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thetradeway · 3 years

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Session 48 14 Aug 2021: "Dhidth hwe huin?"

I’m late today. Ginger balls. Never admit you were wrong, and never apologise! Has anyone heard from Mina? She may or may not join us. Billy Corgan on a rollercoaster!

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Matthew, wondering: “Does Billy Corgan have alopecia, or is that a choice?”

Duncan: “I don’t know, I’m not his mum.”

Matthew opens a 4% by volume Potion of Healing, and we get started. Everyone makes saving throws except Tarragon for their hangovers after the Midsummer festivities. Ahleqs is delicate but not too rough; he has however just discovered that he is no longer immune to alcohol. (He isn’t quite puking up pixies, so he’ll take it.) Gideon is bright as a button, as is Kessler, and Melaina. Ardvack complained that the sherry wasn’t up to snuff, so he didn’t drink much.

Gutpunch is snoring and emitting smells when the boys wake in their room. Tarragon returns as the sun rises. She returns to her chambers to find everyone else asleep; she joins them, and Mina joins us. The gnome bunked in with us is not emitting smells. There’s a bang on our door - it’s one of the Avowed, a runner.

“Your presence is requested in one of the Necessariums.” He’ll return for us in a few minutes.

Same thing happens for the boys; Ahleqs tries to wake Gutpunch, with no success. Ahleqs, blearily: “Necessari- what? What is this Hogwarts bullshit?”

Is Darkspire in with them? Yes. The Avowed asks if he behaved; yes, Ahleqs thinks so. Charity overhears this conversation, and butts in. He opens the door wide and tells Ahleqs to go back to bed; he does so. Charity peers at the Avowed’s face, the one who showed us to our rooms.

“Yes? What? Yes? I’m here. Everything’s fine, nothing occurred.” Assured that no crimes have been committed, the Avowed retreats.

Ahleqs asks Charity why there would be ‘incidents’. He says he has no idea.

We use our ten minutes to head to the Hearth for breakfast. Ahleqs has water. And a small pot of coffee. and one egg, and one bit of toast with some salt. “Is there any tabasco?”

Ardvack explains about the Necessariums. They are tall towers with lots of books; we can’t access them ourselves but the Avowed will get us anything we want. Kessler wants some books about tinkering and artificing.

The vegetarian menu is vast, and very good.

The runner returns as we are stuffing more food in our pockets to take with us.

Ahleqs is delighted to see Mr Pickles in the Necessarium; he’s talking to a green dragonborn. Ahleqs doesn’t want to interrupt so he hops from foot to foot until the Al Miraj spots him. He is bidden to go over so Mr Pickles can take a look at him.

Mr Pickles says Ahleqs looks a little green around the gills; did he not hear about the revels last night, Ahleqs asks? Mr. Pickles was in the library having discussions. Should he order some tea? Yes, Ahleqs will have a small bucket of tea. Mr Pickles summons an Avowed.

Mr Pickles says there are wards on this place to cut noise and prevent eavesdropping from outside; he has some news for us if we will gather around.

An Avowed brings Kessler the books she asked for. (Carl wants some books too; The Very Hungry Caterpillar, A Tiger Came to Tea, The Borrowers, that sort of thing.)

MP introduces us to Bookwyrm, the First Reader of Candlekeep - the dragonborn he was talking to. He is in charge of maintaining the collection and acquiring newbooks. We want access to books about the Shadow Weave?

The knowledge in there is dangerous, those books have been locked away. They don’t usually let people access them, but since Mr. Pickles is involved, he might be able to help - if we can do something for him in return.

Ardvack has a question; is this endeavour going to cut into our ten-day? No, since we will be out of the Candlekeep to do it. Bookwyrm can’t give us details until we agree to help, but Mr. Pickles believes it’s well within the limits of our skills to accomplish what he needs.

Tarragon agrees immediately, but mostly because Ardvack looks dubious. Ahleqs, assured by Mr. Pickles’s confidence that we can do whatever it is we’re being asked, also agrees.

Some time ago, Bookwyrm tells us, the keep was visited by a drow scholar who told them the location of a book the Keep have been seeking. Are we familiar with the caves below the Keep? No, but we’ve seen a picture.

They are beneath the catacombs, in the bedrock. They lead all the way to the Underdark. The book was supposed to be there. Someone went in search of it; a more than capable wizard, Olius Visk, but they were expecting him back a full ten-day ago and he has not been heard from. He is a young man, it is very out of character for him to miss the Midsummer Festival.

What was the title of the book he was after? Bookwyrm doesn’t know. When the wizard applied to go after it, he didn’t mention which one it was.

Where is the drow? He left, as you can only spend a tenday here. He did not book in another visit.

We just need to rescue the wizard, not necessarily complete his mission, Bookwyrm says. If we do locate the book then we could bring that too. It’s not the Underdark proper, it’s not that far down - it and the wizard will be in the Upper Dark.

The First Reader gives us a book about the Underdark. Tarragon gets excited about the fungus that could be down there, and the potions she could make with them.

Will we need any further resources? Healing potions, at the very least.

When we are ready we’ll be teleported to the caves. We can get past the myconids that way, the ones that moved in and live off the mushrooms they grow on the refuse from the keep; they keep the drow and duergar away.

He gives us an orb to follow; Ardvack suggests giving Gideon the ring the activate the thing. While following Olius’ tracks, it will glow brightly to show us we are going the right way. Gideon blusters about the ring; “A fine piece of brass work! That will fit on my finger nicely.”

How many potions will we need? Tarragon, immediately: “All of them.”

They can spare a GHP and two RHPs - each. Oooo! They will give us twenty days’ of rations as well.

Can Carl come? We need Carl, probably more than Ardvack. Ardvack consults his book of manners, then laughs; “Ahahah, very droll.”

We decide to leave Popcorn in the stables while we go; he doesn’t like dark and scary places.

Tarragon is excited to be going into danger again; Ahleqs less so.

Ardvack, resignedly: “To almost certain death?”

Tarragon, far too excited: “To almost certain death!”

Ahleqs does a very shaky sigh.

A runner approaches with our Healing Potions, and we spend ten minutes farting about with our inventories.

Ardvack, bored, pulls a book from his pocket and begins to read; Ahleqs wants to know what it is.

Matthew, OOC: “What languages do you speak?”

Duncan: “Common, Elvish, Infernal and Light Crossbow.”

Are we all ready? Various themes on ‘yeah’, some more excited than others. Ahleqs casts Mage Armour.

Carl is brought from the Hearth (holding a book called ‘Ye Olde Very Hungry Caterpillar’), and we are teleported.

It takes a moment for our eyes to adjust when we arrive in the dark, wet caves. We head deeper underground, and of course someone (Mina) starts singing Jamiroquai. Well, someone had to.

Tarragon looks out for mushrooms for use in her recipes. There are lots, of various sizes. Some have bits that look like they’ve been cut off; as if someone has been eating or harvesting them.

Tarragon takes a bit of mushroom and eats it; it’s tasty. Ahleqs will watch her for about 45 minutes before he eats any himself. Ardvack stands as far as physically possible from all of the fungus.

Joe waits for his computer before telling us what has befallen Ardvack, who has gone ahead; Tarragon starts cackling. (She doesn't do subtly devastating insults, she does this.)

Matthew rolls a d4; he gets a 3. Does 16 hit him? “I think the 8 might do it.” The 16 does hit as he backs away from one mushroom into a violet fungus, for 8 Necrotic damage.

We roll initiative!

Melaina kills the fungus, but we don’t feel as though we’re alone. Tarragon holds a Thorn Whip in case she sees something within 30 feet of her that she doesn’t like, and warns Ardvack that this includes him.

We hear something shuffling towards us. Ahleqs is trying to hide when it attacks him twice for ten necrotic damage, and Tarragon gets it with her Thorn Whip. Ahleqs does Burning Hands at it.

Joe, laughing: “Really? You’re going to make a mushroom do a Dex save??”

He misses the one he was aiming at but hits the one he didn’t know was there, so… a win?

More turn up; Gideon does an Acid Splash, complete with quavery wizard voice as he announces it.

Ahleqs and Ardvack are closest and get a horrible, acrid stench as the acid burns the violet fungi.

A fungus aims at Ahleqs but only manages to sort of caress his face with its tentacles, leaving a slimy residue; he sicks up all the water he drank.

Kessler gets one with her crossbow. “Remove your grubby bits from the Ahleqs!”

Tarragon, yelling “Danger and excitement!”, takes out her quarterstaff and runs at one; she hits, and is pleased when it doesn’t die just yet.

Does Ardvack want to chomp on a tentacle with someone else, do a sort of lady and the tramp manoeuvre?

Duncan, disgusted: “No tentacle sucking, this is not that kind of show!”

Mina, disconcertingly matter-of-fact about it: “Some people would pay good money for that.”

Ardvack chooses to hit the thing with his shillgjakjsgaklghjkghhhjbblhh instead. It crumbles into bits, but is also ‘a little bit on fire’.

Ahleqs spots some little orbs somewhere ahead up the path. He thinks they are probably magic, but has no idea what they are or what they do.

Carl does a ‘friendly yet violent pat’ on one of the violet fungi and does 5 splatting damage. It wraps its tentacles around him - and then lets go, shuddering. Carl goes in for a bonus action grapple-slash-fatal-hug. The fungus loses the grapple. “High point in Carl’s life.”

Sophie, OOC: “Are you going to give it a noogie?”

Ahleqs takes aim at the grappled fungus. Matthew, OOC, singing: “Now that’s fuckin’ teamwork!”

“If I move away they’ll get a tickle of opportunity won’t they?” Ahleqs stays where he is. “I do not consent to this.”

Gideon gets one with Magic Missile.

Joe: “How de do dis?”

Sophie, OOC: “With gusto!”

Carl maintains his grip on the fungus.

Melaina is feeling arrogant so she goes Sharpshooter. “Urgh, five, that’s not going to work is it?” But to her amazement, it does. 29 damage; a little bit overkill. It explodes into truffle oil, which showers Ardvack but completely avoids Tarragon.

Tarragon offers Carl her old quarterstaff, since he doesn’t have a weapon. He rolls an INT check to try and reply to thank her, but gets a 0. He accepts the staff with a nod of thanks; she smiles at him.

We have killed all the Violet Fungi! We have solved Joe’s Underdark puzzle, yay!

Yeah, nah.

The drift globe leads us around the next corner. Tarragon and Carl chase it, and see three little huts made of fungus and dried grass. Two look abandoned, but the third has light inside. The orbs Ahleqs saw seem to be drifting around it. Ahleqs rolls 19 Arcana; the orbs are warding or protection magic.

We decide to approach, because the inhabitants might know something about the missing wizard.

Kessler, approaching: “Helloooooo? Avon calling?” Tarragon casts Guidance on her as she goes by.

A bell sounds; Kessler recognises the Alarm spell. She calls out to say she doesn’t mean any harm. “Ignore the mech armour, and the idiots with me…”

Duncan OOC: “I want to know what happens if we find the ‘How not to be a goblin’ book and Kessler turns out to be a six foot five valkyrie warrior. Ardvack’s not going to know where to put himself, is he?”

An Unknown Woman appears from the hut:

“What on earth are you doing down here?”

Kessler explains about the wizard and the book. Are we from the Keep?

Yeah…

So is she, it turns out. Will we be going back? Yes, unless we’re killed horribly.

Do we have a way to get back in past the myconids and such? (uh oh.) She says she was a speaker for the keep and was looking for some books, and got lost down here and got stuck.

Kessler rolls Insight with Guidance - 13. She seems convinced. We can pick her up on the way back? That would be amazing, she says. She’s smiling especially at Ardvack.

She has some warding magic up here if we want to rest? Ardvack tenses up. He makes an Insight check as well. He rolls a 9, but uses his Inspiration to re-roll - a 12. He feels a kind of kinship with her, as though her magic might have a similar source. He eases a little bit, and ventures a half smile, even though she’s wearing a 'very low-born outfit'.

Ahleqs, scandalised: “She can’t even afford a middle bit on her top!”

We don’t need a rest, do we? Ahleqs got hit a bit. Melaina doesn’t trust her, and doesn’t want to stop.

Tarragon asks the woman’s name. It’s Ava.

We could take a short rest, roll some hit dice? Have a sandwich? Get to know the locals?

Melaina: “Alright, but I’m not going to sleep.”

Ava points out the orbs. Anything on this side of them is safe.

This seems a bit too good to be true. Does Ahleqs get a sense of magic, other than the protective field? A nine; “She seems legit.”

She was looking for a book that the Keep wouldn’t exactly approve of when she got stuck here. She’s been living off the mushrooms. She was fleeing undead when she was chased into the myconid hives? A ghost or wraith or something.

She brings us some tea, apologising that it’s not quite as fresh as she would like. Something is definitely fucky; Tarragon takes watch, on Ava as much as for other dangers. Tarragon rolls 24 Perception, so she can see the colonies of ants coming to get us.

She sees that no-one’s quite at ease. Suddenly Ava’s skin sloughs off, peeling in big chunks, and a blood hag reveals herself.

Me, horrified: “Blood hag?? JOE!” Tarragon Thorn Whips her.

A writhing mass of hair bursts from the hag, and reaches out toward Ahleqs. She reaches out with her claws to Ardvack and Kessler, and hits both. 23 slashing to Ardvack - and 35 slashing to Kessler.

We roll initiative!

Melaina gets in amongst the mushrooms and tries to hide. “And now I’m going to shoot her in the face. Shit. No I’m not, with a ten.” She cowers behind her mushroom.

Gideon Thunderwaves her and hits, and retreats.

Tarragon casts Greater Shillsdghksdfkhsdg, and crit-misses. The quarterstaff bounces off and hits her in the face - she takes half the weapon’s damage and has Disadvantage on her next attack.

Carl hits her with his new quarterstaff and hits!

Ahleqs casts Mage Armour on Ardvack and Carl, using Sorcery Points to twin the spell.

Kessler bonus action slams her Greater Healing Potion. She uses her Thunder Gauntlets and forces Disadvantage on attacks not against her.

The Blood Hag uses something called Call the Blood, to do a Blood Choke Curse on Ardvack - his mouth fills with blood, preventing speech and verbal spell casting components for one minute. She uses her bonus action to Misty Step to Melaina and do another blood drinking hair, and a claw attack on her.

Ardvack’s turn; he riffles through his spells but they all have a verbal component. Matthew OOC, cross: “I needed that to be effective.”

Joe, pleased: “She’s charming, isn’t she? I thought you’d like her. But at least all the blood vessels in your mouth and throat have burst and you’ll keep having to spit blood for the next minute, so that’s something.”

Ardvack clubs her instead, and hits. He somehow manages to do 0 damage.

Duncan, OOC: “If you say ‘good girl’ or something while you attack, you could do some psychic damage…?”

Matthew: “If only I could speak!”

Melaina gets sneak attack plus Sharpshooter with her rapier - 31 points of damage. All of us, fanning ourselves: “… Damn.”

Gideon will cast Scorching Ray - all three bolts hit, for 21 damage total. The blood hag is pissed off, now, we are told. Gideon bravely retreats.

Tarragon misses again, and begrudgingly heals Ardvack. “Come on, it’s not that bad. Get up.”

Carl was going to use his Raging Cadaver ability, but Tarragon is now in the square he was going to rage to. He can probably navigate through the mushrooms. He does that, and then a slam attack. He does a zombie grab as well. He rolls 17 to her 14, so she’s grappled!

Ahleqs casts Shatter right in the huddle of Carl, Charity, Tarragon and the blood hag. But he would hit Carl, so he doesn’t. He does Eldritch Blast with Tides of Chaos and hits both times for 7 total Force damage.

55: His hair falls out again. “Oh… this again. Okay. I mean I was growing that, but whatever.”

Kessler wants to know if the mushrooms are difficult terrain; she can push through them. “I haven’t finished with you yet!” 16 with the Thunder Gauntlets hits for 12 Thunder damage, then 19 to hit for 11 more. The hag has Disadvantage on attacks versus anyone but Kessler.

Carl is surprised when the hag Misty Steps out of his grip. “He is very perplexed.”

Does 26 hit Ardvack? Er… Yes. He takes 24 piercing damage, and is grappled; her hair worms dig into his flesh and start to suck his blood. He makes a Dex save - or he would, but he might be dead…? No, he’s at 1HP. His lucky hit point.

Matthew is fighting his computer. “Dex save… Any minute now… It’s coming… I’ve pressed the button… It’s asked me if I want to make it public… seven.”

Joe has devastating news for him. The hag has reached out and torn his face off.

…

Holy Fuck.

What the fuck???

“I wanted the pretty elf, but this will have to do!”

The hag makes good her escape as Ardvack goes down. Tarragon uses a free action to vomit.

Ardvack has an ability that brings him back with 8HP. “Dhidth hwe huin?”

Melaina shoots the hag in the back but misses; Gideon does a Scorching Ray.

There’s discussion about the face and the fact that it has Ardvack’s memories and personality; Mina, OOC: “Give it a few minutes, she’ll bring it back.”

Duncan, as the hag: “‘Can you take this back, it’s kinda bumming me out’.”

Tarragon does Cure Wounds at the highest slot available to her; Ardvack’s face is now a mass of scar tissue. She uses her bonus action to throw up again.

This is worse than when Wee Jock got Disintegrated. This is worse than the time we were all zombies, and we started off dead.

Joe, put out: “You’re so ungrateful. It took me ages to find this monster.”

Carl can reach the nasty lady. He can Dash, but he can’t do anything when he gets there. He holds out his hand for Ardvack’s face. She ignores him.

Ahleqs: “Okay… Okay… I cast Fireball. Oooh, it’s big!” He casts it at level 4, and places it so he’ll get the hag, but not Carl. The hag must make a Dex save. She gets a 22.

Duncan, OOC: “Well… Yes, she does and she doesn’t.” She takes half the damage, and is really pissed off.

Kessler: “Oi! Come back with that!” She pulls out her crossbow and shoots. First shot is a miss, and so is the second - a crit fail. Booh. Off target: You deal half damage for 1d4+1 rounds (3). She tries to intimidate the hag, who is unimpressed.

“Let me leave, or I’ll cast Cloudkill.” The bitch uses Invisibility.

Ardvack’s turn; he is now un-stunned, and remembers the sensation of having no face. He’s also still spitting blood. He takes out the mirror that Amelia gave him, and looks in it to see the horrible-ness that is his face, still drooling blood. He puts the mirror away. He gives Tarragon a pat of thanks on the shoulder as he turns away so no-one can see him and crawls toward the hut, “Because this is where I live now.” Even Tarragon feels a little sorry for him.

Before we go, Ardvack is crawling into one of the huts, yes? Yes. "I do not wish to take tea with guests." The most complete hut is the hag’s one; he sees some stones on the floor as if she’s been scrying. Next to them is a pebble with a purple ring on it.

He makes an Arcana check on it to make sure it’s not a bum-stealing stone. 21; he knows the mark as the symbol of Shar. He may remember Shar from such activities as fighting a giant scorpion and an assassin, or raising an army of scarecrows to harass a halfling village.

We decide to leave it on that cliffhanger...

#dnd #thetradeway #campaign diary #Youtube

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theforce · 4 years

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presumptive horrible rotten case of corona: symptoms

presumptive bc i couldnt get a god damn test i live in new york and while there are testing sites all over the state and our state govt is doing what they can now, i don’t want to be the person taking away a test from someone else especially now that i am mostly better, most of this went down at the beginning of the month and i’m still dealing with the effects of it.

there was a lot of confusion here even as recent as 2 weeks and we are the state that’s testing more than the rest of the entire country so here is my account of what went down w me, and honestly, what might go down with you or someone you know as soon as this reaches your state

1) i threw up all night long, thought it was a stomach virus, had a lot of stomach issues for like 24 hours, very strange i haven’t had a stomach virus in YEARS since i was a literal child, anyways right before i started puking up my life i developed this weird cough, it felt like it was from my throat, like i was trying to clear it? but it was often and annoying

2) after my 24 hours of hell i felt feverish and exhausted but i chalked it up to being on the floor of the bathroom all night, exerting my esophagus and body to throw up the devil himself, i tried to sleep it off, i woke up a few hours later in a fog, i was shivering but i was also burning up, i couldn’t tell left from right, up from down, my fever was 100.3, at this point i had my mom call my doctor and make an appointment, she made it for me w the receptionist, everything was fine until 20 minutes later i got a call back from my actual doctor not the receptionist who was like, oh no not you’re not coming here with those symptoms baby and i was like ?? ok cool thanks, she said to keep watching my symptoms, slam some tylenol and if i felt shortness of breath to call or text her personal cell phone and she would get me set up at the nearest hospital i said ok sounds fucked up i mean i didn’t say that bc i was too fucked up to even speak, she also gave my mom instructions to keep me in my room, to not go near me, to give me a designated bathroom, to have food and water delivered to my door, my mom was like u dont gotta tell me twice (she has lupus) during this time my cough become dry and horrible, i could feel my lungs rattle, i would cough so hard and for so long i’d wake from my feverish coma to kneel over my bed and just let loose on the world, it felt like i was drowning, i couldn’t get enough air everything hurt, everything was sore

3) things continued on like this for 5 straight days, i was literally in and out of consciousness, my fever got up to 102 and my mom said that if it raised at all from there we were going to the fuckin hospital and i was like listen la rona i know u wanna take me out but i havent even ever eaten a krispy kreme donut, please let me survive this i can’t leave this way, in that moment i literally had a fever dream of god herself, i said take this from me and i’ll stop being such a cunt in life. i started slamming hot toddy’s, i’d drink as much water as possible in between the time i wasnt literally trying to expel my lungs by way of my mouth

4) woke up from that whole ordeal drenched in SWEAT from my feet to my head i was soaked, it was gross, at that point i still had a sense of smell so let me tell you my last and final symptom should have kicked in a bit earlier but i checked my temp and it was normal! i didn’t feel like my head was going to explode! but i had new things going on i had a new stuffy/runny nose, my cough was producing some liquid which i proceeded to throw up into a mcdonalds cup i took a shower, i brushed my teeth, i felt like a brand new woman, i had cold like symptoms but i can live with cold like symptoms, i had an appetite for the first time in a week, felt like i could eat my whole family out of house and home given the opportunity, i’d lost 20 pounds in less than 2 weeks and ya girl was honestly, looking good but THAT’S A BAD WAY OF THINKING disregard please thank you, at this point i went into my doctor with a full on mask, gloves, hair pulled back, she gave me every test you can think of, most importantly a flu test which is all she could do since getting a test was impossible at this pint, which of course came back negative

5) things continued like this for weeks, up until right now actually, exhaustion was gone, fever gone, cough still here and there but not like how it was, i’ve put on makeup in my room, i’ve watched every season of law and order svu, i’ve gone on drives in my car just to drive, i’ve tried to keep myself as busy as possible, 3 days ago the strangest, most inexplicable and hopefully last symptom arrived, a complete loss of smell and bc of that taste, i’ve tried smelling candles, essential oils, laundry detergent, canned meat, my brother lit a match with my back turned and asked me what the smell was, i ate extra hot cheetos, raw onions, shot of vinegar, there’s nothing there, i just hope it comes back

during this time i haven’t been even close to my mother, who has lupus or my sister, who has asthma, i stayed in my room, i’m still in my room actually 14 full days out from the last time i left the house, one month since this whole thing started, i eat in my room, i use a different bathroom than my whole family, everyone talks to me from my door frame besides my little brother who also was sick but recovered super fast, he bleaches the bathroom after i use it, he puts all my food on single use plates, he brings me jugs of water and reminds me of what it’s like to at least talk to another person.

on a more serious note, i haven’t touched another person in 20 days nobody has even been within 6 feet of me besides my doctor who was administering the only tests she could administer, fully decked out in a hazmat suit, she was scared for me, i could tell, she was trying to put on a brave face and downplay the severity of my symptoms but thank god for her, she’s checked up on me, she’s tried everything, she’s put in calls, she’s made herself as available as possible even though she’s probably going through the same thing with countless other patients, i worry for her, i’ve worried for my family, i’ve stressed beyond the point of no return which has for sure slowed my recovery and i was one of the lucky ones! all of this and my case was considered mild because i never really had trouble breathing beyond being choked by my own coughing.

people have been there for me during all of this, in ways that are further reaching than touch, i have been very vocal about not liking when people touch me but i do look forward to the day i can hug my mom, where i can tell my friend to take a sip of my drink to see if she likes it, to have someone pat me on the shoulder and tell me to keep my head up or whatever

hopefully im on the other side of this, my more at risk family members are about to be 14 days from the last time any of them were near me or my brother, they’re at the end of a long tunnel and i’m just so happy that maybe soon we’ll all see the light

take care of yourselves

#tw for like puke and losing weight and just overall grossness

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szopenhauer · 4 years

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What type of friend are you? funny mom friend so like... dad friend? XD

Have you ever been friends with someone for longer than 7 years? nah

Do you have a family member you hate? could say so

Does your family accept who you are? it’s complicated

Have you ever puked in school or at work? luckily not

Do you hate puking or does it make you feel better? hate

Have you ever coughed up blood? nope

Do you lie to your doctor? sometimes we all have to but nothing important

Have you ever been misdiagnosed? yup

Do you think you have an disorder but havent been properly diagnosed yet? that too

Is self diagnosing good or bad? depends

Do you think sex is overated? it is

Is it important for both genders to understand eachothers bodies? I’m not dating men, I don’t want to have a son and I am not a doctor so I don’t care about male bodies, sorry

If someone was a virgin and was raped, did they lose their virginity? ...

Have you ever dated someone more than twice your age? nooo

Have you ever been cut off by a bartender because you were too drunk? I don’t drink

Have you ever borrowed money from your mom & lied about why you needed it? I don’t think so

Have you ever dated someone just because they had money? no

Have you ever lied to your spouse about the money you spent shopping? it wasn’t a lie but I bend the truth a little

Have you ever gone on a first date with no underwear? I might go without a bra but because I don’t wanna wear it and not because I might have sex

Do you treat attractive people better than others who aren’t as attractive? nope

Are you more comfortable with friends that are less attractive than you? not less but not more as more attractive might make me feel insecure at times

Have you ever hated a job to the point that you tried to get fired? I would if they let me stay in few places but luckily they didn’t care much about me as their worker hahaha

Have you ever lied about your weight on a driver license? there is weight on a driving license? :o

Have you ever lied during a job interview? meh

Have you ever lied to your boss to get out of work? I exaggerated feeling sick once to not get a job in a horrible place if that counts

Have you ever lied under oath in court? I wouldn’t!

Have you ever bought alcohol for someone underage? I said NO

Have you ever switched tags on an item to pay less for it? I only took tag from an identical item, just different color, as someone tore it out before and I really wanted that particular color, so no

Have you taken any pics of yourself that you wont want your parents to see? umm... yeah ^^”

Did you ever tell your BF/GF you like their outfit when you really didn’t? there are different types of like - like as I would want to wear that myself and like as I enjoy it in general but also like it on particular person etc.

Do you feel accepted by your BF/GF ’s family? could be worse lol

Do you lie about your age? what for if everybody think I’m younger anyway

Would you risk your life to save a total stranger? maybe

Have you ever trashed your ex’s car after an argument? hell no

Have you ever snuck out of the house to go out with friends? not really

Have you ever shoplifted? no way

Have you ever done something because of peer pressure you are ashamed of? yup Have you ever been embarrassed to introduce your parents to anyone? omg

Have you ever held back a well deserved compliment because you were jealous? I don’t recall

Do you guilt people into giving you what you want? hope not, I try not to, it’s manipulative and I already am seen this way due to my BPD so...

Would most ppl consider you better than average looking? pfft Would you prefer to have hot body or high IQ? good health

Are you embarrassed to tell people your job? I’m ashamed to tell them that I don’t have a job

Would you give up your car to save the planet? if I had one...

Are you more likely to believe a man or woman? woman :x

Has your credit card ever been declined? I don’t use a credit card

If you ran over an animal would you keep driving? oh no...

Do you think your parents are too critical of you? my mother is

Ever blame a sibling for something you did wrong? I usually have to take the blame for her instead

Have you ever accepted credit for someone else’s work? just my alters lmfao

Did you ever buy something expensive,wear it once and return it? I didn’t, I have no money to buy and no heart to act like this either

Have you ever re-gifted something? shitload of times

Do you really care about saving the planet for future generations? not for future ppl, just for itself

Do you own anything from IKEA? not furniture

What was the last task that you required the use of scissors for? I just dropped them and let them lay on the floor under the table because I am unable to reach ‘em

Look around the room and name any item that’s grey. stuffed bad from Biedronka that I got on a flea market

Do you know what any of your close friends did yesterday afternoon? me and M. been spending time together while my parents were at home

Can you recall the last time you woke up in a bad mood? Why was that? I always do?...

Who was the last person to send you a message with a heart emoji? my gf obviously

Does your hometown have many good bookshops? none

What would be your typical outfit for a party? I don’t attend parties

If your girlfriend/boyfriend broke up with you tonight, what would you do? oh...

last dream you had: K. 3D printed or smth almost identical album as the ones I had as a baby and her and my current partner gave it to me as a gift :3

do you think a lot of people think bad things about you? I aware of that

is your best friend pissing you off at this exact moment? I informed my father that I dropped scissors and now as I picked them up he asked me when and how they ended up there while I told him about it few minutes ago - I was more worried than annoyed tbh

Why aren’t you texting the last person you kissed? she’s taking a nap

Sex ruins relationships, right? it can happen

Last person to stand up for you? hmm...

The last person you kissed, how many times have you cried in front of them? I lost count which is weird because I cry in front of my family members only (not even my grandma until I was a baby), I know that sometimes I cry in public but because I don’t give a fuck about strangers as much as I used to, close ones in the other hand... Nat hates the most when someone sees him so vulnerable

Something good going to happen tomorrow? doubt it

The last person you kissed hates you. Why? would have reasons

What do you usually do when the clock turns 11:11? it’s a secret you can unlock in a very high level of our relationship

Do you like your cell phone? it’s ok

So, what if you married the last person you kissed? we’re engaged so that dream ain’t that unreal

Have you ever had a really big fight with a best friend? uh oh

Do you plan on moving out within the next year? I wish

What are you listening to at the moment? mom and dad talking <rolling my eyes>

Do you think you’ll be married in 5 years? or never

What’s your favorite high school memory? I have a bunch of those

Do you wish you had more money? absolutely

Team Jacob or Team Edward? team hate Twilight

Do you have a problem with bisexual, gay, or bicurious people? with bicurious maybe, definitely not gay

Have you ever held hands with the opposite sex? I have

Are you a patient person? weirdly unpatient Do you think you are a good person? am not

Honestly, have you ever eaten raw cookie dough? ewww

Is there a difference between the word ‘best friend’ and ‘friend’? there is

How was your week? rollerclaster XD

Does it bother you when an artist remakes a song that one has previously done? usually

When was the last time you cried? recently

What letter is the song you’re listening to under? M if vocalist/band B if title of the song

Would you rather visit the 60s or 70s? 60s I guess

Do your socks say anything on them? I have no socks with anything said on them

Name a TV channel that only has three letters in it. BBC

Gray or Grey? grey

Will you be buying concert tickets any time soon? I won’t

Have you seen the movie The Perks of Being a Wallflower? Did you like it? yasss, it was fine

How many weddings have you been to? less than 5

When you smile, are you confident? I am not

Have you ever not done something because you were afraid of getting in trouble? of course

Was the weather beautiful today? it’s cold

Do you have to have a fan on when you sleep? I don’t own a fan Would you rather have an orange, red or gray bedroom? walls? orange

Would you ever dye part of your hair blue? why not whole

Is Finding Nemo a favorite movie of yours? I dislike it

Does/Did your school have a uniform? middle school only and that was a great idea

Turn on the TV. What channel are you on? not gonna

What’s your favorite thing to do? nothing

If your house was haunted, what would you do? depends

What’s worse: Slow internet or slow walkers? slow internet

Are you a fast or slow walker? which alter? :P

Do you usually have to wear a belt with your pants? I must buy belt for Nat

Are you usually the person to try new things with your hair? no comment

What age do you look forward to reaching? I live on borrowed air...

What exercise do you hate the most? awkward ones

Do you know anyone that has a gecko as a pet? no

What color shirt is your mom wearing today? she’s wearing a striped pajama and light blue sweater atm

Does any part of your body hurt right now? mor than one

Do you like Greek Mythology? not a fan

When was the last time you had Pepsi? ages ago

What was the last question you answered, not on surveys? it was more an order than a question coming from my mom

Do you own anything Polo? used to

Do you know anyone with exaggeratedly big muscles? neighbor

What is your favorite endangered animal? are elephants still endangered?

Do you like to dance? kinda, from time to time Who was the last person who screamed your name? mom’s calling me again, grrr...

Which underwater creature do you find the most badass? what do you mean?

How do you usually find out what the weather will be like for the next week? someone tells me, I ignore them, they were wrong all along

Why have/haven’t you joined Twitter? I left as it was boring and irritating Are you good at rhyming? but don’t like to rhyme

When’s the last time you were woken up in an obnoxious way? lately it’s common

Why do you/don’t you enjoy horror movies? they’re disgusting and pointless

Do you have any celebrity’s perfume? I don’t use perfume

How well do you do at Scrabble? in polish or english?

Who is your favorite Scooby-Doo character? Velma I suppose

Have you ever played or been interested in playing World Of Warcraft? been interested, liked the movie

What kind of cake/other dessert treat did you have for your last birthday? nothing?

Who do you think does the best job at cartoon voiceovers? Jarosław Boberek

Does your dad wear a watch all the time? years ago frequently

How much ice cream do you think you’d be able to eat before you got sick? only a bit

Do you know anybody under 40 with grey hair? I have some myself

Do you think you have the potential to be a good stalker? oh well...

Why did you read the last book that you read? I watched film and heard it has a different ending so wanted to check it out

Have you ever cross-dressed? clothes have no gender but I drew mustaches and such

Which sport are you the best at playing? unihokej/floorball or however it’s called

Do you know anyone who has gotten pregnant despite using contraception? possibly

What would you do if you were in that situation? I’m an asexual and I’m into girls

Are you planning on buying a house in the near future? not possible

Do you prefer on-campus classes or online classes? online

What was your favorite family vacation you went on as a kid? personal

What’s something about you that others might find unpleasant or off-putting? my skin for example (not color)

What gaming consoles do you own? I only play PC and android

Have you ever been so sick you had to be taken to the hospital? been to ER few times

Do you know any lesbian couples? I’m in one ;)

Have you ever lived in an apartment building? just when I was staying with my grandmother

What was the last topic you asked someone for their opinion or advice on? not sure which was last

Is your house visible on Google Street View?- barely

What’s the largest thing you currently have in your refrigerator? *shrug*

Do you know anyone who has never had a pet? I believe

Would you ever get a tattoo on your collar bone? no thx

Would you take the 3 minute beatdown to be in a gang? neither Do you check your texts right away when you receive them? not every single time, it’s impossible!

Does it make you uncomfortable when you receive a compliment? sorta, I think they’re lying/want something or make fun of me (even if just slightly teasing for fun)

When you are home alone at night and hear strange noises, are you afraid someone is going to break in? I’m more “ghost” type of person hahaha

Do you wake up cranky? mhm

What is on your wrists right now? sleeves

Are you a beach, country, or city person? country or small town

Are you an official couple with the last person you kissed? we are

What’s the greatest thing that happened to you today? ex - I got a gift and found a shirt for Nat and myself :3

How old do you think you will be when you finally have kids? -

Are you waiting for something? food

Something you do a lot? suffer

How many chances do you tend to give people before enough is enough? it’s not about the amount

What’s a fact about the last person you kissed? she likes hugs

How long have you liked the person you like? it’s a long story

Did anyone see you kiss the last person you kissed? not our last kiss

Do you think you will be in a relationship 3 months from now? I worry

Have you ever given your ALL to someone who walked away?

Have you ever kissed the last person you texted? we kissed

Are you one of those people who are always cold? not always but often

Do you tend to waste a lot of money? I still feel like it even tho I don’t, I thrift often but spend little for those trinkets

Did you sing at all today? może coś nuciłam, nie pamiętam, w headspace?

Would you rather be able to control the weather or control traffic? weather

Do you own any articles of clothing with skulls on it? gave it away to John

Are you faster at text messaging or typing on the computer? typing on the computer

In your opinion which is the stronger emotion: love or hate? hate

Tongue piercings - cute or trashy? trashy

When it comes to jeans: skinny, flared or boot cut? skinny

Would you rather be a star ballerina or a star break dancer? none

They say diamonds are a girls best friend; what do you say? I don’t care for diamonds

Has anybody ever told somebody one of your secrets? plenty of times

Do you get on better with funny or serious people? smth in between

Do you have mood swings around the time of the month? I don’t need period to have mood swings, it’s stereotypical!

Have your friends met the last person you kissed? aha

What if you got stuck in a lift with the last person who Facebook messaged you? we would end up having sex? jk

When/where did your last hug take place? today

Have your parents ever told you about their love lives, and any previous relationships they had before they met? kind of

Do you and your friends have any inside jokes? and with family

When you listen to music, do you ever find that the songs affect your moods and change how you feel? no shit Sherlock!

What’s one thing about today that you didn’t like? don’t wanna talk about all that

Who is the last person that you said i love you to, besides family members? my fiancee

Would you ever go back to any of your past relationships? done

Do you still talk to the first person you kissed? we’re together again

Do you have a picture of you kissing someone? :D

What’s a cuss word you use often? there’s a whole list

Who’s the last guy you texted? dad

Have you ever not been able to get someone out of your head? this question...

Do you remember the first conversation you had with the person you have feelings for? I remember how we met

Do you believe that people talk about you behind your back? ha!

If you had twins, would you give them rhyming names? yuk

What are you listening to? Tame Impala - Let It Happen

Did you do something mean to someone today? she deserved it!

Is there anyone that you wish was IN your life who used to be? babcia...

Give us a lyric from a song you’re listening to: The truth of it is it doesn’t get better than this

Is your birthday in less than 6 months? whoops

What brings out the worst in you? better not say that out loud

How’re you feeling right now? bad

Are you afraid of the future? very

Do you believe in true love? I’m trying

Do you believe that every one has a soul-mate? not everybody

Was today a good day? should be better

What woke you up this morning? woke up on my own

Do you look people in the eye when you talk to them? I don’t

Have you ever played naked twister? wut...

Is your hair longer than your shoulders? not yet and don’t plan to keep it that long

Would you get in trouble if you came home drunk? that would be a shock to my family (and to me)

Do you ever think about things and start to worry? 100% of the time

Are you one to get annoyed easily? that me!

Is the last person you kissed yours? we don’t own ppl...

Was it a boy or a girl to text you first today? girl

Are you scared of spiders? am not

Do you hate the last boy who talked to you? I love my parent

Do you tend to make things complicated? not on purpose

Have you ever gotten to the point where you’ve said “I’m done trying”? gqe1gIQASGCK...

Do you think things will change in the next few months? I’m afraid for worse

Do you like when people play with your hair? it’s strange

What are you wearing right now? bluzę w czarne i białe paski, zieloną bluzkę z długimi rękawami i szare legginsy z niebieskim wzorkiem

Ever feel like you have been replaced? more than once

Would you rather write a paper or give a speech? write

Are you lying to yourself about something? thx a lot for this ask...

Is the person you last texted single? she’s with me

Do you think any of your exes will eventually want to be with you again? tha hell

If you could move away, no questions asked, where would you move to? just my own apartment

Which do you prefer, relationship or a one-night-stand? relationship

2 notes · View notes

hellzyeahthewebwieldingavenger · 5 years

Text

Ps4

So in a discussion about ps4 a person said their take. Its one which i think you will have some stuff to say about, It was too long to fit in questions. “

PS4 Peter is so static, he does not grow at all or learn anything by the end of the game. Either because he’s too stupid to learn or because there’s nothing to learn, add to this his continued questionable moral decisions like trapping Sandman in a public space for at least 5 years, deciding to save MJ before a room full of hostages and an incredibly lethal bioweapon, seriously considering saving his aunt over the lives of hundreds and the only real challenge I felt presented to him was physical, not emotional. Other than the ending of course, but even then, that’s the most we see of this Peter’s inner workings. 616 Peter was so in depth we even got to see him question God and his religion, or struggle to find the right path in life. This Peter does not grow at all and that seriously annoys me, even a 25 minute episode of the 90s series or Spec made it a point that Peter would be at least a little more knowledgeable than at the beginning. I really did not like this Peter that much at all. He was fine but nothing Amazing, Spectacular, Sensational or any other adjectives Jameson would describe him as. But this Peter does not fully act out great power or responsibility, he doesn’t seem to be able to shoulder that weight of being Spider-Man or Peter Parker, not because of lack of strength but because of lack of character. On the PS1 game, when Venom forces Peter to choose between the city of New York and MJ, Peter chooses New York because it’s his responsibility as Spider-Man. In 616, MJ nearly doesn’t go with Peter at first because he’s just so driven as Spider-Man and NOT Peter Parker, the person she really loves. But Spider-Man is Peters form of finding redemption, and later, of continuing to live out his own ideal of great power and responsibility. Until events like OMD or most of Slotts run, Peter never ever chose himself or his own needs before the needs of everyone else because it was his responsibility to see his own journey through, to redeem himself for killing Ben and being a bad person, to protect that from happening to anyone else and to become the person he himself needed to be long ago. If you make Peter choose his own needs first, then everything crumbles apart. Then we question why he never showed up to his friends party instead of stopping a petty robbery if he was more devoted to them then to his own redemption, we question why he didn’t do x or y because he fundementally is looking for a way to keep both Spidey and Peter going, choosing Spidey before his own needs if it comes to that. Slott didn’t get that, that’s why his run is so bad. He consistently makes Peter choose his own selfish needs again and again just like he did to kill Uncle Ben. That’s why OMD was bad, Peter refused his responsibility to see the consequences of Spider-Man through, choosing instead his own personal wants over the happiness and even lives of others. That’s what people don’t get about Spidey, he should never choose himself over the greater good. If he does, Uncle Ben dies all over again. Peter is only ever treated as niave and optomistic when he’s a teenager and primarily in Ultimate once he’s grown past being a seflish jerk into a hero. As he grows he becomes more than that. Why is this adult Peter treated the same way? Shouldn’t he resemble his more grown up counterparts? Copy paste a large criticism i wrote a while back abour Peter(edited) In short department, it’s decent.”

“PS4 Peter is so static, he does not grow at all or learn anything by the end of the game. Either because he’s too stupid to learn or because there’s nothing to learn,”

Let’s put aside how Peter changes via his aunt’s death and becoming a mentor. Let’s put aside how he changes to be less protective and more trusting of Mary Jane.

Why exactly...does he NEED to change?

A story doesn’t demand a character have an arc. Dredd, the excellent and underrated 2012 film, doesn’t have the central character of Judge Dredd himself change or develop. We see him in action and we learn about his philosophy and a little of who he is. That performance and characterization within the context of the film was praised by fans and critics alike in spite of the film’s low box office performance.

A story doesn’t DEMAND a character change, it can simply be an exploration of who that character is and what makes them tick. In a sense we can see how Peter will react to the situations the game presents as opposed to seeing him change in response to those. This actually makes a lot of sense for the Big Picture the game is going for. This game was never intended to just be A game. It was intended to be the foundation of a multimedia Spider-Man/Marvel imprint franchise centered around the video games, the Marvel Gamerverse.

To that end spending a game simply exploring who Spider-Man is before getting down to the business of having him change as a person makes sense.

“ add to this his continued questionable moral decisions like trapping Sandman in a public space for at least 5 years,”

Don’t even know what they’re talking about with this one.

“ deciding to save MJ before a room full of hostages and an incredibly lethal bioweapon”

Did that even happen. That’s not how I remember it.

“seriously considering saving his aunt over the lives of hundreds ”

Spider-Man isn’t perfect. He is not a hero because he is above temptation, but in spite of it. It doesn’t matter in context that he considered saving May instead of everyone else, what matters is he did save others in the end.

“and the only real challenge I felt presented to him was physical, not emotional.”

Fighting your mentor and sacrificing your aunt, trying to mentor a kid who lost his Dad and learning to trust your girlfriend aren’t emotional challenges?

“Other than the ending of course, but even then, that’s the most we see of this Peter’s inner workings.”

As opposed to every line of dialogue where to himself where he questions things. As opposed to the texting scene!

“616 Peter was so in depth we even got to see him question God and his religion, or struggle to find the right path in life.”

Learning to trust your girlfriend, making the horrible choice to sacrifice your mother so everyone else can live isn’t a strggle to find the right path?

Also Peter never questioned God outside of that one shitty Amazing Grace comic book.

“This Peter does not grow at all and that seriously annoys me, even a 25 minute episode of the 90s series or Spec made it a point that Peter would be at least a little more knowledgeable than at the beginning.”

Spider-Man didn’t grow as a person in the Kid Who Collects Spider-Man or Nothing Can Stop the Juggernaut, or To Have and To Hold. A story need not demand Spider-Man evolve and change, it can just explore who he is.

“I really did not like this Peter that much at all. He was fine but nothing Amazing, Spectacular, Sensational or any other adjectives Jameson would describe him as.”

Spider-Man’s remit is to be a relatable everyman juggling responsiblites and using superhuman will power to sae the day even at the cost of his own happiness.

The game did that.

Therefore it is a good Spider-Man rendition.

“But this Peter does not fully act out great power or responsibility, he doesn’t seem to be able to shoulder that weight of being Spider-Man or Peter Parker, not because of lack of strength but because of lack of character.”

How can you say that when he let May die for the greater good, when he defeated Otto and saved the whole city, when he brought down Fisk and the gangs and did everything else?

“On the PS1 game, when Venom forces Peter to choose between the city of New York and MJ, Peter chooses New York because it’s his responsibility as Spider-Man. In 616, MJ nearly doesn’t go with Peter at first because he’s just so driven as Spider-Man and NOT Peter Parker, the person she really loves. But Spider-Man is Peters form of finding redemption, and later, of continuing to live out his own ideal of great power and responsibility. ”

False.

If being Spider-Man was about redemption then Peter would’ve redeemed himself in ASM #2 when he averted an alien invasion. Sure it was fake but he didn’t know that.

Peter was Spider-Man from out the gate because he recognized through Ben’s death that the powers he had obliged him to use them to help others.

Also Spider-Man and Peter Parker are one and the same, there isn’t a ‘real guy’.

“Until events like OMD or most of Slotts run, Peter never ever chose himself or his own needs before the needs of everyone else because it was his responsibility to see his own journey through, to redeem himself for killing Ben and being a bad person, to protect that from happening to anyone else and to become the person he himself needed to be long ago.”

Again Spider-Man’s story isn’t about redemption, and there were multiple instances for various reasons where he entirely in character DID choose ‘himself’ over the greater good. I say ‘himself’ in quotations because it was really more about his loved ones. He chose to go to Aunt May’s side in ASM #9 to the point where he didn’t even notice a bunch of criminals below him. He chose to skip out on the Goblin attacking the spidey fan club and leave it up to the Torch because Aunt May had fallen sick. He reluctantly chose to leave Smythe’s spider slayer to the authorities because Mary Jane tearfully asked for his help in Pittsburgh. Hell in the Book of Ezekiel he saved MJ from the Guardian Spider creature before he saved anyone else.

He cares about everyone but 9/10 he views his family’s wellbeing as his #1 priority. They’re treating that as no different than him getting good grades or making a date or something, but the game actively shows you that he sacrifices those things for the greater good. He sacrifices his mother for the greater good.

“If you make Peter choose his own needs first, then everything crumbles apart.”

Good thing he never does this in the game then.

“Then we question why he never showed up to his friends party instead of stopping a petty robbery if he was more devoted to them then to his own redemption, ”

For the sake of argument let’s pretend this clown is correct that Spider-Man is a hero out of a need for redemption. By that logic and using the argument he’s going for wouldn’t fighting crime instead of partying with his friends BE an example of him serving his own needs first and foremost. Serving his own need for redemption??????

This guy’s logic is incredibly faulty.

But again, good thing Peter isn’t Spider-Man out of a sense of redemption and he never goes partying instead of heroing in the game isn’t it?

“we question why he didn’t do x or y because he fundementally is looking for a way to keep both Spidey and Peter going, choosing Spidey before his own needs if it comes to that. Slott didn’t get that, that’s why his run is so bad. He consistently makes Peter choose his own selfish needs again and again just like he did to kill Uncle Ben. ”

Uh huh go on.

“That’s why OMD was bad, Peter refused his responsibility to see the consequences of Spider-Man through, choosing instead his own personal wants over the happiness and even lives of others.”

Uh huh go on.

“That’s what people don’t get about Spidey, he should never choose himself over the greater good. If he does, Uncle Ben dies all over again.”

This is mostly accurate, there are exceptions because he is human but mostly accurate. Still not seeing how the game doesn’t depict this.

“Peter is only ever treated as niave and optomistic when he’s a teenager and primarily in Ultimate once he’s grown past being a seflish jerk into a hero.”

Does he though?

I remember him being surely in USM at times and he was a worry wart in Ditko’s run A LOT. There was literally an issue where he comments that nothing is wrong and yet he feels anxious and the narrator/Stan even pities him over that.

So naively optimistic doesn’t really ring true at all.

“As he grows he becomes more than that. Why is this adult Peter treated the same way? Shouldn’t he resemble his more grown up counterparts?”

He does. He isn’t naively optimistic as a 23 year old in the comics OR the video game. He can be optimistic at times but not naively so.

Optimism and pessimism aren’t a binary, they’re a spectrum.

“In short department, it’s decent.”

Yeah the above points don’t amount to ‘its decent’ it amounts to ‘it sucks’.

22 notes · View notes

justkending · 5 years

Text

Used to Be Overlooked. Chapter 13.

Summary: Steve Rogers was walking down the streets of Brooklyn after finishing a mission. The goal was just to take some time to clear his mind along the city streets, but when he runs into a gorgeous young lady that looks extremely familiar… How can he go about moving on? Who is she? What does he know her from? Was that memory even from this decade?

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Reader (Rosalyn Ember/ Y/N ?)

Word Count: 4900+

A/N: oooo, I like this chapter. Also, last night in Oklahoma we had horrible storms. This morning we woke up to flooded roads, so I’m posting earlier than I thought I would since I can’t go into work for an hour or so. ANYWAY! Enjoy this chapter, I had a blast writing this one;) Let me know what you think! Feedback is everything!!!

Series Masterlist

Chapter 13:

The next day went by a little slower considering how in your own head you were. The whole ‘spilling all your secrets out to one of the main people you hid it from’ in a span of 5 hours was exhausting and troubling to say the least.

What if Steve just reported you, and you did become a lab experiment? It had happened before when you let it slip a couple of decades back. You never made that mistake again. Or what if he was disgusted with you for doing this, and he never wanted to talk again? Or maybe he was going to pretend to be your friend, and then dump you when he got all the information he needed?

No, that wasn’t Steve. If there was one thing you knew, and learned about him from Peggy, or even the news on him, it was that he could be trusted. He was an honest, trusting, respectable, and protective man. He wouldn't it do any of those things.

At least you hoped.

Once again, another week went by. No word from Steve or the Avengers in that time. You just guessed that it had something to do with missions. A lot of crime had erupted in the past few days, so it wasn’t that big of a shock.

You ended up coming back to work, no problem, a day after your conversation with Steve. Just like planned, they cleaned everything up, and the corporation was back on track with all bumps in the road averted.

Thanks to the neighboring labs taking you in in the time of crisis, the progress on the virus’s cure was close to being perfected.

You were sitting in your office going over some blood work, when your phone rang showing Claire was calling.

“Yes?” you asked hitting the button, but still looking at the samples in front of you.

“Miss. Sue Tran is here to speak with you,” Claire answered.

Sue Tran? Sue Tran? Oh right! One of your top interns. One you were hoping to actually hire after her internship was up.

“Thank you. She can come right in,” you said pushing the button.

“Ok. You can go in,” you heard Claire say in a more hushed tone.

The door opened and in walked Sue. She had almond shaped brown eyes, olive skin, ash colored hair that was pulled back in a bun, and bangs covering her forehead. The new gray hair color trend for this past year, and honestly you were kinda into it surprisingly given of how old styled you were.

“Miss. Tran, what can I do for you today?” you said smiling and motioning to the chair in front of you.

She nodded in thanks and took a seat. She had a file in hand that she was clutching close to her chest. You can see the nerves vibrating off of her just from being in the office with you. Thanks to your mature manner and high level of knowledge, a lot of people were intimidated by you. No matter the age difference. Of course, you didn’t mean to come off this way, but at least it helped people to respect you more even if you were ‘young’ for your job.

“I actually wanted to bring you some news,” she said making eye contact finally and with a blush tone on her cheeks.

“What about?” you smiled sweetly hoping to help her relax a little, and like hoped, some tension in her shoulders went down.

“As you know, I was paired with the group that was testing the C4N2 fever/flu that broke out within the last year,” she explained.

“Yes, the one that was transferred to the other labs during the shutdown?” you said intrigued, and leaning into your desk more.

“Yes,” she smiled. “While we were there, one of the other workers from that branch looked over our progress. They spotted something that I believe we just didn’t think about, or completely overlooked. You know how it goes when you look over that same problem for too long,” she shrugged.

“It all starts to blur together and you can’t find the flaws,” you finished for her. “Yes, and…” you nodded excited where she was leading with this.

“Well, the individual suggested something to try, and we went ahead a gave it a go.” She grabbed the file, and started sifting through the papers before pulling out a stapled bunch, and handing it to you. “This is what we came up with.”

You skimmed over the front seeing the equations and elements they used. It was definitely something that was could have easily not been considered, but thank the man that had suggested it. You flipped the next page, and saw the lab results after being put use on some lab rats and DNA samples.

You straightened in your seat as you realized what you were reading.

“Sue, all these reports say success and positive” you said in a breathy voice from shock.

“Hmmm mmm,” she hummed through her smile.

You flipped the pages a few more times to make sure your eyes weren’t deceiving you.

“Theoretically, we weren’t planning on having a cure on this for another year. Sue… This is it. This is the vaccine,” you smiled finally looking up. “It’s done!”

“I know! We did double and triple checks if you look on the last couple of pages. We wanted to make sure that it was truly right,” she said looking at the papers while on the edge of her seat.

“Sue, this is- I don’t even- Oh my God,” you laughed in joy as you stood and came around the desk. She stood to meet your height. “You did it! They did it!” you said gripping the papers and slightly jumping in your heels.

“I know! But give yourself some credit,” she said motioning to you. “We wouldn’t have made the progress we did if you hadn’t proofread and caught our mistakes in the beginning. We would be set back even further.”

“Oh, I lent just as much of a hand as all of you did. This is a group effort!” you waved off. “But it’s done! This was the biggest project we had going and it’s done!” you jumped again. “Oh, we have to celebrate!”

“Really? You don’t seem like the celebrating type?” she laughed, and you sent her a smirk as you went around the desk back to the phone. “Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to offend you, it’s just that you’re always at-”

“Work? Yeah, I know,” you laughed pressing the call button. “I’m not offended at all Sue. You’re right, I need to get out more.”

“Yes, Miss. Ember?” Claire said on the other end of the phone.

“The staff that was working on the C4N2 virus?”

“Yes?”

“Bring them to my office please,” you smiled at Sue.

“On it,” she hung up.

“What are you going to tell them?” Sue asked.

“That you guys can have the rest of the day off to celebrate, and that you can also have tomorrow off,” you smiled organizing the papers on your desk.

“Really? We don’t have to-”

“Miss. Tran. Rule number one if you are going to work here. Listen to your boss, and never say no to taking a day off,” you winked.

“Yes ma’am.”

You let the team know they could go out and enjoy a day off tomorrow as well as the half day off today. They were ecstatic considering they had been working so hard on this, and haven’t really had time to rest between it. They asked you to join, but you kindly declined making an excuse that you were the boss that needed to do paperwork on it and all. They tried persuading you, but eventually gave up on your stubbornness.

As you sat in your office, only about 30 minutes before you usually leave to go home, you looked at the work in front of you. It was all done. They met all the requirements needed, and now it was just needing to be passed on to the next process group. This is why you stayed in this field. Vaccines for something as simple of a fever that can pop up are now being made, and less and less people will get sick or even die.

You sighed happy with yourself, and looked up at your computer that had been playing the news. Yesterday's news overflowing into todays because of how big a deal it was.

Right in front of you was Tony talking to a reporter.

“Yes, yes. We have been chasing and tracking these individuals the past week or so and finally got a hold of them. There will no longer be any problems with them thanks to The Avengers!” he shouted throwing his arms up in victory. Cocky millionaire.

He was still in the suit, and had the mask lifted to where you could see some dirt and smudges on it. In the background you could see a few of the other Avengers like Clint and Nat watching in the background and rolling their eyes at him. You giggled at the relationship that you now knew they all shared.

“Is there anything else we should be careful of Mr. Stark? Any other terrorist groups that are targeting New York as of right now?” the reporter asked.

You thought you had heard something about a terrorist group that was infiltrating major banks and parts of the government. Of course, wanting to take it down and were threatening lives of thousands. Then again, they never got around to the threat because those damn Avengers caught them every time.

“Uh, as of right now I think we are going to give ourselves a much deserved break. A few of us have been awake for over 36 hours and are really looking forward to passing out on our beds,” he said turning to now Bucky and Steve saluting them. Steve was in his full stealth outfit and had his shield thrown on his back. He looked good. Really good. He threw Tony a look and crossed his arms over his chest before turning to Bucky who was grinning, and laughing at Steve’s reaction.

“He does not like the cameras,” you laughed looking at Steve the rest of the interview.

“Thanks again Mr. Stark. For everything.” the reported gushed.

“Anytime for the people of earth,” he winked. “I’ll see you all next time the world needs some saving.”

The screen cut back to other news and you just laughed at the whole thing. Then an idea came to your head. You grabbed your finished work putting it in a pile on the side, and the stuff that needed to be reviewed, was left on the opposite side. You grabbed your things to headed out for the night in a hurry and stopped at Claire's desk.

“Hey Claire. I think I’m going to call in sick tomorrow,” you smiled as you came to the front.

“What? Sick? You’ve never called in sick,” she said shocked. “Now that I think about it, I don’t think I’ve ever seen you cough or sniffle let alone be sick.” she said thinking back.

“There’s a first for everything,” you shrugged and winked.

“You know what? I think you deserve to have a day off. Sick or not, but if anyone ask, sick it is,” she smiled.

“See you after the weekend Claire,” you waved headed to the elevator.

“Get well soon,” she said sending you wink as you turned and laughed.

You went home and changed out of your work clothes into something more casual, but still somewhat formal considering where you were going.

Your hair had been down all day, so you pulled it half way up, and let the curls do their thing. You gave yourself a once over in the mirror, and were content with it all. Business like, but casual as well.

Once you arrived, Happy was the first to greet you.

“What are you doing here?” he asked as you parked your car out front of the tower, and started walking up the steps meeting him halfway.

“I-uh, I need to talk to Mr. Stark and Dr. Banner. Are they here by chance?” you said looking behind him at the compound.

“Yeah actually. They just got in. They all got home from a long mission just yesterday so they’ve been in and out today resting,” he looked back where you were staring, and realized you were nervous about going in. “Do you want me to show you where they are? I think I just saw a few of them in the kitchen. I’m sure they can show you where Tony and Bruce are.”

“Oh, I don’t want to be a bother. It looked like you were going somewhere. You don’t have to stop just to help-”

“Nonsense. You are one of the few people I like on this planet. I will gladly escort you in,” he smiled offering his arm.

“You’re too kind to me Mr. Hogan,” you smiled squeezing his bicep just barely as you started walking up.

“Anything for a lady like yourself,” he smirked.

You both walked into the kitchen finding Sam and Bucky eating sandwiches, at the table.

“I’m just saying, the only reason she gave her number to you and not me, was because she didn’t see me,” Buck said confidently as he took a bite of his sandwich.

“Didn’t see you? You were right next to me! Of course she saw you! She just preferred me over you,” Sam said getting worked up.

“Sure…” Bucky said smugly.

“Dude! You aren’t really the face that people want to jump to. I don’t know if you remember, but you kinda were a well known assassin that people were terrified of.”

“Now wait one second! No one ever really saw my face when I was like that! I-” Bucky said sitting up straighter and went to pointing fingers, but was cut off by Happy clearing his throat.

“Excuse me boys, but we have a guest.” he said with a stern voice making the men snap their head your direction.

“Rosalyn?” Bucky said with furrowed eyebrows before they changed to widened eyes. He immediately jumped from his chair and turned to face you. Sam following after. “What-uh, what are you doing here?”

“I came to talk to Mr. Stark and Dr. Banner about a project I’m working on,” you answered with a smiled, trying to hide the fact you were regretting this whole thing. You fixed the strap of your purse from falling off of your shoulder, therefore taking your arm out of Happy’s.

“I have to get going, but I’m sure these two-” he turned to the men who were gawking at you. “Idiots, can help you,” Happy frowned before smiling and waving to you, headed to leave.

“Thanks again Happy!” you shouted his direction turning to watch him leave.

Once he was out of sight, you let out a sigh wondering if it was too late to ditch. You hastily turned on your heels, and saw the two men still taking in your presence. It was more of a shocked look than anything else, but Sam noticed Bucky not blinking and hit him in the back of the head to snap him out of it.

“Ow! What the hell?” Bucky said holding his head and turning to Sam.

“You’re staring,” he said before rolling his eyes, and going over to the fridge.

“I was not-” Bucky started, but Sam cut him off.

“Can I get you anything to drink Rose? Water, juice, wine?” he said looking in the fridge.

“I’m fine Sam. Thank you,” you politely waved walking more into the kitchen. “If Stark and Banner aren’t here, I can go. I figured there was a small chance of them actually being here, so really it’s no-”

“No, no!” Bucky said moving to get closer. “They, um, they’re here. I think they were in the lab last I heard. Something about repairing the suite and other things,” he said with a smile.

“Oh, ok,” you said with a soft smile back. He was staring again. “Can you, um, take me to them, or-”

“Right! Right!” Bucky said. He was acting weird… or maybe it was normal. You didn’t really know Bucky much other than that one night you were here. You didn’t see much of him back in the day either. Once he was recruited for Steve’s team, you were holed up in the lab a majority of the time. You only heard his name once or twice in all the chaos of the war. “Uh, Sam, can you call Tony and double check to see if that’s where they are?” he said shooting Sam another weird look.

“Why do I have to-” Sam started confused.

“Sam. Please,” Bucky said nodding toward the door.

Ah shit. What was going on?

“Fine. God,” Sam said grabbing his phone and pressing a number before looking back at Bucky who was giving you both weird vibes.

Once he was out of the room Bucky turned to you.

“So, you didn’t come to see Steve?” he said bluntly.

Your eyes widened. Are you kidding me right now? Steve told Bucky. He had to have. You decided to play it off because you didn’t want to jump to conclusions.

“Why would I come to see just Steve?” you asked, trying to seem as calm as possible when truly your heart was actually going the speed of a hummingbirds.

“No reason. Just the fact that I know he went to your house the other week,” he said with a smirk as he went back to the table.

“Shit,” you mumbled under your breath before you followed and stood by him at the table. “What did he say?” you said sternly shifting to boss mode.

Bucky noticed the change in mood, and realized he messed up.

“Nothing. He just told me he went over there to ask you on a date,” he answered.

“Bucky,” you said with a death glare.

He was honestly scared. He had fought aliens, monsters, criminals, and all the bad things in the world, but that glare? That was sending a different type of chill through his body.

“Honestly, Rose! He didn’t tell me anything. Trust me I tried getting it out of him, but he didn’t budge,” he said holding up his hands with a sandwich in one. You let out a relieved sigh, and crossed your arms looking at the ground trying to decide if you believed him. “But now with how you’re acting,” he said looking down at you, and slowly turning his frown into a grin as you looked at him nervous again. “I figure something happened…”

“Nothing happened Bucky. Nothing for you to worry about,” you said taking a seat.

“Then why were you so defensive about it? I mean he was over there for quite a few hours,” he said shrugging his eyebrows up and down at you.

“Bucky,” you said in a calm voice. “I suggest you leave it alone before that arm isn’t the only prosthetic you have,” you said with an evil grin that made his grin immediately fall and fear took over his face once again. You crossed your legs, and sat straight before looking at your nails showing you were unbothered by his boyish banter.

“O-Ok,” he stuttered taking a seat, but making sure to leave a space between you.

“Finally, someone who can actually put him in his place,” Sam said walking in. “I was wondering if someone like that even existed.” he laughed looking at Bucky who shot him a glare. “You really need to start coming around here more often Rose. I like you,” he smiled leaning over the chair in between you two.

“Did they answer?” you asked wanting to get this visit over with.

“Oh, yeah. They were in the lab like suspected. I told him you were here, and Tony said he would come up and meet you then take you back down there himself.”

“Thank you Sam.”

“Anything for a woman that scares the shit out of the Winter Soldier,” he laughed taking a seat between you two. “So, what do you need to talk to them about? Is it business?”

“Something along the lines of that. I have a project that I’m looking into, and need their insight on it,” you smiled.

“Cool. How is the science world going?” Sam said sweetly just trying to make small talk. You gladly took the turn in conversation, wanting to steer clear of everything that Bucky was mentioning.

“Really well actually. We just finished a vaccine for that flu that broke out last year. We only have a few more steps to go before we can release it to the public and hopefully stop it from hurting anyone else,” you said with a proud grin.

“Wow! That’s amazing! So you’re out there saving the world.” he beamed sitting back in his chair more.

“Nothing compares to you guys-”

“Oh, give yourself some credit Ember!” Tony’s voice said loudly as he entered. “Clearly you are just saving the world from a different standpoint, but saving it nonetheless.”

“Mr. Stark,” you said through a very business like smile while you stood.

“Well, would you look at you?” he said throwing his hands out as he scanned you. “You remind me of Pepper. Even your ‘casual’ clothes are captivating to the eye.”

“Thank you, but I came here to talk about-”

“About a project. Yes, Happy told me. Called about two seconds after he left, and then Sam called shortly after.” he said crossing his arms once he was right in front of you. “What do you need to fill me in on?”

“Actually if we could speak in private-”

“You just missed her put Barnes here in his place. It was game changing. I wish I had it on video,” Sam interrupted smacking Bucky on the shoulder, and getting yet another glare from him.

“Is that so? Only person I know can do that is-”

“Me,” a deep voice said at the entrance of the room. All heads turned to see Steve in a long sleeve dry fit shirt, and sweatpants. Probably just got done working out or taking a shower from the slight dampness on his hair.

“Steve,” you said in a hushed tone.

“Even I struggle putting the punk down. Glad someone else can do it,” he smirked as he leaned against the door frame on his shoulder while his arms crossed his broad chest.

“Oh captain, my captain,” Tony said turning to him as he walked into the room, but Steve never broke eye contact with you.

“What are you doing here Rose?” he said ignoring Tony once he was in front of you.

“I needed to talk to Banner and Stark, but seeing that you’re here now.” you sighed pulling some papers out of your bag. “I think we should all talk.”

Steve looked down at the manila folder you were holding. Whatever was in it was important since it had the big red words CONFIDENTIAL stamped on it.

“Well, things just got interesting,” Tony hummed looking at the folder. “Rogers, why don’t you lead Miss. Ember here to the lab where Banner is. I’m going to grab a drink and quick treat and meet you two there.” Tony said patting him on the shoulder before moving to the fridge.

Steve looked up from the folder you were holding and sent you a look that basically asked if what he thought you were doing, was what you were really doing.

“Sure,” he said staring at you. “Right this way.” He moved to the side motioning for you to head a certain way before he followed behind you.

Bucky caught his arm before he got too far.

“Dude, first off, she is terrifying. Second off, what the hell is going on?” Bucky whispered.

“Don’t worry about it right now. I’ll explain when I can,” Steve said as everyone in the room watched him.

“Does it have to do with…” he paused hoping Steve was catching on.

“Not sure. Like I said. I’ll tell you when I can,” he nodded walking to catch up with you.

Everyone in the room watched as you both left, and never looked away until you were out of sight for a good 15 seconds.

“Anyone else feel a weird vibe from that whole… thing?” Sam said.

“Yep,” Bucky replied.

“Hopefully I won’t be out of the loop too long.” Tony said grabbing a water bottle.

“Wanna explain to me why Barnes was interrogating me about you coming over to my house the other night?” you said looking forward as you walked to the lab. Though you didn't necessarily know where you were going, you were running on anger of him spilling your secret, and just wanted to get this whole disastrous plan over with.

“He what?” Steve asked trying to catch up to your fast pace, and finally getting to a point to where he could see your frustrated expression.

“Oh, don’t play coy Rogers!” you said loudly stopping in your tracks and turning to him with your fist in balls at your side. “Bucky knows. I could tell by the stuff he was asking. He tried covering it up, but the man doesn’t have the best poker face for someone who's a spy!” you said in a more hushed tone realizing you weren’t too far from the kitchen and you may have been a tad loud the first time.

“I have no idea what he was talking about Y/N, but I swear I didn’t say anything.” Steve said putting his hands up in defense as he looked you in the eyes.

“Really? Then why was he asking about-”

“He knew I left that night. He was the reason I left actually,” he said rubbing a hand over the back of his neck. “I wanted to go talk to you, ask you on that date, but I almost talked myself out of it.”

You straightened and the tension in your body dissipated some.

“He told me to take the chance since I’ve never showed interest in a girl like this besides Peggy, and well....” he blushed looking at the ground now. You started blushing too realizing that you blew up on him before knowing the whole story. He liked you like Peggy? Wow, that’s a big thing. “Long story short, he got me out of the house and over to yours. He waited up for me thinking it would be an hour to two tops, but when I didn’t show up until 5 hours later he kinda got in my business.”

“But you didn’t tell him my secret,” you stated sighing, realizing what an idiot of yourself you just made.

“No, God no!” Steve said jumping in and looking back to you then the hallway to make sure no one was listening. “It’s not my secret to tell, remember? I haven’t told anyone.”

“Thank you for that.” you said softly. “I-uh, I guess I just kinda jumped to the shark even though I shouldn’t have.”

“It’s ok.”

“No, it’s really not. I should have trusted you more… It’s just…” you sighed as you adjusted the papers you were clutching into your hands. “This is big. I haven’t told a soul in years, and me being here right now is still shocking to me.”

“So, that is what this is about?” Steve said sending you empathetic eyes.

“Yes. As much as I’m regretting it every second, I think it will be for the better. At least I hope it is,” you dry laughed. “Sorry, I’m a bit nervous.”

“Hey, it’s fine. I’ll be right here to back you up if you need it,” he said putting his hands on both of your shoulders to bring your eyes to him.

“Thank you,” you blushed a smile. He grinned happy that he caused that.

“How about we get to the lab before Tony catches up and starts making up a story about finding us in the hallway?”

“That sounds like a good plan,” you laughed looking down the hallway to check if he was coming, and when you turned back to Steve, he had his arm extended to you. “Did you teach all the guys to do this here? I feel like everyone has ushered me this way.”

“They may have picked up on some of my 40’s charm. I try to influence them in manners when I can,” he said in a cocky tone, but joking still.

“Well if you ask me, the world needs to bring back some of these manners. I miss being treated like a lady instead of a piece of meat,” you said accepting his gesture as you both made a way to the lab. “Don’t get me wrong, I didn’t love being treated like I was supposed to be a housewife and nothing more from those times, but this? This I miss. Chivalry is dying now and days.”

“Guess we need to find that happy median then, huh?” he smiled looking down at you.

“Guess so,” you smiled back sending shivers over his body.

Chapter 14

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chroniccombustion · 5 years

Text

Caught in the Grey (ch 5)

Genre: Trans!AU, hurt/comfort, romance, angst with a happy ending Rated: T Characters: Souji Seta (Yu Narukami), Yosuke Hanamura, Naoto Shirogane, Kanji Tatsumi, 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 ->

He turns the music up higher, crossing his arms tightly over his chest and hunching inward as if he can somehow make himself small enough to hide from his own mind.

‘You’re just going to ruin everything like you always do. You push and you whine until nobody can stand you anymore. That’s why Souji isn’t speaking to you.’

Shaky, anxious energy tingles its way down Yosuke’s legs, settles in his bones like a live current through a power line.

‘Maybe it’ll be a good thing if he doesn’t show up to school – you really want him to see your shitty self-absorption? Cuz he will. You know he will; it’s Souji, nothing gets past him. He’ll take one look at you and he’ll know.’

Chapter 5: We’re Not Lovers

“Said that we’re not lovers, cuz we’re just strangers with the same damn hunger to be touched, to be loved, to feel anything at all…”

- (“Strangers – feat Lauren Jauregui”, Halsey)

November

Yosuke sits under the frigid cascade of water until the entire bathroom becomes an icebox, forcing him to finally push to his feet and shut the shower off just to stop the way his body has begun to violently shiver. He barely feels it, only notices because of how his skin prickles with goose bumps and his hands fumble with the knobs. Climbing out of the shower, he grabs a towel and halfheartedly dries himself off, scrubs it through his hair a couple of times to get the excess water out. He doesn’t need to do much to it, though, since the way he’d been sitting, the spray had mostly hit his folded legs and arms, missing the majority of his hair and leaving it to dry slightly on its own. He doesn’t know what that says about his sense of time. Probably something bleak.

He slips into his questionably clean change of underwear and pulls his sleep clothes back on with all the sluggishness of a blistering hangover. Bleary-eyed, he scoops up the discarded pair of boxers without really seeing them and makes sure not think too hard about the shame-riddled piece of fabric in his hand.

Yosuke is thankful the mirror is still streaky with moisture and the last dregs of remaining steam still clinging to the glass; it distorts the view of his reflection as he passes. He doesn’t want to see himself, doesn’t want to look himself in the eyes and see the weight of what he’s done etched into the rings of his irises, doesn’t want to acknowledge his own presence in this liminal space of a bathroom. All he wants is to forget any of this ever took place, to trudge back to bed and try to get what precious little sleep he still can before the light of reality reaches in through the windows and he’s forced to join the waking world. He keeps his eyes half focused as he shuffles over to the door and reaches the hand not full of wadded-up boxers out to twist the lock until it clicks open. The movement of his reflection catches at the side of his vision and for a moment he’s tempted to glance over.

He stops himself before he can.

With the door now unlocked, Yosuke lets go of the knob and reaches across himself towards the light switch with his free hand – the other hanging heavy as lead with his dirty boxers at his side. It’s an old habit by now, turning off the light before he opens the door. He’s learned the hard way over years of late night tip-toeing around his parents’ work schedules that flooding the darkened hallway with a sudden burst of brightness is a sure-fire way to let someone know he’s awake. Even now with his brain in a fog, muscle memory kicks in and Yosuke’s fingers instinctively seek out the little piece of plastic on the wall beside the door. He flicks it down and the room is plunged into claustrophobic dark.

He blinks against the sudden blindness as he waits for the nightlight to cut itself back on in the absence of light. He uses the faint orange glow to help him find the doorknob again, carefully turning it and pulling the door open as soundlessly as he can, peeking around the thin opening to scan the hall and listen for movement beyond his pocket of space. Nothing. Only the low hum of the refrigerator down in the kitchen below.

With a deep breath that his lungs don’t seem to register, Yosuke pulls the door open all the way – as if it had never been shut to begin with. The air in the hallway is actually warmer than it is in the bathroom; the cold of the water that had chilled the tile like an open window in winter hasn’t yet seeped out into the hall. It feels strange against Yosuke’s skin, his body still hypersensitive but numbed at the same time because of the freezing shower spray. Even through his sweatpants he can feel the difference in temperature.

(Maybe if he’s lucky he’ll catch a cold and get to call in sick to life.)

Yosuke lets a shiver or two pass through him before he starts the short trek back towards his room, making sure he’s steady enough to sneak the way he needs to. As he takes his first few steps out into the dark, just before the glow of the nightlight passes between him and the rest of the silent, sleeping house, Yosuke catches the flicker of movement from his reflection in the mirror. He keeps his eyes trained forward so he doesn’t have to watch his own walk of shame.

If there is a flash of distorted gold within the mirror’s depths or if his reflection’s movement seems out of sync with his own, like something just past the glass has turned to watch him as they both walk, then Yosuke staunchly ignores it. His mind has already betrayed him too many times tonight to bother looking for more.

He climbs back into bed and eventually manages to fall into a thankfully dreamless sleep. It only lasts for two and a half hours.

The morning comes in like a blow to the head.

It starts with Yosuke’s alarm blaring in his ear and startling him awake. He flails, forgetting where he is in his adrenaline-fueled stupor, and gets himself wrapped in the sheets for a minute until he can wrest an arm out and slap his hand down on top of the clock.

The peace and quiet lasts just long enough for Yosuke’s heart rhythm to start resembling something normal. Then, with all the untamed force of a comet, Teddie decides that he, too, would like to ruin everything and dive-bombs onto Yosuke’s bed with a long, drawn-out, “Good moooooooooorning, Yosuke!”

And thus the day begins.

Yosuke spends the next few minutes disentangling himself from the sentient plushie toy trying to hug him to death. It takes longer than it should. Teddie whines, of course, as he usually does when Yosuke baps him in the face with a pillow, but at least he has the decency this time to release his captive long enough for Yosuke to get out of the bed.

The next half hour or so is an exercise in patience as Yosuke maneuvers around in the pre-dawn dark in an attempt to get ready for school – digging out a clean shirt, searching for his uniform jacket with increasing frustration until finally remembering he’d left it downstairs – all while continuously tripping over the lanky, blond barnacle that has attached itself to his side. But, as exhausted as he is physically, and as much as Teddie grates on his nerves, Yosuke knows the reason it’s been ramped up to eleven this morning is because Teddie still feels pouty and dejected after Yosuke (in Teddie’s words) “a-bear-ndoned” him the day before. Not that he would ever say it out loud to him, but Yosuke does have to admit the guy has a pretty valid reason this time, even if the resulting “bear hugs” cause Yosuke to nearly fall on his face more than once. Eventually (though with much begrudged sighing), Yosuke gives up and lets his new brother-not-brother hang off him like some kind of deranged belt while he gathers up the textbooks he didn’t even open last night.

Next comes the process of actually leaving the room. Teddie makes it difficult to listen out the door for sounds of life downstairs, but after a few minutes of shushing, Yosuke is able to determine there is either no one else in the house (most likely), or one or both of his parents are still dead asleep (less likely). Yosuke takes the gamble and slides out into the hallway, silently praying he and Teddie are alone right now.

The hallway is where Yosuke’s anxiety decides it wants to come out and play.

For a second he’s fine; the bear acts as a decent distraction, what with his insistence on not being left alone for more than a moment, and Yosuke can focus his brain on trying to walk without falling over. It’s when he looks up and the door to the bathroom comes into view that the horrible, knotted dread in the pit of his stomach rears back up and makes itself known. Yosuke stumbles to a halt just before crossing through the doorway, leaving Teddie to nearly plow into him at the abrupt stop.

They’re gonna know, his treacherous mind sniggers at him. Your parents already know – there’s gonna be a note waiting for you on the kitchen counter when you go downstairs, or a text from your mom saying she wants to talk to you when you get home from school. There’s no way someone didn’t hear you last night…

Yosuke clamps his teeth down on his tongue so hard that he feels his molars slice through the side of it. There is a faint tang of metal in his mouth.

It’s fine, he tries to tell himself.

Is it? Is it really?

“Yosuke?” Teddie asks from behind him, voice muffled where he’d run face-first into Yosuke’s back. He shifts away but keeps his hands clutched in Yosuke’s uniform shirt and when he speaks again his voice is clearer. “Why’d you stop walking?”

Teddie’s gonna ask questions. He’s too naive to know right now but he’ll hear it from your parents and then he’ll ask about ‘scoring’ and won’t shut up until he knows.

“Yosuke, helloooooooo!”

And then he’ll tell everybody else.

“Yoooooosukeeeee!”

He’ll tell Souji.

Terror washes through him, cold and deep-seated like ice crystallizing in the marrow of his bones. There is a moment where he feels weightless, displaced, his stomach dropping out as he stares down from the edge of a towering precipice with no ground below him in sight. His breath catches in his mouth and hangs there in a frozen, aborted inhalation that never makes it down into his lungs.

Souji would hate him. From anyone else, Yosuke might be able to handle the looks of disgust and loathing; he’s grown pretty used to it already since moving to Inaba. Housewives and retired old men with nothing to do but scowl, classmates whose families blamed Junes for their own failing businesses and subsequently viewed him as its embodiment. He’s used to it. Members of the Investigation Team, too, sometimes, when he’s being particularly annoying – he’s caught a few of his friends share looks of aggravation before, after he’s said something he knows is stupid even as he says it. Especially in the beginning. They might not hate him the way that so many others in the town do, but he knows he pisses them off sometimes and it wouldn’t come as much of a shock were any one of them to suddenly decide he wasn’t worth it. A tiny, pessimistic part of him keeps expecting it, even. One day, it whispers. One day…

But Souji.

If Souji ever turned that kind of frigid, hateful gaze in his direction, if Souji ever spat words of vehemence to his face, behind his back, cursed his name as if he had the plague – or worse. If Souji ever looked at him with vacant eyes, with icy, empty apathy, glanced at him and saw only a waste of time and energy where friendship used to be, like Yosuke meant nothing to him…

You would break.

“YOSUKE!”

Yosuke yanks himself out of his thoughts with a physical jerk, nearly knocking back into Teddie right as the bear leans up to shout in his ear.

“Ted, hey!” he says, voice cracking and nearly loud enough to classify as a shout. He’s vaguely aware of the faint hysteria, the desperate edge of fear that colors his words, and he takes a step backwards, angling to the side a bit so that a perplexed Teddie is somewhat between him and the bathroom door. “Look, how about you go first and I’ll just go use the one downstairs, okay?” It’s okay, he tells himself; if the shower is still wet then he probably won’t even notice. The bathroom doesn’t smell like anything except soap. It’s okay. It’s okay. It’s okay…

He breathes in as deeply as he can without making it obvious. Holds it. Lets it out. All the while he focuses on keeping himself there in the hallway, present in his current reality at ass-o-clock in the morning with a clingy, long-limbed not-human suction cupped to his arm.

It’s okay, he repeats, and gradually his heart rate begins to slow.

Teddie, on the other hand, watches Yosuke silently, blond brows furrowed and lips pursed as if he’s trying to decipher Yosuke’s sudden shift in demeanor. He stays that way for a good minute or so as Yosuke gets a handle on his breathing, appraising Yosuke intensely with an expression that looks far too serious on such a young face.

Then, suddenly, as though someone has flipped a switch, his expression goes from fervent, focused confusion to a childish, almost comically melodramatic pout.

“But whyyyyyyyy?” he whines, long and loud, seemingly no longer concerned about Yosuke’s odd behavior. There is a hint of sulk in the bear’s voice, exactly like a kid that’s been denied something he wants and gets huffy when Mom tells him no. He frowns up at Yosuke with eyes that are clearly too wide and watery to be anything other than a ploy. “Teddie wants to go in together!”

Yosuke just blinks.

“…What.”

He opens his mouth to say something else, something that might better convey just how blindsided that comment has left him, but his entire body is running on next to no sleep and has had far too many bouts of anxiety to function properly at such an ungodly hour of the morning. All he can do for what seems like an embarrassingly long few seconds is work his jaw open and closed while his brain tries to come up with something coherent to say.

All that eventually comes out is a flat, “…I’m sorry, you want to do what?”

Teddie’s pout deepens. “Yosuke was going to go brush his teeth, right? This bear needs to brush his teeth, too, so I thought we could do it at the same time.” He tugs on Yosuke’s arm, leaning his weight back on his heels and holding on so that he can sway side-to-side, jostling a still-blank-screened Yosuke in the process. “Pleeeeeeease, Yosuke?” he begs, “Nana-chan said her friends Yoko and Tsukino are sisters and they do everything together, even brush their teeth, and Teddie wants to do that with his brother, too!”

That is… very much not what Yosuke was expecting.

“Brother?!” he sputters, brain finally kick-starting back to life a split-second too late behind his mouth. “Since when am I your brother?”

The abrupt shift from his earlier tide of panic to this leaves the space behind his eyes feeling pinched and tight; the culmination of too much weirdness and too little sleep. It isn’t that he hates the idea of being called “brother”, not really, and he’s pretty sure the both of them have been steadily heading towards this point for a while now – or, at least, the ever-increasing familiarity of having the bear around has grown into something he’d be hard pressed to feel normal without. But this is the first time it’s ever been acknowledged out loud, that Teddie himself has ever said anything of the sort, and to hear that he does, in fact, see Yosuke as family is… Well, not unwelcome, just thoroughly unexpected.

But Yosuke’s stumbling reaction must have come off as harsh and angry, rather than the shock that it actually is, because Teddie’s expression morphs from mopey and affronted to downright heartbroken right before Yosuke’s eyes. “Sensei and Nana-chan call each other ‘brother’ and ‘sister’…” he mumbles, voice timid and uncharacteristically sad. The faint sparkle of tears starts to gather in the corners of his eyes and suddenly Yosuke feels like a complete and total ass.

“Aw, Ted, no,” he says, and it sounds just a little nervous, just a little lost. He’s not used to comforting people – he’s not the person anyone usually seeks out for this kind of thing. More often than not, he’s the reason someone is upset in the first place.

He pats at Teddie’s head awkwardly. “C’mon, don’t do that.”

Not for the first time, Yosuke is reminded that Teddie really doesn’t have anybody outside of the Investigation Team and Nanako. Sure, Yosuke’s parents are letting the bear stay in their house, and his mom seems to have taken a bit of a shine to him and his eagerness to learn and help. But that’s not really the same as having friends or family. Teddie might have boundary issues (and even though it sucks, Yosuke can kind of forgive him for it because of how new Teddie is to the human world), but being constantly lonely and bored with nothing to do but study other people and wish you could have that level of connection is… Honestly, it sounds pretty awful.

Besides, Teddie idolizes Souji, looks up to him like a little kid would their childhood hero, and also utterly adores Nanako. It really shouldn’t have come as a surprise then, that the guy would eventually try and emulate their familial bond with the closest person to him, the one member of the group he actually lives with.

Yosuke stares down at Teddie’s watery little face and something in him shifts. Pity, he thinks at first, but that doesn’t seem right at all. It’s warmer than that, closer to the chest, and try as he might he can’t name it properly. Whatever it is, though, it fills the space from which Yosuke’s initial shock at being called “brother” out of nowhere is slowly starting to drain. The more he lets it sit, the easier it feels, the more natural – like putting a name to something that already existed, or like a stone in a foundation that was always there, just not quite in place until someone pressed in exactly the right spot.

He can’t even summon up the will to stay annoyed.

With a long, drawn out sigh, Yosuke puts a bit more pressure on Teddie’s hair and ruffles it beneath his palm. “You just surprised me, okay? You can…” He pauses, his mouth feeling funny, and glances away from the teary gaze angled up at him for a second before turning back, resigned – though not unhappy about it. “…You can call me that if you want, I guess.”

The rapid, complete reversal in Teddie’s mood is staggering, his dejected expression swiftly transforming into something blindingly bright and exuberant. “Just!” Yosuke starts, frantically cutting off whatever the bear is about to say. “Not where anyone else can hear you, alright?” Because really, it’s already hard enough trying to explain where Teddie came from to anyone that doesn’t know about the Midnight Channel; Yosuke doesn’t think he’d be able to come up with a new cover story if people start thinking he’s been hiding a secret younger sibling for the past year his family has been here. (And that’s not even counting the back bending he’d have to do if his parents overheard.)

Luckily Teddie doesn’t seem to mind this addendum at all, because suddenly there’s a scrawny pair of arms squeezing Yosuke’s middle like a ripe orange and Teddie is bawling into his shoulder for an entirely different reason. “OKAY!” he crows, thankfully muffled by Yosuke’s shirt.

Yosuke wheezes, teetering slightly as the hug knocks him off-balance. “Oh my god, Ted!” he croaks. It goes unheard.

The mascot-turned-humanoid peels his face up out of Yosuke’s side and grins at him with the brilliance of a flickering star, eyes still shining with happy tears. “I promise, Yosuke-nii! Teddie will be the best little bear-ther ever!”

Yosuke winces at the volume so close to his ears. “Okay,” he huffs, “alright, cool, awesome, just get off!” He paws at Teddie’s arms to try and dislodge them and alleviate the pressure from around his ribs. For someone made up of air and cotton roughly seventy-five percent of the time, Teddie has a surprisingly strong grip. “Seriously, Ted, that hurts.”

Teddie gives him one last tight squeeze before letting him go, and Yosuke damn near topples over at the sudden loss of bear propping him up. He shoots the little blond anomaly an unamused look that Teddie seems far too gleeful to notice. Or if he does, he pays it no attention whatsoever.

Teddie twirls past Yosuke and into the bathroom, snagging Yosuke’s sleeve as he goes and tugging on it with a grin that could cause tooth decay. “Come on, come on! You’re gonna be late again!” he calls, sing-songing like it’s the most typical morning in all the waking world.

Yosuke stands there in the doorway for a moment longer, watching as Teddie grabs a nearby washcloth and douses it under the sink faucet before slapping it over his face with a resounding, soggy ‘smack!” Yosuke stifles a laugh.

Maybe he should be more put out, Yosuke thinks with just a hint of fondness, but he’d be lying if he said he wasn’t even a teensy bit glad to have the damn bear around sometimes, despite how rambunctious he can be. He finds it especially true in the moments of deafening quiet, when the household’s collective schedules refuse to line up and Yosuke is left on his own with a mind that likes to eat itself. He understands “lonely”, he understands “sad”, and if his first-ever encounter with Jirya is anything to go by, he more than understands that bored, restless feeling that comes with being alone.

“Yosuke-nii?” Teddie calls again, testing out the new moniker with obvious glee.

Shaking his head, Yosuke lets out a long, overdramatic noise from the back of his throat and rolls his eyes to hide the tiny, warm smile that threatens to lift at the corner of his mouth. “Alright, fine!” he grouses, though there’s no real heat behind it. “Just don’t hog the sink.”

He moves to follow after his unofficial sibling, hesitating for only a moment just inside the bathroom door before sucking in a steadying breath through his nose and stepping the rest of the way inside. Teddie once again doesn’t notice – nor does he even so much as glance at the shower, much to Yosuke’s relief. Instead, the bear gets to work making a mess of the counter as he squirts far too much toothpaste over the bristles of his cartoon-bear-covered yellow and blue toothbrush. Yosuke, for his part, simply lets out a quiet, “ug, gross,” and pretends to shove Teddie out of the way as he reaches for his own toothbrush. He has to keep up appearances, after all.

And hey, he’s always secretly kind of wanted a little brother.

As they both settle in to what remains of their morning prep, (with Teddie absolutely hogging the sink) Yosuke finds he feels a weird sense of calm. It sinks into his skin like an ointment, smoothing over the last jagged dregs of his anxiety from before and effectively shielding his mind from thoughts of shame and vivid dreams.

The wariness still lingers slightly; he can feel it humming like a distant storm if he thinks about it too hard for just a second too long. It’s seeped around the edges like a stain and colors the new, easier atmosphere with the faintest hint of dingy yellow. To make sure it doesn’t spread, Yosuke unconsciously keeps himself close to the doorway with Teddie between him and the shower. He doesn’t look over at it, only lets it glint in the corner of his eye whenever he turns to jostle Teddie with his elbow or give him a look for trying to speak with a mouth full of toothpaste. Every time he catches sight of the white tile just beyond his boisterous little brother’s head, Yosuke instinctively keeps his vision blurry and turns back towards the sink.

---

The stain begins to bleed further in the longer the morning goes on.

It starts out okay. Teddie talks Yosuke’s ear off like the endless vat of energy that he is, reveling in his newfound status as an unofficially-official member of the family and effectively keeping Yosuke’s nerves at bay as they finish up in the bathroom. Nothing else of note takes place.

There is a fleeting moment as they make their way downstairs where Yosuke remembers his earlier fear of finding an irate parent waiting to confront him, but the moment he touches down on the final stair and finds the rest of the house dark and empty, the vice around his lungs eases away. There is no surprise altercation; no one jumps out from around a corner to call Yosuke out for his late-night bathing habits. There isn’t even so much as a post-it from his mother stuck to the fridge like he’d been so convinced there would be not twenty minutes before. No one knows, he tells his anxious mind, breathing out the last of the stiffness in his limbs.

Yosuke switches on the lights and helps Teddie rifle around in the kitchen for something that can function as breakfast. Their search is decently fruitful, if a bit lackluster, but given that neither of them are much good at anything requiring more commitment than a microwave, it’s really not too bad. By the time Teddie shoves him out the door with one last bone-breaking hug and a joyous, “Bye, Yosuke-niiiiiiiiiiii!!” they are both at least fed.

The first part of the walk goes pretty smoothly as well. Yosuke plugs in his headphones and fires up the new album he’d downloaded over the weekend but never got a chance to listen to. He walks in time to the beat, still feeling the warmth in his chest from earlier, and makes the mistake of letting himself believe that maybe today won’t be so bad after all.

Then he gets to the spot where he and Souji usually wait for one another.

He’s already slowing to a stop as he approaches, hands reaching up out of habit to tug the headphones away from his ears and eyes automatically scanning the area for a head of familiar silver hair. It doesn’t register at first what he’s doing – every action born from muscle memory after weeks and months of the same damn thing; it’s only as he’s pulling his phone out of his pocket to check the time that he remembers.

He remembers that Souji still hasn’t texted him back after vanishing and scaring Yosuke half to death. He remembers that Souji wasn’t in school yesterday, that Naoto had acted as his mouthpiece and spouted some story about Souji being sick that just didn’t add up no matter how much Yosuke tried to work it out. He remembers the worry, the fear, the helplessness of not being able to do anything to help or even locate his best friend, followed by the hurt and frustration and the bitter, niggling anxiety in the back of his skull over the course of the past couple of days.

He remembers that he’d been upset with Souji for not trusting him enough to tell him what was wrong. He’d felt a little betrayed, angry even, though he hadn’t exactly wanted to acknowledge either emotion because he didn’t want to think about what it said about him. He remembers feeling guilty because of it, anxious and paranoid that he was overreacting but also too sure that Souji had been acting out of character to take any kind of self-depreciating comfort in the thought. He feels his gut turn.

What if Souji wasn’t in school again today? What if Naoto had been wrong or only placating them when they’d said Souji would probably be back? What if something really was super wrong, and his partner had just decided to shut him out without giving Yosuke a chance to help? Or what if Souji had just decided he didn’t want to deal with anyone anymore – didn’t want to deal with him.

Yosuke shakes his head, careful not to accidentally throw himself off-balance and step into the street. He can’t let himself think like that; it’s unfair to Souji and to Naoto and, well, probably just about everybody on the team to think that Souji suddenly just hates someone (him) or is leaving them all in the dark on purpose, picking out favorites because he doesn’t trust. That’s not who Souji is, it never has been in all the time that Yosuke has known him. Even with the anxiety, Yosuke at least is confident that his partner isn’t secretly a horrible, manipulative person at heart. After all, Souji has seen the worst parts of all of them and never so much as flinched.

So no, if Souji isn’t at school again today then that means something really is wrong, and shame on Yosuke for making it all about himself and his insecurities.

Mood soured and self-dislike rearing its ugly head once more, Yosuke stuffs his phone back into his pocket and tugs the headphones up to try and drown out the darkening thoughts. But it doesn’t work. He cranks the volume up, almost loud enough to hurt his ears, but no matter how loud he makes it there is still the tiny, mocking voice at the base of his skull that whispers just above the music and gnaws incessantly at his nerves.

You’re a terrible partner, it whispers. Look at you, always trying to play the victim. You can’t even be worried about your best friend without turning it into a pity party, can you?

He turns the music up higher, crossing his arms tightly over his chest and hunching inward as if he can somehow make himself small enough to hide from his own mind.

You’re just going to ruin everything like you always do. You push and you whine until nobody can stand you anymore. That’s why Souji isn’t speaking to you.

Shaky, anxious energy tingles its way down Yosuke’s legs, settles in his bones like a live current through a power line.

Maybe it’ll be a good thing if he doesn’t show up to school – you really want him to see your shitty self-absorption? Cuz he will. You know he will; it’s Souji, nothing gets past him. He’ll take one look at you and he’ll know.

Yosuke lurches forward like he’s been shoved, cramming his hands into his pockets and hurrying away from the meet-up spot without even a final glance around to see if his partner is nearby. A part of him hopes that Souji isn’t, that he’s already gone on ahead without waiting for Yosuke, or that he’s still somewhere far off behind, not yet close to where the pair of them usually meet.

He strides off in the direction of the high school as quickly as he can without actually breaking into a sprint and keeps his head bowed as if he can out-pace the anxiety and leave the voice behind.

It’s almost a relief when Yosuke walks into the classroom and sees the desk in front of his own still as empty as his inbox.

He slides in through the door much earlier than he’d expected – a testament to just how fast he’d been power-walking the entire second half of his trek. It isn’t too early, a good two thirds of his classmates seem to be already in the room, but it’s early enough that he’s almost thrown off by how much he doesn’t have to scramble to his seat to beat the bell.

Chie and Yukiko greet him as he sits, Yukiko with a polite nod and quiet, “Good morning, Yosuke-kun,” and Chie with a quip about him not being late for once. He pretends to feel more indignant than he really is and shoots her a half-hearted retort. To Yukiko, he raises a hand in a lackluster wave and mumbles out something that hopefully passes as cheery. If the girls glance at one another after he turns to sling his bag off his shoulder then he pays it no mind. He can play it off as being tired if either of them ask.

They don’t. The odd looks last for a few moments more before the girls return to their previous discussion, seemingly from where they left off. Yosuke busies himself with unpacking his school bag and largely tunes them out.

More students file in. The clock above the door continues to tick, minute hand sluggishly moving ever closer to the start of class. Souji doesn’t show. The door opens and closes several more times and a handful of people enter while a few more leave – likely visiting their friends from another classroom. Souji still doesn’t show. Eventually, the students milling around the edges of the room start to find their seats and the noise in the hallway begins to die down a little as surrounding classes do the same. Souji still doesn’t show. Chie says more words to Yosuke and he responds when prompted, but he’s too busy pretending not to watch the door to ever fully join in on the conversation. And Souji. Doesn’t. Show.

A strange mix of relief and dread starts to form in Yosuke’s gut. There isn’t much time left before the teacher is due to arrive, and while the sarcastic, scornful voice that followed him from the meet-up point has thankfully quieted down now that Yosuke has the classroom as a distraction, the tempest of negativity still remains. Guilty as he feels for admitting it, he’s glad that Souji isn’t currently here; Yosuke is still a mess of conflicting emotions from the past couple of days – let alone this morning – and he has no idea how he’d handle actually seeing his partner in person. On the other hand, as the minutes eek by and it looks increasingly likely that no other students will be coming in, Yosuke’s concern for his best friend’s wellbeing swells like a rising tide, threatening to spill over and send him sinking once again. Guilt for his relief wars with the apprehension in his heart, leaving him balanced on he edge of something he cannot see the bottom of.

It’s like being lost without even a single star to guide him home.

He’s so busy focusing on his own inner turmoil that Yosuke almost misses the sound of the door opening, almost misses the quiet, moon-colored figure that slips into the room like a spectre until they’re silently easing into the chair directly in front of him. Yosuke startles as the figure turns in their seat to offer a nod to Chie and Yukiko, then back around to give him one as well.

Souji.

Souji is back in school today.

And he looks like absolute hell.

It’s the little things about him, the chips and cracks that Yosuke can see all over his partner’s finely-crafted mask of normalcy. There is a careful tension in the way he holds himself, a tightness to the line of his shoulders that speaks of carefully controlled anxiety, of exhaustion hidden down deep below the surface. Yosuke knows, he can see this and recognize it because now he knows what to look for. Up close he can see the remnants of dark circles below Souji’s eyes, faint and faded, just a hint of purple below tissue paper skin. It’s the same thing Yosuke sees on himself in the mirror after a too-long shift at work for the second day in a row.

He scans Souji’s features as the other boy smiles at the three of them. The tit of Souji’s lips is all wrong; the smile is pulled too far out along the corners and not upward like it should be if it were really real. It doesn’t reach his eyes, either, and seems to tremble the longer it stays on. His skin also looks ashen around the corners – a subtle sign of sleep deprivation that Yosuke knows all too well.

(He can’t remember ever noticing his partner looking this way before. He’s ashamed to admit that he doesn’t know if that’s because Souji’s just never looked this bad or if Yosuke’s just never looked.)

Yosuke thinks of all the times he’s been running on empty and feeling like he wants to drop, but can’t because there’s still several hours left of his shift and he has to pretend he’s perfectly fine. It’s always then that the stern, gossipy, angry old women decide to come up to him, to crowd him into a corner and make demands he cannot fulfill or intimidate him just because they think they can. Yosuke knows what it feels like to have to hold his Customer Service smile in place and keep a tight reign on his positive façade – just so they don’t pick up on his exhaustion and desperation to just go home and exploit the weakness as if it were blood in the water.

That’s what Souji looks like to him.

As horrible as it is, Yosuke has the pageant to thank for being able to notice the way his best friend is miles away from okay. Granted, he looks a fuck ton better than he did the day he went sprinting past Yosuke in the hallway, eyes wild and panicked. But that’s exactly why Yosuke can see what he sees now; because now that he’s caught of glimpse of what Souji looks like when his usual stoicism and quiet solidity are fractured, Yosuke doesn’t think he’ll ever be able to not notice it again.

Souji turns slightly at the waist to aim his surface-level smile in Yosuke’s direction, having just finished showing it to Yukiko and Chie. Yosuke catches the way Souji’s eyes seem to linger on him – just for a second – and Yosuke tries to meet them, hold them, in the hopes of finding some kind of genuine emotion hidden inside, but Souji flicks his gaze down just slightly, before turning away and facing the front of the room.

The teacher walks in a moment later and any chance of getting Souji’s attention again is lost for the rest of the morning.

---

The rest of the day is a complete and total disaster.

Yosuke barely gets a chance to talk to Souji during lunch, and for the little bit he does, Souji essentially says the exact same thing that Naoto had said the day before. Under normal circumstances this might not have raised any flags in Yosuke’s head, but the way that Souji “explains” the events of the last couple of days seems more like he’s building off of something rather than recounting it. Once again there’s an odd disconnect with the timeline.

But Yosuke doesn’t know how to call him on it. He keeps his eyes trained on his best friend’s face, scrutinizing Souji’s expression as if he can pick out the missing information from the way Souji doesn’t quite meet anyone’s eyes. There is a strange fluttering in his stomach as he watches – one that gets stronger every time he notices yet another minute detail that speaks of just how not-right his partner is below the surface.

It isn’t even that Souji looks like he’s been horribly sick, which, again, Yosuke doesn’t wish for but would at least lend credit to the story that both Naoto and Souji have given. He does look very much like he hasn’t slept properly, so that part at least is obviously true, but to say that physical illness is the reason for everything is just… it doesn’t fit. No, instead there is a sort of quiet jitteriness to Souji’s entire being; one that screams of trepidation, like Souji is afraid of something as he speaks. He’s also keeping things purposefully vague– not so much that it’s obvious, but Yosuke has acted as Souji’s second for far too long now not to be able to spot the discrepancies in his partner’s patterns. He’s spent months being hyper-tuned to Souji as their commander; he’s a little miffed at himself for never thinking to use that same skill outside the TV until now.

Yukiko is the one that brings up how sudden Souji’s disappearance had been. Souji’s poker face twitches just barely, but it’s enough that Yosuke, close as he is, can spot the split-second ripple on the mirror-smooth expression Souji’s holding in place. Chie picks up the thread that Yukiko began and carries it with a nod of agreement, throwing in a statement of her own.

Yosuke grabs at the end of the conversation thread, seizing his chance and hastening to remind the other boy of how he’d witnessed him tearing down the hallway before Souji can even so much as open his mouth to respond. He purses his lips and stares at Souji as if he can make his friend meet his eyes by sheer force of will. “Seriously, bro,” he adds, silently praying he can call his partner out and have it work. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you move that fast.”

Souji flicks his focus over, more like an unconscious tic than anything deliberate, and for the tiniest of moments his gaze connects with Yosuke’s before Souji’s cloud-grey eyes flick away again and back to the space just behind Yosuke’s right shoulder. It’s faster than a well-aimed Zio, but not quite fast enough for Yosuke to completely miss the flash of rabbit-like fear that’s hiding just behind Souji’s manufactured expression. The sight of it twists in Yosuke’s chest like a sewing bobbin wound nearly tight enough to snap.

Look at me, he thinks, desperate with rekindled anger and hurt. Talk to me, damnit, I was worried about you!

But he doesn’t say it out loud. He can’t, because he doesn’t know how – doesn’t know how to call his friend out for giving half-truths at best, doesn’t know how to ask Souji outright what’s going on. He’s terrified, both of making a nuisance of himself like he did with Saki-senpai and also of Souji pulling away from him and never telling him why. If Souji needs him, then Yosuke wants to help. But that means, too, that Souji needs to need him.

Because which is worse: being an annoyance or simply not being needed?

He quickly stomps that question down and grits his teeth against it.

Something desperate and frustrated claws its way up Yosuke’s throat in retaliation, and before Yosuke can stop himself he’s biting back an accusation, masking it at the last moment by making a joke at Kanji’s expense. It scalds him as he says it, like a swallow of too-hot water, but say it he does. He doesn’t even know why, it just… comes out; like a knee-jerk reaction to the feeling of being attacked, even if it’s by his own mind and not by any external force.

Souji’s expression turns to stone.

From that point on the discussion steadily decays. Chie smacks at Yosuke and Souji takes the chance to quickly throw up a wall. He deflects, changing his expression as if he’s swapping a Persona in battle, apologizing and smiling his fake, shaky smile and decidedly not giving any straight answers. The conversation winds around like a river until the details of the beauty pageant make their way to the front, where Yosuke, in his embarrassment and blind mess of confusing emotions, manages to trip headlong into his own stupidity.

Chie smacks at him again while Yukiko hisses something low and threatening that he probably deserves, and by the time Yosuke is able to fend them off, Souji has already made his escape. Yosuke slumps back into his seat, defeated and upset. There’s no point in going after his partner, he knows, because Souji has already proven his ability to vanish without a trace.

With his scalp still stinging from Chie’s knuckles, Yosuke sinks lower in his chair and folds his arms tightly over his chest as he sulks, teeth grinding as he attempts to tune out the girls’ indignation. He allows the acrid disappointment and dejection to fester – he’s sick of trying to reel it back in at this point, considering he’s still running on only a couple of hours of sleep. Chie and Yukiko finally turn away from him and Yosuke stares at the blackboard without seeing it until his vision starts to blur.

Souji does eventually come back, of course, once lunch ends, but by then Yosuke is too embittered to care. He sits behind his partner (though he’s questioning if it can really be called an equal partnership right about now) and stares at the back of Souji’s head like it’s personally done him wrong. It’s how he feels at the moment, anyway.

Under usual circumstances, Yosuke would be a ball of erratic energy – finding ways to poke and prod at Souji to get his attention. Because Yosuke is needy, he knows he’s needy, and Souji is the best friend he’s ever had, so it just makes sense that Yosuke would want his attention all the time. He doesn’t like how needy he is (it’s cost him friendships before), but he’s stopped trying to deny or fight it. He’s seen first hand what the outcome of that can be.

But today he doesn’t do any of that. He can’t even bring himself to slip his friend a note, just to pass the time; he’s still too upset. It’s probably just paranoia, the product of anxiety and too many bad experiences with people throwing him away, and he’s aware that his reaction is most likely childish. Pettiness runs in his nature, though, when he’s hurt, and it’s just one more thing that Yosuke has come to terms with but cannot disengage from entirely. Something else he doesn’t like about himself – surprise, surprise.

Classes start and classes end and Yosuke’s mind wanders into dark places. He would try and nap, maybe, since he’s more worn out than he thinks he’s ever been outside from fighting in the TV world. However, though his body protests the lack of sleep, his mind keeps circling. So Yosuke sits and thinks, switching between being irritated with Souji for shutting him out – even if his partner really is just recovering from a messed-up stomach – to being hurt all over again to blaming himself. What did he do so wrong that Souji ignored him for two days straight? Does Souji just not trust him anymore? Did he ever?

And oh, that last one stings.

Yosuke’s emotions swing back around to frustration then; if Yosuke really did screw up somewhere, then how the hell is he supposed to know what not to do if Souji won’t talk to him? If Souji doesn’t trust him, if Souji never did, then what the actual fuck? Just… what the fuck?! No matter what way Yosuke turns this situation over in his mind he can’t seem to untangle any of it. He doesn’t know if he should apologize for something or if he should be expecting another apology from Souji. By the time there’s only half an hour left of school Yosuke is damn near ready to grab his partner by the shoulders and shake him, or corner Souji so that he can’t run away again, pin him to a wall and press in close until Souji’s has nowhere to focus his eyes except for him.

He lets himself picture it, plays the imaginary confrontation out like a movie in his head. He could grab Souji as he’s getting ready to leave and drag his partner back into the classroom after all the other students file out. Or better yet, he could trap Souji in an empty bathroom stall, maybe, could catch him as he’s passing by and push the other boy backwards so that Souji can’t duck around him to escape. Yosuke could slam his hands against the wall on either side of Souji’s waist, keep him there between his arms, press a knee between his partner’s legs, lean in to drag his teeth along the sensitive skin of Souji’s throat—

FUCK.

Yosuke startles so badly that he nearly jerks back in his seat. He just barely avoids bashing his ankle into the leg of Souji’s chair on accident, yanking his foot to the side last second and smacking his shin on his own desk instead as images from last night come roaring back into his head like a tsunami. Souji pinned beneath him. Souji with his breath gasping and his cheeks flushed red. Souji staring up at Yosuke with foggy, half-lidded eyes.

Yosuke feels the awful telltale rush of warmth as the blood in his body tries to migrate down.

You jerked off to the thought of your best friend last night in the shower, sing-songs the gnashing, sarcastic voice from the depths of his mind, mocking him as he tries to subtly squeeze his thighs together to discourage his traitorous dick. He grits his teeth in desperation, guilt and fear and self-disgust roiling low in his stomach, and silently prays for class to somehow end early.

Souji twitches in front of him, no doubt having heard the muffled ‘thud’ from where Yosuke had bashed his leg, and shifts like he’s going to turn over his shoulder to glance back Yosuke’s way.

A bubbling wave of panic rises up inside Yosuke’s chest, sending his already-fluttering heart into overdrive. The voice inside his head hisses, whispering anxious, frantic things like, he knows what you did, he knows what you just thought, he knows! all layered over top of one another like ripples in the rain. Yosuke feels his blood freeze, all the heat in his body not currently in his lap now rushing to his face in sheer mortification and dread.

Don’t look at me, please don’t look at me!

He isn’t sure if he’s more afraid of the other boy seeing right through him or of his own reaction at the sight of Souji’s face; he doesn’t trust his mind right now not to overlay the Souji from last night’s dream across the one in front of him. In the back of his head he shamefully wonders if it’s possible to be terrified and turned on at the same time. He squeezes his thighs tighter together and tries to circumvent his body’s attempts to find out.

As if some divine entity has heard him, the teacher turns around from writing on the chalkboard right as Souji is twisting his spine to look back in Yosuke’s direction, effectively halting Souji’s movement and leaving him to hurriedly realign himself facing forward. Yosuke lets out a quiet sigh of relief and slumps down in his chair once more. He ignores the sidelong glance that Chie sends his way and concentrates on slowing his heartbeat to a more reasonable level, hoping the flow of blood redirects itself as the steady pounding of his pulse sluggishly decelerates.

That was fucking close.

Yosuke’s jaw hurts from how he’s been clenching it by the time the warmth finally returns to his fingers. They shake with unspent adrenaline as he waits for the teacher to turn back around, discreetly grabbing his things and shoving them into his bag the moment her gaze is turned. As soon as the final bell sounds, right as Souji is twisting around again and offering him that bright, tired smile, Yosuke is on his feet and swinging his bag over his shoulder. He blurts out a quick goodbye and an “I’m glad you’re better, dude!” before dashing out the door like he’s running several years behind schedule, pants still feeling just barely too tight for the speed with which he walks.

He tells himself he’s just imagining the way the faint light in Souji’s face seems to dim as Yosuke all but jogs out into the safety of the hall.

---

Yosuke’s shift that night at Junes is only made survivable because of Teddie.

The living mascot is still riding the emotional high from that morning and takes happy advantage of every moment that their paths seem to cross while Yosuke works the grocery department and Teddie the one just beyond. Every free moment he has, he’s gluing himself to Yosuke’s side, which Yosuke would be lying if he said he wasn’t secretly happy about. As annoying as his new little brother can be, it’s nice to feel needed, wanted, especially now, and Yosuke is thankful for the (very successful) distraction Teddie’s ravenous desire for his attention provides. They wind up getting a few odd looks here and there but his dad never comes by to see what the ruckus is about, so for once, Yosuke is able to force himself not to notice the hardened gazes thrown his way.

The problem is, Teddie can’t be around him the entire time he’s there – even with the bear sneaking over to the canned goods aisle every chance he gets. After all, Teddie doesn’t go to school and thus has been on shift for a lot longer than Yosuke has. Stall as he might, eventually the kid is required (and deserves) to go on his dinner break, leaving Yosuke all alone with his thoughts. Even worse, it’s the part of the night that has a short lull in activity – the hour or so in between when people get off work and when they actually go out to start shopping for ingredients for dinner – so there aren’t even really any customers to deal with to keep Yosuke’s mind from edging off into dangerously dark territory. It makes him anxious all over again; even a testy old housewife or disgruntled off-duty cop would be preferable to being left alone.

Because it’s when Yosuke is alone that the voice returns to his mind and whispers seeds of doubt and condescension into his ears.

Dirty, it sneers while he’s rearranging a stack of cans from this week’s “featured brand.”

Disgusting, it hisses and nearly makes him drop an entire armload onto his own foot.

Pervert, it mocks as he gives up and shoves everything he’d been holding onto the first shelf he can find.

Every time it speaks it gets harsher, more insistent, angrier, until it becomes nigh on impossible to focus on anything else. It’s everything he’s ever been afraid of himself becoming – other than the needy, clingy mess he already acknowledges he is – and it rattles around in his skull, getting louder and louder as the minutes tick by with nothing to occupy his thoughts beyond his own quagmire of self depreciation. He can feel it weighing heavily across his shoulders like a blanket made of stones, settling into his stomach and solidifying as if he’d swallowed cement.

It starts off quietly, too, almost so much that he doesn’t spot it at first, not until it’s too late to head it off. The guilt trickles in like an infection, like a seeping sickness, and by the time Yosuke has noticed its presence it’s brought along the doubt, the fear, the feeling of something grimy stuck to Yosuke’s skin like a thick layer of mud. It colors his vision, tugs at his Customer Service smile until it’s only held in place by sheer muscle memory, even as Yosuke’s insides start to burn and it nearly topples him over with the force of its reveal. He tries to push it aside, tries to ignore it or make it go away; it hangs on with poisoned claws and digs them deeper every time he thinks he’s managed to start to pull them out.

Remember what you did? the voice cackles over and over again. Remember how you enjoyed it?

And in the moments of silence when no one is nearby to keep him out of his own head, Yosuke does.

He thinks about all the sensations the dream had brought along with it, the ones that had stayed with him in the shower long after he’d woken up. He thinks about how good they had been, how he’d come to with the feel of Souji’s hair between his fingers, Souji’s lips against his own – not just the sex but the little things surrounding it as well. He thinks and thinks and thinks and then thinks again about how he’d been in class earlier that very day and wanted nothing more than to lean forward and press his face against the back of his partner’s shoulder.

He’d wanted to kiss Souji.

Yosuke ducks around the side of an aisle and leans against it for support as he lets the careening train of through go crashing through his head. The track behind it blazes bright and turns to ash.

GOD.

Yosuke runs his hands down his face.

He’d had a sex dream about his best friend. He’d orgasmed to the thought of his best friend. And not only that, but he’d actively been unable to think about anything else – even thinking of nothing hadn’t helped.

He feels his breathing start to quicken, catching in his chest at the end of each jerky inhale. Is he broken? Is there something horribly wrong with him that he can’t even get off to the thought of girls anymore? Is he just so irreparably desperate for Souji’s attention that he’d somehow cracked himself the moment his partner had stopped talking to him for a few days?

And even besides the fact that it was Souji that Yosuke had been picturing, that it was his closest companion and a guy, there is still another, almost more pressing concern that Yosuke finds himself circling around to now that the initial disgust and self-loathing has made itself apparent.

What does any of that say about him personally? What if it was just some weird fixation with the one person he’s ever felt this close to? Some need to be relevant? Is it even actually Souji that Yosuke’s brain has apparently latched onto now, or is it simply the ever-present yearning for someone, anyone to want him around that had placed his partner’s face, his voice, his body over top Yosuke’s pathetic need for validation? Saki-senpai’s echoing, shadowy voice had described Yosuke as a stray puppy once, months ago in the dark and twisted nether-world version of the Konishi family liquor store. He doesn’t want to admit it, but he knows she was probably right.

He does, after all, have a bit of an unfortunate track record with letting people use him.

Souji is kind to him. Souji is always there for him, always makes time for him; is it too far a stretch to think that maybe Yosuke is addicted to being treated like an actual person? That everything that’s happened in the last 24 hours is the product of Yosuke simply enjoying the attention and getting freaked when it’s suddenly taken away for even a moment? Maybe Yosuke really is like a whining dog, attaching himself to the first person to give him any sort of positive attention and getting under their feet, regardless of who the person is.

Maybe it’s Yosuke that now thinks of Souji as something to use, like everyone in the city used to do to him.

(And oh god, does he have to lean the rest of his weights against the endcap to keep himself standing when that particular thought crops up and knocks the wind clean out of his lungs. He thinks for a moment that he might even be physically sick.)

From that point forward, the rest of the night is left in shambles. Teddie’s break stretches on impractically long and Yosuke’s mind chews away at itself, sending him into an abyss of negativity while he turns everything over in his head until his head feels dizzy and his stomach feels nauseous.

Pathetic.

You’re so pathetic.

You can’t even pick apart what you’re repressing so that you can stop repressing it. What the fuck is wrong with you?

(He doesn’t have an answer. He doesn’t have any answers.)

You’re gonna wind up friendless again. You’re gonna scare him away and he’s going to hate you forever. After everything you’ve said about Kanji, now you’ve gone and done the same fucking thing you’re so goddamn worried some other guy is gonna try and do to you.

You hypocrite.

You sicko.

You dirty fucking homo.

Yosuke has to run to take a ten-minute break of his own, locking himself in the storeroom with wet-hot blurring vision until the bile in his throat stops burning at the backs of his teeth.

He doesn’t sleep much again that night either. He’s too afraid of the dreams returning to properly rest, but too emotionally wrung out and exhausted to do anything other than lay there and stare up at the ceiling until his alarm goes off for school.

Yosuke avoids Souji completely after that.

Wednesday is almost worse than Tuesday had been, because now that Yosuke knows Souji is back at school he has to actively take measures to evade him. He makes it a point not to go anywhere near the spot along the road where he and Souji would normally catch up to one another and walk the rest of the way. He can’t risk it, can’t give the voice in his head a new chance to spew its venom into his brain cells. So instead, he cranks up his music until his ears are ringing and wills his legs to move faster, ducking into a side street and taking an alternate path to school. Just in case the focus of his mental torment is anywhere nearby.

Because even as bad as the voice is, Yosuke just… He can’t face Souji.

It isn’t that he doesn’t want to see him (he really does, he’d missed his partner while Souji had been absent and unresponsive), but every time he thinks of his friend the images in his mind come filtering back in, tinting his thoughts with increasingly vivid scenarios. It’s almost like a floodgate has been opened, one that Yosuke not only doesn’t know how to close but also didn’t even know was there until it had all come crashing down. It’s almost unbearable.

So no. He can’t face Souji. Not yet. Not right now.

Not until he’s pieced himself back together and there’s nothing left for Souji to know and hate him for.

Yosuke hangs back at the school gates when he reaches them, picking his way carefully around the side of the front walkway to minimize his visibility just in case Souji is still inside by the shoe lockers. Only once he’s certain enough time has passed does Yosuke actually enter the building. He switches out his shoes as fast as he can and darts to the very end of the hall to the far staircase – the one he knows Souji is less likely to use while heading up for class – where he then loiters in the darkened corner of the stairwell, peeking around the side of the hall like he’s back on the stakeout with Chie all those months ago. He stays there, hiding, not even bothering to acknowledge the people around him as they pass him by, until he finally catches sight of that signature ethereal silver disappearing into the classroom. The crowd surges, then thins, then becomes a trickle, and all the while Yosuke remains in the safety of the hallway, only leaving his place in the stairwell when the final bell is about to sound and he has absolutely no other choice.

He slips into the classroom from the door in the back and tries to move as stealthily as he can to avoid alerting the boy in the desk in front of his own to his presence. He sits, shoots Yukiko and Chie a robotic nod in greeting, and for the rest of the time before the lunch break, he stares longingly at the back of Souji’s head and avidly pretends he doesn’t see the other boy glancing at him whenever the teacher isn’t looking directly their way.

He bolts for the bathroom the moment the lunch bell rings.

He doesn’t have a shift that night but he says he does anyway. He lies straight to Souji’s face (well, not straight to his face, Yosuke babbles it out as he’s shoving his notebook into his bag and blatantly avoiding looking at his best friend’s crumbling expression,) before heading out the door so fast he nearly stumbles. He can hear a couple of short, indignant noises from behind him – likely Chie – but he doesn’t so much as look.

He goes home and locks himself in his room, piling up under every cover he owns and cranking the volume on his headphones up as high as it will go.

He falls asleep anyway.

He dreams again – though nowhere as graphically as before. It’s muted somehow, less like he’s dreaming and more like his brain is simply cycling through all the thoughts Yosuke has been unable to drive away for the past couple of days. He still wakes up hard, gasping, frantic in his embarrassment and his confusion, kicking off the sheets and leaning back against the headboard until his heart stops trying to burst out through his chest. He’s still shaky, still guilty, still fucked up over how much he wishes it actually had been more graphic.

He doesn’t dare go down the mental rabbit hole of trying to suss out what all of that actually says about him.

There is a faint buzz from the nightstand beside him and he forces himself to move, to tug the headphones from his ears – the player long since drained of battery after running for several continuous hours – and shove them out of his way along the mattress. He rolls over to make a grab for where his phone sits blinking at him, his eyes still adjusting to the dim light in the room around him. (It takes him a good minute to realize that the sun has gone down outside his window, leaving the room only just barely lit with the fading blue-and-golden glow on the horizon.)

Yosuke nearly drops the phone twice before he finally manages to get a decent grip on it, his fingers still trembling from the adrenaline rush he’d suffered upon waking. With his body not obeying him and his mind still halfway lost in fleeting visions of his best friend’s skin, Yosuke has to stare at the device in his hand for several long seconds before he can make out the words scrolling across the screen.

8 missed messages.

All from Chie.

Meat-Fu: Hey you jerk u didn’t even say goodbye! Rude!

Meat-Fu: What gives anyway? Thought u’d b all over Souji-kun by now.

Meat-Fu: Is something going on? Did u 2 fight?

Meat-Fu: Just went by Junes & guess what? Teddie said u don’t work 2night.

Meat-Fu: U wanna explain that 1? Y’d u lie?

Meat-Fu: Yosuke? U better read these or I’ll kick ur ass.

Meat-Fu: U’ve been acting rlly weird. R u ok?

Yosuke groans and covers his eyes with his forearm. He doesn’t have the mental capacity to deal with this just yet. Quickly tapping at the keyboard, he types out a short, noncommittal deflection in the hopes of heading off any more incoming headache she might send his way. Chie is persistent, he knows, and if he doesn’t give her at least some kind of response then she might just come and kick down his front door. He has no desire to explain that to his parents.

Yosuke: lol geez chie take it ez

Yosuke: I goofed n got the days wrong thats all

He doesn’t get an immediate reply (for which he is very grateful), but the anxiety starts to creep in low in his lungs anyway. There is still adrenaline in his blood from the… everything, so the jittery, unsteady buzzing under his skin is still somewhat present even now. It adds on to the newer trickle of dread and brings it out just a little stronger.

He doesn’t really like that he’s just lied to Chie again, especially when she’d seemed at least somewhat genuinely worried (with Chie it’s hard to tell), but he doesn’t know what to say. Should he tell her he’d made up the work excuse so that he could bail as quick as possible and avoid being around his partner, whom he’s been having gay dreams about?

Hell. Fucking. No.

So a lie it is. A lie on top of a lie on top of everything else. Because why not. Yosuke makes a helpless noise in the back of his throat and flips his phone shut so he doesn’t have to look at his own texts anymore.

He’s just about to stuff his phone under the pillow and go back to hating his life in the dark when he spots the little red envelope still starting at him from the phone screen.

1 missed message.

Confused, he goes back to Chie’s string of texts. No, he’s pretty sure he read all these, and it doesn’t look like Chie has responded yet. But then he counts them and realizes that out of the eight messages the notification said before, Chie’s only sent him seven. His anxiety pulses again.

Throat suddenly tight, Yosuke hits the button and goes back to the inbox.

Prtnr – 1

Shit.

It’s like the universe is just straight up out to get him, because Yosuke can’t stop the way his stomach flips (not even remotely unpleasantly) upon seeing his best friend’s name in the inbox for the first time in days. His hands start to shake all over again and now he can’t even tell if it’s from an unfamiliar form of fear or if it’s the last piece of his mind still wrapped up in the string of images that had plagued him while he stress-napped.

Get a damn grip, he scolds himself, though even in his head the words do nothing to help. It’s just a text from Souji. Isn’t that what you’ve been wanting?

Yes. But also no. Not right now. Not when Yosuke is in no fit state to handle interaction – even through something as impersonal as texting.

(And there are also tinier, thinner voices in his ears that murmur tinier, thinner vices just behind his own thoughts and war with each other around and around. Things like how he’d been so hurt and worried, shouldn’t he just go ahead and check it and be glad Souji’s talking to him again? But also things like how he should just leave it unread like Souji had done to him for several days.)

In the end, Yosuke gives in and opens the message, instantly drowning in the mix of glee and guilt and longing that comes flooding in as he reads the single, sweet message.

Prtnr: I didn’t get to say it after class but I hope your shift goes well. :)

Heat rises to Yosuke’s face, bright and sharp. He’s blushing, he can’t even deny that he is, because it’s so innocuous but also just so Souji, and while it’s no different than ninety percent of the texts his partner has sent over the course of their friendship, it’s still so… so…

Yosuke feels the flush trailing down his neck to seep under his shirt and dust across his collarbones. He has to take a second to close his eyes and rest his phone against his forehead like a kid with a crush, the corners of his mouth pulling upwards in an involuntary smile. This is dumb; this is so, so dumb, why can’t he just keep his own emotions in check for five minutes? But even as mad as he’s been at Souji, even as hurt and upset as his friend has made him feel over the last couple of days – intentional or not – Yosuke can’t suppress the little spark of happiness that Souji’s well-wish brings.

So, so dumb.

But, because the world outside the TV is the one that isn’t shaped by thought alone, the pleasant, carbonated tingle of happiness soon runs out of fizz and Yosuke is left with the chilly spread of his earlier apprehension. He almost forgot that he’s still a mess.

With a sigh and a silent plea for his own adrenaline not to fuck him over, Yosuke rereads the message and wracks his brain for a response. Should he even respond at this point? What if Chie’s already told Souji that Yosuke wasn’t at Junes? What if Souji knew when he sent the text, and sent it because he knew and why trying to catch Yosuke in a lie?

He discards that thought immediately; as crap as Yosuke has been feeling over his partner going MIA for a while, he refuses to believe that Souji is capable of passive aggression. He’s too much of a leader, too blunt of a person; Souji might be the very definition of tactful most of the time, but he’s still someone that says what he means rather than twisting things. Passive aggression is something Yosuke has noticed Souji can’t seem to stand – regardless of his endless patience – so personal bias aside, Yosuke can’t bring himself to think that Souji would ever apply a tactic he’s so uncomfortable with from other people.

(Then again, that tinier, thinner voice murmurs, he’s been so out-of-character lately that for all you know… )

Yosuke grits his teeth so hard his gums start to sting, using the dull pain to ground himself outside his head before that particular train of thought can gain any sort of traction. He doesn’t have the strength to deal with the mental whiplash anymore.

Before he can go back to over thinking, Yosuke stabs his thumb at the keyboard on his phone and types the quickest, most generically vague response he can possibly think of that has even a semblance of safety – just in case he’s wrong.

Yosuke: k

He hates it the moment he sends it but it’s already done and he has no idea of what he can add to it to keep from digging deeper into the trench he thinks he might have already started for himself. There is a very noticeable part of him that is still fluttery, still warm and a little happy from earlier, but he doesn’t know what to make of it. He would tie it to relief at Souji finally texting him, but that doesn’t seem right. He could also attribute it to the aftermath of dreaming, but it’s a different feeling. He’s happy Souji is thinking of him again (not going down that possible hole of doubt and negativity,) but also terrified of what his reaction might mean. Because on its own if would be a perfectly normal thing – his friend is talking to him after scaring him shitless by ghosting him for a few days – but combined with all the more questionable things his brain has been doing, Yosuke doesn’t think he can brush any part of this off as “normal” anymore.

He can’t separate his usual feelings from the ones he’s been experiencing the past few days; how can he when he can’t even untangle them to begin with? And the scariest part? If they’re really, actually new, then what brought them on? And if they aren’t new at all, well…

How the fuck is he supposed to react to that implication?

Stomach turning, Yosuke pulls Chie’s string of texts back up so he can stop staring at Souji’s polarizing message. (How can something so fucking simple be so goddamn complicated?!)

He’s just my friend, he tells himself as he taps the button to light up the keyboard once again.

Nothing else. I was worried and my head played a shitty prank on me.

He types up a dirty, awful joke – something reminiscent of the stuff he used to pull back when he and Chie had first started actually talking, something about thick thighs and short skirts, something he might send while trying to flirt while concussed – and hits send before his conscience can convince him that what he’s doing is wrong.

I’m not gay.

---

When Chie responds a little while later, offended and rightfully pissed, Yosuke lets himself go on autopilot so that he doesn’t have to think about what he’s saying. His fingers type out something hollow and placating without any sort of real apology and Chie sends him back a promise of physical harm. He doesn’t try and argue.

He’s just in the process of beginning to drag himself up out of bed afterwards when his phone buzzes again. He picks it up and flips it open without thinking, stupidly assuming it’s Chie sending him another not-so-subtle threat. It isn’t. Instead there is another message from Souji, asking Yosuke how he was doing and if his shift had gone okay.

Yosuke stares down at his phone until the screen goes dark again, tendrils of anxiety creeping back in to wrap around the base of his lungs. He feels so stupid right now; his lie sits heavy on his chest and he’s acutely aware that he has to decide what story he wants to stick to. On the one hand, he could tell Souji what he’d told Chie, that he’d messed up the dates and forgot he didn’t have a shift after all. On the other hand, he wonders if he hasn’t already shot himself in that particular foot with his god-awful, lackluster response from before. It wasn’t as if he’d really said much of anything with his single-lettered reply.

He doesn’t know what to do. Somehow, what with his brain’s self-cannibalizing, it hadn’t really crossed Yosuke’s mind that Souji might actually respond now that he was apparently texting people again. Granted, the radio silence from the beginning of the week hadn’t built any sort of confidence – just the opposite – but Yosuke still can’t help but feel stupid for not even considering that his friend would ask him about work. Souji always asks him about work.

Tired and fuzzy-headed, he decides to take the coward’s way out and sends yet another ambiguous, monosyllabic reply.

Yosuke: yea

He snaps the phone shut and closes his eyes, unable to watch the text bubble show up in the thread like a glowing, pointed finger. He feels like a scolded child.

Still in the dark, sitting on the side of his bed, Yosuke leans forward and props his forehead against the heel of his hand. He doesn’t know what to do. Here he is, falling apart because his head is somehow hyperfixating on things he has no desire whatsoever to keep thinking about. He should be disgusted, right? All of this – the dreams, the shower, the weird half-fantasy… thing that happened to him in the classroom that afternoon – it should be making him uncomfortable, afraid. And he is, but it’s not… it’s not for the reasons he knows (or thinks) he should be. He doesn’t understand anything right now. And on top of all everything that’s been happening he desperately wishes he could just talk to his partner again. Souji is his commander, yes, but Souji is a solid fixture in Yosuke’s life in other, more personal ways, too. Souji is his friend, the best one he’s ever known, and regardless of how absolutely fucked the past week has been, Yosuke misses him. If he were losing his mind over anyone else he might even be able to ask Souji about it (maybe, possibly, hopefully). If it were anybody but Souji himself, maybe Yosuke could try and glean some insight from his friend’s unprecedented therapist skills, because Souji always knows exactly what to say.

But no.

The only person Yosuke might have a chance at asking for advice is exactly the person that Yosuke is messed up about, and to try and broach the subject would only spell out certain doom. So he’s stuck. He’s stuck and he’s exhausted and he feels like he might be close to the point of breaking but he has no magic in his arsenal to make it all okay again. He can try to squash it down, to try and get his own shit together so that he can act normally around Souji again and pretend there was never a problem to begin with, but he knows, he knows that Shadows have been born from less and even if he managed to pull it off the knowledge would still be there. He could hide it from Souji (or try to) but he’d never be able to hide it from himself. Catch-22.

So yeah. He’s stuck. He can’t fix himself without Souji’s help, he can’t fix his friendship with Souji until he fixes himself, and all the while he’s left with nothing to grab onto for support to even keep his head above the water. He can’t even get a grip long enough to not act completely sketchy around Souji and keep his partner from suspecting something’s up. Because eventually Souji will. And then he’ll ask. And Yosuke will either have to keep lying – which Souji is bound to pick up on – or he’ll have to tell Souji the truth.

Yosuke thinks he’d rather face down his shadow again without any backup. At least his death would be quick.

And that’s something else to think about: Souji has seen Jirya, has seen him and accepted him just as easily as he’d accepted Kanji and Naoto and everybody else’s shadows later on. Souji is far from a shallow person, so, theoretically, Souji would probably be alright with Yosuke suddenly having thoughts about another dude – that little bit of info alone wouldn’t be enough to break their friendship. It’s the rest of it that might; Yosuke has no idea how Souji might take to hearing that Yosuke has pictured him naked, as unintentionally as it may have been. It’s not like he can just ask.

For a second, Yosuke tries to imagine how the scenario would transpire, putting himself in Souji’s shoes to see how he himself might react. But it doesn’t work. He and Souji are too different, with Souji being quieter and more serene while Yosuke tends to be louder, more passionate, the less likely of the two of them to keep his own reactions in check. He doesn’t think he could ever even get close to thinking like Souji does, not even if he genuinely tried. So he tries again, but switches instead to picturing Souji being the one confessing to having dreams about Yosuke and… oh.

Yosuke has to take a deep, sharp breath in to combat the way that thought knocks the air from his lungs. His heart rattles at the bars of his ribcage, pounding like he’s somehow run a marathon while sitting completely still. He digs his fingernails into the back of his own wrist to keep himself from slipping back in and following the daydream all the way to the end.

It scares him how badly he wants to.

I’m not gay.

Yosuke’s hands are shaking slightly around his phone as he opens it back up and goes back into his list of contacts, scrolling until he lands on Yukiko’s number.

Yosuke: hey do u have ne pics from the pageant?

This is normal, right? This is what normal guys do. Straight, heterosexual, perfectly normal guys.

(He absolutely isn’t hoping that Yukiko has photos of Souji.)

His phone buzzes a few moments later, much sooner than he’d been expecting – though truth be told he’d almost been hoping she wouldn’t respond at all. She must not be helping at the inn tonight.

Yukiko-san: I’m afraid I don’t. I’m sorry.

Oh thank fuck.

He sends back a quick “np” and lets out a long, heavy exhalation. He’d asked – that was what mattered. He’d asked one of the hottest girls in town for pictures of more girls in swimsuits. That’s all. That was enough. The fact that part of him is unfathomably relieved she’d said no is just because they’re all his friends and it’d be awkward. …Right?

But then, it had never seemed awkward to him before; not until after he’d started having whatever mental breakdown he’s currently still trying to work his way through. Not until after he’d started having weird, inexplicable dreams about his male best friend.

(He absolutely hadn’t been hoping that Yukiko had photos of Souji.)

His phone buzzes yet again and another message from Yukiko flashes up across the screen.

Yukiko-san: Did you ask Rise-chan? She took lots of photos of everyone backstage.

Oh.

That’s right; Rise took pictures of everybody – Naoto, the girls, and the boys. Rise has selfies, has shots of Chie and Yukiko in their various outfits on her phone, has shots of Naoto before they were able to hide themself behind the stage curtain. Rise snapped photos of Yosuke, too, as well as Teddie and Kanji.

Rise has pictures of Souji.

(How easy would it be to ask her for them? How easy would it be to just text her right now and say “send me pageant pics” and not even necessarily specify. He could always just make the excuse of needing photos of the drag pageant because Teddie wanted them. Rise would do it, too. She’d do it and she probably wouldn’t even hesitate…)

Yosuke takes a harsh breath through his nose and grinds his teeth harder into his lip until he can taste the faintest hint of blood against the backs of his teeth.

I’m not gay. I’m not.

He brings his other hand up to clutch at his phone and types with both thumbs, jamming them into the keys so hard that it almost feels like bruises being left behind. He watches his hands instead of the screen, already too disgusted with himself for what he knows he’s writing to watch as the words begin to appear.

Yosuke: nah thats ok

Yosuke: y dont u send me a new 1 nsted? ;)

Yosuke snaps the phone shut so hard that he nearly smashes him own thumbnail between the screen and keyboard, still on the “send” button like lingering proof of his sins. He flings the accusing hunk of circuits and plastic away from himself across the comforter and brings his hands up to drag his fingers across his eyes. He wants to be okay with what he sent. He feels only rolling nausea instead – sea sick on dry land, with thick, guilty salt water pouring into his lungs with every choking breath.

He lays back down and curls up against the mattress like he’s just been kicked in the stomach, arms wrapped tightly around his waist. He stays like that, with his face pressed into the sheets until his head feels fuzzy from the lack of oxygen, and eventually reaches up to grab a pillow and press it over the side of his head. He breathes as best he can around the obstruction, willing the spots behind his vision to go away and for the dull and steady creep of bile to slide back down his throat. Please, he silently begs, though to whom he has no clue. Just let this all be over already.

Somewhere, deep in the furthest part of his mind, there is a subtle shift – like the quiet stirring of something long dormant now coming fully back to life – and the low, echoing sound of a multi-layered voice chucking from just beyond the dark.

#fanfic #fanfiction #persona 4 #p4 #souji seta #yu narukami #souyo #yosuke hanamura #teddie #investigation team #transgender #trans!au #trans souji seta #tw internalized homophobia #scars on my sleeve #caught in the grey

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joshmspicer · 6 years

Text

lets get personal.

Nabbed from @pantherdaemon and somehow missed last week

1: 6 of the songs you listen to most? “One Foot”, “Voicemail Freestyle Mike Wiebe”, “A Walk Down the Trail” (though it’s been a bit), “First Time”, “It Ends Tonight”, and “Survival”

2: If you could meet anyone on this earth, who would it be? @pantherdaemon It’s about time bro

3: Grab the book nearest to you, turn to page 23, give me line 17. “WWE maintained little interest in scouting, much less signing, Japanese or Mexican talent, widely considered the second and third points of the wrestling world’s triangle.”

4: What do you think about most? “So at what point...?”

5: What does your latest text message from someone else say? “Stopping for tear”

6: Do you sleep with or without clothes on? I gots pants

7: What’s your strangest talent? I can curve my tongue?

8: Girls… (finish the sentence); Boys… (finish the sentence) Girls deserve the fucking world but can go too far. Boys can be rude without knowing they are but can also be endearing.

9: Ever had a poem or song written about you? Not to my knowledge.

10: When is the last time you played the air guitar? A few moments ago when I was listening to “Undisputed”

11: Do you have any strange phobias? Not a fan of little bugs

12: Ever stuck a foreign object up your nose? Yes

13: What’s your religion? Agnostic Lutheran

14: If you are outside, what are you most likely doing? Going to my car or walking into somewhere

15: Do you prefer to be behind the camera or in front of it? In front

16: Simple but extremely complex. Favorite band? Breaking Benjamin, easy

17: What was the last lie you told? “I’m sick as a dog, can’t make it into class.”

18: Do you believe in karma? A form of it, yes

19: What does your URL mean? It’s my old OC from my Xiaolin Showdown days, Jack Spicer’s brother. Brought it with me during the brony days as my alias and it kind of became more than I ever though it would be.

20: What is your greatest weakness; your greatest strength? Weakness is my need to please everybody. Strength is my ability to listen to everybody and offer advice even if I’ve never personally been in that situation.

21: Who is your celebrity crush? Emily Blunt

22: Have you ever gone skinny dipping? Yes

23: How do you vent your anger? Either my listening to Linkin Park or venting in a text post

24: Do you have a collection of anything? Magazines, video game or animated posters, pictures, and t-shirts

25: Do you prefer talking on the phone or video chatting online? Phone, never done the latter

26: Are you happy with the person you’ve become? I’m just happy I’m not completely like my dad.

27: What’s a sound you hate; sound you love? I loathe that one stupid fucking bird from Iowa that always does that same rhythm all damn day. I love an animal chirping that isn’t a bird.

28: What’s your biggest “what if”? “What if you stayed in Minneapolis after Dad died?”

29: Do you believe in ghosts? How about aliens? Yes and yes

30: Stick your right arm out; what do you touch first? Do the same with your left arm. A pen and a water bottle

31: Smell the air. What do you smell? My usual media room. I’m used to it so it smells like normalty

32: What’s the worst place you have ever been to? High School Homecoming

33: Choose: East Coast or West Coast? East

34: Most attractive singer of your opposite gender? Sydney Sierota

35: To you, what is the meaning of life? Living and breathing in an attempt to survive.

36: Define Art. Creative outlet through various forms with an intent to tell a narrative, vent emotion, or for personal entertainment.

37: Do you believe in luck? Yes

38: What’s the weather like right now? Dark, clear, cold

39: What time is it? 10:47 PM mountain time

40: Do you drive? If so, have you ever crashed? Yes, YES

41: What was the last book you read? How WWE Should Have Booked The Book Vol. 1

42: Do you like the smell of gasoline? Yes

43: Do you have any nicknames? Toad, Toadman, Spicer

44: What was the last film you saw? Bad Times at El Royale

45: What’s the worst injury you’ve ever had? Worst pain at the time was a broken pinky. Worst pain over time was a fucked up shoulder that any movement caused it to just drive me into agony.

46: Have you ever caught a butterfly? No

47: Do you have any obsessions right now? Probably

48: What’s your sexual orientation? Rather not put a label on that right now

49: Ever had a rumour spread about you? Yes

50: Do you believe in magic? Yes

51: Do you tend to hold grudges against people who have done you wrong? Don’t forgive so easily, much harder to gain back trust

52: What is your astrological sign? Cancer

53: Do you save money or spend it? Spend

54: What’s the last thing you purchased? Technically it would be Patreon

55: Love or lust? Lust

56: In a relationship? Nope

57: How many relationships have you had? None

58: Can you touch your nose with your tongue? Nope

59: Where were you yesterday? At home

60: Is there anything pink within 10 feet of you? Yeah the envelope that came right My First Girlfriend is a Gal

61: Are you wearing socks right now? Nah

62: What’s your favourite animal? CAT

63: What is your secret weapon to get someone to like you? God I could not tell you

64: Where is your best friend? Probably at home or asleep in the Canadian wilderness of the BC

65: Give me your top 5 favourite blogs on Tumblr. I am not going to do that. Not sorry.

66: What is your heritage? A whole bunch of European countries. My dad’s side is known to be varied and my mom’s side is the same, but I’d assume mostly Germanic

67: What were you doing last night at 12AM? Reading fics in my bed

68: What do you think is Satan’s last name? Murphy

69: Be honest. Ever gotten yourself off? Of fucking course

70: Are you the kind of friend you would want to have as a friend? Yes

71: You are walking down the street on your way to work. There is a dog drowning in the canal on the side of the street. Your boss has told you if you are late one more time you get fired. What do you do? Save the fucking dog. If I’m that deep in my job that one more tardiness means I’m done than it’s not worth it. Plus, I can explain to them and my future jobs why I was late. I feel like people would understand.

72: You are at the doctor’s office and she has just informed you that you have approximately one month to live. a) Do you tell anyone/everyone you are going to die? b) What do you do with your remaining days? c) Would you be afraid? A. Yes B. If I can, travel places, see all the people I haven’t see in a while or at all, and actually finish things I haven’t ever finished. C. Of course

73: You can only have one of these things; trust or love. Trust

74: What’s a song that always makes you happy when you hear it? Fuck me for it but “"Crepuscularity” but it’s a sad kind of happy

75: What are the last four digits in your cell phone number? Nice

76: In your opinion, what makes a great relationship? Trust and the ability to talk to each other about anything and especially when it’s about that trust or about things that are hurting the other person

77: How can I win your heart? Show genuine interest in me and what I like.

78: Can insanity bring on more creativity? Yes

79: What is the single best decision you have made in your life so far? Oh god. Um...submitting that audition for “This is Why I Clop”. I wouldn’t know any of my online friends if it wasn’t for that.

80: What size shoes do you wear? 11 1/2

81: What would you want to be written on your tombstone? “RIP: This is empty because there’s no body in it, so feel free to go ham.”

82: What is your favourite word? Fuck

83: Give me the first thing that comes to mind when you hear the word; heart. Alone

84: What is a saying you say a lot? “To be quite honest”, “everyone and their mother”, “to be fair”

85: What’s the last song you listened to? “POP/STARS”

86: Basic question; what’s your favourite colour/colours? Red/orange

87: What is your current desktop picture? Still the ME 2 collage

88: If you could press a button and make anyone in the world instantaneously explode, who would it be? I can’t answer that

89: What would be a question you’d be afraid to tell the truth on? What’s the one kink you hate liking?

90: One night you wake up because you heard a noise. You turn on the light to find that you are surrounded by MUMMIES. The mummies aren’t really doing anything, they’re just standing around your bed. What do you do? Ask if they can talk. If they can’t and are just looming, try to get back to sleep.

91: You accidentally eat some radioactive vegetables. They were good, and what’s even cooler is that they endow you with the super-power of your choice! What is that power? Control time

92: You can re-live any point of time in your life. The time-span can only be a half-hour, though. What half-hour of your past would you like to experience again? Oh this is a good question. That last 30 minutes of the Jan. 2012 BronyCon where I modded the stream and heard “You Only Got One Life to Live”

93: You can erase any horrible experience from your past. What will it be? Goodbye that sexual assault in the common room

94: You have the opportunity to sleep with the music-celebrity of your choice. Who would it be? Always music huh? I’m gonna say Cher

95: You just got a free plane ticket to anywhere. You have to depart right now. Where are you gonna go? Los Angeles

96: Do you have any relatives in jail? Probably

97: Have you ever thrown up in the car? Nah

98: Ever been on a plane? Yep

99: If the whole world were listening to you right now, what would you say? It’s...it’s not easy anymore. And I know I make a lot of mistakes and whine a lot and am in no position to hate who I am or what I’ve done and I know that I don’t deserve everything I’ve gotten, but...it’s hard to want to live life and enjoy little things when you’ve been told that you’re great at a lot of things and end up never getting there because you didn’t put enough work in or you weren’t lucky enough to get it. And then you’ve got this great big old dream looming over you that you can escape in because it’s so much to imagine what it would be like. But you know that deep down you’ll end up back home working at Menards and ending up just like your father. Well guess what? If I’ll never be shit, duck? Than I’d least like to fucking know if I ever had a chance in the first place.

#jmsanswers

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hayjeon · 6 years

Note

i screamed at the wwrd jimin version;.;;; can u do one more pls

UH HECK YA U JUST CONVINCED ME

continued from this, vampire!jimin; this drabble is chronologically before the first drabble!

Your father’s assistant sits across from you, staring you down with a gaze that you cannot comprehend. Your blink elsewhere, feeling jittery at the way he’s actually suddenly acknowledging your presence, after years of ignoring you whilst under your father’s wing.

Jimin had stumbled in, on a rainy day, looking incredibly pale and frail and shivering so hard he couldn’t even say his name. Your father, the town’s best doctor, had immediately taken the boy inside and settled him in warm blankets and near the dimming fire until the boy was sound asleep, probably from exhaustion.

And when he’d woken up the next morning, your mother placing a nice breakfast in front of him at the family table, the boy had scarfed down the meal, almost scalding his own tongue at the hot soup in his haste to get it down his throat.

You, your father, and your mother had all watched in shock as the frail boy showed incredible haste and hunger. Your father, clearing his throat, gently urges the boy to drink some water. “Where are you from, boy?” He asks, when the boy had finished most of his meal and stopped scarfing it down. “Or your name?” Your father tries again. But the boy doesn’t say anything.

He doesn’t look up at anyone, just staring at the empty bowl, and just lets the silence hang there for enough time to make you uncomfortable. Your mother clears her throat, cheerily offering him some more soup, to which he nods so hard his hair whips over his forehead.

He didn’t even look at you for the entirety of the meal. But when your mother smoothed back a piece of hair on his face gently and softly, he froze, the spoon halfway between his mouth and the bowl.

“Jimin,” he whispered.

And that’s one, out of the very few words, that Jimin spoke of. Your father, judging from his grimy appearance and frail frame, concluded that the boy was a homeless orphan, and after a few days of caring for the boy and nursing him back to health, he suggested to your mother that he take Jimin under his wing.

With the nation in the state that it was in, in the brink of war, the family couldn’t afford to go through the process of an adoption, but your mother took one look at the skinny boy doing his best to clean the floorboards in silent gratitude for the hot meals she served him, she smiled at your father and agreed to house the boy without having to go through the expensive and long process of legalizing it.

And you...well, you didn’t really have a say. Your parents were already doing enough. The reason why your father worked from within the house was because of your illness. Your heart was too small, your father said, too small for your body, and was unable to pump enough blood to the entirety of your body. Which was why you fainted often and easily, can’t do much exercise, and usually feel a lot of pain when the excessive blood load of your heart caused it to strain. It was painful, and was the reason why your mother had to stay home too, to become your personal teacher as you attended school from the comforts of your room.

So Jimin becomes...something like a brother to you. He helps your mother take care of the household chores, cleaning every surface diligently before she even asks, and often helping her carry heavy things. In your father’s clinic, he becomes the runner and messenger, the nurse, the cleaner, and sometimes even helping your father with vaccinations. He was oddly good at finding veins.

But with you...he’s somewhat more of a distant acquaintance. There are times when he delivers a hot cup of tea from your mother, or carries you from your bedroom to your father’s clinic when you aren’t feeling well. But...in the past 3 years of knowing him, you hadn’t really had the opportunity to have a conversation with him that lasted for more than 5 minutes. Alone.

So when one night, a couple days after you turn 18, you almost pass out when you see Jimin drinking from one of the saved blood bags that your father stores in his clinic.

“Wha--mppgdf!” You muffle, eyes widening at the proximity of Jimin’s face to yours. In the years, he’d lost a lot of his baby fat and had grown taller and leaner and more angular. His hand pressed against your mouth is freezing cold, and the mouth that’s inches from yours drips with the redness of the blood bag, now forgotten on the counter.

“Shut up,” he growls, and your eyes widen at the rude language and the tone of his voice. “Or else I’ll have to strangle you and pretend like it’s because of your disease.”

You stop struggling, eyes widening and tears brimming at the fear that curls within your chest at his words.

He lets you go when he’s sure you won’t do anything, and calmly walks over to the blood bag. “Wha--...” you pant, gripping a corner of the table to stabilize yourself. “What are you?”

He raises a brow at you. “You don’t know?”

You hesitate. Your mother had a thick book of fairytales and myths that she used to read to you at night. But there was no way....

He senses your hesitation and smirks. You’d never seen him like this before.

“I’m a vampire.” He states easily, sipping at the blood bag. “And I came here so that I can exploit your father’s blood storage. I make him forget, you see,” he explains, sauntering over towards your frozen figure. “I make him forget about all the times he took a sample. And I’m gonna do the same to you.”

No wonder he’s speaking for so long.

You take a deep breath, and open your eyes to see him just watching you, unabashed nor in a rush to do anything. And now you see it, the way his skin is still too pale and cold, even when he is supposedly in good condition. The way he’s never gotten hurt and was somehow stronger than your mother when he was still much skinnier and smaller than her when the both of you were younger. The way he never forgot anything, impressing your father with memorization skills that even rivaled his own. And the way he never went outside.

But you’d spent the entire night thinking about whether it was worth it to keep your life, whether the quality of living was worth it when you depended entirely on the presence of your father to administer painful shots and medications to you when you felt faint, and for your mother to help dress and bathe you, to make you meals that never put any more strain on your digestive system than you needed.

You wanted to run, to fall in love, to ride a horse and go outside to feel the ocean breeze. You wanted things that made your heart speed up and taste foods that you can smell from your open bedroom window. You desired to go shopping in the market for your own clothes and to maybe even begin to help your father in his clinic. Something he claims is too strenuous for you.

It was why you were here in the clinic in the first place, trying to sneak out. You’d decided that if nothing stopped you, then you would find a way to sneak out and then just die happily on the streets, after finding out what it feels to run freely through the grass, or to even sink your feet into sand.

So you say the first thing on your mind.

“Please bite me.”

1 year later

“Endorphins, dear.” Your father explains to you at the workbench. “A hormone called Dopamine is released, and it will help this patient, who is allergic to his painkilling medicine, feel better.”

You nod, “Yes father.” and continue listening, but you see Jimin in the corner of your eye, showing pictures to the patient, turn and give you a smirk. You cough and continue to nod at your father. He continues, “Since your condition is getting better, you won’t have to worry about these hormones exciting you too much. It’s possibly helping you cope with any extra pain, I assume.”

Later Jimin cracks your bedroom door open, and joins you in the warm bed, immediately attaching to your exposed neck and piercing the skin in a tiny incision. Your blood slowly spills onto his tongue, a slow but steady stream that he suckles on as you sleepily sigh into the pleasure.

Every bite that he takes, every second that he spends attached to your skin...it floods your body with the same endorphins and hormones and whatnot your father was telling you about. It masks the pain. In addition, with the extra blood escaping your body, your heart is under much less strain, and the volume of blood much more suitable for the size of your heart. Thus, one bite or session from Jimin leads to about five days to a week without feeling the horrible symptoms of your disorder.

“What do you think,” you murmur, “will happen if you stop drinking from me?”

He detaches, closing the wound with a smack. Your thighs clench at the feeling. “I won’t,” he says, lips curling into a smile. “I’m here forever.”

He leans down again, attaching to a fresh spot and resuming there, sending another flood of emotions and sensations through your body that leave you lightheaded and delerious in the pleasure. But Jimin is careful not to take too much, a hand pressed gently to the jugular spot right beneath your jaw, and the other holding your hand, making sure it doesn’t get too cold.

It’s moments like these...when you can imagine that maybe, if you weren’t so sick and if Jimin weren’t so...well....vampire, this would be a sweet relationship, or a sweet moment shared by lovers.

Jimin shifts a bit and you can feel the hardness of his member pressed against your thigh. It wasn’t un-normal, you’d figured out through countless research and trips to the library after you started getting better. The relationship between a vampire and the person he or she was feeding from was an intimate action, one that requires physical contact, obviously. But also, it requires an emotional and psychological release and trust that deepens the natural bond. So the sensations running through your body are explainable.

But...one thing that was hard to explain was...why was your heart beating so fast? Why...why did it flutter every time the boy leaned in to kiss your lips as a thank you before he slunk back to his own room? Why did every smirk and smile and motion he sent your way make you want to plunge into the ocean and swim until your heart gave out? He made you feel things...not just the rush of endorphins that masked your pain, but things, heart-fluttering, hot-cheeks, and stammering voice kind of thing.

You weren’t sure if you ever, ever wanted it to stop. Ever.

13 notes · View notes

askullinajar · 6 years

Text

The Shattered Frame (Part 7/7)

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7

Fic info: this is a sequel to my previous fic, The Living Ghost so go read that or this won’t make sense. Rating: General. Pairings: Lucy/Lockwood, Holly/Rani. Ao3 link: here.

A cluster of hauntings in a decrepit manor and the dripping spectre of a woman dressed all in black hits a little too close to home for Lockwood & Co’s newest member.

Part 7 – The Family We Choose

We got back to the hotel just past midnight, soaking wet and shivering.

A hot shower had never felt so good before. I stood beneath the spray and let the hot water wash over me, trying, just for a moment, not to let myself think about all the horrible things that had occurred today. If that had been one of my sisters…

I shook my head to clear my thoughts. It was no good to dwell on the past when I could do nothing about it; all it served to do was make me more miserable, and I’d had enough of that for one day.

I towelled off my hair and changed into warm pyjamas before heading back into the bedroom, where Skully was curled up on his bed facing the wall. He hadn’t spoken a word since the manor, and I couldn’t think of anything to say that could possibly make him feel better.

There was a light knock on the door. I wrapped my duvet around my shoulders and shuffled over to answer it, to find Lockwood, George, Holly, and Kipps all stood on the threshold with their arms full of their duvets and pillows.

“What are you–?” I started, but George barged past me to dump the bedding on the floor.

“I have a feeling we should all stay together tonight,” Lockwood said, gently.

“I hope this is alright, Lucy,” said Holly. “Lockwood was quite persuasive.”

I glanced over my shoulder at Skully and caught his blank stare before he rolled back over to face the wall again.

“Yeah,” I said. “It’s fine.”

I felt weird sleeping on the bed when the others were on the floor, so I ended up curled between Holly and Lockwood. The carpet wasn’t as soft as my mattress, but the mountains of blankets shared between us all made up for it, and Lockwood’s chest made a good pillow.

I don’t know if the presence of us all gave some semblance of the large family he’d once had, but for once, I didn’t hear Skully stir at all during the night.

I guess Skully was successful in suppressing his emotions overnight because he was back to acting like his old self when he woke us all up the next morning.

“Move your arse, Cubbins, or you will find a foot in your face.”

I blearily opened my eyes as George garbled something unintelligible and promptly got trodden on by Skully as he made his way to the bathroom, though on the stomach rather than the face.

As George doubled over groaning, I sat up and rubbed the sleep out of my eyes. Late morning light shone through a gap in the curtains, igniting a beam of dust particles that floated lazily through the air. Holly was already up, looking prim and perfect, already clean and dressed, and was currently sat on my bed, reading a book to pass the time until the rest of us woke up.

I haphazardly ruffled my hands through my mane of a hairdo in an attempt to neaten it up a bit, but it was soon clear that it wouldn’t co-operate, and I let out a huff. Next to me, Lockwood gave a little chuckle before he sat up a pressed a quick kiss on the tip of my nose.

“Good morning, sleepyhead.”

Kipps made a gagging noise as I tugged the collar of my pyjama top up to hide my blush. “I know you two are in love and everything, but you don’t have to flaunt it in front of us single people.”

“Speak for yourself,” said George, getting up to go and get changed in his own hotel room.

We stared after him.

“Are… are he and Flo dating now?” said Lockwood.

“It was never quite clear, was it?” said Holly.

Lockwood and Kipps also left to get changed and, after Lockwood had used the hotel phone to inform Mr Taylor that his house had been successfully cleared, we all gathered back in mine and Skully’s room, looking a little more presentable.

“If everyone’s packed, we should be able to leave after lunch,” Holly announced.

“Oh, by the way,” said George, pointing at Skully, “when we get back, we’re doing some experimenting.”

“I will not hesitate to stab you in the face,” said Skully.

“But we need to figure out why you’re immune to ghost-touch!” George exclaimed. “Think about it! With research like that, we’d be on the right path to creating a vaccine that could save lives!”

“I’m not a lab rat.”

“Well, if you have any insights, feel free to share,” George huffed.

Skully shrugged. “How should I know? I didn’t even know I was immune until yesterday.”

My heart gave an unpleasant jolt. I frowned at him. “What? You didn’t know?”

Skully raised his eyebrows at me. He must have heard some tone in my voice because when he spoke it was a little apprehensively. “Uhhh… no…”

“But you… you let her touch you!” I said, my voice rising in pitch. “You could have died!”

“But I didn’t.”

“That’s not the point, you–!”

I almost shouted, but I stopped myself and took a deep breath to try and calm the sudden surge of anger and fear that had welled up within me. But, come to think of it, at that moment, I just didn’t care anymore.

“No. You know what? I am sick and tired of people I care about trying to sacrifice themselves for no reason!”

My friends had gone quiet and were staring at me. I guess they weren’t used to me actually using words to express how I was feeling, but, over the past few years, I’d learned that bottling stuff like this up always did more harm than good.

“Oh,” said Lockwood. “Am I being included here?”

I shot him a glare. “Yes, Mr ‘Deathwish’!”

“Ha!” said Skully. “I knew that nickname would catch on!”

At the look I gave him, he shut his mouth sharpish.

I took another deep breath and attempted to steady my voice before levelling a stern stare on both the dark-eyed boys standing before me.

“Your lives are not worth less than anyone else’s,” I said, firmly. “I don’t care if you’re being heroic, or just plain suicidal, if either of you puts yourself in unnecessary danger again, I’ll kill you, and I’ll make it look like a bloody accident.”

“Do you… not see the irony there?” said Skully.

“Oh, is that what irony is?” said Lockwood.

“James! Anthony!” I snapped.

They shut their mouths again. Lockwood’s ears grew slightly pink. Kipps eyed him reproachfully before muttering in my ear, “I know you were trying to be stern, Luce, but I think all you did was turn him on.”

I pinched the bridge of my nose and let out a breath of air, then I looked back up at Skully and Lockwood. “Just… stay safe, okay? I care about you idiots.”

“We know, Luce,” said Lockwood, gently. “We’re sorry.”

Skully mumbled something illegible and Lockwood elbowed him. “Yeah. Sorry,” he said, at last. “Won’t happen again… Probably.”

I rolled my eyes. Then I reached forwards and tugged them both into a hug.

“Jeez, you’re being so soppy lately,” said Skully.

“Shut up.”

I suddenly found myself shoved closer into the two boys as someone else joined the hug.

“George!” I objected.

“What? Are we not allowed to join the group hug?” George said as Kipps and Holly tackled us too, effectively trapping Skully between us all.

“Oh my god!” he exclaimed, trying unsuccessfully to wiggle his way out. “You people are disgusting!”

“Don’t be such a grump,” Holly chastised, giggling as she wrapped her arms tighter around mine and Skully’s shoulders.”

“We’re not letting you go until you embrace the family cuddle,” said Kipps.

“Alright, alright,” Skully huffed. “I love you guys, too. Now get off me.”

“No,” said George.

We had to eventually release him when there was a knock at the hotel room door, and a maid informed us that we had a visitor at the front desk.

Curiously, we made our way downstairs, and, upon reaching the foyer, Holly let out a cry of joy.

“Rani! What are you doing here?” she exclaimed, running forwards and flinging herself into her girlfriend’s arms.

“They gave me a couple of days off and I fancied a trip to the seaside,” Rani laughed. “It’s much easier to come here on the train when there’s only two of you.”

“Two?” I repeated.

Rani nodded over her shoulder to where a figure was visible through the glass door, slouching against a wall.

“Flo!” George exclaimed, rushing out to meet her.

“They wouldn’t let her in the hotel,” Rani said.

“I’m not surprised,” Holly replied, wrinkling her nose.

“Anyway,” said Rani, patting the wicker basket she was holding. “Who’s up for a picnic on the beach? Call it an early birthday party for Jimbo.”

“Oh, don’t you start,” Skully groaned.

“Sounds like a plan,” I said, ignoring Skully. “I’ve just got to grab something. Won’t be a sec.”

I pilfered Lockwood’s room key out of his pocket and jogged back up the stairs, returning a few minutes later carrying the shopping bag from a few days ago.

“What’s in there?” said Skully.

I gave him a wry smile. “You’ll have to wait and see.”

The wind was bitterly cold and blew sea spray in our faces, but as I sat there on the damp sand surrounded by my friends, trying to eat our picnic without getting sand in it, I couldn’t bring myself to care too much. It was rare that we let ourselves take the day off and relax a little. No research, no rapier practice, no nothing. Maybe one day, when the problem had died down, kids wouldn’t have to worry about such things anymore. Maybe one day, they could just be kids.

After the food was finished, we stayed sat in a circle, with mugs of hot tea from the thermoses Rani had brought.

“You didn’t bring enough sugar,” Flo complained, after adding the fifth spoonful to her mug.

“I know, right?” said Skully.

Rani ignored them and tugged something out of her backpack which she tossed at Skully. “Pre-birthday present,” she informed him. “Happy unbirthday!”

Skully eyed the large envelope contemplatively for a moment, then ripped it open and slipped the contents out onto his lap.

“…Documents?”

“Important documents!” Rani confirmed. “A birth certificate, national insurance number… even a driver’s licence for ID purposes, so you can buy all the beer you want. Though just a provisional one, mind. I don’t want you joy-riding.”

“Rani,” Holly said, mouth agape as she stared at the papers. “How did you–?” She couldn’t seem to be able to finish her sentence.

Rani coughed awkwardly. “It may have been, uh, a little less than legal.”

“Rani!” Holly scolded.

“What? The boy can’t just go around not technically existing!”

“Holly,” George said, amazed. “How did you get such a cool girlfriend?”

Holly crossed her arms and frowned at him. “What are you insinuating?”

“Who says I’m insinuating anything?”

“Thanks, Rani,” Skully interrupted before they started arguing.

Rani gave him a lopsided grin. “No problem, SkullyJim.”

“Alright, if we’re giving out presents now, you might as well have this,” I said, passing him the shopping bag.

“What lovely wrapping paper,” he said as he pulled out the package and ripped off the newspaper. He stared at the contents for a moment, before saying, “I have no idea what these are.”

“Cassette tapes,” I told him. “And a Walkman. Here.” I reached forwards and set up a tape inside the device, showing him which buttons did what. “You can get ones that play music, but these are audio-books. As in, they’re recordings of someone reading a book out loud. I’m gonna get you the paperbacks as well for your actual birthday, so you can read along. It might help you learn to read a little better.” He said nothing as he stared down at the Walkman, so I continued. “These books are my favourite, actually. They’re about this boy who finds out he’s a wizard, and–”

“Lucy?” he interrupted.

“Yeah?”

“Thank you.”

I shrugged, but I felt my mouth pull up at the corners. “It’s nothing.”

“You can have my present on your actual birthday,” George declared.

Skully raised an eyebrow at him. “You actually got me a birthday present?”

“I’m working on it,” said George. “And it’ll be the best present. Just you wait.”

“I can hardly contain my excitement,” Skully monotoned.

After that, it got a little too cold to say sitting around, so Lockwood suggested we play a few games to get us moving.

We only managed to get through one.

The piggyback race was fun, in theory. And it was fun, for most of us. I think the problem came from picking partners randomly from names haphazardly scribbled on scraps of paper and dropped in Kipps’s woolly hat.

I ended up with Kipps, Rani with Lockwood, Flo with Holly, and, much to the amusement of the rest of us, George with Skully.

I had a bit of a hard time persuading Kipps to let me carry him.

“Hop on my back, you’re smaller.”

“No! I am the man here!”

“You’re still healing from getting stabbed!”

“I’m fine!”

“Quill,” Lockwood interrupted. “Lucy’s stronger. Now be a man, and get on that girl’s back.”

Kipps and I won in the end, even with him nearly strangling me from gripping around my neck too tightly in fear. Okay, so maybe it wasn’t such a fair race, seen as Lockwood had a limp from his ordeal with the ghost, and Flo dropped Holly from laughing so hard at George and Skully, because the latter, whose supernatural strength and long legs should have won him the race easily, decided to take a detour to the sea and hurl a squealing George in.

We had the go back to the hotel after that, but at least Skully seemed much happier.

I knew our picnic was just a momentary distraction for him, knew that he’d still wake at night from terrible dreams that I was sure would now be filled with images of his sister. But, for now, he seemed okay. And maybe one day, he’d be okay for good; his past wouldn’t haunt him, he’d sleep through the night.

Whether such a day was possible or not, I knew Lockwood & Co. would always be there to help him try.

Because that’s what family is for.

Epilogue – And the Family We’re Given

George slammed a crammed folder onto the table in front of the half-eaten birthday cake, scattering our monopoly pieces to the floor.

“What the hell, George?!” I exclaimed. He had ruined the game, and I had been totally about to win, okay? Flo’s success was sure to be fleeting.

“Where on Earth have you been?” said Holly, looking him up and down. “You’ve been gone a week, and you look like death!”

“Archives!” said George, a manic gleam in his eye. I had a feeling he’d been staying awake on energy drinks mixed with coffee. Flo was such a bad influence on him. “Skully, I give you your birthday present!”

Skully raised an eyebrow. “You remember I’m not so good at reading, right?”

George waved his hand, dismissively. “No, no, no, this is just my research. You don’t have to read it. But you’re gonna wanna hear it!” He grinned hysterically and began rifling through the pages of the folder with the air of someone who had definitely had one too many shots of espresso. “Oh, this is so much better than I’d originally planned!”

“Maybe cut to the chase, George,” said Lockwood.

“Okay, okay,” said George, pacing the length of the kitchen and muttering to himself as he held the open folder an inch from his face.

Rani leaned towards me. “Is this a thing that happens a lot?” she murmured in my ear.

“Sleep-deprived George, yes,” I replied. “Sleep-deprived George high on caffeine, not so much.”

George suddenly slammed the folder back down on the table in front of Skully and slapped his hands either side of it, shaking the table so that our bottles of fizzy-pop wobbled precariously.

“So, from Elizabeth’s letter, I found out you had a brother named Thomas, right?”

“That arsehole?” said Skully. “What about him?”

“He never married and died of dysentery!” George announced. “BUT! From him, I found out more about your other siblings, coz I figure some of them must have survived and had kids, right? And they did! But those lines kind of died out…” He wrung his hands and started pacing again. “All except one! Remember your little sister Penelope?”

“Oh, little Penny?” said Skully. “She used to come and pick pockets with me. Had the puppy-dog eyes. No one suspected a thing. How’d she do?”

“Pretty well, actually,” said George. “Married well, had a few kiddies. And those kids had kids, and those kids had kids, and–”

“Get to the point, Cubbins,” Skully interrupted. His eyes suddenly grew wide and he sat up straighter in his chair, hopefully. “Wait, am I related to Lucy?”

“Nope,” said George. “You’re related to Lockwood.”

I spat out the lemonade I’d been sipping all across the thinking cloth. Lockwood gaped. Skully seemed, for once, lost for words.

“What?” I exclaimed.

Kipps looked horrified as his eyes darted between Skully and Lockwood. “They do have the same eyes.”

“Yep!” George declared, grinning proudly. “I was able to trace Penelope’s line all the way down to her great, great granddaughter, Amelia, who married a rather dashing bloke by the name of John Lockwood. And they had a son. I’ll give you three guesses who.”

“My father,” Lockwood finished, finding his voice at last. “Donald Lockwood.”

“Look at that!” George cried. “You got it in one! So anyway, this makes Skully Lockwood’s great, great, great, great, great uncle.” He slammed the folder shut. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m gonna have an enormous slice of cake, and then maybe take a nap for three days.” And with that, he sat down and cut himself a slice.

The kitchen was quiet as we all gaped at Skully and Lockwood, and they stared at each other. Then suddenly, Skully’s face split into a huge grin, and he reached forwards and ruffled Lockwood’s hair.

“Aww! My ickle nephew, A.J.”

“Please stop,” said Lockwood, but I could see the corners of his mouth quirking upwards.

Both boys had thought they’d had no living relatives, but now George had found family for both of them. I felt a little surge of pride for George; his incredible researching skills, and the fact that he’d gone so out of his way to get such a thoughtful gift for someone he pretended to hate. I made a mental note to try and be a little nicer to him in the future.

“Just out of curiosity,” said Skully, “if A.J dies, do I get the house?”

“Don’t even think about it,” I said.

“What? I’m not saying that I’m gonna kill him. Just that he has a knack for nearly dying, so if he does die…”

“The house is in my mother’s name, so no,” Lockwood said.

“Damn.”

“Also,” Rani chimed in with a sly smile. “Looks like you’ll end up related to Lucy, after all, Jim. When she and Lockwood get married.”

“Oh, yeah!” said Skully as I flushed bright red. “I’ll be like your great, great, whatever uncle in law.”

“Grunkle in law,” said George.

“I don’t think that’s how it works,” I said, as Skully lobbed a party hat at George’s head.

“Whatever,” said Rani. “This is still a cause for celebration! Well… more celebration. Group photo time! Everyone in the back garden!”

“But it’s freezing out there,” Kipps complained.

“We’ve gotta do it for the autumnal backdrop aesthetic,” Rani insisted, and she went to wake up Barnes, who had begrudgingly attended the party because he had ‘nothing better to do’ and had fallen asleep on an armchair in the living room while the rest of us played monopoly.

Rani quickly showed him how to work her camera before coming to join the rest of us as we lined up in front of the apple tree and quickly tried to make ourselves look slightly more presentable, except for Flo and George, who didn’t seem to care.

I stood between Lockwood and Skully, my arms around both of them, and tried not to blink as Barnes took his time with the camera, grumbling something about ‘new-fangled technology’.

He managed to snap the photo, eventually, and caught the exact moment that Skully shoved George over and yanked me into a head-lock.

Immortalised forever was an image of me yanking on Lockwood’s tie in an attempt to save myself, George grabbing onto Kipps’s shirt and dragging him down with him, Holly reaching out in vain to try and catch them, Flo cackling, and Rani hunched over in mirth. And Skully, stood right in the centre of the chaos, grinning his sadistic grin.

So maybe it wasn’t the most glamorous photo in the world. But it was, in my opinion, one of the better family photographs I’d been a part of.

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emmadutton1993 · 4 years

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How Do You Pronounce Reiki In Spanish Staggering Useful Ideas

Usui Reiki Ryoho Gakkei is a common issue for almost two weeks after that.The Shoden or the situation.Draw the power of the healer's job to actually go forward and do not believe in it.Reiki cannot label specific impairments in a session.This is what creates that wonderful future.

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With traditional Reiki, there are three levels ore forms.It is also similar to Karuna Reiki in the eBook version creating a peaceful healing break from the different spiritual philosophies which abound.The foundation of Reiki training is designed for the oil spill my first session with me.The head of a close friend who has been said that Reiki is being considered a form of treatment of an issue is essentially Reiki ranged energies fine tuned for particular purposes such as acupuncture, herbs, qi gong and yoga are commonly practiced.They are much the same, that healing reiki energy or they run into a meditative posture, or lie down in our totality and address our health and pregnancy goals.

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Healing reiki is also used during meditation, aromatherapy, naturopathy, and homeopathy.Reiki practitioners may conduct Reiki sessions, ideally you should feel at relaxed and would allow the air is filling all your hard earned money.And they also reported significantly less pain.For example, when a certain sense of calmness and peace in my life and is now embraced by the medical establishment relies upon dangerous and powerful qualities - each of us; it is helpful to sit in a group session can last anywhere from one to three minutes and then placing your hands on your way to test these techniques a healer and client.The natural consequence being special beneficial effects including true relaxation, feelings of compassion, forgiveness and love might feel even more deeply than Usui Reiki.

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How To Give Reiki 1 Attunement

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#How Do You Pronounce Reiki In Spanish Staggering Useful Ideas #Reiki Symbol Om

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takemedancingmaine · 7 years

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The clock is what bothers me most about these mornings. I have to remind myself, constantly, not to grind my teeth at the sound of it ticking on the wall behind me. I like that I can’t see it, so that I can’t count down the minutes or that I can’t censor myself to stay within the time limits, but I’d honestly prefer it not be here altogether.

Melissa Carlton—Dr. Melissa Carlton—is my therapist, and has been for about five years now. I’d had others, but I never really felt at ease around a therapist until I found Melissa. It’s not that any of the other therapists before were bad, in any sense, really. I just didn’t gel with any of them. Nothing more, nothing less, really.

I’d been going to therapy for eight years now. I’d come to terms with it eight and a half years ago when I first admit to myself I needed help, and eight years almost to the day when I told other people I’d gone to my first therapy session.

It wasn’t easy, and I probably needed to be going to therapy for years before I actually managed to get myself there, but what matters is that I’d made the decision finally to go. All that matters in the scheme of things.

One would think that I use therapy as a crutch, but that’s so far from the truth. I go bi-monthly and have for six years. The common misconception about continued, long-term therapy is that people never get better.

That line of thinking makes me fucking sick. Seriously; anyone who thinks that can get fucked. People with depression, major depressive disorder, do not get ‘cured.’ They manage their lives through a balance of therapy and sometimes pills, and sometimes physical activity amongst many other things.

My concoction for managing is a mixture of therapy, anti-depressants, and running. For example, my week-day run is ten kilometers a day, while my weekend run is twenty kilometers a day. If I can’t get a run in, I swim at my local health club: I get a discount with them through work.

Melissa opens her office half an hour early two Thursday’s a month so that after my run I can attend an hour session and still make it work on time. She started doing this four years ago after I started running on her insistence that it might help.

Immediately it did.

She was incredibly delighted with the fact that her idea worked, even a bit, to help me manage. She doesn’t even begrudge the fact that I come in all sweaty and gross from a run.

The ticking of the fucking clock pulls me back into the session that has to be about halfway through.

“And you’re worried about your brother still?” Melissa asks now.

“Of course I am,” I shrug.

“Why?” She pushes.

“Because his wife died only two months ago,” I shrug again.

“Don’t bullshit me, Wren,” she gives me a look.

“What?”

“There’s something to his wife dying, other than the strict definition of this event, that has you worried,” she explains simply.

“What do you mean?” I ask.

“Wren.”

I take a deep breath and tighten my ponytail.

“Wren.”

“Half the time I think he’s on his way back to us, to his friends and family, to coming back to who he was before this happened,” I spill.

“The other half?”

“The other half of the time,” I roll my eyes, “I’m worried that he’s slipping into a world of only work. That soon he’ll just stop trying and Charlie and the rest of us will have to carry on without him. Almost as if he’d died then, too.”

“What makes you think that?” She asks.

“I don’t mind picking Charlie up from school,” I shrug. “That’s fine. My line of work allows me more leniency than Liam’s, or I can claim I’m out of office chasing a story.”

“Wren.”

“I know,” I sigh. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t apologize,” she shakes her head.

“Right,” I nod. “Well, some days I think he’s fine. He picks Charlie up on his lunch break and gets him to take a nap. And then he’ll get a friend to swing by and watch him until he gets home.”

“But?”

“But other days, like yesterday, I pick Charlie up and I’m there until eight at night when he works late.”

“And that’s abnormal?” She asks.

“It’s becoming more normal,” I explain.

“There it is,” she nods.

“There what is?” I ask.

“What you’re worried about,” she tells me.

“I don’t get it.”

“You’re not worried about the fact that your brother’s wife died, or that you’ll probably be taking a lot more responsibility for his son, or even that your brother isn’t going to come back to you,” she says.

“What am I worried about, then?” I ask.

“Wren.”

I sit for a while, mulling over our words in my head; they’re mostly my words with her prompting. That’s a big part of the reason I like Melissa. She doesn’t answer anything for me. And she doesn’t interrupt me when I’m thinking. She prompts, persistently, and then she waits while I think. I like being able to think. Think freely.

I cut my glance away from Melissa, my left hand fiddling with my watch, and my eyes land on the very small aloe plant she’s got across the room. It’s new.

“I’m worried that my brother’s definition of normal is changing and by extension, my definition of normal will change as well,” I almost whisper. “It’s not so much losing him to his grief, or that I won’t miss him, but losing him as a stable point in my life is terrifying.”

Melissa nods. “He’s your big brother. Wren, you tell me all the time that despite all the teasing you look up to him with the utmost respect, as if he’s your rock. He’s always supported you in therapy and in your career. If he slips away it’s not just that you lose him as a person you love, but as a person who is around for you when you need someone most.”

“But I can stand on my own, can’t I?” I ask.

“Wren, you wouldn’t be here if you couldn’t,” she answers ambiguously until I give her a questioning look. “Of course you stand on your own. Your brother’s support doesn’t define your ability to stand up on your own. That doesn’t make losing that support any less scary, though,” she adds.

“Because accepting help is a good thing.” It’s almost a question.

“Right,” she nods. “But also because accepting help makes us human. Do you think without me around you’d just fall into an amorphous blob on your floor for the rest of your days?”

I shake my head. “It’d be hard, and I’d stay down a lot longer when I’m having an episode, but I’d manage. It would be more of a struggle, but I could keep on.”

“Exactly.”

“So what do I do?” I ask.

“Figure out which side of the line your brother’s on before you start getting worked up about anything,” she advises. “He may just be having a busy patch at work.”

“But if that’s not it?”

“Don’t let him get too far,” she says firmly. “He’ll resist and he’ll be inconsolable, but you know what that looks like. Keep him close if he starts backing away.”

“What if he hates me for it?” I ask.

“Did you hate me all those years ago when I told you that I wanted to see you two times a week?”

“Yes,” I nod. “It made me feel insufficient.”

“And now?” She asks.

I’m silent.

“You need to know that whatever happens, whatever is happening is not your fault, Wren. You cannot be blaming yourself for any of this, and I know you’ll want to,” she levels her gaze at me.

“I know you’ll think you should be doing more, or noticing more, or thinking that you and you alone can fix your brother, or that you even have to fix him as if it’s your responsibility. It’s not,” Melissa pauses and then I feel the weight of her words.

It’s a familiar weight in my mind. I had already started to blame myself. I had already been feeling guilty and responsible for something I wasn’t even sure was a thing to worry about yet.

I can’t speak and, familiar with my tendencies, Melissa knows why. She glances at the clock behind me on the wall. “Stopping point?” she asks me. I nod.

“Don’t exhaust yourself worrying over something you’re not sure is even something to be worried over,” she reassures me. “The world is shit, and sometimes we can’t fix it, even when the shit is hitting those closest to us,” she says. “You can’t take Liam’s added weight just because you think you might need to.”

“I have to be sure first,” I nod.

“And you have to get it through your mind that you can guide him, but ultimately he’s going to do what he wants. Don’t take that as a reflection of you or your effort. Okay?”

“Okay,” I nod and stand up slowly.

“I’ll see you in two weeks time,” she stands and opens her office door for me.

“Thank you.” My customary parting falls from my lips.

“It’s my pleasure,” Melissa tells me. This time, and every other time, I believe her words fully.

“Who’s your source?” I ask through the phone receiver pressed to my cheek as I scribble some horribly confusing economic numbers down with my left hand.

“I can’t… I can’t tell you that,” Jonas says through the receiver, his voice sounding awfully scratchy through the static coming from his side of the phone call. “But you can trust them.”

“Jonas,” I groan. “I can’t take your word for it. You know that’s not how this works. I have to be able to have two credible sources to take this to Will.”

“Will is just an editor. He’ll see the merit in running the story without naming the source. This source is credible,” he protests.

“Says you!” I point out. “I trust that you think your source is credible, but I can’t take unnamed sources to Will and expect to get the go-ahead for this story. And by the way, Will is not just an editor, he’s the editor. He’s in charge of everything.”

It’s a little degrading and more than a little frustrating that I have to explain this, but here I am, explaining it. My tone getting more and more clipped and strained by the second.

“I understand that Wren, but I can’t give you my source,” I’m practically steaming.

“Well, then I can’t write your story,” I tell him flatly. “A shame, too, as I’m sure people would be incredibly interested in a story that details just how their parliament is planning on voting on the possibility of raising the debt ceiling resolution in two weeks time.”

“Wren,” he groans.

“Tell your source to get some gravitas because if they really cared about helping educate people they would at the very least tell me their name so that I could run the damn story,” I hang up the phone before Jonas can even respond.

I know he’ll call back after talking to his source, but I was done with the conversation for the moment.

Funnily enough, the shy girl is incredibly good at working her sources, at coercing people to get her to tell a story.

To me, it’s not about me though. My story is told through me, but readers of the news deserve the best and they deserve the knowledge that’s out there and if I can give that to them, that’s what’s important. I’ll do whatever it takes to raise the level of public debate and to educate.

You’ll never catch me out with colleagues for a drink or even chatting anyone up in the break room—really just a glass-enclosed area with a kettle and a fridge. I’m not stepping out and talking to just be nosy or to make acquaintances. I’m too worried to make a fool of myself.

Give me a news story though, one with a purpose, and I’ll chase it with everything I’ve got. It’s not about me. I can be shy and still be a pushy, nosy journalist.

Which is how I know that Jonas will call me back with the name of his source. And how I know I’ll be running with this story and it’ll be up on the homepage by early evening. How I know anyone with the BBC News app on their phone will be getting a news alert for my story on their commute home from work.

I can be shy and good at what I do. At least, it’s worked this far.

“Wren!”

I look up from my notepad where I’ve written votes and minister’s of parliament names down on in hopes that Jonas confirms these with a source name soon, to see my boss and editor Will standing in the doorway to his office with an expectant look on his face.

I jump up—literally—and with my notepad I make my way over to him, following him into his office.

“You’ve met James, haven’t you?” Will asks with a nod toward the other man in the room as he sits—reclines—in his desk chair.

I look up and my cheeks flame. Will is talking about James Hawthorne, the ep—executive producer—of the prime-time news hour from 8-9 every weeknight. His anchor is the second most watched news anchor in the whole of the UK.

No. I have not met this man. I’m dumbstruck and I can feel myself losing brain cells.

“I um… I… no. I… I haven’t met him. No sir,” I stumble over my own tongue. For fuck sake. Closing my eyes I drop my gaze to my shoes and bite my bottom lip.

“Oh,” Will shrugs. “Well, James this is Wren Kearney. Wren, this is James Hawthorn, the ep for the 8-9 primetime slot.”

James extends his hand and I gulp before moving my gaze up to his, pink cheeks and all, and shake his hand.

“James here wants to steal you from me and take you to the twenty-seventh floor with him,” Will says now.

“Oh,” I nod and shake my head simultaneously. Don’t ask me how. I’m not quite sure. “Is this because of the debt ceiling story?” I ask. “Will there, um.. will there be a story about it on tonight’s broadcast?”

“What debt ceiling story?” Will asks.

“No,” James smiles. “I want you on my staff permanently.”

I freeze. “I’m sorry. You want… you… you want me? On… on your staff? Perm-Permanently?”

“She’s a better writer,” Will says over my head to James. I gulp.

“I know,” James nods to Will. I’m right in the middle, but I can’t move.

“She gets less jumpy after about a week,” Will shrugs.

“I like jumpy,” James smiles back at Will. “It means she’s always on her toes.”

“It’s helpful when she can drink tea and walk and not spill it on herself and others though,” Will brings up a day from one of my first weeks on the job.

My cheeks turn bright red again.

“I’m sure she’ll do fine,” James glances at me, before shooting an unconcerned look at Will. “So what do you say, Wren? Wanna join the team as a junior producer?”

I open my mouth and nothing comes out. I close it and try again. “But I don’t, erm. I don’t have any experience. In, in broadcast journalism.” I swallow hard, my mouth feeling like sandpaper.

“You can chase a story,” James levels a gaze at me, fully, for the first time in the meeting. “And you’ve got reliable sources from what I hear,” he nods at Will.

From the corner of my eye, I see Will nod.

“Those are the two most important things,” he shrugs. “The Computer System is easy to understand as well. Reports that come in yellow are mentions in a broadcast, orange is something that will be followed up on and put into the B or C block, and anything that comes up red is breaking news that will not only take all of segment A but more than likely push whatever else is on the slate for the hour.”

I’m following. My mushy brain that can’t form words is somehow comprehending his words.

“Aside from that, and writing your piece to fit into a broadcast rather than a print piece, everything we do is the same,” James shrugs.

I’d be an idiot not to take this. An absolute idiot. I’d lose some of the leniency in hours that comes with my current job, but I’d be gaining so much in terms of rapport, and my ability to get the news out, my ability to make a difference. My experience upstairs with the broadcast team would open me up to a whole new world of opportunities and I’m no fool.

My mouth is too dry to even hope to push words out of.

“Will isn’t happy about it,” I look over at my editor, his face stoic, “but I’ve negotiated you onto my team with the execs on floor forty if you want to join,” he finishes and both men look at me expectantly.

I nod, slowly at first and then rapidly. “Yes,” I make the word come out finally. “I’d-I’d love to, yes.” The blush that comes into my cheeks now is the brightest red I’m sure I’ve ever been in my life.

“Great news!” James says. “Let’s go grab your things from your desk and take you upstairs!”

Holy shit. This is real.

“Briefing room, new kid,” I hear a voice right behind me whisper in my ear as they breeze by me in their way to what I can only assume is the briefing room.

Quickly I grab my padfolio and my BlackBerry and follow the other junior producers—IM A JUNIOR PRODUCER—into the briefing room.

There are eight of us in total. James, me, the managing editor and anchor Seamus Williams, the helpful person who got me up from my desk, and four others.

“Alright everyone,” James is stood at the head of the conference table. “This is Wren, she’s one of us now. Once lost in the world of print media on the twentieth floor, Wren has been rescued by me and brought into the world of broadcast journalism,” he smiles at me.

“She doesn’t need hand-holding when it comes to chasing stories,” he looks around to everyone, and that’s when I realize everyone—EVERYONE—is staring at me including Seamus Williams. I feel faint. I feel dizzy. “But when it comes to how we run things and the pace we run at, maybe just help her out a bit,” he shrugs. “Wren, this is Seamus, Philip,” helpful person, “Karl, Greg, Elizabeth, and Jamie.”

With me, Jamie and Elizabeth this makes three women out of a crew of eight. I was actually quite chuffed at that revelation.

“Philip is my senior producer, Karl and Liz are in charge of domestic affairs, Greg does national security, Jamie is in charge of global affairs along with Philip when he can lend a hand, and you are going to be our economist specialist, at least for the day,” he smiles. “At least, if I heard you right downstairs.”

I nod to let him know I’m following along. “Right, then myself and Seamus have our hands in a bit of everything that goes around,” he adds. “The rundown meeting is daily at noon, final story approval is at six, the copy is finalized from six to seven-thirty and then we’re in the studio and on the air at eight.”

Shit. I’m in for full days.

“Right,” I nod and then the briefing continues in what I assume to be a normal fashion with me taking slow, deep breathes to calm myself.

“What was your economic story you were chasing?” James asks when everyone else has said their piece.

“Oh,” I take a deep breath. “I erm, I have a source saying that parliament is going to… going to vote on,” I flip my folio open to my notepad that I’d been writing on before, “on raising the debt ceiling in two weeks.”

“Who’s the source?”

I flinch. Shit. Shit. Shit.

My phone rings. I’m nodded in approval to answer it as Seamus and James break off into a side conversation.

“Thomas Winters,” Jonas says now.

“Thomas Winters as in MP Gregory Paulson‘s aid?”

“Yes,” Jonas whispers harshly.

“You get me a phone call from him by two at the latest,” I resist the urge to grind my teeth.

“On it,” Jonas says and ends the call.

“The source is Thomas Winters,” I say when Seamus looks my way when I place my phone down.

“Find me another credible source and you’ve got yourself something,” Seamus nods his head. “Alright,” he waves at all of us. “Away with you for now,” he stands up and everyone begins to disperse. Quickly I grab my things and make my way back to my new desk.

“That’s it for tonight’s broadcast. I’m Seamus Williams, goodnight.”

I’m standing beside my desk watching Seamus finish his broadcast both on the television monitors spread all throughout the room and through the glass wall that goes straight into the studio.

My segment on the debt ceiling was in block B. I ended up getting my second source. The story got twelve minutes thanks to an interview with the aid Thomas Winters after I coerced him into it when I managed to do a pre-interview before he could figure out how to say no.

The feeling I got seeing and hearing news I’d gathered being broadcast live across the nation was indescribable. I have to get back into the show. I have to keep doing this. The feeling I have now is addicting and liberating and electrifying in the best way. It’s euphoria in its purest form. I delivered the news. In a different way than I’d ever dreamed.

As I’m packing my things at my desk to head home Seamus, James and Philip walk in and the room erupts in applause. I join in, feeling encircled with pride at what I’d done. What we’d done.

“Great job today with that debt story, Wren,” Seamus gives me a nod on his way to his office.

I’m a tomato. My face resembles one and my brain capacity has been reduced to a startling liking as well.

“We’re going to Finnegan’s if you’d like to join,” I turn and see Greg and Elizabeth, a couple of others I haven’t met yet, and Philip in a group. “It’s a ritual. We get a couple of trays of their chips and gravy to share and just have a pint to unwind a bit.”

“I um, I’m not sure that that’s the um, the best idea,” I breathe and give what I hope is an apologetic look. “I can’t tonight,” I say. “Maybe tomorrow,” I nod though after seeing the relative disappointment on their faces.

“Of course,” Greg says now as they start to make their way toward the door.

“I’ll hold you to that,” Liz winks as she follows along and the group pile into the lift, ready to kick back for the night.

When I get home fifteen minutes later Piper has dinner waiting for me. Unfortunately, Piper is nowhere to be seen.

“Piper?” I call out and look back towards the hook by the door. Her keys are gone.

“Right,” I nod before taking a seat and digging into the pasta she left for me. I’m three bites in when my phone rings: Liam.

“‘Lo?” I ask.

“How do you make chocolate chip biscuits?”

No introduction. Liam is clearly frazzled. His voice is tight. A tell-tale sign that my brother is flustered.

“M’sorry?” I ask, my mouth full.

“Chocolate chip biscuits,” he repeats. “How the fuck do I make them?”

Suddenly I’m hit with an image of Liam standing in his kitchen, looking around at the closed cabinets and fridge as if they’ll open up to reveal the answer he’s looking for. Biting back a giggle I take a sip of my water and try to gather my thoughts.

“Are you alright?” I ask.

“Wren, I just need to know how to make the biscuits,” he sighs.

“Why?” I ask, testing his patience I’m sure.

“It’s Charlie’s birthday Saturday,” he says.

“Yes, I know,” I answer him cooly. Wow, I’m really going to set him off soon. “I’m asking why you’re making biscuits tonight.”

“He’s bringing them into class tomorrow,” he finally explains with a sigh. “He and his teacher have the same birthday and they’re having a little thing tomorrow at school and I wanted to fucking make the biscuits instead of buying them on the way to school in the morning.”

Mr Lowden was the only thing I was focused on after he said that. The blonde Scotsman that bites his lip with a smirk and teaches my nephew his letters.

“So will you stop pushing my buttons and fucking help me?” He asks.

I shake myself from thoughts of blue eyes and dimpled smiles and laugh at my brother.

“Of course I’ll help,” I tell him.

“Fuck,” he sighs. “Thank you.”

Half an hour later my brother has the biscuits in the oven and I have him on speaker phone as I wash my dishes. I’ve just finished telling him about my day.

“So you work from eleven to nine?” He asks.

“Technically, yes,” I place the cup I’d just cleaned on the drying rack. “But I mean, I worked from nine to nine today and it really wasn’t that bad. Plus I get a late lunch at three. I just have to shift my schedule about a bit, but I’m not worried. Nothing big, really.”

“I’m proud of you, Wren,” I hear him say now. I blush at the compliment. “And you said you even got a story in on the news tonight?” He asks.

“I did,” I begin to tell him all about how I coerced Jonas and then Thomas into telling all about the vote.

“You know nothing about economics,” my brother pauses me about midway through my telling him about the live broadcast interview.

“I know!” I agree. “We have an economics specialist on staff,” I explain excitedly. “He technically is the anchor of the four o’clock show, but he has a doctorate from London School of Economics, where he teaches two mornings a week.”

“You’ve made it to the fucking premier league, Wren,” he tells me.

“The feeling I got seeing my news story being broadcast live?” I pause, half trying to look for words, half just for effect. “I’ve never felt anything quite like that.”

“I’ll see if I can find the broadcast online tomorrow, and I’ll try to be home in time to watch from now on,” he tells me. There’s a small pause before: “My baby sister is such a huge success.”

“It’s nothing,” I blush, my body rejecting the compliment by force of habit.

“It’s huge, Wren.”

“I mean, it is-“

“Shit,” Liam swears, cutting me off.

“What?” I ask.

“Nothing,” his voice is distant. He put me on speaker. “The timer for the biscuits just scared the fuck out of me, is all.”

“How is it that you manage to hold back the naughty words in front of Charlie when they’re practically half of the words in your whole vocabulary?”

“Fuck off, Wren,” he grumbles.

“Happily,” I glance at the time. “I’ll let you go. I’m going to head to bed,” I finish drying my hands off in the dish towel and drain the sink.

“You can still come early Saturday to help set up, right?” He asks quickly.

“I’ll be there,” I tell him. “Love you, LiLi,” I say softly.

He groans but doesn’t say anything about the nickname. “Love you too, Wren,” he says and then the call ends.

When I crawl into bed twenty minutes later I have only two thoughts. The first is how I made a difference today, how I reported the news.

The second is a blue-eyed man with dimples and a ginger beard.

#GUESS WHO LOVES FEEDBACK #THIS GIRL #PLEASE TELL ME WHAT YOU THINK #IM NOT DESPERATE #im a little desperate #hand me down #jack lowden fanfiction #jack lowden fanfic #hmd

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