#“James what do you mean it’s harder to play? It’s always been like that?”

[nausicaamusiclover20]

Can you please write a classic trope of reader overhearing black album/load James calling her “clingy”? Like guys in the band joke about it and he is fed up? So she stops coming over to studios and bringing food over, stops asking him to pick her up from work, if he wants to go to a bar, she always has a “headache”? Maybe it’s not until Bob Rock mentions that he likes when she’s over cause James always does a better job in her presence? - that’s when he gets that something is off???

I hope you like it❤

Hurtful Word

The studio has that same familiar smell—beer, lingering cigarette smoke, and the electric hum of amps running hot. I balance a bag with burgers and a beer as I push open the door, knowing James has been holed up here for hours. I just wanted to show up, bring him something he’d actually eat, something other than junk food and coffee. It’s a small thing, but I’ve always thought it meant something.

But as soon as I walk in, Lars glances over and smirks at Kirk. Their eyes flick to me, exchanging that look they always get when they’re about to make a joke.

“Damn, man,” Lars says, his voice loud enough to carry. “You got yourself a personal chef now? Can’t even get a sandwich without her delivering it?”

Kirk snickers, crossing his arms. “Yeah, dude, she’s here more than we are. Got a whole support team working for you, huh?”

The teasing makes my chest tighten, but I keep my head high, hoping James will laugh it off. But instead of a joke or a roll of his eyes, he glances at me, looks away, and mutters, “You don’t need to keep doing this. It’s kinda… clingy.”

Clingy. The word slices through me, and I freeze. I don’t even hear the guys teasing him further because the room goes silent in my head. Clingy.

Lars laughs. “Oh, she’s clingy now?” he grins. “Better watch out, man, she might end up moving in next.”

“Yeah, at least keep some space, Hetfield,” Kirk chimes in. “You don’t want to be tied down yet.”

My smile falters. I feel my face heat, and I force myself to nod. “Right. Sorry, I didn’t mean to hover.” My voice is too tight, too fake. I turn to leave quickly, wanting to get out before anyone can say anything else.

I don’t even make it to the door before I hear James mutter something, but it’s too late. I’m already out.

____

James Hetfield POV

The next few days are strange. She’s not at the studio, hasn’t called, hasn’t stopped by. When I wanted to go at bar she said that she had a headache. I figured at first she’d just been busy. But by the second day, I realize it’s more than that. She’s actively keeping her distance. I try to shake it off, thinking it’s just her way of taking some space, but there’s an unease gnawing at me.

My concentration is shot. The guys are noticing. I can’t get anything right during practice.

Bob Rock finally pulls me aside one evening, looking at me like he knows something’s wrong.

“You okay, James?” Bob asks, his tone casual but concerned. “You’ve been off the last couple of days. It’s like something’s not clicking.”

I rub my face, trying to avoid admitting it. “Just tired, man. It’s been a long couple of sessions.”

Bob gives me a look, his eyes narrowing slightly. “I get it. But, uh... I’ve noticed something, and I’m gonna be blunt with you, alright?”

I look up, a little surprised. “What’s that?”

Bob leans in slightly, his voice dropping. “When she’s here, when she’s around, you play better. Hell, the band’s tighter, too. There’s something about the way you focus when she’s here, like she brings out the best in you. But now that she’s gone... it’s like you’ve lost your spark.”

I stare at Bob, the words hitting harder than I expected. She makes me better? I never thought of it that way. But Bob’s right. Every time she showed up with lunch or a little note, I’d felt more grounded. More centered. The music flowed easier. And now? It’s like the fire’s gone out. The sessions feel lifeless. I’ve been distracted, unfocused.

Suddenly, I feel a deep pang of regret. I hadn’t realized how much she was actually keeping me grounded, how much her quiet presence affected me. I’d taken her for granted, pushed her away with my stupid, careless words. I can’t take it anymore. Not the silence. Not the distance between us. I’ve been calling her all week, and every time, it goes straight to voicemail. It’s eating me alive. I don’t care how bad I fucked up—I need to fix this. I need to see her, to hear her, to make sure she knows that I’m sorry. 

I jump in the car, my hands gripping the steering wheel too tightly. My thoughts are a jumbled mess. “Clingy” I said that word to her. And now I can't stop hearing it echoing in my head. The guys had joked, but I could see it in her eyes—she wasn’t laughing. I pushed her away, and now I can’t reach her. 

I don’t even think as I pull up to her building. I park quickly, my heart pounding in my chest, and rush to the door. My breath catches in my throat as I knock, then ring the doorbell. There’s no answer. I knock again, harder this time, and then… nothing. 

I press my ear against the door, and I hear movement inside. My stomach tightens. I don’t know if it’s hope or desperation, but I feel the overwhelming need to be with her, to fix what’s broken.

Finally, the door opens just enough for her face to peek through. Her eyes are tired, and she looks… fragile. Like she’s been holding herself together, but just barely.

I swallow hard. “Can we talk?” My voice cracks a little, betraying the anxiety twisting in my gut. “I need to talk to you.”

She doesn’t say anything. She doesn’t even step aside at first. For a second, I think she might slam the door in my face. But then she opens it wider, just enough to let me in. I walk past her, my heart hammering in my chest, and she follows me in silence.

The air between us is thick—heavy with everything that hasn’t been said. I turn around to face her, and for a moment, I can’t find the words. The look on her face… It breaks me. It’s like she’s shutting down, like she’s already made up her mind to walk away.

“I was stupid,” I blurt, the words tumbling out faster than I can control. “I shouldn’t have said that. "Clingy". What the hell was I thinking? You’re not clingy. You’re—God, I don’t even know how to fix this. I can’t take it back, but I can’t stand the thought of losing you.”

She just stands there, her eyes cold and distant. I hate it. I hate seeing her like this—like she doesn’t care anymore. The silence between us stretches out, making the weight of what I said feel heavier than ever.

“You don’t get it, do you?” Her voice is quieter than I expect, almost like a whisper. “You made me feel like I was too much. Like I wasn’t even wanted. I was just trying to be there for you, and you… you pushed me away. In front of the guys, James. You made me feel like a joke.”

Her words hit me like a punch to the gut. I can see it now—how badly I hurt her. How wrong I was. She’s standing there, so small, her shoulders slumped like she’s carrying the weight of everything I’ve said. 

I feel my chest tightening, my throat burning. “I’m sorry. I swear, I didn’t mean to do that. You’ve never been too much, not for me. I don’t know what I was thinking. You’re everything to me, and I—God, I don’t even know how I got so fucking stupid.”

I take a step toward her, my hand reaching out, but she pulls back slightly. “I don’t know if you even understand how much you hurt me,” she says, her voice shaking now. “You made me feel like I was suffocating you. And I can’t keep trying if you’re not going to see me. If you don’t want me around…”

The words trail off, and I can hear the tears in her voice. My heart shatters, and before I even realize it, I’m moving toward her, pulling her into my arms.

“I didn’t mean it,” I say, my voice breaking. “I don’t ever want to hurt you. I was a fucking idiot, okay? Please, don’t walk away from me.”

She stands still for a moment, then gives in, her body relaxing as she buries her face in my chest. I feel the wetness of her tears against my shirt, and it kills me. I never wanted to make her feel like this. Never.

“I miss you,” I whisper, holding her tighter. “I need you. Please don’t leave me.”

Her hands clutch the front of my shirt, and for a moment, we’re both just standing there, tangled up in the mess of emotions between us. The silence is raw, but it feels real.

She pulls back slightly, just enough to look me in the eyes. “You’ve gotta promise me, James. Promise me you’ll never do this again. That I’m not just some fucking joke to you.”

“I promise,” I say, my voice steady now. “I swear to you, I’ll never make you feel that way again. I’m sorry. I didn’t realize what I had until I almost lost it.”

And then, suddenly, I feel the need to say something else. Something that’s been weighing on me for a while. I pull her back into my arms, my hands gripping her tightly as I press my lips to her hair. “You know, I always appreciated you showing up at the studio. I never said it, but you always brought something with you—something that helped me focus.

When you’re there, I can think clearer, the music just comes to me better. It’s like I’m myself again, you know? And when you weren’t around these last couple of days, I realized how much I’ve been taking you for granted. I need you there. Not just because I like having you close, but because you make me better.”

She doesn’t speak for a moment, but I feel her body soften against mine. “I didn’t know that,” she whispers.

“I should have told you sooner,” I say, my voice thick with emotion. “I’m so sorry. I need you in my life. Not just in the studio, but everywhere.”

Her hand rests gently on my chest. “I need you too, James. But you’ve gotta prove it.”

“I will,” I promise, brushing my lips against her forehead. “Every day, I’ll show you.”

We stand there in the quiet of her apartment, the weight of everything between us slowly lifting. For the first time in days, I feel a sense of peace. I don’t know what the future holds, but I know that as long as I don’t let her go again, we’ll find our way through it together.

[a-great-tragedy]

I had this idea in the middle of the night where Regulus helps teach James to play the piano or something and makes a piece for James that is easy to play.

Anyways, every time James asks Lily out Regulus makes the piece 10 times harder to play because that is a petty man if I have ever seen one.

[cyripticchronicler]

i adore your writing & i had an random idea! (it’s absolutely okay if you don’t do it, i just thought i’d request <3)

any of the marauders having a crush on marauders!reader & the other maraduers just straight up teasing him about it all the time yet reader is SO oblivious to it & thinks the maraduer just flirts with everyone 😭

Teasing Words and Hidden Feelings

Paring: James Potter x Reader

Summary: You're used to Sirius and Remus's teasing, you just wish the things they always teased James about were true.

A/N: I haven't written in forever and this definitely isn't my best work. But thank you for requesting! I appreciate it and hope this fic did your request justice. Also please ignore the really bad summary and title lmao.

Warnings: Not proofread, kissing, alcohol, spoiler for the ending of Romeo and Juliet??

Masterlist

The candle-lit hall glows brightly in the dark of the night, chattering bouncing off the stone walls as people eat the feast in front of them. Remus and Sirius sit across from you, a knowing glint in their eyes as they huddle together, whispers drowned out by the bustling crowd in the great hall.

“What?” You question nervously, your hand fiddling with the hem of your skirt as they cast another look your way. 

James sits beside you, placing a comforting hand on your shoulder when he notices the confusion on your face. “Ignore them, love, they’re being idiots.” He shoots them a glare and Sirius waggles his eyebrows. “Sorry…Love,” He says to you, bursting out in laughter while he smacks his knee. 

Your heart sinks at the feeling of being left out, like you were missing the joke but you push those thoughts away, shooting James a warm smile and shoving food in your mouth. 

You’re relatively new to the group. James, Remus and Sirius have been friends for years, even hanging out over the summer, but you’ve only joined their group just last year, and you can’t help but feel you’re missing something when it comes to their jokes.

They've been nothing but kind and inclusive but it’s obvious that there’s something they’re not telling you. And when Sirius starts dramatically confessing his love to Remus while James sits beside you, tense as a rock, you’ve decided to just ask. 

“What are you doing?” You ask, your tone light as you look between the boys. Sirius stops what he’s doing, a mischievous smirk gracing his harsh features, “I’m acting out-”

“-The scene for the play he’s in.” James interrupts, laughing awkwardly and running a hand through his hair with flushed cheeks. Your heart tugs at his laugh and you smile, knowing you’d never get sick of hearing his joy. 

“You’re in a play, Sirius?” You ask, brows furrowed in confusion as you rack your mind to figure out whether the school even does plays. “Where are you doing the play? I’d love to come.” You smile supportively, though it wavers when you notice James cringing and Remus shooting you a pitying look. 

“Oh,” You force a laugh, “You’re not are you?”

Sirius shakes his head, grinning wide, “No, but I’d be great in a play. I mean, I have the looks for it.” He runs his hand through his silky black hair, posing and winking, “I could be part of that muggle play, Romeo and Juliet. Then I’d meet my true love.” He jokes and a small smile pulls at your lips. 

James chuckles, his arm hitting yours, “Maybe we should be part of the play, and you’re my Juliet.” Your cheeks flush ferociously at his words, eyes widening but you force yourself to shrug it off, knowing he flirts with everyone. “Yeah, maybe.”

Sirius groans, capturing your attention once again. “Did you hear that, James? Maybe. I’m telling you, darling, he’s going to go back to his dorm and cry himself to sleep. How could you be so cruel?”

You scowl playfully, “He’s going to need to try a lot harder than that if he wants me to be his Juliet.” From the corner of your eye, James nods, eyes glimmering in the candlelight. You turn to look at him fully, shooting him a small smile that he returns. 

“You know they both kill themselves, right?” Remus questions from where he sits, silently observing the conversation. 

“Oh.”

✰✰✰

The soft crackling of the fireplace has your eyes fluttering shut, moving your hand so that it’s placed under your cheek in a makeshift pillow. You know you should probably head up to your dorm for an actual nap, but the warmth of the common room draws you in until you’re lying on the couch in front of the fire, the hand that’s not under your chin moving to cover your eyes from the bright sun that reflects through the window. 

It’s Saturday and you’ve planned to sleep the draining week behind, the clear sky allowing you to rest in an empty common room since everyone else decided to soak in the sun. 

You’re close to falling asleep, ready to sleep your problems away when the common room door opens, the familiar sounds of the boys laugh causing you to snap your eyes open. 

You smile at the snarky comments aimed at each other, sitting up to peek at them over the couch. Remus spots your slow movements, grinning at you with a roll of his eyes and coming to sit in the armchair across from you. 

“Were you trying to sleep?” He asks, amusement shining in his eyes when you nod, returning to your previous position lying down, eyes fighting to stay open. 

“How was Hogsmeade?” You attempt to converse, though you wish to sleep. “It was good!” Sirius answers for Remus, patting your head playfully as he moves towards the other couch, legs splayed out in front of him, leaving no room for James and you roll your eyes with a smile, forcing yourself to sit up so there’s room for him. 

“Thank you, Love.” He winks and you blush, the strength in your neck failing you as your head falls on his shoulder. He tenses and holds his breath, cheeks turning a deep red. 

Remus notices and grins cheekily, “Remember to breathe, James, or else you’ll never get to ask her on a date.” 

Your eyes widen and you groan, moving to sit up properly. James grips the back of your neck, moving you so you’re back against his shoulder, your heart beating wildly in your chest, resounding in your ears. “It’s okay, love, I’ll make sure to ask you out on a date before I die.” He mutters, playfulness coating his voice though his smile is strained. You scoff to cover the squeal that threatens to escape your lips, “Go find another girl to torture please.” You don’t mean it, wanting nothing more for James to mean the words he’s saying. 

But he’s a flirt. You’ve seen the way he talks to others, the way they blush and bite their lips, you just wish he didn’t have such a big effect on you. That he didn’t cause your heart to speed up, your palms to turn sweaty, or your body to burn from his gaze. 

You lay back down, knees curled up to your chest so James has room, you close your eyes, planning to ignore the boys as they chat quietly. 

You’re half asleep when James grabs your calf, moving so your feet are atop his legs, thumb gently stroking your ankle. 

“You’re so whipped.”

“Shut up, Moony.”

✰✰✰

Your screams are drowned out by the others around you, hands clapping while you jump up and down, breaking out into laughter when you make eye contact with Lily who’s cheering just as hard.

James’ smile is the sun itself, his wide grin shining as he soars through the sky, arm up high, showing off the golden snitch.

His eyes search the crowd, landing on you and you grin, biting your lip to contain your laughter. His eyes crinkle, head tilting in an invite for you to get off the stands.

You make your way with the rest of the crowd, linking arms with Remus so you don’t get split up. You’re talking excitedly when you make it to the field, hands moving frantically in front of you. “He was amazing, Remus! He was so fast- Merlin he’s incredible.” You laugh, jumping up and down.

Remus chuckles. “Why don’t you tell him that? He’d grow red faster than you could blink.” Hitting him playfully on the arm, you roll your eyes. “Oh shush.”

Your eyes track James, talking to Sirius with a big smile. You run up, pulling him in for a tight hug. “You did so well,” You whisper, breath fanning across his neck, unknowingly sending goosebumps up his spine.

He kisses your head, your heart skipping a beat, “Thank you, Love. It means a lot to me.” With one hand stroking your cheek gently, the other moves to push a stray strand of hair behind your ear.

You turn to mush, eyes softening. “James, I-“

“Quick Remus do the same,” You frown, turning around to see Sirius forcing Remus’ hand on his cheek, giving him his best doe eyes.

“What the-“

James forces your eyes back on him, a tight smile on his face. “Ignore them. What were you going to say?”

You shake your head, hands moving to hold his arm, muscles straining against the tight quidditch shirt, “Nothing. Are we celebrating the Gryffindor win tonight?”

He nods, walking off and not casting a glance toward Remus and Sirius behind you, “Yeah, you coming?”

You nod, “For a little bit.”

He winks, wrapping his arm around your waist. “I'm glad, It won’t be a party without you.”

You both jump as Sirius interrupts our conversation, “I’m coming to the party too, Padfoot. Are you just so so happy I’m coming? Will it make the party a million times better?” he pouts, doe eyes aimed at James and you snort.

James groans, pushing him away playfully. “Fuck off.”

He grins, moving so he’s in front of us, walking backwards, “I see who your favourite is. It’ll never be me, will it?” He sighs sadly, lips turning down into a pout.

“She is my favourite,” James mutters, smiling cheekily at me and my cheeks flush.

✰✰✰

The party is in full swing by the time you make it to the common room and everyone cheers when James enters. You grin, moving to give James the spotlight but he grips your hand tightly, ensuring you don’t leave his side. 

With a flush, you grab a random bottle of alcohol, pour it into a cup and practically chug it down, relishing in the buzz it gives you. 

“You planning on getting drunk?” James asks, amusement shining in his eyes when you pour yourself another drink. “Merlin, yes,” You laugh. He rolls his eyes, hands reaching up to pull the cup from your nimble hands. 

Before you have time to glare, he refills it and takes a small sip before handing it back to you. 

You grin, grabbing his hand and pulling him into the crowd. He gets swept away, conversing with people about the game. You find Lily and Alice to talk to for a bit, downing your drink and finding another. 

By the time James returns to your side from where you’re standing by yourself in the corner, eying the crowd, you’re more than tipsy, on the way to drunk. 

“You look so pretty,” James mutters in your ear, causing you to grin. “You’re also pretty.” His cheeks flush a deep red, suddenly shy. “Thank you, love.”

You take a sip from your fifth drink of the night, “You’re also hot.” You don’t flush or show an ounce of shame, the alcohol giving you confidence.

He grins through red cheeks, “Yeah?” You nod. “You’re also hot.” His hands land on your waist, pulling you into him. You shake your head, “I’m pretty. Don’t know about hot though.”

James shakes his head immediately. “No, Love. You’re so hot. You make my knees weak every time I see you. Do you know how hard it is to control myself when you walk in, drop-dead gorgeous and looking so fine? Trust me, you’re hot.”

You sober slightly at his words, moving your hands up to link behind his neck. Your palms stick with sweat, legs turn to mush beneath you. “Yeah?” He just nods in response, eyes tracking your face, trying to gauge your reaction. 

Without thinking about the consequences, you pull him in. 

He responds immediately, lips meeting yours with an urgency, his hands gripping your hips tight. His hair in your fingers, you pull him harder against you, growing dizzy at his groan. He deepens the kiss, devouring you completely. 

The lack of oxygen forces you apart, lips wet and swollen. James doesn’t go far, his forehead falling against yours. You suddenly grow nervous, looking down at your bodies, pressed against each other. “I should’ve asked first. I’m sorry.”

He shakes his head immediately, placing a kiss on your nose as his hands rub soothing circles from where they now rest on your waist. “You can kiss me anytime, anywhere. No need to ask.”

You grow hopeful, eyes lighting up, “Does that mean you like me too?” The room is crowded but the way James is staring at you makes you feel like the only person in the world, the crowd droned out by the happiness and love reflecting in his eyes. 

“Honey, I love you,” He states sincerely, nothing but honesty painting his features. Your mouth stretches into a wide smile, heart flipping in giddy, “I love you too, James.”

“Thank the heavens above,” He mutters playfully and you laugh loudly, fingers fisting his shirt.

 ✰✰✰

The great hall is obnoxiously loud, the early morning light shining through the pristine windows making you squint, a frown pulling at your lips. The pounding in your head is hard to ignore and painful enough to make you regret drinking so much last night. 

But James is sitting next to you, his large hand in yours under the table while his thigh presses against your own. The subtle touches warm you over, an unmistakable flush crawling up your neck. “You look so cute,” James whispers into your ear, his soft eyes, filled with admiration inspecting your face. 

You smile wildly. “Thank you, so do you.” His free hand drops the spoon he was holding and brushes a stray strand of hair from my face. He leans closer, hand cradling my jaw gently. A loud clearing of the throat from across the table has us looking away, your eyes narrowing at the confused looks on Sirius and Remus’ faces. 

Sirius his confusion off with a grin, twisting his body so he’s facing Remus, hands moving dramatically in front of him. “Remus! Please, let me call you cute and almost kiss you!”

Remus turns to face him, one of his scarred hands cradling his jaw with a mischievous grin. “Of course! But I’m going to be oblivious while my friends grow sick of our pining.”

“You know we’re together…Right?”

Their wide eyes whip around to face us, jaws to the floor. Remus’ hands are still on Sirius’ jaw as he mutters in shock, “What?”

[ilyregulus]

double tap – regulus black x reader

all up in your timeline, double tapping, i like, like, hoping that you don't mind, mind, that was 4 weeks old

summary: regulus black and reader have unsaid feelings for each other and regulus decides to make the first move online

warnings: social media au, they all have a good relationship, y/n is portrayed as ariana greenblatt but feel free to imagine anyway you like. also, it's my first time doing it and english is not my first language, hope you guys like it :)

liked by marlsmcknn, prongspotter, rablack and others

yn.yln: night out!

comments:

marlsmcknn: girl give me a chance!!!

↪yn.yln: anytime!

notsirius: is that my jacket?

↪yn.yln: oops 🫣

prongspotter: wait...have you guys see regulus in the likes?

↪bartyjr: my boy is finally making a move

↪itsdorcas: i mean...

↪notsirius: bro, you need to try harder than that

↪yn.yln: 👀

liked by prongspotter, notsirius, rablack and others

yn.yln: not that into quidditch but anything for my friends right?

comments:

moonylupin: i only come for the players...

↪yn.yln: honestly, same!!

↪notsirius: playerS? seriously moony?

rablack: bet i could change your mind

↪rosierevan: omg can't believe you had the balls

↪bartyjr: i'm so proud!!

↪marlsmcknn: i just gasped

↪prongspotter: sirius come see this!!

↪justmary: i wasn't expecting that

liked by bartyjr, rosierevan, yn.yln and others

rablack: victory looks better in green

comments:

lovelypandora: i'm so happy for you reggie!

prongspotter: watch out black, you're playing us next week!

itsdorcas: yesss!!!

bartyjr: slytherin is the best!!!

yn.yln: well, i guess the players are really worth the game 🤭

↪marlsmcknn: the betrayal!!!

↪rablack: told you, love 😉

↪notsirius: i don't think i'm liking this anymore

↪rosrierevan: wow y/n has game!!

↪lilyevans: omg...love???

liked by marlsmcknn, justmary, rablack and others

yn.yln: loving the view

comments:

marlsmcknn: giiirl 👀

notsirius: wait...who took it?

↪yn.yln: not you

↪notsirius: obviously

moonylupin: is she doing what i think she's doing?

↪justmary: definitely

↪prongspotter: and that would be...?

↪lilyevans: oh c'mon james

rosierevan: is she talking about regulus???

rablack: you look gorgeous!

↪bartyjr: tell us, were you her view?

↪rablack: get lost crouch

liked by yn.yln, notsirius, lovelypandora and others

rablack: elle est le plus bel art!

comments:

bartyjr: you know not everyone speaks french right?

↪lovelypandora: he said "she is the most beautiful art!", that's so cute reggie!!

lilyevans: i'm so happyyy

notsirius: my little bro is in love, i'm crying, i feel so old watching him all grown up 😭😭

↪moonylupin: oh the drama...

yn.yln: jet' aime, reg!

↪rablack: je t'aime ma chérie

↪prongspotter: wow guess is really oficial now

↪justmary: guess it always has been

itsdorcas: can't fight with them on the aesthetic

↪marlsmcknn: right? such a poetic soft launch

[the-hopeless-haze]

Let’s Spend the Night Together

Chapter 3 of If You Want It, You Can Bleed on Me

Greg House x Reader

Word count: 6.5k ??? what did I do

NSFW - smut

“Where does she live?” Greg asks James.

“If I tell you, am I assisting you in a crime?” James asks in response, barely looking up from his desk.

“I’m sure she told you about our date later.”

James huffs in frustration, finally looking up at him. “You’re insufferable.”

“Did you like her? Is that it?” Greg questions, trying to get to the bottom of his friend’s snarky behavior. Not that this wasn’t the usual from him. It was one of the things Greg loved about him, that he was always a little fed up with him, always preemptively aggravated, always in a state of annoyance. It was harder to piss someone off that was always a little pissed with him at baseline.

“Is that what you think? Because if that’s the reason you’re taking her out… you’re more fucked than I thought.”

“The correct answer would have been, ‘no, Greg, I do not want to sleep with her because I am married’ but we’ll go with that.”

James sighs, looking up at him. “Yes. She’s very attractive. But no, I had no intention of entertaining her.”

“Then what’s your issue?”

“Because I don’t know why you’re doing this. You sick of your prostitutes?”

Greg scoffs. “This isn’t about sex.”

“It’s not? I’m mistaken then, because you were flirting with her, made comments about her body, called her to your office…”

“Okay,” he corrects. “It’s not just about sex.”

“Are you trying to tell me you want to date her without saying the words? Because if so… congratulations.”

“No. I want to figure her out.”

“Just look in her chart. Save both of you the trouble.”

“It’s no fun if I learn all the answers at once.”

“Do you ever wonder why you’re single?” James asks.

“Do you ever wonder why you’re unhappily married?” Greg counters. “And. About that. Either her psychiatry training gave her some leg-up here or you tipped her off. She went through her files already. All that she left was a med list.”

“You already looked?” James asks, incredulous.

“Yeah. No birth control. Wonder what that’s about? Propranolol. Maybe some blood pressure issue… she’s young for that and that’s not first line. Idiopathic tachycardia? Maybe. Anxiety?”

“She can’t have an interesting med list. Stop looking for zebras. She’s barely thirty.”

“No birth control and barely thirty? Either she’s not getting any or she’s tied her tubes already.”

“Or… if she does have a blood pressure issue she can’t be on it. Or she has an IUD. Actually… don’t drag me into this.”

“Lamotrigine. Seizures. Bipolar disorder. What’s more likely?”

“lamotrigine isn’t the first-line med for either. Maybe you’ll have to talk to her.”

Greg rolls his eyes. “No fun. Hey… she’s on Vicodin.”

“A match made in hell,” Wilson grumbles, running his hands over his face.

“Well. She was. Eight years ago.”

“Most people don’t stay on it indefinitely.”

“Why would she leave that on there? It’s just these three meds.”

“Don’t you have an actual patient?”

He shrugs. “I need her address. I’m picking her up in three hours.”

“At least buy her dinner. Do not just bring her to your apartment.”

“I can’t learn anything if I just have sex with her. I mean, I’ll definitely learn some things, but…”

“Well, I don’t have her address.”

“You’ve got to have her address. You hired her.”

“Nope. I’m not her direct supervisor since she’s a consult. You’d have to talk to the head of psychiatry or Cuddy. And no. I’m not losing my job searching for it.”

“She took it out of her medical records,” he says, shaking his head, but he’s smiling. “I guess she likes to play.”

——————

“So let me get this straight. You want me to risk the safety of one of my employees so you can drive by her apartment?”

Greg looks at Cuddy for a moment, as if he’s  actually thinking about her summary of his request and he nods. “Yeah. That sounds about right.”

Sighing, she says, “I shouldn’t be shocked you live the rest of your life like you practice medicine, but I don’t care about the results here. The answer is no, House.”

“It’ll be worth your while.”

“Yeah? Why?”

“Because… if I get laid I’m in a better mood which means I’m less likely to cause you issues.”

“Right. Hm. Surprising, but that didn’t persuade me.”

“Have you met her?”

“Is that supposed to convince me?” she asks, looking up at him for a second.

He shrugs. “I don’t know. She does work in psychiatry. For someone who constantly loves to tell me I have a drug problem and there’s something wrong with me I’d think you’d want to make sure this relationship runs smoothly.”

She rolls her eyes at him. “I feel like you and I both know you’re not doing this for the emotional healing.”

“I won’t be doing anything if no one gives me her address,” he grumbles. He doesn’t tell her but for once he can’t believe how stupid he was that he fell for that, that he thought you might be interested.

“Hm. Well. I’m busy, House.”

He walks out without a word, heading back to his office. It’s 7:00.

Well. Alone again. Not much different than the last night or the night before that.

And he knows he could have Cameron. She’s been not so subtle in trying to get his attention, and yes, he certainly didn’t help matters by telling her she’s beautiful. Sure. But she isn’t… she’s not what he wants. He doesn’t need someone to take him on like a charity case.

You… you were fucking with him. And it’s fair, maybe he even deserves it. Maybe you got off on this, being a Walmart version of a femme-fatale, wounding men’s egos, seeing which ones would chase you and which ones would give up after a little pain.

Doesn’t really ease the sting of the ache of rejection, though. That you’d brush him off that easy, leave him without an avenue to reach you.

Sighing, he turns on the TV, trying and failing to focus on the screen, but you’d taken over his mind like a case he was on the brink of solving and just couldn’t get there.

8:15. He gets a page from your number. “YOURE LATE”. It reads.

Well. Screw that. He still had a way to reach you after all.

Possibly.

Smiling to himself, he calls down to the psych ward, asking for you. You’re not there, they say, but they’ll be happy to transfer him to your extension if you’re still in the building.

“I thought hookers took pride in their punctuality,” you say when you answer the phone.

“You’re kind of a bitch, huh?” He asks, trying not to let his chuckle be so audible in the receiver.

“You keep Wilson around. You love bitches.”

“Funny. Would’ve thought you’d been swooning, begging him to leave his wife by now.”

“I’m not so easily charmed.”

“Those big brown eyes don’t do it for you?”

“Sounds like they do it for you. Something you want to tell me, Gregory?”

“Don’t ever call me that,” he sighs.

“Not going to deny the gay allegations but you’ll draw the line at me calling you by your first name? What gives, House?”

“You can call me Greg.”

“Wow, could I? What an honor that we’re on first name basis.”

“Not many get the privilege.”

“Still haven’t denied the gay allegation.”

“Don’t really see the point. You’ll believe what you believe regardless.”

“Wow. Truly. A disaster of a man in all other regards but you’re comfortable in your sexuality? Greg is 1 for 0.”

“I have one male best friend and I’ve been single for five years. I embrace the gay jokes at this point.”

“Five years?”

“Yeah. It’s been a while for you too, huh?”

“What makes you so sure?”

“No reason,” he lies.

“Right.”

“You’re single now.”

“Moved here less than a year ago. Haven’t really had the chance to meet people.”

“Okay. What hellhole did you crawl out of to willingly move to Jersey?”

“Maybe I just like Frank Sinatra.”

“He’s dead. You didn’t come here for something. You left something and you came here to make sure whatever it was didn’t follow you.”

“Is this really the date you had in mind?” you ask.

“Nice deflection.”

“I just moved. No story there.”

“Also. Almost a year? And no one’s asked you out?”

“I can say no, you know.”

“You didn’t say no to me.”

“Maybe I should’ve.”

“Cold. Come down here. I’ll walk you out to my car.”

————-

“Ah. The bitch arrives,” he says, looking you up and down again, not hiding his checking you out. You’d changed, red blouse with a leather jacket and most likely the same black slacks you were wearing earlier. “Not quite slutty enough.”

“Could say the same for you. Where’s the assless chaps?”

“I could never pull that off,” he says. “You could, though.”

He’d changed, too, a button down with slacks for once instead of jeans... at Wilson’s nagging of course.

“Here,” he says, handing you a bouquet of flowers he thought for a second were going to wilt away at his desk.

“Flowers? don’t tell me you went all out. Maybe you’re not as much of a disaster as I thought.”

“I shouldn’t give them to you since you stood me, a cripple, up.”

“Stood you up? You didn’t come get me.”

“You never told me where to get you. Ergo… you stood me up.”

“You were supposed to figure it out.”

“Yeah. Right. Wilson didn’t know and Cuddy wouldn’t put out. And you knew I wouldn’t figure it out. That’s why you stayed here.”

“You actually asked Cuddy?”

“What? I’ve asked her for much worse.”

You shake your head, smiling. “Falling head over heels for me already, Greg?”

“Puzzles are no fun if you can’t figure out the answer.” He doesn’t say that the unsolved cases haunt him, nag him and he sees them where they’re not.

One day he knows you’ll haunt him, too. One day, when you leave, when he pushes this until it breaks.

“Mm. Try harder then,” you say.

“You gave me an unsolvable puzzle.”

“Mm. Not really. You gave it to yourself. You said you were picking me up at my place. I stayed here and gave you the easy way out.”

“You could’ve left it—“ he cuts himself off, lest he incriminate himself.

“Left it where, Greg?” you ask, bemused.

“Nowhere.”

“Right,” you laugh. “So what opiate do you pop constantly?”

“You don’t know?”

“No.”

“Funny.”

“Why would that be funny, Greg?”

“Let me sleep with you first.”

“Absolutely not,” you say, grinning at him.

“Well, I shouldn’t have thought you’d be easy if you’ve put me through hell just to take you out,” he sighs.

“Don’t think I’ll leave you completely wanting, though,” you say, reaching out to touch his face, his stubble scratching your hand pleasantly, a shiver running down your spine. You run your thumb over his bottom lip gently.

Tentatively, he reaches out for you, too, copying your movements, hand on your cheek, thumb over your lips, but then your tongue darts out to run over the pad of his thumb and he thinks he might die right there. “Dirty girl,” he chuckles, smirking.

“Mm. You’re pretty, Greg,” you say, with enough sincerity he almost believes you’re not bullshitting him.

“Pretty? That’s a first.”

“Like no one’s ever told you.”

“Maybe ten years ago.”

“Mm. It’s those eyes,” you say, stepping a little closer to him, letting your breath mingle with his, snaking your hand around the back of his neck. Your lips almost touch, once, twice, wordlessly. “You gonna kiss me or not, Greg?”

You expect him to be rougher but he’s soft, testing the waters, lips still barely touching yours until he gives in, gives you what you want, kisses you like he means it. God, it’s been too long, and you missed it, the thrill of kissing somebody new, and you can feel his anticipation, electricity from your skin to his.

“Come on,” he says, breaking away from you after a few minutes. “I said I’d take you to dinner.”

———

“So what is it? Percs?” you ask once you’ve been seated and get waters. It’s a nice place he chose, somewhere a little out of the way, mostly serving Italian fare and seafood. It’s where men who haven’t been on a date in a while would choose to bring a woman, you figure.

“Percs? You do some time on the street?” he asks.

“So what if I did?” you counter.

He shakes his head. “Not your story. I’m not buying that.”

“Fine. Used to work at an addiction treatment facility when I was a nurse. Everyone calls them percs, though. Not exactly some down low street name.”

“It’s Vicodin.”

“Nasty drug,” you say.

“Really? I think they’re yummy.”

“You would.”

“What’s your personal aversion to them? They take you on a bad date?”

“Got them prescribed after a motorcycle accident. Didn’t agree with me.”

“Hm. You driving?”

“No.”

“What’d you break?”

“My leg.”

“Which one?”

“Right femur.”

Wilson was going to have a field day. Match made in hell, alright. Wilson’s personal hell, that is.

“Femurs are hard to break.”

“When your partner is drunk and doesn’t care about anything it’s not that hard,” you say, shrugging your shoulders. “Lucky I didn’t die. I mean, not that I cared so much then.”

“Partner? What were you, 19?”

“22,” you say, silently cursing yourself for not just saying boyfriend.

“Did they not make it?”

You look at him questioningly but don’t say anything about his use of the gender neutral. You don’t want to have that conversation tonight. “No. Life support for a couple weeks until they pulled it.”

“Hm. So that wasn’t the reason you left.”

“No. There was no reason. I just needed a change of scenery.”

“Right,” he says. “Jersey isn’t usually the place people pick for a change of scenery.”

“How’d you end up here, then?”

“There was a job opening,” he answers.

“You were running away from something, too.”

“No, I was running to something. I needed a place to hire me and Cuddy was the only one insane enough to take me on at that point.”

“You’ve always been discourteous and unprofessional?”

“Those are my middle names,” he snarks.

There’s a natural break in the conversation as the waiter comes back to take orders. Greg takes notice of what you order, a baked scrod, certainly not the least expensive thing you could have ordered but not the most, either. It’s an assessment of how you value yourself, he thinks. Average. Average is boring.

Or you could just like scrod, he supposes.

“Why are you single?” he asks.

“I don’t know. Life was busy. Didn’t have time for relationships,” you say, shrugging. “Why are you?”

“Myriad of reasons.”

“Give me one.”

“My leg,” he responds indignantly.

“What happened to it?” you ask.”

“That’s a second date conversation.”

"You're in pain."

"How'd you know?" He asks sarcastically.

"Was it the cane? The Vicodin?"

'I think it was your charming personality.

Anyway. If you're going to cite your leg as a reason you're single, I'd love to know why."

"I was with someone when it happened. It's a long story."

"We've got nothing but time,” you say.

"You really won't sleep with me if I don't tell you?" House asks.

"Nope. Keep pushing me and I never will.

Tell me."

House sighs dramatically. "I had an infarction in my thigh muscle. No one knew what it was, I diagnosed it, but... so much of the muscle was dead already. I didn't want an amputation, I wanted a bypass. I didn't care about the pain. I just wanted to be able to use my leg. I asked them to put me under sedation to cope with the pain at the time... and the woman I was with decided it would be a good idea to remove the dead muscle completely."

"You made her your medical proxy?”

"Mm. Stupid decision on my part,” he says.

"Any medical background?"

"Nope."

"Then yes. Stupid decision,” you agree.

"I'm sure you've made plenty of stupid decisions. Getting on that motorcycle, for one,” he says, adding a jab at the end so to help heal his wounded ego a little.

"We all make mistakes. It's human. So... what's the reason now? You resent people who can walk without pain so you don't get close to anybody? It interferes with sex? You feel like no woman would want to deal with it long term?"

House sighs and rolls his eyes. "Do you really think it interferes with sex? Is that what you're worried about?"

"No. I'm asking if that's what you-"

"No. You see me as a potential sexual partner, correct?"

"I never said that."

"We're going with it. You ask me as if you're posing the question to me... but you're projecting."

"And you're deflecting. I asked you three questions and you didn't answer one" you point out.

"No. It doesn't interfere with sex, at least not to the point where you have to worry if I

can get you off or not. Whenever you decide to spread your legs for me... you'll see."

You feel your cheeks redden a little and cough. "I asked you two other questions."

"They weren't what you were getting at."

"Entertain me."

"No. It's not that I resent people. Am I jealous? Sometimes. I'd love to know what it's like to wake up in the morning without pain. But I'm not going to wake up every morning wanting to kill my partner because she jogs every morning and I can't."

"Is it because you've been able to accept it?

Was it an issue with your girlfriend at the time, coming to terms with it?"

"What do you think?"

"Yes."

Greg shrugs. “Not hard to put that together. I bet I could get a psychiatric nursing degree too.”

"Third question? You feel like no woman would want to deal with it?"

"Mm. Or she'd want to deal with it for the wrong reasons, take me on like I'm a charity case. That's unattractive for an abundance of reasons. You could go that way, I think, or you used to."

"You think I'm taking you on as a charity case? You pursued me.”

"You agreed. You didn't think for a second,

'well, he's a cripple, I'd better at least give him a shot'?"

"Your leg is not the reason I am here," you say firmly.

"What is it then, my deep blue eyes? This big, thick cane? My ray of sunshine personality?"

You chuckle. "It's your drive. You barely knew me, decided I was interesting and pursued me without abandon. That is attractive."

"You're not curious as to why you?"

"Little tits and ass, as Keith Richards would say?" You ask. "I'm used to being objectified. Pretty privilege is a thing. I'm sure you have noticed that yourself. If there's something deeper, enlighten me."

"Well, you are attractive, there's no doubting that. But I intend to find out why you're in the medical field, and psychiatry at that. It's like Cameron, on my team. You're gorgeous enough to have become an actress, marry a millionaire. Something happened to you to make you choose this."

"Did you take Cameron out until you figured what her deal was?"

"No. Cameron pities me. I have no interest in her that way."

"Well. Why do you assume brilliant minds reside only in unattractive faces? Why do you assume I worked my ass off to get here because of some past trauma when this could have just been a goal of mine like it could've been if I wasn't as hot as you think l am?”

"Okay. Then why did you choose psychiatry?"

"That's a second date conversation." You quip.

He smiles wryly at you. "You coaxed my issue out of me. Come on."

“I hold fast to my principles. You're weak,” you say, grinning back. “Why are you a doctor, then, hm?”

“I’m not a beautiful woman.”

“Right…” you say. “Chase is pretty. Foreman is too, you know. Either of them could’ve done something easier.”

“Chase is trying desperately to fill his father’s shoes. His father was a doctor, and well, you know how that story goes. And Foreman is an overcoming adversity case. He could’ve been a hood rat. He was on that path.”

“You know… women just started to be able to open credit cards in 1971. Maybe I don’t want to have to rely on a man to make a living.”

“No. Believe me, I get that. My point was there’s easier ways to make money. You chose the hard way,” he says. “And unpopular way. People become doctors and they fantasize about cutting people open and diagnosing infections, not getting hit and restraining children.”

“Your hypothesis is stupid. Maybe I don’t want to be an actor or model… or an infectious disease specialist,” you say. “And I think we’re all damaged. All of us. No one gets out unscathed.”

“No one just chooses psychiatry because it’s such a good time.”

“They do when it can make them ridiculous money without as many hardships as medical school. I could be using my degree to write suboxone scripts and make more than I’m making right now. I know a lot of people who went back for that.”

“Proving my point. Why are you doing things the hard way?”

“You take on the most difficult cases across the country, cases no one else can solve. You’re doing things the hard way, too. Why? Because the easy way is boring.”

Greg smiles at that. “Fair enough.”

“Yeah. Fair enough.”

—————

You don’t quite know how you got here. Or well, you do. Greg asked you to come back to his place for drinks, and you agreed, and you should’ve known better but it’s been years and you can’t really care too much when his warm body is underneath you, his tongue down your throat, his hands everywhere he can reach.

“How bad are you hurting?” you ask him, breathlessly.

“I’m fine. Don’t worry,” he whispers back, reaching a hand back to touch your chin. “What do you want to come of tonight?”

“Let’s just see where this leads us,” you say, leaning back to kiss him again.

But he stops you, gentle pressure on your jaw to prevent you from closing the space between your lips. “I need to know what you want.”

You sigh, pressing your elbow in his chest as leverage to lift yourself off him, and you sit next to his feet on the other side of the couch. “Why are you asking?”

“Because I don’t want this to head somewhere we can’t get back from. Move over,” he says, and winces, moving his legs back over to sit beside you again.

“It wasn’t sexual trauma,” you huff, aggravated. “You can say I’m damaged all you want but that doesn’t mean you have to treat me like glass.”

“I tried to take your shirt off and you pushed me away but you kept kissing me. What do you want?”

“What do you want?” You ask, glaring at him.

Truth was, you were using him, maybe just like he was using you. You hadn’t had the opportunity to make quite as bad of a decision as sleeping with the man in front of you in a long time. And as bad decisions go, he wasn’t so terrible anyway. You like him so far, you think he’s attractive. But you know Wilson is right, that he might drag you down to places you haven’t been in a long time.

Still.

It’s been a while since you’ve felt something. You want the hating yourself in the morning for giving yourself away so soon, you want the walk of shame as he drives you back to the hospital where you left your car, you want to revel in the fact that Greg will be telling people how you were in bed, bragging that he got you in between his sheets. You want the dopamine hit and the subsequent crash.

You spent so long getting healthy but you had to keep everyone at arm’s length to do it. It was probably the worst idea to try to get close to someone else who also isolated people and couldn’t even be healthy then.

Why didn’t he just want it to be easy? Just fuck you and be done with it, continue if it’s convenient and worth the effort. Easy is boring, sure, but sex isn’t boring even if it’s easy (if so, he wouldn’t be seeing hookers, would he?). And you know he wants to fuck you, but why he wants to make it difficult… it’s beyond your reach at this moment.

“I want… I don’t know,” he admits, because he doesn’t.

Prostitutes were one thing. Vulnerability there didn’t really matter. They were doing a job and they didn’t even take a second glance at his leg. As long as they were getting paid. If he wanted attention drawn to it, they’d kiss it red with their lipstick but because he tells them to leave it alone… they do.

Sleeping with somebody new… it’s so much harder. It’s so much easier with someone you know. Or someone you don’t have an obligation to know.

With an aim to please rather than take, he doesn’t know how he’d perform.

Looking at his face, reading the ambivalence there, it suddenly clicks. If Wilson knew the truth, if you really are the first woman since his injury, there’s a lot of insecurity in being seen.

And you know all about being seen.

It’s easy to come off with bravado and arrogance but when you’re actually in the situation, when you’re called to be vulnerable… it’s something else entirely.

“Do you want to have sex with me?” you ask quietly.

“Yes. God yes,” he affirms, nodding his head. “Don’t take tonight as an indication.”

“It’s okay. I understand,” you say, nodding.

“That doesn’t mean… that doesn’t mean I can’t help you get off.”

You raise an eyebrow at him. “That’s still sex.”

Scoffing, he rolls his eyes. “If you’re in high school.”

“What do you think lesbians do?”

He raises his eyebrows, chucking a little. “Are you a lesbian?”

“You wish,” you laugh. “Say you could be the one that changed me.”

“I would. Except people don’t change.”

“Yeah. They do. They change all the time,” you counter, shrugging your shoulders. “Every day, every hour, every moment… it changes you. They’re minuscule changes, changes you don’t see immediately, but you look back a decade and then it clicks.”

“Right. Maybe. But fundamentally people don’t change. The parts change, but the whole never does.”

You want to say that he has been changed, that his leg injury changed him, that he holds so steadfast to that belief that people never change so he can convince himself he was always this miserable. Sure, you get the feeling he was fucked before, but this did change him. Made him worse. Made him push people away.

You don’t say that, though. You know deep down he knows it and doesn’t want to face it.

“Do you want to have sex with me?” he asks, insecurity creeping in, and he doesn’t know why this is so difficult or why he cares at all. He could pay for what he wanted, live his hedonistic lifestyle and not have to worry if the woman in front of him wanted to fuck him or not.

You aren’t boring.

But that’s not true, anyway, that’s not why he keeps people at arms length. Routine medical cases are boring, but people aren’t. It’s why he went through all the files he could of the applicants for his team, trying to pick the combination that would interest him the most, play off each other in ways he could live vicariously through. They weren’t the most deserving, or the most academically gifted, they were the most interesting. It’s why he loves gossip, loves knowing about things that don’t concern him, always living life like it’s a spectator sport and he’s got front row seats.

It’s always the people that love to watch that hate to be seen.

“I could be convinced,” you say, in that bitchy tone he knows hes going to love to hate. You soften; though, turn to him, your hair falling a little in your face, kiss him gently on the mouth.

Greg responds in kind, deepening the kiss, his hands tangling in your hair, pulling lightly before traveling to your breasts, kneading your flesh through your shirt.

“Could you be convinced to have lesbian sex with me right now?” he asks.

You’d burst out laughing if you also weren’t so admittedly and ashamedly turned on right now. “Yeah. Sure. Think you’d have an easier time in bed though.”

“You treat me like all your girls?” he asks, a glint in his eye, and oh, there’s the being seen. You’re not a fan, either. You’re surprised he’s not being forthright about what he no doubt is putting together, but ultimately you’re thankful.

“A slut’s a slut,” you quip as he leans back in, his mouth barely touching yours and he chuckles against your skin.

“You really are a bitch.”

“Mm,” you agree, closing the distance between you again, pulling him to stand up with you, letting him lean on you as he puts weight on it again.

“I’m sorry,” he says quickly, without thinking, never one to apologize for his actions but never one to let his disability affect others, either.

“It’s okay, Greg,” you whisper. “I got you.”

“No, I’ll go get—��

You stop him, holding his jaw gently in your hand. “It’s okay.”

Empathy. Not sympathy.

You had been here, in a way. Femur fractures take a good six months to heal. You walked half a year in his shoes on the same medication he was on.

Now it all clicks, what James had done, keeping you two apart to bring you together, doing something by not doing anything, letting it all happen by chance. He had been patient enough to let time do most of the work, something Greg could never do, but something that ultimately worked in his favor.

It’s okay. We all need someone we can lean on. If you want it, you can lean on me.

You still lived a life without pain.

Greg hates it, hates it all, and if you had had just the slightest twinge of force, the slightest indication that you were saying it was okay just to say something he would’ve told you to get out. He hates the way it kills intimacy, makes him older, more decrepit, makes him dependent, in a way. There’s certain things he can never do, or that he’d need help to do, and it’s something a woman would leave him for.

It’s something a woman did leave him for.

He wants to hug you, but that would feel too much, too intimate, too soon, so he kisses you again instead, and then the two of you hobble on to his bedroom. It hurts. God, it hurts, aches like it always does, maybe more so—the last pill he took was at dinner, but you make it, helping him ease onto the bed and wasting no time, knowing he was insecure, wasting no time to prove you still wanted him, mouth on his, your legs straddling his good thigh, moving on to his neck, laving your tongue over his skin, biting gently, unbuttoning the top buttons of his shirt.

“Hey,” Greg says, stopping your hand’s ministrations.

“I’m only taking your shirt off,” you assure him. “I won’t go further than that.”

“Fine. Not much to see there, either,” he mutters.

“I like tits,” you blurt without thinking. Jesus Christ. You have to stop doing that.

“Yeah,” he says, chuckling. “Sure you do. Good thing mine are bigger than Cuddy’s.”

“They absolutely are not.”

“You familiar with their size?”

You stop yourself just in time before you say “I wish.”

He lets you finish, helping you take his shirt off, take his undershirt off, shivering as you kiss down the length of his torso to the top of his pants. “I’ll show you mine,” you say, unbuttoning your pants and slipping them off, throwing them on the floor haphazardly. You move over so he can see the scar down the side of your leg, deep gash where they cut you open, you were a month away from a nursing license and you were in the OR, someone’s patient before you could ever be on the side you studied for.

You were lucky, they kept saying. You didn’t feel lucky at all.

Tentatively, his hand comes to touch your skin and you nod, silent agreement that he could touch. He’s gentle even though he doesn’t need to be, touching carefully, tracing the line of the scar up and down, hard keloid under his skin.

“This isn’t what you don’t want me to see,” Greg says.

“Hm?”

“Your upper body. That’s why you didn’t want me to take your shirt off.”

Oh. Yeah. That.

“I don’t care,” you lie.

“Yes, you do,” he counters immediately, looking at you knowingly. “Why are you lying?”

You sigh, pulling him back to you, kissing him hard, hoping he’ll shut up if you don’t give him the chance to speak. “Just touch me already.”

It would be so much easier if he just fucked you, fucked you over, fucked you up all within the course of a month. You get the feeling right now, as your tongue is down his throat and you’re letting out moans against his lips you try to suppress as his fingers enter you, stretch you out, reach angles you couldn’t reach by yourself, you get the feeling this is going to be for the long haul. Not that he’s necessarily going to be down on one knee, but that he’s going to drag out hurting you like he’s dragging his fingers against your walls, drawing you closer and closer to the edge but never quite bringing you there.

“You okay?” you ask him, breathless, head hazy, you just want him, want him closer than this, want him deep in you.

“Shh,” Greg whispers, almost a little irritated. “I’m busy right now.”

You can’t really focus on coming up with a retort because he starts rubbing your clit and as you tilt your head back into the pillows, he starts biting at the flesh he can now easily access, starting gentle but then applying more pressure with his teeth, smirking as you whimper.

Sweat trickles down your back and you wish this was different, but he’s naked from the waist up and you’re unclothed from the waist down, and it’s stupid, you know it’s dumb, that you’re letting this man fuck you with his fingers before you let him see you fully naked. It’s not like no one has before. It’s just a conversation you don’t want to have again.

Still. All this is making you a little too hot to be half-clothed.

Greg wonders why he let you in at all. Why he went through the trouble, bought you dinner, why he’s trying to get you off right now. Maybe it’s to fuck with James. Sure, it was originally, but now he feels like it was James who fucked with him, set him up, used predictable behaviors to create a predictable outcome. Still. If you’d been professional with him instead of giving him crassness right back, he would’ve decided to make your life a living hell instead of getting you in between his sheets. Either way, he was going to make someone miserable.

Himself, first and foremost.

Not that he can really be miserable right now. It’s not terrible being needed in this sense, he’s remembering.

You weren’t like Stacy, though, not here. You’re louder, not in a patronizing way where you exaggerate your moans to try and stroke a man’s ego, but it’s like you genuinely can’t hold yourself back. It’s hot. It’s unreserved. It’s… passionate in a way Stacy just wasn’t. She loved him, he knows that, but when things got hard and he got mean instead of fighting back she got cold and walked away.

Not that he can glean exactly how you’d be in an argument from how you act in bed, but he has a feeling you don’t let go of things easily.

And… well. Takes one to know one.

Who would give in, though?

His relationship with Stacy worked before his leg because Stacy would accommodate, she would compromise herself for him. It’s why his friendship with James works now. Sure. Both of them gave him some pushback — it’s not like they in good conscience could let him get away with all the things he wanted to do. And eventually he pushed Stacy until she broke.

You, though? You don’t seem like you shatter easily. If anything you seem like you’d harden like a scar, healing over stronger, uglier, thicker, nothing really hurting you because you’d just put more walls up. You’d fight him to the bitter end.

And you know, maybe he wants that. Someone he’s not afraid to push too far because he knows you’ll push right back the second he gets even an inch.

All he really knows is your vague med list, that you got into a motorcycle accident almost a decade ago, and that you chose to be a psychiatric provider among all other things you could have been. And yet… he feels like he can glean much more.

All he really knows in this moment is that you’re coming apart under his fingers, gripping his forearm with your hands as he drags out your orgasm, trying to get him away from your now overstimulated cunt.

“She comes in colors everywhere,” he mutters, smirking lazily at you, dragging his fingers out of you, finally, then brings them to his mouth, sucking slowly on each one.

You scoff at his comment, but just as quickly he sees the light turn green again and you straddle his left thigh, coming to kiss his mouth, hard, bare cunt against his slacks and he can’t help it, he’s thinking about you wrecking them, thinking about your wet pussy on what could’ve been his bare thigh… and he groans despite himself, in pain, yes, but also pleasure - and he’s pulling you closer by the collar of your shirt, and he begins to remember why men put themselves through what could very well be the potential torture of dating a woman.

It’s just so much better when it’s with someone you know. Or… someone you need to know everything about, need to memorize like they’re an extension of yourself.

You’re not soulmates. It’s not love. It’s not romance, like James would decree.

You won’t fix him. He sure as hell won’t fix you.

But you’ll do something to each other, alright.

[dwobbitfromtheshire]

So, like a week or two after Eddie got chewed up, Metallica was playing in Indie, right? Eddie was full on complaining about it in the hospital while Steve listened to him. I mean, Eddie was in full on tears because he had saved up money to go, and now, because he's still healing, he can't go. Plus, the town still hates him even though the charges have been dropped. Steve hated to see the tears in his eyes, so he decided to do something about it. He made a call to his mother, whom he knew felt guilty about leaving him alone so often, so she owed him.

It took a couple of days after the concert for it to happen. Eddie was pouting even harder, and he had actually even cried because he had missed the concert. He was still pouting when Steve came in and excitedly told him to prepare himself. Eddie was about to ask him what he meant by that when in strolls. . .James Hetfield? Eddie thought he was having a stroke, but Steve assured him that he was not. The other members of Metallica followed him into the hospital room. James had laughed when Eddie asked politely if he could freak out for a bit which he did.

They told Eddie about how they heard about what happened, how he had been set up for murder, and had been hunted like a dog. They told him how they weren't surprised about that.

"People always assume the worst with people like us," James had said and clapped a hand on his shoulder.

They heard about his band and how Eddie was a really great guitar player. Eddie was still in disbelief that he was talking about his band with fucking Metallica, of all people. When they told him how awesome his band name was, he nearly died on the spot. They presented him with a t shirt, signed photos, and then the last but greatest present of them all. . . A replica of his guitar, the guitar he had tragically lost.

"Hey, do you mind if we fuck this up a bit with our autographs?" James had asked.

"Fuck! No! Go right ahead," Eddie had told him with excitement.

When they had left, much to Eddie's disappointment ("You can't keep them, Eddie,"), Eddie cradled the guitar in his arms like a baby. He even cooed over it. Steve could only watch and thought that, yeah, this was so much better than seeing him cry. Once the guitar had been put away safely and Eddie was resting comfortably, he frowned in confusion.

"I don't understand," Eddie said.

"Uh, understand what?" Steve asked.

"How did they know that I lost my guitar?" Eddie asked.

"Uh, okay," Steve said, blushing. He never thought he would tell Eddie he was the one who pulled the strings, did not think that through. "I may have called my mom because he owed me a huge favor, and she got in contact with Metallica's manager. I also told her about losing the guitar, and I guess she told them. Man, you were just so disappointed that I -,"

Steve had been cut off by Eddie pulling him in for a kiss. He had been so stunned, he didn't have time to react, and by that time, Eddie had pulled away. Eddie opened his mouth, probably to apologize, but Steve swooped in and kissed him. It was a hard, desperate kiss full of so many emotions that neither one of them could comprehend. They eventually broke apart to breathe. Eddie swung his legs over the side of the bed and fully sat up. He wasn't fully healed, but he was close enough to at least do that. Eddie grabbed Steve by his hips and pulled him closer.

"Eddie, what -," Steve started.

"Take off your pants," Eddie told him. "I'm going to fucking thank you, big boy."

[iheartjameshetfield]

Okay okay I know I would kill for James and the urge to be his girlfriend is killing me but imagine being his girl bsf.

Like from kindergarten you and him where friends and now you two are inseparable. Just for him to be so comfortable around you makes me feel a type of wayyy. And you two tell each other like EVERYTHING.

Because your parents are always out of town, James would always come around to your house and stay for days on days.

(Like when you two are like 15 or something) You somehow manage to get alcohol and cigarettes. So you two would just get drunk to a degree and mess around in your back yard.

Like having that kinda friendship with James to the point where you are like brother and sister is so fucking cute like OH MH GOD SOMEONE HELP ME. 🙇‍♀️🙇‍♀️

Someone send help this boy is too cute

NO CUZ IVE HAD THE SAME THOUGHT

like as much as i literally wanna marry this beautiful specimen of a man, just imagine being his best friend in the whole world.

you would’ve been there for all his shit and he would be there for all of yours. i feel like james use to be the type of person who didn’t know how to comfort someone that much, like he’d be more awkward ‘how do i stop her from being sad’ he would mean well but he just wouldn’t know what to do

but with you? god you’ve been friends for lord knows how long, he knows that he doesn’t even have to say anything. he knows that you just being in his embrace, hugging you for as long as you need it and him murmuring sweet words to you is enough. he knows that you’ll be ready to talk about it on your own pace. he knows not to try and give you advice. he understands that you just need someone to understand and hear you

during classes, you two wouldn’t even focus. you would just keep talking and talking, shit talking everyone you can, drawing the weirdest shit you can think of in each other’s notebooks or playing games like tic tac toe.

most of the time, one of you, if not the both of you, were asleep. you grab his wrist slowly to be sure not to wake him up and draw on his hand or write meaningless notes or insults on him. or when you’re the one who is asleep, he’d mindlessly play with the ends of your hair. i feel like he would also take notes for you if you fell asleep during smth important. you couldn’t even count the amount of times you both were late to class because both slept throughout the session, james’ back slouched against his chair while you rest your head on his arm.

he would alwayssss make sure to walk you to your class first, not caring how late he would be to his own.

sometimes, when you both were sooo done with school, you’d ditch. you would leave early and go back to your house. you would eat whatever snack you found while he shows you something new he learned on the guitar, or you’d both be in the back yard, listening to whatever was on the radio while you pass a joint back and forth, talking about whatever came to mind since there were no secrets between the two of you

james would teach you how to drive since your parents didn’t have the time. he’d make silly remarks, pretending to clutch onto the seatbelt harder than necessary as he prays to god to forgive him for everything he’s done while you tell him to shut up and not be overdramatic.

during prom, you were sort of down that no one had asked you, although you weren’t surprised since you didn’t really interact with anyone from your grade other than james.

to make you feel better, he would buy you flowers and ask you instead. he’d do the whole matching his tie with your dress and even pick you up from the front door like a gentlemen.

when you guys were in middle school, you started using this camera that you found somewhere in your house. you would take pictures of the weirdest things or take pictures of james during the most unusual timings. he could be opening a can of beer, or picking out a record, or even tuning his guitar and every three seconds, he’d feel you take a picture of him.

it annoyed him a lot at first, which only made you take more pictures of him, but after a while he got used to it. in fact, he enjoyed it and would sometimes use the camera to take pictures of you or the both of you together.

james sees you as his little sister, so he hates it whenever you’d wear something a little showy. whenever you’d go to a gig with him or a club or just anywhere, he always makes sure to stay close to you, chasing off any guy that even thinks about making a move on you. you get annoyed at him most of the time but other times, you were thankful. although you did find it irritating whenever he’d pull your shirt up or your skirt down or even giving you his jacket, telling you to cover up.

this picture of james is so childhood-best-friend trope i cant explain it, but he would totally smile this way with you only or when you tell him to smile big for the camera, he’d give you this goofy grin 😭😭

[lexithwrites]

I like prongsfoot, but I'm not sold on it. You got a pitch or smth?

This sounds like a challenge and I’ll accept it.

Sirius and James are the slow burn friends to lovers. They’ve been friends since they were little kids, playing football together and pretending to be pirates in their back gardens, sneaking down to the living room to play video games on a school night and crying when one of them has to go home. Sirius is Effie and Monty’s second son, they adore that boy, and James adores him too. They both grow up together and go to the same school because they begged their parents to let them. Sirius was the first person James came out to when they were 14 and vice versa. They have countless friends and memories and experiences but when it’s just them it’s like time stops because it’s so effortless to be together. They’re affectionate in the most simple ways like laying across the others lap or even holding hands or playing with their hair, it doesn’t feel weird because it’s them. They’ve always done this. And sure their friends joke that they’re dating but they don’t deny it either, who cares if people make jokes they’re happy. Then they get older and things get complicated. Sex and emotions and relationships and heartbreaks and childhood trauma all come to the surface and it’s harder now but the moment they’re alone Sirius just presses his forehead to James and says he’s so happy that they met, that he can’t imagine doing life with anyone but him. And James doesn’t have to agree for Sirius to know he feels the same, he feels it in his bones. They’re soulmates, obviously, but what does that mean? They’ve both had girlfriends, a boyfriend or two, they’ve kissed and hooked up with people they never see again but whenever one tells the other what they did the night before it hurts them both somehow. Sirius feels a pain in his chest so sharp and precise when he sees James kiss someone, laugh with them, touch their cheek. It burns him. And James feels sick when Sirius is flirting with the bartender or a waitress, smirking at someone and dancing at the club with another. He hates it. And then the one night it all changes, they’re so close and so fucking drunk everything’s spinning but then their hands brush in the dark and their eyes meet and something shifts. It’s tongues and teeth and desperate hands and they’re moaning into each others mouths about how this should have happened sooner, of course it’s you it’s always been you, I never trusted anyone to do this but you. And then they lie there with intertwined fingers and legs and just laugh at how stupid it was to think anyone else could compare to the bond they have. They never say it out loud that they’re dating, they don’t need to, and no one else has to ask to confirm it because they show it. Their moments are private, they keep it just for them and that’s how they’ve always been. They can communicate with their eyes and touch alone and then can’t shut up when everyone else leaves. Sirius’ parents hate it but James’ parents adore it, taking Sirius in with a hug and a cheek kiss and telling him how they’ve always had a feeling it would be him, because James never talked about anyone else like he did Sirius Black and he never would

[sysmedsaresexist]

So have you talked about Colin Ross abusing and traumatizing his patients, or him believing he can shoot beams of energy out of his eyeballs, or any of that stuff or did i miss those posts or what

I did :) keep looking, I'm sure you're almost there

In all seriousness, no one is saying he's a saint or unproblematic, but him believing he can shoot lasers doesn't exactly affect the results of fmris or the readings of other clinicians in the studies compiling results

I mean, unless he shot the lasers right into the machine

That might skew the results a bit

But if you're going to dismiss Ross, you also have to dismiss van der Hart, Braun (RIP???), Poznanski, and all of the other psychotherapy clinicians involved in 15-20% of yearly medical malpractice lawsuits (statistics in these areas are horrible to wade through).

Malpractice lawsuits are a fact of life in the medical field and that's why every doctor is legally required to have insurance. It's estimated that by the age of 65 years, 75% of physicians in low-risk specialties had faced a malpractice claim (this includes psychiatry), as compared with 99% of physicians in high-risk specialties (surgeons and the like). At least 10% of an average 40 year career is spent with an open lawsuit on file. 96% of medical malpractice cases are settled out of court, without you ever knowing they happened. Your family/general doctor has more than likely been sued before, and you have zero idea. Of the cases that go to court, over 55% are dismissed. Of the remainder, over 70% are awarded to the physician. These numbers are terrifying. Not only are the number of frivolous lawsuits incredibly high, the fact that so few cases are won by the patient is just depressing.

Based on the above, like 1 case out of roughly 3,500 yearly malpractice suits against therapists will succeed in court.

(The above numbers are US based)

To reiterate, over half of those cases never go to court and you don't know they happened, because at that point, insurance companies prefer to just make things go away with money, whether it's valid or not.

How many can't afford to sue?

These cases range from therapists oversharing, bad note taking, confidentiality concerns, sexual relationships, business relationships, misdiagnosis, prescription management, lack of training in techniques, disagreements, and any number of other things. More often than not, malpractice suits aren't for emotional damage, but procedural and ethical issues.

The more well-known you are, the harder the cases you take, the more likely you are to be sued. I don't actually know of a case where Ross was the sole named physician, usually there's 3 or 4 named and Ross has only made it to the settlement stage once, though we can't see what part he played or if he was held responsible over the other physicians. I don't think he was ever named as the primary physician, meaning he came into these cases after another doctor had made the diagnosis.

How would you feel if every doctor decided to reassess you themselves rather than trust another diagnosing physician? This is a real question that matters. It's not rhetorical. I'm not defending Ross, either, but I'd be pretty frustrated by the third round of testing. Multiple diagnosing clinicians just isn't always feasible, and yes, it leads to errors. But that's not just psychiatry.

I don't really know what to say to this ask. No one is denying he's got problems, but can those problems be directly tied to the research and did they skew results? Where do we draw the line to decide who's officially useless as a clinician (people like Hart) and who's just getting sued in a normal daily event?

Can we talk about the laser beam thing for a second, though?

Colin Ross has an eyebeam of energy he'd like you to hear

Ross applied to the James Randi Educational Foundation’s One Million Dollar Paranormal Challenge

Ross's basic claim is that with the aid of special goggles he’s assembled using a blue Aqua Sphere swim mask, electrical wiring and, naturally, scraps of tin foil, he can harness the energy from his eyes and use the energy to play a tone on a computer. He describes it like an on-off switch. And he plans to use the technology he’ll develop to add receptors to such devices as iPods and light switches, allowing folks to turn them on or off using our eyebeams.

He won an award. A Pigasus. I think this is hilarious.

The Pigasus Award is given each year, “To the scientist or academic who said or did the silliest thing related to the supernatural, paranormal or occult.” Dr. Ross’ 2009 Pigasus Award stems from his ability to focus his own electromagnetic field to send a beam of energy from his eyes and make a tone sound out of a speaker. He has applied to the One Million Dollar Paranormal Challenge administered by the JREF.

The JREF has ridiculed Dr. Ross since he filed his challenge application. James Randi wrote on his web page: “You think you’ve seen every sort of claim that could be thrown at the JREF…. Most have been preposterous, silly, irrational, and/or astonishing. Now we have one that is all of those…Dr. Colin A. Ross.”

“I am not the first unconventional thinker who has had to endure the snickering of cynics and skeptics, so I happily accept this recognition,” said Dr. Ross. “Every significant scientific advance faces resistance, but it is time that the JREF stop ridiculing me and tests the protocol.”

I don't know where I'm going with all this, it's just food for thought, context. Nothing is ever quite so black and white, even eye lasers, and sometimes you keep the bathwater and toss the evil baby.

It's hard, it's a balance. Do we say you can't trust the ToSD because of Hart? Can bad people still make reliable resources? As much as it sucks, I think some research is still valuable, and we need to teach people how to critically examine methods and conclusions to decide if the research has merit, not just decide based on whose name is first in the authors list.

[jesterjazz]

Title: Another Day in the Future Pairing: Jimmy Neutron/Timmy Turner Rating: Gen Word Count: ~6K Ao3 link

--- It was one of those rare days where there was nothing major going on. The stars only align like this every few months. Jimmy was in his lab as usual. Libby and Sheen were on a date. Carl was at the zoo. Cindy? Who knows, who cares? Certainly not him. All was right with the world. The multiverse was quiet. Well... Aside from one glaring issue.

"Jimmy. Jimmy Jam. James. James Isaac Neutron. Uh... What is that Cindy calls you? Nerdtom? Nerdtron! Nerd the candy. Candyman." 

Timmy Turner wouldn't shut up. 

Jimmy refused to respond to any of those nicknames. He was far too busy working on his blueprints. Turner was in his lab being a nuisance, touching everything. Despite the number of times Jimmy had told him not to touch anything. Even going as far as to actively shake the chair that the boy genius was sitting on. It was taking everything in Jimmy’s power to not lose it. 

"Jonathan." Turner shook the chair harder. How Goddard was able to sleep through all this ruckus was beyond him.

"That’s not even close to my name.” Not-Jonathan whipped his head towards the most annoying person in his lab. Probably the entire multiverse. “What in the name of science do you want, Turner?"  

Turner shrugged, unaffected. "I'm bored.” He let go of the chair. His eyes went wide with an idea. “Ooh, can we create a bad guy to defeat again? That was fun."

Jimmy rolled his eyes, "You never learn."

"Nope!" Timmy smiled wide. As if his buck teeth needed more exposure.

“Why don't you play poker with your holograms?” 

“He’s banned.” Cosmo said from a distance. Jimmy didn’t bother turning around. The holograms liked to play random board games off to the side. They were unintrusive, unlike their creator. They liked to play chess, monopoly, and apparently some fairy related board games? 

Jimmy didn’t ask questions anymore. The one time he did, he got sucked in for about three days straight. It was brutal. Friendships and marriages were tested.

“Timmy is scary good at poker.” Wanda said.

“What? No way, you guys are just bad at lying.” Timmy protested. A valiant effort to defend his non-existent honor, but ultimately a useless one.

“It’s not fair!” Cosmo threw down his cards. The cards flew over Jimmy’s workstation and landed helter-skelter all over his blueprints. 

"Why don't you just go home?" Jimmy brushed aside the loose cards. The mess would be future Jimmy’s problem. 

"Vicky is babysitting again," The three of them intoned. It was eerie how in sync they could be at times.

Ah yes, the babysitter: Vicky. One of the cruelest people Jimmy had ever had the misfortune of interacting with. They only met once, but the memory of clinging onto the seat for dear life and then being thrown out of a car kept him up on random nights. The world Timmy lived in was absolutely terrifying. No wonder he didn’t want to return. Especially with a babysitter like that.

His friend would often complain about his babysitter. It was odd to know he had one, especially since they were only one year apart in age. Jimmy’s own parents were always around or made his grandma come over. He shuddered at the thought of the last time his grandma was supposed to take care of him. Still, he’s been able to stay home alone more often than not. Not like Turner ever had that opportunity.

"Well, that is her job,” Jimmy continued sketching out a small device. “My job is to work on an upgrade to make travel between dimensions more convenient for the team." 

It’s been something he’s been meaning to do for a while. Traveling between different worlds had become a bit of an inconvenience. First he would need to track down Danny, Spongebob, Timmy, bring them back to the lab or whatever meeting place they were at, and fill them in on the details. Then they’d split up. If they got lost then that took up extra time to track the lost member down. 

It was a whole tedious process. 

Designing something handheld that each member of the team could carry with them would be useful. It would help with communication and knowing everyone’s location, especially in a time of a crisis. It could also make transportation between universes a lot smoother.

"Oh!” Timmy shook the chair again. Jimmy was going to defenestrate Turner one of these days. “I know what you should do instead. You should build a meeting area. It can be in space." 

“You know you could just wish that up, Sport.” In the corner of Jimmy’s eye, he could see Wanda flying right next to her creator. 

“Oh yeah.” Timmy blinked. “Nah, later. I want to annoy Jimmy right now.” 

Jimmy sighed as he put his pencil down. “Having you here irritating me this only seems to be a disservice to my future self." 

"Hey…” His friend smirked, never a good sign. “Future self, huh? You ever wonder what you're going to be like in the future?" 

"Nope." Jimmy shut that down.

"Why not?"

"I already know.” He held up his blueprints, tilting his head. Did they look right? No. Something was missing. He put them down. “I'm going to get multiple Nobel Peace Prizes, be rewarded for helping make advances in science, and not be married to Cindy."

"And how do you know that?" Timmy crossed his arms. 

"Because I built a portal to the future." Jimmy said, erasing a detail he didn’t like. He was going to redraw that one bit again.

"What?” Timmy pushed Jimmy’s chair. “When was this?" The table shook with the force of Timmy’s push, sending his pencil flying across the room. 

Jimmy heaved a long-suffering sigh.

His attempts to get anything done would always be foiled as long as Turner was here. At least one of the holograms teleported his pencil back. While they were bound to Timmy’s chaotic whims, they still did things of their own volition.

He remembered his friend’s question, "Oh. A few months before we made Shirley." 

“Huh… Do you still have it?”

“It should be somewhere in the back of the lab,” he said absentmindedly, vaguely gesturing to the back. Mm, erasing pencil lines was annoying. Maybe he should just start over.

“Cool!” Timmy ran off.

Finally, peace and quiet. 

Jimmy enjoyed it for about five seconds before the implications nearly knocked him onto the floor. He jumped out of his seat and went after Turner. He was not going to let Turner mess with time. Let alone unsupervised.

“Is this it?” Timmy stood right in front of the Chrono Arch. 

“How many times in the past have we messed with time?” Wanda crossed her arms.

“This is different. Now we're messing with the future.” Timmy smiled.

“He’s got a point there.” Cosmo mused.

“No, you will not.” Jimmy approached them and the arch. “That’s odd. There should be a sheet covering it.” 

“Well, there isn’t.” 

Said sheet was sitting in a puddle on the floor to the side, discarded. He could've sworn he covered it. Last time, he swore to himself that he’d never  mess with his future ever again. 

Dictator Libby was enough for one afternoon adventure.

Timmy cracked his knuckles, wiggling his fingers as he reached out to push some buttons.

“Turner!” Jimmy pulled him away by the collar before he could do so. He was getting way too good at stopping Timmy moments before disaster. “Let me handle this. How far into the future do you want to see?” 

He looked over to see if everything was still stable. The machine was still plugged in. Odd. 

“Mm.” Timmy tapped his shoes. “I don’t know. Ten years?” He glanced at Cosmo and Wanda. Cosmo only shrugged.

Ten years? They would only be in their early twenties. Well, there was no doubt Jimmy would find some success. He’d probably be in college, finishing up a master’s… Or maybe even a doctorate.  

While his parents wanted him to stay in elementary school to be around other kids his age, they didn't have those same restrictions when it came to his later teen years. If he played his cards right he could probably finish up high school early. A vague plan, but a plan nonetheless.

The next ten years didn't seem that interesting. Just boring high school stuff he had seen in movies. Music, dancing, and unrealistic romantic woes.

The last time Jimmy ran the machine he did at least fifteen years to see what he was like in his mid twenties. He was thriving, along with his other friends. 

“Ten years feels a bit too soon.” Jimmy summarized his thoughts. 

“Uh… Twenty years!” Timmy said. Twenty years into the future. It seemed so far away. He’d be in his thirties, basically an old man. 

“I hope there’s flying cars!” Cosmo said.

“Cosmo sweetie, we can already fly.” Wanda reminded him.

“Oh yeah…”

“Alright,” Jimmy punched in the exact date twenty years into the future. “Let’s have a look at Retroville twenty years from now.” He turned the machine on.

The boys peered through the archway to see future Retroville. It seemed altogether more stylish, with better paved roads, floating billboards, and robots patrolling the sidewalks. 

People were wearing sleek futuristic outfits. 

Jimmy searched for his future self. He landed on a house with a rainbow flag. Calling it a house was an understatement, it was almost a mansion. There his future self was, sitting in a living room surrounded by prizes. He looked unbothered by life, and more importantly, there was no Cindy in sight to bother him. Hopefully he was far away from Timmy Turner as well.

“Seems like everything is as it should be.” Jimmy stepped back from the Chrono Arch, arms akimbo as he admired a future where things were calm and he was successful.

“What about me?” Timmy crossed his arms.

Jimmy rolled his eyes, “I don't know if we’d even be friends that far in the future.” Of course everything had to be about or related to Turner. “Who’s to say you would even be in Retroville?”

Timmy grinned with mischief in his eyes, “Let’s find out.” Then he ran right into the portal. 

“Timmy!” The holograms yelled and flew right after their creator. 

“How did I end up with Vicky’s job?” Jimmy wondered aloud to his empty lab. There was only one thing he could do. He ran through the Chrono Arch.

The lights were blinding. Traveling through time or between different dimensions did not get any easier. 

“This place looks cool!” Timmy yelled, which made Jimmy flinch. His ears were still ringing a bit. 

Turner never seemed to be affected by these sorts of things. Were those the consequences of having holograms teleporting him anywhere? Did that make things easier? He would do more research, but Timmy was very protective of Cosmo and Wanda. 

After Jimmy’s eyes adjusted, he looked around. It was still very much Retroville. They landed in a more suburban area. Not a place Jimmy frequented. This was more where the upper middle class were located. His parents were regular middle class.

He only knew where they were because this street went all out during Halloween. There would be fake skeletons, grand decorations,  and oh, the candy would be marvelous.

This was probably the street where his future self lived. Nice.

The holograms were no longer in their fairy forms. Instead they had morphed into oddly colored squirrels, sitting right next to Timmy.

“Turner!” Jimmy yelled, Timmy’s wonder crashed into annoyance at Jimmy’s voice. “You weren't supposed to go into the future.” Jimmy’s eyes widened in panic. He patted himself down. “Darn it, and we have no means of getting back.”

Jimmy didn’t even have Goddard with him. At least last time he was in the future with Carl and Sheen, the robo- dog was there to help make travel easier.

“Speak for yourself, I have Cosmo and Wanda to poof me back. You however, seem very unprepared.” Timmy said.

“We are not going to leave Jimmy stranded in the past.” Wanda scolded.

“Thank you Wanda. I came unprepared because you ran here with no warning.” Jimmy said.

“You saw my scheming face.” Timmy shrugged. “You were warned.” 

“Not the point.” Jimmy groaned. “Let’s go find James.” He started walking.

“Who’s James?” Timmy jogged up to him. That jog became a walk, matching Jimmy’s pace.

“Future me, I don't want to say future Jimmy a hundred times.”

“Oh. That makes sense. Do we call my future self something else too?”

“Thomas does sound like a more grown up name.”

“Thomas?!” Timmy stopped. “You think my name is Thomas? Ew.”

Jimmy smiled at his friend’s distress in the slowly growing distance between them.

Timmy caught up to him, “Why are we even friends? I thought you knew me.” 

“If your full name isn't Thomas then what is it?”

“Timothy.”

Jimmy snorted, “Timothy? Timothy Turner.”

“Timothy Tiberius Turner.”

“Your dimension is obsessed with alliteration.”

“Nope, just my parents.”

Jimmy opened his mouth, ready to insult them. He closed it. Timmy didn't mention his parents often. Though from the little bits of information that Jimmy has been able to gather from context clues and through interacting with them, they didn't seem like the best. 

Yet Timmy was still fond of them. He got defensive if anyone implied otherwise. It wasn't worth the petty squabble. 

They kept walking.

“So what are we looking for?” Timmy broke the silence.

“James’ house. I saw it briefly before we went.” 

“You remember it?”

“Barely.” Jimmy sighed. “I know it had a flag outside.”

“Like that?” Timmy pointed to a rainbow flag.“What country is that?” 

“No country has that flag.” Jimmy said. 

It’s odd. He didn’t understand why he would have a rainbow flag outside his residence at all.

“I’m pretty sure there’s a country with that flag.” Cosmo said. 

The two boys and the two squirrels went up the porch. Timmy knocked on the door.

"Honey, I told you to remember your keys-" James opened the door and took a double take. Wheels seemed to turn in his head before he looked down to stare at the boys. "Not you two again."

"Again?" Jimmy asked. This was the first time he had gone to this version of the future. 

Timmy went inside. "Sweet place you got."

"He says that every time." James rolled his eyes, turning on his heel to follow Timmy in.

"Every time?” Jimmy asked.  Alarm bells were starting to go off in his head. “Have we been here before?"

James stepped to the side, “Just come on in." He gestured into the house, a tired yet soft smile appeared. Jimmy doesn't think he’s ever worn that expression before.

Before the future was alluring and full of promise. It was supposed to be exciting. Now that he was there faced with an older version of himself made things feel different. 

It made it real. 

One day he was going to have all of this. Success wasn't a question, it was a guarantee. 

Something would happen that would make him wear this emotion so easily on his face. That was scary, because he had no idea what would cause it.

He stepped inside, regardless of his misgivings. It was his portal that brought Timmy here and he was going to bring him back to the past. Possibly kicking and screaming. 

The inside was bigger than he expected it to be. There was a living room to the left. Timmy was already taking everything all in. The walls were a rich rusty color, and a light green rug contrasted the rich black couch and loveseat. They had soft pink pillows on top with cute little hearts. One pillow was full of rainbow hearts, which seemed like an odd design choice. 

Little trinkets lined the fireplace. Jimmy… Begrudgingly admitted to himself that he was too short to see the top but he could see the edge of a snowglobe  that said Dimmsdale. Something else seemed to have Phantom’s logo on a plush of some kind? Merch perhaps? Following that line of logic, there must also be something from Bikini Bottom, but there were more than three items on the mantel. A hint of new members in the future? Fascinating.

His Nobel Peace Prizes were on full display on a different shelf, the same ones he saw when Sheen and Carl were first looking at their futures months ago.

It was sleek yet cozy. Lived in, but there were no pictures hung up. Which seemed like an odd detail, or lack of one. 

Timmy stood on the other side of the room closer to the television. At least that’s what Jimmy assumed it was. It looked a lot flatter than any television he had ever seen.  It sat on a television stand, books lining the shelves below. Classic literature mixed with... What the hell was a Crimson Chin? Why did his future self have volumes of it?

“What’s this?” Timmy picked up a controller.

“It’s the newest gaming system, I got it as a favor in advance.” James said.

“Really? Cool!” 

Jimmy turned to his future self with suspicion. “Since when did we get into video games and comic books?” He asked. Sure, Jimmy liked video games, but not to this extent.

“My spouse’s hobbies.” James said.

Jimmy eyebrows raised in surprise at that. He got married? But- His true love was science!

As if his future self knew exactly what he was thinking, he raised his hand up from his pocket, showing off a wedding ring with a comforting smile. 

Timmy shook the controller, still in his own little world, “How do I start playing?”

“Nope.” James snatched the controller out of Timmy’s hand. “It’s supposed to be a surprise gift for my partner.”

Jimmy liked using his big vocabulary but this seemed excessive. Why wasn’t his future self just saying wife? He hadn’t even dropped one pronoun, almost carefully sticking to gender-neutral words. 

"Are Cindy and I still married in this version of the future?" Jimmy asked.

"No." James replied, almost annoyed. “You really think Cindy is into video games and comics? She’s too busy being a senator.”

“Cindy and I aren’t married. This is truly the best future!” Jimmy started doing a little dance. “Wait, she’s a senator?”

"Enough about Nerd Brain over there, I wanna know about my future!" Timmy whined. 

"For the last time Turner, we are in future Retroville. Not future Dimmsdale." Jimmy turned to James. "Tell me we aren't still friends in the future."

"That's one way of putting it." James stifled a laugh.

Jimmy raised an eyebrow, "I highly doubt I've always been this vague."

“I’m being vague for a reason. We need to get you two back, the past is already changing with every second you stay here, and I’d like the present to stay exactly how it is." James said.

"Even in the future you're still so pushy and demanding." Timmy pulled a face. “Can I play at least one game?”

“No.”

The door opened with a squeal of hinges, and a stranger walked in. 

"Hey Handsome," he said, his face obscured by armfuls of  grocery bags.

"T- Babe! Hi. I think you should stay outside." James said.

"You seem tense." The stranger put the groceries down on the counter. 

Jimmy noticed the buck teeth first, then the wedding ring. The same one his future self wore. 

His heart stopped. 

No. 

His worst fears were realized when Future Timmy pulled Future Jimmy closer, the same way his dad would his mom. Then Future Jimmy and Future Timmy started kissing. The world slowed down. Dramatic classical music blasted in Jimmy's mind. 

His future lips… Were on future Turner's.

"I think I'm going to faint. Or vomit. Or both." Timmy fell backwards.

Jimmy couldn't stop staring. How did this happen? What? When? Why? How? What?!

The future was still messed up. That was the only logical reason.

Future Timmy pulled away from his future self. Good. He needs to stay away. Very far away. A separate dimension far away. Several dimensions.

“Woops. Didn't see those two.” Timothy rubbed the back of his neck.

“I always tell you, you need to be more aware of your surroundings. How many times have I had to save your sorry butt?” James raised an eyebrow.

“I lost count.” Timothy shrugged. “Besides you love my butt, Sweetbuns.”

James laughed. 

Jimmy and Timmy cried.

“Make it stop.” Jimmy groaned.

“This is a fate worse than an afternoon with Vicky.” Timmy sat up.

“How did this even happen?” Jimmy asked.

"I was around eighteen? There was a party in Retroville. Do you remember who was throwing it?" Timothy turned to James.

"Libby, I think. Her parties were the only ones worth going to."

"Oh right. So Jimmy and I get there together, and there's booze. I want to try some but Jimmy starts being a buzzkill so I trick him into drinking."

"Cool!" Timmy said.

"Wait, how?" Jimmy asked.

"Reverse psychology with a pinch of peer pressure." James sighed. "Timmy isn’t as dumb as he seems. He can actually be quite clever, when he wants to be."

Timothy smiled, "Aw-"

"I'm still mad at you for that." James threw a soft elbow into Timothy’s ribs.

Timothy let out a soft oof before wrapping an arm around James’ waist. "It's been like ten years! Plus we're married." 

Jimmy covered his eyes. This was not happening.

"I don't see how that is relevant." James said.

"Anyway, drunk Jimmy is an absolute riot.” An evil little smile grew on Timothy’s face. “He was starting to strip, getting really cuddly, he tried to get in some fights, he started crying over a penny." 

Timothy started to laugh, and James, mock offended, shoved hands at his shoulders to push him away, which only made Timothy laugh harder, though his arm stayed firmly around James’ waist.

Timmy made a disgusted face and Jimmy nodded in agreement. How could they have fallen so far? How could they have fallen for each other? One night drinking caused this??? Yeah, no. He was swearing off alcohol. Forever. The loss of brain cells from drinking clearly affected him.

James playfully rolled his eyes, "I was being set up. Everyone was trying to get me drunk!"

"Because you never got drunk before. It was... Incredible.” Timothy’s eyes brimmed with emotion as he stared ats James. “But then he started vomiting, and that was not so great. I barely drank so it was up to me to take care of him. Then Jimmy starts going on and on about how great I am and then drops the bomb that he loves me, then passes out." 

Jimmy clenched his fists, cheeks burning. "Why would I even be so foolish as to drink alcohol?" 

“I got curious and Timmy really knows how to push my buttons.” James said.

“That’s not the only thing I can do.” Timothy smirked.

“Babe.” James, honest to Einstein, giggled. 

“Ahhh!” Jimmy covered his eyes. He did not want to think about the idea that one day in the future he was going to have intercourse with Timmy ‘two plus five equals six, right?’ Turner. “I need to bleach my eyes and sand down my ears.”

“Same.” Timmy gagged.

Jimmy sat down on the couch. This was too much information, and he really loved information. Not this kind. Never this kind again.

It was utterly mind boggling. How could he- When? 

"Wait, what about us? When did we- You fall for Timmy?" Jimmy asked.

James sighed. "Thirteen."

"What?" Both Timmys said.

"Thirteen? That’s two years from now." Jimmy started panicking. 

There could be no way in hell that he falls in love with Timmy Turner in about two years' time. Yet the proof was in front of him. A life, domestic and cozy with that insane buck-toothed boy. 

"Wait, you never told me you liked me for that long." Timothy said.

"It's cheesy." James said. "It was on a recon mission. So we were gathering information on some mountains. There was a rock slide and Timmy pulled me out of the way."

"That's it?" Timmy tilted his head. "That's kind of boring, if that's all it takes then I guess I won't save you from any falling rocks."

"I don't need saving from falling rocks." Jimmy said.

"Clearly you do." Timmy poked him in the arm.

"Do not! Are there any rocks here?" 

"I wish-"

Jimmy covered Timmy's mouth.

"I fall in love with him? Him? That can't be right... So he saved my life. We save each other all the time. Why was that any different?" Jimmy pleaded to know.

"It just was." A soft smile appeared on James’ face. "I was so grateful when Timmy pulled me out of the way. So many times I had to be the one to think of a way out of the situation, it felt so rare whenever someone else had to do that for me. Yet here Timmy was, constantly doing that. It felt inevitable…"

Jimmy's chest started to feel weird. His hand got wet- Damnit, did Timmy just lick his hand?!

"Ew!" Jimmy ripped his hand away.

“You didn’t let me talk!” Timmy glared.

“You deserve a muzzle.” Jimmy wiped his hand on Timmy’s shirt.

Timmy screamed. 

“Aw, we are so cute.” Timothy cooed. “Wait- Do you have Cosmo, Wanda, and Poof on you?”

“What’s a poof?” Timmy turned to his future self.

Cosmo and Wanda winked into existence over Timmy’s head. 

“You remember us?” Wanda’s eyes widened. 

“Neat!” Cosmo smiled.

Timothy gasped, almost tearing up. “Yeah, Jorgen didn’t take my memories. Saving the multiverse and Fairy World a few times gives you that sort of privilege.”

“We save Fairy World? Multiple times? Us?” Timmy asked. It didn't seem like that far of a stretch. After all, he was on a team dedicated to keeping the multiverse safe.

“Yup. My Cosmo and Wanda retired but they still visit me every so often. I guess Poof hasn’t- I should keep that one a surprise.” Timothy zipped his lips.

“Cool! I get to keep my memories of Cosmo and Wanda.” 

“You were going to forget about them?” Jimmy asked.

“It’s…” Timmy rubbed the back of his neck, looking away. “It’s a story for another time.”

Jimmy eyed his friend, “What do you mean-” 

“Who wants cookies?” Timothy clasped his hands, breaking the tension.

“Me!” Timmy got up and ran to the grocery bags, ravaging through them.

Timothy whistled with fake innocence. Jimmy turned to his future self but James only put his hands up.

Whatever. He’ll confront Turner about it later.

“What on Earth possessed you to fall in love with him?” Jimmy gestured to the two Timmys. The fear ran through this heart. There were two of them. Over there, bonding over cookies. The holograms were buzzing with energy.

How the world hadn’t exploded yet was beyond him.

“I’ve spent the last twenty years asking myself that every same question. Why him?” James grabbed a cookie and passed it over to Jimmy. “Long story short; he makes me happy.” He shrugged.

“He’s nothing but a nuisance that causes problems for everyone else to deal with.” Jimmy grabbed the cookie and bit into it angrily.

“We did that a lot as a kid too.”

“Wha- Did not!” Jimmy covered his mouth trying not to let the crumbs fall onto the floor.

James pulled up his hand and started counting off different incidents they were responsible for, “Pants, aliens, nanobots, the N-men, evil clone-”

“Okay.” 

“Addictive candy, permanent sickness, rapid aging, I can keep going.” James gave a mischievous smile. 

“We fixed all of those issues.”

“We also caused them.”

A rebuttal was on the tip of Jimmy’s tongue.

“Oh my God-” Timothy pushed his younger self out of the way to get over to the gaming system. “Is this?”

“Hey!” Timmy pouted, on the floor. 

“It’s exactly what you think it is.” James said.

“It’s not even out yet.” Timothy was completely mesmerized.

“I know. I’m the best.” James put his arms around Timothy’s waist. “I was going to set it up before you got back but I was interrupted.” James glared at the kids. 

“If you’d opened that up without me getting to hear you go on and on about the latest advancements in gaming I would've divorced you.” Timothy kissed James on the cheek.

“You should divorce anyway.” Timmy said in between bites. The crumbs fell onto the wooden floor. 

“Overruled.” Timothy smiled. They began kissing again. 

Jimmy ripped his gaze away from them. Maybe Dictator Libby wasn’t the bad future. Maybe this was the bad future. “Alright. That’s enough.” Timmy stood up. “Cosmo and Wanda, I wish we were back in Jimmy’s lab in our own time!”

---

When they got back to the lab they stood in silence. There was a lot to unpack.

"So, we get married in the future." Timmy started off, breaking the awkward silence.  

"Don't remind me.” Jimmy held his head in his hands. “This is somehow worse than that future where I was married to Cindy."

"Hey! I don't exactly want to get married to you either, calling you Handsome and Sweetbuns." Timmy shivered.

Jimmy covered his ears. "Please stop talking!"

"I can't stop thinking about it!"

"Neither can I!"

"Agh."

"Aghggh!"

They glared at each other. 

Jimmy could never and would never fall in love with Timmy Turner. He simply refused it. 

It was still impossible to wrap his head around it. This was coming from a boy genius who could understand anything.

How could their lives ever lead to marriage? They could barely agree in the present. It made no logical sense. It made less than no sense. It made negative sense.

Wanda and Cosmo transformed back into their default fairy forms. 

“Oh come on, marriage isn't the worst thing in the world. Right sweetie?” She smiled at her husband.

“Marrying Wanda was one of the best decisions I ever made,” Cosmo simpered. 

“Aww,” Wanda cooed.

"It might work out for you two, but for Timmy and I marriage is completely illogical. I cannot believe my future self not only entertained the idea but went forward with it. At least in a heterosexual-"

"Pfft.” Timmy interrupted. “You said sex." 

Cosmo giggled along with Timmy.

“Oh stop it you two,” Wanda said and they stopped.

Jimmy rolled his eyes, "In a male-female relationship there is at least the possibility of bearing offspring."

"Offspring?" Timmy titled his head.

"A baby." Jimmy explained.

"Oh. Yeah no, I can't have a baby.” 

"I can!" Cosmo chimed in. 

Jimmy and Timmy stared at him. Apparently this was also new news to Timmy. It only adds to the theory that perhaps Turner got the holograms from somewhere else. 

Wanda only nodded in confirmation. 

"I'm not addressing that. In a homo-" Jimmy groaned. "A male-male relationship, I could see the potential benefits-"

"See, that's why you're gay in the future." Timmy said. 

"WE ARE BOTH GAY IN THE FUTURE!" Jimmy, honest to God, wanted to lunge at Turner.  

"Lalalalala!" Timmy covered his ears. "Cosmo, Wanda, I wish I couldn't hear Jimmy."

The two holograms did as they were told. They raised their wands, and beams of light with a shower of little sparkles fell from them.

One day Jimmy was going to pop Turner like a balloon. Preferably before their wedding. Scratch that, their wedding day would never happen because Turner would be dead. 

"Real mature, Turner." Jimmy shook his head and crossed his arms. “Can you tell him that I said we need to talk about this?”

“Jimmy says he thinks you should still talk to him.” Cosmo said.

“Nope.” Timmy turned away from Jimmy.  “I’m going to ignore him for the rest of my life.” 

“Timmy says-”

 “I can still hear him Cosmo.” Jimmy cut him off. Cosmo frowned. The hologram was only trying to help. “Thank you though.”

“Timmy, you can't ignore Jimmy forever.” Wanda said.

“Yes, I can.” Timmy crossed his arms. “Watch me.” 

Jimmy walked in front of him, “You’re still in my lab!”

Timmy closed his eyes and turned in another direction.

Jimmy groaned, “I can’t believe my future self would ever agree to marrying you!”

“Jokes on you, Fudgehead. I can't even hear you.” Timmy stuck his tongue out at Jimmy.

Jimmy started violently shaking Turner.

Wanda pointed her wand at Jimmy and dragged him to the other side of the lab.

“Aw, I hate seeing couples fight.” Cosmo said.

“We’re not a couple!” The two kids shouted. 

“Oh no, they’re divorcing.” Cosmo grabbed his wife in fear. “Wanda, we have to fix this.” He shook her.

“They aren't even married yet!” Wanda pushed Cosmo off of her. She looked back at the two boys in front of her. “Err- Will be? Time travel is tricky.”

“I do not want to get married. No way, especially not to peanut skull over there.” Timmy said.

There had to be a way to get out of this situation. He just needed to think, think, t h i n k.

Brain blast. 

“What if we just forget?” Jimmy thought aloud to himself. He started grabbing materials to make a device to forget.

“Forget? Uh, are you sure that’s a good idea kiddo?” Wanda asked.

“I’m very forgetful. I forgot where I put my lawn gnome the other day.” Cosmo said. 

Jimmy spread out the materials and started working on the device, “If we forget then we can live without the burden of knowing our future selves fates.” 

“Wait, what is Jimmy doing?” Timmy looked back and forth between the three of them. “I wish I could hear Jimmy again.” 

Cosmo and Wanda raised their wands. The “wish” came true.

“You’ve finally come to your senses.” Jimmy said flatly.

“What were you saying before?” Timmy asked.

“We clearly don't like knowing we’re married, so let’s change that.” Jimmy started putting the pieces together. “I can build an amnesia ray-” “I saw one back over there.” Timmy pointed in a random direction with a strange amount of conviction. 

“I don’t remember building such a thing.” Jimmy scratched his head, putting down the pieces. “Of course you wouldn’t remember. It’s an amnesia ray. Duh.” Cosmo said.

He almost hated how much that made sense.

“Well, let’s grab it and forget this awful day.” Jimmy saud.

“Wait!” Timmy tackled him. 

“What in the name of Einstein are you doing?” Jimmy tried to glare at Turner but that proved futile. All he could do was kick and punch the air and floor. 

Timmy sat on the genius’ back, “You’re trying to entrap me in a marriage.”

“Excuse me?” Jimmy stopped.

“I know a loophole when I see one. If we forget, then we get married. If we remember, then we won't get married. You want us to get married.”

Jimmy’s jaw dropped. “What?” Darn it, he did not think of it that way. “I don’t want us to get married at all!” 

Timmy narrowed his eyes. “I’m onto your games, Neutron.” 

“That’s enough.” Wanda pointed her wand at the boys and pushed them to opposite sides of the lab. “You two are acting ridiculous. One, marriage isn’t something that just happens. It’s a commitment. One you make every single day. That type of love comes once in a lifetime for humans. Your future selves were deeply in love. They experienced things you’ve yet to, their decision may not make sense now but who’s to say it won’t later down the line?”

“Yuck.” Timmy made a face.

“Absolutely not.” Jimmy folded his arms defiantly.

“Which brings me to point number two, you two are children.” Wanda reminded them.

“So don’t worry so much about marriage.” Cosmo chirped.

“It’s been a long day.” Jimmy yawned. “Maybe we shouldn’t act with such haste.”

“I guess you guys are right. It’s been a crazy day. I wish we could just forget this ever happened.” Timmy sighed.

Jimmy’s eyes widened. “Turner-”

“Wait!” Timmy yelled.

Cosmo’s wand flashed.

---

It was one of those rare days where it was quiet in the lab. Jimmy worked on some projects that he had been avoiding. Carl and Sheen were both independently busy. The multiverse was quiet, well... Aside from one boy with gigantic teeth.

"Jimmy, I'm bored." Timmy Turner said.

"And that is my problem because...?" Jimmy asked as he screwed in a piece for his working prototype for a new communication device.

"Because- Woah!"

Jimmy turned around. It was him but taller? Him as an adult.

Future Jimmy shot a laser at Chrono Arch. It exploded into nothingness.

"What are you doing?" Jimmy ran over to the newly destroyed portal.

"You two keep going into the future, get freaked out, decide to forget, go back into the future, get freaked out- It's annoying. Cute the first few times, but I'm at my limit." Future Jimmy threw a small box towards Timmy. "Have fun."

Timmy caught the box, "Decimator 2: Destiny's Revenge. Cool! This isn't even out yet." 

"He's so easily entertained." Future Jimmy said, with a slight fondness.

"Do you remember the last time he had a copy of Decimator?" Jimmy glared at his future self, trying to get a hold of Timmy but he already ran away to cause chaos.

"Of course I do, you can handle it. You always do." Future Jimmy ruffled his hair. 

"Hey!" Jimmy tried to fix his hair.

"Take care. Don't try to kill each other." Future him punched something onto his wrist device. They made eye contact. “I shouldn't say anything but, good luck. I promise it will be worth the wait.”

“What’s worth the wait?” Jimmy asked.

Future Jimmy only glanced at Timmy. 

Before Jimmy could ask what he meant but his future self already left. 

“Uh… Jimmy. I think I broke something.” Timmy held up the broken prototype Jimmy was working on not even three minutes ago.

Oh. 

Oh, a thousand deaths for Timmy Turner. His future self was definitely talking about planning the perfect method to get rid of one of the most idiotic children he ever had to meet. That had to be it. There was no other logical explanation. Turner’s death would be wonderful and it would be worth the wait.

[braveclementine]

Chapter 32

Warnings: None

Copyright: I do not own any Marvel characters or locations. However, I do own a few OCs like Elizabeth, Katherine, Stacy, and Jessie. I do not condone any copying of this.

"Are you sure?" You asked Elizabeth. You, Elizabeth, Jessie, Katherine, Stacy, Y/S/N, and Wanda were all sitting together in the living room. You guys had a sort of tea party vibe going on with the cups and the small sandwiches and cookies.

"Yeah, I mean, I feel ready." Elizabeth said with a shrug. "Vis and Wanda are already married. Hogun's been waiting for a thousand years give or take, and Pietro is ready as well. Besides, I want to make sure I have enough children for this stupid thing, you know? Of course, we'll probably have more than three, I've always wanted a lot of kids."

You nodded, "How soon?"

"Next month." Katherine said with a shrug. "We figured something small. Just family and friends. Nothing like your guys, you know?" She winked at you.

"How'd ya'll get the Avengers?" Stacy grumbled. "Seriously!?"

You laughed. "Luck of the draw."

"How are things between you and Jackson?" Katherine asked.

"Fine." Stacy said and then a shy smile slid over her face, "We're expecting a baby in six months."

"Wait, seriously?" Jessie asked. "What! You waited four months to tell us?"

"Well, I didn't even realize I was pregnant till I went to the doctors." Stacy shrugged.

"That's fantastic." Y/S/N said, genially.

"But I don't understand." Stacy said, frowning and turning the conversation around, looking at Wanda, "Do they expect you to have a child as well? With, well, you know, a robot as your husband?"

"I don't know." Wanda said, shrugging. "Tony is going to talk to Ross and we'll see how things play out from there. Same goes for Natasha."

You nodded. "I don't know how they expect the widows to have any children. They should've put exceptions in the clause."

"I suppose they could move to other countries." Jessie said thoughtfully.

"Yeah, but it's not as simple as it sounds." Y/S/N said. "Kind've hard to uproot your life and move to another house or state. Probably a lot harder to move whole countries."

"That's fair." Stacy nodded.

"Whose Ross?" Katherine asked.

You rolled your eyes. "Someone I really hate. Haven't even met him, but I already don't like him. He's one of the federal agents. Military general I think?"

"Everett Ross or Thaddeus Ross?" Wanda asked.

"Um Thaddeus." You answered. "The one that had Bruce hunted down and then later was the one who came up with the accords."

Wanda's face hardened, "Great."

"Tsk someone should've set fire to those accords a long time ago." Stacy declared. "Stupidest thing I'd ever heard of."

"I agree." You admitted. "The Government should never be allowed to run a group of strong people who have powers."

Elizabeth looked rather thoughtful, "But the idea behind the papers was a slightly good one. There does need to be some sort of order I think. Not necessarily controlled order, but just something so that it doesn't seem. . . to out of control, you know what I mean? Balance."

"Anyways, weddings." Katherine declared.

You checked your watch, "I hate to leave so soon, but I have a date with Rhodey so I will be seeing you guys later."

"Have fun." Wanda smirked at you.

You rolled your eyes, grabbing your purse to sling over your shoulder before you made your way to the front of the house.

"Hey." James said, kissing you on the lips. "Ready to go?"

"Yep." You said, slipping your hand into his before the two of you left the house.

***

"Okay, that one is pretty cute." Rhodey admitted as the two of you were shopping puppies. Steve absolutely loved dogs and puppies. He tolerated the kittens because of Bucky, and he did really adore the rabbits, but he absolutely loved Ginny.

The way that Bucky was with kittens was the way that Steve was with puppies. When he was around them, he lost all sight of what was really important. 'Who cares' was often the words that left his lips.

So you and Rhodey were now searching for the right dog for Steve's upcoming birthday.

"He'll want a dog that he can adore and play with now, but when it grows up can join him on runs." Rhodey said, so the two of you moved rather reluctantly from the white puffballs dogs.

"Maybe a husky then?" You questioned, "Or a golden or black lab. Maybe a German Shepherd?"

"Labs are pretty good dogs." Rhodey said. "What breed of a lab do you think he'd like best? Chocolate, black, or golden?"

"Gosh, I don't know, they're all so cute, look at them." You said and then an idea popped into your head, "I know! He's called America's golden boy! So let's get him a golden boy!"

"Excellent idea." Rhodey grinned at you.

The two of you took turns with the puppies, seeing which ones seemed the most energetic and receptive to people and you both finally decided on a good sized puppy that the shop keepers let you know was a boy.

Rhodey laughed as the two of you left the pet store, "You know what's funny?"

"What's that?" You questioned, letting the puppy leap around on its leash.

"I have just realized that each animal pair we have is one male and one female." Rhodey finished with a grin.

"Oh, that's true." You said, surprised you hadn't realized it till this point. "Mini Loki doesn't really seem to like Alpine though."

"Nope, Mini Loki is exactly like his owner. In front of everyone, he acts like he hates Alpine. But Clint was sneaking through the vents and caught the two kittens curled up together. Mini Loki was even licking Alpine's ears. He got a picture too."

He pulled out his phone, quickly showing you the two pictures that Clint had gotten.

"Oh my gosh." You squealed, taking the phone from Rhodey to look even closer at the pictures. "They're so cute together!"

"Oh yeah, Mini Loki is going to be one proud father." Rhodey grinned. "Gonna be strutting around till the kits are born."

"Alpine's pregnant?" You gasped, handing the phone back to Rhodey.

"Bucky says she is." Rhodey laughed, taking your other hand that wasn't occupied by the leash and the two of you headed back towards the car. "But I swear he's said this multiple times before. Whenever Alpine acts differently, he immediately thinks she's pregnant."

"Fury will freak if Alpine gives birth." You laughed.

"We'll have to catch a video when it happens." Rhodey agreed, opening the passenger door for you.

You thanked him, scooping the puppy up in your arms before climbing into the front seat of the truck.

"Wonder what Stevie will name him." You said, petting the lab who was slowly going to sleep in your arms as Rhodey drove down the road.

"Probably something generic like Pumpkin or Sunny or Buddy." Rhodey stated, driving down the highway now that would lead the two of you back to the house.

"Probably." You agreed. Steve did like simple. Unless it was in bed of course. He was surprisingly rather kinky, only fueled by Bucky and Sam. Loki was rather kinky too, now that you were really thinking about it. Stephen and Tony certainly got up to bondage in bed, especially when Stephen- and Loki- could simply conjure chains from nothing.

So it was always nice to be with Rhodey or T'Challa or Fury, where they were rather simple, but also extremely passionate. Thor was a mixture. Some days he was very vanilla, simple love making and sweetness, and other days. . . well sometimes he let his hammer come to play- literally. Electric shocks- in very light doses- were even better than a vibrator. And he may or may not find it rather euphoric to fuck you with the handle of the hammer. But that was never something you let any of the others know about.

Rhodey parked around back where the cars went, turning the truck off. "Where are we going to hide him until his birthday next week?"

"Oh, Katherine will probably be leaving soon. She's going to take him back to her flat." You responded.

You caught Rhodey's eye and then leaned over the other seat to press your lips to his. His hand trailed to the back of your head. The kiss got more heated as you leaned forward, reaching behind you to snap the seat buckle out.

Rhodey pulled you onto his lap and you could feel him grow steadily harder under you. "James." You mumbled, kissing down his neck.

"Fuck sugar." He drawled, a slight accent pooling as he spoke.

Suddenly, there was a knock on the window and you pulled apart. Katherine was standing there, arms crossed over her chest, a smirk on her face, her eyebrows raised.

You and Rhodey growled in sync before you slid off his lap, throwing the passenger door open.

"Having fun?" Katherine asked as you stepped out of the truck, pulling the puppy out and slamming the door closed behind you. You could hear another door slam as Rhodey got out of the truck too.

"Where's Steve?" You asked, shielding the puppy from any views the house might have.

"Workout room." Katherine rolled her eyes. "He's on his sixth punching bag."

You sighed. "Here's the puppy. He's a boy. Doesn't have a name yet, Stevie's gonna name him."

"Bet he'll have a really fitting name for the dog." Katherine smiled as she took the eager puppy into her arms. "Hey there buddy."

"See you next week Kat." You said, giving her a side hug before she walked over to where her car was.

Rhodey took your hand as the two of you walked back into the mansion that you called home.

"So, shall we start back up where we left off?"

You pulled him down for a kiss in answer.

***

On the Fourth of July, you all bustled around to plan Steve's birthday party. Bucky and Sam had taken him out with Ginny, while all of his close and intimate friends- along with soulmates- came by to help set up.

Elizabeth was busy in the kitchen. She was even better than you at making food- or so it seemed, you were actually rather equal- and she had taken it upon herself to help with the cake.

She stared at the cooled off cake, a dish of homemade frosting next to her.

"Something wrong?" You asked.

She sighed. "I am not. . . the best at frosting cakes, I admit. Why did I decide to make the cake? I should've let a professional do it."

You chuckled, taking the spatula from her hand. "Here, I'll show you."

You took some of the frosting from the bowl, showing her how to spread it on the cake, smoothing it out, covering the edges, so that a nice layer of thick white frosting covered the entire cake evenly.

"Damn." Elizabeth muttered before picking up the red and blue frosting which she used to write: Happy Birthday Steve in cursive. She also used it to make a few decorative stars while you grabbed the candles to put on the cake. They were just numbers 1-0-8, which always made you laugh since he was really in his 40's, having gone into ice at 27, not coming out for 80 something years.

Elizabeth put the cake in the refrigerator when the two of you were done so it would stay refreshed until Steve got back with Buck and Sam.

The party was outside and there were plenty of streamers hanging up in the trees, balloons tied to the backs of chairs, everything in the colours of red, white, and blue. Both as a commemorative to the fourth of July, and also to Steve's soulmate colours.

"You know, I'm kind've excited for my birthday." Elizabeth said, grinning as she helped bring out a plate of hotdog buns for Thor who was grilling.

"Why's that?" You asked curiously.

She set the buns down by the grill before the two of you walked back to get the potato chips. "It'll be Harry Potter themed!"

You laughed, "Of course that's what you're excited about."

After everything was set up, you went and texted Bucky, who let you know that they were almost home.

"Everything ready?" Clint asked, dressed in a purple and yellow Mr Beast shirt with blue jeans cutting off at his knees.

"Yep." You answered, kissing Clint's cheek. "I think so anyways. I feel like we're going to forget something."

Clint smirked a little, drawing his arms around you. "Nonsense. You've been planning this for a while now. You've got the perfect present for him. The only thing I'm worried about is Thor's surprise."

You felt your heart speed up. Indeed, Thor had let all of you know that he was making a surprise announcement for Steve's birthday. Despite your love for Thor, his sweetness, his inability to hurt his friends- on purpose- and his just normally cuddly attitude, you were still a bit scared he was going to say something nonsensical or something that might ruin the atmosphere.

You heard a truck pull up outside. "That's Steve."

Clint kissed you on the lips before disappearing into the house. You quickly grabbed a blindfold, wrapping it around your hand, before you opened the door upon hearing their footsteps come up the walk.

"You're back!" You squealed excitedly, launching yourself into Steve's arms.

"Hey cookie." He said, catching you to kiss and hug you. "What's with all the excitement."

"It's your birthday!" You squealed, before quickly wrapping the fabric around his eyes and taking his hand. "C'mon, I have a surprise for you."

"And no, it's not in the bedroom." Sam quipped behind you guys.

"Yet." Bucky muttered with a chuckle.

You led Steve out into the backyard where everyone was waiting, trying to keep silent. Ginny was let off her leash by Bucky before you untied the blindfold and Steve smiled as he took in the sight.

"SURPRISE!" The others shouted.

"Thanks cookie." He mumbled, kissing the top of your head. He also turned around to thank his boys.

You went around the side of the house where Rhodey was waiting with the golden boy. You picked him up in your arms and you came over to Steve, Rhodey trailing you. "James and I got him for you as a birthday present." You said, blushing.

Steve's grin lit up the whole damn party, taking the puppy into his arms, "Hi Buster."

"Damn." Clint muttered behind me, pulling out a ten and handing it over to Nat.

"That's an adorable name." You said.

"It kind've just slipped of the tongue." Steve grinned, before petting the dogs head. Bucky winked at you behind his back.

You grinned and then after Steve put Buster down, everyone started to settle around the table or on the grass on picnic blankets, eating, handing Steve presents, and just plain having fun.

After a while, Elizabeth finally went to retrieve the cake, very careful to place it in front of Steve before Bucky lit the candles.

He blushed the entire way through the 'Happy Birthday song', especially as Sam, Buck, and Clint made sure to yell inappropriate things in between the pauses, before blowing out the candles.

When Steve opened up the cake, he found that it was stacked in layers of red, white, and blue dyed cake.

"Looks amazing Elizabeth." Steve thanked her, before cake was handed out to those who want it.

"Y/N frosted it." Elizabeth said with a shrug. "That's the only reason it looks good."

Steve grinned, pulling you onto his lap. "Thank you cookie."

You blushed before pecking him on the lips.

You got your own slice of cake, taking shelter under one of the large trees. Loki sat down next to you. "Tired?"

"Hot." You mumbled, watching Clint hit T'Challa with one of the water balloons, making T'Challa jump five feet in the air, before running after Clint with a water gun.

Loki slung his arm over your shoulder, a coolness seeping through you.

"What do you think Thor wants to announce?" You asked curiously, wondering if Thor would have told his brother or not.

"No idea." Loki said, sighing. "Hopefully nothing dreadful. But it probably won't be, he's not drunk."

"He can't get drunk of mortal drink, remember?" You asked with a laugh. There was a bit of beer, though it was mostly sodas that were being drunk at the moment.

"Of course I remember." Loki chuckled. "It's one of the worst things about losing Asgard. Besides, you know, losing our home and all of that."

"I'm so-"

Loki cut off your apology with a kiss. "I don't understand why mortals apologize for things that are their fault."

"Shows empathy." You smirked.

"Are you sad about the wedding?" Loki asked.

"I have gotten used to Elizabeth, Pietro, Vision, Wanda, and Hogun living here." You admitted. "It's kind've nice, actually, to have some other girls here. But all the same, I'm glad that they're getting to move on with their lives. Do you know where they plan on moving after this?"

"Elizabeth wants to move to Florida. Hogun and Pietro don't mind and neither does Wanda, but Vision doesn't like the idea of being so far away from New York and neither does Jessie and Katherine. I'm not sure what they plan to do on that. They'll probably come up with some sort of compromise and just find a farm in New York."

"Right, Elizabeth, Hogun, Wanda, and Pietro all want to live on a farm." You said. "I'm sure everything will be great for them."

"There's also Sif." Loki said thoughtfully. "Hogun and her haven't seen each other for a while, not since he had the bond with Elizabeth, but at the same time, he and Sif have had a long, long time to get to know each other. Plus, Sif still has Fandral and Volstagg."

"What do Heimdall and Kat plan on doing, do you know?" You asked. You had always been curious about the Warrior three and Sif. But Heimdall was just so mysterious and strong looking. Now, without having anything or anywhere to guard, he was happily spending time with Kat.

"Not sure. They might stay in Ohio. Or go to Cali."

You and Loki sat in silence for some time, watching the others mess around. A full on water fight had happened, though no one invited you and Loki into it, knowing that the two of you probably needed some time together. Plus, none of your boys would have dared sprayed you with water. You would've been mad at them.

"Elizabeth has a rather unfair advantage." Loki pointed out as Elizabeth deflected all water missiles, sending them towards her opponents.

"I wonder what it would be like to have her powers." You said thoughtfully. "I wonder how they work."

"I have an announcement!" Thor suddenly shouted and you and Loki quickly got to your feet to join the others at the table.

"Oh for the love of Odin." Loki murmured, low enough for you to hear. "I hope this is good."

You wrapped your arms around one of Loki's and he smiled at you before turning his attention back to Thor.

"And what is this news?" Clint asked on the other side of you. Nat was edging forward, rubbing her fingers together for just Clint to see. They must've made a bet on this as well. That made you roll your eyes.

"It is great news!" Thor said, turning to look at you with blue eyes, "Y/N is pregnant!"

[player1064]

Love your drabbles! I cannot stop reading and sharing them. I have another prompt if you are still taking them! It would be interesting to see Gaz defend his Jamie when he is invited as a special guest to that CBS show Jamie is on. Would love to see protective Gary against Kate Abdo with Big Meeks laughing in the background and Titi being torn between helping Kate or (rightfully) knowing when a battle is lost. Maybe a dib at Kate how being a host is easy money compared to being actual pundits & analysts

kinda obsessed w this prompt being sent like a day before Jamie ran his big mouth on live tv and got in trouble for it (though tbh he's ALWAYS running his big mouth and what he said abt kate not being loyal wasn't even up there with worst mistakes imo it's just the one that happened to go viral). but also YES I am obseeeeessed with the UCL Today gang's dynamic the banter.... the thinly veiled dislike between Jamie and Kate.... chefs kiss

Also, this ficlet can be considered part of the wife-gary saga and having said that I'm wondering if I should have that as a tag so the other prompt fills in that universe are easier to find......

---

“Joining us in the studio today is one of the most decorated British footballers of all time, with over a hundred appearances in the Champions’ league and two titles to show for it, it’s Gary Neville. Gary, welcome to the show.”

Gary, who’d been grimacing awkwardly through Kate’s introduction, shakes his head around a bit and then gives her a smile. “Glad to be here, I –”

“—hold on, hold on,” Jamie interrupts, “can we go back to the ‘two titles’ thing for a second?”

“Yes, James, I have two Champions’ league medals,” Gary says, turning to look at Jamie with one unimpressed eyebrow raised. “As many as everyone else in this studio combined, I believe. What’s not clickin’, can you not count that high?”

To Jamie’s left, Micah doubles over with laughter, but Jamie just shakes his head, reaching a hand out to Gary’s chest, pushing him back in his seat. “No, no, Gary, why don’t you tell our audience how many games you played to earn that second medal, eh?”

Before Gary has a chance to defend himself, Kate primly says “about thirty more across his career than you did, Jamie,” which sets the whole table off laughing again while Jamie sits glaring in the middle of it all.

*

Jamie, as the lone Scouser in the cast and the only one not to have won a Premier league (besides Kate, obviously, but she doesn’t count), often feels ganged up on at CBS. And to have Gary on as a guest, even though he’d agreed to the idea (and quite enthusiastically, though don’t tell Gary that), feels like an extra kick in the shin.

Because not only is Gary, Mister Manchester United, getting obvious favouritism from lifelong United supporter Kate, he has the more crucial advantage that nobody in America knows who he is.

This means that Gary on CBS is not ‘below-average defender who only achieved what he did through obsessive hard work and sucking up to Fergie’, no, Gary on CBS is ‘best full-back of his generation, Manchester United and England legend, one of the top 10 most decorated British footballers of all time, and David fucking Beckham’s best mate.’

When you look at it like that, it’s a lot harder to find something to tease him about.

Jamie still manages, of course, he’s spent the past decade making a career out of insulting Gary Neville and he’s damn good at it. Over the course of the show he’s able to get in a few digs about his nose, his hair, his weight, his dress sense. But that’s all appearance stuff, which is easy – one look at Gary and the jokes basically write themselves.

What that says about Jamie, the idiot who went and married him, he’s not sure.

Everyone around the table is joking about Istanbul, which is easy enough to do if you weren’t there, which none of them were, and it’s enough to get Jamie’s blood boiling. He’s getting ready to launch into a rant about how it was one of the greatest games in footballing history when Kate cracks a line about how Jamie’s successes were all dumb luck, and Gary’s face scrunches up in displeasure.

“Oh, I’m – I’m not sure that’s fair, really,” he says quietly, glancing back at Jamie as he does. “Don’t get me wrong, that Liverpool team were nowhere near Champions’ league winner quality, I’m sure James would agree w’me on that –” Jamie, very reluctantly, nods. “—I mean, they finished fifth in the league that season, got knocked out of the FA cup their first game. There’s always a bit of luck to be fair, gettin’ to a Champions’ league final, but credit where it’s due – they were a scrappy little team, and that win was well deserved.”

On Gary’s right, Thierry nods in agreement, which is quite possibly the highest praise Jamie’s ever received from the man, and even Kate gives Jamie an awkward little smile once Gary’s done talking.

Under the desk, Jamie drops a hand to Gary’s knee and gives it an appreciative little squeeze.

*

As soon as the cameras are all off Jamie wastes no time in grabbing Gary by the wrist to pull him onto his lap, where he sort of half-perches half-hovers because he’s nervous about putting all his weight on Jamie’s knees (even though Jamie keeps telling him it’s fine).

Gary makes no complaints at being manhandled, just smiles fondly down at Jamie and pinches his cheek. “Look at you, you vain fuck. What I said were barely complimentary and it’s still got you all over me.”

Jamie ignores this (because they both know it’s true) and surges forward to kiss Gary instead, paying no mind to the others still in the vicinity of the desk while they get their earpieces and microphones unhooked. He hears a groan from Micah, and an exasperated sigh from Titi, but they can both go fuck themselves because Jamie’s horrible bastard of a husband willingly said something nice about Liverpool on live television, and if that’s not cause for celebration then he doesn’t know what is.

When Gary breaks the kiss with a pleased little hmph and gets up to wander over to the snack table, Jamie is left to face his colleagues, all three of them looking at him with faces twisted in an attempt to suppress their laughter.

“Man like Jamie,” Micah says gleefully, clapping his hands together. “I knew you was bringin’ the missus on for a reason, this is like foreplay for the two a’yous, innit?” As soon as he finishes the sentence, he shudders at his own words, then adds “oh, ew, that’s like thinking about your parents, don’t want to know any more.”

“I think you’re onto something there, Meeks,” Kate laughs, “and here I was thinking he’d brought him on to show off his trophy wife.”

Jamie wants to protest that he did not bring Gary onto the show, he’s not the one who made the suggestion and it’s definitely not showing off or foreplay or whatever else his colleagues can come up with, but then Kate’s nudging him in the side with a smirk and saying “Trophy wife, Jamie, get it? Because he has a lot more trophies than –”

Jamie stomps off to go find his stupid annoying and very very successful trophy wife before Kate is able to finish the thought and prompt him to say something he might regret.

[edwinspaynes]

you hinted towards it: cptsd vs autism. welcome to exemplify it with The Best Couple if you like. i just want (more) answers to this confusion and maybe to be psychoanalysed myself too but like one?? both?? neither?? what do those scenarios look like, and as a bonus have you heard of the pda profile and how it looks almost exactly like cptsd??

So you sent me another ask asking for a deep dive, and instead of answering that one it prompted me to actually take the leap and answer this one, LOL. Thanks, I've been meaning to for a while.

ALASTAIR AND cPTSD.

Okay, so Alastair has cPTSD. It's canon. Cassie confirmed it in March 2020 at an event in St. Louis. I don't know if it's online anywhere, but I was in attendance and she said that [regarding Alastair] the children of alcoholics have "as much PTSD as war veterans."

One example of this is from his PoV scene in ChoI:

Alastair stood in the parlor, staring blankly out the window at the house next door. He had been watching two little boys playing on the floor of their living room while their mother worked at her embroidery and their father read the newspaper. He could not help but hear his mother’s words as she’d wept, The child will never know his father. Lucky child, he’d said to Cordelia, but under the flippancy, there was a hard, cold sorrow, a sorrow that felt like a blade of ice cutting through him. It was hard to breathe around the loss.

In this scene alone he experiences multiple symptoms of PTSD from the diagnostic criteria sheet. However, this is far from the only place we see his symptoms - his insecurities in talking about Charles, his explicit statement that seeing Charles makes him feel sick, and the "rough around the edges" demeanor also qualify.

THOMAS AND AUTISM.

Okay, now this is probably going to be the harder one to get into because, unlike Alastair's cPTSD, it is not canon. It is a headcanon. That being said, I believe it to be a strong one.

Some autism symptoms Thomas shows in canon include:

Taking things literally (like, he doesn't realize when Alastair is joking until they know each other really well)

Having his own unique phrases and descriptive words

Sometimes having trouble reading cues

Having increased empathy/immense care (her name was Filomena)

Physical clumsiness

Difficulty expressing emotions, even when the emotions are strong

Rash and impulsive behaviours

I will concede that these things do not always mean autism is present, and the clumsiness is probably just because he grew 2 feet overnight. But still, I think Thomas is probably autistic having read his internal poetic monologue as well as how genuinely awkward he feels in most social settings.

I also will post a few photos of TLH passages that scream AUTISTIC to me:

Immediate trust in James despite his odd speech and movements, to the point that he still felt betrayed/hurt after hearing him speak completely differently than usual. A cue-reading difficulty.

Unsure of how to define interpersonal relationships

Unique ways of looking at things, executing plans that are a poor idea for practical reasons despite being good in theory. Also, the emotional awkwardness of asking James whether he minds being punched is gold.

And, a personal favorite,

Getting locked into a plan and being inflexible lol. Also interrupting! I feel that!

INTERPLAY.

I think one of the most fascinating things about TLH is the way that characters' neurodivergences interact with one another. Thomas and Alastair who are, yes, Best Couple, are no exception.

This is another passage that I think Thomas's possible autism shines through, and it's one that I think is relevant for unpacking their relationship development. Alastair's PTSD shines through here as well:

In this passage, we have Alastair (someone with cPTSD):

Try to connect with strange, socially-awkward humor

Alastair probably genuinely seeing the travel year as a vacation because it's an escape from his home life

Alastair naturally self-sabotaging/pushing Thomas away despite his efforts to connect

A sincere apology, but one that seems somewhat awkward - like, he knows he upset Thomas, but still is "startled"

And we have Thomas:

Taking Alastair's statement literally rather than as a joke

Defining what he believes the "travel year" to be (as fact)

Giving Alastair a goodbye handshake (bb no ily but no)

I think that this awkward neurodivergence intersection does keep Thomas and Alastair apart at first. This is one example way. There are other examples, though, too - Alastair pushing Thomas away because he doesn't think he deserves love, assuming he's bad for people. Thomas being petty and struggling to communicate, sending iconic but weird fire messages. An inability to DTR for a long time.

This brings us the Comedy of Errors that I adore in ChoT.

But I think that their respective neurodivergence is what makes their relationship so special, too.

Both of them are extremely empathetic. Both of them are also extremely reckless in some situations, but they can help each other navigate these situations. Alastair following Thomas on solo patrol is a good example of this.

I also think that they are capable of understanding each other extremely well.

Alastair knows how Thomas is feeling and offers a hand to him.

We have the opposite true as well. Thomas is the only person to consistently and stubbornly believe in Alastair. He is also the person that Alastair is consistently vulnerable with. He cries in all 3 TLH books, twice when he is being vulnerable with Thomas and once when he thinks he lost Thomas. And Thomas is always reminding Alastair that he loveable, and easy to love.

I also want to talk about the scene after Thomas and Alastair have sex. He at his point unequivocally has Thomas. Their relationship is defined, and it is serious. But the next day, Alastair still doubts that Thomas might love him because of his Bad Charles Experience.

Thomas can empathize and intuit what Alastair needs here.

It's great.

This is what I love about their relationship.

I'll close this post with a couple paragraphs I wrote in my fic that serves as a love letter to the ship, because it's why they hit so well:

“[W]e just fit together, don’t we?” He looked thoughtful to Alastair, who looked up at him through one open eye. “We are each exactly what the other needs.” “Yes,” Alastair agreed. “We are.” And they laid there for hours, Thomas stroking Alastair’s hair as he told him about Elias Carstairs, the whole truth of him. Some good, most bad, all ugly and broken and raw and real. And while they couldn’t save each other, while they couldn’t cure each other, they helped each other heal.

Without the intersection of neurodivergence, this would not be possible.

[jamesunderwater]

Dive - a wolfstar microfic

in which sirius black is a volleyball bro, james potter is a competitive dick, and remus lupin might explode if sirius touches him again

Continuation of part 1 - Uni AU - word count: 1,211 - @wolfstarmicrofic

“How did I get coerced into this…” Remus muttered, self-consciously hugging his arms to his body. He felt naked, despite wearing a very average pair of swimming trunks and a classic uni t-shirt. Playing sports in front of anyone always made him feel this way: exposed, small, and insufficient. He watched the easy way Sirius and James laughed while walking onto the sand volleyball court and dug both hands into his eyes in exasperation. This was going to be a disaster.

“Oy, c’mon, Lupin!” James called, waving him over. The opposing team had arrived and were beginning to take their places. Remus sighed, silently preparing himself to destroy any semblance of a chance he had at making Sirius like him. Not that those chances had been astronomical to begin with. He was batting a solid 00. Or whatever that stupid reference would be. 

Sirius clapped a hand on his shoulder as he reached them, and Remus felt the warmth of it buzz all the way down his arm. “Alright, so since it’s 3 on 3, we’ll play two up top and one covering the back end of the court. Remus, think you can handle the back? James has a mean swing and I already know how he likes to be set up.”

Remus nodded along, though he understood around 20% of what Sirius was trying to communicate. Most of his mind was stuck on the fact that Sirius hadn’t removed his hand yet.

“Awesome. Let’s do this!” He grinned, squeezing Remus’s shoulder before he and James broke off and knowingly went to their spots. Remus stood staring around him for a moment, unsure where to stand, until deciding it made sense for him to be roughly centered and near the back line of the court. 

The opposing team served first. And three times in a row, the ball came flying toward the back faster than Remus could process what was happening. He watched James and Sirius exchange a glance and call a timeout, and his face burned red. 

Sirius and James approached him. The latter boy looked a little frustrated - he was clearly the more competitive one between them - but Sirius was smiling. God, his smile could melt a fucking iceberg. “Alright, so, their server is good.” He started.

“Stating the obvious,” James grumbled.

Sirius ignored him. “Remus, they seem to be favoring the right side of the court, so you should move over and just stand like this -” He held his arms together, forearms facing out, hands clamped over one another loosely. “All you have to do is let the ball make contact with your forearms, and James and I will do the rest.” Remus nodded, briefly noting how thick Sirius’s forearms were. “James will step back a bit to cover the left corner, and I’ll move toward the middle. Then, once you take the serve, we can move back to our previous positions. Got it?” He raised his eyebrows at Remus, and the sandy-haired boy was struck by how open and patient he was. Remus was embarrassing the hell out of them, but unlike James, Sirius didn’t seem to care.

They went to their assigned positions, and Remus readied himself, arms out just as Sirius had shown. His stomach jumped as the ball was served, and he almost closed his eyes as it headed straight for him. But at the last moment he realized it was coming just to his left, so he stepped to the side and the ball made contact. The force with which the player had served it caused the ball to bounce easily off of his forearms, just as Sirius said it would, and into a perfect position for Sirius. He set the ball high and towards the front of the net, and Remus watched as James seemed to catapult himself from the back of the court to slam the ball down on the opposing team’s side. 

Sirius whistled and high-fived James, then turned to Remus with a huge smile that turned his stomach much harder than receiving the serve had. “That was great!” He came over and threw an arm over Remus’s shoulder, smothering him in the musky mixed scent of Sirius, spring air, and sweatied deodorant. “Knew you could do it.” He said, breath near Remus’s ear, and Remus thought he might collapse then and there. 

“Thanks,” he said, stepping out from Sirius’s grasp as casually as possible before he passed out from the sheer heat of him. “You’re a good teacher.” 

“Coach,” Sirius corrected. “Next up, learning how to volley back and forth.”

It went on like this for a while - they’d lose several points in a row, Sirius would pause to show Remus how to correct his mistakes or handle a new hit, James would grumble about it all, and Remus would turn out to be not so terrible once given directions. 

Miraculously, (and mostly thanks to the impressive dynamic between Sirius and James) they were now only behind one point. 20-19.

“Game point.” James said, and Remus could see the serious tightness of his jaw as he spoke. “Be ready,” he said, looking directly at Remus. 

The other team served, and Remus let the ball hit his forearms, angling it towards Sirius. Sirius set it for James, who spiked it into the waiting arms of the other team’s setter. They put up what Remus now knew to be a great set for their spiker, and Remus held his breath, terrified for the moment he’d fuck this up. 

Almost in slow motion, he saw the spiker choose their target on the court: just behind Sirius, far enough back that he’d miss it, and far enough forward that Remus could never make it in time.

Instinctively, he pitched himself forward, throwing his hands out in front of him with his forearms out as Sirius had taught him. His eyes were snapped closed when he felt the ball make contact, and by the time he’d scrambled up again and opened them, James was sending a flaming spike to the corner of the other team’s court. 

Sirius whooped so loudly it made Remus jumped. “HELL YEAH!” He and James came up to Remus at the same time. “What a fucking dive, man!” 

“Who knew you had it in you?” James was grinning appreciatively at Remus, nearly a different man than the peeved competitor from moments before. 

Sirius was looking Remus over, laughing. “Welcome to your first dig, Lupin,” he said, then (to Remus’s horror) began swiping the sand off of the front of Remus’s shirt. Remus froze at the touch, deeply aware of how broad Sirius’s hand felt against his thinner chest, and hoped his face was not as red as it felt. Finally snapping out of it, he quickly assisted by brushing the sand off of his shorts before Sirius could go so far as to do it himself. 

“Yeah, thanks,” he breathed, trying to smile normally at the two other boys. 

“Now let’s go finish this,” Sirius said, once again clapping his hand on Remus’s shoulder. He looked at Remus like he was thrilled to have him there, a part of this with them. 

Or you could just finish me? The traitorous voice in Remus’s head responded.

God, he hated his roommate.

--------

author's note: okay this is absolutely becoming a continuous fic for the month (or less or more who knows) i'm obsessed with these goons. also lol who knew i remembered so much about intramural volleyball from college?? the only sport i could coherently write like this 😆

[bells-of-black-sunday]

Okay S.ilent H.ill 2 remake beat—

I only died the 2nd time, because the games framerate issues rlly do be turning the final boss into a slide show sometimes and I didn't go into menus fast enough.

Anyway thoughts below—

Tl;dr: Not a bad remake, plenty of positives to point out, but there's certain design decisions that I think are really unnecessary and putting the focus on the game on combat when S.ilent H.ill as a series has always been more of a walking simulator feels not great™

Honestly I don't care that this is going to make it seem like I'm sad the sexual content is gone, because I really am. To me P.yramid H.ead is like the X.enomorph, sexuality is so important to him as a figure and monster that you cannot separate the two without it being something completely different. Sexuality in general is important to many core narrative themes and symbolism within S.ilent H.ill 2 and J.ames's guilt revolving around his wife, to remove those feels so cheap and just a move to keep T.witter from whining more than it did when the game was announced.

J.ames's objectification of his wife and treating her like an object he lost and has to retrieve is directly mirrored by how P.yramid H.ead uses and discards feminine creatures as he sees fit. Those scenes where he's fucking the mannequins and throwing them away like they mean nothing + making the lying figure give him head? Yeah, B.loober I know this might be shocking, but they're meant to make your uncomfortable. They're meant to be a direct reflection of J.ames's sexual frustration towards his dying wife, but amplified. It's why the two kill themselves when James realizes he doesn't need Maria anymore. It's why M.aria looks like younger more openly sexual version of his dead wife that he actively lusts after.

That's not even counting how they also toned down the sexual undertones in some of Maria's dialogue and made her less abusive, it makes her comment about how women are often the victims of unjust cruelty throughout history very vapid and unearned. They don't even show her getting stabbed. They imply it several times. That is part of the point of her statement is that she is a female figure who keeps dying over and over again for the simple fact that J.ames made her to get over his wife. That's not even counting it absolutely ruins the iconic imagery that is the dual P.yramid H.ead fight and M.aria getting stabbed when she gets trapped outside the elevator.

I'm really scratching my head over what was the purpose behind those design decisions? I really cannot fathom why they'd be so against showing one of the core themes of S.ilent H.ill 2.

Getting into combat though— Look. I enjoy the combat system. I really do. That being said, I fucking hate that you can't run past most enemies anymore. I hate that most of the enemies just become extremely annoying over time and make it not enjoyable to explore any tight corridors and look for collectibles. The mannequins not tripping your radio, because they lie in ambush was fun the first couple times, but going through an entire building where there's one in practically every room and often times around corners where you can't even see them until they're already attacking? Yeah I hate that.

Often times while playing this remake it felt like I was playing R.esident E.vil with how much combat I was forced to engage in. Don't get me wrong there are astutely times where you can just run past, but those are few and far between. Not even counting the absolute item bloat. I should not be leaving a boss with over 100 pistol ammo, 14 shot gun shells and 8 rifle rounds, 28 small health items and 10 large health items, but that was literally every boss. They'd load you up on everything especially in the over world where you can now break car windows to get items.

The combat is easy, I'm sure it's harder on harder difficulties, but the way they changed some of the boss mechanics were again just annoying. Why'd they make the a.bstract d.addy boss a fucking maze chase for most of it? I don't know, but it sure is annoying. Speaking of that boss that really lost any sense of subtly in it and it genuinely felt like B.loober just wanted to make a l.ayer of f.ear game again. We did not need the tvs yelling insults at you and spelling out everything about A.ngela's abuse.

That's a lot of what this game is missing from the first, subtly. It's like they don't trust their players to get it so they spell it out for you. No more obvious than how they changed the final boss dialogue. Instead of M.aria yelling at you for still getting her mixed up with M.ary and J.ames having his speech that way. No no, she has to pretend to be M.ary so she can say she can be better than her and be everything he needs then he can go on that speech which in my own opinion really robs a lot of M.aria of her character.

Gee it's almost like the entire symbolism of M.aria constantly verbally abusing J.ames is because he thinks he deserves it for what he's done and him standing up for himself helps complete his character arc. He can finally let the guilt go and accept what he did, he doesn't need her anymore. Again it's just design decisions I'm absolutely baffled by and while don't ruin the game for me, absolutely make it inferior story wise to the original for me.

All the negatives being said and before this turns into an essay, I'll shoot out the positives: The voice acting while definitely better, still captures that same stilted awkwardness of the original often dripping into uncanny especially with E.ddie and A.ngela, the combat is 10x better and feels way better, the game is absolutely beautiful, P.yramid H.ead got his ass back, the world building through objects is great, the smudges on the map from J.ames wiping away things is a really fun touch, and it's genuinely really fun to play and lose yourself in despite my gripes.

[commonguttersnipe]

Rank every Monty Python song out of 10 and give reasons why for your ranking them as it is please?

Always Look On The Bright Side Of Life- 10/10 (just a classic)

Knights Of The Round Table- 7/10 (I appreciate the commitment to character)

The Silly Walk Song- 7/10 (It itches my brain the right way)

I Bet You They Won’t Play This Song On The Radio- 10/10 (my favourite!)

Galaxy Song- 11/10 (It always makes me feel good on a rough day… ironically)

I Like Chinese- 6/10 (the O2 one is the best)

The Penis Song- 3/10 (ew.)

Sit On My Face- 9/10 (strangely romantic?)

Do What John- 5/10 (so is John going to do anything?)

Lousy Song- 0/10 (not really a song. heck, Graham says in the song itself that it’s appalling)

Lumberjack Song- 10/10 (I CAN TREAT YOU BETTER BEVIS)

Here Comes Another One- 7/10 (I don’t think I’ve laughed harder at a song)

Rainy Day In Berlin- 5/10 (nothing too special about this one)

Bruce’s Philosopher Song- 10/10 (constantly gets stuck in my head)

I’m Still So Worried- 9/10 (I’m now starting to think Terry and I were very similar people)

Muddy Knees- 6/10 (extra points for crooning)

Never Be Rude To An Arab- 7/10 (I also think we should blow up racists!)

Rudyard Kipling- 8/10 (Just a vibe)

Henry Kissinger- 6/10 (weird crush but sure)

Every Sperm Is Sacred- 10/10 (I actually listened to this when I went condom shopping. good times.)

Eric The Half A Bee- 8/10 (why is John so adorable singing this?!?)

Brian Song- 10/10 (never been more pumped up by an opening credits)

The Meaning Of Life- 8/10 (Eric screaming at us about existence 👍)

Blackmail/Nudge Rap- 10/10 (slaps for absolutely no reason at all)

Spam- spam/spam (spam)

Medical Love Song- 8/10 (Graham really pulled out every std he knew)

Money Song- 7/10 (*James A Janisse voice* BUSINESS)

Finland- 12/10 (it’s the place where he quite wants to be!)

Christmas In Heaven- 8/10 (heaven sounds pretty cool…)

I’ve got two legs- 5/10 (he sure does!)

Oliver Cromwell- 6/10 (ugh)