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ckret2 · 4 years

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So I've been deeply pulled into the Radiosnake pairing bc of your fantastic writing! Problem is, now I have fic ideas but no knowledge of the Hazbin background. Can you tellI me where I can get more Hazbin info? I've only watched the pilot and read your stuff. I heard there were comics??

That is an excellent question anon, because right now it is really hard to get Hazbin background easily.

Okay, so, the canon info on Hazbin Hotel can be sort of sorted into four tiers, from most to least canon.

Tier 1: The Definitely Canon

There is, of course, the pilot. And then there is an Angel Dust prequel comic, only seven pages of which have been released so far. We’ve been told it’s gonna be finished and we’ve had glimpses of in-progress prequel comics for a couple other characters—most prominently Alastor’s and Charlie’s—but so far that unfinished Angel Dust comic is the only one that’s been officially released.

Finding the in-progress comic pages is... a challenge. Nobody, as far as I can tell, has been specifically collecting all of the pages we’ve seen so far. I was able to scrounge up:

Couple more Angel pages

some Alastor pages

another Alastor page

a random Alastor panel

another random Alastor panel—I’ve seen the full page of this before, Alastor goes “Hello ladies!” and they go “HELLO ALASTOR~<3″ but I can’t find the full page now

There’s a smattering more canon panels on the artist faustisse’s twitter, but I haven’t dug them all out, and some of the posts I’m gonna link in a lil bit have a glimpse of another panel.

If you haven’t already heard of Helluva Boss, I recommend looking into it as well. It’s a second series being created by the same folks, different cast of characters but set in the same version of Hell, so any canon details we learn in Helluva also apply to Hazbin.

Helluva’s pilot is here. Plus a cute music video here.

Earlier this month, during a BLM charity stream hosted by show artist Ashley Nichols—she runs regular streams under the title “HuniCast”—they released a few sneak peaks of future Helluva scenes, all compiled here.

And that’s it for canon. Two pilots, a music video, a smattering of future scenes, part of one comic, a few WIP pages/panels from other comics.

Tier 2: Pseudo-Canon

Everything else we currently know about Hazbin (and Helluva) are things that the creators have told us. Consequently, they’re all pseudo-canon—and likely subject to change in the future as the shows and comics are further developed and released. Some details that were released/described in the past have been contradicted at other times, or else radically changed by the time the pilot came out.

(For example, when Alastor was first created years and years ago as an OC with no plans for Hazbin, he was a demon deer who could shapeshift into a human shape—now he’s a demonized human with a few deer traits. And Charlie and Cherri Bomb used to look very different.)

So until and unless they make it into canon, all these pseudo-canon details are subject to change and should be taken with a grain of salt—but, they also comprise most of what we know about the characters’ backstory and the as-yet-unaired characters.

Pseudo-canon info on Hazbin is scattered mainly between two sources: the creators’ twitter accounts, and livestreams where they take questions and talk about the making of the show. If you and livestreams do not get along (my ADHD and livestreams do not get along), or if you don’t want to wade years and years back into twitter accounts to dig up every scrap of info on the characters the creators have ever mentioned, collating all the pseudo-canon info is gonna be hard. (It’s gonna be hard even if you do want to sit through the streams and dig through all their tweets.) Lots of fans, me included, depend on the absolutely heroic work of various fans who are willing and able to watch hours-long streams and collate a list of canon factoids released during the streams. I’ve reblogged as many of these posts as I’ve been able to find:

Alastor’s sound design (on twitter)

Alastor's Sound Design (post I made with screenshots of weird—but very interesting—subtitles slipped into the aforementioned video)

Sir Pentious and Cherri Bomb’s sound design

Niffty and Husk’s sound design

Charlie, Katie, and Tom’s sound design

Intro song’s sound design

Happy Hotel’s sound design

details from Faustisse (including a pic of a couple costume designs. Most of these posts come from zatyrlucy, who’s been doing a fantastic job of going stream-by-stream to get lists of details from the regular streams by Ashley Nichols and by comic artist Faustisse.)

more details from Faustisse (including a pic of the Von Eldritch family dining room)

Faustisse 3 (better look at that table)

Dollymoon’s Hazbin Hotel Facts - PART ONE (Shoutout again to dollymoon for compiling these, we’ve never spoken but I am eternally grateful for this service. Dollymoon’s posts are THE single most reliable compilation of Hazbin Hotel’s nebulous pseudo-canon facts that I have found to date, including both links to the sources and timestamps where applicable. Dollymoon’s URL has changed since making this post so the “read more” link doesn’t work but the “source” or “reblogged from” links direct correctly to the new blog. Incidentally, the risk of other blog creators deleting their blogs/posts or changing their URLs is why in info posts like these, I always link to my own reblogs rather than their original posts—their original posts might vanish without warning, but I know I ain’t gonna delete my posts, so these links will still work in the future.)

Hazbin Hotel Facts - PART TWO

Hazbin Hotel Facts - PART THREE

Faustisse 4

HuniCast - Australian Wildlife Relief charity stream

I think this was a faustisse stream (the original source deleted these posts, so the comic pages that were originally behind that read more cut are now gone.)

Faustisse stream 6?

And those are all the masterposts of factoids I’ve managed to collect. If anyone has more masterposts, chuck ‘em at me.

Even this isn’t all the knowledge that’s been released about the show. The posts that dig the farthest back are Dollymoon’s, and even they don’t comprehensively cover all of Hazbin’s production. A couple of these characters, Vivziepop created as a teenager, so there’s some truly ancient concept art floating around out there that will have details that probably aren’t canon anymore... but might still be until something happens to actively contradict them.

Tier 3: The Wiki

The wiki is kind of an absolute mess. It’s a chaotic blend of things actually seen in the pilots/comic, things mentioned at some point in some stream somewhere, and wild fan speculation based on what they headcanon as plausible based on the above, all mixed together with very little indication for which is canon, pseudo-canon, fanon, or speculation. Most of the statements on the wiki don’t have citations.

(And, on top of that, half the main characters’ info gets split up into separate tabs instead of just having a normal-ass wiki page, AND their image galleries are on COMPLETELY SEPARATE pages that are linked to in one of the tabs, and the most important characters all have TWO SEPARATE GALLERIES. Which doesn’t have anything to do with the quality of the facts hidden underneath those tabs, but nevertheless drives me up the wall.)

Some things on the wiki were added according to info released so long ago it’s probably changed by now. Some are possibilities that got reported as facts. Other things on the wiki have unambiguously changed, or else are just flat-out incorrect. (For instance, at this moment Alastor’s page still lists him as an overlord, even though it's been confirmed that Alastor is not an overlord despite his power level because he isn’t interested in and didn’t pursue that position, per this stream. For a little bit, somebody’s fanart of their headcanon human Alastor got added to the wiki as concept art.)

tl;dr: the wiki should never be trusted as a primary source. The wiki’s better than it used to be. Even so, at this time, it’s only trustworthy to fill in the gaps of what you already know is true from other, better sources.

The thing it’s good at is it more or less compiles all the known info all in one place. Trying to figure out who the hell this Vox guy is is really hard if you’re reading for mentions of him in compilations of a dozen different streams, much less if you’re trying to comb through those dozen streams yourself, plus a dozen more, plus three different artists’ twitters. In comparison, it’s really easy to, say, just go look at Vox’s wiki page, where all the trivia is compiled. (And Vox’s page is actually one of the better cited on the wiki. Look at all those numbers!)

So, if you need to find out who this character is you’ve never heard of before, if you want to see a full list of the thus far named characters, if you don’t remember whether Alastor likes coffee or tea, if you want to know what Angel’s twin sister looks like, if you need a reminder of Sir Pentious’s death year... check the wiki. It’s an okay starting point.

But, if you see a “fact” on the wiki that you yourself don’t remember from straight out of the pilot, and it doesn’t have a citation that links to a tweet or a stream... regard it suspiciously. And do not trust it unquestioningly as fact until and unless you have seen the source.

Tier 4: Noncanon Creator Shitposting

I’ve mentioned Ashley’s HuniCast streams a couple times. The biggest draw of them is that she usually gets several of the voice actors in the streams, where they’ll happily say nonsense in their character voices. For the most part, they’re not sharing any actual canon info they’ve been given on their characters, just goofing around pretending to be their characters. Nevertheless, a lot of the things that happen in streams get accepted as broad fandom headcanons, like Alastor being into dad jokes. (My favorite, for obvious reasons, is this one.)

It’s easy to find the source audio for all this wonderful nonsense by searching youtube for “HuniCast highlights,” and then rummaging around for animatics people make out of the audio. The only one noncanon video of this sort I can think of that didn’t originally come from HuniCast is a lone one from Alastor’s singing voice (who’s a different voice actor than his speaking voice).

So, obviously, none of these are canon. But they do come from some of the people actually involved in the creation of the show, and they are in the characters’ canon voices, so a whole lot of people treat them as semi-canon anyway. (Even the wiki lists “dad jokes” among Alastor’s likes, which to my knowledge hasn’t come up anywhere except for HuniCast streams.) Since they’re so broadly-known, they’re worth knowing about as important sources of fanon, even if you don’t want to adopt them into your own headcanons. They’re basically the same level of canon as blooper reels.

#anonymous #ask #hazbin hotel #reference #helluva boss

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patsdrabbles · 4 years

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Not Leaving Till You Smile

Title: Not Leaving Till You Smile Fandom: M*A*S*H Pairing: Hawkeye Pierce/BJ Hunnicutt Rating: Gen Word Count: 600 Summary: “I’m not leaving you till you smile, y’know?” There’s a gentle squeeze of his hand and BJ looks up at Hawk through heavy eyelids, his eyes red. (hurt/comfort; tw for animal death.) A/N: Part 4 of my Daily Fanfic Chocolates calendar :D Another fic that I wrote for a prompt writing challenge I did with my friend @onekisstotakewithme a couple of months ago. ^^ Please enjoy ❤

(links to AO3 and the DFC masterpost are in the reblogs!)

“I’m not leaving you till you smile, y’know?”

There’s a gentle squeeze of his hand and BJ looks up at Hawk through heavy eyelids, his eyes red. Hawkeye crouches down and pulls him into a hug before the movement even registers to BJ. It’s a soft, warm hug and BJ wants to bury himself in the steadiness that is Hawk’s body against his.

He almost starts crying again, but he feely silly about it – and the next second, silly about holding back the tears.

***

Yesterday evening, a little kid had stood at the entrance of the Swamp, one hand in Radar’s, one hand deeply buried in a brown dog’s fur. The dog hadn’t been alright; they had been able to tell so at a glance. Hawkeye had gone and asked Potter if anyone would be able to help the animal, but upon taking a look at the dog, Potter had only shaken his head sadly. “Nah, son. I may know little of animals that aren’t horses, but this one, we can’t help anymore except by giving him a nice last couple of hours.”

BJ had been devastated to hear that the colonel’s assessment was the same as their own assumption. He offered to run a few blood tests, mostly for the kid’s sake, but with none of them a veterinarian and no clues regarding what was wrong with the animals but its heavy, rattling breath they were at a loss of what to do.

They did run the blood tests (as painlessly and quickly as they could) but it was hard to give the young kid any real hope regarding the animal’s chance of survival. Radar stayed by the boy’s side the entire time, trying to calm him down. BJ felt like Radar was the only one accomplishing anything, whereas he and Hawk were grasping at straws.

It was a mere hour or two later that the dog – named Bomi as they had learned from Radar – passed away.

Hawkeye ushered BJ outside, when he saw that Radar was doing a good job at comforting the kid and Colonel Potter was coming to help him.

“You’ve been shaking for the past hour, Beej,” he stated matter-of-factly. It didn’t have the sound of a question but BJ knew that it was one.

“He.. The dog reminded me a lot of my own dog, from back when I was a kid,” BJ eventually replied. Then, suddenly unable to hold back tears: “He got hit by the neighbor’s car when I was nine.”

Hawkeye led him toward the Officer’s Club and ordered him a drink.

***

“Tell you what, you’ll crawl into my cot with me and I’ll read you some of that novel my dad sent to me last month.”

“You’ve already lent me that one twice.” BJ’s defeated voice makes Hawkeye pull him even closer to himself.

“Yes, but Charles is in post-OP all night and you need some snuggling and a terribly bad crime novel to keep your mind off things for a while.” He pushes himself up from where he is crouching, pulling BJ up with him.

“Alright?”

There’s a tear running down BJ’s cheek and Hawkeye carefully swipes it away before giving him a peck on his cheek.

“Come ‘ere,” he asks him as he gently pulls BJ toward his cot and down.

BJ snuggles up closer when Hawk places a hand on top of his head, fingers running calmingly through his hair as he begins reading the story, and the smallest of smiles finally starts forming on BJ’s lips as he allows his eyes to fall shut.

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starlightinhumanform · 5 years

Text

The Art of Love: Chapter 10

Fandom: She Ra (2018)

Ship: Glimadora

Summary: It’s chemistry again and Adora is missing, leaving Glimmer to wonder where she is. Glimmer has to face Weaver, Cat, and her feelings by herself.

Warnings (for this chapter): Some descriptions of mild emotional distress/anxiety, Mild language (please tell me if anything needs to be added)

Genre: High School AU, Angst with a Happy Ending, Rivals/Enemies to Lovers, Eventual Fluff

A/N: As always, all notes mean so much to me (especially reblogs). I always love getting feedback and questions so feel free to drop a comment, send an ask, or add something in the tags! Hope you enjoy my dears~ Love you all 🖤✨

Ao3 The Art of Love Masterpost Fic Masterpost Fic Request Info

Glimmer’s feet shuffled on the laminate tiles as she dragged herself to fourth period. She could tell by the quickly thinning crowd that the passing period was almost over. She couldn’t bring herself to move faster- or to actually care. She had fallen asleep in her last period and had been forced to scribble down the half an hour of notes she had missed in the last three minutes of class- and then a minute or two of passing after that.

Her mind was a fog and the only lamp that occasionally shone through the dense clouds was a grumble of frustration. Glimmer couldn’t decide if she should blame her sleep deprivation on Ms Weaver or if it was better to somehow twist the situation onto Adora. Her brain suggested the third option of it being her damn fault for being so distracted the whole night and spending so much time on being a drama queen instead of actually doing work.

Glimmer let out a huff as the bell screeched. She glared at the door down the hall, behind which Weaver was almost surely cackling out some Disney villain laugh as she marked Glimmer late.

A large part of her was highly tempted to turn around and spend the entire period lurking in a corner of the art studio. She had dropped off the model that morning (By some miracle, Weaver hadn’t been there) so Adora could still present it and get points for them.

She stopped walking and tapped her fingers against her thigh. It was only a ten foot walk to the class but, god, at what cost?

She was jarred into movement by a security guard speeding past her on a bicycle. He was shouting at the empty hallway- something about, “COME ON PEOPLE, KEEP MOVING,”- as if he were policing Times Square and not just Glimmer as she slouched her way past the empty row of monotonous doors.

Glimmer huffed and sludged forward, pausing to glare at the disappearing guard before wrenching the door open.

“Glimmer you’re-“

“Late, I know,” she grumbled the inevitable end of Weaver’s sentence.

Glimmer could feel Weaver’s raised eyebrow without even looking up.

“Keep doing this and you’ll get-“

“Detention. I know.”

The other students were watching the exchange like they were waiting for a bomb to go off- tick tock tick tock. Glimmer was sure that if it were just her and Weaver, the woman may have actually lost it and begun screaming at her.

She settled into her seat, resolved not to let Weaver bother her today. She was too tired to give a shit.

Weaver paused before conceding to simply shake her head and move towards the middle of the room.

Glimmer hazarded a glance upward only to see Weaver surveying the room with a wicked grin, hands pressed together like a praying mans’; as if she was showing off the wicked red claws of her nails. It made Glimmer sick.

“So class, I have a surprise for you,” Smug, purred, smooth with jagged edges; Weaver reminded Glimmer of obsidian as the woman soaked in the sounds of hopelessness coming from her students, “I’ll be checking your projects today to see what you have done!”

The class groaned in unison and the girl in front of Glimmer began whisper yelling at her partner across the room- as if that could do them any good now. Glimmer would have rolled her eyes if they didn’t feel so heavy.

“I know, it isn’t wonderful?!” Weaver’s shark-toothed grin widened as she acknowledged her doomed class.

Glimmer felt bad for the kids in the room who didn’t have a hyperactive, annoyingly insistent partner who had in on Weaver’s evil plans- so basically everyone else.

Now that Glimmer was thinking about it, she hadn’t seen said ball of energy when she had walked in. She turned and was surprised to see Adora’s seat glaringly empty. Glimmer fought back against the wave of disappointment that hit her. It’s not like this was a completely bad thing- it meant that Glimmer would actually be able to concentrate. And Weaver would be more likely to give Glimmer credit for her work instead of immediately assuming Adora had done all of it. So yeah, it was all good. Except... She said she’d see me at school...

Glimmer internally sighed at her own pathetic foolishness; she was getting way too soft.

She allowed herself another glance back, as if Adora would’ve suddenly appeared there in the three second break between her stares.

Another wave hit her, this time a cascade of apprehension. Adora was not the type to skip class and Glimmer’s mind was quick to fill the fog in her head with worries. What if something happened to her? What if she passed out? What if she passed out because I kept her up all night? What if she got hit by a car? What if I hit her my car?? Wait no... I don’t have a car. But what if she’s trying to avoid me?

Glimmer’s mind slapped its hand down on a proverbial bell- Yep! She’s try to avoid you!

Glimmer could feel the sensation of sickness growing in her stomach and rising to her chest. She wanted to bury her had in her hand as a stupid emotional groan began clawing its way up her vocal cords.

“Hey, Glimmer,” A snarky voice purred above her.

Glimmer growled as she looked up into Cat’s smirk, “What do you want?”

Cat gave an over the top pout, complete with big eyes and crinkled forehead, “Why, I just wanted to make sure you were ok.”

“I’m fine; leave me the hell alone,” Glimmer spat.

“All right, all right. You just looked a little,” Cat waggled her fingers, which only added to the insult of her airy, pretentious voice, “dazed-out there.”

Glimmer was suddenly aware of the movement around her- nearly everyone was already sat down with their partners or were at least taking a seat as she looked around.

“Also, I kinda need that seat,” Cat wrinkled her nose at Glimmer and pointed at the chair she was in.

Glimmer turned her head and to the side to see Cat’s partner Scylar beaming at her. Scy was a tall-ass wrestler with a loud punk style; if Glimmer’s brain was dazed enough to somehow skip over Scy throwing herself in the seat next to her (the girl never did anything without enthusiasm), then Glimmer had to be really out of it.

She stumbled out of her chair to move out of the way, “Oh right... I’ll just- move to the back then, I guess.”

Cat waggled her fingers in a wave as she slipped gracefully into Glimmer’s chair, “See ya later.”

Glimmer blinked at the girl for a second before realizing she had froze again. She took a step back, just trying to remember how to move. See ya later... see ya. See ya.

The words bounced around in her head like the little metal ball in a pinball machine- dink, dink, dink. Every time they hit the walls of her skull, I knew conspiracy dawned upon her. What if she knows that Adora was with me last night? Dink. What if she’s trying to get revenge? Dink. What if she told Adora not to come to class? Dink. What if Cat knows I, well that I, you know, abut, you know, Adora. The thought made a little ding! sound this time before ricocheting back even stronger.

“Uh, Glimmer?” The arch in Weaver’s eyebrow was sharp enough to cut a steak with.

She blinked again, bringing her eyes into focus. She had made her way to the back of the classroom but had failed to actually take a seat. Looking around, the seemingly the entire room had eyes on her. Her face burned and she lowered herself into the nearest seat. Adora’s seat.

Adora should have been there; Glimmer needed Adora to be there. Glimmer felt pathetic in every sense of the word. Only a few days ago, she had wanted to keep as much distance between her and Adora as possible. And now she was useless without her. It was strange and it was wrong and it shouldn’t have been happening but there she was, simmering within herself as the class moved forward without her. She needed the assurance that letting Adora in was the right thing to do, that she hadn’t scared Adora off. She needed the simple hope that Adora didn’t hate her. Why shouldn’t she? You hated her for months; you called her a lair and a fake. Why shouldn’t she hate you?

Glimmer resisted the urge to grumble at herself to shut up. Sometimes her brain really did deserve to be yelled at, though.

The class was moving again, sifting through the maze of chairs to grab their projects. Glimmer followed suit as best as she could to meld into the crowd this time after the embarrassing space-out that had happened only a couple minutes before.

Ok but consider this. Glimmer rolled her eyes internally as her mind began rambling again. What if she does hate you- so what? You thought that she hated you for a long-ass time; why does it matter so much if she actually does now? It honestly might be a good thing. It’ll help you get over that stupid crush.

She kept moving forward, trying to ignore the words floating around in her head but it was so much easier just to argue back. Was she just adding to the noise? Yes. Was it satisfying to tell the devil in her ear that it was an idiot? Oh definitely. Consider this- you’re the one that’s so obsessed with Adora and maybe if you stopped worrying about her for a second, I could find something else for you to yell at me about for no good reason.

It struck Glimmer just how much Adora had taken over her life; she had spent the whole day thinking and worrying about the girl. She was just a crush after all; it was ridiculous. Ok so Glimmer thought she was gorgeous and funny and smart and definitely the weirdest person she had ever met but in the best way possible? It was crazy to get this obsessed. Glimmer took a deep breath as she lifted her model off the counter, resolved to relax and go about this whole situation like a “normal” person. One problem. She had never crushed this hard on someone before. She had no idea how to act.

She settled back into her seat- Yes, it was her seat; Adora wasn’t here right now and that meant her seat rights were revoked. Glimmer snorted at her sleep-deprived mind as it continued to crack into smaller and increasingly hysterical pieces.

Glancing around, it was clear that the rest of the room was occupied. Weaver was stalking from partner to partner, leering over each of her victims with the sadistic joy that only a high school science teacher could possibly possess. The groups that weren’t being judged were either trying to throw together styrofoam balls or were praying. Glimmer was pretty sure that neither of those would help at that point.

Glimmer decided to take advantage of the surrounding chaos and grabbed her phone from the pocket of her backpack. She opened her conversation to Bow, ready to dump all her problems in her messages and hope she wasn’t blowing up his phone in middle of a test. Oh well, that’s a problem she could deal with later-

Hey hey hey. Ok so I’ve a problem

Well more like a question. But it’s questions about a problem

...hi? What’s going on lmao

You haven’t texted me since you sent me that weirdass text at like two in the morning

What were you even doing up then??

Oh good you are here ;)

What do you mean?? You were up too loser??

Oh my god just tell me what your ~problem~ is

Ok um sooooo

Yes?

SOOOOO

YES

WHAT

Glimmer moved a hand over her mouth to muffle the giggles that were escaping. Bow’s dramatics always made her laugh and she happened to be uncharacteristically bashful about this certain topic.

So I kinda have a big fat crush

The giggles disappeared very suddenly and Glimmer dug her teeth into her bottom lip as she watched the little blinking dots march in their message bubble, waiting for Bow’s response. Fortunately, he didn’t take long to reply. Unfortunately, Glimmer didn’t quite like his answer.

Is it Adora?

Dfydfgdgthkl how??

Look no one hates someone for no reason as much as you hated adora UNLESS you actually love them

Ok so Bow had a point and maybe he was right and she should have realized it earlier, but “love” was taking it several steps too far.

Also that text you sent last night was so lovestruck I could practically see the hearts in your eyes

I literally just said it turned out ok that you gave her my number?? Because YOU were freaking out??

Yes but you said it with love <3 <3 <3

I hate you

And it’s NOT love. I just like her

Sure...

Glimmer very nearly put her phone away with a huff before remembering that she accidentally had a reason for texting Bow to begin with.

Shut up, anyways do you know where Adora is?

Ooo you missing your girlfriend?

Glimmer’s face would burned red even if Bow hadn’t taken the low dig and called Adora her girlfriend. Because that was the dream, right? Because that’s exactly what she wanted but what she could never have. Because Bow didn’t know the ache in her chest, the pain he was causing. Because he was her best friend so he should know what was going on and how much everything had changed. Because she just wanted to tell him everything and ask him what the hell she should do, but there was something keeping her from telling him and maybe if she could just ask for help, she would know how to solve all her problems. And because yes, she missed Adora and the feeling was so much stronger than it should’ve been.

She glanced around herself, positive that someone had seen her face glowing as bright as a stop light. Everyone was preoccupied with their various crises, leaving Glimmer to her own in peace. Unfortunately Weaver was only two rows away and was drawing closer and closer to where Glimmer sat slumped. She would have to finish up her conversation quickly then.

I’m just wondering why she isn’t in class ok? Nothing more

If you don’t know then I’ll find someone else to ask

Jeez ok

Glim I’m sorry for teasing you

But no I don’t know where she is. Sorry :/

Yeah ok. Ttyl my dude

Glimmer let a puff of air escape slowly from her nose as she zipped her phone into its pocket. Her head felt like a bag of bricks tied to the end of her neck, her eyes just as heavy. She was slumped severely in the chair, so low that her shoulder blades were pressing into the middle of the seat and if she scooted forward a couple more inches, she’d probably slip off entirely; the idea of how much her mother would disapprove of her posture almost drew a laugh from Glimmer.

She debated whether or not it was worth it was worth it to fall asleep. Weaver would be standing over her, glaring with disgust in only two minutes or so, and she would therefore be risking whatever humiliation that would come with Weaver’s disgust. But, mmmm, two minutes of sleep? That might be worth it.

Glimmer was just shifting to plant her head on the desk when the classroom door exploded open. In the doorway stood a slightly sweaty Adora beaming, as always, as if she herself were the sun.

All eyes flickered over to her simultaneously, staring with confused and maybe amused expressions. Adora just grinned wider, apparently in response, “Hey everyone!”

Weaver stood up straight, freezing to look Adora up and down. She seemed confused as to what to do next. The girl continued to stand in the doorway for a moment, seemingly completely comfortable in the situation. The edges of her ponytail were frayed with baby hairs sticking up at odd angles that framed her reddened face. Her breathing was heavier than usual and the blades of glass plastered up her legs combined to give the impression that she had come directly from running.

Adora strode forward, “Sorry I was late! Soccer event with all the captains!”

So Cat did know where she was.

“Oh, I guess that’s ok then,” Weaver unfroze but still seemed somewhat unsure as she turned back to what she had been doing before Adora had burst in.

Adora made her way to the back, stopping only to give Cat a small wave, and sat down next to Glimmer. Her eyes were sparkling and the only signs of any sort of sleep deprivation were the dark circles that contrasted sharply with her pale skin tone. Her energy level was no reflection the amount of sleep Glimmer knew she hadn’t gotten

“Hi!”

“...hi?” Glimmer really wasn’t sure what she was supposed to say. That was usual. What was unusual was that Adora seemed to be expecting her to say something.

Adora was sitting next to her and just a minute ago, Glimmer would have sworn that’s exactly what she wanted but now she had doubts. Adora was just so loud. Her energy made white noise roar in Glimmer’s head and her voice thundered in the empty space between Glimmer’s thoughts. And her smile, god her smile, it was the brightest thing Glimmer had seen all day and it made her eye smart; it felt like a hand had gripped the bottom of her heart and was pulling it down, stretching out of shape and digging crescent nail marks into the flesh. That smile was all that she wanted and all that couldn’t live up to.

Adora cocked her head to the side and let the smile drop slightly, looking more like a puppy than ever, “Is something wrong?”

Glimmer shook her head and took the easy option, “Nah I’m just tired.”

“Oh ok,” Adora seemed to debate on something for a second before regaining her grin, “Me too honestly.”

It managed to draw a snort from Glimmer, “Really? I could not tell by the way you came bouncing in here.”

“I had like, way too much sugar. Anyways, what’s going on?” She turned her head from side to side to look around the room and causing her long ponytail to whip in either direction with the momentum.

Glimmer sat up from where she had ducked down to avoid Adora’s weaponized hair, “You were right. Weaver’s going around checking all our projects.”

Adora pumped her fist, moving her elbow towards her body and dramatically sweeping her head forward, eyes closed, as she did. It was undeniably dorky and it was undeniably cute.

“And our project is great,” Adora stared down at the pile of wire and clay that was beginning to look to Glimmer more and more like some strange “aesthetic” torture tool used by a Pinterest girl the 15th century. Of course, Adora was looking at it with the same starry-eyed expression that she always wore when looking at Glimmer’s art.

Glimmer shrugged, “It’s ok, I guess.”

Adora feigned offense, “Excuse me, I put my heart and soul into that clay.”

Glimmer couldn’t help but break down into giggles. She was so tired and Adora was so dumb and Glimmer couldn’t exactly explain why but every joke Adora cracked became the funniest thing she had ever heard.

Adora grinned back at her, “But really, you should give yourself more credit. It turned out great and I know that it’s not thanks to me.”

Ugh, of course she had to go and make it all “wholesome.” Glimmer debated if it was worth it to say something back. It would be so much easier just to brush it off; so much safer. She had already crossed too many lines last night, the only solution was to go back to normal today. But she couldn’t even remember what normal was.

Glimmer glanced down at her hands. She had been unconsciously worrying at her nails and now her cuticles were beginning to turn red. She looked back up at Adora, “Look though... I wouldn’t have been able to get it done without you and I’m actually really glad you insisted on coming over.”

Adora smiled with the brightness and warmth of the sun, “I am too.”

Glimmer was in the process of absolutely melting under Adora’s affections when Weaver stalked to a halt in front of them, effectively freezing her back together, “So, Adora how did it turn out?”

Glimmer turned to Adora, watching her eyebrows scrunch together as confusion slowly drew across her face, “Well Glimmer did most of the work...”

Glimmer was beginning to wonder if this ‘innocent curiosity�� was something Adora put on just for Weaver. She wasn’t stupid, she certainly didn’t actually like Weaver and she had to know that there was something going on between her and Glimmer.

“...so why don’t you talk to her about it?”

The end of Adora’s sentence snapped Glimmer sputtering out of her thoughts, “Wait what? No, sorry?”

Weaver pivoted on her heels to face Glimmer, “Well then, what do you have to say?”

Glimmer glanced at Adora with wide eyes trying to convey the message of What the hell? Why would you do this??

Adora gave an encouraging smile and nodded. Very helpful.

“Um well,” Glimmer dragged her eyes from Adora (who was still giving that somewhat infuriating smile) to Weaver, “It’s a model of bismuth. The particles or painted to look like a sample of bismuth. That’s about it.”

“Very well then,” Weaver sniffed and began leering over the mess of purples and grays.

Glimmer could have sworn Weaver hadn’t been that critically focused on other groups but, then again, she hadn’t really paid much attention to what Weaver had been doing until moments ago.

Weaver continued to glare over the project as Glimmer continued to hold her breath. After far too long, Weaver moved away with nothing more than a “humph.”

As the click click of Weaver’s heels moved to the other side of the room, Glimmer deflated into her normal slump, “I swear she hates me.”

Adora squinted in the direction of their teacher, “I still don’t see why she’s such a bitch to you.”

Glimmer’s eyebrows shot up without her consultation, “I was not expecting you to say anything that... strong.”

Adora shrugged without giving a response, still grimacing towards Weaver- whatever that meant. If it meant anything at all. Maybe it didn’t. Maybe Glimmer was just taking a simple stare to mean way too much. After all, Adora was sleep deprived and apparently coming down from a sugar high. It would make perfect sense for her to space out. So that settled it; Glimmer was reading into too much, that’s all-

“I swear one of these days she’s going to say something shitty to you, and I’m just going to lose it.”

Oh. Glimmer could feel her heart rate spike like it was trying to reach the sky. That sounded nice, that sounded like maybe- just maybe- Glimmer wasn’t reading into it too much. It sounded almost protective and normally that would make Glimmer gag, but somehow this wasn’t normal.

But of course her only reply was to let out a nervous wheeze, “Why on Earth would you do that??”

Adora shrugged again, “I don’t like the way she treats you.”

Glimmer didn’t like the strength in Adora’s eyes. It wasn’t the level of contempt that led to bloodshed, but it was certainly more emotion than Glimmer deserved or would ever ask for. It made her uncomfortable; she didn’t understand why Adora would be so angry about something which, in the long run, probably wouldn’t matter.

She gave another awkward giggle, “It really isn’t a big deal.”

Adora opened her mouth to respond and Glimmer was almost grateful when Weaver began speaking from in front of her desk. Something seemed to switch off in Adora, her expression relaxing as she turned to face the front of the room.

“I can’t say I’m surprised but a lot of you really need to get to work,” Weaver hissed out a tsk noise between her teeth, “You only have a few days left to get this project done. You have about fifteen minutes left in this period and I expect you all to be focused that entire time. All right get to work.”

The class dissolved into noise as chairs were scrapped across the floor and notebooks were grabbed with the fevered terror that can only be inspired by a looming due date.

Adora reached across the desk to open one of the class-set laptops. She brought up the presentation she had been working on yesterday, the same pastel rainbows and soft pink theme. It sparked a strange sort of déjà vu in Glimmer, the exact same situation as yesterday but with so much less hostility. The dissonance was enough to make her head spin, but she couldn’t help but enjoy the difference.

Adora turned her head, mirth poorly concealed in her smirk, “Can I help you?”

Glimmer blinked quickly, suddenly aware that she had spaced out staring at at Adora, “Oh, um, sorry, no. I was just- no I’m fine.”

“You sure?” Adora was very obviously struggling to keep her smirk from dissolving into a full smile. People talk a lot about feeling butterflies in their stomachs but to Glimmer it felt more like a hundred tiny grasshoppers jumping out of time with one another.

She swallowed but her mouth had gone dry and she wasn’t sure when that happened. She tried to piece together a sentence that a normal human would say, “Yeah, um, I’m good. But what about you? Ya know, do you need help with the project or, uh, something?”

Adora seemed to pause for a moment, once again having to switch to a different setting. She looked almost disappointed and Glimmer still didn’t have any idea what was going on.

Then Adora’s face did something else Glimmer was not at all expecting. Her expression lost all of the playful cockiness it had held only a second before, shifting into what Glimmer could only describe as timid- maybe even embarrassed, “Um, yeah, actually. Could you draw some more things for me to use in the presentation?”

Glimmer didn’t understand Adora’s apparent discomfort. She flipped open a sketch book and grabbed a pencil, “Sure; what do you need?”

“Just another a sketch of it unprocessed or something like that would be great!”

Glimmer was beginning to learn that Adora’s stupid sunshine smile was somehow even warmer when you knew you were the one that had caused it.

The next few minutes went by quickly. They sat mostly in silence, both content in their own work. Sometimes Glimmer would glance over, catching Adora staring at what she had been drawing. Every time she did, Adora would give her a tiny sheepish grin before ducking her head away. Every time she did, something unfamiliarly soft would fill her up from her toes to her cheeks that she could tell were turning pink.

When the bell rang, Glimmer argued that the main reason she didn’t want to move was because she was just too tired, but she could tell it was a flimsy excuse of a lie and she hardly even cared.

Adora stood up, looking down once she had grabbed her backpack, “See ya!”

Glimmer sighed as she watched Adora bounce away from her. See ya.

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virgilantejustice · 5 years

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the infection (pt. one)

This is my first ever long fic!! if anyone has any feedback or advice, i am totally open to it, i want to make my work as good as it can be. And, please feel free to reblog, i’m only a small account, and i would be nice to get a few more notes.

Total word count: approx. 7000

Chapter word count: approx. 2500

Trigger warnings: Death and violence, dystopian setting

part two part three sea of stars on the church steps heartbreak

masterpost link

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"Logan, please, you don't have to go!" He could see the pleading in Patton's eyes, yet he refused to let the trapped tears fall.

"You know I do," he replied, desperately trying to keep the tremor out of his voice. He had to be strong, for him. "We're starving, Patton. There's nothing left."

Patton turned his face to the ground. Logan put a hand under his chin and ran his thumb over the mole on his lower cheek, that formed the faint shape of a heart. The only part of his face not covered by scars. Through all that, the heart remained. Amazing in a way.

"Just- " Patton whispered, "just stay safe. Come back." His eyes were sparkling, glistening, begging.

"I can't make any promises," Logan whispered back steadily,but his voice was catching in his throat. "But I'll try. For you, My Heart."

Patton shrugged his leather jacket off his shoulders and pressed it into Logan's hands. He'd scavenged it from an old clothes shop years ago, it was his only protection, he couldn't use a knife. The leather was thick enough even to stop bites from the infected fangs.

"No," Logan said firmly, pushing it back. "You need it, I have my knife."

"You'll be more danger," Patton replied. He was always so stubborn.

"What if they come?"

"The knowledge that you're ok with keep me safe."

"That's nonsense!"

"Poetic though." A smirk crept on to his face. He knew how much Logan loved poetry, and his smile was infectious. "Please, Lo. Take it, and say you'll come back by dusk." Logan saw the honest pleading in his eyes and put on the jacket. Patton looked so vulnerable, but he knew that he would stay alive by sheer power of will if it came to it.

"I"ll make sure of it," Logan muttered. "I've got to go," he brushed his lips against Patton's and pulled away. That was really all they could afford these days, when a couple of seconds was the difference between life and death. But nevertheless, Patton pulled him in close, nestling his face into Logan's neck, his breath smelled so sweet, stale and empty.

Logan gently eased him off. God knows he didn't want to go, but he had to, for him. With one more fleeting glimpse, he climbed onto the motorbike and rode away.

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When the first wave hit eleven years ago, they were ready. The disease was wiped from the face of the Earth, or so they thought.

During the first wave, the symptoms were obvious. The skin went yellow, the eyes black, the flesh rotting away, all this happening within minutes of infection. With the Military and gamer nerds, it was destroyed.

But it wasn't. They were cocky, overconfident. They'd only made it stronger. It learned, evolved in the few years of peace in which the world was rebuilt, only for it to be torn down once again. The virus, it'd gaining power for the second wave, which swept the world like a tsunami eight years ago.

Then, the only immediate sign was the skin on the bridge of the nose. This was now the only part of the skin that turned yellow straight away. There were no other signs. The infected still walked, talked and breathed, but were suddenly overcome by terrible hunger. As soon as they indulged this urge to feed, the virus finally took over, and they fully transformed.

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It took hours to get to The Ballroom. Logan stepped off the bike and wiped the tears from his cheeks, he had been strong for Patton, but as soon as he left, the mask dissolved.

Logan felt the bulge in his pocket hit his leg as he swung it off the seat. Part of him felt guilty, part terrified, and a savage, primal part of him was excited. He tried to clear his mind of emotion though, he knew it wouldn’t help him. There was no place for sentimentality at the ball.

Carefully, he hid his knife up his sleeve (it was better not to aggravate the other people so soon), and placed his mask on his face.

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There weren't many people left after a few months, and barely any after the eight long years. Only a few thousand in each country, if that. The virus didn't leave survivors. Each zombie died a few weeks after the transformation, if they didn't starve. And most of the time, if you were bitten and didn't die from the wounds, you'd be shot by your own side as soon as the yellow appeared.

Hostilities had quickly arisen. Old feuds resurfaced as the law crumbled into dust, but anyone with any sense learned to band together, as they had nothing.

The water was contaminated, the Earth infertile and difficult to protect, and you could rarely risk hunting. Infected animal flesh was poisonous, they may not have become zombies like humans, did but they became potent enough to kill twenty. Most of the survivors had inside vegetable patches and collected rainwater as well as being experienced in identifying infected animals, but sometimes it wasn't enough. So they went to the ball.

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The waiting room was filled to bursting, the air of intensity overwhelming, fear oozing from the very walls.

The rules of the ball were simple: two hundred clean and one infected person in The Ballroom; wear a masquerade mask, so no one knows who the infected is; if you take off the mask, you get shot by one of the guards; whoever kills the infected gets enough supplies to set them up for months.

By about a month into the second wave, only the rich had anything left, so obviously people began to beg. But the upper classes hearts where as hard and cold as their cash (not that dollars really mattered anymore).

There was no fee for the ball, no profit to be made. The superiority that the rich held infected them in another way, made them cruel and sadistic. They watched this as sport.

As soon as the doors opened, every poor soul who was desperate enough to come filed out in to the hall. It was largely empty, save a few chairs around the edges for anyone brave (or stupid) enough to sit. It still held more grandeur than any other room for miles despite the peeling paint and bare chandeliers.

People had walked for days to be here, mainly adults, some ragged and desperate looking teenagers, and a couple of idiots had even brought their families ('must be their first time, the infected picked of the young, old and weak first,' Logan thought coldly). Suspicious eyes bored into his back, as everyone scoped the room, but the masks did their job well. Logan could feel his heavy on his nose, the ribbon tied tightly behind his head.

'Who was it? Who was it!' Logan frantically asked himself, his face not needing a mask for the facard of calmness that it was already fixed to. People were chatting, milling around, biding their time until the creature attacked. Was it the woman over there with the sharp chin, long brown hair and striped yellow mask? Or the short person with faded remnants of multicoloured dye in their hair? There was no way of knowing, not yet.

Logan didn't talk to anyone. He stayed with his back pressed against the wall so no one could sneak up behind him. Waiting for a sign, trying to disappear.

He kept Patton's as image in his mind. Logan had only come here once before, and had come back practically falling to pieces, and only with a couple of cans that the victors had decided to share out of pity, but then he didn’t have the plan that he had now. As long as Logan kept thinking about him he knew he wouldn't leave him behind. He was the Heart, and nickname from years ago, but it held true. And Logan was the mind, as Patton would always call him, usually while stroking his cheek and coming in closer.

'No!' Logan told himself, shaking the memory from his mind. He had to be focused, ready.

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When the second wave hit, it swept the world so fast, and there was no way to stop it.

Logan and Patton were only fourteen when their parents died six years ago, they couldn’t defend themselves, so they did what their parents told them to do with their final breaths, and went into some old mines. A cave in was imminent at all times, but it was safer than the surface. They didn’t know how long they were down there, walking. There was no day or night, there was only blackness or fire.

Therefore, Logan didn’t know where they were in relation to the sea, or where they grew up, or the remnants of anywhere that was a big city. In the six years since then, they'd explored for miles around their camp, but never found anything that they recognised. The world was just a barren, endless sheet of brown, with only a few ruined towns and cities to break up the wasteland.

They lived in an old church now, the only building still standing in the town in which they came up. It was big, and empty, and the windows were smashed making it drafty, but it was all they had. So Patton decided that they would decorate it and make it cosy, collecting blankets and shelves from the ruined houses. He had made it home for them.

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Suddenly, the person with the dyed hair revealed a large blade from under their coat and plunged it into the stocky man standing before them. The man gasped and fell to the floor, pressing his hands to the crimson flower blooming on his chest, his once purple hair now dyed red with his own blood.

One of the guards came over and pulled the mask from his still face. No yellow. Just a man. A young man, with laughter lines around his mouth from once upon a time. A dead man now. Dead for nothing.

That one act of violence then sparked the inevitable chain reaction. The brown haired woman killed the first killer, not them. Then a person wearing an orange beanie bashed her head in, not her. Then their body hit the ground, not them!

The pent up aggression that lay in everyone's hearts was unleashed. Knives flashed, bats swung, fists flailed. The rich onlookers behind the glass fence were cheering, choosing favourites and placing bets.

Logan tried to stay to the side, he didn't want to kill anyone who was clean, but he knew he had to win.

Finally, he caught a glimpse of something. A glimpse of yellow behind a slipping mask, a glimpse of a fang protruding from the lips. a glimpse of a person clearly infected.. It was a man wearing a snake-print mask and scars down one side of his face.

Logan fought his way over, dancing away from the blows and slashes that were sent in his direction. Finally he stood face to face with the man. He was covered in blood, his and others, and something dark lingered in his eyes.

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Before Logan could even jump back in surprise, the man lunged for his neck. He grabbed his shoulders and tried to push him back but his grip was strong. The man bit mindlessly at him, but the leather kept the new fangs from his flesh.

Logan slipped his knife out of his sleeve and plunged it into him, emptying himself of emotion before remorse could take hold. 'He's not human, not anymore' he told himself. But as the man fell, Logan saw something so human in his eyes. Something sad. Something agonised, as he pressed his hands to the gaping wound that Logan left in his stomach.

There was no need to remove the mask. There was so much blood everywhere, he must have swallowed a little and transformed. Fangs hung over his chin, his skin was dry and flaking, his eyes turned black, and his nails covered with red.

Logan staggered backwards, clutching his temples. "I won," he shouted it to the protected upper classes, "i won!"

One of the guards threw a duffel bag at his feet. Logan looked inside, enough for a month, maybe more, but not enough.

"No!" He cried. "I did not come here for this!"

"That is your prize," replied a well dressed man, standing up from his plush armchair behind the glass. "Take it or leave it."

Logan shook his head, fighting to stay calm, but quickly losing "Neither," he snarled. He pulled the object out of his pocket. The backup plan. A grenade.

Everyone scrambled away from him when he held it up, they were frenzied. The guards ran towards him, but stopped in their tracks when he loosened his grip.

"You're bluffing," one of the protected woman spat. "We'll all go up! You wouldn't dare!"

"Are you willing to take that chance?" Logan began to idly toss it between his hands. The first man gestured to one of the guards, who huffed and disappeared into one of the side rooms, to bring back another, larger bag.

Logan picked it up and looked inside. The two bags were enough for months! He knew that he should have been happy, but a fiery rage still was building inside him.

"You know what?" He said to the bomb in his hand. "You guys really fucking suck." And with that, he threw the grenade up into the air, grabbed the bags, and ran.

It exploded before it even hit the ground.

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Rubble flew everywhere at deadly speeds, striking guards and participants alike, but the nobles took it the hardest. Their glass prison shattered, crystal daggers embedding themselves into their flesh.

Dust and smoke filled the air, Logan stumbled, and ran into people, all charging in the vague direction that they knew the door to be in. He heard the guard's heavy boots thudding on the floor behind him, hot on his trail, but they were too slow.

He ran and ran, and finally, he burst through the doors. The clouds overhead were thick and dark, blotting out the sun.

As soon as he got to the motorbike and swung his leg over the seat, he felt someone else climb on behind him, too small to be a guard.

"Drive! Fucking drive!!" Came the panicked voice, so he did. His priority was to get away from the people he knew were definitely trying to kill him.

Logan rode in a zigzag to escape the bullets that were flitting past his head. Bullets were worth more than gold these days, and they were shooting wildly.

The person behind him was practically bouncing on the seat. He felt the terror radiating from them, Logan wanted to stop and ask them questions, but he couldn't. He needed to go faster.

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andersonswalsh · 6 years

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Fic: Teach Me How Love Goes (for Klaine Advent Day 24/24)

I finished! I finished! After failing to the past two years, this is a major accomplishment. Thank you to everyone who read, reblogged, and commented, as well as those who ran the Advent. Masterpost will be up tomorrow!

Day 24: Zone | Day 23 | AO3

“I go with you?” Charlie asks as he watches Blaine and Tina make the final touches to their attire.

“No, Charlie,” Lydia sighs. “Mama and Daddy can’t take us with them, we have to stay with Grandma.”

“Gamma?” Ben asks. He’s cemented himself as Pam’s favorite grandchild--possibly because he loves looking through her makeup swatches.

“She’ll be here soon,” Tina says. “And all three of you better be on your best behavior, you got that?”

Lydia rolls her eyes. A month of third grade has given her a new attitude, one that makes Blaine fear when she becomes a teenager.

“Don’t give me that, Lydia Grace,” Tina scolds her before turning to Blaine. “Okay, are we set?”

Blaine nods. “I think so. Dress?”

“Check.” Tina spins around in her gown.

“Shoes?”

“Check.”

“Earrings?”

“Check.”

“Fiance?”

“Right here,” a voice says coming out of the bathroom. Mike puts his arm around Tina’s shoulders. “Kurt had to take my tux in a little more.”

“Oh, you poor thing,” Tina coos before kissing him. She and Mike reconnected at a New Directions reunion two years ago, as he was about to have his divorce from his college sweetheart finalized. They spent hours talking and making out, and it didn’t take long for Mike to come to New York with a position secured to teach at Juilliard. He even found an apartment for sale in their building, just three floors below, where Tina ended up moving into within months. Their place has plenty of room for Lydia, Ben, Charlie, and Mike’s son Henry when he visits. It’s made everything between the two couples smoother than anyone expected, especially after Kurt moved in that summer and turned Tina’s old bedroom into a workstation for him and Blaine.

“I better go get Kurt,” Blaine says. “You know what will happen if he gets into a zone with his sewing.”

“Seriously, Blainey-days, he isn’t going to miss your opening night,” Tina replies.

Blaine shakes his head. “You’d think so…” and goes off to rescue Kurt.

Kurt is hunched over the sewing machine working on a handkerchief. “Mom will be here soon,” Blaine says when he peeks in. “We should be leaving in ten minutes or so.”

“Okay, just let me finish this.” Kurt guides the fabric through until it’s perfect. “There,” he says with a flourish, pulling the newly monogrammed handkerchief out and waving it around. “I figure I’ll need this tonight.”

“Why?”

“Why? Because I’m about to watch my incredible boyfriend’s work take over a Broadway stage.” Kurt crosses the room and kisses Blaine. “I am so, so proud of you, honey. This is only the beginning for you.”

Blaine blushes. “It’s more Shawn’s work…”

“You still scored the entire thing. That’s incredible. Besides, I feel like the main characters are connected to us in a way.”

“Wait, you think Kevin and Bryce are supposed to be us?”

“Ex-lovers reuniting in a school? It does sound awfully familiar.”

“Then you should discuss that with Shawn,” Blaine says with a smile.

“You know,” Kurt adds, “maybe we could take a page out of the script anyway and follow their ending.”

Blaine stares at Kurt. “What?”

Kurt sighs. “I was going to wait until later tonight, but I can’t do that.” He drops to one knee. “Blaine, we’ve been through so much over the past two decades. There was a time--many times, I guess--that I thought this would never happen. But I don’t see any other way for our story to go. Will you marry me?”

“Oh my god, of course!” Blaine exclaims, failing to hold back the tears. Kurt pulls a box out of his pocket with a platinum band nestled inside, placing the ring on Blaine’s hand before he reaches back in and gives him the handkerchief. Blaine laughs as he dabs it against his eyes. “I love you,” he says.

“I love you too,” Kurt replies.

Blaine doesn’t mention it yet, but in his blurb in the Playbill he lists Kurt as his future husband--because he also wanted to pop the question and make tonight the best night in history.

#klaine advent 2017 #klaine advent: zone #where steph thinks she can write

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snowdice · 4 years

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Finding the Time to Study Fic 2 [Day 10]

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

If you are a new follower or just don’t want all of these posts clogging your dash, please feel free to block the tag “study break stories” as all posts and voting about it will go there. You can still see the finished product of the story even if you are blocking that tag as I will not tag the edited chapters with “study break stories” but with the tag “folds in paper.” See edited chapters below. Chapters 2, 3, 4, and what I have of Chapter 5 are under the cut.

My Masterpost Part 1

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

It’s going to be stop and go for most of the night because a lot of things will interrupt me, but I hope to do a good amount of this today.

Chapter 2

The morning was just as torturous as Janus had expected it would be. He chewed through another pop-tart, this time bothering to actually check and see that it was a cinnamon-sugar one and drank three cups of caffeinated orange juice. Then, he waved his hand through the air and selected the 1st saved location on his device. He popped up directly behind his desk where he’d been standing the night morning before.

Someone, probably Remus, had shut his integrator down. He swiped a finger across the power button, and it flickered back on, scrolling through its morning start up routine.

The machine scanned through all of the data in the three main system it was connected to and sorted all information into things that concerned him, could concern him, and did not before then sorting the first two categories into order of importance. As it did, he set up his screen reader so he would hopefully not start the day with more of a migraine than he already had. It took about 3 seconds for everything to turn on and settle.

Sitting down in his desk, he dismissed the notification that Remus had finished and submitted the report from their mission the day before.

A mission had been scheduled for him today, and the details were in his inbox. A piece time travel technology had been accidently dropped by an archology student in the 1890s during a trip. It was an earlier model of emergency time travel given to time travels that would dump them back into the Registration Office in the year they originated. It wasn’t extremely dangerous, but could pose some problems, especially if someone who didn’t know what it was activated it.

Surveillance agents had tracked it down and found that it had been picked up by a local and sold. Though no one from that time had known what it was, they had identified that it was made out of a precious metal and it had been crafted into an expensive necklace. Janus and Remus were supposed to retrieve it today. It had been pinpointed that the most opportune time for the extraction was 1923 during a masquerade ball held by those who had bought the necklace.

It was a fairly low stakes mission. He wasn’t set to leave for another couple of hours, so he clicked through the rest of the important notifications and then set off to meet his missions coordinator, Rhi, in her office.

Rhi and Janus got along fairly well. She was a well put together woman who took her job incredibly seriously. It was fair as her job was to organize all information and materials from every other department and make sure the agents she was assigned to got and understood all of it. A mistake from her could lead to an agent’s death or something far worse.

This, of course, made her relationship with Remus… interesting to say the least. Janus could never place whether they were nemesis, frenemies, or mortal enemies, and he doubted he would ever know.

“Okay, but it’s the 1920s America,” Remus was already in her office arguing when Janus arrived. “There were so many gangsters! I could be a gangster. I would make a fantastic gangster! Just give me a gun, a snazzy suit with a white hat, and a buttload of alcohol. I will be running Chicago with Al Capone in five minutes.”

“Al Capone didn’t become a crime boss until 1925 and you are going to 1923,” Rhi said, sounding bored, “you aren’t going to Chicago, and as I have already stated, your cover is already decided.”

“But-”

“It is nonnegotiable, Agent Clockson,” she said firmly. Remus pouted, but seemingly accepted his fate.

“May I come in?” Janus asked.

“Please do,” Rhi said. “You have been to the 1920s before, correct?” she asked Janus.

“Yes ma’am.”

She tapped the screen on her desk in response. “In the last two years?”

“About two months ago,” he responded. She tapped something else.

“Any blacks, reds, or yellows?” she asked.

“All green.”

“Great. Do you need a refresher course on basic cultural or linguistic procedures?”

“No.”

She pushed one more thing and then swiped the check-in document over to him. He glanced at the report stating he’d had no incidents of any level the last time he visited the 1920s and had opted out of the optional refresher course, and then pressed his finger against the screen to sign it with his fingerprint.

The document returned to her side of the desk automatically. “Okay,” she said swiping another document from her left over to be in front of her. She twisted her wrist to copy it and slide copies to Janus and Remus. “Here are exact details on the time, place, and event you are going to, as well as details about your cover.” Janus scrolled through his quickly. It wasn’t as detailed as some he’d had considering this was a brief in-and-out missing, but he still took care to memorize everything on the page.

As he and Remus read through their things, Rhi got to her feet and turned to the storage compartments behind her desk.

She grabbed out two packages and when they’d both signed that they’d read and understood the paperwork, she slid them across the desk to them. “These have everything you need,” she said. “Clothes, money, and an invitation to the party you’re off to attend. You are to get changed now, have a last check in with costuming to make sure everything is in order, and then report to decontamination in 23 minutes. Your set to leave in 38 minutes. Any questions?”

“How much-?” Remus started.

“None, agent,” Rhi said.

“But-”

“No alcohol,” Rhi said. “It is the prohibition era in the United States anyway.”

“Like there’s not going to be alcohol at the rich people party,” Remus said sullenly.

She pressed her lips together. “It is an in-and-out mission,” she said to both of them, and then turned to glare at Remus. “Do not get arrested.”

“I don’t know,” Remus said joyfully. “I think I still have room for a 1920s mug shot on my wall.”

“Behave,” she said, “or I’ll report you for the cat you smuggled in from the 1800s.”

“You’d never,” Remus said. “You enjoy the cute pictures of Diesel Fuel I send you every day too much, and you know it!”

“Just… don’t get arrested.” She turned to Janus. “Don’t let him get arrested.”

“I’ll do my best,” Janus promised, standing. “Now come on, Remus, we need to get changed.”

“You just want to see me naked,” Remus replied with a wink, but he did stand.

“If I see you naked one more time in my life Remus, my eyeballs will fall out of their sockets,” Janus said, waving to Rhi as he pulled Remus out of the door.

“Kinky.”

Janus’s eyeballs almost did fall out right then and there with how hard he rolled them.

They got changed quickly, Remus complaining and saying if he couldn’t dress like a gangster, he should at least be allowed to wear a flapper dress. Janus had long ago learned to ignore his ramblings. He did seem enthused about the included mask for the masquerade. It was a silver fox shaped mask with green accents that reminded Janus of the Egyptian God Anubis.

Janus’s own mask on the other hand, was only designed to take up the left half of his face. It was mostly golden with a black swirled design. Attached to the side there was a plume of golden tipped white feathers. He had to give it to the costuming department, they did have good taste.

Once they were both dressed, they were poked and prodded by one of the costumers to make sure everything was accurate, fit right, and had been put on correctly.

After that, they went to the decontamination area to have themselves and everything they were taking with them sterilized so they didn’t accidently take any pathogens to the 1920s. They also received an oral vaccination to be sure they didn’t pick up anything from the 1920s and bring it back.

Then they were ready to go. The correct time-space coordinates had already been sent to their timepieces. With a push of a button, they were off.

Inciting Incident

Chapter 3

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

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

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

Remus groaned dramatically. “Everyone is lame.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Are you alright?” Janus asked.

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

“Dove?” Janus asked.

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

“My name is Lee,” he automatically lied.

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

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

The man chuckled. “Call me Pat.”

“Hello Pat,” Janus said.

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

“I changed my mind.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Janus inclined his head.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“As opposed to what?” Janus asked.

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

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

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

“You did?”

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

“What kind of trouble?” Janus asked curiously.

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

“And how do you help him.”

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

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

“You do look the type?”

“And how is that?”

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

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

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

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

“Yes,” Janus agreed. “Well… goodbye.”

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

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

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

“Don’t,” warned Janus.

“I’m not one to judge,” Remus said.

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

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

“We’re not talking about it.”

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

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

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

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

“What?” Janus said.

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

Arc I: Finding Cinderella

Chapter 4

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

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

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

Which was why he ended up getting arrested.

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

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

“It wasn’t my fault.”

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

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

“Remus,” Janus hissed.

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

Janus groaned and leaned his head back against the seat.

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

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

“What?” Remus asked.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“But-” she started, frowning.

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

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

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

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

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

“Janus Picani?” he asked.

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

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

“Nothing’s wrong.”

“Is your timepiece malfunctioning?”

“No.”

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

“…Fine.”

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

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

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

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

“Virgil.”

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

“I see you’re still a bastard.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Chapter 5

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

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

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

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

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

“I’m in the kitchen!”

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

“It’s a surprise!” Remus said.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I’m thinking about it after today.”

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

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

“Ew, no, but I do have vodka.”

“Vodka works.”

“Want me to mix it with something?”

“No.”

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

He was going to just flop down on the couch.

#study break stories #not writing

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snowdice · 4 years

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Finding the Time to Study Fic 2 [Day 8]

My Masterpost Part 1

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

My stomach decided to be mean to me for no reason, but I still want to try to get some stuff done. Might get suddenly distracted though so fair warning if I randomly stop posting/answering asks.