#but like I can’t even use vats. it breaks the game

[mrs-elijah-wood]

Tried to play new vegas on my laptop and god love it. It’s not happening

[astaroth1357]

Demon Brothers React to MC Getting Kidnapped by Lesser Demons.

Watch out for minor first half spoilers!!

Lucifer

Kicking himself because he has to find out through Mammon that the MC is missing and he didn’t notice their absence himself.

The second the alarm gets raised he gets into a state somewhere between coldly rational and extraordinarily furious. 

Definitely still level-headed enough to rally and organize his brothers for a search party but there's nothing but seething rage just rolling off of him the entire time. Probably-could-have-made-another-Satan type rage.

How well he keeps his composure will be based entirely on how long the MC is MIA. The first hour or so will be mostly put together but past that he'll start to slowly unravel as the panic takes hold.

At one point he even gets snippy with Diavolo over the phone and that's when you KNOW that he's reaching meltdown mode.

If he's the first to find the MC, his #1 priority is to get them away from whatever scum grabbed them and take them to the closest safe place he can find. He'd scoop them up so fast they won't even know where he came from, just whoosh! How'd I get on this roof??

Only once they're out of harm’s way will he circle back and deal with their kidnappers personally. You better be sure any damage done to his human will be reflected a thousandfold back onto their attackers. Probably coming back to the MC with some blood on him and is not going to care.

Relieved to have the MC back but restricts them from going out alone after a certain time now for their own good. If they need something that badly, they can come to him.

Also strings Mammon up by his toes that night for losing them in the first place.

"By the time Cerberus gets to you, I'll be sure you're only my table scraps…"

Mammon

The first to notice that the MC was being oddly quiet (thank their father for his text spamming habit) then found their stuff scattered and abandoned at RAD.

Told Lucifer right away and, oh boy, he is a mess: talking a mile a minute, punctuating his sentences with expletives, on the verge of tears, whole nine yards.

He left his human alone for what?? Like five minutes, if even, to go to the library and get themselves kidnapped?! What kind of guardian is he?!?

Already searching the place top-to-bottom without being told where to go or what to do.

He actually ends up a strange inverse of Lucifer. While Lucifer will start panicking more over time, Mammon will start panicking less as his fear escalates to all out anger. Give it a few hours and he’s not even going to be able to keep his demon form under control anymore.

You know this boy is legging it across the entire Devildom himself waving around some kind of hand-drawn "Have You Seen This Human?" flyer looking for any leads at all.

If he were to find the MC first, his first action would probably be to plant his foot right in the face of whoever took them. Hard. Then repeat until their skull’s a caved-in mess on floor. No mercy this time, just pure protective rage.

Following the fight, you'd think he was just reunited with his lost puppy. Lots of crying, hugging, and blubbering out apologies even when the rest of his brothers show up.

Would pretty much be glued to the MC's hip for at least a week afterward and makes more of a point to hang off of them in public now. They're his human after all, can't have anyone else getting the idea of pulling a stunt like that again.

"MC!! What'd ya go runnin' off for?? We're goin' home after I take out this trash, got it!!"

Leviathan 

Wouldn't really want to believe it at first because it just feels too unreal, like, the same thing happened to Henry in Episode 86 of TSL when he was kidnapped by enemies of the Lord of Fools and it was up to his true friend to track him down…

Suddenly remembers that Henry was also tortured while he was taken and that really sets in the panic.

Unsure of how to help at first because he knows he's just a useless shut-in but Belphie of all people is the one to remind him that he does have one big advantage over his brothers: a fucking navy.

In an act of surprising backbone, he more or less demands a full fleet of ships from Diavolo and (honestly to his shock) he gets exactly that to comb the Devil’s Sea while looking for MC. Lotan even helps out!

If he were to be the first to find the MC (presuming they are indeed on a boat or something cause 🤷‍♀️) those kidnappers really shouldn't have challenged the third strongest brother in his natural element, eh? Those who aren't automatically lashed in the face or flung overboard by his tail get hung by the leg over the edge of the ship for Lotan to pick off one by one.

Sails back to shore with MC booming with pride that he of all people finally got to be their hero! Will literally be so happy if MC ever brings it up again, doesn't matter how much time has passed.

Things would settle back to normal pretty quickly after that, but he now checks up on the MC a lot more often and will even leave his room for them if they need to go somewhere and don't want to go alone. Can't have this turning into a rerun, you know?

"You hurt my only friend… So drown."

Satan

One guess how the Avatar of Wrath took the news. It's not swimmingly.

Unless your definition of "swimmingly" is a murderous rampage of toppling furniture, breaking windows, and swearing to curse right about anything that moves, in which case aptly put. 

He gets stuck in an anger-induced tantrum for a bit before finally getting snapped back into coherent thought by Belphie and putting those mystery novels of his to good use. Smart boi takes second to Lucifer himself in the search, suggesting good locations for his brothers scout based on what clues they have to go on.

Of course, he's not content to just to call orders from the sidelines and is out searching himself like he's on the goddamn warpath. Doors? Who needs doors? If anything the hole I made in your wall is more efficient.

Should he be the first to find the MC he would coolly and methodically subdue any kidnapper he can get his hands on, release his human, and bring them home as soon as possible. They've been through quite enough today and don't need to see anything he's got planned for the bastards later.

But the second that Diavolo puts them in the castle dungeon, you best bet that Henry 1.0 is going to the LEAST of their worries. Who's ever wanted to play a life or death game of hide and seek with a giant snake and the incarnation of Wrath itself? First one caught gets the "quick" death! Any volunteers?

Might give the MC a mild scolding for going out when they shouldn't have but otherwise is just happy to see them back and safe. May act extra soft towards them for a couple days, just until the nerves of the situation finally wear off.

"Don't mistake this for mercy. I assure you, I don't know the meaning of the word."

Asmodeus

Highkey freaking out, like, almost as hysterical as Mammon when he hears the news. 

Being the Avatar of Lust, he of course knows there's a whole lot of creeps out there in the world and he is utterly terrified that his poor MC has fallen victim to one at that moment.

For once, all thoughts of himself and his looks are out the window. What? It's past 2am and MC is still gone? I can stay up another hour! Dry shampoo and a washcloth counts as a shower, right? Who the fuck cares, where's MC?? Somebody find them already!!

Pools his contact list with Satan's and starts reaching out across the whole Devildom asking for people to be on the lookout and offer tips. Also begs Solomon to use his magic to help in the search (which he's more than happy to do anyway because he cares about the MC too)

If he were to find MC first it'd be one of those rare cases where he'd be seen really truly enraged. No cute banter, no playful flirting, just telling those worthless scum-vats exactly where they belong and exactly how he's going to put them there. Is it any surprise that he's also madsick with a whip?

Crazy relieved that MC is free, but now it's on them to help him clean up and get back to his prettiest self. I mean, he worried himself half to death while they were gone! All this dirt and sweat going to take three, no four, bathes to fully clean off!! Best hop to it~♡

"Touch them one more time and I'm going to set fire to whatever landfill trash like you crawls out of!!"

Beelzebub

It can't be happening. It honestly can't be happening. First he loses Lilith and now MC?? He can't lose two. He. Can't. Lose. Two.

Pretty much the mantra going through his head as he tears the Devildom apart with his bare hands. 

It's 1000x worse than how he gets when he's hungry because at least then he might stop when he finally gets fed. Now it's either find MC or wait until he collapses from exhaustion and hope he doesn’t leave the whole realm a smoldering crater before he gets that far.

There's no reasoning with him either, the best the brothers can do is steer him in a direction and let him loose.

If he found MC first he probably wouldn't even realize it for a bit, he'd just keep attacking whatever or whoever is in front of him on his path of blind destruction. It'd take the MC literally flinging themselves at him or throwing their arms around him to snap him out of it but then it's back to sweetheart Beel.

Hugs ensue. Really tight hugs. Probably a few tears and apologies too (even if it’s not really his fault at all). 

Woe to anyone who tries going for the MC once he’s sure he has them because they WILL be broken then eaten. He’ll encourage his human not to look, but some things just have to be done.

Would absolutely carry MC back home and refuse to put them down until the others force him to. The floor may as well be lava planning on taking them away from him too.

Wouldn't care as much about personal vengeance as his brothers as long as MC is safe. He'll trust that his family will more than punish the kidnappers (though chances are he already took a chunk or two out of a few of them during his rampage anyway).

Protective instincts up by 100 after this, though Belphie usually steps in and eases him back a bit when he's about to get suffocating. MC never travels without a buddy now, ever. He just can't risk it.

"MC, I-I'm sorry… I just couldn’t lose you too…"

Belphegor

Keeps the coolest head of all the brothers on the outside, but there's a cold fury building up in those eyes.

Pretty much takes charge of whipping everyone back into gear with a combination stinging remarks and heavy duty guilt tripping. May not be the nicest method, but it's effective. 

"Asmo, grow a freaking spine and do something useful for a change! Mammon, this your fault to start with so you ought to be breaking your ass to find them! Satan, watching you is getting embarrassing, pull yourself together and think like you're good at it!"

His harshest criticisms get saved for Lucifer (big shock) but he only dishes them out when he sees his older brother really losing his grip or teetering on losing hope. If the “mighty firstborn” can’t keep it together then why should they even listen to him in the first place?

When he's not administering "motivation," he's keeping tabs on Beel's progression through the Devildom and trying to minimize the damage there. He's the only one that can get through to him long enough to change his course if necessary.

If he were to find the MC first, well, unlike Satan he doesn't have the forethought to save the torture for later. It's happening right here, right now, and you better bet that being the last born doesn't stop him from being a force to be reckoned with.

Waits with the MC for his brothers to catch up to them and deal with any stragglers. May cuddle with them and look like he's trying to take a nap in the meantime, but in truth he's still very alert, on edge, and ready to absolutely wreck shit if anything gets too close to them.

Though it doesn't look like his lazy ass goes through the same protective streak as his brothers, he's a lot quicker to try and convince the MC to stay home now. No out and about=less chance of getting nabbed. Plus he keeps his favorite pillow, win-win. 😏

"What about your worthless lives makes you think you deserve my mercy??"

[smallblip]

Okay, but (sorry for my english) I just really love modern hc where they perform as the band No Name during their school festival (their identities are already known and that people know they belong to one of the most famous group in the school /with nanaba and erwin/).

Levi’s the face of the group and almost half of the fans have him as their bias but they really thinks he’s asexual or bi or even gay since they never knew anyone who had been his girlfriend and he doesn’t seem to be that person to be involved in any romance.

But then he surprises everyone when during their performance, he just grabs hange’s ponytail and kissed her deeply.

And people were just like—oh, shit, wait, what.... levi just—kissed his friend....his....friend.....Hange....the Hange

Then the crowd went wilder and even Levi’s fans just gasped with excitement because—damn that’s hot!

Even Hange herself were surprised but she couldn’t do anything since levi’s grip was too strong, lost in his own world as he ravishes her with kisses as if he doesn’t give a shit about everyone watching them

she doesn’t even know how long it lasted.

Then there’s Erwin in the crowd, capturing every moment with a camera because he’s the only one who wasn’t surprised about this

Stop the presses!

“Breaking news! Levi Ackerman frontman of No Name is having an illicit love affair!”

“It’s not breaking news if everyone already knows...” Porco rolls his eyes. Connie groans. Great. Now Porco is in his shot. The school’s journalism club is essentially him and Sasha with her phone’s camera. They do not have the skill nor the budget to edit him out.

“Who’s he dating then?” Sasha shoots back.

“Heard it’s a girl from another school.” Porco shrugs.

“Heard he’s gay...” Reiner offers.

“You just want him to be gay...” There’s sniggering and Reiner wants to punch Porco, but he’s a man of discipline, so no violence before breakfast.

“It’s just a rumour! He isn’t dating anyone! Levi’s too cool to date.” Eren says, gagging at the mention of the word. A literal child.

“Who would wanna date him?” Mikasa scoffs.

“Everyone in the school apart from you, Mikasa...” Petra says, “he’s dreamy...”

Connie urges the discussion on, Sasha capturing all of this. This is the best content they’ve gotten all week. “Come on! There are no bad answers!”

“Maybe he’s dating a fan?” Bertholdt says.

“Maybe he’s dating Hanji... They do seem rather close?” Pieck says, and the silence and scowls are intended to shame her. Connie looks at the aluminium foil on Pieck’s head. Right. The Signs movie screening organised by the conspiracy society is today.

“No bad answers except that one...” Connie says.

—

“You’re the talk of the town again...” Mike says, “they were discussing you on the school’s YouTube channel.”

Levi tsks. He doesn’t know why Mike bothers with that crap. It’s a pretty high quality production... he had justified, but there’s nothing high quality about Sasha’s shaky hands and Connie’s head covering half the frame. Everyone knows Mike enjoys the gossip, and there’s no one that enjoys it more. Except maybe Erwin.

“Do tell! Who is the enigmatic Levi Ackerman dating?” Erwin teases. He knows he’s not getting anything out of tight-lipped Levi. But it’s still worth a shot. Also worth seeing how annoyed he can get. Plus it’s not like they don’t already know.

If the canteen hadn’t been so goddamn full, Levi would’ve relocated long ago. Then again, his lunch groups hasn’t changed since his first day at school. The routine works.

“I’m sure you boys would be the first to know...” Nanaba chuckles. She had been the first to know and frankly. Levi’s inability to confess has been getting stifling. The only thing that really breaks the conversation though? Hanji tripping and landing face first on the table, lucky for her Levi moves her tray out of the way, saving her lunch, “watch it four eyes!”

“What did I miss?” Hanji asks, eyes already gleaming at the possibility of new knowledge.

“We were just talking about Levi’s illicit love affair.” Mike says. This is getting interesting.

“Awww Levi! You didn’t tell your ol’ pal Hanji that you were seeing someone?”

The rest of them exchange looks. God she’s so goddamn oblivious.

“Eat. We’ve got band practice before class.” Levi says, fingers already working to peel Hanji’s orange for her.

Nanaba winces. So goddamn oblivious.

—

“So we enter school today and Sasha what do we see?”

“Merch!” Sasha pops in front of the screen and does jazz hands with Connie.

“In the lead up to the big No Name concert, everyone’s donning their best No Name merch! First, let’s speak to the best in the game, Armin Arlert.”

Armin fidgets awkwardly, “ahaha I’m just a fan who just happens to make high quality merch.” Modest for someone earning big bucks from his enterprise.

“Ah... And you have competition this year!” Connie says into the microphone, which is really just rolled up newspaper.

“Well... The quality of my work speaks for itself...” Armin smiles sheepishly at the camera, but there’s something insidious in his eyes. Armin has to admit having sole monopoly over No Name merchandising in school has gone a little stale. Surely a little competition will spice things up.

“So Zeke, care to tell us more about your entry into the merchandise game?” Connie asks the bearded boy. Who has a full grown beard at their age? Connie makes a mental note to insert “sells bootleg merch” in the little panel that runs below Zeke’s interview. The whole school is also pretty sure Zeke had been behind the whole oregano debacle last year- someone had been passing oregano off as weed and selling it to the younglings.

“What’s there to say? Mine’s cheaper.” Zeke winks.

“So, satisfied customer. Why did you choose to buy Armin’s merch over Zeke’s?” Connie asks.

Pieck glances down at her Hanji shirt, “Armin got Hanji’s nose right.” She smiles.

In the background Armin and Eren are yelling at one another.

“How could you Eren! I thought we were best friends!” Armin says. Maybe the competition spiced things up a little too much.

“It was cheaper Armin! So much cheaper!”

Eren is wearing the ugliest shirt in school so, is it really worth it though?

—

“We are absolutely not blowing our budget on a confetti canon!”

“But Levi!” Hanji whines, “you already rejected so many of my ideas...”

“May I remind you that your previous ideas include a guillotine on stage, you repelling from the ceiling-“

“A tiger...” Mike adds and Hanji shoots him a look, traitor...

“It was two tigers...” she mutters under her breath. “Aww Levi you never let me do anything fun!” She pouts and Mike watches as Levi’s resolve slips an inch. There’s nothing more disgusting than the weakness of a man in love. Mike rolls his eyes. He had told Erwin if he wanted in on the action, he should join their band. There’s just so much to see that Mike has honestly had his fill. Or maybe he’s just saying it. Damn Nanaba was right, he enjoys this more than he’d care to admit.

“If you shut up through the next five songs, I’ll buy you dinner.”

“What about me?” Mike huffs.

“Deal!” Hanji shouts triumphantly, “and if you let me sing the chorus with you on this next song at the concert I’ll buy you dessert!”

“Almost as if I’m invisible...” Mike mutters.

“Fine... Deal... If you can hit the notes that is...”

“Ohhhh snap!” Mike says, and Levi turns to him for a high five. Mike smashes a beat on his drums. Hanji deadpans.

Ba dum fuckin tiss indeed.

—

“So it’s two days before the festival and the big No Name concert. Today, we’ve got a special treat for you. Roving reporter Jean Kirschtein will find out more about Levi’s love affair, straight from the horse’s mouth!”

Jean shoots Connie a dirty look. But the pun had not been intended. Connie mouths a quick apology before continuing, “but first, a word with the people closest to him-“ Connie nudges Jean towards the general direction of Erwin, Nanaba and Mike. Remember you owe me Jean! Connie whispers harshly when he senses his friend’s hesitation, now go!

Jean groans once more. God his reputation was going to take a hit. He’s vice captain of the soccer team for God’s sake. He doesn’t need this.

“Erwin Smith! A word? Uh... Thoughts on the rumours surrounding Levi Ackerman’s love life?” Jean asks. “Erwin Smith, football captain, history club president, student council treasurer, overall overachiever, and Levi Ackerman’s friend” appears on the screen. They all know if anyone’s likely to spill, it’s going to be Erwin.

Erwin’s eyes light up, he’s finally going on the channel he watches religiously with Mike. There’s so much he can contribute, so much gossip to share, so much insight. Maybe they would even invite him as a panelist on their show. The sheer power! He looks at Nanaba and she frowns at him and shakes her head. Ah damn it! He knows she’ll tear into him if he divulges too much.

“That’s strictly on a need to know basis.” Erwin grins.

“Well... Can you give us anything at all?” Jean asks. Please for the love of god he needs to pay Connie back somehow for setting him up on that date with Mikasa. God is generous but he can easily take it all away.

“We have good, solid guesses, but other than that... No... We can’t confirm anything...” Erwin answers, but not before glancing at Nanaba. She’s nodding. Good, that’s a good answer. Ambiguous enough to keep people wanting. Erwin is relieved. Jean isn’t however, he’s now certain that his debt is going to be rolled along a tab he will soon never be able to pay.

“Oh and the history society’s having quiz night next week, be there or be square!” Erwin plugs.

“Nerd!” Nile yells from across the hallway and Mike chortles.

It doesn’t take Jean long to find Hanji, after all she’s president of the biology club, so why wouldn’t she be in a lab elbow deep in a vat of something Jean doesn’t want to know the name of. It’s her kingdom with a whopping total of four subjects.

“Hanji Zoë, I’m here to ask for the latest on Levi Ackerman’s love life-“

Hanji Zoë- the school’s resident oddball, the genius herself, in the flesh, eating a checkerboard cookie. She looks up at him and there are crumbs on her face.

“Oh! Hi Jean!” Hanji looks up momentarily, “that’s easy, Levi’s in love with me.” She winks at Jean and chuckles. Jean’s jaw drops, surely she’s kidding. Hanji’s known for that after all- her quick wit and dismal personal hygiene. He chuckles awkwardly. “Yeah... Okay...”

“See you at the concert?” She beams at him and he replies enthusiastically. Is she kidding? Everyone’s gonna be there. But Jean remains strategic, he leaves right before she gets the chance to talk his ear off about joining her club again. “Shoot... There goes another one...” she says under her breath as he exits the lab.

Jean bumps into Levi when he’s leaving the lab, odd, what’s Levi doing here, no matter, Jean has a job to do.

“Levi Ackerman! Care to comment on the recent rumours surrounding your-“

“No.” Levi interjects and heads off.

Jean flips the camera so he’s in it, “well, that’s the scoop. Back to you Connie and Sasha.”

—

“It’s the day of the festival! But really the whole school is buzzing with anticipation for the No Name concert!” Connie announces into his makeshift mic.

“Will there be another accident on-stage this time? Will Levi Ackerman reveal more on his secret romance? Is there even a secret romance to begin with? More importantly, will Porco Galliard finally pay for his own food at the festival?”

“Hey!” Porco whips his head around to glare at Connie, “did Reiner get you to say that?”

Connie shrugs, “we’ll find out after these messages...”

The concert is a blast, from a spectacular entrance (choreographed, no doubt, by one Hanji Zoë), to Mike’s drum solo, to Levi’s vocal riffs. But there’s an anticipation of another sort- will Levi Ackerman finally address the rumours of his love affair?

“My Levi-Hanji senses are tingling Nanaba...” Erwin says mid-concert. As the self-proclaimed expert on school gossip, there’s no gossip sweeter than that which surrounds his two best friends. Nanaba thinks it’s an overstatement of his abilities.

But Nanaba feels it too- the electricity in the air, “i think it’s finally happening!” She says, nothing short of a vision.

Levi announces the last song for the night, and he makes his way over to Hanji during the last chorus.

HUH?

Sasha’s cameras are rolling. She holds her breath, for what she doesn’t know, but she feels it coming, call it director’s intuition if you will.

Hanji looks at Levi and beams past the bandages over their eyes, now upgraded to a material they can actually see through, ever since that one accident with Hanji trying to execute a stage dive completely blind. It’s not fun explaining to the ER nurse how you managed to fracture your arm in so many locations.

Hanji’s expression changes to one of confusion when Levi closes the distance between them. This isn’t part of any plan. Her lips part in a gasp. The crowd falls silence, breath collectively held in anticipation. It’s happening. The most significant and exciting moment of their young lives.

What in the name of Maria, Rose, and Sheena!

Levi grabs Hanji by her ponytail and crashes his lips into hers. She forgets how to function, her guitar now hanging limp and forgotten. But her arms find their way around Levi’s neck. It’s just Mike on the drums now, roaring with laughter.

“Hell yes!” Mike exclaims and it’s captured by one of the mics, joined by Nanaba and Erwin at exactly the same time. There’s a flash from Erwin’s phone, there, immortalised in a photo forever. He knows it’ll come in handy one day. For blackmail or for a future wedding montage. Either is fine.

What just happened?

Connie’s jaw is hanging.

“Levi Ackerman and... and... Hanji Zoë?” Connie says, more for his own benefit than for his audience. Because this is Hanji they’re talking about? The Hanji Zoë? Resident evil genius, overall weirdo, oddly magnetic and popular amongst both the boys and the girls, Levi’s childhood friend Hanji Zoë? The answer had been staring them right in the face! Levi at the biology labs, Levi glowering at her, the bickering, the chemistry on and off stage.

Connie whips his head over to Pieck, and she winks at him, told you so!

“I don’t believe it! Stop the presses! Levi Ackerman, frontman of No Name, in love with the brilliant, the magnetic, the one and only... Hanji Zoë!”

Hanji is kissing Levi back with fervour, until they’re both blushing and giddy, the music long forgotten, and when everyone is done gawking, the crowd erupts in violent cheering. Who would’ve thought emotionally constipated Levi, Levi whose private life has been kept a secret for so long, safe from the prying hands of the school press and his loyal fans, would choose to make an announcement like this. What a night! What a spectacle!

“I guess that’s all for tonight folks, and what a fantastic and surprising evening it has been!” Connie laughs, “I’m Connie Springer, and you heard it here first!”

The confetti canon goes off. And Hanji watches with uninhibited joy as confetti rains down on the stage.

“So... Tigers next time?” Hanji says, unwrapping the bandages from her face, her eyes glazed over and more beautiful than anything Levi has ever seen. He scoffs, pressing another kiss to her lips for posterity.

“Don’t push it...”

(A/N: prompt so good I had to write a mini fic! Thank you anon💖💖💖)

[amjustagirl]

Chapters: one. ~ two. ~ three. ~ four. ~ five. ~ six. ~ seven. ~ eight.

Word Count: 2.3k

Summary: Being with Miya Atsumu is like chasing a storm - equal parts exhilaration and danger. After all, it’s impossible to tame a storm. 

Masterlist here 

AO3 Link here

‘Y'know, when I asked you to manage 'Tsumu, I never imagined you'd manage him like this.’  Osamu states bluntly, eyebrow raised as Atsumu spends yet another evening seated right by her spot at the till, lobbing playful insults and jokes at her until she snaps at him to ‘shut up for the love of all that is holy and stop disturbing the other customers’ . 

‘Like what?!’ she splutters unconvincingly, her cheeks turning red. 

Osamu gives her a knowing look before he turns away to welcome in another batch of customers. 

Osamu closes the shop on the anniversary of its opening, and throws a small party at a rooftop bar that a friend of his owns. She’s told that her attendance is absolutely mandatory, so even though she has class early next morning, she finds herself with a drink in her hand, staring down at the crowds of downtown Osaka. If she squints, she can see a child pulling her mother to a stop, pointing overhead at the rainbow of neon street lights in awe. 

‘A hundred yen for your thoughts?’ She doesn’t need to turn around to know it’s Atsumu, his lazy drawl far more pronounced than Osamu’s. 

The child in the street below remains rooted to the spot, causing a buildup in the crowd despite her mother’s attempts to pull her away. It makes her think of the first time her parents brought her to visit the city more than a decade ago, and how overwhelmed she felt, surrounded by people and buildings tall enough to touch the sky, so different from her hometown of rolling hills and bamboo groves. 

‘Did you feel sad when you left home?’ she replies with a question of her own. 

‘Nah - was excited, really. Always dreamed of playin’ volleyball in the big leagues, so stayin’ home wasn’t gonna cut it for me, y'know?’ 

‘Heartless. Probably made your mother cry’, she accuses him, and he acknowledges it with a careless laugh. 

‘What about you? Thinkin’ about home?’ he asks, coming to stand beside her, eyes trained on the thin line separating building and sky. 

‘Leaving was necessary’, she responds simply. 

Especially with two older brothers blessed with both brain and brawn, far better suited to inherit her father’s steel forge. But while her father might spend most of the day teaching her brothers how to craft the sharpest knives, his evenings were spent at the kitchen table with her perched on his lap, learning to balance numbers in his account books. And with her schoolteacher mother drilling into her head the importance of an education, moving down to Osaka for an accountancy degree seemed less like a choice and more like an inevitable conclusion. 

He frowns at her silence. ‘Did you get kidnapped by aliens or somethin’? Usually you’d be snappin’ at me, or scolding me, or shouting at me for being a dick – completely undeserved, by the way’.

‘I just seem quiet because you talk too much. Has anyone ever told you that?’ she retorts. But there is no fire in her words, and he only chortles in response. 

They watch in silence as the crowd below them slowly starts to thin out as the dusk fades into night. The cold night air bites through her thin sweater into her skin, and she shivers, unconsciously shifting closer towards Atsumu’s warmth. He shoots her a look that’s halfway between a smile and a smirk as he slides his jacket over her shoulders, and she pretends the flush on her cheeks is from the alcohol in her drink. 

But she can’t help but lean into him, letting herself drown in the heat of his hand on her hip and the storm in his eyes. 

Osamu’s eyes cloud in disapproval when he finds out she and Atsumu are dating. ‘He’d better not run off my accountant, that’s all I can say’. 

‘Osamu! Atsumu’s your twin!’ she scolds, arm deep in a vat of rice water. 

‘Exactly’, he responds with a snort. ‘I’m not sure you realise how much of a dick ‘Tsumu can be, ‘specially when all he’s hungry for is chasing a win. I hope you’re ready to handle that.’ 

‘You’re just worried because you’re too cheap to hire a qualified accountant to do your books’ she grouses and he looks like he’s about to snark back, but the chatter of their first customers of the day entering the shop signals the end of their conversation. 

Dating Atsumu isn’t as bad as Osamu makes it out to be. She’s careful not to ask too much of him when he’s busy with training and competitions, and in any case her schedule is full enough with school and her job, but they make the effort of video calling each other at least twice a week if he’s travelling, and if he’s in town, they spend Friday nights with multiple boxes of pizza (Atsumu’s appetite is enormous) , bickering over what movie to watch next. 

He insists she watch as many games of his as possible, and he spends so much time crowing about his plays that she should be annoyed, but she finds herself charmed by the childlike enthusiasm in his voice. ‘That’s probably why you’re the only one that can stand him’, Osamu comments but she pays him no mind. He’s in the audience cheering for her when she graduates, and takes her out for a fancy meal when she lands her first job ( no, Osamu, working at Onigiri Miya doesn’t count, no matter what you say). 

Their paths might not always converge but when they do, there’s the quiet contentment of finding shelter in each other, and she quickly becomes addicted to the warmth of that feeling in her heart. 

‘Stop being a baby’, she scolds, as she peels back the sports tape on Atsumu’s back with deliberate care. ‘It’s your fault for going for practice with a strained shoulder and not listening to your physiotherapist!’

‘Don’t nag darlin’, I had to – it was Hinata-kun’s first practice with us!’ He’s practically buzzing in his seat with glee, and she can’t help the soft smile that grows on her face. 

‘There - all done’, she says, and she can’t help but run her hand to rest in the dip of his spine.  

‘What would I do without you?’ he asks, shooting her a roguish smile that distracts her long enough that he’s able to pull her into his lap. 

‘Idiot’, she huffs fondly, and he chuckles in reply, the sound warming her heart. ‘Hey ‘Tsumu?’ she says again, pushing his wandering hands away. 

‘You called, doll?’ he quirks an eyebrow at her, hands heavy against her hips. 

‘I love you’, she whispers against the broad expanse of his chest. 

‘I know’, he says with light laughter in his voice, and swallows her outraged cry ‘arsehole!’  by sliding his mouth over hers until her breath starts to stutter and she closes her eyes. 

There is a storm raging outside, but she pays it no mind. 

Her stomach churns when she sees the faint line on the test she bought in a panic during her lunch break, and she now wonders whether the nausea she’s been feeling the past week was not a bug she thought she caught, but actually morning sickness after all. That thought makes her feel like puking her guts out again and she does - unceremoniously every morning for weeks after that. 

Atsumu’s in the middle of a series of matches away from home, and she knows he’s warned her again and again not to distract him especially when the championship is within his team’s reach, but the rising swell of panic in her throat outwrestles any rational thought she has left in her head, so she finds herself blurting it out to him the minute they log on for their twice weekly call. 

‘You’re pregnant?’ he echoes blankly, rubbing a disbelieving hand over his face. ‘How?’ 

‘D’you remember the gala night for the opening of the season when I was on antibiotics for an ear infection?’ He nods dumbly, and she twists her fingers in her lap. ‘Yeah… Well I figure it must have happened then.’ 

The connection of their call crackles, and she strains her ears for his response. It doesn’t come. 

‘Tsumu?’ 

‘Right.’ he finally says. ‘So what are you going to do about it?’

‘I...don’t know,’ she confesses. 

They’re both barely on the cusp of adulthood, and the thought of bringing a new life into the world that she’d be wholly responsible floods her with a tidal wave of fear and dread and anxiety that does not ebb away. She’s not sure her boss will take too kindly to finding out she’s pregnant, much less so out of wedlock, especially since she’s barely a year into her job, and she doesn’t even want to think about the dishonour and shame she’ll bring to her family - though a part of her is willing to brave her father’s disapproval and her mother’s tears just to feel their arms around her again. 

But her hands are drawn to the slight swell of her belly, and perhaps it’s sentiment clouding her mind, she’s not sure she has it within her to stamp out the flicker of life budding within her after nights filled with dreams of a child with her smile and Atsumu’s eyes. 

‘Look - I’ve got to go. We’ll talk when I get home, ok?’ he mutters, logging off before she can say goodbye. 

But he doesn’t - not even when his team wins the championship and she finds out from the team’s social media that he’s returned back to Osaka. 

Her calls go unanswered, her texts remain unread, and with desperation rising in her chest she turns to Osamu - even though she initially swore to herself she wasn’t going to drag him into the messes that Atsumu tends to make. But the laws in Japan require the consent of the father if she wants to get rid of the problem (though it feels wrong to term it like that), and he’s the closest male friend she trusts enough to step up to the plate. 

‘Fuckin’ pig’ he snarls, slamming his fist down on the counter so hard it makes her jump back in shock at seeing the normally mild-mannered Osamu lose his temper and react with such obvious rage. But he calms down quickly to close his shop early and walk her home. 

‘It’ll be fine’, he promises her. ‘You’ll see’. 

She’s not sure she trusts Osamu’s definition of fine, not when Atsumu turns up on her doorstep that same night with a smear of blood under his nose and a purple bruise over his right eye. She stares at him, her arms folded across her chest.

‘What do you have to say for yourself, Miya?’, she says, and he winces at her use of his surname, scratching the back of his head sheepishly.  

‘I freaked out ok? Finding out that you got pregnant - that I’m going to be a  dad  made me panic ‘cos I’m totally not ready for that  shit  - even though Osamu’s right, I’m a piece of crap and you’re probably going through so much worse and I should do right by you -.’

‘Atsumu, what are you even saying?!’ She interrupts, exasperated. 

‘I’m asking you to jump off a cliff with me’, he says, lifting his chin to return her stare.

‘Wha-’ 

‘Marry me.’ He cuts in softly, bringing his hand to cup her face, brushing his thumb across the corner of her lip. ‘It’s gonna be one hell of a ride, but you and I - we’ll get through this together’. 

She’s struck dumb, suddenly reminded of how being with Atsumu is like chasing a storm - equal parts exhilaration and danger. While there’s the thrill of being near enough to witness the sky collapsing into a torrent of rain and hear the wind descend into howls of rage, there’s also the lingering fear that the next flash of lightning might mean pain, or even death. 

But Atsumu’s eyes are clear pools of light, and she can only see  hope  reflected within it. She wonders if it mirrors the hope in her heart too. 

So she says yes, and catches his smile in her hands. 

They hold a small wedding at the Miya family shrine with their respective families as quickly as they can before the swell of her belly is unable to be hidden by the folds of her shiro-muku, the traditional white of her kimono a stark contrast against the black and gold of Atsumu’s montsuki. Her face is hidden under the weight of her headdress and her hands tremble as she clasps her kaiken, a blade her father forged himself, and her mother’s bamboo fan to her belt. She does not breathe until she and Atsumu take their third sip of sake from the nuptial cup. 

Osamu is obviously appointed as the best man, and after the ceremony is over, he slaps Atsumu on the back before pressing a careful kiss to her cheek. ‘You’ve downgraded from being my accountant to my sister’, he tells her, and she has to hide her teary laugh behind her hands. But her heart is full and she throws her arms around his neck until Atsumu clears his throat playfully and she pulls away to greet her family. 

‘Take care of her’, her father says, the threat in his and her brothers’ eyes amplified by their wedding gift to her of their sharpest knives. Atsumu meets their gaze evenly and laughs, unfazed. 

‘I will’, he says, and he kisses her with his promise still on his lips. 

[gottaenjoythelittlethingzz]

Early Evening

Part 2 of the ongoing, loosely interconnected series Swellview has a New First Lady.

Summary: When Ray returns to the Man Cave after a particularly messy battle against a villain, we get to see the internal workings of Cheyanne's and Ray's flirty, romantic relationship. And Cheyanne reveals exactly how much sway she holds over Ray.

*Keep in this series can be read on AO3 & FF.*

~~~~~

Cheyanne had just finished closing up the store for the night. Another shift gone over without a hitch. The counters were wiped down, the junk was newly organized into bins and separated from any loose odds and ends, and the sign hanging on the glass entrance to Junk N’ Stuff read, ‘Sorry, we’re NOT in’. The cash register was emptied, and she carried the day’s meager profits in the elevator, counting bills as she rode down.

When she stepped into the Man Cave she noticed it vacant. This suited her well. It was nice when she could turn in for an early evening. A rare occurrence in these parts.

She was halfway to the sprocket which would lead her further into the expansive underground maze when a swooshing noise halted her footsteps. A single tube shot abruptly to the floor and a blue-and-red-suited superhero dropped in.

“Honey, I’m ho-hughhh.” Ray came tumbling out of the tube clutching his stomach and nose independently. His sarcastic comment lost behind a violent, extended wrenching noise. Since he’s so use to the tube ride it was clear his nausea was in response to the black soot smudged across him from head to toe. The gooey substance was largely crusted on and had entered ever crevice possible. It replaced his normal golden eye makeup with a smoky eye look. The smell it produced wafted across the Man Cave floor and Cheyanne smelt it herself before he approached her.

Cheyanne went to cover her own mouth and nose before smiling sardonically and using two fingers to trace a subtle path from her manicured brow to her peaked lips. She tapped them lightly when questioning, “So, how’d it go?”

“Terrible!” Ray roared. He further smudged the muck on his face and temporarily lost his balance when he could no longer see. Thankfully, he stopped with a few feet of flooring between himself and Cheyanne to correct his eye sight. “Professor Putrid had us chasing him all over down town and into the Swellview ‘Sludges and Slops’ disposal plant. I fell into a vat of tar trying to land a punch on him when he sprayed me with canned skunk spray.”

“That’s horrible.” Cheyanne made her voice sound soothing and sympathetic while simultaneously desiring to reach for a bottle of Febreze. “It should really be a more difficult place to break into. How did – hmph – how’d you catch him? I assume you did in the end.”

“You better believe we caught him!” Ray scraped at his skin with both his hands looking much like a kitten trying to cleanse itself without help until he opened one eye and then finally the other. “Henry used his super power to taunt Professor Putrid in a game of tag. Led the gross weirdo underneath a bucket of quick dry cementing mud. Done in by his own prototype. They’ll have to chisel his face free to get a clear mugshot of him.” Getting his first proper look at Cheyanne in what had been hours, Ray attempted to draw nearer to her while regaling his heroic tale. “The bucket was just dangling there. Suspended ten feet off the ground. Can you believe it?”

Cheyanne made a circular motion with her arms to raise them in question. A visual distraction as she took a sizeable step backwards at the same time. “Who would have thought?”

“You’re one to know, Chey. Anyone who would do half of something like this to the Man Mane is going to serve time.” He ran his hands over his hair trying his best to peel strands loose. The tar had plastered the locks to his scalp and refused to budge. He took another step forward. He hoped to be met with affirmation of his character. “Man, I’m going to have to do my most advanced hair care routine.” The process was designed to be grueling, employed numerous creams and gels, and was assured to undo most any damages.

“It sure is a good thing there’s a new suit in each gumball because that tar is never coming out.” Cheyanne tried to take a step forward to meet him halfway, but another wave of vile odor hit her nostrils, and she relaxed her arms by her sides. Least he think she was offering her hands. “Speaking of taking criminals to jail. Is that were Henry is now?”

An expression flitted across Ray’s face, one like he had not only forgotten his sidekick had been with him mere minutes ago, but it was as though he had forgotten the teenage apprentice existed entirely. “Yeah, yeah. Henry’s taking Professor ‘Pitiful’ to Swellview county prison. Should have dropped the mad scientist off by now.”

“What have I told you about making Henry go by himself?” Cheyanne’s voice shifts from playful to maternal.

“Henry knows where the prison is. He’s been enough times. He’s totally fine!” Ray manufactured excuses. “This was just an annoying level three villain who didn’t even have a superpower. It’s not like I asked the kid to take Arson Boy to jail by himself.”

Cheyanne shook her head with concern. Her brown eyes were always warm, deep pools of understanding but could turn stern all the same. “I don’t like Henry taking criminals to jail on his own. Some of the officers pick on him for his age. The criminals could escape from him. And besides, a crime isn’t solved until the perpetrator is put away. You should have to complete each job with him. I don’t care if Henry’s getting older and is able to handle more responsibilities. It simply isn’t fair to him that he ends up pulling more hours at work than his boss.”

Ray renewed his tactic with an equal level of enthusiasm that he carried with him down the tube. “But, what if I said I wanted to hurry home to spend more alone time with Mrs. Manchester?” His eye brows climbed his forehead. He reached for her again. This time planning to snake his arms around her curvaceous waist.

“No, no, no.” Cheyanne skipped around the couch, using the furniture as a barrier between herself and the immature man. “Not until you’ve thrown that suit out in a dumpster somewhere far, far away, and taken a long, long shower.”

“Come on,” Ray clasped his hands against the rim of the mobile amenity. He made quick crab walking steps to the left and right while verbally taunting her. “You know I like to fool around in uniform.”

“That’s fine, except we can’t actually see it underneath all that foul muck!” Cheyanne was able to expertly predict Ray’s movements. She herself was unable to bite back the adoring smile from creeping onto her face.

He pointed an accusing finger her way. “Don’t act like you don’t like it just a little bit when I come back sweaty and grimy from an epic battle. You know you’re the only person I can temporarily share my ability with, huh?” Ray’s face was completely overtaken by his perfect teeth shining through his victorious grin. He could easily be swayed by his own words even when they didn’t work on anyone else around him. “It’s kind of our ‘thing’, right?”

Cheyanne gasped playfully and brought a hand up to her chest, bracelets shifting noisily to follow the path through the air her arm created, suggesting she was offended by his lewd suggestion. “There’s a lot more going on with you than natural bodily fluids, okay?”

Before she could condemn him further Ray sprang into action. He catapulted his legs over the couch, slide across the table, and landed with his feet on the cushioned seat directly in front of Cheyanne. She was startled by his boisterous movements and leapt backwards straight into the monitors’ chair. She was able to narrowly dodge his sweeping arms.

“Ulch,” Ray complained. He collapsed against the backrest. His head and arms drooping over the edge. “You’re really not going to jump on this opportunity while there are no crimes in progress, and no one is down here to bug us?”

Cheyanne cocked her head and calmly stood from the seat. She spun it in her hands and walked behind the object to place it between them. “Maybe I will reconsider…” She tapped her nails rhythmically to call his eyes onto her. “But first you must get rid of that old suit. And you have to shower - twice.”

Ray smirked at the images his idea called to mind. “Or maybe you could join me in the –.”

“Shower twice!” In a flash, his face morphed with disgruntlement. Flopping dramatically onto his back and sliding off the couch feet first, he began begrudgingly heading towards the stairs. His feet stomping. He might have mumbled something under his breath.

“And darling,” Cheyanne called to his retreating form.

Ray stopped to look over his shoulder. Hope swelled upon hearing his pet name used.

“Put on one of the shirts I like.”

Ray rotated his shoulders to face her, his expression suddenly befuddled. “You mean, don’t put on one of the many loud button up shirts I wear?”

Cheyanne clicked her tongue and nodded assertively.

He brought his hands up to his chest where he tapped his fists together. “Th-the blue one or the purple one?”

Cheyanne gave him a once over before replying with a curt, “Surprise me.”

“And then, maybe…” his voice trailed. The back of his neck warm to the touch.

“I can be persuaded.”

With an emphatic nod, Ray stated, “I can do that.” He promptly headed towards the shower. A new sense of urgency in his steps.

~~~~

No edit this time, but maybe in the future. Feel free to let me know what you think of this couple so far!

[matchasprouts]

Listen Closer - Chapter 19

[ i promised a listen closer update and by god i will give y'all a listen closer update ]

First || Next || Previous || Last

It was the next week that all the final touches on the big game were complete, and John was ready to let himself inevitably die at the end. Amanda was out collecting Dr. Denlon, having already moved Matthews into the room for his trap. Garrett had already retrieved Jeff Denlon, the doctor’s husband, and had him set up in the crate he would have to escape to get started.

Mark was heading out to get the players in Rigg’s game at the same time Garrett was leaving to get the other parts of Jeff Denlon’s game. Theoretically, that meant they would be back at the same time, despite two of Mark’s players not needing to be brought in. He still had to set up the trap that would start off Rigg’s game, after knocking Rigg himself out.

If all went accordingly, that meant Garrett would be there to help Mark get set up for his role in the game. Mark really didn’t want Amanda to do it, and neither did Garrett.

Garrett probably had it the easiest out of the two of them. He could get all his players at once, since his car was large enough for all three of them and none of them really had a fighting chance against them.

He got the most difficult one first, the one that would be going on the rack. He put up a fight, but Garrett was faster. The second one he grabbed was the Judge, who was actually asleep when he came in. Last, but not least, the witness that did nothing.

Honestly, he didn’t think any of these people needed to be trapped. The crash was an accident, the judge was just doing his job- it’s not like the accident was murder- and the witness was probably just scared.

Denlon, however, deserved this and they, unfortunately, were part of it.

As expected, despite the planning, Garrett got back before Mark. This wasn’t ideal, but it was preferred over Mark getting back first. He was likely still setting up Rigg’s apartment and trap. He doubted it would take much longer, it had been several hours since they first left.

He took the chance to hang the witness up in the freezer room (he felt bad stripping her naked, but he knew it had to be done), chain the judge up in the meat vat (he knew he wouldn’t be able to watch this one), and set the second most important player up in the rack.

John watched him do this, apparently wanting to ensure that he did it right. Amanda stood behind him, her eyes never once leaving Garrett.

Really? She didn’t trust him?

Maybe she should change her mind on killing Lynn Denlon before deciding to be pissy with him.

He glared at her, the sight of his wide eyes narrowing making her visibly uncomfortable. He turned back to the trap, using his shoulder to hold him up as he strapped him in by the ankles. Once that part was done, a hand on his chest held him upright as Garrett strapped in his wrists. Last was his head.

Once that was done, Garrett sent one last glance at John and Amanda, debating saying something to them but being cut off before he got the chance by his phone beeping with a text.

Mark was back, and it was time to set him up.

---

“You know, you look awfully pretty tied down like this,” Garrett teased, tightening the straps on Mark’s wrists a little bit. He’d already gotten the ankle straps done, he was just making sure the wrist ones were secure.

Mark rolled his eyes at the statement. “Yeah, sure. Enjoy it while it lasts.” Oh, he definitely was going to.

Garrett was, rather unfortunately, the only apprentice not participating in the game. John had made it clear that he wanted someone to watch the whole thing at once, in order to make sure that all of the rules were followed. He was not, however, allowed to intervene.

Once Mark was strapped in, he moved on to Detective Matthews. Admittedly, it was rather difficult to get him onto the ice block and not accidentally hang him, but he worked it out.

After finishing up with the wires meant to be tripped and giving the lever that would activate the trap, he took one last glance at Mark, offered him a smile, and shut off the lights.

Art Blank would be arriving soon, and Rigg would be waking up in no time. It was time for him to get to his viewing room.

The door unlocked with a click, and relocked with a higher pitched one. He couldn’t have anyone getting in here- the operation surviving relied on Mark and Garrett keeping up the lie. Not to mention the fact that he couldn’t get captured, he needed to put Strahm in his trap.

He sat down at the desk and turned on all of the monitors, not entirely sure how well he’ll be able to focus on all of them at once. If all else fails, he will probably just focus on Mark’s.

Though, he did want to make sure he watched the trap he built for Ivan. He was very invested in how it turned out since it was so much trouble to build.

He hummed a soft tune as he got set up, keeping a weapon close by in case someone did get into the room. He quieted down when Lynn woke up, and sat down to watch the game unfold.

It was going to be an interesting one, that’s for sure.

---

Amanda was starting to lose her cool, even Garrett could see that.

He’d chosen to turn his attention for the time being to John’s part of the game, while Jeff dealt with the Judge. He just couldn’t watch that trap- it was sickening, and that had to mean something when it came from someone like him.

Rigg was definitely taking his time as he went through his own part of the game, which was curious considering how desperate he was to get out of there. He’d only just put Ivan in the trap when Jeff freed the judge, staring at him for a moment before running out of there.

Next was the teacher and his wife, a trap Garrett wished he’d had the pleasure of putting together.

Obviously, he was fond of killing abusers. He had a plan for a game he would put together later with a similar premise of killing an abusive lover that the player just couldn’t leave. It wasn’t a punishment for staying- it was a key to freedom.

He watched as Rigg found the woman and her husband, flinching when she suddenly woke up. His attention turned back to Jeff, who was now entering the room with the Rack.

Amanda had decided to take a break from John’s game, storming out of the room and disappearing from the sight of the cameras. If Garrett had to guess, he’d say that she was probably cutting herself again.

She’d made him swear not to tell John, but even that precaution wasn’t needed because at this point, he wanted her out of the way. She killed with no remorse, and he couldn’t keep her in check like he could with Mark. Unfortunately, she had to go.

Garrett hummed as he turned to Mark’s game, Art Blank just now handing the gun over to Matthews. He watched as Matthews considered killing himself, loading the single bullet into the gun and pressing it against the underside of his jaw.

But, in the end, he couldn’t bring himself to do it. Garrett wasn’t sure if he was weak willed, or if he cared enough about Mark to not kill him.

Possibly both.

Rigg was helping the woman down now, putting his coat over her to keep her warm after the blood loss.

As he did that, Strahm and Perez entered the motel room where Ivan’s body lay. Through one of the cameras, Garrett had seen the addict that grabbed him last time he was there pull Strahm to the side, likely telling him in a frantic voice about the man with the wide eyes.

Knowing Strahm, he was going to ignore this completely.

In fact, he probably thought Rigg was the apprentice he was hunting, which was exactly what he was supposed to think.

Of course Strahm seemed angry while talking to Perez about the trap, but then she said something and he shut up. It seemed like it was a suggestion, because after a second, he pulled out his phone and typed something in.

Garrett didn’t realize he was making a call until his own phone started ringing.

“Shit-!” he hissed, not having accounted for the fact that of course Strahm would try to call the only Jigsaw specialist in. But he couldn’t leave, and none of them had time for this. He debated just letting it go to voicemail, but that would be suspicious, so he finally picked up.

“It’s my off day Strahm, I don’t care what kind of trap you’ve just run into, I’m not leaving my damn apartment,” he started immediately, cutting Strahm’s greeting off. There was silence for a moment, before Strahm spoke up again.

“I know, but this is the second trap we’ve come across. It’s a multistage game and-” Garrett cut him off once again, not willing to sit through the explanation of a game he was facilitating.

“All the more reason for me to not come in right now,” he said, glancing at Jeff’s game in time to watch the driver’s head get twisted all the way around, killing him instantly. “If it’s a multistage game, the likelihood of me walking into something I can’t defend myself from is too high. Contractually I can’t go.”

That was actually the truth. Part of the contract he signed when he was hired on was that if a trap was found and the game was still active, he couldn’t look at it. There was far too high of a chance that he could get hurt, and the police couldn’t handle that liability.

Strahm’s end of the phone was quiet, probably pressed against his chest as he spoke to Perez about something. Finally, he broke it. “Fine. I’m not getting fired over you.”

“Oh, don’t be so bitter,” Garrett all but hissed, watching Jeff try to find a way out as Rigg ran through the halls in search of his coworkers. “I have to go. Good luck.”

He hung up, and watched as Strahm got another location and rushed out of there.

Now his focus was solely on Amanda and Lynn. Amanda had a gun with her, apparently, and Garrett could tell that she was close to snapping. Hopefully she’d hold out long enough for Strahm to arrive.

---

Strahm was alone when he entered the building, blood spattered on his shirt and his gun drawn. Garrett watched as he and Jeff both headed for the same room, turning to one of the other monitors and watching Art get shot by Rigg.

He’d enjoyed watching Matthews die, his head crushed by the giant ice blocks suspended above him. Though, he was a bit surprised that Mark managed to avoid any of the chunks that went flying.

He heard gunshots, and watched Strahm kill Jeff. He grabbed his pig mask, and ran from the room, pulling it on as he went. He hid in the next room that Strahm was supposed to find, hidden by the shadows and pressed against the back of a pillar.

Strahm didn’t take long to get into the room, slowly making his way to one of the gurneys. He ran a hand over it, and Garrett rushed out at him, grabbing the back of his head and slamming it into the gurney before jabbing the needle into his neck.

The liquid went in, and Strahm went limp in his grasp. Garrett took the chance to look him over when he wasn’t hopped up on pain meds, humming softly as his thumb brushed over the agent’s cheek.

Not wanting to waste anymore time, he hoisted Strahm onto his shoulder and made his way to the water box room.

It wasn’t long before Strahm was set up in his trap, everything he’d been carrying on him laid out on a small table in front of him. Originally, Garrett was going to plant the pen on him before he woke up, but now… now he wanted him to know that the only reason he survived was that someone acting as Jigsaw spared him.

It’d be quite the ego killer.

Garrett stood in the darkness of the room as he waited for Strahm to wake, giving him a significantly watered down dose of the sedative they used so he would wake up sooner. The longer it took, the more he fidgeted, needing to get outside so he could have an alibi.

Finally, he woke up… and immediately started banging at the glass and yelling for help. Garrett tilted his head at him, watching him thrash until he pressed a button on a remote kept in his pocket, getting the water to flow.

He’d blocked out Strahm’s yelling at this point, waiting until the water was close to his mouth before slowly making his way over to him, the pen hidden in his hand by the sleeve of the jacket he wore.

Strahm froze for half a second before thrashing even harder the closer he got. Garrett pressed his gloved index finger to the mouth of the pig mask, before leaning close to Strahm and slipping the pen into his pocket.

They made eye contact for a few seconds, before Garrett was pulling away and leaving the building. He heard Strahm yell out to him, just barely hearing him beg for him to come back before the door was closed and he was removing anything that would make it seem like he was Jigsaw.

His mask, jacket, and gloves went in the back of his car. He also changed his general clothes at his car, making it seem more like he had just thrown some clothes on in a rush. Then he went around the building, slipping into the crowd at the front.

Once he saw Mark, he started to act panicked, just like he was supposed to. He shoved his way through the people, yelling out for his boyfriend when one of the cops keeping the crowd back grabbed him, saying something about civilians not being allowed past the tape.

“I’m the fucking specialist you ass!” Garrett spat, forcing his way out of their grasp and ducking under the tape and making a beeline for Mark.

He hit his lover’s chest hard, making him stumble back a little, but he immediately felt Mark’s arms around him. “Is everyone dead?” he whispered, looking up at the detective.

Mark just nodded. Of course, he didn’t know that Strahm was still alive, and he’d probably never know that that was because of Garrett. “It’s just us now.”

Garrett pulled him into a kiss to hide his grin from the cameras, one that Mark quickly returned. They both immediately pulled back when they heard someone say that they had a live one, finding Strahm laid out on a different gurney and being pulled into an ambulance.

“Shit,” Garrett hissed, glancing up at Mark, whose jaw had tightened at the sight of the agent. He looked down at Garrett, not angry with him but clearly angry at Strahm’s survival.

“I hope you have a plan to fix this…” he practically growled, his features softening when his boyfriend looked uncomfortable.

Garrett sighed softly, resting his forehead on Mark’s chest. “I always do. It’s gonna take time though.”

“Better than nothing.”

Hopefully, the questioning wouldn’t last too long.

[snowdice]

Finding the Time to Study Fic 2 [Day 22]

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

If you are a new follower or just don’t want all of these posts clogging your dash, please feel free to block the tag “study break stories” as all posts and voting about it will go there. You can still see the finished product of the story even if you are blocking that tag as I will not tag the edited chapters with “study break stories” but with the tag “folds in paper.” See edited chapters below. Chapters 3-8 and what I have of Chapter 9 are under the cut.

My Masterpost Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5

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

The hope is to work on this for quite a bit today. Please come keep me company with asks if you feel so inclined.

Chapter 6

“Really, Khalid,” Janus said, storming into his boss’s office. “A yellow?” It had been about a week since the 1920s incident, and his incident report had finally been cleared. Sure, it wasn’t a red or a black and he wasn’t facing any reprimand, but it should have been a green.

She looked up at him, clearly unconcerned. “There was an incident,” she said. “You handled it well, but there was one. Therefore, yellow.”

“It wasn’t a time travel incident! It was a rouge time traveler.”

“Janus, you helped me make these rules,” she said impatiently.

“Which is why I know this is bullshit,” he snapped.

 She rolled her eyes. “If it was anyone else, you would agree with me. While you didn’t go against protocol and had no time related incidents, the fact of the matter is, you were still distracted by this ‘rouge time traveler,’ didn’t complete your mission, and were arrested.”

“He was good,” Janus said. “You can’t fault me for that. He also could be dangerous and you’re busy handing out yellows instead of working to track him down.”

She raised an eyebrow. “We are working on tracking him down,” she said. “We have done an analysis on the mask and found fibers dating to the 2010s and some DNA. Though it isn’t exactly a high priority.”

 “We have no idea who he is or what he’s planning to do. Why is that not a high priority thing?”

“At the moment?” she asked. “Because we have reports of a time bomb being activated.”

“What?” Janus asked sitting up. “When?”

“New Years Eve going into the year 3,000 in Brazil,” she said. “Which you’d know about if you’d bothered to check your integration port this morning before storming into my office.”

“It’s my mission?” Janus asked.

“The incident investigation is over and your active again despite the dreaded yellow,” she said, clearly making fun of him a bit. “So, yes, and it’s a high priority mission, so I’ll be running it.”

 “Who all is going?” he asked.

“Other than the two of us, Remus, Lena, and Fred,” she told him. “We leave in three hours, so, you might want to run off to Rhi before Fred gets to her and ties her up for an hour on details.”

Janus nodded and got to his feet. He turned back at the door. “I still don’t deserve the yellow,” he hissed.

She waved him off. “I’ll see you in a few hours, Picani.”

He ground his teeth a bit about the dismissal of his worries, but his resentment was slightly soothed by the fact that she’d assigned him to go on such a high priority mission and with only senior agents.

 He took the advice and grabbed Remus from the office, noting Lena hadn’t been able to wrangle Fred yet as she was still at her desk, and they both headed off to see Rhi.

A few hours later, they were all in decontamination together, decked out in truly god-awful costumes. The turn of the third millennia had been a wild event, and the best way to fit in was to look like you’d grabbed something from every century in recorded human history, dyed it in neon paint, and rolled around in a vat of glitter.

Remus had opted to stick his head in a vat of thick glow in the dark green paint that costuming had offered them, and it wasn’t even going to be slightly disruptive to their covertness. It was so caked on that Janus couldn’t even recognize him.

 In fact, costuming had frowned when Janus had insisted he not get his hair dyed and instead wore a bowler hat. They had required him to have flowers made out of glitter on it.

There were five people waiting for them when they landed 6 hours before the turn of the millennia. Three were touchdown agents, including Remy, and two were on location tech support. Usually it would be overkill to have that many people there just for support even with five agents in the field, but today the TPI needed to be cautious because they were planning on instituting a time lock.

Time bombs were dangerous things that would ripple through time if not contained. Even if it did end up going off (killing everyone in its reach), the time lock would serve to prevent most damage outside of the city and, more importantly, the year it was planted.

��Janus had only been in two time locks before, and he was one of the most senior agents in the TPI, outranked only by the founder: Lia Khalid. Time locks were designed to keep all time linear in a certain fixed time and geographical area as well as prevent any time travel in and out. Once it was engaged, all forms of time travel would not work for the duration, bar the pin device. Khalid was already switching out her regular timepiece with the slightly bigger one that was designed to support the time lock.

There was a failsafe back at the TPI that could be engaged in an emergency, which was why tech support was here, but other than that, the only thing that could break the time lock was that timepiece, and it would break the moment the time lock ended.

 As soon as it was on Khalid’s wrist, she looked up at them all. “Our information says the time bomb was planted in the costume of one of the ‘Millennium Birds’ who are the organizers of the different events,” she said. Janus had seen a photo of the identical costumes in the mission details. They were all robe like garments with giant fans of feathers coming from the neck that coalesced in a peak a foot above their head to hold a fake bird egg. At least they’d be easy to find. “There are 25 of them throughout the city. We need to find each of them. So, we don’t double count, you’ll need to subtly,” her eyes touched on Remus, “scan each one you find for the bomb and tag them with a tracker if it’s not on them. You can view the already tagged ones, as well as the rest of us on your timepiece even once the time lock is engaged. When you find the bomb, call it in.”

 They all nodded, and Khalid looked over at one of the techies. She nodded at her and then the techie flipped a couple of switches. “Three, two, one,” the techie said. There was a slight shift in the air that most people would disregard, but Janus as a seasoned time traveler could feel the change even before his wrist buzzed. He glanced at his timepiece to see it had a big red ‘X’ across its display. He tapped it and was still able to bring up the map of the city with 10 green dots on it all clustered together in their current location.

 After that, he tested the scanner on his timepiece that he would use to search for the bomb, just to make sure the time lock hadn’t messed anything up with his equipment. He glanced up to see everyone else was doing the same.

“Keep in contact,” Khalid said before everyone split up. Janus and Remus started by going North while Fredrick and Darlene were to go South. Khalid was a floater who would tag any Birds she saw but was mostly there for backup and orders.

Janus and Remus stepped into the chaos of New Years Eve before the turn of the third millennia. The streets were already swamped with people and it would only be getting worse the later it go.

“Where should we start?” Remus asked.

 “Let’s go all the way North to the games area,” Janus said. “We can work our way back here.”

“Okay!” Remus said. “I wonder if they have those fun little genetically modified goldfish as prizes. I’ve always wanted to eat one and see if I end up getting whatever design was on the fish on my body.”

Janus gave him a disgusted look.

“What?! People eat fish all the time!”

Janus shook his head. “We’re not playing the games anyway. We have work to do. Important work.”

“Boo,” Remus replied. Janus chose to ignore him as he spotted one of the Millenia Birds letting people into the gaming area.

 They walked over towards the entrance. Janus got in range first and moved to subtly scan the Millenia Bird, Remus doing the same the next moment. After a second, Janus’s timepiece buzzed and lit up red, meaning the bomb was within range. “Well, that was easy,” he said. “It was on the first one we found.”

“Uh…” Remus said. “Jan.” When Janus looked, he was holding up his wrist to show his green lit time piece.

“What?” Janus asked. He quickly moved to rescan the Millenia Bird, and his timepiece came up green as well. Which, meant the bomb was not in range, even though the Millenia Bird had not moved. “But…” He and Remus’s eyes met, and they quickly both started turning in a circle to look at the crowd around him. No one looked like they’d just stolen a time bomb off the Millennial Bird, but then Janus’s eyes caught on a man. He blended in perfectly to his surroundings. He was wearing the disgusting garb of the times, a large light blue piece that bubbled near his hips, and had most of his skin covered in rainbow neon paints. Yet, something about him, the curl of his hair or the way he moved, drew Janus’s eyes to him. He recognized the man immediately even in a completely different dressing style. Yet, what cinched it was the moment Janus’s eyes met his and they seemed to sparkle slightly in the afternoon sun. The next moment, the person Janus knew as Pat, turned to disappear into the crowd.

 Chapter 7

“Him,” was the only thing Janus said before taking off after the figure who had just disappeared into the game area.

“What?” Remus’s voice followed after him. “Janus! What?!”

Janus did not pause, just continuing to run after Pat, hopping over two barricades as a shortcut. Janus cursed when he lost sight of the man for just a moment near the prize table filled with colorful goldfish, but he was able to spot him once again walking into one of the tents. Janus blasted into the tent. It was a game where they raced rats, and when Janus entered, Pat was cooing at one of them.

 “Who’s a tiny little squishy precious baby?” he was asking one of them, wiggling his pointer finger at it.

“You,” Janus growled stepping up to him.

He turned and tilted his head at Janus with a frown. “Um, me?” he asked, pointing to his chest, all sorts of innocent, but Janus could see a spot of hidden amusement in his eyes.

“Where is it?”

His eyebrows drew together, but it was an act. It was clearly an act! “Where is what?”

“The…” he glanced around them at the people surrounding them. “Thing you just took.”

“I didn’t take anything,” Pat said with a frown.

 “Oh, no,” Janus said. “Fool me once, shame on you. Fooling me twice is not an option.”

“I’m sorry sir,” Pat said. “I really don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Bull. Shit.”

Just then, Remus jogged into the tent. “What’s going on?” he asked.

“It’s him,” Janus said pointing. “He took it. He has it.”

“I… don’t know what you’re talking about,” Patton said. He looked over to Remus with a confused frown.

Remus looked at Janus. “Are you sure?”

“Yes,” Janus said. “It’s him. It has to be him. He’s the mask guy.”

Remus squinted at Pat. “He is?”

“Whoever you think I am, I’m not. I haven’t worn a mask all night. I just did the face paint,” he pointed to his cheeks.

 Remus raised his wrist and his timepiece lit up green. He looked at Janus.

“I lost sight of him for five seconds. He must have stashed it somewhere,” Janus said. He turned on Pat. “Where did you put it?”

“…Are you,” Pat asked, his eyes going back and forth between Janus and Remus, “… the police?”

“We are, actually,” Khalid said as she stepped into the tent. Remus must have called her. She inserted herself between Janus and Pat. “Agent Khalid,” she said, offering a hand with a smile. Pat looked at it in surprise and then smiled back hesitantly as he took it. “Apologizes, one of the big game prizes was stolen by someone matching your description. Would you mind coming down to security for questioning? Just to clear it up.”

 “Oh,” Patton said, hesitant. Janus expected him to refuse outright, but then he said. “Uh, sure.”

“Thank you very much, Mr…”

“Jonas,” Pat told her earnestly. “Do I need to be handcuffed?”

“No,” Khalid said. Janus frowned at her, but she ignored him. “It’s just a talk for now.” She gestured to the tent entrance. “Come with us.”

He did without argument, and Remus and Janus followed behind the both of them. Khalid did not lead them back to the base, but to a little spot that said “security” near the center of the event. Remy was already there waiting for them at a desk.

 “Remy, would you please take Mr. Jonas to go sit down?” she asked.

“Sure, boss,” Remy said, standing up. He led Pat away.

Khalid turned to Janus and Remus once they were out of earshot. “What is going on?”

“It’s the mask man,” Janus said, “the one from 1923, and my scanner said the time bomb was on the Millenia Bird outside the games entrance, but then it was gone the next second, and I saw him, and then he ran away.”

“So, does he have it on him?”

“No. I lost sight of him, and he must have stored it somewhere, but I know he took it.”

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“He’s the man from 1923?” she asked.

“Yes! Remus, that’s him, right? You recognize him.”

“Well,” Remus said thoughtfully. “He was in a mask, and it was dark in the room with the necklace. Other than that, I only really saw his back, and he was wearing pants. Mr. Jonas is wearing a dress, so I can’t really tell if their asses match.”

“Okay, but I was with him for hours. I swear it’s him, and I swear he took it,” Janus just about shouted.

“We’ll question him,” Khalid placated, “and Fred and Lena will keep looking in the meantime.”

 “He knows where it is,” Janus insisted. “I swear.”

“Okay,” Khalid said, before leaving to follow where Remy and Pat had gone. She stopped Janus with a hand on his shoulder. “I think Remus and I will do the interrogation.” He opened his mouth to argue. “You know the most about him, so observe from the sidelines and see if he makes any mistakes that indicate you’re right.”

“That’s just to placate me and you know it.”

“Observation’s over there,” she said pointing.

He got a thumbs up from Remus as he walked by, and Janus glared at his back before walking off to the indicated location.

 He watched as Remus and Khalid entered the room, and Remy left it. Remy joined him in the observation room after leaving and leaned against the wall.

Pat was sitting at a table and watched Remus and Khalid with that same rubbish placid confusion that he had before. “So,” Khalid said, “Mr. Jonas.”

“You can call me Nick,” Pat interrupted.

“Lia,” Khalid replied. He smiled at her happily. “So, are you enjoying your day?” she asked.

“I am!” he replied. “It’s a big day. You only get to see the turn of a millennia once in your life.”

“Ah, yes,” Khalid said. “Doing anything special for it?”

 “Um, not really,” he said. “Other than the party. I’m going to meet up with my roommates after dinner. Kevin doesn’t like this sort of thing, and Joe couldn’t come.”

“Your roommates,” Khalid said, considering him. “Do you live around here?”

“Uh huh,” Pat replied.

“Do you have any ID?”

“I do, want me to get it?”

“If you wouldn’t mind.”

Pat unzipped one of the bubbles on his waist and handed her a chip. “Remus, would you mind going out and getting the ID scanner?” she asked, even though her timepiece would be able to read it.

“Ah, shit,” Remy said. “Props. What do those things even look like?”

 As Remy scrambled to find something that would pass for an ID reader so “Nick” didn’t get suspicious of Khalid using her timepiece, Janus watched the two alone in the room like a hawk.

“I see you’re wearing a dress inspired by the 2770s,” Khalid noted, as Remus came to stand next to him.

“Yeah!” Pat replied. “Joe made it for me. He’s really good at fashion design!”

“Can I see?” she asked.

With a happy smile, he reached over the table to let her get a look of the sleeves. Janus saw her subtly scan the fabric, probably to make sure it was from the 2990s and not actually from the 2770s. Considering she didn’t mention it, Janus assumed it checked out.

 Remy came back with some sort of device then and handed it to Remus who saluted and wandered back into the interrogation room. Khalid pretended to scan the ID in her hand. She handed it back to him without comment. “So, you said you live with your roommates: Joe and Kevin?” she asked.

“Yep!” he replied. “We’re practically like brothers.”

“Would you mind calling them?”

“Erm,” he titled his head like he was confused by the question. “Well, like I said, Joe is a bit busy, but I could definitely call Kevin.

“Here,” Khalid said, “use my phone.”

“I have my own,” he said with a frown.

“Humor me,” she requested.

“Uh, okay,” Pat agreed. He took the offered 2999 phone and dialed a number on it. Khalid reached over to put it on speaker.

“Hello?” a voice asked after a few seconds.

“Um, hey Kevin, it’s Nick.”

There was a sigh on the other end. “Hello Nick, is something wrong? Why are you calling me from someone else’s phone?”

“I’m fine, I think.” He looked up at Khalid. “Why am I calling him exactly?”

“Hello, I’m Officer Khalid,” Khalid said. “I just wanted to confirm that you are Nick Jonas’s roommate, and he does live in Manaus.”

“Yes, we live together with our other roommate,” the man replied flippantly. “Officer? Is something wrong?”

“I believe there was just a case of mistaken identity,” Khalid said.

“Bullshit there was!” Janus hissed, though she could not hear him.

“No need to worry,” Khalid continued.

“I’m good Kevin,” Pat said.

“Are you absolutely sure?” Kevin asked.

“Don’t be Paranoid, Kevin. I’ll see you Tonight for the New Years Celebration. You know I Live to Party.”

“I am hanging up now,” Kevin said.

“No! Comeback.” The line went dead. Pat handed the device back to Khalid.

She took it and smiled at him. “Give us just a couple of minutes,” she requested. He nodded easily, and she and Remus exited the interrogation room. “I… think we’re done here,” Khalid said.

“No, he’s lying,” Janus insisted, and got a dubious look in return. “I know he is! Remus!”

“The alibi is pretty solid…” Remus said, “and he doesn’t have the bomb on him.”

“Oh, come on,” Janus said. “You can’t say there is nothing fishy going on here.”

Khalid and Remus shared a look. “Janus,” Khalid said. “I respect your intuition. It is usually very good, but you have been a bit intense about the man from the 1920s, and I think that may be blinding you a bit...”

“I am not imagining this!” Janus said. “That’s him and he took it.”

“You only met him once while he was wearing a mask,” Khalid pointed out with a frown, “and you didn’t see him take the bomb, did you?”

“No, but he looked at me and I knew,” Janus argued. They both gave him a skeptical look. “Oh, come on!”

“You know that’s a little weak, Jan,” Remus said.

“Let me talk to him,” Janus requested. “Just give me five minutes to talk with him.”

Khalid raised one eyebrow. “Fine,” she agreed. “You have five minutes, but after that, you have to let it go. We can’t waste any more time.”

 Chapter 8

Pat looked up as Janus stepped into the interrogation room. “Hi,” he said with an innocent smile that could cut steal.

Janus didn’t say a word as he took a seat; he just watched him intently. He leaned slightly over the table and steepled his fingers in front of his chin. “So, your name is Nick this time?” Janus asked.

“Nicholas Jonas,” he said. “Always has been.”

“Stop it,” Janus said.

“Stop what?”

“Cut the crap. I know.”

Pat leaned forward, mirroring Janus as he leaned closer, interlocking his fingers and laying his chin on top of his knuckles. “What did you say your name was again?” he asked, pleasantly.

 “Janus,” Janus replied.

“No, I’m Jonas,” he said, pointing to his chest.

“Not Jonas,” Janus spat. “Janus.”

“Um,” Pat said, eyes alight with amusement. The bastard. “Those are the same words.”

“No, they’re not. It’s Janus. J-A-N-U.-S.”

“Well, that’s confusing,” Pat said with a frown, but his nose was crinkling. “It’s close to my name. You should go by a nickname instead.”

“What?” Janus said. “No.”

Pat hummed. “How about Love Bug?”

“What! No!” Janus sputtered, almost flipping the table, as Pat winked at him.

“BB Good?”

“What does that even mean?!”

“Mandy.”

“No!”

“Okay, okay, how about Macy Misa.”

11594

Janus stared at him for a moment. “Fine. Whatever. What was I even talking about?”

“Hmm. I Believe we were talking about my name and how you think it’s not my name.”

“Right,” Janus said. “So, Nick. That was your roommate, Kevin on the phone, right? He seemed a bit unhappy with you. Any reason?”

“Nah, we’re Cool” said Pat. “That’s Just the Way We Roll.”

“Not because you’re messing up a mission right now?”

Pat’s eyes crinkled together. “A mission?” he parroted. “I’m not messing up a mission.”

“Oh, really?” Janus growled. “Because you’ve been captured by the TPI, and I know who you are and what you’ve been doing.”

“I have no idea what the TPI is,” he claimed.

“Yes, you do!” Janus said, standing up. “You obviously do! Or you wouldn’t be playing this game!”

 “Game?” Pat asked. “Macy I ask you what you’re talking about.”

“This is all just a game to you isn’t it!” Janus said, slamming his hands down on the table in front of them.

“Whoa,” Pat said, putting his hands up. “Calm down. Your face is getting all red. You must be Burnin’ Up.”

“I’m not sure what, but something about what you just said pisses me off.”

“And that is five minutes,” Khalid said, bursting into the room. He felt a tug on the back of his shirt and glared back at Remus who was putting his own body between Janus and Pat.

 “There was no way that was five minutes,” Janus growled.

“It was five minutes,” Khalid gritted out. “Remus, get him out of here.”

“Come on Jay,” Remus said, dragging him back towards the door.

“Remus, I swear to god.”

“Just chill, Janus,” Remus said, slamming the door closed behind them.

Janus shrugged him off. “You chill!” he snapped. “He’s playing you all for the fool.”

“Wow, Macy,” Remy drawled like an asshole. “I’ve never seen you so fired up.”

“Oh, my gosh. No one is going to believe me, and he’s going to get away with this.”

“You’re not really helping your case, babe,” Remy said.

 Remus grabbed him by the shoulders again. “Here, let’s go get some water.”

“I don’t want water,” he said even as he let Remus lead him to another room to get a glass of water.

“Look,” Remus said. “I know the Mask Guy thing really sucked, but you have to look at the facts.

“I am looking at the facts,” Janus insisted, “and the facts are, he’s fucking with me.”

“You don’t know what mask guy looks like,” Remus said. “You didn’t see Nick take the time bomb, he has an ID from this time period and a roommate in this time he called on the phone, and he legitimately seems to not know what any of us are talking about.”

 “Did you even listen to our conversation?” Janus asked. “He was screwing with me the entire time!”

“Janus…” Remus said.

“What?” Janus said, narrowing his eyes at Remus’s tone.

“I know you recently had a bad experience, but not everyone who flirts with you is doing it out of evil.”

Janus’s mouth hung open for a few seconds. “That’s what you got out of our conversation?”

“He called you Love Bug.”

Janus felt his face heat a bit at the reminder. “That’s not… I. I’m stealing your cat and then never speaking to you again.”

Remus laughed. “Ah,” he said. “Young lust.”

Janus elbowed him roughly in the side. “No!”

“Yes!” he crooned, pleased.

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

“Branching out from poptarts?” Remus asked.

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

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

“He got under my skin,” Janus said.

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

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

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

He nodded.

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

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

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

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

“We’ll do our best,” she said.

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

Janus pressed his lips together.

Then, Pat turned and walked away.

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

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

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

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

 Chapter 9

Khalid immediately called everyone back to base.

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

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

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

“Pat is…?” Lena asked.

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

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

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

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

“What just happened?” Remy asked.

“He ticked us,” Janus said. “Again.”

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

 “Probably with the time bomb,” Janus said.

“Probably with the time bomb,” she confirmed.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

 “You exist. In my space.”

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

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

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

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

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

 She purred her agreement.

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

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

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

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

“Bananas and tuna salad!” Remus interrupted.

“…whatever Remus is about to say.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Great!” Emile said. “Let’s go.”

“Oh,” Janus said. “Uh, now?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What about the fortune noodles,” Emile suggested.

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

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

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

“No small talk, huh?” Janus asked.

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

“No,” said Janus quietly into the table.

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

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

“Then you need help,” Emile concluded.

Janus shook his head.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

 Chapter 10

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

Janus flipped her off.

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

He took another pointed bite of his Poptart.

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

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

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

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

“It’s morning Fred,” Lena said.

“No,” Fred mumbled.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What?” Lena asked.

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

“Isn’t that good?”

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

 Luckily Sliver Mountains ended up only being about an hour away from the TPI by time adherent travel, but considering Janus was used to his travel being instantaneous, it was an aggravating trip. He had to show ID and be buzzed up to the fourth floor since it was usually locked to everyone not traveling by timepiece or who worked in the office.

The receptionist was the same man as before. “I’m here to speak to Professor Eran,” Janus said.

The receptionist nodded. “He mentioned you asked to meet him but didn’t know when you’d arrive. He’ll be done teaching his class in about 5 minutes. You can wait over there.”

 Janus nodded and sat, waiting for time to slowly tick by. Virgil arrived after a few minutes, lugging a giant bag with him. He caught sight of Janus and wordlessly jerked his head towards the hallway. Janus followed him.

“What’s in the bag?” Janus asked.

“Early 21st century cell phones,” Virgil said, dropping it on his desk. “I let my students mess around with them for their lab.”

“I see,” Janus said.

“What did you need?” Virgil asked. “You said it was official business.”

“You’ve heard about the lockdown, I presume,” Janus said.

“Yeah, it really screws up my research schedule for the summer,” Virgil said.

15412

“Do you know why the lockdown was instituted?” Janus asked. Virgil shook his head, so Janus explained briefly that they had been trying to find a timebomb on the eve of the year 3000, but it had been swiped by a free agent time traveler. “Some of the things seemed to be references to things that I couldn’t place, and I was wondering if you would recognize any.”

“Shoot,” Virgil requested, seeming intrigued by the prospect.

“Okay,” Janus said. “First, the alias he was using was Nick Jonas.” A weird expression crossed Virgil’s face immediately and Janus paused.

“You said the year 3000?” Virgil asked.

 “Er. Yes.”

“Nick Jonas. Year 3000,” Virgil repeated with a snort. “Were Joe and Kevin a part of this too?”

Janus blinked. “Yes, how did you know that?”

“Yo-you’re going to have,” his sentence was broken by a giggle, and actual full-fledged giggle, “have to give me a minute.” With that, he sort of listed to the side and seemed to purposefully fall off his chair onto the floor under his desk.

Janus blinked and when he didn’t surface after a moment, he stood up to lean over the desk and look down at him. Virgil had his arm thrown over his beat red face, as he shook from what Janus thought was suppressed laughter.

 “What?” Janus asked. “What’s wrong?”

“Just…” Virgil said, sobbing through his laughter. “Just tell me the things he said.”

“Er, mostly he just had weird inflections on words and phrases. There was ‘paranoid, tonight, I live to party, comeback…’”

“Wait, stop,” Virgil said. “Let me guess a few. That’s Just the Way We Roll, Burnin’ Up, Sucker.”

“The first two were, but not the last one.”

Virgil laughed. “Maybe the last one was just implied.”

Janus frowned down. “What are you talking about? What does this all mean?”

Virgil pulled himself out from under his desk and grabbed his bag of phones. He dug through it for a few seconds before pulling one out and handing it to Janus. “I have a lab for my students where they get preloaded phones from the early 21st century and are supposed to guess the demographics of the person who owns it. This one is an iPhone 3 meant to belong to a pre-teen to teenage girl from the year 2009. Look under music artists starting with the letter ‘J.’”

15810

Confused, Janus scrolled through the old style phone, finding the music app and opening it easily. Upon getting to the ‘J’s, he immediately paused on an artist called the ‘Jonas Brothers.’ He clicked on it and read a few of the song titles. They weren’t all there, but…

“That rat bastard,” Janus said.

“Scroll to the bottom,” Virgil said. Janus did and found a song titled ‘Year 3000.’

“You’re kidding me.”

“Click on it,” Virgil requested.

Janus did, listening to the fairly standard pop like intro from the time period. It wasn’t until he got to the lyrics saying, ‘He told me he built a time machine’ that he cursed, understanding exactly what Pat had been doing. When the singer a few lines latter proclaimed that his neighbor said ‘I’ve been to the year 3000’ he almost smashed the artifact to pieces right then and there.

“I have no idea who this guy is,” Virgil said, “but he’s a comedic genius.”

 Chapter 11

Khalid caught him on his way back into the TPI building. “I heard you went to Silver Mountains to follow up on a lead,” she said.

“Yeah, but it was garbage,” he seethed. “All I learned was ‘Pat’ knows early 2000s popular culture and likes to fuck with us.”

She hummed. “I’d still like a report about whatever you found. Who knows what we might end up getting from seemingly inconsequential data.”

“Sure,” he said.

“Anyway,” she continued. “I have a mission for you.”

“We’re on lockdown,” Janus pointed out with a frown.

“For nonessentials,” she said. “This is essential.”

 “What happened?” Janus asked.

“We picked up a small time distortion in France 2027. At the moment, it is small enough not to cause any disruptions, but it is slowly growing, and we don’t know what caused it. Usually we’d just send surveillance agents at this stage, but considering what’s going on, I think it would be best to send a field agent. And it would just be you, because we don’t want to send too many people out at once.”

“Is this related to the time bomb?” Janus asked.

“I’m not sure,” she said. “At the very least, it’s not it being set off as it was in 2999, but if it’s been altered for some other purpose…”

 “I’ll go,” Janus said.

“I’ll send over the mission directive to everyone who needs it. You’ll go in around 3 hours.”

He nodded. “I’ll be ready,” he agreed.

In less then 3 hours, he was dressed for 2027 France and in decontamination. “Well,” he said out loud when he was given the all clear sign, “I hope I don’t explode.” He selected the coordinates on the timepiece and the next moment he was in a small alleyway in the city of Montpellier, France in 2027.

It was a little bit warm, but not stifling even in the mid-afternoon and he could faintly smell the sea on the breeze.

 After a moment to get his bearings, Janus made his way out of the alleyway and onto a small street. The street was lined with restaurants and shops as people went about their daily lives. He carefully integrated himself into the crowd and began weaving his way through them. He needed to find the source of the distortion but doing a quick scan with his timepiece told him there wasn’t any sign of it yet. He’d have to wait for it to act up.

For now, he decided to get slightly away from people by heading towards the river. He found a park that had benches along water.

 As he walked towards the river, he noticed a man on the bench, angled slightly away from Janus and looking out at the water. He immediately recognized the man. “You!” he exclaimed.

Pat’s head shot around to look at him, and he gave a slight head tilt. Then, he smiled, amused. “You are not the person I’m here for,” he said.

“Well, I am now,” Janus snapped. “Where’s the time bomb?”

“Time bomb?” Pat asked, eyebrows drawing together, but amusement on his lips. “Oh sweetie, the time bomb happened a long time ago for me.”

“What?” Janus asked.

“Oh, you’re just a baby,” Pat laughed. “Don’t you get it yet? The two of us are out of sync timeline wise. You’ve been apparently running around with a much younger version of me, but all of that happened quite a while ago for me. Don’t worry though, it gets better.”

“What are you talking about?”

“The time bomb has been long deactivated. Here,” he reached into his pocket and tossed him something. Janus caught it on instinct. “Proof. Don’t worry, we took all of the dangerous bits out years ago from my perspective.” It was the core of a time bomb, the time bomb Pat had stolen if he was to be believed. “You can tell your people it’s safe to remove the lockdown.”

Janus curled his fingers around it. “I don’t get it.”

Something on Pat’s wrist beeped and he looked at it curiously before he stood from the bench, “and I don’t have time to explain it.”

Janus jerked forward to grab his wrist. “Don’t you dare.”

Pat reached up to pat his face. “Don’t worry honey, you’ll be seeing me later.” He twisted his wrist and a small electric current sparked between them. Janus jerked his hand away, and Patton smiled at him. “Or… earlier.” He winked, and then he was gone.

Janus cursed, but he didn’t have more than a moment to be angry because in the next second there was a yelp, and something landed on top of him. He was bowled over into a tangle of limbs and pained noises.

“Oh my god, we need to figure out the height thing,” a familiar voice groaned, just as Janus managed to pull himself away. Pat blinked up at him and his eyes narrowed. “You,” he hissed.

“…What?”

��Pat jumped to his feet, leaving Janus on the ground in front of him. “What are you doing here?” he spat, his tone much different then the one he’d been using a moment earlier. His hair was longer than it had been before, and if Janus looked closely, he did seem like he was a couple of years younger suddenly. Out of sync timelines. I’ll see you earlier. Holy shit.

He was suddenly very glad he’d been forced to let the other Pat (the older Pat?) go, else they’d have a whole thing on their hands.

“What are you doing here?” was Janus’s retort as he stood up and dusted himself off.

 “It’s none of your business,” Pat told him.

“It is my business,” Janus said, “because for all I know, you are the cause of the time distortions I’m after. Considering that I doubt you have a license for that,” he waved at the odd looking timepiece of Pat’s wrist, “it’s very possible.”

“What are you?” Pat asked, “the time police.”

“Yes.”

Pat dared to roll his eyes, but then he tilted his head slightly. “Time distortions?” he asked.

“Yes, that’s why I’m here.”

He still had a confused frown on his face. Did… did he not know what a time distortion was?

 Just then there was a sudden flash of lightening through the sky despite the absolutely lack of clouds. He and Pat both looked up.

“Is that the time distortion?” Pat asked.

“It’s probably the beginning of it,” Janus said.

“That doesn’t look good,” Pat said as he squinted at the sky.

“Just wait,” Janus answered grimly. He looked at Pat. “Usually I’d arrest you on the spot,” he said, “but I’m alone for this one, and that is far more important at the moment. So, have a nice day doing whatever bullshit you are doing.” He glanced at his timepiece.

 Janus turned to walk away from him.

“Wait!” Pat exclaimed, and Janus turned back to him to see that his eyes were wide. Janus raised an eyebrow. “So, this time distortion thing is dangerous, right?”

“Depending on the severity, it could cause time to fracture around this place and time, basically erasing it from existence and killing everyone in it.”

“Well, in that case, I should go with you. To help.”

Janus looked him up and down. “You… have no idea what’s happening, do you? You’re an amateur.”

“I’m not,” he claimed. “I just. Pooling resources. You know?”

Janus sighed. “Well, you going around mucking about this time period without knowing what you’re doing could just exasperate the situation, so fine, you can tag along.”

“I know what I’m doing,” he grumbled even as he rushed to Janus’s side at the permission.

“Sure,” Janus said with an eyeroll. He guessed he was a babysitter now. “I believe you.”

 Chapter 12

There was something off about his readings. Clearly the time distortion was starting to pull at this place with the way the weather was flickering between storming and sunny, but he still couldn’t quite pinpoint the exact location of the source of it. He could, however, get that it must be somewhere on this side of the river more into the downtown area, so that’s the way he was walking, Pat close on his heels.

“What’s your name, by the way?” he asked.

Janus shot him a glare. “Elvis Presley,” he said.

Pat frowned, clearly knowing who that was. “There’s no reason to be mean.”

 “You did it to me first.”

“…Introduced myself as a famous musician?” he asked. Janus didn’t respond, and after a moment, Pat laughed lightly. “You really don’t understand time travel, do you?”

“Oh, yeah,” Janus said. “Name the three types of time distortions.”

“Just because I don’t know the names of things doesn’t mean I don’t understand them.” He stuck out his tongue. Janus was dealing with an actual toddler. “Unlike you who has a bunch of fancy words, but just caused a time loop.”

Janus scoffed. “I did not just cause a time loop.”

“Maybe not a big one,” Patton agreed, “but you did.”

 Janus raised an eyebrow. “I’ve never introduced myself to you with a musician’s name, but now you’ve told me that I will. So, at some point in the future I will have to, thereby making you think to say that now. Time loop.”

“That’s not… that doesn’t count.”

“Does too,” Pat claimed. “Like I have said once before and you may or may not have heard me say before, anything you do to me to get back at me for something I haven’t done yet, just causes whatever that is to happen in the first place.”

“But you’re still going to do it.”

 “Then take it up with future me. I haven’t done anything to you.” Then he paused and sighed. “…Which I guess means you’ve done nothing to me.” He seemed to mull this concept over for a long moment. “Well you were a bit crabby about me not knowing what a time distortion was, but I can forgive you for that.”

“And I’m supposed to forgive you?”

“Like I said,” Pat said. “I haven’t done anything yet.”

“You also haven’t done anything to endear yourself to me either,” Janus grumbled.

“Hmm,” Pat said. “Fine.” He pulled something out of his pocket. “You’re obviously not having much luck finding whatever you’re looking for. Tell me what it is and I’ll help.”

Janus squinted at what was in his hand. “Is that… an iPhone 5?”

“No!” he said. “It’s super-secret time travel tech disguised as an iPhone 5!”

“We’re in 2027,” Janus said. “Not a great disguise. Those things have been obsolete for a decade.”

“Well I’ll keep in mind to have my tech disguised as phones from the right year next time,” Pat said, sticking out his tongue. “Now what are we looking for?”

“If my timepiece can’t find it, I’m certain yours can’t.”

 Pat rolled his eyes and tapped on the device’s screen a couple of times. “I’m going to guess it’s that,” he said proudly.

Janus leaned over to look at the screen. “Are you using google maps?” he sputtered.

“It integrates time relevant data like traffic conditions and local weather warnings with time travel technology,” Pat explained. “Something seems to be going on in a museum a couple of blocks that way.”

“I…” Janus said. That was actually a really good idea, usually unnecessary with scouts observing that data beforehand, and Janus wasn’t sure how good the accuracy would be considering whatever was taking it into account was automated, but still a good idea. “Well, I guess since we have no other leads, we can check it out.”

 Pat looked far too proud for having only used a piece of tech that hadn’t even been confirmed as accurate. “Then, let’s go,” he said right as a chilly wind started to pick up and a couple of snowflakes began to fall around them. “Before that gets worse…”

Janus let Pat lead with his iPhone. Janus’s timepiece still wasn’t picking up a clear signal for some reason, but it seemed to point in the same general direction as Pat’s. Strangely though, as they got closer to their destination, the signal started to get fuzzier. Pat’s tech seemed unaffected leading them closer to the museum.

 When they got to the museum, Janus stopped. “What?” Pat asked. He was shivering slightly in the cold and holding his arms around himself.

“My timepiece stopped working completely,” he said.

“I’m assuming that’s weird?” Pat said.

“It is,” Janus confirmed, turning to squint at him suspiciously. “How do I know you’re not the one doing it?”

“If I was doing it, wouldn’t I have just knocked it out from the get go?” Pat questioned.

Janus pursed his lips. “I don’t know,” he said. “Would you have? Maybe it’s a trick.”

Pat’s eyes narrowed a bit on him. “Think what you want, but I’m freezing. Come in with me if you want.”

[meridiansdominoes]

The Dark and the Loyal

Fives and Echo are decanted out of the same vat. The Force chooses them, as it has done thousands of times before. The Jedi don’t notice... but Darth Sidious does.

I wrote a quick thing for Fives Week 2020, for day 5′s prompt “Enemies”! I’d written out several of these scenes a while ago, and I decided to dust them off and edit them up to support @painkiller80‘s celebration! I’m not completely happy with it, but it’ll do I suppose. ummm... it’s a one-shot, so I’ll post it completely here, but it’s also kind of long for tumblr, so find it on ao3 here too: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24564922

This is kind of dark (it’s not very graphic but be forewarned) and there’s a lot of manipulation going on. Just a heads up!

Fives goes to Coruscant and meets with the Chancellor. It’s his last chance to present his evidence about the chips to someone who can actually help. The Jedi don’t believe him. The Kaminoans are in on the whole thing and can’t be trusted. The Chancellor listens carefully, smiles at him once Fives has said his piece (he’s drugged out of his mind, but that isn’t enough to stop him), and says, very gently, “I believe you, trooper.”

And then Palpatine makes Fives disappear. 

Fives wakes up in a cell, completely alone. There are no windows, and the meals that get pushed into his room are erratic and barely nourishing. Time loses all meaning very quickly. He moves around the room in the beginning, paces and prowls around as he waits for something, anything to happen, but as days stretch on (he thinks) Fives finds himself curled up into the far corner of his cell more often than not.

When Palpatine comes to see him it’s almost a relief, if only because he’s finally getting some form of human interaction. Clones are social, tactile, well-adjusted to a lack of privacy. Without the constant presence of his brothers, Fives feels like he’s drowning in his own thoughts. 

Palpatine is not what he seems. Fives can feel that much. It’s a sensation of wrongness so thick that it roils and clings to his insides like black sludge. Fives hadn’t noticed it before. He doesn’t understand it, doesn’t know how to explain it or say why he can feel it with such clarity. He pulls himself to his feet with a weak snarl and braces himself for whatever Palpatine is planning on throwing at him.

Palpatine smiles at him in faint amusement. He reaches out a hand and hooks his fingers into claws. A wave of that horrible wrongness expands to fill the room. Fives shudders. He takes a nervous step back. He feels power hanging in the air, nearly tangible and undoubtedly destructive. It clogs up his throat. Palpatine flexes his fingers—the smallest of movements, but suddenly there’s an awful pressure closing in on Fives’ body that rips away his will and forces him to his knees. 

He pants helplessly but doesn’t struggle once he’s down. He knows how to pick his battles, especially now that he finally understands what he’s dealing with. 

“Sith,” he forces out from between gritted teeth. He tries to ignore the cold terror in his gut at the word. Palpatine smiles, slow and knowing. 

“Very perceptive,” he says. “Do you know why you are here, clone?”

Fives sneers at him. 

“The inhibitor chips are your doing,” he growls. Force save them all. The leader of the Republic is a Sith. Fives can barely breathe. So many lies. So many pointless deaths. The man that he’s sworn his loyalty to is a traitor. When he manages a weak inhale, it feels like he’s sucking ashes into his lungs.    

Palpatine doesn’t confirm or deny the accusation. He scrutinizes Fives for a long moment. Fives tries not to squirm under his gaze, but he can’t help but feel like the Sith’s eyes are piercing him to the very core.

“Curious,” Palpatine finally says. “And utterly foolish, that the Jedi did not notice sooner. Do you know what you are?”

Fives works his jaw and hesitates. 

He’s a clone. He’s a soldier. He’s an ARC trooper. But he doesn’t think any of those answers is what Palpatine is looking for. When he doesn’t answer, Palpatine’s eyes narrow a bit.

Something in Fives’ mind snaps into place.

Suddenly there’s a roaring in his ears and fire in his veins. He cries out. Something rippling and tense and alive sweeps over him. It’s unrefined and rushing and rising and it hurts. His mind buzzes and vibrates with sensations that are completely foreign. It’s too much, a persistent and all-consuming agony. He wants to curl up into a little ball and clutch at his skull, but the best he can do with Palpatine holding him down is close his eyes and wait for it to end. 

The pain settles after a while. Fives pants through gritted teeth and blinks tears from his eyes as the sensations subside—but they don’t leave him completely. He can feel odd little waves thrumming through him still, filling him with warmth instead of fire. He doesn’t understand what that means.  

“You are an anomaly, clone. The Kaminoans did not intend for their projects to be Force-sensitive. Yet here we are.”

No. That’s... impossible. 

Fives feels like the floor has dropped out from underneath him. Suddenly so many things make sense. The strange little tugs in his gut that warn him away from danger. The way can move faster than normal when he needs to, the way how the occasional blaster bolt skims right by him when it should score a hit. The awful cloying dark that left him dizzy on Umbara, that he hadn’t known how to explain to Kix when the medic had asked him what was wrong. 

The realization is accompanied by a fresh wave of fear that claws at his chest. If a Sith is taking such interest in the fact that a simple clone is Force-sensitive, Palpatine must want something from him. 

“I won’t help you,” Fives growls. “I’d rather die!” 

Palpatine’s eyes gleam a sickly yellow. 

“Your brother said the same thing,” he croons. “But he did not last long. And you will not, either.”

Fives feels his heart clench. 

“My brother—?”

Except Palpatine doesn’t answer him. The Sith leaves Fives there, pinned on his knees by the awful pressure of the dark side, and Fives has to focus on his breathing to keep himself from panicking.

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Palpatine brings him brothers and tells Fives to kill them. Fives could. He knows how. He hasn’t always had the good fortune to only be fighting against droids. 

Of course he refuses. He won’t kill his brothers. The ones that Palpatine brings in are all Coruscant Guards, nothing but terror and horrified confusion in their eyes from the moment they step into the room. 

Palpatine makes them beg for Fives to kill them. 

Their deaths are slow, and their screams seem to echo around the room long after they’ve gone silent. Palpatine doesn’t force Fives to do anything. He allows Fives to turn away and grit his teeth and struggle to keep his resolve and do his best to block everything out. Fives doesn’t know what kind of game this is, but he won’t stoop so low as to kill a brother. 

Except.

Palpatine brings in a shiny. He’s small and afraid and probably just came to Coruscant directly from Kamino. He shakes like a leaf when Palpatine orders Fives to kill him, eyes wide as saucers. Fives just turns away as always, shoving down the urge to vomit, because he knows what’s coming. 

The shiny screams and begs and writhes and sobs and Force he’s so young. He’s so young and he doesn’t deserve this and Fives knows that Palpatine is going to drag it out for as long as the kid’s body will last. The Sith is only just getting started, and Fives—Fives can’t watch this. Not this time. It’s too much. 

Fives takes a hesitant step forward. Palpatine arches one eyebrow at him, unfazed as always. He gestures patiently towards the shiny on the ground and smiles in sick satisfaction when Fives slowly makes his way to the kid’s side. 

Nothing feels real. He knows what he’s about to do but he feels detached from it somehow, like he isn’t even in his own body. When he reaches out to place his hands on either side of the other clone’s head, he realizes that his hands are shaking. 

He’s an ARC. His hands shouldn’t shake. But they do now. 

The shiny jerks at the contact. There are tears still streaming down his face. His expression is twisted in agony. His chest heaves from the force of his sobs, and he’s still begging under his breath for the pain to stop even though Palpatine isn’t doing anything anymore.

Fives doesn’t want to kill him. He doesn’t want to, he won’t, he won’t—

“Please,” the shiny breathes out desperately. Their gazes lock.

Fives breaks.

He makes it fast. It’s the least he can do.

The body slumps lifelessly to the floor. Fives stares at it numbly and blinks back hot tears of his own. 

“Good,” Palpatine tells him, smug and pleased. 

Suddenly, Fives wants to kill him.  

Something surges beneath his skin, red-hot and boiling and angry. He rises to his feet and clenches his fists as the sensation builds and builds and builds.  

He’s afraid and he’s furious and he hates. He hates Palpatine with every fiber of his being. He grabs at the Force and it comes to him easily, like it belongs in his grasp. It whispers to him, feeds off of his fury, grows and ignites into something that Fives can use.

He spins and throws the power at Palpatine with all the force he can muster. To his own inexperienced mind it feels like a tsunami of anger, an impenetrable wall of energy.

To Palpatine, it’s child’s play. The Sith bats Fives’ attack aside with ease and flings out a hand. Fives goes hurtling across the room. He smashes into the side of his cell with a shout of pain and feels the Force immobilize his limbs once more. He gets dragged to his knees again, right in front of the dead clone. 

The anger in him heaves at the sight, struggling to escape. Palpatine laughs. He clamps down on the energy in Fives’ body and rips it from Fives’ grasp. Fives has only just adjusted to the sensation of the Force flowing through him, and to have it torn away from him so abruptly feels like losing a limb. He slumps. His vision flickers.  

“Very good,” the Sith praises. “Your anger will become your greatest strength.”

And he leaves again, keeps Fives pinned even though he’s long gone. Fives stares at the body in front of him and drowns in guilt and fear and regret.

The power that had surged through him had been dark. Fives doesn’t want that. He’s learned enough about Jedi to know that the Dark Side is evil, that it twists and contorts and confuses. He closes his eyes and vows that he won’t do it again.

Except.

Palpatine brings him another shiny. There are intricate tattoos curling around the kid’s jaw that seem brand new. Fives tries not to wonder what his name is, if his batchmates will miss him, what he likes to do during leave. He knows what the Sith is going to asks. He braces himself, steps forwards, and gets dragged to his knees again with little more than a twitch of Palpatine’s finger. He snarls with frustration—he’s doing what Palpatine wants, if only to spare his brothers from suffering, so why is he being restricted? 

“Kill him,” Palpatine orders, and Fives fights, strains against the Force that holds him in place, but he can’t move. 

The shiny starts to scream. The tattoos across his face jump as he does.

And Fives can’t do anything, can’t help, can’t end it, can’t even turn his head away.

The anger builds up again until he can’t contain it. It bursts out of him like a geyser, hot and sharp. He’d vowed not to use it again, but he has to. Suddenly he can grab the Force again. He gathers it around himself until he has just enough strength to fling out a hand and reach. 

It’s instinctual and desperate. There is no finesse, no control. Fives knows that it wouldn’t do any good to attack Palpatine again, but he can use the Force to put the poor shiny out of his misery. The Force swells around him, dark and angry and skittering around his skin as a life is snuffed out. Fives shudders. He drops to the floor. Palpatine allows the motion

“This is progress,” the Sith says in a low voice as he withdraws from the cell. 

He leaves Fives with the body again. He always does, until the cleaning droids come to take them away. Fives is too tired to lift his head and breathe his apology to the corpse like he usually does.

Progress to a Sith is not a good thing. Fives can feel himself fraying, can feel the warmth of the Force inside him beginning to curdle into something dark and cold. He tries to push it away and succeeds for the moment, but he already knows that he’s fighting a losing battle. 

He curls himself into a ball and resigns himself to wait for Palpatine’s next visit. 

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There comes a point where Fives can’t keep track of anything anymore—of how many brothers he’s killed, of how many times he’s forced to his knees in front of the Sith, of how many times he willingly kneels just so that the pain will stop. 

He begs sometimes, but Palpatine doesn’t listen. If Fives strikes out at him, he’s easily subdued and punished. It never works, no matter how fast Fives is, no matter if he reaches for his anger. He can’t compete with a true Sith. 

Palpatine never explains the Force, never gives him a long lecture about how it functions like Fives had heard General Skywalker and General Kenobi give to Commander Tano during various points of the war. Instead, he throws Fives into problems headfirst and waits for Fives to figure it out himself. 

Palpatine lets a Gamorrean into his cell. The Gamorrean is starving and half-mad. It takes great pleasure in throwing Fives across the room until Fives has at least three broken ribs and a large gash in his side that drips blood on the floor. 

He’s going to die if he doesn’t do something. The dark nags at him, reminds him that it could help. Fives hesitates, but… he’s going to die. 

 He reaches for the darkness. He doesn’t see any other options. The Force coils around him, fierce and ready, filling him with the strength to get to his feet. 

After a long, steady stream of torture and humiliation and frustration, Fives takes vindictive glee in slamming the Gamorrean into the wall with the Force. Suddenly he has the power to end his own pain for the first time in… he doesn’t even know how long. Somehow, it’s intoxicating. Fives kills the Gamorrean ruthlessly, and mercy doesn’t even cross his mind once. 

When the power drains itself from his body and his mind is finally cleared of the foggy darkness, he realizes what he’s done and vomits up every last bit of the meager meal he’d been given earlier. 

He knows that it isn't right. He knows that, he knows that, but he doesn’t know how else to survive. He rejects the dark and shoves it away the instant his stomach stops trying to kill him. 

Palpatine comes back. This time he takes great pleasure in tearing Fives’ mind to pieces, shredding into him with sharp edges of Force that send fire rippling through Fives’ skull. Fives tries to call on the Force to defend himself, to put some sort of barrier or buffer against the mental barrage. It doesn’t work. He’s weak and inexperienced and slow. 

Palpatine pulls him apart and puts him back together over and over again until Fives finally figures out how to construct trembling shields around himself, desperate for the agony to end. Palpatine shatters them to pieces anyway before he allows Fives respite. When he leaves Fives’ mind, Fives’ entire body trembles. It feels like there are holes drilled through his brain. He can’t even wrap his hands around the tray that holds his next meal because he’s still shaking too badly. 

He’s long since abandoned any hope of rescue. He’s also submitted himself to the fact that he will never be strong enough to overcome Palpatine. Sooner or later he thinks he won’t have enough of a mind left to do anything at all. 

But Fives has always been stubborn. 

Even through the terrible pain, he clings to a shred of defiance and a sliver of loyalty. Those things have been ingrained in his heart since he could walk, and it’s just enough to keep him from succumbing for now. 

Fives can use the dark, can pull it to him and access that power, but he never lets it stay. He always forces it back down again, and that’s not what Palpatine wants. Every time it’s more and more difficult to get rid of it. The Dark Side clings to him. It doesn’t want to be subdued, and Fives is struggling against it. 

Palpatine knows this. He knows every inch of Fives’ mind by now. Fives has no secrets, no tricks, no ideas that the Sith does not know. 

So naturally Palpatine knows exactly what it takes to get Fives to break.

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At first, Fives thinks that he’s dreaming. The door to his cell opens. Fives rolls and drops to his knees instinctively, because whatever Palpatine has planned for today will only be ten times worse if he doesn’t. 

Someone laughs at him, quiet and fond.

“You don’t need to do that for me,” they say, and Fives’ head snaps up. 

Echo meets his gaze, a small smile playing across his lips. He’s wearing a black tunic, and he looks completely unconcerned by the conditions of Fives’ cell. Fives nearly chokes. 

“E-Echo…?”

Echo approaches him. Fives shrinks back, eyes darting around the room. It’s a trick. It has to be some sort of test. Echo halts, raising his hands non-threateningly. 

“Whoa, hey. I’m not going to attack you.”

“I’m dreaming,” Fives says through chapped and bloody lips. “You’re dead.”

Echo raises an eyebrow and raises a hand, wiggling his fingers at Fives pointedly. A glove covers almost the entire limb. 

“I’m not dead, Fives,” he says. “But I do have a few fake limbs now, if that makes you feel better.”

Fives shakes his head. He isn't convinced. Echo sighs. 

“Feel me, then. You can do that by now, right? Use the Force.”

Fives closes his eyes and turns away from him. He won’t believe this. Echo has been dead for a long time. 

“Alright then,” he hears Echo mutter, and suddenly something taps at his mind, gentle yet insistent. Fives throws his shields up so fast that he sees Echo wince out of the corner of his eyes… and then Fives has to take a moment to process. He turns back to Echo, eyes wide. 

Palpatine is never gentle. 

“Gonna let me in?” Echo asks him, arching an eyebrow. Fives can barely breathe, but when the tapping comes again, Fives lets his shields drop and suddenly he feels. He knows Echo’s thoughts, recognizes the patterns and quirks that he’s understood since Kamino, and that can’t be replicated by anyone else. Their minds twine together. A connection spins into existence.

Fives feels everything. He feels a curl of light amusement from his brother, a flash of pity, a wave of relief. It feels right, it feels good. Echo slides into Fives’ mind like he belongs there. It’s the first time someone has entered Fives’ mind without accompanying pain. Fives relaxes into the sensation.

Echo is not dead. 

He’s real. He’s here. This isn’t a dream. 

Suddenly Fives feels cold terror. 

He yanks his mind away from Echo’s with a cry of alarm. 

“No, no, you can’t be here,” Fives moans. “You can’t be real, please, he’ll make me kill you, you have to leave—!”

Echo laughs again. 

“Oh, that’s right,” he says casually. “I’d nearly forgotten about that part. Don’t worry about it too much, Fives. It’s not a big deal. Besides, he won’t make you kill me. He sent me here.”

Fives recoils. Suspicion sends awful prickles down his spine, because that… that isn’t right. Echo is real, but something else isn’t. 

He reaches for Echo’s mind this time. Echo raises an eyebrow at him but lets Fives dive into his thoughts.

On the surface, Echo’s mind is bright and intelligent, just as Fives had known it would be. Behind Echo’s normal thoughts and familiar attributes, the dark side swells and ebbs like the tide of the sea. Fives narrows his eyes.

“You’re not Echo,” he says sharply. Echo frowns.

“I can reassure you that I am,” he says, coming closer. Fives draws himself up, calling the Force into his grasp and shoving outward. Echo staggers back. Then he grins. 

“That’s pretty good,” he says. “You’re learning faster than I did, I think.”

Fives stiffens. Echo starts to come closer again, and Fives can feel himself crumbling, falling, struggling to remain defiant because it’s Echo. It’s his twin, his brother, his last batchmate, and he’s right in front of him when Fives thought that he was dead. 

When Echo reaches out and pulls Fives close, all of Fives’ defenses topple. He melts into the touch, breath hitching over a sob. Echo makes a soft noise and guides them to the floor. Fives clings to his brother. He knows that something is still horribly wrong but he hasn’t gotten this type of comfort in so long. It’s selfish, but even if this is a trick Fives is still going to take what he can get. 

“Force, Echo.” His voice trembles. He’s shaking. He keeps his eyes squeezed shut, curls his fingers into the fabric of Echo’s tunic and reminds himself to breathe. “How are you alive?”

“The Separatists picked me up at the Citadel,” Echo says quietly. “I was missing three limbs and bleeding out, but I fought anyway. They were surprised to learn that I could use the Force. So was I. Then they brought me here.”

Fives presses his face into Echo’s shoulder. His voice comes out muffled by the fabric. “You’re like me, then.”

“Course I am,” Echo replies. “We came out of the same vat, didn’t we? Why would you have something that I don’t?”

Fives doesn’t have an answer to that. He lets himself drift for a while, burrowing himself in the warmth and comfort and contact that he’s been craving. He can’t remember the last time he was able to hug someone. Part of him is worried that if he lets go, Echo will disappear, and Palpatine will take his place. 

The illusion can’t last forever, because Fives can’t forget what he’s already seen. Echo is real, but he is not the same. 

“What did he do to you?” Fives asks in little more than a whisper. He’s afraid of the answer he’ll receive. Echo shrugs. 

“The same thing that he’s doing to you,” he says lightly. “So I understand, Fives. I know that it hurts. I know exactly how you feel right now.”

“If you understand that, then get me out of here,” Fives says weakly. Echo sighs.

“I know, I know,” he soothes. “I wanted to leave, too. But Fives, you need to understand. It makes everything so much better. It hurts now, but when he’s finished you’ll be better. Stronger. You’ll be free. I promise.”

Echo strokes a gentle hand down Fives’ back. Fives’ stomach heaves. His skin crawls, but he can’t bring himself to pull away.

“He broke you,” he whispers in horror. Echo finally shifts, separating them just enough that Echo can look Fives in the eyes without letting go of him completely. 

“No. He fixed me, Fives. Just be patient. You’ll understand soon.” His eyes gleam yellow in the dark. 

Fives needs to let go. He needs to let go, it isn’t right, if he listens to Echo he’ll break and it’ll be the end. He needs to let go. He needs to pull away from this twisted shadow of his brother and continue to fight. 

But he can’t. 

It’s Echo. 

He curls himself further into Echo’s embrace and sobs. Echo holds him tight, offers him comfort, worms his way into Fives’ mind and sends him waves of warmth and reassurance. 

If Fives closes his eyes and ignores everything around him, he can almost forget that Echo isn’t himself. 

“I missed you,” Echo whispers into Fives’ ear. Fives swallows and doesn’t say anything in return. 

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

Echo is almost always present, after that. He accompanies Palpatine every time Fives gets a visit. He watches, speaks sometimes, and then stays behind when Palpatine is finished to pull Fives into his arms and hold him as Fives tries to remember who he is. 

He’d hoped that Echo’s presence would make things easier, but it makes things worse. He tells Fives to give in, promises him that things will be better, whispers that he can’t wait until they can be together again. Palpatine lets him speak. All of them know Fives’ weakness. All of them know that he’s breaking, that it’s just a matter of time before Fives loses the battle and lets the dark take him as it has his brother. 

Fives, please,” Echo pleads with him, while Fives struggles to cling to his sanity and ignores the dark inside him that’s begging to be used. “Please, the longer you fight, the longer it will hurt. I want you with me, I don’t want you to get hurt anymore. Fives…” 

Fives can’t look at him. Sweat drips down his brow like a river. His mind is combusting. He convulses on the floor, gritting his teeth so hard that part of him thinks that they might shatter. The dark swirls to life. Fives grabs it, pulls it close and feels a bit of the pain fade minutely. 

“You’re so close,” Echo tells him. “Just let it stay, Fives. It’s not just a tool. You have to make it a part of you.”

Fives snarls.

“No,” he hisses. He lets go of the dark and allows the pain to return. 

Dimly, in the back of his mind, he knows that this is the last time he’ll have the strength to rebel. Echo makes a sound of frustration and hurt.

Palpatine doesn’t say anything. He doesn’t ever now, really. Fives is sure that the Sith thinks it’s beneath him. He hadn’t spoken much when it had just been the two of them either, and now Echo does the talking. Palpatine’s presence leaves Fives without warning. The sudden freedom so unexpected that Fives gapes in bewilderment. 

He’d been expecting lightning and agony as a result of his disobedience. It doesn’t come. Palpatine’s eyes flicker over to Echo. Echo doesn’t say anything, but he nods once, and Palpatine leaves with a sweep of his robes. 

Fives hauls himself shakily to his feet, confused. 

“W-what—?” he croaks out. 

“You’re not going to like this at all,” Echo says, and for the first time, Fives hears regret in his brother’s voice. 

“What are you talking about—?”

Echo reaches out and grabs him with the Force. Echo’s never done that before. He’ll enter Fives’ mind, press some of the pain away when he’s allowed to, but he’s never used it to paralyze, or to harm like the Sith does. Fives panics, because for a brief moment he’s afraid that Echo is going to pick up right where Palpatine left off. 

Instead, Echo lifts him, brow furrowed, and pulls Fives with him out of the cell. 

Fives doesn’t know what’s going on. He tries to fight. He batters his will against Echo’s because Echo’s strength can’t compare with Palpatine’s and Fives can actually make him flinch. But Echo still has more experience than Fives does, and he keeps mostly Fives motionless as he walks them through a dim hallway and into another room. 

There’s a chair in the center of the room. Echo eases Fives into it and fastens cuffs around Fives’ arms and legs. Fives pants in apprehension. This doesn’t look good. He doesn’t think it could possibly hurt more than Palpatine can make it, but Echo is grim, and that makes him worry.

“You just… need a little push. That’s all,” Echo says quietly. “It’s okay. I needed it too.”

“The kriff is this?” Fives demands, jerking against the metal restraints. “Let me go!”

“You know I can’t,” Echo reminds him curtly. “This is to help you, Fives. Why is that so hard for you to comprehend?”

“If you really wanted to help me, you would have stopped this a long time ago,” Fives gasps out. Echo huffs and ignores that. 

“This device is experimental. Our Master hopes to use it in the future, to show others like us the true ways of the Force. It will let you see things as I do, I hope.”

Echo pauses for a moment. Fives feels him reaching out towards their Force bond, sending him apologies and peace and reassurance that Fives does not want. He recoils from it, pushes Echo away, and he sees Echo’s eyes go wide with shock. 

“You aren’t my brother,” Fives snarls at him. “My brother is dead.”

For a moment, Fives can see past the dark that swirls in Echo’s eyes. Something shatters. Echo tries to reach for him again, tugging at the bond forcefully. Fives flinches and cuts him off. Echo’s side of the bond lights up with confusion and panic, but Fives won’t let him in. 

A moment later, Echo’s expression hardens, and anger replaces the vulnerability. 

Echo slams his hand down onto the control panel at his side. The machine begins to whir to life. Fives glances down and sees needles drawing closer to his skin on either side of him. He swallows.

“Echo...”

“You could have avoided this, you know. You could have stopped it already. You have the power to end it. All you have to do is stop rejecting it, stop rejecting me,” Echo snarls. His eyes flash yellow again. Fives hates it when they do that. It’s a harsh reminder that his brother is gone, that Echo has been replaced by something that has his face but not his heart.

“You don’t have to be afraid. Not of the chair, not of the Dark Side, not of anything. You have me now,” Echo whispers in his ear. “Aren’t you grateful? I didn’t have anyone to get me through these things. I was all alone.” He bares his teeth in a pale imitation of a smile. “It nearly killed me. You’re lucky, Fives. Lucky that I’m here to help.” 

Electroprods blaze to life. Fives hadn’t even noticed them until now, but they’re inching close alongside the needles. Fives trembles. He can’t, he can’t, he can’t. He’s so tired of pain.

“Echo, don’t. Please. Get me out of here, this isn’t you—!”

Echo’s expression twists into a distorted parody of sympathy. He strokes a hand over Fives hair in a motion that’s supposed to be soothing before taking a step back so that he’s out of range of the chair’s influence. “I’m right here. You just have to endure it, and hate. Everything will be alright after that. Trust me. I’ll be right here, don’t worry.”

Fives twists, shakes, closes his eyes and tries to shut out Echo’s words because it’s wrong, it’s twisted and horrible and he’s so, so afraid. 

“Echo, let me go. Echo, please! Please, please don’t don’t—!”

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

When he wakes up, his world is on fire. He moans before he can stop himself and that just makes it worse. It feels like there are shards of glass down his throat. He’s curled in a little ball next to someone, and he doesn’t need to see in order to know who it is. 

“Sleep, Fives,” Echo tells him. Fives is too tired, too hurt, too beaten down to even think about disobeying. He drifts off again, but when he comes to once more the pain hasn’t faded even a bit. 

Echo is speaking in the dark of the cell, breathing something out in quiet rolling syllables that Fives doesn’t understand. The words grate against Fives’ mind. They’re… familiar, somehow, but not to him. The dark in him leaps in recognition. 

“Nwûl tash. Dzwol shâsotkun. Shâsotjontû châtsatul nu tyûk. Tyûkjontû châtsatul nu midwan. Midwanjontû châtsatul nu asha. Ashajontû kotswinot itsu nuyak. Wonoksh qyâsik nun.”

Echo repeats it once, twice, three times. Fives doesn’t try to speak just yet. Even lifting his head sends lightning pain skittering through his body. Echo must sense that he’s awake. He prods at Fives’ mind through the bond, and Fives is too weak to resist this time. Echo hums in satisfaction as their minds curl together. Fives pushes at him weakly, but Echo bats his protests aside. 

“You want to know what it means?” he asks quietly. “It’s what you could have, if you’d let us show you. Peace is a lie, there is only passion. Through passion, I gain strength. Through strength, I gain power. Through power, I gain victory. Through victory, my chains are broken. The Force shall free me.” He pauses. “Do you want to be free, Fives?”

Fives rumbles out a bitter laugh that vibrates through his bones and makes him ache.

“I am free. You’re the one who isn’t.”

Echo doesn’t say anything for a long, long moment. 

“Maybe I’m not,” he finally admits. “But you’ll join us anyway. If it’s true that I’m not free, you won’t leave me to face servitude alone.”

 Servitude. Ha. 

“I’m loyal to the Republic,” Fives croaks out, but he hasn’t actually thought of the Republic in a long time. Echo laughs at him.

“Maybe you were,” he whispers. “But you’ve always been more loyal to me.” 

He’s right. Fives loves his brother far more than he will ever love the Republic.

Fives is done resisting. He’d known that he was going to give in the moment he’d seen Echo. He’s just been putting it off. He closes his eyes and lets every muscle in his body go slack. The barriers that he’s put up to keep the dark away fade. The dark swells, throbs, billows to life. Fives lets it swallow him whole. 

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

Fives understands everything now.

The dark is his friend. The dark belongs with him. It sings contentedly as it thrums between him and his brother, binding them together as they kneel at Palpatine’s feet. When the Sith gestures for them to rise, they do so as one, more in sync than they’ve ever been. Fives shares a victorious glance with Echo as Palpatine’s satisfaction rolls over them.

“You are my prototypes,” he tells them with a slow smile. “The predecessors to my future Inquisitors. Your conversions were successful, and theirs will be, too.”

The Sith presents them with lightsabers. Fives accepts the weapon and licks his lips. The dark curls around him like a blanket. It isn’t cold, not anymore. 

He’s not sure why it had taken him so long to accept it. 

His bond with Echo is alight with energy and power. Fives can practically taste it. He knows that Echo can, too. 

It is better, just like Echo had promised. And Fives doesn’t really care what happens to him anymore, not as long he can stay side by side with his brother.   

[kpopfanfictrash]

For Me, It’s You

Member: Jimin (BTS)

Prompt: Song!drabble, inspired by For Me, It’s You by Lo Moon

Rating: R

Genre: childhood friends to lovers!AU (THANK YOU @underthejoon​ for this amazing header, ur the best)

Warnings: angst, estranged parents, references to former underage drinking

WC: 4,015

↳ part of my 30K milestone drabble game

You should not have come home this weekend.

Honestly, you knew better but allowed yourself to be swayed by the guilt of your siblings. There were the ones who insisted your parents wanted you here, who said things would not be the same without you and you fell for their lies – hook, line and sinker. Never mind that, when you texted your plane flight to your mom, it took her nearly a day to respond.

In complete denial, you chalked this up to timing. It was not. As soon as you arrived from the airport, you sensed the chill in the air. Your little brother – Dean’s list, summa cum laude, McKinsey consultant, Henry – was welcomed in with warm hugs and cookies. You barely received a terse smile and ‘welcome home.’

Even so, you deluded yourself into thinking things would be fine. You would lie low, make it through the weekend and return to the city unscathed. So long as you did not bring up your job, or the argument, everything would be okay. Sadly, you underestimated how disappointed your parents were. It took only two glasses of wine at Thanksgiving dinner for your mother to let you know exactly how she felt.

“When do you have to be back at work, Henry?” she asked, accepting the vat of potatoes.

“Monday,” Henry said, setting down his glass. “Working on a big client of ours right now – unfortunately, can’t take much time off.”

“Oh, that’s alright.” Your mother beamed as she replaced the spoon in the bowl. “It’s nice to see you hard at work. Unlike some people your age.”

Everyone around the table stiffened. It was not necessary for your mother to say your name in order to make her feelings known. The point was clear in the way she set the bowl down, looked your way and waited a beat.

Refusing to take the bait, you looked down. You had not been hungry before but, upon hearing her comment, lost all appetite entirely.

“Let’s not talk about that right now,” said Jia, your sister. Hastily, she shot a pleading glance at your dad. “It’s the holidays.”

“That doesn’t diminish the reality of the situation,” your father said sternly. Turning your way, his brow furrowed. “So, Y/N. Have you found yourself yet?”

Cheeks slowly heating, you pushed your plate back from the table. “I’m working on my drawings, yeah. If that’s what you’re asking.”

He made a dismissive noise in his throat. “All that money towards college – wasted.”

“Dad,” Jia said. “It wasn’t wasted.” She scowled, looking between your parents.

Jia chose to become a dentist; a perfectly respectable career path in their opinion. Still, she had always been protective over you and Henry. When you were younger, your parents often worked in the evenings, and it often fell upon your older sister to help.

“Let’s just eat, okay?” Henry glanced around the table. “It’s Thanksgiving. Let’s be glad we’re all here.”

The table was quiet for a few minutes, everyone digging into their respective plates. Then, your mom sighed and said, “I suppose I’m thankful two of my children followed our example to form steady careers. At least I can sleep knowing I won’t be in the poor house when I’m old.”

“Mom!” Jia blurted out, looking appalled.

Henry jumped to your defense, too. “That’s not fair, mom –”

“I’ll tell you what’s fair,” interrupted your father. His voice somehow drowned out the rest. “Wasting all your hard-earned money on a fancy college degree, only to throw it away. Living disrespectfully, coming back to our house and having the nerve to –”

“I bought my own plane ticket, dad,” you interjected. “My website is doing really well, and I’m working on illustrations for this book, and I –”

“Don’t interrupt!” he exclaimed. “This is exactly the lack of respect your mother and I are talking about.”

With a loud screech, you pushed your chair away to stand up. “I’m done eating,” you announced. Stiffly, you looked at your mom.  “Doesn’t sound like anything’s changed since the last time we spoke. Thank you for cooking. I’ll clean up after myself.”

With that, you turned around and strode into the kitchen. The arguing continued after you left, with Jia jumping in to combat your parents. Even Henry was angry, protesting he and Jia wanted you there, but you were no longer listening. It did not matter much, either way. You should have known better than to think today would go well.

The last time you spoke to your parents was in the spring, the day you told them you were quitting your job to pursue illustration full-time. They were not happy, simply put and after the initial, blow-out fight, you did not speak at all. Obviously, they still had a lot to say.

Retreating up the stairs to your childhood bedroom, you slammed shut the door and collapsed on your bed. Being in this room made you feel like a child and in many ways, you still were. It did not matter that you had been able to drink for four years and vote for seven. In many ways, you were only just beginning to progress on your own.

Downstairs, you still heard the debate raging on. It was always like this, when you were little. Even when you were not the one arguing, there was another fight to be had. You could not blame your parents for that, not really. It was the only way they understood discipline – loud voices and the overbearing idea of respect.

Eventually, things would calm down. You knew they would. Eventually, Jia would help your mom clean up and Henry would play piano in the next room. For a few hours, maybe, they would be like a family – except you would not be there.

Not this time.

Unable to replay the events any longer, you roll out of bed and unlatch your window. Prying it open, the cold air hits your face. Shivering, you stare into the night and reach out for your sweater. Your childhood home was built with a small, wrap-around porch over the front.

When you were a child, you often climbed out here to escape. When you were in your teens, you came out here to drink, or smoke, or journal about how your parents were ruining your life. It has been a long time since you remembered that part of yourself.

Glancing away, you see lights on in the Park house. They must be finishing Thanksgiving dinner as well, hopefully not in as dramatic fashion as yours. You cannot imagine it is, since the Parks adore their two sons – Jimin and Jiwoo. Besides, both of their children adopted traditionally successful career paths. Jiwoo is in medical school and Jimin recently passed the bar.

Exhaling, you glance again at the rooftop. The fighting can still be heard downstairs and so, pulling on your sweater, you climb out on the porch. Quickly shutting the window, you find yourself ensconced in blessed silence. No disappointed parents berating you. No siblings rising to your defense. Only silence, the wind and far-off sound of cars on the highway.

Settling onto the roof, you lean against the side of the house. The sky overhead is clear, a silver crescent of moon hanging above your head. As you breathe in and out, your breath frosts in mid-air. It is chilly enough you are glad for your sweater and still, your hands stiffen with cold. Pulling your sleeves down, you relish in the silence.

“Y/N?”

Head jerking sideways, your heart nearly stops when you see a face looking back. At the edge of the overhang, clinging onto the roof is a familiar – well, now unfamiliar – person.

Jimin.

“Is that seat taken?” he breathes, face red with the exertion of climbing. “Because it’s been a while since I’ve done this, and god knows how much your parents take care of this trellis.”

“Shit,” you blurt, realizing his predicament and scrambling onto your knees. Grabbing Jimin’s hands, you haul him onto the roof.

Jimin tumbles beside you, dusting dirt from his pea coat. You wince at the gesture, since the fabric looks expensive – probably is, given his new job. Collapsing against the siding, Jimin adjusts his grey beanie and looks sideways at you.

“Hey,” he greets, as though he climbs up on neighbors’ porches all the time.

Trying not to laugh, you smile back. “Hey.”

When you say nothing more, Jimin arches a brow. “Surprised to see me?”

“You could say that,” you say, glancing down at the cul-de-sac. From up here, the world seems more manageable. It always did. “It’s been a while since you came by.”

“Could say the same.”

Glancing at him, you see a small smile on his face. Jimin is quiet for a moment, staring out at the world and you cannot help but layer this Jimin with ones past. When you were younger, this was your place – he and you. Whenever your parents were too much, or you were mad at the world, you would climb out here to escape.

Jimin would see this and know it was his signal to come over.

It has been a long time since then, though. The wood of the house is cold on your back.

“So, why are you out here?” He asks this calmly, as though this were another Tuesday.

You shrug. “The usual.”

It has been seven years, give or take, since you two last talked. Really talked, that is – in the way that friends do. All throughout middle school and high school, Jimin was your best friend. Even Jia was wary of you. She did not understand the way you acted, the way you purposefully pushed your parents’ boundaries to understand all their lines.

Jimin was not like that. Jimin did not break rules, but Jimin understood. He saw you out here, night after night and grew curious. Eventually, he climbed up to meet you and what happened next cannot be explained. You became the unlikeliest of friends.

Subtly, you glance sideways.

Glasses are perched on the end of his nose. Jimin used to need glasses in high school but insisted upon contacts because of his dancing. When he quit dance for college, you heard a lot of things changed, but you never imagined his glasses to be one of them. The frames suit his face. You have always thought that.

Of course, you cannot say for certain this change took place during college. That was when you began drifting apart – it was not either of your fault, really. You two tried to keep in touch, you really did. There were phone calls, e-mails, but there was always something else demanding more urgent attention. Eventually, phone calls became texts, which turned into long bouts of silence where you forgot one another.

Maybe the silence was a bit purposeful on your part. Maybe you were running from feelings you deemed ultimately, fruitless.

“You haven’t been home for the holidays in a few years,” Jimin comments, still casual. His foot is stretched out before him, clothed in an Italian loafer which must be worth twenty of your commissions.

“Not really, no,” you say, surprised he noticed.

“Why not?”

“Ha.” Leaning your head to the house, you close your eyes. “I don’t know. It felt like a lie every time, you know? Coming home and seeing them. Pretending to be happy. It was easier just… not to come.”

Jimin is quiet for a moment. “You weren’t happy?”

“Wrong job.” You open one eye. “Wrong life, really. But it was one they approved of.”

“And now?”

Suddenly, you look at him. Jimin stares back, gaze soft in moonlight. It makes your heart skip a beat, a phenomenon you thought died a long time ago. It is maddening, how quickly he does this to you.

When you were in high school, Jimin was the golden boy. The dancer, the honors student, the friendly type who knew everyone – even the weird, quiet girl who drew fantasy landscapes in the margins of her notebooks. Once upon a time, you were in love with him.

You even dreamed of him loving you back, but those dreams never became reality. Jimin loved you, of course, but only as a friend. He had a strange sense of protection for the girl on the roof. You realized this not in one moment, but in a thousand little ones all strung together.

You realized it when watching him with his first girlfriend – a bubbly, cheerleader type much like himself. The stake was hammered in further with his second girlfriend, whom he left the first one for. It was obvious when he took you to parties, leaving you talking to his friends in the corners. Obvious when his group booked a limo for prom and you were not invited.

These moments crushed your hope for anything more. And yet, here you are, back on the roof and wishing something more existed.

“Now, I’m happy with my career.” Not looking at him, you exhale. “They hate it, though. They think I threw everything they gave me away.”

Jimin snorts. “Bullshit.”

“Yeah?” You smile before you can help it. Jimin was always protective when it came to your drawing. “I don’t know it is. I had a good job, a stable job. The type of job they wanted so badly to have but couldn’t. I get why they’re mad.”

“You weren’t happy, though,” Jimin points out, rearranging himself on the roof. Somehow, his hand falls closer to yours. “And your drawings are amazing. I’ve seen your website.”

“Oh.” You pause, uncertain how to respond. Strange butterflies take flight in your stomach and you wonder what else he has seen. “Yeah, well. I don’t think they really care about that. Not like your parents do, anyways.”

Jimin’s smile turns bitter. “I guess.”

Now, it is your turn to look at him curiously. “What do you mean?”

Shaking his head, Jimin ducks his chin against his chest. The pea coat bunches around his shoulders, making him look more like old Jimin – your Jimin. The high schooler who feared his future, who did not want to quit dance but did, because he had to.

“I mean,” he tries again, frowning. “My parents are proud of me on paper. The love listing my accomplishments to their friends, but when it comes to me…”

He trails off, leaving you to draw your own implication.

“Oh.” Your words soften, glancing away. “I get that. I think that’s how Henry feels sometimes. He likes his job, he really does – but with my parents, it’s not about that. It makes the success feel kind of… hollow, somehow. You know?”

“I do.”

Looking at him, you hesitate. “Jimin… why’d you come up here?”

Jimin is quiet for a moment, rolling the corner of his pea coat with his fingers. “Why wouldn’t I?”

“Oh, I don’t know,” you say, some of your usual sarcasm seeping through. “Maybe because we haven’t spoken in like, five years.”

Jimin’s lips quirk. The gesture disappears almost immediately, replaced with something which could almost be called sadness.

“I heard you moved into the city,” he says quietly.

Your stomach plummets. “Jimin, I…”

“Yeah?”

“I – I didn’t know you knew,” you say, finishing lamely.

“Really?” His laugh is hollow. “Even if we didn’t follow each other on social media, you really thought my mom wouldn’t tell me?”

Shifting uncomfortably, you fail to meet his gaze. “Well. I moved to the city last fall.”

“I know. Why didn’t you look me up?”

“I don’t know,” you say honestly. Avoiding eye contact, you pick at your sweater. “It’s been a long time, I guess.”

“Too long.”

“Well, why didn’t you reach out?” you demand, looking up. To your surprise, you find Jimin has moved closer.

He stares at you determinedly. “What happened to us, Y/N?”

“What happens to most high school friends?” you stammer, still trying to be casual. “We moved, drifted apart, lost touch…”

“No.” Reaching out, Jimin takes your hand in his. He feels much warmer than you do. “I – oh. You’re cold.”

“N-no shit,” you say, teeth chattering. “I just grabbed this sweater.”

Jimin shifts closer, his right thigh pressing against yours. “Y/N.”

“Yeah?”

He stares at you for a moment, warmth finally tangible. After so many years without him, the smell of his cologne is almost too much to bear. No longer does he drown in it. You remember the year his mom gave him that for Christmas. The first few weeks of January Jimin fairly bathed in it, until his mom pulled him aside and told him she would throw it away – no matter the cost.

Remembering this makes you smile.

Jimin’s expression remains serious. “Why’d you leave… that night?”

There it is. There is the memory between you which you have been pointedly trying to ignore. The night Jimin kissed you and you ran away. It happened here, on this very rooftop. The night before you left for college, Jimin stole wine coolers from his mom and asked you to celebrate.

He was an absolute lightweight.

Jimin did not drink in high school, unlike you and so, after one wine cooler, he was already giggly. Laying back on the roof, you traced the stars with your fingertips and somehow rolled into his side. His arm slid around your waist, stable and warm.

Softly, he looked down – and kissed you.

It lasted only a moment. A brief miracle before you forced yourself away, leaping up on the roof and flinging open your window. You hurried in, shutting the blinds and ignoring his pleas. Jimin stood there for nearly twenty minutes before you heard him leave. He knew what your parents were like – knew what would happen if they heard him and caught you.

“I don’t know,” you say quietly, still looking at him.

“Bullshit.” Jimin says this in the same tone he used to describe your parents.

Stiffening, you sit up. He still holds your hand in his. Despite the sternness of his tone, Jimin continues to trace your fingers through the sweater. He stares, biting down on his lip and you know he does this when he is nervous.

It is surprising how easily you remember. Surprising how easy it is to slip into who you used to be, the dreams you used to want. Perhaps they never really left at all.

“I was scared,” you finally say, barely audible.

“Of me?”

“No,” you say, before you can help it. “Never of you. Of what… I might do to you.”

Jimin’s brow furrows. “You do to me? I don’t understand. How could anything you do be bad?”

The aching sweetness of this reminds you why you loved him. Or, why you love him. It is all so confusing with him here in the moonlight, with you here beside him, remembering ghosts of the past. Turning to face him, your knees graze each other like children.

“I didn’t make sense with you,” you explain. “Everyone knew it in high school, even if they wouldn’t say it out loud. You were always the bright one, the brilliant one – and then there was me.”

“Yeah. And then there was you.” Jimin speaks fiercely. “Grounded, real. Always telling me what you thought, not letting other people get to me for too long. You were the only person who really believed in me. No caveats, just belief.”

“That’s not true.”

“It is,” he insists. “God, Y/N. How could you think you were bad for me?” Reaching out, he tenderly tucks a strand of hair behind your ear. Pulling away, his fingertips graze your jaw. “For me, it’s you. It’s always been you.”

“Don’t say ridiculous things,” you say on reflex.

Jimin’s brow furrows. “Did you honestly not realize? The entire time we were friends – you didn’t know I was in love with you?”

Your breath catches at how easily he says this. “But…” Mind spinning, you sift through the memories. “You dated other girls. Took someone else to prom. You didn’t say anything until you kissed me!”

“I know.” Jimin’s expression is tortured. “I only dated those girls though, because you said I should! Don’t you remember? I’d describe my ideal girl to you – describe you – and you’d point someone else out. When I took you to parties, you’d talk to my guy friends. And you accepted someone else’s prom invite before I could ask!”

“What!” You blink, since this is news to you. “What are you talking about?”

“We had a pact.” Despite himself, Jimin nearly smiles. “Remember? We were ten, watching Footloose in my basement and you pinky promised to be my prom date.”

“We were ten,” you say, although you also find yourself smiling. “You didn’t really think –”

“I was planning to ask you the next day,” he interrupts.

Words die on your lips and you can only stare for a moment. “What?”

“Peter Graff asked you on a Friday.” Scooting closer, Jimin takes your other hand in his. “I remember. I remember stopping by your locker and hearing you talk about prom dresses, limo colors, what boutonniere you should buy. I… I had been planning to ask the next day.”

“Jimin, I…”

“I was planning to stand in your yard with a boom box,” he admits, lips curving into a smile. Dark hair falls into his gaze. “You know, like in Say Anything. Except not creepy. And on very low volume, so I didn’t wake your parents.”

“Good call.”

“I thought so.”

It is strange to hear your friendship described in this manner. Because you remember those moments, but through a very different lens. You remember the day Jimin described his ideal girl. You remember crying that night, feeling you fit none of the description. He is right – you were the one who pointed out his first girlfriend, telling him he should really ask her out. It seemed more logical than any other version of the truth.

“When you kissed me…” Swallowing, you force yourself to continue. “It was perfect.”

“Yeah?” Jimin bites his lip.  “Then, why’d you leave?”

“You’d been drinking. I was leaving the next day. I thought maybe… you’d done it out of pity,” you whisper, finally voicing your fears from the night. “I thought you knew how badly I wanted you and it was just your way of saying goodbye. I… I wanted to keep that night the way it was. Perfect.”

“It wasn’t pity.” Jimin catches his breath. “Never.”

“Jimin…”

Lifting his hands to your face, he gently strokes your jaw. “I missed my shot that night,” he determines. “I’ve been a coward lots of ways, my whole life. I didn’t go after you like I should’ve. I haven’t stood up to my parents a million times. But I’ll be damned if I fuck this up again.”

Before you can respond, he kisses you.

His lips are soft, warm despite the bitterness of the night. He tastes like vanilla Chapstick and wine and you only hesitate a moment before kissing him back. The kiss is nothing like your first. That was a moment between teenagers, too scared to ask for what you both wanted. Now, you know what you want.

Greedily, your lips part as your hands wrap around his. At the first brush of your tongue, Jimin releases a groan. You kiss like this for a while, gently exploring the new boundaries between you. Whatever once was is shattered but something new exists in its place.

Finally, you drag yourself away and open your eyes. “Is this why you came here tonight?” you whisper, the world somehow seeming brighter. “To kiss me again?”

“Amongst other things.” His lips quirk when he laughs, shaking his head. “No. I came out because I saw you on the roof.”

He does not need to explain what it means. You only come out on the roof when you are upset. Unthinkingly, your heart starts to swell.

“You still remembered?” you ask, thumb brushing his neck.

“I meant what I said. For me, it’s you.”

  © kpopfanfictrash, 2019. Do not copy or repost without permission.

[stillchaoticlogic]

Such a Tease: Chapter 1

Pairing: (Aged) Gary/Blue Oak x Reader

Summary: After a tragedy, you make the decision to quit your career as a trainer and focus on breeding Pokemon for the general population. You are one of the best in the region. You aren’t expecting the have to deal with your childhood rival and crush suddenly popping back into your life. After all, Gary Oak broke your heart and now you are determined to break his… or are you?

NOTES:*This is my very first pokemon story written many many years ago. I’ve decided to revamp it and see what happens! I hope you enjoy a little Gary / Blue love! I will kinda be combing the anime and game versions and I may or may not have just bought the manga to read… It will kinda be my take on these characters. Ash may become more like Red, but I haven’t really decided yet… I’m just having fun with this!*

Getting Started The alarm sounds much too soon for anyone’s liking and groggily you roll over and hit snooze. Too bad that doesn’t work. The annoying jingling in your ear continues much to your half-asleep dismay, finally opening your eyes you see the source of the noise at such a forsaken time of the morning it’s coming from Jingle Bells your Chimecho. You sigh in exasperation at her before hauling yourself up out of bed making her promptly stop. You roll your eyes as she merely floats in front of you staring up at you with devious innocence; you swear she has been hanging around Missy, your Mismagius for far too long. You yawn as you make your way past her into the bathroom to get ready for the day. 

You had spent all of last night moving into your new center and you were dead. Jingle has been your faithful companion and alarm clock for years at this point, but perhaps she is a little overzealous at times. Especially when it’s five o’clock in the morning and the world isn’t even awake yet. 

After you have prepared yourself for a day of decorating, arranging, unpacking and sorting, you head down the stairs to the oversized kitchen, which you soon realize has yet to be stocked. Upon this realization, your tummy comes to the conclusion that it needs something and now; so to alert you to such feelings it lets out a rather large growl. You sigh for the umpteenth time this morning and grab your purse and keys as you head out the door. Lady saunters after you, since she isn’t ever too far behind, taking her sweet time to meander out the door at her dignified pace. You merely chuckle at her and close the door behind her when she finally reaches the outside. As you begin your walk to the town she matches her pace with yours easily.

Looking down at her you say, “Alright Lady dear, how about we stop at that café I saw in town for breakfast then over to the store? We’ll do some shopping to get us in the mood for decorating!”

“Espi!” she exclaims in agreement as the two of you continue through the gardens toward the forest.

You love the location of your breeding center you must admit. It is rather beautiful and so private. A decent size of the forest had been cleared to make room for it, but you made sure that all the wood that was cleared went to building something. Even a natural spring ran through your property down to a pond that was surrounded by trees and flowers. Flower gardens add to the picturesque front of the house which is at least 3 stories high with a basement as well. Of course, your house will also be housing your staff and several of your Pokémon so you had to have a large house. 

The back of the house wasn’t anything less breathtaking with herb and vegetable gardens for cooking purposes as well as medical. Off to the right side, a massive barn looking structure would be the home of the Pokémon that you would be breeding and training. The entire grounds were enclosed with a high-security system, invisible to the naked eye and impossible to enter or leave except at the designated locations. Oh yes, it is quite a sight to behold and it better be for what you have invested in it. This is your one shot at your dream. You hope that it works considering all of your earnings, winnings, and savings had gone into this sucker.

The sun played through the canopy of the trees as you and Lady make your way to town. Neither of you cares about the time or the distance, after all, the two of you have been travelers for so long that such things have merely become irrelevant. The relaxing silence is what you need considering the hustle and bustle of the past few days. Getting moved in has been an experience all in itself one you don’t need for quite some time. 

The tunnel of trees ends and you are greeted with the sight of Route one and merely ten feet away, Viridian City. The city has grown since your departure several years prior and you rather like the changes made. You allow your memory to lead you to the café you saw while walking through town a few days ago. It’s a cozy place full of big comfy couches and armchairs as well as outdoor tables and chairs under a gazebo. The lighting was bright from the rays coming in through the various windows and skylights. You could see various plants and such growing in the flower beds that surround it giving it a cheery vibe. Upon entering you make your way up to the counter and begin to look up at the drinks posted up on the sign as well as the array of sweet cakes and such that line the pastry case before you.

“Hi! How are you today?” chirps the girl behind the counter, how she chirps at six in the morning you will never know, but appreciate the sentiment anyway.

“I’m good, thanks,” You answer with a pleasant smile.

“So, what can I get for you?”

After you have placed your order and gotten something for Lady as well you make your way over to a table in the corner by a window. You begin to people watch as you sit in a more or less daze just taking in the town.

“Are you new to town?” interrupts a voice beside you.

“Huh?” you question turning to see the girl from behind the counter cleaning a nearby table. She smiles pleasantly and repeats the question.

“Oh, I’m from Pallet town originally, but have been traveling for the past fifteen years. I’ve just recently decided to move back to start my own breeding center.”

“OH!!! So you’re the owner of that new breeding center on Route One! That is sooo cool!!! I’ve always wanted to be a Pokémon breeder just like my brother. And one day I will, but right now I don’t even have a Pokémon.” You frown at how her excitement became disappointment so quickly.

“Well, I do own a breeding center…. And I do need help… And I do have plenty of Pokémon….”

She turns to you her eyes getting very wide with each statement you make.

“Really!? Do you really mean what I think you mean?!?!”

“Well do you have any experience at all with Pokémon?”

“Yeah! My brother taught me a lot!! He’s a great breeder, but he has been traveling for a while trying to get more rare Pokémon to breed. So, I haven’t really got to see him a lot.”

“That’s ok, stop by sometime tomorrow and we’ll see about getting you a job. I’m going to see how you do with some of the Pokémon before I do though ok?”

“Ok!! That sounds great!! Oh! I need to get back to work. Bye, see you tomorrow!!”

You smile and nod at the enthusiastic girl as she runs off behind the counter to serve the next customer. You are a little surprised to find a guy already sitting on the other side of the café sipping his coffee and reading the morning paper with an Umbreon sitting to his right eyeing your Espeon with interest. Lady merely ignores him as she continues to eat the bit of pastry you had given her for breakfast.

“You’re such a heartbreaker Lady,” you chuckle as you glance back over to the Umbreon only to see who his trainer is.

One: Gary Oak.

At the mere sight of him, you are quite sure that every ounce of maturity, intelligence, grace, and confidence that you had collected over the past fifteen years dissolves in a vat of childish hopes and dreams that were crushed beneath his foot. You swallow hard at the feelings swirling around inside of you at the sight of him. Fighting hard against them, you make it a point to get up and leave, slipping your sunglasses on in the process to avoid any unnecessary conflict. Lady sensing your discomfort leaps upon your shoulder and glares both the male and his Umbreon down the whole way out the door. You sigh in relief, letting out the breath you didn’t know you were holding, the moment you are out of sight of the café, your shoulders relax allowing you to calm yourself down. Lady looks up at you questioningly, concern and confusion laced in the waves she is sending you. You look down and smile in reassurance at your best friend, knowing that no matter what happens she will always be there for you.

Shaking off the surprise from seeing the boy who broke your fifteen-year-old heart you continue your day as planned. Lady helps you pick out the decor, sheet sets, and curtains. Thankfully you have already picked out appliances and you don’t need to worry about them. You head to the store to stock up on groceries and giggle when Lady levitates snacks she likes into the cart. You roll your eyes at her antics but allow her to indulge all the same. 

A very sincere part of you can’t get Gary out of your head though. You had adored him when you were younger, definitely against your better judgment. He was arrogant and stuck up, but he was smart, cool and confident as well. As he gained success as a trainer you had just fallen for him even more. Five years after setting out on your journey you ran into him at a competition and worked up the nerve to ask him out. Not only had he rejected you but he had laughed in your face. To this day you recall the embarrassment you felt as you ran from his jeers. 

Despite the passage of time, you still felt like that fifteen-year-old today when you saw him in the cafe. You groan as you roll your eyes at yourself. 

“What is wrong with you?! You went on to be one of the strongest trainers in the region! You are considered one of the best in the business. You don’t care about some stupid boy.”

With a final nod of your head indicating that this internal conversation is over you focus on getting Gary Oak out of your head onto the task at hand. You have a lot to do and you don’t have time to worry about him.

Notes: I hope you guys enjoyed this chapter! I’m pretty excited about revamping this story. Please like reblog and comment to show some love! 

[malethirsty]

Show Off: Norman Reedus

Summary: When the annual bikers fuck competition rolls around, President Norman Reedus finally gets to enter as he’s dating you. You can survive all the norms, but can you both outlast a group of hot bikers?

Warnings: M/M smut, Bareback (Wrap Before You Tap!)

Inspired by: https://twitter.com/malethirst/status/1197597489999695872?s=21

In biker culture, the women who take bikers as their partners are called Old Ladies. So when Club President Norman Reedus revealed you as his Old Gentleman, many were surprised, as it changed history. Being a lucrative local stripper, Norman paid you for your services which included a lapdance. You were entranced by the bikers hot looks as he was entranced by you and soon the dance turned into you riding his cock while he groaned, as your ass gripped down on his cock like a vice, begging for more. “Will you be my Old Gentleman?” he asked after he had come, and you had happily accepted. Dating Norman was suspenseful as you knew he would ride the line of death, but everytime he came home, the nerves were replaced by adrenaline, as he fucked you hard until you screamed so loud, the street filled with both your voices.

Over the past 50 years, the club he ran would run this massive event. All the bikers and their partners would gather, the men on their bikes, the partners all naked. They would strip the bikers and then fuck them on the bikes in a Battle Royale contest, last to cum was given a big tanker of beer & in increase from the profits of drugs they put out. Norman had always been ineligable due to having no person to fuck and he hadn’t wanted to use hookers, but that had changed, now he had you, and he craved victory. He had been training you for the past month in a entire manner of ways, stringing you up on the bed so you couldn’t use your hands to bring him to orgasm, slow fucks, even stretching your ass out with dildos “Now that I’ve got you Y/N, I’m not fucking losing this.” He said as he pounded into you on the eve of the event. He had foregone the usual methods as he wanted one big long fuck before he had to concentrate. You went up to kiss him, whispering in his ear “We’re gonna make history together tomorrow, they’re not gonna know what’s hit em.” Norman groaned, shooting his load inside you.

Preparations in the afternoon began for the event, with the various bikers arriving with their partners, mainly girls, some even going the distance and hiring hookers. However when you & Norman crossed into the room, everyone fell silent. “Yeah that’s right, I’ve got a partner this year. The rules say partner, not woman, so I can have my man, he’s eligible.” Of course, someone had to be a pain, and it happened to be prospect Sammie “So you couldn’t get a pussy sir, so you got the next best thing, a fag” whilst it would sound like a compliment, his vitriol in his voice was apparent. Norman looked furious but you handled the situation. You walked over sweetly to Sammie. CRACK! You punched him square in the mouth, him falling backwards, blood pouring from his mouth “So you all know Norman’s Old Gentleman has a name and it’s not ‘The fag’ it’s Y/N and I will be punching anyone else who keeps calling me ‘The Fag’.” Anyone who had homophobic words to say stayed out of your way, and you were able to spend some time with Norman and the other girls, whom all actually seemed really nice, though this was probably because they had a man who didn’t want them on their back, which gave more space to breathe.

As evening crept over, the club members headed outside to the various bikes, whilst you undressed with the girls. As you headed outside, you heard the announcement of the competition “This contest is The 50th Sexual Stamina Roulette! Partners, you must walk up to your assorted biker, strip him & then ride him until he cums. You are eliminated if your biker partner cums before your other bikers, once eliminated you must sit on the bench, if you interfere, you will be penalized. Last couple standing wins the vat of beer and an increased cut in the drug running profits! LET’S BEGIN!” You grinned as you strolled over to Norman, it was showtime.

You removed his leather vest, his pants following. You were pleased he didn’t wear anything underneath “I couldn’t have a layer come between me and you baby boy” he grinned at you. With everyone hard enough and ready, you got on the bike & positioned yourself above Norman’s cock. Sinking down onto it, you moaned out loud, Norman echoing it. You both heard the klaxon which signified everyone was now fucking, the air filled with broken moans and squelching cocks and pussies, or in your case sharp claps as Norman fucked your ass. You intended to go gently, rather than rapidly fast fucking, having already stretched yourself out prior to, and also take brief breaks so you could keep yourself together. Others hadn’t thought this was a game of sexual prowess, they figured ‘Get in and nut.’ They didn’t care as long as they came, but blowing first in front of nine other buff alpha men would be very humbling to say the least.

Eventually others started to fall short with moans of ‘Oh shit.’ ‘Fuck’ and ‘Damn It’ littering the air as people were eliminated. After five eliminations the other couples, realizing what was keeping you in, tried to implement the same tactics, but you did the opposite of them, knowing it would confuse them and one wrong move and they would blow. “Oh fuck Y/N, we’re walking a damn landmine here.” Norman groaned as he fucked deep into you “Keep calm babe. As long as we can keep ourselves together, we’ll be fine. You’ll get to use me freely later.” Norman grinned, the prospect of fucking twice in one day was hot. As he kept with you, another two couples yelled out as they spilled over.

“Fuck baby, if we keep going at the rate we’ve been, we’re gonna win!” Norman groaned, you running your hands down his chest hair, making him go faster. Next to you, the last biker was being ridden, the woman riding on top groaning out “Oh yes daddy, you’re gonna make me squirt.” “I think that’s our cue to go fast babe.” You grabbed onto Norman “If there’s one thing I’ve learnt about women is that if they say that, they’re not gonna. She’s trying to trip us up, go back to slow daddy, until he cums.” Norman nodded “Yes sir.” he responded in a smart ass way. As it turns out, of all the men with no thought for a woman’s orgasm, there were some that were in biker clubs, as the man next to you did not realize you had slowed, as he proceeded to fuck her even harder “Fuck, squirt for me babe. I’m gonna fucking cum!” As if on cue, he bellowed as he shot his load, his woman not even close to squirting but acted as if she had, it was unfortunate for her and many others that they had to, but right now, you didn’t care, you & Norman had won. 

“Our winners are Norman & Y/N, but to claim victory they must cum!” Hearing the announcement you grinned down at Norman “Well done President, now fuck me till I can’t walk tomorrow.” “Your wish is my command” he started to thrust forwards rougher, going back to the rhythm of the man you knew, sweat  dripping from both of you, Norman groaning as you licked sweat off his face. “You’re so damn kinky baby boy, I fuckin love it!” He started to go faster, you moaning outwardly “Fuck Norm- I’m gonna cum!” “Keep going baby, ride my cock” Norman growled, you screaming as you shot your load all over yourself & Norman. “Fuck man, that was hot. Now I’m gonna cum!” “Yeah daddy, shoot your load in my ass! I’m yours President Daddy Norman Reedus!!” That did it, Norman shoved forwards one last time & moaned in pleasure as he shot his load exactly where you asked him “You’re my bitch boy, take it all!”. Whoops and cheers sounded from the onlookers but Norman was too blissed out to care as he fell onto you “Well done babe, you won.” “Thanks to you, I’m so fucking lucky I have you Y/N, I love you so fucking much.” Norman leaned up to give you a kiss, you wrapping your hands on your biker daddy.

[theramblingscriblerian]

Noodles on 51st And 3rd

The noodles at the corner of 51st and 3rd were the best in the Lower City, even if they were frozen and off of a truck.  Hell, that was WHY they were the best.  Go to the larger eateries in the district, and you find the crap homemade stuff, where half the protein is probably made up of bugs and general filth.  The little kiosk where I was busy slurping down a bowl full, though… THAT was good.  And safe.

And it gave me a good view of the square.

Even at 2am and change, the square was alive with people, bathed in the ever present neon glow from a hundred signs, and the shifting shadows generated by no less than five mega-screens that were hawking everything from shaving cream to women ready to turn your night into a decadent dream of sheer pleasure.  All of it also held the unspoken promise of emptying your credcard.  I snorted to myself as I swallowed the last of the noodles; this joint was pricey enough.  The last thing I needed was a synthetic whore and a shave that smelled like cat piss.

The steady undercurrent of a thousand human voices thrummed at my ears, punctuated with traffic, both ground and sky-based.  The city never slept, never paused.  Only the crowds changed.  Gone were the daytime suits and drones, talking into their pads as they negotiated everything from multi-million dollar deals to home deliveries of groceries.  Now the streets belonged to an entirely different subset of the business world, the seedier subset, the subset that kept the city running while at the same time infusing it with a thousand different cancers.

Even the sky changed.  During the day you had the sun, of course, struggling to break free of the smog layer that seemed to perpetually hang just above the tops of the highest mega-scrapers.  At night, though, it was as if the world were finally letting go of a long held breath.  Clouds formed among the higher buildings and would, for an hour or two, let loose the weeping rains that scrubbed both sky and street of the accumulated filth.  It wasn’t raining now, but the streets were still slick with precipitation and oil, and the gutters were still clogged with miniature jams of garbage and things less savory.

I tipped back my head and drained the bowl of the last of the juices, chopsticks held between two fingers as I did so.  Letting out a long sigh, I dropped both on to the counter and took out a cig from my coat’s inner pocket.  It was bent, had been partially smoked already, and tasted wonderful when combined with the aftertaste of the noodles.  I looked up and from under the rim of my hat at the elderly man behind the counter, and tilted my head up at him.  He just looked back at me and snorted.

“That gǒu shǐ will kill you, Man,” he wheezed at me with a dry smirk.

“Your noodles will kill me first,” I countered gruffly, voice hoarse.  “Synthetic crap grown in a vat…”

Chuckling, he magically produced an old lighter and held it to my cig.  “You go to Kwon’sfor the real thing,” he quipped. “But my synthetic gǒu shǐ must be better than the gǒu shǐ he uses.”

I barked a short laugh; he was probably close to the truth.  But then, hell, everything in this world was set to kill a man.  Food, pollution, other men…. I took a long deep drag, reducing the length of the cig by another quarter, and let the smoke escape through my nostrils, into the still damp-smelling air.  This thing was probably my healthiest habit.

A sudden, discordant noise caught my attention, a rising in a group of voices, their tones turning angry, loud, contentious.  The old man nodded to me knowingly, and I turned my head just enough to peer back towards the other side of the square.  Five men were pushing their way through the crowds, going against the grain, heading into a small theater that had stood in the spot for a century at least.  No movies had played there for at least 25 years, but I knew that games aplenty were its hallmark.  I didn’t care about that, particularly.  It was the gamemaster that would be there tonight that I was interested in.  And those were his goons.

Slowly I stood, adjusting my my hat, drawing my coat around myself, and turned to go.

“Hey!” the old man snapped, a crooked and boney finger tapping on the plastic counter.  “You pay first.”

I stopped and looked back, cig still clenched in my teeth.  One hand went to my left side, under the coat, checking the pistol that was securely strapped there.  “Put it on my tab,” I remarked absently.

“Your tab is no good if you dead,” he muttered back.

“Ye of little faith,” I retorted, turned, and promptly walked into someone’s outstretched hand as it landed on my chest, fingers splayed.  I stopped on the spot and looked down with widening eyes.

“That shouldn’t be a surprise,” the woman with midnight hair drawled.  Her eyes never left mine as she used her free hand to throw a couple of silver coins on the old man’s counter.  One of them bounced into my abandoned bowl.  He looked down to them, frowning, then let his eyes widen in surprise, finally grinning a gap-toothed smile as he cackled, sweeping them up greedily.

Slowly she let her hand fall from my chest, but I didn’t move.  I was still too surprised to see her.  Here. Now.  Standing there like she had always belonged at my side.  Well, hoolies.  Once upon a time, she had.  Her mouth twisted into a sardonic grin, black lipstick and dark eyes both sparkling under the red neon lights.  “What’s the matter, noodles strangling you?” Her refined British accent still made me feel a warmth deep in my heart.  “Maybe they will be your death after all.”

“No, not them,” I responded in my hoarse voice, head tilting up enough so that the rough scar along my throat became visible, sliding up from beneath my shirt collar.  “But you sure as hell tried.”

Her grin turned into a full blown smile.  “Now, darling, you know that was just a bit of foreplay.  I wanted to make things look good.  Had to fool the mark and his boys.  It’s how the game is played.”

“You cut my goddamned throat,” I murmured.  Despite myself, my hand reached out and cupped her cheek.

“And I knew,” she responded slowly, eyes closing for a moment, “that your nanites would seal it up in less than a minute, helpful little blighters that they are.  Although,” she added, almost wonderingly, eyes opening again, her own hand reaching up, a single finger tracing that scar, “I didn’t think they would leave a mark.”

A snort was my initial response, and then I added, “You left the mark.  More than one.  And most of them can’t be seen.”

“Are you telling me that you’ve missed me?” she asked softly.

I stared down at her for a moment, then tilted her head up.  My lips came within a whisper’s breadth of her own.  “Want to go play?” I asked quietly, nodding towards the old theater.

Her grin, at the same time feral and eager like a child being offered a piece of candy, was answer enough.

“Hey!” the old man suddenly shouted.  He looked up from one of the coins that he was still admiring, clasped in his grimy fingers.  “Stop flirting!  Get to work so you can pay your tab!”

I looked back down to her, then began to laugh.  A real laugh.  The first I had had in a long while.  Throwing an arm around her shoulder, I drew my gun with the other.  She had already produced her own heavy-barreled pistol and held it at the ready.

“Yeah,” I said, puffing out more smoke, starting off with her across the street.  “Let’s get the game a-foot.”

Abruptly her delicate fingers snatched the cig from my mouth and tossed it into the scummy waters of the gutter, where it briefly hissed and was lost amongst the rest of the trash.  “That gǒu shǐ will kill you,” she remarked.

Behind me, all I heard was the old man cackling.

[nightcoremoon]

I've been playing fallout 4 (even though it's a complete piece of shit but hey I wanna make a character ready for the DLCs on mega super ultra hardcore survival mode for the purposes of streaming) and I walked by the glitch quarry and saw a raider and was like LEAVE GARRUS ALONE because that's where sully mathis is. I saw that the water drained which is admittedly cool because dynamic locations aren't in new vegas (the only good 3D fallout game) and I saw there were raiders EVERYWHERE and I wanted to save my best friend from mass effect. shot a bunch of people, it was just a boring shooting gallery just like dunwich but there wasn't any stupid power armor (such a good concept on paper but it's so stupid in practice especially since you can't pick up fusion cores from their corpses so it purely incentivizes pickpocketing because balance is nonexistent but whatever) bullet sponges so it was... boringly easy. so I just ran over each body and spammed E (because the memory allocation for inventory is completely garbage so opening the inventory screen takes like 10 seconds each time) and continued on my way to save my best friend slash engine calibrator. so near the end there was one last raider scum shooting in at me. too far to vats lock so I just scope sniped him. did like 2 damage, wtf??? I kept hitting him. this is my 50 cal sniper rifle with legendary effects and max everything and I had full rifleman perks so this is one tanky motherfucker. eventually I whittled him down enough that he finally died. after a minute of careful parkour I made it to the mirelurk pit. I got my reward chest and looked around for mathis but couldn't find him. I thought, you bastards you kidnapped him! maybe the boss has a note that says where he put him since bethesda game design is appallingly terrible.

the boss was sully. he was a raider all along.

...

well played bethesda. you sufficiently made me feel betrayed by someone I cared about. you actually managed to elicit emotional response from me other than "oh my god that was so stupid this game is bullshit I hate this company fuck you todd howard you hack piece of shit". I'll add that to the very short list of things that I actually like about this pile of smelly garbage.

-weapon crafting

-armor equipment

-power armor interface

-fashion

-hancock

-fighting deathclaws outside of concord (because holy shit the concord fight is BAD)

...

so basically when the new vegas mod comes out I'll actually give it a chance but I won't play on survival because WHY DID YOU DISABLE SAVING ANYWHERE YOU WANT IN A GAME THAT CRASHES EVERY THREE MINUTES &

WHY DID YOU DISABLE CONSOLE COMMANDS IN A GAME WITH SPAGHETTI CODE THAT BREAKS EVERY TIME YOU OPEN A DOOR &

WHY DID YOU ONLY LET HUNGER AND THIRST HAPPEN IN THIS DUMB BULLSHIT EXTRA MODE

again. new vegas had difficulty AND hardcore and it was so much better in literally every way except for clunky gunplay that is only that way because the gamebryo engine that bethesda forced obsidian to use is WORSE THAN THE CREATION ENGINE. S O M E H O W.

well anyway it just goes to show that bethesda fucking sucks, but the individual people on the team actually gave a shit about what they were making. so bravo, whoever was responsible for thicket excavations. maybe the person who did the graphics fucked you over by being terrible at their job, but YOU made a compelling level.

G G

[detectiveguapo]

A couple of days ago, I came out of Tumblr hibernation to say that I was working on something and here it is. As per usual, it’s a drabble that turned into a 3486-word one-shot. Featuring Miguel Galindo (duh) and YOU (or a character of your choice; I have one in mind but I’ll keep her a secret for now). 

Warning: Sexual Content 

--- 

Arouse

Summer of 2009 - Santo Padre, CA

A blur of neon lights swirl across your eyes as the brass and accordion swell with the sounds of Santo Padre’s annual summer fair. The desert air tastes like cotton candy with a heat that surprises you in the back of the throat. It’s customary when La Feria’s in town that you and everybody’s cousin come out to gorge on elote and tacos, ride rollercoasters on rickety tracks, and watch people in this dying town momentarily forget they live in this dying town.

Your best friends are all about tradition, and as much as you hate to admit it, so are you. So you indulge and join them, because, really, anything is better than spending another Friday evening home alone, wallowing in sadness over your cheater of an ex-boyfriend. It’s been six months, but it still stings — like a papercut that refuses to heal. Why would it when you insist on picking at it with questions of whether you should have followed him to San Diego instead of staying here to work at your tío’s restaurant? You think moving out there would have solved the distance problem, which caused the unwanted celibacy problem, which made every college-aged girl an irresistible temptation in your ex’ eyes. He can’t help it; he has needs. It’s tough when you know he’s wrong, but you still blame yourself for not doing enough to keep him happy.

You’ve never been at your best when threatened with the fear of being alone.

—

The crowd grows denser as you pass through the stretch of colourful carnival games. Desperate for cool relief, you wrap your hands around your hair sticking to the back of your neck. A cool breeze rushes up the length of your spine, and you close your eyes, savouring the sensation before it’s gone. When you open your eyes, the first and only thing in focus is a face so sharp and crystal clear that everything else blurs into the background. You hold his smouldering gaze. You follow every line and every curve of his face, memorizing the slope of his nose and the mischievous curl on the corner of his lips. That steady thrum of a heartbeat drowns out the noise, and time has conspired to stand still for just the two of you.

Until you hear your name. You break the stare, ducking your head as hair falls over your flushed face. Someone takes your hand, and it takes a second before you realize it’s your friend dragging you farther into the crowd. “What’s wrong with you?” She laughs, totally indifferent to what had just happened. “It’s like you’ve seen a ghost.”

—

As the night deepens from a haze of purple to black, you go through the motions of listening patiently to stories you’ve heard before. You love your girls, but your head’s not present in the moment. You try not to give yourself away, but you’re searching through the throngs of people, hoping to catch a glimpse of that man in the blue shirt. Maybe your eyes were playing tricks on you; maybe it was just a mirage of a gorgeous man. God knows you’ve been thirsting for affection from the opposite sex. As much as you hate to admit it, your ex-boyfriend had a point — long distance relationships are nearly impossible because you lose that ability to have sex whenever you desire. It’s frustrating. And ever since you broke up with him and blamed yourself for simultaneously not doing enough and doing too much for someone who didn’t deserve it, the frustration has only grown tenfold.

You’ve tried. You’ve gotten close with your own fingers, but you’ve just never gotten to that place. Last week, you agreed to go on a date with an old acquaintance from high school before you chickened out when he asked you if you wanted to cap off the night in his apartment. You’ve always been known to go after what you want but, lately, it all feels as if there’s nothing worth wanting.

Except a strawberry-chile raspado.

—

The man scoops shaved ice into a plastic cup and prepares your treat right in front of you. Your mouth waters at the mere thought of the sweet and spicy flavours on your tongue and the refreshing ice down your throat.

“Dos piñas, por favor.”

The voice is warm and deep like thick honey poured into a glass of intoxicating amber. A flash of blue creeps into your periphery, and you find yourself standing shoulder to shoulder with, what you thought was, your desert mirage.

He looks straight ahead, just as fascinated as you were moments earlier, but this time you’ve got something new requiring your utmost concentration. You study him from the corner of your eye, noting his clean-shaven face and his genetically-blessed bone structure. He’s well-dressed — almost too well-dressed for La Feria — but he carries himself with so much confidence that he doesn’t look out of place. He’s got a boyish charm to his features, but the lines on the corner of his eyes suggest he’s older than you, but not by much — maybe in his late 20s.

“Aquí está su fresa y chile, señorita.”

He smells really good, too. Like being cloaked in expensive leather while sitting in front of a crackling fire in a log cabin nestled deep in the Northern California woods.

“Your raspado,” the stranger says, while handing you the plastic cup with the domed scoop of red shaved ice.

“Sorry. Thank you.” You say quickly, taking the cup from his hands, skin stirring upon contact. A little bit of the ice falls onto the back of his hand. “Shit. I’m so sorry.” You grab a stack of paper napkins on the counter to help wipe it off, but he’s already ahead of you, placing his hand to his mouth and licking the trail of sweet, red juice. Not once does he stop staring at you.

Suddenly, the thought of submerging your body in a vat of shaved ice doesn’t sound all that terrible. It’s boiling hot, your cheeks are burning, and your limbs feel so loose, they’re melting. Your heart races. Your breath quickens. It’s been a while since you’ve genuinely had this feeling but you recognize it straight away. You’re aroused.

—

“Holy shit!” Your friend manages to yell and whisper at the same time. “What was that? You and that guy were totally eye-fucking back there.”

“What?” You scoff. “We were not.”

“Who is he?”

“I don’t know.”

“Well, you have to find out.” She pushes you back in the direction of the food stall, where he’s still waiting for his order. “Go!”

“No way!”

“Why not?”

“Because he ordered two drinks so he’s probably getting it for his girlfriend or his wife.”

“Nope.” Your friend says, crossing her arms over her chest. She nods in their direction, and you look over your shoulder to see the man hand one pineapple shaved ice over to his mother. “Awww, isn’t that so sweet? Total hubby material.”

“Lorena,” you warn her.

“You’re so into him.”

“Cállate.”

She rolls her eyes and flips her long, dark hair over her shoulders. “Ay, maybe you should let him fuck all that negative energy out of you.”

You playfully shove her and make a disgusted face, but in your head you’re thinking that may not be the worst idea in the world.

—

You love your girl friends but you also want nothing more than to kill them in this moment. The teasing is relentless. And now that they’ve caught onto you being “hot for the hot guy”, they’re making a conscious effort to stalk him around the carnival. You follow him a few feet away as he walks the fairgrounds with his mother, your heart warming as he places a hand on the small of her back to guide her through the crowds.

She pulls him toward a line for a ride. He puts his hands up and looks like he’s telling her it’s a bad idea, but she insists, smiling brightly at her son. As soon as they fall in line, your friends are dragging you to the same ride of spinning, vomit-inducing cars.

He doesn’t even notice you’re standing right behind him until your friends start giggling, pretty much giving away the fact that you’ve been following him all night. The stern expression on his face softens and he smiles at you and your friends, before turning back to his mom to place an arm around her shoulder.

As you approach the gate to the ride, his mother steps out of line. “No, no creo que pueda hacer esto.”

“Mamá, esta fue tu idea.”

“Lo sé,” She says as she takes another step back, looking over her shoulder like she’s in search of something or someone. “Pero no puedo, Miguel.”

“Mamá.”

“No. You stay in line. You’re already the next one to go,” she tells him with motherly authority. “Encontraré a tu padre.”

Miguel hesitates to follow her but stops when he sees her flanked by two burly men in black. He breathes a sigh of relief and shakes his head, and a seed of doubt plants firmly deep in your belly. You already know he’s not from around here, but something in your gut tells you he isn’t supposed to be here either.

The alarm bell rings and the gate opens. As the tide rushes in, you hear the faint laughter of your friends standing on either side of you. They exchange a knowing look and, in hindsight, you should’ve known they had something up their sleeves. As you near the brightly-coloured two-person cars, you feel a nudge toward a very specific red car decorated with metallic gold lightning bolts.

“What are you doing?” Panic rising in your voice.

“Trust us,” they say as they practically shove you into the tiny space next to the man you and your friends have been stalking all night. Before they abandon you to a slow death, one of your friends leans into your ear. “You’ll thank us later.”

Neither of you say a word as people climb aboard the cars and the outdated speakers make their choppy safety announcement in both English and Spanish. Arms and legs in the car at all times. Seat belts securely fastened. Eyes straight ahead so you can pretend the sexiest guy you’ve ever laid eyes on isn’t studying you with a morbid, heated curiosity.

“What?” You blurt out. “Do I have something on my face?”

Miguel chuckles but doesn’t answer the question, leaning back into the seat to look straight ahead.

The ride starts like a gentle cycle — slow rotations around a pole smattered in multi-coloured, seizure-inducing lights. As if a traffic light signalling GO, green flashes before your eyes just as you feel that first contact of skin. The back of his fingers brush along your thigh. They linger even as rainbow bursts into vision and the ride picks up speed.

As you spin in circles, metal tentacles raise you high up in the air and drop you in stomach-turning speed back to earth. The first time the sudden drop hits you, your hand grabs onto his knee. You’re about to let go (even if you don’t really want to) when he turns his head to face you. Miguel’s shaking his head. Streaks of neon burning brightly behind the sly smile.

It emboldens you and you grip tighter, your hand rising higher up his leg. He follows your lead, fingers tracing the top of your thigh, dancing hotly over smooth skin, pressing down with every sudden drop. The tips of his fingers disappear under the hem of your short dress, teasing you and making you ache for him to go that extra distance. But he doesn’t. Not yet.

His eyes are molten chocolate, fixed on yours like he’s daring you to go even further. You don’t know if it’s the ride or the man in front of you, but you’re dizzy, your stomach feels light as air, your nipples are sharp points poking through the thin material of your dress, and your panties are soaked.

The ride slows down like a spinning coin flopping on one side. And it’s over just like that. Miguel pulls away, head looking straight on and hands nowhere near your body. You miss him already — the way he touched you, the way he looked at you, the way his breath kissed your face you could almost taste his sweetness.

When the ride finishes, you’re both breathing a little heavy. You think this is the point he runs, never to be seen again. Instead, he surprises you when he takes your hand and helps you hop off your red thunderbolt. He ushers you down the line of people leaving the ride and, momentarily, you spot your friends just outside past the gates. You begin to raise your arm to wave in their direction, but he pulls you the opposite direction before your friends have a chance to see you.

Everything you’ve ever been taught about strangers and avoiding dangerous situations fly out of the window when this man is holding your hand and leading you into a white canvas tent. Miguel unzips it, guides you in, follows you inside, and zips it closed until you’re swallowed by darkness.

You don’t even have time to ask him what’s going on before you feel a pair of strong hands on your waist, pulling you flush against him. Immediately, you become aware of the fact that the arousal you felt on that ride was shared unequivocally with this man right in front of you. He’s hard. He’s pressed up against your body and he’s turned on because of you — and if that doesn’t make your body ache in need for him, surely a kiss will.

Miguel’s lips find yours in the dark. Warm and soft and pliant — he searches to be satiated. You wrap an arm around his neck, deepening the kiss, pulling him backwards until you bump clumsily into an equipment crate. He lifts you and settles you on top, positioning himself between your open legs.

Hot kisses pepper your neck, and he asks if this is ok. And you want to scream that it’s more than ok, but all that comes out is a catlike stretch to expose your neck and a throaty “yes.”

Hands explore your hips, your back, gripping your neck before gently tugging at hair. Miguel’s a mix of tender and rough. A mix of beauty and danger.

You kiss along his jaw until you find his mouth. Your tongue swirls with his. Your fingers trail along the edge of his jeans to pop off the button, shimmying them down his thighs, which feel sinewy with muscle under your touch. “Eager,” he says with a quiet laugh, almost as if he’s mocking you. But you don’t care because you know he wants you just as much. You can feel the weight of him pressing against your inner thigh, and you scoot just a little bit closer, squeeze just a little bit tighter.

He hikes up your little dress to your waist, one hand reaching higher to cop a feel of your tit, thumbing your nipple into a stiffer peak. Next, panties are off so quick, they drop from your ankles onto the floor — gone forever. Whoever finds them when the lights are on is going to be in for a surprise.

Fingers are on you, in you. You gasp at the sudden breach but you savour it like every morsel of the best meal you know you’ll ever have. He breathily laughs into your kiss as he discovers just how wet and wanton you are, like he can read your mind and figure out how long you’ve gone without this kind of intimacy. You moan when he slides his coated digits across your sex, thumb and forefinger manipulating you to a level of arousal you don’t think was ever humanly possible.

You’re seeing bright lights dance across your shuttered eyes. The work he’s doing is testing your limits not to scream, but you don’t think the carnival music is loud enough to drown out all the noise your body is begging you to make. So you repress. And he only works harder. You’re panting now. Sweat beads at your temples as he retrieves his fingers and runs them over your lips like a hot glaze. Without words, he orders you to take them into your mouth. It’s so fucking dirty, but you secretly love it. Your taste on your tongue, you take his two fingers deep in your mouth, gagging when he hits the back of your throat.

Miguel is quick to kiss you fierce. “You’re so fucking hot in this little dress.” He kisses you again, tongue darting out to wrestle with yours. “I bet you had no idea what you were getting yourself into when you were fucking me with those eyes out in public.” He sucks on your bottom lip. “So naughty. I could tell you wanted to hold more than just my knee on that ride.” He grinds his clothed erection against your sex and you both moan in anticipation. “You think the ride’s over? Baby, I’m about to give you the best fucking ride of your life.”

In seconds, he’s got his underwear off, a condom ripped open, and the tip of his cock probing at your entrance. He kisses you longer and harder, and just enough to stifle the moan when he enters your tight heat. It’s been a while since you last got fucked, but even then, you know you’ve never been stretched full like this, never had someone reach you in places that surprised you. “Fuck me.”

“That’s what I’m trying to do.” Miguel rocks into you, settling himself down to the base and breathing out a “holy shit.”

Scooting yourself to the edge of the crate, you wrap your legs around his hips. He grabs a handful of your ass, kneading the flesh before pulling you completely off the edge. And, holy shit is right, because he delivers on that promise to give you the best ride of your life.

He lifts you effortlessly, rising and crashing down on his cock. You wrap your arms firmly over his shoulders, grasping onto his back, feeling the muscles work under his shirt. His breath is hot on your neck, hot grunts matching the breathy moans you can’t contain. You’re already so aroused that it doesn’t take very long before the relentless pounding and the way he’s sucking on your neck and the filthy words in your ear take you over the edge. Your whole body is electrified. It feels like you’re shaken from your core and everything is tighter and looser at the same time.

Miguel groans as he feels your release wrapped around him, and it seems like he’s coming close as well. He plants you down on the equipment crate, and leans over you, forearms on either side of your head. His eyes are so intense they scorch you; it almost feels as if, in that moment, he’s branding you like cattle. Something about the way he looks at you hurts your pride, but you love the way he feels too much to push him away. He fucks you. Harder. He fucks you so good tears well up behind your lidded eyes. Faster. Your belly tightens like a coil put under so much pressure it can only spring free. Deeper. He buries himself deep, deep inside you; he kisses you gentle and sweet while his fingers brush over your clit. It releases the pressure and you’re crashing again — this time, with him as you feel his heart pound like a drum against your chest.

—

When it’s all over, it’s over. Miguel doesn’t say anything except you should leave first. Once you’ve pulled your dress down your legs and tied your knotted hair with an elastic, he unzips the tent and motions for you to leave. The light from outside filters into the tent and you get a clearer picture of his stoic face. You stand in place for a few seconds and he blinks with impatience. You want to see him again, but you’re under a very strong, chilly impression this was only a one-time thing for him. That, maybe, it’s something he’s already regretted.

You lower your head and begin to walk past him. This night was incredible. A night to ruin all the succeeding nights trying to find something that can even come close to replicating what you felt in that dark, dingy tent. But you deserve better. You deserve someone who can return what you give. And, just from the distant look in his eyes those last few seconds together, you know Miguel is not going to be that someone.

He doesn’t even bother asking you for your name.

[snowdice]

Folds in Paper (Chapter 6: You Try to Cut Her Wires)[Folds in Time Universe]

Fandom: Sanders Sides

Relationships: Janus/Patton, Remus & Roman, eventual Logan/Virgil (maybe more)

Characters:

Main: Janus, Patton, Remus

Appear: Remy, Emile, Virgil, Logan, Roman

Summary: Janus, a disillusioned senior agent working for the Time Preservation Initiative, struggles to find meaning in a world where time travel could change everything about your life’s history in less than a moment. When time distortions start popping up, threatening the timeline and the fabric of reality as he knows it, it becomes a race against the clock to fix the damage before everything unravels. And the problem with time travel… you never how long you have before the clock strikes 12 and your time is up.

With a partner who has more mysteries in his past than Janus had anticipated and an enigmatic free agent time traveler mucking about time always with a clever pun or a time appropriate pet name on his lips, Janus will need to figure out what went wrong with time, and more importantly, how to fix it.

Chapter Summary:  

You try to cut her wires but you're way too late.

-from the song “Time Bomb” by Iration

Notes: Time travel AU, mystery, enemies to lovers, alcohol

This is a fic I’ve been writing on study breaks that you have probably all already seen at this point. I’ve slightly edited it for wording and grammar, but not for content from my previous posts. Feel free to send in asks to direct it because I’m not 100% sure where this is going and you can help decide if you feel so inclined! You can see the process I went through to build this at this link.

I also have a playlist on youtube (because Spotify didn’t have one of the songs I wanted).

AO3 Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5

“Really, Khalid,” Janus said, storming into his boss’s office before even sitting down at his desk that morning. “A yellow?” It had been about a week since the 1920s incident, and his incident report had finally been cleared. Sure, it wasn’t a red or a black and he wasn’t facing any reprimand, but it should have been a green.

She looked up at him, clearly unconcerned. “There was an incident,” she said. “You handled it well, but there was one. Therefore, yellow.”

“It wasn’t a time period incident! It was a rouge time traveler.”

“Janus, you helped me make these rules,” she said impatiently.

“Which is why I know this is bullshit,” he snapped.

She rolled her eyes. “If it was anyone else, you would agree with me. While you didn’t go against protocol and had no time related incidents, the fact of the matter is, you were still distracted by this ‘rouge time traveler,’ didn’t complete your mission, and were arrested.”

“He was good,” Janus said. “You can’t fault me for that. He also could be dangerous and you’re busy handing out yellows instead of working to track him down.”

She raised an eyebrow. “We are working on tracking him down,” she said. “We have done an analysis on the mask and found fibers dating to the 2010s and some DNA. Though it isn’t exactly a high priority.”

“We have no idea who he is or what he’s planning to do. Why is that not a high priority?”

“At the moment?” she asked. “Because we have reports of a time bomb being activated.”

“What?” Janus asked straightening up. “When?”

“New Years Eve going into the year 3,000 in Brazil,” she said. “Which you’d know about if you’d bothered to check your integration port this morning before storming into my office.”

“It’s my mission?” Janus asked.

“The incident investigation is over and your active again despite the dreaded yellow,” she said, clearly making fun of him a bit. “So, yes, and it’s a high priority mission, so it is our mission. I’m leading it.”

“Who all is going?” he asked.

“Other than the two of us, Remus, Lena, and Fred,” she told him. “We leave in three hours, so, you might want to run off to Rhi before Fred gets to her and ties her up for an hour on details.”

Janus nodded and got to his feet. He turned back at the door. “I still don’t deserve the yellow,” he hissed.

She waved him off. “I’ll see you in a few hours, Picani.”

He ground his teeth a bit about the dismissal of his worries, but his resentment was slightly soothed by the fact that she’d assigned him to go on such a high priority mission and with only other senior agents.

He took the advice and grabbed Remus from the office, noting Lena hadn’t been able to wrangle Fred yet as she was still at her desk, and they both headed off to see Rhi.

A few hours later, they were all in decontamination together, decked out in truly god-awful costumes. The turn of the third millennia had been a wild event, and the best way to fit in was to look like you’d grabbed something from every century in recorded human history, dyed it in neon paint, and rolled around in a vat of glitter.

Remus had opted to stick his head in a vat of thick glow in the dark green paint that costuming had offered them. It was so caked on that Janus couldn’t even recognize him on sight, and it wasn’t even going to be slightly disruptive to their covertness.  In fact, costuming had frowned when Janus had insisted he not get his hair dyed and instead wore a bowler hat. They had required him to have flowers made out of glitter on it.

There were five people waiting for them when they landed 6 hours before the turn of the millennia. Three were touchdown agents, including Remy, and two were on location tech support. Usually it would be overkill to have that many people there just for support even with five agents in the field, but today the TPI needed to be cautious because they were planning on instituting a time lock.

Time bombs were dangerous things that would ripple through time if not contained. They were nests of anywhere between 10 and 50 bombs that were set off by one core explosion. This core explosion would punch through space-time and spew the multitude of bombs across different places and times. Beyond just causing huge explosions where they landed, they would also pose a danger to any time travelers that accidently traveled through them and they could cause disruptions in the timelines around the source and where each one ended up. Once they went off in their source time, there was very little one could do to stop the damage. Thus, the time lock. The time lock would make sure that even if it did end up going off (killing everyone in its reach), the damage wouldn’t extend outside of the city and, more importantly, the year it was planted.

Janus had only been in two time locks before, and he was one of the most senior agents in the TPI, outranked only by the founder: Lia Khalid. Time locks were designed to keep all time linear in a certain fixed time and geographical area as well as prevent any time travel in and out. Once it was engaged, all forms of time travel would not work for the duration, bar the pin device. Khalid was already switching out her regular timepiece with the slightly bigger one that was designed to support the time lock.

There was a failsafe back at the TPI that could be engaged in an emergency, which was why tech support was here, but other than that, the only thing that could break the time lock was that timepiece, and said timepiece would break the moment the time lock ended, making it impossible to return to the inside of the timelock.

 As soon as it was on Khalid’s wrist, she looked up at them all. “Our information says the time bomb was planted in the costume of one of the ‘Millennium Birds’ who are the organizers of the different events,” she said. Janus had seen a photo of the identical costumes in the mission details. They were all robe like garments with giant fans of feathers coming from the neck that coalesced in a peak a foot above their head to hold a fake bird egg. At least they’d be easy to find. “There are 25 of them throughout the city. We need to find each of them. So we don’t double count, you’ll need to subtly,” her eyes touched on Remus, “scan each one you find for the bomb and tag them with a tracker if it’s not on them. You can view the already tagged ones, as well as the rest of us on your timepiece even once the time lock is engaged. When you find the bomb, call it in.”

They all nodded, and Khalid looked over at one of the techies. She nodded at her and then the techie flipped a couple of switches. “Three, two, one,” the techie said. There was a slight shift in the air that most people would disregard, but Janus, as a seasoned time traveler, could feel the change even before his wrist buzzed. He glanced at his timepiece to see it had a big red ‘X’ across its display. He tapped it and was still able to bring up the map of the city with 10 green dots on it all clustered together in their current location.

After that, he tested the scanner on his timepiece that he would use to search for the bomb, just to make sure the time lock hadn’t messed anything up with his equipment. He glanced up to see everyone else was doing the same.

“Keep in contact,” Khalid said before everyone split up. Janus and Remus started by going North while Fredrick and Darlene were to go South. Khalid was a floater who would tag any Birds she saw but was mostly there for backup and orders.

Janus and Remus stepped into the chaos of New Years Eve before the turn of the third millennia. The streets were already swamped with people and it would only be getting worse the later it got.

“Where should we start?” Remus asked.

“Let’s go all the way North to the games area,” Janus said. “We can work our way back here.”

“Okay!” Remus said. “I wonder if they have those fun little genetically modified goldfish as prizes. I’ve always wanted to eat one and see if I end up getting whatever design was on the fish on my body.”

Janus gave him a disgusted look.

“What?! People eat fish all the time!”

Janus shook his head. “We’re not playing the games anyway. We have work to do. Important work.”

“Boo,” Remus replied. Janus chose to ignore him.

A few minutes later, he spotted one of the Millenia Birds letting people into the gaming area.

They walked over towards the entrance. Janus got in range first and moved to subtly scan the Millenia Bird, Remus doing the same the next moment. After a second, Janus’s timepiece buzzed and lit up red, meaning the bomb was within range. “Well, that was easy,” he said. “It was on the first one we found.”

“Uh…” Remus said. “Jan.” When Janus looked, he was holding up his wrist to show his green lit time piece.

“What?” Janus asked. He quickly moved to rescan the Millenia Bird, and his timepiece came up green as well. Which, meant the bomb was not in range, even though the Millenia Bird had not moved. “But…” He and Remus’s eyes met, and they quickly both started turning in a circle to look at the crowd around him. No one looked like they’d just stolen a time bomb off the Millennial Bird, but then Janus’s eyes caught on a man.

He blended in perfectly to his surroundings. He was wearing the disgusting garb of the times, a large light blue piece that bubbled near his hips, and he had most of his skin covered in rainbow neon paints. Yet, something about him, the curl of his hair or the way he moved, drew Janus’s eyes to him. He recognized the man immediately even in a completely different dressing style. Yet, what cinched it was the moment Janus’s eyes met his, and they seemed to sparkle slightly in the afternoon sun. The next moment, the person Janus knew as Pat, turned to disappear into the crowd.

Want to read more? Click below!

AO3 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9

[geminiamethyst]

Dark Gemini’s Game. Part 10: The Wax Works

Prologue: click HERE

Part 1: click HERE

Part 2: click HERE

Part 3: click HERE

Part 4: click HERE

Part 5: click HERE

Part 6: click HERE

Part 7: click HERE

Part 8: click HERE

Part 9: click HERE

Part 11: click HERE

Snuf tumbled out of the portal unceremoniously. As he gathered himself, he faintly smelled chemicals in the air and hear something that resembled machinery. He thought that he could’ve heard a scream too, but put it down to the machines moving. Snuf slowly got up, trying to figure out where he had been sent to. To say that his surroundings were a bit vague would be an understatement. He seemed to be in an entranceway of a building, standing in front of a door. Pushing it as hard as he can, he walked through it. The smell of chemicals seemed to have gotten stronger, as Snuf had to breathe through his mouth to try to block it out. Sensing something above him, he slowly looked up. He almost screamed as he saw human shaped bodies hanging from hooks. However, as he looked more closely, he felt his skin crawl as he realised that the figures were only wax dummies.

Snuf: *shuddering* Ugh! I hate wax dummies.

Snuf hated wax dummies. It was just something about them looking so life like freaked him out sometimes. Hoping not to get too freaked out, he forced himself to walk forward through, what he assumed to be, a wax dummy factory. Now that he observed it though, it felt a bit more like a museum. As he walked through the dark hallways, wax dummies stood abandoned. Some were dressed, complete with wigs, while some looked brand new, waiting to be dressed. As he walked, Snuf couldn’t shake off the feeling of him being watched. He tried to ignore it, convincing himself that it was only the others back at the house watching him through the mirror. He walked into a room with a spotlight that they use for filming and a wax dummy that seemed to represent a female movie star. He would’ve walked into the next room if his arm wasn’t suddenly grabbed. Looking back in shock, he sees that a hand had gripped his arm tightly. His eyes widened as the wax dummy suddenly looked at him with an expressionless face.

Snuf: *starts to pull back* No! Leave me alone!

Snuf yanks as hard as he could. The dummy’s grip wasn’t as strong as he thought it was. He slips out of its grip instantly. After a small stumble, he runs as fast as he could. He rushed through another room that represented the American Civil War, narrowly avoiding a dummy dressed to look like a soldier lunged at him. Once he got some distance distance away from the live wax figures, he tried to catch his breath. He slowly made his way through a room. It had shelves full of different body parts made of wax and Snuf assumed this is where the figures would be put together. Not wanting to see if the parts would come to life, he promptly made an exit. He found himself stumbling in the darkness of a room. It waslit up by strobe lights momentarily that replicated lightning. As it was lit up, the room seemed to represent a forest. Worried by the fact that he wasn’t sure by what else was in here, Snuf treaded forward as carefully as he could. He quickly noticed that he was suddenly in a corridor that was designed to look like a representation of a prison. He almost let out a scream as he saw a werewolf in the cell next to him. Turned out it was another wax figure. Thankfully for Snuf, it didn’t seem to be alive like the previous. As he walked to the next cell, there was another wax figure that seemed to represent H.G Wells’ “Invisible Man”. It dawned on Snuf that he was at an exhibit about monsters and ghouls.

Snuf: *lets out an involuntary, nervous chuckle* What a coincidence. It’s Halloween tonight.

Snuf cautiously walked forward, noticing how the exhibit he was now in represented a dungeon. He quickly went past a couple of old torture devices, not wanting to know what will happen if a wax figure forced him onto one. Trying to not think about that, Snuf keeps walking through the dungeon. The sound of screams and machinery seemed to have increased, almost making him freeze. It also made it difficult for him to hear anything else, even his own breathing. Snuf scanned the dungeon as carefully as he could as he stumbled into the next exhibit, “The Freak Show”. Wax dummies of various types were standing still. Conjoined twins, an extremely tall and intimidating man, a scared man, an albino and all types of people seemed to be frozen still as they were doing their acts. Snuf looked at the wax figures carefully. He knows that they will come to life suddenly if he walked through the exhibit. None of the figures moved, which made him all the more anxious. He doesn’t have any choice. If he want to get out of this place, he’ll have to keep going forward.

Snuf: *takes a deep breath* Okay...

Taking another deep breath, Snuf immediately starts running through the exhibit. Right away, the wax figurines started moving and lunged at him. He avoided them as best he could, narrowly avoiding being grabbed. The wax figurines started chasing after him, even after he exited the exhibit. He didn’t slow down, even when his legs started to feel weak. He hurried to a door labelled “EMPLOYEES ONLY”. It was open a little. He pushed through it with the wax figurines right behind him. Snuf slammed the door shut. The wax figures that had been chasing him banged on the door, trying to break it down. Snuf stood his ground, pushing back as much as he could. He relaxed quickly when the wax figures suddenly gave up. As he takes his breath, he can’t help but notice how much the smell of wax suddenly hit him. It was so hard and fast that he almost passed out. As he looked at where he was, he felt like he was truly behind the scenes of the wax museum. The wax works inside this place. He was on a gangway, high above a couple of large vats of hot, melted wax. He didn’t want to look, but he did so anyway. He regretted it as he saw faces screaming and limbs flailing around from the surface of the wax. Snuf found himself running to the other side, not wanting to become the wax’s next victim.

He was about to reach the exit when he was suddenly yanked backwards. Something grabbed the back of his shirt and forced him to the ground. Snuf looked up in horror as a wax dummy newly made was what had grabbed him.

Snuf: *starts to fight back* Let go! Let me go!

The wax dummy didn’t listen. It proceeded to drag him along the floor. Snuf kicked and scratched as much as he could. He even tried to get his costume to tare so he could get away. It was all in vain. The wax dummy suddenly gripped the collar of his shirt and hoisted him up. Snuf looked down in horror as he realised that he was hanging over one of the vats.

Snuf: *tries to grasp at the dummy’s arm* N-no! Don’t!

Snuf tried as hard as he could, but he couldn’t get a good grip on the smooth, new wax. He became numb when he suddenly found himself plummeting towards the haunted wax. He couldn’t even bring himself to scream.