider than he was now? Would he get embarrassed like he did the first day in the coffee shop after oversharing?

“You… good man?” Virgil asked, pulling Logan from his musings.

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

“What do you mean?” Virgil asked.

“I find myself a bit disconcerted at the moment.”

“Well, maybe a carton full of iced coffee at 3am is not the best choice,” Virgil said in good humor. “You aren’t a college kid anymore.”

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

Virgil gave him an odd look but didn’t comment.

“You know,” he said instead. “I think your calculations are probably fine anyway,” He reached up to gently taking the papers out of Logan’s grip. “Why don’t you put the coffee away and we do something else?”

“Like sleep?” Logan asked.

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

“Fair point,” Logan replied ruefully.

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

“Sure,” Logan agreed. He glanced down at Virgil who was already turning on the television. “You can come onto the couch if you like.”

“Nah,” said Virgil without looking at him. “You can come to the floor.

Logan sighed. “Very well,” he agreed and slid to the floor.

 Chapter 49

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

…

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

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

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

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

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

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

 He should not have trusted him.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“It’s. In. A. Mall.”

“So?” Logan asked.

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

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

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

Virgil glared at him.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Do you have anything in mind?”

“You guys have Blockbuster still?”

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

“Is it close? Let’s go there.”

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

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

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

 “Exactly,” said Virgil with a smile.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You do today,” Virgil interrupted.

“I…”

“Choose a letter.”

“…S?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“It was a bad one.”

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

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

“Fuck,” Virgil hissed.

“Roman! You need to knock!”

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

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

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

 Chapter 50

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

“…Look,” Roman said.

“We aren’t talking about it.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

 “What?” Logan asked.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Thanks, Lo!”

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

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

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

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

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

Roman froze. “You did?”

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

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

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

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

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

 “He what?!” Roman practically screeched.

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

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

“It was… it was weird,” Patton said.

“What did he even say?” Roman asked.

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

“He talked about your butt!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Um, what’s going on?” Patton asked.

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

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

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

“You go take a shower,” Logan ordered.

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

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

“I know!” he called back.

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

 “Why do I have to do it?!”

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

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

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

“Hi,” Logan said.

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

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

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

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

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

“That’s not what I meant.”

“I know,” Virgil said with a sigh.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

 Chapter 51

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Where?” Roman asked.

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

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

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

Patton gave him a look.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“No escaping them then,” Logan sighed.

 “Mmm,” was Virgil’s response.

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

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

“Yeah,” Virgil agreed softly.

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

 “Uh, okay,” Virgil agreed.

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

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

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

“So, then, what is it?” Virgil asked.

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

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

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

 “An invisible ring?” Virgil asked, curious.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Thank you,” Virgil said again.

“Of course,” Logan replied.

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

  Arc IV: (To Be Named)

Chapter 52

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Just doing some puzzle games,” Janus said.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Hey, I had a good burger seasoning.”

“Not for every meal, Janus.”

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

“Vegetables, Janus.”

“You could have put pickles on!”

“I don’t like pickles.”

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

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

 “Well, I mean,” Janus said. “Badly.”

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

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

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

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

“Maybe I want to help,” said Emile.

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

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

 “Mmm, I do,” Janus replied.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Janus snorted.

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

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

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

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

…

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

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

He should probably go see the head doctor again soon.

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

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

“I am,” Emile confirmed without remorse.

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

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

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

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

There was a long silence.

“Agree, you prick,” said Janus.

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

 Chapter 53

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

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

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

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

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

…

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

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

“No,” Janus replied.

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

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

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

 “What are you doing?” Janus asked.

“Cooking!” was the immediate reply.

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

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

Janus sputtered. “This is my house!”

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

“Again, what are you doing?”

 “I’m making you soup.”

“Why?” Janus asked.

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

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

“Nope!” he said. “It’s entirely different this time anyway. I have carrots!”

“I don’t like carrots,” Janus lied blandly.

“Liar!” Patton declared.

“No, I’m not,” Janus continued to lie.

 “I mean, that was definitely a lie,” Emile interjected from behind Janus. He was looking at them curiously. “Er, hello, who are you?”

“This is Pat,” Janus said.

“The illegal time traveler you’ve been tracking?” Emile asked with a questioning lilt to his tone.

“Ah, yes, well,” Janus said with a cough. “We came to an understanding when stuck in pre-history.”

“And now he is cooking you soup in your house?” Emile asked.

“I’ve long since stopped trying to make sense of him,” Janus grumbled.

“Well,” Emile said. “Hello Pat.”

“You can call me Patton,” he said easily. “I hope it’s nice to meet me, because I’ve already met you.”

 “We haven’t been meeting in the correct order,” Janus informed Emile. “So, he’s apparently already met you which will happen in your future. It is also something he shouldn’t be talking about,” he scolded. Patton took that with a shrug.

“I hate time travel,” Emile said, his nose scrunching up. “Isn’t life already confusing enough.”

Janus winced, not relishing the upcoming conversation with him about how confusing his life was now because of time travel.

“Don’t you work with the TPI too?” Patton asked.

“That doesn’t mean I like time travel,” Emile said. “I’m a stationary agent and I like that just fine.”

 “Time travel can be a bit complicated sometimes,” Patton acknowledged, “but I don’t think it’s all bad.” He finished chopping up the carrot and turned to put it in the self-regulating soup pot. Janus squinted at it. It was certainly not something Patton had in the 21st century. So, the question was. Had he gone out and bought time appropriate cookware before breaking into Janus’s house or had he gone through Janus’s storage to find it?

“You’re a free agent time traveler, right?” Emile asked.

“Depends on what you mean by free agent,” Patton said. “I have always worked with a group of people, and we have rules and procedures. It’s basically a time agency itself, just not the TPI.”

 “And you’ve met me before?”

“I have,” Patton confirmed, “but Janus is right in that I can’t say much more than that about it. In fact,” he said wiping off his hands on a towel hanging from his apron. (The apron was covered in cartoon squirrels and totted the phrase ‘I’m a nut for baking.’) “I should probably be getting out of here.”

“You’ve never been worried about us meeting out of order before,” Janus pointed out with a frown. He didn’t particularly want Patton to go even though the man had broken into his house and possibly went through his boxes of kitchen equipment.

 “Well,” Patton said. “There’s meeting wildly out of order, there’s meeting in order, and then there’s what I’m doing.”

“What are you doing?” Janus asked alarmed.

Patton just shrugged with a smile.

“No, Patton, what are you doing?”

“Soup should be done in about an hour, but you can leave it on all day. I got a pot that’s fridge safe, so just shut it off and stick it in there before going to sleep.”

“Patton.”

“See you later! Bye!” He said and disappeared into thin air.

Janus sighed and rubbed the bridge of his brow. “Why is he like this?”

 “Janus,” Emile asked. “Why did your self-declared mortal enemy make you soup?”

“Because he’s an asshole, that’s why.”

“Uh huh,” Emile said, looking at him oddly.

“What?” Janus asked.

“What exactly happened when you were stuck in the past?” Emile asked.

Janus sighed. “A lot happened. A lot.” He glanced at the soup pot happily performing its function on his kitchen counter. ‘I hope it’s nice to meet me, because I’ve already met you,’ rang in his ears. Fucking Patton with his little hints about the future. It gave Janus just a bit of courage though knowing that Emile at least didn’t flee the continent after the conversation they had to have. He was at least around enough to meet Patton. “In fact,” Janus said. “It’s probably time I told you what happened. Everything that happened.”

 Chapter 54

They sat down in the living room. Janus let Emile have the couch and sat on one of the matching armchairs. There was a squeaky sound when he sat. The plastic covering the chair had been delivered in was still on it.

Emile had a pleasant, open but curious expression on his face and Janus suddenly had an idea what it felt like to be his patient.

“I,” Janus began after a moment, shifting uncomfortably on the squeaky chair. “I don’t know how to start this conversation. I talked about what I wanted to say and possible ways to say it with Dr. Figueroa, but I… I still don’t know.”

 “I guess I should start by saying that I did something horrible that I need to apologize for and I’m not sure if apologizing will even be enough. The problem is you don’t even know what that horrible thing is.” Janus stared at his feet. “So, first, I should probably explain what I did. I just don’t know where to start.”

“Maybe start with what happened before it,” Emile suggested. “Just lead up to it. It might help explain why whatever it was happened too.”

Janus took a breath. “Okay,” he said. “That day was just like most that I remember. We both woke up early. I was going to the TPI and you were going to where you worked your residency. We ate leftover pizza for breakfast because both of us were exhausted. You because it sucks to be a resident and me because I’d been working on a big case.”

 “I was getting frustrated with the case. That was my first mistake: being impatient and angry. It was just a thief, but a slippery one. She’d stolen a half-broken time piece and was using it to rob banks within about a 50-year time frame. I had an idea of where she might go, but no one would listen to me. Or at least,” Janus quirked a half smile, “that’s how I interpreted it. They said they’d look into my idea, but they were being extra cautious because of how close in the timestream her actions were to most of the agents’ lives.”

 “I was so tired of the case and so egotistical. I decided to check it out on my own without being cleared by the TPI. I went back in time without thinking of the consequences and that was the worst thing I’ve ever done.” Janus took a breath. “I’m not sure how, but somewhere in the course of my self-appointed mission…” He trailed off. He didn’t know how to say it. He really didn’t.

“What happened?” Emile asked when he didn’t continue.

“I…” and his next words probably sounded like crackly nonsense to Emile’s ears because he couldn’t get his thoughts straight and his tongue wouldn’t make the words right.

 “I don’t even remember living in that town or the fact that Mom used to work at that bank,” he choked out. “I didn’t think and I didn’t check and…” There was a long silence. “I erased you,” he finally managed to say in a whisper, but in the quiet of his barely lived in house, the words were loud.

There was more silence. “But I…” Emile said after a moment.

“I went back and fixed it,” Janus said, “but I… didn’t do a perfect job. I don’t even know how much I messed things up. It would have been one thing if it’d just been me. If it had just impacted my life, but I did it to you and I don’t even know how to start to apologize.”

 Nothing was said for a long moment. Janus didn’t look at him.

“…Huh,” Emile finally said.

Janus risked a glance at him. He didn’t look irate, but he did still look confused which was probably the reason for that.

“I’m sorry,” Janus said. It was really the only thing he could say at this point.

Emile tilted his head to the side. He took off his glasses and cleaned them with the edge of his shirt with slow circles. Since he was 15, Emile only cleaned his glasses with specially designed wipes, but he’d held onto the habit of cleaning his glasses with his shirt anytime he needed a moment to think. Janus wasn’t sure if Emile even realized he was doing it, but he knew it was a signal for Janus to be quiet for a few seconds.

 The glasses were perched back on Emile’s nose after a few seconds. “I think I remember that,” he said contemplatively.

“…What?” Janus asked, and he was no longer avoiding looking at Emile. He was now blatantly staring at him.

“Well, I didn’t know what it was,” Emile said, “but I did have a very odd dream on the day you mentioned and suspiciously I had said dream in the middle of the day and woke standing up.”

“A dream?” Janus asked.

“A very vivid dream,” Emile said. “I don’t believe you actually erased me completely from existence. My life was simply shifted slightly. I was working as a social worker for about 5 hours and then I was back in my appropriate place.”

76874

“Why didn’t you tell me about that?” Janus asked, but then immediately wince at his own hypocrisy. “Er… never mind.”

“I didn’t know it was possibly real,” Emile said. “Honestly, I thought I was just really tired. I’d been overworking myself a lot. I took the rest of the day off after that.”

“You shifted reality for a few hours, and you didn’t realize it?” Janus asked.

“Like I said, I was really tired and nothing seemed to be wrong…”

“Wait, but things were different,” Janus said. “Didn’t you notice things were different.”

“Not… really,” Emile said. “Like what?”

“Like…” Janus said. “Like a whole bunch of things!”

 “Like…?”

“Like you had a different job title and you worked different hours.”

“I thought I’d fallen asleep standing up or had a vivid audio-visual hallucination at work from stress. I asked for a switch a couple of weeks later.”

“You used to hate time travel, but then you took a job at the TPI.”

Emile gave him a drawl look. “I still hate time travel,” he said. “I literally just said that not 5 minutes ago.”

“Well then why would you work for the TPI.”

“Because time travel is so confusing and distressing that people doing it on a regular basis as a career need psychological support.”

 “Plus, Lia asked for my consultation when developing the mental health part of the Agent Management Office,” Emile continued. “Considering I already knew quite a bit about time travel from being around you, she knew me personally, and I’d finished my residency, she decided to give me a job offer when my advice panned out.”

“W-well,” Janus said. “You were allergic to pineapples.”

“You mean my childhood allergy?” Emile asked. “That has since resolved itself in my adult life?”

“It has?” Janus asked.

“Janus have you considered,” Emile said, “that some if not all of the inconsistencies you were seeing in my life have to do with the fact that you hadn’t spoken to me in 3 years?”

 “I… uh… hadn’t considered that,” Janus admitted honestly.

“You were looking for information to support your incorrect world view,” Emile said sounding very much like a head doctor and not like a brother, “and you found some.” He sighed. “It makes sense after having faced a traumatic event where you effectively thought you’d killed a loved one that you weren’t thinking clearly.” The head doctor analysis voice slipped just a bit. “I just wish you’d talked about it with someone.”

“Sorry,” Janus said, because no matter which way this conversation had gone and no matter the revelations, the point was an apology. “I’m sorry.”

 Emile sighed. “I would have forgiven you even if you had erased me,” Emile said. “You didn’t mean to, and you did your best to fix it. You did fix it even if you were an idiot about it.”

“What about for being an idiot and not talking to you for three years?” Janus asked.

“I already did forgive you for that Janus,” Emile said pointedly. “What did you think the last 6 months were?”

“Pity?”

Emile gave him his disappointed and exasperated head shake. “Promise to never do anything like that to me again,” he said, “and I’ll forgive you.”

 “I promise,” Janus said immediately.

“And in the future, you’ll talk to me if you have any issue even if you think it’s horrible.”

“I think I’ve learned by lesson on that one.”

“And that goes for other people too,” Emile said. “If anything goes wrong with someone, you talk to them or if that’s too hard you talk to someone so they can convince you to talk to that person.”

Janus nodded.

“Great!” Emile said. “Then you’re officially forgiven for everything. Though I expect you to go to therapy and keep working on making yourself feel better, so these things don’t happen again.”

 And Janus… didn’t know how to feel about that. He should probably feel happy and thankful or at least relieved, but if he was being honest, he just felt kind of empty in that moment like an old well that had finally run dry. Fuck his head doctor and fuck Patton. Wasn’t this supposed to make him feel better? Everything was fine. He hadn’t actually erased Emile permanently from the timeline, in fact, he’d apparently still existed in some form in the alternate timeline Janus had temporarily made. Emile had forgiven him both for erasing him and ignoring him even though that was far more than Janus deserved. This was something he’d never even dared dream would happen, but it had been exactly what he’d wanted.

 Yet, he still didn’t feel good, not really, not like how he remembered feeling before all of this happened.

Though was that really a surprise? Things were not like how they were before. He and Emile were no longer close. There was love and affection there, but they didn’t really know each other. The last six months had been nice. He’d been able to pretend for a bit that everything was back to normal, but in the moments he hadn’t been able to pretend that, it’d been a bit stilted and awkward speaking to his brother especially at the start.

 Beyond that, Janus was just used to misery at this point. It was his default state. Not being miserable took effort and energy he didn’t always have. He felt himself slipping into sadness or numbness even during times he should be feeling good. He’d noticed himself experiencing a sense of desolation when Emile cooked his favorite meal or in the middle of watching a ballet performance Emile had suggested they go to and he’d been looking forward to in the days before or even now when he should be so happy, so ecstatic. Everything should be okay, but it wasn’t.

 “You doing alright over there?” Emile asked, and Janus didn’t know how long he’d been silent.

Instinct said to say yes and force himself to move on, but he wasn’t going to break his promise that fast. “Not really, no,” he admitted.

“That’s okay,” Emile said. “Anything I can do to help?”

“I really don’t know.”

“Why don’t we go taste the soup your arch nemesis,” there was a light teasing tone to his voice, “made for you. Some of the vegetables won’t be completely cooked yet, but I’m sure it’s already good.”

“Yeah,” Janus agreed. “Yeah, okay,” he got to his feet, the chair making that plastic squeaking sound again. “Maybe we could unwrap the furniture in here before you go home.”

“I think that’s a good idea,” Emile said with a smile.

 Chapter 55

Somehow, the strangest thing about his life right now was a picture on the wall. It was one that he’d gotten after college when he moved into his first actual house. It wasn’t anything special. It was just something that had caught his eye when he was specifically looking for something classier to put on his wall than the posters he’d hung in his college dorm and apartment with Virgil. It was a tall painting of a tree, but segmented into four parts, each representing the state of a tree in different seasons. In the top left, the three had small leaves and little buds, on the top right it had full leaves bathed in sunlight, in the bottom left the leaves had changed colors and started to fall off, and in the bottom right the tree was devest of leaves but covered in snow.

 It was on the wall near Janus’s bed. It was one of the first things he saw when he opened his eyes in the morning and was usually what reminded him that everything was different now when he woke.

The picture had been in a box in the houses garage up until the Saturday before the last. Saturdays had become his and Emile’s unofficial unpacking Janus’s house day. They would usually pick one or maybe two boxes that had been sitting untouched for years, unpack it, talk, and eat dinner together.

Notably, dinner was usually not provided by either of them.

 Patton had gotten into the habit of breaking into Janus’s house. Janus would sometimes catch him doing it briefly, but often Patton managed to avoid him. This was quite the feat considering Janus was not currently working and thus stayed at home a lot of the time. Patton had repeatedly reprogrammed Janus’s kitchen taking away the option for pop tarts entirely and replacing the option with real food. Janus’s kitchen was constantly stocked with something to eat that wasn’t trash. He also liked to leave around different smelling hand soaps, flowers, and paper cranes. Janus had an entire drawer in his nightstand dedicated to storing paper cranes now.

 The newest one was still on his nightstand from the night before, sitting cheerfully in the way of his view of the tree paining when his alarm woke up that morning. He sighed. He had not missed getting up early for work.

He was finally going back to working at the TPI this morning. His therapist had signed off on it last week, saying his was fit for duty. Considering they were apparently still understaffed at the TPI and Janus was a senior agent, this was met with much relief. Janus himself still wasn’t sure how he felt about it.

 He turned off the alarm and stood. Dr. Figueroa had him write out a morning schedule to follow when he’d expressed his struggle to get the day started. Either Patton or Emile had taken it upon themselves to copy the schedule on virtual sticky notes that appeared in every location necessary for getting ready in the morning.

First, he took a shower. He threw his nightclothes in the laundry chute. There were currently dozens of different scented soaps in his shower all in small bottles that had about 2 or 3 uses. Janus presumed they were curtesy of Patton. He decided to use one at random and it ended up being cotton candy scented.

 Next, he got dressed. That was easy enough since he always wore the same outfit to work every day. It didn’t matter what he wore much since missions would force him to redress anyway.

Then he went to his kitchen and sat down at the counter. He pushed the pop tart button. As expected at this point, he did not get a pop tart for breakfast. Instead, he got two eggs, toast, a sliced apple, and a few cherry tomatoes with green tea. He ate his breakfast while finishing one of the puzzles he’d been working on the night before.

 Once he finished, it was time to finally face going back to the office. He sighed, stood up and pulled up the screen on his timepiece. He selected his office as his destination and was off.

The first thing that happened upon appearing in his office was he got a face full of… something.

He sputtered, smacking the things fluttering about his face out of the air. “What is wrong with you?” was the first thing out of his mouth before he’d even really confirmed that the culprit of this attack was who he’d automatically assumed he was.

Remus, as anticipated was standing not 2 feet away from him.

 Remus had apparently gotten into the prop department again because he had some type of softly glowing glittery confetti was no all over Janus as well as their entire office.

“Remus, I told you no!” Lena snapped. “You know it’s impossible to clean up 3150s sparkle nukes.”

“Welcome back!” Remus crowed.

“I hate you,” Janus replied. “I just took a shower.”

“You’re fine,” Remus said with an eye roll.

“This shit doesn’t come off in decontamination,” Janus spat. “If my first mission back sends me to a time where I’ll be tried as a witch for glowing, I’m blaming you.”

 “We’re going to 2510,” Remus informed him. “You’ll fit right in.”

Janus grimaced. “Ugh, that decade.”

“It’s my favorite decade!” Remus exclaimed.

“Of course, it is,” Lena grumbled. “Just don’t bring anything gross back this time.”

“No promises,” Remus replied.

Janus chose to disengage from the conversation as Remus and Lena argued about was and what wasn’t allowed to be brought back to their shared office from what was well known as the least tasteful decade in history. It was also one of the least turbulent decades in history. The population was too busy making shitty ice cream flavors to wage war.

 At least they were giving him an easier assignment for his first time back. He turned to his desk and pulled up the files on his next mission, glancing through them. It was just a small blip that the TPI had noticed in a small town in 2510. It probably wasn’t much of anything, but they had no record of what had caused it, so they were going to send someone to look. Honestly, they’d usually just send in a surveillance agent and be done with it, but they’d probably handpicked this one for Janus in particular. He’d be insulted if he didn’t honestly still feel a bit off kilter being in the office.

 To his surprise, he didn’t have a scheduled meeting with Rhi. It wasn’t particularly important to see a mission coordinator for something this small, but it still wasn’t the usual protocol. Instead, he was just instructed to pick up his costume at the costuming department and leave in about an hour.

“Do we really not have an appointment with Rhi?” Janus asked.

“Senior agents haven’t really been meeting with Rhi unless it’s a high priority mission,” Lena told him. “We have too many newbies running around and there’s not time.

“That’s concerning…” Janus said.

“It’s better than trying to rush the inexperienced ones through. We at least have a general idea of what we’re doing. They’re trying to train up more mission coordinators, but that’s taking a while.”

 Janus still frowned, but he glanced back at the mission instructions. He’d have to make sure he thoroughly understood what was being asked of him before leaving if he wasn’t meeting with Rhi. “We should go get changed,” he told Remus. “2510s clothing is notoriously difficult to put on.”

“Five minutes back and he’s already dying to get my clothes off,” Remus said cheekily.

“I would rather tear my own eyeballs out of my socket than see you without your pants on again.”

Remus just wiggled his eyebrows.

“I’m so glad you’re back,” said Lena when Janus looked at her in exasperation. “He’s finally not Fred’s and my problem anymore.”

 Chapter 56

Getting ready for the mission was a bit of a mess honestly. The costume department barely even spared them a glance before sending them on their way. Remy at least was still there to give them one last debrief before sending them off into 2510, though he looked exhausted.

“Are you sleeping?” asked Janus.

“I’m drinking coffee,” was the reply as he shooed them out onto the streets.

The timeline disturbance that had been picked up was somewhere in one of the shops on that street.

“Do you want the bakery or the karaoke/stripper bar?” Remus asked.

Janus raised an eyebrow at him, and Remus clapped him on the back.

“This is why we’re partners,” he said.

 He plodded off towards the building to their right, and Janus turned to the building on the left. It was a small bakery and coffee shop painted in bright colors and sporting the Brazilian and Albanian flags.

There was a soft tinkling bell sound when he entered the shop, and the person behind the counter glanced over at him briefly before finishing putting a pastry in bag for a customer.

Unfortunately, their attention meant Janus wasn’t going to get away with snooping around the store without buying anything. He glanced around the interior of the shop as he walked up to the till.

 He glanced into the bakery display case the worker was standing behind. Oh… oh that all looked disgusting. He was not depressed enough anymore to willingly eat any of that.

“Uh,” Janus said when the worker looked at him. He glanced up at the wide selection of drinks over their head and winced at the ways the letters moved on the screen. He was pretty sure his dyslexia wasn’t quite that bad. Why did anyone choose to make letters move around and shake on purpose? As someone who had to deal with that on a daily basis, it wasn’t exactly entertaining.

 “Is it possible to get a banana and chocolate potato chip smoothie, but without the potato chip part?” he asked.

“Sure,” the worker replied. “Anything else?”

Janus shook his head.

“Can I have a name for that?”

“Jay,” Janus replied.

“Alright. It’ll be out in a minute.”

Janus nodded and turned, able to take in the rest of the establishment now that there weren’t eyes on him. It was as colorful on the inside as it was on the outside and seemed to have a retro cowboy-space theme mixed with posters from a contemporary werewolf romance movie. Janus had actually seen that movie one. It was surprisingly tolerable.

 The seats at least looked comfortable. There were a good number of tables and three couches. All of them were mix-matched. A few of the tables were outfitted with holographic chess and checkers, but most were normal tables. There were even a few physical boardgames and some bookshelves full of books, though he thought some of the bookshelves might just be there for decoration. He wasn’t sure which were and which weren’t.

He pretended to be very interested in the decorations as he waited on his drink, using that as an excuse to look around the entire shop. He was turned away when the door chimed again.

 “Hello,” a familiar voice said, making Janus turn around instantly. Janus could immediately tell that the man hesitantly lingering in front of the bakery display was not the Patton that he’d spent months holed up with or who had broken into Janus’s house repeatedly to replace his soaps and cook him meals. He seemed out of place which was saying something in 2510. He had the air about him that he was an 80-year-old grandpa trying to embrace youth culture, but not quite getting it. He also spoke in an accent that people around him would probably assume was him just not being fluent in Spanish but was actually him not being completely comfortable speaking Spanish from half a century ago.

 “Uh…” said Patton looking at the menu, a crease between his eyes.

“I’d suggest the banana and chocolate potato chip smoothie without the potato chips,” Janus said. Patton startled, whipping around to face him in surprise. “That’s what I got, though I would leave out the potato chips.”

Patton’s eyes narrowed on him. It was not, of course, the first time that Patton hadn’t been thrilled to see him, but it was the first time Janus had been happy to see him and he hadn’t been happy to see him in turn. Janus had gotten used to a Patton that liked him and he found himself not quite prepared for the way he pursed his lips in annoyance at the sight of Janus.

 “I’ll do the banana and chocolate potato chip smoothie, but with the potato chips,” he said in a way that made it sound like he thought he was getting one up on Janus for some reason.

“What flavor of chips?” the worker asked.

“Er, what flavors do you have?”

“Uh, I think drywall, oak wood, and limestone.”

Janus almost laughed at his expression. “Uh, do you have any naturally edible flavors?” he asked.

“We might have grass.”

Patton squinted as the worker bent to look under the cabinet. “Oh, wait, no, it’s glass. Is that alright?”

“…Maybe just no on the chips.”

 Janus did his best to school his features, so it wasn’t obvious he was laughing at him. He didn’t think he did a very good job considering Patton was glaring at him after turning around. That or he was just already pissed at Janus by default. It could go either way honestly.

“So,” Janus said when the worker turned away to start making Patton’s drink. “What are you doing here.”

“It’s none of your business,” Patton said with narrowed eyes.

“I mean, we could both be here for the same reason,” Janus pointed out. “We could share intel.”

“I doubt we’re here for the same reason.”

 “How would you know?” asked Janus.

Patton just looked away from him. He immediately looked confused at the movie poster his eyes landed on.

“Unless,” Janus said curiously, you aren’t here for a reason, reason.” Patton said nothing. “It was a pretty small disturbance, so it would make sense that your equipment might not pick up on it.” At least at this point. “Acting the tourist, Pat?”

“I’m just doing research,” Patton said, crossing his arms.

“Research?” Janus asked.

“I’ve never been here before,” Patton admitted. “I wanted to get a feel for it and other places just in case there ever was an issue.”

 “You just did France, didn’t you?” Janus asked.

Patton frowned and Janus smiled slightly. “It was recent,” he admitted.

“Well,” Janus said. “If you want some advice. I’d start with figuring out accents when you’re in different times.”

“I don’t need your advice,” Patton said and then smugly, “Janus.”

It took a bit for Janus to scan back through his memories and remember that Patton hadn’t known Janus’s name in France. He would have only figured it out after his friend Lo hacked into Silver Mountains University’s system and figured out Virgil had an appointment with him. Janus raised an eyebrow. “You sure about that, Patton?”

 He frowned, pouting like whenever Janus told him he wasn’t allowed to try to catch a bird and make it their pet. It was strange to meet a version of Patton who had not lived in a hole in the ground with him for months when Janus had already done that. Patton was on the back foot for once throughout this conversation. Every time before this, he’d managed to somehow twist it around even when he’d been younger than he was right now. When Janus had arrested him at the University, he’d managed to figure out his equipment wouldn’t be stopped by the TPI’s despite having no idea what the TPI was.

 In France, even when Janus had thought he’d been winning by taking his phone, he ended up getting access to a University in Janus’s time with information on the TPI, a situation that still had not been resolved.

Today, however, Janus knew far more about Patton than Patton expected. He still didn’t know exactly what his agency or whatever it should actually be called did, but he knew some things about it. He knew Patton was from the 21st century which explained the anachronisms in his speech in different times.

“You could help me look if you’d like,” Janus offered casually.

 “Why?” Patton asked suspiciously.

Janus shrugged. It was not because he missed him, he insisted to himself. It wasn’t because after spending so much time with him, not getting to talk with him all day was strange. It had nothing to do with the fact that the few times he’d ran into a farther along version of Patton since he’d moved back home, their interactions had been brief and tinged with something. No, the only reason Janus was inviting him along was so he could teach this younger version a few things, so he hopefully didn’t go about messing up time. “We worked well together in France, didn’t we?” he asked. “Besides, it’s just a small mission without much danger to the timeline.”

 “Pat,” the person at the counter called. Patton turned to him to go grab his smoothie, thanking the worker before turning back around and walking over to Janus.

“Fine,” he said. “I’ll help, but you have to answer my questions.”

“I’ll answer the questions that won’t endanger any timelines or secrets of my agency.”

Patton considered it for a moment, taking a sip of his drink. “Fine,” he agreed.

“Good,” Janus replied. “We’ll start by looking around the coffee shop for anything unusual. Did you have any questions now. It’d look more natural to be walking around if we were having a conversation.”

“Does the glitter in your hair have to do with the style of the time or…?”

Janus sighed.

 Chapter 57

Luckily, the cashier didn’t seem to think them snooping around was very odd. To be fair, the shop had quite a few odd decorations to look at. So, perhaps employees were just used to people walking around and looking at all of the different things. It helped that Janus and Patton were talking as they searched. They just looked like a couple… of friends… casually chatting and exploring the coffee shop together.

“So,” Patton said, keeping his voice quiet, though luckily the few patrons were on the other side of the shop. “What exactly is it that you do working for the TPI?”

 “Well,” Janus said. “I’m a senior field agent. That means I am the person who actually goes on missions in different times. These missions can range from tracking down people who are committing crimes using time travel, stopping anything or anyone that could damage the timestream, and helping waylaid time travelers.”

“So, there are different types of agents?” Patton asked, curiously.

“Yes,” Janus replied. “There are a lot, but only four type time travel on a regular basis.” Should he be telling a very young version of Patton this? Probably not, but he couldn’t find it in himself to care too much.

 “There are surveillance, touchdown, field, and cleanup agents,” he explained. “Surveillance agents do a bunch of things including research about the exact time field agents are going to and figuring out the best places for them to enter the timestream. Touchdown agents come slightly before field agents to do last second checks and stay when field agents are out. They mostly are just there to intervene if there are any unforeseen issues. Field agents actually interact with people from other times on a daily basis as they slip into the timestream and find whatever person or object they’re looking for. Cleanup agents come in afterwards and tie up any loose ends as well as observe the area for a few days to make sure nothing happened that no one caught.”

 “Everyone else who works at the TPI is mostly in research and management. They don’t usually travel, though everyone who works there is licensed to travel if necessary.”

“That’s a lot of people,” Patton commented.

“What we do is important. We want to make sure we are doing it correctly.” It was honestly not meant to be a jab, but Janus could see Patton frown. He decided to change the subject. “Right now, we’re looking for something that’s causing a small disturbance.”

“What type of thing could cause a disturbance? Is it always a machine like the one in France?”

“No,” Janus replied. “That was actually unusual.” He thought for a second. “At least that used to be unusual, but lately we’ve seen more and more of that sort of thing.”

 They were currently standing at a bookshelf, but nothing pinged Janus’s interest or time piece, so they moved on to look at a few of the movie posters. Patton seemed to grow more and more concerned the longer he looked at the posters.

“So, what is it usually?”

“Well,” said Janus. “Some things are natural events. No one’s really sure what causes those. There are theories, but I’m not really involved in that. We leave those alone for the most part if we find those. They’re usually small things, though on occasion they’re a bit bigger. Usually, time disturbances are caused by someone messing up. They say something wrong that gets someone curious and creates a butterfly or they leave an object that doesn’t exist in the time.”

 “So, what do you think this one is?” Patton asked curiously.

“Well,” Janus said. “It’s a rather small disturbance, so it won’t be anything too major. Probably just an object out of place.”

“Hmm,” Patton replied. “Well, I’ve always been good at those find the difference games.”

“Have you now?” Janus said, unable to stop a slight grin from ghosting over his face.”

“Mhmm,” replied Patton. He drained the rest of his smoothie and then turned around, facing away from the wall of posters they’d been looking at. He slowly scanned the room, an action a lot less inconspicuous than what Janus had them doing, but he didn’t protest for now.

 “That’s weird,” Patton declared, pointing rather obviously at a shelf. Janus noticed a woman looking at him funny. “Well,” Patton continued. “More like it isn’t weird, which is weird for here.”

Janus glanced at the shelf full of small figurines. Most of them were of mythical creatures: werewolves, dragons, and even one not even Janus recognized. Janus would guess, especially judging by the plethora of movie posters that they were all from movies or something of the like. However, Patton was correct there was one that stuck out from the rest. It was still a figurine, but unlike the rest, it was of a real animal: a cow.

 “That is odd,” Janus agreed, peering at the cow. Figuring Patton had already been obvious enough, Janus stepped over to the shelf to study it more closely. When looking at it more closely, it became obvious that the cow was very unlike everything else on the shelf. It wasn’t even really a figurine like the ones around it. It looked more like a children’s toy. It’s fur was made out of a soft looking material instead of the stiff plastic of the werewolf next to it.

“It doesn’t really fit in with the collection, does it?” a voice asked from behind Janus.

 Janus winced internally at the fact that a civilian had just noticed him acting oddly, but kept his face smooth externally as he turned to face the woman standing behind him.

“My friend and I were wondering what it was from,” Janus said evenly. “We recognized the rest of the figures, but I’m not sure where this one came from.”

“Well, that’s because it didn’t come from anything,” the woman said. “At least that I know of. I just didn’t know where to put the thing, so I put it on my movie figurine shelf.”

“Ah,” said Janus, a politely interested crinkle to his brow. “Where did you get it then?”

 “A young kid came by about, oh, a week ago. He looked like a high school kid or maybe college. He seemed right confused and upset. He said he didn’t have any money on him, and got weird when I tried to ask him about his parents. I ended up giving him a free drink and let him sit here for a couple’a hours. We got to talking about my collections. See, I have a deal that if someone brings me back something of interest for my displays, they get a free drink. He insisted on giving me that in exchange for the drink even though I told him I’d given him the drink ‘cause he seemed upset.”

 “I don’t even particularly want the thing, but he said he didn’t want it anyway, and he insisted, so I took it.”

“Interesting,” Janus said. “Do you mind if I touch it?”

“Go ahead,” she said with a shrug.

He reached forward to pick up the cow and felt the softest of fizzles that only someone who regularly time traveled would feel. Despite already knowing this must be what he’d come for, he still subtlety set his timepiece to scan it.

 Patton was peering over her shoulder now. “If both you and the person who gave it to you don’t care much about it, do you think we could buy it off of you?” he asked. “I’m a big fan of cows.”

She shrugged her shoulders. “I guess,” she agreed. “If you really like it. I don’t know what else I’d do with it.”

“How much?” Janus asked.

“Well it only cost me a Lemon CastelWalk and a scone, so about 12.”

“Sure,” Janus agreed, pulling out his wallet and forking over the currency. “Thanks,” he said.

“No problem,” she replied. “Hope you can find some use for it.”

 Janus gave her a smile and then looked at Patton. “I think it’s about time to go, don’t you think.”

Patton nodded. “Thank you for the cow statue,” he told the woman as they left the shop. They walked a bit down the street. Patton turned to him once they were out of sight of the shop window. “So, that’s it?” he asked.

Janus nodded and checked his time piece which had finished it’s scan. “The fabric is from the late 43rd century,” he confirmed, “but that’s not all. It’s stranger than that.”

“Stranger how?” Patton asked.

“The materials are definitely from the 43rd century,” Janus said, “but it’s not from the 43rd century.”

“What do you mean?”

 “This,” Janus said, looking at the cow. “This doesn’t exist. Every object has traces of where it’s been no matter how much you clean it. My timepiece can register debris sticking to an object down to the microscopic level and give a general idea where and when they came from. There’s no time travel residue implying it came from the 43rd century or even just dust or dirt from that time period. There isn’t even anything on it from this time period from more than the week the shop owner said it was in her possession. My scans seem to be saying, this thing popped into existence a week ago and didn’t exist in any time or place before that.

Patton frowned. “Well then, what does that mean?”

“I don’t know,” answered Janus frowning down at it. “I have absolutely no idea.”

 Chapter 58

Janus didn’t know what to make of the cow he’d gotten in 2510. He’d said goodbye to the young version of Patton and grabbed Remus before heading back to the TPI. He’d immediately handed the time anomaly over to the labs, but even after a few weeks, he hadn’t heard anything back yet. The labs seemed just as stumped as he was.

The older version of Patton still drifted in and out of his life, usually unseen, like a ghost in the night. Well, a ghost that cooked him plenty of healthy food.

It felt odd slipping back into his old routine of missions.

 Sometimes it felt like no time had passed, but then he’d see the faces of new recruits or get a mission where he didn’t see Rhi and remember that things were different now. The TPI was strained, constantly running after time distortions with no idea what or who was causing them. The new recruits were stumbling to catch up to the agents who knew what they were doing but were still needed to fill the gaps. It made Janus grimace, but he didn’t know what the solution was.

It was nice to be able to talk to Emile about these things.

 If Patton made sure he was taking care of himself at home with nice meals and an ever-changing option of soaps and shampoos, Emile made sure he was taking care of himself at work. Janus was now forced to have a water bottle at his desk to make sure he wasn’t spending the day dehydrated and, assuming he was not on a mission, Emile would either drag him away to eat lunch or bring lunch too him if he was too busy. Today was the later kind of day. Emile had messaged him about 45 minutes ago asking if he was free and then had taken his order for a local restaurant when Janus said he had too much to do.

 There was a knock on the door and both Fred and Janus, the only two occupants of the office at the moment looked up.

“I’ll get it,” Janus said, getting up before Fred did. He knew Fred was currently in the middle of a report on a trip to 2000B.C. he and Lena went to. They’d let a new recruit tag alone for training purposes. It had gone badly to say the least. Fred looked exhausted and stressed which was unlike the usually cheery man.

Janus shuffled to the door and opened it. A man in his early 30s that Janus didn’t recognize was standing there.

 “Hi,” he said. “I, uh, moved into the office next door. My name is Dave.”

There was a moment of silence. “Did you need something Dave.”

“Right,” he said. “Yeah, I was just wondering if your integrator is running, because mine isn’t.”

Janus glanced back at the report he’d been working on. “Yeah, it’s fine.”

“Well, is it, like, connecting to the TPI system?”

“I don’t know,” said Janus, “I was working locally.”

“Yeah, well that’s the problem with mine. I was wondering if anyone else was having the same problem.”

“Let me check,” said Janus, walking over to his desk. He went to open his email and an error message popped up.

 That was… odd to say the least. The TPI had very, very reliable technology. If it was just Janus who could not access the system, he’d assume it was just a local problem, but if the next door neighbor also was having an issue, that could smell trouble.

“Fred,” Janus called. “Are you connected to the internet?”

Fred glanced down at his integrator and clicked a couple of buttons. “No,” he said.

“Hmm,” Janus said. He pulled up his timepiece. That at least connected to the TPI servers, so the servers themselves weren’t down, just the offices’ connection to them. “Well, I can still connect with my timepiece.”

 “Same,” said Fred.

“So, what’s wrong?” Dave asked. “How do we fix it?”

“We don’t fix it,” Janus said. “We submit a tech support request.”

“Oh,” said Dave. “…How do you do that?”

Janus sighed and flicked his wrist to project a screen. “If you go to the web on your timepiece, it’s literally on the page that automatically pops up,” he said pointing.

“We can connect to the internet through our timepieces?” Dave asked.

“…Did you have any training?” Janus asked.

“Don’t be rude,” Fred said absently, still typing on his report.

Janus just rolled his eyes.

“Not on… that part. They did give me a handbook.”

 “Have you read it?” Janus asked.

Dave shrugged which told Janus everything he needed to know.

“Just go back to your office,” Janus told Dave. “I’ll submit the tech support request this time since it’s affecting me as well but read your handbook and familiarize yourself with your timepiece for goodness’s sake.”

“Okay,” Dave said, turning around and wandering back to his office with no thoughts in his eyes.

“I’m not your fucking preschool teacher,” Janus muttered under his breath as he returned to his desk. “It’s not my job to hold your hand and wipe your ass.”

Fred glanced up at him. “Thanks for not saying that when he was still in the room,” he said.

Janus shot him a thumbs up.

 He sat down at his desk and quickly submitted a tech support request. By the time he finished that, Emile was knocking on the door with a bag of food.

“Come in,” Janus said to him, and he did, pulling over Remus’s chair and plopping down the food on Janus’s desk.

“You look stressed,” Emile commented.

Janus sighed, already reaching into the bag to look at what Emile had bought. “Everything’s disorganized, everything’s broken, and no one knows how to do anything.”

“Yeah,” Emile said. “I’ve noticed the TPI is understaffed. Even with all of the new recruits, there never seems to be enough people to go around.”

 “Yeah,” Janus said, pulling out a burger on a pretzel bun and going to unwrap it. “How about you? This all been messing up your job too?”

“In general, for the AMO, yes, because they have to get all of the new agents houses and everything. For my department, not as much, but we are seeing some agents getting stressed because they’re overworked. Mostly the more senior agents.”

“Honestly, I’m lucky stress makes me throw myself into work to avoid thinking about it. I shudder to think how all of the mentally healthy people are holding up.”

“Janus,” Emile scolded.

 “Plus, I’m already set up to have an appointment with a head doctor at least twice a week, so I’m good on that front.”

“I guess that’s true. Just don’t overwork yourself,” Emile said.

“I’m fine Emile. Plus, they need me. I seem to be one of the few people around here who actually know what they’re doing.”

“I just worry…” he said.

“I can handle it well enough,” Janus promised. “I’ve got the toolkit or whatever the head doctor calls it. Plus… work wasn’t ever actually the problem.”

“I know. I know…Just…you aren’t even taking lunch.”

“I have a bit more time free in the afternoon,” Janus said.

 “I was just in the middle of something today. If you’re free for a half hour or something, we could get a cup of coffee. How about that? Would that assuage your worry about me a least a bit?”

“Yeah,” Emile said. “Yeah, it would a bit. I have a break at 2, would that work?”

“Sure,” Janus said. He technically had a good amount of stuff to do, but Emile was right in the end. He should try to take breaks. It wasn’t his duty to do everything at the TPI. “A quick lunch now and coffee at 2.”

 Chapter 59

Janus did fulfil his promise to Emile to take a short coffee break at 2pm. It was nice for both of them, Janus thought and was well worth it… even when he came back to a stack of work and an extra mission on his docket.

“Where did this one even coming from?!” Janus asked as he and Remus speed walked to costuming. “I was gone for less than 30 minutes. They can’t give us more than an hour warning anymore?”

Remus shrugged. “I just got back from a mission,” he said. “I haven’t even had time to write my report on that one.

 “This is a mess,” Janus said. “Everything’s a mess.” Readings of a fairly large time distortion had popped up in 2158 Lille, France out of seemingly nowhere according to write up they’d been given. Though, honestly, with how disorganized the TPI has been, Janus wasn’t 100% confident they hadn’t just missed the thing somehow. It also was apparently giving very similar readings to the time device they’d ran into in Cuba. That’s why they were sending both Remus and Janus, despite the two of them mostly having been split up for missions in the past few weeks. If it was as bad as Cuba, they wanted them to have backup.

 Of course, that was where the TPI’s consideration had ended. Remus and Janus were still being rushed through to this mission and not even seeing Rhi once more. Costuming barely even glanced at them when they got there. They just tossed clothing at them and only gave them a superficial look over before sending them off to decon.

It was almost disorienting how quickly they ended up in a completely different time and place. Janus was lucky that he was used to traveling through time. He could easily slip into the right language and accent and knew how to walk in the shoes they gave him. He worried about other people though.

 They arrived, of course, a bit before the time distortion was meant to begin, especially knowing their devices might not work once whatever it was hit. They waited around on a bench near a small shopping area for a while.

“So,” Remus said. “How’ve you been?”

Janus glanced at him. “Better overall,” he said. “Shit’s fucked with the TPI right now though.”

“I know,” Remus said. “It’s been interfering with my many extracurricular activities.”

“You’re extracurricular activities?” Janus asked. “Do I even want to know?”

Remus show him a smile. “Probably not,” he said. “It’s just the usual: sex, drugs, alcohol, making sure Diesel Fuel has whatever she could ever want.”

 Yet, even as he said it, there was something else in his eyes that gave Janus pause. “Are you sure things are alright?” he asked. “I could help with something if you need.”

“With what time, Janus?” he asked, with a raised eyebrow.

“I could make time,” Janus said.

Remus just shook his head. “It’s nothing,” he claimed.

Janus wanted to press the issue, but then there was a buzz from both of their time pieces.

“Well,” Remus said, getting to his feet. “Duty calls.”

Strangely enough, despite giving off the same signals as the device from Cuba did, their time pieces did not shut off. The detected the time distortion like they were supposed to, but otherwise stayed active.

 It was… incredibly easy to use their time pieces to find the source of the time distortion. Apparently, the caution about it considering that it was similar to the Cuba incident was unfounded.

The tracked the distortion down to a small children’s playground in the middle of the city. There was a device attached to the bottom of one of the slides. Janus flipped it off and balance was restored to time.

“Weird,” Janus said. “It definitely does look like the device we found in Cuba, but…”

“We aren’t currently swimming in an ocean,” Remus filled in.

“Yes,” Janus said. “You’d think the same type of device would have the same effect, but this one was pretty stable.”

 “The main question is still who is putting them,” reminded Remus. “These are clearly not natural. Someone is doing this, but all we’re doing is running around trying to turn them all off instead of getting to the root of the problem.” The last bit was a frustrated mumble.

“You’re right,” Janus had to agree, “but so far these things have been practically untraceable. We can’t even figure out when they’re from. The most we can do is see when they’re active.”

“This doesn’t make any sense,” Remus said.

“No it-” Yet, before Janus could finish, he was cut off by a shout.

 “Janus,” Patton’s voice called from the opposite side of the playground. “Hi!”

“Uh…” Janus said as he approached. “Hi.” He probably shouldn’t be too shocked to see Patton hanging around time distortions. He’d shown up at many of them before, but something about him showing up after the time distortion was already fixed threw Janus off. “We already dealt with time distortion…”

“Oh, good!” Patton said. “That’s good.”

“Yea-”

“So, I was actually wondering something.”

“Er, alright,” Janus said. There was a pause. “What?”

“Oh,” Patton said. “Um. You. Well, you once mentioned that you liked ballet.”

He hadn’t actually that he could remember, but he wouldn’t be surprised if a future version of him had. “Yes,” he said. “That’s true.”

 “Yeah,” Patton said. “Cool, so I have a… nephew who’s been getting into ballet. And I’m trying to learn more about it. I was wondering if you had any suggestions for things to see about ballet to help me, er, get a better idea about how… it… is. You know?”

Before Janus could think of a response, Remus spoke up. “You were a much better flirt in Cuba,” he remarked idly. Janus elbowed him harshly in the side.

“Hey, Remus, honey,” Patton said, glancing at him with a sweet smile. “I saw an interesting looking coffee shop down the road.” He started digging in his pocket. “If I give you money, would you mind getting us all something to drink.” He pulled a few bills out of his pocket.

“Yeah… okay,” Remus said with a smirk. “I see how it is.”

Patton just smiled at him and handed over the money.

“Have fun you two,” Remus said, turning on his heels and striding off.

 Janus glanced back at Patton once he was gone. “So, a nephew?” Janus asked.

Patton nodded. “Yep!”

“What exactly did you want to know?”

“Erm… I dunno,” Patton said. “I don’t know enough about ballet to know what to ask about ballet.”

“Well do you want to know more about the watching side or the dancing side.”

Patton bit his lip. “Well, I guess I’d like to know more about the watching side first,” he said. “Then maybe learn some basics about the dancing stuff if my nephew wants to dance.”

“Well, I actually do know more about watching ballet than participating, so that’s good.”

 Patton ended up pulling him over to sit on the swings even though there was a perfectly good bench at the edge of the playground. Janus talked a bit about ballet in general and then gave him a list of particular shows he liked. He did try to stick to the 21st century and before under the assumption that this nephew was from the same time as Patton. There was still plenty of things to talk about even with those restraints.

Patton seemed interested as he talked, pressing his face against the chain of the swing to look at him as he talked with a smile.

 They spoke about ballet for about 20 minutes before Remus eventually returned from the coffee shop.

“Thanks Remus,” Patton said, taking the cup he’d offered to him.

“No problem,” Remus replied, flashing a smile.

“Well,” Patton said, “thank you for the info Janus, but I really need to be going now.”

“Oh,” Janus said. “Okay.”

“See you soon!” he said, typing something into his timepiece and immediately disappearing without even checking his surroundings. He was lucky the playground was strangely empty today. He left his drink on the ground without taking a sip.

“Well,” Janus sighed once he was gone. “We should probably be getting back to the TPI anyway,” he said, taking a sip of the drink Remus had gotten him.

 “A London Fog?” Janus asked.

“It was the special,” Remus said, taking a sip of his own drink.

Janus shrugged. “We’ll finish these and head back,” he said. “The mission was shorter than expected anyway. They can deal with us being gone a couple of extra minutes.”

“Mhmm.”

Janus took another sip. “About the conversation from early,” he said.

“Uh, could we maybe talk about it later?”

“Remus, you’re my friend and clearly something is bugging you.”

“It’s nothing,” Remus said. “Really.”

“It’s clearly not ‘nothing,’ Remus.”

“I… well,” Remus said. “Maybe not, but let’s not talk about it right now. We’re on a mission.”

Janus snorted. “Remus, I’ve seen you drink on the job.”

“…Right,” Remus said. “But still. Things are busy. We should probably actually head back now.”

Janus sighed. “You’re probably right,” he agreed, “but really, we should talk sometime.”

“Sometimes,” Remus agreed, “just… not now.”

“Fine,” Janus said. “Ready?” Remus nodded and Janus pulled up his timepiece and pushing the correct button to get them back to decon. Remus copied him and they both were off.

 Chapter 60

Remus pretty much bolted out of decon to get away from Janus when he tried to talk to him again or at least ask if he could come by and talk to him after work. Janus felt a pit of worry start to grow in his gut. There was something wrong, but Janus didn’t know what. In fact, thinking back, maybe there had been something wrong for a while, but Janus had been too caught up in his own shit of a brain to properly address it.

He walked back to his office still thinking about it. Maybe he’d get Emile’s opinion on what to do.

 The lights flickered as he entered the hallway his office was in, and he paused. That was strange. Very strange.

He frowned, planning to message someone right away about whatever the fuck that was. It was one thing to be a chaotic mess of a time travel agency; it was another to literally not be able to keep the lights on. What was going on in this place?

He stepped into his office shaking his head. To his surprise, someone was already sitting at his desk.

“Virgil?” Janus asked, confused. “What are you doing here?” It wasn’t completely unheard of for someone in cultural outreach to come physically to the TPI, but usually agents went to them. It was more convenient to them and a bit more secure for the TPI.

 “Oh,” Virgil said in a tone that made Janus narrow his eyes and expect the dish washer not to be loaded. “Hey Janus. What are you doing here?”

“In my office?” Janus asked, glancing at Fred who had obviously let him in. Fred shrugged. Glad to know they had great security here.

“Right, yeah,” Virgil said. “It would be your office, huh?”

“…Yes?”

Virgil paused for a split second and took a breath to regroup. “I was actually looking for your partner.”

“Remus?” Janus asked. “Why?” Then he paused. “What on Earth did he do?”

“Nothing,” Virgil said. “Well, I mean… probably something knowing him, but that’s not why I’m here.”

“Probably,” Janus agreed. “I don’t know where he is right now though. He ran off when we got back from our last mission.”

“And you have no idea where he could have gone?”

“I actually would like to talk to him too,” Janus said. “So, if I did, I wouldn’t be here.”

“Chances he’ll come back to the office?” Virgil asked, hopefully.

“Very low since he’s avoiding me.”

“Great,” Virgil said, rubbing his temples. “That’s great. Why does this have to be physically difficult as well?”

“What exactly do you need with Remus?” Janus asked, noting the way Virgil was holding himself very tensely.

 “I just need to talk to him,” Virgil said.

“Yes,” Janus said. “About…?”

Virgil didn’t say anything. He just looked off to the side.

“Why is everyone acting weird today?” Janus said, almost to himself.

“I’m not!” said Fred from his corner.

Janus shot him an unamused look. “Thank you for your contribution to this conversation, Fred.”

“Look,” Virgil said, “can you just tell him I need to talk to him about something private the next time you see him?”

“What on Earth do you need to talk privately to Remus about?” Janus said.

“Just leave it, Janus,” Virgil said.

 He had his lips downturned in stern way that meant he was trying to hide something from Janus by feigning annoyance. Janus titled his head. “You two aren’t…”

“No! Ew!” Virgil said, looking disgusted. “He’s somehow the worst of two options which is saying something considering the French Toast.”

“What?”

“Nothing,” said Virgil. “Just, can I leave a note for him, or something?”

Janus paused, looking at him. Virgil squirmed under his gaze but didn’t seem like he was going to give in anytime soon. “Fine,” Janus finally relented. “You can leave a note on his desk. I’m not sure why you didn’t just email him.”

 “It’s an in-person type of conversation,” Virgil said, wringing his hands.

“Whatever you say,” Janus said, walking over to Remus’s desk and clicking the memo button that brought up a screen people who weren’t Remus could write on. “There you go,” he said.

“Thanks,” Virgil said with a relieved grin, clearly happy he was no longer being interrogated. He grabbed the stylus tied to the side of Remus’s desk. (If Janus hadn’t tied it there, it would be in Mesopotamia by now, he was sure.)

Janus turned to go back to his own desk.

“Wait,” said Virgil. “It isn’t working.”

 “What do you mean?” Janus asked. “It’s a note app.”

“It’s not tracking what I write,” Virgil said. He tapped the screen with his finger. “It’s not even responding.”

Janus leaned over to take a look for himself. He tapped it a few times and there was nothing, so he tapped it a bit more aggressively. A fuzzy line went across the screen and then it shut off abruptly.

“What is wrong with things in this office lately?” Janus asked with a frown.

“My stuff just froze too,” Fred said.

The door opened then, and Lena entered the room. “The coffee makers are all offline.”

 “What do you mean the coffee makers are offline?” Janus asked.

“I went to get some coffee for Fred and I and they’re not working. Any of them.”

“That’s odd,” Fred said.

“You know,” Virgil said, shifting nervously on his feet. “This seems like a bad time for me to be here. Why don’t I just come back another time or better yet, Janus, just tell Remus to come find me.”

“Yeah,” Janus agreed. “There’s a lot of things going on apparently, so it’s probably best if you leave.”

With that, Virgil brought up the time device he was using and pushed a couple of buttons to return to his university.”

 However, instead of disappearing like he was meant to do, he flickered once and then was immediately on his knees with his hand over his nose.

“Shit,” Virgil hissed.

“Are you okay?” Janus asked, kneeling next to him. There was blood coming from his nose which was concerning, but his eyes focused on Janus easily enough, though he looked very startled.

“I think I just hit the shield.”

“Is your timepiece not approved?” asked Janus, pulling on his arm to see the timepiece.

“I got it approved this morning,” Virgil said, taking a tissue Fred handed to him to press it to his nose. “It’s supposed to have access to the TPI all day. I used it not even 10 minutes ago.”

Lena was already on her own time device. She pushed a button and disappeared for a moment before appearing a couple of steps away. She stumbled and was caught by Fred. “Mine’s blocked too,” she said, “I only put in to go to the entrance of the building.”

That’s when the lights went out.

 Chapter 61

There was screaming from somewhere down the hall.

“Do you think that’s like when kids would scream when the teacher would turn out the lights in elementary school for a movie?” Virgil asked hopefully, voice a bit nasally since he was still holding his nose.

Janus gave him a tightlipped stare.

“Yeah,” Virgil said, “that’s what I was afraid of.”

Fred calmly reached over and shut and locked the office door.

“And what good is that going to do?” asked Virgil.

Fred glanced at him, already moving to shove Remus’s desk in front of the door. Janus instantly went to help him. “Gives us time to regroup.”

 “Or it locks us in,” Virgil argued.

Janus glanced over at him. “Don’t panic,” he said.

“The fuck do you mean, don’t panic?” Virgil asked, panicking, “Do you even know me?”

Janus sighed. “Fine,” he said. “Panic as much as you want but do it quietly.”

Virgil opened his mouth to speak.

“We know what we’re doing. You do not. Contributions from you that are only fears no matter how rational are not helpful at the moment.”

Virgil shut his mouth.

Janus turned Lena and Fred. “Okay, what do we know?”

“Malfunctioning coffee makers,” Lena said. “Malfunctioning tech in general really.”

 “And not just now,” Fred added, now working on barricading the window with the cabinet he kept his hot chocolate in. “There’s been issues with the whole system for a while now, and they’ve been getting worse.”

“Right,” Janus said. “I’d been blaming that on new recruits messing things up out of ignorance or IT not having enough time do normal maintenance, but if everything is down when the shields are malfunctioning, that implies something else.”

“Are the shields even malfunctioning?” Lena asked. “That implies something went wrong with the program, but what happened to Professor Eran and I is what it’s supposed to do to people who don’t have permission to cross them.”

 “So, the shields might be malfunctioning,” Janus said, “or someone went in and changed the permissions.”

“Considering the tech problems we’ve been having,” Lena said, “it’s possible someone’s been playing around in the TPI the system without knowing what they’re doing.”

“Or maybe they know exactly what they’re doing,” Janus suggested, “and they wanted to see our usual protocol for small issues before giving us a big one.”

There were a few moments of silence where they all were lost in thought.

“People are still screaming,” Virgil pipped in.

“Yes,” Janus confirmed. “This is obviously not just a virtual attack.”

 “Which should be the priority?” Lena asked. “The virtual attack or the physical one?”

“The virtual part will be complicated, and if we stabilize the building physically, we’ll have more time and have everyone safe,” Fred said, “but on the other hand the virtual attack is obviously what’s letting the physical attack persist. If people had access to time travel and communication, the physical attack wouldn’t matter.”

“I think-” started Janus, but he was cut off suddenly by a horrible screeching noise like metal on metal. The room they were in jolted like they were in a car that suddenly stopped and then the world was turning sideways, and they were all toppling as the floor became the wall. Janus landed on top of Virgil. Hopefully the blood now staining his shirt was from the man’s already bloody nose. “-we should probably start with the time anomaly attack!”

 Lena was a few feet away from him. She’d luckily been to the right of her desk, so she landed on top of it instead of it landing on top of her. Fred was a couple of feet away, already crouched. Judging by the state of the furniture around him, he’d had to dodge the cabinet he’d been putting over the window.

“What’s going on?” Virgil asked. Good, he was conscious after that.

“Time distortion,” Janus answered.

“What the hell type of time distortion is this?!” Lena exclaimed, holding one of her arms with the other. Janus couldn’t tell what type of injury she’d gotten.

 “One like the one Remus and I ran into in Cuba,” Janus said.

“So…” Fred said.

“I think we’ve finally found whoever has been mucking up time with time distortion devices. Or, more, I think they’ve found us.”

There were more screams from down the hall. “We can still hear other people in the building screaming,” Janus noted. “That’s good.”

“How is that good?” Virgil asked.

“That means the building is still connected to itself,” Janus explained. “Which, means that while the shields are screwed up, they’re still in place and keeping the building from being ripped apart and sent through time and space.”

 “Oh well that’s good at least,” Virgil said, sounding honestly a bit hysterical. He looked over at Janus. “If the building is intact, can’t we just leave? Just through the front door?”

The three time agents in the room exchanged a look.

“Well,” Fred said, “first of all, it’s probably not going to be that easy to get to the front door considering the screaming we’re hearing every so often.”

“Also, we wouldn’t be able to get out if we did make it to the door.”

“What?” Virgil asked. “Why not?”

“It’s kind of a secret that most people don’t know unless they’ve worked here a long time,” Janus said, “but the TPI headquarters isn’t exactly… in a place.”

 “What do you mean it’s not in a place?” Virgil asked. “I’ve seen the outside of the building. It’s on a normal street with restaurants and a park and all of that.”

“It’s really not though,” Janus said.

“It’s kind of floating,” Lena cut in. “Somewhere in deep space. The doors auto-teleport you the doors of a building on Earth which is why you think that it’s there.”

“The building’s a shell?” Virgil asked, flabbergasted.

“Yes, and unfortunately, without time travel being accessible, going out of the front door would be ill advised.”

There was a long pause as Virgil seemed to reboot. “We’re floating in space right now?!”

“Well,” Janus said. “We were always floating in space. You just didn’t know that.”

 “Great, yeah, nice, that’s great,” Virgil said, rubbing his temples.

“So,” Janus said, turning to Fred and Lena. “I think first we need to find whatever is sending out time quakes before they get worse. Then, we’ll figure out the rest along the way.”

“How are we going to find it though?” Fred asked. “It could be anywhere.”

“I’m not sure but standing in here isn’t going to get us anywhere,” Lena said.

“The closer we get the more chaos there will be,” Janus said. “Game of hot and cold with time distortions anyone?”

Lena and Fred nodded, but Virgil just looked queasy. Luckily, when the room had gone sidewise, the door had landed in a place still accessible enough with a bit of crawling.

 Fred and Lena had to pull the desk away from the door, but then they were able to cautiously open it. Fred poked his head out. “Seems clear,” he said. “Sideways, but clear.”

“Good,” Janus said.

Fred started slowly crawling out into the hallway and Lena went after him. Janus turned back to a very green looking Virgil. “You can stay here,” he said. Maybe go in the supply closet to prevent any more injury from falling office supplies. It won’t be comfortable, but it’ll be better. We’ll come get you when things are stable.”

Virgil nodded. Yet, right as Janus turned away to go follow Fred and Lena, there was another rubble and the ground shook. Virgil, still a bit wobbly on his feet from the last couple of falls tumbled down, but luckily the room’s walls stayed in their places.

Unluckily, the walls outside of the room didn’t. Looking through the office door one could see what was outside the room was very much not a hallway anymore, but a different room entirely. There was no Lena or Fred in sight. “You’ve got to be kidding,” Janus said to the universe.

 Chapter 62

“I thought you said the building was stable!” Virgil said.

“I said it’s not being ripped apart,” Janus corrected, “and it still isn’t. We’re still inside the headquarters. The rooms just got a bit… scrambled.”

“Great, great, fuck.”

“It’s fine, Virgil,” Janus said, though he himself was a bit worried. He knew if he showed that, however, Virgil would just panic more, and the last thing Janus needed at the moment was a panicking civilian, let along a panicking Virgil.

“It is not fine,” Virgil said. Luckily, he looked a bit pissed off at Janus’s flippant reply. Good. A pissed off Virgil was better than one having a panic attack.

 Janus just rolled his eyes, making Virgil bristle even more. “Well,” he said, “either way, I need to attempt to find what is causing this time distortion. Come with me or stay here, though I am unsure if the closet is a closet anymore.”

Virgil eyed the closet and then eyed Janus.

“Make your choice quickly though,” Janus cautioned, already steeping towards the open doorway.

He heard Virgil curse after a moment and then a hand was gripping Janus’s arm. He was coming with then.

They both climbed out of the sideways doorway into the room on the other side.

 “Where are we?” Virgil asked, still holding onto Janus’s sleeve. It reminded Janus of welcome week in their freshman year of college.

They’d been randomly assigned as roommates in the dorms. Janus had mostly ignored him the first day after small attempts at making conversation had failed miserably. He’d assumed the boy simply didn’t want to make friends, and Janus had taken that in stride, sure he could make friends elsewhere.

That lasted until that night when he’d found his roommate on the bathroom floor, dry heaving into the toilet. After figuring out that it was from nerves and not some drug his body was trying to desperately expel (Janus had been very glad he didn’t have to drag some dumbass to the hospital on his first day living away from home), he decided to take pity on the poor fool and socially adopted him.

 He'd been a nervous wreck during all of Welcome Weekend even with Janus’s literally leading him by the hand (and sometimes dragging him) to the many social events the university put on. He’d slowly calmed down, however being around a lot of people still sometime freaked him out. He’d warmed up to Janus quickly though and when they were alone, he’d come out of his shell.

He’d proved himself to be a witty, smartass, bastard as soon as he got over his crippling social anxiety. He’d matched Janus perfectly, honestly, and had always been around to help with homework, especially reading and writing. He’d also known more about how to clean himself and his environment more than most college freshman even if sometimes his anxiety had prevented him from using that knowledge appropriately.

 He'd actually managed to stop Janus from making poisonous gas in their apartment by mixing cleaning fluids in their junior year.

Janus glanced around them trying to answer the question of where they were. It was a medium sized room, about the size of the living room in his house and was mostly baren except for a large hollowed out circular desk with one gap for people to be able to walk through. Under the desk was a long line of old school computer towers humming softly with only a few centimeters between them. There was a mess of cords all over the place, connecting to different parts of the computers and thrown over parts of the desk.

 “I’m not sure where we are,” Janus admitted. “This is a pretty archaic set up. I’m not sure what it’d be used for.”

Virgil stepped forward towards the desk with a curious tilt to his head. He bent down to study one of the computers for a few moments. He squinted. “It’s not an archaic set-up. Well,” he amended. “It is, but it’s intentionally an archaic set-up. The techs current, it’s just put in a shell that looks old for some reason.”

“That’s odd,” Janus said.

Virgil pushed a button on the side of one of the towers and the machine started rumbling louder, lighting up Virgil’s face in a soft blue light as it did.

 Virgil stood as the computer tower next to it lit up the same the next moment and the one next to it the moment after that until all of the computers were on. Only after that did the top of the desk light up, a full 3-D hologram lighting up with Virgil inside.

Janus stepped through the gap in the desk to stand inside the hologram too.

He was met with a lock screen, but more worrying.

“Oh no,” Janus said.

“What?” Virgil asked, glancing at him.

“The date,” Janus said.

The date behind the prompt for the password read almost 10 years in the future of the year they were supposed to be in.

 “So much for your shields,” Virgil grumbled.

“We really shouldn’t be here,” Janus said.

“Oh really?” Virgil said. “Thanks for your useful information, Mr. Time Agent. I thought likely stepping on our own personal time streams, especially by going to the future was a good Thursday afternoon activity.”

Janus glared at him.

“Oh wait,” said Virgil, glancing at the date on the screen, “I mean Sunday at 2am.”

“Does being an asshole help?” Janus asked.

“Would you prefer an actual mental breakdown because I have two modes of behavior open to me right now.”

“Asshole it is,” Janus grumbled.

“Great,” said Virgil. “Fuck you, fuck Remus, fuck time travel, and fuck…”

 And, of course, that’s when the room decided to tilt once more. They both went tumbling, but luckily the fall was softer this time. Janus simply landed on his backside as though he’d tripped backwards while walking. Meanwhile, Virgil ended up on his hands and knees having caught himself.

“Fuck this!” Virgil completed his sentence a bit too loudly for Janus’s taste.

“Shh,” Janus said.

Virgil looked up at him and seemed to realize what Janus had. They were no longer in the room they’d just been in. Or perhaps they were in the same room, but the computer wasn’t there, and the lighting was different. It was rather difficult to tell if they’d moved rooms since it was just a rectangular box of a room.

 Instead, they were in what seemed to be just an office, much like Janus’s office, but with six desks instead of four. There was a half-eaten lunch on one of the desks and a hologram with a mission report pulled up on the wall.

There also blood on the floor next to where they had landed.

“Where are we?” Virgil asked in a whisper.

“Back in action,” Janus said. “It’s one of the offices, but I don’t know which at the moment, but I’m going to go ahead and assume it’s in the right time. The shields must have righted us.

#study break stories #not writing

[27emailsicantsend]

I definitely think the chocolates will make a return next season just based on what Tim captioned the insta post. I think his saying “or is it” makes it apparent that this storyline will still serve some purpose. What do you think? How do you think that would play out?

Hi anon! I received an ask a LOT like this, so I posted some of my thoughts about why I think we will get a chocolates confession here.

However, I did not explain how I think we will get the confession (I threw in a couple of ideas, but nothing concrete). For me, I think we are going to get several evidences of Ricky’s feelings for gina throughout the season. We might get little things about him saying how lucky he is to her or how beautiful he thinks she is or any other cheesy, simp culture lines from him. I think the chocolates are going to come into play in a much bigger way (I’m hoping this doesn’t bite me too hard, because I thought Ricky’s harness would be a bigger deal and then it got like, 30 seconds of screen time s3). So, just in case, please remember I am just hypothesizing here. I have no evidence of any of this happening. 😂

I think the chocolates are going to come around when rina says their “I love you’s”. If we’re looking at the points I made in my other post, the confession was Gina’s second chance to make things right. I think the chocolates are Ricky’s. We had this powerful moment with gina where we saw her character arc come full circle because we saw a beautiful, non-selfish confidence presented when she put herself first in her confession. When she told ricky that he can have her for what she is or she will leave with her head held high because regardless, she knows her worth. It was up to him to decide if he knew it too.

With Ricky, his character growth comes so much more in the words he says and how he responds to change. We saw this season that he was able to healthily handle change in his and Gina’s relationship by letting go of lily and still being friends with gina. He didn’t force a relationship with her or get in the way, in fact, multiple times we saw evidence that he tried to help gina be with ej, even if it hurt ricky. Now, we will get to see him reveal his feelings for the girl he likes in the right place and time. He won’t walk away because he is unsure or worried things might change. He won’t fight for his life to be able to say the words he was too scared of saying. He will say I love you and mean it. Not only because of his maturity and growth, but because he (and we) have seen time and time again that his feelings for gina were always there, even when he tried to repress them. The chocolates were evidence of that.

My Ideal Chocolates Confession/Headcanon:

So, I think Gina might be talking to her mom one day and her mom could ask about ricky. Then gina might say, “how do you know about ricky?” So, her mom looks nervous, but not forthcoming about the chocolates.

We flash forward to ricky and gina walking down a hall, talking and gina brings up that her mom seems to know him. Ricky seems nervous, but instead of lying again (this would be regression because it would be him doing something harmful to save himself in a relationship), he tells her the truth. “Honestly, because I got you the chocolates”. Gina says, “What? But you told me my mom did! Ricky, why would you lie? I hate ly-“ cutting her off, he would say, “lying. I know. I knew you wanted something from your mom. But it was Valentine’s Day and I was in a weird place with nini at the time, so I didn’t want to make things worse. Honestly, I feel bad even saying this but… I wish I had signed the card. So you knew the truth from the beginning”. Then Gina, still a little confused, but catching on says, “but you still lied, ricky. I don’t get why you lied. You could have just told me. I would have understood you felt bad as a friend and I would have understood why my mom never sent them”. Ricky then pauses, looks directly in her eyes, grabbing her arms softly and says, “But Gina, I didn’t send them as a friend. I lied, because I loved you then and I love you now”. Then we see Gina’s face light up and that is when she says, “I love you, too” with tears in her eyes. 🥹

#rina #hsmtmts #high school musical the musical the series #gina porter #ricky bowen #ricky x gina #chocolates truther #anon #asks #send me asks #headcanon

[nellievances]

i can heavily relate to you right now. my abuser is also famous and i've been having anxiety attacks for months about him doing to me what depp did to heard. i'm actually considering deleting any trace of me talking about my abuse online bc of how scared i am. i kind of snapped and vented in another persons anons about this and they kindly responded to prioritize therapy right now and i know they're right but i just can't bring myself to open up to my therapist now that i know anything i do or say could potentially be used against me. been doom rereading all my emails from my old email address from years ago where i documented my abuse and for once not trying to make sure everything lines up in case i need to bring it against him but instead trying to find loopholes so it can't be used against me.

i feel like i should clarify, as i do in my tags (but those often get lost), that my abuser isn't famous in the traditional sense of the word. it's more like he is significantly more wealthy and respected in our "community"/profession (also for lack of a better word) and literally turned people i didn't even know against me when i first came forward. it's really hard to explain, especially since i can't get into the details of it, but please know a lot of this comes from bad word choice. (i also don't want people to speculate what "famous person it could be" when that would just be fruitless and hurt the ones they end up hypothesizing about)

however! that does not mean i don't totally fucking get it. i had to delete entire social media accounts because i was so paranoid (also please keep in mind, i was stalked too so. i was extra paranoid.) i've spent hours scouring my old posts, making sure he's not even mentioned in one. i've been on private and under a fake name on all other social media so he and his cohorts can't see my posts.

my heart breaks for you, anon. i have to agree with the other blog you vented to and recommend speaking to your therapist though. amber's therapist notes were used in her favor (they were just blocked as "hearsay" by this judge, which is. crazy.) also, you don't know that your abuser will ever do anything like d*pp did. please, get the help for yourself. that's the most important part. don't hurt yourself by imagining a worst case scenario and living by that, when it hasn't happened yet.

i'm so sorry that this is happening to you. i believe you. sending you all my love, and hoping you can continue healing, however that looks for you.

#i hope this makes some semblance of sense <3 #i'm sorry if i doesn't but this is the best advice i can give you / most i can say rn #allie answers #abuse cw

[ezribex]

FFXIV Write Day 15

“Here you are.” A steaming plate of pasta adorned by a fragrant tomato sauce was placed in front of me. “Would you like some cheese? I know it’s not much, but I’ve had to make do with nonperishable ingredients ever since…” 

I inhaled, fighting the urge to pick up my fork and dig in until after my host had prepared his own plate. “It’s perfect,” I said, and we locked eyes. I tried to give him my best cheer up smile, and was pleased to see a faint relaxation of the tension in his face. 

Pandaemonium. In the hours since Hesperos’ death, the strange familiar had departed to whence she came, and Erichthonios and I had gotten to work surveying the damage to Asphodelos. We had placed what creations remained back in their quarters, refreshing the warding bonds. We searched for the other warders on the level, and had concluded, finding no bodies other than Hesperos', that everyone else had escaped to the now very blocked-off Abyssos. Hopefully this was an indication that those warders still lived? Only a full investigation would be able to tell us one way or another. 

As I enjoyed my first few bites of the delicious, well-seasoned pasta, I considered my mission. The initial rush of danger and urgency was fading and I found my own emotions roiling. An unpleasant sensation, to say the least. I wondered what had caused Hesperos, and, for a time, Erichthonios, to lose themselves. It’s something about this place, I hypothesized. Because I felt it too. Anger, at Lahabrea, a man I’d always admired, for this obvious negligence in the case of his son. Pride, at the way in which Erichthonios and I could combine our magicks to bind dangerous beasts. Envy, of the fearless familiar who could subdue creations and keywards alike. 

I thought about the familiar and how much she reminded me of Azem. I imagined a bloody conflict between the two of us on the Convocation floor. “Even Emet-Selch could do no better!” I screamed, as I struck her down with my light and then my darkness and then my light again, till she was unconscious, forced to yield. 

I took a deep breath and the aroma of my meal brought me back. “This is wonderful, Erichthonios” I said, taking a few more bites, and smiling at him across the table. He set his fork down and ran his fingers through his hair, avoiding eye contact. 

He stood up abruptly. “Would you like some wine?” he asked. And then, without giving me a chance to answer, he said, “I’ll go get it,” and walked over to the kitchen. I set down my fork as well and took a drink of water, letting the cool liquid slide down my throat and subdue my passions as best it could. 

I felt overwhelmed, out of my depth. Why did Azem send me, when she could’ve come herself? She had said something about a portentous vision, a falling star. And then there was the familiar, which seemed so much like her… My working hypothesis was based on the idea that the simplest explanations are often correct. Azem sent me on this investigation because my specific skills as the Emissary will be needed. She didn’t want me to have to work alone, though, so she sent along a familiar as well. I supposed that if this facility had the ability to warp people’s minds and bodies in service to their emotions, my discipline as an Emissary and an Observer would potentially be useful. 

“Here we are.” Erichthonios placed two wine glasses upon the table, uncorked the bottle, and skillfully poured. “It’s probably not as good as what you all have in Amaurot, but this was a birthday gift from Agdistis, the keyward of Abyssos. I’d been saving it for a special occasion.” 

“I’m honored,” I replied, lifting my glass to lightly clink with his. “Here’s to our investigation.” 

“Cheers,” he said, a bit glumly. I took a sip. The wine was dark, tannic, leathery. It didn’t go particularly well with this bright, lovely pasta. Who is this Agdistis person? I knew she was a former member of the Words of Lahabrea, but she’d left Amaurot for the Pandaemonium long before I’d become involved with the Convocation. What was her place in all this? For that matter, what role would Lahabrea himself play? I was increasingly convinced that I could not complete this mission satisfactorily without his help. But his treatment of Erichthonios, his own flesh and blood, could not be ignored. Another reason Azem sent me, I realized. She must’ve known that Lahabrea’s son and I are about the same age. 

I ate my dinner with genuine pleasure, and the wine grew better as I drank more of it. After we finished eating, I insisted upon washing the dishes. Erichthonios seemed surprised, which saddened me. His mother was dead, his father neglectful, and his mentor had just called him stupid and useless to his face. I wanted to show him that this wasn’t the case, and that he didn’t deserve any of what had happened to him. He deserves love, I thought, looking over at him from my place at the kitchen sink, allowing myself to feel a desire that had flashed across my mind upon realizing that his warder’s quarters in Asphodelos had only the one bed. Bad idea, Themis, I told myself. It’s the Pandaemonium’s influence, the stress of the situation. So, after I finished the dishes and exchanged a few more pleasantries with my host, I requested sleeping quarters in one of the neighboring warder’s apartments. 

Lying in bed, I started a meditation, controlling my breathing, slowing my heartrate. A test of my wits, my will, my stamina. You will not best me, Pandaemonium. Eventually, I drifted off to sleep.

#ffxivwrite2023 #ffxivwrite

[unexpectedarrivals]

draft research question thinking:

Can I transform the resistance I feel in everyday actions into political resistance against oppression for the collective good?

I want to understand the roots of this constant resistance that blocks my ability to flow through daily actions. I believe that if I can understand this aspect of my psychology enough to activate it by choice - rather than feel oppressed by it - it will help me to act in accordance with social justice actions.

Maybe that is it - there's part of me that believed that to empathize with systemic oppression of others, I needed to acknowledge oppressions in my own life. And I think that is valid and needed but it's just a step in the process. Acknowledging my own oppressions can send me into this state of paralysis. So while I can empathize with the paralysis of others, it doesn't allow for a flow of change, the mercurial thinking-moving into more present ways.

I am more able now however, to notice this paralysis and slowly trickle through into the other sensory-rich side of things, the partition of awareness... the democracy of self to hear what has been silent through language of the body that is hard to discern. How does one learn a language but by noticing repetitions, associations, patterns, what follows what? What action flows from what sound?

I hypothesize that embodied "State Work" may help to shift this material of resistance, but also it requires me to notice the states that lead to states. I remember most deeply felt times wherein I knew if I chose the opposite action to what I thought I needed, I would have shown up in a different state, and that would have changed the course of my history. Month of Performance Art-Berlin, 2016 as a case in point. I regret not giving myself the instruction at the time: DO IT. DO IT. DO IT CHANGE THE ENERGY.

But there is a conflicting impulse to notice that rest is actually what is needed. While working in retail for 10 years, I had to drag my body to the job each day despite all anxieties. Coffee helped. I don't consider myself religious but I needed prayer - please God help me get through this shift. Please, please let me be okay today. I believe I entrenched the distrust of my body's natural need to rest in those times, but the earliest distrust of physical needs came more from age 3.

Now I don't have the same urgent imperatives to show up in a particular commercial-friendly state except when I sign up to teach somewhere I feel it. In the pandemic, I was able to give into rest more often. I had more days of clock-less time to dedicate to the deepening sensing lying in bed for 30 minutes before jumping up to get ready. But now after gaining 20 pounds and being unable to digest properly. I have to take that need for rest into account alongside the equally strong need to jump up at times and shift the energetic state.

Maybe the take-away is that sensing into the "resistance" can lead to many equally vital outcomes in terms of physical action. But what I would LIKE to do with my ART ACTIONS is to transform who I am, to become an active agent for collective well being in the world.

[there-must-be-a-lock]

In Theory

Spencer Reid x (gender neutral) Reader

Word Count: 950

Warnings: It’s not technically explicit, but it’s definitely sexy. Gratuitous references to the scientific method during fun naked times.  

A/N: @softspence​ got me thinking about Spencer being inexperienced, and... here we are! I wrote this as a follow-up to Blind Spot, but you don’t really need to read that first. 

For the free space on my @cmbingo​ card. 

Sure, you used to try to ignore your crush on Spencer. It was just that your mind wandered, sometimes. You used to find yourself imagining how he might touch you, how he would sound, how he would taste… 

You know. Theoretically. 

You were aware that he didn’t really have much experience when it came to sex, at that point, and you always imagined him being shy. In your fantasies, he would blush when you asked him what he wanted — hesitate when he tried to answer — smile and stutter as he undressed you — and you predicted that if you ever were to end up in bed with Spencer, you would (theoretically) be the one to take the lead. 

A month ago, when the two of you got together, you discovered that your hypothesis had been completely, totally, gloriously wrong. 

You never could’ve imagined Spencer like this. His mouth is red and swollen, his eyes are dark with this fierce feral hunger, and he’s licking his lips as his long nimble fingers flutter and tease at this one particular sweet spot, deep inside, that you never even knew existed. You never could’ve imagined the way it feels, or the way you’re twisting and squirming and choking out his name, overstimulated and overwhelmed as you come down from another mind-numbingly intense orgasm.

It’s Spencer, after all. Spencer Reid is earnest, and he’s sweet, and sometimes he’s a little clueless. He’s polite, when he’s not so preoccupied by his thoughts that he forgets his manners. You always assumed he was the kind of guy who would ask for permission before he tried anything. 

Holy hell were you wrong. 

Well, not about the asking for permission thing. You were one hundred percent right about that — he’s unfailingly polite. It’s just… you never, ever imagined the things he’d politely ask for permission to do. 

(And yeah, he did have a brief moment of speechlessness when he first saw you naked, but there was no trace of hesitation when he finally did speak.) 

“Can I please watch you touch yourself?” he asked, eyes raking up and down your body like he was memorizing the sight of your skin. “I want you to show me what you like.” 

It was the way he said it, too: that hoarse breathless tone of his, the way his voice cracked and crackled around the words. You’d heard it before, mostly when he felt shy or vulnerable — when he was being uncomfortably honest — and you’d always associated it with sweet unexpected compliments or earnest late-night conversations in the back of the jet. Something about that voice always sounded so innocent. 

Now, though, you hear that smoky voice whispering requests like, “Can you pull my hair?” and then a few minutes later, muffling his groan against the skin of your inner thigh, “Harder. Please.” 

One night he pressed you up against his apartment door the second it closed behind you, toying with the button of your jeans, and murmured, “I’ve been thinking about you all day and I don’t want to wait long enough to make it to bed. Can I please take these off?” 

Another night it was, “Can you tell me exactly what you want me to do to you?” 

“Can I tell you what I dreamed about last night?” 

“Can you bend over the table for me so I can eat you out from behind?” 

“Please let me taste you?” 

It’s dirty, but it’s not “dirty talk” in the way most guys grunt out godawful phrases yanked directly from porn. Spencer’s not trying to talk for the sake of filling the silence; he only says things like “Does this feel good?” and “Do you like that?” because he actually wants to know. 

The first few times you slept together, it felt like he touched you for hours, like he completely forgot about his own body in favor of exploring yours, his fingers and lips and tongue teasing every inch of your skin and his eyes sparkling with fascination as he catalogued your reactions. When he found something you liked — when you gasped or twitched under his hands — he repeated it, testing, experimenting like the scientist he is. 

You weren’t wrong about his inexperience. You just underestimated his determination to master this, master you, in the same way he masters everything he sets his mind to. 

Maybe it shouldn’t have surprised you as much as it did. You’ve seen Spencer when he’s in the middle of a case, after all. He gets his map and his markers and he focuses so intently that a goddamn tornado could go through the precinct around him and he wouldn’t even notice. 

And there’s always been something incredibly attractive about the way he holds himself when he’s working: with his eyes narrowed, his long fingers wrapped around a pen, his lips parted as he thinks. When Spencer is in his element, he’s sharp and sure and brilliant. There’s no sign of his usual self-conscious fidgeting when he’s gathering information and testing hypotheses. When he’s curious about something, he forgets his shyness; he’s single-minded, even obsessive, as he searches out answers to his questions. 

The question of the moment just happens to be, “How many times can I make you come tonight?” 

You might lose your mind before Spencer gets his answer. 

“One more?” he asks, husky and heated. 

“I can’t,” you whimper. “There’s no way.” 

“Are you sure?” 

Spencer does something with his fingers that sends sparks jittering out through your skin — it makes you throw your head back, shuddering as your muscles start to spasm with the frisson of heat. 

“You’re welcome to test that theory,” you gasp. “I might be wrong.” 

Wouldn’t be the first time. 

.

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More Criminal Minds fic here. 

#cmbingo21 #criminal minds fic #spencer reid fic #spencer reid x reader #spencer x reader fic #cm #criminal minds

[shih-coulda-had-it]

oooh, i just saw there is a platonic prompt option! so i you can, in the dfohiko-verse, toshinori and afo, #1, from the platonic/romantic touches list, pretty please!

i'm that one anon a while back that asked for the toshi-pov continuation

omg dfohiko verse anon, get ready for fluff with red flags. 

1. tiny hands in big hands & 18. squishing the other’s cheek | all for one & all might, dfohiko verse | wc: 926

a/n: Toshinori may be two years old, but he’s also a prodigy, so maybe he could toddle all the way to the grocery store (and get distracted by a butterfly) and buy $50 worth of groceries. Don’t worry. AFO kept him in sight for the whole time (which entirely defeats the purpose of sending your child off to their first errand).

a/n 2: Toshinori calls Sorahiko ‘tou-chan’ and Hisashi ‘papa.’ This is entirely due to AFO’s encouragement, because he’d probably cry if he got referred to as ‘otou-san’ (more distant/respectful and uncute), and he can tease Sorahiko with ‘Tou-chan’ to the end of their days.

//

Hisashi doesn’t remember the time before Quirks. He grew up in the chaotic decades after, and consequently, he and Yoichi missed out on several dozen or so traditions that Japan would eventually revive as it grasped for a return to normalcy. One such is the child’s first errand.

He’s seen the archived episodes of “My First Errand,” and supposedly, even Sorahiko had managed it without suffering any injury (except to his dignity).

But--it’s Toshinori. 

His son is two years old, and he barely comes up to Hisashi’s hip. His white hair is fluffy to the touch, and is growing out two long bangs in the front. (Hisashi asks Sorahiko if this is a Torino trait; if Sorahiko grew out his own hair, would the forelock also lengthen? The answer is inconclusive. Sorahiko vehemently refuses to hypothesize about it.)

Toshinori smiles brightly, and laughs loudly, and there is very little Hisashi wouldn’t do to keep his son’s cheerful nature unmarred.

“He’s got to learn how the world works,” says Sorahiko, unimpressed by Hisashi’s panic over the mere suggestion that they send Toshinori out to the local grocery (the grocery? When they can just have it delivered to their door by trusted professionals?) with no protection detail. 

His husband wants to send their defenseless child onto the streets! With only his little bunny backpack to keep the groceries and food money in!

What if Toshinori gets bullied? What if he trusts the wrong person (even if that wrong person is in Hisashi’s debt)?

What if he trusts the right person, and that person is a hero who’ll succumb to Toshinori’s cuteness and manhandle him into a hug, vandalize his backpack with an autograph, and stalk his path back home?

“I don’t see how that relates at all.”

Sorahiko snorts. “Let me rephrase. If our kid grows up not knowing where the food in the pantry comes from, then we’re not parents. We’re pet owners.”

“Our kid,” Hisashi echoes, and catches Sorahiko in a kiss. It’s a futile attempt to distract Sorahiko from his traditionalist parenting.

//

“Tou-chan says that I’m mature,” says Toshinori proudly, as Hisashi fusses with the bunny backpack’s straps. He slips a tracker under Toshinori’s shirt, smoothes out the fabric so it lays flat and unobtrusive. Then Hisashi catches Toshinori’s hands, gently turning them palmside up, playing up an inspection for dirt.

“Did he? And what did tou-chan tell you to buy?”

“... Leek,” the boy answers, a tad uncertain. “And--and--sauce.”

Hisashi stifles the urge to laugh, choosing to nod at Toshinori’s words. At the encouraging sign, Toshinori gains steam, and recites more food items, like milk, ice cream, cookies, taiyaki, dorayaki, imagawayaki--things, Hisashi thinks with amusement, that would certainly upend Garaki’s Childhood Nutrition Meal Plan.

To save Toshinori from the embarrassment of bringing too many items to the register, Hisashi says, “Your backpack can only hold three things, no?”

Toshinori’s face scrunches into a grimace, then eases into a triumphant smile. He tears his hands from Hisashi’s hold and flings his arms wide. “I can carry more!”

“So ambitious,” he muses. He stands to his full height and opens the door wide. “Well. Good luck, Toshinori. Be safe.”

“Okay, papa,” chirps Toshinori, and practically skips out of the house, down the courtyard, and takes a swift left on the sidewalk, en-route to the grocery store. Hisashi leans against the doorframe and considers the merits of listening to his husband, whose advice is generally logical and grounded in spite of his youth.

There’s a consequence to keeping your loved ones caged. They stop loving you. They grow to resent you, and all your care, and every waking moment is dedicated to thoughts of escape.

He’d like to think he’s learned over the years.

//

Hisashi is lurking outside the storefront. His son entered the venue twenty minutes ago, and while he’s fairly certain that the staffers aren’t connected to any enterprising third-parties who’d like to take a stab at the Lord of Evil’s only son, Hisashi doesn’t like strangers cooing over Toshinori.

He checks the tracker app. Based on the grid location, it seems like Toshinori’s lingering at the produce section. Trying to find leeks? Oh no. What if they’re on the top shelf, and Toshinori’s stubborn bravery has him trying to climb the slippery racks?

He considers texting Sorahiko, but Toshinori emerges from the store before Hisashi reaches breaking point. The child holds a bag in each hand, and he rocks unsteadily trying to balance the burden on his back.

“Papa?”

“Toshinori!” Hisashi greets, cheerful. He slides his phone back into his pocket and crouches, opening his arms in an invitation for a hug. Toshinori, renowned cuddlebug, takes it. Unfortunately, instead of lingering long enough for Hisashi to scoop him up, Toshinori lets go and peers intently at Hisashi’s face.

“I got the gyoza,” he announces.

Gyoza? Where had that been on the list Toshinori recited to him?

Hisashi hums in acknowledgment. His family is a trio of voracious eaters, and he’s not going to be the one trying to curb an appetite. He scans Toshinori for anything suspicious, combing his fingers through soft fluffy white hair, and Toshinori suffers the treatment up to a point.

“Papa,” says Toshinori, “the bags are heavy.”

“Ah,” says Hisashi, holder of many, many strength Quirks. His hands slide down to pat the chubby curve of Toshinori’s cheeks. He can’t help the urge to squish them. Toshinori giggles as he leans away. “Then it’s a good thing I came along to help, no?”

“Yeah! Tou-chan’s gonna be so happy with dinner!”

#bnha #dfohiko verse #afohiko #all for one #all might #gran torino #yagi toshinori #torino sorahiko #shih.txt #asks #anon #behind the scenes notes: #(1) sorahiko is the parent who decided not to chaperone a grieving 18 y/o's trip #to the united states; and gave toshinori the option to make contact or not #during all those decades in japan #you tell me whether or not he'd be the helicopter parent #(2) afo's concept of love has evolved past vaulting and crude methods of persuasion #now he's all for mental dependency and 'responsible' leashing (NOT. IN A SEXY WAY) #(3) hisashi's statement about curbing an appetite is a dig on yoichi's hunger strike