#technically this is yesterdays post but i’m posting it today because i was PRODUCTIVE and i just forgot to post lol

[ruby-learns]

i had tea and a scone out with my best friend today! i also got new glasses and bought a new jigsaw :) i think i’m actually an old lady just pretending to be a 21 year old.

i’m now in the library working away at all the readings i wanted to do for my essay that’s due in next week. i’ve been annotating stuff and finding new articles/chapters for weeks! i think i’ve probably found too much, but at least it gives me a reason to be productive and go through them all.

15/100 days of productivity 10/01/23

#technically this is yesterdays post but i’m posting it today because i was PRODUCTIVE and i just forgot to post lol #studyblr #mine #study #studyspo #studying #uk studyblr #studyblr notes #study blog #history studyblr #100 days of productivity #university studyblr #ipad notes #ipad air #academia aesthetic #light acamedia #light acadamia aesthetic #tea #ukstudyblr #uk study blog

[per-aspera-ad-aporia]

good morning (derogatory) (in the afternoon).

i found out about the Going Postal 2010 miniseries yesterday from this post by the @ankh-morpork-times​ (hi! sorry for the tag!) and... that’s it. i’m fully gone. i forced myself to stop watching at 1:30am today morning (with like. 30 minutes left) and i’m positively CLAWING at the walls of my brain. I LOVE THIS MOVIE SO MUCH.

good God i can feel the love poured into it by the production. i don’t necessarily understand all the changes they made to the story—the cuts to the more technical aspects of the clacksmen’s culture in particular—but they retain the heart of the story so determinedly and faithfully. i was prepared for many more cuts and it’s so nice to be able to see small, non-story-impacting things retained, like Moist’s first dash for freedom and Princess the clacks operator. and i liked the increases to Adora’s character! (also, it’s so nice to be able to trust that they won’t mess up the story.) Charles Dance embodies Vetinari so well it’s genuinely spine-shuddering. hello Going Postal-induced bisexual panic—ALL THE ACTORS are SO BEAUTIFUL and SO TALENTED. i have so many new voice crushes.

and i can’t describe how much i love the Victorian steampunk aesthetic of the set design and THE CLACKS SYSTEM. i so wish for behind-the-scenes material showing all the FLYERS they made for the walls. and the overall feel of the production—i’m so, so glad it doesn’t overly rely on CGI effects. i was a little prepared for an underbudget feel because of the way Mr Pump 19 (and everyone else) looked in the video linked above, but omg i promise the movie doesn’t feel that way at all. it’s so rich and real, in the best tradition of 1990s–2000s fantasy films.

i thought i’d watch the remainder at home today, but ah well it’s my lunchbreak now and it’s not like i’m able to think of a single other thing anyway. here goes.

i’d like to watch the other adaptations when the braincell is up to video-processing. (i knew about Hogfather and the Wyrd Sisters and Maurice animated adaptations but not about The Colour of Magic and Soul Music. I wish there was more Charles Dance as Vetinari. I’d probably explode if there were a Vimes and Sybil.)

#discworld #going postal #moist von lipwig #adora belle dearheart #terry pratchett #gnu terry pratchett #paaa #fandom

[snowdice]

Finding the Time to Study Fic 2 [Day 120]

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

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

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

I’m going to be working on this. I didn’t remember to bring my outline for this story when I went to another state. So... hopefully I don’t mess up as I go into the next part of the story lol.

Intermission Arc: Creased Hoodies (An Analogical Interlude)

Chapter 40 (Interrupted Summer Plans)

Patton was a fan of the summer months which was why he was a little unhappy that he’d be missing a good chunk of them. Though, he guessed, he didn’t so much miss them as misplace them. He had stopped by to tell Roman and Logan what had happened with getting trapped in pre-history with Janus and why he’d be missing for a good chunk of time over the next few months to make up for it. He was staying with his now technically younger roommates for a week or two to recuperate before hopping forward a bit. He’d duck in for his mom’s birthday and his grandpa’s yearly fishing trip (Though Patton was of the opinion that he did not really want to eat fresh fish for a least a little while yet.) but would mostly be skipping forward a whole two months.

He’d land in early August which was still summer, but he’d miss most of June and July, and that was sad, but at least apples would be fresh around that time. Plus, fall was his second favorite season anyway.

Yet, for now, he got to relax a little bit back in late May. Logan had finished poking and prodding him to make sure he wasn’t sick with any really bad ancient disease yesterday, so he was officially allowed to leave the apartment. Since it was Saturday, he and Roman had decided to go grab some stuff from the recently opened Farmers Market.

Roman had gotten bored with the vegetable shopping and had split off to go look at the arts and crafts (and, knowing him, probably pastries) that the market had to offer, leaving Patton to finish up getting fresh ingredients for the week. He may have also been grabbing a little bit extra so he could make frozen meals at some point this week. It wasn’t that he didn’t trust Roman and Logan to feed themselves in his absence, (Okay, well, he did not trust Logan and Roman often got distracted.) but he did want to leave something nice for them while he was away. He knew he’d missed them while he’d been gone.

He wandered down the main path through the market. Most days this was a side street off Main, but on Saturdays in the summer, it was blocked off to cars and hosted a large number of stands selling different things, mostly produce. In a small park off to one side, there was a live band set up and down the way a bit there were food trucks selling prepared food to people who got peckish while wandering the stands. He mostly tried to stay away from those because they almost exclusively sold unhealthy and overpriced food.

But gosh was it good food.

And Logan wasn’t here to stop him…

Well, it wouldn’t hurt to go have a look at what they had this morning. He turned away from the vegetable stands he was supposed to be shopping at and walked towards the parking lot lined with food trucks. It was, as predicted, mostly food that was horribly bad for you. Most of the things there were sweets, though some had actual meal food such as walking tacos and grilled cheeses. One was even serving pancakes with fresh berries with a sign telling you where you could buy the same berries elsewhere in the market. Patton’s eyes though, went straight past anything most people would consider actual food and landed on small stand with the words “Fresh Donuts and Fried Oreos for Sale.”

Now, he knew for a fact that he could only eat one, maybe two if he stretched it, fried Oreos at a time before he got sick to his stomach. They were just so sweet and greasy, but they sold them in packs of three. Hmm…

He looked around. “Would you like one?” he asked an older man with hair just starting to grey who’d been walking between the stands.

The man stopped, seemingly surprised at being addressed. He blinked at him in surprise. “What?” he asked.

“A fried Oreo,” Patton explained. “I love them but eating more than two makes me sick to my stomach.”

“Just… don’t eat the last one,” the man suggested. He was shifting back and forth on his feet.

“You obviously don’t know me,” Patton said. “Anyway. Free fried Oreo?”

“I…uh… yeah, sure whatever.”

“Great!” Patton said, turning back to the employee waiting. “3 please!” They had already been dunked in hot oil while the employee had been waiting for Patton, so they were out within seconds, hot and fresh. Patton thanked her and turned towards the man. He grabbed a napkin to pick one of the Oreos out of the packet and handed it to him. “Here you go!”

“Thanks,” he said with an awkward half smile.

“No problem!” Patton replied.

“Well anyway, I’m really in the middle of something, so I ought to be going now.”

“Oh, okay, bye!” Patton said, but he was already gone. Patton shrugged and reached into his bag of fried Oreos as he started walking in the opposite direction from the one the man took towards the park and the live music there. He’d go take a quick walk around the little park listening to the music to maybe work off the Oreos he was eating and then go back to his shopping.

He was about halfway between the food trucks and the makeshift stage when there was a loud screeching sound which he at first attributed to mic feedback, until he felt a kind of swoopy feeling in his gut like after eating two corndogs before going on a rollercoaster even though Logan had told him not to. Someone was time traveling and not your gentle popping here or there safe time travel. No, something was wrong.

There were popping sounds like those little mini popping firecrackers that kids threw at each other’s feet on the Fourth of July. People near the stage jerked away with little startled shrieks, attributing the sounds to something going wrong with the equipment, but it wasn’t actually coming from the stage, not exactly.

It was coming from somewhere behind the stage. Patton made note of the fact that it was so close to the musical equipment almost as though whatever was happening was intentionally set up to make people think it was an electrical problem. He picked up his pace a bit, but not too much as he didn’t want anyone to notice him doing so.

By the time he made it there, the noises had stopped, and the feeling of wrong time travel had settled into an annoying hum. The people around and on the stage were starting to settle, though clearly the musicians were confused.

Patton was confused too. What was that? Was it over? Why did something still feel off? He couldn’t scan the area to check what was wrong. He hadn’t brought the timepiece to walk to the local farmer’s market. He usually didn’t wear it about his own time for fear carrying it around frivolously may lead to disaster. Pickpockets snatching time travel devices off of the unaware had caused enough undue trauma, thank you very much.

So, he had only his own eyes and ears to work with. Yet, despite his experience, he didn’t see anything particularly amiss. He kept his eyes out for an object that might have caused the disturbance or clothing that didn’t quite match the times, but he saw nothing.

After a few minutes of slipping his way through the crowds, he finally decided to give up for now. He’d go back to the apartment and tell Logan something had happened. He should be able to figure out something. He weaved his way out of the crowd of people and back onto the sidewalk that surrounded the little concert area. Yet, as he was about to turn away, he heard an unfamiliar voice call out to him.

“Pat!” it called, and Patton turned to look at a man speed walking towards him in an inconspicuous black hoody and blue jeans. “You’re Pat,” he said when he was closer, his tone somewhere between a statement and a question.

Patton tilted his head at the stranger with a frown. “Do you know me?”  he asked.

“Not really,” he replied, “but I remembered your face.”

“What?” Patton asked.

He raised an arm and let the hoody sleeve slip down just a touch. Patton could detect a bit of panic in his eyes, and he figured out why when a timepiece much like Janus’s but not quite as fancy was revealed. “It’s broken. Please help.”

 Chapter 41

Okay. Okay. Okay. Okay. Okay.

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

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

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

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

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

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

He should probably open his eyes.

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

…

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

…

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

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

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

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

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

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

“…What?” he asked.

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

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

“Virgil,” Virgil replied.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Interesting!” he said, turning a corner.

“Where are we going?” Virgil asked.

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

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

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

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

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

He blinked slowly at Pat and then looked at Virgil.

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

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

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

“Of course.”

“I’m not an idiot.”

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

  Chapter 42

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

“Uh, yeah, sure,” Virgil replied, appearing to be nervous by the way his fingers were playing with his hoodie sleeve. It was interesting. His clothing was probably more in line with a standard 21st century adult than Logan or either of his roommates. Logan could imagine meeting him at a local grocery store: a tired college professor hoping that if he wore unprofessional clothing on the weekends maybe his students would not recognize him.

Thinking of unprofessional clothing. “I should probably go change,” he said suddenly flustered. “Pat-” and he barely kept himself from completing the name. “Could you put the kettle on?”

 Patton was giving him a suspicious look, but Logan chose to ignore it as he dashed out of the living room to his room to get dressed and brush his hair. By the time he’d returned, Patton had already managed to herd Virgil into a chair and put a plate with a cookie on it in front of him.

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

“I was going on that summer trip to 2005,” Virgil answered, “and my timepiece broke, but I ran into Pat and recognized him.”

 “Ah,” Logan said. “May I see it?”

“Sure,” Virgil said, taking it off of his wrist and handing it over.

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

“Can you fix it?” Virgil asked after he fiddled around with it for about a minute with no results.

“Hmm?” Logan asked, having gotten slightly distracted. “Oh. No, absolutely not.”

“What do you mean no?” Virgil asked.

“I have no idea how this is supposed to work. Perhaps I could eventually figure it out, but the technology involved in this is doubtlessly incredibly unfamiliar to me.”

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

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

Virgil looked at him, his brow pinched, and Logan realized belatedly that he might have already said too much. They had agreed as a group to not let people from the future know what century they were traveling from or that they had a completely differently developed form of time travel. It was likely to cause more problems than it was worth, especially considering the first interaction they’d had with the TPI, and Virgil did work with them.

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

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

“So…” Patton said. He had taken a seat and leaned his chin on his fist. “Do you two… know each other?”

“He is the person who plugged my device into his computer when Janus stole it from you,” Logan said.

“Mhmm?” Patton said with that lilt that said he thought Logan was leaving something out intentionally or not. He was correct of course in this case, but it still made Logan scowl at him.

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

“Oh, he fucking would!” Virgil seethed immediately. His eyes lit up in full blown anger which was a new expression on his face that Logan had not been privy to before now. “I did not burn down the apartment. If anything it was his fault! Towel with cooking oil my ass.”

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

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

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

 “Ugh. I don’t know if they’ll see it that way,” Virgil groaned.

“Well, I can at least attempt to fix it,” Logan said.

Patton gave him a look, but it was Virgil who accused, “You just want to know how it works.” Patton was then giving Virgil a look and then after a few seconds he was looking at Logan once again even more skeptically.

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

“Also, I’m pretty sure something caused him to crash,” Patton provided, “so we really ought to make sure we don’t get caught up in whatever that was if we do take him back I would rather not have another jungle adventure if I can help it.”

 “You think it was sabotage?” Logan asked.

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

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

“I am not a spy!” Virgil interjected.

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

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

“I know, Virgil.”

 “Why would someone target me?” Virgil asked.

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

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

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

 “This is the worst timeline.”

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

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

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

“And I get back from this.”

“That too.”

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

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

It was clear they were about to continue their conversation, but before they could, they were interrupted by the sound of the apartment door opening. “I’m back!” the voice of their third roommate called. “I know you said to get whole wheat bread, but you’re boring as hell, so I made the executive decision to buy Asiago cheese instead, and there was a buy one get one 50% off deal, so I bought 6.”

Roman wondered into the kitchen with his bags of far too many loafs of bread that Logan did not at all ask for (and likely some other bakery items that Logan also did not ask for). He paused in the entry way visibly confused as to why a stranger was sitting at their kitchen table. Virgil also appeared confused by his presence.

“Remus?” he asked.

Roman froze and his mouth popped open at the sound of his twin brother’s name and, in fact, Patton and Logan froze too.

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

 Chapter 43

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What?”

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

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

“Huh.”

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

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

“Oh,” said Virgil.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yeah,” Virgil confirmed.

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

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

“That going okay?” Virgil asked awkwardly.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

 Chapter 44

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

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

 “Oh no, he’s grumpy,” Roman said.

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

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

“I did,” Logan replied.

“And for how long?”

Logan didn’t respond.

“You know, sleeping can be helpful.”

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

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

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

“See,” Roman said. “Two against one.”

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

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

“My point exactly,” Virgil muttered.

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

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

“It’s seven am!”

Virgil glared at him.

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

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

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

“Wha?” Virgil asked with a squint.

“We’re fleeing the morning people.”

 Virgil gave him a confused look.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yes.”

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

 “What the actual hell, Lo?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

 Chapter 45

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

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

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

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

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

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

 “You spent time in the 1950s?”

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

“In the United States?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Ah.”

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

 “I see.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

 Chapter 46

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

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

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

Logan glanced at him and said nothing.

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

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

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

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

“It took them literal centuries.”

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

“You’re terrifying,” Virgil stated.

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

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

“What do you mean?” Virgil asked.

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

 “What does that mean for me?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“So, it could basically be anywhere?”

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

Virgil grimaced. “That sounds promising.”

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

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

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

“You do,” Virgil said.

“I do what?”

“You do have one.”

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

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

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

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

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

“I don’t know…”

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

Virgil still didn’t seem convinced.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

 Chapter 47

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

 “Oh,” Virgil said. “Uh, good.”

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

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

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

“Alright, fair enough.”

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

“Oh, no, I’m going to.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yes.”

“Excellent.”

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

…

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

…

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

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

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

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

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

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

“…I’ll do my best?”

“You’ll do it,” Patton returned.

“Right.”

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

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

 Chapter 48

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Logan scowled. “No.”

“It sounded like a time travel pun.”

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

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

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

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

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

His hand was bit.

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

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

 “It’s worked on everyone else.”

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

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

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

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

 “You good man?” Virgil asked.

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

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

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

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

“Like sleep?” Logan asked.

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

“Fair point.”

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

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

“Nah. You can come to the floor.”

“…Fine.”

 Chapter 49

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

…

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

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

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

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

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

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

 He should not have trusted him.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“It’s. In. A. Mall.”

“So?” Logan asked.

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

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

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

Virgil glared at him.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Do you have anything in mind?”

“You guys have Blockbuster still?”

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

“Is it close? Let’s go there.”

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

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

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

 “Exactly,” said Virgil with a smile.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You do today,” Virgil interrupted.

“I…”

“Choose a letter.”

“…S?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“It was a bad one.”

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

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

“Fuck,” Virgil hissed.

“Roman! You need to knock!”

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

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

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

 Chapter 50

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

“…Look,” Roman said.

“We aren’t talking about it.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

 “What?” Logan asked.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Thanks, Lo!”

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

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

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

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

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

Roman froze. “You did?”

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

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

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

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

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

 “He what?!” Roman practically screeched.

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

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

“It was… it was weird,” Patton said.

“What did he even say?” Roman asked.

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

“He talked about your butt!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Um, what’s going on?” Patton asked.

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

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

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

“You go take a shower,” Logan ordered.

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

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

“I know!” he called back.

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

 “Why do I have to do it?!”

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

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

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

“Hi,” Logan said.

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

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

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

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

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

“That’s not what I meant.”

“I know,” Virgil said with a sigh.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

 Chapter 51

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Where?” Roman asked.

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

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

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

Patton gave him a look.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“No escaping them then,” Logan sighed.

 “Mmm,” was Virgil’s response.

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

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

“Yeah,” Virgil agreed softly.

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

 “Uh, okay,” Virgil agreed.

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

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

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

“So, then, what is it?” Virgil asked.

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

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

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

 “An invisible ring?” Virgil asked, curious.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Thank you,” Virgil said again.

“Of course,” Logan replied.

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

  Arc IV: (To Be Named)

Chapter 52

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Just doing some puzzle games,” Janus said.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Hey, I had a good burger seasoning.”

“Not for every meal, Janus.”

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

“Vegetables, Janus.”

“You could have put pickles on!”

“I don’t like pickles.”

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

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

 “Well, I mean,” Janus said. “Badly.”

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

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

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

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

“Maybe I want to help,” said Emile.

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

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

 “Mmm, I do,” Janus replied.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Janus snorted.

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

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

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

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

…

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

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

He should probably go see the head doctor again soon.

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

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

“I am,” Emile confirmed without remorse.

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

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

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

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

There was a long silence.

“Agree, you prick,” said Janus.

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

 Chapter 53

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

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

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

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

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

…

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

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

“No,” Janus replied.

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

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

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

 “What are you doing?” Janus asked.

“Cooking!” was the immediate reply.

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

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

Janus sputtered. “This is my house!”

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

“Again, what are you doing?”

 “I’m making you soup.”

“Why?” Janus asked.

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

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

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

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

“Liar!” Patton declared.

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

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

“This is Pat,” Janus said.

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

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

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

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

“Well,” Emile said. “Hello Pat.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

 “And you’ve met me before?”

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

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

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

“What are you doing?” Janus asked alarmed.

Patton just shrugged with a smile.

“No, Patton, what are you doing?”

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

“Patton.”

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

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

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

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

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

“What?” Janus asked.

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

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

 Chapter 54

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“…Huh,” Emile finally said.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“A dream?” Janus asked.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

 “Like…?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“It has?” Janus asked.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Pity?”

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

 “I promise,” Janus said immediately.

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

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

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

Janus nodded.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I really don’t know.”

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

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

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

 Chapter 55

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Welcome back!” Remus crowed.

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

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

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

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

Janus grimaced. “Ugh, that decade.”

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

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

“No promises,” Remus replied.

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

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

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

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

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

“That’s concerning…” Janus said.

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

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

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

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

Remus just wiggled his eyebrows.

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

 Chapter 56

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

“Are you sleeping?” asked Janus.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Janus shook his head.

“Can I have a name for that?”

“Jay,” Janus replied.

“Alright. It’ll be out in a minute.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What flavor of chips?” the worker asked.

“Er, what flavors do you have?”

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

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

“We might have grass.”

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

“…Maybe just no on the chips.”

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

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

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

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

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

 “How would you know?” asked Janus.

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

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

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

“Research?” Janus asked.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

 “Why?” Patton asked suspiciously.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Janus sighed.

 Chapter 57

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“So, what is it usually?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Go ahead,” she said with a shrug.

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

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

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

“How much?” Janus asked.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Stranger how?” Patton asked.

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

“What do you mean?”

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

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

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

#study break stories #not writing

[kathleenmarymulligan]

JOY

December 30, 2022

And finally some sun! We had a little rain yesterday, which really cleared the air. Today is glorious.

The last two days have been like a shot in the arm to both of us. We had two sessions with the drama students, and I think in so many ways, this trip is just what I needed to renew my joy in teaching and remind me of why I BECAME a teacher in the first place. Thus, the title of my post.

The first day was an introduction to the project. We shared some of the footage (Urdu version) of our 2015 production “Dagh Dagh Ujala”. I was worried that the students would lose interest, or never HAVE interest: but they were so focused (even though we ended up having to show the clips on my computer because of technical issues.) They were laughing and weeping at all of the right places. Part of this, I’m sure, is because that story is basically their families’ stories. But it’s also these students.

The next day we met in a drama classroom- although when we arrived they were all sitting around an outdoor fire pit (a large metal bowl)- it was COLD and rainy!

We then spent about two hours working with them in a spacious (but cold) drama classroom. We played some “getting to know you” and ensemble building games. Thanks to those games, I’m getting better at their names. It’s always challenging for me to learn students’ names—add in the fact that most of these names are very unfamiliar to me (Manpreet, Sadhu, Gurwinder…) and it’s even more challenging. But we had a BLAST. These students are 100% present, committed, POSITIVE, generous, joyful, and eager. Their spirit is infectious and I feel incredibly privileged to be working with them.

After our first meeting on Wednesday, David and I took our first exercise walk around the campus.

It’s a perfect place for that: an oasis in the midst of the chaos of Amritsar. It is peaceful, beautiful, and without the constant honking of horns as cars come up behind you or pass you (I know they think they are warning me, but I have mini-heart attacks with every beep.) I turned to David as we walked on a glorious afternoon and said, “Today is the first day I truly feel joy since we arrived.” I know there will be tough days. That’s unavoidable. But these students and their teachers are a gift.

Our translation challenges were solved by the generosity of Gurpreet, an English faculty member (English literature—favorite book “Mrs. Dalloway”, which we learned during “Molecule”.)

At the end of our session yesterday, we were treated to an impromptu performance by Sangha and Pamma, and listen to that VOICE!

We couldn’t get an Uber yesterday (the 20-minute trip from Khalsa College to our house costs about $2.50 U.S.), so we took a rickshaw- one of the new and very cool electric ones that are also much quieter. The driver said he knew where we were going, and we agreed on a price of 200 rupees. We started off great, and then he took a turn that made no sense. David pointed it out on google maps, and the driver spoke to some people on the (very crowded) street, and we set off again (with some turning around.) He kept making wrong turns—mostly because he was busy talking to his family on the phone and not paying attention. Then he handed the phone to us, and we had to say hello to everyone in his family! When we finally arrived at our place (I was HUNGRY- it was lunch time—2:30) he told David it would now be 300 rupees. David may have a soft spot for Uber drivers, etc after doing some driving himself- but I wasn’t having it. Yes, it was a long trip- but that was his fault, not ours. David was reaching for his wallet, I stopped him, took the 200 rupees, dropped them in the drivers lap, and walked away. You agree on the price before you get into the rickshaw, and that’s the price. (And 200 rupees for that ride was a good price – we’ve been told “no more than 40”!)

The students have two assignments for their winter break: spend at least two hours at the Partition Museum (which is outstanding)- and seek out Partition stories and interview everyone you can. We will meet on the 10th (about half way through their break) to check in on how things are going. As I told them, “I work best under pressure!”

This morning we made yet ANOTHER trip to the FRRO Bureau of Immigration, trying to get us finally registered with the local government. What an ordeal! But the office is 5 minutes away on foot, and the people are very helpful. Hoping we are almost there! I do sometimes wonder what could be accomplished in this country if a little less energy was spent on red tape, and a little more on addressing poverty, the incredible trash issue (trash is everywhere on the streets), the environment, violence against women, the overpopulation of stray dogs that keep procreating, etc. But it is what it is.

Off to the old city shopping with our wonderful new friend and guide Jasdeep. I am in search of a rug that can cover these cold floors and not cost an arm and a leg (as Bev used to say.)

(Update- Jasdeep and her friend Partha brought us to a store where we got the perfect rug for our home. And I wish I’d had my camera out—because the bargaining those two women did was incredible. Got it for 1500 rupees (about $18.00- would have been $60.00 in U.S.)- Partha was disappointed. She wanted it for 1000 rupees, but I made it too clear that 1500 was okay, and the deal was sunk!)

Oh! And the two adorable children of the house staff here were flying a kite, and invited me to try! It was amazing! I've never flown a kite before- and now I get why people love it! And this kid (I have nicknamed him and his little sister Jen and Scout) is a master! The kite was SO HIGH, it was merely a dot. It's kite season, evidently. Jem's was one of several I could see-- but his was the highest! (The kids are fascinated by us, and very shy, too. But today he asked me to catch the string spool as he dropped it from the roof...and then he gestured for me to try. SO COOL.)

[yoshimonster]

Blog Post #3: Me vs. You (but keeping your eyes open is the most important thing)

Hello world! It’s been a pretty steady but very strange ride today. I think today started off not so good with repetitive arguments which has been a recurring theme for me lately. It’s very weird that without university or a trip planned things get messy and super confusing in such a short period of time. Between yesterday and today, I’ve somehow managed to simultaneously anger but also resolve conflicts in my life with various people in my life. It’s all in a very in between place at the moment.

So unfortunately, I think I have this tendency to be way too direct if you talk to me for long/often enough and a habit of not reading the room well enough aka gaging what others are feeling moment by moment in real time. It sometimes feels like I’m still sort of hanging in outer space looking down at Earth or maybe on the FM radio station while the rest of the world is on AM. This is a very out of body experience which happens semi regularly and I don’t know how to control it, if at all, and is probably the reason why I’ve always enjoyed parallel universe fantasy type scenarios. Things that are real but perhaps not fully formed.

Anyways, was having a pretty horrible start to the morning but it did get semi-resolved because of a very clear directive I was given. But I assume the overwhelming sadness got to me and I remember it being hard to move past what had happened even though technically I did somewhat complete something that needed to be done. It can be really difficult surrounded by extremely aware and competent individuals when it feels like my head is in the clouds a lot the time. Just daydreaming about a better life.

I think past lunchtime things did get a little better and I did get some maths revision in, which I have a lot more to do off. I have only barely managed to be slightly less than average holiday-productive. I also did virtually catch up with a friend who I’d annoyed a few days ago and didn’t realise it until the end of our original interaction. But yes, I think following that I have annoyed this friend once again – please refer to the second paragraph – pretty soon after this virtual catch up. I think I’m back to being hated again (EDIT: maybe, this is a TBD).

But all this made me realise how fickle things can be, which I did know of already what with a not so stellar university track record, but when it starts effecting all the different parts of your life … that’s when things get really bad and generally out of control. It just hit me why I’ve historically kept all my friends at such arms’ length constantly and when you get close it really brings out the truer parts of your personality – some of which aren’t the prettiest. It’s so hard to grow up live/in real-time when you don’t see the world or when everything feels so alien. I have no clue where to go from here, I reckon autopilot seems like my most viable option right now, which is quite similar to how I’ve actually been dealing with university. Just get stuff done and move onto the next thing… with an added dose of present-ness.

-yoshimonster-

#daily blog #fight #self introspection #friends #tasks and humiliation #emotional awareness

[drspencerweed]

The Pact

Spencer Reid x Reader

Summary: It's Spencer's 40th birthday, and [Y/N] is coming to visit, but will she remember their agreement from 13 years ago?

W/C: 3021

Content: fem!reader, fluff, so much fluff, marriage/proposal, i guess technically a little angst, but happy ending of course

A/N: Yesterday was Spencer's 40th birthday and I jokingly made a post about writing a fic like this and then today it just happened so here's a fic I wrote in less than 8 hours!

read on ao3

italics = flashback

It wasn’t even that he was turning 40, he had long ago accepted the reality of aging and his recent therapy had him confronting his fears regarding the possibility of developing his mother’s condition, and he was honestly excited to start this new decade of his life. It was the fact that she was coming to visit.

She came to visit all the time, at least once a year since she left the team, and always stayed in his apartment. When she was there, with him, it was like no time had passed at all. She was his best friend, and it felt like she always had been. Even throughout the months that they didn’t talk every day because a five hour time difference often felt impossible, he knew that she would be there for him at the drop of a hat and vice versa. He’d almost lost count how many last minute international flights he’d gotten on because of a phone call from her. Almost being the key word, he knew it was 7. Which maybe wasn’t that much, but Spencer wasn’t known for his spontaneity, so seven spontaneous flights in ten years was significant.

And now she was coming for his birthday. His fortieth birthday. Which shouldn’t have been as significant as it was, but it felt like it was.

He didn’t even know if she remembered, it was so long ago.

Her face turned sour around her glass of wine, mouth pinched down. He watched her out of the corner of his eye, unsure how to look away but not wanting to do anything too revealing. They had been best friends for three years, now, and he would never risk that over a stupid crush.

She had also quite literally just been dumped. She was emotional, and vulnerable, and Spencer would never do anything to take advantage of her.

This was her third partner in six months, and the longest lasting of them all, an entire month. She said sometimes it felt like she was endlessly searching for someone that would never be there. Spencer understood the feeling all too well, even though his brain traitorously told him that she was right there in front of him.

“You know, I’m not even sad. And I think that makes me even sadder.” She finally spoke, tossing her head back in a humorless laugh, “Am I that much of a heartless bitch? I don’t even like the people I date?”

Spencer chuckled along with her, “You know you aren’t heartless. You don’t know these people long enough to be sad about it.” He shrugged. She just sighed and stared into her wine again, swirling it around slowly.

“Is that not sad in itself?” She asked quietly, not meeting his eye.

“It’s not anything, it just is. You haven’t met the right person yet.” He tried to be reassuring, but he didn’t really understand what she was going through. His loneliness had always been a product of a genuine lack of connections, whereas hers was because of what she viewed as repeated failures. He knew neither was easier to deal with, but he struggled to find the right words for her. She laughed bitterly, and he frowned, worried he’d said the wrong thing. “I’m sorry, I know I don’t- I don’t actually-”

“Spencer, no. It’s just...” She trailed off slowly, eyes drifting across the room. Eventually a small smile graced her face, and she looked back at him somewhat sadly. “Sometimes it feels like I’ll never meet ‘the one.’ And domestic bliss is- It's such a dream of mine! What am I gonna do if I’m pushing 50 and single? Just accept my fate and be alone forever?”

Spencer swallowed tightly and reached for his mug of tea on the table. He had all the same fears. “I know how you feel. Sometimes I think I’ve been single so long I wouldn’t know how to behave in a relationship anyway.” He tried to chuckle at the end of his statement, but he knew it sounded sad. She glanced at him, and he expected pity, but he only saw understanding.

“I’m so scared of ending up alone.” She admitted quietly, then squeezed her eyes shut and leaned back on the couch. “Christ, I’m sorry, I didn’t come here to be sad, honestly-”

“Never apologize for telling me how you feel.” He said, and her eyes found his with a slightly happy look.

“I’d marry you in a heartbeat, Spencer.” She whispered, and then appeared to realize what she said. Spencer went to cut in, and ask for clarification, what she meant, if she meant anything serious by it, but she backtracked too fast. “I mean- I just think you’re wonderful and it’s a shame you’re single too.”

His heart sank, and then he watched gears turn in her head.

She was tentative when she spoke next, “What if we make a pact? No matter what, we won’t end up alone. If-If we’re both single we’ll marry each other.”

“What?” Spencer questioned, sitting up quickly. She wouldn’t quite meet his eye, but she seemed excited by the idea.

“You know, they do it on tv! We’re best friends anyway, I know I love spending time with you, and even if it’s not-not romantic maybe if we’re both single someday we should-”

“Get married?” Spencer asked again. She looked at him and saw his confusion and folded.

“You’re right, it’s dumb, I don’t-”

“No, no, it’s not.” He cut in. He knew it wasn’t enough, he knew that he wanted to have it all with her, even if he had been avoiding admitting it to himself. “That, I mean, it makes sense.”

“It does, doesn’t it?” She lit up. “How old are we? I’m 29, you’re 27, so let’s say... by 40? If we’re both single when you turn 40 then we’ll get married.”

Spencer stared at her, amazed by how determined she was, and how sure of herself she seemed. He nodded slowly. “Sure, by 40 and 42.”

“We can just say I’m 40, too.” She nudged him, laughing brightly, the first real one he’d seen from her all night. He smiled back, and then she offered him her pinkie. “Pinkie promise?”

“We’re making a pinkie promise marriage pact?”

“Yes, we absolutely are.” She urged him with her eyebrows, shoving her finger closer to him. He rolled his eyes but caved, wrapping his finger around hers.

“Pinkie promise.” He confirmed.

“We have to kiss to seal the deal.” She whispered, and his eyes widened until she leaned down to kiss the side of her fist. He leaned down and kissed the side of his hand, meeting her eyes across their adjoined fingers.

And now he was waiting for a knock on his door on his 40th birthday. He was single, hopelessly so, and definitely still in love with [Y/N] despite all of his attempts to move on. It wasn’t that he hadn't found love elsewhere, or that he wasn’t looking. He had truly loved and grieved Maeve, and dated a few other women, but when it came down to it she never left his mind. She was always there, holding him after Maeve died, visiting him in prison, and he was there for her too. Her transfer to interpol had taken him by surprise, but he knew she’d always wanted to travel more than the United States. But he was in London after her partner died, he was there searching for her when she was kidnapped, he stayed with her when her father passed.

And those were just the emergency trips. They made an effort to visit for leisure at least once a year; Spencer had been to most major cities in Europe now, and [Y/N] adored seeing the team and her family when she was back in D.C.

He kept trying to fix his hair over and over in the mirror. He figured it was futile anyway, all this thinking about the pact. The last time they’d spoken she’d been seeing someone for a few weeks. She hadn’t dated much since her last serious relationship a few years ago, and he knew it was because the end of her first long-term relationship hurt her more than she wanted anyone to know. They had been together for five years, getting together almost as soon as she got to Interpol.

She never fully explained their break up, citing drifting apart and different desires for the future, but Spencer knew there was something that she left out.

But they had spoken on the phone a few weeks ago, and she mentioned someone new, a guy from her coffee shop who asked for her number. They had been on a few dates, she said, and it was going well. So Spencer was probably freaking himself out over a pact that wouldn’t mean anything, because it was only applicable if they were both single.

And would he want to marry her that way? With the expectation of no romance? As some sort of last resort? It would feel cheap, not to give her what she deserved, to keep her from that, just so he could have half the life he wanted with her.

He was pushing down his hair once more when the knock finally sounded through his apartment. He took a deep breath, shaking out his hands and trying to gather himself. It was just her. He had spent time with her platonically so many times, there was no reason to be so concerned.

When he opened the door he was met with an armful of her, as she lept to hug him. “Oh my god, I missed you so much.” She said, wrapping her arms tightly around his neck. His arms pulled her in by the waist, holding her close to him. He chuckled lightly at her words, shocked by how much calmer he felt just by being in her presence.

“I was in London six months ago.” He said, and she pulled away to hit at his chest.

“Am I not allowed to miss you unless it’s been an approved amount of time?”

“I didn’t say that!” He giggled.

“Did you not miss me?” She teased, pretending to be offended.

“Of course I missed you.” He smiled, finding it impossible not to now that she was here.

“Well, good. And happy birthday!” She said, pulling him in for another hug. He laughed at her eagerness as she rocked him back and forth. “I’m so excited to be here! I feel like it’s been ages since I was in town for your birthday.”

“Seven years.” He answered, stepping away from her and grabbing one of her bags as they moved into the apartment.

“Jeez, that’s too long.” She sounded more upset about it than he wanted her to be.

“I don’t mind, I know it’s an odd time of year to visit. And it’s not as if I’ve been with you on your birthday that much more often. I think it’s been four years since I was in London for it.” He placed her bag down in his bedroom, knowing he would offer to take the couch but end up caving and sharing with her anyway. He turned around to see her in the doorway, fiddling nervously with her fingers.

“I might have a solution to both of our problems.” She still seemed nervous as she spoke, which confused Spencer. He sat on the edge of the bed and furrowed his eyebrows.

“What would that be?”

“I’m thinking about moving back to D.C.” She said, and Spencer’s entire body felt lighter, thinking of having her here, within reach, being able to see her more often. “But I-I need to ask you something first. Kind of. I’m not- This isn’t make or break, I guess, but it is part of the decision, and there are a lot of factors so please don’t feel pressure and-” Her nervous rambling made him even more nervous, and he stood up and took one of her trembling hands in his own.

“You know you can ask me anything.” He reassured. She nodded, and he watched as she tried to gather courage. He had never seen her need to do this in front of him, to talk to him.

“Are you single?” She asked, and then bit her bottom lip tightly.

His heart leapt into his throat, thinking of the pact, and his conflictions, and the guy from the coffee shop and- “Yes.”

She nodded slowly, taking another deep breath, “And do you-I know it’s silly to ask, because it’s you, but do you remember our pact?”

“I do.” He said slowly. She nodded again, squeezing her eyes shut.

She seemed at war with herself, trying to figure out how to approach it. “I can’t go through with it.” She said quietly, voice catching in her throat. “I’m so sorry. You don’t- You don’t deserve some half life with me. You deserve love and affection and true domestic bliss and I know you don’t want that with me and I thought maybe spending our lives together platonically would be enough for me but I know it would just break my heart everyday and I just-” She was near sobbing by the end, cutting herself off with a tight gasp and ripping her hand out of his grip to cover her face.

“Are you-Do you want that with me? Love and affection and true domestic bliss?” He asked in disbelief.

She nodded sadly. “I thought for a long time I could love someone else. But I can’t. Jackie knew that. When I- When I flew back while you were in prison that was the final straw. I chose you. Even that guy from the coffee shop, I ended things with him because I knew I was coming here and I thought maybe-” She cut herself off on a choked sob, shaking her head and pressing her fingers into her eyes.

Spencer just stared at her for a moment, trying to wrap his head around what she was saying. When it fully hit him that she wanted what he wanted, he couldn’t contain his joy. He almost leapt the few steps between them, wrapping his arms around her waist and lifting her up and spinning her around. She yelped until he dropped her and she saw his face.

“W-What are you grinning about?” She asked cautiously. He could see her hopes going up and the way she tried to tamp them back down.

“I’m so in love with you.” He admitted, smiling, so beyond relieved to finally say it.

“What?” She whispered, eyes beginning to light up but not quite believing what she was hearing.

“I’m in love with you, I have been for so long, I was so terrified of you coming today because I didn’t know what it meant. I didn’t know if-if it would be worse for you to be single or not. To remember or not.” He said, “But this is better than I could have ever expected.”

Her smile was blinding, staring up at him with pure adoration. “I’m so in love with you. I think we should get married.”

He threw his head back with a laugh but also pulled away, much to her dismay. “Hey!” She exclaimed, grabbing onto one of his hands and trying to get him to stay put.

“One second, I promise.” He said, going into his sock drawer and getting the box that had been there for a few months now. He had bought it thinking he would give it to her platonically, maybe, but when he saw it he knew it was made for her, and he had to buy it even if it never saw the light of day.

He turned back around and dropped on one knee, and she gasped loudly, her hands flying to her mouth.

“[Y/N] [Y/L/N], I know this is unconventional, and maybe a little crazy, but I’ve loved you ever since I can remember and have been thinking about marrying you for twelve years, ten months, and 14 days. You’re the strongest and most courageous person I’ve ever met, and I will always admire your ability to get whatever you set your mind to. When you’re not around, all I do is miss you, and think about you, and hope you’re okay. All I’ve ever wanted is to live my life with you by my side, will you marry me?” He asked, opening the box to reveal the ring.

“I want to say yes but you haven’t even kissed me yet.” She teased.

He threw his head back with a laugh, climbing to his feet and putting the ring box on his dresser. She stepped closer to him, pulling on his hand and raising her palm to his cheek. He wrapped his free arm around her waist, pulling her in and pressing a kiss to her forehead before pressing his forehead to hers. Their noses brushed, and before he could psych himself out she pressed up on her toes and caught his lips with her own.

He let go of her hand in order to wrap both arms around her body, and hers snaked around his neck. It wasn’t fireworks, or explosions, or anything magic. The softness of her lips and the tenderness of her fingers in his hair and the way his hands fit on her hips simply felt like home.

When she pulled back, he chased her, catching her lips in quick kisses as she giggled. He finally let her pull away completely, and he gazed into her eyes.

“Yes, I will marry you.” She said. He was elated, pulling away from her to jump around a bit in excitement while she giggled along with him. He grabbed the ring and slipped it on her finger, using that hand to pull her in close.

“I can’t believe we’re engaged.” She whispered, tilting her head up for another kiss.

“Who’s gonna tell Penelope?” He asked with a hint of fear, and she just laughed with unbridled joy.

thank you for reading! I appreciate all reblogs/comments/likes!

taglist: @drreidsconverse​ @criminallyoddsocks​ @aperrywilliams​ @nymeria-targaryen​ @reniescarlett​ @rusticreid​ @itsmyblogandillreblogifiwantto​

#spencer reid x reader #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid fanfic #criminal minds fanfic #get together fic #im sorry if i missed anyone on the taglist #i need a much better system i think im gonna make a typegorm or something soon #so its better organized #my writing #the pact #spencer reid one shot #my post

[shirecorn]

how about 17 and 24? what inspires you and how do you deal with art block?

Long post warning.

Art block...

I don't actually get art block, which is probably a combination of neurodivergence and drawing every day for the last 3 years

I wrote an entire tutorial about how to do that, but didn't feel like illustrating it. Would people want to read it even without visuals?

Maybe... I'll just start rambling.

There's a couple different types of art block, and it's really just a philosophy puzzle to get past them. I'm going to assume that the things I think of slow days, or art mud, is a milder form of art block and work through that.

Art block is a symptom, not a disease. You probably have something deep inside that you don't want to face, or don't know how. Sometimes you need to discover the cause, sometimes just power through.

Method 1: Rest

Let yourself just Exist. The act of consuming art is part of the process. Watching shows and playing games, taking a break and going gardening or focus on school. This is what you need for burnout-induced art block.

Method 2: Action

I always choose action, sometimes it means a tiny 2 min sketch per day. Ugly or super simplified. As long as I don't stop moving.

Toss everything. Start every piece thinking you will throw it away.

The act of drawing moves you forward; pinning it to the fridge does not. Don't work things until they are perfect. Work them until they are there.

Art block causes and solutions:

- No Inspiration

Not sure what to draw, nothing seems appealing. Art won't come out like it used to.

Do studies from life or photos. Sketch, paint, digital, traditional, doesn't matter. Rocks, fruit, figure drawing, landscapes, buildings, anything.

Study and copy professional's work. Old masters are best, like rubens, michalangelo (only his men tho) etc because they will teach you anatomy while you work. If you copy someone with a lot of flaws, you will repeat those flaws.

Trace to learn, not to earn. Trace photography and art from anyone you want. Don't post it unless you have the artist's permission or they are dead, whichever comes first. This is strictly work for yourself, on yourself. It's not about the finished drawing.

Find an artist with a fun style and try converting stuff into their style. Don't make that your new style though and especially don't start selling it. Your style is a chimera of everyone you love, not a clone of one person.

Take blurry photos. You don't need a fancy camera or good skills or beautiful subjects. Doing studies from your own photos can spark life into your workflow.

Make challenges for yourself. Randomly generate things to combine. Try fusing characters! Don't try to make it look good, just be fun.

Doodle patterns, swirls, lines, random stuff. Try looking up art warmups and doing some of those.

- Everything Sucks

You finally see how bad you are. Or somehow you got worse. Every piece is a fight and you spend hours trying to get something right only for it to be stiff and disgusting and STILL wrong.

Why are you trying to draw good? It's enough just to draw.

Accept that your art is bad. Every artist can see flaws in their work. Your problem is that those flaws outweigh anything remotely worthwhile and hurt to look at.

So what? You're in a period of growth, not a period of production. Keep that wonky second eye. Let them have hot dog fingers.

Show everyone! Show no one! No piece of art can ever be a reflection of the artist. Not their worth, not their skill. The only thing your art says about you is "Held and moved a pen for a bit."

Make bad art. It's ok. Most of the time, the pressure to perform and get things Right is what made them wrong in the first place. Relax.

- No Motivation

The #1 killer of artists everywhere. On some level you think you should draw, on every other level you think you should stay in bed.

You are not lazy. You wouldn't have read this far in a post about art block if you were lazy. You wouldn't CALL it art block if you were lazy. Laziness is wishing you didn't have to do anything. A block is wishing you were doing something. If you think you can namecall Yourself into productivity again, you're wrong and You need to unionize so that you don't treat You like that anymore.

Consider Mental Illness. Losing interest in something that brought you joy can be a symptom of depression. I know it seems obvious, but if you're waiting for a sign that it's "bad enough," it's bad enough. Seek care if you have the means. Forgive yourself if you already know this.

Selfcare. Examine yourself for neglect. Nutrition, exercise, enrichment, social need, and sleep are all part of the art process. Eat three meals and sleep 8 hours. That's your gaymer fuel. You deserve it, I promise. Depriving yourself of your needs will make your blocks worse, not kick you into making them better.

Identify potholes. Sketchbook falling apart? Tablet cord frayed? Half your pencils missing? Chair uncomfortable? Desk hard to reach? There's a lot of things that you tell yourself to work around and get over. Just because you CAN workaround something, doesn't mean you SHOULD. A difficult work environment can cause secret dread deep inside that you don't recognize and just think you're lazy. What you think of as "no motivation" might actually be "I don't want to deal with my tablet disconnecting every time I move it wrong and I have to wiggle it for a few seconds to make it work again." These little things are like potholes in the road. Sure you CAN still drive through them, but eventually you're going to look up and realize you haven't voluntarily left the house in weeks.

Repair potholes and roadblocks. You might feel bad about buying a new pencil, headphones, tablet, car, etc because technically the old one works if you hustle. But if you're running into so many potholes you've ground to a halt, it doesn't Actually work anymore, does it? Invest, save up, request, and require working equipment and suitable conditions. This stuff isn't just cushy privilege, it's an investment in yourself and your art. You are worth the effort it takes to clear the way. If you can't afford reliable (reliable! not perfect or luxurious) equipment, then say it. If cardboard is all you can afford, draw on cardboard. But know that you deserve canvas, and one day you might be able to make the jump. Acknowledge that sometimes, if you don't have it in you to smear burned twigs on wet cardboard, the problem isn't motivation, but opportunity.

- Haven't Drawn in So Long

A unique type of art block that self perpetuates. The thought of starting again is so stressful you can't do it. Or maybe you'll do it tomorrow. Yeah. Tomorrow for sure.

Face your fears. Are you ashamed of your lack of drawing? Are you anthropomorphizing your paper and thinking it's going to judge you, like "oh NOW you come back >:/" I internalize voices I hear and project them onto other people, concepts, locations, and inanimate objects. Your paper, computer, WIPs folder.... none of that is judging you.

Reframe your WIPs. Do you feel shame when you see "unfinished" projects? Why? Who says you MUST bring everything you start to Finish? You don't have to. A sketch is a finished art piece; it's called a sketch! If a sketch is a fully realized creation, pages that are half colored, 75% lined, or partially rendered are all fully realized creations too. Unless paid otherwise, art is done when you're done working on it.

Lower the stakes. Draw a chibi or grab some crayons. Get messy and slowly ease yourself back into the flow over the course of a couple days. It's fine.

Get a buddy! Find an art meme, do an art trade, get a study subject, or just wing it. Drawing art alongside someone can help you get past that block.

Pretend you never stopped. Don't think about the gap, how long it's been, or rustiness. As far as anyone knows, you drew the mona lisa yesterday and didn't break a sweat. Today, you drew a starfish on your hand with a gel pen. Keep up that streak, good job!

Just keep drawing. Make a goal to do one sucky drawing per day on the back of a napkin. Don't make up for missed days, just pretend they didn't happen. Who's going to judge you? The calendar? That's pieces of paper; it doesn't have an opinion. Draw a cat on it. Done. Keeping up the momentum is a great way to prevent art blocks in the future.

TLDR: Draw imperfectly and toss it. Selfcare is king. Draw often and don't judge yourself.

Art is a process, not a product.

#shire screams #art tips #ask #art block #long post

[enthusiasticharry]

Swan Lake

summary: you've recently audition to be the White Swan in the Royal Ballet’s next production, only to learn that the new choreographer, Harry, will make this experience a lot more thrilling. 

author’s note: hiya! sorry the has taken so long but I've been busy with classes and only just had time to sit down and write this. this has been an idea of mine since i first saw harry’s snl promo when he was in the tutu and i'm glad i can finally share it!

word count: 10.6k words of smut, fluff and me trying to sound like i have a clue what i’m on about whilst describing ballet moves (i'm no ballerina, just a pre-warning) 

masterlist    |    asks

Even from being a small child, it had been your dream to become a dancer. You had originally gotten into dancing when you were very little, watching the different dancing programmes on the TV. You can remember like it was yesterday, the day you first watched the Royal Ballets performance of Swan Lake. You were around six, and you remember your mother flicking through the TV guide and seeing it and deciding to put it on, much to your detest at the start. But, you found yourself mesmerised as you watched the dancers flitter across the screen with such elegance and grace that you knew straight away that in the future you wanted to embody. It wasn’t the easiest occupation to get into, and it was very draining upon your body. But you loved it, and you were always going to — until you physically couldn’t anymore.

“Have you heard about the new choreographer?” Ethel, your friend asks as you walk towards the academy. You shake your head, “Apparently he’s very fit.”

“But he’s a choreographer.” You curl your nose up, “No choreographers are ever fit. They’re all old and hate the world.”

Ethel shakes her head, “This one is. He’s not too older than us either, but apparently he’s one of best Ballerino’s to ever walk out of the Royal Ballet School.”

“That’s a bold statement.” You say, pulling your bag tighter on your shoulder, “What is he choreographing?”

“The solos, I think.” Ethel adds, holding the door open as you both walk through, “He’s taking over Vernon.”

“Thank god.” You sigh, letting the door close behind you, “He was a horrible man.”

“He was.” Ethel laughs, “At least he’s someone new. We haven’t had a new choreographer in a year.”

A year ago, you and Ethel had graduated from the Royal Ballet school in London and you immediately joined the Royal Ballet. After auditions upon auditions you both had made it to the shortlist and then even made it through to the corps de ballet and were preparing for the audition for Swan Lake. You were positive that you wouldn’t get in, but you were also positive that you wouldn’t get into the school, never mind to the actual Royal Ballet.

Even though you felt like you had made it in life, you certainly hadn’t just yet. Today, you were auditioning to dance as White Swan. It was the next step into completing your dream completely. You were nervous to say the least, and you don’t think you’ve ever practiced something so much in your life.

“Are you ready for this?” Ethel asks as you walk into the back room, where there were quite a few other people who were obviously auditioning for other solos within the ballet.

You sigh, sitting down on the floor and starting to tie your pointe shoes, “As ready as I’ll ever be.”

“You’ll smash it.” She smiles.

“I certainly hoped so.”

You were third to go, which wasn’t too bad. You certainly didn’t want to go first but you didn’t want to go last either. You were nervous, but you felt as though you dealt with it well and floated across the dance floor. You hated to say it, but you did find yourself being distracted quite a bit by the new man in the room, sat at the end of the table with a notebook and pen, watching intently as you dance and making certain notes. None of the choreographers made any hints that you were doing anything good, or not so good for that matter.

“Thank you.” The man said, his voice as soft as silk, “We’ll get to you shortly.”

A week later you were making your way to the notice board, where the solo and cast list were being posted. Ethel was in a rehearsal, so she wasn’t able to come with you and you found yourself being even more nervous due to being on your own.

You hung back and watched as other people rushed towards the list. You had just finished a pointe class, and your muscles were aching and you didn’t feel quite like making a huge scene trying to see the list. You watched as some people had very happy faces, and other had quite disappointed ones.

The group had dispersed quite a while ago, but you still found yourself stood in the corner. You had even started to pretend to scroll through your phone to distract yourself from actually going up to look at what it says on the sheet.

“I don’t think you can see the list from back here.”

You eyes flick up to the voice that startled you from your scroll. The man, who you had since the audition had learnt was called Harry Styles, stood across from you with one corner of his lips curled up.

“I was, uh.” You tuck a piece of your hair behind your ear, “I was psyching myself up to look.”

“I’d go look if I was you.”

You nod your head and walk up the sheet, flicking your eyes down until your saw ‘White Swan’. What surprised you even more was the sight of your name in the column next to it. You eyes widen and you turn to look at Harry, who’s stood leant against the wall next to you. He smiles at you, nodding your head as you look at him with a confused look upon your face.

“Me?”

“Yes.” He nods, “You.”

“I got it?” You’re in complete shock, “Me?”

“You did. You earned it. You have one of the best form’s I’ve ever seen in my life. It was an unanimous decision, and you were the certain choice.”

“Wow.” You smile, “Thank you.”

“It’s really no problem.” You watch as he turns slightly to walk away, “Don’t let us down, though.”

You really hoped you wouldn’t. You hadn’t worked harder for something in your entire life, and he was mistaken if he thought it would be the same for this. It was your dream, plain and simple. It was hard to have a dream that lasted only the first thirty years or so of your life. If you were only going to get a limited amount of time to do this, you were going to make the most of it and you had made your first step by doing this.

“I won’t.” You nod your head, “I promise.”

“Good.” And with that, he’s gone.

The first day of rehearsals came quicker than you expected, but you had spent every minute of every day thinking about this day. Ethel had landed a role in the corps de ballet which she was proud of, and you were proud of her for doing so too. It meant that you both were going to be in the performance and go to all the main rehearsals for the group dances. Ethel wouldn’t have to come to the solo rehearsals, which was understandable, but at least you still had the time together now.

“Have I told you how much I really love that leotard?” She says as you shrug your coat off, revealing your black leotard which you’ve paired with a blush pink jumper that falls off your shoulder to match your pointe shoes.

“It’s just a simple black leotard.” You shrug, “It’s nothing special. I think I got it on sale.”

“You style it well, though.”

You sit on the bench and lift your feet up, slipping your toes into your pointe shoes. They weren’t comfortable, that’s a given, but you were used to it by now. You went to your first ballet class at seven years old, and you were now twenty-three. Sixteen years of wearing these shoes frequently meant that your feet had gotten very used to feeling.

“Thank you, Ethel.” You smile, grabbing your water bottle and following her as she walks out of the door and towards the training room.

“Do you think Harry will be here?” She asks, tucking some of her hair behind her ear.

You shrug, “I don’t know. Possibly. He does solos so he isn’t technically required to be here.”

“He does. It’s the first rehearsal, though. He may want to at least show his face to the rest of us.”

You laugh, “You just want to see his face, Ethel.”

“Maybe I do.” She doesn’t even hide the blush on her cheeks.

In the training room, groups of dancers stand together either stretching or talking. It’s important to stretch and warm up before anything you do, so you and Ethel find a spare spot by the bar and start to stretch your muscles. You stretch every morning quite intensely, warming your muscles up for the day just because you know that you won’t get a lot of time to do so when you arrive at rehearsals and they even ask you to do so before you come so it works better. It’s nice to just refresh your muscles when you arrive, though.

“Can I have everyone’s attention?” Holland, the main choreographer says as her and a few other people walk into the room, “Welcome all to this years production of Swan Lake.”

A chorus of claps circle around the room, smiles all around as everyone congratulates each other on getting a part. It was very hard to get into productions like these, so you weren’t surprised that you were around the best of the best.

“I’m Holland, I’m pretty sure all of you know me but I’d like to introduce you all to the rest of the team.” She motions to the people behind her, “Isabella is in charge of Pas de deux this year and Harry is in charge of Solo’s, more specifically the Black and White swan’s solos.”

You immediately feel your heats cheek up, knowing that you and whoever is playing the Black swan will be spending time with him. You couldn’t lie and say that he wasn’t a handsome man, because he certainly was, but he was your choreographer and he spoke to you in a tone the other day that you couldn’t quite pinpoint but you knew that you weren’t too keen of.

“Today we’re taking it easy, and just introducing some of the group dances. Can both the White and Black swans see Harry, please?”

You freeze with your eyes upon the floor, not wanting to look up.

“That’s you.” Ethel nudges your shoulders.

You nod and stand up, walking towards the corner of the room where Harry stands as well as another girl who you know is called Frances, from being in a few of your classes during school. You smile as you walk over, tucking a piece of hair behind your ear. Behind you, everyones already stood and following what Holland is saying.

“Hope you don’t mind.” He smiles, “But I just want to discuss some things with the two of you before proper rehearsals start.”

You both follow him out of the large training room into one of the smaller practice rooms that people can you use whenever they want. You find yourself lagging behind as you walk, the feeling of nerves bubbling within you. You have had one solo before in your life, but it certainly wasn’t as important as this one, and you felt yourself getting more and more worried with every second.

“It’s important that the two of you know that I’m your main choreographer, but also that you’re in the group sessions when they’re on.” You both nod, “There aren’t a lot, because even in the group dances you have a lot of solos so you are with me a lot more than in there.”

“That’s why we got these parts though, right?” Frances says, a smile across her lips that you can just tell isn’t a sweet one.

“Not really.” He tilts his head to the side, “You got these parts because we think that you’re able to make the role yours and work hard for it. We can take it away just as easy as we’ve given them you.”

You nod your head and Frances does too, but there’s a little huff that escapes her lips as she does so.

“Our rehearsals start tomorrow, with the White swan, and they’re all going to be in this room.” You nod, but you don’t take any notice of what Fran does, but you guess she nods too, “Just so you know, I don’t appreciate lateness or laziness whilst in the rehearsal.”

“Understood.” You smile, tucking a piece of your hair behind your head.

“Good.” He nods, “You can both return to the main group.”

The next day you find yourself walking into the studio ten minutes before the rehearsal is set to start. The door is open when you walk in, but no one is in which your thankful for. You place your bag down in the corner and start to put your pointe shoes on.

“Morning.” You jump out of your skin at the sound of Harry’s voice walking into the room, “Didn’t mean to make jump.”

“It’s okay.” You chuckle, “I was in my own world and wasn’t paying attention.

He smiles and drops his bag in the corner next to yours. He walks closer to where you’re stood and leans against the bar.

“Have you stretched?” He asks, shrugging off his hoodie. You try not to stare at his physique, but it’s hard not to. Especially when you notice the tattoos that you can see across his arms and his check and stomach underneath the white wife-beater he had on. He also had one some joggers, but you knew it wouldn’t make the best first impression if you continued to stare at him.

“Before I left.” You say, “Not since I got here.”

“We can stretch together.” He says, “Do you use the bar.”

You nod and stand up, smoothing down the wispy bits of your hair that had escaped your bun. You pull your jumper up on your shoulder also, due to the material slipping off everyone once in a while. Your eyes drift to watch as he starts to stretch, using the bar to stretch his peculiarly long limbs. Average male ballet dancers that you’d met in your life hadn’t been as tall as he was, but he had a sort of elegance to him even when he was only stretching that his long limbs only extenuated.

“Have you been dancing long?” You certainly hadn’t expected him to be making small talk with you, but here he was.

You nod, “Since I was seven. Have you?”

“I was ten.” He says and your eyes widen, “I was quite late, to be honest.”

That was quite late, you had to agree with him. Most ballet dancers that you met within your life started even earlier than you, and a lot of them were surprised that you’d started so late but were so successful. Talent comes in any shape or form, and even though he did start quite late, if he was as talented as people made him out to be, then you weren’t surprised that he was as successful as he was starting quite late.

“Did you dance before then?”

“I did.” He nods, “I did tap for a few years before I decided that it wasn’t for me, and then I started ballet lessons.”

You smile and continue to stretch, lifting your leg up to the bar to stretch as far as you can. You can feel your muscles starting to relax as you do so, and you know you’re warmed up.

“Are you ready?” You nod and make your way to stand behind him, at the side slightly so you could see both yourself and Harry in the mirror. You were nervous, to say the least, but you had a slight suspicion that Harry was going to try and make you feel as comfortable as possible.

“We’re going to take it easy.” He says, “Well, as easy as it can be with this show.”

You chuckle and watch as he starts to teach you your solo. You wondered how many times he’d watched the previous performances of the ballet to know the solo as well as he did. You got through the first quarter of the dance or so. It was very quick, and it was basically going through al of the steps and seeing where you needed to focus your practice.

By the end of the rehearsal, you were sweating and you knew that you didn’t look the best just from looking at yourself in the mirror. The dance was one of the hardest you’ve ever done in your life but you knew that was how it was going to be. It was intense, and Harry was certainly right when he said that he knew you’d be able to do it but you needed to put in the hard work. One of the hardest things you found yourself having to do was stopping yourself from getting distracted at the sight of him.

Every time he moved, the muscles within his arms contracted. You didn’t want to stare at him, but you physically couldn’t stop yourself. You wondered if he could tell, or if he was staring at you. More than once during the rehearsal your jumper slipped from your shoulder, dangerously close to revealing your chest and you swear that you saw his eyes drifting at some points but you would never say anything.

“You’ve done well.” He nods, taking a quite a large gulp of water from his bottle, “I knew there was a reason why we’d chosen you, and that certainly was it” 

“There are plenty of other dancers that will have been just as good, maybe even better, I’m sure.” You say, placing your hands upon your hips as you try to catch your breath from the jeté’s you had just been doing.

He chuckles, walking over to you and placing his hand on your shoulder, “Have a little more faith in yourself. Not many people will be able to do what you’ve just done.”

You hate to say it, but you do feel fuzzy inside at his words. Flutters fill your belly and you can feel your cheeks heat up. He can see it as well, you’re absolutely sure of it and you nearly faint. The feeling of his fingers upon your skin leaves it heated for quite a while, long after he’d taken his hand off, and way after you’d left the room.

He was your new choreographer, but you couldn’t help but feel as this was the start of something else.

You had been in the practice room for an hour or so.

The group rehearsal had finished an hour ago, and you had planned to go into a practice room to spend a little extra time going over the new moves that Harry had added a day ago at their second rehearsal. The new steps weren’t too bad, but the order they fell in you just couldn’t pick up. You practiced it over and over again but you still couldn’t get it right. You found yourself becoming more and more annoyed with yourself that you couldn’t do it.

You started to do it again, starting with the jeté before moving to the pirouette but you found yourself loosing your balance yet again.

“You need to keep your core straight.”

You jump out of your skin, placing your hand upon your chest as you turn to look at the culprit. It’s Harry, and you aren’t surprised to say the least. He has a tendency of jumping out at you when you least expect it.

“You should wear a bell.” You say, standing up and and walking towards his body, which is leant against the wall with his hands in his pockets. He was wearing actual trousers today, and you were wondering if that’s why he wasn’t in the group rehearsal earlier.

“I’ll announce myself next time, I promise.” He laughs, walking towards you. His shoes tap upon the floor as he moves towards you, “Your movements aren’t flowing because your core isn’t strong, and you’re letting your body go dizzy.”

He walks towards you, holding his hands out before retracting them.

“Is it okay if I touch you?” He asks, and you nod, allowing his hands to fall one upon your back and the other upon your stomach. He pushes your stomach in, straightening your back as he does so. You find yourself struggling to breath slightly, but once you do you catch up quickly, “Try again like this.”

“Okay.”

You stay as upright as you can, keeping your core straight as you move. Somehow, you manage to do the sequence without falling over. You sigh in relief and drop down to the floor once you’ve done it. He stands and nods his head, watching as you take a sip of your water.

“See.” He nods his head, “I knew you could do it.”

“Thank you.” You smile, “I knew I could too, I think I was just becoming lazy because I’m tired.”

“You shouldn’t be so hard on yourself. Go home, take a break.” You start to unfasten your pointe shoes, sighing in relief as your toes separate after being in the shoes for way too long, “How long have you been in here?”

“An hour or so.” You shake your head, “I just wanted to get it right.”

“I bet it was right before.” He says, opening the door for you to slip through once you’ve put your proper shoes on and gathered your things, “Your body is just tired, that’s why your form was off. You usually have a great core.”

He had been looking at your. . . core? You felt your cheeks heat up, and you tired your hardest to not to let him see it but it was quite hard under the spotlights of the hallway.

“Thank you, but it really wasn’t. That was the first time I’ve done it properly.”

He turns to you with a grin, “We’ll just to have to agree to disagree, won’t we?”

You can’t stop the blush that rises upon your cheeks at his words, but more so at his grin. It’s cheeky and boyish and sort of flirty. He couldn’t have been flirting with you, but a part of you prayed that he was.

“Have a good night.” He smiles at you, “Sleep and don’t worry about the dance.” 

“I’ll try.”

“One. . . two. . . three. . . four—”

His counting has been ringing through your ears since your arrived at the rehearsal an hour ago. You couldn’t tell whether there was something wrong with him, or whether you had done something wrong for him to be in such a mood.

You had managed to ignore the fact that he completely ignored you once you’d walked in, and focused more on showing him that since you last saw him, you had mastered the sequence you were struggling with completely.

Everyone has bad days, you knew that, but it’s hard to learn a dance when your teacher is so stoic that you can’t tell whether or not you’re doing the moves right. His eyebrows have been furrowed since you walked through the door, and the clicks of his fingers were so loud that you can’t help but wonder whether or not they have blistered.

You manage to perform the sequence of steps, from start to about half way which you’ve managed to learn in the two weeks that you’ve been learning the steps. It’s nice to know that you’re able to do it, no matter how much you’ve struggled and that it’s been hard work, you’ve done it.

“We’re moving onto the pirouettes next.” He says, standing with his hands upon his hips as he does so. The harsh look upon his face doesn’t leave, and you truly wonder what had happened for him to be this way with you.

It’s making you feel as though every step you make isn’t right, when you know in fact that it is.

“The what?” You are struggling to catch your breath, after non-stop dancing for an hour can’t believe that he wants to do the pirouettes with you.

“Pirouettes.” He stands facing you, instead of you looking at him through the mirror and you wonder what you’re going to do, “Do as many as you can until the music drops.”

You weren’t quite sure what he was asking of you. You furrow your eyebrows, but Harry just stares at you. He looks at you as if to say why aren’t you doing it yet, so you decide you’re better off just starting the pirouettes.

You start, lifting your body into fourth position with both legs straight. You fix your eyes onto a spot where the mirrors meet. After taking a breath, you bend both legs into a deep pilé, concentrating on sinking your heels into the wooden floor so you could push into the spin. You focus your core, keeping it tight. You spring to a retiré position, before relevé to a full pointe with your back foot to your front leg. You hold your body in the position spin, flicking your head quickly so that you can focus yet again on the gap in the mirror. Once you’ve completed one, you continue to go round and round, trying to ignore the aching within your bones and the throbbing within your head.

You manage eight before you loose your balance and drop to the ground, immediately sitting with your head in between your legs. 

“Have a break, and then we’ll start again.” 

You sigh and shake your head, “I can’t do it.” 

“What do you mean?” Harry says, furrowing his eyebrows, “Of course you can.” 

“I can’t do it.” 

“You’ve done eight.” He shrugs, “You can do more.” 

“I’ll be able to.” You say, “But I can’t do them now.” 

If you honest, you hadn’t woken up feeling the best this morning. You often get headaches that throughout the course of the day transition into migraines. You had felt it coming on at the start of the day, and you knew with how much you had to do you couldn’t pull out of the rehearsal but at this point you were seriously considering it. The pirouettes seriously hadn’t helped with the throbbing within your head and you had started to feel quite nauseous. 

“If you have that attitude then you certainly won’t be able to, and it’s probably best that you leave.” 

You’re completely taken aback, unable to believe that the man who has been nothing but nice to you throughout this whole thing had just said something so horrid to you. You were mortified and if you hadn’t felt sick before, you certainly did now. 

“You know what.” You stand up, “I think that’s a good idea.” 

You leave the room and don’t look back. 

The next rehearsal, thankfully, was a group one. You and Ethel had made your way to the training room bright and early, ready for what the day was going to hold. You hadn’t told Ethel about what happened earlier in the week with Harry. It would have been nice to talk to someone about it but you knew that you shouldn’t, so you didn’t. It was, however, the thing that fluttered around in your brain on a loop. Doing everyday mundane things you found yourself distracted. Instead of being upset or angry anymore, you were concerned, and you just hoped that he was okay mainly. 

The two of you had stretched yourselves pretty quickly, leaving you stood in the right corner of the room waiting for it to start. You couldn’t help but wonder whether or not Harry was going to be in the rehearsal today. He normally was, but after the last one, you had no idea what was going to happen. A part of you wished to see him, and the other part of you didn’t. It was as though you had a devil and angel on your shoulder, bickering between the options of whether or not you wanted to see his face. 

In the back of your mind you knew that this man was your choreographer. You knew that traditionally that you shouldn’t be feeling this way about him, since he had the same role as a teacher would, but you really couldn’t help it. It didn’t help that he was one of the prettiest people you had ever seen in your life — and one of the nicest apart from the last time you saw him — but the was besides the point. You were an adult, and you were allowed to have these feelings, even though you were positively sure that they aren’t reciprocated. 

Both Holland and Isabella walk into the room, but there is no sign of Harry. You try to ignore the disappointment that sits in the pit of your stomach but you can’t. 

You should be angry at the man, livid even, that he said such a thing to you but you really weren’t. That was your own fault, but that didn’t mean that all would be forgotten from that day. You were at least expecting an apology the next time you saw him. 

“Everyone get into positions for the start of the second half.” Holland calls and everyone moves from their groups into positions. 

You weren’t on the stage at the start, so you move to the corner of the room by the door and watch everyone else. You try your hardest not to let your mind wander, but you can’t help it. Your thumb is running back and forth over your bottom lip, furrowing your eyebrows as you did so. 

“If you furrow your eyebrows anymore your face is going to stay like that.” 

You don’t even jump at the sound of his voice. Your heart does start to beat a little faster, since your certainly weren’t expecting him to be so close to you, but you wouldn’t tell anybody that. 

“Was starting to think you just hated me.” 

“Could never hate you.” He shakes his head, “You’re too good of a dancer for me to ever hate you.” 

You have to physically stop yourself from rolling your eyes at him. You manage to, but before either one of you could say anything else, you see your cue and you’re out on the floor. 

You try to ignore his stare as you move around the room, remembering the choreography you had learnt whilst also trying to be as elegant and strong as you physically could be. You remembered to keep your core straight, and if you weren’t mistaken by the few times you looked over at him, Harry’s eyes hadn’t left you.

You were unsure whether it was something your were flattered about, or whether you were slightly concerned about it. You weren’t too concerned, but you found yourself wondering why he was doing this. The last time he saw you he told you to leave, and now he couldn’t get his eyes off of you. 

Once the dance had finished, and you had your lips around your water bottle that you were taking a sip from, you swear you saw Harry’s head flick towards the door. You furrow your eyebrows and lift you finger up, pointing at yourself as if to ask whether he was looking at you. 

He nods his head and walks out of the door, leaving you confused but walking towards him and consequently out of the room. You bite the lid of your bottle as you do so. You knew exactly where he was, and the second you walked into the room you saw him stood in the middle of it with an almost defeated look upon his face. 

“I’m sorry.” 

You swear your heart almost bursts out of your chest. 

You nod your head, “Okay.” 

“I was a dick.” You nod again, “And you didn’t deserve it at all. I shouldn’t have asked you to leave and I should’ve asked if you were okay the second you dropped to the floor. I’m sorry, I really am.” 

“I accept your apology, I do.” He seems to sigh with relief, “But! You have to be extra nice to me next rehearsal. If I want a break, I want a break.” 

He chuckles, “You can have as many breaks as you like.” 

“Good.” 

To say rehearsals have been different since Harry apologised to you would be an understatement. You found yourself enjoying them, no matter how hard you had to work, and you looked forward to them in your week.

You believe it might have been because of the change in relationship between the two of you. It was much nicer, and also a little flirtier. You had noticed Harry coming over to help you by touching you more, he was forever smirking and winking at you and some of the things he said completely turned you to putty in his arms. 

You’d like to think he’d noticed, but you really couldn’t be sure. 

“Dress rehearsals start next week.” He says as you take a break, sipping on some water whilst holding a banana in your other hand, “Are you nervous?”

You shrug, “A little bit. I know I’ve worked hard but there are still a lot of things that could go wrong.” 

“I disagree.” You throw him a quizzical look, “I agree that you work hard because you’re one of the most hardworking people I’ve ever met. I don’t agree that a lot of things could go wrong because that just isn’t true — one thing could.” 

You knew what he was talking about. 

You drop back so you’re laid on the group, “The pirouettes.” 

“The pirouettes.” He nods and stands up, so you sit up, “I know you can do it, you just need to believe in yourself.” 

You sigh, “Can you just do the pirouettes for me?” 

“Yeah.” He laughs, “Like the audience wouldn’t notice you slipping off and a six-foot man taking your place to do some spins.” 

“I’m sure they’d be highly entertained.” 

“I’m sure we’d have thousands of complaints to deal with.” 

You laugh and he joins in. You finish your banana and stand up, tucking some of the hair that had fallen out of your bun back before moving to the middle of the room. 

“I don’t think I’ll be able to do it.” 

“I do.” Harry nods, crossing his arms over his chest, “Focus on your spot and never take your eyes off it, remember your core and remember to bounce yourself. The higher bounce you get at the start, the more you’ll be able to spin.” 

You’re unsure how it happened, but after listening to Harry’s words you manage to complete almost twenty pirouettes. The most that had taken place during the small amount of time in a performance had been thirty-two, and to say that you’d never done more than ten in your life before meant that you were pretty proud of yourself. 

“See.” He says smugly, “I knew you could do it.” 

You watch as he walks towards you, shoving this hand into the pocket of his jogging bottoms. You weren’t one to necessarily like people who are so in-your-face smug but there was something different about the way Harry said things. He didn’t say them maliciously, or to make himself feel better but to just tease you slightly. He was close to you, and you resisted the urge to let out a little squeak of nervousness. 

“Are you going to start believing in yourself?” 

“Hmm.” You ponder, “I might have to be reminded again, and again.” 

It all happened quickly, but before you could process anything happening, Harry’s lips were on yours. 

He kissed you. You felt his lips upon yours, his hand immediately reaching to rest upon her cheek. The nervous squeak you held in escaped your lips as he did so, but he masked it with him. You gripped the material of his wife-beater, bunching it up at his stomach as you pulled him towards you. Your lips parted once you’d felt his tongue dance upon your lips, allowing it to slip through them. You were shocked, but you never wanted it to end. 

It did end though, like all good things do. He pulled away from you and you felt even more out of breath than if you had just performed your solo. You looked at him with wide eyes and lifted your fingers to run over your swollen lips, 

“Did that remind you?” 

Dress rehearsals had started, but all you could find yourself thinking about was Harry’s lips on yours. 

You stood backstage at the Royal Opera House, looking at yourself within the mirror as you ran your hand over your costume. It was white, and completely gorgeous. The tutu fluttered out gems and sparkles fluttered along the bodice with a hugged your curves perfectly. You had the head piece on as well, but you hadn’t done your makeup. It was the first time you’d seen the costume upon your body, and you were in love with it. 

“You proper look like the white swan now.” Ethel smiles, placing her hand upon your shoulder, squeezing slightly, “You look gorgeous.” 

“Thank you.” You turn to look at her, and the costume she had on and you gasp, “And look at you!  Absolutely beautiful!” 

The two of you giggle and walk towards the main stage where everyone was collected. You stood to the side with Ethel, even though she’s quickly scooped away by some of her friends. You stand and done move, going over the moves of your solo in your head just to make sure you knew what you were doing. 

Holland calls you all to start soon. It wasn’t the first time that you’d ran the performance all the way through, but it was the first time that you’d done it in your costume. 

You manage to make it through the first half of the performance without any malfunctions from yourself, but you can’t say the same for everyone else. It was around half way through the third section of dance or so when you noticed Harry sat on the front row, his eyes never leaving you as you dance around the stage. When your first section of solo dance came up, you saw Harry’s eyes furrowing as you danced. You couldn’t watch him throughout the entire thing, but you wouldn’t be surprised if he never looked away from you. 

During the interval, you go backstage and make your way towards a bathroom. As you make your way closer, you try to find the fasten of your tutu so that you can quickly pull it off. What you hadn’t expected as you down the hall and towards the bathroom was to be pulled into one of the rooms you pass.

You squeal as you feel the hand around your arm, but once you’re in the room, you’re silenced by someone’s lips upon yours. 

You can tell that it’s Harry immediately. You can tell not only from his lips upon yours, but also from his hand that he places upon your cheek. You feel the coolness of his ring, and the slight itch from his stubble, but you really aren’t complaining. You lift your hand to the back of his neck, slipping your fingers through the hair at the nape of his neck. 

His fingers run across your thighs, being light so that he doesn’t rip the thin material. After a minute or so, you pull away, turning your head so that his drops upon your shoulder whilst you catch you breath.” 

“Harry?” He hums against your neck, placing a small kiss there, “I really need a wee.” 

He laughs and stands up, pecking your lips once more. You smile into the kiss and it seems to only grow afterwards. 

“Well you better go and have one.” He chuckles and you nod, “But I’ll only let you go if your promise me something.” 

“What?” 

“You’ll wait for me afterwards?” 

“After what? My wee, because I have to back on stage after—”

“No.” He chuckles, “Not after you’ve had your wee, but after you’ve finished tonight. I want to take you somewhere.” 

“Sounding very stalker-ish of you, Styles.” She furrows her eyebrows, “But I’ll wait for you.” 

The second half, and your solo goes okay. You managed to do sixteen pirouettes but your brain was in overdrive, thinking of everywhere that Harry could be taking you. Once you all finished, you couldn’t help but rush to get changed and ready to leave. You hadn’t borough the nicest of clothes, only some jeans and a jumper since the air had started to get quite a lot cooler now that autumn had shown its face. 

“You ready?” He asks once you’ve walked out of the theatre and find him stood by the wall next to the door. 

You nod and follow him. The two of you don’t talk, but his hand does slip into yours as you walk. He’s very smooth in the way that he does it, slipping his hand into yours as you walked across the busy London road. Your cheeks heated as he did so, and you couldn’t help the small smile that planted across your lips. 

You knew that you shouldn’t feel this way about someone who was like a teacher for you, and you knew at some point that the two of you would have to speak about what this even was but at this point you were just happy. 

You certainly hadn’t expected to end up at a cinema, but here you were. Harry scanned the two tickets he already conveniently already had. The tickets were halfway up in the cinema, where you normally enjoyed sitting but you certainly had never told Harry this. 

“If you wanted to see a movie with me, you should’ve just asked.” You whisper to Harry as you both sit down, “You didn’t have to basically kidnap me into a storage room and shove your tongue down my throat.” 

“I didn’t hear you complaining about my tongue down your throat.” He says, and you can almost hear the smirk upon his lips, “Just watch, you’ll understand why I brought you here in a second.” 

You did understand. The recording was from 2015, one that you hadn’t seem before which was surprising because you’re absolutely certain that you’d watched the majority of them. You wonder if this was one that you hadn’t been able to find before, to nitpick every single movement that the white swan made. 

Harry’s hand sat tightly in yours as you watched, never moving throughout the entire performance. 

Once it had finished, you found yourself sat in an Italian restaurant that was next to the cinema, the both of you having ordered pasta and having large glasses of red wine to wash it down. 

“Why did you bring me to see that?” 

Harry smiles, placing his glass down that he had just taken a sip from, “It’s my favourite performance, so far, of Swan Lake. I didn’t know whether you’d already seen it, and you’re probably fed up of it but I thought you needed to see it.” 

You shake your head, “I hadn’t seen it.” 

“You remind me of her.” He smiles, “Giovanna, who was the White Swan. She was a few years older than me, and I met her getting lost in the school.” 

“You knew her?” 

He nods, “We were best friends, for a few years, and she taught me everything I know about how to be the best ballerino I could be. I was there when she was got the part, and I used to watch her practice.” 

“That’s how you know the solo so well.” 

He nods, “She believed she couldn’t do it. I can’t count the amount of times she said that she couldn’t do it. She hardly slept because of it. They recorded that opening night, and it took me sitting her down and showing her that for her to believe that she could do it.” 

He’s interrupted by the waitress coming with their pasta, which they smile in thanks at. 

“Thank you.” He nods his head at the waitress, “I’m more involved with you as the White Swan, and I swore to never let anyone who I worked with whether it be on this production or not, feel like Giovanna did.” 

“How could you tell?” 

“You always look as though you’re battling with yourself within your head.” He says, “You need to know that when you’re on that stage, and it’ll be even more like this when you believe yourself, you are elegant and you look absolutely beautiful.” 

If you weren’t in public, and if you didn’t have a mouthful of tomato pasta in your mouth, you probably would’ve cried at his words. You couldn’t believe how much this man actually cared about you and how you were doing. 

“Are you still friends with her?” 

“No.” He shakes his head, “She left a few years ago, didn’t tell me where she was going or why she was doing it. I haven’t heard from her since.” 

You drop your head, “I’m sorry.” 

“Don’t be.” He shakes his head, “You’re the new swan in my life, and between the two of us, I much prefer you.” 

“Do you think people are going to mind?” You ask, moving your pasta around on your plate, not daring to look up at him, “You’re like my teacher, and we don’t exactly have one of the more conventional relationships.” 

“I don’t care.” He shakes his head, “And you shouldn’t either, swan.” 

The day of the first performance was here, and you were absolutely dreading it. 

“Ethel.” You shake your head, “I really can’t do this.” 

“Oh shut up.” She places her hands upon your shoulders as you look at yourself in the mirror, sighing as you made sure your wispy pieces of your hair were down, “You’re going to be fine. You’re only worried about the pirouettes and you managed twenty-two yesterday.” 

“It’s not thirty-two though.” You shake your head, “It isn’t good enough.” 

Yesterday it was your last run through of the solo with Harry in the practice room. Even though the relationship between the two had shifted dramatically since their first rehearsal, and yesterday it almost felt as though you were back in with that Harry. 

The flirty banter that the two had adopted wasn’t there, and you were both focused on getting it right. It was the first time that you had managed to do more than twenty pirouettes, which had been your best, but it was now twenty-two. You had sighed in relief and finished your solo dance with a smile upon your face. 

“You’ll be fine.” Ethel smiles, “You’ve got nothing to worry about, you’ll go out there and smash it. I have to go and do my makeup, but I’ll see you during the interval — I promise.” 

You nod, accept her hug and sigh yet again at yourself in the mirror. You hadn’t felt this nervous in a long time, not even when you auditioned for the ballet school, or even when you auditioned for the part of the white swan. In every other aspect of your life, you were confident. In your dancing, that’s when you found yourself spiralling in the most. 

“Hey white swan.” You can’t help but smile at the sound of Harry’s voice behind you, your body immediately turning around to look at him. 

You don’t want to seem shocked, but the sight of him all dressed up causes your heart to beat quickly within your chest. You hadn’t seen him dressed up in this way before, a blue button up upon his body, as well as yellow trousers and a grey jacket. His hair framed his face in such a way that you couldn’t help but press your thighs together. You very much liked Harry’s practice outfits that show off his strong body, but there was something else about seeing him dressed in such a way that you liked even more. 

“Hi.” You laugh, standing up to wrap your arms around him. It’s an awkward hug, with the two of you trying to navigate your way around your tutu, “You look fancy.” 

“And you look gorgeous.” He pulled away from you and leant back against the wall, whilst you leant against the chair you were just sat on, “Ethel saw me on the way in.” 

You laugh, “What did she say?” 

“That you’re spiralling again.” He laughs, “I thought we’d spoken about this.” 

“I know.” You nod your head, “I’m just scared about the pir—”

“—If you dare say pirouettes!” 

You laugh as he interrupts your words, “I’m sorry.” 

“Don’t be.” He shakes his head, “You know that you can do it, and I believe in you. You’re going to smash this and I’m going to be front row cheering your on.” 

Without a single hesitation, you cast your eyes around the room in hopes to see nobody there, which there isn’t, and you throw your arms around his neck and place your lips upon his. He smiles into the kiss, and you do too, but you quickly pull away because you know that anybody could walk in at any moment. 

Harry flutters his eyes over at the clock, “It’s time, white swan. I’ll be here afterwards.” 

In your first performance of Swan Lake, you manage twenty-six pirouettes. It’s the most you’ve ever done, and once you’ve done it, you find yourself finishing the entire performance in higher spirits than when you started it. 

Somehow, you were finishing the day of your first performance with your thighs wrapped around Harry’s waist as he presses you up against the door of your flat. He had offered to walk you home, and the flirty way the two of you had become accustomed to felt a change as you walked home. You felt as though there was a magnet pulling you together and the closer you got to your flat, the closer you felt towards each other. 

You suspect that was why you were now pressed up against your door. 

“I’m so fucking proud of you.” Harry murmurs against your lips, and you smile against them. 

With him holding you up by your thighs, and with your half arsed directions, you both make your way towards your bedroom. Harry places you down upon your bed, his fingers grasping the jumper upon your skin. You pull away slightly and he pulls it above your head, exposing your chest to him. He leans down to press another kiss to your lips, moving down to your neck. He litters kisses down your cheeks, and your neck until he’s upon your chest. You hadn’t worn a bra with your jumper, so you’re completely exposed to him. 

The next movement he makes is to wrap his lips around one of your nipples, swirling his tongue around one of your budding nipples, using his thumb to tweak the other. Your hips are involuntarily bucking towards his. 

“Fuck, Harry.” You sigh, smiling down at his head as he kisses down your stomach until he reaches the band of your jogging bottoms. 

He stops his movements and rests his head upon your stomach, “What do you want?” 

“Want you to lick me.” He smiles at your words, and hooks his fingers into the band of your jogging bottoms, pulling them as well your underwear down your legs. 

He placed a litter of kisses across the inside of your thighs, teasing you until you can help but lift your hips up to him. 

“Are you this wet all for me, baby?” He questions, running his thumb across your clothed clit, “Got yourself all messy for me.” 

“You have a way with words.” You grin, reaching forward to run your fingers through his hair, “And a way with your mouth.” 

“You don’t need to flatter me anymore, I’m already in your bed.” He pecks your pubic bone, “But my ego really appreciates it.” 

“Your narcissistic side is showing.” 

“What did you expect?” He runs his fingers across your pubic bone, “You’re so fucking ready for me. All wet and ready for me to have a taste.” 

He starts with small kitten licks that have you withering across your duvet, small whines leaving your lips. He wraps his lips around your clit, mixing between nibbling and licking. 

You moan, lifting your back up off of the bed, “Can I use my fingers, baby?” 

“Please.” You nod, watching as he lifting his fingers up to your mouth, pushing them through your parted lips so you could swivel your tongue around them, wetting them to make them easier for him to push into you. He pushes his index finger in, rhythmically moving it in and out whilst also licking and flicking your clit with his tongue. Each thing his does coaxes you closer and closer to your orgasm, the way he skilfully uses his tongue sending moans spilling out of your lips.

“Don’t stop!” Harry drops his hand to your stomach, pushing down so that you aren’t moving you hips as he brings you closer to your peak, “M’gonna come.” 

“Come for me, baby.” He murmurs against you, flicking his tongue quickly. 

You can feel your stomach tightening as he moves quickly, the feeling causing your toes to curl as he does so. 

“Fuck.” He uses his fingers and his tongue to coax you through your orgasm. 

You honestly couldn’t believe that you had waited this long to have him touch you. Moans spill out of your lips as you reach your high, the euphoric feeling spreading over your entire body. 

Harry kisses your clit one last time, kissing up your stomach and around your breasts, up until he wrapped his lips around your nipple. He allowed you to recover and calm your breathing whilst he kissed up your body. 

“Good?” 

You hum, a small giggle escaping your lips, “Fucking amazing.” 

“I’m glad your enjoyed it.” He laughed, leaning down to place a kiss to your lips. 

Feeling as though you had recovered from your orgasm, you start to unbutton his trousers. He grins against your lips as you slip your hand beneath the band of his boxers, wrapping your fingers around his length. 

“I want you to fuck me.” You whisper against his lips, the corners of yours curling up. 

“Yeah.” He grins, “Have you got any condoms?” 

You were glad at this point that you’d picked some up during your daily shop. Not that you had expected anything, but it was always good to be prepared. 

“Yeah.” You nod, “In the bedside table.” 

He stands up from the bed and unbuttons his shirt, pushing it off his shoulders and he makes his way towards the drawer. You eyes never leave his body, watching as his ever muscle flexes. He opens the drawer and drops his hand in, and if you weren’t already flushed, you certainly would be from what he pulls out. 

“What’s this?” He holds up the small vibrator that you had bought a few years ago to relive some of your tension every once in a while. 

“God.” You drop back upon the bed, your head rested on the pillow as your bring your hand to your forehead, “Just something I use to relive some of the tension in me every once in a while.”  

“The tension?” He raises his eyebrow, “When was the last time you used it?” 

You shrug, “Ages ago. I think it was after the first dress rehearsal.” 

“That long ago? We’ll have to change that.” He turns the little machine on to its first setting, holding it as it vibrates in his hand. 

“Are you going to use that on me?” You ask, writhing as he places it upon your budding nipple. 

“As tempting as it is.”  He smirks, taking it away just as a moan threatens to leave your lips, “I think we’ll save it for another day.” 

He turns it off and places it back in the bedside table, taking the box of condoms that are in there out also. He takes the foil packet out and at the same time pushes his underwear off of his body, revealing his member to you. It was already red, the tip angry and already leaking pre-come as it stood out from his body. 

You can’t take your eyes off him. You had had some encounters with people before hand, you had needs, but you certainly hadn’t been with anyone quite so well endowed. He uses his teeth to rip open the packet, pinching it between his fingers and rolling it over his length. 

“Can I ride you?” You ask, watching as Harry kneels on the edge of the bed. 

He raises his eyebrows, “Do you want to?” 

“I do.” You smile, watching as he laid down next to you. 

“Hop on then.” He smirks, reaching for your hips as your straddle him. 

You take him in your hand, lining him up with your centre. He grips your hips, guiding you down onto his cock. You moan as he fills you up, but you can move at your own speed and wait as long as you needed. 

“Fuck.” He moans, sitting up to rest his head against your shoulder, “So fucking tight around my cock. Squeezing me just right.” 

You couldn’t believe how much you were throbbing between your legs at the sounds of his words. Once you’ve become accustomed to his size, you started to bounce up and down on him. You catch his lips with yours, allowing yourself to succumb under the pleasure he was giving you. You couldn’t help the moans that tumbled out of your lips whilst you bounce, Harry’s hips lifting to meet yours.

“Harry, fucking hell.” He was making you feel so full, and so good, “Fuck, can I go faster?” 

“Go as fast as you want, baby.” He kisses your lips briefly, “Make yourself come on my cock.” 

You bounce your hips faster, leaning forward to grip your headboard to give you more leverage to move your hips. You could feel sweat collecting upon your brow and body, your hair sticking to your neck. The only sound in the room was your moans and your groans, as well as the creaking of your bed and your headboard hitting the wall. You prayed at this point that your neighbours couldn’t hear you through your wall. 

“I’m gonna come, H.” You moan out, lowering one of your hands so that you could rub your clit. Harry immediately notices and pushes your hand away, replacing it with his own finger rubbing quickly to coax your second orgasm of the night. 

“Come on my cock, baby.” He speeds up his hips meeting yours, “Come on, I wanna feel you.” 

Your second orgasm washes over you quicker than your first, and your eyes roll to the back of your head. Harry thrusts harshly up into you a few time and you feel him spill into the condom. He groans against your neck as you collapse on top of him. 

You had never felt so close to someone as you did to Harry, and even though you weren’t together yet it just felt right to take this step. 

“You’re incredible, swan.” 

You laugh and roll off him, whimpering at the feeling of him leaving you. You lay down next to him and watch as he takes the condom off and places it in the small bin in the corner of your room. Whilst he does that, you quickly make your way towards the bathroom to pee and clean yourself up. Never in your whole life had you felt this wet and orgasmed so hard from being with someone, and you don’t know whether to thank Harry or worship the ground that he walks on. 

As you walk back into your room, you notice Harry laid upon your bed, shirtless and smiling as you walk back into the room. You slip into bed next to him. 

“Harry?” He hums, “If I perform like this every night, are you going to do this overnight?” 

“If you want me to, swan, I’ll never stop.” 

You didn’t want him to. 

A couple of months later, your time as the White Swan had finished. Your parents, as well as both Ethel and Harry, joined you for celebratory drinks. You found yourself loving having Harry with you, and Harry loved being with you as far as you could tell. 

Waking up the next morning, you can’t remember the last time you woke up without having something to do the next day. Harry’s deep breaths fill your ears as he rests upon your neck, his arm around your waist and his leg pressed in between yours. You loved the feeling of having him so close to you, and you felt as though you couldn’t ever have him away from you now.

“Are you awake?” His voice is low and gruff in a morning, and it sparks something between your legs almost immediately. 

“No.” You smile, “I’m still asleep.” 

“I think you should stick to ballet, lying isn’t your forte.” He squeezes your middle, pressing a kiss to your cheek. 

“I’m not lying. I’m still asleep.” You smile, relishing in the feeling of his arm around you.

He laughs, “I didn’t know I was with a sleep talker, swan. If I’d have known I would’ve been running for the hills.” 

“How long have you been awake then?” You laugh, “Have you been watching me sleep?” 

“Not watching.” He laughs, “Observing.” 

You turn your head briefly so that you’re looking at him, leaning forward to place a kiss to his cheek. 

“Kissy?” 

“Morning breath.” You grimace, “Once I’ve brushed my teeth, maybe.” 

“I don’t care.” He shakes his head, “I just want a kiss.” 

“I care, though.” 

“‘Gis a kiss, baby.” You lean forward and place a closed-lipped peck to his lips. 

“Good enough?” 

“I guess that’s all I’m getting.” 

“That is correct.” You laugh. 

Harry’s eyes fall upon yours, and he doesn’t look away. Even though he just woke up, he’s so effortlessly gorgeous that you can’t help but want to jump his bones and kiss him all of the time. 

In your opinion, you had hit the jackpot. It was the most traditional relationship, but Harry was your person. From the first day you walked into the rehearsal room and Harry looked at you with such joy in his eyes you knew he was for you. You didn’t care what anyone else though, and you only wanted him. 

You were falling for him, at a fast speed but you certainly would never complain. 

“Be mine?” 

“What?” You question, your eyebrows furrowing. 

“Be my girlfriend?” He asked, “Be mine?” 

You ponder the thought for a couple of seconds, leaving him waiting before your lips curl up into a smile, “Okay.” 

“Okay.” You kiss him again, “I’ll be your girlfriend.” 

“My swan.” He smiles, leaning forward to kiss you once again. 

You laugh, “I feel like that’s going to be my forever nickname.” 

“It’s how we met.” He smiles, “I never want to forget it.” 

You never do. 

#harry styles #harry styles one shot #harry styles imagine #harry styles fic #harry styles fanfic #harry styles x reader #harry styles x yn #harry styles x you #harry styles angst #harry styles fluff #harry styles smut #harry styles smut fic #harry styles au #harry styles writing

[veliseraptor]

got tagged for two fic writer memes yesterday! the one from @ameliarating first:

How many works do you have on AO3?

509.

What’s your total AO3 word count?

3,432,24. dang! that’s a lot of words

How many fandoms have you written for and what are they?

I have written for...counting the MCU as one fandom, on AO3 I have written for 32 fandoms, including at least one work in:

MCU, The Sillmarillion, Caliban Leandros, both DC and Marvel Comics, the book Barebacked by Kit Whitfield, Doctrine of Labyrinths, Doctor Who, Buffy the Vampire Slayer, Star Wars, Black Jewels, Dragon Age, Lucifer, Dexter, Temeraire, Gentleman Bastard Sequence, Supernatural, A Song of Ice and Fire, Greek Mythology, Lymond Chronicles, Merlin BBC, Code Geass, Good Omens,  Death Note, and White Collar.

this is not a comprehensive list of every fandom I’ve ever written for, because it is not including ones that live only on FFN or Livejournal.

What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

Life In Reverse tops the list (11066), aka my 200k Loki-centric post-Thor AU fic that I wrote between 2012 and 2018 and with which I have a decidedly complex relationship at this point. I love it but also I no longer think it’s my best work but also I credit it with teaching me a fuck of a lot about writing and writing longer projects in general.

With Absolute Splendor is rapidly catching up, to my astonishment (6559), despite having been posted for less than half as long. Aka the wedding planning fic that’s really just me mucking about in my Jiang Cheng and my Jiang Cheng and Wei Wuxian feelings, at length.

some good mistakes (4618) was my first foray into the Untamed version of “characters who hate each other going on resentful roadtrips together, feat. Lan Wangji and Jiang Cheng.” I have gone on to write others and will continue to write more.

Unraveling (3069) is a little bit of a surprise but also not - it was originally just sort of WWP stuff for my ‘what if people remembered that blunt force trauma is a really bad thing actually’ problem that pops up sometimes, re: Loki at the end of The Avengers, and then it kind of turned into a whole thing. I personally think it’s the weakest of the installments of the series it belongs to, but it is the first one and also the one that gets least into the broader family dysfunction and depression stuff that probably is less everyone’s thing (but is what came out this fic that mattered more to me, personally).

I am a little surprised to see Steve Rogers’ Halfway House for Notorious Supervillains (3068) here too! I was expecting one of the more...idk, mainstream concepts from the MCU to win out? But I also wasn’t expecting two Untamed fics to make it here, either. But I am stupid proud of this fic even if it is very extraordinarily unfinished. This is one of those unfinished fics that will nag at me unless and until I finish it, at least a little, because the concept - if I do say so myself - is so goddamn good and I think I was executing it pretty well, too.

Do you respond to comments, why or why not?

Pretty much never. I was never very good at it and now I’d feel like I had to go back and reply to all of them and I just. I can’t do that. and when I do try to just start at the beginning I get overwhelmed very fast and start avoiding it.

Basically I decided that if it’s a decision between wrestling with myself to reply to comments versus actually doing more writing I’m going to end up landing on the latter as feeling both more doable and more productive.

What’s the fic you’ve written with the angstiest ending?

probably it’s The Worlds Forgotten, the Words Forbidden for sheer level of “so then what was the point” of it all. but like. I’ve definitely written a few extraordinarily miserable fics, and by “a few” I kind of mean “a lot.” Other nominees I’d put down might be nor autumn falter (for currently personally making me suffer most), once there was a way to get back home (for I think having the ouchiest summary), and Waiting for the Summer Rain (which remains one of my personal favorite Supernatural fics I wrote).

but like. there are 43 fics I have marked with Major Character Death warnings and every single one of those, pretty much, has a downer ending.

Do you write crossovers? If so, what is the craziest one you’ve written?

I have written several though not in a long time! My craziest probably remains the Morgoth/Cthulhu short I wrote that actually got sporked because someone took it seriously (???) enough to do that. But the craziest that actually has any merit, (I’d argue) is probably the Maeglin/Viserys one.

not linking to either, if you want to go find them I don’t think it’ll be that hard.

Have you ever received hate on a fic?

Yeah, a few times on a few different things. More if you count “people who seem to like the fic but love telling you how much they hate the female characters you’re writing about in it” as ‘hate’ which I would but isn’t, you know, quite as straightforward. If I had a nickel for every time someone bitched about Jane in Life in Reverse, though...lots of nickels.

Do you write smut? if so what kind?

Sure do! But what does ‘what kind’ mean, I don’t know how to answer that question. I feel tempted to just put in my “Mike’s Hard Kinks” image edit in this space.

I guess usually I tend to write smut that at least involves a little bit of a kink? I don’t think I’d feel comfortable writing entirely kinkless smut. I think I’d feel weird about it, the same way I do when I write really nice fic, generally.

Have you ever had a fic stolen?

I think I did back when but I don’t remember anything about it. I feel like it was one of those mass data scraping things where my fic happened to be among those caught up in it.

Have you ever had a fic translated?

I have! several actually, mostly into Russian and Chinese. every time it happens I’m immensely flattered that someone wants to put in that kind of work on something I wrote.

Have you ever co-written a fic before?

I think I’d be very, very bad at it.

What’s your all time favorite ship?

Depends on when you ask me! I could probably give you a top five but then I’d remember six that I forgot to mention five minutes later. I guess if I were to think about ships that feel like they hold very special particular places in my heart... Xue Yang/Xiao Xingchen, Steve Rogers/Loki, and Min/Rand come to mind.

What’s a WIP that you want to finish but don’t think you ever will?

oh god do you want the whole list cause honestly I could just like. screencap the entirety of my “in progress” folder with a crying emoji watermarked over it. and that’s not getting into the fics that are like...half formed babies in my consciousness but not anywhere on paper.

and also I just hate to admit that I might not finish something.

you know what? the Lucifer/Good Omens crossover I started would’ve been a lot of fun. I’m probably never going to finish it, but it would’ve been great if I had. I know other people did it too but my contribution could’ve been amazing.

I can say this very boldly with the near certainty that I’m not going to finish the fic so no one will be able to disagree.

(...also the Last Herald-Mage fix it. that was going to be a good fic too, and also will probably languish unfinished forever.)

What are your writing strengths?

I’m pretty sure dialogue is my strongest point. Dialogue and emotions, which is why I always end up just wanting to write about characters talking and having feelings at each other.

What are your writing weaknesses?

Writing action sequences throws me into conniptions every time I have to do it and I will take drastic actions sometimes to avoid doing it at all, which probably weakens the work as a whole.

Also, I don’t plan ahead and this means I write myself into corners kind of a lot. If I wasn’t writing long, dense fic it wouldn’t be a problem but here we are.

What are your thoughts on writing dialogue in other languages in a fic?

I tend to avoid it unless it’s in the context of, as in CQL/MDZS fic, leaving certain terminology untranslated. I’m pretty sure I almost never write full exchanges of dialogue in a different language than I’m using for the narration within a fic, and generally speaking my reaction to other people doing it is at least mildly negative.

What was the first fandom you wrote for?

Harry Potter was technically the first fandom I wrote for, but it was a crack fic I wrote to make my friends laugh more than anything; I tend to count Wheel of Time as my first actual fandom for which I wrote my first actual fic.

What’s your favorite fic you’ve written?

some days the answer is “all of them” and some day the answer is “I don’t like anything I’ve written in my entire life” and I never like giving this a definitive answer. yesterday I reread efforts in a common cause (the bound copy!! thanks @spockandawe) and you know what, that was a good fic and I’m proud of it, so I’m going with that one, for this meme, today.

tagging: @mostfacinorous, @jaggedcliffs, @silvysartfulness, @mikkeneko, @kasasagi-eye, @curiosity-killed, how many people am I supposed to tag for this one anyway

#lise memes #confessions of a frustrated writer

[emy-loves-you]

Snakey Days

This was written for the Sanders Sides Unpopular Ships Challenge, Day 3: DLAMP!

(yes, I know it’s late, but I’m posting it anyways)

Summary: When Janus gets exhausted, he turns into a tiny snake. Luckily he has 4 wonderful boyfriends to take care of him.

Pairing: DLAMP

Word Count: 1859

Thomas was a very busy man.

This was just a fact of life. He had a lot on his plate, between video production, supporting his friends and family, and so much more. Sometimes it wasn’t even the big things that overwhelmed him. The small things that he did, like sending Nico a “good morning <3” text every day or cleaning up the apartment, would sometimes pile up when he didn’t expect it and quickly overwhelm him. Those were the times when Janus was forced to step in and force Thomas to take a break, to spend some time taking care of himself, mentally and physically. And while those breaks were important, the fact that Thomas tended to wait until he was ready to implode before listening to Janus had a few negative consequences. One of them was that it took all of Janus’ energy, leaving him for a few days in a far simpler, but less functional, form.

Such as today, when one of his boyfriends had found him curled up under the blankets in his snake form.

Janus hadn’t even realized that he was in his serpent form until that moment, too exhausted to realize that the feeling of scales on cool sheets wasn’t just on his face anymore. Janus had practically melted at the feeling of warm fingers on his cold scales, before groaning as he realized what that meant. He would be stuck in this form for at least a day before he could change back, maybe even longer since Thomas was so stressed yesterday. Luckily they weren’t planning any videos soon, so Janus had nothing on his schedule that he couldn’t do in snake form. And if he did, his lovely boyfriends would gladly do the tasks for him.

Speaking of boyfriends, Janus lazily flicked his tongue out, trying to figure out who was currently rubbing the back of his head. He picked up the familiar scent of paper and ink and inwardly smiled, letting out a quiet hiss. Logan chuckled, “I had assumed this would happen. Would you like to eat today?” Since they were in Thomas’ head, they didn’t technically need to eat and sleep, but they still ate meals together and slept in their own rooms. Sometimes Janus would want to eat as a snake and they would summon him a nice juicy rat to have. But Janus didn’t want that awkwardly full feeling today, so he flicked his tongue out twice, his little code for ‘no.’

Logan nodded and loosened his tie before picking Janus up, guiding him up to his now exposed collarbone. Janus wasn’t a very big snake, barely big enough to wrap himself once around his boyfriend’s neck, but he sleepily managed to settle himself on the warm skin. He loved being able to feel his boyfriend’s body heat against his cold scales, and he let out a small hiss as a ‘thank you.’ Logan chuckled, the movement causing Janus to practically melt against his skin. “I hope you won’t get too upset at being moved around today. We’ve all got some personal projects to do today, so you’ll be moving around between the four of us.” Janus just hissed in response, already expecting it. One day he would convince his boyfriends to all take a self-care day together.

Janus stiffened slightly when Logan stood up and started moving, but he relaxed immediately afterward. Logan wouldn’t let him fall, Janus was sure of it. It had taken a long time to trust the Logical Side like that, just like it took a long time to trust the rest of his boyfriends. But Janus was glad that he did. Before he admitted his little problem about being stuck as a snake sometimes, he would spend these times stuck on his bed, freezing cold and unable to get up. Now he was always nice and warm, lazily draped over one of his boyfriends.

Logan stepped into the kitchen, where their other 3 boyfriends were already serving breakfast. Patton was the first one to notice the Logical Side standing in the doorway, and ran over to pull him into a hug. Janus let out a weak hiss before he got too close and Patton stopped, just then noticing the tiny snake hiding under Logan’s shirt. He smiled softly, his voice now dropping to a quiet murmur. “Oh baby… lazy day today?” Janus just flicked his tongue out in response. That was the main issue he had with this form; he couldn’t communicate or show any facial expressions. He could tell them that he was annoyed, or happy, or whatever else he could be feeling. He also was so tired in this form, so even if he could communicate, Janus wasn’t too sure that he would.

Patton giggled softly before reaching up to kiss Logan. He also gave Janus a little boop, making him hiss again. The Moral Side spun back to the kitchen, speaking in a much softer tone than he had before Logan showed up. “Janus is having a snakey day today, so we won’t need another plate.” Roman and Virgil both looked up at Logan, staring at Janus hanging off his neck. Roman gave a soft smile and Virgil nodded, but they didn’t speak as they finished setting the table. Janus tended to get really big headaches when in snake form, so they always made sure to speak softly as they went throughout their day.

Breakfast was quiet, with Janus hanging off of the Logical Side’s neck while everyone else ate. They were quietly planning their schedule for the day, while Janus started to doze off. He didn’t startle when Logan got up, hissing softly as the Logical Side went to the living room to watch a documentary.

Logan didn’t touch Janus much when he was in this form, worried that he would accidentally harm him. But Janus didn’t mind, happy to snuggle up against his boyfriend. He hissed indignantly when they started watching a snake documentary. The Logical Side chuckled, rubbing the back of Janus’ head in a placating manner. He hissed again, relaxing fully. This was one of the few times where he wished he was a different animal. Maybe he could be a cat, so he could purr and stretch himself out on their laps. Oh, to be a cat…

Janus didn’t realize he had fallen asleep until he woke up later, now resting on a heat rock. He poked his head up from where he was laying, watching as Roman and Patton built a currently unidentifiable Lego structure, the tie-wearing side nowhere in sight. Janus let out a weak hissed and felt a flash of irritation when neither of his boyfriends looked up. Maybe he should ask them to put a bell on his tail. Then at least he’d make some noise.

It took several hisses for Roman to look up, smiling brightly. “It looks like our Sassy Serpentine is awake!” Janus hissed in response, trying to convey his irritation at being ignored. The creative side chuckled, apparently picking up on Janus’ mood. “Logan had to go plan this week’s schedule, and we didn’t want you to be jostled around on us.”

Patton held his hand out and Janus slithered onto it, wrapping himself around the father figment’s wrist. Patton chuckled and used his other hand to gesture towards the Legos. “Hey Ro, why don’t you keep building this while Janus and I watch. I’m better for moral support anyways.” Janus hissed and nudged his boyfriend’s wrist with his head, upset that he was talking bad about himself. Patton didn’t seem to understand (or maybe he did but was ignoring the subject. They’ll need to talk about that later) and giggled. “What? That was a good pun!”

Roman rolled his eyes fondly and went back to building the Lego structure, which was soon revealed to be the same Disney Castle Lego set that Thomas had. He was telling little stories every few minutes, fueled by Patton’s giggles and Janus’ hisses. Patton would occasionally move the snake up to eye level and kiss the top of his head or rub his nose against his snout. Janus would respond by tickling the Moral Side’s face with his tongue or nudging him with his head.

Eventually, Roman and Patton had to leave, and Janus was escorted to Virgil’s room. Virgil was about to take a nap before dinner, and Janus was glad to join him. He loved sleepy cuddles in either form, but he couldn’t cuddle with most of the others in this form because they tended to roll around in their sleep. Virgil, however, didn’t, so Janus could cuddle with him whenever he wanted.

Janus didn’t like to pick favorites, but Virgil was definitely up there in terms of cuddling. He was warmer than either of the glasses-wearing sides, and barely cooler than the absolute inferno that was the Creative Side. And his hoodie was so soft, it was amazing to feel the fabric against his scales. He loved to nuzzle his snake-half against Virgil’s shoulder in his human form, and right now he easily fell asleep on Virgil’s chest, underneath his hoodie.

A few hours later, he woke up to people whispering. He stayed still and listened.

“C’mon my dark and stormy night, dinner’s ready.”

“I can’t.”

Roman huffed impatiently. “Why not? And where’s our scaly beloved?”

The fabric around him shifted, and Janus assumed that Virgil was pointing at him. “He’s sleeping on my chest. There’s no way to get up without waking him. I can’t leave.”

Roman chuckled. “Yeah, you’re screwed.” There was a smooching sound, and Janus assumed that Roman had kissed Virgil’s forehead. “I shall tell our beloveds of your unfortunate predicament. You are our noble sacrifice, and I will never forget you.”

Virgil started sputtering and Janus would’ve been chuckling if he could. Instead, he slithered up to the Anxious Side’s neck, nudging his chin. Virgil froze, looking guilty. “Sorry J, did we wake you?” Janus hissed, sticking his tongue out twice. No, he lied. Virgil relaxed, smiling softly.

Roman made grabby-hands and Virgil rolled his eyes, handing Janus over. Roman wrapped the snake side around his neck and Janus let out a long drawn out hiss, the closest thing he could get to a sigh in this form. Roman’s hot skin felt like bliss to the cold-blooded serpent, and Janus was almost asleep again by the time the Creative Side sat down to eat.

Dinner was a short affair and soon they were all sitting on the couch, watching Disney movies. Janus forced himself to stay awake for a few minutes, committing the image to memory as he always did. Eventually, his tiredness and the warmth of Roman’s skin won out and he slipped into a peaceful slumber.

A few hours later, Janus shifted back into his human form, still asleep. He was laying in Roman’s lap with his arms around his neck, murmuring softly. His four boyfriends smiled softly, each one giving him a kiss on the forehead before turning back to the movie. They all ended up falling asleep on the couch, cuddling together around their favorite snake.

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Taglist: @bisexualdisaster106 @self-taught-mess @arodynamic-enby @sanderssides-angst @whatishappeningrightnow @idont-freaking-know @cute-and-angsty-princess @artsy-enby09 @girl-who-reads @drarrymalecsolangelo @count-woe-laf

#tsus challenge #dlamp #janus sanders #patton sanders #logan sanders #roman sanders #virgil sanders

[smashboxgirl26]

vengeance / chapter 8: unspoken confession

chapter 7: helping | chapter 9: anxiety

vengeance masterlist

It was 6:50 by the time you’d thrown open the door to your apartment and stumbled inside.

You’d gotten no indication from Katsuki that he was coming, or where he was, or anything. This put you off a little, considering he could be off doing dangerous things somewhere.

You walked over to the tv and switched on the news, scrolling up on your phone to see if there were any new notifications. Thankfully, the news reporter stated that the day had been relatively peaceful, with no villain attacks in the area, before droning on about the elections that were coming up soon.

You let out a sigh as you leaned back against the couch, staring at the light bulb directly above you. You really wanted to call Katsuki and ask him what was taking so long, but the reminder that he could be undercover still lingered.

It felt so wrong, in the way that you felt empty without him there.

Guess I should actually be productive and not lazy around while waiting for him.

You got up from the couch, stretching your arms over your head before grabbing the remote to turn the tv off.

If anything, you needed to take a shower, badly. You hadn’t showered since yesterday morning, not having nearly enough time today since you immediately had to head off to work with Katuski when you got home.

And showers were nice. They helped, in some ways.

You stood in front of the mirror after stripping all your clothes off, staring at the blank face that held no emotion as it stared back. You felt worse, somehow than you had earlier. The dark circles were visible even under the concealer you’d put on this morning. You looked back at the reflection with sad eyes, trying to ignore the ideas running rampant in your mind as you pushed your way into the shower.

The warm water trickled down endlessly as you leaned your head against the wall and stared up at the tiled ceiling. There was still so much.

The work you had been getting recently was pushing you to the end of your rope, you felt like you were drowning. Not to mention studying for the MCATs, and keeping up with everything happening at the agency along with all your classes.

You let out a large breath of a sigh, as you stared down at your legs, observing the way they felt against the cool, tiled surface that the shower provided in its walls.

You just needed to study and do homework. Then you’d be done.

But the longing to stay in the shower and daydream for longer won, so you upped the temperature of the water, watching the steam rise to the top of the shower and out to the rest of the bathroom.

…

You rolled your head to each side a couple of times after settling yourself down on the couch with your laptop in front of you. You’d barely been getting any work done these days, continuously putting it off for practically no reason. It was piling up, and fast.

You stared at the long list of assignments posted on the application the school used. You hoped it would help motivate you to try and work on it in some way, yet the sight just gave you a large amount of anxiety.

You didn’t even want to look at it, let alone work on it. The feeling rose quickly in your chest, and you shut the laptop, opting to stare at the blank TV screen in front of you instead.

It felt horrible to be so, unproductive, but you couldn’t bring yourself to actually do anything about it. It felt easier to just ignore everything right now and worry about it in the future.

Plus, you felt hungry.

So, instead of doing some work before heading off to the kitchen to make food, you ignored it all and just decided to eat dinner and watch tv instead.

Is Katsuki going to be coming over when he’s done or what? Should I make enough for both of us or just me?

You stared over the packets of frozen noodles in the fridge. It would be incredibly awkward for him to come and for you not to have food ready. But on the other hand, maybe he kinda deserved it for blowing you off for the rest of the day and not even mentioning something before he left.

He could’ve easily sent you a text before he left, but he didn’t. And that, honestly made your chest sting a bit.

Yeah he might’ve had an emergency but he could’ve said something. Anything.

Whatever.

You brushed away your thoughts, and decided you’d make enough for the both of you. He wasn’t exactly one to take proper care of himself when he was focused on something. And the fact that he hadn’t said anything before he ran off to do whatever showed that he was probably incredibly focused on whatever he was doing.

After putting two packets of the noodles in the pan and turning the heat on, you decided to turn the tv on and watch as you cooked in the kitchen.

It was peaceful, different from how it usually was.

Generally, either you or Katsuki would end up at the other’s place after work or school, and then the other person would always end up sleeping over. For some reason, you hadn’t gotten an apartment together yet - which was incredibly weird considering how long it’d been.

But, it never really felt like the right time, or you could never find a place you both liked. So, you stuck with what you had together - pretty much two houses where your stuff was equally distributed.

The consistent chatter from the TV allowed you to delve into your thoughts, as you mindlessly began finishing up the noodles and pouring them into the two separate bowls on the counter.

And just as you were putting the big pan into the sink, you heard the jingling of keys coming from the front door, watching as it opened to reveal Katsuki as he sauntered into the living room. He was still wearing his hero costume, minus the mask and the gauntlets, and you watched as he made sure to close the door and lock it behind him before he continued into the small space.

He almost looked too big for your apartment. Something that was incredibly funny at first, that he now just found plain annoying. Well, that’s student housing for you.

“Hey,” he said as he followed the scent of food into the kitchen.

“Hey.”

You didn’t really want to say anything to him first. He should be the one explaining himself to you.

“Sorry I was late,” he said gruffly, eyeing the bowl of noodles on the counter. “I got, caught up in a few things.”

You immediately noticed the hesitation in his voice, but didn’t raise any awareness to his tiny mishap. “It’s fine.”

He only nodded slightly at your response, choosing not to say anything more as he stalked off to the bedroom so he could change. He wanted out of his sweaty costume as soon as possible.

More than that, he could see that you were visibly upset (probably because he had been gone all day without a word). But in a way, he was thankful you didn’t blow up on him as soon as he’d walked in. He was going to tell you, obviously, but then the issue with De-, no, Midoriya came up.

He wanted to tell you about what had happened between them as soon as he could. It would be better if you heard it from him and not some random extra, or even worse, Midoriya himself.

And honestly, he needed that time for himself. Even if was technically on patrol, the walk easily cleared his mind and helped him with his anxiety. It would all be okay, as long as you heard it from him.

At least that’s what he’d been telling himself.

He sighed heavily, taking one last look in the mirror as he slipped one of his t-shirts on, sticking his hero costume in the small hamper that laid in the corner of the bedroom. He had stopped at the agency on the way back to your apartment, but he was too exhausted to change over there, opting to just take the gauntlets and the mask off before coming over.

He stepped back out of the bedroom, clad a plain t-shirt and sweatpants, before heading over to where you were sitting in the living room. By the way you were hunched over, he could tell that you were closing yourself off from him.

He knew he fucked up by not even shooting you a text before he left.

“So, um, how was your day?” he asked awkwardly as he sat himself down across from you at the small dining table.

You didn’t even look up at him when you replied, “Fine.”

“S’good.”

And once again it was silent.

Katsuki hated himself for being this awkward around you. You’d been together for so long now, why couldn’t he just say that he was sorry and admit it was his fault? Clearly you were mad at him, because you hadn’t said anything to him unless he said something first.

“Sorry…”, he said slowly.

Only then did your eyes finally look up to meet his, urging him to continue.

“I-I should’ve told you I was going to be going out and staying late, so yeah,” he said, forcing his pride and ego down. Normally, he wouldn’t have hesitated to defend his innocence, but he hated it when you acted cold towards him.

Funny in a way, since that was how you got to know each other in the first place.

“It’s okay,” you said, giving him a small smile, trying to reassure him.

You didn't want him to feel guilty for much longer. In some ways you understood how his job was and it was inevitable that sometimes it would end up like the way that it did.

“You could’ve just told me, ya know? Before running off like that.”

Bakugou didn't say anything afterwards, not wanting to drag the discussion and make it worse. So he left it at that, the air pretty much cleared as Bakugou began scarfing down the noodles you made -- even if they were frozen, he didn’t really care since he hadn’t eaten anything since this morning.

You noticed how quickly he was eating, and ended up pushing your half-eaten bowl towards him. He glanced at it, looking up at you from across the table with a confused look.

“Eat it,” you said as you got up from the table. “You didn’t eat anything at lunch.”

“Wot abou t-ou?” he asked, his voice muffled from the food stuffed in his mouth.

“I’m good, I’m not that hungry anyway. I had a big lunch.”

Before giving him another chance to protest, you had already walked back to the living room and grabbed your laptop. You knew you probably weren’t gonna end up doing any work, but you could at least try to motivate yourself.

Katsuki only looked guilty down at the bowl you’d pushed in front of him. He really didn’t deserve you, did he?

‘Just pray that you’ll be born with a quirk in your next life, and take a swan dive off the roof of the building.’

‘Take a swan dive off the roof of the building.’

‘Take a swan dive off the roof of the building.’

‘Take a swan dive off the roof of the building.’

‘Take a swan dive off the roof of the building.’

‘Take a swan dive off the roof of the building.’

‘T a k e a s w a n d i v e o f f t h e r o o f o f t h e b u i l d i n g.’

He needed to tell you. You needed to know what had happened between them. And if you ended up leaving him over this, in some ways he deserved it. He knew he did.

What would’ve happened if Midoriya actually jumped, huh? What would his life look like then? He probably wouldn’t even be here, with you. He never would’ve been able to go to UA, or anywhere else frankly, after that.

Bakugou stood up slowly from his spot on the table. He was hungry, but the noodles could wait. He couldn’t wait any longer. You couldn’t wait any longer.

The thought had been weighing on him all day. If he held onto it for any longer, he felt like he was going to burst from guilt.

“Hey,” he said from the entrance of the kitchen, watching as you typed away at your computer.

Your gaze was torn away promptly, and you looked up with him with a slight smile.

Fuck.

“I need to tell you something.”

“Okay,” you answered, urging him on.

“It’s about.. Dek- I mean Midoriya and I.”

Bakugou promptly opened his mouth to speak, and you clung onto what he was about to say. But before he could say anything, his phone began ringing.

He cursed inwardly, snatching his phone out of his pocket, only to decline the call. Almost immediately, his phone began ringing again and it was flooded with notifications.

You stared at his phone expectantly, clearly he was needed.

“It’s okay,” you reassured. “Answer the phone.”

You watched as he scowled, muttering a sorry as he angrily pressed the accept button.

“What?!” he barked out.

And you watched as his face went from anger to sheer horror in a matter of seconds.

“Wh- What happened?”, you got up quickly from the couch and made your way towards him, trying to see if you could catch the conversation.

By that time, he had already hung up the phone and was making his way to the front door. His expression at the moment was unreadable, not giving you any indications on what had happened and why it was so bad.

“Katsuki, what happened?” you called out from behind him.

“It’s fine,” he muttered. “Just stay here and don’t let anyone in, got it?”

“Okay, but wh-”

“I’ll tell you after.”

“Bu-”

And with that, the door slammed behind him, the time on the clock in the corner reading 8:15.

──────────────

lol, i forgot to put these in the last chapters, but if you want to be added to the taglist, just ask in the comments

tag list: @spicy-therapist-mom

#midoriya x reader x bakugou #yandere midoriya #izuku midoriya #midoriya x reader #bakugou katsuki x reader #yandere #mha #bnha #yandere izuku #mha fanfiction #bnha fic #bnha bakugou katsuki #bnha izuku #mha x reader #keke.writes

[secretpajamas]

a different kind of rush;

an Ezra x reader fic

pairing: ezra (prospect) x female reader

rating: explicit

genre: romance/smut/and they were roommates (oh my god they were roommates)

words: 2.7k

part 1 of 2

please scroll to the end to “content” if you would like to know specific smut-related content before reading!

---

Ever since the rush ended, mining work was somewhat scarce. Most aurelac miners—the ones who didn’t strike it rich, had already squandered away their profits, or ones that worked under flat-rate contract and not profit-share—had been swept up by the large-scale mining companies at the Ephrate.

You, unfortunately, had a falling-out with the head of your crew shortly before the end of the rush, and you were left out in the cold with little more than the clothes on your back and the helmet on your head. 

Now you operated alone, picking up what seasonal jobs you could. The ones that payed more tended to be more dangerous—you had a good sense as to which jobs would require you to stash extra knives on your person and demand your own private tent. That demand would often eat into your wages, but it was worth the peace of mind.

You were coming up on the last of your income from last season, which is how you found yourself scouting shuttle stations for work. Most of the bulletins at the larger stations were already picked clean. Now, at one of the smallest stations in the Reach, you hoped against hope you’d find a decent job posting.

Mostly scrap haul jobs—one odd request for a live-in massage therapist, and you knew what that was code for—but when you were about to give up and move on, one last blip on the readout screen caught your eye.

seeking experienced miner for short-term contract work (one season). small-scale operation, compensation negotiable. food and board included. helmet must be supplied by employee, O2 freely available. radio callsign alpha-echo-six, will be monitoring channel 07:00 – 23:00 universal time.

It was contract work, not profit-share, but what the hell. It was the best you had come across in your search so far and you doubted you’d find anything better. Checking the screen, you noted it was nearly 23:00—but you pulled out your radio, entered the posted callsign, and gave it a shot.

“This is radio callsign alpha-sierra-two, inquiring about job posting on shuttle station R-Twelve,” you said into your device. “Is the position still open?”

You waited for a minute in dead silence before you heard the line crackle to life. “Hello, alpha-sierra-two,” a thick drawl replied. “Long as you can hold a pickaxe steady, the job’s as good as yours.”

---

When you met him, the first thing you noticed was the shock of blonde hair. Nobody out in the Reaches had much use for cosmetic hair products, so it must have been a natural occurrence of some sort. It struck you as profoundly odd—but also incredibly attractive. You took a deep breath and swallowed down the nervous lump in your throat.

The second thing you noticed—well. It was a little hard to miss.

“Name’s Ezra,” he said with a sly smile, extending his left—and only—hand.

You weren’t sure which hand you were supposed to shake his with. You decided on your left, to match his. It took some fumbling, but you managed a firm shake in the end. You introduced yourself and then let your hands drop.

“Sorry if that was weird,” you said, “I’m not used to shaking hands with my left.”

Ezra chuckled darkly. “Me neither, sweetheart.”

Sweetheart. Normally, you’d hate hearing that come from a man you’d just met. It would’ve felt like a belittlement. But not with this man—it just seemed to roll off his tongue without a second thought.

Then, you realized the implication of his statement. If he wasn’t used to shaking with his left, the loss of his right arm must not have been too long ago. In this line of work, any number of horrors could have caused it. You decided it was best not to dwell on the subject.

“Allow me to escort you to your quarters,” Ezra said, gesturing for you to follow.

He brought you to the only man-made structure within sight. He must have built it himself. He zipped the entryway door shut and clumsily removed his helmet with one hand. You swiftly removed yours, glad to get the sweaty thing off of you for the first time in hours.

The tent was sturdy and spacious enough to feel a little less like a hovel and a little more like a home. It was certainly nicer than most accommodations you’d been given on mining contract work before. There were two beds—well, just cushioned mats on the floor, but definitely an upgrade from a cot—separated by makeshift room divider in the form of a bedsheet tied between two of the tent supports.

“I can fashion a proper partition if you’d prefer,” he said, “the kid was prone to nightmares is all. Didn’t like feelin’ shut off. Took that tent wall down the next day, put the sheet up instead.”

“Kid?” You prompted.

“She’s livin’ in the Ephrate this season,” he said. “Got a scholarship to that fancy Academy an’ everything. Awful proud of her.” You could hear the fondness in his voice.

“That’s nice,” you said,  “she must have a good father.”

Ezra chuckled, the sound tinged with something bitter. “Unfortunately, I do not hold such a grand title,” he said. “Her parents are deceased. I am but her guardian.”

Oh.

“Well, get yourself settled and join me outside when you’re ready,” he said as he went to retrieve his helmet. “It’s not as complicated as aurelac, but it’s still a bitch to mine.”

---

After just a few days of harvesting starstone, you were inclined to agree with Ezra’s statement. It was an absolute bitch. If you so much as tapped it at the wrong angle it would completely lose its integrity. Then, as soon at was harvested, it had to be soaked in a complicated solution of enzymes so it would retain its color—if you waited too long to get it in the enzyme bath, it would turn pale and lose its shimmer. How the hell anyone managed to transport it without massive damages, you had no idea.

You voiced this to him. He simply shrugged. “Not my problem,” he said. “The buyer is arrangin’ her own transport. We just have to hand it off.”

“What is this stuff good for, anyway?” You asked.

“It’s pretty,” he said, “and if there’s one thing I’ve become privy to in all my years of prospectin’, it’s that all sorts of folk will pay a pretty penny for pretty things. ’Specially if those things are rare.”

“There’s no accounting for taste, I guess,” you mumbled, looking at the bright green and orange whorls of glittery stone around the two of you. Ezra snickered at your comment, and the sound of the raspy, almost boyish laughter made your stomach do somersaults.

“I can assume you have no such affinity for pretty things, then,” he said with a grin.

“Well,” you started, looking into those pretty brown eyes of his, “now and I again I might.”

Ezra just arched an eyebrow before returning to sifting through rock.

---

You and Ezra fell into an easy rhythm. He would wake up early to prepare the enzyme solutions for the day’s mining. You both mined as long as it stayed light out, going back into the tent as needed for a ration bar or a toilet break or just to rest your weary head for a minute. After dark, it was your responsibility to prep the filters and O2 tanks. As days turned into weeks, you found yourself finally adjusting to the man’s odd manner of speech, and even found yourself laughing at his dry wit.

And if you were honest with yourself, you were harboring quite the crush.

But this was job, damnit, and even if it wasn’t profit-share, Ezra payed far more than any other boss you’d had for contract work. You weren’t going to compromise that. A sexual relationship with someone who was technically your superior was never a good idea—you didn’t want to get yourself kicked off this planet without a full season’s pay.

This dwarf planet’s climate wasn’t as harsh and unforgiving as the Green. The air wasn’t breathable, which is why oxygen tanks and helmets were necessary, but there was nothing like the deadly moon’s dust you remember from the rush days. The one complaint you had: the weather was always hot, some days painfully so, and today was one of those days. You had both decided to cut the workday short and stumbled back to the tent, sweaty and exhausted.

You wrenched your helmet off of your head and immediately planted yourself in front of one of the air circulators. You heard Ezra’s helmet fall to the floor with a clank and several frustrated grunts as he began to unzip his suit. You knew by now not to offer help—even though it took him a long time to dress and undress, it seemed to be a point of pride to him that he do it himself.

You shucked off your own suit, leaving yourself standing in a sleeveless top and shorts. Cooler now, but still utterly worn-out, you all but flung yourself on your cot. You rucked up your shirt so you left as much of your skin exposed to the air as possible without stripping down to your underwear.  “Too fucking hot,” you grumbled.

“Preachin’ to the choir, birdie,” Ezra replied, finally kicking his suit off and out of the way. “Pardon my selfishness, but I’m inclined to take the first shower.”

You groaned, but you had taken the first shower yesterday, so you didn’t protest. Ezra took long showers—you guessed it was because of his arm situation—so you’d have to wait to get all the sweat and grime off. But hey—at least you had a shower. In some of your past gigs you had to wipe yourself down from head to toe with a wet rag.

The shower was attached to the main tent on the east-facing wall: your side of the sheet. Ezra walked by you to access it—he was shirtless, clad only in the pair of black compression pants he wore under his suit. You couldn’t help but sneak a look at him from where you lay—you had come to appreciate the broad expanse of his back and shoulders, his skin kissed all over with fading white scars, the little paunch of his stomach, and the dusting of dark hair that began below his bellybutton and traveled down beneath his waistband. He sighed and stretched before unzipping the partition and shuffling tiredly to the shower.

Seeing him half-naked had lit a spark in your belly. You swallowed thickly, your mind trailing into territory you usually reserved for late at night when Ezra was asleep. Yes, you were attracted to him—but it was more than just a baser instinct. Whenever you got yourself off in the past—or gotten someone else off—it had been quick and quiet and easily forgotten, something to take the edge off, to scratch an itch. You never really fantasized about romance or, Kevva forbid, love, but the longer you spent with Ezra, the more you caught yourself wondering what he would be like as a lover—if he’d hold you gently against his chest after, if he’d press a soft kiss to your forehead, if he’d tell you that you were beautiful.

You scoffed at yourself. Fantasies like that were for naive girls, not for a grown woman, especially not a world-weary miner who knew that men in the Reaches weren’t like that.

But maybe Ezra was different. He was already far different than any man you had ever met.

And maybe you could allow yourself the fantasy.

As you listened to the hum of the shower running, confident in your assertion that Ezra wouldn’t be out for some time—you snaked one hand down under the waistband of your shorts and underwear, rubbing at yourself in the way you usually did—in the way that would make you orgasm quickly. If you drew things out, that just gave your brain time to strike up ridiculous fantasies of Ezra making love to you.

Making love. There you go again. Why can’t you just call it fucking? But what you were thinking of wasn’t fucking—would he gaze into your eyes as he filled you? Would he whisper to you how good you felt, call you sweetheart like he did the first day you met—and nearly every day since?

Damn it, you said you wouldn’t think about it, but here you were. You rubbed yourself faster, just hoping to get this over with and move the fuck on—

“Shower’s all yours,” you heard Ezra’s voice ring out, and you froze. You didn’t breathe, didn’t move a muscle. How had you not heard the water turn off? How long were you daydreaming?

There was no way Ezra didn’t know what you were doing. You didn’t even have the plausible deniability of having a blanket over you. You were so fucked.

You moved your head a tiny fraction to look at Ezra. He had a threadbare towel around his waist, precariously held by a twist-and-tuck at his hip. He was staring at you, wide-eyed and stock-still, as droplets dripped down his forehead from his still-wet hair. You weren’t sure he was even breathing.

Neither of you moved.

Then, Ezra licked his lips, flicking his eyes from your face down to where your hand was still stuck in your shorts, then back to your eyes again. Slowly, deliberately. He quirked an eyebrow at you.

You hitched your hips up a little under his gaze, almost involuntarily. He watched the movement with intensity.

Fuck. Was this really happening?

Ezra brought his hand up to his mouth, rubbing at his lower lip with his thumb. He looked to where your hand was trapped between your legs, and gestured with a nod.

With your heartbeat hammering against your chest, you began to move your hand again, eyes locked on Ezra. His breath hitched as he watched you touch yourself, his eyes intent on your body, pupils blown wide and dark.

You rubbed at your clit, your legs tensing as you brought your hips up to press into your hand. Unable to help it, a moan escaped your throat, and Ezra answered back with a low hum of his own.

Hearing him respond to you made your body light up like lightning. You closed your eyes and sucked in frantic bursts of air. The oppressive heat around you was unbearable, the pressure building in your core even more so. Your pulse roared against your eardrums as you frantically worked at your clit, almost sore now, needing to come now more than ever, needing that release—

“Fuck, sweetheart,” Ezra said, and the sound of his voice had you coming hard, thighs shaking. You chased your high as long as you could, clit nearly rubbed raw, until you winced at the overstimulation, dropping your hips back to the bed and letting out a heaving sigh. Almost in a daze, you opened your eyes, chancing a glance at Ezra. He was staring down at you as if he’d seen Kevva’s gates open up before him. He was also visibly tenting his towel, holding onto where it was tied at his hip in a vise-like grip.

“I’m,” you started, catching your breath, “I could use a shower now.”

“As very well could I,” Ezra replied as he shifted his weight back and forth, voice strained, “an’ a cold one at that. But I’d be remiss to waste the water.”

“Sorry,” you mumbled. About the shower or the impromptu peepshow, you weren’t sure.

“Quite alright. But don’t be alarmed if you emerge to find me in a similar position when you’re done in there,” he remarked, gesturing to the shower with a jerk of his head.

You planted your face in your pillow, mortified beyond belief, hot shame washing over you. Ezra simply chuckled.

“No reason to be embarrassed, sweetheart,” he said. “Close quarters make for... sticky situations such as these.”

“Shut up,” you grumbled as you stood up, walking past Ezra to make your way to the shower.

What the fuck just happened?

---

a/n: this was supposed to be a quick smutty oneshot (oops) but it was getting long so I’ve split it into two parts! Part two should be out by the end of this week.

content: masturbation, voyeurism (but is it voyeurism if both parties are aware of the voyeur-ing?)

READ PART 2 HERE

#ezra prospect #pedro pascal #prospect movie #pedro pascal fanfiction

[artificialqueens]

Pretty in Pearls, Chapter 4 (Jankie) - Plastiquedoll

read on ao3 💄| previous chapters

A/N: hi!  here's a new chapter and I'm planting the crygi seed for the future *wink wink* I hope you enjoy it and thank you for reading it <3

-4-

“Good morning!” Jan greeted Nicky outside the café with a smile on her face.

“Hey! You woke up earlier today; I didn’t catch you on your way out the dorms.” The blonde noticed.

She was wearing a fuzzy cardigan sweater she had seen on Jaida before, light blue jeans, and white sneakers. Her hair was still wet which made Jan think she might have spent the night with her girlfriend before meeting her.

“Yeah, I had to return some books to the library so I left when Rosé went to class.”

They walked in and were welcomed by the familiar warmness of the interior of the coffee shop. Almost a month had passed but Jan was always comforted by the charm of the place. It was a crowded morning but they were able to squish at one little table near the entrance. They had just sat down when a fuming Jackie crossed the door, at first she didn’t see them but as soon as Jan waved at her she shuffled toward their direction and plopped herself in the empty chair.

She was wearing brown flare pants along with a white shirt and a yellow batwing cardigan with a floral pattern. Her brown hair had been violently ruffled by a gust of wind, the loose locks fell all over her face completing a look that matched her current mood.

“What are you doing here?” Nicky asked.

Jan was wondering the same; all of Jackie’s classes took place in the morning, it was early for her to be out.

She grunted a few words while holding a scrunchie between her teeth as she attempted to untangle her hair.

“What?” The girls asked at the same time.

Jackie tied her hair into a ponytail and sighed. “I got kicked out of class.”

Jan looked at her with disbelief. “What?” She repeated.

“Remember that professor that hates me for making –according to him- «snarky comments»? Well, he finally found a reason to express his dislike for me and asked me to leave.” She crossed her arms on her chest. “I wasn’t going to stay quiet when –in addition, to invisibilize women in art- he also tried to erase the queerness of the artists. No, not on my watch.”

“What a pig.” Nicky shook her head. “I can’t believe he had the nerve to kick you out because you called him out.”

“Oh, trust me, this isn’t the end of it. I’m filing a complaint and leaving that class. I’m done.”

“I’m sorry, Jackie. I know you liked the subject, too bad the professor is a jerk.” Jan tapped her shoulder softly.

The brunette got stiff by the sudden touch. She cleared her throat before speaking again. “Anyway… it sucks because I need the credit and it’s the only class that fits into my schedule.”

“Maybe there’s a way to fix it, talk with the administration or something.” Jan did what she did best, being undeniably positive.

“Yeah… maybe. But enough of that, I need a cup of coffee.”

As if she had read Jackie’s mind, a waitress approached and it wasn’t any other than…

“Hello, girls!”

“Crystal? You work here?” Jan asked.

The girl nodded. “I started yesterday.” She smiled brightly.

She had a blue apron with the café’s name on it over her clothes and Jan swore her hair –covered in colorful hair clips- was different than last time she saw her not even two days ago.

“Congratulations! That’s great!”

“Thank you. I had to drop one of my classes but I needed the job.”

Jackie grunted. “Please let’s not talk about dropping classes.” She began massaging her temples.

“Right! I’m here to take your order.” She pulled out a tiny notebook covered in glitter from her pocket and a unicorn gel pen. “I’m ready.”

“I think you have to say «what can I get you?»” Nicky commented.

“Oh, you’re right… Let me try again. What can I get you?” She repeated in an extremely polite voice.

“I’ll have a hot chocolate please.” Jan pointed at the menu.

“And I’d like a hazelnut latte.” Jackie followed.

“For me, a caramel macchiato.” The blonde finished the order.

“Perfect… so hot chocolate, hazelnut latte, and caramel macchiato.” Crystal checked her notes. “Right away.”

“Thank you.” They said and with that, the ginger left and then turned around.

Jan watched her go.

“I should get a job too.” She pouted. “I don’t want to ask for extra money from my parents, they are helping with the other half the scholarship and they are paying for my brother’s tuition too.”

“I work at the mall near here and there’s always something to do there. You could come with me later and ask around.” Nicky mentioned.

“I didn’t know that, what do you do?”

“I’m on the cosmetics section. I do people’s makeup during the weekends and convince them to buy products.”

“Of course you do…”

“What would you like to do?” Jackie inquired in the meantime she rearranged the sweeteners of the table.

“I don’t know.” She shrugged. “I’ve had part-time jobs before. I used to work at an ice cream parlor. That was fun not to mention I had free ice cream. Then I worked at the post office, that wasn’t as much fun, it involved a lot of boxes… and during my senior year, I was the secretary of a dental office that… well, definitely wasn’t fun but I got to meet the same customers that were regulars on the ice cream parlor.”

Jackie and Nicky burst into laughter.

“You’ll do well…” The blonde assured.

“We can write your resume later and print it in the copy room.” Jackie suggested.

“That’s a great idea. Yeah, let’s do it.”

At that moment, Crystal returned with their drinks.

“Well, let’s see… I’ll put these over here, here and… here.” She placed the cups carefully and sighed with relief when everything stayed in place. “Great… Let me know if you need me.” She hummed.

“Thank you, Crystal!” Jan was going to leave a good tip for her friend.

When she turned around, they all exchanged misplaced cups in the blink of an eye.

“She’ll get better… hopefully.” Jackie added some sugar and took a sip of her coffee.

Jan drank some of her chocolate; the whipped cream created a mustache above her cupid’s bow and got the brunette looking fondly at her before taking a napkin and cleaning the corner of her mouth. Nicky raised an eyebrow but before she could say something, someone else showed up.

It was a girl that most definitely looked like a supermodel with her matching glen check pattern outfit consisting of a cropped jacket and a mini skirt with accents of yellow fabric and a belt with chains hanging from it along with a pair of black thigh-high boots. Her blonde hair framed her face and was tied on the back on a half up half down hairstyle.

“Hey, Nicky, did you finish the assignment for today’s class? And if you did, did you have any difficulty submitting it?” She looked upset, stressed.

“Uh… no. Maybe it’s because that paper is due tomorrow and the submission time starts… tomorrow?”

“Oh, thank God.” She sat on the only left empty chair with no need of an invitation and sighed letting all the air out of her lungs.

Their little table couldn’t accommodate more people so they squished even more.

Nicky turned to Jackie and Jan. “This is Gigi, she’s a classmate of mine and she actually lives in the same dorms as us. Gigi, do you remember my friend Jackie? And this is Jan, resident of the C dorm.”

The other blonde girl waved. “Hi, sorry… that was rude. I was freaking out due to that assignment.” She took a deep breath. “Hi, Jackie… I do remember you and Jan, we’re neighbors.”

“That’s great!” Jan smiled at her. “So you’re a fashion major too?”

She nodded. “I’m a sophomore as well but I’m a year younger than everyone else because of technicalities and my mom sending me to kindergarten one year earlier.”

“We’re the same age then. That’s cool.”

Gigi smiled, she was beautiful.

“How are you adapting to-” She was going to ask Jan something when she lowered her head in an attempt to hide behind Jackie. “Oh shit.”

“Gigi, what is it?” Nicky whispered.

“She’s here.” Gigi tried to descend even more.

“Uhm… who’s here?” Jackie looked around.

“She! She’s here right now… Oh God…” The girl seemed nervous and her cheeks were tinted in soft pink. “So, uh… there’s this girl who lives in our dorm I guess and I’ve bumped into her a couple of times before but… I don’t know, she’s like…” She blushed harder.

“Gigi Goode... The Gigi Goode is possibly… intimidated by someone?” Nicky gasped.

“Shhh… shut up… no… yeah… maybe. I don’t know. I’m gay and single, leave me alone.”

“Wait but how does she look like?” Jan also tried to find her among the crowd. They all were whispering.

“Oh my God… she’s coming… she’s walking in this direction, why is she walking in this direction? Never mind she has an apron.”

But it was Crystal who appeared next to Jan. “Hey guys, everything’s okay over here? Do you need something else?” She inquired, completely clueless.

The three remaining girls looked at Crystal, then at Gigi, and then at Crystal again as if it was a ping pong game.

“Oh, hey! I hadn’t seen you there, would you like me to bring something for you?” She asked Gigi while pulling out her Crystalcore things.

The blonde girl nodded and recovered the posture a little. “Uh… matcha… that’s the green thing… yeah… latte. Green tea?”

“Matcha tea latte?”

She nodded mechanically again.

“Alright, anything else?” The other girls shook their heads. “I’ll be right back.”

“Thank you.” Gigi’s voice sounded high-pitched.

Once Crystal left, all eyes were on the blonde once again.

“Oh my… I fucked up, didn’t I?”

Nicky’s jaw had dropped to the floor. “Wait, hold on a minute… you like her?”

“Shhh… God, Nicky, she could hear you or something.” Gigi pressed her hand on her chest, feeling her heart beating fast. “I didn’t know she worked here.”

Jan was trying to contain a smile, her lips turned into a thin line, meanwhile, Jackie stirred her lukewarm coffee.

“Uh… You know that’s my roommate, right?” Nicky smirked.

At that moment, Gigi almost fainted. Her face went from reddish to pale in a second and her eyes were full of terror as if she had seen a ghost.

“Excuse me, she’s your what?!”

“My roommate? Crystal? The girl with orange hair? I’ve told you about her. The one that put stickers on the notes she leaves me? She forgot her key three times in the span of a day? The one that –allegedly- accidentally shot a confetti cannon in our room and since then it feels like the place coughs confetti here and there? Rings your bell?”

That had been a good day, Jan recalled.

“Wait- That’s your Crystal? Your Crystal is my Crystal?” She covered her mouth after saying those words.

Jackie and Jan exchanged an amused look.

“Your Crystal?” Nicky tilted her head.

“I mean… that’s not what I mean…” She cleared her throat. “please don’t tell her I have a crush on her this is already too embarrassing for me… I could die like a Sim… of embarrassment, it’s a real thing, you know?”

“Relax, I won’t say a word and I’m sure the girls won’t either, right?” Jan and Jackie nodded.

Gigi seemed relieved. “Thank you… I can’t believe she’s your roommate.” She buried her face in her hands.

“I can’t believe you feel intimidated by her, she has a One Direction poster in our room.”

“There are so many things clicking in my head right now please leave your message after the tone. Beep.”

Jackie moved her hand in front of her eyes without getting a response. “I think you broke her, Nicky.”

“She’ll be fine. Plus, Crystal is bringing her tea right now.”

“Fuck…” She said as if was a reset command.

“Here you have.” The ginger placed the smoky cup in front of her. “I hope you enjoy it.” She smiled and winked before leaving.

Gigi gulped.

“Uh, Gigi, I’m not an expert but judging by the color of the beverage, that’s not what you ordered.” Jackie pointed out.

But the blonde wasn’t even looking at her. “I don’t care; this is the most delicious drink existing in the entire universe right now.”

“What’s that though?” Nicky tried to touch the cup but Gigi slapped her hand.

“No touching.” She glared at her classmate.

“Yeah, I feel like we’re going to be good friends.” Jan thought about it aloud.

“Alright, all set.”

Jackie let a big sigh out of her chest when she left the administration office; Jan had been waiting for her outside. They had gone there straight after leaving the café when Nicky and Gigi left for their class. On their way to the building, she had tried to cheer Jackie up by telling the entire confetti cannon anecdote in full detail but even afterward laughing at loud the brunette still seemed afflicted.

“I’ve submitted my complaint and the head administrator told me that the board will look into it. Until then, they said that most classes are already full so they’ll have to look for a different solution and they’ll contact me via e-mail or I’ll have to drop by next week.”

“Well, that’s good, isn’t it? They’ll tell you what the next step is. It can only get better from here.”

“I hope so.” She shrugged. She didn’t sound fully convinced, though.

Jan checked the time on her phone. “Hey, we still have some time before your shift starts, we can hang out or something…”

Jackie bit her inner cheek. “I don’t know…”

Jan touched her shoulder gently. “Jackie, I hate you seen you like this. There has to be something that makes you feel at least one percent better.”

She looked at her with her big puppy eyes and Jackie couldn’t say no to her.

“Okay… there’s something that always makes me feel better.” She gave in.

“I’m listening.”

Jackie’s eyes sparked.

“No way…” Jan looked around. “This is awesome!”

They had gone upstairs –climbing several stairs-, to a place that wasn’t on the maps of the campus. Jackie had led the way without revealing a single detail –even when Jan asked many, many questions on their way there- she had said it was a surprise and that she didn’t want to spoil it. Finally, as they were climbing those endless stairs, her mood got a bit better.

They reached a single green metal door, it was locked but the brunette pulled a key from her set and opened it. The door led to a little hidden rooftop garden with a few hanging plants and flowers in terracotta pots, there was also a set of recycled wood chairs and an unvarnished coffee table rough around the edges. But without any doubt the most stunning part of that small place was the view, it was the perfect spot to contemplate most of the green areas of the campus including some of the park across the street nearby the café. It was almost noon and the sun hit the opposite side but in a few hours, it would be probably the best viewpoint of the sunset.

“What is this place?” The younger kept inspecting everything.

Jackie closed the door behind them. “It used to be a project made for a group of students to raise awareness about the use of recycling materials but since they all graduated no one really knows it exists. I accidentally discovered it last year when I took a photography class and spotted it with my camera from that crossroad.” She pointed with her index finger. “I did some research and the janitor gave me the key after asking… when I was done with the assignment, she let me keep it with the promise I would do some maintenance once in a while and keep the plants alive. And since then, I come here when I need to be alone or when I’m upset… like today.”

Jan stared at her. “I’m sorry that you had to drop that class.”

“I didn’t want to quit, you know? I thought I was going to be able to handle it, by giving up I feel like I let him win…”

“No, you didn’t. You don’t have to stand that mistreatment.” She looked the brunette in the eye. “I’m glad you did it; don’t let it be a defeat, it doesn’t have to be one.”

“Thank you.” A weak smile appeared on her face.

“I’m gonna hug right now, don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

“No, you don’t have to…”

“But I want to. C’mon, come here.” She extended her arms widely. “If you don’t let me hug you I’m going to hug myself and it’s going to be lame and I’m going to be sad.”

Jackie chuckled. “Okay, I guess…”

“Yay!” Jan jumped directly to her and wrapped her arms around her.

Jan’s shampoo smelled like almonds and honey. Her embrace made Jackie feel warm inside. Clouds could’ve been made of cotton and the sky was the bluest she had ever seen.

“You see? This is nice.” The younger still held her.

“Yeah, nice…” Jackie closed her eyes and for a moment, it was all right.

They stayed there for a little while. Jackie would have to go to the copy room soon and Jan had her class after lunch. During the time they were there, Jan played some music on her phone and they talked about what had happened earlier in the café. They agreed that it was sweet that Gigi had a crush on Crystal; Jackie watered the plants and told her the story of how she had met the blonde through Nicky. Later on, she sat on one of the chairs while Jan played hopscotch with the cracks in the concrete; she sang softly the song that was playing Hey There Delilah.

“You have a good singing voice,” Jackie mentioned.

“Huh? Me? Oh… I didn’t… I just sing for fun sometimes.” She suddenly felt coy.

“I mean it. It sounded lovely.”

“You’re just being nice. You haven’t heard Rosé or Lagoona, they are amazing.”

“They could tell you. I’m sure they’d agree with me.”

“I could never sing in front of them.” She looked mortified.

“You’d do well.”

“Are you serious right now?”

“I wouldn’t lie to you.”

“I don’t know…” Jan shrugged.

The music stopped and the alarm she had set went off.

“We have to go.” The younger announced. “I’ll walk with you to the copy room and then I’ll grab something to eat.”

“Okay. Let me close the door.”

She waited until the brunette was done and they started walking downstairs.

“I wish I could work with you, wouldn’t that be fun?” Jan casually mentioned.

“Well, you’re there all the time anyway.”

“Does it bother you?”

Jackie shook her head and smiled. “No, not at all.”

“I don’t understand it.” Jan lied on the table of the study room. “I have applied for every job available at the mall and still, no response and no results.”

“Ow, baby,” Rosé ruffled her hair. “I’m sure you’re going to find something soon.”

Lagoona lifted her gaze from the textbook. “I wish I could help but the restaurant where I work is full.”

“I thought you hated that place?” Jan turned toward her.

“I do, but the tips are good.” She highlighted a sentence with her pastel marker.

She was already studying for an upcoming presentation. Rosé was memorizing the lines of a play and she got Jan there to read the other part. Now they were on a break. The pink-haired girl was drinking peach soda from a can in the meantime Jan whined for her failed job search. Lagoona –whose blue hair was beginning to fade a little- googled some job offers in the area and read them at loud.

“There are a few that sound pretty disgusting if you ask me. I didn’t know the classified ads could be this kinky.” She frowned and put her phone down.

“Hey, what about that place?” Rosé snapped her fingers. “Goona, do you remember? The diner that’s a couple of blocks from here? We used to go there all the time during our freshman year.”

“Oh, yes. That was a nice place, didn’t we stop going there because your ex-roommate worked there?”

Rosé’s expression turned sour. “Yeah… but she got fired or quit, I don’t know. The point is, they were always hiring people, maybe you could ask there?”

“And you’ve waited this long to tell me?” Jan cried. “It’s been three agonizing days.”

“They are open now so you could-”

“Bye, guys! See you later.” She grabbed her things, threw them into her backpack, and dashed out just to return a couple of seconds later. “Yeah, so I don’t know where it is.”

Jan held her breath before walking past the door.

The diner was decorated in a retro style. It had black and white floor tiles, a long bar, red stools, chairs and booths, round tables, neon signs, vinyl albums and posters of classic Hollywood stars on the walls, lamps hanging from the ceiling, and even a functional jukebox. A few people were sitting at the bar, it was still early for dinner so almost everyone was having a milkshake or some ice cream.

Jan was welcomed by a girl with dark wavy hair in a striped red and white dress with a little white apron on. The name «Denali» was written on her tag.

“Welcome to Lucky’s, would you like a table or a seat on the bar?” She smiled and a pair of dimples appeared on her face.

“Hi, I was wondering if you have a job application for me or… if you were hiring right now?”

“Oh,” She lowered her notebook. “You wanna work here? Okay, just give me a second. You can sit over there.” Denali pointed at one empty table.

“Sure.” Jan held her backpack close to her body and moved to the booth.

Denali returned shortly after with a pen and a paper sheet in her hands.

“In normal circumstances, you’d have an interview with the manager but since he’s God knows where and I’m in charge in the meantime, I’m going to let you complete this form and then ask you some questions…”

“Alright, yeah.”

“I’ll be back in a moment.”

Jan filled the form with basic information, her full name, birth date, age, address, phone number, e-mail, etc. When she was done, she observed Denali serving customers, she moved like her feet weren’t touching the floor, with a full tray on her hands as if it weighed nothing, all with a giant smile on her face. She made it look easy.

“Everything alright?” She asked before sitting in front of Jan.

“Yes, I’m done.” She returned the paper sheet.

Denali scanned it, collecting information. “Janice? Okay, you’re a college student.”

“Jan is fine. Yes, I’m a freshman.”

“Aw,” She tilted her head. “I’m going to write my notes in front of you if that’s okay.” Jan nodded. “You haven’t worked as a waitress before, right?”

“No, but I’m a fast learner and I believe I compensate my lack of experience with enthusiasm, I’ve been told.”

She wrote something “Next, uhm… Why do you want to work here?”

“I need a job to pay for my things. As I said, this is my first year of college; I have a partial scholarship and my parents are supporting me from home but I don’t want to become a burden for them.”

“Do you mind if I ask about your scholarship?”

“No, not at all. It’s for baseball.”

“Work!” She nodded. “The last one, you wrote here your potential time schedules and, according to the rules, if you only work have twice per week you’ll have to take two Saturdays per month. Are you fine with that?”

“Sure, I can take any shift that day.”

“Well, Jan, the good news is that I sense we’re going to be besties, so I wrote «overqualified», «fast learner» and «tight schedules but willing to take Saturday’s shifts» which always is a plus.” She smiled at Jan. “I believe you’re going to get a call very soon.”

“Oh my God! Thank you.” Jan grinned. “I really appreciate that.”

“No worries. You’re lucky -no pun intended-, a girl just quit but being completely honest, she was a real bitch. You can’t be worse than her.”

“I’ve heard that before and… I’m okay with that.”

“Alright. I hope I see you soon.” She winked and returned to serve tables.

Jan left the diner with the biggest smile on Earth.

#rpdr fanfiction #jan sport #jackie cox #jankie #crygi #college au #lesbian au #slow burn #pretty in pearls #plastiquedoll #concrit welcome

[nebulousneuroticism]

Tumblr was dead last night, so I didn’t post.  Kind of threw off my routine, not being able to write before bed.  It’s a nice endcap to the day.

Yesterday was pretty uneventful.  I attended meetings, got myself a burrito for dinner, and had an unhealthy night sitting at my computer.  Nothing out of the ordinary.

Today was technically a holiday, so I got to sleep in.  I didn’t really know what to do.  I wandered around for a while, considering going out for food and shopping, but I ended up staying home to eat leftover chili.  I spent the day playing video games, interspersed with productive activities like Japanese exercises and drawing.  It was decent.

I’m not as tired as I should be tonight.  And I have an early meeting tomorrow, too... I hope I can wake up on time.

I feel weird tonight.  I have a dentist appointment one week from today, and I’m starting to worry about that because I’ve noticed some aching from one of my teeth (a tooth that’s been filled before, in fact).  And I guess I’m worried about some other aches in my body, too, but they’re probably nothing.  I’m sure my anxieties are just casting about for anything to focus on.

On the bright side, I’m pretty happy with the progress I’ve made on my hobbies this week.  That feels good.  And work has been very light lately, which is nice.  Still, I can’t shake this feeling of looming dread.

[bananban-feature]

Seventeen Members Special

Bias: Woozi

I’m really so obsessed with Seventeen recently! I just love everything they do, from performances to chill and crazy moments in Going Seventeen. I love them all dearly, but I will save my appreciation post for other members for next time. Today, I’ll just talk about my top 2!

Woozi

Honestly, I adore all the Seventeen members, but I really can’t deny - Woozi is one of the backbones (if not the ultimate backbone member) of the whole group.

- I definitely think he’s the most overworked member of Seventeen. Arguably one of the most overworked in Kpop?

- Main producer and songwriter. As part of this, he also checks and approves the lyrics made by the rap line.

I am so convinced he is a music genius!

Great vocals! - I was honestly so surprised when I first heard “Home” raw live vocals in a radio show (in YouTube). Him singing “어쩌겠어 난 네가 없으면” in the chorus gave me chills. It was a short line but it was done so perfectly, so cleanly and powerfully, even better than what’s in the recording. I doubted for a second that it was recorded and if it was really him, but it was 100% live Woozi!

Instrument king - Can play piano, guitar, drums, and even clarinet. There could be more, but I’m already so amazed! (Big fan of instruments here, especially those who were classically trained like Woozi, because classical music really isn’t easy!) If I keep talking about this, I will never end this post. He’s amazing!

Composer, songwriter and producer of beautiful songs! - As I mentioned, Seventeen’s songs are really my vibe, from first listen until now, I really love their music. And I just keep enjoying it more the more I listen to it. Knowing that a member wrote, composed, and produced the song really made me a fan girl. Woozi is so talented! I actually just saw a video yesterday where a popular songwriter for kpop chose Woozi as the songwriting idol that is able to write great lyrics. (Update: I’ve now seen so many professional lyricists, producers, and A&Rs randomly praising Woozi’s talent in random interviews that aren’t Seventeen-related.)

I just wanna add that Woozi is still so young (96 line) but he’s sitting at the top of the list of idols with most song credits, along with other idols who are older than him! And to think he actually composes and arranges whole songs too, rather than just writing lyrics like most people do! He’s already got more than 100 credits, considering he only started about 5 years ago. This guy is a machine! He must be so rich even just with loyalties! No wonder he always treats Seventeen members to meals. (Yes, stan this very generous leader too!)

Great dancer - Just being a member of Seventeen already proves you’re a great dancer (no dance hole of any kind at all in Seventeen!). But I even saw a comment from a professional dancer in YouTube once who said that Woozi is one of the best dancers he’s seen in kpop. (I also just learned he actually used to be in the Performance unit as a trainee and was supposed to be SVT main leader but he declined!)

I’ve never heard him rap, but they say he can rap well too? Not surprising, considering he actually checks the lyrics the rap line writes (and makes them re-write it if it doesn’t fit his standards for the song). Lol I stan meticulous Woozi.

Yes, your bias can produce, your bias can compose, your bias can sing and dance, and play instruments. But how many people can do all of those as good as Woozi does?! True genius.

Watching videos of him in the studio, especially when working with the rest of the Seventeen members, will leave you in awe. He is so wise and handles recordings well.

And you know what’s crazy? With his skill level, it looks like he formally studied all this in a focused school before becoming an idol, but no! Woozi learned it after joining the company, about a year before debut, he learned from Bumzu. Considering how hard being a trainee already is and considering how he was still finishing high school back then, he still managed to learn songwriting and music production and actually be excellent at it. My dear. Bumzu himself said Woozi picked things up easily and he really thinks Woozi is a genius. (I actually don’t know if he actually developed his music production skill more in university or not. If he did, that would be even more impressive because Seventeen was already pretty popular after debut, and going to college/finishing the requirements would be extremely hard on top of all his Seventeen work.)

His brain is already too amazing, but his passion is even crazier. He works so hard on music because he really loves it. He still does so much work for Seventeen at the back end despite the whole group already being so busy!

I am fully convinced Woozi was made for the music industry. The amount of talent contained in this one person is too much! I can’t take it anymore!

At this point, I think I’m just gonna seal it in that Woozi is my ult.

Probably except for Hui (Pentagon), I’m not as impressed by any other kpop idol as I am with Woozi. (I’d gladly accept more suggestions of super-talented idols like Woozi if more people like him exists.)

*Technically, Woozi isn’t underrated because Seventeen is popular and isn’t underrated. But for the amount of talent this sole person has, gee, he really has to be recognized by the whole kpop world, even the whole world.

You might not stan Woozi, you might not even stan Seventeen, but you gotta admit, he is one of the most talented people out there!

//update: May 2021. I first wrote this when I didn’t really know much about Woozi’s character apart from his hard work and passion for music. I’ve stanned them longer now, and I’ve definitely learned more about him. And I now I’m head over heels for his generosity, kindness (despite showing a “cold” side sometimes, like a true tsundere), his honesty (in writing, too) and most especially his humility. He’s also so witty, honestly! And I love how he laughs at everything the members do. Overall, he’s just a truly amazing person. 🥲 I wish there were more of him in this world, but no, there is only one Lee Jihoon of Seventeen. //end of update

Anyway, I originally planned for this to be a short appreciation post on Woozi + Hoshi as my two favorites, but Woozi is too much! He needs a lot of space because he’s too amazing! (So Hoshi will probably be in the next post.)

If anyone is still unconvinced, here’s an entire Reddit thread about him. Yes, shocker, there’s more to learn!

#kpop #seventeen #Woozi #lee jihoon #kpop genius #music genius

[jazzstudied]

5 Study Album Recommendations

     The term “album” is used loosely here as I have included EP’s as well! I have been listening to full length albums and EP’s during study sessions for as long as I could remember so I decided to share some of that with you! 

     This post may be the first of many seeing as I was in a great amount of pain of only choosing five. You may have stumbled upon these albums before (and for that, I commend your music taste) or have not (to which I hope to be the bringer of enlightenment to you) and regardless of taste, I hope you give these wonderful albums a listen. 

     There is no particular order of favoritism but I did rank them according to amount of focus. For example, number 5 is recommended for tasks that require less brain activity due to ultimate ‘jamming beats’ (making flashcards or re-writing notes) compared to the number 1 album which has more of a calm demeanor so can be used during focused activities (typing up research, brainstorming, reviewing notes). 

5. Don’t Forget Me, Demos - Dominic Fike (2018) (8 Songs, 17 min.)

Lo-fi, gentle, low key banging hip hop vibes.

I can feel my stress literally melt away when I listen to this EP. An easy listen, and ultimately very enjoyable. 

The reason why it’s on number 5 is because it is too much of a banger and I get distracted. Honestly though, that is a me problem. I usually listen to this album during my break (sends good vibes my way for 17 minutes) or when I am doing a repetitive/ less focused task such as making flashcards or re-writing notes.

Around 17 minutes, which is ample time for most tasks that don’t require that much focus.

3 Nights and Babydoll are my absolute favorites in this EP. 

Looking at the stars while listening to this album is magical. I used it a lot for pulling all-nighters. 

4. Super Clean Vol. I and Super Clean Vol. II - The Marias (2017) (14 Songs, 38 min.)

Yes, I have included both Vol. I and Vol. II at number 4, technically two very separate EPs, and no, there is nothing you can do about it!

Overall, a mellow flirt of an album. 

It’s groovy but not a distracting type of groovy. It’s a just right amount of chair wiggling for a study session. 

Perfect for a 30 minute study session and an 8 minute dance break. 

I can imagine strolling through fields in a cute little dress but at the same time write in my journal during a hot afternoon haze with both of these EPs and I love it.

Basta Ya, Ruthless, and I Don’t Know You are my recs concerning these EPs! 

But all songs are good! Just listen to all of it! 

3. The Slow Rush - Tame Impala (2020) (12 Songs, 57 min.) 

Hypnotic album with electronic beats. Makes me feel like I belong in the future and the future is now. 

I felt conflicted putting it at number 3 or number 5 because some people might not like it? But I like this album a lot. 

It has a certain grooviness to it and I’m sure some people might find it distracting during study sessions. However, I find this album quite balanced with real bops and real study flow inducers!

It is less distracting that the videos titled “Brain Waves for Brain Power” videos on Youtube, in my own personal opinion. I hope I didn’t offend anyone on Tumblr belonging to that niche. I too, still have a back-up playlist of Brain Waves to induce my brain cells in ceremonial dances exclusively for midterms and finals. 

This album helped me a lot in getting into the flow of things. I hope it does the same for you!

Lost in Yesterday and Posthumous Forgiveness are the tracks I repeat over and over again from this album.

2. Relaxer - Alt-J (2017) (8 Songs, 39 min.)

Again, another well-balanced album

This album is an abomination of grunge, post rock, and alternative music. Somehow, it works even though most people stick to lo-fi when studying.

The tracks Adeline and Pleaser honestly makes me lose track of time as both songs are about 6 min. long each. 

Hit Me LIke That Snare and Deadcrush are bops that have that expected signature “Alt-J” sound. Probably too loud for some people, ok for a loud person like me.  It has similarities to the An Awesome Wave album, which is, by the way, needs a listen if you have never heard of this band before. 

1. Carrie and Lowell - Sufjan Stevens (2015) (11 Songs, 43 min.)

Now this! This album! Throughout my high school years, this album has helped me a lot! From getting up at 5:30 a.m, stressing about school, up until I am wide awake at night worrying about my grades- this indie, cottage-core, guitar plucking album has helped me through it all. 

The vocals of Sufjan Stevens are so soft, vulnerable in this album. 

Despite being so catchy- I can sing Death with Dignity in my sleep- it still serves as the superior study album. 

For those in light and dark academia, cottage-core, vintage-core or of any other similar aesthetic (actually anybody can still thoroughly enjoy this album) this is such a worth while listen. 

It makes me feel like I’m at the countryside tending to my plants and my humble home or writing letters to my friends who live in the city. Perfect for a productive ambiance. 

Drawn to the Blood, Blue Bucket of Gold, and Fourth of July are my personal favorites.

Compared to the other albums listed today, even though I said I wouldn’t rank by favoritism, I rank this as my favorite. Good for all types of tasks and can last 40 minutes for your work!

#study #study motivation #studyblr #studying #studyspo #study session #study sesh #music #music recommendation #music recs #med school #vet student #vet med #university #uniblr #light academia #light acadamia aesthetic #dark acadamia #dark acadamia aesthetic #grunge #alt rock #album rec