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jaeminlore · 5 years

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Leap of Faith | Jaemin

summary: jaemin is spider-man. he’s also in over his head, and head over heels in love with you.

words: 7.6k+

category: ps4!spidey universe, fluff, angst, bad writing

warning(s): brief mentions of blood, fighting, and threats

a/n: you don’t have to have played the game to read this story. but if you did play the game, yes, i changed the outcome of **** *** because i’m selfish.

The streets of Brooklyn seem almost dead at midnight. You walk to your apartment, one earbud in while the other hangs off and bounces against your name tag every few seconds. Clack, clack, clack...

You ignore it and focus on the beat of the drums that play through your head. Work was rough, and the weather seems rougher as white breaths surge through your lips. Winter feels horrible here, and walking home during the cold and dark season is not — and never was — your first choice of transportation. However, the subway is sketchy around this time, and you feel like you’ll fend better on the streets. Your apartment is in a well-lit area anyways, so who would try anything?

Clack, clack, clack... thud!

Nearby, a trashcan falls to the ground. The clatter alerts a nearby alley cat, who runs across the road towards safety. Trash falls across the ground. You keep walking.

You reach your apartment safely, but you don’t let out a breath of relief until you’re in your living room with the door locked behind you.

Then you turn on the light and see that everything in the room has been ransacked, and your pet cat is nowhere to be seen. Drawers and cushions are scattered across the linoleum, and all your clutter is, well, cluttering up any free space. You notice an old MCR cd and focus on it as you try to figure out what’s going on.

The first thing you do is pull your cellphone out of your pocket and dial 911. It rings once, twice, then “911, what’s your emergency?”

“My apartment has been—“ your phone flies across the room. You shriek in fear when it crackles with electricity. It drops to the floor and you watch as it glitches a few times before turning off completely.

“Oops.” Timidly, the culprit appears, and it’s Spider-Man. The actual Spider-Man, with his red suit and tall stature. Your eyes focus on the large white spider that spans across his chest. Was that always there? You don’t think so. Maybe it’s an upgrade.

You still don’t know what he’s doing in your house.

Well, right now he’s shaking his hands, letting a few crackling strings of web fall to your floor. “I didn’t mean to use my electronic webs. I’ll buy you a new one.”

You blink. “What are you doing here? Did you mess up my place?”

“No!” Then he looks guilty. Well, his mask looks guilty (you aren’t sure how that’s possible). “I mean, I didn’t do it alone. I certainly didn’t mean to ransack your place specifically it’s just... me and my friend were roughhousing and it got out of hand.”

“Just say you were fighting bad guys in my house and go.” You grumble and make your way to the fridge, where the frozen pizza you bought is luckily still residing. “Why can’t you take your fights into the street? Or, like, not in someone’s home?”

“I’m sorry,” he says. “I really didn’t mean to. I can’t exactly control where the fights go. I’ll be more careful next time.”

“I hope there won’t be a next time,” you say honestly. “My insurance is pretty nonexistent.”

“Can I bring someone to help you fix the place?” His voice sounds shameful.

You’re upset that there’s a giant dent in your cabinets, but you don’t doubt that Spider-Man’s intentions were good. “I think I can handle myself. Thank you for getting your, uh, friend, out of my house.”

“It was Hammerhead,” Spider-man says goofily. “And no problem!”

You slip the pizza in the oven and when you turn around, Spider-man is gone. Nothing but an open window and a gentle breeze is left as evidence that he was even here.

Well, except for your destroyed kitchen. You sigh and close your window, flicking the lock. “Be safe,” you whisper against the cool glass.

🕷️

The broken cellphone looks even worse under Octavius Labs’ fluorescent lighting. You grimace, wondering if you could somehow get this fixed before your mother gets worried that you aren’t answering her calls. Luckily, Octavius Labs is pretty famous in Greenwich for its kind scientist and his assistant, who will almost always fix something for little to no cost.

Dr. Octavius must be out, seeing as his assistant is the only one in the lab when you enter. You’re pretty sure his name is Jaemin. You’ve seen him around, especially when his Aunt May owns the F.E.A.S.T. Shelter in Chinatown that you work at. Jaemin is known for making quick friends of the occupants there. He makes many of them feel comfortable and safe. He is exceptionally well at it.

He’s dressed in his usual: jeans and a too-long sweater. The only thing that’s distinctive about the outfit are his bright red Converse, scuffed beyond repair. His back is turned to you, and all his attention seems to be focused on the desk in front of him. You notice he’s sewing some kind of cloth — red and blue — together. Maybe he’s patching up a hoodie? Or some kind of electrical blanket?

You clear your throat.

He jumps, and the cloth is so quickly hidden away that you wonder if it was even there in the first place. Jaemin turns around and leans against the desk casually. “H-Hi.”

You don’t think you’ve ever been this close to him, but in this cramped lab, you can see the soft brown curls that threaten his eyes. You can see his shiny white teeth, partly hidden behind chapped lips. He’s pretty; boyishly pretty, part of you thinks.

“Hey,” you say, confused by his not-so-secret secrecy. “Uh, do you, uh, know how to fix a phone?“

The boy winces when you hold up your phone in all it’s glitching glory. “What happened?”

You think about the masked stranger in your dorm last night. “I don’t think you’d believe me if I told you.”

Jaemin lets out a laugh that sounds a little too forced. “That bad, huh?” But he doesn’t question you any further. “I can probably have this done before the week is over.”

You sigh in relief. “Thanks so much, Jaemin. I owe you one.”

“Don’t worry about it.” His eyes are leveled, lips drawn in a thin line. “Really.”

🕷️

Ever since the last bust at Rikers, Jaemin has been resuming his duty as friendly neighborhood Spider-Man. As exciting as huge battles are, battling five arch nemesis’ at once can take a lot out of a man. Jaemin thinks he has had enough broken bones to last him a lifetime. Or at the least, the next few years.

He’s perched atop Octavius Labs, listening to his headset spout off different crimes throughout the city. Sometimes he wishes that — despite the famous saying — the city would sleep. Just for a few hours. Enough for him to take a nap, or find a job more stable than Octavius Labs, or go on a date.

He scoffs at himself. “Date. As if anyone would deal with my secretive nature and inconsistent schedule.”

His earpiece beeps. He presses the call button. “Hey, Aunt May.”

“Jaemin, uh, sorry—“ the voice that comes through is flustered, but Jaemin knows he’s heard it before. “—it’s Y/n, from F.E.A.S.T.? Anyway I was just gonna let you know that I took the night shift here, and May said you might come by. I was just thinking that you could bring the phone?”

Each word sounds more nervous than the last. Jaemin is already swinging towards Chinatown when he replies. “Yeah, no problem! I’ll bring it by.”

He wonders why you sound so nervous when he’s the one who tore up your apartment and broke your phone. Not that you knew it was him, but still. His guilt should trump your nerves.

He drops onto the roof of F.E.A.S.T. and extracts the backpack he has webbed to the underside of the air conditioning unit. He quickly slides his sweater and jeans over his suit before tucking his mask in the bag. He hastily runs his fingers through his hair in an effort to look presentable, and then he’s walking down the fire escape and entering F.E.A.S.T. through the front door.

F.E.A.S.T. is essentially a giant gymnasium, with beds and chairs and tables all scattered around for whoever is occupying them at the moment. Jaemin figures Aunt May is either in the kitchen or in her office, but he finds you at a table, playing chess with an older woman. “Y/n, I brought your phone.”

You look up from the checkered board. Your cheeks are still rosy from the chilly air, and your hair — albeit tied up — is rather windswept. There’s one strand that hangs just over your eyes, and it makes him want to tuck it back behind your ear. Then he thinks that sounds too intimate, too weird when he’s just the boy who broke your phone.

Then you’re tucking your hair behind your ear by yourself, and the moment is gone. “Thanks! How’d you fix it so fast?”

Jaemin’s neck feels hot when you smile at him like that. “I-It was nothing, really.” He doesn’t want to admit that he nearly wiped out your entire cloud, and it took him a good few hours and a few deep dives into reddit forums to figure out how to get it back. He’s still working on getting the hang of his new web designs. It was extremely unfortunate that Hammerhead insisted on fighting inside of your apartment. In retrospect, you’re lucky Hammerhead didn’t decide to ram through your wall.

“Of course it is! You saved me a lot of money and time.” You reach out and squeeze Jaemin’s arm reassuringly. “I know I probably interrupted whatever you were working on, so is there any way I can thank you? Maybe take you out for pizza?”

Jaemin nearly denies, because he knows this scenario all too well: someone nice shows the littlest amount of interest in him, and he ruins it because of his spidey schedule. He knows what’s gonna happen. You’re gonna schedule a time for pizza, and he’s gonna get a dispatch call, and while he’s stopping thugs from holding up a gas station, you’ll be leaving the pizza place, vowing to never call him again.

It always happens like that, because he can’t be Spider-man and lead a normal life. He’s tried. He’s failed. Horribly. Multiple times. He’s not ready to do it again.

But then May is sidling up to the two of you, and her eyes are sparkling in a way they haven’t for a few months. “Jaemin would love to go out with you! Gosh, it’s been years since he went out with someone his own age.”

You squeeze his arm again, and Jaemin knows it’s supposed to be reassuring but it’s dizzying more than anything, and he blinks a few times before he remembers where he is. He’s at F.E.A.S.T., with you, and his Aunt has just set him up for a date. Wait, a friendship get-together. Not a date. Because Spider-man doesn’t date, and that means that Na Jaemin doesn’t date.

You seem all too excited about the thought of pizza, and it makes Jaemin’s heart ache when he thinks of your pretty lips turned into a frown once you realize he’s stood you up. But he thinks you might give him the same look if he says no. “Okay. How’s tonight, after your shift?”

“Great!” Then you let go of his arm, and you’re walking away, and Aunt May has this look on her face like she knows.

So Jaemin blushes. “I’m gonna go for a walk.”

🕷️

He doesn’t go for a walk, he goes for a wall-crawl downtown, patrolling the streets as the day turns to the dawn. He put his number into your phone when he fixed it, so it’s really up to you to drop a call whenever your shift is over. He prays that until then no call comes in. He prays that for once this city’s police force can hold their own. Just until he can get pizza with you.

He thinks of this pizza when he swings towards Central Park and stops a mugger from taking a lady’s purse. He thinks of your clear and happy eyes when he rescues a cat from a tree. He thinks that he’d really like to hear your soft giggle again, because he’s almost forgotten it, and he’s sure it’s a nicer sound than cars honking and men cursing.

Jaemin makes a joke to a robber just as the man getting pushed into a cop car, and then his phone rings. It’s Yuri, alerting him of some illegal gun trade in Brooklyn. It makes him worry, wondering if it’s anywhere near your apartment and if it’s safe for you to go home.

Someone called him while he was on the phone with Yuri, and he checks his voicemails to hear your sweet voice. “Hey, Jaemin. It’s me again. Y/n, that is. I don’t think you’ve forgotten me but I don’t know how many people you talk to. Does that sound weird? Sorry. Anyways, I was thinking we could just order pizza and eat it at F.E.A.S.T during my ten o’clock break? I know it’s late but just... just let me know, Jaemin. Thanks.”

Jaemin wants to go. He can make it too, if he busts this trade quickly.

He’s Spider-man, so he thinks he might be able to do it, but he’s also Na Jaemin. And Jaemin is bad at time management and even worse at relationships.

The clock strikes ten o’clock and he’s still trying to get through the intricate ventilation system. He curses under his breath; he feels angry at himself once again for breaking a promise, but there’s a city at stake.

There’s no telling where those guns will go; who they will hurt. If he can get to them in time and destroy the guns, everything will be worth it. Even breaking up a relationship before it even starts.

🕷️

He reaches F.E.A.S.T. just before the clock strikes midnight. His suit is covered by civilian clothes. His mask is tucked away in his messenger bag. The guns are all destroyed.

You walk out of the back door just as Jaemin is about to walk in. “Oh. Hey.”

He feels nervous again. That jittery feeling in his chest is back, but it’s smothered by guilt. “I’m so, so sorry. I promise I didn’t mean to be so late. Something came up and—“

“It’s okay,” you say. “I wasn’t even sure if you’d get the voicemail, so don’t sweat it.”

Jaemin is sweating it. Literally. He can feel the perspiration creep up where his suit meets his skin. His heart is beating fast again. His palms are warm. “Still... I’m sorry. Can I make it up to you? Walk you home, maybe?”

“How about you walk me to my train?” You smile softly, “I’m taking Q at Canal Street Station.”

“Yeah,” Jaemin breathes, “I can do that.”

He spends most of the walk trying to keep his heart from bursting out of his chest. Once he can hear over his heartbeat, he realizes you’re telling him about your day.

“May said we’re getting more people the colder it gets,” you start. “Which is a good thing, I suppose. It’s better they stay at F.E.A.S.T. than out on the streets, but we still need more volunteers. I was thinking of staying over a few nights, so that May will get the nights off, but I have classes and an apartment to keep up, so I don’t know.”

“What are your classes for?”

“Teaching,” you reply. Your cheeks are suddenly dusted with pink under the streetlight.

“Oh yeah? What for?”

“Just early childhood education. Preschool or daycare or something like that, you know? Nothing special.”

“Nothing special?” Jaemin scoffs. “That’s like, the most important job in the whole world. Teachers shape kid’s lives. They’re like, modern day heroes.”

“I think our friendly neighborhood Spider-Man took that role already,” you say.

“Right.” Jaemin suddenly feels hot under his hoodie. He’s hoping desperately that you don’t notice the red, white, and blue suit just underneath his clothing. “What do you, uh, think of him. Spider-man, I mean?”

“Funny you should ask,” you mutter. “You might not believe this, but he’s the one who broke my phone.”

Jaemin feels a thin sheen of sweat line his suit. “No way.”

“Yeah,” you mutter, “I’m just glad you were able to fix it.”

“It was the least I could do.” For ruining your apartment. For breaking it in the first place.

Jaemin’s earpiece beeps. He pretends to scratch his ear as he answers the call. “Spider-Man, did you miss me?”

He nearly groans out loud before remembering where he is. He quickly mutes the call just as you reach your building. “Goodnight, then. Have sweet dreams.”

You smile softly, and Jaemin can’t help but return it. “See you later?”

Jaemin nods. “Yeah! Yeah, of course.”

As soon as the door closes behind you, he unmutes the earpiece. “What do you want, Screwball?”

The girl cackles through the comm. “Welcome to the grand show, Spidey! Today’s challenge is stopping the Brooklyn Bridge from blowing up! But not before you answer my riddles, and find the bombs!”

🕷️

A late night commercial is a murmur in your living room as you continue to study. You don’t have any classes or work tomorrow, so you figure pulling an all-nighter won’t hurt anything. You’ll sleep in tomorrow and then head to the store with the list of supplies May emailed you. You know she’s been overworked as winter draws nearer, so it’s the least you can do after she’s given you the day off.

The commercial ends, and it’s replaced by the late night news. You reach for the remote to turn it off, but pause when they mention Spider-Man. You turn it up. “... Screwball is a well-known adversary to Spider-Man, always creating challenges to stream live. Tonight, bombs were planted under the Brooklyn Bridge, and while police filed to the area immediately, they were unable to find the explosives. Spider-Man managed to crawl under the bridge and dispose of them just in time, throwing them toward the sky and webbing them so that they blew up out of harms way. Twitter blew up over the surprise fireworks, while Screwball was quickly found and arrested. Reports say her lawyer is willing to fight under the grounds that Screwball herself didn’t plant the bombs, only live-streamed Spider-Man’s mission. Her identity is still remaining a secret, but rest assured, she’s locked up tonight...”

The television clicks off as soon as you hear a knock on your window. Keeping the remote in your hand, you raise it above your head and quickly pull the curtain aside. You nearly shriek at the sight of Spider-Man himself, all dressed in red and blue.

You raise the windowpane. “What’s going on?”

“Aw, you didn’t miss me?” Spider-Man leans his hip against the sill and you swear you can hear a smile in his voice. He quickly straightens up. “Actually, I came to make sure your phone was okay, and that no one has broken in.”

“Since you broke in, you mean?” you quip, lowering the remote. “I’m fine. My friend fixed it, actually.”

“Oh, that’s cool.”

You grin. “Yeah, it was cool of him to do it for free. So... this Screwball business, huh?”

Spider-Man lightly taps his forehead against the fire escape. “She’s killing me. She uses all these loopholes to basically stay out of Rikers. Stupid, really.”

He moves backwards, and then winces suddenly.

“What’s wrong?” You don’t know why you feel so concerned. After all, Spider-Man has done nothing for you except break your phone and give you a minimum of two heart attacks. Still, he did come to check on you (a week late.)

“Nothing,” Spider-Man says. “Just sore from all the swinging. I’ll go home and take a soothing bubble bath before I get back into the swing of things.” He — his mask? — winks at you.

It was such a stupid pun that you couldn’t help but smile. “Okay, well good luck with that.”

He’s gone after that. He shoots a web at the building across the street and swings away, like some kind of phantom. You wait until you can’t see him anymore before closing the window.

You get back to your studying, thinking only briefly about the web-crawler.

Because really, what he heck was he doing here?

🕷️

When you wake up at noon, you check your email. Then you see that Jaemin sent you a text, asking if he could come along on the shopping trip. May must’ve told him about her plans for you.

You tell him to meet you at F.E.A.S.T. in an hour, which is just enough time to eat and get ready.

Jaemin is a very cute boy. Especially when he wears his oversized blue sweater brandishing Octavius Labs’ logo. His wire-rimmed glasses keep slipping off his nose as he talks to Miles, another volunteer-slash-worker at F.E.A.S.T., and he keeps pushing them up absentmindedly. You kind of want to take a picture and keep the visual forever. But Miles peaks over Jaemin’s shoulder and notices you. “Y/n! Hey!”

“Hi, Miles.” You wave gently and sidle up to Jaemin. “Thanks for working on a weekend so I could have the day off.”

“No biggie,” Miles returns with a nonchalant wave. “Jaemin wouldn’t forgive me if I took the opportunity of spending the day with you away.”

Jaemin’s gaze flicks towards you, and his cheeks suddenly turn red. “I thought you’d need help.”

Your cheeks lift as you smile. “I appreciate it, Jaemin. You ready?”

The two of you make it to a department store, where you stock up on the clearance blankets and pillows. May has a budget for F.E.A.S.T., and you and Jaemin intend to get as much stuff as you can with it. You pick up a small plushie shaped like Spider-Man and nearly make a quip about last night before Jaemin gets a text alert.

He checks it and groans.

“What’s wrong?” You peak over his shoulder and glance down at the text. It’s a news alert, and the news is that Screwball has been tweeting about another challenge for the masked hero. “Again? This soon?”

Jaemin pulls his aunt’s credit card out of his wallet and hands it to you. “You can finish the list, right? I’ve gotta go.”

“Wait—“ you grab his sleeve before you can think. “Why?”

“I— uh—“ Jaemin grimaces. “I forgot I had to be at the lab. I have, uh, a project I need to finish by tonight and I’m afraid I might not make the deadline.”

“Oh, okay,” you whisper, feeling insecure all of a sudden. He’s lying, that much you know, but you don’t know why he feels he needs to lie to you.

He walks out of the store, and you finish shopping for the list.

You return it to F.E.A.S.T., ignoring the blare of the television as it covers yet another one of Screwball’s schemes. As you hand out blankets, you ignore the sick feeling in your stomach.

How much of these challenges can Spider-Man take before he fails?

🕷️

That night feels like déjà vu. Another knock comes at your window, and this time, you let Spider-Man into your apartment. He’s groaning in pain, so you ease him into a sitting position at your table.

You’re in the middle of making him tea when he speaks. “The challenges are getting harder. She’s timing them now, and the police still can’t find a real reason to keep her in jail for longer than a day. I think she’s in for a week for this one though, so that gives me a break.” He accepts the tea with a quiet thanks.

You watch in silence as he lifts his mask up just above his top lip, enough to take a small sip from the mug. His mouth looks familiar, but you can’t really place it. Besides, he pulls his mask down after every sip, so it’s not exactly easy to tell. “Can’t you just ignore her? Won’t she go away if you let the FBI handle it? It would make it less fun for her, right?”

Spider-Man leans his head against his palm and let’s out a long sigh. “I’ve never been able to trust those guys.”

“Okay, what about Sable?”

“Ew, worse.”

“I figured, but wouldn’t it be better for them to take the fall instead of you?”

Spider-Man lets a bitter laugh escape him, “I’d have to take the fall no matter who Screwball challenged. Jameson would certainly talk about it over his stupid radio show that everyone seems to believe—“

“I don’t,” you say, because it’s important that he knows. It’s hard to see someone who is clearly just as young as you, risking his life every day. “Anyone with half a braincell can see that you’re doing your best.”

“But is it enough?” Spider-Man says. “Because Screwball nearly flooded the Rockefeller Center today. And that’s certainly not as bad as blowing up a bridge but after a week in prison? She’ll have a horrible plan, I know. And I don’t know if I can keep up. It’s creeping into my personal life, too.”

“What do you mean?”

Spider-Man takes an anxious sip of chamomile tea. “There’s this... friend. And I kind of really like them, but keeping my secret— my life, basically from them is really hard. I would love to tell everyone close to me, you know? But it’s such a huge risk. If anyone knew who I found important— if Screwball knew...”

“I understand.” Your words are barely comprehensible. You reach forward and grab the boy’s gloved hand. It looks kind of silly: his bright red gloves again your bare skin. But it also looks like your hands belong there; together.

Spider-Man swings away within the hour, but your mind stays fixed on him deep into the night.

🕷️

The next time Jaemin has free time, he visits you at F.E.A.S.T. Today you’re supervising the children that live there, as they paint pictures.

“Hey,” Jaemin whispers.

You turn towards him, a bright smile on your face and pink paint on your cheek.

Suddenly Jaemin feels too warm under his lavender sweater. “This is a cute little class. Is it new?”

“Well, May’s driving a bus full of adults to the job fair across town. I needed something to keep the kids distracted until their parents came home.”

“Do you need help?” Jaemin asks, looking around. “Is Miles here?”

“He said he has extracurricular activities,” you shrug. “It’s okay, we’re having fun.”

Jaemin gets along with the kids well enough. They like him as long as he complements them on their paintings. There’s even a little girl that seems to have a crush on him. She ends up following him around the majority of the time, so Jaemin lets her hold his hand and help him clean up the cups of dirty paint water.

You’re in your element. Jaemin can see why you want to be a teacher, as you’re good at it. You’re gentle and encouraging, but authoritative enough to keep all kids at bay. Jaemin would’ve never pictured you as the authoritative type, but now he certainly doesn’t want to get on your bad side.

He feels affection bloom across his chest. There’s something so genuine about watching someone in their element. Someone so invested in their own interests that they don’t even notice how big their smile has gotten; how their eyes suddenly seem to glow. There’s this halo of purity and love that circles around them, and right now it’s around you and Jaemin thinks he’s going to melt at the sight.

He absolutely adores you. He adores you and all you stand for. Though he’s only known you for a short time, he wants it to be more. He wants to make it official and be able to hold your hand. He wants to kiss you hello and goodbye. He wants people to know he’s your boyfriend and tell him how lucky he is so he can reply, “I know.”

He wants to show you the love you show the world.

You look up and brush your hair out of your face. “What’s wrong? Is there still paint on my nose? I thought I got it off...”

“No, you’re good.” Jaemin clears his throat and returns his attention to the kids.

🕷️

Jaemin walks you home after your shift. Out of hospitality (and your extreme fondness for Jaemin) you invite him inside.

He walks straight to the kitchen and grabs a mug out of your cupboard. It’s the same one you usually give to Spider-Man when he comes over, and you feel a bit possessive over it for that reason.

You take it out of his hands. “Maybe... let’s use different mugs. This is— My friend, he— This is the mug he uses when he comes over.”

“Oh.” Jaemin blinks. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to intrude. I—“ Jaemin isn’t even supposed to know where your cupboard is. Only Spider-Man has been in your kitchen.

Stupid.

“It’s okay.” Your features soften and Jaemin notices the way you hold the mug close to you.

“Is your friend- I mean- Do you like him?” Jaemin doesn’t know why he feels jealous right now. If you say yes, you’ll be talking about him. He’s not sure why it bothers him so much that you might like Spider-Man more than you like Na Jaemin.

“No...” You place the mug back in its place. “I just- You know a lot of people at F.E.A.S.T. are just people looking for safety? Away from their homes or relationships or whatever?”

Jaemin urges you on with a confused nod.

“I don’t think my friend has a place like that. He’s got a lot of enemies and I want him to always feel welcome here. So I don’t want his favorite mug to be dirty if he arrives late tonight for some tea.”

Jaemin knows it’s not the appropriate time, but he really can’t think of anything but pulling you into his arms and kissing your breath away.

There’s no one else in the state of New York as caring as you. Not to Jaemin. Even as Spider-Man, no one has so casually extended their hospitality to him. He carries danger around with him wherever he goes, and yet you make sure his favorite mug is filled with tea every night.

“Jaemin? Are you okay?”

Jaemin bites his lip to keep his affections from spilling out. “Yeah. I’m great, actually.”

🕷️

Jaemin wants to scream. Every single time he sees you, he wants to confess that he’s the masked boy that’s been visiting you every week.

But it’s hard. He doesn’t know who to trust anymore. Not that he doesn’t trust you, but he has no idea who Screwball’s minions are. What if they find you and take you away?

Hanging out with you as Na Jaemin is dangerous enough, but as Spider-Man? Jaemin seriously begins to wonder if he has any brain cells at all.

But he likes you. He really, really likes you. He likes you so much for just being around him — Spider-Man, that is — and never demanding anything of him. He can’t remember the last time someone has seen the mask and not asked for any favors.

And as Jaemin, he’s failed you. He always fails you because he has Spidey business to get to. He’s left you disappointed more times than not, and at this point he’s pretty sure you like his alter ego better than him. Not that he can blame you.

It’s another night of infiltrating demon warehouses when he finds himself wishing he could just be honest with you about everything. It’s really selfish, though, so he tries not to think about it and focuses on alerting the police that he’s caught more demons.

“Yuri,” he addresses the captain tiredly, “I think I’m gonna turn in for the night.”

“I wouldn’t do that yet, Spider-Man. Sorry, but the networks getting alerts of a hostage situation in Greenwich. We don’t have any other info yet, but we might need you.”

Spider-Man’s comm beeps. “I’m getting another call, Yuri. I’ll swing to Greenwich and call you back for more info.”

“Thanks, Spidey.”

He answers the new call. “Hello?”

“Aw, did the police already tell you? I was hoping to be the one to break the news! Anyways, today’s challenge is for you to go on a scavenger hunt through Greenwich and find the prize!”

Jaemin’s stomach suddenly feels heavy. “What’s the prize, Screwball?”

“Don’t you know? What’s most important to Spider-Man right now? Who owns that apartment you’re always visiting? My viewers are just dying to hear what’s up. Maybe a love story to tell?”

“Screw off, Screwball.” Jaemin swings towards Greenwich. How did she find you? How would she know that you’re important to him and not just a business partner?

Jaemin can feel the tears stinging already and it sucks because he’s gotta make smart quips to Screwball. He’s gotta play her game so she cooperates. All she wants is content. If Jaemin gives her content she won’t hurt you. It makes him so angry that Screwball is using you for views. Using you to force him to play this stupid little game.

He wants to cuss Screwball out but he isn’t sure how young her viewers might be.

“Are they safe?” He hopes the fear in his voice isn’t as evident as he thinks it is.

“Your precious little darling is hanging out with me! Don’t worry, I’ve got a bucket of popcorn for the two of us and a blanket to cozy up until you get here.”

“Let me talk to them.” He swings over the Rubin Museum and perches on top of the building. He struggles to catch his breath as Screwball cackles.

“Can’t go a minute without talking to your sweetheart?” Screwball coos, but she hands the phone over anyway.

“I’m okay,” is the first thing you say, though your voice is shaky. You follow up with, “Just stay safe. Take your time; I’m okay.”

As soon as your voice catches in your throat Jaemin wants to confess. He wants to you to know that he’s not just some random boy in a mask. He’s Jaemin, your friend, and he loves you so so much. He needs you to know that just in case he-

Just in case he fails you.

But he can’t tell you because your phone call is being live-streamed for all of the stupid world to hear and damn it if the police couldn’t do their job just once and get you to safety.

The comm begins to break up and Jaemin knows this stupid wild goose chase is almost over. He knows this is when Screwball drops the plot twist and tells him he only has so much time left. But he’s still swinging from building to building with no idea where he’s going or where you are.

“Y/n here certainly would like you to come quickly, Spidey. We’re just chilling on the balcony, enjoying the night air. Would be a shame if they fell off, huh?”

“You do anything to Y/n and I’ll-“

“You’ll what?” Screwball cackles. “You’ll turn me in? I’m not doing anything wrong.”

“You’re blackmailing me. You’re holding someone hostage, you—”

The comm switches, and it’s Yuri in a distorted voice. “We blocked the stream for thirty seconds. You’re not live. Screwball’s stream has a private network and firewall to break through. Our team’s working on it but we need you to keep talking. Alright, time’s u-“

Jaemin listens silently while Screwball tells her viewers that she’s back online. He does his best to try and pick apart the background noises. Any small clue that might show him where you are. He knows the two of you are on a balcony, or a ledge, or something you can fall off of because Screwball doesn’t make empty threats.

Then he hears it: the sirens. They’re loud through the stream but faint through his own ears.

He swings toward the sound, desperate to find you before Screwball does anything.

“What do you want from me, Screwball?”

To keep Screwball talking, he’s gotta ask her questions about herself.

🕷️

Okay, so you don’t exactly know how you managed to get ambushed by Screwball. All you know is that you were on your way to F.E.A.S.T one minute and the next, you were being dragged into a dark van. After screaming — and being consequently gagged — Screwball revealed herself to you.

Now you’re tied to stool, balanced on the edge of a balcony in the middle of some neighborhood you aren’t familiar of.

You’ve managed to stop your blubbering for now and focus on the sky until Screwball lets you speak to Spider-Man. That’s when you’re voice breaks and you find yourself panicking because that’s not Spider-Man’s voice over the comm.

It’s Jaemin’s.

And it sort of makes sense now that you think about it — Jaemin and Spider-Man have never been in the same place at once. Jaemin went directly to Spider-Man’s mug as if it were his own. And Jaemin seemed almost over-eager to fix your phone, as if he somehow had something to do with it.

Right now you don’t really care. Right now you just want him here, with you. You want Screwball arrested and you want to be home, in your apartment, snuggled under a blanket with Jaemin where nothing can hurt you. Either of you.

You want Jaemin safe too.

The tears bring on an instant headache so you do your best to keep them from forming behind your eyes. Instead you focus on the city. If you try hard enough, you can ignore Screwball’s annoying voice.

You gaze at the skyline and focus on looking for Jaemin. He’s gonna be here any minute now. He has to.

“Better hurry up, Spidey, or it’s sleepy time for your little sweetheart!”

“Aren’t you talking about yourself?” Jaemin swings from a nearby building and kicks the camera out of Screwball’s hand.

You close your eyes during most of the fight. Based on the quips the two keep shooting at each other, it doesn’t sound like a dangerous one. Jaemin’s probably just stalling for the police. Still, it makes you feel queasy and a little bit scared, so you’d rather not watch.

The police finally arrive around ten minutes later, after Jaemin has successfully webbed Screwball to the ground so that she can’t escape.

As soon as she’s in handcuffs, he turns to you and begins to free you from your restraints. “Y/n, I’m so sorry. I had no idea she’d ever find out about you. I didn’t know they kept such close tabs on me. I shouldn’t have been so reckless and stupid. I shouldn’t have visited you so often, but I didn’t want to stay away and—”

You grab Jaemin by the shoulders and pull him into your embrace, burying your face in his neck. “Jaemin, it’s okay.”

He chokes out a sob and squeezes you tighter. “I’m sorry I did- didn’t tell you earlier...”

“It’s okay,” you whisper. “Now, let’s go home.”

🕷️

The two of you take turns showering at your place, and while Jaemin is cleaning up, you watch the news to make sure that Screwball is being locked up for good.

After a positive confirmation, you turn the television off and go to your room.

Jaemin walks in moments after, face red from the too-hot water. He’s got on one of your hoodies and a pair of your sweatpants, and he looks so broken-hearted that you can’t help but feel sad too.

“Please don’t blame yourself.”

Jaemin crawls under your dark blue covers. He turns to face the wall, away from you. “You could’ve died.”

“I know,” you whisper. Anxiety pools in your chest at the thought. But you don’t want to think about what happened. You want to be distracted, and you want to feel safe.

You wrap your arm around Jaemin’s waist and press your forehead against the space between his shoulder blades. “I didn’t, though, and that’s thanks to you.”

Jaemin’s body shudders again, and your heart breaks at the sound of him crying. You squeeze him tighter and kiss his nape. “We’re safe now. It’s okay.”

🕷️

Jaemin keeps his distance from you for the next few weeks, and while you know why, it doesn’t make it any easier to bare.

You miss him greatly, and constantly ask May how he’s doing. She’s tried to get him to reconcile with you, but it’s no use. He’s blaming himself for the Screwball incident. You want to yell at him and remind him that •he’s• the hero of this story. He’s the one who saved you.

Without him you wouldn’t even be here.

But Jaemin doesn’t see it that way. You keep up with the news and follow all the Spider-Man blogs you can, trying to figure out whether or not Jaemin is okay. The last thing you want is for him to do something reckless out of guilt. Luckily, though, he’s back to fighting smaller-scale crimes and tweeting from his Spider-Man account.

So he’s okay. At least, he’s okay enough.

You know it’s all just one big distraction from that night, so you keep a tea kettle on the stove every night, just in case. You never know when he’ll finally break and swing by.

Your intuition rings true by the end of the week, when a familiar knock appears at your window. You open it with haste, hopeful of a tearful — or just joyful — reunion with your friend. Instead, Jaemin seems rather reluctant to be back at your place.

His mask is off, but his suit (or what’s left of it) is still on. His hair is a mess, and his face is covered in sweat and grime. There are tears in his suit from who-knows-what, and to top it off, Jaemin’s lip is bleeding.

“Jaemin, what happened?”

“I’m sorry,” he gasps, clutching at his ribs. “It’s just... I need help and no one else knows my secret. Except Aunt May, and she’ll worry too much. And Miles, of course, but he’s just a kid—“

You interrupt him. “Miles knows?”

“Long story,” Jaemin grunts. “Can I come in?”

You help him onto your sofa and run to grab some supplies. After making him change into more comfortable clothes, you take a damp washcloth and begin to wipe the sweat and dirt off of his face. “What happened?”

His eyes stay focused on yours for a moment. Your heart skips a beat at the way his eyelashes flutter when he blinks. You don’t think you’ve ever been this close to him before.

“I- It was just a drug bust. I was distracted because my earpiece was on and it picked up Jameson’s podcast. I should’ve turned it off, but you know how he likes to insult me, and I felt like I deserved it so I listened. It cost me a kick to the rib and a punch to the face, though.” He tries to laugh, but it comes out as a strangled noise. “Ow.”

“I’m gonna get an ice pack,” you say, already halfway towards the kitchen. You open the freezer. “Do you think they’re broken?”

“No, they’ve been through worse.” Jaemin watches you walk back towards him.

You sit right beside him and hand him the frozen pack. “Here. You apply it. I don’t want to accidentally hurt you.”

Jaemin is still watching you. Although you feel nervous under his gaze, you can’t help but wonder what he’s thinking as his eyes flit over your lips for what feels like the hundredth time. “I’m sorry for ignoring you.”

“Oh,” you mumble, suddenly too shy to look at him. “It’s okay. You needed your space.”

“Yeah, but you were affected too. You were affected more than me, and I abandoned you when you needed me. I shouldn’t have done that, and I hope I can make it up to you.”

You smile sadly. “Jaemin, all I want is for you to be safe. Safe and happy, that’s all.”

Jaemin is still looking at your lips, but this time he’s leaning in. His eyelashes flutter again as he closes his eyes and you find yourself frozen in place as you prepare for the inevitable.

Jaemin is going to kiss you.

His lips find yours within seconds. They’re warm and soft, and when they slot between yours you think some people were just made to fit together.

You feel one hand go to cup your jaw, but it doesn’t stop there. Jaemin reaches up and takes a gentle hold of your hair, tugging at the roots every moment or so.

Being so close to him is overwhelming. You can smell his cologne, and although it’s mixed with sweat, it isn’t any less desirable than before.

You think of Jaemin’s soft eyes and warm smile and low voice, and you sigh into the kiss. Your heartbeat quickens when he smiles suddenly against your lips. “I like you, Y/n.”

You giggle and break contact. “I hope so.”

Jaemin manages to contain his blush as he rubs the back of his neck. “I really missed you when we were apart, and I don’t want to feel like that ever again.”

“So let’s try it out,” you whisper. “Me and you. We’ll protect each other, alright?”

Jaemin hums and presses a quick kiss to your forehead. “Alright.”

#this sucks lol sorry ig #jaemin au #jaemin fluff #jaemin angst #jaemin scenario #spiderman!jaemin #nct au #ncy fluff #nct angst #nct scenario #destwrites

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this-lioness · 5 years

Text

Feeling a little overwhelmed.

The kitchen cabinet doors still need to be done. This is taking a lot of time because they have to dry pretty thoroughly between each coat, and each one needs 3 coats + a light touch-up. Then we still have to do the edges. This is not helped by the fact that Marc didn’t sand the primer coat before he started painting the first side (which was supposed to be the “front” of the doors), meaning that with each coat of paint on top all the goopy drips and imperfections became more and more obvious. So now I’m going super slow on the other side so that it will be nice enough to be the display side. I’m not mad I’m just disappointed.

We have a gala coming up in two weeks, and I still haven’t sat down to design / paint the mask I’m supposed to use, nor put together any of the little details. We are doing a 5k in a couple more weeks that we are only now starting to “train” for. I’m less stressed about this than it sounds, but it’s still frustrating.

Both of my parents have birthdays coming up, and an anniversary. And my stepfather really wants to get back out to the lake in time to see the colors in what he personally considers “prime time”, and I don’t know what the fuck he’s really looking for, because yesterday everything looked beautiful to me? And if I take him too soon he’s going to be disappointed, but if I take him too late he’s also going to be disappointed, and my mother is just 100% disappointed with everything 100% of the time.

Marc asked me about five times what I was planning on doing for my Halloween costume until I was finally like, “I’m just going to wear the “candy witch” costume I have up in the closet. And I think he’s disappointed, because he loves Halloween (so do I!) but I just do not have the bandwidth to come up with and assemble a costume this year, just to stand around and hand out candy to kids, and also it’s going to rain on Halloween. I sense he’s disappointed that I’m not as “into it” as in previous years.

I am excited for the holidays, but can I just express how much I hate the huge pile of empty decor boxes that sits behind the couch for 3+ months until they’re all over? I fucking hate living around the clutter of holiday decorations PLUS the clutter of the boxes that the decorations are stored in.

We also still haven’t done the photo for our Christmas card this year, and we need to get on that SOON. Not only does the photo need to be staged, but we need to be sure we have our outfits, and then there is a LOT of digital editing that needs to be done afterwards. Like a good couple hours, at least.

I also have 4+ design commissions that I haven’t even STARTED on! And I’m running out of things to tell these people that aren’t, “I PHYSICALLY CANNOT.”

Oh hi, Thanksgiving is also coming up. His Mom will be coming over the night before, and my mother is pretty much only able to eat liquids and gruel, and then afterwards we like to be “those people” and go out for Black Friday. I NEED to have the kitchen done before all this.

Because the kitchen and dining room is complete fucking disarray I have not been able to clean the house! And a messy house is a huge, huge stressor for me. I was going to try to do laundry yesterday, but the guy was doing the furnace, and so clearly I couldn’t occupy the same space. I am thinking of skipping the gym tonight just so I can put a dent in the huge pile that is accumulating in the bedroom.

Marc has not paired socks in like three weeks? Despite the fact that he knows this must be done regularly, like every time I do the laundry? But it just keeps piling up and piling up and piling up, and no matter how many times I’m like, “SOCKS????”, he’s just like, “Well, I didn’t know where you put them!” (1. They are in the same place they always are and even if they weren’t 2. You could ask) or the excuse is, “I didn’t know they needed to be done, you should have put them where I can see them? (1. You are a grown ass man who wears socks EVERY SINGLE DAY AND WE HAVE BEEN MARRIED FOR ALMOST FOURTEEN YEARS. YOU ARE FULLY AWARE THAT SOCKS MUST BE PAIRED AND THAT IT IS YOUR RESPONSIBILITY. 2. Last time I put the overflowing box of unpaired socks immediately onto your side of the bed, and you MOVED IT TO THE FLOOR AND BLISSFULLY CONTINUED LIVING A LIFE OF UNPAIRED SOCKS.)

We also have THREE events coming up: an author expo, a Christmas craft fair, and A SECOND Christmas craft fair. The summer fair at the cemetery was SO GREAT because people bought a ton of stuff, but this means that I need to rebuild my inventory. And “rebuilding my inventory” isn’t just hopping online and buying shit! I need to design it, and craft it, and then finish it, and do I have enough materials on hand to do it all?

The garden still has not been put to bed for the year, and I don’t know when the hell we’re going to have the perfect combination of time and weather!

Also, I still have two fucking bags of clothes that I need to stage and photograph so I can post it online!

And I haven’t even S T A R T E D photographing my own jewelry to create an online store! Nor do I have any idea when I’m going to have the time to do it!

Also, I would like to be able to draw and paint!

Also, I was supposed to write 10k words in September, and I didn’t fucking write ANY, because how??? Even if I can work up the momentum to finish this goddamned book, when the fuck am I supposed to do it?

And Rosie is getting fixed at the end of this month, and Bones needs to go back to the vet for bloodwork next month to make sure his kidneys aren’t failing and he hasn’t lost any more weight.

So yesterday, on the way home from the gym, when I’m like, “I cancelled the second Christmas fair, the one at the school. It’s just too much for me,” and he’s like, “It’s too much? Are you kidding?”

And I swear to God... I swear to God I would take a bullet for this man, I would literally murder people for this man, and he has my whole heart, but I may have never wanted to fucking strangle him so much as I did right then.

JESUS EFFING CHRIST DUDE. Y’know, I would also like to spend twenty minutes twice a day sitting on the toilet and browsing my phone. I would really also like to check myself out of all responsibilities every time there’s a football game on TV that I want to watch. It would be really great to never have to fucking think about HOW EVERYTHING IN OUR LIFE OPERATES ON TIME AND WITHIN BUDGET AND HOW LITERALLY EVERYTHING GETS DONE, except I CAN’T DO THAT. Last night when we were supposed to be “relaxing” in bed, I sat there sorting through mail so that everything would get paid / done on time, while you sat there scrolling away on your STUPID PHONE THAT I HATE SO MUCH.

He has a bare minimum of responsibilities:

1. Take the garbage bins to the curb and back again.

2. Feed the cats (I occasionally help with this)

3. Do the afternoon litterbox scoop (this frequently gets “forgotten”)

4. Load / unload the dishwasher, hand-wash anything that cannot go in the machine (this maybe gets done once a week, it frequently goes until the sink is so filled with shit that I cannot prepare meals)

5. Take the trash out to the bins (this has been known to sit WAY LONGER than it should)

6. Clean the bathrooms (There are 3 -- 2 full and 1 half. One of the full baths does not need to be regularly cleaned because it’s only there to hold litter boxes, we don’t actually use it. That leaves 1 full bath and 1 half bath, the latter of which is STRICTLY HIS.) The bathrooms are cleaned maybe once a month.

7. Clean the floors (vacuum and mop). This ONLY gets done when guests are coming over, or when I complain that the floors are disgusting and they REALLY need to get done. Half the time he will vacuum (and not thoroughly), and then say, “I’m going to hold off on mopping until right before X gets here, that way they’ll be fresh and clean”, and then will conveniently forget to mop at all.

It’s not as if he’s not aware. We have talked about this. He FREQUENTLY AND WITH HEARTFELT SELF-DEPRECATION will confess that he is terrible about keeping up the house, and promise that he will get better, and it takes everything in my power to say, “No you won’t. Can I just stop pretending that I believe you when you say that, because you clearly do not actually mean it or, if you do, you have no intention of putting forth the physical and mental ambition to follow through.”

And you know what? I DON’T CARE! I love my house and I love taking care of it. I married him knowing these things about him, and he is such a good partner otherwise that I was willing to overlook it, and we laugh about it most of the time and it’s fine. It’s actually fine! I’m not just saying that!

What gets me -- what borderline made me want to murder him -- was the incredulous, “Really? The second craft fair is too much?” last night, and I think the dark depths of my silence afterwards must have clued him into the fact that he had been a Dumbass Supreme, and he spent a good 20 minutes reminding me how awesome I am.

Yes. Yes, I know I’m fucking awesome. Sometimes I just want you to be a little fucking awesome too. PLEASE.

#oc #ugh

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sweetnestor · 6 years

Text

the end of infinity with you | septic egos

previous: the last of the real ones

other works of mine

“you were too good to be true

gold plated

but what’s inside you?

but what’s inside you?”

After a very long month, Jack was transported to another hospital, on Dr. Schneeplestein’s orders. This hospital would be better for Jack, but it was just a little too far away and visitation was limited. Meaning, Chase couldn't visit every day like he used to.

Work had gotten a lot more demanding over these last few weeks. Bro Average had been picked up for a third season, which meant that Chase was on set almost every single day. Sometimes he had to bring his kids with him on the weekends. It's not really how he wanted to be with his kids, but it's better than nothing. Besides, the kids were fascinated by the big cameras and the bright lights. They liked to brag that their dad was a big star, and the crew adored them.

That was only sometimes. Other times, Stacy had to keep them over the weekend because Chase was a little too busy at work. He was quite taken with the flask he would bring with him. He knew he couldn't let the kids see that. He couldn't let anyone see that.

Other than that, Henrik got in contact with Chase again. He was put in charge of Jack's case, so he was constantly updating Chase on the situation. Lately, though, there weren't any drastic changes. Jack's blood count went up and down every day. His heart was going from good to great, from great to bad, and so on. His kidneys weren't working one day, his liver always threatened to give out. It was never anything major. There was no sign of Jack waking up, nor was there any sign of him never waking up again.

This was starting to feel like the beginning of the end.

It was another day of Chase sitting in his Bro Average dressing room. It was the middle of the week, so his little ones weren't running around the set. No one was keeping his mind occupied between takes. Typically, Chase would be chatting with his co-stars or FaceTiming some local magazine for an interview. But instead he was sitting in front of the vanity, anxiously checking his phone. Waiting on any kind of news about his comatose friend was getting to be exhausting these days. Of course, the worst news was sticking out in Chase's mind more than anything. He didn't want to wake up one day with a new text saying-

“Brody, we need you on set!” called the assistant, Jan. Third one he's gone through this month.

With a sigh, Chase put down his phone and put on his signature grey hat. He looked at himself in the mirror, trying to remember some vague but powerful quote to get him going again. Then, he cracked his head from side to side, only to feel a sting… on his throat?

Chase swore and placed his hand over the base of his neck, examining the skin in the mirror. That sting didn't feel like a sore throat, it was like…

He looked down at the palm of his hand. The scar was still very visible. The things that came after getting that cut were more vivid. Red lights in dark rooms still haunted his dreams at night.

“Okay,” Chase said to himself. He reached for the bottom drawer of the vanity and opened it up.

At this point, he didn't even read the labels on these tiny bottles. He just knew they would help.

Not surprisingly, Stacy had no problem keeping the kids for the third weekend in a row. She also didn't have any problem with not letting Chase talk to them over the phone. He knew he had to go visit Jack in London, but he didn't want the kids to feel left out because of it. Stacy always had to keep them to herself, and she wondered why Chase was so angry at her all the time. Always playing the victim.

The cab ride to London took ages. Chase wanted to sleep the whole way there, he even had some wine to help with the process, but to no avail. By the time he was actually in London, he was very glad he wasn't checking into a hotel. He would not have done it coherently.

Henrik had been kind enough to let Chase stay in his massive home. He was too kind, actually. He told Chase that the place would be empty, apart from the staff.

Yes, staff. Henrik owned a fucking mansion in a gated community of more fucking mansions. Apparently, he owned more in different parts of the world.

That was a little weird to Chase. He knew Henrik had a wife and child in Germany. Wouldn't he want to stay with them? Did they ever visit? Henrik was a strange man.

The Victorian style home was eerie once Chase was actually inside it. There was a certain vibe within the walls that made Chase’s hair stand up. This place was probably haunted. Maybe it was haunted enough for Bro Average to come and do a spooky Halloween episode. Upon that thought, Chase wondered if he could sleep at the hospital.

“I'm too drunk for this,” he mumbled as he followed one of the butlers up the marble staircase. The portraits hung on the wall were watching him. He held his backpack closer to himself, like the people in these portraits were going to jump out and rob him.

“I will have someone fix you a cure for that,” said the butler over his shoulder. They walked onto the second floor and opened the first double doors on the left of the hallway. “Here are you quarters, Master Brody.”

That only thing that was a master was the bedroom. There was a massive four poster bed between two large windows that had an incredible view of the neighborhood. There was a small chandelier hanging from the ceiling as well.

“This is awesome,” Chase muttered. Maybe he should be a doctor instead of a TV personality.

“The car will be here shortly, Master Brody,” the butler told him. “I know you are wanting to see your dear friend.”

Chase got a pit in his stomach again. Right. That's why he was here in a bougie ass mansion.

Once the butler had gone, Chase dropped his backpack on the floor and went to lie down. The bed was soft and very comfortable, especially in his intoxicated state. It was like being a cloud of ducks wrapped in pillows…

“Still… here…”

There was a flash of red light, and then Chase jolted awake. He was sweating, and his heart was pounding. Such a short dream, but he felt so put off by it.

“Mr. Brody?” called a female voice from the door. “May I enter?”

“Uh, yeah,” he called back. “And uh, please just call me Chase.”

A woman in a powder blue maid’s outfit walked in, holding a glass of clay colored… something. She smiled warmly, pretending not to notice the sweat dripping from Chase’s face.

“This will put you right,” she said as she handed him the glass. “If you drink it all now, you’ll be sober by the time you get to the hospital.”

“Thank you.” Chase accepted the glass, but he waited until the maid left to set it down on the bedside table.

He didn’t really want to be sober right now.

It was dark outside by the time Chase arrive to the hospital. Still, he was itching to see if his friend seemed any different than when he last saw him. Chase all but ran up to Jack’s room, ready to speak to him and catch up. Just as he approached the doorway, he heard other voices.

“So then what would this card be?”

“A joker?”

“Wrong! It’s the king of diamonds!”

“What do you mean?!”

Chase heard two voices, but he discovered four people when he entered the room. Henrik was checking Jack’s vitals, but the other three were quite the sight. Chase could barely take them in before Henrik started talking at him.

“Ah, look who has finally showed up!” he said as he went to shake Chase’s hand. “Welcome, my friend!”

“I, I didn’t know you would be here,” Chase said. “Thought you only worked in Brighton.”

“I am all over.” Henrik smiled. “Come, meet the others.”

The other three men came forward. The first one to offer his hand was a dapper looking guy in a white button up, blue vest, and a black bowler hat. It was like he was plucked straight out of a Charlie Chaplin film.

“This is Jameson Jackson,” said Henrik, placing his hands on the man’s shoulders. “He prefers to be called JJ.”

Chase shook JJ’s hand. “Nice to meet you.”

He smiled wide and nodded. Then he let go and signed something to Chase.

“He said he likes your hat,” interpreted one of the other guys. He was in a bright red hoodie with the hood up, and he wore black skinny jeans and blue converse.

“Oh. Thanks, dude,” Chase told JJ.

“Anyway, I’m Jackie,” said the red hooded guy.

“Huh. Jack and Jackie.”

“I know right!” He sounded a little too excited, given the circumstances.

Then came the last guy. He had on a purple button up, black skinny jeans, and boots very similar Chase’s. This guy also had a man bun, and he had a cape hanging over his arm. There was also a cat mask with little designs attached to his belt buckle. To top it off, he was fiddling with a deck of cards in his hands.

“Hey, I’m Marvin,” he greeted. “Wanna play fifty two card pick up?”

Chase cracked a smile. “I play that with my daughter all the time.”

Once all introductions were made, they all turned to Jack. Still in a coma. Still unknowing. Still beating. The heart monitor was the only bit of reassurance that he was still there. JJ returned to his chair right next to the bed, and he looked sadly at Jack. Marvin leaned against the wall next to the door, still shuffling his cards. Henrik stood at the foot of the bed, hands in his pockets. Jackie went over to the window, staring out into the night.

Chase thought he would have been sad all over again to see Jack like this, but he was just numb. “Are we still on the waiting game?”

“Yes,” Henrik answered, “but he hasn’t gotten any worse.”

That numbness went away pretty quickly. Chase couldn’t control his tone. “So then what was the point in moving him further away?”

However, Henrik wasn’t fazed by the change in attitude. “There are more doctors, better doctors. More great minds to try to figure out what to do.”

“But aren’t you the best there is?” Chase was getting angry. “Why would you move him if he was just going to stay the same? Why aren’t you being the good doctor you say you are?”

Jackie decided to step in. “Hey, he’s doing his best! It’s a really tricky situation, especially since we don’t know exactly how he got this way!”

“Yeah, you’re not the only one who’s pissed at the situation,” Marvin added.

Chase only felt angrier. “Who the hell even are you guys? Jack has never talked about you guys before! I never saw any of you at the other hospital!”

Marvin looked him right in the eyes, a hard expression on his face. “You know, he never mentioned you either.”

“That’s not true… We’re best friends!”

“Never seen you before, never heard of you.” He looked at JJ and Jackie. “You guys ever heard of a… what was it again? Chad?”

“It’s Chase…”

JJ and Jackie didn’t say anything, they were just looking back and forth between the other two men. Meanwhile, Henrik was staying out of it and pretending to check on Jack some more, walking up to check his eyes with a mini flashlight.

Marvin shrugged his shoulders as he turned back to Chase, still mocking. “I wouldn’t know. Jack’s never talked about you before.”

It felt like lead was falling over Chase’s shoulders. Was Marvin telling the truth? Had Jack never talked about Chase to anyone else? Was Chase not important enough to be talked about?

“Guys I think his feelings are hurt,” Marvin said to the others, only adding to the humiliation.

“Hey, come on now,” Jackie said as he turned away from the window. “Jack has loads of friends. I’m sure he’s mentioned all of us at least once.”

“Then how come I’ve never seen any of them at the hospital in Brighton?” Chase shot back. “How come only me and his family would come see him and everyone else just sent cards he can’t even read?”

JJ tapped his shoulder to get his attention. Chase watched him sign a speech, but Henrik interpreted.

“We were all planning to come visit. We just didn’t know we were all going to be here at the same time. The timing is strange, if you ask me. But please, don’t be angry. Jack is everybody’s friend.”

Chase wasn’t so sure about that anymore. Here he thought Jack was his best friend. He thought he had an effect on Jack like it was the other way around. Chase thought he finally mattered to someone. But maybe Jack only hung out with him out of pity. They did meet in a bar when Chase was completely hammered. Maybe that’s why Jack hid him like a dirty secret.

So then why was Chase wasting his time here?

“It’s true, though,” Jackie spoke up. “None of knew the other person was coming here today too. I don’t know about you guys, but, uh, my schedule is really busy at the moment. Really unpredictable. I didn’t think I would find the time to get here.”

“My round of shows in Vegas were pushed to next week,” Marvin said. “I figured now was as good a time as any to visit my friend. You know, before there is no time.”

“I got a random free weekend,” Chase told them. “It’s weird, I just started shooting the new season of my show, things were tight. No time for breaks or vacations.”

“But your superiors told you to take the weekend off?” Marvin guessed.

Chase nodded. He thought only Henrik’s house gave him skin crawling chills. Then, he turned to JJ, who was sitting down again.

“What about you?”

This time, instead of signing, he pulled a notepad and pen from under his hat. He quickly scribbled on a clean page and showed Chase.

“I was in the neighborhood,” he read out loud. “What does that mean?”

“He travels a lot,” Jackie explained. “He comes and he goes. We don’t really know where he came from.”

“So you all know each other, then?” Chase asked.

Jackie and Marvin shared a look.

“I have treated Jackie in the past,” Henrik spoke up. “I have treated him many times, actually. I met JJ and Marvin only today.”

“Yeah, we go way back,” Jackie added. He rolled back the sleeve on his hoodie, revealing his pale arm. “See that? There’s nothing! Would have been an ugly burn scar if Doc over here hadn’t helped me.”

“I have treated Chase as well!” said Henrik a little too gleefully. “Look at us, we all have common ground!”

Chase only nodded curtly. He didn’t really want to get into the time he was in the hospital shortly after the divorce and custody battle. “So how do you all know Jack?”

JJ went first. He wrote on his notepad again and passed it around. “We met on Halloween! We were pumpkin carving!”

“Jack always did love carving!” Henrik said with a laugh. “A little too much, I think!”

“I met him when I was doing street magic,” Marvin said, still leaning against the wall. “He was really fascinated with it. He encouraged me to keep pursuing it, to throw myself into it. So I did. Wouldn’t be where I am if it wasn’t for him.”

“He saved me from getting jumped,” Jackie recalled. “Scared some guys out of an alley to keep them away from. He had a pocket knife and all. Now, I try to help people as much as I can.”

Chase felt a little sheepish now. These guys were doing great things because of Jack. Chase could barely function these days. He was still a little intoxicated standing in this hospital room. He wasn’t anything special. He didn’t do anything worthwhile. All he’s done is fail.

“I met him in a bar,” he said. “We really hit it off. We’ve hung out a lot.” Truth is, that was probably where the drinking habit began. Not because of Jack, though.

“Well,” Henrik began, “Jack helped me when one of my patients went under. We made a great team. Then, he needed my help. He was attacked, someone slit his throat. I almost lost Jack, but he is very strong.”

Chase suddenly remembered the weird sting in his throat from earlier today. He had never gotten injured like that before, and he had never know about Jack’s injury. There wasn’t even a scar to show for it. Yet, Chase could clearly imagine the blood seeping from the fresh wound… It went towards him… it came closer…

All five men jumped when Chase’s phone started ringing. Who the hell even calls him these days?

Stacy, apparently.

“I gotta take this,” Chase said as he went out into the hallway. Then he pressed his phone to his ear. “Hello?”

“You wanna tell me why there's so many empty liquor bottles in your flat?” Stacy's shrill voice said on the other line.

Chase froze in the middle of the corridor. His blood ran cold, and it felt like the ground under his feet disappeared.

“Uh - Why the hell are you at my flat?” he shot back.

“The kids left their Switch. What's your excuse?”

“I, uh, I had people over.”

“When? You don't have any friends!”

“You don't know that!”

Stacy sighed angrily. “You know, I thought your drunk voicemails were a one time thing. I was nice enough to let it go, I let you have the kids on the weekends-"

“You didn't let me, the court ordered it!” Chase spitefully reminded her.

She scoffed. “Well, the court will change their mind, won't they? Once they know what you do during the week-"

“Stacy!” he interrupted, getting desperate. “Stacy, I swear, it's not what you think.”

“Don't lie to me. I called your show producer. You're drinking on set.”

This couldn't be happening. This was not real.

“What do I have to do?”

“There's nothing you can do.”

Suddenly, a group of nurses rushed past Chase. He quickly got up against the wall to avoid a traffic jam, especially after seeing one nurse pushing a crash cart. To make matters worse, Chase saw the nurses run into the room he had stepped out of.

He heard Stacy's voice yelling over the phone, but the sound faded as he let the device slip out of his hand. Everything went in slow motion as he ran back to the room. All other sounds disappeared, the only sound was Chase’s blood pounding in his ears. Just as he made it to the doorway, he collided into Marvin, JJ, and Jackie. That was when everything came back.

“H-He, his heart…” Jackie tried to explain, while JJ frantically signed with teary eyes.

“The heart monitor went crazy,” Marvin explained, sounding shaken. “We heard the long beep, then the thing started sparking. Then, Jack started seizing. Nurses told us to get out.”

They all heard Henrik’s frantic yelling from the room, ordering to hit Jack with however many grams of whatever medicine. Then they heard something like, “We're losing him!”

“Come on, man,” Chase mumbled. He peered into the room, but only saw the backs of many nurses.

Soon enough, they all backed up on Henrik’s orders. He had the defibrillator ready.

“Clear!”

The paddles barely touched Jack's chest before he sat up. Jack literally sat up in the bed, scaring the hell out of the people surrounding him. His eyes were wide and alert like he wasn't asleep for months on end. He stared right at the four men at the door as he reached for the tubes in his mouth.

“Jack, no!” Henrik yelled. “Let me, let me!”

He tried to reach for Jack, but he was suddenly knocked off his feet, along with the nurses. It was like an invisible force pushed them back.

Jack pulled the tubes out of his mouth, still staring at the doorway. Then, he spoke in a clear voice:

“I remember what he did to me.”

Blood started coming out of his mouth. He choked and coughed, spitting blood down his front, and then he finally fell back again.

Chase, Marvin, JJ, and Jackie were sent to the waiting room while everything got resolved. Eventually, Henrik found them and updated them on the situation.

“I am very sorry…”

JJ responded by taking off his bowler hat. Chase did the same with his snapback.

Several phone calls were made after that. All the guys sat together and alerted Jack’s family, girlfriend, and close friends. After that, they were just sitting and trying to process what had happened.

“He’s really gone,” Jackie muttered, like he was thinking out loud. “Never gonna see him again, are we?”

“What the fuck?” Chase wondered. It still hadn’t properly hit. “What the fuck?”

“Why did his last words have to be so cryptic?” Marvin sounded more annoyed than sad.

JJ just sat with his head down and his shoulders slumped.

“If that fucking demon wasn’t there…” Henrik trailed off.

So they all saw it.

“I should’ve known,” Marvin spoke, rubbing his temple. “I told Jack how I… He told me he was desperate for change. He wanted a way out. I told him what I did. Didn’t think he would do it.”

Chase tilted his head. “You told him to use a Ouija board?”

“I told him I… called upon things outside of this realm.”

“Who’s the cryptic one now?” Jackie said rather harshly. “Jack was found unconscious in front of that board. If you told him to summon a demon or whatever the fuck, then just fucking say it!”

Marvin looked him in the eyes and said nothing. The two had a silent conversation before Jackie turned his eyes to the floor.

“I thought he was done with that stuff,” Henrik spoke after a while. “I thought the neck injury was the last straw for him.”

Chase absentmindedly rubbed at his throat. “I used a Ouija board not that long ago. Whatever came through, he took my kids for a day.”

“Just one day?” Marvin asked.

“Hey, when you’re a parent, losing your kids for even a minute is fucking scary.”

“Were they okay?” Jackie asked, concerned.

“Yeah. They’re perfect. They don’t remember a thing.” Chase remembered the phone call with Stacy. “I made a deal with this thing to make sure of it. The kids were to be unharmed, and I would lose everything else in return.”

He paused and waited for one of the guys to lash out. If Chase’s deal was to lose everything, then technically Jack dying was his fault. That’s what he waited for one of them to say. But they were all quiet.

Then, JJ took his notepad and wrote something. He showed Chase the page.

“He doesn’t like being called a thing.”

______

tags: @ninjasversuslife @modicumofmotivation

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yakumtsaki · 7 years

Photo

Take your hands off me, I don't belong to you, you see, and take a look at my face for the last time, I never knew you, you never knew me, say hello.. ♪

WAVE GOODBYE.

WHADDUP PPL. Much like Ronroneo, we’re back from the dead and ready for a whole new generation of Union fuckery. We’re also officially.. drumroll.. MIDDLE CLASS. Our shiny new house is based on this one by frottana-sims, which I downloaded but dumbassly forgot to install, and since loading the game takes a hot half-hour I opted for this poor recreation instead. We start the extreme home makeover with an incredible budget of..

...Yea, I see the value of getting 6 pets to the top of their careers now. Included in this insane sum is the 20k+ that Wyatt and Jojo brought with them moving in, and at first I’m worried that we’re way too rich for only generation 2. Well, careful what you wish for, cause here’s our post-remodeling budget:

LMAO. It’s as if not a day has passed since Vic started this legacy with a dream in her heart and crap to her name. Let’s check out the new digs!

Everything was purple.. his pills.. his hands.. his foyer.

As eagle-eyed readers may observe, both the hall and the living room were designed with nothing else in mind but whether they matched our cat paintings. Per legacy rules I use as little cc as possible, which isn’t that hard since I feel this bizarre, angular and hugely impractical couch really encapsulates Jojo’s essence. Like if he was a servant in Beauty and the Beast this would be his furniture form.

Apparently the only things I deemed important enough to capture were the cat portraits, so it looks like my Komeization is finally complete! Here’s some floorplan shots tho so you don’t get disoriented in our labyrinth-like mansion. Please note our amazing pink-blue-purple kitchen! Barbie’s Dreamhouse who??

And here’s the second floor, which also illustrates the exact point I ran out of money. Honestly looking back I don’t understand how the fuck this place cost 70k?? Like nothing is particularly expensive except the amazing vintage batmobile which was around 30-40k and some of the paintings? But I guess all the small things add up in the end + I’m super bad with money..

..and I’m not the only one. Jojo GET A FUCKING GRIP and A JOB. Literally no comment @ your cat wants, you inherited the jaw, wasn’t that enough??? ANYWAY. I know the question on everyone’s mind is how is Wyatt going to fit in with the Unions.. and all I have to say about that..

..is LOL. Truly the perfect career for when your mother-in-law is a criminal mastermind and your husband is a serial killer! I mean the jokes practically write themselves. At least he doesn’t want 10 kids or any shit like that, cause I’ve seen hell and it was the result of mixing Jojo/Wyatt genes in cas.

On top of gifting us with his future-probably-fug children, Wyatt also gives us the gift of our first ever kitchen fire when he decides to make dinner with 1 cooking point. His generosity really knows no bounds.

It’s all fun and games now but Wyatt deadass almost died in the inferno and was about to take poor, stupid Komei with him, who of course ran to the fire even though he was in the yard. Meanwhile Victoria was safely watching tv and didn’t move while Jojo..

..was doing this in the next room. Two types of sims I guess!

-So Wyatt, you’ve been here for almost an hour now, burned down our kitchen and I still don’t see any grandchildren. I thought you were a family sim!

-Haha oh mom, you’re hilarious! Ignore her, Wyatt, let’s enjoy your delicious pasta.. It was definitely worth almost dying for.

-Your mama is right, mon cheri, not only do you have an obligatión to your famille but I rolled the want to have a bébé the second we graduated!

-Well it’s still gonna be there when we aren’t broke, Wyatt, god!

-But.. bébés, mon cheri! Tons of bébés I can have but never interact with, in typical famille sim fashión!

-UGH thanks a lot for opening this gate, mom. If only you had found your love of children when I was living on cat food.

-Well it’s different when they are your children, everyone knows that.

-THAT’S NOT WHY PEOPLE SAY THAT MOM

-Honestly, Jojό, I’m prouder of taking down your répugnant suitόrs than I am of graduating with honors!

-Aww Wyatt <3

-And if I have to souffrir through a childless existence to be with mon amour, so be it (:

-Aw- wait what?!

-Really, c’est bien, Jojό, marriage is all about compromise, nό? I mean, not that I would know since we’re not even married yet!

-Wyatt we’ve been here for 3 hours.

-My point précisément.. C’est bien though!

-Can’t believe I’m saying this but I really regret murdering Ti-Ning.

That makes two of us, Jo. Honestly even Francis would be better than this. Family sim spouse??? Tf was I thinking.

Ah, some things never change <3 It’s a new day and someone very special passes by our lot..

UGH NO not you asshole, once again delivering bills at the worst possible time.

-Miss me bitch?? Lolol

ONE OF THESE DAYS DAGMAR. ONE OF THESE DAYS ISTG

No, it’s mismatched beard townie, whose regular outfit is simply iconic, and he’s waving at me! What a sweetheart! TAKE SOME NOTES DAGMAR YOU FROZEN-FACED FREAK

-Umm he’s actually waving at me, moron.

-WRONG, he’s waving at me!

Ok it literally doesn’t matter who he’s waving at.

-Well c’est moi.

OK WHATEVER WYATT GOD. Just go off to work in a position you’re criminally unqualified for and try not to die ok??

-Why would I mourir?

Hm let’s see, maybe because you’re a ‘SWAT Team Leader’ straight out of college with a shocking lack of skill points?? Jfc college degrees in this game are so fucking op it’s legit making me resentful of my sims.

In other news, major dicks Sophie and Victor have started constantly beating each other up and the only thing surprising about this development is that it took this long. Honestly these fights are peak #TeamNoOne. Please note Alegra who continues to give 0 fucks @ the bloodshed. What a gal <3

Burning with religious fervor, fundamentalist nutjob Sophie emerges victorious!

-I WALK WITH GOD BITCH

Tears. Literal tears. Victor is the most unbelievable creature I have ever played.

-The rampant violence in this house is a violation of human rights! I AM OUTTA HERE

Literally still cannot believe this happened, like the sheer NERVE is killing me. Victor has started every fight he’s ever been in for an astounding total of 40-50 fights, and as you all know he almost always wins. Like this one was what? The fourth one he lost?? AND YET HE RUNS AWAY LIKE HE’S THE VICTIM I HATE/LOVE HIM SO MUCH

Meanwhile this happens which, of course. Leave it to me to finally get a chance card right for the only sim who doesn’t even deserve the job he currently has.

..Police Chief Wyatt reporting for duty! And crime increased 80% overnight.

In actual good and not lawsuit-waiting-to happen news, Wyatt brought Amanda, Vic’s only friend/lesbian crush with him! Amanda has the distinct honor of being literally the only non-Union non-Jojo person Vic has ever genuinely liked and hasn’t had an affair with. YET THAT IS.

Man, these are some fat fucking flies. I’m talking 10 plagues of Egypt teas.

-I KNOW, where the fuck is Komei, what are we paying him for?

-I’m over here honey, talking to my least favorite son for the second time in my life, since apparently he’s sticking around.

-Yes, thanks for requesting a recount of the heir vote, dad. I will remember it when I decide where to scatter your ashes.

-I TOLD YOU I WANT THEM MIXED WITH THE CAT LITTER

Ugh Komei, please stop trying to bond with your son and do something productive instead-

-like finally convincing Neo to bang Sophie. She has refused 3 TIMES because there’s a rule I have to earn kittens by suffering. I mean Alegra refusing to procreate with Victor made sense, it was Victor, wtf is Sophie’s excuse? Waiting for marriage?

ABOUT TIME

YAS. CAT GEN 3 ON THE WAY. Human gen 3 will have to wait till I’m in the mood to deal with screaming infants aka it might take a while.

The science career FINALLY SHOWS UP after 5 fucking days, jfc. Love how Wyatt’s dumb ass started as a swat team LEADER but Jojo who has half the skills maxed starts as a science teacher. Also love the idea of Jojo as a teacher in general, I mean just imagine having him teach you science in high school. I would literally drop out.

Jojo returns from work, brings this rando with him and doesn’t get promoted. We can’t all be Wyatt I guess! We’re not completely broke anymore tho so..

It is time.

Gunther, Melody and Max Flexor on one side..

Craig, Brit Brit, Ti-Ning and Daniel on the other. What a bunch of assholes, Craig obviously excluded. Remember him? I invited him because he and Jojo are still semi-friends thinking he wouldn’t show up and yet here he is! What a good guy.

-It’s at moments like this, watching your high school boyfriend get married.. that you really get to thinking..

Awww.

-..there but for the grace of god go I.

Less awww. You’re not wrong tho, definitely dodged a sociopathic bullet..

..not everyone is that lucky. WE GET IT WYATT YOU’RE CRAZY AND IN LOVE

-Mon bien adoré, I vow to aimer and honόr you and not cheat on you again or at least be more discrete about it <3

-And I vow not to kill you and feed you to the cats for as long as we both shall live <3

Ah, true love, you guys.

Too bad half our guests are inside dancing-

-OR HAVING COMPLETELY INAPPROPRIATE AND UNTIMELY THOUGHTS. TI-NING SERIOUSLY GO TO HELL. I WAS ROOTING FOR YOU WE WERE ALL ROOTING FOR YOU HOW DARE YOU

Well at least Vic is excited which is more than I can say for Gunther who is literally LOOKING THE OTHER WAY.

Time to cut the cake with the sky as our only witness, since everyone has taken a plate from the buffet and fucked off inside. Seriously WORST GUESTS EVER

Not one to be outdone by his guests’ questionable behavior, Wyatt takes the time to remind us who he really is.

-And n'est-ce pas forget it!

Despite all the obvious problems, like one of the grooms literally going to sleep, our party score is ‘good time’ which is a truly rare and exciting occurrence. With less than a minute left I’m feeling pretty confident that nothing can ruin this wedding!

Weirdly no one has touched the champagne even though sims in general are obsessed with it?? My best guess is everyone is at a loss for words at having to toast this union and who can blame them tbh. Thankfully Daniel steps up and I find it super sweet because I’ve forgotten that he and Wyatt are mortal enemies and it’s only by chance they haven’t beaten each other up on this instance like they have countless times before.

-Let’s all raise a glass to my beloved brother, Jojo, who generously woke up to attend his own wedding reception! Just one of many examples of his fine, giving character. Too bad he’s committing his life to a complete waste of space adulterous loser like Wyatt, who I’m not even convinced is really french, since his ability to speak and understand english fluctuates according to convenience. Man, I promised myself I wouldn’t cry, but this choice in spouse is just too tragic. Oh well! To Jojo!

NOICE, still a good time. SO CLOSE

AND YET SO FAR. Goddammit do you two mind killing each other on your own time and not literally 10 seconds before our wedding ends??

-DIE WHORE, THIS WILL TEACH YOU TO STEAL MY MAN

-THAT’S MY LINE SLUTBAG

-HA! ZUMBA, BITCH

-Wow, so glad I woke up for this, really got my bloodlust going!

Indeed a roaring success if there ever was one. I mean how can this night possibly get any better?

.............of course.

Oh nice, I remembered to install an alarm for once! I’m also desperately trying to wake up Wyatt thinking that he’s fucking CHIEF OF POLICE so he might prove useful in this situation..

..especially since we get this cop of a completely untrustworthy Bieber hairstyle. Talk about striking fear in the heart.

Sadly it turns out that Wyatt could not give less of a shit that we’re getting robbed and picks this moment to head for wedding buffet leftovers-

-while Bieber cop prevails! This robber is awesomely named Russ Bear btw and I wish that was my name, sounds like a slavic medieval folkore hero. But I digress. Please prepare yourselves because our first robbery is about to take a dark turn.

-Ehh, you get at a certain level on la force, you just become desensitized to la criminalité..

-Oh don’t worry Wyatt, I totally understand.. I mean I’ve robbed so many houses in my time, I hardly blink anymore..

-So it looks like you and I are not so different after all.. ;)

.............

.....................

............................why. why has the universe chosen me for the greatest suffering the world has ever known. i try and i try but incestuous relationships just keep sprawling like mythical strangler vines. i bet this wouldn’t happen to someone named Russ Bear. fml

#ts2 #gen 2

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