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mikauzoran · 5 years

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Adrienette Drabble Fifteen: Judge

Gabriel snapped something about sartorial trends in Italian that Adrien didn’t quite understand. He had heard his father rant heatedly about fashion in Italian often enough to the point where Adrien himself was able to thoroughly insult designers, models, lighting specialists, the sound people, the critics reviewing a show, and the owner of the venue, but the comment Gabriel had just made was more subtle; thus, it went completely over Adrien’s head.

“Maybe I should learn how to say something useful in Italian like, ‘Where is the train station?’ or ‘Does this have meat in it?’,” Adrien thought as he watched the Seine fly by outside the car window.

Gabriel put his line back on mute and sighed, “This call is a waste of time. The idiot has no conception of the direction current trends are pointing for next season. Why, just the other day, I was speaking with a few of our new interns, and Ma—aa…”

Gabriel stopped dead, slowly turning to scrutinize the damage he had done.

Adrien smiled sadly. “Go on. What did Marinette say?”

Gabriel gulped. “…Neoclassicism is making another comeback. And she’s absolutely right.”

Gabriel cleared his throat. “I’m sorry. Are you okay? Are you going to be okay going to school today? Are you going to be okay seeing her? Am I pushing you too hard? We don’t have to do this.”

Adrien chewed on his lip thoughtfully. “I don’t know. There’s only one period left today, so…I’m sure I can tough it out for one period. As for Marinette…”

He covered his face with his hands. “God, I want to see her. I want to see her more than anything. Is that masochistic?”

Plagg sighed, poking his head out of Adrien’s shirt collar. “A little bit, Kid.”

Adrien blew out a long sigh, his hand trailing down his face to rub at his neck.

“I’m pathetic, aren’t I?” Adrien mumbled.

“Not pathetic,” Gabriel assured. “Just pitiable.”

“I can live with ‘pitiable’,” Adrien decided, distractedly tracing the bruises with a finger.

Gabriel’s lips pressed together in a thin line. “It won’t be like this for much longer. Things are going to get better.”

“I hope so,” Adrien mumbled, leaning his head to rest against the windowpane.

“Did Nathalie tell you we were able to schedule you to see a counselor at six this evening?” Gabriel inquired.

Adrien’s head whipped around, and he stared incredulously at his father. “What? Really? So soon? I thought we’d have to sit around on a waiting list for a few months or something.”

Gabriel shook his head gravely. “We didn’t really have time to be waitlisted. Measures might have been taken to circumvent the waiting list.”

Adrien’s expression slowly morphed into a frown. “What did you do? Do I want to know?”

“Let’s just say,” Gabriel sighed. “They’ll soon begin construction on the Emilie Agreste Memorial Mental Health Wing thanks to our generous donation.”

Adrien pursed his lips. “Part of me feels bad for cutting in line, but there’s also a part of me that reasons that they’ll be able to help more people with a new, updated wing.”

Gabriel shrugged. “I’m not concerned with being a good person. I’m concerned with being your father.”

“Mother would be pleased to have something named after her.” Adrien smiled nostalgically and began to giggle. “She would probably make some snide remark about giving her name to a psych ward.”

Gabriel began to laugh even as his heart throbbed. “Yes, she would, wouldn’t she? Emilie always had something snarky and irreverent to say.”

“…Dad?”

“Hm?” Gabriel was still getting used to the new moniker.

Adrien smiled with green eyes full of gratitude. “Thank you so much. You’ve been so great the past two and a half weeks, and I can’t tell you how much I appreciate it. I’d be absolutely lost right now without your support…. I’m sorry I didn’t believe you when you said things were going to change.”

Gabriel reached out to run a hand through Adrien’s hair. “I’d given you no reason to believe me.”

“Thank you for today,” Adrien whispered. “I know you think psychologists are quacks, so it means a lot to me that you’ve gone to so much trouble.”

“I am willing to do anything you think we need to do to get you better, Adrien, regardless of my personal beliefs. At this point, I hope that I’ve been wrong this whole time and she’s actually able to help you,” Gabriel confessed.

Adrien nodded. “Yeah. Me too…but still. Thank you, Dad.”

Gabriel shrugged. “All I did was throw money at the problem like usual. This was a team effort. Nathalie spent all day finding a doctor and making the phone calls, and Plagg covered Nathalie’s desk while she was doing that, so…”

Adrien awkwardly tried to look down his shirt at the kwami. “Really, Plagg?”

Plagg floated out to shrug, landing on Gabriel’s shoulder. “I mean, you were out cold, so it’s not like you needed strict supervision. It wasn’t so hard to answer the phone and play around on the computer between poking my head in to check on you.” Plagg cleared his throat and recited, “‘Gabriel Enterprises. You’ve reached the desk of Nathalie Sancoeur. This is her assistant Plagg. How may I help you?’ And then you just have to tell them what day you need what where. Nathalie made me a cheat sheet. It wasn’t too hard since Nathalie has everything so organized.”

“Wow, Plagg,” Adrien snickered. “I didn’t think you had it in you to be useful.”

“I surprised myself,” Plagg admitted.

“He’s actually a very skilled resource manager,” Gabriel praised. “He reworked our invoice system.”

Adrien’s eyes widened in surprise.

Plagg shrugged. “I had a kitten who was an accountant for a law firm back in the late eighteen-hundreds. The principles are the same. I just had to learn how to work the computer, but I’ve seen you do that plenty of times, Kid.”

Adrien nodded dumbly as they pulled up to the school and the car stopped.

Gabriel looked at the building and then at Adrien with a dubious expression. “You’re sure you’re okay to do this?”

Adrien shrugged. “I’m at least going to try. I’ve got this. I mean, I get pummeled by akuma thrice a week, so how bad can this be?”

Gabriel winced, thinking, “Not anymore, you don’t.”

Gabriel leaned in to press a kiss to Adrien’s forehead. “Have a good day…. I’m proud of you.”

With a genuine smile, Adrien stepped out of the car and made his way into the school.

He snuck into Madame Mendeleiev’s Calculus class through the back door, hoping to escape notice by sitting at the back of the room, but Mendeleiev herself foiled his plan.

“Monsieur Agreste, so nice of you to join us,” she remarked sarcastically.

Nearly the whole class turned to stare at him.

“I’m sorry I’m late, Madame,” Adrien replied, head down, refusing to look at anyone so as not to witness their reactions to seeing him.

Apparently, the akumatization sensitivity training the teachers had to take had not made an impression on Madame Mendeleiev.

Adrien could feel his cheeks burning as he buried his eyes in the textbook and tried not to fuss with the scarf covering up the marks on his neck.

His classmates started whispering, and as much as Adrien actively tried not to hear, Chat Noir’s heightened senses affected him residually even outside of the mask.

“Wow. He looks like crap.” Juleka.

“Did you see the pictures online of him crying at the park Saturday?” Max.

“Look at that scarf. No points for guessing what that’s covering up.” Alix.

“Someone saw some action. Maybe he was so bad she broke up with him.” Kim.

“Serves him right for the way he’s been treating Marinette.” Mylène.

“Has your brother said anything yet?” Rose.

“How is he? How does he look? Does he look okay?” Marinette. Marinette obviously unable to look at him herself and asking Alya to do reconnaissance.

Adrien heard Alya draw in a sharp breath. “He’s…fine,” Alya lied.

Marinette sighed. He could almost see her rolling her eyes. “Alya?”

Alya blew out a weary breath. “Honestly? I think you wrecked him. If anyone was ever being held together by rubber bands, it would be him.”

“Oh,” Marinette replied in a barely-there whisper. “G-Great. Thanks.”

God, he hoped she didn’t look at him. He hadn’t thought he’d looked that bad, but, apparently, the situation was dire, and he didn’t want her to see him like that.

Tomorrow he’d put on more makeup. He would smile so hard and look everyone in the eye and stand up straight and be the Adrien Agreste that everyone saw on billboards. Tomorrow he would fake it so well that no one would suspect a thing.

But in that moment, he felt like a wounded seal watching the sharks circling round. He was not the Adrien Agreste on the perfume bottle. He was just that dorky loser Adrien whose life was currently rimming the drain.

He sank lower in his seat, hunching his shoulders to hide his face. He kept his head down until Madame Mendeleiev called for order and resumed the lesson.

He considered sneaking back out of class and heading to the nurse’s office until all the other students had left for the day. He’d been wrong. Battling akuma might be physically challenging and painful, but that was nothing compared to the mental anguish of sitting in that classroom, feeling like a freak show and having everyone whisper about him.

“Don’t stop breathing on me, Kid,” Plagg whispered. “Come on. In and out.”

Adrien took a shallow inhale. It was all his lungs could handle.

“Hey. No hyperventilating,” Plagg chided, concern softening his voice. “Kid, this was a bad idea. Let’s go home,” he suggested.

But Adrien couldn’t move. He was too afraid to get up and leave, knowing it would draw even more attention to himself. He was afraid to run away and show them how scared he was of them and what they would think and what they would whisper behind his back. He was too terrified to move, to flee and let them know they had beaten him.

He was afraid of what Marinette would think. He had to convince her he was emotionally stable. He had to prove that he was the kind of guy that she would want to get involved with. Running out of class crying would not accomplish those goals, so Adrien stayed and focused on not letting anyone see what a disaster he was.

After a few minutes, he tentatively peeked up at Marinette. Or, at least, the back of her head. Her hair was up in a bun, and she was wearing a black lace choker she had made out of some of the fabric scraps he had once given her.

Adrien lightly touched the bruises she’d left on his neck and thought that it was nice that she had a gift from him around her neck too.

The bell had barely rung when Adrien bolted from his seat, hoping to get to his locker and get out before anyone could look at him or say anything.

His plan failed.

He couldn’t remember his locker combination. The information was just gone. He tried several strings of numbers that seemed to have some potential, but none of them worked. It could have been the fact that his hands were shaking so badly, he wasn’t certain he’d entered the numbers he was intending to in the first place.

“Breathe, Kid,” Plagg reminded, phasing down Adrien’s arm and through the locker to pop the door open.

“Thank you,” Adrien mumbled meekly, feeling the edge come off his panic.

Until someone yanked his scarf off from behind.

“Hey, Agreste.”

Adrien spun to find Kim looming over him with a predatory smirk. “Wow! It looks like someone really mauled you. What happened?”

“Kim, could you please give me my scarf back?” Adrien reached for it, but Kim pulled it away, balling it up and holding it over Adrien’s head.

Adrien was five-nine in shoes while Kim had reached six foot three, and those few inches made all the difference.

“Make me,” Kim snickered.

Adrien stood on his tiptoes to no avail. “Please, Kim?”

“Nope,” Kim rejected the request gleefully. “You know, I don’t know what Marie ever saw in you. She’s so over you, by the way,” Kim added savagely.

“W-What?” Adrien blinked stupidly, hands dropping to his sides. “Marinette…is…?”

Kim shoved Adrien back into his locker door.

Adrien caught himself on one of the shelves inside the open locker and looked up wide-eyed at Kim as the other boy growled, “You bastard! Marie! Marie, that girl that you dated. Marie who was head over heels in love with you, you self-absorbed prick! You should be shot,” Kim spat, looking down at Adrien in disgust. “Guys like you should be taken out back and shot. I hope whoever gave you that hickey makes you suffer. I hope she toys with your heart like you did Marie’s.”

Adrien didn’t even have the presence of mind to flinch when Kim drew back his foot to kick Adrien.

Thankfully, the blow never landed.

“Back the hell off, Kim,” Marinette snapped, charging Kim like a rhino and shoving him away from Adrien while Kim was off balance.

“The hell, Marinette?!” Kim snapped.

Marinette stomped her foot, putting herself between Kim and Adrien. “You heard me: Back off,” she repeated, an eerie calm in her voice that spoke of someone who was master of the situation. “You mess with him, you deal with me.”

Kim shifted uncomfortably under Marinette’s intense glare. Upon brief consideration, Kim put his hands up, unwilling to go up against Marinette. He tossed the scarf at Adrien’s feet as he walked away, muttering under his breath.

The rest of the locker room went back about its business once the show had ended, but Marinette and Adrien remained motionless. He stared as she took a deep breath and forced her muscles, her jaw, her fists to unclench.

She didn’t turn to face him, and he was glad of it because he was positive that he looked pathetic. That he was pathetic. And she was just so cool and brave and wonderful.

Had she hurt him? Yes. Would he let her hurt him again? Gladly. Over and over and over if only that pain could be interspersed with happiness like she had made him feel when she’d smiled at him, called him Chaton, returned one of his puns with a pun of her own, kissed him…

She had told him not to speak to her. He wondered how strictly she’d enforce that rule.

“Thank you,” he ventured in a small, timid voice.

She visibly deflated.

He almost apologized, but she spoke first, “I will always have your back. No matter what.”

Without another word or a glance behind, she walked away.

But her words, that simple promise, meant the world to him. He shut the locker door and fled before anything else could happen to kill the hope inside of him.

#Adrienette #Miraculous Ladybug #Miraculous Ladybug Fanfiction #Marinette Dupain-Cheng/Adrien Agreste #Adrien Agreste #Gabriel Agreste #Plagg #Marinette Dupain-Cheng #Mikau's Writings #There's a Daisy

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abortionmonologues · 5 years

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Abortion Monologue #22

In 2010 I found myself pregnant. I will not get into the mundane (or not so mundane) mechanics of it except to say that I was devastatingly unprepared, in more ways than one, and terrified out of my wits. There was something in me that knew I was pregnant before the one friend I felt comfortable enough to tell, convinced me to do the test. I had done one before but it was too early. Despite that initial negative, I knew. I remember it like it was yesterday. We planned a time when neither of us had classes, from the night before. The next day we met and walked to the university health centre; my heart beating at unhealthy rates. When we got there she did the dirty work for me. She purchased the test and took the mandatory talk by the nurse while I waited outside, trying desperately to calm my overworked nerves. She came out several minutes later and we walked to the bathroom to get it over with. I took several deep breaths before I entered that dreadful corner stall. I stood there looking at it, willing myself not to get an anxiety attack while simultaneously willing the little white stick not to get two lines when I peed on it. I eventually got around to doing it and left the stall to await my fate. The longest three minutes of my life. I gave it to my friend to break the news, being too nervous to look at it myself. She never said yes or no. Just a nod. I was officially pregnant. Confirmation is a bitch. I felt dizzy. I wanted to cry but the tears wouldn’t come. I needed to be calm to keep that impending anxiety attack at bay and I think I did it by stepping outside of myself. Suddenly I was calm. I could hear my friend telling me it was going to be ok and trying to explore my options with me. I knew it was going on but it no longer felt like it was happening to me. We walked back to the centre of campus. My next class was in less than 15 minutes. The rest of that day dragged on and on with me just going through the motions. It didn’t hit me until I got home that night. I was pregnant and I had no fucking clue what I was going to do. I cried myself to sleep that night and several nights after that. I had never felt so alone in my entire life. I started feeling sick every day. No, not just in the morning, all the fucking time. At first I couldn’t eat at all without throwing up. Then I couldn’t have enough to eat. Then all I wanted was god-forsaken St. Mary’s banana chips and 7-up all damn day. My hormones were out of kilter, I cried at the drop of a hat and I just could not deal. I realized that I could not deal with the changes my body was going through much less to handle and throw myself head first into motherhood. I was in no place financially or emotionally to care for a child. I began despising the thing inside me that was causing me all this anguish but mostly l hated myself for the way things were. I found everything to blame myself for. It was easier to deal with the disgust I felt for myself than to face the real problem. That I was pregnant and I didn’t want to be. Now I had always been pro-choice. I strongly felt that a woman’s body belonged to her and therefore the decision to keep or not keep a foetus inside that body was solely hers. It was not so black and white when I was in the position where I had to choose. I felt extremely guilty about wanting to abort. I struggled with the decision for a very long time. My position had not really changed. I still believed that only women could decide this for themselves. While in the position however I could not isolate myself from the cultural context I grew up in and was surrounded by. Suddenly I was aware that every taxi or bus I ended up on was playing one of the many vitriolic songs that vilified women for exercising their sexual and reproductive health rights. Every ‘dash weh belly’ and 'walking cemetery’ song felt like a personal attack. I was even more confused. Maybe I am a bad person for wanting to do this. Perhaps I am indeed being selfish. After class one day I went to my lecturer, whom I trusted and had somewhat developed a relationship with, and asked about her position on abortions. As expected, she said she was pro-choice. We had a brief (and general) conversation about it and I started to feel better. Somebody understood; even if it was in a vacuum. Not long after that I told her I was pregnant, that I didn’t know what to do and she was supportive. This became the only solace for me. I stopped going to school and classes except when I had her classes. Even when we didn’t talk, seeing her was enough to remind me that I had someone on my side who wasn’t judging me. By this time however I had isolated myself from my friends, who were my main source of support. I was unreachable to all the people I cared about and who cared about me. Perhaps it was my own doing but I was so alone that it hurt physically. There were times when I had anxiety attacks because I felt unloved. Why was nobody there? I didn’t feel that I could talk to anyone about it. About how hard it was physically and mentally. How I often thought death was the only way out. I was depressed and doing poorly in school which brought on even more feelings of hopelessness. In all the back and forth with my conscience and dealing with the everyday task of getting out of bed, I had not been taking time into consideration. One day while walking from class an acquaintance joked that I looked fat. The hysteria that gripped my soul after this encounter cannot be explained. This was happening and I needed to make a decision fast. I then found out from my very good friend Google that I was further along in medical terms than I thought because it is checked from your last period. Full blown panic. What if it was too late and I was forced to carry this foetus to full term? I was devastated. In my heightened state of hysteria I turned to my lecturer who found a trustworthy doctor for me to go to. Did I mention that I was broke? Oh yes, I was. I had a fairly expensive phone and I sold it. I scheduled my appointment and was told I could come in that afternoon. My heart and mouth were in the same place as I listened for my name in that tiny waiting area. I looked at all the other patients suspiciously. I wondered if they knew why I was there. If it was written on my forehead. When it was my turn to see the doctor I walked slowly inside and to stop myself from freezing up I blurted “I think I’m pregnant and I’m not sure I want it.” At this point I knew I didn’t. My mind was made up but I couldn’t bring myself to say the word abortion. I also didn’t want him to think I was flippant. I needed him to know that I struggled with the decision. I mentioned school and other activities I was involved in to convince him that I wasn’t careless. Perhaps I was trying to convince myself too. After a routine check up we agreed on the next morning to do the procedure. I was relieved. But the next morning came and I could not go. I just wasn’t able to. I was emotionally drained and wasn’t able to face it. I did not get out of bed that day. I cried until I just couldn’t cry anymore. That night I looked in the mirror and spoke to myself and the foetus. I told her (I imagined it to be a girl) that I liked her but she couldn’t be inside me anymore. I told her that I had things to do, dreams to fulfil, places to see and growing up to do before I could do a good job of taking care of her. I didn’t know I had gotten so attached and it was heartbreaking. The next morning I got up and went for the procedure sans thoughts. The waiting time was long, which threatened to give me cold feet but I stuck it out. I did paperwork (read: fake and code stuff because this was illegal). In the operating room, after prepping, I was given anaesthesia and asked to count to five. The last thing I remember was saying three…. A couple hours later when I woke up groggy, it was quite fitting that the island was placed on hurricane watch. I felt like the after effects of a hurricane for several months after. The bigger half of me was relieved but a slightly smaller half was sad and regretful. It took me a long time to understand that I did the best with what I had and needed to forgive myself. Today I am ok with the decision I made. It was the best decision for me at the time and I am at peace. Yes, there are still moments when I try to envision what could’ve been or something triggers a bad memory but I am no longer regretful. Up to this point I have avoided any serious contemplation and reflection on this part of my past because it is unpleasant and rakes up old wounds. It rests greatly on me how many women, and especially young girls, go through this alone. So as I come out to and for myself, I also come out for all those women who think they are facing it alone and that they’ll never survive. It gets better. We often blame and shame women for making these decisions but do we take the time to understand in a nuanced way? I have met many women who have terminated pregnancies and it is never easy. The moral debate will possibly rage on into eternity but in the meantime can we support women so they can continue to be healthy and productive citizens? There is a perception that it is careless women who access abortion services but we’d be surprised at the people around us who’ve had to terminate pregnancies for whatever reason.

——–

Addendum: I wrote this 5 years ago when I contemplated publishing it in the newspapers. I ultimately decided not to. I wasn’t sure I was ready for the kinda 'fame’ that would inevitably come with it. There’s also no statute of limitations on abortions and mi nuh think jail would a fit mi.

Anyhow, I now have a toddler. When I found out I was pregnant this time, I felt ready enough - especially emotionally and financially. We are doing well. No regrets.

#abortion #abortion monologues #jamaica #jamaican #abortions

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chroniccombustion · 5 years

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Caught in the Grey (ch 2)

Genre: Trans!AU, hurt/comfort, romance, angst with a happy ending Rated: T Characters: Souji Seta (Yu Narukami), Yosuke Hanamura, Naoto Shirogane, Investigation Team, Izanagi/Shadow!Souji Warnings: depression, dysphoria, disassociation, self-hatred, implied suicide attempt, suicidal thoughts, mentions of homophobia, implied past child abuse and transphobia, canon-typical violence, mild sexual content Status: multi-chapter, incomplete

Playlist: Spotify | Youtube <- previous chapter | next chapter ->

The light has changed from dingy blue-grey to anxious pink by the time he realigns himself, creeping along the wall to spill down across the floor. There is a twisting sensation low in his stomach, a burning in the back of this throat. He runs his leaden tongue across his gums and they tingle in response. The ache is still there in every limb, echoed by a shaky feeling that makes his world feel like it’s slipping in and out of solidity.

He flips open his phone with his thumb. 7:19am the screen now reads, as well as a flashing notice from half an hour ago, proclaiming, 1 new message.

Shirogane-kun: SENPAI PLS CALL ME

Chapter 2: Been a Long Damn Day

“From the beach to the city, I been putting on a face. You’re no stranger to a mask, you ain’t lost or amazed. I been lost in a maze, been a long damn day, I been lost in a maze, been a long damn day…”

- (“Sinking”, Jeremy Zucker)

Shirogane-kun: SOUJI-SENPAI WHERE R U?

Shirogane-kun: R U OK?

Shirogane-kun: PLS RESPOND

Shirogane-kun: SENPAI PLS I AM WORRIED

4 missed calls from Shirogane-kun

Aibo: bro u ok? wtf happened?

Aibo: no srsly wth? what was that?

Aibo: prtnr we cant find u where did u go?

Aibo: shit the girls pageant is starting we cant leave

Aibo: not funny bro

Aibo: call me back man cmon ur freakin me out

Aibo: souji?

7 missed calls from Aibo

14 new messages, 9 missed calls from Kanji-kun, ~*Rise!*~, Amagi Yukiko, Satanaka Chie, TEDDIE

Souji stares down at the phone in his hand, squinting against the brightness of the screen in the pre-dawn gloom. 5:42am, it reads. Fantastic.

He shifts his weight to lean more against the side of the couch rather than the chilly wall and groans involuntarily when his entire body protests. He’s stiff, cold, and his everything is angry with him for sleeping on the floor. His uniform pants are still on from yesterday, though he has no idea just where his shirt and jacket went – or the flesh-colored bit of fabric that he wears underneath. At some point after running home in a blind, dissociative panic he knows he must have pulled them off because he remembers being shirtless before properly passing out, so, theoretically, they must be in the room with him somewhere. He doesn’t have the energy to look.

As long as his pants are still on.

As exhausted as he is, (mentally, physically, emotionally,) he knows he won’t be able to get back to sleep at this rate. He can’t work up the energy to pull out the futon or change into real pajamas, and besides, he’d just have to get right back up for school again soon after. His body aches too much to let him relax anyway.

So Souji sits there, folded over on himself in the corner between the couch and wall, and doesn’t read the slew of missed texts from his worried friends. He can’t; their escalating concern leaves a guilty stone in his stomach on top of the embarrassment he already feels. He knows they’ll be upset with him for not telling them where he is, that he’s okay, and it spikes his anxiety just thinking about it – which just makes it all the more impossible to open the rest of the texts. He’d barely made it through Naoto’s, forced himself to read Yosuke’s, before he’d had to quit.

Something else, though, is the quiet, creeping dread that has nestled into his already-anxious heart. He can’t read the rest, can’t bring himself to respond and ease their worry because he doesn’t know what to say. How can he possibly explain to his friends why he bolted like a frightened cat for seemingly no reason? They’d want to know what set him off, why it had caused such a violent reaction, and every reason Souji can think of just leads his brain deeper and deeper down the winding rabbit hole of Things He Doesn’t Want to Talk About.

How is he supposed to tell them what brought about his soul-shattering panic attack without revealing everything else?

Still. If he stays silent for too much longer then he’ll lose the window of opportunity to try and play this whole thing off as something they shouldn’t worry about. He also potentially runs the risk of one of them reporting him missing, or even just straight up going to his uncle. There is no easy way to go about handling this garbage fire of a situation and trying to think of ways to avoid it is only making everything so much worse inside his head.

Souji lolls his head back and watches the encroaching dawn slither through his windows and play across the wall across from him. It’s the only light in the room aside from his phone. Eventually, that, too, goes dark.

He flips open his phone with his thumb. 7:19am the screen now reads, as well as a flashing notice from half an hour ago, proclaiming, 1 new message.

Shirogane-kun: SENPAI PLS CALL ME

He… wants to. Out of all his friends, Naoto would be the safest one to talk to right now. They know, and he wouldn’t have to think up some excuse as to why he fled from school the way he did. It would be… refreshing, he thinks, to finally be honest about a situation like this. (He also shamefully knows that of everyone he still owes an explanation to, he may have frightened Naoto the most. After all they’ve done for him the past two days, he owes them at least this much.)

His thumb only hesitates over the call button for a moment – just one – before he shakily presses it down. The line picks up on the second ring.

“Senpai! Oh thank god; are you alright? Where are you?’

Souji winces at the desperation in his friend’s voice. “I’m fi—“ He swallows against the dryness in this throat, hesitant to say “fine,” because he really, probably isn’t. He hasn’t been fine for days. “I’m alive,” he finally settles on. “I woke up at home but I don’t remember getting here.” There’s no point in lying, and it feels good – if only a little – to admit even the tiniest bit of weakness to someone he knows won’t use it against him.

There is a pause on the other end of the line. “You… ‘woke up’,” Naoto slowly repeats. “How long have you been there?”

“I don’t know. The whole time, I think.”

Naoto sighs and it sounds like a rush of tension being released. “Alright. Alright, it’s worrying that you do not remember, but at least you’re safe.”

There is another pause, a longer one this time, that Souji doesn’t know how to fill. When Naoto finally speaks again, their voice is tiny, quiet, sounding so very young and sad that it damn near wrenches Souji apart.

“…Senpai, you scared me. I knew something must have happened but...”

There’s no one there to see it in the dark, but Souji instinctively hangs his head, shame and guilt lashing at his chest. “I’m sorry,” he whispers.

Something that sounds suspiciously like a sniffle comes over the line before Naoto vehemently says, “Don’t apologize. I know what panic can do to the mind, and I suspect you were not in complete control at the time. I just wish I could have helped.”

“You’ve already done more than enough,” he says, because it’s true.

Naoto doesn’t seem to agree. “What I have done is paltry compared to what needed to be done. I try not to make deductions about the Team anymore, but I imagine you require a great deal more support right now than a pack of makeup wipes.”

He doesn’t respond to that. He doesn’t exactly know how he can.

Naoto sighs again, this time sounding more frustrated than relieved. “I… That was invasive of me, I apologize.”

“It’s okay.”

“No, it’s not, but your patience with me is appreciated anyway.”

They go quiet for a bit, and Souji can hear faint noises in the background – rustling cloth, the creak of leather. He is reminded that it’s early-o-clock on a school day and that Naoto is probably in the middle of getting ready to leave.

“Souji-senpai?” they finally say, soft and cautious. If Souji were to have any other siblings beyond Nanako, he thinks maybe he wouldn’t mind having Naoto as family.

“I’m still here,” he answers, and it feels like a drop of warmth. He thinks he might smile if he wasn’t so drained still.

“Do you… need to talk about it? Whatever it was that happened, I mean.”

He thinks. Yes, in a way he does, if only to let Naoto in the way they deserve to be. It would be nice to get it off his chest, to have someone understand, but at the same time he doesn’t think he can. Telling Naoto – while safe – would also mean reliving the gut-dropping horror of Teddie’s words. Souji has just barely gotten purchase in the real word again, shaky as it is, and he’d rather not have that tentative stability taken away again. So he takes a breath and lets it out slowly through his nose.

“I… probably,” he says, “but I’d rather not think about it anymore.”

Naoto hums. “I understand. Sometimes it’s better that way.”

There is more shuffling. Then, “I’m terrible at this, aren’t I?”

Souji huffs – a quiet laugh that isn’t exactly a laugh but is closer than he usually gets. “I don’t think so,” he assures them. “You’re trying; that’s more than I’m used to.”

He thinks he probably shouldn’t have said that. He can’t bring himself to dwell on it right now.

A low, displeased sound comes through the earpiece, and Souji can vividly picture the stern furrow of Naoto’s brows, their lips pressed into a thin, stony line. Yeah. He really shouldn’t have said that.

Thankfully they seem to let it go (though he’s pretty sure Naoto never lets anything go and is just filing it away for later,) because the next words he hears from them are, “Did you sleep at all?”

“Uhm. A little. I think so, at least.” It certainly wasn’t long or well, but he isn’t going to mention that.

Another low, wordless sound. “Have you eaten?”

Oh.

He thinks back to the way his stomach had purged itself the day before last, how he’d been too dead inside to eat breakfast or even pack lunch yesterday. No wonder his body feels weak and shaky, his skull tight behind his eyes.

He swallows. “I… no. Not since… no.”

“Senpai.”

“I think… I might need to stay home today,” he whispers sheepishly. He feels like a child facing down the disapproving stare of an older sibling – which throws him a little since Naoto is younger than he is. He can’t tell if it’s comforting or just plain unsettling. Maybe a little bit of both.

“Do you want me to tell the others you have food poisoning?”

He startles. “That…” He clears his throat to try and regain himself. He’s surprised by how easily Naoto is able to handle this, how quickly they volunteer to cover for him. He hates that he’s surprised. He thinks Naoto would hate that he’s surprised as well.

“You’d do that?” he whispers, unable to hide the slight tremble of grateful awe.

Naoto’s voice is kind, gentle like warm water on an aching body when they say, “I’ll tell them whatever you need me to, Senpai, and nothing else.”

Souji makes a sound that he’s pretty sure is wet and mildly hysterical. “Thank you.”

“Anytime, Senpai. I mean that truly.”

He lets out a long, slow breath, careful not to do so directly into the phone, and lets the feeling of something safe and grateful and happy wash over him; like a place to rest when exhaustion peaks, or the warmth of a fire chasing away cold misery. Or, he thinks with a tiny smile, the glowing, sparkling, champagne-fizzy feeling that a bond sends zinging through his veins whenever its rank has risen.

Comfortable quiet reigns as the rank up run its course.

All too soon though, reality returns and through the phone speaker there comes a clock chime from somewhere in the background. Naoto makes a muffled sound as they apparently take their phone away from their ear for a moment.

“Do I need to let you go?” Souji asks when it seems like Naoto can hear him again.

They sigh. “Possibly. Will you be alright?”

He pauses. Aside from how shitty he feels due to lack of proper sleep and no food for two days, he feels… lighter. The anxiety from before has calmed somewhat now that he no longer has to drag his protesting body to school and face down his friends. “Yeah,” he says, and it’s nice to find that he means it. “I’ll be alright. I’ll…” he huffs – the faintest hint of a chuckle, “…spend the day recovering, probably.”

Naoto hums again. “Good, do that.” A beat of silence. Then, “Thank you for calling me, Senpai. If you hadn’t I was planning on coming by your house after school.” They make an odd noise that Souji thinks might be an audible expression of discomfort. “I would have done so yesterday, to be honest, had Kashiwagi-sensei not hauled us all off to change for the beauty pageant.”

Oh hell. He’d forgotten about the second pageant. He winces as he realizes just how awful it must have been for his friends – Naoto especially. “I am so sorry,” he says, his voice a rush of breath. “I shouldn’t have run out on you like that; after everything you did for me, I should have stayed to support you—“

But Naoto cuts him off. “Senpai, it’s alright. Panic and the mind, remember? Don’t apologize.” They make the noise of discomfort again, and Souji thinks he can almost hear the way Naoto’s face scrunches up when they deeply dislike something. “Obviously I survived, though it was… unpleasant,” they say, tone flat and unamused. “I won.”

“Oh my god.”

“Yes, I would like very much for that to never happen again to either of us.”

There is a muffled voice on Naoto’s end of the line and Souji hears what might be a hand covering the receiver. Naoto says something in return, though Souji doesn’t catch it. A few seconds pass before Naoto returns. “I’m afraid I have to leave now, Senpai. Would it be alright for me to text you during lunch to check on you?”

Souji feels the edges of his mouth stretching upwards, just slightly. He can’t remember if he’s ever smiled as much as he has in recent months. “If you want to,” he replies. “I’ll be okay, though; I just need to eat something.”

“Please do.” A sigh. “Take care, Senpai.”

“You, too.”

Naoto makes one last short noise of affirmation before the line disconnects and Souji is left to stare down at the call’s time stamp on his dimly glowing screen. 7:38. He’ll be late if he wants to try and make it to school.

He isn’t going to.

Looking up at the room around him he is surprised to find the morning light has started to fill it properly – more gold now than blue or pink. It’s brighter than yesterday, when it was a pale, sickly yellow reflecting the way his body felt like lead and his head like poison. He stretches his arms upwards, grunting as several things pop. Maybe today will be better, he thinks; maybe his mind got its fill of blackness over the past 48 hours and will leave him alone today.

Deciding that a good place to start would be finally acknowledging how empty his stomach is, Souji pulls himself to his feet and braces himself against the back of the couch as the waves of dizziness roll over him. He lets them pass, then pushes off the couch, shaky and weak. He’s glad it sounds like no one else is home – he’d hate to try and explain why he was hugging the wall on his way down the stairs. He steels himself, plants his weight on the balls of his feet as best he can, and slowly starts to make his way down towards the kitchen.

He only pauses once for breath at the bottom of the stairs, taking the opportunity to change his newest friend’s name in his phone from “Shirogane-kun” to “Naoto”.

He feels along the bond of the Wheel of Fortune arcana and smiles at the newfound strength glowing back at him.

---

Souji expects school the next day to be an awkward affair, and to some degree it is. Thankfully no one outside the IT seemed to really notice his terrified escape two days prior; or, at least, no one outside his friend group says anything. He does, however, catch a few whispers floating around as he passes certain groups of people – whispers that sound suspiciously like they’re about the cross dressing pageant and how “good” he looked on stage, usually from tight clusters of giggling girls or between the odd pair of jittery-looking guys. He does his best not to listen.

The real unease, though, sets in when he slips into his seat in the classroom and Yukiko, Chie, and Yosuke – who is here early for once – all turn to look at him. He tries to give them a reassuring smile but it feels just as forced as it actually is. Yosuke especially seems unconvinced.

Luckily the teacher walks in just as Souji feels the back of his head starting to smoke from how intensely Yosuke is staring, so he’s spared having to face his partner just yet.

Unluckily, this just means that by the time lunch rolls around, Yosuke wastes no time in poking Souji’s shoulder to get him to turn around. Slowly, Souji does so, and fixes his best friend with a shaky half-smile. He’s so tired of his nerves running at full capacity.

“Hey,” he says, a little less steady than he’d like.

Yosuke raises a brow at him. “Hey, yourself. What the hell, man? Why didn’t you text me back?”

Besides them, Yukiko nods in agreement and Chie opens her mouth to join the conversation.

Souji doesn’t wait for her to speak. “Did Naoto tell you what happened?” It’s partially a stalling tactic – something he hates being so good at anymore – and partially to see what they think went down so that he can build a believable story off it. Naoto had messaged him during lunch the day before, as they said they would, and given him a rundown of the excuse they had spun for him, but he doesn’t want to just play off that. Yosuke is too observant for his own good sometimes, and his ego is fragile enough that Souji knows he’ll need to be extra careful when trying to lie his way around his best friend’s suspicion.

It’s Yukiko that answers. “Naoto-kun said you went home because you weren’t feeling well, and that was why you weren’t at school yesterday.” She tilts her head, dark eyes narrowing in concern. “But you disappeared so suddenly! You seemed fine before.”

“Yeah,” Chie exclaims, nodding vigorously. “One minute you were in the classroom with us and the next you were just gone!”

“And tearing down the hallway like the building was on fire. Seriously, bro, I don’t think I’ve ever seen you move that fast.” A flicker of worry passes over Yosuke’s face before it settles back into the oddly pinched look he’s been wearing. He stares at Souji with creased brows and a downturned mouth. “And apparently you just left? You didn’t even stay to see the girls! I woulda thought you’d at least wanna cleanse your eyes after seeing Kanji in a dress.”

Souji feels his face turn stony. When Chie makes a noise of offence and smacks Yosuke in the back of the head, Souji makes no move to intercept.

Instead, he chooses to look at Yukiko when he speaks, as though he’s answering questions in turn. “I was fine for a while.” He has enough to work with, he thinks. Maybe. Naoto has laid the groundwork for him to (hopefully) weasel his way out of this without too many roadblocks. He chooses a middle path between lying (he doesn’t like lying to friends now that he has them) and the truth (because no, no, not in a million years, no) and works the half-truths through a set of carefully constructed loopholes. He’s become far too good at loopholes.

He tugs at his own expression until it resembles something sheepish. His nerves help it look more real. “I made the mistake of not eating anything yesterday because I was nervous.” (Not a lie.) “Naoto actually found me in the bathroom… throwing up stomach acid.” (Also not a lie, as long as he doesn’t tell them when Naoto found him in the bathroom.) He looks away and rubs at a spot just behind his ear. He’s aware that it makes him look embarrassed – which is fine – but it also gives him an excuse not to keep eye contact.

Chie and Yukiko both make sounds of distress, talking at him and over each other in their concern and he thinks he may have managed to fool them. He glances at Yosuke and, yeah, no, that’s not convincement looking back at him.

“So you bolted cuz you had to go throw up?” Yosuke asks, his voice thinly tinted with disbelief.

Lay it thicker, maybe I can shock him into buying it.

Souji nods. “I’m sorry I worried you,” he says to all of them, but directly at Yosuke to make sure his partner feels special here. He stifles a grimace at how manipulative he has to be – how much of a coward he knows he’s being. He hates this. “I screwed up and made myself sick. By the time I got home I was in such bad shape that all I could do was lay down and pass out. I didn’t even wake up until yesterday morning.”

Again, it’s not technically a lie, even if he more disassociated than “passed out,” and he doesn’t actually remember anything from his panic attack. He’s aware that when the story gets around to the kohai, Rise will likely blame herself for insisting he participate in the pageant. A tiny peek over at Yukiko and Chie’s faces tells him that they’re feeling a little guilty, too. He hates this. He hates it.

And he especially hates the tiny little piece of him that whispers, “good.”

Trying to swallow the guilt in his own gut, Souji places his hands on his knees and bows low in his seat. It’s the last card he can play without despising himself entirely, and the final touch to what he hopes is a believable enough story.

Chie says something to him that Souji only barely listens to, while Yukiko puts a hand to her mouth and gives him a look like a sad puppy as he slowly sits up. Yosuke, however, seems unsure. His mouth is open slightly like he wants to say something, and he looks torn between worry and confusion.

Deflect. Distract.

Souji puts on a self-depreciating smile. “I’m really sorry, Partner,” (because he knows Yosuke is weak to the nickname), “I left right after Naoto found me. I would have said something but I was afraid I’d have to answer to Kashiwagi if she caught me trying to leave.” He twists his face into something that might be a non-verbal “yikes.”

And that’s what does the trick.

Yosuke’s expression switches to a more exaggerated version of Souji’s own. “Oh god. Smart thinking, man, she probably would’ve made you stay even if you’d throw up on her.” He shudders. “Her in a swimsuit is gonna haunt my nightmares forever.”

Souji actually balks at that. “Swimsuit?” has asks, genuinely aghast as he looks to Chie for confirmation. Oh. Well hell, now he feels even worse for leaving Naoto to their fate the other day.

Chie nods. “Yeah, we had to go up there in swimsuits and dresses and everything. It was humiliating.”

The way Souji’s face contorts in unbridled, empathetic discomfort is completely real and completely involuntary. “I am so sorry.”

Yukiko looks at him, puzzled. “Why? You didn’t sign us up.” She and Chie both shoot Yosuke a look that could curdle blood.

“Oh come on!” Yosuke sputters in response. “It couldn’t have been that bad.”

Something tightens in Souji’s chest and, not for the first time, he wishes he had the courage to shut Yosuke’s bullshit down. But he doesn’t, so he doesn’t, and the trickle of self hate from earlier drips just a little bit faster.

Souji bites down hard on the inside of his cheek.

“At least everything you wore was meant for girls,” Yosuke is saying, holding his hands up as though trying to placate a snarling dog. It seems to be going about as well as expected.

He turns his head to shoot Souji a look that says ‘back me up’ but Souji simply raises an eyebrow at him. He might not be brave enough to tell his best friend off for being a prick, but he also has no desire to get pulled into the hole Yosuke is digging right now.

Yosuke seems to understand that Souji isn’t going to help him, because his face is distinctly paler when he turns back to the girls and says, “You wanna talk humiliating, us guys had it so much worse in drag!”

Wrong move.

Yosuke lets out a squawk as the girls rightfully begin to tear into him like feral cats; Chie with her fist and Yukiko with words like daggers. Souji lets it happen.

Silently, he digs out his bento and tries very hard not to be bitter. About the way Yosuke’s words leave a weird hot-stinging sensation in Souji’s chest, about how no one seems inclined to apologize for signing him up for the pageant; just… everything.

He squashes the thoughts back down before they can affect his outward expression. It’s fine, it’s okay, everything is okay; he doesn’t feel childishly irritated over the whole damn situation. He just wants the subject dropped.

“I should go apologize to the others,” he says as he stands. No one seems to really hear him, but Yukiko does spare him a nod as he passes. Chie is too busy digging her knuckles into Yosuke’s scalp to notice him leaving.

He heads out the door, bento in hand, and starts in the direction of the stairwell. He really does plan on apologizing to Kanji and Rise at some point today – and Teddie, too, of course, though Souji stills feels shaky at the thought of talking to him just yet – but for now he really just wants to find Naoto. He hopes they like onigiri; out of all his friends, Naoto is the only one he hasn’t yet had a chance to make lunch for, and food will be a good way to start thanking them properly now that the chaos has mostly died down.

It definitely doesn’t have anything to do with Souji finding his own appetite gone for the third time in several days.

---

Lunch with Naoto is a welcome break from the tension of his own classroom. He tries to apologize in person – because it’s more polite than over the phone – but Naoto doesn’t let him. Instead, they wave away his attempt with a light flush on their face and pull down their cap to hide it. It doesn’t quite work. Still, the air between the two of them is surprisingly easy to breathe and Souji feels the last of the jitters drain from his limbs.

They talk a bit. It isn’t for very long, since Souji had spent the first third of the lunch period spinning his not-story for Chie, Yukiko, and Yosuke, but the conversation is easier than he’s used to and he realizes with a kind of happy warmth that it’s because he isn’t having to hide. He doesn’t need to keep his voice in check, keep it purposefully low and quiet, so he’s actually able to talk a little more than he usually does and not worry what will happen if he lets his vocal chords do as they want. He’s practiced for years at this point, anyway, so the danger is minimal, but sometimes, sometimes his throat starts to hurt when he tries for a tone just the wrong side of comfortable.

He’s even managed to regain some of his appetite by the time the end of lunch rolls around and together, he and Naoto make a decent-sized dent in the humble bento. (It turns out that, yes, Naoto does in fact like onigiri, and that the seasoned rice with tuna is their unexpected favorite.) Naoto thanks him but he turns the tables and waves their thanks away in a similar fashion to what they’d done with his apology. They part with plans to spend lunch together again before the week is over and Souji finds he’s wearing the same small, genuine smile that only seems to come out because of Naoto.

He’s almost late getting back because he actually runs into Rise on the way to his classroom and takes the opportunity to apologize to her, too. She does start to blame herself, just like he thought she might, but a well placed smile that he knows makes her blush and a few words of reassurance have her giving him a watery smile in return. He makes it back just in the nick of time with one more friendship smoothed over.

The second half of the day is… interesting. Things seem to have gone back to relatively normal between him and Yukiko and Chie. Chie asks him how it went right before the teacher walks in and Souji flashes her a quick thumbs up. She grins.

No, everything is fine with the girls; it’s Yosuke that appears to still have issues. On any other day his best friend would be poking him in the back with the top of a pencil, tapping him in the side with a note he was passing, whispering snarky commentary about something one of their teachers says, but today…

Souji wants to ask just how badly Chie knuckled him, but he thinks that may be the least of the reasons why Yosuke isn’t interacting like he normally does. A lump forms in Souji throat that refuses to go away no matter how many times he tries to swallow it down.

It takes forever but the final bell eventually rings and, nervous as he is about, well, everything anymore, Souji slides around in his seat to give his partner a smile. He tries to make it as real as he can, calling on all the good things he feels about Yosuke and tucking his earlier frustrations away for the time being. As much of an ass as Yosuke can be, he’s still Souji’s best friend, and Souji would very much like that dynamic back now, if possible. He misses normal.

Just as he opens his mouth to ask if Yosuke wants to walk home together, the other boy stands and slings his bag over his shoulder. Yosuke hurries out of the room, only pausing briefly to turn around and walk backwards while flashing Souji a grin that doesn’t reach his eyes.

“I gotta get ready for work, I’ll see ya later, Partner!” And then he’s dashing out the door with one last, “I’m glad you’re better, dude!”

It hurts a bit, like a bruise he accidentally smacked that now throbs a dull rhythm. But, he supposes he might deserve it after the scare he gave everybody, and it wouldn’t surprise him if Yosuke were still upset about Souji not letting him know he was alright. He also can’t actually say his partner doesn’t have an after-school shift, so in the end Souji resigns himself to that little spark of pain and vows to text Yosuke later before he goes to bed. Maybe he’ll bring another lunch to share tomorrow. Just to be safe.

He stays and talks to Yukiko and Chie for a few minutes before Yukiko remembers that she has to go help set up for a large business dinner being held at the inn that night. Chie offers to walk with her and Souji bids them both farewell.

The biggest surprise of the day, however, is finding Kanji waiting by his shoe locker, looking more than a little trepidatious.

At first Souji thinks it’s about his disappearing act the other day; after all, Kanji is the only schoolmate he still owes an apology to. (Teddie is, again, a different matter altogether.) So Souji puts on the appropriate facial expression and readies himself to repeat the story one more time.

“Kanji, hi,” he says, nodding when his friend looks up at his approach.

Kanji stands up straighter from where he’s been leaning against he side of the lockers, but he keeps his arms across his chest like a shield. “H-hey, Senpai.” He looks away and doesn’t say anything more.

Taking that as his cue to start, Souji politely tilts his head and puts on the familiar sheepish expression. “I should apologize—“

“You busy right now?”

Souji blinks stupidly. He closes his mouth with a quiet ‘click’ and takes a second to recover from being cut off and thrown wildly off-balance.

Kanji flushes. “Sorry, Senpai, I just…” He clears his throat and looks back up, shoulders squaring. “I gotta talk to somebody about somethin’ and you’re kinda the only person I trust with it.”

Souji’s eyes go impossibly wider. He feels his brows somewhere up near his hairline and absently wonders where his perfect control over his own face went. “I…” he starts, still not entirely reoriented. He quickly switches gears and tries to tuck the confusion away to make room for Friend Mode. “O…kay?”

Well. It’s something. He clears his throat and stars again, the smallest of frowns creeping along his mouth. “Is everything alright? You know I’ll help in any way I can.”

Kanji gives him nothing but a stiff nod and poorly concealed nerves.

Souji keeps a tight leash on his expression. “Okay, well, let me get my shoes and we can walk together?” he tries. He not sure if he should be anxious or not but whatever Kanji needs him for, Souji knows that he’ll at least feel more at ease somewhere further away from school.

“Oh!” Kanji startles a little and steps far enough back that Souji can get to his locker. “Right. Sorry.”

Five minutes later sees them passing through the school gates, side by side in silence.

Without a clear destination, Souji simply steers them towards the floodplain. If the little seating area is free then that’s where he plans to take them; it’s a familiar enough place that he feels comfortable talking there, but also has plenty of open air so he can make a hasty – but polite – escape should he need to. He doesn’t like that his first reactions to half his friends these days have been self-debates on whether or not he can outrun them.

Kanji keeps fidgeting as they walk, like his fingers are tracing out knitting patterns to keep his mind busy. Souji doesn’t know if he’s ever seen Kanji so jittery when Naoto wasn’t nearby for his friend to sweat over. Their mutual crush is adorable in how obvious it is to everyone but them and Souji hopes one of them will make a move some day. They would make a good couple.

Matchmaking aside, Souji wonders if maybe he should try his apology once more – if only to break the cacophonous silence. He’s had more than enough silence from his own parents, thanks; he doesn’t like it from his friends.

The thought cuts a deep path through Souji’s chest and he grinds his teeth against it, though the pain is an old one and he’s long since grown accustomed to it. It’s been a while since his mind has turned to that particular dark corner.

(He tramples another thought before it can fully form – one that seems hell-bent on comparing certain old hurts with the newer ache of Yosuke apparently avoiding him.)

“I owe you an apology,” he says suddenly, his voice a bit too loud in his own ears. He turns his head to catch Kanji twitching like he’s been startled before looking over at Souji in confusion.

“Huh? What for?”

Souji keeps his features carefully schooled. “For what happened after the pageant. Running off and not telling anyone where I went.” He tilts his head and does not frown. “Freaking everyone out?”

“Oh, that.” Kanji rubs at the back of his neck. “I appreciate it, but you don’t gotta apologize to me, Senpai. Naoto and Rise both already filled me in.” He pauses to give Souji a long, appraising look. “How’re ya feelin’, by the way?”

That catches Souji off guard. It seems Kanji is just exceptionally good at that today. “I’m alright,” he says honestly. Once more, he avoids the word “fine” because that, to him, would imply more than just physical alright-ness and he just… doesn’t want to think about that anymore.

Kanji seems satisfied with his answer and turns back to watching the world in front of them. “Can’t say I wasn’t worried, ‘specially after seeing you bookin’ it down the hallway like that, but I figured you’d let someone know eventually.” He shrugs. “And if you didn’t me an’ Naoto were gonna go check out your house after school today.”

Souji actually chuckles at that, breath stuttering past his lips to form the sound. “So they told me.” He lets one corner of his mouth tug upward as he catches Kanji’s eye again. “Thank you. And I am sorry.”

Kanji flushes and looks away. “Nah, ‘s nothing.”

The rest of the walk is significantly less tense after that.

Subsequently, it’s also shorter than it had seemed a few minutes ago. They arrive not long after and Souji takes it upon himself to sit down and fold his hands over the tabletop, leaving Kanji to lean his hip against the opposite corner.

Well, here goes.

“Alright,” he says, taking a deep breath to steady himself. “What can I do to help?”

Kanji snorts, but it’s neither derogatory nor mirthful. He doesn’t look at Souji as he crosses his arms back over his chest. “Ain’t really somethin’ I need help with so much as I just need to... get it off my chest, ya know?” He frees one hand and makes a sharp, vague gesture near where his heart is. “I can’t keep it in anymore; I gotta tell somebody or I’m gonna go crazy and… well, I figured you’re the safest bet...”

Souji’s expression melts into something soft, warm, amiable. “Well thank you,” he says, genuinely a little touched, only for Kanji’s entire face to go cinnamon-red.

Kanji makes a noise of frustration, scrubbing furiously at his hair to hide his burning cheeks before just giving up and turning so that Souji is now staring at his back. “Damnit, that wasn’t—! UG.” He takes a moment to gather himself; Souji gives it to him. Eventually Kanji lets out a heavy breath and straightens up once more. He makes no move to turn around.

“Look, Senpai, you… You’ve always accepted me, yeah? You never treated me like I was some kinda delinquent or, or whatever Yosuke-senpai fuckin’ thinks I am—“

“Of course I wouldn’t,” Souji says, low and dark and steely. He feels the bitterness and self-dislike bubbling up from their deep-seated pools. Kanji is a good person – rough around the edges, yes, but still just a kid like the rest of them and a genuinely kind one at that. Souji hates how afraid he’s been of jeopardizing Yosuke’s opinion of him, of how he’s been too much of a coward to stand up for his younger friend and make Yosuke apologize for his homophobia. A team is only as good as its leader and Souji must really be a poor leader if he can’t even stop his own lieutenant from being a jerk.

It’s not just that you’re afraid of losing him as a friend, his mind whispers. You’re afraid of him finding out.

Souji glues his tongue to the roof of his mouth and clamps down on the horrible way his chest constricts.

Luckily Kanji is still facing away from him. “Y-yeah,” he agrees, oblivious to his senpai’s internal self-disgust. “Yeah, you’re cool like that. An’ that’s why you’re kinda my best bud.”

Oh, now that just makes Souji feel even worse. He’d forgotten that Kanji had told him that once, back when Naoto had first officially joined the IT, and hearing it again now is like a fist to the spine. He’s failed Kanji, he really has, he—

“And I mean! I know you an’ Yosuke-senpai are ‘partners’ or whatever, but I just… I guess what I’m tryin’ to say is that I trust you, Senpai.” Kanji sighs, the line of tension in his shoulders giving way. He tucks his hands into his pants pockets and stares at something out over the grey-sapphire shimmer of the river below.

Souji swallows. “Kanji…”

He doesn’t know what to say. What can he say, besides another useless “sorry”?

But Kanji just shakes his head and leans his weight back on his heels. He looks up at the sky, or maybe just lolls his head back in resignation, like a man coming to terms with the thousand-foot-drop that awaits him.

Souji knows the feeling.

“I think,” he says – and it’s so quiet that Souji has to lean forward to try and hear him better. There is a pause as Kanji takes a deep, long breath and lets it out.

“I think I might be bi.”

Souji is floored. Of all the possible things that Kanji could have just said to him, Souji was very much NOT excepting that to be one of them. It comes so far out of left field that it actually shocks all of Souji’s dark and guilty thoughts into absolute silence.

The quiet rings out between them, stretching into an impossibly long handful of seconds. Souji needs to respond, he knows he needs to, can see the way Kanji’s shoulders have started to tighten and hunch, but for the first time in forever Souji’s mind is empty and he cannot remember how to form words with his tongue.

So he just blinks like an owl and breathes out a soft, “…Oh.” Because really, how else can he react?

Something about how he says it has Kanji tentatively turning halfway around to look at him. Kanji’s face is guarded, like he’s ready at any moment to throw up his bravado, his shields, and the vulnerability it exposes is enough to finally, finally snap Souji back into action.

A warm smile spreads over Souji’s features, hardly even bidden, and he leans back to sit more naturally upright. He lets the smile crinkle at the corners of his eyes. “Thank you for telling me, Kanji.” He keeps his voice light, calm, kind; he is completely honest when he glances away and says, “I know how hard it must have been to say it out loud.”

Kanji’s eyes widen in realization. “Senpai… You, too?”

Souji makes a sound somewhere between a cough and a wispy bark of laughter. It’s stifled, but his shoulders jerk with the veiled force of the noise and he matches Kanji’s gaze with a tired, understanding one of his own. “Not bi, no,” he says pointedly, cocking an eyebrow and hoping it’s visible beneath his hair.

Kanji lets out a shaky breath. “Oh,” he echoes. He slides down onto the bench across from Souji, almost like he’s a block of ice melting in the sudden sunlight. “So you’re…?”

“Yeah.”

They sit in companionable silence for a minute, each processing the conversation so far.

After a few beats, Souji tilts his head curiously and asks, “What made you want to tell me?”

Oh, that…

Souji immediately dislikes how that sounded and his face twists minutely at the sour taste the words leave on his tongue. He hastily adds, “I’m honored that you did, don’t get me wrong, but—“

“Why’d I pick now?”

Souji sucks part of his lip between his teeth and nods.

Kanji sighs and leans back on the bench – which looks horribly uncomfortable, considering there’s nothing for his back to rest against. He re-crosses his arms and looks up at a passing cloud. “I started figuring it out a while ago and it’s been buggin’ me ever since. Like, it’s too big a secret to keep by myself, ya know?”

Souji does know. Oh god does he know.

He nods again, even though Kanji can’t see it properly while looking elsewhere. Kanji seems to catch it, though, because he keeps going.

“And after all that shit with my shadow, I just… I dunno. I’m sick of tryin’a hide from myself, so I thought, hey, this is a thing about me, might as well accept it.” He pauses and shifts awkwardly, clearly trying to consider his next words. His eyes flick over to Souji once or twice but he quickly averts them again right after.

Souji waits. He refuses to make this any more difficult for his friend than it already is.

He has a hard time keeping the surprise from his face, though, when Kanji mutters, “Weirdest part is, I knew but it didn’t really hit me until the stupid pageant.”

“The pageant?” Souji blurts. “How?!” Everything in his head scrambles a little, and there is a moment where he’s just gaping at Kanji like a fish with his mouth trying to form shapes and failing miserably.

He not sure how two people could have such wildly different reactions to that living nightmare of a day.

Kanji actually laughs at his outburst – a bit awkwardly, but still a laugh. “Yeah, the whole thing sucked ass, didn’t it?” He scratches at this cheek. “Kinda liked my dress, though…”

“It looked good on you,” Souji mumbles, still not fully recovered.

Kanji flushes and glances away. “Thanks, Senpai. You uh, you looked good, t—“ He trails off as he looks back over at Souji, eyes widening and brows furrowing.

Souji’s making a face; he knows he is, there’s no way he isn’t when there’s a layer of frost creeping its freezing fingers over his heart. He can feel the stretch of his lips over his teeth in a twisting grimace that’s well beyond his own control. Don’t think about it, please don’t think about it...

Kanji coughs into his fist. “Uh, I mean, you always look good, Senpai.” His expression does something funny, like he’s just realized what he’d said, and he apparently just gives up trying to salvage it. Instead, he props his elbows up on the table and drops his face into his hands. “Fuuuuuuuuck! See? That’s my problem! Naoto always looks good and you always look good, and I can’t catch a break!” He ‘thunks’ his forehead down onto the hard wooden tabletop. Souji hopes he hasn’t hurt himself.

Kanji’s voice is muffled when he says, “That ain’t a confession, I swear, I just think you’re handsome, same as everybody else does.”

Oh.

OH!

Souji’s expression does a 180 and he can feel himself beaming. He’d been scared; after what Teddie had said, Souji had been expecting Kanji to say something similar, to say his bisexual realization had come about because of Souji in costume. (He suppresses a shudder at that.) But no. Kanji had called him “handsome” instead, which meant – awkward friendly attraction aside – Kanji had found him attractive as a guy. Not because he’d been dressed as something he wasn’t, Kanji had seen him at face value: a guy in a costume.

If he wasn’t so certain that Naoto would pistol whip him, Souji thinks he could dive across the table towards Kanji right now and kiss him.

He reins it in and settles for chuckling instead. “I’m flattered.” And he really kind of is. His eyes are fond as he adds, “I’m proud of you, too.”

Kanji sits back up again and flashes Souji a sheepish – albeit heavily relieved – grin. “You’re somethin’ else, ya know that, Senpai?”

Souji just beams brighter and gives him a noncommittal shrug.

Kanji exhales, the remaining tension bleeding out into the dirt below their feet. “Damn. It feels good to let all that out.” He laughs again, the sound light and relaxed. “I was gonna tell my ma first, but I think she already knows.”

Souji nods. His mouth turns imperceptibly downward and he says, with just a touch of chill, “A good mother usually does.” He tightens his face against the way it wants to crumple, and if there is a new ball of bitter thorns in his stomach then he chooses to leave it be.

Kanji thankfully doesn’t notice the way Souji’s expression has turned plastic. “Yeah,” he agrees, “and she’s said stuff before about ‘bringing a girl or a boy over for dinner’. I thought she was talkin’ about friends at the time but now I’m not so sure.”

He matches Souji’s gaze right as Souji manages to school his face back into something more natural. “I’m real glad I told you first, though.”

Warmth settles in on top of the thorny clot of pain and soothes the worst of the jagged edges. It’s still there – has been for years – but it’s easier to manage than it was a minute ago. Souji huffs through his nose, his quiet little not-laugh, and looks down at the table. Maybe he’s being selfish, but it makes him feel special in a way he thinks might be just what he’s needed.

“Me, too,” he says, and relishes in the feeling of fizzing, giddy brightness as the Emperor arcana jumps up another rank.

---

Souji goes home in a better mood than he ever expected to be. He makes dinner, watches TV with Nanako, manages to get a head start on the schoolwork he’d missed the day before. The only damper on his happiness is the fact that, despite Souji texting him several times throughout the evening, Yosuke has yet to answer back.

The sting from that afternoon returns and Souji is left frowning at his phone screen as he lies on his futon before sleeping. It’s… fine, he tells himself. I deserve this for scaring him like that. I’m overreacting.

He sets the phone aside and turns over, determined not to let it get to him. He’s asleep in minutes – well before midnight – and so doesn’t notice when the sky starts to open and drizzle gentle rain over top the resting world.

He doesn’t even stir when the clock strikes twelve and his television crackles to white-static life, a faceless monochrome figure peering out into his room with lightning-colored eyes.

#fanfic #fanfiction #persona 4 #p4 #souji seta #yu narukami #trans souji seta #trans male character #yosuke hanamura #kanji tatsumi #naoto shirogane #investigation team #trans!au #scars on my sleeve #caught in the grey #tw past abuse #tw dysphoria #tw self hate

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hymn2000 · 5 years

Text

Hope I’ve Got Something To Lose - MCU AU fanfic - C4

Story overview: Peter has an accident, and Tony makes a drastic decision. In the midst of everything, a face from the past reappears - but Peter isn't too sure about reconnecting after everything that's happened.

Previous chapters: 1 2 3

Part of my irondad and spiderson series.

Warnings/themes: injury, hospital stuff, hurt/comfort, mental health stuff

You can also find me on AO3

Chapter 4 - Better Get It Together

Tony put a box down on the breakfast bar in front of Peter.

“What’s this?”

“Well, you kept making out you've got nothing to do, so here you go” Tony said. “Build Big Ben out of Lego”

Peter looked at the box. “This says sixteen plus”

“So? What, you think it’s too hard? I’ll take it back if you don’t want it”

“No!” Peter protested, clutching the box to his chest.

Tony smiled triumphantly. Peter looked down, and then up at his dad, and then off to the side.

“...Thank you”

“You’re welcome, kiddo”

He hesitated, and then ruffled the boys hair. Peter didn’t wriggle or push his hand away. Tony breathed out in relief.

“Get building. I’ll check on you later”

“Mr Stark?”

Loki looked up from his clipboard.

“Is that your phone?”

“Hm? Oh, yes, thank you” he took his phone out of his pocket. “Excuse me for a minute: it’s my husband”

He handed his clipboard to the nurse and stepped out into the corridor to answer his phone.

“Hello, my love” he said. “Is everything ok?”

“You’ll never guess what just happened”

Loki sighed silently. “Tony, if this is about your gravity resistant solar operated something-or-other..”

“It’s not, and that was Peter’s idea. No, it's Peter, you see. So, he’s been saying he’s got nothing to do, right, so I thought, hey, what do kids like? So I bought him a Lego set, and-”

“Oh God, Tony, how much did that cost?! Those things are ridiculously priced”

“Calm down, it was about $230. But that’s not the point” Tony said. “He actually spoke to me! He was a little funny, but he said thank you, and I’ve just sneaked a peek at him and he’s actually working away, little mug of tea beside him, stereo on. Oh Loki, he’s so cute! Let’s get him more Lego”

Loki laughed. “Oh Tony, chick, you’re adorable. You’ve only just got him this set, and maybe buying his forgiveness - or acceptance - isn’t the right way to go about this”

“Yeah, I know, I know. He’s still being a little funny - I don’t think we’re there just yet. But it’s so nice seeing him playing with something a little less sciencey for once, yknow?”

“Tony, you’re literally a scientist, and he’s basically your protege”

“Yeah, but he’s a little kid. No, look, I was thinking - and it’s not about buying his forgiveness or spoiling him. No, you see, I was thinking, if we give him something else to occupy him, something to focus on, then maybe he’ll be able to accept me taking the suit a little easier”

Loki was quiet for a moment. “Ok, I think you could be right there, but don’t go getting anything else just yet”

“They’ve got some great stuff, you know. I’m thinking of getting the Roller Coaster or the Carousel next”

“Tony, hold off for now. He might have said thank you, but that doesn’t mean he’s ready to talk to you yet. Sweetheart, go and get your work done, and see if you can get the sprog fed before I get back. Now, I’m going to have to love you and leave you: I’m needed”

“Alright, gorgeous, I’ll let you get on. Are you still due back at four?”

“Maybe a little bit later, closer to five. I’ll let you know when I’m on my way back”

“Thanks love. Talk to you later. Love you”

“Love you too. Bye”

“Bu-Bye”

Tony stayed quiet when he went into the kitchen. Peter was busy with his Lego, and barely glanced up. Tony set about doing what he was doing, and soon set a plate down on the breakfast bar beside Peter. Peter looked at the plate.

“Oh” he looked up. “Thank you”

Peter put the Lego pieces he was holding down at a safe distance and pulled the plate closer.

“Good lad” he said quietly, squeezing the boys shoulder. “I’ve just got to pop to the shop on the corner. Do you want anything?”

Peter thought for a moment. “Peanut butter KitKat chunky”

“Sure thing, hun. I’ll be back soon. Ten minutes tops. Do you need anything before I go?”

Peter shook his head. “I’m fine. Thank you, though”

Tony ruffled his hair and left the room to grab his coat. He sighed happily to himself. Maybe Peter was starting to come round.

Loki arrived home late afternoon, feeling pretty drained both emotionally and physically. He put his stuff down and went to get himself a drink. He made himself a mug of tea, and, deciding that the house was suspiciously quiet, went to track down his husband and son.

He found Peter and Tony on the futon in the back room. Tony was sat working on his laptop. Peter was leaning against him, legs up on the futon, reading a book. They both looked up when Loki came into the room.

“Dad!”

Loki couldn’t help but smile. “Hey, sweetheart”

Peter moved aside so Loki could sit down next to Tony, and then climbed onto his lap. Loki hugged him tight with one arm, holding his tea carefully so as not to spill it on the boy. Tony shut his laptop and put an arm round Loki.

“Evening gorgeous” Tony looked at the way he was holding Peter. “Rough day?”

“Mm” Loki mumbled, taking a mouthful of tea. “You remember that lady I told you about? The one with quintuplets?”

“The IVF one?”

Loki nodded. “She went into labour today...”

“She wasn’t due yet, was she? How- how did it go?” he asked.

Loki held tighter to Peter. “Two stillborn. Another one died an hour after birth”

“Oh Loki” Tony rested his head against Loki’s. “It must have been dreadful”

“It wasn’t great...”

Peter looked up at him. Loki took another mouthful of tea, swallowed hard, and gave Peter a squeeze.

“Don’t look so worried, chick. I’m just being a sentimental old fool”

“Have you ever thought about going any further with your training?”

“Ah” Loki passed his mug to Tony. “Well. I have thought about it. Lots. I very nearly started a paramedic course”

“What?! When was this?”

“A while ago” Loki said vaguely. “I went out as an observer with a crew for a few shifts. I had a great time. But when it came down to it, I decided it wasn’t practical”

“Why not? You’d be so good at it!”

“Maybe, but I don’t think my health would allow it. And besides, I’m busy enough with my volunteering without adding twelve hour minimum shifts to the rota. I’m happy with what I’m already doing. I like doing something I’m mostly in control of. Plus, I need to be here to look after you, don’t I?”

“I’m not a baby”

“Really? Could’ve fooled me” Loki shook his head. “No, as much as you might think otherwise, you need lots of looking after and keeping an eye on. Those broken ribs of yours are proof enough of that”

Peter frowned. “They’ll heal”

“I know, and then you’ll be back to your reckless old self” he ruffled Peter’s hair. “You’re a law unto yourself”

Peter sighed. “You worry too much. Anyway, there’s a seal on the house, and I’ve had my suit stolen from me, so how much recklessness do you really expect me to get up to?”

“Woah woah woah, stolen?” Tony cut in. “It’s confiscated, not stolen”

“Usually when you confiscate things, I get them back”

“Usually is the key word there, kiddo” Tony said, shaking his head. “Hey, who gave your bottom lip permission to wobble? We’ve been through countless times already”

Peter whined and buried his face in Loki’s chest. “It’s not fair”

“It’s not raining either”

Peter just whined louder. Loki laughed, and shook his head.

“Right, I’m knackered, and I’m going to bed. So budge”

Peter did as he was told. Loki stood up and grabbed his mug from Tony, who frowned.

“What about tea?”

Loki checked his watch. “It’s not really tea time yet, is it? If you’re hungry, I’m not stopping you from cooking. I’ll eat later. Now, I just need to rest for a while. My head keeps going fuzzy”

“Oh Loll, you’re not heading for another flare-up, are you?”

“I hope not. We’ll see” he gave Tony a quick kiss. “See you in a bit”

“Ok, ok. Sleep well, Lolly”

Loki nodded, kissed Peter on the cheek, and wandered off. Peter looked at Tony. Tony felt himself being watched, and looked at Peter. He gave the boys nose a tweak.

“Maybe you need a nap too, grumpy-gills”

“I’m not a baby” Peter said.

He yawned, flopped down on the futon, shoved a cushion under his head, and soon fell asleep.

Loki found Tony in the lab the next morning.

“Who gave you the new code?” Tony asked.

“You’re incredibly predictable” Loki said, closing the door behind him.

“You know I don’t like you being in here”

Loki looked left and right. “I see no welding tools out”

Tony rolled his eyes. “What do you want?”

“I fancy a bit of retail therapy. I have a few things I need from the high street”

“I don’t need anything”

“I wasn’t offering” Loki said, raising an eyebrow. “No, I was wondering if I could take the sprog with me”

“Oh” Tony stopped what he was doing. “Are you sure he’s strong enough?”

“I think so. He’s still a bit sore, but he can take some painkillers if need be. Besides, it’s only shopping: it’s not like I’m taking him go-karting”

Tony thought for a moment. “Have you asked him if he wants to go?”

“Not yet. I thought I’d check with you first”

“If he wants to go, he can go. Fresh air would do him the world of good. Just keep him close. I don’t want him wandering off”

“I’ll keep a close eye on him, don’t you worry. He’s not getting hurt on my watch”

Loki knocked on Peter’s bedroom door and opened it. Peter was sprawled on the bed watching YouTube videos. He looked up when the door opened.

“Hi, dad”

“Hi. Do you want to come shopping with me?”

Peter looked at him skeptically. “What kind of shopping?”

“High street shopping. Are you coming or not?”

“Am I allowed?”

“I wouldn’t be asking if you weren’t”

Peter closed his laptop and sat up, wincing a little. “Ok. I just need a few minutes to get ready”

“Of course. I’m going to have a cup of tea. I trust you’ll be ready by the time I’ve finished”

“I’ll try. I’m not gonna rush too much. Ribs, yknow?”

“I know. How are your big cuts?”

“A bit sore”

“Take your painkillers. Have you eaten?”

“I had some cereal earlier”

“Good. Right, get ready. I’ll wait in the kitchen for you”

Peter had a quick wash, redid his teeth, took his painkillers, put on some proper clothes (going out in joggers and an oversized tshirt didn’t feel quite right), pulled his boots on, and joined Loki in the kitchen.

“Ok?” Loki said. “Do you need a drink or anything before we go?”

Peter shook his head. Loki shrugged.

“Suit yourself”

He downed his tea and stood up. He rinsed his mug, set it on the draining board, and zipped his coat up.

“Ready to go?”

Peter nodded. Loki grabbed his keys, checked he had his phone and wallet, and took Peter’s hand.

“Let’s get going, then”

It felt good to get outside. It wasn’t the warmest of days, but there was something refreshing about that. Peter breathed in the cold air, closing his eyes for a moment. It felt so good. He was glad to be with Loki, who generally liked taking the long route when walking to the main high street, as it gave him more time to savour the walk.

“What do you need from town?”

“Oh, nothing much” Loki said. “Socks and shoes, mainly”

“Really?” Peter said doubtfully, thinking about Loki’s vast collection of both items.

“Well, let’s call it useful retail therapy”

“What’s that meant to mean?”

“It means I’m getting useful things, but not necessarily stuff I’m in desperate need of” Loki said. “Well, I do need a couple of things. Toothbrushes. A few bath and shower bits”

Peter looked at him. “Ok, I get the toothbrushes, but you’ve got loads of bath stuff”

“I don’t have any bubble bath left. Or anything other than the essentials”

“Oh what, so you want Lush bath bombs or something like that?”

“Perhaps. Definitely bubble bath though, and potentially some bath salts. Oh, I might get some more of that Dirty Springwash shower gel if we’re going to Lush”

“Ooh, that’s the minty one, right?”

“That’s right. I liked that one. How are you doing for bath stuff?”

Peter shrugged. “Hey, can you slow down a bit? It’s hard to keep up with you, and it’s kinda painful too, jogging”

“Sorry” Loki said, slowing down. He frowned at the way Peter was clutching his ribs. “Maybe we ought to get you some muscle soak or something”

“I don’t think it’s my muscles that are the problem”

“It wouldn’t hurt to relax a bit, though. I know you’re still hurting quite a lot. Your father’s noticed too”

“He’s still overreacting about everything” Peter pouted. “He’s still insisting I can’t have the suit back. We had another argument about it last night”

Loki sighed heavily. “Maybe you need to take a step back. You nearly died, remember? At least try to act like you understand our feelings”

“I do understand! What I don’t understand is why he’s taking away my free will. I know my rights. You’re a medical man - kinda. You know that, if they’re of sound mind, people have a right to make their own decisions - even if you don’t personally think they’re wise”

“Don’t you start quoting medical ethics at me, young man” Loki said.

“But it’s a good point!”

“Do you want to know what else is a good point? You’re fifteen, so as your parents, in a hospital or otherwise medical environment, we’re allowed to make decisions about your healthcare on your behalf”

Peter blinked. “But this isn’t a medical environment”

“I know that. But to reiterate, we’re your parents, and as such we have some - shall we say, control - over you. A hierarchy, I suppose. If your dad thinks disallowing the suit is the best way to keep you safe, he’s within his rights to do that. Even if you’re not happy about it”

Peter went into a huff, crossing his arms over his chest.

“Now now, don’t you go getting all moody on me, chick” Loki said. “Why don’t you try to forget about it, just for a few hours? Act like the kid you are and just drive me mad by can-I-’avin’ in every shop”

“You might just regret saying that”

Loki grinned at him. “I’m sure I will”

Peter soon cheered up. His painkillers kicked in, and his mind turned to the task in hand, and he managed to forget about the arguments and the loss of the suit hanging over his head. Loki was great to shop with. Most of the time, if he was shopping with Loki, it was for household stuff. It wasn’t often he got to do high street shopping with him - and it was lots of fun. They spent hours looking in all the shops that appealed to them, be it clothing shops, shoe shops, chocolatiers, or otherwise. For once, Loki wasn’t shy with his debit card, potentially because he was still feeling very sorry for and protective of Peter after the accident. Peter wasn’t usually one to scrab, but he didn’t protest quite so much if Loki offered to buy things for him this time round. He worried for a moment about what Tony might say, but Tony was generally worse than Loki for buying him elaborate presents, so he probably wouldn’t say anything much at all.

Peter started to get tired. They’d been out for a while now. Loki was slowing down a bit too, which could have been down to the fact he’d insisted on carrying all the bags so Peter couldn’t strain himself. He kept telling Peter to stay close, which Peter found odd, but wrote off as him just being overprotective.

Loki stopped to look in the window of a jewellers and watch shop. It was one of Loki’s favourites. Peter got bored after about thirty seconds, but he could tell Loki was going to be a while. Checking that he’d been forgotten about momentarily, Peter carefully slipped away and went for a wander. There was a good shop nearby that did coffee and bagels, and he rather fancied both of those things now. His bowl of cereal that morning felt like days ago. He was on auto-pilot, not really paying attention to anything around him. He stopped and pressed the button at the crossing, and was suddenly brought back to reality with a start.

“Peter?”

Peter froze for a moment, and spun round on his heel. He felt his blood run cold when he saw the owner of the voice, who stood looking at him in what seemed to be a mix of surprise and confusion. Peter stared at them for a moment, barely believing they were really there.

“Liz...”

#my writing #fanfiction #mcu fanfiction #marvel fanfiction #frostiron #irondad and spiderson

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zdravstvuysclntse · 6 years

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Have you ever felt emotionally, mentally and physically drained? Ever had one of those days or experiences after which you know that you just can’t take anymore?

That’s how a handful of humans will end up feeling - for, apparently, no good reason - after a chance encounter with that funny looking stranger on the street, on the tube, in a corner shop.. They’ll walk away, feeling as if their brain has been fried, made all the more worse by the sheer confusion pulsing through them; what the Hell just happened? Did that shifty guy in the corner, that weird girl on the bench, that tall man at the bus stop, just put a curse on me or something?

What the Hell has made me feel like this?

Luckily, these particularly unpleasant encounters between humans and Representatives are rare. Many Reps - almost always Nation Reps - have theorised amongst themselves that perhaps, weak-minded humans just don’t have the mental strength to fully register what it is they’re seeing, but in reality, the criteria isn’t all that straightforward. These ‘brain-freeze’ moments can happen to most any human, it all depends on their mental state, for example, if they’re already feeling stressed and on-edge, coming into contact with a literal demi-god with no warning whatsoever definitely won’t end up doing them any favours.

But why does this happen, exactly?

If you think about it long and hard, Nation Representatives, and those above them (Empires, Conurbations, etc) are formidable beings. Within that humanoid body lies centuries upon centuries of history, countless lives, countless deaths, their land, people, culture, wildlife, government, anything else relating to a Nation you can think of. The sheer size of what these beings represent is enormous when thought about properly, and sometimes - upon looking at them - the human brain just outright rejects what it’s seeing.

This can be for a number of reasons; the most common being that the very nature of this ancient being is too much for the brain to register properly. As it struggles to fully grasp what it is it’s seeing - while also being quite unsure of what exactly it is seeing - a human being can suddenly find themselves feeling utterly washed out for no apparent reason. Do they need a drink? Have they eaten enough today? Maybe they’re coming down with a cold? Or maybe it’s down to the fact that they’re unknowingly sharing this crummy Piccadilly line tube with the entirety of the Russian Federation.

The other reasons all boil down to what I mentioned a little while ago, it can be because of a human’s mental state. If they aren’t having a particularly good day, and their mental state may already be a little shaky, the last thing it needs is to suddenly come face to face with a demi-God (sometimes thinly) disguised as a human. In those cases, the already-stressed brain could completely reject what it is that it’s seeing in order to spare itself the strain of processing it all. In those situations, it can be even more draining a human, as their brain struggles to block out the reality of the situation, the unbearably heavy weight of an ancient being who has lived and died far too many times over, and carries so much life, as well as so much death with them all at once. This too can leave a human with a washed-out feeling, and an overwhelming desire to just keel over sideways into a gutter, and more often than not, they have no idea why.

As well as these ‘knock-out’ encounters, there have no doubt been a few more serious cases wherein a run-in with a large Representative has left a human flat out for a good few days. I wouldn’t go as far as Himaruya’s theory and say that humans go mad after too much contact with Nations, but I don’t imagine all of them would get away scot-free, either. Migraines, man, migraines for days... This ties in with what @that-attiq mentioned to me about humans that spend a lot of time around Reps - such as government officials, royalty, and the odd human that happens to come across and befriend them. Most of the time, I can’t see there being any real problems - yes - they may become a little overwhelmed by their immortal friends sometimes, but for the most part, humans are tougher than they look when it comes to engaging with a Representative. Nevertheless, working in such close contact with them all the time probably isn’t a good idea for every human. The ‘aura’ if you like, surrounding a Rep may eventually begin to seep its way into a human’s psyche, and the full realisation of what their trusted immortal colleague truly is may start to way heavily on them. I can’t see this being a common thing, but I can picture a pale-faced, sweaty politician needing to leave the conference room for a few minutes to hastily gulp down a glass of water.. People watch and shake their heads.

Poor guy, it must be a pretty important meeting in there, maybe the pressure is getting to him... Yeah, that’s probably it.

#hooo #it is ONE A.M so this probably makes no sense #buT I TRIED #GAH #my art.#A Closer Look. (Pure Lore.)#ooc

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luffysfakebeard · 7 years

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could you maybe write about even finding out about isak's aspergers because he finds isak's thighs red and bruised and asks isak about it and is super worried so finally isak tells him that he was stressed so he was stimming a lot and explains it all? i love your hc about this btw

Wishing For a Black Hole; just over 2300 words[AO3]

The thing is: they’d had the talk.

Isak had tripped over the words and stuttered and did alittle bit of uncomfortable squirming in his seat in response to being so bluntabout his condition, but the talk had been done. He had ticked it off of his mental to-do listand moved forwards.

Honestly, he had been hoping that could have been it. One talk and that’s it; wham bam thank youma’am. But from the concerned look onEven’s face Isak knows he’s going to have to do some explaining.

He had been treating Isak like a fragile little thing allday. He kept offering to carry Isak’sbag or his books, he made sure Isak ate something substantial for lunch, andhe’d generally been a protective boyfriend cage hovering around Isak everymoment they were together like he was trying to shield Isak from the entireworld.

Isak hadn’t really thought much about it, figuring Even was justhaving one of his I love you so much andI’m going to show it as much as physically possible days, but now thepuzzle pieces were starting to come together.

“Isak, please say something.” Even pleads, his hold on Isak’shands tightening. Isak stares at himblankly from where’s he’s sat on the edge of his bed, trying to process whatEven had said. All Isak can think itthat usually the sight of Even on his knees in front of him is the highlight ofthe day, but not this time.

All Isak can do is repeat Even’s initial question.

“Did someone hurt me?” Isak’s eyebrows pull together as he saysit, unable to even imagine where Evenhad plucked such an idea from.

“You can tell me, baby.” Even’s thumbs are stroking Isak’shands, but Isak is pretty sure Even is the one who needs the comforting in thisscenario seeing as he looks about ready to cry.

“No?” Isak shakes his head, still impossibly confused. He glances around his room, wondering if maybesomething in here had worried Even. Sure, his room isn’t the tidiestin the kollektiv, but he’s pretty sure it doesn’t look so bad that Even mightassume someone had come in and assaulted him??

“I saw your leg, Isak.” Even sighs, running a worried handthrough his hair; it’s long fallen out of its usually well styled look, nowcurling all over the place and sticking up randomly where Even rubs at itworriedly.

“My leg.” Isak repeats blankly.

And then he realises.

He wishes there was a monster under his bed that could suddenlygrab him by the ankle and yank him into another dimension rather than explainwhy his thigh is mottled with bruises.

“You know what I’m talking about; I can see it on your face.”Even says, still knelt in front of Isak. Suddenly Isak can’t stand that sight for a second longer.

“Get up here, idiot.” Isak’s voice shakes as he hauls Even uponto his feet and then pulls him down to sit next to him on the bed.

“I’m just worried about you, Isak!” Even protests at beingcalled an idiot, but he lets Isak manhandle him onto the bed anyway.

“I know.” Isak rubs his face tiredly, his words floating out onan exhausted sigh.

He figures this is the sort of thing to do like a plaster: justget it over with quickly. He takes adeep breath and closes his eyes, deciding it’s easier to make this confessionto the darkness of this inside of his eyelids rather than Even’s beautiful facemarred with worry.

“No one hurt me, Ev. Idid it to myself.” Isak presses his lips together as soon as the words are out,wishing there was some way he could vanish into thin air.

“Isak,” Even sounds so serious; Isak’s heart rate picks upalmost painfully. “Self harm isn’t the-”

“No!” Isak yelps, his eyes snapping open. He can’t even wait until Even finishes thatsentence because it’s so far from what happened. “It isn’tself harm, Even, jeez.” Isak shakes his head, finally braving a look over atEven.

The tension seems to melt right out of Even as Isak tells him itisn’t self harm.

“It’s not?” Even almost chokes on his relief.

“No, no, nothing like that.” Isak promises. He reaches over and squeezes Even’s handcomfortingly, but soon it turns to Isak nervously playing with Even’s longfingers.

“So what happened, baby?” Even leans closer to him, brushing hishair away from his forehead and pressing a kiss against his temple.

“Remember…a few months back when I told you I had autism?” Isakwishes so desperately that a black hole will suddenly manifest in his room andsuck him into the vacuum of space and out of this conversation.

“Of course.” Even nods. He’s looking at Isak with so much concernthat Isak can barely stand it.

“And I told you about stimming? And how I stim when I get stressed?” Isak prompts, looking anywhere butEven. He never struggles more with eyecontact than he does when he’s talking about his autism.

“You bruised your leg up like that…from stimming?” Even asks. Hisvoice is practically dripping with shock and it makes Isak fidget on thespot. This is why he hates talking aboutit; how do you explain that an aching leg is easier to deal with than a brainfull of stinging nettles?

“Yep.” Isak pops the P, not sure what else there is to say.

“Baby…” Even sounds like his heart is breaking, but before Isakcan do anything about it Even is pulling him into the tightest hug he thinkshe’s ever had. He let’s Even haul himonto his lap and, for a few seconds, he’s perfectly still within Even’s tightembrace. It takes a few seconds for thetension to leave him, but as soon as it does Isak is wrapping his arms tightlyaround Even’s neck and pressing himself impossibly closer.

He hates that they have to have these talks.

They stay like that for a few minutes: sat on the edge of Isak’sbed clinging onto each other like they’ll float off into space if they aren’tanchored down by the other.

Isak has no idea what to say. He has no idea what Even thinks about the truth behind his bruises, andhe’s afraid to ask. He’s afraid that, ifhe asks, he’ll find out that Even thinks he’s weird for doing something torelieve stress that causes him physical injury. He’s just been…so stressed thelast couple of weeks.

Nothing major has happened, but somehow school and his parentsand Even and his life in the kollektiv have felt like so much pressurelately. It’s like Isak is being pulledinto a dozen different directions all at once and he’s all turned around anddisorientated. His hand has beenconstantly tapping against his leg to try to channel some of the anxietyscalding his insides, but the more stressed he got the harder he tapped hishand and the harder he tapped his hand the worse his leg felt (and looked).

But it helped clear his mind. As stupid and unhealthy as it sounded, it helped him. And it wasn’t like Isak had a choice in it; stimming was as natural tohim as breathing.

“I’m gonna lay you down, Is, okay?” Even’s soft voice bringsIsak out of his anxiety spiral. He’s sotired. Isak knows that it’s like gettingblood out of a stone trying to get him to talk about how he feels. It always leaves him bone tired andemotionally drained, regardless of how much he had to say.

All Isak can do is nod.

Even lays him down tenderly, and for a wild second Isak’s brainflashes through all the times Even has lain him down in this bed and proceededto play his body like a god damn fiddle. Isak is helpless to do anything but stare at Even with wide eyes, andEven seems to understand that he’s exhausted.

“I’m gonna take your sweats off, okay?” Even asks, waiting forIsak’s nod before shimmying the material off Isak’s legs carefully. “I’ll be right back.” He says as he tossesIsak’s sweats onto the floor. Isak’seyes close tiredly as he hears Even’s footsteps pad out of his room. Part of him is convinced Even is never goingto come back, but before that part can win the majority vote in Isak’s mind hehears Even pad back in.

“I got the arnica out of the first aid box; it should stop thebruises aching so much.” Even’s voice gets louder as he gets closer, beforeIsak feels the bed dip when Even sits next to him. Isak’s too tired to open his eyes, but henods and rolls onto his right side so his bruised thigh is exposed to Even.

He hears the long deep inhale Even takes and he wishes more thanever that he could make his brain work like a normal human being. He knows for a fact that if he ever voicedthat thought to Even he’d get asked whatis a normal brain huh? and the thought makes him smile a little.

“This is probably going to be cold.” Even warns himapologetically and Isak opens his eyes, cracking a weak smile.

“Not the first time you’ve said that to me in bed.” He jokes,and Even laughs.

“I suppose not.” He rolls his eyes fondly, a move usuallyreserved for Isak. Isak lets his eyesdrift closed again; he feels so safe with Even. For the most part he feels so secure in their relationship; they’resolid. They’ll always be there to lookafter each other.

It’s only been a few months – two and a half, to be specific –but Isak can’t imagine his life without Even.

The first touch of the arnica cream is – as Even suspected –cold against his skin and a tiny shiver runs through him. The cold is soon replaced by comfortingwarmth as Even gently rubs the cream into Isak’s poor bruised thigh.

They stay like that: Isak laying half asleep on his side andEven sat on his knees next to him. Theydon’t say anything. Isak isn’t sure theyneed to.

The upper outside half of his thigh is covered in bruises,ranging from faded yellow and greens to dark blues and purples that are stillnew enough to be raised lumps. Evendoesn’t miss a single one.

It only takes a few minutes before Even is screwing the lid backon and tossing the pot onto Isak’s bedside table. Isak’s leg is tingling, a nice change to thedull throbbing ache it had had before, and he’s expecting Even to lie down andspoon him now that the first aid is all out of the way.

Instead, he feels Even’s plush lips a breath away from histender skin.

“Ev?” His breath hitches as he opens his eyes and finds Evenlying on his stomach alongside Isak’s leg.

“I’m gonna look after you.” Even whispers, his words sendinggoosebumps along Isak’s thigh.

“Okay.” Isak whispers back. He watches with wide eyes as Even props himself on his elbow andproceeds to press the softest of soft kisses to each and every bruise on Isak’sleg. He noses at the red patches fromtoday, the welts that Isak is pretty sure you can actually see the handprint in, before brushing a soft kiss over it.

“Be gentle with yourself, baby.” Even’s voice is almost as softas his kisses, but the pleading note to it cuts right through Isak like a knifethrough butter. “I’m here to help withwhatever’s stressing you.” Even promises, pressing one last kiss to Isak’sthigh before moving himself up the bed and curling up around Isak protectively.

“Thank you.” Isak struggles to get the words out around the lumpin his throat, but Even hears him.

“I’m here for you, Isak. Whatever you need.” Even wraps an arm around Isak’s stomach and threadstheir fingers together. His are a littlebit slippery with residual cream, but Isak doesn’t mind.

“That means a lot.” Isak has to swallow around the golf ballsized lump of emotion in his throat a few times before he can actually get thewords out. “Thanks for not just tellingme to stop stimming.” His voice comes out so small and he hates it.

“I hate seeing you so bruised, but if this is the only way youcan get through it then I’ll be here every night to cover you in cream and kissthem better.” Even’s voice is so deep when he’s lying down, and his lips are soclose to Isak’s ears that it makes him shiver.

“You know, kissing the bruises doesn’t actually stop themhurting…” Isak trails off, smiling at the affronted look he can see on Even’sface from the corner of his eye.

“My kisses have healing powers, I’ll have you know.” Even saysindignantly into his ear and Isak can’t help but laugh.

“Oh yeah? Did you getbitten by a radioactive teddy bear?” He teases, startling when Even claps ahand over his mouth.

“How did you know?!” He gasps, and Isak can’t help but grin athis theatrics. How did he get so luckyto be in a steady relationship with this boy?

They start to settle down then, ready to sleep despite the earlyhour of the evening, and Isak is already dozing when Even pipes up.

“Does this mean you want me to stop kissing your bruisesbetter?” He whispers, wanting to be sure he wasn’t actually crossing some line and making Isak uncomfortable.

A sleepy smile spreads across Isak’s face.

“Don’t even think about it.”

#Gael writes #G writes Evak #Isak with Asperger's #SkamFWN #Skam #Isak Valtersen #Even Bech Næsheim #hurt/comfort #Anonymous #this got really fucking long holy shit it took me like four hours to write this #but I did it one sitting omg check me out #also I'm pretty sure I didn't really do the explaining bit sorry if you feel like that's lacking anon :/

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samonerules · 7 years

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MY TEN RESOLUTIONS

I know it's the second day of 2017, but I have my own personal resolutions that I would like to achieve. 1. I would like to get closer to God. I just want to have inner peace and a better understanding for my life. See what the bigger picture is. 2. I would like to be more outspoken. A lot of the time in the previous years of my life, I've had people walk all over me; emotionally and mentally. I won't have that anymore. That was so overwhelming and draining. I don't want to have people think that they can manipulate me. That's not a personality trait of mine. I won't be easily manipulated, even by those who claim to be my friends. 3. I would like to be respected. This is a tangent off of #2. I want what I say to be taken seriously. I will enforce that fully. 4. I would like to actually have a plan as to how I'm going to become a nurse. This is something I've wanted for so long, but it feels like it's taking me forever to reach that goal. Even if I have to leave the state, I will achieve this goal of mine. 5. I would like to stop begging for "certain things". I feel like I tend to beg for "certain things". I'm going to say what I want and only ask once. There is no need for me to continuously say the same thing over and over again. That's bullshit. Oh, and if you don't want to spend time with me, then don't. I'd rather be hanging out with my niece (and coming soon; a nephew) anyway. 6. I would like to be a better friend. I know there's some fine tuning I can do there, so I will fix what needs fixing. 7. I would like to be a healthier person. I want my body, mind, and spirit to all be on the same page. I want to reach nirvana. Maybe that's overzealous, but I want to be aligned. 8. I would like to stop my codependency. I found out what that word really means. Basically, when you're codependent, you want everyone to like you. Do you know how overwhelming it is to do everything for everyone else just so they'll like you? I can't do that anymore. It's bad for my own mental and physical health. And not everyone is meant to like you. It sucks, but it's true. 9. I would like to be able to save my money better. I got a credit card, and I think I'm doing quite well with it, but I would like to do better. Much better. 10. And lastly, I would like to get my license. I'm 24. I'm too old to still rely on my baby brothers for rides. It's...time.

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fathersappointed · 3 years

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The Issue of Hurting! Where is God?

I post this page in an attempt to try and reach People, Religious, Spiritual, and Non-believers. People who have been and are now in a state of pain. Or anyone who has or is experiencing one of the many heart hurting emotionally draining happenings that we find ourselves experiencing. For those who have prayed to God for help. Who has prayed to Christ asking for help, begging them to intervene and receiving no help, hearing no reply? You are left hurting and mentally dismayed. You know there has to be a Creator and you call this Creator a loving God so way?

As hard as this is to believe you have been deceived by an evil entity, who has desires that require this deception this is what’s not understood by the World. God doesn’t exist God’s a fictitious creation of the Devil and Christ and the rest of the betrayers compromised by the Devil. The Devil Wants controversy in religion this is a construct the Devil and Christ cannot perform miracles that's one of the reason a lot of people's prayers go unanswered

All religions will be declared the workings of the Devil except for Abrahamic religions which will be declared as authentic works that have been contaminated by the Devil the reason for this is to allow them fluency in their workings of manipulation. The thing to remember is this wasn’t planned in advance. They hadn’t worked out the fine details yet and what they intend to do is still a work in progress. One thing they’re working on with religion is creating an onion around themselves to prevent exposing themselves to discovery. Another reason is the create another equally important division a Falling Away this will be reinforced when they first appear as extraterrestrials here to help a dying planet. Many will go believing because of the extraterrestrials that no God exists. But they'll be a large percentage who still will not leave the church this will be reinforced by the Devil and Christ with contact visual verbal to select individuals. .

I know some of your religious teachings tell you that your loved ones have to wait. Until some type of judgment to determine their fate. And other religious teachings tell you that the dead are in heaven praising God. But this is not the truth this is a lie that has been told to you.

Thomas G. Long, professor at Candler School of Theology, explains,

“There are two images in the New Testament about what happens. First, the Resurrection Day, when the trumpet will sound and the dead will be raised up incorruptible. If you only had that image, what we would imagine is that when people die, they lie in some intermediate state awaiting the great Resurrection Day.

“The other image, however, is that death contains no victory over us at all. As soon as we die, we are with God. We get this in the Book of Revelation where John looks up and already the saints who have died are praising God around the throne. In terms of linear time, we can’t work this out. We’ve got these two competing images: You either wait until the general resurrection or you go immediately to be with God.

This is another manipulation ploy they can go a couple of ways on this. There’s no God they hold no Godly Powers. What they have are powerful computers to terraform the solar system. They cannot physically reunite you with a loved one but they possess the ability to create visions in your mind of visitations with loved ones.

As hard as it is to accept what I am saying about Religion and God I want you to know that our Father and Mother exist. What we are experiencing is the result of a direct attack on Our Father by a being consumed with hate for him.

This is not a free ride through despair. The world needs to come to an understanding (if we have any hope of surviving!) That we have to save ourselves.

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ooccoo · 4 years

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as far as healing magic goes:

1. Healing magic leaves no scars. Heroes are brought back unmarked, unharmed, physically perfect in every way but mentally and emotionally drained. Magic like this knows intuitively how the body is built, usually because it is divine or thoroughly “good” in origin, so it can piece a person back together the same way it was built in the first place. This means the magic is “right”, or a natural part of the world, and people don’t have to worry about getting hurt as much.

However, depending on how powerful healing is, a person who goes through an experience as traumatic as getting run through by a sword, having their arm torn off, or getting set on fire has no physical evidence of the event taking place as soon as a day later, and so may start to doubt the emotional validity of that trauma. This is doubly true for settings where resurrection is possible: a person is killed, their vision goes black and they lose feeling in their body, and then a few moments later they open their eyes as if waking up from a deep sleep. How do people cope with just... forgetting that they got hurt? How do people worry about getting hurt or dying when they can be brought back by a cleric of fifth level or higher?

The phantom scars remain, even as the marks vanish from sight. It’s a little alien.

2. Healing magic leaves awful scars. This is more appropriate for a darker high-magic setting, where magic is more akin to a science than an occult practice. Healing is performed by a person who may or may not know what they’re doing, and it forces your body to heal at a rate accelerated far beyond its natural capabilities. Therefore, magical scars are more visible, longer-lasting, and sometimes more painful than scars left by natural healing or nonmagical surgery, and more often than not it’s a better choice to bandage or stitch up your wounds, put your broken arm in a sling, and recuperate from blood loss on your own time.

This gives characters a little bit more time to cope with their wounds, leaves physical evidence of the trauma they went through, and suggests permanent disfigurement to a higher degree than a setting with perfect healing. It gives weight to violence, weight to injury, and makes fighting something with consequences rather than a simple means to an end. People worry about being hurt, because they know they’ll either be permanently disfigured or forced to spend a long time in recovery.

It’s more realistic, for better or for worse. Scars last, pain lasts, violence has weight.

Obviously these are two ends to a spectrum, and don’t have to be mutually exclusive -- perhaps mortals can only heal imperfectly, while the gods can restore a person’s body exactly the way it was in only a moment. Both are useful for different themes and story beats, and are equally interesting to explore. The first, for example, lends itself well to video games, where the point usually isn’t the consequences of violence -- violence is simply a means to an end, and the morality of such actions is easy to gloss over as unimportant. What setting elements you include in a narrative informs how the plot develops, and it’s easy to overload your story with too many complicated thematic elements; for this reason it is particularly useful to simply ignore injuries when they occur. On the other hand, it’s simple to just... not have your protagonist get hurt, with option two sitting in the background for whenever you need it.

#words #i dont know what im talking about im just rambling rn

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treacherousnewromantics · 5 years

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To this year

I swore I expected something great. I expected happy times with the one I love. More time, more struggles and a keep-going kind of life. Graduation and board exam was the two major events I was looking forward to take as long as I’m with him. I was looking forward to it, until I was quite smacked so hard. I did not understand what was happening, why it was happening, and why the people I never thought would do this, did it. I never expected actions and words to come out that way. I was trying to understand what they were saying, and I was trying to see the right in everything. I kept making sure it was my fault, because it had to be, I couldn’t lose what was already in front of me. I tried so hard to find a way to keep it from fading. I did everything. I blamed my own self, I said it was my fault, I created this, just to make sure that everything would go back to how it was. But it didn’t. More secrets came out, more heart-shattering words came out, and more stunning events came out. And it all went out of control. I was losing everything, and I couldn’t believe it. I did not want to go to school, and to think I was graduating. I lost my appetite, I did not want to eat. I felt that maybe I had to become thinner. I didn’t sleep at night, I was afraid to dream, I was afraid to dream about him and all that was happening. I did not want to go out, I was afraid to see the ones I never thought would exist, and I was afraid that they were gonna be everything that I couldn’t be. I completely lost myself, and what was even more heartbreaking was that I was willing to break myself even more to keep him. I did not care if I lost myself, as long as I didn’t lose him. How stupid was I. I thought maybe if he saw my efforts, he would finally treat me right. Instead he let go.

It was hard to accept, I couldn’t accept it. I know I deserve better. I know. I told myself that. I told myself I deserve better than someone who is sleeping well at night, while I’m breaking and shattering into pieces. But the heart wants what it wants right? I knew my heart was saying, “no, no Hope. You deserve better, but you want it from him. You want him to treat you the way you deserve.” How stupid. I am so, so stupid. I was willing to let him fool me another hundred times. And I did. I always believed in second chances. I gave it not, to just him, but everyone I care in my life. I was quite the Carl Rogers hahaha to think this Unconditional Positive Regard is so mentally, and emotionally draining, but it was natural on me, because it was part of my personality. So I gave him the chance he asked. I forgave him for all that he did to me. And I did this all secretly, none of my friends knew, cause you know what would friends say. I observed him, and assessed every word and action with both heart and mind. But hell, I forgot I was falling in love again. I told him honestly that I was, and he swore he would catch me this time. Stupidity at it’s finest. It went well, he did quite the effort that I hoped for. He was doing well, even if he was having a hard time. He supported me all through my review. I had doubts on my abilities and my studying. He told me I was stupid for even thinking less of myself. Because damn, maybe he forgot I felt like this because he replaced me faster than you can say woah. I felt like dirt because I knew he could find better. I felt ugly because, they were so beautiful. But I did not say any of that to him, I did not want to ruin what was starting to become clear. Until October came, and something wasn’t right again. He started saying unsure things, and I already knew what was happening. And I was so stupid. Why was it happening to me again? What did I do? I swore I did my best. Why did it had to be near the board exam? He knew what it meant to me. I started breaking, again. I did not have the motivation to attend the in-house, and I did not feel like taking the board exam. I was trying to find out what I did wrong, and what went wrong. I so desperately wanted to ask him, and begged him why? He knew what I felt, and he so easily threw me aside. I couldn’t even do that to him. Why? Why could he do that to me? How can he so easily break me? And I realize it was all because of me. It was my fault, because I allowed him again. I fooled myself. I had no one to blame but myself. I cried every night, not because I lost him again, but because I mistreated myself. I wasted all the advises that the people gave to me. I wasted their support, I wasted the efforts of the good people I already had just because of one. I felt so ashamed of myself, I felt so embarrassed. I told God, “I deserve this, this is my karma. And it’s okay if I don’t pass the board, You gave me many good things, but I choose the one that wasn’t. I don’t deserve any more good you give. I just ask that I survive this feeling.”

God is good, and He really wont leave you no matter what. Even if I know I don’t deserve any more good, because I looked at myself as someone that was so, so low. But He gave me a reason to chin up, I passed. Damn, what a miracle. I did not ask for that. But I felt empty, and again I wanted something that was so wrong. How stupid I am. Two weeks after he broke up with me again, he returned my last stuff, and told me I need not to worry about him for someone was changing his life. Unbelievable. I felt so low again, and I thought she must be so amazing. She must be wonderful, she must be everything I couldn’t be. She must be so, so beautiful. How is it that I can be so replaceable? I must be so worthless, that I shouldn’t even breathe. I was just for show. A laughing stock. How embarrassing. I even thought again of how I shouldn’t be living. What a lesson.

I did not write this because I’m trying to make him look bad, I’m not trying to ask for pity, because I do not need that, I can pity myself well enough. I wrote this because I’m not okay, I’m really not fine. I’m struggling so much, and I’m trying to see what’s right. I do not what to pretend nor hide my feelings, because I can never do that. I do not want to mistreat myself again. I was mentally and emotionally tortured enough. I’m constantly fighting a battle where I feel so worthless everyday, questioning my existence of whether I should even live, when I can be replaced.

Let this be a lesson to all. Please do not hurt someone, if you do, please think more than twice and replay it constantly in your mind. You don’t know how it’s gonna affect them in their lives.

Please don’t cheat, it scars the person mentally and emotionally. It makes them question their self worth and even their existence. Please take care of your mental health, it’s as important as your physical health. It’s never easy fighting a battle in your head.

Please pick the words you say, you never know how it’s gonna stick in their mind, and make them question what they already know of themselves, maybe they’ll wear that accusing label.

Hey you, I don’t know what’s going on with your life now, but I wholeheartedly hope you are doing well. I know I don’t have the right to worry, and I should be hating you, but I don’t. I’m worried, but I know the Lord is watching you. I believe He will give you all that you deserve.

R, I’m not plastic the way you said I am. I finally realize that now. You really made me question my whole self, and it was quite cruel how you made me feel. I felt so guilty that I thought I was really the one at fault. I wasn’t. But I understand why you had to say that, and I don’t hate you. People say cruel things when they’re angry, I am also so so sorry.

M, you really ticked my conscience the most. That I felt like the biggest villain on earth, that I made you cry on a special day. I felt so bad, but I realized that it was nothing compared to me crying and breaking every night. I’m sorry if I did hurt you, it wasn’t my intention, I appreciated you the most, you were my friend first.

MLLD. I don’t know why you had to lie, but it wasn’t very nice. You are older and you should have known better. You can pretend to be a victim, but you’re also behind the curtains. I don’t regret saying those things to you, nor am I taking it back. Yes, I was konsensya, but I know you deserve those words coming from me. I’m so sorry for you.

JDY, I’m sorry for being the reason you got hurt in the middle of the year. Yes, I’m watching, I know you don’t need this from me, because damn, you’re so strong. But I hope the love you want and need will come to you. Women, deserve to be loved properly no matter what reputation we have.

Fmly, don’t cover up something you know that’s so wrong. Especially when evidences are so clear. That’s like training children to do wrong and do it secretly and make sure you don’t get caught. It doesn’t also help if you look down on yourselves to make the other actually look like the villain.

Nw G, I don’t need to say anything else, you are life changing. And that’s something i can never be. I hope you walk with pride and that you feel like you don’t have to compete with anyone else, not even me. Because I’m srsly nothing, and I was replaced by you. So please, this isn’t reverse psychology, I hope you’re proud wholeheartedly.

All, i haven’t forgiven anyone, but I know I soon will, but it wont be for them. It’ll be for me. I find it harder to forgive myself..

But it’s best to be honest of what we feel, we need more sincerely honest people. It’s not always good to keep pretending you’re okay, when you are not. You have to admit it and put your pride down. What good does high pride do anyway? Lying does not bring any good, your secrets will always catch up to you. Don’t waste people who were being real to you, they’re only a few of them here. I hope for something better to come out from this life-shattering year, and more from the lessons I’ve learned, because they’re quite plenty. And soon, if God permits, I’ll share it on stage, on how you can rise beautifully after a hurricane. Bringing hope and smiles to this cruel life, but before that, Exodus 14:14; The Lord shall fight for you, and ye shall hold your peace.

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