#she could drive any mathematician crazy

[gay-david-tennant]

my mother's 'sharks are smooth' is insisting that 1 and 0.(9) (0.999... y'know, the number with infinite nines behind the dot) are actually not the same number but sadly she's doing it unironically

[coreastories]

Mrs Jang’s Advice

Part One of Little Bean

This is how the kingdom and the people closest to them find out about the little bean.

Ties in with: 

Corea News: 10 Times The King and Queen of Corea made ahjummas ugly-cry over their royal romance

Corea News: Palace Announcement: WE HAVE A ROYAL BABY!

ALL Little Bean chapters come before:

Corea News: Love in the Royal Kitchen and succeeding Corea News pieces hinting at the Little Bean

ON AO3 for download and kudos :) 

Mrs Jang had three children. Her firstborn was a son, and he belonged to her husband. Her daughter soon followed, but she was too much like Mrs Jang in her independence and… bossiness that there really was no hope they’d be close because there couldn’t be two suns in one household. 

Ten years after her daughter was born, Mi-reuk arrived, an absolute surprise, and Mrs Jang finally had her own baby, and he hadn’t disappointed her so far. He was sweet and he was patient, and unlike her equally domineering daughter, Mi-reuk let her do what she pleased. 

As a reward to him, Mrs Jang tried to tone down her bossy qualities. But now her son was in the Royal Guard, the Queen’s appointed Unbreakable Sword to boot, so even though she restrained herself, Mrs Jang still ended up calling her son every day. 

Which wasn’t much, was it? He was her son. She should call him every day. 

 “Omma, I’m working.”

 Mrs Jang just smiled. Her son was such a sweetheart. “If you were really busy, you wouldn’t have answered the phone. Where’s Her Majesty?”

 “I can’t tell you that. But yeah I suppose I’m on a small break while I’m waiting for them.”

 “Them? You mean Their Majesties are together?”

 “Omma, stop it.”

 “Why do you sound so tired? Are you all right?”

 “I’m fine. It’s just been really crazy the past two weeks. It’s like the King has it in for me.”

 Mrs Jang said nothing. If she and Mi-reuk were together, she would have pouted in sympathy. As it was, she made a sympathetic noise, and hoped Mi-reuk wouldn’t be interrupted as the dam broke. 

 And break it did. 

 “I’ve opened the car door for Her Majesty a thousand times before and His Majesty hasn’t said a word about it. But every time I did it the past few days, the king would snap at me or glare at me like I’m about to hit the queen with the door.”

 “The king always opens the queen’s door, doesn’t he?”

 “Oh, I mean when they’re about to get in the car.” 

 “Well, where is the queen standing when you open the door for her?”

 “It’s not like I’ll ever hit her with the car door, will I?”

 “I hope you won't mind a tip from your old mother? When you open the car door for Her Majesty next time, stand in front of the door as you open it. Block it with your body.”

 “But why? Shouldn’t the queen have access to the car immediately as I open the door?”

 “Trust me, darling, block the swing of the car door with your body. You can simply step aside once it’s open so the queen can enter. Or have someone else do it, I suppose, so you aren’t distracted by something as trivial as opening the car door when you should be looking out for danger.” 

 “Omma. I have training. I can open the car door and watch out for Her Majesty at the same--”

 “That is what I just told you not to do. Watch where you swing that door, young man.”

 “I will. It’s not like I’d let anything and anyone bump her. And that’s another thing. His Majesty keeps shoving me lately.”

 Mrs Jang bit her lips hard against the laugh that almost erupted. Oh, it was wonderful. And this time she was going to be the soul of discretion and not breathe a word, even to Mi-reuk. 

 “Shoving you how?” Her son was a large person, so it wouldn’t surprise her if the king wanted Mi-reuk out of the way. 

 “Like today, for example. They got out of the car. Then we move into formation around them. I always stand by the queen’s side, but now the king keeps pushing me a bit farther. I feel like a door sometimes, the way he keeps shoving me.” 

 Mrs Jang did laugh then. “You’re a big man. You can take it. And watch that no one else bumps into the queen.”

 “That’s what the king said. Like that wasn’t what I’ve been doing this entire time! He’s driving me nuts.”

 “You just have to be patient. Young husbands can be protective like that.”

 “He also got mad at me last week when I gave the queen an electric blanket in their office.”

 “It’s summer.”

 “It was a little cold that day. And the office air conditioning can be cold. She said she was cold. I turned up the thermostat and I saw the blanket on the chaise. So I opened the blanket so the queen could place it on her lap and the king saw me and bit my head off.”

 “What did he say?”

 “He asked me what I thought I was doing. Then he didn’t let me answer. He just asked if I was planning to toast the queen to death. I wasn’t even planning to plug in the blanket.”

 Mrs Jang smiled ruefully. Her son sounded so wounded. Of course he would be, because he would die for the queen and the king was being a little touchy, wasn't he? All very correct, though. The king was a scientist, a mathematician. He would know what’s what. “Ahhh, Mi-reuk, you can’t let the queen get too hot, you know.”

 “Of course not.”

 “I mean it. Don’t let her stay out in the sun. Watch that she’s never exhausted from overheating.”

 “Of course, omma. I do look out for Her Majesty, you know. And she hasn’t come to the training grounds for two weeks. I doubt she has done any strenuous workout lately, not counting her walks with the king.” 

 Wow. Two weeks. So that would mean she could be four to six weeks along. “That’s good. Anything else bothering you?”

 “Ahh, I see Their Majesties now, omma. I’ll talk to you later.”

 “Remember what I said.” 

 Two weeks later, when the palace announced the happy news, Mrs Jang pretended to be shocked. 

 But when her neighbors started acting smug like they knew all along because of Queens Day and everything they’ve seen on how the king and queen acted, Mrs Jang couldn’t let that pass. Her lumbago had acted up on Queens Day, of all times, so she hadn’t been able to go. Because they didn't have a son in the Royal Guard, they rather gleefully rubbed it in that Mrs Jang hadn’t been able to witness the king and queen’s sweetness with her own eyes. 

 So she told them about how protective the king had been during the first weeks. He probably still was. Mrs Jang padded some details. 

 Like usual, no one else had the same information she did. 

 That shut them up. 

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

 I just adore Jangmi, you know that, and I wanted a different take on Gon stepping into a crazy puddle. So here it is. I hope you like? :)  

Next chapter: Lady Noh 

[hemaris]

Hello I love your penumbra art and I showed some to my friend who finally started listening to Juno Steel and she said that she's been enjoying penumbra fanart but keeps on seeing fantastic Peter designs and then having to ask where his pockets are. This is not at all a criticism I just needed to share the thought because now I'm wondering too

OKAY THAT IS A GREAT QUESTION so here’s a trio of highly unlikely options for your consideration (put into fic format by someone who has little to no experience writing fic and is, to be completely honest, miles outside of their comfort zone):

nureyev’s pockets contain a - for the lack of a better word - pocket dimension

“You’re full of shit, Steel,” Vespa says. “If you wanna brag about sticking your hands down the thief’s pants, go find someone else to do it to.”

And really, Juno has been at the business end of Vespa’s blade before, but twice in one morning is probably a new record. He bristles. “Okay, first of all, would it really kill you to not wave your knife at me every single time we’re in a room together? Can’t we have one conversation where this doesn’t happen?”

“You started it! You got your finger all up in my face!”

“Yeah, well, my finger doesn’t have a long and celebrated history of gutting people when-”

“Keep it civil, sweethearts,” Buddy says from the other side from their makeshift recreation room, where she and Jet are playing a game Juno has never heard of involving a set of oddly shaped dice, some old Uno cards, and, inexplicably, a pineapple. Vespa moves to sheathe the knife, but makes a whole show out of doing it without averting her icy stare for even a split second. Juno has to suppress the fleeting urge to do something petty and potentially life-threatening, like sticking out his tongue at her.

“Second of all,” he continues, his voice only slightly lowered, “you asked! You asked me about Ransom’s - about his pocket situation, I’m just telling you what I know. And for the record, I never said anything about anyone’s pants. Or where I’m sticking my hands. Or, you know, whatever. Shut up.”

Vespa still hasn’t broken eye contact. “No, Steel,” she says, “I asked you how the thief managed to get an entire cupboard worth of Ming dynasty porcelain off of Titan and onto our ship. What you’re telling me is that he has magical mega pockets that are bigger on the inside, which isn’t a thing.”

“That’s what I used to think about teleportation, and mind reading, but here we are.” The truth is that the porcelain thing is a mystery to Juno as well. He has asked Nureyev, of course, but all he got in response was a that’s for me to know and for you to figure out, isn’t it, detective, which is more than a little annoying. “All I’m saying is that it could be an option. Don’t rule it out just yet.”

“I’ll believe it when I see it,” Vespa says. “Ask him to pull, I don’t know, a live rabbit out of his breast pocket, and maybe I’ll buy into it.”

Juno has to roll his eye at that, and immediatey realizes he’s lost their little staring match. Not that it matters - the odds were stacked against him from the get-go anyway, with Vespa having a whole extra eye to look pissed off with. “Fine, whatever. But just for the record - have you seen a rabbit lately? Because I can guarantee you those things won’t go down or come out of anyone’s pocket willingly, regardless of pocket size.”

It might be a trick of the light, but for a brief moment, he thinks he sees the corner of Vespa’s mouth quirk up just a little.

a strategy once used by juno himself: Just Put It In Your Mouth! it’s mother nature’s built-in pocket!

“Uh oh,” Nureyev says once Rita has successfully hacked the giant metal door to slam shut behind them and they’ve skidded to a halt. He tentatively presses a hand to his throat.

“What- are you-“ Juno wheezes from where he’s doubled over, "Are you okay? They didn’t hit you, right?”

Nureyev makes a dismissive fluttery motion with his free hand. “Nothing of the sort.”

Juno squints at him, giving him a once-over, and seems to sag with relief once he sees Nureyev is not actively bleeding. It’s a little bit endearing, Nureyev thinks. “Okay, whew, good,” he says. “So then - what’s the ‘uh oh’ for? We got the blueprints, we-”

“Let’s say,” Nureyev interrupts him, “hypothetically speaking, that there was some ancient and priceless treasure in the vault we took the blueprints from.”

“That’s not really a hypothetical,” Juno says. “There was enough old Earth monarchy junk in there to bedazzle the entire Carte Blanche with.”

"Right. And now let’s say, once again purely hypothetically,” Nureyev continues, “that someone with only the noblest of intentions noticed the Koh-I-Noor diamond among that treasure, and that that someone decided to free it from the monstrously tacky diadem contraption it was stuck onto, because it’s a waste for something like that to be gathering dust in a vault.”

“You know,” Juno says warily, “I’m not sure I like where this is going.”

“The problem is that this outfit, while very stealthy, does not provide a great amount of secure pocket space, so i had to improvise.”

“Oh no,” Juno says.

“So I put it in my mouth, but then the guards arrived and while we were running I-”

“Oh no,” Juno repeats, a little louder this time. “Ransom, you - did you eat the Koh-I-Noor?”

“I accidentally swallowed the Koh-I-Noor, there’s a difference-”

“You ate it. You- Ransom, who would even-”

“Who would even what, Juno” Nureyev interrupts him, “There’s this old saying, something about a pot and a kettle, I believe.”

Juno’s comms crackle to life. “RIGHT,” Rita chirps loudly, “I know the both of you are very busy talkin’ about who ate a conifer and why - and i’m not judgin’, mista Ransom, you eat your greens however you wanna! That’s what my mom told me that time I dipped my green beans in marshmallow fluff - which I wouldn’t recommend, by the way, at least not with the beans, it was a WHOLE mess. Maybe with some broccoli, though, or baby carrots, or - anyway, what I was gonna say is they’re about to crack this door open, so I’m just thinkin’, maybe now isn’t the best time for this conversation?”

“He didn’t eat a conifer, Rita, it’s - actually, don’t worry about it,” Juno says. “Let’s get moving. I’m sure Vespa can figure something out to make you hurl the thing up again. But for the record, Ransom, don’t expect me to ever let you hear the end of this.”

“I wouldn’t have it any other way,” Nureyev replies. Juno grins a little, crooked and pretty, and Nureyev’s stomach almost somersaults enough to throw the stupid diamond out.

and lastly - why use your own pockets when you can use someone else’s?

“Nureyev,” Juno says against his neck, “can I ask you something?”

They’ve folded themselves onto Nureyev’s cot, neither of them up for more than just lazing around. Nureyev has been trying to study some floor plans for the last twenty minutes, but if he’s being honest with himself, he has no idea what building, owned by what person, built on which planet in whatever system he’s been looking at. He’s mostly been lost in thought, only grounded by the weight and warmth of Juno pressed against his side. He had thought the lady asleep until now.

It’s a little ridiculous, the effect his own name being spoken by Juno Steel has on him. He’s fairly sure that with Juno this close, he should be able to feel the shiver it sends down his spine, pick up on the stutter in his pulse. It’s okay if he does, he tries to tell himself, it’s okay, it’s only Juno - but at the same time Juno is infinitely, immeasurably more than 'only Juno’ to him.

“Of course,” he replies. “Anything, anytime.”

Juno hums. “Earlier, when we got back from the media bigwig backstabbing competition-”

“It was an award show, dear Juno.”

“I said what I said. Anyway, when we got back, there was something in my pocket that I definitely didn’t put there myself.”

Oh.

“A flash drive,” Juno continues, “that had the name ’M. Valderrama’ engraved into it. And a crazy amount of plastic rhinestones glued to it, but that’s not the point. I didn’t wanna risk it containing a virus and blowing up the ship, so I didn’t plug it into anything. But I did do my research, so I know Mignon Valderrama was at the backstabbing- I mean, the award show, and is the acclaimed director of titles such as ’The Notebook Part 44: This Time They’re All Ancient Mercurians’, the entire ’Ultra Magma Tsunami’ franchise, and the upcoming-”

“The upcoming blockbuster ’Cerebral Cephalopods: Rise of the Mathematician Octopi’,” Nureyev finishes.

Juno shifts against him. "Yeah, that’s the one. Didn’t know you were a fan.”

“Oh, I’m not,” Nureyev replies airily.

“Still,” Juno says, propping himself up on an elbow. “I have to wonder. How and why did mx. Valderrama’s flash drive, rhinestones and all, end up in my pocket?”

“Hmm. Would you believe me if I told you mx. Valderrama tripped, and the drive flew out of their pocket and into yours?”

Juno shakes his head. “C'mon, Nureyev.”

And for a moment, he hesitates. It’s not the best of stories. There’s no real noble, for-the-greater-good, Robin Hood-esque reason for him stealing the drive. He didn’t do it for the challenge, either - Valderrama might as well have presented it to him on a silver platter. Sure, he could make something up, spin a tale, make it sound big and impressive and sensible. But despite the alarm bells going off in his mind, he also thinks it might not be so bad to tell the truth, to bare his throat to Juno just a little. Of course, his own voice echoes, anything, anytime.

He sighs. “I might not be a fan, but I believe your secretary is. She’s been talking about those Magma Tsunami movies for days. They are horrible, by the way - she made me sit through two of them and I can’t believe I’m never getting those four hours of my life back. Valderrama should be liable for damages to my psyche. The drive, as you probably guessed, contains what I’m pretty sure is the final cut for whatever that octopus movie is supposed to be, so I snatched it up for her. My dress didn’t have any pockets, so I slipped it into one of yours. I must have forgotten to slip it out again.”

Juno frowns. “Wait - Rita? Did she ask you to? Because at this point i’m pretty sure she could hack into the studio’s servers in a heartbeat, and rip the whole thing-”

“She didn’t ask,” Nureyev says. “It was kind of a spur-of-the-moment thing. But she wouldn’t have been able to get her hands on this by hacking. Valderrama is famously paranoid about leaks. All of their works-in-progress are stored on only a handful of physical drives until the day of release. One of the drives goes into a vault with a nightmarishly difficult analogue lock, one goes to the executive producer, and Valderrama keeps one of them on their person at all times. I saw my chance, so I took it.”

“Huh,” Juno says, “that's… that’s kind of sweet of you, actually.” He prods Nureyev in the chest with a finger. “And very illegal, and you shouldn’t do it again. But still. That's… yeah. That’s sweet. She’s gonna be over the moon.”

That’s what he’d been hoping for. He smiles, shrugging a little. “We’re space pirates, Juno. Most of what we do is illegal. We got into the award party illegally, and for illegal reasons. Valderramma will make their billions with or without that drive. It’s just-” he sighs again, raking a hand through his hair. “Rita is very important to you, which - which makes her very important to me. She’s been there for you all these years, and she’s never been anything but kind to me either. I’m not trying to buy her friendship or her appreciation, I suppose I just… think she deserves something nice, especially if that something is within arm’s reach anyway. Even if that something is a movie about hyperintelligent squids taking over Mars’ moons.” He lets his head fall back into the pillows. “I know that might sound a little foolish.”

Juno leans into him a little more, cupping Nureyev’s jaw in his warm hand, looking a little bit puzzled and a lot fond. “I’m pretty sure you already know that I love your particular brand of foolish,” he says after a second.

And before Nureyev has the chance to think about what that means for too long, Juno is kissing him, wiping any semblance of thought from his mind.

[pascalls]

Gazebo of Horrors

Charlie enjoys a Halloween night with the regulars from the bar, solidifying the holiday as his favorite for a number of reasons.

Feat. Lisa, Lenny, Carl, Moe, Barney, Sam, and Larry

Author’s Note: This one’s gay.

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

Charlie couldn’t remember the last time he had a decent night’s sleep. Twisting and turning in his sleeping spot, he was uncomfortably warm. Trapped in the middle of a nightmare, Charlie felt sweat bead at his forehead and the sound of someone giving chase. He ran, unable to outpace whatever it was that was at his heels, sharp, pointed ends of something metallic scraping the concrete as it jabbed at his tail. Only when he turned did he realize that whatever it was looked a lot like Ned Flanders…

He awoke with a start as a clang on the metal outside of his impromptu napping place broke him from his fitful slumber. He sat up, only just pausing before hitting his head on the plastic ‘roof’. Reaching up, he pushed it up and away, peering out and ready to shoot a glare at whoever happened to interrupt his rest when he noticed that it was already evening. Blinking away the remainder of his sleep, he weighed his options. Go back to sleep until morning? Slink out and back to Lovejoy’s before his absence was noticed? 

“Nurse Walker?”

The voice startled him slightly as he turned, spying the familiar face of Lisa Simpson who seemed to be staring at him quizzically. As if he’d grown another head. 

“Were you… sleeping in there?” She asked, pointing at the metal dumpster that Charlie had  emerged from. Astute as ever, he thought. 

“...I might’ve been,” he replied, about to come up with some sort of excuse for why he’d chosen such a place to hide away and nap, but she provided a fantastic distraction as he took in what she was wearing. Definitely not her usual outfit. “...What are you wearing?” 

“Oh!” Lisa grinned with enthusiasm, spreading her arms out and doing a little twirl to show off her clothes; a purple dress with yellow flowers in her hair and a small veil-like addition trailing behind her. “I’m Ada Lovelace! The first ever computer programmer. She was an English mathematician who totally blew Charles Babbage away by utilizing his Analytical Engine in ways he never even thought of.” 

The information sailed right over Charlie’s head, but as he leaned out of his dumpster bed, he watched her with a little smile. Ah, she would go places. Hopefully not into a dumpster like him. But as she spoke, his brain began to putter back to life. Wait. Costume? He glanced down to her hands which held a bag that had to have been half full by then. Full of candy?

His attention drifted to the nearby street as he noted that Lisa was not the only one in unusual garb. Nearby, he heard the telltale voices of Bart, Milhouse, and yes, even Nelson as they presumably trailed along ahead of Lisa. And it was about then that he realized - Oh. 

“...It’s Halloween,” he said, interrupting Lisa’s drawn out explanation of said ‘analytical engine’ and how tragic it was that Lovelace had died at such a young age. Though she was a little frustrated at having been cut off, she responded with a nod. 

“Yeah. Are you gonna dress up as anything?”

Charlie blinked down at her once or twice. Thinking that over. Well. No. Because he hadn’t even remembered that Halloween was a thing. Until just now. But thinking that through even further, Charlie recognized that he dressed up like it was Halloween every damn day. Which meant that… Maybe… Just maybe…

“...No!” He proclaimed, taking a moment to get his legs under him to spring himself out of the dumpster, landing with a rather pleased expression on his face next to Lisa. “For once, I am not dressing up as a damn thing!” 

“Huh. I guess you don’t have to!” Lisa said as she looked him over with a little smile. “It’s like you have a built in costume.” 

“For once, being a terrible, horrible abomination to society is going to pay off, my intelligent little friend.” Reaching down, he gave her a gentle pat on the head and then nudged her in the direction of her brother’s fading voice. “Go on! I’m gonna find some trouble to get up to while I have the damn chance, for once.” 

Lisa didn’t argue. And she made a mental note to herself to not tell anyone that she’d found the normally downtrodden nurse holed up in the trash. He… probably didn’t need that floating around about him. So she gave him a little wave before running after the others, calling for them to wait for her.

Charlie, meanwhile, was rooted to the spot as his mind raced with possibilities. He could do… SO MUCH now. He could go to the store. He could see a movie. He could just WALK AROUND. And nobody would give a second thought about it! For the briefest of moments, he felt… powerful. He could do anything he wanted-

A nearby screech of tires nearly made him jump back and away from the street as the ugly pink sedan that Charlie instantly recognized as Homer’s came to a stop in front of him. The man himself leaned out from the driver’s seat, grinning widely at Charlie as he called out. 

“Hey NURSE! Nice rabbit costume!” Homer yelled. It was clear he’d already had a drink or two, but so had the other six men that were crammed both inside and on the roof of the car. The bar must have been closed, as Charlie noted that the regulars were accompanying Homer on his Halloween joy ride. Lenny, Carl, and Moe sat on the car’s roof, hastily hanging on - presumably, for dear life whenever Homer started driving again - while Barney, Sam, and Larry were crammed inside. Each of them had their own drink in hand and Charlie could hear the clatter of more cans along the car’s floor. They had gotten an early start on the drinking, apparently. 

“Hey Charlie! We’re drivin’ down to Flanders’ to egg his house and knock over his mailbox,” Moe called down to the hybrid. 

“Remind me why we’re doin’ that?” Carl asked, shaking the can in its hand to check its content level. He would need another one soon.

“Be-CAUSE, it’s FLANDERS,” Homer grunted from the front seat. “What more reason do you need???”

“Can’t argue with that!” Lenny had no objections, apparently. And neither did anyone else. Least of all, Charlie.

“Hell yes, I do. Open one of those things for me, will you?” Charlie said with delight as he hopped over, pleased that none of the men seemed to give two shits as to what he looked like as he clambered up and onto the roof of the sedan. In fact, he wasn’t the only one in the festive mood. Homer had made an attempt at being some kind of vampire, but had apparently given up halfway, tying a black shirt around his neck as a cape and smearing what looked like red jelly around his mouth. Lenny and Carl had swapped outfits, Moe would later on describe his usual attire as being ‘the scariest thing you could see in 2020’, and Barney had simply taken a shower and put on a different shirt. A frightening prospect. Larry did not seem to get the costume memo and Sam had mostly his usual attire, except his overshirt shirt was a red checkered plaid pattern instead in a relatively lazy impromptu lumberjack look. 

Charlie felt as though he fit right in, tipping back his head as he downed his first beer and digging his claws into the roof of the car as Homer drove off towards Ned’s. 

As the night went on and Homer’s merry gang of troublemakers stirred up more than enough chaos to fill several Halloween nights with, Charlie found himself laughing, yelling, and being raucous right along with them. There was no shortage of eggs thrown, toilet paper left in the branches of overhanging trees, nor did he turn down the candy they’d nabbed from some of the neighborhood bullies. Charlie considered it teaching them a lesson. They’d live. And while he didn’t normally imagine that he’d pal around with Moe’s regulars to this extent, he had a hard time convincing himself that he wasn’t having more fun than he’d had in ages. At one point, he could have sworn that they passed both the reverend and his wife. What he wouldn’t give to see if Tim had noticed that he was not interested in coming home on time that night...

By the time they’d finished their route around Springfield - and Homer was too drunk to keep driving and not smash into something along the way - the men abandoned the pink carriage in favor of staggering into the nearest park gazebo to lounge around, finish as many of their remaining cans of beer as they could, and generally be a public nuisance. Luckily, they weren’t the only ones out and about, which meant that Chief Wiggum was not likely to break up their after party. Which was just as well. Charlie didn’t need any reason for him to have to return to Lovejoy’s tonight. Nah. He was having way too much fun, even in the sleepy drunken haze that threatened to overtake him as the clock neared midnight. 

“I didn’t expect you to actually loosen up like that.” 

Charlie glanced up from his tenth - or eleventh? - beer, locking eyes with Sam who had staggered over to sit on the steps of the gazebo next to Charlie. Inhibitions gone, Charlie didn’t mind the company. Lenny and Carl were not far away, but seemed to be discussing whether or not a uranium rod would float if placed delicately in a vat of beer. Homer had passed out about ten minutes prior, and Moe, Barney, and Larry were arguing over who had rights to the last few beers in the cooler. 

“I’d forgotten about Halloween,” Charlie replied with a little smile. “The one night where I don’t have to dress up like some kinda… freak.” He sipped at his beer, not bothered by the terminology at the moment. Might be if he were at all sober. But with his head floating pleasantly, he didn’t mind being a little brazen and honest.

“I bet if you just decided t’say screw it one day, nobody would even notice,” Sam continued, pointing at Charlie with the hand that still held his own beer which was nearing empty. 

“Uh-huh. Then I get thrown into the zoo with the crocodiles and you gotta visit me and bring me booze before I go fuckin’ crazy, right?” Charlie shook his head, but he was amused at the thought. 

“I got plenty to spare.” Sam smirked, shaking his can a little and listening to the liquid slosh back and forth. 

“Aw. You’re sweet.” Charlie brought a hand up to his chest in a fake swoon. “Didn’t know you liked me that much.”

Sam laughed, a low, somewhat gravely sound that made Charlie’s ears twitch with interest. They were one step ahead of his brain which was only just registering that… they might have been flirting. And, now that he recalled… it probably wasn’t the first time. The hybrid had been coming to Moe’s on several nights of the week now, staying out late and risking the reverend’s ire while keeping company with the regulars. And more often than not, Sam was included. While he was moderately amused by Homer, Lenny, and Carl’s general conversations that they had, the three jokers hardly caught his attention. Larry still didn’t speak much, and he wasn’t even going to pretend that Barney was ever good for more than a belch or two before he was sufficiently out for the count. 

But on more than one occasion, Charlie lingered behind with Sam. Sometimes not saying much. Just staring absently at the television above the bar. Maybe swapping stories here and there about Sam’s time on the road or Charlie’s general complaints about both Skinner and Chalmers or the Wiggum boy’s predisposition to sticking sharp objects where he shouldn’t. 

On any other night, Charlie might not have given it much thought. It was dangerous to get too wrapped up in a person. Like he had with Lovejoy. Like he’d stumbled into with Chalmers. Neither of which seemed to give him the feedback he was looking for. And on any other night, that fear might have kept him from going down that same path. But as he listened to Sam’s laugh which made his own mouth tilt upwards into a smile… Well… he couldn’t help it. They were already sitting so close and… Charlie’s head was already spinning and he swore he probably smelled like beer, cigarettes, and maybe eggs, but…

The liquid courage was not one to be ignored. He held his breath and leaned forward, catching Sam’s lips with his own in a soft, but purposeful kiss. He willed himself to not pay attention to anything - except maybe the faint sound of blaring music somewhere off in the distance - hoping against hope that he was not going to be pushed away. 

And he wasn’t.

But he wasn’t sure if that was a good thing either. 

He broke the kiss after a moment or two, pulling back as his ears pinned themselves against his hair and he let out a little nervous laugh. Sam’s expression was unreadable. Clearly, he’d been caught off guard, staring at Charlie in surprise and… the hybrid didn’t know what else. But even in his drunken state, his heart pounded with fear and he glanced away.

“Sorry. Uh. Forget that happened. I have had… woof. One too many… hah…” 

His feet wanted him to run, but with so much alcohol in his system, he doubted he would get very far before tripping over his own tail. So there he sat, pointedly looking away and off into the distance, rubbing at his face in exasperation at his own stupid, desperate antics. His chest felt like it was about to burst with anxiety and embarrassment. Christ. He could only hope that Sam was drunk enough to write it off as a figment of his imagination in the morning when they both woke up in their respective beds and pretended that nothing ever happened.

“WELL! I should… go,” Charlie began, finishing off his beer and crushing the can in his claws before tossing it aside. About to get to his feet when he felt a hand on his shoulder. Freezing, he felt the color drain from his face. Oh no. This was the part, wasn’t it. Where his other secret was going to be touted in front of the other men like some kind of hard-won prize. Where he realized that Sam was just another moron in Springfield deadset on making him feel like an absolute freak. Where he was reminded that his decision-making was so incredibly poor that only he could have made the wrong choice three times in a row.

Anger bubbled up somewhere in the back of his throat, but before he could bristle and snap in defense, he was spun back to face Sam, caught by surprise as the man’s mouth met his own once again, this time of his own volition. Confusion replaced the anger that threatened to rise, a little sound of alarm only just being squelched by his steady realization that… He had been wrong.

They were both drunk, but Charlie shoved the thought to the side as he closed his eyes, suddenly drifting along a sea of contentment as he allowed himself to be pulled into that second kiss. He forgot that Lenny and Carl were sitting just on the other side of the gazebo. He forgot that Moe and the others were not far either. He forgot that he was kissing another man. He forgot… everything. Everything but the feeling of Sam’s lips on his own. They were warm and tasted like Duff, but so did his own. Charlie almost laughed as their glasses clacked gently against each other, but he didn’t care about that either. It was Halloween night and he felt like a giddy teenager, his claws brushing along the steps of the gazebo until they found Sam’s fingers, intertwining their pinkies together as they’d done to seal their promise to not dampen Moe’s spirits. 

Sam didn’t seem to mind, too wrapped up in the kiss just the same. Until they parted and Charlie let himself breath. He was red in the face, he was sure. But he would try to play it off like it was just the beer. Yeah. That’s all it was.

“...You don’t gotta go if you don’t want to,” Sam finally said, his own beer all but forgotten to the side. He was a bit flushed himself, but he seemed to manage it a lot better than Charlie did.

“...You don’t think we’ve gotten up to enough troublemaking tonight, huh?” The hybrid replied in kind, unable to disguise the little grin on his face. 

“Nah. It ain’t even that late yet.”

Sam got to his feet, offering his hand to pull Charlie up along with him. His tail helped him maintain his balance, even as the world tilted and shifted beneath his feet. Wow. He really was drunk. Or… maybe it had just been the kiss. Either way, he was feeling ridiculously topsy turvy just then. And the welcoming smile on Sam’s face certainly didn’t help. Wow. 

Maybe he hadn’t really been fake swooning after all.

“Lead the way,” Charlie prompted, keep himself at the other man’s side with a delighted little rumble of a purr that he did his best to keep to himself. It was difficult. And as they drifted away from the park and back into the street, he absently wished that Halloween was not a once-a-year deal.

When they’d left, Lenny and Carl found themselves staring after the two, still nursing their own beers and watching in a bit of a drunken stupor.

“Did we really just see that?” Carl asked, glancing up at his companion, baffled.

“I think so. Why don’t you ever do that with me?” Lenny replied as he sat atop the railing of the gazebo, his words slurred in his mild outrage.

“Aw shut up,” Carl said, focusing back on his beer. 

He made a mental note to shove Lenny off of the railing before the night was over with.

[rora-s]

The Derivative  Chapter 9: Wormholes

Chapter 1 <- Chapter 8 

“Apparently there’s large performance differentials between same caliber bullets from different manufacturers” Amita told Charlie walking over to him with a piece of paper with the information. 

“Based on what?” Uncle C questioned looking the paper over. 

“Lead composition, gunpowder packing” Amita shrugged, sitting back down in her seat. 

“Just what I need more variables” Charlie muttered. 

“I could help you run through the equations if you want” I offered leaning forward on the couch. 

“No you’re not helping” Charlie objected turning back to his chalkboard “if Don even found out you were in here we’d both be in trouble” 

I rolled my eyes and turned back to my book. Just then there was a knock at the door to the solarium and Larry meandered in. “oh, some assistance in my brazen attack on the Lorenz invariance?” 

“No, drag coefficient models” Charlie informed. 

“Drag co- drag on what?” Larry questioned. Walking from Charlie to Amita.

“Bullets” the woman answered. 

“Bullets as in ballistic trajectories defined by the Einstein Equivalence Principle, related to the Lorenz frame?” Larry questioned over her shoulder pointedly. 

“As in, bullets that kill people” Amita replied. 

“Oh” Larry muttered with slight disgust in his voice as he turned to join me sitting on the couch. 

“There seems to be some disagreements over the sniper’s expertise” Amita explained looking to Charlie. 

“Well, I’d say the public’s decided on the question.” Larry explained “I have an aunt who lives two blocks from the first shooting. She’s afraid to go out on her front lawn now.” he gestured out the window. 

“Why don’t you tell your aunt that statistically she has a better chance of being mauled by a bear” Charlie explained exasperatedly. 

“Actually, statistics would favor the bear being mauled by my aunt but…” Larry joked and we all shared a small laugh. “This fear, this extends beyond the reach of statistics Charles.” Larry explained sinking into the couch. “No this is about arbitrary inescapable death. No, times like these, you just wind up speculating on paths not taken, jobs left undone.” 

“Larry I- I’m trying to get those equations done for you as soon as I can,” Charlie defended. 

“No, no, no.” Larry objected sitting up “at that moment, I was actually thinking of a far more prosaic legacy. Someone to carry on the Fleinhardt standard” 

We all looked at the physicist in surprise. “I didn’t know you wanted kids, Larry” Charlie voiced. 

“Well children are wormholes” Larry declared. 

“Wormholes?” Amita questioned. 

“As the only minor in the room can I protest that classification?” I asked the man who sat next to me fiddling with a small bowl “or at least get an explanation?” 

“Yeah. They’re portals into the unreachable future and unattainable past.” he somewhat clarified “No, as things stand now they exist only in the theoretical realm so..” 

“Well, I can see where you might have some trouble selling a woman on the idea of carrying you wormhole” Amita stated and we all chuckled again. 

____________

There’s isn’t anything quite as annoying as sitting at the kitchen table trying to get a look at the work your Uncle is doing for the FBI that you know you can help with but aren’t allowed to. This is where I was as I sat at the dining table Charlie working and Larry getting himself another cup of coffee. 

“You know,” the physicist spoke up from the kitchen, “I have had almost no attendance at my morning classes. It’s like everyone’s afraid to set foot outside” 

“Not everybody” Charlie objected as Larry came in and sat a cup of water down for the mathematician. 

“Just the general populous” I commented. 

“Yeah. In times like these, an empty house is not a home” Larry said taking a seat at the table. “Evaluating my immediate prospects for a conventional nuclear family, I’ve just now begun to consider adoption.” 

“How long have you been considering it?” Charlie inquired. 

“Three days,” Larry offered. 

“Give it a few more days.” Charlie advised. 

“Yeah” Larry agreed “but consider Don. He had no prior notion or plan for raising a young adult and yet here he is doing just fine.” 

“That would convey the notion that my father is doing more than just monitoring me and providing me sustenance” I muttered. 

“I suppose there is something to be said about a mentoring learning curve” Larry murmured. Then looked at Charlie’s work “so what? You found a pattern yet?” 

“More like a pattern of patternlessness.” Charlie informed. 

“Is patternlessness even a word?” I asked. 

“Well it is now” Charlie stated. 

“Hey, there’s an interesting metaphysical notion.” Larry voiced. 

“What, whether patternlessness is a word?” I asked. 

“No the interesting part it plays in this case.” Larry explained “perhaps a human element remains to be inserted” 

Charlie groaned in annoyance. “You sound like this, uh, Agent Edgerton guy. He’s a sniper instructor that Don brought in from Quantico he thinks I should be out shooting rifles.” 

“Well, why aren’t you?” Larry inquired. 

“That would be cool” I agreed. 

“It’s a poor allocation of my time” Charlie objected “in the time it takes to shoot X number of rifles, I can access ten or twenty or a hundred times that amount of data” 

“No, no, no, no. there’s data and there’s hands-on experience” Larry pointed out. “These are two different beasts. That’s why you’ve got blackboards and laboratories.” 

“Well you study the universe, and you’ve never been to outer space.” Charlie countered. 

“Yeah, but if I had the opportunity, do you think for a moment I’d hesitate?” Larry said. 

Charlie sighed. “I think it’d be cool to shoot a rifle,” I voiced. 

Charlie gave me a look “you know It’s those kinds of statements that make Don worried about you” 

___________

“Why’d I have to come along?” I muttered. 

“Because if you hung around Larry and Charlie any longer you’d end up helping them on this crazy case and we both know it” Alan stated as we got on the elevator in the FBI office. 

“So your solution is to bring me to the heart of where the case is being handled.” I pointed out. 

“Point made but this is the side of it you definitely can’t help on” Alan commented. I nodded in agreement getting the point. 

The elevator opened and Don greeted us. “Hey guys” he smiled. 

“Hey Donnie” Alan smiled as we headed out of the elevator and into the FBI office. I’d never been here before and it was a cool place. People were all over the place in cubicles. There were meeting rooms with glass walls and doors and on one side a tall stack of file boxes. 

“Thanks for bringing lunch all the way down here.” Don told us as he led us through the office “Come on, this way.” 

“Oh well, you know, the drive was a pleasure.” Gramps explained. “Traffic on the 10 has never been thinner since, uh, well, since it’s been the 10” 

“Yeah, it’s like all LA’s in lockdown, huh? Little eerie” Don commented. “Right in here” we were ushered into a little break room. Alan sat the bag of food on the table and started setting things out. “You guys want a water?” Don asked, leaning by a mini fridge. 

“Yes please” Alan said politely. 

“Sure” I shrugged watching the people through the glass. 

Don set out three waters before taking his seat at the table. Alan got up to grab some napkins. “Hey kid, why don’t you sit down?” Don suggested. 

“Yeah” I agreed, coming over and sitting across from him where Alan had put my sandwich. “Everyone’s really busy out there huh?” 

“Yeah sniper’s a big case and it’s not the only one we have open right now so a lot going on” Don explained as Alan came back over. 

“So, how, uh, how are you and Charlie managing this case?” the elderly man asked. 

“Well, I mean, he’s frustrated; I’m frustrated.” Don shook his head raising his sandwich up to his face “I mean, we’re having a rough time on this” 

“Is that why he’s been running out of the house late at night?” Alan inquired as we ate. 

Don nodded “we got an agent on him all the time” he assured. 

“I mean, I know he’s been helping you out and that he comes down to your office a lot, and I- I think that’s great. But, but now you got him going out on crime scenes.” Alan explained “I mean, there's this guy shooting people out there.”

Don made a face and I could see the argument coming. I quickly spoke up to leave the room “uh where’s the bathroom here?” 

Don look to me “uh out down the hall to the left and then take a right” he gestured. 

“Thanks” I replied, getting up and shuffling out of the room. Glancing back I could see the conversation continuing in my absence. Don and Alan had a strong relationship this I could tell from the beginning. However, Alan was always worried about his sons especially on the FBI side of things. It was a worry I never fully understood but then again this was my first time with male role models so maybe it was just a guy thing to constantly worry about what you can’t control. 

___________________

3rd POV. 

Once Abby had left the room Don turned back to his father “Dad. you really think I would put Charlie in danger?” 

“No,” Alan objected “you know what I really think?” 

“What?” 

“I think you have to understand that Charlie can never say no to you,” Alan explained. Don let out an exasperated breath putting down his sandwich “I mean, I mean. All you have to do is to ask him something and he’s there for you.” 

“Yeah, and I’m there for him.” Don insisted. 

Alan sighed “look, he’s not a cop. Now, come on, I mean, he’s better off with chalk in his hand than a gun.” 

“You know, you got to stop this; he is a grown man, and he’s capable of-” 

“Who still seeks the approval of his older brother” Alan cut Don off. “Whether his older brother likes it or not. And- and more than that Abby, Abby is just like him I had to bring her out here with me just to keep her from trying to help anymore on this sniper math of his.” 

“Abby’s fine alright” Don objected “she just needs to learn to leave that stuff alone” 

“Yeah, and who’s job is it to teach her?” Alan pointed out. 

Don sighed and was about to reply when his phone went off he pulled it out to answer, muttering an excuse me. Meanwhile Abby returned hesitantly but determined the argument was over as she saw her father on the phone. 

“Gotta go” the agent declared gathering his food and getting to his feet “another shooting” 

“Oh my god” Alan muttered. 

“Yeah, I promise I won’t call Charlie till we roll the tanks out.” Don stated stopping in the doorway. “And I want you two to stay here until I call you, okay?” Alan nodded in understanding “all right, thanks for the sandwich” 

With that Don was heading off into the bullpen. “I barely got to say two words to him” Abby muttered, sitting down with her food. 

“Well, I suppose when duty calls” Alan sighed, turning and watching his granddaughter eat. 

__________________

Abby POV.

I left off a loud sigh as Larry and my grandfather began their chess game. “Come on Abby, you like chess,” Alan said. 

“I like playing chess, not watching it,” I replied, turning the page of my book. 

“Well how about you play winner” Gramps suggested and I shrugged in reply. “And would you mind sitting like a normal person we are in public” I raised my hands in an annoyed gesture as I sat sideways in my chair, my legs dangling over the arms rest of one side. Alan gave me a stern look and I sighed shifting in my seat. “Thank you”

“Yeah, yeah” I sighed slouching in my chair and turning another page of my book. 

“Oh. The Ruy Lopez opening” Alan commented on Larry’s move. “I see I’m dealing with a classicist here.” 

“Look, I warned you I was a little rusty” Larry pointed out with a slight laugh to his voice. “My game is also a little undeveloped.” 

“You know I had to stop playing with Charlie when he was eight years old.” Alan explained. 

“Yeah, more precociousness in the biography of professor Charles Eppes.” Larry sighed “yeah you know, among mathematicians, isn’t that just such a cliche, the playing chess?” 

“I didn’t mind losing” Alan explained leaning forward in his seat “it was that bored expression on his face, like he was playing out of courtesy. That’s what got to me” 

“That’s why I keep my poker face up when I challenge you” I muttered, not looking up from my book. “It’s just common courtesy” 

“Oh is that so?” Alan asked and I could hear the amusement in his tone as I smirked. “Perhaps you should remember who your ride home is then” we both chuckled lightly amused. 

“Oh yeah? Well, try Scrabble” Larry suggested ignoring my and my grandfather’s banter. “He’s a horrible speller” 

“Really?” Alan inquired. 

“Oh, he’s horrible,” Larry insisted. 

“I didn’t know that” Gramps sighed leaning back in his chair again. “You know quite a bit about my son.” 

“I don’t know” Larry murmured “I know he’s been a delight. You know, observing him all these years. You know, a star pupil’s ascension to such extraordinary heights I mean, yeah, that’s perhaps the most rewarding aspect of being a teacher.” 

“Come one, we both know you’ve been a lot more than just a teacher to Charlie” Alan pointed out. 

I glanced up to see a small smile grace Larry’s features “well, thank you for saying that.” 

I caught sight of the board and scoffed turning back to my book as Alan spoke again moving one of his bishop “oh, by the way, uh you’re now in check” 

“Oh you distracted me” Larry exclaimed, sitting up as Alan chuckled to himself. 

“Smooth Larry” I murmured. 

___________

“Here I found a tarp” I called tossing the bundled fabric at my uncle. 

“I just didn’t think that I was in immediate danger until I was” Uncle Charlie continued to explain the story I had coaxed out of him when he came back minorly distressed from the scene where the serial sniper was stopped. 

“Well yeah no one expects to die when their life has never been threatened before. Unless they’re paranoid” I muttered. 

“You seem far more calm with this then I would think” Charlie muttered as I climbed down the step ladder and we went to go outside. 

“Well I have experience around guns” I mumbled as we stepped back into the yard and was grateful to see my father there to draw away Charlie’s attention. 

“You told him?” Charlie asked. 

“Yeah about the gun range” Don muttered with a pointed look “that you shot a rifle. He shot a rifle, did a great job” Don rambled slightly. 

“I fired the rifle,” Charlie parroted. 

“Yeah, see i’m perfectly fine” Alan pointed out, wiping his hands with a rag “I didn’t fall off the ladder, I didn’t collapse. I certainly hope you got that out of your system now.” he muttered the last line at his youngest. 

“Definitely” Charlie agreed. 

I scoffed slightly and struggled to suppress my laughter at knowing the full knowledge of what happened as Gramps went to talk to Don about the stain they were putting on the house. Uncle C gave me a slight shove at my poorly suppressed amusement and I bent to help him spread the tarps. 

Chapter 10 ->

[youremyonlyhope]

Spyfall Part 2

Yay part 2! I’m so ready. Give me more.

While on my lunch break at work today, I nearly opened tumblr on my phone. Then I realized it was after 2pm so the episode was currently airing in Britain. I could have been spoiled if I hadn’t stopped myself. 

I see the Doctor is still talking to herself. Old habits die hard. “Don’t panic.” Love Hitchhiker’s Guide. “RYAN.” HUH “RYAN SINCLAIR?” WHAT? This is reminding me of something... what am I being reminded of... BLINK MAYBE??? YES THIS IS JUST LIKE “SALLY SPARROW DUCK NOW.” THIS IS BLINK. IS THIS BLINK? BECAUSE THIS IS BLINK. ...Who in the world is this lady... “Obviously I’m a recording and can’t hear you.” THIS IS BLINK. Also this is throwing shade at Blink with the “Obviously” part...  It is his TARDIS!!!! IT’S A TARDIS. THE HOUSE IS A TARDIS. THE FANS WERE RIGHT. At first, I wasn’t sure if it was a TARDIS or just the Master making a joke by having the house fly by them. But nope, IT’S A TARDIS. I literally screamed “IT’S A TARDIS” out loud. “Magic Apparrating Man! Lady. Apparrating Lady! Every time...” That made my dad laugh. But I mean, 1100 years at least of being a man, not counting the 4 billion years in the confession dial. It takes getting used to. Marooned in the past. Chibnall, I really hate to say this, but this is becoming a little too similar to Blink. Just because of the being trapped in the past and leaving messages for the present thing. The lace bonnet had looked super.... weird in the other realm. In a cool way. A way that made me wonder what material it was made of and if she was really from the mid 1800s or if she was just an alien with clothing that imitated the style. Because the way the lace glowed was cool. Also. Why does Ada seem familiar to me? OH NO. Lol. “O no.” I didn’t even do that on purpose. That face she made as she realized the Master’s not in control was such a Doctor face. “Ada, I really do not approve.” Aww Doctor. Never change. I like the old lady taking a picture with an iPad. Yaz calling her mom is a very Martha move and I approve. The Silver Lady was in the Master’s TARDIS.... “From his master” oh ok. “Multiple time periods” OOoohhhhh. Not multiple Earth dimensions then. I was gonna say that I was thinking of Weeping Angels earlier in the day today... I’m not saying these are Weeping Angels... but getting the vibes from the time travel and pulling people in and out and stuff. Oh and I was right that they can transport people purposefully. Did I say that in the last post? I can’t remember. But when Yaz was transported last episode I was like “So they can transport people places?” and the answer is a definite yes, and also in time. Also. Ada Lovelace. I know that name... I know I know that name... “Deep breath” ok now I miss Twelve. Of course it’s WWII. This music reminds me of like... Star Wars... Something from the sequel trilogy sounds like this... or at least has this vibe... Also. I don’t know how I feel about an Indian man in a Nazi uniform. That just... they wouldn’t have let him do that, first of all. Second of all, can we not? These are all women so far that the Doctor is bumping into... And I feel like it’s meaningful... Why would he do that to his mom? Noor Khan, I feel like I DEFINITELY have heard of her. Important women in science? I’m guessing Ada was a mathematician I think, but I can’t really remember. “They promised us that a war on this scale would never happen again.” “This is not the first time?” Ugh. WWI and pre-WWI people finding out about WWII always hurts. IT’S THE DOCTOR DOING THE SOUND OF THE DRUMS. Just the sound of the drums gives me chills. Is this a Old Who thing? The mind reading? She said it was classic. “Not exactly the Aryan archetype.” THAT’S WHAT I WAS SAYING. OOoooooh a perception filter. So they think he’s white. Ok. Ok that’s better.

Also, I’m sorta glad they’re actually addressing race affecting time travel to different time periods. They didn’t do it with Martha enough/at all. They tried to do it with Bill, and I did appreciate the “History is a whitewash” and London being blacker than Bill thought it was, but because London was diverse it wasn’t really an issue (besides the racist the Doctor punched). But I’m glad this is an actual situation where being another race is genuinely DANGEROUS since that’s how it was.

“Look after my mum” So is she not dead? Or is he mocking them? They can’t have destroyed Gallifrey again. He’s lying It was probably the Master himself that killed everyone if he’s not lying. “How else would I get your attention?” Awwww. That’s almost sweet. It’s sweet by Master standards ok. Ok... letting Nazis attack the Master... for being a spy... while he’s a person of color... is pretty harsh... Of course the Nazis can’t do much damage... And the Master did willing side with them to find the Doctor... But still... Very harsh... I guess after everything the Master has done... Maybe he deserves to be on the receiving end of racism since he hates humans so much... But still. “Forget you heard that word.... Otherwise I’ve just disrupted the whole of history. Again.” Doctor. Babe. Control yourself. Ok so it was people who were important in the development of computers in general. Cool cool cool. I appreciate that Ada and Noor were the ones the Doctor specifically bumped into. “You kept clicking agree” Yeah... yeah... he got us there. “This is like the Matrix” - My Dad. OH wow the Master came the long way round. 77 years. I’d almost say poor dude. Conversion!?!? NO. NOT CYBERMAN! IF THERE’S CYBERMEN THEN IS THIS A 3-PARTER?! “Oh.” “That’s your name.” HA. HA, good one Doctor. “I forgot the plane!” No you didn’t, Doctor. Don’t worry. You can do it anytime, as long as you do it at some point. “Are we being replaced?” Oh Graham. But also, I want the next companions to be from the past. See in Blink we didn’t get to see the Doctor setting everything up like we’re seeing it now. So that’s cool. Imagine if we had seen Martha standing behind the camera annoyed, then running around to say “I gotta support him!” That could have been fun. I think I just want more Martha in Blink. “The Fascists. Do they win?” “Never” Yeah I really hope not, but time is repeating itself. I guess it will also repeat them not winning. That’s sweet that the Doctor still wants her to know that computers are a thing because of Ada. And I appreciate that the show didn’t try to be like “She helped make computers because of the Doctor.” because no, she made them because she was always going to. Oh wow we’re going back to Gallifrey?? We haven’t been in a while. Been wondering if we would.

I didn’t write anything for the last few minutes because I’m just like... HUH.

First of all, I knew the Master did it. Called it.

Second of all. I was like “Oh no. The Doctor just got Gallifrey back, do we HAVE to take it away again? To make her angsty?” Then we heard the Master’s reason for destroying it and I was like ok maybe there’s justification.

Third of all. The Time Lords have always sucked. We’ve known this forever.  The Doctor has said that the Time Lords went wrong at the end of the Time War and that they choose to remember them in a good way and forget the ugly side. So we know the Time Lords suck. That’s not a surprise. What is it that they did that was so bad, the MASTER of all people felt the need to put an end to it? The Master. As in the little boy who was driven crazy because the Time Lords chose to put the Sound of the Drums in his head and use him as a weapon. He didn’t destroy Gallifrey then, so what could be worse than that? Do I even want to know? They’ll tell us, but I don’t know if I want to hear it. We might be going very dark this season...

Fourth of all, yay! They’re asking the Doctor questions and she’s answering! Yay! And Yaz asking “Can we go to your planet?” was the second Martha thing she did.

And fifth, yay! We’re probably getting an overarching theme this season! And maybe the Master isn’t completely evil, since everyone’s so worried about Missy’s redemption! He’s just hurt by what he found, felt he had to destroy Gallifrey, and is still upset about it. When he said the Timeless Child I literally said out loud “OH. OH ok so we’re really doing this then.” because I felt like all the predictions of the Timeless Child being involved were probably right... but not like this.

EPIPHANY. What if he really was just doing all this to get the Doctor’s attention? He wants the Doctor share the burden of the truth, but doesn’t know any other way to get her to listen besides do horrible things. What if he didn’t kill, plot, and plan just for the hell of it and maybe rub Gallifrey in the Doctor’s face, but the ultimate goal was to get that message to the Doctor so the Doctor could find out about Gallifrey.

Honestly I’m concerned about what it is that the Time Lords lied about. What did the Master mean by “who we are as a species” like... I’m scared.

Also halfway through the episode my mom came in (she’s super behind, as in she hasn’t even watched Capaldi’s seasons yet) and she said “You have to stop screaming ‘IT’S A TARDIS IT’S A TARDIS’ of course it’s a TARDIS that’s what she drives.” So apparently my mom heard my freak out over the Master’s TARDIS. She heard me screaming last episode too when I was jumping at the Master reveal.

Anyway. Sorta Blink-esque in that Ryan, Yaz, and Graham being saved is an endless loop if causing itself because of previously planted messages from the Doctor. But also, we got a mini history lesson, which was the point of Doctor Who in the first place. Gallifrey’s gone and apparently Time Lords suck, but what else is new. And we got the Master finding out the effect that race has in certain (or all) time periods. Hopefully the Master’s back soon. We really were spoiled rotten by Season 10 when they gave us Missy in like half of the episodes. I need more Master. Give me more Master.

[everyday-effing-therapy]

12/07/19

Hello dears,

How are you today? I reckon that I should ask you those questions too. Of course, I am here to rant and vent, but I deinitely would like to hear your opinions, questions and even the smallest things, so, if you’d like to tell me (us?) how your day was, I invite you to the comments or ask section!

I woke up today at 7 a.m, with my parents, we ate breakfast together, then I felt like listening to music, but I ended up falling asleep. 

I had a dream. It started with my parents losing their jobs, which made me super scared about the future. Then, the scenery changed and I embodied Elodie from Trinkets. I had my body and looks, but I was in her situation, I was about to be taken to rehab and my friends tried to help me run away.

The friends who were helping me out were the people who were on the sleepover two days ago. Every single one of them was to be found on a different stage of my journey. The creator of the plan was Silver himself, but Black was there too. 

Anyways, I managed to get to the last stage, when I realised that I can’t go through a hole. Fortunately, Silver managed to shoot with some time-and-place changing guns and suddenly we were safe. I drove my friends back home in a frickin’ black Mercedes and invited them to my house.

When I woke up I felt so tired, as if I didn’t sleep at all. I had to go to the mall with my dad. We solved the headphones problem and bought sushi for lunch, which in turn made me really happy.

After lunch, I fell asleep again, woke up literally for dinner and left home to have a driving class. It’s somehow shocking how much I slept today, but then again, I feel like I’m constantly not resting. Either I have very tiring and realistic dreams (I’m always not that rested after them) or I’m overthinking. The situation described in the last post (11/07/19), although makes me happy, makes me also very stressed. You know, it’s completely different when you know that you don’t stand a chance with somebody and they break your heart and when you know you do, but they decide to break your heart either way. 

It fucks me up and I’m feeling really bad about it, but I’m constantly on the edge, wanting to be loved, wanting the things to move on, but simultaneously being afraid of holidays ending, of my life passing. I desperately want to be stagnant and am afraid of stagnancy more than anything. 

Save me.

I am listening to Ed Sheeran’s new album No.6 Collaborations Project. So far, I like it, but we’ll see how it goes. I am definitely in love with Ed Sheeran, absolutely loved his previous songs, so hopefully, I’ll like them too. 

If you have any tips on what I could watch, read, do, whatever, to leave that place in my head in which I am right now, I would be grateful as hell. I’m going shopping with my mom again tomorrow (retail therapy again?)

I am hoping to go to my friend’s place again (the same where we had a sleepover), because I felt serene there on the next morning. Maybe that’s what I need right now. 

I hadn’t shared that before I think, but I do have a hurting spot under my nose and it does not want to heal. I got a medicine today though, so I’m hoping that would help. 

So, all in all, that’s quite funny. Two years ago, around this time, I was crazy in love with a boy, whom we’re going to call Mathematician. Mathematician was my friend at the end of junior high and we went to the same high school, but he transferred. We don’t keep in touch anymore. Two years ago, though, we wrote to each other all the time, met up for 5-6 hours and walked the longest walks. I believe that on July, 14th we had one of the most amazing meetings that ended up with us going to the park, watching the sunset and me being so completely in love. We looked into each other’s eyes, hugged, he held my hand and I believed that something would happen. We were so close.

After that, I was sick with love for the next three days. Then he left on vacation, came back when we went back to school, met a girl from my class and boom, they started dating.

That’s why sometimes I have trouble believing in happy ends. 

Maybe, just maybe, the end effect is boring. The road there is the fun part.

I’d really like to date a person I care about, though. 

We’ll see how that goes.

Today’s light I’m sending to my friend, Su, who is my and V’s best friend. The three of us hang out together and I Iove them so much. Su has helped me a lot with love and believing and since she’s going on a trip tomorrow, I’d like to wish her all the best. I love you.

Love,

C

[there-willbeblood]

Chapter 19: Strategy for the Demise

Officer Derek Morgan sat back in his swivel chair and gripped his hair.

The Chicago Police Department's offices were closed, only the night maids were up at this hour. He had been going through his files for the past six hours, not moving, not eating, not sleeping.

The Rogers were providing more of a problem than he ever thought possible. It was so hard to even think about what they were up to because they always stayed two steps ahead of the police. It was impossible to catch these fuckers. Who the hell were they?

The thing about Officer Derek Morgan was that the more the Rogers outsmarted him, the more he was determined to catch them at their own game. He took his job seriously and didn't put up with bullshit, including the infamous Rogers.

Morgan would have given up by now if he was any lesser man. He never gave up on a challenge.

Derek sighed a heavy sigh and sat up in his seat, taking a huge gulp of coffee.

"This shouldn't be that hard." He groaned. "I'm better than them."

It wasn't the fact that the Rogers were innocent but Morgan didn't want to arrest Joseph for tax evasion, Steve for a speeding ticket or Thor on a morals charge. He was going for the big guns. Extortion, drugs, guns, illegal money laundering, murder; there was a list as long as the Chicago River but somehow nothing ever stuck.

Joseph was clean. He never left tracks and his sons followed in his pristine record.

Morgan thought back through his memory at what he was doing wrong. Why couldn't he catch them?

It was inconceivable that someone could be totally infallible. Even the Pope and some form of sin in him but if you looked at a Rogers' record, you would have never known that they were carrying any baggage. It was like they were clean without a smudge on them.

While Joseph was the leader and Thor was the muscle and James was the charmer, Steve was the second-in-command, the man in the most valuable position.

Who would take over when the father stepped down? Who would rise to become the boss? Who would everyone else answer to? Who would be the man in charge?

Steve.

That was who Morgan was after. Maybe it was because they were around the same age, maybe it was because they had similar goals of superiority, or maybe it was the simple fact that Steve had taunted him for years but Derek Morgan wasn't giving up until he had the second-in-command, in handcuffs.

An arrest of Steve Rogers would be an immediate career boost and on top of it all, Morgan would be able to put his nemesis away for life.

The only problem was that Steve had a brain on him that rivaled any mathematician or Rhodes Scholar out there. It was shameful at how easily he could elude the law and still be living to tell his sorted tale.

"Hey, Boss." Seth Cleary walked into the office with a bag full of amazing smelling sandwiches. "I got you the regular pastrami on rye." He sat down and propped his feet up on the desk.

"I can't eat right now." Morgan grunted. "I'm so pissed at myself."

"Why, what happened now?" Cleary took a huge bite out of his meatball sub.

"I've been going over this shit for the past two weeks and I don't even think I've made a dent in these files." He pounded his fists on the desk.

"Oh come on. You can't beat yourself up over this thing. The Rogers are untouchable."

Morgan glared at his deputy. "That's why no one's caught them yet. People think that they can get away with what they want..."

"I didn't mean anything by it but you've just gotta wait for them to fuck themselves over."

"That could take years." Morgan picked up a grainy black and white photo. "Do you see this guy?"

Cleary nodded around  a mouthful of food.

"That's Nicola Rossini, aka Rogers. He started this whole family and he's still sitting pretty in Sicily. Granted, he's over one hundred but still…"

"So what does he have to do with anything?"

"He was smart but his grandson is smarter. Joseph has created super machines for sons and I will catch them but I don't know how to pin them down."

"It's not like we haven't been trying. We've gone through all the files, we've been following them for weeks. What more do you want us to do?"

"I want you to catch the fuckers." In a rage, Morgan shoved some papers off of his desk. "No one is above the law!" He shouted.

"Whoa, D, man, calm down." Cleary said, concerned that this case was going to give his boss and friend an aneurysm.

"I know, I know." Morgan breathed in deeply. "I just can't stand Steve." He growled.

Cleary chuckled. "Steve is one cocky son of a bitch but he's crafty."

"Whose side are you on?" Morgan glowered.

"I'm on yours, Boss. Honest but you're going to kill yourself over this and they just aren't worth it. Let the Rogers come to an end on their own. We know half of the underworld is after them, especially Steve so it's not too much longer…"

"That's just the thing, half of the underworld has been after them for the past century. No one is ever going to take them down because they're too powerful."

"We just need an in. It shouldn't be this hard." Cleary sat back in his seat.

They thought silently for about ten minutes, not saying anything because nothing was really worth saying.

This was driving everyone in the Organized Crime division crazy. Morgan had halted all of his other inferior cases, allowing the majority of his time get filled with the Rogers. Cleary, although he was young, was clever and could help in tight situations. It wasn't that easy for a deputy to think on his toes but Cleary was good at what he did.

There was a knock at the door and a tired looking Embry Call was panting in the entrance.

"What the hell is wrong with you?" Morgan asked his other deputy.

"I…I …I just ran up the stairs…" He sat in the other chair, grabbing Cleary's bottle of water. "The elevators are out."

"If you were in shape, this wouldn't be a problem." Morgan shook his head.

"I have a six pack, that automatically makes me in shape." Call downed the water. "Anyway, I have news."

"News?" Cleary arched his eyebrow.

"Yeah and I couldn't find Rogers anywhere. Steve was like a ghost since yesterday and I found out from some guys I know over at the airport that Daddy Rogers charted his jet for a weeklong trip to Moscow."

"Really?" Morgan leaned back with his hands crossed behind his head.

"Yes, really. They left yesterday and won't be back for five days."

"Good, that gives us five days to work freely." Morgan got a new sense of excitement in him. "I assume he took all the boys?"

"Yeah."

"This is our chance to get in. We have to find a way to clip these fuckers at the knees." Morgan sat up, going over his files one more time.

"The family is so tight. They don't leave any loose holes." Cleary thought out loud after a couple of silent seconds, watching his boss go crazy at his desk.

Morgan shifted the papers a little too quickly and a sharp pain stabbed the middle finger of his right hand.

"Shit." He said and watched as a small pool of blood began to pour out of the paper cut. A few drops dripped onto the files on his desk.

"Let me have a napkin." He said to Cleary who handed one over.

Morgan began to cleanly wipe the few beads of blood off of the files.

He was blotting the outside of another black and white picture when he saw something strange. Morgan had looked through thousands of pictures and this particular one probably about fifty times alone.

This certain photo was strange because it was the only one where Steve was smiling. Out of the massive amount of photographs, only one was with a smiling Steve. What kind of sadistic fucker was this guy?

It was landscaped outside of one of the freshman dorms at Northwestern. Steve had been visiting there lately but no one thought anything of it since a few Rogers cousins attended the school.

On this particular occasion, Morgan's blood had dripped in exactly the right spot, illuminating a certain portion of the picture that was hidden in the shadow of a tree. Steve was laughing towards the silhouetted figure and it had previously been shrouded in darkness due to the late afternoon time that the photo was taken but a certain halo appeared over the newly uncovered form.

Morgan turned on the halogen desk lamp and held the photograph up so that the light shined through the portrait. There were students running around the quad, the trees were in full bloom and it was taken last week by a deputy who had been tailing Steve.

The spot of blood shined in the light from the lamp and a beautiful woman appeared to clarify in that very second.

Since the picture was taken in grayscale, distinctive characteristics such as eye or hair color couldn't be determined but at least Morgan could tell that she was striking, totally unlike the other sluts Steve usually conquered.

Morgan looked between Steve's smile and this new woman's beautiful face.

Who was she?

"Have you seen this?" He asked his deputies.

"What?" Call went behind the desk to get a better look.

"Who's this?" Morgan pointed to the blood stained profile of the woman.

"Uh…I don't know." Was Call's answer.

"You've been tailing the fucker for a month and you don't know?"

"Sorry but it's not like I keep my eyes on him all day."

"She's wearing a Northwestern shirt and outside of the freshman dorms, find out who she is." Morgan threw the picture at Cleary.

A new sense of anticipation flowed through the officer who had finally found an in.

What stumped Morgan the most was that he had looked at that picture dozens of times and he was still in the dark as to who that girl was. How had he not seen her before? He should have been more proactive about all of this. He should have known everyone in Steve's life. Who was this girl who made him smile?

It took Cleary an easy fifteen minutes of searching the Northwestern University registrar to find the girl. He basically just hit the next button on the computer three hundred and twenty one times until she appeared.

"Her name is Natalia Romanov." Cleary came barreling back into the office. "She's eighteen and from Forks, Washington, wherever the hell that is."

Morgan snatched the papers out of Cleary's hand, quickly reviewing the information that came complete with a school photograph. "Eighteen?"

"Yeah just turned legal a month ago. We could get him on statuary if he's fucking her." Cleary said hopefully.

"No. Too hard to prove, too much of a cop out. I want to hit him hard." Morgan dispelled that theory.

For fifteen minutes, no one said anything and Morgan read through everything that was to be known about Natalia Romanov.

A father who is a cop? Maybe that would be useful.

This was some shit that was only found in dramatic movies. What the hell had Rogers gotten himself into now?

Natalia Romanov was a freshman from some little town in Washington State and didn't have any kind of infraction against her so she was clean.

The more Morgan thought about her, the more he realized that he had seen this girl before, twice in fact. They were both times when he wasn't really paying attention but he wished he had now. Each time, Steve was with her.

Once, they were laid out on the grass in the very quad in the picture, reading. When the hell did Steve ever read with a girl?

The second occurrence that sprung into Morgan's mind was the time when he saw them eating ice cream and walking down State Street. Her hair was pulled up then so she could have been someone totally different but Morgan didn't think so. It had to be her.

So…Steve has a girlfriend?

Suddenly, things snapped in Morgan's head.

He looked between Cleary, who was currently picking his teeth, and this Natalia Romanov in the photograph. Plans were formulated in his head within a second.

Morgan had found his way in.

[oxrangejuice-blog]

sunday nov 24 12:05 am

2019 has been dragging on and I simply can not wait for this damned year to be over, if not this whole decade. Its very easy for me to remember this past year and everything it has given and taken from me but as 2020 inches closer I have spent a lot of time dwelling on everything this decade has left me with.  

Looking back on 2010 I wish as a ten year old I had the knowledge about my life that I do now. Yeah, I know everyone does, but I guess I could've just used a little more context on why everything was so um odd. The first half of my decade started with my dad being diagnosed as schizophrenic. At ten I definitely would not have understood or have been able to comprehend what that meant for him, looking back it explains a lot. I remember many times of hiding or making ways to protect ourselves but that was just my life on the weekends, I thought everyone was doing the same things with their dads. Although I have these memories most of them never came to me until my second half of this decade. It's almost like the more I learned about my dad the more memories would come flooding back to me.  

During my math class in middle school we watched “A Beautiful Mind”, a movie following a brilliant mathematician struggling with schizophrenia, and I noticed many similarities. No one ever sat down with me and really explained my dad's schizophrenia to me, I found out while watching this movie. I got back from school carried out my normal after school activities and eventually got into bed. I didn’t sleep though, I couldn’t, all I could do is lay there staring at the ceiling analyzing and comparing the movie to my dad. I laid there staring at the ceiling replaying so many strange experiences with my dad. I laid there staring at the ceiling piecing everything together.  

As a freshman in high school I worked at culvers and my mom would drive me to work. Every drive to work was the same, I rambled about drama at school while scrolling on my phone and she, well, drove. Except for one specific drive to work was especially not the same. It started the same as any other, I was on my phone scrolling and talking her ear off. I was wearing my seatbelt, but I was not prepared for a crash like this one, my dad's mug shot flew past my face. I felt like my whole world had collapsed. Actually, I guess a better way to say that is “I felt like my two worlds collided”. I did a very good job keeping my life with my dad very separate from the life my friends all knew about and now it was open to the public, my last name, his picture, all the crazy I kept hidden. Ill spare the details but this wasn’t just a DUI or a domestic violence case like the other shitty dads, this was all my dirty laundry hung up for the world to see. I made no contact for eighteen months. Two whole babies worth of time. I spent that time loathing my dad, looking back on every time he had us hidden in the house or left me in the car to sell drugs or erupt in anger. I was mad. I still am. My dad, the person who I was supposed to look up to was letting me experience too much of life.

But I'm trying to look back on this decade with light.  

I love my dad. Of course part of me will always hold grudges against him. Like the time me and my sister found baby rabbits in the yard, then we watched him drown them in Windex. Or the time he took me shopping for a Halloween costume only to come home and beat the shit out of his girlfriend’s brother. And maybe I hold one for the time he thought Mexicans were coming to kill us, so we had to spend the whole day inside carving sticks into sharp points. But honestly out of everything he has done think the most fucked up thing he could have done is potentially pass me down that gene. The one scary gene that could one day make itself visible to me and take complete control of my life.  

Okay I think I'm done for now. maybe I'll be back on here maybe I won't but I'll try to be. I guess it's probably good for me.