#there aren’t even that many Americans this joke isn’t universal

[lightning-and-sparks]

Ubisoft should sponsor a horse in the Kentucky Derby named “Just Prance”

[alicentsgf]

Things the americanised internet thinks is cute:

Dark Academia (photos of white kids in fancy uniforms at british private schools/redbrick universities)

Cottagecore (loads of photos of upper/middle class british gardens, houses, and villages)

British period dramas (literally just members of the gentry/nobility wafting around looking elegant)

Things the americanised internet thinks is funny and/or gross:

the british working class accent (notably the Multicultural London English dialect)

'chavs'

any british poverty food - baked beans on toast, cheap cut pies, chip butties, etc

pretty much any british regional accent (i know you cant understand louis from one direction pls just shut up about it. the upper class monopolises the media and arts so naturally you're more used to their accent)

when british people have bad teeth (dental care is not covered by the NHS and many working-class people cannot afford care out-of-pocket)

that the national dish is a curry. even though its a specific dish created (or at the very least heavily adapted) in the UK by the British Bangladeshi community? I lose my shit over this one. Like seriously the way you guys talk sometimes its like you think 'british' is synonomous with 'white'. You can't just erase entire communities to fit your narrative. I won't get too much into the racial aspects of all of these points but it's important to note jamaican, african, and south asian immigrants have brought a lot to british working class culture specifically. Like... you guys think its bad that they continued to enjoy their own cuisine and share it with the people around them once they got here? I swear some of you go so far with cultural appropriation you come right back around to 'everyone should go back where they came from'.

I understand most of you aren't surrounded by the cultural framework to understand how classist you sound talking about modern britain, but you are not immune to british propaganda just because you do not live here, in fact you're probably less immune as you (somewhat understandably) do not have the cultural knowledge to notice the red flags. But ignorance isn't a good enough reason to propogate classism thoughtlessly. I'm not saying you can't engage with elements of cottagecore or dark academia, but you definitely can't put repackaged aspects of middle and upper class british culture on a pedestal and then shit on all the aspects associated with the working class its so blatantly fucked up. Theres a good reason a lot of British people get so touchy about strangers on the internet mocking the rhotic british accents, americans just don't understand it because class-specific accent privilege doesn't exist within your cultural framework in the same way. You clearly all decided British people can't take a joke, but honestly it's just you're being a lot more offensive than you realise.

Do you not see how deeply wrong it is that so many of you seem to enjoy the superior feeling you get from trampling another culture? You guys will straight-up whitewash britain just so you don't feel guilty about it. You clearly think you're punching up but you're not, being british does not ensure affulence or 'whiteness' any more than being american does, and whenever any of you goes to say anything about Britain in a non-historical context all that comes out is pure classist ignorance as you leave middle/upper class britain absoloutely untouched. So educate yourselves, please. Working-class americans have more in common with working-class brits than they do anyone above them on the social ladder in the US.

[snowdice]

Finding the Time to Study Fic 2 [Day 133]

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

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

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

I am going to get so interrupted. I’m not sure if I should even start this lmao.

Chapter 49 (Dinner and a Movie)

Patton left in the morning and almost immediately sent a confirmation text to Logan saying that he’d made it to the correct time and place with no issue. From there it was just a waiting game for Patton and for those left in the apartment.

That was Virgil’s least favorite type of game.

Even with Patton checking in every so often, Virgil couldn’t help but be nervous. This was why he was a professor and not an employee of the TPI. So many things could go wrong with trips like these!

Virgil did his best to keep his anxiety on the down low. It was, after all, Logan and Roman’s lifelong friend who was running around some other century at the location of a time distortion. They were both obviously nervous since Patton’s last trip had ended in disaster.

…

This trip was going to end in disaster a little bit too, Virgil knew, but for his sanity, he was going to ignore that fact.

The point was, Roman was constantly going to the gym which was reportedly not normal behavior, and Logan spent his days re-checking calculations that were far too late to correct even if Patton hadn’t already confirmed they were perfect by arriving when he should have.

Yet, despite being an anxious wreck, Logan eventually forced himself to put his lined notebook paper away. Roman was out once again when he finally shoved it in a drawer to get it away from himself.

Virgil looked up from doom scrolling on his phone.

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

Virgil glanced at the pile of take-out containers stacked near the kitchen trashcan. They hadn’t left the apartment in days. “Sure,” he agreed.

They got changed and exited the apartment with no plans in mind. Logan asked him if he wanted anything in particular but Virgil didn’t know many places in this time, so he decided to trust Logan to pick something.

He should not have trusted him.

He glared at Logan from where they stood awkwardly in the middle of a mall. Logan appeared to only be entertained by his ire.

“Really?” Virgil asked.

“I wanted to see for myself if you were really that bad with chopsticks,” he said with a grin.

“I’m not,” Virgil said, crossing his arms. “The anxiety had gotten to me. I resent this experiment.”

Logan just laughed, knowing well enough that Virgil wasn’t actually irritated. In fact, Virgil couldn’t help but feel a fond squeeze in his chest. It was almost an inside joke, just between the two of them.

“It is actually decent sushi,” Logan said.

“Ah yes, 21st century American Midwest sushi,” Virgil drawled. “I’m simply quivering with anticipation for the authenticity we are about to enjoy.”

“It’s unanimously considered the best sushi in town by my friend group,” Logan said as if the fact that Mr. Asiago-Cheese-Bread-For-French-Toast and Mr.-Went-Along-With-Cooking-Asiago-Cheese-Bread-French-Toast’s endorsement would inspire any confidence in Virgil. Patton may have Japanese blood, but he’d grown up in the Appalachians. Don’t even get Virgil started on Roman.

“It’s in. A. Mall.”

“So?” Logan asked.

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

“There’s seating,” Logan argued, nodding at the five chairs sitting in front of the counter.

The seating was completely empty, which could be because their eating schedule was off and they were trying to eat dinner at 3pm, but more likely had to do with everyone else having more sense than the man standing in front of Virgil.

“Where’s your sense of adventure?” Logan asked. “Are you not an anthropologist? Do you not wish to experience the culture of the time first-hand.”

Virgil glared at him.

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

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

“Noted,” Logan replied with a nod. Then, Virgil reluctantly allowed himself to be led over to the sushi stand.

The man behind the sushi stand greeted them jovially as they approached. He obviously knew Logan and even asked about Patton and Roman as they took a seat.

Virgil did have to admit, despite his instinctual misgivings about mall sushi, what he could glimpse of the man’s set up seemed legit. It looked like a real sushi bar if a bit on the small size.

They’d sat down in front of a glass case filled with chilled fish, and Virgil could see a large rice cooker behind the man and a normal refrigerator for non-fish ingredients.

Laminated menus were handed to them. It was only one page and didn’t even have a back, but honestly that was probably a good thing. If this place served a bunch of complicated or fancy dishes, Virgil would have been worried.

…

Well, he was still worried (it was mall sushi), but he wasn’t running screaming. The place looked like it wouldn’t give him food poisoning at the very least.

Logan suggested they get a “rainbow” and “snake” roll to split as well as a few different types of nigiri and Virgil didn’t argue.

The chef was kind, and he assembled all of the sushi fully in Virgil’s view which made him a lot less leery about the meal. The man seemed to know what he was doing. The fish wouldn’t be as fresh as it would have been in a coastal area, but it was clearly properly handled. When he finished making their order, he handed it to them all on one big plate.

They ate and talked with each other and the chef. Virgil was ribbed gently about his chopstick anxiety and the chef apparently decided to be on Virgil’s side of the conflict because as soon as he heard Logan talking about it, he pipped in with a story about Logan mistaking wasabi for avocado once.

By the end of their dinner, Virgil had to admit, when correcting for ingredient availability, it was pretty good sushi. He would not say it was the best sushi he’d ever had, but it was worlds better than what he’d expected.

Logan could obviously tell what his opinion was as they thanked the chef and paid, because he looked overly smug about it.

“Yeah, yeah,” Virgil said as they left the mall. “You’re good at picking restaurants.”

“I’m sure you are also when you’re in a more familiar location,” Logan said, still smiling smugly.

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

“Well, I’m usually the opposite,” Logan said. “So, I guess we balance each other out in that regard.”

“Yeah,” Virgil said with a grin. He shoved his hands into his hoodie pocket. “Uh, what are we going to do when we get back to the apartment?” he asked. “Because sitting there drowning in anxiety like we’ve been for the last few days isn’t the best for my mental health.”

“I’m not sure,” Logan said. “Did you have anything in mind that you wanted to do?”

“Hmm,” Virgil said. “You guys still have Blockbuster?”

“No,” Logan said, “but we do still have a Family Video store nearby.”

“Is it close enough to walk there?” Virgil asked.

“It is,” Logan said, “though if you wish to watch a movie, we could use a streaming service or my… library of movies.” Virgil doubted the legality of that ‘library’ both with the current authorities and the TPI.

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

“The charm of going to a business already made obsolete and on the brink of collapse?” Logan asked.

“Exactly,” said Virgil with a smile.

“Very well,” Logan said, turning to head in a slightly different direction. “If that’s what you want, we can go there.”

They were in a building that would look abandoned if there wasn’t a light on inside within 15 minutes.

The video rental store had clearly seen better days. Its carpet pattern was clearly from another decade and had been trampled over so often they might as well be walking on the linoleum underneath. A sign asked patrons to close the door behind them when entering as the spring that was supposed to make it close on its own had long since worn down to nothing. Virgil doubted anyone planned to replace it.

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

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

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

“Virgil, I grew up in the 90s. This is nowhere near exciting for me. There is a reason streaming sites have taken over the market,” Logan replied. “Also, it is Tuesday.”

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

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

“You do today,” Virgil interrupted.

“But…”

“Choose a letter, Logan.”

“…S?”

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

~~~

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

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

“Yeah, but on one hand there’s weird sex jokes and actors that might as well be from mars for all they know about human behavior… then on the other there’s actual on-screen physical abuse between the leads in a romance.

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

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

Logan complied, reaching over to eject the DVD from his computer. The three roommates didn’t have an actual DVD player connected to their TV, so he and Virgil had chosen to use the desktop computer in the bedroom Virgil had been using during his stay.

Virgil was currently laying on Logan’s bed with Logan sat propped up against the headboard. Logan leaned over to hover over him, interrupting his staring contest with the ceiling.

“Thank you for helping distract me,” he said. “Despite the fact that we now know more about what we’re doing, I still worry about sending Patton through time. His last trip did not improve my confidence. I have been… rather nervous.”

“Well, I’m glad I could help,” Virgil said. “At least a little.”

“You helped a lot,” Logan replied. His hand reached down to pat Virgil’s shoulder, but then lingered there for a moment too long.

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

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

Virgil glanced at their now entwined hands. “I, uh, I’m an anthropologist.”

“I am aware,” Logan said.

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

“I’m a time traveler, Virgil,” he said, sounding amused. “I doubt I’m a pure specimen for any studies you may wish to run.”

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

Virgil paused and Logan waited for a long moment.

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

“It was a bad one,” Logan said.

“It really, really was,” Virgil agreed with a laugh, and then Logan was leaning forward towards him, and Virgil was putting his hand on his shoulder.

The door flung open. “I’m home!” Roman declared as Virgil scrambled back, hitting his head on the headboard in his haste to put distance between himself and Logan.

“Fuck,” Virgil hissed, the sharp pain almost distracting him from his mortification. Almost.

“Roman! You need to knock!” Logan yelled.

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

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

“You were both in here. It’s not like one of you was going to be naked,” Roman said flippantly.

Virgil debated the merits of staying curled up in a ball for the rest of his life.

There was a second of silence, and Virgil was glad he couldn’t see the expressions on the other two’s faces from his ball when Roman said, “Oh my god!”

 Chapter 50

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

           “…Look,” Roman said.

           “We aren’t talking about it.”

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

           “We weren’t having sex,” Logan hissed. Roman opened his mouth. “Shut up and learn the ‘common courtesy’ of knocking.” He pointed his spoon at his roommate threateningly.

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

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

           “I’ve got it,” Roman said, jumping into motion and sprinting towards the bathroom. Logan meanwhile, stood and headed towards the living room.

           “Why are you wet?” Logan asked immediately upon taking in the sight of his roommate. His very, very soaked roommate. He was dripping water like he’d just crawled out of a pond.

           “There was an ocean in the church,” Patton replied, seeming unconcerned by the fact that he was getting their carpet wet.

           “What?” Logan asked.

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

           “Were there issues with the tech?” Logan asked, taking both devices.

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

           “You what?!” Logan asked, snatching away the timepiece and clutching it to his chest. “Patton, I just made this for you!”

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

           “It was a completely new design!”

           “And it’s really good. We didn’t blow up!” Patton said with a smile.

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

           “Thanks Lo!”

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

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

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

           Patton nodded. “I’ll have to thank Virgil for suggesting the inflatable raft,” he said. “Though I think he might have cheated on that suggestion.” He paused then as he finished running the towel through his hair. “I saw Remus,” he said.

           Roman froze instantly. “You did?”

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

           “Yeah, no, of course,” Roman said. “That makes sense. That’s fine. How was he?”

           “He seemed good,” Patton said. He flashed Roman a smile. “Happy. Not exactly what I expected though. He’s quite the character. I can tell he and Janus are good friends.”

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

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

 Chapter 51

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Where?” Roman asked.

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

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

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

Patton gave him a look.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“No escaping them then,” Logan sighed.

 “Mmm,” was Virgil’s response.

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

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

“Yeah,” Virgil agreed softly.

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

 “Uh, okay,” Virgil agreed.

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

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

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

“So, then, what is it?” Virgil asked.

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

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

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

 “An invisible ring?” Virgil asked, curious.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Thank you,” Virgil said again.

“Of course,” Logan replied.

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

  Arc IV: (To Be Named)

Chapter 52

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Just doing some puzzle games,” Janus said.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Hey, I had a good burger seasoning.”

“Not for every meal, Janus.”

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

“Vegetables, Janus.”

“You could have put pickles on!”

“I don’t like pickles.”

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

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

 “Well, I mean,” Janus said. “Badly.”

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

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

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

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

“Maybe I want to help,” said Emile.

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

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

 “Mmm, I do,” Janus replied.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Janus snorted.

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

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

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

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

…

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

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

He should probably go see the head doctor again soon.

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

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

“I am,” Emile confirmed without remorse.

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

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

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

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

There was a long silence.

“Agree, you prick,” said Janus.

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

 Chapter 53

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

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

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

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

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

…

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

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

“No,” Janus replied.

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

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

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

 “What are you doing?” Janus asked.

“Cooking!” was the immediate reply.

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

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

Janus sputtered. “This is my house!”

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

“Again, what are you doing?”

 “I’m making you soup.”

“Why?” Janus asked.

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

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

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

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

“Liar!” Patton declared.

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

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

“This is Pat,” Janus said.

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

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

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

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

“Well,” Emile said. “Hello Pat.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

 “And you’ve met me before?”

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

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

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

“What are you doing?” Janus asked alarmed.

Patton just shrugged with a smile.

“No, Patton, what are you doing?”

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

“Patton.”

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

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

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

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

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

“What?” Janus asked.

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

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

 Chapter 54

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“…Huh,” Emile finally said.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“A dream?” Janus asked.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

 “Like…?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“It has?” Janus asked.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Pity?”

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

 “I promise,” Janus said immediately.

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

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

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

Janus nodded.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I really don’t know.”

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

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

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

 Chapter 55

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Welcome back!” Remus crowed.

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

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

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

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

Janus grimaced. “Ugh, that decade.”

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

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

“No promises,” Remus replied.

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

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

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

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

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

“That’s concerning…” Janus said.

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

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

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

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

Remus just wiggled his eyebrows.

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

 Chapter 56

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

“Are you sleeping?” asked Janus.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Janus shook his head.

“Can I have a name for that?”

“Jay,” Janus replied.

“Alright. It’ll be out in a minute.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What flavor of chips?” the worker asked.

“Er, what flavors do you have?”

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

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

“We might have grass.”

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

“…Maybe just no on the chips.”

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

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

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

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

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

 “How would you know?” asked Janus.

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

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

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

“Research?” Janus asked.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

 “Why?” Patton asked suspiciously.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Janus sighed.

 Chapter 57

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“So, what is it usually?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Go ahead,” she said with a shrug.

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

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

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

“How much?” Janus asked.

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

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

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

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

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

Janus nodded and checked his time piece which had finished it’s scan. “The fabric is from the late 43rd century,” he confirmed, “but that’s not all. It’s stranger than that.”

“Stranger how?” Patton asked.

“The materials are definitely from the 43rd century,” Janus said, “but it’s not from the 43rd century.”

“What do you mean?”

 “This,” Janus said, looking at the cow. “This doesn’t exist. Every object has traces of where it’s been no matter how much you clean it. My timepiece can register debris sticking to an object down to the microscopic level and give a general idea where and when they came from. There’s no time travel residue implying it came from the 43rd century or even just dust or dirt from that time period. There isn’t even anything on it from this time period from more than the week the shop owner said it was in her possession. My scans seem to be saying, this thing popped into existence a week ago and didn’t exist in any time or place before that.

Patton frowned. “Well then, what does that mean?”

“I don’t know,” answered Janus frowning down at it. “I have absolutely no idea.”

 Chapter 58

Janus didn’t know what to make of the cow he’d gotten in 2510. He’d said goodbye to the young version of Patton and grabbed Remus before heading back to the TPI. He’d immediately handed the time anomaly over to the labs, but even after a few weeks, he hadn’t heard anything back yet. The labs seemed just as stumped as he was.

The older version of Patton still drifted in and out of his life, usually unseen, like a ghost in the night. Well, a ghost that cooked him plenty of healthy food.

It felt odd slipping back into his old routine of missions.

 Sometimes it felt like no time had passed, but then he’d see the faces of new recruits or get a mission where he didn’t see Rhi and remember that things were different now. The TPI was strained, constantly running after time distortions with no idea what or who was causing them. The new recruits were stumbling to catch up to the agents who knew what they were doing but were still needed to fill the gaps. It made Janus grimace, but he didn’t know what the solution was.

It was nice to be able to talk to Emile about these things.

 If Patton made sure he was taking care of himself at home with nice meals and an ever-changing option of soaps and shampoos, Emile made sure he was taking care of himself at work. Janus was now forced to have a water bottle at his desk to make sure he wasn’t spending the day dehydrated and, assuming he was not on a mission, Emile would either drag him away to eat lunch or bring lunch too him if he was too busy. Today was the later kind of day. Emile had messaged him about 45 minutes ago asking if he was free and then had taken his order for a local restaurant when Janus said he had too much to do.

 There was a knock on the door and both Fred and Janus, the only two occupants of the office at the moment looked up.

“I’ll get it,” Janus said, getting up before Fred did. He knew Fred was currently in the middle of a report on a trip to 2000B.C. he and Lena went to. They’d let a new recruit tag alone for training purposes. It had gone badly to say the least. Fred looked exhausted and stressed which was unlike the usually cheery man.

Janus shuffled to the door and opened it. A man in his early 30s that Janus didn’t recognize was standing there.

 “Hi,” he said. “I, uh, moved into the office next door. My name is Dave.”

There was a moment of silence. “Did you need something Dave.”

“Right,” he said. “Yeah, I was just wondering if your integrator is running, because mine isn’t.”

Janus glanced back at the report he’d been working on. “Yeah, it’s fine.”

“Well, is it, like, connecting to the TPI system?”

“I don’t know,” said Janus, “I was working locally.”

“Yeah, well that’s the problem with mine. I was wondering if anyone else was having the same problem.”

“Let me check,” said Janus, walking over to his desk. He went to open his email and an error message popped up.

 That was… odd to say the least. The TPI had very, very reliable technology. If it was just Janus who could not access the system, he’d assume it was just a local problem, but if the next door neighbor also was having an issue, that could smell trouble.

“Fred,” Janus called. “Are you connected to the internet?”

Fred glanced down at his integrator and clicked a couple of buttons. “No,” he said.

“Hmm,” Janus said. He pulled up his timepiece. That at least connected to the TPI servers, so the servers themselves weren’t down, just the offices’ connection to them. “Well, I can still connect with my timepiece.”

 “Same,” said Fred.

“So, what’s wrong?” Dave asked. “How do we fix it?”

“We don’t fix it,” Janus said. “We submit a tech support request.”

“Oh,” said Dave. “…How do you do that?”

Janus sighed and flicked his wrist to project a screen. “If you go to the web on your timepiece, it’s literally on the page that automatically pops up,” he said pointing.

“We can connect to the internet through our timepieces?” Dave asked.

“…Did you have any training?” Janus asked.

“Don’t be rude,” Fred said absently, still typing on his report.

Janus just rolled his eyes.

“Not on… that part. They did give me a handbook.”

 “Have you read it?” Janus asked.

Dave shrugged which told Janus everything he needed to know.

“Just go back to your office,” Janus told Dave. “I’ll submit the tech support request this time since it’s affecting me as well but read your handbook and familiarize yourself with your timepiece for goodness’s sake.”

“Okay,” Dave said, turning around and wandering back to his office with no thoughts in his eyes.

“I’m not your fucking preschool teacher,” Janus muttered under his breath as he returned to his desk. “It’s not my job to hold your hand and wipe your ass.”

Fred glanced up at him. “Thanks for not saying that when he was still in the room,” he said.

Janus shot him a thumbs up.

 He sat down at his desk and quickly submitted a tech support request. By the time he finished that, Emile was knocking on the door with a bag of food.

“Come in,” Janus said to him, and he did, pulling over Remus’s chair and plopping down the food on Janus’s desk.

“You look stressed,” Emile commented.

Janus sighed, already reaching into the bag to look at what Emile had bought. “Everything’s disorganized, everything’s broken, and no one knows how to do anything.”

“Yeah,” Emile said. “I’ve noticed the TPI is understaffed. Even with all of the new recruits, there never seems to be enough people to go around.”

 “Yeah,” Janus said, pulling out a burger on a pretzel bun and going to unwrap it. “How about you? This all been messing up your job too?”

“In general, for the AMO, yes, because they have to get all of the new agents houses and everything. For my department, not as much, but we are seeing some agents getting stressed because they’re overworked. Mostly the more senior agents.”

“Honestly, I’m lucky stress makes me throw myself into work to avoid thinking about it. I shudder to think how all of the mentally healthy people are holding up.”

“Janus,” Emile scolded.

 “Plus, I’m already set up to have an appointment with a head doctor at least twice a week, so I’m good on that front.”

“I guess that’s true. Just don’t overwork yourself,” Emile said.

“I’m fine Emile. Plus, they need me. I seem to be one of the few people around here who actually know what they’re doing.”

“I just worry…” he said.

“I can handle it well enough,” Janus promised. “I’ve got the toolkit or whatever the head doctor calls it. Plus… work wasn’t ever actually the problem.”

“I know. I know…Just…you aren’t even taking lunch.”

“I have a bit more time free in the afternoon,” Janus said.

 “I was just in the middle of something today. If you’re free for a half hour or something, we could get a cup of coffee. How about that? Would that assuage your worry about me a least a bit?”

“Yeah,” Emile said. “Yeah, it would a bit. I have a break at 2, would that work?”

“Sure,” Janus said. He technically had a good amount of stuff to do, but Emile was right in the end. He should try to take breaks. It wasn’t his duty to do everything at the TPI. “A quick lunch now and coffee at 2.”

 Chapter 59

Janus did fulfil his promise to Emile to take a short coffee break at 2pm. It was nice for both of them, Janus thought and was well worth it… even when he came back to a stack of work and an extra mission on his docket.

“Where did this one even coming from?!” Janus asked as he and Remus speed walked to costuming. “I was gone for less than 30 minutes. They can’t give us more than an hour warning anymore?”

Remus shrugged. “I just got back from a mission,” he said. “I haven’t even had time to write my report on that one.

 “This is a mess,” Janus said. “Everything’s a mess.” Readings of a fairly large time distortion had popped up in 2158 Lille, France out of seemingly nowhere according to write up they’d been given. Though, honestly, with how disorganized the TPI has been, Janus wasn’t 100% confident they hadn’t just missed the thing somehow. It also was apparently giving very similar readings to the time device they’d ran into in Cuba. That’s why they were sending both Remus and Janus, despite the two of them mostly having been split up for missions in the past few weeks. If it was as bad as Cuba, they wanted them to have backup.

 Of course, that was where the TPI’s consideration had ended. Remus and Janus were still being rushed through to this mission and not even seeing Rhi once more. Costuming barely even glanced at them when they got there. They just tossed clothing at them and only gave them a superficial look over before sending them off to decon.

It was almost disorienting how quickly they ended up in a completely different time and place. Janus was lucky that he was used to traveling through time. He could easily slip into the right language and accent and knew how to walk in the shoes they gave him. He worried about other people though.

 They arrived, of course, a bit before the time distortion was meant to begin, especially knowing their devices might not work once whatever it was hit. They waited around on a bench near a small shopping area for a while.

“So,” Remus said. “How’ve you been?”

Janus glanced at him. “Better overall,” he said. “Shit’s fucked with the TPI right now though.”

“I know,” Remus said. “It’s been interfering with my many extracurricular activities.”

“You’re extracurricular activities?” Janus asked. “Do I even want to know?”

Remus show him a smile. “Probably not,” he said. “It’s just the usual: sex, drugs, alcohol, making sure Diesel Fuel has whatever she could ever want.”

 Yet, even as he said it, there was something else in his eyes that gave Janus pause. “Are you sure things are alright?” he asked. “I could help with something if you need.”

“With what time, Janus?” he asked, with a raised eyebrow.

“I could make time,” Janus said.

Remus just shook his head. “It’s nothing,” he claimed.

Janus wanted to press the issue, but then there was a buzz from both of their time pieces.

“Well,” Remus said, getting to his feet. “Duty calls.”

Strangely enough, despite giving off the same signals as the device from Cuba did, their time pieces did not shut off. The detected the time distortion like they were supposed to, but otherwise stayed active.

 It was… incredibly easy to use their time pieces to find the source of the time distortion. Apparently, the caution about it considering that it was similar to the Cuba incident was unfounded.

The tracked the distortion down to a small children’s playground in the middle of the city. There was a device attached to the bottom of one of the slides. Janus flipped it off and balance was restored to time.

“Weird,” Janus said. “It definitely does look like the device we found in Cuba, but…”

“We aren’t currently swimming in an ocean,” Remus filled in.

“Yes,” Janus said. “You’d think the same type of device would have the same effect, but this one was pretty stable.”

 “The main question is still who is putting them,” reminded Remus. “These are clearly not natural. Someone is doing this, but all we’re doing is running around trying to turn them all off instead of getting to the root of the problem.” The last bit was a frustrated mumble.

“You’re right,” Janus had to agree, “but so far these things have been practically untraceable. We can’t even figure out when they’re from. The most we can do is see when they’re active.”

“This doesn’t make any sense,” Remus said.

“No it-” Yet, before Janus could finish, he was cut off by a shout.

 “Janus,” Patton’s voice called from the opposite side of the playground. “Hi!”

“Uh…” Janus said as he approached. “Hi.” He probably shouldn’t be too shocked to see Patton hanging around time distortions. He’d shown up at many of them before, but something about him showing up after the time distortion was already fixed threw Janus off. “We already dealt with time distortion…”

“Oh, good!” Patton said. “That’s good.”

“Yea-”

“So, I was actually wondering something.”

“Er, alright,” Janus said. There was a pause. “What?”

“Oh,” Patton said. “Um. You. Well, you once mentioned that you liked ballet.”

He hadn’t actually that he could remember, but he wouldn’t be surprised if a future version of him had. “Yes,” he said. “That’s true.”

 “Yeah,” Patton said. “Cool, so I have a… nephew who’s been getting into ballet. And I’m trying to learn more about it. I was wondering if you had any suggestions for things to see about ballet to help me, er, get a better idea about how… it… is. You know?”

Before Janus could think of a response, Remus spoke up. “You were a much better flirt in Cuba,” he remarked idly. Janus elbowed him harshly in the side.

“Hey, Remus, honey,” Patton said, glancing at him with a sweet smile. “I saw an interesting looking coffee shop down the road.” He started digging in his pocket. “If I give you money, would you mind getting us all something to drink.” He pulled a few bills out of his pocket.

“Yeah… okay,” Remus said with a smirk. “I see how it is.”

Patton just smiled at him and handed over the money.

“Have fun you two,” Remus said, turning on his heels and striding off.

 Janus glanced back at Patton once he was gone. “So, a nephew?” Janus asked.

Patton nodded. “Yep!”

“What exactly did you want to know?”

“Erm… I dunno,” Patton said. “I don’t know enough about ballet to know what to ask about ballet.”

“Well do you want to know more about the watching side or the dancing side.”

Patton bit his lip. “Well, I guess I’d like to know more about the watching side first,” he said. “Then maybe learn some basics about the dancing stuff if my nephew wants to dance.”

“Well, I actually do know more about watching ballet than participating, so that’s good.”

 Patton ended up pulling him over to sit on the swings even though there was a perfectly good bench at the edge of the playground. Janus talked a bit about ballet in general and then gave him a list of particular shows he liked. He did try to stick to the 21st century and before under the assumption that this nephew was from the same time as Patton. There was still plenty of things to talk about even with those restraints.

Patton seemed interested as he talked, pressing his face against the chain of the swing to look at him as he talked with a smile.

 They spoke about ballet for about 20 minutes before Remus eventually returned from the coffee shop.

“Thanks Remus,” Patton said, taking the cup he’d offered to him.

“No problem,” Remus replied, flashing a smile.

“Well,” Patton said, “thank you for the info Janus, but I really need to be going now.”

“Oh,” Janus said. “Okay.”

“See you soon!” he said, typing something into his timepiece and immediately disappearing without even checking his surroundings. He was lucky the playground was strangely empty today. He left his drink on the ground without taking a sip.

“Well,” Janus sighed once he was gone. “We should probably be getting back to the TPI anyway,” he said, taking a sip of the drink Remus had gotten him.

 “A London Fog?” Janus asked.

“It was the special,” Remus said, taking a sip of his own drink.

Janus shrugged. “We’ll finish these and head back,” he said. “The mission was shorter than expected anyway. They can deal with us being gone a couple of extra minutes.”

“Mhmm.”

Janus took another sip. “About the conversation from early,” he said.

“Uh, could we maybe talk about it later?”

“Remus, you’re my friend and clearly something is bugging you.”

“It’s nothing,” Remus said. “Really.”

“It’s clearly not ‘nothing,’ Remus.”

“I… well,” Remus said. “Maybe not, but let’s not talk about it right now. We’re on a mission.”

Janus snorted. “Remus, I’ve seen you drink on the job.”

“…Right,” Remus said. “But still. Things are busy. We should probably actually head back now.”

Janus sighed. “You’re probably right,” he agreed, “but really, we should talk sometime.”

“Sometimes,” Remus agreed, “just… not now.”

“Fine,” Janus said. “Ready?” Remus nodded and Janus pulled up his timepiece and pushing the correct button to get them back to decon. Remus copied him and they both were off.

 Chapter 60

Remus pretty much bolted out of decon to get away from Janus when he tried to talk to him again or at least ask if he could come by and talk to him after work. Janus felt a pit of worry start to grow in his gut. There was something wrong, but Janus didn’t know what. In fact, thinking back, maybe there had been something wrong for a while, but Janus had been too caught up in his own shit of a brain to properly address it.

He walked back to his office still thinking about it. Maybe he’d get Emile’s opinion on what to do.

 The lights flickered as he entered the hallway his office was in, and he paused. That was strange. Very strange.

He frowned, planning to message someone right away about whatever the fuck that was. It was one thing to be a chaotic mess of a time travel agency; it was another to literally not be able to keep the lights on. What was going on in this place?

He stepped into his office shaking his head. To his surprise, someone was already sitting at his desk.

“Virgil?” Janus asked, confused. “What are you doing here?” It wasn’t completely unheard of for someone in cultural outreach to come physically to the TPI, but usually agents went to them. It was more convenient to them and a bit more secure for the TPI.

 “Oh,” Virgil said in a tone that made Janus narrow his eyes and expect the dish washer not to be loaded. “Hey Janus. What are you doing here?”

“In my office?” Janus asked, glancing at Fred who had obviously let him in. Fred shrugged. Glad to know they had great security here.

“Right, yeah,” Virgil said. “It would be your office, huh?”

“…Yes?”

Virgil paused for a split second and took a breath to regroup. “I was actually looking for your partner.”

“Remus?” Janus asked. “Why?” Then he paused. “What on Earth did he do?”

“Nothing,” Virgil said. “Well, I mean… probably something knowing him, but that’s not why I’m here.”

“Probably,” Janus agreed. “I don’t know where he is right now though. He ran off when we got back from our last mission.”

“And you have no idea where he could have gone?”

“I actually would like to talk to him too,” Janus said. “So, if I did, I wouldn’t be here.”

“Chances he’ll come back to the office?” Virgil asked, hopefully.

“Very low since he’s avoiding me.”

“Great,” Virgil said, rubbing his temples. “That’s great. Why does this have to be physically difficult as well?”

“What exactly do you need with Remus?” Janus asked, noting the way Virgil was holding himself very tensely.

 “I just need to talk to him,” Virgil said.

“Yes,” Janus said. “About…?”

Virgil didn’t say anything. He just looked off to the side.

“Why is everyone acting weird today?” Janus said, almost to himself.

“I’m not!” said Fred from his corner.

Janus shot him an unamused look. “Thank you for your contribution to this conversation, Fred.”

“Look,” Virgil said, “can you just tell him I need to talk to him about something private the next time you see him?”

“What on Earth do you need to talk privately to Remus about?” Janus said.

“Just leave it, Janus,” Virgil said.

 He had his lips downturned in stern way that meant he was trying to hide something from Janus by feigning annoyance. Janus titled his head. “You two aren’t…”

“No! Ew!” Virgil said, looking disgusted. “He’s somehow the worst of two options which is saying something considering the French Toast.”

“What?”

“Nothing,” said Virgil. “Just, can I leave a note for him, or something?”

Janus paused, looking at him. Virgil squirmed under his gaze but didn’t seem like he was going to give in anytime soon. “Fine,” Janus finally relented. “You can leave a note on his desk. I’m not sure why you didn’t just email him.”

 “It’s an in-person type of conversation,” Virgil said, wringing his hands.

“Whatever you say,” Janus said, walking over to Remus’s desk and clicking the memo button that brought up a screen people who weren’t Remus could write on. “There you go,” he said.

“Thanks,” Virgil said with a relieved grin, clearly happy he was no longer being interrogated. He grabbed the stylus tied to the side of Remus’s desk. (If Janus hadn’t tied it there, it would be in Mesopotamia by now, he was sure.)

Janus turned to go back to his own desk.

“Wait,” said Virgil. “It isn’t working.”

 “What do you mean?” Janus asked. “It’s a note app.”

“It’s not tracking what I write,” Virgil said. He tapped the screen with his finger. “It’s not even responding.”

Janus leaned over to take a look for himself. He tapped it a few times and there was nothing, so he tapped it a bit more aggressively. A fuzzy line went across the screen and then it shut off abruptly.

“What is wrong with things in this office lately?” Janus asked with a frown.

“My stuff just froze too,” Fred said.

The door opened then, and Lena entered the room. “The coffee makers are all offline.”

 “What do you mean the coffee makers are offline?” Janus asked.

“I went to get some coffee for Fred and I and they’re not working. Any of them.”

“That’s odd,” Fred said.

“You know,” Virgil said, shifting nervously on his feet. “This seems like a bad time for me to be here. Why don’t I just come back another time or better yet, Janus, just tell Remus to come find me.”

“Yeah,” Janus agreed. “There’s a lot of things going on apparently, so it’s probably best if you leave.”

With that, Virgil brought up the time device he was using and pushed a couple of buttons to return to his university.”

 However, instead of disappearing like he was meant to do, he flickered once and then was immediately on his knees with his hand over his nose.

“Shit,” Virgil hissed.

“Are you okay?” Janus asked, kneeling next to him. There was blood coming from his nose which was concerning, but his eyes focused on Janus easily enough, though he looked very startled.

“I think I just hit the shield.”

“Is your timepiece not approved?” asked Janus, pulling on his arm to see the timepiece.

“I got it approved this morning,” Virgil said, taking a tissue Fred handed to him to press it to his nose. “It’s supposed to have access to the TPI all day. I used it not even 10 minutes ago.”

Lena was already on her own time device. She pushed a button and disappeared for a moment before appearing a couple of steps away. She stumbled and was caught by Fred. “Mine’s blocked too,” she said, “I only put in to go to the entrance of the building.”

That’s when the lights went out.

 Chapter 61

There was screaming from somewhere down the hall.

“Do you think that’s like when kids would scream when the teacher would turn out the lights in elementary school for a movie?” Virgil asked hopefully, voice a bit nasally since he was still holding his nose.

Janus gave him a tightlipped stare.

“Yeah,” Virgil said, “that’s what I was afraid of.”

Fred calmly reached over and shut and locked the office door.

“And what good is that going to do?” asked Virgil.

Fred glanced at him, already moving to shove Remus’s desk in front of the door. Janus instantly went to help him. “Gives us time to regroup.”

 “Or it locks us in,” Virgil argued.

Janus glanced over at him. “Don’t panic,” he said.

“The fuck do you mean, don’t panic?” Virgil asked, panicking, “Do you even know me?”

Janus sighed. “Fine,” he said. “Panic as much as you want but do it quietly.”

Virgil opened his mouth to speak.

“We know what we’re doing. You do not. Contributions from you that are only fears no matter how rational are not helpful at the moment.”

Virgil shut his mouth.

Janus turned Lena and Fred. “Okay, what do we know?”

“Malfunctioning coffee makers,” Lena said. “Malfunctioning tech in general really.”

 “And not just now,” Fred added, now working on barricading the window with the cabinet he kept his hot chocolate in. “There’s been issues with the whole system for a while now, and they’ve been getting worse.”

“Right,” Janus said. “I’d been blaming that on new recruits messing things up out of ignorance or IT not having enough time do normal maintenance, but if everything is down when the shields are malfunctioning, that implies something else.”

“Are the shields even malfunctioning?” Lena asked. “That implies something went wrong with the program, but what happened to Professor Eran and I is what it’s supposed to do to people who don’t have permission to cross them.”

 “So, the shields might be malfunctioning,” Janus said, “or someone went in and changed the permissions.”

“Considering the tech problems we’ve been having,” Lena said, “it’s possible someone’s been playing around in the TPI the system without knowing what they’re doing.”

“Or maybe they know exactly what they’re doing,” Janus suggested, “and they wanted to see our usual protocol for small issues before giving us a big one.”

There were a few moments of silence where they all were lost in thought.

“People are still screaming,” Virgil pipped in.

“Yes,” Janus confirmed. “This is obviously not just a virtual attack.”

 “Which should be the priority?” Lena asked. “The virtual attack or the physical one?”

“The virtual part will be complicated, and if we stabilize the building physically, we’ll have more time and have everyone safe,” Fred said, “but on the other hand the virtual attack is obviously what’s letting the physical attack persist. If people had access to time travel and communication, the physical attack wouldn’t matter.”

“I think-” started Janus, but he was cut off suddenly by a horrible screeching noise like metal on metal. The room they were in jolted like they were in a car that suddenly stopped and then the world was turning sideways, and they were all toppling as the floor became the wall. Janus landed on top of Virgil. Hopefully the blood now staining his shirt was from the man’s already bloody nose. “-we should probably start with the time anomaly attack!”

 Lena was a few feet away from him. She’d luckily been to the right of her desk, so she landed on top of it instead of it landing on top of her. Fred was a couple of feet away, already crouched. Judging by the state of the furniture around him, he’d had to dodge the cabinet he’d been putting over the window.

“What’s going on?” Virgil asked. Good, he was conscious after that.

“Time distortion,” Janus answered.

“What the hell type of time distortion is this?!” Lena exclaimed, holding one of her arms with the other. Janus couldn’t tell what type of injury she’d gotten.

 “One like the one Remus and I ran into in Cuba,” Janus said.

“So…” Fred said.

“I think we’ve finally found whoever has been mucking up time with time distortion devices. Or, more, I think they’ve found us.”

There were more screams from down the hall. “We can still hear other people in the building screaming,” Janus noted. “That’s good.”

“How is that good?” Virgil asked.

“That means the building is still connected to itself,” Janus explained. “Which, means that while the shields are screwed up, they’re still in place and keeping the building from being ripped apart and sent through time and space.”

 “Oh well that’s good at least,” Virgil said, sounding honestly a bit hysterical. He looked over at Janus. “If the building is intact, can’t we just leave? Just through the front door?”

The three time agents in the room exchanged a look.

“Well,” Fred said, “first of all, it’s probably not going to be that easy to get to the front door considering the screaming we’re hearing every so often.”

“Also, we wouldn’t be able to get out if we did make it to the door.”

“What?” Virgil asked. “Why not?”

“It’s kind of a secret that most people don’t know unless they’ve worked here a long time,” Janus said, “but the TPI headquarters isn’t exactly… in a place.”

 “What do you mean it’s not in a place?” Virgil asked. “I’ve seen the outside of the building. It’s on a normal street with restaurants and a park and all of that.”

“It’s really not though,” Janus said.

“It’s kind of floating,” Lena cut in. “Somewhere in deep space. The doors auto-teleport you the doors of a building on Earth which is why you think that it’s there.”

“The building’s a shell?” Virgil asked, flabbergasted.

“Yes, and unfortunately, without time travel being accessible, going out of the front door would be ill advised.”

There was a long pause as Virgil seemed to reboot. “We’re floating in space right now?!”

“Well,” Janus said. “We were always floating in space. You just didn’t know that.”

 “Great, yeah, nice, that’s great,” Virgil said, rubbing his temples.

“So,” Janus said, turning to Fred and Lena. “I think first we need to find whatever is sending out time quakes before they get worse. Then, we’ll figure out the rest along the way.”

“How are we going to find it though?” Fred asked. “It could be anywhere.”

“I’m not sure but standing in here isn’t going to get us anywhere,” Lena said.

“The closer we get the more chaos there will be,” Janus said. “Game of hot and cold with time distortions anyone?”

Lena and Fred nodded, but Virgil just looked queasy. Luckily, when the room had gone sidewise, the door had landed in a place still accessible enough with a bit of crawling.

 Fred and Lena had to pull the desk away from the door, but then they were able to cautiously open it. Fred poked his head out. “Seems clear,” he said. “Sideways, but clear.”

“Good,” Janus said.

Fred started slowly crawling out into the hallway and Lena went after him. Janus turned back to a very green looking Virgil. “You can stay here,” he said. Maybe go in the supply closet to prevent any more injury from falling office supplies. It won’t be comfortable, but it’ll be better. We’ll come get you when things are stable.”

Virgil nodded. Yet, right as Janus turned away to go follow Fred and Lena, there was another rubble and the ground shook. Virgil, still a bit wobbly on his feet from the last couple of falls tumbled down, but luckily the room’s walls stayed in their places.

Unluckily, the walls outside of the room didn’t. Looking through the office door one could see what was outside the room was very much not a hallway anymore, but a different room entirely. There was no Lena or Fred in sight. “You’ve got to be kidding,” Janus said to the universe.

 Chapter 62

“I thought you said the building was stable!” Virgil said.

“I said it’s not being ripped apart,” Janus corrected, “and it still isn’t. We’re still inside the headquarters. The rooms just got a bit… scrambled.”

“Great, great, fuck.”

“It’s fine, Virgil,” Janus said, though he himself was a bit worried. He knew if he showed that, however, Virgil would just panic more, and the last thing Janus needed at the moment was a panicking civilian, let along a panicking Virgil.

“It is not fine,” Virgil said. Luckily, he looked a bit pissed off at Janus’s flippant reply. Good. A pissed off Virgil was better than one having a panic attack.

 Janus just rolled his eyes, making Virgil bristle even more. “Well,” he said, “either way, I need to attempt to find what is causing this time distortion. Come with me or stay here, though I am unsure if the closet is a closet anymore.”

Virgil eyed the closet and then eyed Janus.

“Make your choice quickly though,” Janus cautioned, already steeping towards the open doorway.

He heard Virgil curse after a moment and then a hand was gripping Janus’s arm. He was coming with then.

They both climbed out of the sideways doorway into the room on the other side.

 “Where are we?” Virgil asked, still holding onto Janus’s sleeve. It reminded Janus of welcome week in their freshman year of college.

They’d been randomly assigned as roommates in the dorms. Janus had mostly ignored him the first day after small attempts at making conversation had failed miserably. He’d assumed the boy simply didn’t want to make friends, and Janus had taken that in stride, sure he could make friends elsewhere.

That lasted until that night when he’d found his roommate on the bathroom floor, dry heaving into the toilet. After figuring out that it was from nerves and not some drug his body was trying to desperately expel (Janus had been very glad he didn’t have to drag some dumbass to the hospital on his first day living away from home), he decided to take pity on the poor fool and socially adopted him.

 He'd been a nervous wreck during all of Welcome Weekend even with Janus’s literally leading him by the hand (and sometimes dragging him) to the many social events the university put on. He’d slowly calmed down, however being around a lot of people still sometime freaked him out. He’d warmed up to Janus quickly though and when they were alone, he’d come out of his shell.

He’d proved himself to be a witty, smartass, bastard as soon as he got over his crippling social anxiety. He’d matched Janus perfectly, honestly, and had always been around to help with homework, especially reading and writing. He’d also known more about how to clean himself and his environment more than most college freshman even if sometimes his anxiety had prevented him from using that knowledge appropriately.

 He'd actually managed to stop Janus from making poisonous gas in their apartment by mixing cleaning fluids in their junior year.

Janus glanced around them trying to answer the question of where they were. It was a medium sized room, about the size of the living room in his house and was mostly baren except for a large hollowed out circular desk with one gap for people to be able to walk through. Under the desk was a long line of old school computer towers humming softly with only a few centimeters between them. There was a mess of cords all over the place, connecting to different parts of the computers and thrown over parts of the desk.

 “I’m not sure where we are,” Janus admitted. “This is a pretty archaic set up. I’m not sure what it’d be used for.”

Virgil stepped forward towards the desk with a curious tilt to his head. He bent down to study one of the computers for a few moments. He squinted. “It’s not an archaic set-up. Well,” he amended. “It is, but it’s intentionally an archaic set-up. The techs current, it’s just put in a shell that looks old for some reason.”

“That’s odd,” Janus said.

Virgil pushed a button on the side of one of the towers and the machine started rumbling louder, lighting up Virgil’s face in a soft blue light as it did.

 Virgil stood as the computer tower next to it lit up the same the next moment and the one next to it the moment after that until all of the computers were on. Only after that did the top of the desk light up, a full 3-D hologram lighting up with Virgil inside.

Janus stepped through the gap in the desk to stand inside the hologram too.

He was met with a lock screen, but more worrying.

“Oh no,” Janus said.

“What?” Virgil asked, glancing at him.

“The date,” Janus said.

The date behind the prompt for the password read almost 10 years in the future of the year they were supposed to be in.

 “So much for your shields,” Virgil grumbled.

“We really shouldn’t be here,” Janus said.

“Oh really?” Virgil said. “Thanks for your useful information, Mr. Time Agent. I thought likely stepping on our own personal time streams, especially by going to the future was a good Thursday afternoon activity.”

Janus glared at him.

“Oh wait,” said Virgil, glancing at the date on the screen, “I mean Sunday at 2am.”

“Does being an asshole help?” Janus asked.

“Would you prefer an actual mental breakdown because I have two modes of behavior open to me right now.”

“Asshole it is,” Janus grumbled.

“Great,” said Virgil. “Fuck you, fuck Remus, fuck time travel, and fuck…”

 And, of course, that’s when the room decided to tilt once more. They both went tumbling, but luckily the fall was softer this time. Janus simply landed on his backside as though he’d tripped backwards while walking. Meanwhile, Virgil ended up on his hands and knees having caught himself.

“Fuck this!” Virgil completed his sentence a bit too loudly for Janus’s taste.

“Shh,” Janus said.

Virgil looked up at him and seemed to realize what Janus had. They were no longer in the room they’d just been in. Or perhaps they were in the same room, but the computer wasn’t there, and the lighting was different. It was rather difficult to tell if they’d moved rooms since it was just a rectangular box of a room.

 Instead, they were in what seemed to be just an office, much like Janus’s office, but with six desks instead of four. There was a half-eaten lunch on one of the desks and a hologram with a mission report pulled up on the wall.

There also blood on the floor next to where they had landed.

“Where are we?” Virgil asked in a whisper.

“Back in action,” Janus said. “It’s one of the offices, but I don’t know which at the moment, but I’m going to go ahead and assume it’s in the right time. The shields must have righted us.

 “That’s good,” Virgil said, then paused as there was a crashing sound from the hallway. He looked wide eyed at Janus. “Or not good.”

Janus put his finger to his lips and slowly got to his feet. The door had been left open but only slightly. He walked over to it on silent feet to peer through the gap.

The first thing he saw was a body. It wasn’t moving, so it was likely the person was dead, but they could also be unconscious. They were face first on the floor, so Janus didn’t know if he knew them. Their torso was in front of the door, blocking them in.

 The second thing Janus noticed was the giant creature stalking through the hallway. It looked sort of like a big cat that stood on its hind legs. It looked like it was probably 8 feet tall when erect, but it was about Janus’s height with how it hunched over.

Ah.

Janus went to step back from the door, but before he could, the creature looked over at him.

They met eyes.

Whatever it was clearly was not here to have a conversation. He could see it in its eyes… even without the blood on its mouth.

Janus slammed the door.

“What?” Virgil asked.

  “You don’t want to know,” Janus said, pressing his back against the door. There was a loud thunk as something slammed against the other side.

“What is that?!” Virgil asked, alarmed.

“Just pray the rooms decide to get shuffled soon.”

A clawed arm broke through the door right next to Janus’s head. Janus cursed and jumped away from the door. He grabbed Virgil and pulled him behind a desk.

“This isn’t going to protect us!” Virgil said. “We need to get out of here.”

“I’m currently sourcing for ideas,” Janus spat back. He reached up to dig through the desk drawer.

 All he found was a tablet and a half-squished energy bar. At least he could throw the tablet at the cat creature. He wasn’t sure that would do much good considering it was currently shredding the door with its monstrous claws.

“I have one,” Virgil said.

Janus glanced at him to see him staring at his own hand. “Wh-”

“Give me 5 seconds,” Virgil said, holding up a finger. He then made an odd motion with his hands. Two fingers of one hand rubbed around a finger of the other. It looked like he was turning a dial or spinning a ring on his finger, but nothing was there.

 He suddenly disappeared with a pop.

Janus blinked at the empty space he’d left for a couple of seconds before he heard the door splintering behind him as the cat finally broke into the room.

He did throw the tablet at it and it glanced off it’s head as expected. Luckily, before it could come and eat him alive for that slight, there was another pop. Patton appeared in front of him.

“Need a lift?” he asked.

He didn’t wait for an answer. He just grabbed Janus by the shoulder and Janus felt the familiar sensation of traveling through time.

[hekatekun]

The metanarrative’s grand narrative: Osomatsu-san’s characterization throughout the franchise

The growing cynicism throughout the entire Osomatsu-san franchise shows itself in season 3 with more prominence than anything prior. I think that’s pretty common amongst any “long-running” gag comedy - replacing a plot with spiteful commentary that’s admittedly pretty hit or miss at times. However, it invariably creates a negative but pretty funny character growth, and I love the way the show (I’m including the movie too as “canon” material considering season 3 has referenced it way too many times for me to disregard) has set up this metanarrative across seasons. Long post ahead.

Obviously, Osomatsu-san is self-aware and has a casual relationship with itself. No linear plot (though S3 seems to be trying it out and I’ve enjoyed it - I love that they’re willing to experiment), rather a collection of unrelated skits; and so it points out its own metanarrative because of this “lack of consequences.” With comedy comes impermancy and Ososan AND -kun will always bounce back from that week’s insanity. From the Oxford Dictionary, a metanarrative is “a narrative account that experiments with or explores the idea of storytelling, often by drawing attention to its own artificiality.” Basically: a story about stories.

On top of this, is what I’m calling the “grand narrative,” which is often used interchangeably with metanarrative, but here I’m making a distinction to make it less confusing. Of course, Ososan is a story about stories, but with that comes a story it’s not directly telling, which is where most of the (little) character development is taking place. This is what I’m going to call the grand narrative of a show whose premise is being a meta-aware comedy. I’ll admit I’m by no means an expert on these subjects, but storytelling methods are something I enjoy trying to analyze. As a media format, Ososan really utilizes the fact that it’s a tv show.

Right off the bat S1E1 makes it clear what to expect: Nothing. Not a damn thing. But, the show had already been cleared for this first season, so it has to be produced. This same episode’s preview is done by Osomatsu, which I’m just gonna quote instead screenshot because there’s too many.

“...we plan on properly starting the anime the next episode.” “...you ended up with an extra minute, so you need me to do something to fill it?! Actually, is this anime going to be okay with episode one being like this? I’m getting worried about how the rest of this is going to be...” “There, I used up a minute! [EPISODE ENDS]”

Episode one is not only batshit referential, but downright mocking the state of anime in 2015. Which, truthfully, I don’t have much to comment on in that regard, as I’m not an avid anime fan. However, it does this under the premise of being indecisive about what kind of anime they wanted the Osokun reboot to be. 

They’ll do just about anything to stay popular and relevant considering that is, quite literally, all they have going for them as characters in the series and just being characters in general. They may be pieces of shit, but they’re likeable pieces of shit. The dynamics they’ve built upon to be entertaining is encouraged, and they’re basically just roleplaying different skits and fucking around.

All the AUs! All the skits! They’re just playing! They’re just fuckin’ around!! They couldn’t come up with any interesting plot nor could they “graduate” from being anime protagonists and join the real world, so they just fuck around and make a gag anime!

Even if we follow both as the audience, the show makes a difference between the what’s them in their “normal life” (crazy begets crazy, no?) and what’s their “show.” But, really, that’s just one way to look at it, as they don’t really follow any rules as a show. I could say the Joshimatsus are separate characters from the sextuplets, and it’d be a “correct” interpretation. It doesn’t really matter - I’m choosing to examine it all as being the six of them just running around and playing, because being entertaining and having fun is all they know as characters. Besides, having it blended together beyond recognition reinforces how it prioritizes entertaining us, the audience, above logic. Storytelling doesn’t need to make absolute spatial-temporal sense for it to be enjoyable to fans.

In any case, that mentality really seems to be what pushes their character development negative, as they look to reinforce habits and rituals despite them being really detrimental for them in the long run. They know they’re popular characters as is, and with really everyone from staff to fans encouraging this behavior further, so they see no point in fixing what isn’t really broken.

I found this 4 year old article from Manga.Tokyo discussing the Ososan phenomenon in Japan because while the craze died off pretty quickly in American anime circles (which deserves a whole other post), Japanese fans went fuckin’ nuts.

This portion caught my attention, as it makes sense that entitled and enabled asshole children would grow up to be entitled and enabled asshole adults. The article also goes on to compare them to idols (even beyond the F6 spoof) and that they are rooted in being comfort characters above all else. 

It’s worth a read, especially because Japanese fan response is what drives majority of the content post-S1, and, inevitably, ties into their character development. 

They know that they’re Characters, particularly Protagonists. You know what happens to protagonists? Everything works out. Just about every single story created has stuff working out for protagonists. In fact, we have a whole genre made that separates stories with bad tragic endings from our Normal Stories. Ososan is a comedy, not a tragedy, so surely there’s gonna be some payoff somewhere along the road, especially as the seasons and other content are still being pumped out. To a self-aware, entitled, enabled protagonist, assuming everything is just gonna work out for you isn’t that far off from your narrative truth.

However, Ososan is a gag anime, and a lot of gag content (like 4koma mangas) is dropped for other projects before any emotional cathartic ending is provided for characters and fans alike. So, three seasons and a movie later, nothing has happened. It’s a great idol cash cow with a Family Guy filter, and the characters (and writers) don’t even bother to hide it anymore. And I know I’m being hypocritical concerning my definition of “canon material” but I think this portion from one of the drama cds “Choroplex” basically summarizes my point:

CHOROMATSU: Wait, don’t make this into a gag! You don’t even care about becoming employed, right? KARAMATSU: There’s no way that could happen... CHOROMATSU: What kind of future are you imagining? Is it nothing but this? [HUGE PAUSE BEFORE THEY MOVE ONTO SOMETHING ELSE]

They’re parodies of themselves and are running out of ideas. Stagnation and decay is normal, if not unavoidable, at this point in time for them. They’re just 20 somethings who’ve hit a wall but they’re too scared and insecure to bring about permanent positive change. It’s easier for them to fall back into normal patterns and joke off the rest.

They have an antagonistic relationship with expectations. They can’t handle a single iota of expectations, or responsibilities. They’ve never needed to worry before, so why bother now? Once the biggest hits on the block, now they’re just guppies in the ocean, and there’s nothing they believe themselves to be able to accomplish to keep up with this big brave new world. This is epitomized in S3E15, where old man Osomatsu tells a bastardized version of the Tortoise and the Hare, blatantly projecting his feelings onto it. Again, too many screenshots so let me pull more quotes (bolding for my own reference):

“The place that the tortoise thought was the goal was not actually the goal. His journey down the road of life still continued on. The tortoise was quite tired, but he continued running anyway.” “No one actually knew who was in front anymore. There are too many people above you.” “After the tortoise found out how society worked, he thought, ‘So this is the difference in talent? No amount of hard work is going to fix this. All right. I’m done competing with others.’”

S3 has left more questionable endings than its counterparts. The last 2 skits I referenced don’t even a gag to them, and the marriage skit doesn’t play music for the entire second half of S3E5. There’s more involved too. I haven’t even brought up the rice ball twins becoming actual entertainers in their universe, or how they introduced this whole AI subplot only to reject it because All Six Of Them aren’t interested in expanding their little corner of the world. Here’s a transcript of the ending preview from S3E1:

“Hey, hey, Osomatsu here. I thought we were saved from being replaced, but I guess we get new characters next week. Man, we’re busy. New encounters, changing surroundings... We’re NEETs to begin with because all that is a pain. I guess a lot can happen after three seasons. [EPISODE ENDS]”

The sextuplets’ mindsets are extremely self-centered, which is also an environmental thing (the parents don’t even really care that they’re NEETs, for one) and an understanding of what they ought to be (epic successful protagonists). They also have a very black and white mentality, all or nothing. They’re extremely sheltered, and once they realized where they stood in society at large, they just gave up. To them the world is divided between winners and losers, and somehow, “inexplicably,” they found themselves to have fallen from grace. But they’re protagonists, that has to count for something! Everything’s gonna end up okay, right? Well... what this show has told them: No, not at all. They are consistently compared and warned of Iyami, and are perfectly aware of this fact, and have come to internalize it as a truth rather than a reversible self-fulfilling prophecy.

Too many screencaps, taken from the S3S5 marriage discussion:

JYUSHIMATSU: I wonder if we’re gonna get married someday, too. CHOROMATSU: Well, I mean... probably? I’m not exactly sure, but... TODOMATSU: What? You’re gonna get married, Choromatsu-niisan? CHOROMATSU: Huh? Well, yeah... someday.

Surprise! They have commitment issues! The same group that couldn’t commit to a fucking plot! Though their personality issues have several factors involved, I can’t overlook the theater motifs abound. Life’s a stage, and they’re performing entirely unscripted and it shows.

Do I think all of this is 100% intentional on the writers’ part? No, probably not. There’s also an extra layer here regarding contemporary Japanese commentary that I’m not familiar with, so I just ended up focusing on the characters. I can’t be in the writers’ heads, but whatever decisions are being made by executives regarding censorship and “compliance” are reflected in these character changes that result in being significantly more bitter and defeatist.

In the all or nothing, winner-take-all mentality, the only way to save face at this point, in their minds, is to own up to it - act like it’s what they wanted all along. And, hey, it’s funny to watch, right?

“Why is Osomatsu all my examples”, you might be asking. Well, he’s the damn blueprint for it all. The leader of the bunch, the first personality to grab your attention, has had all his issues projected and ricocheted in their echo chamber.

Ultimately, my point here is that you could think their “canon characterizations” (though canon means nothing in a show like this) as being intertwined with the nature of their self-aware existence. They’ve shown you all their tricks, the smoke and mirrors are getting boring, and they’re stalling long enough the story seems to be moving on without them - in spite of them. And when something genuinely threatens their way of life, they don’t know how to respond.

You can play it all straight, of course. Remove the meta jokes and all the same plot points can be hit, but, as a slapstick comedy, it’s able to easily add this additional layer in that I appreciate. I’ve said it in my last post and I’ll probably say it in more, but with comedy comes sincerity - the caveat of all the cartoon violence is that, on some level somewhere, this is how they really feel.

[popculturebuffet]

House of Mouse: Max’s Embarrassing Date Review

Hello House Mouses and welcome back to the house of mouse. Another comission by Kev and my second House of Mouse for the valentine’s season. This time we’re not tackling a Valentine’s Episode necesarily, but a romantic one all the same as fan faviorite couple Max and Roxanne finally go on a date.  I always liked Max. Even as a kid when I wasn’t the biggest fan of “A Goofy Movie”, didn’t like the darker patches like the principals office scene or the Pete Hot tub scene.. though in hindsight both had legit greviances with Max... it just dosen’t make either less terrible as the principal still told an innocnet man who wasn’t responsible for what his kid did and was trying his best that his son was going to become a crminal because of one stupid but mostly harmless prank, and Pete.. is just an abusive, unlikeable and unlovable ass in both Goof Troop and Goofy Movie, and I hate how he treats his son, don’t blame his wife for leaving him or taking their daughter and dog, and am really sad he got custody of PJ somehow. And for the record this isn’t ALL petes, just this version. The rest are fine and just the right level of asshole. 

Point is despite my problems with the first film, I had none with the second and even now I like it due to having some really good ideas and concepts while also being gloirously rediclous due to the loveably dated X-Games element. While I do have a spot in my heart for the Dana Hill and Shaun Fleming versions, especially the latter once upon a christmas is awesome, Jason Marsden’s version is the best by the mile having the right amount of ego mixed with self doubt to make him likeable enough to brook him being an ass to his dad a lot. He’s a good character.. and it baffles me Disney NEVER uses him nowadays. No really, the last time he showed up was in twice upon a christmas and no one liked that because he was dating someone who wasn’t Roxanne just to rehash the same plot they’d already rehashed better in Extremley Goofy Movie. I REALLY need to rewatch that one. Hmm.... gonna see if I can squeeze that one into May or later in April. That’s for another time. 

But yeah while he’s at one of the disney parks, that’s it. The character just .. vanished, and hasn’t been brought back in any way shape or form. Though I could see either a Disney Plus reboot of goof troop or a goofy movie with max having his own kids. That could be intresting. Also bring Roxanne back as weirdly this episode i’m reviewing, a goofy movie and now her ducktales cameo are her ONLY apperances. 

Seriously I get she’s not the most fleshed out.. but then flesh her out. Like Max she’s crminally underused and while I get her absence as a character in the sequel, the plot really didn’t need her, he still could’ve been dating her off screen. Though clearly the two worked things out and tried again as this episode came out AFTER extremely did. But did this episode work out? Join me under the cut to find out. 

As i’ve decided is my standard for House of Mouse Episodes, shorts first, then wraparound, then Mickey Mouse live sex celebration. Though I will say i’ve picked up there are two kinds of formats for the show: They either use two of the longer Mouseworks shorts or just one close to 11 minute short, a medium one, and one of the little two minute segments. There might be a break from this in the future, we shall see but for now those ar ethe two standards. This time we have two longer shorts. 

Pluto’s Penthouse Sweet: 

I’ve mentioned in the past I dont’ really get why Pluto is part of Disney’s sensational six along with Mickey, Minnie, Donald, Goofy and Daisy. And I stand by that: While he’s had his own cartoons they just aren’t as entertaining and creative as MIckey’s or hilarous and relatable as Donald and Goofy’s. He’s just an average cartoon dog. He works fine in tandem with Mickey, but on his own he’s just nothing and his spot should be taken by pete, who while not a goodie all the time, again the goof troop version needs to step on a rake and fall into a well.. somehow. i didn’t think my insult through. Point is pete is better.  And this short isn’t BAD .. but to me it’s what some fans THINK the disney shorts are: Bland, maybe one or two good jokes but almost nothing new or intresting. As I found out last year, that’s far from the case, as a lot of the Donald shorts are still hilarious today and a lot of the mickey shorts are shockingly creative, like Thru The Mirorr where he goes .. well thru the mirror into a wonderland like world where all the inanaimate objects are alive and he can shrink and what not via astral projection, or Mickey’s Mechanical Man, which I sadly didn’t know about when I did the MIckey Birthday Special and for some reason isn’t on disne plus. In it Mickey creates a robot and has it box a monsterous looking gorillia. 

How has Mickey piloting this thing but giant sized against various kaiju been a thing yet? And if it has someone tell me. Seriously with all the comics and animated series how. I’d even settle for a Wonderful World of Mickey Mouse episode. Just bring this guy back. Point is there was far more invetnion than it seemed.. at least at first as it slowly died out as they went by the late 50′s. But Pluto just seemed even in their hayday like your standard pet gets into antics thing without the creative slapstick of tom and jerry or the likeablity of sylvester who never could get that asshole Tweety Bird. This is just weak sauce and whiel I could forgive the older shorts, as their from another time and likely lead to say Tom and Jerry... I can’t forgive this which was made probably in 1998 and released in 1999 originally. Comedy had evolved a LOT by that point and unlike the Goofy how to shorts, which are a format that is immortal and still evolved to match the times and felt fresh, these just feel stale and boring and like the last Pluto short I covered this one was a chore to sit through though not nearly AS bad. 

Still though the premise is about the same, Pluto’s left to his own devices, and finds a female dog, though in this case she’s VERY intrested in him. I”m also not entirley convinced she’s a dog, but instead one of Jumba’s experiments and that Lilo and Stitch later had to journey to.. wherever these shorts take place to fetch him. Or more likely the house of mouse. I mean Proud Family, Recess, American Dragon Jake Long and Kim Possible all take place int hat universe, why can’t house of mouse? Also tell me you wouldn’t watch an avengers style team consisting of Kim, Ron, Jake, Penny, Probably TJ, Lilo, Stitch and Donald Duck. If you wouldn’t i’d call you a liar because you would be. 

Seriously the eyes give her away.... just look at them. Very experimenty. But before Pluto can do it like they do on the discovery channel he has to get past the guard dog.. though how he does produces the one great gag of the short, as he BUILDS A GIANT, TROJAN HORSE ESQUE PLUTO OUT OF JUNK. Just holy shit that’s awesome> It gets him inside, only for him to find his lady friend is a bit TOO affectionate and he has to escape, he does so, and MIckey wonders if he missed him etc lame button. This short was a vacuum of comedy outside of GIANT PLUTO. Seriously where’s my disney giant mecha series. YOu have five main characters, and Pluto among with MANY, MANY side characters, frmo scrooge to the boys to hopefully Della, to even possibly pete and mortimer who could have their own mech against the heroes but maybe join them in the last episode. Maybe max and pj could have some, have a father vs son thing with PJ and Pete. I”m just saying, i’d watch it. I know my nieces would watch it. I know my nephews would watch it. Greenlight it. Or i’ll make it.. somehow. 

How to Ride a Bike: Speaking of the How To Shorts, as usual for the House of Mouse era ones.. this was awesome, pretty much what you’d expect, some goofy, pardon the pun, gags about goofy riding a bike and then a fun climax of him in a bike race. Not a ton to add, other than that hamster bike above is genius. Just needs some tweaking. Really funny, really simple, and really good as you’d expect from a good Goofy Short. Easily the best part of the episode. 

Max’s Embarrassing Date: So this was a disapointment. Like i’d try to be nice.. but I had high hopes given this brought Roxanne back, and while the premise was stock maybe they’d do something funny with with it. 

But no the plot is pretty standard, very predictable and fairly obnoxious. Max has a date with Roxanne, and is playing it cool and what not, but is worried his dad will find out.. which he somehow did offscreen. Probably Clarabelle.. I mean they do go out sometimes in this one, wouldn’t surprise me. 

So Max pleads with the rest of the HOM staff to keep him away because he fears his dad will overdo things, which.. is fair and one of the few things I like> He dosen’t want him to overdo it on the mood because this is well.. a first date. He dosen’t want to pressure her or himself and just wants it to be nice and calm. The problem is it’s framed like him once again being embarassed by his dad and having to learn better.

At this point we’d had TWO movies do this already, one of which was only two years old at the time of this episode. This plot is stale as old toast even if it dind’t have goofy in it. And the twist is predictable: the HOM crew end up also overdoing it: Minnie comments on how cute they are and wants candles brought, Daisy gets them a bigger table forgetting how dates work,t hough we do get a great gag of hte 7 dwarves stacked, and Mickey while having .. some.. gopher? I honestly can’t tell who it was, usually i’m better at the cameos. Speaking of which they also have a runner of beast going on a date with Cruella Devile. 

I mean is he cheating on his wife? Is she holding his wife hostage? Is this before belle because we see a post transfomratoin beast too so maybe the House of Mouse is an intersection of space and time? That’s.. actually the most resonable answer I can think of honestly and when i’m focusing more on how the hell your gag works than how funny it is, you clearly failed somewhere along the line. 

Point is Mickey puts his good friend in a pothole, and not only calls max little max, which while an understnadably close family thing to do is still embarassing, but also takes pictures while their eating the spagetthi.. which i’m 100% sure was Huey’s idea nad had Mickey not interrupted, would’ve been tied up down the middle for a lady and the tramp thing. It’s his signature move. Well that and having a panic attack. That’s also one of mine the others being lettterkenny refrences and sex jokes about disney characters.  But yeah this just.. dosen’t work. Them being as embarassing? that’d be fine.. if they weren’t wholly unsympathetic for not only keeping their friend from WELL INTEITONEDLY trying to help his son on his date, something his son shold have no problem with since ROXANNE’S MET HIM. AND IS FINE WITH HIM. AND NEVER CARED ABOUT YOU BEING HIS SON LIKE THE DICKHEADS AT SCHOOL. MINUS BOBBY WHO YOUR FRIENDS WITH FOR SOME REASON. My point is this plot bothers me a lot, and it makes the mickey crew come off like assholes for doing this to thier friend instead of just talking to him like a person. Especially since only ONE of them is a parent and Conviently donald is mostly absent. Likely because he realized this was going to end badly and just agreed to tie the spagetthi like huey taught him to keep his involvment in this shit show and gaslighting his best friend to a minimum. 

Eventually Mickey takes things a step too far and has Sebastian almost sing kiss the girl. Max cuts him off though yelling that he just wants them to back off, he just wants them to relax and he TOLD them this, which makes them come off worse as they KNEW he didn’t want this and did it anyway and never apologize becaue apparently the first rule of house of mouse is never apologize for anything, huh huh. Goofy naturally steps in, tells them off and agrees to serve them and Roxanne finds him entertaining and gives him a nose kiss for being a good dad. He’s a good guy that Goof.  Roxanne then whispers something in max’s ear at the end of the date... which gives him an audible erection. No really. And given his age is vauge here I’m suddenly super duper uncomfortable so let’s move on. 

So max tells them she liked it and wants to come back.. 100% sure that wasn’t what she said but what she said isn’t fit to print and you’ve seen what i’ve said and what I put in the we’ll be right back. Point is he’s happy, though Mickey says we’ll try to make it extra special next time. Mickey.. did you do a space mountain’s worth of pills and cokea nd just forget the entire evening? Did you take some of those hangover roofies/ Why would you do that? Was that pete’s new plan to steal the house of mouse? To drug you guys and make you forget you already paid the rent? Did PJ stop him? Inquiring me wants to know. 

Final Thoughts: Yeah this wasn’t a very good episode. Roxanne is wasted despite having a suitable replacment Roxanne voice in Grey Delise, with no real depth just to rehash the plot of the first and second goofy movies. And this one didn’t have an inexpilicable beatnik cafe, PJ getting laid and finally being happy for once, a standard college fraternity plot  surgeically infused with an out of nowhere obession with xtreme sports that was nowhere in the first film, Goofy in an afro, Goofy finding love, That disco sequence, and a climax in which Goofy carries Brad Garret out of a fire, then Brad Garret probably kills the villian of the film who certainly deserved it. My points are this episode was an underwhelming rehash only saved by some good shippy moments and a good goofy short. It was weak, not all that funny, and not all that intersting.  My other point is that an extremley goofy movie is awesome and also kinda insane and I love it for that. I’m glad I saw this one but i’m really disapointed in how bleh it was. Next time I visit the house of mouse is.. actually in a few days as Pete Does a One Man Show. So yeah already 100% better just by having THAT musical number in it, see you then and if not, there’s always another rainbow. 

[parvuls]

fic: at certain times

word count: 12k

tags: year 2 canon-divergence, getting together, first kiss

summary: The Swallow's Samwell Awards issue of '15 crowns Jack and Bitty as Samwell's cutest couple. It is somewhat unfortunate, then, that they're not actually a couple at all.

read on ao3

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The kitchen smells like something burnt, a smoky tang that clings to the walls and floors, stings inside Bitty’s nose. April should smell like hot cross buns and zucchini bread, he thinks wistfully, but it turns out that some Aprils poor ovens are pushed to their last legs prematurely, leaving his kitchen smelling like Ransom forgot his frozen pizza in the microwave again.

Dex has been tending to Betsy on her deathbed all month, spending most of his free hours at the Haus. Bitty called him again after class, while he was standing in Superberry with Jack, and promised to pay for his services with froyo. Said froyo -- which Jack insisted on paying for, bless him -- is still on the table, untouched, yogurt melting over the rim of the paper cup and dripping onto the wood. Dex has been kneeling in the same strip of sunlight on the floor since he arrived with his toolbox. Bitty isn’t sure what exactly he’s been doing, but he seems to be too busy waving a screwdriver in the air and ranting to remember his abandoned bribe.

“So we finally got over the fucking Samwell Republican sticker thing,” Dex says, his face red and his brow furrowed. He’s been disgruntled all day because of an email he’d received, which he claims Nursey will never let him live down. "And Bitty, I know this is Massachusetts, okay? But I haven’t even actually voted yet! Fucking Swallow. How can I be Best Republican?"

Bitty hunches over in his chair, palms clasped together on his knees like a prayer. He’s anxiously following the motions of Dex’s screwdriver with his eyes while listening with only half an ear, deeply confused by the conversation subject. “The Swallow does pieces on politics? I can’t even imagine what an article like that’d look like, honestly.”

Dex grumbles quietly, shoving a hand under his backwards snapback to scratch at his hair. “No, it’s like -- their Samwell Awards thing? I don’t know, I just got an email about it this morning. I guess it’s like that 50 Most Beautiful shit they do.”

Bitty’s never heard of it, but then again, Bitty carefully sidesteps most articles of The Swallow whenever he comes across them. Those guys write about their team an uncomfortable amount for a university with almost ten thousand students. As long as Holster or Ransom aren’t reading it aloud at team breakfast, Bitty’s not eager to find out what The Swallow has to say.

He asks, though, because Dex seems to be upset about this and his frogs need to be handled with care. “Like in high school yearbooks?” Heather Barron was his class’ Best Laugh back home, and she made everyone who signed her yearbook tell her a joke so she could laugh for them.

“I guess,” Dex says distractedly. He bends down low to reach something close to the floor. “This girl from my Intro to CompSci class got the same email about it -- she won Best Dressed. I mean, who even judges these things? That’s a matter of taste.”

Dex wipes a dusty hand across his forehead and Bitty momentarily forgets to care about The Swallow in favor of looking on worriedly. Betsy is unplugged from the wall with her back side facing the room, surrounded by loose cables and scattered bolts. She looks old and frail. Bitty kind of feels like he’s watching an open-heart surgery occurring right in front of him.

“Can you save her?” Bitty presses a hand over his heart, dreading the reply. Dex wrinkles his forehead even further and doesn’t meet Bitty’s eyes.

It is then that their ordinary afternoon is interrupted by three emphatic knocks on the front door of the Haus.

"Did someone just knock on our door?" Shitty yells from somewhere down the hall. Bitty assumes he’s still curled up on the couch of sins in a t-shirt and flimsy underwear, mourning his grandparents’ affirmative RSVP response to graduation.

His tone sounds downright shocked at the sound, but that’s probably reasonable. Bitty’s been living in the Haus for over nine months now and he’s never once heard anyone knock on that door. It’s always unlocked, anyway; it’s actually nothing short of a miracle that they’ve never been burglarized. Not that there’d be anything to steal, of course, other than Holster’s collector's edition Simpsons DVD box set, or maybe one of Jack’s used jerseys to be sold to the highest bidder on ebay.

"Well, whaddaya know,” Ransom appears in the hallway outside the kitchen doorframe, likely summoned downstairs by the abnormal noise. His eyebrows are high on his forehead as he stares down the hall at the door. “It didn't collapse. I told you it’s sturdier than it looks."

Neither of the boys makes a move to actually open the door. There’s a second set of knocks, this one slightly louder than the first, and Bitty huffs as he gets off his chair. He casts one last hopeful look over his shoulder. Maybe, he wishes silently, Betsy has performance issues and would be magically fixed once she’s not under his constant scrutiny. Or maybe Dex does, and would magically fix her. “Y’all, when someone knocks on a door, they generally expect you to open it for them.”

He shoulder-checks Ransom on the way to yanking the door open, and is presented with some guy Bitty’s never seen before standing on their front steps. He’s wearing an atrociously ugly plaid vest and an awfully wide smile, which only grows wider when he sees that it’s Bitty who’s opening the door.

“Eric Bittle!”

“Yes?” Bitty agrees, eyebrows drawing together. He’s usually pretty good with faces, but he doesn’t think he’s seen this guy in any of his classes. Maybe a hockey fan. Still -- Bitty’s mother brought him up right, and he’s resolved to stick to his manners even if he now lives in a frat house. Someone with malicious intentions, he rationalizes to himself, wouldn't knock before entering. “Hi. Wouldya like to come in? I’m afraid our oven’s down, so I don’t have much to offer in terms of baked goods --”

“Oh, no, that won’t be necessary!” The man dismisses quickly, his smile not waning any; it’s hard not to eye it suspiciously. Absently, Bitty can make out the sound of feet shuffling, which presumably means the boys are crowding together behind him to peer curiously at the stranger on their doorstep. “I’m from The Swallow, I’m here to deliver a message for you. And Jack Zimmermann, but I’m sure you can pass it on. Our annual Samwell Awards issue is coming out early next month, as you know --”

“Sure,” Bitty confirms politely, although he’s never heard of the thing until about two minutes ago. There’s no sense in getting the man down.

“-- and we wanted your response on the win. We do that for the real popular categories. If you want to draft a short statement, you can reply to the email we sent you two --”

“I’m sorry,” Bitty cuts him off, maintaining a carefully polite tone. He hasn’t checked his email since the previous night, too preoccupied with avoiding his American Publics essay and fretting over Betsy. Somewhere behind him there are more heavy footsteps coming down the stairs and one of the boys whispers excitedly, Bitty won a Samwell Award!, though he’s not sure which. “What win? Who’s you two?”

“Oh,” the Swallow guy blinks, obviously taken aback. His smile doesn’t completely disappear but thankfully thins a little bit, at last stretching over less than two thirds of his face. He looks marginally less maniacal like this, Bitty thinks uncharitably. “You and Jack Zimmermann?”

There’s another shuffle of feet. Bitty turns his head to catch Jack pushing Shitty aside, coming to stand a step behind Bitty’s right shoulder. Bitty hasn’t seen him since they got back from Superberry and Jack headed upstairs to study, chirping Bitty for not doing the same all the while. He’s taken his thin fleece jacket off since, and the soft V-neck he’s had underneath clings to his biceps, to the shape of his pecs. His hair is messy, the smell of his aftershave hasn’t faded yet, and his palm rests lightly between Bitty’s shoulder blades to keep his balance in the narrow, crammed doorway. Bitty’s stomach jumps at the sight of him and he can feel a reflexive smile tugging at his lips. It’s an uncontrollable reaction to Jack’s presence, no matter how many times Bitty’s seen him that day. Good gracious, but it’s plumb pathetic.

Jack is oblivious to Bitty’s eyes on him, too busy frowning at the Swallow guy from above Bitty’s head. “What is this about?”

The guy’s expression is clearly confused, despite the upturned mouth in his creasing face. His eyes survey the huddled group in front of him searchingly, as if waiting for them to catch up. When no one adds anything his smile drops entirely and he says: “You guys won Cutest Couple!”

Time seems to slow down while Bitty’s mind stomps on an emergency break and short-circuits completely. He knows things are happening in the backdrop, can hear someone behind him, probably Holster, choking really loudly on their spit, but none of it truly registers.

The Swallow guy is frowning now, looking completely baffled as to why they’re not enthused at the news. “Seriously, did you not get the email?”

“We. What?” is the only thing Bitty manages weakly. Whatever smile was on his face is thoroughly wiped off now. His heartbeat begins pounding in his ears, drowning out any further background noise under its heavy thrumming. From the brief glance he braves, Jack is not coping much better. His mouth is opening and closing silently.

"Yeah!” The guy recovers, apparently blind to the catastrophe he’s inadvertently causing. “I mean, I’ll be honest, some of the staff was like, ‘enough with the fucking hockey team’, and Khalil and Sara who did that awesome Halloween costume, they came really close -- but I was totally on your side. Anyway, the draft should be in your inboxes. We’d like to have your response in the next couple of days so we can start running it. The more romantic and gooey the better, of course. Thank you!"

He smiles and then skips down the stairs before Bitty’s brain fully catches up with what has just occurred on his front porch. He can barely grasp at tail ends of thoughts before they slip away from him, disappearing in a cloudy daze of absolute horror. His pulse is still racing and his fingers, wrapped around the door handle, are trembling.

Behind him, Ransom makes a slow wheezy sound and then descends into hysterical laughter. Bitty’s feeling rather hysterical himself, actually, but he’s not in the mood for laughing at all.

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“Can’t believe it’s another year we didn’t win Best Party,” Holster mopes back in the kitchen, sprawled out spread-legged in a chair with his arms crossed over his chest. “It’s because of Alpha Sigma Phi and their fucking tropical Christmas party, I know it, Rans, I can feel it in my booze bones. Like, okay, they served drinks in real coconuts while bare-ass naked in twenty degrees, so what."

Ransom reaches out to give him a consolatory clap on the back. "We've always got next year, bro. Our names will appear on the holy Swallow pages, I promise."

“You’re right,” Holster sighs rather dramatically, sagging down a few extra inches in the chair. “We mustn’t despair. I’ve already bookmarked some ideas -- think we can keep live parrots in the Haus? Only for a few hours!”

“What I would like to know,” Shitty muses, stroking his mustache between two fingers while looking from Jack to Bitty’s flaming face and back again, “is who the fuck is their source. I mean, no offence, Bits, but if anybody is going to be Jackie’s fake-ass boytoy I call double fucking dibs and I’m willing to fight you on it.” He then considers it for a split second longer and says, “Or negotiate with food, honestly, I’m amendable.”

“Cooking is a touchy subject right now,” Dex mumbles from his perch by the counter, away from the cluster of boys that’s spread out at the table.

Dex looks like Bitty feels, actually: like he’s seriously regretting being present in this instance, and is looking for any excuse to make a quick escape. Or -- maybe only partially how Bitty feels, anyway. There’s another whole side of Bitty that’s feeling like there’s a vacuum in his chest, a ringing in his ears, a voice in his mind whispering, they know, they all know, Jack knows and he hates you for it.

Bitty has been studiously avoiding Jack’s face since they all withdrew from the door. He’s convinced that his feelings are written all over his face, pining daydreams altering his features and sappy midnight fantasies painting his cheeks bright red. He’s sure that one look in his eyes would give away every guilty thought he’s had since November, so he determinedly keeps his head down. Only, then Jack clears his throat and Bitty can’t help but spring his eyes up to look at him -- like a moth drawn to the flame that’d inevitably scorch it.

"Well, whatever is the misunderstanding, obviously they can't actually run that, Bittle. I mean, because. Hockey, and." His eyebrows do something complicated that Bitty cannot bring himself to study too closely.

The words hit like a two-hundred pound flour bag dropped on Bitty’s chest, weighing him down into the floor. Bitty tries to swallow, fails, tries again. His throat still grates like it’s made of raw sandpaper when he speaks.

"Right, no, of course," there’s this horrible sinking in his gut, a phantom sensation of freefalling that tastes like acid when it reaches the back of his tongue. "Of course, Jack. I know that. The last thing you need right now is --" he finally swallows past the lump in his throat, drops his eyes to watch his toes curl inside his shoes and dent the fabric upwards. “-- rumors about the gay kid on your team.”

Shitty says, “Bitty,” with a sharp edge in his tone, and when Bitty looks up Jack looks like he’s been struck.

"Hold on, Bittle, that's --"

“It’s okay, Jack!” Bitty makes a valiant effort to smile reassuringly. His chest is growing tighter and tighter, and he really can’t handle hearing Jack’s explanation right now. He feels like he’s shaking all over, like more and more words are being rattled out of his mouth without his permission. “I mean, it’s utterly ridiculous, but that’s The Swallow for you, I ‘spose. We’ll tell them it’s nonsense before anyone in the league catches wind of it. I’m sorry I even put your career at risk like that, honestly.”

“Bittle,” Jack says again, more firmly. He looks almost angry.

Holster’s stunned look is flickering between the two of them, and Bitty can feel the humiliation crawling up the back of his neck. He thinks that if he stays sitting in the kitchen any longer the boys might actually hear the splintering sounds his heart is making in his chest. Or he might start crying, whichever comes first.

“Don’t worry about it, really,” Bitty forces himself out of his chair, squeezes Jack’s elbow in passing for good measure, even though bringing his hands anywhere near Jack feels like torture. He doesn’t want Jack to feel guilty about this -- it’s not his fault. “It’s fine. I gotta go, I’m meeting Prof. Atley, but we’ll talk about it later, okay?”

He bolts out of the kitchen and rushes down the hall. The last thing he hears is Ransom saying, “Dude, I’m pretty sure his meeting with her was like, four hours ago,” before the Haus door slams shut behind him.

.

.

.

The worst part is, Bitty knows Jack is straight.

Jack dates 50 Most girls from the tennis team, he takes ladies in tall heels to Screw, he brings puck bunnies to his room during kegsters. Or -- that turned out, actually, to be not all that true after all -- but.

Jack is straight. Bitty knew this all along. Bitty knew this and still let his foolish, stubborn heart say, maybe. Bitty saw Jack laughing at his weak chirps, and looking at him sometimes when Bitty was turned away, and there was that party, with Parse, and Bitty’s blood was rushing in his ears and he tried so hard not to listen, but they almost looked like they -- and Bitty thought, maybe --

But Jack wasn’t. Of course not. And Bitty knows it’s so unfair and so unjustified that he’s allowing himself to be mad about Jack’s words. Because these boys accept Bitty for who he is, have never shied away from him, have always been comfortable with his presence in their lives and their house and their locker room, and that’s not something to be taken for granted. It’s not their fault that they’re straight and that’s easier, not their fault that Jack’s straight and Bitty can’t bring himself to let go. Besides, something like this, it could wreck Jack's career even if it were true, and it isn't, so of course Jack would want it gone. It's not personal, Bitty knows. He has no reason to be so hurt.

Except maybe it stings a little, how untrue it really is. Maybe it burns a little inside to know that other people see what he sees, what he wishes were true, and still know that he can never have that for real. And maybe it hurts, that Jack can so easily make the article go away and never deal with those rumors again, because it's simply not true about him, but it will always be true about Bitty. Maybe he’s tired of how he will always have to fight for his place while people like Jack Zimmermann can walk right in.

Maybe.

But none of it is Jack's fault. Because Jack is straight, and Bitty isn’t, and he’s gone and fallen in love with him anyway.

.

.

.

Breakfast with only Lardo and Jack is a quiet affair the next morning. Habit has them settled down at the team’s usual long table, but they take up significantly less space just the three of them. Bitty is surprised by the two empty seats remaining to each side of them despite the crowded dining hall, but considers that maybe the Samwell population knows whose seats are available and aren't willing to risk it.

Lardo is chewing her toast silently by Bitty's side, oversized hoodie draped over most of her face. Jack is sitting across from them, peeling the shells off a pile of hard-boiled eggs. His body is curved in a stiff line over his plate and his elbows are tucked in close to his sides. He keeps sneaking glances at Bitty every few minutes, looking torn; Bitty busies himself with spooning exactly three banana slices in every dip into his oatmeal bowl, keeps hurriedly shoving them into his mouth every time Jack looks like maybe he’s going to actually say something.

Bitty spent the majority of the previous night hiding out in a quiet corner of Norris library, binging episodes of The Great British Bake Off on his phone. When he ultimately found the courage to come back to the Haus, he power-walked straight into his room and didn’t venture out for anything more than brushing his teeth. The walls in the Haus are thin, however, and he could still hear Jack in his own room through the closed doors, speaking on the phone with his father in brisk French. They didn't exactly sound angry, but Bitty had unintentionally overheard enough of Jack’s phone conversations to recognize Jack’s business tone easily.

Jack’s lawyer had sent The Swallow a sternly phrased email first thing that morning -- for formality, Jack informed Bitty when the two of them left the Haus for breakfast with Lardo. His hands were tucked deep in his pockets and his eyes were hidden beneath the bill of his Habs cap. He kept his body angled away from Bitty, maintaining a careful six feet between them, and Bitty’s whole body ached like he’d spent the night playing consecutive shifts instead of tossing and turning in his bed. It was the only time they’ve acknowledged the Swallow article since the previous afternoon. Bitty changed the subject immediately after, and prattled meaninglessly the whole way to Commons.

The three of them separate after breakfast, Lardo heading for the studio and Jack and Bitty for their respective classes. Bitty spends most of his spare noon hours trying to do work in the kitchen, but he steals longing glimpses at Betsy more often than he does the reading for US Intellectual HIST or the darn American Publics essay he still hasn’t started.

This day needs an assist, he justifies when he eventually deserts his open notes on the table in favor of hunting down a clean towel. Polishing dishes is a more effective way to escape his blues. Maybe he’ll make some jam -- that doesn’t require a working oven, and it’d be a longer-term distraction from the mess he’s landed in.

Jack’s lawyer's actions in mind, the knock on the Haus door doesn’t really surprise Bitty. He can’t help the way his body tenses at the sound, though; the blood rushing through his body is too much like the terrible lightheadedness he experiences when checked.

Jack comes down the stairs, taking them two at a time, and grinds to a halt when he sees Bitty leaning against the wall at the entrance to the kitchen and staring at the door.

“It’s probably the Swallow rep,” Jack states the obvious, voice completely monotonous and face blank.

Bitty's gut lurches. He tries his very best, but he’s certain that his smile looks even more put-on than it was the day before.

“We should probably go get it, then,” he says. He keeps his hands wrapped in the dish towel as they move to open the door, to have something to do with them and to cover up the way they’re shaking.

The guy standing on the bottom of their stairs is the same one from yesterday. His loose printed shirt is somehow even uglier than the plaid vest, but this time no smile is taking up the majority of his face. In fact, he isn’t smiling at all; he kind of looks like he’s been sent to the gallows and couldn't beg out of his sentence.

“We've been informed that a mistake was made,” the guy says promptly, glancing between the two of them. Everything about his face and his body language appears cautious.

“Yes,” Jack confirms firmly. The guy blinks in sync with Bitty, both of them waiting to see if Jack has any intention to follow that statement with an explanation, but none seems imminent.

“We understand that it’s an honest mistake and we just want it scrapped," Bitty says instead, trying to keep his voice from betraying any emotion, even when his vocal cords are wound tight. "We can't be the cutest couple if we're not -- if we're not."

“You talked to your lawyer,” the guy says faintly. Bitty's not sure that he actually heard a word of what was said. He keeps eyeing Jack’s rigid posture and bulging muscles like he’s afraid that he’s going to be dragged into a fist fight right there on the lawn.

“It’s a legal matter,” Jack replies curtly, frowning.

“No one ever sent his lawyer after us,” the guy says, fainter still. “It’s just The Swallow, man.”

Jack's frown deepens. He’s wearing his hockey face, mouth pinched and eye narrowed, every angle of his face turning sharper. He looks serious, assertive, like he’s getting ready to step out on the ice for the puck drop. Bitty’s heart hurts so badly looking at him that he has to turn away. His eyes, mid-movement, catch on three faces eavesdropping from behind the living room’s doorway. He just barely suppresses a heavy sigh.

"-- you’d be spreading misinformation with unwelcome consequences,” Jack is talking, apparently, and Bitty tuned out most of it. “So you understand why we need you to retract that immediately and delete all further copies."

"Yes," the guy nods tentatively, eyes jerking in Bitty’s direction and then immediately back to Jack. "I'm -- sorry? We really thought you were --"

"Well we ain't," Bitty says, wringing the towel in his hands to hinder an uncommon urge to break something with them.

"Yes, I -- I understand," the guy seems as spooked by Bitty now, contemplating him and the towel as warily as he did Jack. "But we --"

"And I've got a date!" Bitty blurts, before he can hold his tongue from making his situation worse. Shitty whispers, the fuck, brah?, loud enough to carry all the way to the front door. "A date! With. Someone else, obviously, who is very much not Jack Zimmermann, so if you could -- make it go away -- good heavens this could be embarrassing for my date --"

"Of course,” the guy is nodding more vigorously now, head bouncing much like a dashboard bobblehead. He takes a cautious step back. “We're, uh, sorry. We’ll take care of it."

The guy retreats from the porch, glancing back every few steps as he hastens down the sidewalk.

Jack shuts the door behind them when they step back inside, and has to move closer to Bitty to allow the door to close. It brings his arm flush with Bitty’s back, solid and warm through the thin fabric of his shirt.

Bitty’s breath catches. His look flits sideways to watch Jack’s face twist into something Bitty hasn’t seen since the playoffs last year. He really felt like Jack and him were getting steadily closer throughout the year, considers Jack one of his closest friends, but he doesn’t think he’s imagining the distance between them in the last twenty-four hours. It’s more painful than the verbal confirmation that Jack will never like him back was. It’s painful that Bitty’s been shoving his feelings so far down to avoid this very outcome, only to have it blow up in his face through no fault of his own.

"What's that now!” Holster’s booming voice snaps Bitty out of his brooding, and he jerks his eyes up to see that Ransom, Shitty and Holster have crawled out of their eavesdropping spot and are blocking the hallway. “You've got a what and didn't tell us!"

“It’s not a big deal, y’all,” Bitty mumbles, mortified at how much he’s really not lying at all. He slinks away from Jack’s touch, tries to at least be subtle about it. Jack's expression is shuttering further with every moment that passes and Bitty is feeling irrationally miserable about it.

“Is too, Bits!” Ransom claps him on the shoulder excitedly, shaking his entire frame. "You know you gotta tell us all about it, we get veto rights! Is he hot? What's his name? Is he going to be your shoulders for Spring C?"

Bitty’s lousy day has only been getting progressively worse, which he thinks validates the way he bristles and knocks Ransom's hand off his shoulder. "I am average height, Justin Oluransi!"

.

.

.

So it's not -- really a date.

Anthony from his Eating Practices Since the 19th Century course, who sits two seats away from Bitty and always forgets to bring a pen, caught up with him after class and offered to study together. Bitty’s doing alright in that course, but Anthony is smart and friendly and it’s a good incentive to actually get some work done before finals, so Bitty smiled and said yes. He didn’t think a few days later he’d be lying about it to his friends.

They meet outside Annie’s because Anthony preferred it to Founder’s, which Bitty didn’t mind. He was a little embarrassed about how the librarians might react to the sight of his face. They, unlike some others, don’t have a problem believing he’s a member of the Men’s Hockey Team, and the treatment earned by his teammates’ behavior extends to him.

Ransom wouldn’t let him leave the Haus until his outfit has been appraised, which means he’s maybe a little overdressed for a platonic study date -- but Anthony is in nice jeans and wearing neither a team logo shirt nor a marijuana crop top, so he’s already setting the bar higher than Bitty’s usual company.

"After you," Anthony beams, opening the door for Bitty. It’s awfully nice of him. Maybe Bitty should consider running cotillion classes for his boys before graduation.

It’s easier to revert to his sunny nature in the company of someone new. Anthony keeps up chatter about the last subjects they covered in class, relates to Bitty’s chronic procrastination tendencies, and even insists on paying for both of their drinks. Bitty tries to refuse, instantly dejected by the stark reminder of coffee runs with Jack, but Anthony argues that they’d probably refill several times and Bitty can get the next one. His winning smile is so convincing that Bitty can’t find it in himself to say no.

It happens again when Bitty begins leading them to a larger table in the middle of the café where they’ll have more room to spread out. Anthony points at a table by the windows instead, says, “There, it’ll be quieter,” and Bitty instinctively thinks, those are the windows Jack and I always sit by. He then thinks, good Lord, ERB, get a hold of yourself, and agrees. There’s not much point in attending a study date if he’ll be constantly thinking about Jack Zimmermann.

They spread out all their notes and laptops and books, settling on both sides of the small, round table. Anthony drinks his coffee extra hot and the steam fogs up his glasses, which causes Bitty to laugh and Anthony to grin sheepishly. It sets a good mood for their joint studying.

They work decently well together. Anthony's been more diligent with his schoolwork but Bitty is a faster reader than him, so they catch up with each other fairly quickly and proceed from there. Bitty finds it fun, partnering with someone who doesn’t consider violent food breaks an essential part of studying, and enjoys having somebody to complain about the professor with. The two of them are just starting on technological advances at the end of the century when Bitty’s shoulders fully loosen for the first time in three days and he thinks: this is going well, this is nice, maybe we can do this more often.

This is also the exact point he looks up to tell Anthony about Louis Pasteur and catches Holster and Ransom spying on him from outside Annie’s front window.

His knee-jerk response is uncontainable: he groans out loud. Anthony seems alarmed, twisting in his chair to look over his shoulder and detect what Bitty’s glaring at. Ransom, who clearly knows they’ve been caught, looks directly at Anthony with a deliberately threatening face, pointing two fingers at his eyes, then at Anthony, and back at his eyes.

Anthony makes a confused face into his mug and says, "Um."

"Gosh, I am so sorry," Bitty drops his face into his palms, trying to smother the waves of heat rushing to his cheeks. "It's my teammates -- they have no boundaries and they -- gracious, they think this is a date --"

Anthony swallows a mouthful of coffee too quickly before he sets his mug on the table. "Oh, uh. Do you… not think this is a date?"

Bitty lets his hands fall into his lap. His eyes dart to where Holster and Ransom are waving their thumbs up in the air as they mercifully walk away from the window and then back to Anthony, whose face is unmoving. "...What?"

The top of Anthony's cheeks pink, and he adjusts the glasses on his nose with a knuckle. "I... totally asked you meaning this to be a date."

"Oh," Bitty exhales numbly. Oh, butter my butt and call me a biscuit, he thinks, and then opens his mouth to say something to Anthony -- anything at all, because the poor boy is starting to squirm in his chair -- but all his words seem to get stubbornly stuck behind his teeth.

Because Anthony is perfectly nice. He’s mild-mannered, has a pleasant smile, and he's made Bitty laugh in class a few times when the professor wasn't looking. He's sitting across from Bitty with his hands twitching on top of the table, like Bitty's answer on the matter of their date is important to him. Like he would actually really like it to be one, so he found the courage to ask.

"Oh boy, I really didn't realize," Bitty confesses, finally, clutching his coffee tightly between his fingers. He's never thought he'd be this bad at this, but apparently he's just completely and entirely blind to anyone's affections as long as anyone isn't Jack Zimmermann. And now he made this difficult for both Anthony and himself.

"That's okay," Anthony says, clearing his throat. His lips quirk up in some intimation of a smile, which is, while still very pleasant to look at, much less genuine than his usual smile. "No, really, it's cool. My fault for not being clearer. We can -- I can go and order a refill for this coffee, and when I'm back we'll forget about it? We still have work left to do." He drags his legs out from beneath the table, turning sideways in his seat, before he risks another look at Bitty. "Unless you --? I mean, now that you -- realize -- would you want it to be…?"

The answer to that, Bitty thinks regretfully, is too complex for an acquaintance. Because how does one say, you're very nice and I imagine liking you could be very easy, but I've never dated in my life and right as I thought maybe I'd give it a try, I went and fell head over heels for a grumpy, kind-hearted, heterosexual Canadian?

One doesn't, Bitty reckons, but one also cannot keep waiting forever for something that will never, ever come. So he straightens his back and says, with his best Georgia smile, "Well, how about we carry on studyin’, and maybe we'll see how things go?"

It's a little more strained after that, but that's more Bitty's fault than anything. Anthony is still as perfectly polite as he was before, as focused on the reading. It's just that now every time Anthony smiles at him Bitty freezes, and then feels guilty for freezing, and gets mad at himself for not giving this a fighting chance, and by then he's not smiling back for so long that Anthony's smile shrinks, and Bitty feels even guiltier --

"Look," Anthony tells him after they packed everything back into their bags and walked companionably outside. "This hasn't been ideal, but I still had a good time. I'd like to maybe -- do it again?" Anthony smiles genuinely this time, and his smile is so pleasant, and he tilts his head the slightest bit closer to say, "As an official date this time?", and --

This is the second time Bitty freaks out about a very nice boy leaning in to possibly kiss him at Annie's, and it's exactly as mortifying as the first.

Bitty jumps back painfully obviously, as startled himself by his physical reaction as Anthony clearly is. He's blushing fiercely when he stammers, "Oh -- I -- I don't think it'll work out, I'm so -- I'm so sorry --" turns around, almost breaking into a run, and calls out, "I'll bake you a pie!"

The corners of Bitty’s eyes begin to burn, indicating the impending shameful tears. He’s terribly upset with himself for his reaction, but he’d be even more upset if he allowed himself to cry over it, so he makes the effort to blink furiously the entire way home.

.

.

.

The team gathers to eat dinner together that night. Bitty’s still a little vulnerable in the aftermath of his failed study date, but he does his best to hide it, pushing himself to be cheerful and revel in quality time with his boys. It’s easier when Ransom spends most of the walk to the dining hall engaging him in a conversation about wild alien conspiracies. It’s harder when Shitty and Holster join forces to cajole him into giving deets, and don’t take his, “Oh good Lord, there’s nothing to talk about!” as an acceptable answer. Telling them the truth is not an option -- they’re his best friends, but they would absolutely, no question about it, chirp him to death, and he’s really not in the right mood to take it good-naturedly.

Bitty’s surprised when it’s Jack who eventually tells them to knock it off, shoving Holster’s shoulder to force his way into sitting between him and Bitty at the table. Holster topples sideways into Nursey, and Jack seizes the vacated space and grants Bitty a miniature triumphant smile.

Jack’s dour mood had persisted through yesterday and during their walk over, but Bitty’s been watching him gradually thaw ever since they arrived at Commons; this smile is the first true, earnest one in days, and it melts Bitty on the inside. He’s immensely relieved that at least their friendship isn’t ruined, that the past few days have only been an unfortunate bump in an otherwise smooth road. Bitty tries to cling on to that, use it to move forward from the raincloud lingering over him since his afternoon with Anthony.

A baby-faced freshman approaches their table while Chowder is telling them about a text conversation with his sister. Bitty has his phone out before anyone else even reacts -- the nervous look in the kid’s face is enough warning, and he’s not disappointed; the kid zeroes in on Jack and asks for a signature on his Samwell jersey. There is absolute silence at the table while Jack surrenders to his inescapable fate and pulls out a pen. He then ducks his head and hangs on to that pen once the kid is out of earshot and the boys begin chirping him ruthlessly, yelling loudly enough to rattle the cutlery.

Bitty’s hiccupping laughter comes as a surprise to himself, but it’s the welcome sort. He directs his smile at his phone while he tweets -- true friends don't care that you're a professional hockey player; true friends ask you to sign their mashed potatoes during dinner -- and when he raises his head Jack is peeking at his screen and grinning at him.

“Not a professional player yet, eh? You can’t go lying to the Twitter.”

Jack is so obviously pleased with himself, white teeth gleaming in his mischievous grin. Bitty's heart soars and then swiftly sinks to the bottom of his stomach. He tries to hang on to the gratitude for what he has, but something in Jack’s voice triggers the memory of it stating, obviously they can't actually run that, and then, consecutively, the memory of Anthony's dumbfounded look when Bitty fled away from him.

Not even Jack's benign chirps or his concerned glances can restore Bitty's uplifted mood after that.

.

.

.

Can’t make it to Founder’s tonight. Sorry! :( :( Raincheck?

The reading room is quieter than the rest of the Haus at night. It's dark out, gray shingles lit only by the lamp inside Bitty's bedroom and the faint glow of the streetlights down the road. Bitty lets his legs dangle from the edge of the roof, cradling a can of Twisted Tea and watching his shoes swing twelve feet above the shadowy green of the lawn.

There's the sound of a creaky window sash sliding up behind him. “Hey, Bittle.”

Bitty turns around. Jack is sitting on the ledge of his windowsill, holding a folded blanket in his lap. It takes a few seconds to blink away the disorientation caused by rumination and beer. “Jack! What’re you doing?”

Jack shrugs. “You said you’re not coming with me to Founder’s, and then you didn’t answer your phone. I wanted to check in.” He holds out the blanket with a modest smile. “Here -- so you won't get cold. Spring is pretty rough on you Southerners, eh?”

Bitty snorts inelegantly at the chirp, but stretches his arm to accept the blanket. He twists back to watch the twinkling Christmas lights on the LAX frat house across the road. They never take those down, and never add any new ones during the holidays. It’s as good a reason as any to hate the lacrosse team.

Jack clears his throat, an obtrusive sound in the relative silence. “Can I -- do you want me to stay? I mean, I can leave if you need some quiet.”

Bitty looks at him from over his shoulder, chin digging into his collarbone. Jack’s face is gentler than Bitty’s seen it in a while, mellowed out by the orange tint of the streetlights, and it’s so unfair. Even when Bitty’s upset about Jack he wants Jack near him, wants to hear Jack’s opinion, wants his straightforward, pragmatic type of advice. He wonders what Jack’s face would look like if Bitty was brave enough to tell him the truth about what’s bothering him. A sardonic laugh almost escapes him at that visual.

“No, you can stay,” Bitty says instead, and then makes a herculean effort to brighten up. “As long as you promise not to prattle on, you chatterbox, you know I like silences.”

The chirp falls flat when Bitty’s cheery façade cracks. Jack swings both legs out the window and slides down to sit by Bitty while Bitty takes another swig out of the can. There’s a lot of space on the roof, two empty lawn chairs on Bitty’s end, but Jack sits right next to him. Bitty’s shoulder knocks into Jack’s bicep and Jack’s thick thigh brushes against his, but Jack doesn’t take any action to inch away.

Bitty collects his knees close to his chest, leans his chin on top of them and continues watching the span of street visible from their roof. Beneath their feet, some couple probably returning from the bars by the river stumble together on the sidewalk, the echo of their giggles drifting up to the reading room. Bitty can’t quite cover his grimace in time to hide it from Jack.

"You're upset," Jack jabs Bitty’s elbow with his own, brow furrowing.

"No!" Bitty objects quickly, hoping his voice is only a lick squeaky. He's not drunk by any means, but the Twisted Tea makes everything a bit fuzzy, softens the world at its fringes. "I'm not upset. It's -- finals are coming up in two weeks, and I've got this essay I haven’t started, and -- you know, Betsy hasn’t been well and what am I gonna do, if I can’t bake to distract myself before the tests --"

"Bittle," Jack cuts him off quietly. Bitty lifts his head off his knees just enough to enable a quick glance; Jack is looking at him, those intense eyes trained on Bitty’s face, making his cheeks flush self-consciously. Jack’s expression is his distinct blend of uncomfortable but determined. "You're upset. Are you -- is it -- your date was this afternoon…?"

Bitty’s blush deepens, and he lays his cheek down to avoid eye contact. "So?"

"So," Jack begins, clumsily, and then shifts his arm so it nudges Bitty’s, fingers curled loosely into his palm. "Did he -- I mean."

It takes Bitty a moment to decipher Jack’s faltering sentence, but -- "Gosh, no," Bitty denies with profound embarrassment once he follows Jack's train of thought. Jack, unable to shake off the role of captain, is assuming some boy hurt him. Bitty doesn’t know how to tell him that he couldn't even get through the date to get hurt how normal people do. "He was a gentleman. If anything, it was me who was on my worst behavior."

Jack doesn’t look convinced. He bumps the back of his curled fingers against Bitty’s thigh. "But you're upset."

Bitty loosens his grip on his knees, keeps the hand not holding the can busy by fiddling with the hem of Jack’s blanket. Jack is both the last and the only person he wants to talk to about this. Bitty’s original plan was to get tipsy enough to fall asleep without thinking his emotions through, and then spend the next day compartmentalizing it away -- but Jack’s presence brings everything to the forefront of his mind, plucks at the tangle in his chest until it unravels.

"Well, because --” he sighs, and the expansion of his lungs must fracture some dam, because the words begin spilling out in long strings of nonsense. “I just -- I came here from Georgia because I thought it’d be different, y’know? I couldn't fit in there, and I know -- you said yourself -- I know it’s not any different here, not really, not in hockey, but outside of hockey it’s Samwell, so at least I could be me, right? But apparently I can't even be that, because I can't manage a simple thing like a date with a cute boy," he stops to take a deep breath, buries his face in the nook between his knees. "And, goodness, I can't believe I'm -- none of this is on you, I'm sorry --"

"Bittle," Jack touches his knee, inches away from his cheek, causing Bitty to look up. Jack doesn’t move his fingers from Bitty’s bare leg after Bitty lifts his head. "Don’t be sorry. It's okay."

Bitty searches Jack’s face. He doesn’t know how to read it, what the tiny microexpressions currently mean, but Jack’s fingers are splayed in the valleys of his joints and there’s something grounding in it. He takes another big breath in an attempt to calm himself down.

"I guess," Bitty whispers, but the turmoil in his chest doesn’t settle, not after he started letting it all out. He can almost picture it surging in him, clawing its way up to his mouth. "But -- is it? Okay? I'm just." He runs a hand through his hair, frustrated with himself, both for feeling so much and for being unable to articulate feelings with the proper words. "I feel like I can't just be me. Because who I am isn't good enough at home, and isn't good enough for hockey, and who I am likes boys but apparently I'm no good at liking them right, or -- the right ones --"

He restrains himself from saying anything incriminating, biting his lip hard enough to taste the metallic flavor of blood.

"You are good enough for hockey," Jack says, stilted. His hand tightens on Bitty’s knee and belatedly pulls away. "You're a strong player, and you did a great job this season. I know we lost, but you still did good. You'll be even better next year."

Bitty exhales sharply, rubs his eyes. He knows Jack; he knows he chose to latch onto hockey because that's something he’s capable of expressing. Telling Bitty he's a good player is something Jack can find words for. Bitty didn’t expect Jack to be the right person to talk through an identity crisis, but it’d be an easier evasion to accept if he wasn’t wrong.

"Jack, no offense, but that's a load of horseshit." Jack is clearly caught off guard, seems to be gearing himself up for retaliation, but Bitty talks right over him. "It is! It is, because I might do alright now -- here -- but if I wanted to go into real hockey, into the league, you think they'd be alright with who I am? You've heard what some guys’ve got to say on the ice, and this isn’t even professional hockey."

"You want to play professionally?" The familiar glint in Jack’s eyes indicates that he’s losing track of the grand scheme of the conversation.

"No! But that's not the point!" Bitty swallows, because it isn't, but getting to the point might as well be impossible with Jack. He can't exactly tell him that he's heartbroken and disappointed in himself and everything looks more bleak from this perspective. He's no better than Jack right now; they’re both afraid to dip their toes into the murky waters of everything Bitty said that isn’t about the game. "I couldn't if I wanted to because of who I am."

"You could," Jack says, looking away, his shoulders tight. The conviction in his voice gets Bitty's attention. Jack really isn’t the most emotive of guys, and it takes a lot to get his voice to change pitch. "The league isn't a very welcoming place, but it's hockey. The whole point is hockey. And if you're good at hockey, they'll just have to accept that -- at some point. It might be hard, but if hockey is what you want, then --" he looks up, catches Bitty's eyes. Jack’s are unfocused, like somehow he forgot Bitty was even there. "I mean -- you said it isn't, but if it was -- all I'm saying is --"

"Sure," Bitty brings the can up to his mouth for another swig, skeptical even in the face of Jack’s unanticipated speech. "I get it. You can play, and all."

"Yes,” Jack insists, turning his upper body towards Bitty. Their knees press together and Jack’s face is suddenly a lot closer than it was before. Bitty has to blink a few times until he can get his pulse under control. “You can. Because you are good enough, Bittle."

They stare at each other, time stretching between them, caught up in the unforeseen gravity of the situation. Bitty can’t really wrap his head around hearing Jack defending him with such vigor, but he knows there’s nothing he can say to argue. That’s Jack’s opinion. He’s never been guilty of handing out compliments he doesn’t believe in.

"Thanks, Jack." Bitty whispers. "'m sorry. It's been a rough day. Sometimes --” He sighs again, bows his head, and musters the last shreds of his courage to be at least a little honest. “I guess sometimes it can get lonely. And it sucked to realize that it's my own fault I'm alone in the first place."

Jack subdues gradually, his shoulders folding inward and the fire in his eyes dying out, leaving room for something much more empathetic than Bitty expected.

"I'm sorry, Bittle." He reaches out to grasp the ball of Bity’s shoulder in his large palm, squeezing it tightly. It’s a friendly gesture of comfort, one the boys in the team offer each other all the time, but Jack’s thumb is absently rubbing small circles on the base of Bitty’s neck and it spreads tingles through his skin.

“It’s alright,” Bitty moves away, smiling, but the words are like dust in his mouth and it isn’t really alright at all. They settle back into sitting side by side, and Bitty notices Jack's fixed eyes on the side of his face, but he doesn’t turn to look.

.

.

.

Friday evening finds Bitty scrambling to complete last-minute assignments before Spring C the next day. He shuts himself away in his room and turns off his phone, tries to make his eyes focus on long lines of text instead of on any creaking noises in the Haus that might provide a distraction. This tactic has failed him more often than not, but for once the Haus is completely empty and any creaking Bitty might hear could only be chalked up to Ransom’s ghosts. Lardo and Shitty are out buying booze for Spring C, Holster is with the frogs, Ransom is at his weekend study group, and Jack has been in Providence with his mother all day, looking at potential apartments, and will be returning later to have dinner with her and her former Department Chair.

Studying is easier when Bitty’s using it to avoid thinking about other things. Lately, since his oven has been acting up, it’s been easy using studying as a distraction from thinking about Jack -- about Jack moving to Providence, about Jack taking the first steps in his adult life away from Bitty and the team. It isn’t a better distraction than watching Say Yes To The Dress with Holster or listening to music with Lardo, but in the absence of all other options, it’s good enough to push Bitty to make his deadlines, even if it’s at the last minute.

Bitty’s laptop emits a sharp ping that alerts him to a new incoming email, and Bitty scrambles up from the floor, almost tripping over two piles of reading material on his way. His room is an absolute mess; papers covering the bedspread and the desk, textbooks spilling from inside his bag onto the floor, pens scattered haphazardly. He’s been reviewing for the HIST test while emailing back and forth with the TA for his American Publics course -- the last three lectures of which he honestly cannot remember, but is somehow expected to write two thousand words for anyway.

The new email in his inbox isn’t from his TA, however. It reads, RE: RE: Your Nomination in the 2015 Samwell Awards, and only contains one line of text, visible in the thread’s preview without Bitty clicking it open. Attached is a confirmation for the removal and termination of the aforementioned article.

Bitty pauses, his essay forgotten, and goes over the subject lines four more times.

Bitty hasn’t read the article. Bitty didn't want to read the article, had convinced himself that he was indifferent and was more interested in putting the whole ludicrous affair behind them. But now he’s incapable of dragging his cursor away from the email’s subject line. He can’t help but want to know what they have to say -- want to know why anyone would mirror his misguided feelings for a close friend.

It can lead to nothing but trouble. Bitty still opens the article file for the first time since the whole mess began on Monday, because he won't have the guts otherwise, but for some masochistic reason he just has to know.

.

The Samwell Swallow

Vol. 26, Issue 31 | May 2015 | Special Edition | The Samwell Awards

CUTEST COUPLE AWARD: ICE HOCKEY AS A LOVE LANGUAGE

Our most dedicated readers will know that the title of Samwell’s Cutest Couple is highly coveted. Perhaps only second to Dream Date or Biggest Gossip in prestige, this award is one of the greatest honors young Wellie lovebirds can strive for. This year, we’re proud to elect JACK ZIMMERMANN ‘15 and ERIC BITTLE ‘17. We know: enough with the fucking hockey bros. But hear us out.

These unlikely candidates were initially nominated by Zimmermann’s fellow photography class students with an exclusive scoop. Bittle was the subject of Zimmermann’s midterm project! (Awe.) Such a grand romantic gesture could not go overlooked, and we set out to investigate. Copies of Zimmermann’s photos are brought to you here, courtesy of the Department of Visual Art.

[Images: a collage containing a dozen semi-professional photographs, all depicting BITTLE. His character is consistently linked to themes of warmth and light, and is obviously portrayed with great affection.]

We were delighted by what we learned. Observant Wellies report that the two are often seen taking long romantic walks around campus, with Zimmermann’s lens sometimes pointed at the scenery, but more often at his boyfriend. Sources at Annie’s, the local café, tell The Swallow that, “Yeah, they’ve been like, coming here at least two or three times a week this year? There’s their table [points at a secluded window table in the corner]. The tall guy always pays -- what? No, they’re almost always alone. Except this one time that they were here with this other couple? I don’t know, man, I see lots of people on dates, but these guys kinda stand out. They’re always giggling with each other, it’s ridiculous. And loud.”

Our research yielded clear results: service staff at Samwell’s Jerry’s, Superberry and Stop&Shop have gone on record with similar statements; students who shared a class with the two disclose that their constant whispering and flirting have been impossible to ignore; even the janitor at Faber Memorial Rink reports that current team captain and fellow liney spend every weekend skating alone as they watch the sun rise, while no practice is scheduled! It’s official - Bittle and Zimmermann are, indeed, 2015’s Cutest Couple.

[Image: BITTLE and ZIMMERMANN at the Samwell Men’s Hockey Team’s #Epickegster this winter. The two are standing very close in the midst of what appears to be an intimate conversation, leaning towards each other under a bag of free condoms. Text under image reads: Our staffers report that the two then disappeared upstairs while the party was still in full swing. Get it, boys!]

.

Bitty spends a long, breathless moment staring at the screen with unseeing eyes.

It’s like an out of body experience. Bitty can’t feel the tips of his fingers, can’t feel his toes. He can’t lift his hand to ram the laptop lid shut so his eyes are still glued to the block of text, words blurring together into a solid sheet of gray. His mind keeps losing footing, coherent thoughts cutting off before they can run their course, parts of sentences jamming into one long sequence -- grand romantic gesture, long walks, whispering and flirting -- that plays over and over. Distantly, he’s aware that there are stray tears in the corner of his eyes, but he’s too disconnected from his limbs to do something about it.

People look, he thinks, brain stuttering over the realization, pushing itself out of its shock, people look and see -- people look at the two of us and what they see is --

A loud noise behind his back scares the living daylight out of him, enough to send him spinning on the chair. The door to his bedroom swings open, nearly banging against the wall with the strength of its motion. Behind it is Jack, standing in the doorway with his eyes blown wide and his face pale, looking like he's seen a ghost; panting for breath like he ran a marathon to get there.

Bitty nearly collapses out of his chair, stumbling over the papers on the floor to step closer, arms reaching out automatically. “Jack -- what --? Is everything alright? Aren’t you supposed to be with your mom --?”

“Bitty,” Jack breathes out, unsteady, and then tumbles further into the room. His hair is disheveled and his buttoned shirt is smeared with stains of sweat, and Bitty’s brain is still coming back online but he’s suddenly overcome with how handsome Jack still is, even like this.

And then Jack takes a lengthy step forward right into Bitty’s space, his body enveloping Bitty’s and his broad palms cupping Bitty’s burning cheeks, and tips Bitty’s mouth into his.

Bitty’s eyes remain wide open for one paralyzed split second, taking in the sight of Jack’s dark eyelashes and sculpted brow bone from extreme up close, and then Jack’s lips move and Bitty’s eyelids flutter closed, melting into the unfamiliar action.

Jack's mouth is as soft as Bitty imagined, as hot, velvety lips sliding against Bitty's and catching on the dip of his cupid’s bow. Bitty’s mind keeps up a remote chant of oh my god, Jack is kissing me, oh god, what is happening, before that too is silenced by the thrill of Jack’s mouth parting against his, deepening the kiss, and then everything goes blessedly silent.

An undetermined amount of time later, Jack’s phone begins buzzing insistently; Bitty can feel the vibrations from where his hip is aligned with Jack’s. Jack ignores it, separating their lips to angle his head in the other direction and suck Bitty’s bottom lip into his mouth, tongue wet and tentative. His phone buzzes again, though, and subsequently two times more, and then Jack finally sighs into Bitty’s mouth.

“That’s my mom,” he says quietly, breaking their mouths barely far enough apart to speak. His lower lip is shining with spit and Bitty feels faint, needs to sit down before he falls over, needs to step back before he sinks his teeth into it impulsively. “She’s waiting for me...”

“Oh,” Bitty says. His voice sounds like it’s coming from very far away. He has so many things he wants to say -- what the hell, and what does this mean, and but aren’t you, and stay, stay, don’t go -- yet the only sounds his mouth can apparently make are, “Uh. Okay.”

“We have this… dinner…” Jack continues, and his eyes are so blue and his lips are so red and his cheeks are so pink, and Bitty thinks that maybe this is a very vivid stress-induced hallucination, and also thinks that he wouldn’t mind hallucinating a little longer. “I gotta go, but I’ll -- I’ll be back.”

“Okay,” Bitty says again, even though he’s not sure it is. He’s pretty sure, actually, that once Jack exits the door of his bedroom this spell will break like at Cinderella’s midnight clock strike, and Jack will return from dinner with his mother still painfully perfect, and still painfully straight, and still so, so far out of Bitty’s reach.

Jack backs up towards the door, eyes lingering on Bitty as his hands drift down Bitty’s arms. “I’ll be back,” he repeats, although Bitty’s not any more convinced, and then he takes his hands away and fumbles blindly for the doorknob, slips out into the hallway from whence he came.

Bitty hears his breaths shallow into nothing more than gasps of air, and promptly crumples backwards onto his chair.

.

.

.

Bitty spends the entire time Jack is absent slowly going out of his mind.

Once the shock passes and the fogginess clouding his thoughts clears, all he can do is think: think about Jack kissing him, and the lovely shape of his mouth, and the bewitched look on his face; wonder how the hell it happened, and why, and what it even means. He conjures a dozen, a hundred versions of what transpired to bring Jack to his door, and even more of what would happen if he does indeed come back.

Bitty paces back and forth across his room, unable to focus or hold onto any one scenario for more than a few seconds. His heart beats so fast for so long that it develops into nausea; he continues pacing while clutching his stomach and praying that he won’t throw up, because he doesn’t think he’d survive that kind of embarrassing memory.

Shitty and Lardo come back at some point, stoned and bearing three bags of sour worms. They squint at his messy room but don't comment on the condition of his hair or his shaky limbs, kindly offer him some sour worms and the opportunity for contact-high in Shitty’s room. They back off and close the door as soon as they see the look on his face. Bitty runs his hand through his hair one more time when he tries to imagine what his face must look like to successfully scare them away.

A long while later there are footsteps in the hallway outside his door. Bitty braces himself to tell Holster or Ransom or, god, Chowder that he’s busy right now. He tries to remind himself that he loves them even when he's in a state, and sits down on the bed to tell them that he isn’t feeling well -- except then the door opens, and it’s Jack standing in the doorway.

Bitty’s heart jumps, somersaults, and plummets all in the space of one millisecond, as he stands up abruptly from the bed and stares, openmouthed.

Jack doesn’t look as rumpled as he did earlier. His collar is adjusted neatly and the tails of his shirt are tucked and smoothed into his pants, but his face is a rich shade of pink and he’s clenching and unclenching his fists by his side. He seems so awkward, standing there, that Bitty’s continuous state of panic morphs into a different chaotic mess of confusion and affection, all while Jack does nothing but stare at him.

“How was dinner?” Bitty squeaks out, eventually, when it’s clear that Jack’s not going to speak anytime soon.

Jack looks like Bitty has veered off script unexpectedly. His eyes widen and he clenches his fists and then releases them again, compulsively. “Eh -- good, good.” Bitty nods. There’s a long stretch of silence neither of them fills. Jack inhales and says, right when Bitty is sure that his heart is sincerely going to beat out of his darn chest, “I. Bittle. About earlier.”

The color in his face deepens further but Bitty can’t tell what that means, if he’s already regretting what he’s done or if he’s just tripping over his own emotions like Bitty is. “You should -- the door,” he stutters, because whether he’s going to be kissed again or be let down gently, he’d rather do it without an audience. Jack looks at him like he spoke in a cryptic foreign language, so Bitty forces out, blushing to the roots of his hair, “Come in and shut the door, Zimmermann.”

“Oh -- shit, ouais,” Jack jostles into action, stepping away from the threshold and kicking the door shut after him. It’s the first time Bitty has seen him move with anything other than practiced poise.

Bitty’s room isn’t very large, and with the door closed the atmosphere in it quickly shifts. There’s an inherent intimacy in the short gap between their bodies that heightens in a small, enclosed space, and Bitty can feel his body heat rise and spread to his palms and his face as a result of it.

It’s unsettling, and Bitty suspects that he could grow to crave it, but not as long as he has no idea what is going on. “Jack --”

Jack interrupts him, keeping his eyes on the floor. “Wait, Bittle, listen. I -- it’s really important that you know that you shouldn't feel obligated.”

There are maybe a hundred thousand things that could’ve come out of Jack’s mouth after Bittle, listen, and Bitty spent two and a half hours imagining a good deal of them. Telling Bitty that he shouldn’t feel obligated is so perplexing that Bitty’s too wrongfooted to protest, and Jack carries on speaking. “I know as team captain I have a certain amount of authority and I didn’t even -- think about that, before, which is really wrong --”

Bitty squints, slowly gaining a renewed grasp on this bizarre situation. The only thing he manages to think with clarity, through the storm brewing in his chest, is, You doofus, what on earth are you talking about. “Jack. The season is over."

"Right," Jack shoves his hands in his pockets, squares his shoulders. "But -- still. Technically we kept up with a.m. practices even after the playoffs, so."

Because you are an insane person, Bitty thinks to himself, coming to terms with the fact that the tone of his thoughts is on a scale ranging between neurotic and cloyingly smitten. He opens his mouth, not sure what’s going to come out of it, but Jack keeps talking without pause.

"Anyway, the NCAA allows intra-team dating but doesn't say anything about involvement with captains. I checked."

This bowls Bitty over, a new wave of warmth rushing to his cheeks. "You checked?"

There's a sheen of what can only be nervous sweat above Jack's upper lip that shines under the glaring ceiling light. “It’s only thirty pages.”

Bitty feels lightheaded again, as he allows himself to consider for the first time that evening, with some measure of possibility, that Jack Zimmermann in fact came into his room and kissed the right sense out of him with the intention to date him. It’s almost too much to consider, making him weak at the knees. He grabs the edge of his desk to be on the safe side.

“You -- I -- dear god, what is even happening? What brought this on?” Because they’ve been spending -- well, they’ve spent almost every waking moment together this semester, excluding this odd week since the damned Swallow article. Jack had plenty of opportunity to confess his feelings had he possessed any, and the best time certainly wasn’t while his mother was waiting for him downstairs to go to a formal dinner.

“Well, I,” Jack stammers, dropping his chin to his chest. His ears are bright red, dark enough to be seen from a few feet away, and Bitty is enchanted by it. “I didn’t know, but. I read the stupid thing in the car because I couldn’t -- my mom said -- I kept thinking about you in every kitchen that we looked at, and I…”

Bitty can feel his eyes widen, his organs flipping over inside him. "You… did?"

Jack lifts his head, and when the two of them finally make eye contact it zings through Bitty’s body. "Yes. I mean, I guess it’s hard not to. If you're not on ice, you're baking, Bittle. Or tweeting. Or baking and tweeting."

He winces as soon the words are out of his mouth, and Bitty can’t help it: he bursts out in laughter, high-pitched and giddy. This boy, Bitty marvels, and euphoria spreads like thick cotton candy in his chest, making it hard to speak; to breathe.

Jack’s face still looks vaguely horrified, like he’s regretting ever opening his mouth. "Crisse, sorry, it's not -- I wasn't trying to --" he blows out air, starting over. "It's fine that you do. I mean, more than fine. I thought about you in the kitchens because I like it. I like you."

His voice is unmistakably uncomfortable, and beads of sweat are glinting on his temples. Bitty’s so overwhelmed by hearing Jack speak candidly about his feelings that he blurts out the first thing that comes to his mind. "You like me? But you're -- I mean, I thought you --"

Jack’s eyebrows draw down and his mouth thins. He looks irritated, but Bitty knows it’s the shape his face takes when he’s distressed. "I know last year it didn't seem like -- but I thought this year you knew things changed --"

"-- were straight," Bitty exhales, chest heaving. God. This is real. "I thought… you were straight."

Jack squints, stopping himself in the middle of his sentence. He seems honestly, genuinely confused, the big lug. With a more functioning part of his mind Bitty recognizes that this is probably the most facial expressions he’s seen Jack make since meeting him.

"But I kissed you."

"Yeah," Bitty swallows, cheeks probably glowing bright red. Somehow it’s so much more jarring hearing the words out loud than it was to have Jack’s mouth on his. Like something that’s not supposed to be discussed out in the open. A secret lifted right out of Bitty's subconscious, manifested by sheer will. "Uh. Sure did. Thus my confusion."

"Your -- confusion…?" Jack trails off. His flushed face begins shifting by degrees, a smile spreading slowly but steadily and creating the smallest, sweetest crinkle at his eyes. He wipes his shiny brow with the back of one forearm and then crosses the distance between them in a few short strides, sweeping in to kiss Bitty.

It’s not any less mind-blowing the second time around. Jack's fingers slot under Bitty's jaw, titling his head up, his other palm sliding from Bitty’s neck to his shoulder and down his back in a tantalizing stroke. Bitty grows hot all over, bending his body into Jack's to press their chests together, his hands hesitatingly finding their way to Jack's hips. He hooks them over the sharp curves of Jack's hip bones, feels the strength in Jack’s obliques through his clothes.

Their mouths create a soft slick sound when they glide against one another, lips meeting and parting smoothly. Bitty gathers the confidence to attempt parting his own lips, applies the slightest pressure of tongue to Jack's bottom lip, and is rewarded by Jack's shudder and the tightening of his hand on the small of Bitty's back.

Jack pulls his face back slowly enough for Bitty to blink his eyelashes open and catch Jack licking his lips, exhaling shakily.

"I like you, Bitty," Jack leans their foreheads together. His eyes are staring right into Bitty’s, drooping and soft and so clearly fond that Bitty feels the tremor flow in his body all the way to his toes.

"Me too," Bitty whispers. His heart is still beating irregularly, vainly trying to catch up with the emotional upheaval of the last few minutes. “Jack --. I like you, too.”

Jack smiles at him, and it’s more honest, more tender than Bitty's ever seen it. It makes Bitty so happy that he wants to burst into giggles, wants to hide his beam in Jack's chest until butterflies stop fluttering in his ribcage.

Jack runs his fingers into Bitty's hair, gently brushes through it. He's bashful, both of them avoiding prolonged eye contact, and it's so absurd that they're shy after kissing like that, but Bitty can't help it. Jack tips his head to kiss Bitty's chin, his temple, makes Bitty actually giggle when he kisses his ear and then settles his lips in Bitty's hair, tugging him closer into the crooks of Jack's body.

"Hey, Jack?" Bitty says quietly, leaning his cheek on the curve of Jack's shoulder and wrapping his arms around Jack's waist, hands linking at the arch of his spine.

"Yeah?" Jack mumbles into Bitty's hair, mouth moving against the crown of his head.

Bitty presses his lips briefly to the closest patch of Jack's skin he can reach, which is the dip in his clavicle. It's barely a kiss, but his entire body shivers with the knowledge that he’s allowed. "Wanna be my date to Spring C tomorrow?"

Jack draws back far enough to be able to look down, tilting his chin into his neck and catching Bitty's eyes with his. His face is pink and his lips are swollen and Bitty's so unbelievably in love with him, but it's the furthest thing from pathetic now. It seems funny that it was ever something shameful at all.

"It'd be my pleasure," Jack smiles, and leans in for another kiss.

[finitepeace]

fics i read this week:

 I read some bucky x natasha fics: 

Head Is Not My Home by taralkariel

Summary: The Black Widow is a legend. Legends aren't made cheap.

Shaken by the events of Civil War, Natasha Romanoff goes back to familiar ground to hide. To hide and remember how she became the Black Widow. How Natalia Romanova would do anything to save her father-figure. How she was one of 28 ballerinas with the Bolshoi - no, one of 28 Black Widow agents with the Red Room. How the only thing that made her feel human was a man with a metal arm.

(A story to show what really happened in the comics Red Room and how it could fit into the MCU)

19k words in 12 chapters, not rated (maybe T&up?), bucky nat up to IW, i think.  it’s not very dark themed <3,

tell me baby, do you recognize me? by xocean

Summary: "You're a liar." Natasha is shaking. "You're a heartless, lonely, lying murderer."

He doesn't even blink. "We both are."

The Winter Soldier's game is up, and Steve's not letting him go this time. Enter the only person who doesn't want a part in this shitfest: Natasha Romanov.

Or, as James Buchanan Barnes remembers her: Natalia Romanova.

63k words in 10 chapters (from 11), angst.

 and an IronDad x SpiderSon fic: 

This B.S. Better Be Worth It by losingmymindtonight 💙

Summary: Originally, Tony's plan had been to just surprise Peter with the fact that he would be on campus for a semester.

He’d never actually expected Peter to sign up for his class.

7k words in 4 chapters, tony acting like a dad (and awesome professor)

 as usual, the rest are Stony fics:  

American Dream by NobodysBloodyPrincess

Summary: Tony is trying, but try as he might he just can’t find the silver lining of this particular disaster.

After all, what happiness could possibly be derived from the knowledge that the perfect little girl in his arms is now motherless? What relief could be drawn, when his boyfriend of ten years, the love of his life really, is probably, currently, right at this moment in the arms of ‘Peggy’ his new fiancé?

13k words, no powers au, tony-centric, stevetony has broken up and tony adopts a kid, steve is depicted a bit insensitive (idk what the word, like unable to read the room?) here. 

Where Our Restless Monsters Sleep by Mizzy 💙

Summary: Years after Tony Stark saved the universe, the Avengers realize there’s a major problem: his body has gone missing. And he isn’t the only one. Fallen heroes all over the galaxy have had their graves pillaged.

An old foe is stealing the bodies of fallen warriors, but for what nefarious reason? There’s only one solution. To find out why it’s happening, Steve’s gotta die.

He probably shouldn’t be so eager to do that.

233k words in 12 chapters, post endgame resurrections (?), gladiator trope, lots of action scenes, and THERE’S MORGAN x STEVE INTERACTIONS!!!!! 

The Culling of the Stars by dirigibleplumbing

Summary: Tony dies saving Steve's life on the courthouse steps. Now Steve is left with the fallout of their Civil War, expected to take charge and preserve Tony's legacy. He doesn't know how he can do it alone—not when he can't stop thinking about Tony, or keep track of the days, or even feel.

9k words, comic book’s civil war not MCU’s, angst but gnidne yppah 

Together, Always by Sapphic_Futurist 💙

Summary: He swallows hard, a prickle of tears in his eyes because this is his husband.

This is Tony Stark and Steve’s husband, and Steve gets to have this. He gets to have this for the rest of his goddamn life.

30k words in 3 chapters, embodiment of stony’s “together” T_T, read the tags if you want to be spoiled lol if not then enjoy! (and I don’t regret not reading the tags tbh) 

And I'd Buy A Big House Where We Both Could Live by shinkonokokoro

Summary: Missing: Tony Stark, billionaire businessman, heir to Stark Industries, reward: none

Only Steve didn't know that when he picked up the waterlogged unconscious man from the bank of a river.

59k words in 29 chapters, non-power au, kid clint and peter as steve’s brothers

i stole the keys to this guy by kellifer_fic

Summary: Where it was Nick Fury's idea, but he didn't mean it like that

6k words, fake dating into real dating 

Home Is Where the Time Machine Is by Wordsplat 💙

Summary:Steve and Tony's daughter accidentally falls back in time, and learns that impossible time travel phone calls can and will be made just to ground you, big brothers are awful snitches, and parents used to date other people. The past blows.

23k words in 5 chapters, domestic, stony being married 

don't know why it took me so long to see by goodmorningbeloved (3799steps)

Summary: “Oh, watch this,” Natasha says, propping her chin against her knuckles and turning a sweet gaze on him. “Tony, what’s it like dating a superhero?”

Tony bristles in irritation. “We’re not dating,” he snaps. “Captain America probably thinks he can get into anyone’s pants just ‘cause he’s got a mask, costume, and reputation, but not me, buddy. That shield? Gotta be overcompensating for something.” He adds, a bit petulantly, “Oh, and all that blue? Definitely more Steve’s color than his.”

- In which Tony is a genius in all matters except recognizing his boyfriend past a mask.

11k words, tony being peacefully oblivious while the whole world isn’t. 

I Started a Joke by Naferty

Summary "Tony?"

"Who the hell is Tony?"

102k words in 11 chapters, tony is the winter soldier 

Take Two  by Wordsplat 💙

Summary: Steve loses his memory but he gets the feeling he's lost a lot more. Who exactly is Tony Stark to him and why won't he come out of the basement?

24k words, i just love it. 

Sunrise Over the End of the World by Sapphic_Futurist

Summary: When Dr. Strange arrives at an Accords Committee Meeting and warns of the coming of an alien megalomaniac set on destroying the world, the Rogues are pardoned and Tony finds himself exactly where he never wanted to be. Back at the Compound with Steve, who still can't take a hint and won't leave him alone.

--

In which Tony is broken and Steve finds redemption.

35k in 11 chapters, explicit, civil war fix-it up to infinity war 

Far Away And Long Ago by Ragdoll (Keshka) 💙

Summary: Steve steps into the past and discovers that hope held on a pedestal is as insubstantial as smoke. Then he sees Tony. And that's when things get complicated.

Full summary contained within.

18k in 4 chapters, mature, seems like abandoned WIP :( endgame fix-it au when steve returns the stones... 

Something More Than What They Are series by  Sapphic_Futurist

An exploration of love, denial and propensity for change.

38k in 4 works, explicit, Steve and Tony are married during the civil war madness but seems like their love is not enough to stop it from happening or reconciling T_T 

the marks you choose to leave behind by masterlokisev159

Summary: The Stane faction has been around for many years, long before Tony was bitten. And since he was forced, his life has been nothing short of misery and pain; a prison he will never escape. As a low member of the faction, his only hope at survival is to remain a loyal pet to Ezekiel. So when Ezekiel mentions the growing threat of the Avengers of the Undead, and the dreaded Captain, Tony is adamant to step up and do what he can. It’s also his last chance to see the outside world before he’s bonded to Whitney forever.

But what he finds instead is an unlikely companion with golden eyes. A strange werewolf by the name of Steve.

35k, general, vampire tony/werewolf steve, based on earth-666 

La La Love by Wordsplat

Summary: "To be perfectly clear, Tony always knew that Stephanie Rogers was the best thing that would ever happen to him."

4k words, teen up and audiences, female Steve, highschool au, awkward tony

Meet Your Heroes by Wordsplat

Summary:Tony gets rescued by a highly concerned, very handsy Captain America. This is confusing for a number of reasons.

4k words, identity porn AU, 

Hashtag Finally by Wordsplat 💙

Summary: Tony doesn't ever actually ask the Avengers to move into his house, steal his wifi, eat all his food, and become the best family he's ever known. They do it anyway.

15k, teen&up, domestic avengers a.k.a. tower life, hyperactive Clint lol, super cute, everyone are stony supporters

Thanks For the Memories by Wordsplat

Summary: When Tony is sent crashing-all too literally-into the 1940's by an alternate-universe Loki's spell, neither Tony nor Steve are prepared for the consequences.

9k words, time travel au, secret pining 

[fulokis]

Fulokis WandaVision Rewrite- Chapter 1

Hey wanted to take my two cents at something that made more sense than what they actually did to quicksilver. Hope you like it!

Peter stood staring at the man in front of him. He hadn't spoken for what seemed like a few minutes, still processing what Peter had told him. Peter sighed, he hadn't meant to let it slip, he still wasn't sure how it had happened. One minute the two were arguing with each other and then the next the room was enveloped in an awkward silence.

"Why didn't you want to tell me?" Erik asked. He had assumed that Peter was his son since the Pentagon, but he didn't want to freak the kid out.

"Just forget it." Peter said quickly trying to bury his feelings in his chest.

"Pietro, why didn't you want to tell me?" Erik asked knowing he was pushing.

Peter looked down at the floor, "I haven't been called that since the Cuban Missile crisis. Not even in the house."

"Those damn soviets am I right?" Erik attempted to joke.

"No." Peter said, "It was so that me and Wanda could go to school without getting harassed. So we could live life. So that we could protect ourselves when we didn't have a father to protect us."

"Wanda?" Erik asked, "Peter if I had known..."

"But you didn't because you left. You left and Wanda died!" Peter said, surprised at his own reaction and his anger. "Not because of the Russians, not because of the Americans, because of you. Because you left us, Wanda died. You know what killed her Bullets. Bullets from guns. Both things made of Metal! You could have stopped them, you could have saved her. But you were too busy killing the president to care about your family."

"Peter..."

"No. It's too late for that." Peter said storming out of the mansion.

Peter ran. He always ran, it helped him think. But all he could think about was his twin sister, her body laying there on the pavement. Him helpless to do anything. That's why he'd developed speed, he was too late, and running became an obsession. When his mother had gone into labor with Lorna his powers developed. He didn't even realize that they had until he was sitting by his mothers side in the hospital watching his newborn sister asleep.

Peter stopped running, he was probably an hour's drive from the mansion by now. He looked around his surroundings, he was in New York City. The sounds of horns from angry drivers, and the buzz of the electricity made the night loud and bright. The buildings loomed over head, one caught Peters eyes in particular. It was shorter than the rest only about four stories tall, the most noteworthy feature of its appearance was the large circular window on the top floor. Something about it reminded him of his sister.

Peter walked up to the door, to his surprise it was unlocked. Walking inside he shouted "Hello?"

"Pietro?" He could hear a woman's voice call out.

"How do you know my name?" He asked walking in the direction he heard the voice.

"Because I am the Sorcerer Supreme." The woman replied walking down the right side of the twin staircase that circled the entry room. "I know all Pietro."

Peter looked up at the woman "Yeah, Yeah and every old person claims they know all. Tell me something I haven't heard."

"Wanda is alive, in another universe that is." The sorcerer said finishing descending the stairs, "I can bring you to her."

Peter thought for a second, "How do I know I can trust you? And were you stalking me?"

"I won't force you. But I Think you're curious." She said, "I think you want to know how your sister would have turned out. Who she is." She rose her hand in front of the door and Peter looked through.

A woman stood in front of a cradle singing a lullaby in a language he didn't recognize. She looked up from her children as if almost sensing that he was there. Peter gasped, she had mom's eyes. He chuckled how many times had he seen those eyes look at him with disappointment. But this time they weren't, they were looking towards him with adoration. A look he'd only seen a few times from his mother since Wanda's death. The woman's hair was even the same color he had been jealous he didn't inherit.

"How did you do that?" He asked, unable to take his eyes off of the door.

"With a spell of course." She replied.

"What's that language she's speaking?" Peter asked, watching as someone else appeared on the screen and talking to who he assumed was Wanda.

"It's from a country that does not exist here."

"This isn't possible. You're messing with my..."

"I'm a twin." Wanda said, "I had a brother, his name was Pietro."

"What?" Peter said looking at the Sorcerer Supreme.

"Keep watching Pietro." She said nodding towards the door.

"He was killed by Ultron, wasn't he?" The other woman said.

Peter turned around, "So you're saying that there's this universe where Wanda is alive and I'm dead?"

"Fascinating isn't it?" The woman said, "A universe where you're dead and one where your sister is. Pietro the Multiverse works in strange ways, if anything this is destiny."

"It's fake. It has to be." Peter replied, "There's no way that its real."

"Then how is it possible that your father can bend the electromagnetic fields of the earth to change its polarity? Or that your beloved professor can send a message to the minds of every person on the planet? You know its more than possible Pietro, you know more than anyone how probable it is."

Peter swallowed, "I should go back, they're probably worried about me."

He turned to walk away but the woman stepped in front of him, "We both know they're not. We both know they don't care where you are or what you're doing."

"I should go." Peter said getting choked up thinking about what the woman in front of him was saying. Wanda was there, in another universe, but she was there. There and she clearly loved him and missed him, more than his father had. It wasn't like any of them would miss him if he popped over for a few minutes if only to give her a hug.

"You don't want to go do you?" The woman turned her head inquisitively.

"No." Peter admitted, "Maybe its too late for her here, but there I doubt it is."

"You want to go?" She asked.

"Yeah, so do I just step through this door or like..." Peter asked.

"It's a little more complicated than that." The woman said motioning for him to follow her up the stairs.  Peter followed resisting the urge to use his speed to explore the building. The woman led him to a library that reminded him of the one at the x-mansion. There were books on everything, from simple fake magic tricks to forbidden spells. Peter's eyes were drawn by a particular book. The title was almost impossible to read from the spine, so he picked it up and looked at the cover. The Strange Phenomena of the Witch Blessed Mutants the title read. Peter had seen the book before, strangely not at the mansion but in his own house outside of D.C. "What are you doing?" The woman asked popping right next to Peter.

"What are you doing?" Peter asked her.

"Do you want to see your sister or are you here to snoop?"

"You know more than you're letting on." Peter said, "What aren't you telling me?"

"Pietro, why would you think that?"

"This book, its in the wrong spot. It shouldn't be with the A's it should be with the H's if we're going by last name." Pietro said.

"Oops my bad." The woman said through gritted teeth.

"Either that or you wanted me to find this and its all some part of an elaborate plan to trap me in this other universe for some shady reasons." Peter watched as the woman's face dropped and he smiled, "I'm kidding, lighten up will ya?"

"That's a good one." She said awkwardly throwing up a fake smile, motioning for Peter to follow her. Peter followed her until they got to an open room. "Stand in the middle." She commanded.

"Okay." Peter gulped his anxiety resurfacing. He stepped into the middle of the room and a purple ring surrounded him.

"In order to travel through dimensions you need a protection spell. It keeps you from loosing your mind at the possibilities and the infinite outcomes between dimensions." The woman explained. She threw her hands up slightly and nothing happened.

"Was that supposed to do anything?" Peter asked looking around the room.

The woman ignored his comment and started chanting in Latin. The circle around Peter lit up with a purple glow. Peter attempted to touch it but yanked his hand back when he felt the heat the magic was producing. Peter watched intently and imagined Wanda doing something similar with her magic. The woman pulled out a necklace and made it float near the circle. The necklace began to syphon the energy off the circle, making the air around Peter unbelievably hot. Peter tried to stay conscious but the heat was unbearable and he hit the ground a few seconds later.

The woman kneeled over him and shook him gently. Peter startled looking up in confusion. "Uh..."

"Relax Pietro," The woman said "It's normal to feel overwhelmed by magic, especially when it's your first time."

"First time? Pfft I'm not that lame lady. Least you could do is take me out to dinner first." Peter said attempting to sit up.

"Take it slowly." The woman almost barked "Going to fast could potentially be fatal."

"Fatal? What is there like a list of side effects?"

"All the standard Magical ones." She said standing up, "Nausea, Heart attack, stroke, cancer..."

"I'd have said no if I knew it was going to kill me." Peter said easing onto an elbow.

"Possible side effects darling." She replied flipping through a worn out book.

"Darling? That's a little fast even for me."

She sighed and walked over to him, extending a hand down to help him up. "You should get going, after all your sister is waiting for you."

"Is it weird that I feel like I'm gonna barf?"

"No." She replied to him "Oh before I forget, you'll need to put this on before you go through."

Peter took the necklace and slipped it over his head "And you're sure this will work?"

"Of course it will. My magic never fails." She said and looked at him with a smile leading him down the stairs.

"By the way what's your name? You know if I want to come back home and what not."

The woman stopped dead in her tracks, "I'm... Agnes." She said.

"Coolio." Peter replied following her to the door.

Agnes motioned and the doorway led to a small field, "This is the closest that I can get you, you'll need to run a few miles to the west. There's a wall around the town your sister lives in, it's a security measure against humans harming the perfect little mutant community that lives there."

"So what your saying is my sister has a bunch of mutants that live with her?"

"Yes Pietro, she found her people." Agnes said pushing Peter through the portal and closing it behind him.

Peter fell landing in a mud pile. "Not cool!" He shouted "So not cool." He took a breath and stood up. The night was cool a slight wind blew through the trees. Peter looked around, he had landed in a corn field, the stocks were brown and fragile. He smiled to himself as he saw a scarecrow sitting in front of him.

"You stuck here too buddy?" He asked the limp sack of hay. Before smiling and starting to run. Peter ran and this time instead of thinking he enjoyed the air running across his face. The feeling of his feet hitting the ground, the sounds that each foot made when coming into contact with the mud. Peter kept running until he nearly collided with a military vehicle.

Seeing the vehicle he decided to take a look through the area. There was a drone on a table glowing red. A guy in a quarantine unit, being questioned by medical staff. Peter kept running, there seemed nothing related to mutants anywhere in the facility. He figured that they had no idea that there was a mutant community.

Peter kept running until he found the wall. Taking one look at it he decided to run through it. Running through he could hear and feel some of the most painful times of his life and he stopped as he could feel apocalypse trying to crush his skull. The pain was so real almost like living it again, almost like nearly dying again. Out of breath Peter collapsed on the ground, a new sensation spreading across his body. His body burned, it felt like his blood was causing his body to burn. He could feel the pain everywhere in his body, circular areas burned the most. Then he opened his eyes again and Peter couldn't explain what he saw. Metal corpses littered the ground even more were flying around shooting concentrated fire of some sort. Peter tried to call out to his father, he tried to call out for the professor or someone for help, but all he could feel was the burning hot pain from his injured nerves. Then it was quiet the dust and metal settled and everything was dark, but he could hear someone calling to him. Wanda he thought smiling before passing out.

"My goodness Ralph!" Agnes cried, "You're filthy and tracking mud into my kitchen!"

"Aw cut it out will ya?!" Ralph said back "At least I'm not running around the house getting in your way."

"You're not supposed to be running at all. If they find out you were using your powers..."

"Ha, if they do I'll be long gone."

"I swear it won't be my fault if you end up in prison for twenty." Agnes said.

"It'd be a blessing if I did." Ralph mumbled.

"What was that?" Agnes asked in a shrill tone.

"I said you look lovely tonight."

"Why yes I do don't I?"

"What's the reason?" Ralph asked.

"Of course you forgot! Why did I think you would remember?" Agnes sniped.

"Because you forgot your self?" Ralph offered up.

"Forgot? Ralph you know I don't forget." Agnes said, "Tonight is the night we're having a picnic in the yard. Go clean up."

"Why not just the gazebo in the town square?" Ralph asked after he had run upstairs and changed in a matter of seconds.

"We've been over this Ralph, it's best for you to not draw attention to yourself. Which means..." Agnes prompted.

Ralph sighed "No powers, No criminal activity and most of all no doing things that the people in town will think as of odd. But I'm pretty sure that having a yard picnic would be considered odd, gazebo not so much."

"Ralph people don't care what you do in your own yard, besides if you really are that worried you can tell them I asked you to."

"That's the reason I married you, because you asked me to. Though I do question that decision, what with the creepy basement and all."

"Oh Ralph you charmer." Agnes said leading him out of the house. She walked over to where their yard intersected with the next door neighbors yard. With a wave of her hand she placed down a picnic blanket and a bunch of food.

"'It won't be my fault if you end up in prison for twenty' yeah right, totally won't be your fault if you keep using your powers." Ralph said sarcastically under his breath.

"What was that?" Agnes asked from on the blanket.

"Nothing important." Ralph said.

"Come join me, please." Agnes said, "Look I know the move hasn't been easy on you. Especially since we've literally had to become different people. But Ralph I don't regret it, I can't regret it."

"Eh didn't much like it there anyway, here is nice it's quiet. No trouble for you to get into, no weird sorcerer fights I have to save your ass from."

"I'm still a witch Ralph."

Ralph chuckled and looked up at the stars, "No you're not, you can be anything you want, but not a witch not anymore."

"Do you miss teaching?" Agnes asked eyeing the house behind them.

"Teaching?" Ralph asked vaguely remembering something like it "Feels like a lifetime ago." He said slowly.

"Interesting." Agnes said.

"Huh?" Ralph asked.

"Nothing it's not important."

Ralph shrugged it off and continued looking at the stars in silence, "You ever think how massive the universe is, and how little you really know?"

"Yes I do." Agnes replied keeping focused on the neighbors house.

"I want to know how life got here. On earth I mean. Out the trillions of planets out there, why this tiny hunk?" Ralph said glancing over at Agnes. "What's something you want to know?"

"How she did all this." Agnes said a dark tone seeping into her voice. Agnes turned to face Ralph and started to cast a spell.

"You freak me out when you do that without a warning you know." Ralph said watching her guide the purple energy flowing out of her hands.

Agnes ignored Ralph and continued to chant until the spell was ready. Without warning she shot her magic at the necklace her companion wore, smiling as it hit the beads. Something seemed to stir inside the man and he stood up. Using his super speed he ran to the front door of the neighbors house and stood there.

Peter felt weird, he couldn't remember how long he had been running. Or even how long it had been since he left the mansion. The last thing he could remember before blacking out was his body on fire and hearing Wanda calling to him. He looked down, some how he had managed to change clothes. Instead of his typical jacket he wore a brown one, much like the one he had seen his father wearing every once in a while. His shirt was a purple flower print. He smiled, maybe it was weird to wake up in these random clothes, but at least they had his second favorite color.

Peter looked up at the door. This was it, after nearly 15 years he was about to look his twin sister in the eyes again. Only he knew it wasn't quite his twin sister. Peter swallowed nervous at the action he was about to perform. He rose his hand and considered using his speed to get the nerve wracking action over with. Deciding against it he firmly pressed against the plastic button of the doorbell.

The shouting from inside the house he had heard earlier had been replaced with hushed voices, that were seemingly surprised at a sudden visitor. The door swung open with a creak and a young woman stood in front of it. Peter stood there looking at her, waiting for some semblance of recognition.

"Wanda who is this?" A man from slightly further inside the house asked.

Peter waited for a second before extending his arms out and stepping forward slightly. "Long lost bro get to squeeze his stinkin sister to death or what?"

The woman stared for a second processing what was happening. "Pietro?" Her voice cracked.

Peter made a movement with his head to indicate that it was indeed him. Wanda sighed softly and took her brother in her arms. Peter closed his eyes at his sisters embrace, it felt good to have his second half here in the same room with him. Wanda broke contact and Peter glanced around the house. It was quaint reminded him of their moms house, simple yet useful. Peter locked eyes with the man who asked Wanda for his identity. "Who's the popsicle?"

Next >>

[nancylou444]

I tried to be nice

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Became this:

THEM:  hi! thanks for the answers I really appreciate the discussion. normally if someone ships something I don’t like or something like that, I’ll just leave them alone but.. just to be clear I completely respect all of your opinions, even agree with some of them, even if we might disagree on the incest and Castiel haha. So I don’t mean any disrespect with this at all, please let me know if I’m out of line though!  

 But... I saw some things you said, and they come across to me in a way that I don’t think you intended? I feel really awkward sending this haha, you’re very nice and I don’t think you said anything on purpose, but I just.. wanted to let you know that some of the things regarding your opinion on certain characters come across not very well? I don’t think it’s intentional or anything, and I don’t mean to call you out at all which is why I didn’t want to point it out in the replies y’know?  

 Don’t get me wrong though, there’s absolutely nothing wrong with not liking castiel or destiel. I’ve been watching the show for a while with my dad, and he isn’t a huge fan either, I don’t think that’s a problem :) 

I’d continue without waiting for a response but I don’t want to say something you’ve already been told, or continue without knowing if I’ve said something out of line already 😅

ME:  I'm kind of distracted dealing with my Mom's rehab center. But you can keep going.

THEM: Alright! I’ve tried rephrasing this a million times but I don’t know how to make it seem not antagonistic. I promise I don’t mean that you’re doing it intentionally, it’s just, uh a lot of your criticism of spn feels like it could be read as homophobic? Again I don’t think YOU are I just wanted you to know it kind of reads that way!

That sounded so confrontational. I really don’t mean it that way 😭

ME: HOMOPHOBIC? Really? A lot of the 'proof' your fellow shippers use border on stereotypes but you think I'M homophobic? Considering my top two ships are Wincest and Malec. Yeah, sounds confrontational.

THEM:  I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it like that. I guess there’s no other way to say it, but I understand why you feel accused. What do you mean by proof..?

Also I don’t really think having gay ships means you can’t be homophobic. *I* used to be homophobic years ago, and I’m a gay person!

ME:  How old are you? https://nancylou444.tumblr.com/post/154098904136/a-guide-to-dean-winchesters-imaginary-bisexuality

THEM:  yeah this is starting to get frustrating. I’m gonna be real with you, why does it matter if people think dean is bisexual? like, bottom line, that is my question for you

and your answer will determine if your veracity is homophobic. why does it matter that some people think dean is bisexual. not the fans or actors or writers or anything. why does it matter that some viewers will watch, and they will think dean is bisexual?

ME:  My problem isn't that some people think he is bi IN FANON, my problem is that they want CONFIRMATION OF A FANON SHIP. And that some people DENY how the show ended. These same people think that fake weddings are more canon than the FINAL EPISODE.

THEM:  I get what you mean, but how is it a fanon ship when it’s confirmed romantic from one side, and interpretable as mutually reciprocated in Latin America? (I’m going to disregard the bit about the wedding, because I’m a firm believer in Neil Gaiman variety death of the author. Also that’s just people having fun with fanon, who cares?)

ME:  Confirmed romantic?By whom MISHA, who wanted to sell necklaces? Have you never said 'i love you' to a FRIEND or FAMILY member? The dub is not canon, so don't even try using that as proof. Death of the author is just another way of saying MY VIEW OF THE SHOW IS SUPERIOR TO HOW THE CREATOR WANTS TO SEE IT. Jensen has said many times that the ship isn't canon and that Dean is straight. But it's better to believe what Misha says because he agrees with you. You think somebody is bi because of how they sit or the color clothes they wear? That would make YOU homophobe.

THEM:  LOL You know what? I change my answer. I looked through your blog and you ACTIVELY and viscously hate Cas, Charlie, Claire, Kaia and the implication that Jack may not be straight. You’ve said Cas coming out as gay and in love with dean makes the rest of his actions predatory, compared him to a teenage girl, called him creepy, and openly rejoiced in your idea that dean looked ‘disgusted with him’. You said that Claire is awful, that Kaia is a wooden plank, that they ‘shoved them together’ for ‘woke points’ and said that Jody saying Claire was IN LOVE WITH Kaia ‘doesnt count’ and called it ‘lip service’. And it doesn’t end there! After all this, you said that you preferred the old better s4 Claire. Is it because she was ostensibly straight? Are you uncomfortable with queer women? And then you have the audacity to use these characters (Claire and Kaia and Charlie) as reasons to epicly own the Hellers and claim they already have represention. You are a completely disingenuous bitch and I don’t care to be nice to you anymore! I don’t feel AT ALL charitable toward you anymore, and I don’t care if you have gay ships. Gay people aren’t here for you to fetishize! You CONSTANTLY mock and ridicule jokes made by queer people regarding deans bisexuality or Cas being gay or any number of things. You constantly reaffirm that Dean is straight and call people who think otherwise delusional and disgusting, while you think dean is in romantic sexual love with his male sibling. You are openly hostile to the idea of non-binary jack and were pissed that Alcal endorsed that. You devalue Jack’s value and relationship to Cas who is, textually, his father figure. I have NO reason not to think that you are homophobic. I don’t care anymore! You’re a huge bitch and, judging by your prior responses and posts, a genuine dialogue regarding queerness in spn is impossible. You regard any instance of canonically queer moments ‘lip service’ and so regard it. You actively hate every canonically gay character and degrade them using traditionally homophobic tropes and stereotypes.

Feel free to explain how you aren’t homophobic. I’m so sorry if I got the wrong impression.

ME: Wow I see your true colors have come out HELLER.

THEM:  Idc if you think I’m mean. Go ahead and make a post about me lol, have fun with it. Give me a moment to respond to your paragraph it’s... a lot to dissect.

I’ll touch on your comments about the dub and the Spanish language in a moment. First though

I ’m gonna be real with you, I don’t think you know what death of the author is. Neil Gaiman’s variety of the dead author principal is that once canon ends, the story belongs to those that consume and engage with it. That’s... also literally the theme of supernaturals final season. Anyway I really recommend you read up on death of the author and Neil Gaiman’s takes on fanon. It’s a fun way to consume your media, and in the end that’s what I’m here for.

I don’t care what Misha says, and I don’t care what Jensen says! I think they are both queer because I have eyes and watched the show. I think it’s a lovely narrative that is supported by canon, and it’s fine if you disagree with that

On your last sentence there... lol. It’s a common joke in queer circles that gays can’t sit properly, specifically bisexuals. Same thing with the clothing, it’s a SUPER common joke for example that lesbians wear flannel. Maybe you need to go outside and talk to some normal, non-incest shipping queer people. But what do I know!

And finally... ‘the Spanish dub isnt canon’

I am literally cuban. My first language is SPANISH. my entire household speaks Spanish, and my family past 1st cousins don’t speak any English. My Boricua cousins have watched supernatural in full for years, and they watch it in Spanish. Do you think America is the center of the universe? Do you think our media is somehow less than yours, that our interpretations of English language media isn’t valid? What, do you think we are idiots who don’t know how to analyze literature and media? Do you think the people who work at Telemundo, people employed as dubbers and translators, you think they do a worse job than the American crew?

Why, because they aren’t American or don’t speak English? ‘Te amo’ said to a non family member is, in 99% of any instance, ROMANTIC. it’s something you say to your spouse in serious situations like weddings!! Even MARRIED people don’t normally say te amo, everyone uses te quiero unless it is very serious or romantic in context.

All of my family who are Spanish language, they heard dean say ‘y a yo ti, cas’ and think that they were in romantic love. Sorry dude! The United States might be the center of your universe, but Latin America is HUGE. Spanish is one of the most spoken languages in the WORLD. In fact, more people speak Spanish than English. Sorry that you seem to hate gay characters SO MUCH you have to say an entire language somehow isn’t valid to consume media in!

ME: 

Obviously this heller is batshit crazy. 

Some of those things she thinks I said just show she has no idea how to follow a tumblr thread. 

You are a completely disingenuous bitch and I don’t care to be nice to you anymore! I don’t feel AT ALL charitable toward you anymore, and I don’t care if you have gay ships. Gay people aren’t here for you to fetishize! You CONSTANTLY mock and ridicule jokes made by queer people regarding deans bisexuality or Cas being gay or any number of things. You constantly reaffirm that Dean is straight and call people who think otherwise delusional and disgusting, while you think dean is in romantic sexual love with his male sibling.

Wow. 

I have NO reason not to think that you are homophobic. I don’t care anymore! You’re a huge bitch and, judging by your prior responses and posts, a genuine dialogue regarding queerness in spn is impossible. You regard any instance of canonically queer moments ‘lip service’ and so regard it. You actively hate every canonically gay character and degrade them using traditionally homophobic tropes and stereotypes.

Where have I hated canon gay characters and degraded them using tropes and stereotypes? The bitch has me confused with HER FELLOW SHIPPERS. 

Gotta love how she is defending the Spanish dub. Hit a nerve did I? 

It’s a common joke in queer circles that gays can’t sit properly, specifically bisexuals. Same thing with the clothing, it’s a SUPER common joke for example that lesbians wear flannel. Maybe you need to go outside and talk to some normal, non-incest shipping queer people.

Now who is using stereotypes? 

[the-lonelybarricade]

Hi! I saw your post about being an American living in London, I’m studying abroad in Southwest London in the fall and I was wondering how the adjustment was?

Hi love! I saw this ask and then immediately felt all knowledge about the differences between the US/UK immediately flee my brain. So I’m sorry if this isn’t helpful 😂 But you’re more than welcome to ask me any questions you have! I’ve been living here for almost 4 years now and I don’t remember the adjustment period being too severe? Sometimes it feels like you’re in a parallel universe where a lot of stuff is the same but there are still some noticeable differences.

First get used to turning some heads as soon as you speak! In London, especially near and around your uni people will be used to seeing tourists and international students but if you go anywhere else it’s a bit more of a novelty to meet an American, so you’re bound to get some intrigued looks and many people will want to know where you’re from (they’re asking because they already know) and more importantly why you’re there. People here generally aren’t very patriotic and in meeting new people I almost always have to explain my reasoning for choosing to live in England of all places. (And they never believe me when I tell them I love it). I’d say there’s a pretty even divide between people who will judge you for being American and people who will be fascinated with you, but as long as you approach everything with an open mind most will respond in kind! 🥰

I obviously don’t know what part of the US you’re from, but where I came from there was almost nothing in the way of public transport whereas here you can go pretty much anywhere you want without a car (I’m not even licensed to drive yet in this country and I’ve rarely suffered for it). Fair warning though that trains can get pretty expensive. (London in general is very expensive). If you’re going to be there for a while and you’re planning on travelling via the railway system I would recommend getting a railcard/student oyster card cause it adds up quickly!

As far as cultural differences people are a lot less outwardly friendly here, especially in London. Don’t let it hurt your feelings! They just need to warm up to you a little bit first. I still smile and wave at people on the street and my (Londoner) bf laughs at me for it. Also communication is a lot more subtle. I remember being so lost in conversations when I first got here for typically three reasons: 1. Hard to understand accents (there’s like 5 different accents in London alone) 2. Slang (I would recommend looking up some British slang and maybe even cockney rhyme slang, although the people you meet will have fun explaining it to you). 3. Conversational subtext. There’s an artform in the UK of never actually saying what you mean but rather hinting at it through a series of polite social cues that, if you weren’t brought up to recognise, is SO confusing. I can’t think of any examples off the top of my head but I think you’ll see what I mean when you get here. I’m sure you’ll make some friends who will help you navigate that kind of stuff, and for the most part people will take pity on your American-ness.

Another thing worth mentioning is that the British sense of humor can sometimes come off a little bit mean to the American pallate? People here "take the piss" out of each other almost 24/7 and honestly sometimes the more they like you, the more merciless the teasing. Also the delivery can be very dry/deadpan so sometimes it can be hard to tell that they're joking. I think that was maybe one of the things I struggled with the most coming here, but really all you can do is let it roll off your back because if you're reactive to it they'll just make fun of that too 😂

Overall I think you’ll find that people will be patient with you while you adjust, especially at your Uni where most people are actively seeking friends. Also the British for the most part are exceedingly polite and will help you if you ask! There are so many lovely people here and I’m sure you will have such a blast! 🥰

[mostlysignssomeportents]

Fighting fiber was the right's dumbest self-own

With the deplatforming of forums where trumpists and right-wing figures congregate, there's a lot of chatter about whether and when private entities have the right to remove speech, and what obligations come with scale.

The most important - and overlooked - area of this discourse is the role that monopoly plays, and the role that anti-monopoly enforcement could play.

In short, the fact that being removed from Twitter and the app stores and Facebook and Amazon is so devastating is best addressed by weakening those companies by spreading out our digital life onto lots of platforms.

Not by strengthening them by giving them formal duties to either carry or remove speech based on its content. These duties will justify all kinds of anticompetitive activity, because only a very profitable company can afford to fulfil them.

It also turns the same companies that failed horribly to craft and uphold moderation standards into private-sector arms of powerful state actors (like domestic surveillance agencies) who defend their right to monopolize the digital sphere as necessary for national security.

(recall that the Pentagon intervened in the DoJ's breakup of AT&T in the 1950s, successfully arguing for a stay of execution on the grounds that the Korean War could not be effectively persecuted without AT&T's help - the company stayed intact for 30 years after that)

Competition in the platforms is important, but it's not the whole story. The First Amendment was drafted for newspapers, and most contemporary communications law comes from broadcast and cable regulation. The internet is not a newspaper or a TV station, after all.

The discussion of the difference between the American revolutionary era (or the heyday of broadcast TV) and the present moment focuses on technology, but there's a much more important difference to take account of: the presence or absence of a public sphere.

The First Amendment contemplates both a diversity of speech forums (newspapers, cafes, halls) alongside of public spaces that are *truly* public, owned by the people through their governments and tightly bound by 1A as to when and whether rules about speech can be enforced.

So if the Masonic Lodge won't let you give a speech from its stage, and the cafe throws you out for arguing, and the newspaper won't let you publish an op-ed, you can stand outside of those establishments with a sign or a bullhorn, leafleting and speaking your piece.

The government can still restrict your speech on the public sidewalk or in a public park, but not according to its content - only according to "time and manner" (for example, enforcing a noise ordinance after 9PM or ticketing you for blocking traffic).

The biggest difference between a world where we are locked indoors and connect to one another via the internet and the world we left behind is that there are *no public spaces* on the internet.

If a cafe kicks you out for your speech, you can picket the public right of way out front. If Twitter kicks you out for your views, you have no constitutionally guaranteed right to stand at its digital threshold and tell everyone who enters or leaves that you got a raw deal.

Now, the state provision of digital services isn't an unmitigated good. US governments at all levels have proven themselves to be utterly surveillance-addled, in thrall to the fallacy that spying on everyone will make us all safer.

But surveillance fears aren't why we lack democratically controlled tech. For that, you can thank the same right wingers who are so exorcised about deplatforming today, who, for a decade, have been the useful idiots of telcoms monopolists in the fight over public broadband.

American cable and telco monopolists have divided up the country so that the best most of us can hope for is a duopoly, while many others are burdened with monopoly carriers, and millions live in broadband deserts with no high-speed internet at all.

The poorer you are, the more your broadband costs and the worse it is. The more rural you are, the worse your broadband is and the more it costs. Homeowners with good broadband see their assets appreciate. If your home is outside a monopolist's profit zone, its price drops.

The internet barons like it that way. When Frontier went bankrupt last year, we got to see its internal docs. Guess what? If you have no choice other than Frontier, it treats you as an "asset" because you will pay more for worse service.

https://www.eff.org/deeplinks/2020/04/frontiers-bankruptcy-reveals-cynical-choice-deny-profitable-fiber-millions

Frontier cares about its share price (its execs are mostly paid in stock, not cash), and share prices are rigged by influential analysts who downrank any company that makes a capitol expenditure that takes more than five years to pay off.

That's why Frontier decided to walk away from the $800,000,000 in profits it would realize on a ten-year investment in fiber for three million households who currently make do with Frontier's failing copper network, which often consists of wires draped over trees.

We've been here before. For decades, you had to live in an urban, affluent area to get electricity; your country cousins burned coal for dinner and used oil-lamps to read by. The New Deal electrified the nation, extending universal service regardless of the business-case.

Electricity became a human right, and the US government extended it across the nation (though structural racism meant that it arrived late for majority Black settlements).

Long before covid, underserved towns realized that their very existence depended on decent broadband.

The initial experiments with municipal fiber were incredible, jaw-dropping successes. Towns that invested in fiber saw a vast expansion of job opportunities, access to global information and services, and new blood from telecommuters who relocated from big cities.

The telcos fucking hated this. How can you sell flaky access to copper wires draped over shrubs for $80/month when the city is wiring people up to networks that are *1,000-100,000 times faster* at a lower price?

In a competitive market, companies would have improved service and lowered prices to compete. Luckily (for monopolists), there's a cheaper solution: buy off state legislatures so they pass laws banning municipal broadband.

These laws were promulgated to GOP-dominated statehouses across the country, passed by right wing lawmakers who told their constituents they were "keeping government out of the internet."

This is a line that their footsoldiers dutifully parroted during the Obama years, then signed up to Trump FCC Chairman Ajit Pai's order that reversed a late-term-Obama FCC order banning state laws that interfered with municipal fiber project.

Unfortunately (for the right), reality has a well-known left-wing bias. 700+ US towns and cities have municipal fiber. They are the only Americans who consistently express satisfaction with their ISPs. Most of these towns vote Republican!

https://muninetworks.org/communitymap

Woe betide the rural "red" town that lacks municipal fiber. These have been mostly abandoned by cable companies, so their cable/DSL duopoly has become a DSL monopoly, with prices rising and quality of service falling.

https://ilsr.org/monopoly-networks/

Which brings me back to the First Amendment and public sidewalks. All those people who are trying to find a way to support the "free market*" and also justify demanding that dominant platforms be ordered to carry their speech are living in a hell of their own making.

* Adam Smith popularized the term "free markets" to describe markets free from "rentiers" who collect money without adding value...such as cable monopolists. He *definitely* didn't mean "markets free from government regulation."

Because here's the thing: your ISP - and Twitter, and Facebook, and Amazon - is a private company. It is not subject to the First Amendment. It can have any rules it wants about which lawful speech it will tolerate. It can sling your ass out the door on a whim.

You know who's bound by the First Amendment? You know who can't suppress your speech based on its content? You know who has to answer public records requests about why you got booted out of its service?

Your local government.

If you had a $70/month, 100GB fiber in your rural house, you could run a kickass P2P messaging server, and while you'd be right to worry about (covert, illegal) government surveillance (use encryption, kids) on that line, you would 100% have recourse if you got booted off.

It's not an automatic home run. The First Amendment has exceptions, even beyond "time and manner," and has been substantially eroded by GW Bush and his successors, in the name of fighting terror, animal rights activists and water defenders.

But a lawsuit against your town council for nuking your Turner Diaries fanfic server is a hell of a lot more likely to succeed than griping about Twitter mods failing to grasp the "irony" in your Auschwitz jokes.

The right's war on municipal broadband was its biggest self-own of the 2010s. And while it's not true that "a conservative is a liberal who's been mugged," it might be true that "a municipal broadband activist is a conservative who's been kicked off Twitter."

And this is one of those causes (like shutting down private prisons, or opposing foreign wars of aggression) where a substantial slice of the left and the right can come together (at the most local of levels!) to really Get Shit Done.

Because the other great victims of America's monopolized broadband are people of color, poor people and working class people (often the same people). They live with digital redlining, where they pay 2X for 1/100th the speeds of their affluent neighbors a block away.

They're the ones whose kids are doing homework in Taco Bell parking lots (and getting flunked on their tests because creepy remote proctoring services penalize them for taking their tests in a beat up hatchback and not a private room).

The ones who can't videoconference with dying relatives in ICUs or doctors for telemed consults. Who can't apply for work-at-home jobs, or just play games and watch movies and upload their fun Tiktoks and Youtube videos.

The current system serves about 300 senior execs at telco monopolists, and a few thousand investors, and savagely fucks over everyone else. Even rich people in big cities usually can't buy fiber at any price.

It's time for our four decade Atlas Shrugged LARP to end. It's time for a bipartisan fiber consensus.

Image: Olaus Linn (modified) https://thenounproject.com/term/tin-can-phone/15140/

CC BY: https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/4.0/

[egcdeath]

a blip in the reader-verse

chapter 6: extra! extra! read all about it

series summary: a minor mistake causes a shift in the multiverse that only you have the capacity to fix.

chapter summary: you kept your friends close, and your enemy even closer.

pairing: politician!andy barber x journalist!reader, steve rogers x reader

word count: 4k

warnings: american politics, fake dating/marriage, angst at the end, heavy codependent behavior at the end

author’s note: i saw @jtargaryen18 post about politician!steve a while ago and must’ve internalized it because this chapter pretty much wrote itself. just a heads up: all of my political knowledge comes from political sitcoms, so sorry in advance if i get some things wrong. another warning is that there are still some very unhealthy relationship dynamics at play here, so promise me you won’t be like reader okay?

previous chapter / series masterlist

Is Andy Barber Really the Best for Our Nation’s Future?

Opinion

by Y/N L/N

Feb 7, 2021, 4:36 PM ET

After tonight’s debate, the question that’s begged is if Andrew Barber is truly fit to run our country. Although he’s clearly a front runner for his party’s nomination, he’s shown time and time again that he may actually be our weakest candidate.

His weaknesses were highlighted during the debate, with his dodged questions and vague answers. At this point in time, it’s hard to tell if Barber has a platform at all.

With Super Tuesday just around the corner, I ask you to reevaluate your support for Barber. Though a charming candidate, it seems that that’s all he has, his charm. His policies are weak, and borderline impossible, and he certainly isn’t the right person to become the most powerful man in the world.

—-

When you became conscious, you were no better than unconscious. Your eyes opened and were immediately met with a harshness from the sun peeking through a window. You shifted away from the brightness, body sinking into a memory foam mattress while your nude form rubbed against similarly soft sheets. You sleepily rubbed your eyes before they flitted throughout the room you were in. Observing an oddly clean, generic looking area, you’d quickly connected the dots that you were in a hotel room. A rather fancy one at that. 

Soft breathing came from next to you, and as you turned your head a bit more, you were met with the back of a fluffy and dark haired man. You weren’t completely sure, but judging by your history of finding your way to Steve, you’d assumed that it was some alternate form of your partner.

The man in bed next to you yawned, and haphazardly threw an arm in your direction, before rolling over to greet you, “morning sunshine,” he slurred sleepily.

The beard was a bit of a surprise to you. Though you’d begged and begged your Steve to keep it, he often refused for one reason or another. Seeing the man next to you who (what was now much clearer to you) a version of your boyfriend, was a rather pleasant surprise. 

“Morning,” you responded in an equally sleepy manner, ignoring the rhythmic vibration coming from your night stand.

“Mm, you should get that,” he mumbled, pressing a disoriented peck to the side of your head while you reached over to grab your phone, which you could now see was the perpetrator of the vibrations.

“Hello?” you asked into the phone.

“Are you dumb? Or are you fucking stupid?” Aaliyah’s voice scolded through the phone. “Do you know what kind of position you’ve put me in? This is a fucking mess, Y/N. All for some dick? How could you be so careless?! Jesus!”

“What are you talking about?” You glanced over at Andy, and sat up a bit, pulling the crisp blankets over your body in an attempt to retain some form of modesty.

“Don’t play dumb with me. You’re fucking Andy Barber, but you’re writing articles about him like you just watched him kill your dog. You realize that this puts all of us at risk, right? You’re gonna lose your job, I’m gonna lose my job since I decided to edit and publish your shit, and you and I will lose any sort of journalistic integrity we’ve ever had, or will have, for the rest of goddamn time! Seriously, you could’ve had anyone, but Andy Barber? Andrew fucking Barber?” she groaned over the line.

“Uh, I’ll uh, call you back,” you whispered.

“You’re joking right? Are you with him right now?”

“Aaliyah!”

“Oh my god, you’re with him right now. You’re a fucking mess,” she huffed before hanging up.

Why did the universe have to send you off to such a shitshow?

You rolled out of bed, and sulked into the bathroom, desperate to find out what was going on. While sitting on the toilet, you scrolled through the wall of notifications; tweets directed at you, messages from confused friends begging you to call them when you had a chance, and even the occasional concerned email. 

You grimaced as you read through each one of them, eventually clicking on the article that many seemed to be referencing, which included a paparazzi photo of you and this Andy Barber character entering a hotel together sometime in the late night to early morning, partnered with an article or two of your own criticizing him. At first, you wondered if he was some sort of celebrity, but what you ultimately found out was much worse. 

He was a politician. A senator who was running to be president.

You screamed into your hands, before tossing your phone aside, and starting a warm shower for yourself. Perhaps the shower could help jog your memory a bit. 

Stepping into the steamy chamber, and letting the water pelt down onto you did do wonders for you, and it gave you a moment of focus. With both your memories from this universe, along with the information you’d been given through your phone, you were able to piece a few aspects of the universe together.

You were a journalist, a popular one at that, Andy was Steve, but not Steve, and also a presidential candidate. Aaliyah was your editor, and a higher-up at the Times, and you were about to have your ass handed to you over an affair. At least Andy wasn’t married.

Your shower must’ve taken longer than you’d expected, as there was a soft knock on the door after some time. 

“Everything okay in there?” a slightly muffled voice asked.

“Yeah. Just peachy. Why aren’t you more worried about this?” you called back.

“I have a good publicist. And campaign manager. I just have a good team,” Andy paused briefly. “When you’re ready, room service is ready.”

----

Over aggressive mouthfuls of fresh fruit and bitter coffee, you conversed with Andy.

“How are we gonna fix this?” You questioned while setting down your fork.

“Well, it’s simple. We just have to find some kind of spin to this whole story. Maybe you were just interviewing me, or getting a soundbite from me.” “Why would you agree to get a soundbite from someone who clearly has it out for you?” You set your fork down, and crossed your arms over your white robe clad chest. 

“That’s a good question,” Andy nodded a bit, “a good question for someone else to answer.”

“Why don’t we let your publicist figure out how to play this?”

“I’d say I’m a bit of an expert at this at this point, but I’ll call my team.”

“You do that, I need to assess the damage to my career,” you huffed, moving to sit on the bed so that you could aggressively scroll on your phone in peace.

Andy called someone, and you patiently waited while he chatted with them. 

“Okay, Y/N. We can’t leave through the front, so my guy’s gonna pick us up in the garage. We have like, half an hour,” he tossed his phone aside, then maneuvered himself to get in bed with you, setting both hands down on either side of you, and placing a soft kiss on your lips. He slowly began to inch down your body, untying the belt of your robe as he did so, when you interrupted him.

“What do you think you’re doing, Andrew?”

“We have time.” He looked up at you.

“We are not doing this. What do you think got us into this mess in the first place?” you frowned, moving one of his hands so you could slide away from him. 

“Are you serious?”

“Yes! Why aren’t you taking this seriously! Do you realize that both of our careers are at stake here? I don’t want to lose my job because I’m having an affair with you. You shouldn’t want to lose a shot at office for a woman you’re not even with.”

“Come on, we’ve been doing this for almost a year, and you only have a problem with it now?”

“Yes! The public had no idea before! They’re going batshit now! And the worst part is that I’m the one taking the most heat,” you sighed, and Andy gave you a frown. 

“I’m sorry, Y/N. You know I didn’t want this to happen.”

“It’s kinda too late for sorries now.” 

——

You stepped out of your suite about five minutes after Andy left, suitcase in tow, blocky sunglasses on your face, and a heathered grey peacoat draped over your shoulders. Although you were stressed from the controversy you’d found yourself in, you couldn’t help but feel the buzz of excitement from having to hide from the paparazzi. At the same time, you felt quite bad for this version of yourself.

When you finally got out to the designated Cadillac, you asked for his driver to roll up the partition, like you’d done a million times before, then looked out of the tinted windows. The ride was pretty awkward, considering you were in no mood to talk to Andy, and Andy felt bad about the issues he’d imposed on you from his own carelessness. He set a cautious hand on top of yours, and though you were agitated, it did brighten your mood the slightest bit. 

After what felt like forever, you arrived at his campaign building, and you were ushered into a small, soundproof space, with a large and round pine table in the center of it. Surrounding the table was a very tired looking Aaliyah, and… Tony Stark? 

“How’s everyone’s weekend been?” Tony asked, breaking the ice as you and Andy settled into your seats.

“Are we really doing small talk right now?” Aaliyah deadpanned, “sorry, that was uncalled for.”

“Alright, straight to the elephant in the room then. You two were out spotted, big deal, happens all the time to politicians and their mistresses-“

“I’m not his mistress! You know this, Tony,” you huffed.

“Tony knew and not me?” Aaliyah gasped.

“Well-“ you began. 

“Save it.”

“It was on a very need-to-know basis,” you muttered.

“Back to what I was saying. I suggest that we don’t address it, unless addressed.”

“I don’t know if you’re dense, or what, but that’s the exact opposite of what we need to do. We have to get on top of this story before the story is that you,” Aaliyah gestured at you, “are packing your shit at the Times.”

The door shot open, and quickly closed. A slightly flustered blonde man stumbled through. “Sorry to interrupt,” he began.

Aaliyah rolled her eyes at this notion, muttering a ‘sure you are’ to herself. 

“We just finished polling numbers, and Andy, you’re up?” He projected the screen of his iPad onto a TV in the room, then passed the device over to Andy on his way to sit down.

“Thanks, Vis,” he gave him a curt nod.

“Why would our candidate allegedly hooking up with someone who hates him boost him in the polls?” Tony asked.

“Middle America loves a family man, you know that,” Vision said in a matter of faculty manner. “Andy has had a hard time connecting with that demographic because when they see him, they see an Elitist East-coaster.”

“Hooking up with a hot reporter does not make you a family man,” Aaliyah retorted.

“That brings me to my next point. If you don’t mind, I’d like to add a proposal of my own,” Vision stated, and received a shrug from the rest of the room. “Well, if we need to put a spin on this, the obvious choice is to explain that they’ve been seeing each other the whole time. Under wraps, of course. The photos the paparazzi received are not damning by any means, and look more romantic than sexual, to be quite frank. Y/N wrote those articles to throw the public off her scent, and she didn’t really believe anything she said, and Andy? He’s just a good, all American man who was tired of keeping his relationship under wraps. Everything’s to gain from this plan.”

“Well, I lose my journalistic integrity. That’s a pretty big loss to me. I may never work again,” you rubbed your forehead in a distraught manner.

“You won’t have to worry about working when you’re the First Lady. Think about it, if we can get votes from the swing states, we’ve secured enough electoral votes to have a Barber win. All over a little character rebrand.”

“Excuse me, the First Lady?” You nervously glanced between Vision and Aaliyah while you attempted to pick your jaw up from the floor.

“Well, yes. We can’t exactly get the full ‘family man’ look without Mr. Barber being a real husband.“

“Are we talking, real wedding?” Aaliyah questioned.

“Yes. You just have to be legally bound together for around four years, eight years tops. About twelve would be preferable, but I understand that not everything works out.”

“I don’t object to that,” Andy winked and nudged you a bit.

What a mess.

“Back to what I was saying, we’ll probably need about a two week PR period before we do a press briefing announcing the engagement. Give or take. During that time, we could have your publicist arrange all sorts of good photo ops for you two.”

“Either way, my career is ruined,” you sighed, and Andy set his hand on your back.

“Sorry, sweetheart.”

“You don’t have to do that. We’re not currently standing in front of 30 cameras.”

“Well, we should prepare for when we are in front of 30 cameras.”

“Is it though?” Vision interjected, bringing you and Andy back from your aside. “We can just deflect, maybe have a few of your friends make articles about how what you did wasn’t all that bad.”

“Is it not a valid criticism of me that I was sleeping around with the person who I was also slandering?”

“Is it not possible to criticize someone you care about? In fact, helping someone learn how to improve can be very romantic,” Vision shrugged. 

There was a brief silence throughout the bunch while everyone pondered a counter argument. 

“That right there, that kind of insight is why we call you the Vision,” Tony shook his head and proudly clapped the man on his back.

“So it’s settled then? We’re really doing this?” You glanced around at your peers while Aaliyah spoke. “Any objections, love birds?”

Andy shrugged, “I’d be happy to spend the rest of my life with her.”

You, on the other hand, weren’t so sure. 

——

Barber and his Greatest Critic Break Bread Together on Friday

read more

Y/N L/N Announces She’s Not Resigning from Senior Position, and That She’s Been Seeing Barber!

read more

BREAKING! Barber Announces Relationship with Critic Y/N L/N

read more

Is L/Nber the Ship that Shows us How Relationships Are More Powerful than Politics?

read more

Our New Favorite Political Power Couple Showed Up Together at a Rally, and We Couldn’t Be More Excited.

read more

Barber 7 Points Ahead in the Polls, Leaving Loguidice and Kline Trailing Far Behind

read more

Was Y/N Really in the Wrong?

read more 

“L/Nber” Celebrate Valentine’s Day Together 

read more

These L/Nber House Hunting Photos Are Giving Us Life!

read more

This was your reality for the next two weeks. The news cycle was filled with a plethora of articles about you, some criticizing you, some criticizing Andy, but most, supporting the two of you in your romantic endeavors. Unsurprisingly, the world loved a good story about two attractive people getting together. 

During this period, you didn’t particularly feel like leaving, though the thought had certainly crossed your mind. You just weren’t sure that you wanted to be dealing with those terrible symptoms again in the midst of an already stressful stage of your life. At the same time, it seemed like the universe was not going to be fair with your time in this reality. You were convinced that you were here for the long haul, or at least, until Andy proposed to you. 

Although it was a bit annoying, cameras around every corner, a watchful eye on everything that you or Andy even considered doing, you found yourself growing on Andy. In some ways, he was a bit more intense than Steve, whose personality had mellowed out a bit since the Snap.

This had been the first time in all of your travels where you felt like ‘Steve’ was the one pursuing you, and in all honesty, it made you feel good. Even if everything the two of you did had an aftertaste of artificiality.

You spent more and more time with him every day, staying together with him in hotels across the country, visiting local businesses with him to get the perfect photo op, and attending galas with donors. It seemed like in every candid photo of Andy, you weren’t too far behind. By the time the day of your proposal arrived, you weren’t even all that opposed to the marriage. 

When the proposal finally arrived, the two of you were sat inside a rather fancy restaurant, finishing up your meal when Andy settled on one knee in front of you, “Y/N,” he began, and you felt the all too familiar tremble of your watch on your wrist. 

You almost had to restrain yourself from exclaiming out loud. It’s not that you didn’t like Andy or anything, he’d genuinely grown on you. In the least cheesy way, it wasn’t him, but you. Being somewhere so unfamiliar for so long had begun to create a cumulative exhaustion that wore a bit more on you every day. Feeling homesick was an understatement.

You brought your hands up to your face, and gasped dramatically, squeezing your eyes shut to see if you could possibly produce a few tears, while mobile cameras and a few professional flashes were directed towards you. A few warm droplets slipped down your face, and for a moment you weren’t even sure how fake they were. It seemed like once they started, they couldn’t stop.

You missed Steve, your Steve, the man you’d fallen in love with. You missed your friends, teammates, and family. You missed the stability of knowing what the world held for you next. 

In the midst of Andy’s proposal, in what should’ve been the happiest moment of your life, all you could focus on was your overwhelming desire to have a sense of normalcy in your life once again. 

——

You woke up in a cold sweat, heart racing in your chest, and shaking your ribcage. You looked up to the ceiling of what you had grown to know was your room in the Compound, your real room, and felt your eyes well up in tears that stung you. 

You sat up, and took as deep of a breath as you could manage, when you noticed Wanda sitting by your bedside.

“Oh good, you’re awake,” she said softly, coming closer to you, offering you a glass of water before sitting at the foot of your bed. 

“Where’s Steve?” you asked, trying to gauge where you were. 

“Honey,” she sighed softly. “I’m so sorry. He’s still missing.”

Your lip trembled as you took a sip. You really were back home. 

“I know you’re hurting, but when you feel a little better, we’re going to Medbay. Banner decided that we should probably keep an eye on your vitals, but you were gone before we even had the chance to get you there.”

You gulped down the water, then set it on your bedside table, “so was that all just a dream or something? Why isn’t Steve back?” you huffed frustratedly.

“I don’t know why he isn’t back, but I don’t think you were dreaming. I was trying to watch your dreams, but I couldn’t read you, or your thoughts at all.”

“Hmm,” you mumbled, throwing your legs over the side of the bed, “let’s go.”

As you settled into the cold, and sterile medical facility you were hooked up to a plethora of monitors, and a cacophony of devices beeped as they read your physical state. 

You tuned out the words being spoken around you, zoning out and looking forward to your vital signs monitor. Your mind wandered to your last few thoughts in your previous reality, the desperation to come back, to see your estranged lover again. You couldn’t help but to feel disappointed, lamenting the fact that you’d found your way home, yet felt the ever present void in your heart where your Steve used to be.

“Y/N?” a voice asked you, and you glanced in its general direction. “What happened while you were out? What did you see? Did it work?” Bruce pelted you with questions.

“I don’t know if I’m ready to talk about it yet,” you sighed softly, bringing a hand up to your neck and rubbing it. “The watch worked though, I was definitely in other universes. I just couldn’t reach him. Bring him home. I failed.”

“Do you think he’s really out there?” Bruce whispered to Wanda hoping that you might not pick up on it.

“I’m… I don’t know. I just don’t know how likely it is that we’ll manage to find him,” she responded in a hushed tone. You bit back tears as she spoke, resuming your empty gaze on the pixelated green text of your heart rate on the monitor.

“I’m sorry, guys. I have to go back,” you interrupted. “I can’t give up on Steve yet. I know he wouldn’t give up on me.”

“Y/N, you could be gone for centuries before you find him, then return back here with no time passed at all, and possibly no Steve. You don’t deserve to take on all of that pain,” Wanda set a hand on your shoulder. “Steve would’ve wanted you to move on from him. To find happiness without him.”

“I can’t do that, Wanda. Without him I don’t even know who I am,” your voice trembled as you spoke. “He’s literally been my only tether through all of this.”

“I just don’t know that this is the best thing we could be doing. Sure, you’re physically fine, but it almost seems like you’re doing worse emotionally than you were before you left,” Bruce added.

“I’m not!” you sniffled before continuing. “I’m just tired from going to all those new places.”

Bruce and Wanda didn’t seem too convinced. “Don’t you guys believe in me? When have I let you down on a mission before? I’m gonna find him, okay? I’ll find him if it’s the last fucking thing I do,” you blubbered.

Wanda’s hand slid down your shoulder, and to the watch that was currently on your wrist.

“Don’t,” you uttered, swinging your opposite hand to grab onto your own wrist. You were aware that there was absolutely no way you could overpower her in taking the watch from you, but even in your minor hysterics, you were able to think fast enough to press the round button before the watch was able to be taken off of you.

You, and your wrist shook. Wrist shaking from the watch, and promise of sending you elsewhere, and you from a mixture of sobs and adrenaline. Though not the most ideal exit, it was an exit nonetheless.

You weren’t even sure if you cared that you were on good terms with your teammates anymore. 

You just needed to be with Steve again.

[klarolinelibrary]

Hi KC Readers, 

Happy Friday! 

We have another weekly releases for you to check out. The stories below were updated during the week of April 17 - April 23. 

Grab a snack and drink, then dive right into the new stories and reimagined characters of Klaus Mikaelson and Caroline Forbes!

FFN

Klaus POV - The Trouble with Spells (Chapter 21)

Author: ilovetf

Rating: M

Length: Multi Chapter

Summary: I think the title is self explanatory. The Trouble with Spells as seen through Klaus's eyes and his POV. Over the years, people kept liking this story and some even asked for Klaus POV, so I decided to give it a try. Hope you enjoy it. All feedback is more than welcome. Good or bad.

Date of update: April 17 2021

SKULLS (Chapter 9)

Author: Lovely Vero

Rating: M

Length: Multi Chapter

Summary: Vampiro and El Diablo, aka: Klaus and Elijah Mikaelson, heads of the bikers SKULLS are fighting Gabriel Desperaldo, aka: El escorpión - head of the Spanish mafia - and his human trafficking in their city of Los Alamos in New Mexico. Never in a million years, did they imagine that the love of two captured women would change their life forever.

Date of update: April 17 2021

In the shelter of your light (Chapter 3)

Author: Clarity23

Rating: M

Length: Multi Chapter

Summary: Caroline expected to face some challenges when she decided to foster a teenage girl. But she did not expect that the girl's older, annoyingly handsome brother would be in the picture as well. AU

Date of update: April 17 2021

Everything and anything for you (Chapter 13)

Author: thelibrarianofalexandria

Rating: T

Length: Multi Chapter

Summary: She had it all planned ahead. Graduate early, go to an Ivy League college, make her dreams come true. However, she has to change it a little when her whole life is thrown upside down and a handsome original takes an interest in her, the younger, shy, sister of Caroline Forbes.

Date of update: April 20 2021

You can't run from your past (Chapter 2)

Author: CookieDuo

Rating: M

Length: Multi Chapter

Summary: Caroline Forbes is an FBI agent with secrets. Three years ago she fell in love with a target before she helped put him behind bars, and she faked her own death. Now he's escaped from prison and he's learned the truth, about who she is and the secret she's been keeping since he got sent away. Now she has to run, but he's determined to catch her. And he always gets what he wants.

Date of update: April 20 2021

Take on the world

Author: Logan27

Rating: M

Length: Multi Chapter

Summary: Starts near the end of 4x14 (I would rewatch that episode up until Klaus comes out onto the porch just for a refresher). Caroline makes a life altering decision and takes a big chance in order to move forward, heal and discover.

Date of update: April 21 2021

A Failed Sacrifice (Chapter 4)

Author: CookieDuo

Rating: M

Length: Multi Chapter

Summary: She ruined the sacrifice to save her own life, and in order to survive she turned to the only other vampire who'd been able to survive the wrath of Klaus Mikaelson. She gets away, and learns from the master, but when Klaus eventually catches up to her, her life will never be the same again.

Date of update: April 23 2021

AO3

Step Up Or Step Out

Author: ThrowMeAStory

Rating: E

Length: One shot

Summary: 4x16 au, Part 7. For Caroline it's been a long time coming.

Date of update: April 17 2021

no goodbyes (Chapter 9)

Author: deadofwrite (dead_of_write)

Rating: E

Length: Multi Chapter

Summary: “Last night shouldn’t have happened,” Caroline whispered. Guilt. Shame. Regret.It was all the emotions he feared. And it was written all over her face. aka. a college/cheating au

Date of update: April 17 2021

Turned Off or Turned On?

Author: Anonymous

Rating: E

Length: Drabble

Summary: Caroline-that-has-flipped-the-switch seeks out one Klaus Mikaelson. Deep down Caroline knew that seeking him out was wrong on so many levels, he had been responsible for so much death and destruction, but that didn’t stop her. Truthfully, it made her want to go to him more, now that her emotions had been turned off. There was nothing from keeping her from having him. Had she had them switched on it was doubtful she even would have gone out of the door, she would have just wistfully thought about going instead. Thinking about what might have been.

Date of update: April 17 2021

One of a Kind, Two of a Kind, or the Three Musketeers (Chapter 10)

Author: Phandancee74

Rating: T

Length: Multi Chapter

Summary: Caroline recognizes how hard it is for Elena to be a doppelgänger, her fate predestined as well as her face. It's pretty tough being the last of your kind too though, and Caroline is determined to protect them both, with some very helpful Bennetts on their side. A fic that integrates Malivore and the larger supernatural universe into TVD from the start.

Date of update: April 17 2021

A Blonde, A Brit, and A Baby (Chapter 3)

Author: Books4eva180

Rating: T

Length: Multi Chapter

Summary: Caroline Forbes life is right on schedule for her Twenty-Year plan that she created at 16 years old: at 23 years old she is a junior editor at a magazine company in NYC and she has fantastic friends; one of whom is about to get to married. Life couldn't be more perfect or at least that was until she slept with a British asshole. What was only supposed to be a one night stand has turned into a life changing night because Caroline is now pregnant. Klaus Mikaelson has always enjoyed the simple things in life. Bourbon, art, and an endless stream of girls who are more than willing to fall into his bed. This all changes when he is forced to move to America to join his father's law company and he isn't even really his father. Then to make matters worse he ends up sleeping with a girl and even worse she ends up pregnant. Forced together in a situation that neither of them could have planned for will feelings blossom (yes they definitely will) Will Caroline be able to handle this life changing event? Will Klaus be able to escape the demons from his past? Will the both of them be able to provide a happy and healthy home for their baby?

Date of update: April 18 2021

Darkness Becomes Thee

Author: BelleMorte180

Rating: E

Length: Multi Chapter

Summary: Austria 1300s When Klaus met a young girl on a riverbank, he knew that he would one day come back for her. When he looked into her bright blue eyes, he could see a reflection of his own soul, a darkness that lingered inside both of them. When the young girl turned into a beautiful woman with a thirst for blood, his fascination with her turns into obsession. He wants not only her loyalty but her eternity, a possessiveness that is equally returned. or my "Caroline is the serial killer Elizabeth Bathory" au.

Date of update: April 18 2021

Reunited (Chapter 13)

Author: CandyCane1287

Rating: T

Length: Multi Chapter

Summary: Set after 5x12 TVD, where Caroline confesses what she did with Klaus to Katherine and Tyler hears. Katherine reveals that she’s dying and knows of a witch that could help her. But the witch is in New Orleans and that’s where Elijah and Klaus. Baby included but nice Hayley doesn't stick around. Also, Elena is supportive here.

Date of update: April 18 2021

A smutty anniversary (Chapter 6)

Author: kcatdino

Rating: E

Length: Multi Chapter

Summary: Caroline and Klaus celebrate 3 months together with a day full of smut.

Date of update: April 18 2021

american dream prom queen

Author: trashcanbarbie

Rating: T

Length: Drabble

Summary: “What would they say, if they knew you were here, on my birthday doing something almost…” she trails off, because she doesn't know the word. “Nice?” he suggests, then grins like a wolf, “They’d roll in their graves, my siblings.” “They're not dead.” He grins, and Caroline feels as if he’s laughing at a private joke when he says, “Aren't they?”

Date of update: April 19 2021

We are young (Chapter 12)

Author: kcatdino

Rating: T

Length: One shot

Summary: Basically, Klaroline flirt in front of their kids who they are barely older than, and Landon is appropriately confused.

Date of update: April 19 2021

Nowhere Else To Go (Chapter 2)

Author: NerdyNostalgia

Rating: G

Length: Drabble

Summary: Klaus has an unexpected visitor while in New Orleans and is determined to show her a good time. He isn't going to let this chance pass him by, and if it means he and Caroline get closer...well, that was a bonus. But is Marcel planning something?

Date of update: April 19 2021

Part of Your World

Author: perfectpro

Rating: G

Length: One shot

Summary: After trading the loveliest thing she possessed to a sea witch in order to walk on land, Caroline realizes that she'd accidentally bargained her voice away. Human legs shouldn't always feel this sort of pain, should they? With only a week to go before the spell wears off, the bargain can be undone entirely with true love's first kiss. The only problem is... Who falls in love in less than a week?

Date of update: April 19 2021

I Don’t Want You To Die

Author: klarolinexluv

Rating: E

Length: Multi Chapter

Summary:

Date of update: April 19 2021

Sibling Rivalry (Chapter 9)

Author: kcatdino

Rating: M

Length: Multi Chapter

Summary: In which Klaus and Rebekah are both bi, their taste in men and women overlaps infuriatingly often, and they argue over their newest shared interest. Edit: This is going to be a full series now, I love it so much. Edit 2: Oops, I dropped a whole bucket of angst on Caroline's backstory. If only there were some Mikaelsons willing to help her work through it...

Date of update: April 20 2021

What Could Have Been (Chapter 37)

Author: TNaPKI

Rating: M

Length: Multi Chapter

Summary: My impression of what Season 6 of The Originals would have been like post 5x13 where Klaroline becomes endgame. Is Klaus really gone or is there more to the story? Find out! FINAL CHAPTER out in a month!

Date of update: April 20 2021

The Salvatore Sisters (Chapter 19)

Author: 1Jemmagirl22

Rating: T

Length: Multi Chapter

Summary: Caroline and Davina Salvatore are Stefan and Damon's younger sister's, and they are far more than meets the eye. When Stefan and Damon's younger sisters show up during the beginning of season 2, what could possibly go wrong. The Salvatore girls have a dark past littered with their brother's enemies, the same enemies that just so happen to be their family. With Mikaelson's as husbands, miracle powers that could crush a Bennet witch, and whole life their brothers never knew about just how much have can these sisters and their family cause.

Date of update: April 21 2021

YOU ARE NOT HERE

Author: wincefish16

Rating: T

Length: Drabble

Summary: PROMT - HUMAN. KLAROLINE LOVED EAC OTHER, HAPPY IN A RELATIONSHIP WHERE CAROLINE IS THE ARTIST AND KLAUS IS A LAWYER. THEY HAVE AN ACCIDENT AND CAROLINE SLIPS IN A COMA. SHE IS LIKE THAT FOR 1 YEAR. KLAUS , AS A TRIBUTE TO HER STARTS PAINTING. DOES HE FALL INTO NEW RELATIONSHIPS?

Date of update: April 21 2021

Compromise Coffee (Chapter 3)

Author: BelleMorte180

Rating: E

Length: One shot

Summary: Caroline Forbes has a coffee problem; or better described as a crush on the cute barista, Klaus, who knows how to make her large, non-fat latte with a caramel drizzle and two extra espresso shots just right. After years of coming to Compromise Coffee, Caroline thought he would have made a move by now, but he hasn't. Caroline has decided that it is time for her to make the move herself.

Date of update: April 22 2021

Soulmate visions (Chapter 4)

Author: kcatdino

Rating: T

Length: Multi Chapter

Summary: On your soulmate's eighteenth birthday, you see through their eyes for an hour, but they don’t know. And if your soulmate turns eighteen before you are even born, you never get a vision. Klaus gets his soulmate vision right after he orders Tyler to bite Caroline on her birthday….

Date of update: April 22 2021

Give Me A Sign (Chapter 6)

Author: PumpkinDoodles

Rating: M

Length: Multi Chapter

Summary: Caroline Forbes is happy that she left founders' parties, competition over guys she'd known since elementary school, and even Mystic Falls itself behind years ago. She's not second-best to Elena anymore. Even Liz would be proud of her new life working on the side of the law. Mostly. (If you need to compel someone into giving up stolen goods, is it really a crime?) Of course he's the one person from her past who comes looking for her. Klaus does that.

Date of update: April 22 2021

Secrets Inside Us

Author: 1Jemmagirl22

Rating: T

Length: Drabble

Summary: Klaroline as actors falling in love on set.

Date of update: April 23 2021

Destination Wedding (Chapter 2)

Author: PumpkinDoodles

Rating: M

Length: Multi Chapter

Summary: The first rule of going to your ex's wedding is 'make sure you look good,' but Caroline's seriously worried that this British Guy is going to make her late. And she cannot be late to Rebekah Mikaelson and Matt Donovan's wedding at a Virginia winery.

Date of update: April 23 2021

There Is Nothing I Would Not Do

Author: ThrowMeAStory

Rating: M

Length: Drabble

Summary: 4x16 au, Part 8. Caroline and Bonnie reconnect.

Date of update: April 23 2021

Cloud 9: A Collection of Klaroline Fusions and Crossovers (Chapter 10)

Author: klarolineagainnaturally

Rating: G

Length: One shot

Summary: Various fusions and crossovers with Klaus and Caroline including Much Ado About Nothing, Ready or Not, and Tangled!

Date of update: April 23 2021

FFN/AO3

FFN: The Traitor and the Coward (Chapter 5)

AO3: The Traitor and the Coward (Chapter 5)

Author: Uppity Bitch

Rating: M

Length: Multi Chapter

Summary: Klaroline AU supernatural multi-chap - Original!Caroline has spent lifetimes running from her lover and his family. Despite the centuries of loneliness, she regrets nothing. Soon, she'll bring an end to this madness. Or bring the madness full circle.

Date of update: April 17 2021

FFN: Heartless to Heartfelt, Redone (Chapter 10)

AO3: Heartless to Heartfelt (Chapter 13)

Author: SmallTimeWriter

Rating: T

Length: Multi Chapter

Summary: Daggered and buried deep within the ocean, Klaus has spent the last 9 years in a torturous state. Haunted by memories of the past and images of a child he never got to meet. Now awakened, but not the same. He is faced with a decision, can he forgive those who wronged him when a threat larger then they could anticipate appears? They must reunited to survive. All Main Characters.

Date of update: April 18 2021

FFN: Divine Intervention (Chapter 13)

AO3: Divine Intervention (Chapter 13)

Author: Uppity Bitch

Rating: M

Length: Multi Chapter

Summary: This takes place in an alternate universe after Klaus seeks assistance from a certain blonde Norse goddess after Katerina has become a vampire and foiled his attempt at breaking his curse. Later chapters will follow this spicy "power" couple as they stir up all kinds of trouble in Mystic Falls. (Dark Klaroline) *Nominated for 2016 Klaroline Award - Best Original Story Concept

Date of update: April 19 2021

FFN: A Beautiful Symmetry (Chapter 154)

AO3:  A Beautiful Symmetry (Chapter 154)

Author: Uppity Bitch

Rating: M

Length: One Shot

Summary: A collection of random AU one-shots featuring Klaroline. *2019 KC Award - Best one-shot series* Chapter 154: Dimples and Domestics. The Mikaelsons are spoiled, selfish snobs — and unfortunately are art student Caroline and her parents' main source of income. At least she only has to put up with them over her summer break...

Date of update: April 21 2021

FFN: Through his eyes (Chapter 6)

AO3: Through his eyes (Chapter 6)

Author: TheAlllureOfDarkness

Rating: T

Length: Multi Chapter

Summary: The story of Klaus and Caroline, from Klaus POV.

Date of update: April 21 2021

FFN: Judgment Call (Chapter 5)

AO3: Judgment Call (Chapter 5)

Author: Eliliyah

Rating: T/G

Length: Multi Chapter

Summary: As a Federal Agent, Caroline Forbes has always lived by a strict moral code. But when new evidence comes to light that Klaus Mikaelson, the first man she helped send to death row, may not be guilty hours before his execution, she begins to question everything she's ever known. As the investigation leads to the heartbreaking truth, she's forced to choose between right and just.

Date of update: April 23 2021

[my-darling-boy]

what about California suits you poorly?

A LOT and I’m so stressed I’m just going to vent about it, I’m sorry I need to let this out:

1. Weather is fucking awful in so many counties, especially where I live. It gets to 110-120F in the summer for 2 months, half the year it’s 90+. We get rain/grey skies MAYBE in total for 2 weeks out of the entire year. I’ve suffered for years from reversed seasonal depression (where you get so much sun you get depressed) which means my mental health is only at it’s best in the cold or with grey skies and gloomy weather, can’t take pills for it because of the side effects. I also have a skin condition that flares up in the heat which means I can’t go outside, at the worst part of the year, for anymore that 30 seconds without stinging horrible pain over my whole body, can’t get the injection to take care of it cos that’s just one more injection I’d have to worry about

2. We’re on constant wildfire watch about half the year, sometimes more. We’ve been at risk of evacuating 3 times but thankfully haven’t had to ever evacuate. However, my grandparents have had to twice and I have family that lost their houses in the Tubbs Fire which also destroyed my home town and so many people are still displaced from the fires. Even counties that don’t have to evacuate suffer from the purple-red zone for air quality due to smoke and I have high sensitivity to smoke which means I have a constant sore throat for all of fire season which is like 7 months out of the year and I would prefer not to look out my window and see a charcoal sky or a burning Star Wars Tattooine red sunset so often that it becomes normal.

3. I dunno what ads are shown in other states about California, but unless you are a millionaire, but I’ve found it’s near impossible to live here without at least two roommates all working a 40 hour week. Everyone my age has roommates or a partner mainly cos it’s so difficult to live on your own. It is in the top 3 most expensive states in the country. Low income housing 2 minutes away from me is priced at $600,000-$700,000 and the homes just next to those in gated communities are $1,000,000+. “”“Affordable””one bedroom flats just near me are $2,500-$3000 a month. And I don’t even live in a major city. If I moved out now, I would be classified as living in poverty with what money I have. For a look at how bad it’s gotten, my dad’s childhood home in the 70s was once $100,000 and it just sold last year for over $1,500,000.

4. There are no outlets for my career or job wants. At all. My main interest/knowledge is in Western Europe around that 1880-1920 period and mainly around WWI, and I reenact a British soldier. I love that history, theatre, art.... but on the off chance I had $60,000 a semester to go to the universities here I wanted to get a degree after transferring from a junior college, I have nowhere to apply that here. There are practically zero WWI events for me to reenact here, minus Newville and a couple others and there is no target audience for all my WWI writing and art because barely anyone gives a damn about WWI here (the Joke I’d always hear in school was “WWI? What even was that?” and we would learn about it for MAYBE two weeks out of 12 years of schooling). There aren’t museums I’d want to work at here, there aren’t shops I’d love to work for, there aren’t historical places I feel attached to to work there. I cannot tell you how fucking ECSTATIC I was to see actual WWI items in museums in England because I’d never seen anything like it here!! Like??? I could’ve fucking cried because I was so happy to be in a place where my interests had meaning to people?? Like last time I was there, literally a man in an elevator got into a Deep conversation with us about how sad WWI was and how it’s still emotional for people which was WILD because here I’m always told to “be smart and get interested in something that actually matters”. Like I’m sorry but it is SO draining to be so passionate about something it feels like no one around you ever cares about

5. The Style I specifically have is SO unnecessarily pricey to have here. California never had an Edwardian Period the way they did in the countries I studied, which means that there are, surprise, pretty much zero places to buy clothing/items from that period and if you do happen to find them, they’re outrageously expensive and the cuts of the garments aren’t even the ones I’m looking for, for instance, because America had slightly different fashion. No one here sells the clothing I dream of having, I have to order a majority of my stuff from England meaning it costs A LOT and I pay like $80+ in shipping for some things. My reenactment gear is so expensive to have shipped here as well!! I’m also so ://// cos I see all my friends from Europe just going out and causally finding items I’d love to have at decent prices cos they’re just staple antique shop items there which would be classified as rarities here. Like...... to know I could just walk into a physical shop somewhere and pay £15 for a collar or something that would’ve cost me $45 to have shipped here is just AAAAAHHHH??? Like the only reason why my dream life Brand isn’t as developed as I would like is because that Brand just doesn’t exist anywhere here and it’s so disappointing

6. Additionally, I plan on going to Europe when it’s much safer to travel anyway throughout my life just to visit all these places I want to, if I don’t end up living there somewhere, but flights from California to these places are so expensive because I’m always traveling so far and my flight is always 11-12 hours straight which would be fine if it wasn’t in cramped quarters filled with strangers

7. Ultimately, I just feel so alone and empty here. I look out around me and see an American capitalist wasteland, Hollywood drama in my backyard, stark blue skies with a blazing unforgiving sun, no places I Vibe with, no place I feel interested to live, no place I feel interested to work at, and nothing to be happy about. My parents are planning to move after my dad retires, my grandparents on both sides are getting quite older now, and my family on both sides I’m not all that close with, I used to see a lot and now I see maybe once every 1-2 years. I’m not a little kid anymore and it’s just time for me to leave and everything just feels so wrong about living here in ways I don’t even have words for

8. Adding: the job situation here has been so bad for a long time and because of that, I’ve reached a point where I’m selling my car to have the money I need to move out! I’m either going to have to find a place to live where I can walk or take the metro or something because I don’t have cash left over to by another car once I sell the one I have so RIP

[adamwatchesmovies]

Super Mario Bros. (1993)

In 1993, I was excited for Super Mario Bros. How could I have known any positive expectations would mean only disappointment? As an adaptation of the video game, it’s terrible. The film captures none of the excitement, characters, or even colours of the game. As a movie, it sucks too, with poor performances, many plot holes, and lame jokes all set in an ugly, uninspired world. This was the first video game film adaptation. What a shameful first step for the genre.

Mario (Bob Hoskins) and Luigi (John Leguizamo) are Italian-American plumbers who witness the kidnapping of an archaeologist named Daisy (Samantha Mathis) by the tyrannical King Koopa (Dennis Hopper). To rescue her, the unlikely heroes travel to a strange parallel universe where dinosaurs never went extinct.

The Mario games aren't exactly known for their sophisticated plots. “The villain’s kidnapped the Princess, go rescue her” is a thin premise so of course liberties had to be taken. What's unforgivable is that writers Parker Bennett, Terry Runté, and Ed Solomon settled for a story this generic. Our heroes have to travel to this other dimension to rescue a woman. Why is she being kidnapped? Because her necklace is the key to opening the doorway between Koopa’s dimension and ours. Can't the villains already enter our world if they can come and grab her? It’s questionable developments like this one that makes the film the equivalent of picking long hairs out of your shower drain. The studio knew anything called Super Mario Bros. would be a hit so they put no effort into it whatsoever.

You'll be bored as the characters run from one location to the next, scrambling to shove away the references to the original video game to get closer to the finale, a big glob of special effects that can’t end soon enough. In general, this is an ugly film. Every set is covered with drapes of fungus (Get it? Mushroom kingdom?) as Mad Max-like vehicles parade through the streets while the alleged descendants of dinosaurs (who happen to look exactly like humans) talk about this boring scheme to take over the Earth using technology that doesn’t make sense, even in a film that features super jumping boots and magic rocks.

I expected to be let down. I was as a child. Instead, I found myself infuriated. The performances are terrible. How could they not be? The script thinks intelligence means reading through your thesaurus and busting out unnecessarily superfluous dialect instead of making correct decisions, using logic, or outwitting other people. Bob Hoskins, John Leguizamo, and Dennis Hopper accepted their fate and said “If you don’t care that you're wasting people's time, we won’t either”.

If there’s one thing the film does well, it’s the special effects. There’s an animatronic dinosaur that looks quite good. I like the design for Koopa’s minions, the Goombas. They’re varied and kind of funny. The rest? Empty colors swirling on the screen. This picture thinks children are stupid. It was green-lit even though no one knew how they were going to get from Point A: Super Mario Bros. to Point C: Box office success. All they saw was the mountains of cash that would result from bringing a popular property to the big screen. You’d need the thickest, flashiest, air-conditioned, reclining, automatic, glow-in-the-dark, don’t-care-about-what-anyone-says nostalgia goggles to admit this isn’t one of the worst things to come out of 1993.

I hate this film. I bought it some time ago thinking it would be “so bad it’s good”. It isn’t. If you remember liking the colossal waste of time that is Super Mario Bros. and think it might be "ok", I feel bad for you. You're living a lie. Play the video game and pretend this movie doesn't exist. (On DVD, June 24, 2016)

[shihalyfie]

hi! this is out of curiosity, since when do you start to watch adv series in its original jap. ver.? do you find any difficulty in trying to adapt, get used to it? like the voices, names of the characters, music, the way the story is presented. i first watch the series in my own language and the english ver (not the us ver., more like asian english ver.) before i encounter the original jap. ver. during my teenage years and get used to it over time until now. i'm okay with dub ver, but i always prefer, love to watch the jap. ver. more than other dubs.

(Note: This was cleared up later with the asker and various parties, so mostly leaving this for posterity: while it's not universally well-known, "J*p" is a slur originating from WWII, so I ask that people please be careful about not using that even as an abbreviation.)

Regardless of language, I've always been interested in original versions of any dubbed media for as long as I've been consuming media (I won't say I'm necessarily a purist, I just happen to have a natural curiosity for what must have been the original source), so I'd been interested in the Japanese version of Digimon ever since I first got into it, and had been following it ever since it started getting translated. If you know anything about Digimon and subbing, it actually took some years for most early Digimon series to get decent quality subs in full, so I thank everyone involved for their hard work, especially since the prevailing attitude at the time was that "the (American) English dub didn't change anything substantial anyway" (ignoring the fact that there would still be good reason to have the Japanese version on hand even if that were the case...) and the demand for it was even more niche than it is now.

I didn't really have problems getting used to names. I did have to get used to the voices, because since I got in with the American English dub initially, I had a strong attachment to the voices I'd associated with them there (and I still do, even if I haven't fully watched the dub in years!), so there would be things like Yamato (Kazama Yuuto)'s voice being much deeper than I'd expected, or Agumon's voice being completely different in general, but I got used to it quickly because I felt like everyone fit their character perfectly in their own way. The music was a bit surprising, but I was never too incredibly attached to the original music anyway so it was mostly just discovering something new and fun. Other than that, I guess I was incredibly surprised by how different of an impression 02 gave me, especially Daisuke; having been eyeing 02 in Japanese since translation efforts first started, I knew there had been some changes (Hurricane Touchdown...) but the actual degree really surprised me, especially since, as I said, the prevailing attitude was that "it didn't change much". Part of the reason I write so extensively about how much the 02 dub changed is that I personally witnessed firsthand how much my perception of the series abruptly shifted after my first time watching it in Japanese, and how nearly impossible it became to hold analytical conversations about certain smaller details with people who mistakenly over-applied dub things to the Japanese version because "we're actually talking about two different things, aren't we..." never comes up thanks to how prevalent this myth is. Driving this home further, I don't have this issue at all with fans who had their own local dubs more closely adapted from the Japanese version, so the problem really isn't whether it was in Japanese or not, or whether it was a dub or not, as much as the fact "the script really did change that much".

Currently, I guess I would say I have a pretty complicated relationship with Digimon's American English dubs. Like I said, I don't necessarily think I'm a purist or anything, and even though I have an increased stake in watching things in Japanese since I can actually understand much more about the language than I used to, I myself still enjoy a good dub and also completely understand and appreciate the nature of what dubbing entailed in those days, the dub's role in getting Digimon to a wider audience, the reason people prefer dubs and how important this one is to people, and, heck, I still love the voice actors. At the same time, this "it didn't change anything significant" myth has been really damaging and frustrating to deal with, because you get pointless, unnecessary arguments about people trying to talk about two very different versions of the series and arguing because they don't realize the characters they're discussing weren't even written similarly (hi, Mimi and Daisuke). Even if people do acknowledge the changes, there's also a tendency to worship that dub, so even though I feel my complaints about it are pretty legitimate ones (my gripes mainly being that I'm uncomfortable with the characterization changes, I feel many of the changes caused a significant adverse impact on the story and characterization integrity especially in the case of 02, and I get a bit of a bad feeling about some of the cultural localization attempts in dialogue borderline crossing into racism), it's frustrating to constantly get shut down because everything should be excused as long as it was in someone's childhood, and it's also frustrating to see these dismissals applied to people who had their own aforementioned local dubs and are upset at how this impacted their own childhood, but are thrown under the bus because their own dub is treated disrespectfully as if it were "secondary" to the American English dub somehow being the enforced, mandated standard for any kind of localized Digimon outside Japan.

I completely understand that a lot of this is lashback developed from Japanese-version-only purist camps being obnoxious about dunking on dubs, but it's uncomfortable observing the results of the fallout when you're kind of here in the middle not wanting to dunk on it for the sake of dunking on it, but also having concerns that you feel everyone is dismissing you for. (Not helping is also the fact that obnoxious purists love to dunk on people for having a personal preference for dubs; there are a lot of reasons to prefer them even if you're aware of the changes, personal emotional attachment and accessibility reasons being among them, and my grievances have more to do with the "it didn't change anything" myth still being prevalent, the experiences of having any criticism I have of it being so easily dismissed, and the fact that a combination of both means that having strong loyalty to the Japanese version gets you pinned as being an unusual purist or being overly picky.)

Also, I think one thing that isn't often talked about is that there's a huge difference between the dubs of everything up to 02 and the dubs of everything between Tamers and Savers (Xros Wars we'll...leave aside for now, haha). In the case of the latter, the aggressive joke-adding is much less intrusive, the changes (including to characterization) are less significant, and you can even see this in that Diablomon Strikes Back's dub has much closer dialogue and characterization to the original than anything else from the 02 dub. So a lot of what I said above actually just applies to Adventure and 02 more than anything. For series after, I don't make it a habit to watch their dubs as often these days, but I'm still familiar with them and have my own pretty strong sense of nostalgia for the Tamers and Frontier ones in particular, and for anything after 02, I haven't had any particular experience with other fans regarding trying to discuss the series but finding we're talking about two different things, other than maybe one or two minor things that had to be cleared up every so often. So in that case I myself also agree more with the idea of mostly treating the dubbed and Japanese versions as the same thing, whereas with Adventure and 02 I honestly feel they need to be treated as separate and distinct things.

In the end I guess the take-home I have here is that I feel like my experience going from the dub to the Japanese version has been a lot less shocking or eventful than dealing with the perceptions and stigmas around them from other people...^^;;