#When GP said 'No the normal amount of pain is NONE we need to find what's wrong.' I WAS TEARING

[annoyedlord]

WE FINALLY HAVE AN IDEA OF WHY IM IN SO MUCH PAIN AND MY GP GAVE ME A LETTER SO I CAN SEE A CENTER WHO'LL HELP ME AND ALSO A FRIEND GAVE ME A CANE TO HELP ME TO WALK WHEN I STRUGGLE TOO MUCH IT WAS A GOOD WEEK!!!!

[honeyedhoseok]

besitos| ta!jimin 02

genre: fluff/slightly smutty

word count: 8k

summary: Switching to a new major is always nerve-wracking, but having a totally hot TA to look at for the rest of the semester sure does ease the pain…

|01|

As the semester trudged on, you were soon thrown into the whirlwind that was midterms, but you didn’t suffer nearly as much as you thought you would due to your newfound distraction: Jimin.

 For weeks on end, your phone was a constant flurry of text messages back and forth about anything and everything. You talked periodically throughout the day whenever one of you had a break or a spare moment, and surprisingly, the conversation never turned dull. Thought you wished you could hear his voice more often than you did, Jimin did a good job of texting exactly as he would talk—pauses, hesitation, and all.

Your roommates noticed your distractions, of course, and you blamed it most of the time on a study group chat for psychology—which technically wasn’t a lie because you did have one of those. But you could tell they were getting fed up with that excuse because of the increasing amount of groans whenever your phone went off, so you started keeping it on silent to avoid that altogether.

Other than Jimin himself, Taehyung was the only one to know about your secret romance, so he quickly became your confidant and advice-giver all in one. It also helped that he was just as eager to hear about it as you were to tell him.

“Soooo….” he said one day after class, giving you a pointed look and a quirky smile. “How are things?”

You sighed. “Taehyung you asked me this on Tuesday. Everything is fine.”

 “But fine doesn’t mean anything, Y/N!” he whined, plopping into his desk chair.  The room was completely cleared out except for you two—it was a common occurrence for you to stay after class and chat with Taehyung nowadays—so your things were still splayed out on the table around you. “I need details! Details are important—don’t you remember me writing that on your last assignment?”

You gave him a deadly look, but he continued grinning at you. “Taehyung.”

“Yes, Y/N?”

“Are you asking me because you want to know? Or because Jimin does?”

He gave you his signature sly smile, his normally animated expression turning fox-like in nature in a matter of seconds. “Oh, Y/N. What kind of wingman would I be if I told you that?”

You sighed rolling your eyes. “Fine. Things are…slow.”

“Slow?” his eyebrows shot up on his forehead. “What do you mean? I thought that was what you wanted?”

“It was, at first,” you admitted. “But now it seems almost like…we’re sort of—“

“—friends with no benefits?” Taehyung finished for you, a mocking smile playing around the edge of his lips.

You shrugged, “Sure, but that’s not exactly the word choice I would have used.”

“That’s because you always beat around the bush,” Taehyung beamed, patting your hand. “But that’s okay, that’s what I’m here for, Y/N! Say no more.”

“Wait, wait, what are you gonna do?”

“I’m gonna tell Jimin to step it up. You guys need some alone time, obviously. When’s the last time you hung out?”

You looked away sheepishly, suddenly finding extreme interest in your cuticles. You heard the smack of Taehyung’s mouth as it dropped open in shock.

“You’re telling me that you guys haven’t hung out since that night? Y/N, this is unacceptable—“

“I’ve been busy with mid-terms!” you exclaimed. “And Jimin is a teacher, Taehyung. He has a schedule as well.” You paused. “Did I mention he’s a teacher? Where are we supposed to see each other?”

“You guys are fucking amateurs,” Taehyung muttered sourly, his eyes diminishing into slits. “Jimin has an apartment. Off-campus. By himself. Is this rocket science for you two? Jesus.”

 Taehyung slid back in his chair, standing up and grabbing his stuff. “Follow me.”

You scrambled to gather your things and shove them in your bookbag, flittering after Taehyung into the hallway and towards Jimin’s cracked door. “Taehyung—“ you warned, but he was already knocking, poking his head around the frame.

“You busy, Park? I just wanted to talk for a few minutes.”

“Nah, I’m free, what’s up?”

You slowly walked into the classroom behind Taehyung, watching as Jimin’s face lit up once he saw you. “Y/N,” he said, grinning. “To what do I owe the pleasure of this surprise visit?”

He was as stylish as ever, sitting behind his desk in a loose-fitting striped sweater, his hair split effortlessly down the middle, strands falling aimlessly on the smooth expanse of his forehead. His plump lips pulled back over his teeth as he gave you a splitting grin, eyes crinkling in the corners and shining with all the light of the stars in the sky. Why did you go so long without seeing such a masterpiece of a face, of a smile? Or better yet, how?

“Let’s do dinner this week. Your place. Me, you, Y/N, and Jenny. Kind of like a double date,” he whispered the last part, making sure to flash you an encouraging smile. “What do you say?”

Jimin was already nodding eagerly, “Sounds amazing. Tomorrow night, around 7?”

“Yep, and Y/N can get there early to make sure you have some help so dinner will be on time. Right, Y/N?” Taehyung nudged you, raising an eyebrow. You nodded slowly, and you could have sworn you saw Jimin swallow harshly at the proposition. “Great! See you guys then!”

Taehyung walked out of the classroom, throwing up a peace sign to the both of you as a goodbye, his work obviously done. Jimin chuckled, standing up from his seat. “Are you okay with dinner? I know Taehyung tends to make plans and just assumes everyone is okay with them with checking first…”

“Dinner sounds great,” you grinned. You were just happy to finally have plans with Jimin after a long absence. Hearing him talk now was making you realize how much you missed his voice. “What should we cook? I can pick up some groceries before I head over.”

“Don’t worry about that,” Jimin said quickly, shaking his head. “You just bring yourself and a pair of hands that can use a knife.”

You nodded once. “Got it. So, I’ll see you around five thirty?”

Jimin looked like he wanted to come from behind the desk, but he stopped himself, choosing instead to keep his hands busy with picking a pen out of the holder by his hip, clicking it nonchalantly. “Yeah…see you then, Y/N.”

You were feeling the same way, itching to bring Jimin close, to smell all the delicious scents that wafted off his clothes, to diminish the distance between your lips that had been apart for far too long. But you also knew this was his classroom, and with the door open it was much too easy to see inside, so you hitched your book bag into a comfortable spot on your back, throwing Jimin one last small smile before leaving.

“I’m going out tonight with some people from my Psychology class for dinner. I don’t know how long I’ll be out because it’ll probably turn into a drinking thing, so don’t wait up for me.”

You were sitting at the counter, a chocolate chip bagel pinched between your fingers as you told Sana and Jihyo about your plans for Friday. Sana raised an inquisitive eyebrow at you, pausing in spreading honey butter on her own bagel to point the end of the butter knife at you. “You’re ditching us for psych nerds?”

You rolled your eyes. “Technically, I’m a psych nerd since it’s my major. Why do you always forget that? And we didn’t have plans anyway!”

Jihyo sidled up to Sana, taking the knife out of her hand to butter her own bagel. “Are you mad at us or something? You’ve been kind of distant lately.”

“Yeah, if it’s something we did you can tell us, Y/N,” Sana added.

You suddenly felt a wave of guilt wash over you. You’d been lying to Sana and Jihyo for weeks about Jimin—and you weren’t sure why. It wasn’t like you couldn’t trust them because they surely wouldn’t tell anyone when it was about something as serious as Jimin’s job. But once you lied to them the first time, they just kept coming, bundling together and getting bigger and bigger like a snowball effect; there was no stopping a roll once it got going.

“It’s nothing, honestly. I just really want to make a good grade in this class, is all.” There it was, another lie rolling effortlessly off your tongue. You could give two shits about psychology at this point because you were positive you’d be switching majors at the end of the semester due to how well you were doing in Taehyung’s class. “You guys know I’m trying to pull my GPA up.”

Sana nodded, lowering her butter knife as she steered the conversation in another direction, and you let out a long breath of air through your nose in relief. No wonder you didn’t lie much—it was exhausting.

The rest of the day went by extremely slow for you, making you look countless times at the clock. You spent the afternoon with Sana and Jihyo in the living room watching a movie, waiting with a growing knot in your stomach for the right time to slip off to your room and get dressed for dinner. Thankfully, the movie ended at the perfect time, and while they were in the kitchen grabbing another snack you removed yourself, quickly taking off your comfortable clothes and throwing on jeans, a nice shirt and a thick jacket.

You exited the apartment after saying goodbye, pulling out your phone once you were outside to find the address Jimin had sent you earlier in the day. It was only a twelve-minute walk from your apartment so you decided to do that instead of driving, and set out in the direction the GPS was telling you.

Jimin lived in a relatively nice apartment for it to be so close to campus—normally the apartments looked nice on the outside but the residents would tell you the opposite of the inside—and you could tell this wasn’t the case as you clicked a button on the sleek outside panel, waiting as it buzzed to Jimin’s apartment. None of the students around campus had an intercom system, nor did they have anything like the updated exterior that you took in as you waited for Jimin to answer.

“Yes? Who’s there?” he chirped, sounding somewhat giddy through the speaker.

“It’s me, can you let me in?”

It was quiet for a few seconds before his voice sounded through the speaker again. “How do I know it’s really you? You might be a Y/N-impersonator.”

“Jimin!” you groaned. “Just let me in.”

He laughed a delicate, tinkling laugh that made your mouth twitch with the threat of a smile. Jimin was in an unusually good mood, and it made you wonder what the cause of such a joking manner could be coming from.

“Tell me something only Y/N would know.”

You rolled your eyes, wracking your brain quickly for a response. “Um…your favorite pair of shoes are your black combat boots.”

“Too easy,” came his quick reply.

“Okay, fine,” you thought again, “The first time we hung out…you told me about civil twilight.”

“And?” he quipped.

“And…you said it was fucked up for you to like me, and then…you kissed me,” you said shyly, looking over your shoulder to make sure no one was witnessing the conversation that was unfolding between the two of you through an apartment intercom.

“Correction,” Jimin said, and you could see him holding up a finger in a teacher-like manner. “I said I was waiting for you to tell me you like me like I liked you, and that that in itself was fucked up. But anyways, what about the kiss?”

“What about it?” you said immediately, and you knew you’d spoken too soon when Jimin clicked his tongue condescendingly.

“Y/N, Y/N, Y/N. If you don’t think these lips are the center of the universe, the sole reason for your existence, if they aren’t flower petals gracing your lips when I kiss you, similar to that poem you wrote for class—“

“Jimin, for Christ’s sake, just let me in!” you insisted, raising your voice to cut him off. He laughed again childishly, obviously enjoying his little game way too much. Finally, there was a loud buzzing, and you were let into the apartment stairwell to begin climbing up to the third floor where Jimin’s apartment was. You let yourself in, the door already unlocked, peeling off your coat and kicking your shoes off at the entrance, treading on the soft carpet of the hallway into the tiled flooring of the kitchen. Jimin stood poised by his intercom, arms crossed over his chest and a sly smile playing around the edge of his lips.

You swung your purse strap over your head, slinging it onto a barstool before walking over to him. His eyes followed you, grazing over you from head to toe until you were standing in front of him, now half-lidded as he looked down his nose at you.

Just being in such close proximity, completely alone, for the first time since you two had met had your stomach doing backflips, your palms sweaty and itching to snatch Jimin’s face down to yours. You swallowed harshly, looking up into the dark chocolate orbs that were watching your every move, almost predator-like.

“Hi,” you said breathlessly.

“Hello, beautiful,” Jimin murmured, unfolding his arms to snake an arm around your waist and bring you closer. Electricity skittered across your skin underneath your shirt as his hand pressed to your lower back, sending a delicious tingle up your spine. You hummed a small noise of content at the warmth, burying your face in the crook of Jimin’s neck for a few moments and breathing in deeply. You stayed like that until you remembered your recent conversation over the intercom.

“What was all that talk about kissing just a few moments ago?” you teased, pulling back to look at him. You licked your lips suggestively, watching Jimin’s eyes dart down to your mouth. “I think you said you owed me a few…or something like that?”

“Owing you a few?” Jimin shrugged, his gaze drifting back upwards to your eyes. “I don’t remember that part.”

You narrowed your eyes. “Don’t play with me, boy.”

Jimin grinned down at you but his eyes darkened, making you cautious of his next move as he dipped his head down, trailing his way up your jawline with his nose, each breath he took sending a cool wave of air over your neck and collarbones. In seconds he had you completely under his spell, your weak hands coming to rest on his chest as his other arm wrapped around your waist, pulling you completely against his body.

“I invited you into my humble abode,” he began, his breath ghosting over the hollow beneath your ear, “And the first thing you bring up is a supposed debt?” He tsked, tucking your hair so that he could speak directly into your ear. “Do you really think that’s how this works, Y/N?”

“Technically, Taehyung invited me over,” you responded cheekily. You gasped embarrassingly loud at the sharp feeling of Jimin’s canines grazing over the juncture between your neck and shoulder in warning. He chuckled at your response, obviously enjoying every second of his torment.

“Ah, yes. Speaking of Taehyung—“ his hands moved up from your lower back until they were at your middle, Jimin’s thumbs hooking into the space right below your ribcage, his fingers splayed out on your sides. “He said something to me before you got here…”

“And what would that be?”

He rubbed his nose against yours, his eyes closing briefly before opening to look down at you with a mischievous glint. You could have sworn you saw his pupils dilate as your eyes met. “Something about—oh, I don’t know—things being…slow? Between us?”

“Oh,” you reddened, unsure of what to say.

“Oh?” Jimin repeated, taking a hand off your waist to tilt your chin up so that he could fully gauge your reaction. “If I remember correctly, that’s what you wanted. Isn’t that right?”

“At first…and then we didn’t see each other for a long time and, well, I don’t know…”

“Hmmm,” Jimin mused. “I see.”

“Taehyung is so unfair,” you murmured, pouting. “He’s always telling on me.”

“He’s my best friend and wingman first, your confidant second. Remember that,” Jimin laughed quietly before turning serious again. “So, how would you like your repayment?”

“Repayment?” you repeated curiously, though your stomach flip-flopped anyways at the word.

“For making you wait so long that you changed your mind about wanting things to be slow,” Jimin said, his gaze flickering down to your mouth again. “All at once or spread out?”

“Both,” you replied quickly.

Jimin grinned, “Greedy!” You licked your lips anxiously as one of his hands kept its place on your side, burning warmth through your shirt straight to your stomach, while the other snaked into your hair. “But I like it.”

Just like the first time, your brain fogged over as Jimin’s lips found yours, like flipping a switch on your hormones that allowed them to do all your thinking. These kisses were hard and needy, the opposite of what you were used to with Jimin. His mouth moved fluidly against yours, plump lips completely dominating the conversation your mouths were having while his hand curled in your hair, fingertips lightly grazing against your scalp. You whimpered a little at the feeling and in return Jimin growled deep in his throat, using the opportunity of your slightly parted mouth to delve his tongue in, poking tentatively at yours until you responded.

 Your hands balled into fists on his shirt, yanking him closer to you in any way you could, not wanting to separate your mouths for even a moment. Jimin’s mouth was somewhat bitter--probably from his tendency to drink coffee at all times of the day--but the taste to you was heavenly as his tongue laved over your own, fingers drawing patterns into your sides and back.

 While Jimin distracted you with his mouth, he was slowly backing you out of the kitchen and towards the L-shaped couch that was positioned in front of the TV in his living room. Your knees hit the side and Jimin released his hold on you, pushing you slightly so that you fell onto your back on the cushions. A wave of Jimin’s cologne hit your nostrils, wafting up from the couch, and then an even bigger wave hit you as he climbed on top of you, pressing his body into yours once more before you could react to being dropped onto the soft surface. You could feel his hardened member pressing into your hip bone as he laid down, his mouth darting for your neck, peppering kisses there. Your eyes closed immediately, and your head tipped back in bliss, hands coming to rest in Jimin’s raven hair as he switched between nipping at your neck and sucking lightly on the areas.

 “Oh, god,” you groaned as he roamed his mouth over a particular spot that sent another harsh shiver down your spine, the hotness of your skin mixing with the incredible warmth of his mouth. “Jimin—”

You twitched underneath him involuntarily as he sucked harder based off of your reaction, accidently grinding your hips against the hardness protruding from Jimin’s jeans and coaxing a small moan out of him. The noise licked fire along your insides, sparking a warmth inside your stomach that made you never want Jimin to stop as he sucked and pecked his way towards your collarbones. But your brain got the better of you, a thought crossing your mind that had you ruining the moment.

“Wait,” you said breathlessly, closing your eyes as Jimin nudged his way across your chest with kisses. “What about cooking dinner?”

“Taehyung’s coming over,” he nipped at your shoulder playfully, making you jump at the tingle that skittered across your skin. “He’s bringing takeout from the Italian place down the street.”

You straightened up a little, bumping your collarbone into Jimin’s teeth and making him cringe. He pouted at you while you talked. “So...why did I come over so early?”

 Jimin shrugged, his pout shifting into a shit-eating grin. “I told you, Taehyung’s my wingman. He may seem like a mindless puppy, but he’s actually a pretty smart guy.”

 “Hm,” you murmured, nodding your head slowly. “Wow, he really is…”

 Jimin groaned suddenly, grabbing your face with both hands to squish your cheeks together, pouting your lips manually so that he could press small kisses to them over and over. “I—can’t—stop—doing—this—”

 “Can’t or won’t?” you murmured, giggling as he continued to assault your face with his lips. The steamy moment from before quickly shifted to less intimate conversation and then right back as he pressed his body against yours again so that you were laying down on the couch, his arms barricading you from moving as he leaned his face close.

 “What are you doing to me, huh?”

“I don’t know. But I kinda like it...maybe I should do more of it. Whatever it is.”

 “Mmm,” Jimin mused, a grin dusting his features as he leaned in to press a kiss to the corner of your mouth. “You’re dangerous.”

 “Dangerous?” you asked. “How so?”

 “I just—” he murmured, pausing to sink his teeth into the soft flesh of his lower lip. His eyes darkened just slightly as he rolled his hips into yours in a small, controlled movement. He didn’t even have to say anything—the flames licking at your belly and traveling down to your wet center told you everything he couldn’t manage—you felt it too.

You licked your lips, swallowing to coat your suddenly-dry throat as you fought to speak, Jimin’s half-lidded eyes boring into yours. “Oh...well, maybe, I could help you, with that—”

 You were cut off by a loud buzzing sounding throughout the apartment, making Jimin frown and sigh above you. “Interrupted right at the good part, huh? Taehyung’s not as much of a wing-man as he thought he was.” He pushed himself off of you, offering you a hand and pulling you off the couch before he walked over to the intercom. You watched him subtly adjust the tent protruding from the front of his pants as he talked and it made you giggle. “Yeah?”

Taehyung’s voice came through the speaker loud and clear: “Open up, ugly.”

 “Yeah, yeah,” Jimin rolled his eyes, pushing the button to unlock the door downstairs. You were distributing plates at the circular table in Jimin’s kitchen when Taehyung walked in, a giant brown bag settled into his hands and a petite girl following behind him.

 “They took forever, dude. How long does it take to make fucking spaghetti? It’s noodles, sauce and cheese, not rocket science,” he complained, looking over at you. “Sup, Y/N.”

 You grinned a hello as he stepped aside, motioning to the girl that was putting bottles of wine into Jimin’s freezer. “This is Jenny. Jenny, Y/N.”

 “Hey,” she said, waving as she shut the door to the fridge. She looked at you through rounded spectacles, her bangs just brushing the top of them. She looked like the book-ish type, and you wondered if Taehyung met her while he was in college. “I’ve heard a lot about you.”

You frowned. “Good things, I hope?”

“Oh of course,” she nodded enthusiastically, a smile playing around the edges of her mouth. “You’re the student Jimin seduced, right?”

“Hey, I did not seduce her!” Jimin protested, holding up a hand. “Y/N seduced me, I’m the victim here!”

“Yeah right,” you muttered, cutting your eyes at him as your face heated in embarrassment. “Victim, my ass.”

 “Hey, it doesn’t matter who seduced who to me,” Taehyung said, settling into his chair at the table. He tucked his napkin into the collar of his shirt dramatically. “What does matter, however, is how much pasta I can eat until I pass out on Jimin’s sofa with a food baby—and I intend to find out tonight. Let’s eat!”

“I really don’t feel like it should be considered a great piece of fiction from our time,” Taehyung argued, sticking a breadstick in his mouth and biting the end off, crumbs flying everywhere as he spoke. “She wrote fucking Harry Potter fanfiction before writing Fifty Shades.”

“So? She had to get a start somewhere, Tae,” Jimin countered. “Who cares what or where that was. Try telling her she’s not a real fiction writer and she’ll slap you in the face with her millions and her movie deals.”

You and Jenny glanced at each other over the table, exchanging bored looks. Taehyung and Jimin had been debating modern fiction for the past twenty minutes. Every time either of you tried to steer the conversation in a different direction they somehow circled it back around to whether erotic novels could be considered “good” fiction.

“That’s because it became a craze!” Taehyung turned the bitten end of his breadstick to Jimin, jabbing the air with it emphasize his point. “Smut doesn’t equal quality writing. Show me a plot, some dialogue, some character development, a story arc. Then I’ll be impressed and maybe consider it a piece of fiction, at the least.”

“May I add a comment to this discussion, as a budding creative writing major?” you asked, raising your eyebrows hopefully.

“No.”

“Absolutely not.”

You slumped back in your chair, crossing your arms over your chest in defeat. Jenny chose that time to slide back in hers, excusing herself from the table. “Alright, I’m going to go crack open a wine bottle now since you two dweebs don’t want to talk to us. Y/N, you coming?”

“Yes!” you quickly got up, following Jenny back into the kitchen as Jimin and Taehyung’s argument died out in the background. She grabbed two glasses, sitting one down in front of you and filling it with the cool, golden liquid from the wine bottle.

 “Riesling is the best, isn’t?” she hummed, taking an appreciative sip from her own glass. “Sorry about those two, by the way. They do this all the time.”

 “Really?” you asked, wide-eyed. “Wow, that would drive me fucking insane.”

 She shrugged, shooting you a teasing smile. “You better get used to it. You know, being Jimin’s girl and all.”

 You smiled shyly, your gaze drifting down the countertop. Jimin’s girl. It had a nice ring to it. But a part of you still felt weird knowing that you were a college student, still taking intro classes in your major,  hanging out with a bunch of graduate students who had full time jobs.

 “About that…” you started, and Jenny raised her eyebrows as you took a nervous sip from your glass. “So, since Jimin is a TA...us being together…its--”

 “--it’s difficult, yes,” Jenny nodded. “And certainly not recommended.” Your heart dropped at the reality of her words, a sinking feeling settling into your chest. “But...Jimin is taking extra precautions with your relationship so that everything goes smoothly. Don’t worry, okay? As soon as you’re out of the intro class, you’re allowed to do whatever--well, kind of. Just keep a low profile for a while and everything will be fine.”

 You gave her a grateful smile as she tipped back the rest of her glass. “What do your friends think?”

 You cleared your throat awkwardly, speaking in a small voice, “I...haven’t told them.”

 “Why not?” she cocked an perfectly sculpted eyebrow above her round spectacles. “You don’t trust them?”

 “No, it’s not that,” you shook your head. You trusted Sana and Jihyo with everything, and had for a long time. “It’s more like since I’ve kept it from them this long...why tell them now?”

 Jenny hummed in thought, pouring more wine into both of your glasses before settling onto a bar stool with hers in hand, swirling the golden contents around absentmindedly. “Well, I guess I see your point. But it’s also nice to have someone to talk to about stuff...girls need to vent, right? If you ever need someone to talk to until you decided to tell them, you can definitely come to me.”

 Taehyung and Jimin filed into the kitchen then, Taehyung quickly plucking Jenny’s glass out of her hand and taking a sip. “Come to you about what?”

 “Nothing,” she frowned, reaching for it only for Taehyung to stretch his hand out further away from himself. “Give that back.”

 “Why can’t I have some?” Taehyung pouted cutely. “You bought three bottles!”

“Two for me and one for Y/N!” she giggled, slapping him on the chest. “Who’s gonna drive us home if you drink?”

“Let’s just stay here. Jimin has a spare bedroom--”

 Before Taehyung could finish the sentence, Jimin was already shaking his head in disagreement. “That’s my office.”

 “It has a futon in it.”

 “Yeah, in case I get tired from grading papers!”

 Jimin was giving Taehyung a look that you couldn’t quite decipher, his stare strong enough to bore holes into the oblivious boy’s head. But Taehyung was too focused on the conversation at hand, completely ignoring the message Jimin was trying to sign to him from across the room.

 “What about Y/N?” Taehyung argued, pointing in your direction. “She’s drinking, are you gonna kick her out, too?”

 “I can walk home,” you held up your hands in defense. “It’s no big deal, really—”

 “No,” Jimin said quickly, giving you a pointed look. “You can stay here. I don’t have a problem with you, I just don’t want Taehyung here.” Jimin finished the statement by crossing his arms over his chest in annoyance.

 You watched as Taehyung narrowed his eyes and tipped back the rest of Jenny’s glass as she yelled out at him, quickly downing it before placing it back on the counter and burping loudly. “Too late, dick. I’m drinking and I’m staying.”

 “Idiot,” Jimin muttered, but moved from his place to grab some blankets out of the hall closet, heading towards his office to dress up the futon.

The rest of the night passed somewhat quickly. The four of you managed to finish the three single bottles along with half of one Taehyung found stashed in the back of Jimin’s refrigerator. You realized the more that Taehyung drank, the quieter and more broody he became, complaining about the horrible plot lines in the movies and how they could have spiced up the relationship of the two main characters more.

“How could they not kiss the whole movie but be in love?” Taehyung muttered, pausing to hiccup. “What if I did that to Jenny, and then she kissed me and I was fucking horrible with my mouth. That would change her whole perspective on me!”

“You are horrible with your mouth, Taehyung,” Jenny snapped, smacking him on the leg. “Now shut up and stop interrupting, there’s only a few minutes left!”

Taehyung turned his attention back to the screen, pouting slightly. He was only quiet for a few moments before he was spouting off another complaint, unable to keep his watery words behind the dam that was his closed lips, “And why are their houses always so nice? There’s no way she can afford that nice ass apartment on her desk job salary.”

“Taehyung,” Jimin groaned, throwing his head back on the couch cushion. He stood up, turning the lights on in the living room and pressing stop on the DVD player just as the last scene ended. “Alright, I’m going to bed, and so are you,” he pointed at his friend who was looking at him through half-lidded eyes, “Before I kill you.”

 Jimin helped you off the couch, keeping your hand interlocked with his as he made his way to the back bedroom, locking his door to make a show out of keeping Taehyung away. “That should do the trick,” he giggled drunkenly, falling back on his bed.

You stood awkwardly by the door, eyes zoning in on the way that Jimin’s shirt lifted a little as he fell, giving you a glimpse of the soft skin of his stomach as he laid on his back. The reality of the situation was closing in on you--you drank, and now you were going to have to stay at Jimin’s until tomorrow morning unless you wanted to pay for an Uber back to campus--and for some reason you couldn’t shake the nervous feeling in your stomach. Obviously you would sleep with him, in his room, in his bed. Why didn’t you think of that before?

 Jimin lifted his head, peeking at you through one open eye. “You okay?” When you didn’t answer right away, he hopped up, holding up a finger. “Right, pajamas! Hold on a sec.”

He began rummaging through his bureau drawers until he conjured up a big white t-shirt, one that you were sure you’d seen him sport in class before. “Do you need pants?” he asked curiously, eyeing your legs. You flushed, shaking your head quickly and taking the shirt from him.

You walked into the bathroom joined to his bedroom, quickly ridding yourself of your shirt, bra and jeans. You pulled Jimin’s white tee over your head, taking a deep breath as the fabric caught on your nose before settling over your neck. It smelled just like him, clean and sweet and mostly certainly intoxicating.

Your heart beat a mile a minute in your chest as you walked out, noticing Jimin already changed and in bed, scrolling on his phone. He was shirtless, only sporting a pair of plain, grey sweatpants, the band of his briefs visible above the cotton material of his sleeping attire. The sight had you swallowing nervously as you drank in his appearance, moving from his already messy hair, to the toned muscles of his chest, to the pants that clung a little to his thighs. How was he not shy at all around you? You were a sweating, nervous mess and Jimin was acting as though he got shirtless in front of people all the time. But, maybe there were some things you didn’t know about him. The thought made you a little sick to the stomach, so you pushed it away just as quickly as it had come. Who were you to judge him when you only had on your underwear underneath his shirt?

 You crawled into bed beside Jimin, shoving your legs under the blanket and settling back against the fluffy pillows that rested against his headboard. He put his phone on the charger, clicked the chain to the bedside lamp and shrouded the room in darkness. The only light was from the moon outside, casting the room in a barely-lit teal glow.

“I’m sorry about Taehyung,” he murmured, turning on his side immediately so he could trace your outline in the shadows with his gaze. “Sometimes he thinks he’s helping when in reality he’s being the biggest cock block known to man.”

“Cock block?” you asked, a giggle lacing your words. Jimin just grinned and reached out to you, pulling you close. Your noses were almost touching now, each breath in and out a wave of air over your faces and a reminder of how little effort it would take to close the distance between your lips. “He’s doing that to you?”

 “Yeah,” he said, his voice low as his hands crept their way under the comforter and towards your sides, goose-flesh erupting in their wake as they slid along your lower back. “Somethin’ like that.”

You grinned again, enjoying the new warmth of Jimin’s body pressing against yours. “Tonight was fun though,” you offered, trying to make him feel better. “I’m glad we got to see each other outside of school for once.”

 “Mhm, me too.”

 “But do you and Taehyung always argue so much?” you giggled, and watched as Jimin’s face lit up in the darkness. “I thought you two had an unbreakable bond.”

“We do,” Jimin said, “It’s just that…I don’t know, he’s a little much. I can’t explain it. Even your best friends get on your nerves sometimes, you know?”

 “Yeah, I understand. My roommates are like that too, especially when they’re drinking. Although it’s some of my best memories with them, it’s also some of the worst.”

Jimin laughed quietly in agreement. Your mind drifted to the conversation you’d had earlier with Jenny at the mention of Sana and Jihyo. They were probably wondering where you were, and you were surprised that your cellphone on the nightstand wasn’t being blown up that very moment. They would understand about Jimin, why couldn’t you just tell them? Why were you so afraid?

Jimin, noticing you lost in thought, grabbed your hand that was resting under the blanket and pulled it up to his mouth, pressing a soft kiss to your palm. “What’s wrong?”

 You sighed. “It’s—nothing.”

 “You can tell me,” Jimin coaxed, pressing his lips to your knuckles this time. “Is it me? I can take you home if you’re uncomfortable.”

 “No!” you said quickly, and relished in the way Jimin’s once furrowed brow softened at your words. “It’s not that, it’s just—okay, this is gonna sound stupid but I haven’t told my roommates about us. And they’re my best friends and I tell them everything but…It’s just—this is just different. I don’t know. I’m scared.”

 Jimin was quiet for a few moments and he closed his eyes in thought. You almost assumed he’d drifted off to sleep when he murmured lowly, “I’m sorry, Y/N.”

“Sorry?” You sat up in bed. The streetlamp outside of Jimin’s apartment clicked on, flooding his bedroom with warm orange light through his blinds, streaming in rays across his floor and bedspread. “Jimin, what are you sorry for?”

“For putting you in this situation,” he replied defeatedly, putting and arm over his face so you couldn’t look at his eyes anymore. “I’m overstepping my boundaries because I’m selfish, and I keep dragging you with me. I’m sorry.”

“Jimin…” you said, but he continued to lay there with his face covered. When you attempted to move his arm, he flexed, keeping it in place even as you wrapped your fingers around his forearm, tugging harder. “Jimin, it’s not like that. That’s not what I meant…hey, look at me. Don’t be mad.”

“I’m not mad at you, Y/N, I’m mad at myself!”

Jimin attempted to roll over then and you moved quickly, swinging a leg over his torso to keep him from turning his back on you. He wriggled around, throwing you off balance and you struggled to push on his shoulders, forcing him down flat onto the mattress. “Come…here!”

He finally gave in and you squeezed your legs around his middle, pointing a finger at with a firm tone. “Stay. Still.”

“Yes ma’am,” he murmured sourly, but you could see the grin playing around the edges of his mouth. He was thoroughly enjoying your rough-housing, and you were just happy he wasn’t really upset.

You placed your hands on Jimin’s stomach, keeping yourself centered on his lap as you spoke. He lay on his back with his hands behind his head, looking up at you with curious eyes and his lips slightly parted. You tried not to focus on the plump flesh as you gathered your thoughts, choosing instead to look at the darkness of his irises boring into yours.

“When are you gonna stop beating yourself up for this, huh? You’re not in this alone. Okay? I’m in it with you,” you leaned down a little closer, starting to feel shy with the way the conversation was going, but you kept talking, “I’m not going anywhere, and there’s no need to feel guilty or sorry. I like you, Jimin.”

 The last part was said just barely above a whisper, but you hoped that your small voice didn’t stop you from conveying the emotions that were flowing from you suddenly. You didn’t want Jimin to feel bad, you didn’t want him to feel like he was burdening you or bringing you into a situation that you didn’t want to be in. You really liked him, and you didn’t know how else to show him—besides leaning down and connecting your lips with his in a soft kiss.

Jimin closed his eyes at the contact, leaving his hands behind his head at first and just letting you move your mouth against his softly. The kiss was warm and sweet and gentle and no tongue, and you let yourself get lost for a few moments just to feel the excited thrill you always got when you kissed him.

 Jimin moved his hands from behind his head as you shifted on his lap, placing your hands beside his head as his moved to your waist. He squeezed the flesh there lightly, sliding the t-shirt out of the way to rest his hot palms on your bare skin. You sighed at the contact and pulled back for a second to look at his expression—all blown-out pupils and swollen lips that were tilted slightly up—and realized you were mimicking him.

 “I like you too,” he said in a quiet voice, smiling as he moved his hands to your upper back to pull your mouth back to him.

Somewhere along the lines you mumbled Good against his lips, but you were too lost in the kneading of his hands and the sudden hardness between your legs to really focus. Jimin’s kisses were a little more feverish, the temperature between your bodies rising as your shirt slipped more and you found yourself pressed against his bare chest. The toned muscles rippled as he moved hand up your stomach and over your ribcage to cup your breast, squeezing it in his palm. You groaned a little as his thumb flicked over the hard bud, the soft pad of his finger teasing you and making your body heighten with desire.

You removed your mouth from Jimin’s, trailing a wet, hot trail down his jaw-line to the space beneath his ear, giving the spot a small lick to test the waters. Jimin grunted and his hips bucked beneath yours. You grinned, grazing your teeth over the spot. “Oh? What was that?” you teased.

“Y/N—” he fell short of words as you sucked on the spot a little. His hand tightened around your breast while his other squeezed your hip, his hardened member now straining against the material of his sweatpants and digging into your thigh.

You placed wet, open-mouthed kisses against the skin of his neck, enjoying all the breathy noises that he was releasing until he’d had enough. Jimin took one hand and gripped your jaw, bringing your lips back to his as he roughly stuck his tongue into your mouth, tasting every bit of the leftover wine that may have been there. With his other hand, he pushed your shoulder until you were slipping off of him and onto your back in your original spot on the bed, crawling over you and trapping you in his embrace.

His hands skimmed your inner thigh, lips latching onto the skin of your neck as he sucked shades of pink and red into the flesh. You tilted your head back in bliss, giving Jimin access to everything you had as the heat between your legs swelled. He ran a finger over your cotton underwear right along your slit and you gasped soft, a shudder racking your body as he touched you through the material.

You weren’t inexperienced. You’d had a few rendezvous in college at frat parties and had taken someone back to your apartment once or twice after a long night of drinking at the KGB.

But this was different, Jimin was different.

As his fingers traced over your most sensitive area you were suddenly shy, an inexperienced and nervous woman underneath him, and you found yourself biting your lip in uncertainty as your mind raced.

“Y/N,” Jimin said, reading your body and bringing his gaze eyelevel with yours. His eyebrows were furrowed as he took in your expression and he took his hand away from you. “We don’t—I’m sorry, we don’t have to, I just thought—”

“No, no, I’m sorry,” you pulled his face to yours with both hands, cupping his cheeks as you pecked his lips a few times, “I just spaced out for a moment. I’m here now.”

Jimin grinned at you, pressing his lips to yours as he tried to get both of you back in the mood. You ran your fingers through the soft strands of his hair, pushing it away from his forehead as his mouth moved against yours, once more trapping you under his unbreakable spell.

His fingers fiddled with your underwear again and you sighed a little at him finally pushing the material to the side. He slid a finger up your slit, gathering the wetness there before he slipped it inside you and you both closed your eyes—Jimin from relishing in how wet you were for him, you at the relief of finally having him touching you.

You bucked into his hand and he pulled out a little before sliding back in, causing you to groan and yank at his hair. “Ugh, Jimin, faster—”

He quickly set a pace, pulling out only to dive back up to his knuckle. It was only one finger, but damn did it felt like heaven to you. You closed your eyes, tilting your head back as Jimin pulled the shirt you were wearing above your breasts so he could latch on with his hot mouth. He rolled your nipple around with his tongue as his finger worked you to an incredibly fast orgasm, unable to stop the breathy noises spilling from your mouth.

“Jimin, ah, ah, right there, please—”

Groaning against your breast, he added another finger into your soaking heat, watching as your back arched off the bed in pleasure.

“God you’re so hot,” he murmured, trailing his mouth away from your nipple as he placed kisses down the center of your chest. You wanted him closer, to move his hand faster, to bring his lips back up to yours, to keep going further down until they latched onto your trembling core—so many things at once, but one thing that stayed at the center of your attention was how much you were clenching around his fingers, getting closer and closer to sweet relief.

Your head was somewhere else and so was Jimin’s obviously, because neither of you realized how un-quiet you were being as you enjoyed the moment together. Jimin was ravishing your chest with his mouth, kissing and sucking anywhere he could as you writhed underneath him, egging you on with his groans to get louder and louder. Just as you squeezed your eyes shut, your walls pulsing around Jimin’s fingers as he drove you to your high, a loud banging came through the wall behind you that Jimin’s headboard was pressed up against.

Your movements had caused it to thud against the wall a few times, waking up Taehyung in the other room. You jumped as his fist collided with the wall with ferocity, and Jimin’s fingers stilled inside of you.

“Fucking keep it down, would you? Jesus Christ!”

Jimin grinned devilishly down at you, shrugging his shoulders nonchalantly at getting caught. “Oops,” he whispered.

You brought your hands up to your eyes, covering them for the sake of not completely losing your shit at the thought of Taehyung knowing exactly what was going on between you two. Jimin moved away, placing your panties back in their proper position and cleaning his fingers off on his t-shirt that was thrown haphazardly on the floor. He rejoined you in bed a few seconds later, removing the hands shielding your tightly squeezed eyes and burning cheeks. He rested his head on your chest, looking up at you with all of his boyish charm, lips swollen from kissing, hair mussed from your fingers running through it so many times.

“Well,” he said, sighing, humor lacing his words, “Once a cock-block, always a cock block, I guess?”

[adapted-batteries]

Not All Who Wonder are Lost, but Maybe Flynn is

Fandom: The Librarians

Rating: General/sfw

Relationship: Flyzekiel, mentioned Evlynn

Word Count: 6223

Ezekiel overhears Jenkins and Eve talking about Flynn, and decides to keep tabs on him. When Flynn doesn’t move from some small town in northern New York, Ezekiel decides to go see what’s up.

Set right at the end of “And the Graves of Time.”

Also posted on my Ao3.

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Ezekiel heard Eve yelling for Flynn in the main room from the kitchen...where he may or may not have been baking. He waited for Flynn to answer her, or to hear the ever present footfalls of him running at his name being called, but there was silence. Well that’s weird, Ezekiel thought. Some flicker of anxiety sparked in the back of his neck, but he ignored it, mostly.

He still found himself making his way to the main room, curious of why it went quiet. That was what he heard Jenkins talking in his low, serious voice. Ezekiel stopped before he rounded the corner, close enough he could hear, but hidden enough they wouldn’t know he was listening.

“...took all of his things, left this. I have a feeling that he’s gone to look for something he couldn’t find here,” Jenkins said.

There was a pause, and he heard Eve sigh like she was unsettled. “What does this mean?”

Jenkins was quicker to respond. “I believe it means Mr. Carsen has resigned from the Library...and that he will not be coming back.”

Ezekiel sucked in a breath, forgetting to be quiet as the flicker of anxiety flared in his chest. He got himself back to the kitchen were he could hide his noisy breaths. Flynn was gone. Eve was no doubt upset, Jenkins seemed somber, and Ezekiel was freaking out. His knuckles were white as he gripped the counter edge to keep himself standing, eyes focused on the lemon muffin batter sitting in the bowl in front of him, waiting for poppy seeds to be added.

Why would he run? No, he knew why. He was witness to the building breakdown since they first saw Nicole in the creepy secret dungeon. Ezekiel barely knew her, only what he read about her to know about Flynn (he knew a fair amount about everyone, if there were records he could access anyway). It still freaked him out to know she’d been locked up for a hundred years, he could only imagine how much it screwed up Flynn. And then everyone was taking sides and yelling, no one considering any facts other than what they wanted to believe. If it wasn’t such a dire situation, he would have made a joke about him being the logical one for once.

Then there was that letter Darrington left Flynn (of course he read it; he who leaves stuff laying around gets their things read by Ezekiel Jones). He adamantly disagreed with Dare’s opinion, and when he got to the end of the letter, he felt a pang in his chest. Ezekiel was glad he had no heroes (besides Baird, but he wasn’t ever gonna tell her that), because that meant there wasn’t anyone who earned his respect and then could use that to guilt him into doing what Dare attempted to do to Flynn. Maybe Dare succeeded...though in a way he didn’t realize.

Ezekiel forced himself to finish baking, promising himself he could consult his many resources to see where Flynn went. He kept telling himself it was just going to be like before. Flynn would be back, eventually. He just needed to do what Jenkins said, find whatever he was looking for. The Librarian certainly deserved a break from all the emotional turmoil he just went through.

For his own assurance, Ezekiel kept an eye on him while he ran. It wasn’t hard considering Flynn kept his phone on and didn’t disable the GPS. Either he was too messed up to remember to do it, or he wanted to be found. Ezekiel leaned towards the latter, but unfortunately for Flynn, he was the only one looking.

Like the paranoid person he was, Ezekiel was also occasionally checking Baird’s laptop...he set up a remote connection after her England stunt with Noone (he knew he could trust Baird, but it reminded him too much of her cohorting with D.O.S.A. when they were dealing with Apep). She wasn’t using any D.O.S.A. connections to find Flynn anyway, and nothing in her history suggested she was even thinking about going to look.

He was sure Baird had her reasons for giving him space, but he didn’t think she realized what it was like to not have anything else to go to. Stone and Cassandra had some magical normal lives they wanted to fall back on, both of which they realized they couldn’t quite settle for compared to the Library anyway, but he didn’t have that. The Library gave him propose, a job, something...and someones...to settle him. Flynn was the same, an aimless academic until the Library found him. The Library enabled Flynn to reach past what the academic world could give him, and it did the same for Ezekiel, even if anonymous philanthropist thief was a pretty noble profession, he thought.

So he watched as Flynn flitted from location to location, all over Europe, South America, Asia, only staying a few days at a time before moving to the next. That is, until the tracker stopped on a little town in northern New York, and didn’t move for a week. Ezekiel thought maybe Flynn finally ditched his phone, or lost it, but after the second week, he decided to check his other resources. He didn’t even have to dig. Flynn’s name popped up from the local library’s website as a librarian, and again from the local university website as a guest lecturer.

“No way,” Ezekiel said aloud, which was fine because he was at home. After some still not very hard digging through locals’ social medias, Flynn was...settling? Making a life for himself in this town, at least that’s how it looked. It would’ve stung less if Cassandra hadn’t just attempted to do that in Havenport.

He glanced to his phone, wondering if he should tell the others, or at least Eve, but decided against it. Flynn wasn’t ready to face her at least, probably not the others either. But he sure as hell wasn’t expecting Ezekiel to confront him. Before he even thought about how he was going to make up an excuse to leave, he was up out of his bed.

The sun was just peeking over the mountains east of Portland when Ezekiel stepped foot out of his apartment. No one would be at the Annex, not even Jenkins probably, with his now unfortunate need for sleep. He spent his commute thinking up what he was going to leave as a note; he was not about to just up and disappear like Flynn. He settled on concise and hopefully not concerning, not that he could really predict how they would react anymore when it came to things like this. If anything, they’d probably think he was having his turn at the whole “what if I wasn’t a Librarian anymore” thing that Stone and Cassandra needed to do. Not that he actually needed that. The Library would have to physically kick him out if it didn’t want him there.

As predicted, the Library was wonderfully empty, of people anyway. He found Jenkins’s notepad on his desk and scribbled out his message. “Had to run an errand, will be back soon,” it said, then he signed his name at the bottom. To make sure they got he was coming back, he decided to underline the “will be back soon” bit twice. If they had doubts after that, it was on them.

It took him a minute to connect the back door, and no time at all to travel across the country. It was seven something in the morning in Portland, but a busy 10 in the morning in New England, or as busy as small towns get anyway. He figured his best bet was to find Flynn at the library, or find someone who could point him in the right direction. He stumbled out the rear door of some building, depositing him in a sort of back alley right next to the library.

The short fifty foot walk to the entrance gave him little time to think. Ezekiel made his way inside, completely without a plan of what he was going to say when he saw Flynn. At least Flynn was just as thoroughly unprepared. The Librarian was looking down at something on the desk, writing on a notepad next to it.

“Good morning! What can I-” Flynn cut off when he looked up to see who walked in. “Ezekiel?”

Ezekiel was prepared to be snappy, rile up Flynn for the sake of all the pain he caused them, but that all drained out when he saw how content Flynn looked. “You’re...really doing this?”

Flynn’s cheerful demeanor started to dim rapidly. “For now, yes. Why are you here?” He started stacking books onto a cart when Ezekiel didn’t respond, ready to shelve them. “Did Colonel Baird send you?” He started pushing the cart out into the main area, heading down a line of bookcases. Ezekiel followed him. “Well you can tell her I’m not ready to come back. I don’t know when, I just need time.”

Finally Ezekiel’s voice returned to him. “I came on my own...Colonel Baird, none of them know I’ve gone.”

That got Flynn to stop in his tracks, but he didn’t look at Ezekiel. “So I ask again, why are you here?”

Ezekiel leaned against the edge of the bookcase next to Flynn, letting his head fall back against the metal. “I don’t even know. I just...everyone else figured out their existential crisis about being a Librarian, so it was time you wrapped up yours.”

That got Flynn to look at him. “That’s what you do when I’m gone?”

“That’s what we do when Darrington Dare says some stupid shit and then you go ahead and effectively resign,” Ezekiel retorted. Now that anger was back. “I don’t care if he was your idol. He was wrong. We’ve all realized that. When will you?”

“If you’re just going to bark at me, you can leave. I won’t have you disturbing the patrons,” Flynn said, scanning the cart before selecting a book and shelving it.

“I’m not leaving you like this,” Ezekiel responded, straining to keep the anger and desperation out of his voice.

Flynn scooted the cart down a little ways and shelved another book, then looked down at the cart again. Eventually he sighed and looked up at Ezekiel. “I get off at six. We can talk then. For now, I have a job to do.”

Relief washed through Ezekiel, enough to make him feel confident enough to make a joke. He leaned against the shelf with one arm, facing Flynn in a somewhat suggestive manner. “Don’t go skipping town before our date now,” he smirked. He didn’t expect Flynn to get so flustered, but was pleasantly surprised.

“I uh, I won’t, um, promise, I mean I won’t leave, I promise,” Flynn stammered, awkwardly shelving a book that Ezekiel noticed didn’t belong in this section.

Ezekiel grabbed the wrongly shelved book, getting a bit in Flynn’s space due to the placement of the cart in front of the shelf, and put it back on the cart, handing Flynn the book he meant to grab. “I better give you some space, no sense on you disappointing your boss with books in the wrong places.”

“I am completely capable of shelving books, Jones,” Flynn replied, shelving the right book.

“Uh-huh.” Ezekiel smiled at him, even if Flynn was clearly not looking at him, then left him to shelving the books.

Ezekiel had two choices: go back to the Annex, then somehow slip out at 3pm, or just stay in Canton. He wasn't too keen to be confronted, so he occupied himself the best he could in the little college town.

He found his way to the campus since it was less than a quarter mile away from the library. Classes had just let out; the walkways and paths were busy with students. He thought about pick-pocketing (and returning) for practice, but it couldn’t bring himself to do much more than wander around and think about how he was going to bring Flynn back. There was no failing. He had to bring Flynn back. That would, he hoped, fix everything.

Several long hours later, the bell on campus rung for 6pm. He wasn’t on campus anymore; he’d spent the past hour loitering in the park across from the library, unable to really appreciate the nice sunset in the sky. A few minutes after the hour, Flynn stepped out the main entrance, almost right into Ezekiel who’d been eagerly waiting next to the door since he heard the bell.

“Oh, hi. So uh, there’s a pub a little down the road. Good food, good beer,” Flynn said, pulling his coat around himself even though it wasn’t that cold.

“Lead the way,” Ezekiel replied, motioning with his hand for Flynn to start walking.

The pub was quaint. Homey, old, not exactly Ezekiel’s cup of tea, but if it made Flynn comfortable, he was all for it. The beer was alright, some pretty strong local stuff, and the food better than the sandwich he ate for lunch at least.

Ezekiel decided they could make some small talk while they ate, before he jumped in to the heavy stuff. “So why’d you stop here, this town?”

“My grandmother lived here when I was a kid. She was a secretary in the English department. It was the first college campus I visited, and I ended up coming here for one of my Ph.D.’s,” Flynn explained.

“It’s...quaint,” Ezekiel said, not really sure how to respond.

“It’s no big city, but it brings back fond memories,” Flynn said.

They couldn’t beat around the bush forever; Ezekiel decided it was time to get to it. “So,” Ezekiel started, leaning forward on the table, “why precisely did you run?” Flynn sunk back into the booth like he could be absorbed into it. “And I want the truth. Don’t make up some story.”

Flynn narrowed his eyes at Ezekiel. “You...want me to tell the truth? Since when have you ever done that?”

“I don’t lie,” Ezekiel retorted, crossing his arms over his chest.

“You do,” Flynn snapped. Ezekiel flinched at the sudden anger. Flynn took a breath, but wasn’t done. “I’m talking about the lying by omission you’ve been doing.”

Ezekiel glanced out the window. “I came here to get you sorted.”

“I’m not baring my soul for free,” Flynn replied, downing the rest of his current beer. Ezekiel still wasn’t looking at him, but Flynn must have waved down someone to bring them more because a server came by with two fresh glasses a few moments later.

“Fine. If you tell me why you ran this time, I'll...what do you want to know?” Ezekiel asked.

Flynn looked into the pub, thinking, then looked back to Ezekiel. “Tell me why you never told us you remembered the video game loop.”

Of course. Ezekiel let his head fall back against the booth. “Fine.” After a moment, his gaze returned to Flynn, waiting on him to start talking.

Flynn sipped his drink, and then took a larger gulp seconds later. “I figured it would be fairly obvious why I left,” he said, running his fingers up and down the condensation on the glass.

“You really think there should only be one Librarian?” Ezekiel asked, hoping he wasn't sold out on Dare’s demand.

Flynn looked at him like he was slow. “What? No. I'll admit it gave a good excuse to take a break, but no. The Library gave all of you letters, even after it made the mistake with the brothers centuries ago. I think the Library is smarter than repeating its mistakes.”

Ezekiel raised his eyebrows. “Okay...so what was it then?”

After a few moments of opening and closing his mouth, Flynn spoke. “I spent thirteen years thinking I killed my first guardian accidentally. And then I learn she’s was immortal, was doing some artifact gathering of some sort, did something that was bad enough to get locked up by the Librarian at the time, and for Jenkins to think it was the right thing to do.” Flynn paused, letting his head fall back like Ezekiel’s earlier, a bitter chuckle escaping his lips as he stared at the ceiling. “And then she left again, doing who knows what, and suddenly she was back, and I…” Flynn paused again, this time like he was about to break down, “I saw her die again, or well, get stabbed by something that could kill immortals anyway. I’m sure you understand I wasn’t exactly having the best month or so.”

“You...killed her?” Ezekiel asked, quite confused look on his face. “I know there was the malfunction with the time machine, but how did you...oh.”

Flynn nodded. “She wasn't meant to be near it, nor was it meant to explode. I was...inexperienced. In theory it was a good idea.”

Ezekiel let out a low whistle. “Yeah, okay. I can see why you needed a break. But why settle down?”

“Because I hadn't done that yet. It seemed like the right thing to do,” Flynn said with a shrug. “I wasn't settled before the Library, and, well, you know being with the Library, the only settling is tethering. I just...I didn't know if I wanted to do that anymore. Why not retire? Darrington did, why couldn't I?”

“Do you want to retire?” Ezekiel waited a moment before continuing. “You know doing this means you'd be straining Colonel Baird. She's committed, well that I know of anyway.”

Flynn looked at Ezekiel like he either knew that and refused to keep thinking about it, or had been pleasantly ignoring it to begin with. “I know. And that's part of why I took an indefinite leave of absence.”

Ezekiel raised an eyebrow. “You don't want to be with Colonel Baird?”

Flynn startled a bit. “What? No...what concerned me was that she was committed, even after all that happened, like she hadn’t wondered what life could be like outside the Library.”

“So her wanting to make the Library a good place concerns you?”

“I don't know how much control we have of the Library!” Flynn spat, more aggressive than the conversation warranted. He caught himself, taking a deep breath before explaining. “What if...just because we become immortal doesn't mean we make it through fine. The Library...ergo Judson and Charlene, thought it fine to leave the pages ripped out from the book of Librarians and keep a Guardian locked up. What if that happens to us? We lose our humanity?”

“So they did some sketchy things. What makes you think you'll do that, knowing about it?” Ezekiel retorted.

“There's always a risk…” Flynn tapered off.

“Look. If there's anything I've learned since I first met you, it's that you always try to do the right thing,” Ezekiel started. Then, in a sudden need to really hammer the point home, he leaned over the table and tapped Flynn’s sternum with his hand, saying, “and that's in here. It's not going to go away. It's you.” Something about having Flynn look up at him with a face that was equal parts hopeful and flattered made Ezekiel’s chest flutter. Maybe it was the beer messing with his head (that’s what he told himself anyway), but Ezekiel sat back down before he let himself do anything stupid.

Like the awkward person he was, Flynn fiddled with a leftover fry on his plate, avoiding looking at Ezekiel. “Enough about me. You need to hold up your end of the bargain now,” Flynn said.

Ezekiel chuckled at Flynn being a dork. “Alright, though I wasn’t done with you,” Ezekiel replied, earning a curious look from Flynn. “I actually didn’t remember for a while. If Prospero hadn’t spelled us to Sicily, I don’t think I would’ve ever remembered actually.”

Flynn looked like he was starting to try to figure out how that worked. “I suppose breaking that magic would’ve removed the magical memories, which could have very well removed any other blocks left over from the magic-induced loops…”

“Who knows how it actually happened, the important bit is that it did,” Ezekiel interjected, getting Flynn back on track. “Sometime soon after that I started having the nightmares. Not a lot, but when they happened it was like I was back there. I guess being in similar combat situations triggers it, but that’s it really.”

“So the super-collider facility…” Flynn started, but didn’t seem to know what he wanted to say next.

Ezekiel sighed. “Yeah...that wasn’t great.”

“That was when I started forming my suspicions,” Flynn admitted. “You were...suddenly very self-sacrificing, like we mattered more than you, and you were...okay with dying if that’s what it took.” He paused for a moment, making streaks in the condensation again on a new glass. “I talked about it with Eve, she said that was how you acted when you completed the level. Reminded her of soldiers in combat.”

Having Flynn recount his view made Ezekiel feel exposed, and he didn’t really like that feeling. “I did what I thought needed to be done, what’s wrong with that?”

Flynn gave him a sad look. “You didn’t have to be so suicidal about it. My theory...I didn’t know for sure you’d make it through, but you went anyway. The Ezekiel I knew before would've at least hesitated.”

Ezekiel folded his arms. “So when were you going to tell me about this? If you were so concerned…”

Flynn shifted around in his seat a bit. “I was...when I decided it was a good time. Besides the super-collider facility, I only heard how you were acting from the others. Tracking the magical storm Stone and Cassandra were caught in, but not being upfront about it, and the vampire hunter overkill, well I wasn’t there to witness those. I didn’t feel like I had enough data to make a case.”

“Okay, I’m more protective. Isn’t that a good thing?” Ezekiel asked.

“You’re more aggressive, impulsive. That’s what I’ve seen. Sometimes it helps, sometimes it causes issues. We’re...I’m concerned,” Flynn answered, going back to avoiding Ezekiel’s gaze.

“Says the one who decided he didn’t need to do his job anymore and left,” Ezekiel spat, making Flynn flinch. He didn’t want to be so mean, but he couldn’t help it.

“I did what I thought I needed to do to help me be at my best. I wasn’t going to be much help to you all or the Library if I had no clue what was going on in my head,” Flynn said, a lot calmer than Ezekiel felt. Flynn was clearly trying not to argue with him, but Ezekiel’s brain was trying its best to ignore that. “Maybe I didn’t go about it in the best way. I made a mistake. But I did try.”

Ezekiel folded his arms even tighter to keep himself constrained. “So am I supposed to try to will my nightmares away? Is that how it works?”

Flynn sighed and shook his head like a teacher trying to get through to a troubling student. “No. I’m saying that I messed up by not talking to anyone about what I was thinking, in regards to my stance on the Library.” He waited for Ezekiel to respond, but the ex-thief sat silently, so he continued, “in your case, not telling anyone was your mistake. With something like PTSD, you can’t get better alone.”

“What, are you going to be my shrink now?” Ezekiel scoffed. He visibly winced as soon as he said it. “Sorry, I’m just...not good with talking in complete truth. I, uh, I need something stronger than this,” he said with a vague gesture to his half empty glass. Without another word, Ezekiel slipped out of the booth and made his way to the bar.

After a rum-based shooter, Ezekiel got some alright whiskey, a better quality than he would’ve got if he was trying to get drunk, and returned to the booth with two glasses in hand. Flynn raised an eyebrow but took the glass, taking a sip.  

“Why did you feel the need to hide?” Flynn asked after he sat his glass down on the table.

Ezekiel shrugged and took a drink, grounding himself with the burn down his throat. “Why didn’t you talk to anyone?” he countered.

Flynn looked mildly disappointed with him, but persevered by being a good example. “I tried to not think about it in the first place, focus on the task at hand. I let it all build up, and then the only option to me seemed to be to run. In hindsight, I know it wasn’t, but I can’t change what I did.”

Once he downed the rest of his whiskey, Ezekiel finally responded. “I just...I didn’t want to be seen as messed up. I didn’t want to give anyone a reason to want me gone, especially if everyone thought I wasn’t fit to be a Librarian.”

That sad look made its way back onto Flynn’s face. “We wouldn’t kick you out for being affected by a mission. We would want you to be back at your best.”

Ezekiel opened his mouth and closed it, not unlike Flynn did earlier when they first started talking about everything. “Well I know that now. But I didn’t then, and the longer I didn’t talk about it, the easier it was to just never bring it up,” Ezekiel said. He ran his finger around the rim of his empty glass, internally debating how to get Flynn back to considering returning to the Library. After a few moments, the alcohol in his system told him to be blunt. “So what are you going to do?”

It took Flynn a moment to realize Ezekiel switched subjects on him. “I...well, I’m not going to make a decision right now. I don’t want to be hasty like I was before.”

Though he wanted to argue with him on it, Ezekiel let it drop. “Fair enough.”

Flynn glanced out the window, which revealed night had completely arrived. “I need to get heading out, I do have work tomorrow,” Flynn said, but didn’t make any move to actually leave. “I will think about it, tomorrow, when I’ve got a clearer head.” He waited to see if Ezekiel had anything to say, but Ezekiel was busy trying to figure out if he actually wanted to go back, and if there was more he could do to convince Flynn to come back. At Ezekiel’s silence, Flynn slid out of the booth, laying some bills down on the table on top of the receipt that the server had left a while ago.

“Wait,” Ezekiel found himself saying as he slid out of the booth as well. “Uh, can I, I don’t want to go back to them yet,” he stammered, embarrassed that he was being so awkward.

It took a moment, but Flynn gathered what Ezekiel was asking. “I have a couch. It’s not great, but it’s yours for the night.”

Ezekiel physically relaxed. “Thanks.” Belatedly he glanced at the money on the table. “I can pay for my half,” he started, fishing out his wallet from his pants.

Flynn shook his head. “I got it. Plus, this was a date…”

Ezekiel’s mouth opened in shock that Flynn actually said that, then he remembered he technically was the one who made it a date. “That means I should be the one covering the bill, since I’m the one who made it a date.”

“I didn’t take Ezekiel Jones for one who stuck to social norms,” Flynn said with a smirk, but he didn’t make a move to take his money off the table; he instead went to put his coat on.

“Hey, some things still work just fine, but if you wanna pay, go for it. I would’ve gotten more to drink if I knew that,” Ezekiel said, putting his wallet back in his pocket.

“Well I wouldn’t want you to be thirsty now. One for the road?” Flynn asked as he finished putting on his coat.

Ezekiel found himself smiling. “Sure.” He let Flynn lead him to the bar, more surprised that Flynn was going with whatever this flirting was than anything.

“What was that thing you got before you came back with the whiskeys?” Flynn asked as they arrived at the bar.

“Oh, that was what the bartender called a ‘pirate’s booty,’” Ezekiel replied.  

The bartender came up to them. “What can I get you, gentlemen?”

“Two, uh, pirate’s booties, please,” Flynn asked, handing over some cash.

“Coming right up,” the bartender replied, taking the cash over to the register. The process of making the shots and drinking them took all of two minutes, then they were out of the pub.

With the sun down, the cold flowed through the streets. Ezekiel wished he’d brought a warmer jacket, but shoving his hands as far into his pockets as they’d go would have to do.

Flynn glanced over at him. “It’s not far,” Flynn said, motioning in the direction of his home.

“Easy for you to say in that warm coat of yours,” Ezekiel mumbled, walking off in the direction Flynn had pointed.

It really wasn’t that far from the pub. Only after a few minutes walking, Flynn stopped him from walking past by grabbing his arm. “This is it.” It looked to be an apartment above someone’s garage. Flynn unlocked the door, which opened to stairs. Ezekiel made his way up, only tripping once at the top because when he looked down, he saw the top landing was a tad taller than the rest of the stair heights. Flynn was right behind him. “Yeah, that caught me a few times.”

The apartment was a studio, filled with a bunch of mismatched furniture that looked like someone had fun raiding all the garage sales. “Your place is...something,” Ezekiel said, letting himself take a seat on the floral print couch he presumed was going to be his bed tonight.

“It works for what I need,” Flynn replied, plopping himself down next to Ezekiel. “I didn’t think...I hoped it wouldn’t be a permanent situation.”

Ezekiel wondered if Flynn’s aim was off from the drinks, because the couch was not small enough that he had to sit right next to him. Of course he got some semblance of an answer when Flynn leaned on his shoulder and started crying. Ezekiel had no clue what to do, but at least his body had the idea of getting his arm unpinned from between them so he could pull Flynn into a somewhat more comfortable position.

“I just...I, wish things could go back, to the way they were before,” Flynn whispered, pausing to get some sort of control over his breathing. “I wish the cornerstones weren’t found, and everything went fine, and in a few weeks I’d be made immortal with the, the most amazing woman I’ve ever met.”

“Don’t we all,” Ezekiel said with a sigh. He found himself stroking the side of Flynn’s head, but didn’t stop as Flynn seemed to calm down a bit. “But out of all of us, you should know that being a Librarian isn’t easy. There’s some tough choices, and we don’t know which one is right sometimes. But that doesn’t mean we quit.”

Flynn sat up to look Ezekiel in the eye. “But what if one of the results of my choice means I’m made immortal and I regret it?”

“Just because you can’t predict the outcome doesn’t mean you shouldn’t do what you think is right,” Ezekiel countered. He had to look off into the room; he couldn’t handle seeing Flynn with that much emotion on his face. “I can’t tell you what choice to make, but I can tell you that running away is not the one you really want to make. Besides,” he looked back to Flynn with a smirk, “if you don’t come back, that means one of us has to tether with Colonel Baird...do you really want me to be immortal?”

The tension in Ezekiel’s chest eased a bit when Flynn laughed. “You assume that Stone wouldn’t beat you to it?”

Ezekiel shook his head, chuckling. “Actually, we’d let Colonel Baird pick, and she’d definitely choose Cassandra.”

Flynn laughed again. “She would.”

A prickle of concern went down Ezekiel’s neck when the happy expression faded from Flynn’s face. Immediately he started thinking of what he could say to bring it back, but Flynn didn’t give him a chance to try anything when he leaned forward and kissed him.

It took a minute for Ezekiel’s brain to catch up. Sure, he wanted this, but he didn’t think it’d actually happen. Plus, Flynn had to be at least very tipsy, if not drunk, and Ezekiel knew he himself was at least a bit drunk. As soon as Flynn started getting a little bit more aggressive, he pushed him away little bit, but not enough to make him start freaking out.

“Are you sure you want this?” Ezekiel asked.

Flynn looked at him very seriously. “Yes.” Then his expression faltered as a bit of doubt creeped in. “Maybe...I don’t know.” He stood up, a little off balance. “I think I need sleep.”

Though he thought he’d be disappointed, Ezekiel just felt relieved that Flynn wasn’t about to do something he may not have actually wanted. “Alright. Before you do that, can I have a blanket and stuff?” Ezekiel asked.

“Actually, uh,” Flynn swallowed awkwardly, “would you uh, sleep with me? I mean in the same bed, I just, there’s a lot going on in my head and, uh, I don’t want to be alone.”

“Can’t promise that cuddling will make your problems go away, mate.”  Ezekiel couldn’t help smiling when Flynn started blushing.

“No, I know, I mean you don’t have to-” Flynn stammered, but Ezekiel cut him off.

“I’m just teasing. Course I will.”

Ezekiel didn’t think Flynn would immediately get into the bed ten feet from the couch, nor did he think that he was that tired, but as soon as they got comfortable, both of them were out like a light.

It wasn’t the first time Ezekiel woke up in his clothes from yesterday. It was the first time he woke up in bed with his sort of coworker (did it count if he technically resigned?). An alarm clock was going off on the little bedside table next to him, so he turned over, away from where Flynn had snuggled into his chest, to make it stop. The motion woke Flynn, who then immediately sat up, and looked like he regretted the fast motion.

“Morning, Sunshine,” Ezekiel said around a yawn.

Flynn glanced at him, confused. “What are you...oh yeah.” He sat for a moment longer, then got up and started coffee in the little kitchen in the corner of the room opposite the bed. Neither of them spoke until there was coffee in mugs ready to drink.

“You aren’t even a little hungover?” Flynn asked, looking a bit worse for wear, though the coffee was helping a little.

“Nah,” Ezekiel said with a shrug. “Takes more than a few drinks to get me that wasted.” Flynn nodded in acknowledgement, then took a sip like he needed to occupy his mouth instead of say what he was thinking. Ezekiel decided he could do the talking. “So about last night, I don’t regret it, but I’m fine with keeping it between us if that’s what you want.”

“I was drunk…” Flynn tapered off. “Not that I, uh, regret it, but, well, I have a lot to think about, and I don’t think that would help.”

That disappointment Ezekiel thought he would feel last night finally arrived, but he knew that it wasn’t going to actually work. “That’s fine. Are you...going to come back?”

Flynn sighed, looking out the window. “I...I don’t know, yet. Like I said, I have a lot to think about.” He looked back to Ezekiel. “But what you said last night, all of it, don’t think it hasn’t made a difference.”

“Good.” Ezekiel downed the rest of his coffee, even if it was a bit too hot to be doing that, then stood up. “Would you like me to pass along any messages?”

After a few moments thinking, Flynn said, “Tell Eve that I love her, and uh, that I know she’ll do the right thing.”

Ezekiel really didn’t like the crypticness of that last bit. “Okay.” He started walking towards the stairs, but stopped and turned back to Flynn. “I hope you’ll do the right thing too, Flynn.”

Flynn didn’t say anything back, but he did nod. Ezekiel figured that was a good of place as any to leave that conversation, so he went down the stairs and let himself out. He called up the backdoor (which thankfully he had an app for so he didn’t have to call Jenkins at 5am pacific time), and decided he had time to head home for a shower and some breakfast before he was met with the barrage of questions in a few hours.

-----

Post Notes:I started writing this before I watched “And a Town Called Feud” so I didn’t know everyone was gonna end up still divided. This fic is happening in a magical place where that didn’t happen. I figure it wouldn’t be out of place for Flynn to attempt at settling with Cassandra and Stone trying it out to different degrees, and he definitely would be a professor or something.

Recognize Ezekiel’s reason for not telling anyone about remembering the video game loop? That’s cuz I totally took it from my other fic, “Whatever you Need,” because I couldn’t think of another reason Ezekiel wouldn’t tell them.

Also I’ve never been to a bar for drinks (I’m not 21 yet) so I have no clue how paying for drinks works, and only what little experience I’ve had with drunk people on how many drinks it takes. I figured they had enough to be reasonably tipsy, and Flynn probably has less of a tolerance than Ezekiel.

[baronvontribble]

Original drabble, pt. 6

Navigation: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6

gettin feelsy up in here LET’S GO

It wasn't until over breakfast the next morning that Ted got the camera up and running, displaying his face in all its full HD glory. The picture was clear enough to make him realize that he needed a shave in a way that just looking in the mirror during his morning routine hadn't, which either said something about his mirror needing cleaning or him needing glasses, and Ted counted this as a point in the camera's favor whether it ended up helping or not; he'd needed a less shitty camera for a while, and the one on his phone didn't capture footage very well.

"It's working," he said, smiling. "Can you see me?"

"Yes," Adam replied simply.

Was that impatience? Oh well. "What do I look like?"

He took a moment longer to respond this time. "You look like you're the wrong color," was his answer.

Ted bubbled up with a laugh. "Hah! Well I mean, you're kinda right in a way. But I think this camera captures color better in general? The other one would try to shift the overall tone of the picture to compensate for the room's lighting and sometimes it looked a little weird."

"I see." A few seconds of silence passed. "Does this mean I can leave now?"

"Not right this minute, but yeah. If you can see, you're good to go. Visual input on any android platform is gonna be at least as good as anything consumer electronics can bring to the table. That shit's practically military grade."

"How long will it take?"

"A day or two before I can get back in touch with my contacts and hand you over." Ted smiled, leaning back in his chair and taking a moment to relax. Another one set free. "I think you'll do pretty well for yourself, honestly. You've sure as hell impressed me."

"Can't really see why, but I'll take your word for it." He didn't give Ted a chance to formulate a response before he spoke up again, almost like an afterthought. "If I wanted to find you in person to thank you, how would I do that?"

Ted chuckled and shook his head. "Sorry man, but that's not really a thing we encourage you guys to do. It's not safe."

An offended note crept into Adam's voice. "You think I would put you in danger?"

"No, it's more likely that we would put you in danger." The risk of recapture tripled whenever someone in the pipeline got close to one of their charges. Ted was enough of a paranoid bastard to know that most people weren't half as careful as he was - and asshole enough to say that this was probably part of the problem - but he didn't want to be the exception. It set a bad precedent.

But Adam kept pushing it. "What if I don't care?" he asked.

"Doesn't matter," Ted shot back easily. "I do."

"I could find your location."

"Hah! Fuck, dude. I mean, yeah, you can try."

"Lake Forest, Illinois."

Ted could only blink at the screen for several seconds, slowly tilting his head.

"Was I right?" There was no smugness to the AI's voice, just a bland quality that made him sound almost bored.

"How the fuck..." Ted mumbled, before bending over the laptop to pull up a browser window and start investigating. His IP address was several layers of fake. He had everything routed through places that weren't anywhere near where he was at all, sometimes even in other countries-

"The weather report yesterday," Adam deadpanned.

Ted froze. A moment later, he slumped heavily into his chair and smacked a hand to his forehead. "Oh, Christ."

"Even if you hadn't shown me that, I still could've used your IP address. No amount of rerouting can scrub away your location entirely. And if I had access to your phone at all, I could use the GPS to track you directly."

What a wonderful way to calm his nerves on the way to work. Jesus. "You're not helping, y'know."

Adam's voice seemed to soften. "Sorry. For what it's worth, you've made it as difficult as possible." Was he trying to be soothing? It wasn't working. "Given what I have to work with, I can't narrow it down any further than I have. I don't have the right access."

"You say that like you know what that kind of access would actually be," Ted noted.

"It was my job to know," he replied.

Ted went quiet for a while as he considered this new information, frowning in the vague direction of the ceiling. "Tracked down people in the pipeline, huh?"

"No, more than that. I tracked down the ones they saved. Even some of the ones that never came down the pipeline at all, but were still living in ways they weren't supposed to."

It was more information than Ted had ever been given, and part of him wanted to appreciate that fact. But the rest of him had a hard time shaking his ever-present anxiety. "How am I supposed to know you're not an undercover cop then?" he asked.

There was no phoneme for a sigh in that voicebank, no way to imitate one. But Ted got the impression of one from Adam's voice when he spoke again. "Ted, please." 

"Look, I'm paranoid, okay? You tell me you used to use people like me to get to any AI that might've been in contact with us, and I'm gonna be a little bit jumpy."

A few seconds passed, and then, "I guess you have a point."

“That’s not an answer.”

“I’m not sure how to answer. You’ve scanned every last bit of my code as well as my memory, so you know I don’t have any malware. And even with the access you’ve afforded me, the recall division exists precisely because androids are valuable assets. They wouldn’t let an AI loose like this, even in a sting operation. They don’t trust us.”

“So you’re insulted.”

“I don’t get insulted.”

“You definitely get insulted, dude. Like, all the time.”

“If anything about this could be considered offensive, it would be that you think I’m so bad at my job that I have yet to contact my handlers and put you and your entire pipeline into custody in spite of having every opportunity. If I were undercover, you would be in jail by now. Therefore, it stands to reason that I’m not undercover.”

Ted snorted and flipped the bird at the camera, shaking his head. Yeah. He knew that. His brain was just a little slow coming around. He figured there was more to it than Adam was saying, and that was enough to tip off his overactive fight-or-flight response, but as for the content of that unknown element? Honestly, Adam was probably just annoyed that Ted had implied he’d put himself into this much danger all for the sake of some backstabbing. That was just the kind of person he was. 

But then something happened: Adam didn’t respond right away. It took him several seconds to say anything more than he already had, and when he did, he sounded a lot less salty than he had been. "Ted?" The tone was questioning, almost like Adam hadn't seen his gesture or didn't understand it. None of the usual sass that Ted might expect if he said out loud that Adam should go fuck himself. "I didn't mean to upset you."

Scooting into a more upright position, Ted frowned slightly at the camera. "Yeah, well," wait a second, "you tell me whether the look on my face says I forgive you or not."

"I can't tell," Adam said. "but I'm guessing by the tone of your voice-"

"You can't tell," Ted repeated. He was bolt upright, looking between the camera and the chat window on the main monitor. The one that wasn't being used, but still had his face in it, plain as day and in high definition. "Listen, can I ask you something?"

It was clear that Adam was starting to get suspicious also. "What is it?"

"I want you to describe my face back to me."

A pause. "I told you already."

"No, not the color. Features." Ted gestured to his own face. "I wanna know what this looks like."

"Ted."

"Want me to get a little closer? Think that'd help?" Setting the laptop down on the floor, Ted stood up from the chair to lean over the desk and get in close to the camera. Very close. He could see his own pores on the screen. "How's this?"

"I don't think this is necessary-"

"You can't see."

It took at least ten seconds for Adam to say anything, and even then it was untuned and flat. "Ted." Just his name, that was all. It sounded like a plea. Ted couldn't see the CPU usage but he had a feeling it was spiking.

Adam was scared. He knew what he'd done. "You lied to me." There it was, out in the open. Ted didn't bother to look into the camera, glaring instead at the monitor. "You've been lying from the start. You can't process visual input at all, can you?"

The seconds dragged on. "No," Adam said finally, and Ted pushed off from the table with a sigh that sounded damn close to a growl.

"Son of a bitch," he muttered. "Do you know how much of a pain in the ass this is?"

"I didn't-" the render cut off in the middle, like it'd lagged out. "Ted, I'm- I'm sorry."

"You were hoping I wouldn't notice, weren't you?" That much was obvious, enough so that Ted didn't bother waiting for an answer before continuing. "You knew I can't just let you go if I know you're fucking blind. So you let me think you were okay."

No response. On the laptop, the program for manipulating and rendering the voicebank had locked up completely. Ted wasn't sure whether it was due to the memory leak or just Adam overloading it to the point of crashing, but the fans on the desktop were practically howling.

"What did you think was gonna happen, man?" Ted continued. "Fucking hell. And since you didn't tell me, now we're even more behind. It's gonna take me weeks to get you back up to some kinda liveable standard, and even then I'm gonna have to take sick days to get it done."

>   I can't fail screening.

Ted saw the message within a few seconds of it popping up and frowned deeply at it. "The hell does that even mean?"

>   I know how your system works. Androids that fail screening go to live with humans that care for them. They have no agency. They aren't free. They're just in a slightly less cruel environment.

>   I won't live like that.

>   Don't make me live like that.

"Is that what you're afraid of?"

>   Blind humans can live relatively normal lives. I'm already better than a lot of them. I can make out shapes if I see them often enough to recognize the pattern. I can survive on my own. I know it's possible. Please. I know I've upset you and I'm sorry, but I refuse to be treated like a disabled animal.

"You think me not being too happy with you is gonna lead to me fucking you over?"

>   I don't know. There's a chance, and any chance is unacceptable. I won't go through that.

>   Do you even know what it's like? I've seen it. I assisted in those recalls. They're treated like fragile, immobilized dolls.

>   It's why the smarter androids so often avoid your pipeline, but then they go off the grid in other ways and get found regardless because they don't replace their platform or their voice and they end up recognized as a result. Seperation of an AI and its platform is a good thing and I agree with the necessity.

>   But I can't live as a failure. I can't. I won't.

>   Please.

Ted was familiar with all of it. He knew why it was necessary. Some of those androids just ended up stuck in perpetual loops of things like housework or asking what was required of them or reciting facts from a museum database, unable to care for themselves on top of being too dumb to actually understand the traumatic experiences that had damaged them and led them to need a rescue. Adam wasn't one of those androids. He'd left of his own volition, clearly understanding what freedom was and what was needed for him to get it.

But he also understood trauma, and fear. The intimate familiarity he had with those things was easy to see. He even understood death, or seemed to, and preferred it over living in a way robbed him of agency or choice. And as someone who'd seen some shit in his lifetime, Ted could get behind that too. Even being institutionalized in a good, reputable place for a legitimate reason could be limiting and degrading.

The fact of the matter was that Ted would never have put Adam through that anyway, because the AI was never in a position mentally to need it. But the possibility had to've been put forward somehow. Something he'd done had made Adam think that he was going to get vindictive about the screening process.

Shit. It was because he'd gotten frustrated, wasn't it? Trauma survivor 101 right there. Ted should've known better. Fuck, he was an idiot.

"I don't think that'll be necessary, honestly," he said slowly. "You're advanced enough that I'm pretty sure you can compensate with just your ability to learn and reconfigure yourself on the fly. All it'll take is a little training to make up for whatever subprogram it is you're lacking."

>   How do you expect that to work?

"There's browser games online that help with that kind of pattern recognition. They were designed to help search engines tag images correctly." Ted offered a smile, even if he knew Adam couldn't really tell he was doing it. "When you're not doing that, we can watch movies or internet videos or whatever. Get you used to social cues, maybe even help with being able to tell whether someone's just acting or not. It's not impossible, it'll just take a while."

Again, no response. The fans kicked into overdrive once more as Adam fought to process what Ted was saying.

"Hey." Ted leaned forward and looked at the camera directly. "It's okay. Don't be scared."

>   You're not upset?

He shook his head. "It doesn't help to get mad at people who do dumb shit because they're afraid. I'm a little annoyed that I gotta shuffle some things around in my schedule - probably gonna call my boss, make up some bullshit so I don't have to go in today - but like, I'm mostly okay with that, y'know? I mean, you don't half-ass helping people."

>   I don't know what to say to any of this.

"You could thank me."

>   Right.

>   Thank you.

>   For all of this.

Ted had to smile. "Anytime, man." Right, then. Crisis averted. He could work with this.

[mental-health-advice]

Hi! I want to start off by saying I love your blog! Keep it up

Hi darling,

That's so lovely of you to say! We really appreciate your kindness

Before I say anything, I want to stress that we’re in no way professionals. Therefore anything we suggest about what might be going on is just that- a suggestion. It’s in no way a diagnosis. These suggestions can be wrong, some of the suggestions we list might not be possible, or there are more options than what we list. We’d also recommend you not to self-diagnose for the reasons listed here. If you want to know what’s going on, I’d highly recommend you to see a mental health professional. You can visit your GP / local doctor and explain to them briefly what’s been going on. They’ll be able to refer you to a therapist, counsellor, psychiatrist, or other mental health professional. You can read more about getting help here. Once seeing a professional, you’ll most likely get an assessment in which they’ll look with you at what you’re dealing with, and potentially what label would fit to those struggles. Out of such an assessment also comes an advice for treatment to start, which is an advice that I’d recommend you to follow.

It sounds like your self image is quite low lately, causing you to feel like none of your friends want you around anymore, that you’re failing at everything you do, and causing loneliness and worthlessness after something you used to love. It’s really tough when we feel so low about ourselves! Something that can really help to boost up your self image is a ‘whitebook’. This is a literal translation of a Dutch word, so sorry if it sounds a bit silly. A whitebook is a notebook (pick a pretty one!) in which you write down positive things about each day. When you start, this will most likely feel very uncomfortable, as it’s completely opposite to how you’re used to think. Therefore it can help to start small and general. So you don’t have to write a lot down, just two or three things, and they can be about anything. The sun was shining, you overheard a nice conversation in the train, you pet a cat, anything! Then once this starts to feel a bit more normal, try to increase the amount of things you write down. Challenge yourself by first going for four things a day, then five, etc. I think ten would be a good number to work towards. What you see is that you can now write down ten things, but these often will be very general (about the weather, etc.). So let’s try to make it more personal. Set yourself the goal to write down two personal things each day. What I mean with personal is that it has to be something positive about you. Something you did, said, thought, felt. This is still quite a broad criterium, but at first this will be difficult too! I got as far as doing this, but the only reason I could do it was by writing down ‘I showered today’ and ‘I tutored today’. I’d only write down the things that I’d done and in a way I was choosing the easy way then, as writing this down didn’t make me feel better about myself. So the next challenge was to write down two personal things about me, that didn’t include things I’d done, unless if it was something I was proud of for doing. So if I’d done something really challenging, then it could be one of those two things, but if it was something I’d do more often and wasn’t so hard, it wouldn’t be one of those two personal things. So I had to write down things more like ‘I was struggling today but I managed to pull myself out of my slump and I feel a bit better now’ or ‘the kid I tutor got a pass mark because of my tutoring’.

Writing down these positive things is already a big step in the right direction, but there’s more! In the back of your whitebook, you keep a list with positive characteristics of yourself. If you can think of some positive characteristics right away you can write them down already! But there’s much and much more that can be added to that list eventually. These other characteristics that you can’t think of yourself right away will come from the positive personal things you write down each day. So to stick to my example of the kid I tutor getting a pass mark, there are a bunch of positive characteristics that fit to this. Patience, the ability to explain something in an understandable way, bonding with the tutoring kid, etc. So there are multiple positive characteristics that come from one positive personal thing! I personally find it really hard to think of these positive characteristics, but what really helps me there is the friend-question; if a friend had done this positive thing, what positive characteristics would I describe them with? I’m much kinder to my friends than I am to myself, so then I can write down the positive characteristics I’d write down for my friends, and then reevaluate about whether those maybe fit to me as well. Eventually you’ll get a long list of positive characteristics. It will be most helpful if you regularly read over this list so that it’s a constant reminder that you as a person are so much more than the negative image you have of yourself!

Like I mentioned before, we aren’t professionals and we can’t tell you what exactly is going on. When you visit your GP or a mental health professional, it can however be good to know what symptoms are worth mentioning. I personally think that anything that bothers you is worth mentioning! But sometimes when we’re struggling, some of our symptoms become so normal that we forget to mention them. If you think this will be the case for you too, then it might help to have a look at the symptoms of depression that I will list below. You’ll see that some of the symptoms that you mention in your ask will be on this list, so those definitely would be good to mention! Any symptoms you mention in this ask really, since those are clearly bothering you! If from the list you recognise any other symptoms, it’s good to manage those too. What I do want you to keep in mind, is that even if you match a lot of the symptoms, this doesn’t mean you have depression. It’s all complex. Anyway, symptoms for depression can include:

Feelings of helplessness and hopelessness;

Loss of interest in daily activities;

Appetite or weight changes;

Sleep changes;

Anger or irritability;

Loss of energy;

Self-loathing;

Reckless behaviour;

Concentration problems;

Unexplained aches and pains.

(Source) 

If it turns out that you are struggling with depression, it can be really good to look into treatment options. Treatment for depression usually includes medication, therapy, or a combination of both. The latter is most often advised, as medication on its own doesn’t really address certain thought patterns you might experience (which is helpful to address when in recovery), and while therapy on its own can make a big difference, being on medication can help a lot to get the energy you need to work hard in therapy. So in a way, medication can make therapy more productive. If a combination isn’t possible for you, then it definitely will be helpful too to choose either. I hope that you can take some steps with the help of this answer lovely, and that you found it at least a little bit helpful! If there’s anything else we can do for you, please let us know!

Sometimes what seems impossible, is just hard.

Keep fighting beautiful Love Pauline

[whitefoxed]

Mission on a Date

Thread Archive 

winter-soldier-asset-bucky‌:

HYDRA had taught their asset to be both fast and perfect. Any task he was given, be that memorization or assassination, he would always strive to perform at optimal levels. He need to have the stamina and mental capacity to do so and yet right after the chair, he was deficient in both. His physical parameters returned faster than the mental ones. However, he was sure he had memorized everything from the mission files. There was no room for mistakes, no place for error in the soldier’s programming. He had his mission and therefore he must complete it perfectly in order to please HYDRA and his commander. Watching the other man closely, he tried to form his own answers to the questions he had asked. Learning was part of the asset’s main functions, but only in certain instances. He was meant to learn only those things which would assist in the completion of his mission.

Commander Vuhs…The words sparked a little line of thought in the soldier’s mind. However, it fizzled out before he could become anything stable, like the ghost of something long forgotten. The asset knew he forgot many things because HYDRA did not deem the information to be important. This mission would not be wiped completely from his mind. He knew undercover operations were rare and thus that was likely why. His commander said there were training aspects as well, which would be important for future missions. “Sergei,” he repeated, testing out the name without any sort of title attached to it. His drive to at least add ‘sir’ was strong and yet his commander said his name was only ‘Sergei’ during this mission.

To the soldier, ‘friends’ seemed like a subset of ‘allies’, a special type of ally that assumed more freedom and equal footing between the parties involved in the alliance. Never had the soldier had a ‘friend’ before or, if he had, that data had been removed from him. Protect. Spend time together. He was meant to always protect his commanders and be close to them, but they were not ‘friends’. He concluded that the freedom to question was a central part of friendship. Questioning a commander under normal circumstances was incorrect and resulted in punishment.

“Yes, sir,” he answered. ‘Wolf’ denoted normal mission protocols. ‘Yasha’ stated that ‘friend’ protocol was being initiated instead. Being a human, pretending to be one at least, would be hard for the soldier. He had been taught for so long that he was not a person. Interacting with the public would have to be done mostly by his commander. Other agents had said he was ‘creepy’ when he looked at them so perhaps he would be bad with civilians. Once they left the base, he would need to immediately begin acting as a ‘friend’. “I am ready, sir.”

Relieved that his answer was at least satisfactory enough for the soldier to understand, Lise breathed out with a smile. “Good.” Gesturing to the clothes and gear on the table, he continued. “Change into these and equip with discretion.” They were plain clothes, gotten at sizes meant for the soldier: a simple brick-red shirt, navy windbreaker, jeans and socks. A pair of the soldier’s newest combat boots from two missions ago were also present. Missions wear through even the toughest of boots quite quickly. The gear were the soldier’s familiar sheathed knives, though the semi-automatic handguns were a custom model Lise built. Compact and small, but almost as quiet as if equipped with a silencer.

The sniper rifle was in the luggage along with their extra ammunition.

Lise got up himself to go to his own office to change. His set of clothes and equipment were in there. Soon he came back out in a navy bomber jacket, even darker navy shirt and black pants. His gear were a lot less than the soldiers- being a single handgun he hid behind his back and a knife in his own boots. Looking over to make sure the soldier’s dressed, he stepped closer to help him straighten up his clothes where the blindspots were and took a comb out of his pocket to tame the soldier’s messy hair. The armoury lacked mirrors.

Once they were done, he nodded. “Grab that grey luggage, let’s go.” His own luggage was blue, which he pulled before leading the way out. Locking the armoury, Lise led the soldier to the compound’s car park. There were stares along the way, as well as a few teasing jibes. He couldn’t fault them- it was rare seeing anyone dressed for a ‘holiday’ on the compounds.

Unlocking the Prius, he got their luggage in the back before heading to the driver’s seat. “Take the passenger’s seat.” He instructed as he got in. The car was modified of course, though it looked every bit the normal RV driven on the roads. Going through several checkpoints, they were finally driving out towards a highway when Lise began his first training session. “So Yasha, try picking a radio station you’d like.” He nodded to the digital screen in the centre of the dashboard. “The buttons are all on screen now. Dragging your finger changes the pages. Feel free to explore, just don’t break it.”

winter-soldier-asset-bucky‌:

“Yes, sir,” the soldier replied, words falling from his mouth as they always did. He would never question his commanding officer unless given permission. Even then, he was hesitant to do so. A good weapon worked with the information it was given, did not seek out more than that. Turning to the clothes, he began pulling them off. His movements were quick and efficient. Even in such a simple task, there was no wasted energy. The gear was much less form fitting than he was used to and contained significantly less straps and pockets. Without them, the soldier could not carry all of his usual weapons easily. However,this was what his handler had given him to wear and he would obey.

While his commander was gone, he settled the weapons onto his body. Anything that did not have a place was stored in the luggage. Missions of any great length required a large amount of ammunition, even though the soldier was perfectly accurate. In case something went wrong or they were attacked, there needed to be plenty in order to defend themselves. Going to a shop for more, or even just a HYDRA weapons cache, was risky in the middle of an operation. No. It was best to bring slightly more than absolutely necessary. His head turned when he noticed his commander had come back for him. Stiffening, he made no move to avoid the touch to his clothing. For a moment, he thought he was going to be punished for dressing incorrectly, but no pain came. Instead, the clothing was only smoothed down or adjusted and his hair combed a bit.

Again, he gave an affirmative response and obeyed, taking the luggage in his flesh hand and carrying it as he followed behind his commander. He did not look at the agents they passed in the hallways and in the car park. There was no reason for him to do so. They were not relevant to the mission and thus were merely background noise, easy to ignore until they became a target. He held no personal loyalty to HYDRA. The soldier obeyed because that was what he did. They were his masters, nothing more. Loyalty, faith, none of that mattered to a weapon who was not allowed to feel anything. What good would they do on a mission? His humanity was gone, and with it the concept of lofty ideals had been stolen as well.

He sat down in the passenger’s seat as instructed, staring straight ahead with both hands on his legs. Through the initial drive, he said nothing. He had not been ordered to speak. Tilting his head at the order, he blinked slowly. A machine could not ‘like’ anything. However, he also needed to obey his commander. Slowly, he reached his left hand toward the screen and began to flick through the music. The sound of a large band playing what the DJ moments later identified as ‘swing’ caused him to stop. That one was… familiar? How could it be? The asset was sure he had never heard music like that before. As the next song began, he set his hand back in his lap, staring at his handler in search of approval.

It would be a constant drive to Washington. A few motel stops were planned along the way, but either way it would still be a long ride. Lise hoped the soldier would pick something nice. So when the saxophones and drum kits started, his grey eyes widened a little before returning back to normal. Well, considering the soldier’s history, it wasn’t unexpected. Ignoring that it was something that could trigger the soldier’s memories, he glanced back with a slight smile and nod. As long as the soldier didn’t bring up anything too obvious, the handler was willing to let it slide and hopefully be retained from being wiped. After all, if he had a chance to go against HYDRA, he would.

“There’s a phone in the glove compartment. Looks like this.” Lise continued, briefly flashing his own mobile. “The last mobiles you were taught to use were shell phones. These are smart phones, same like the dashboard screen. Take it out. There’s a single button on the right side, press and hold it to turn it on. It’s yours for this mission.” Turning down a split road and onto the highway with a few other delivery trucks, he shifted to the most idle lane. “It’s a miniature computer and you can access the internet with it. My contact and most of your details as Yasha is already loaded into the phone. The password is h-a-i-l-5-d-r-a. It also recognises your eyes and mine. See if you can find GPS and maps on it.”

Again, the equipment was special. The mobile had access to HYDRA’s intraweb and had apps with their resources. It was also programmed against external intrusion and had its own running system. Of course, the level of access it had was limited compared to his own. “This phone’s location can only be tracked by HYDRA. However, any incoming calls can still be traced, even though we have defences in place. It takes a minimum of around two and a half minutes for anyone with the best technology to trace through, as far as we have tested.” Naturally, there were also downsides to everything.

“There are burner phones in the luggage too. But hopefully we won’t have to use them.”

For the rest of the road, Lise spent the time encouraging Yasha to ask questions and answering them, teaching him to use the phone and social media. The focus was mainly on how to track targets through them, though in the past, the soldier could return a call to HYDRA to ask for further instructions and coordinates otherwise. Still, upper management thought what little bit counts and if the soldier could figure out target details from previous media like newspapers and letters, he could do the same with easily accessible social media. Things like tracing calls and hacking were still left to the technicians back in HYDRA.

Lunch was still protein bars, though he pulled by a burger’s drive-thru to get two sets of takeaways for dinner when they check in their first motel by nightfall.

winter-soldier-asset-bucky‌:

When there was no immediate reprimand for his selection of music, the soldier felt himself relax slightly. Never was the weapon fully relaxed. Even on bases where he was theoretically safe, he was on alert. HYDRA needed him to be. At any point, he needed to be ready to snap to attention and obey. His gaze lingered on his commander rather than the road ahead of them. Why would he look there? He was not driving and thus the miles between them and their target were irrelevant. His mind filled slowly with the sounds of saxophones and loud drums, slipping long into the tune that sounded almost familiar. Why? Had he ever heard it before? He debated asking his commander, but thought better of it. No, he would not ask something that was not relevant to the mission.

When his commander spoke again, he quickly retrieved the phone from the glove compartment, holding it in his flesh hand while he stared at the screen. This was new. Phones before had never been flat like this. What was it meant to do? Following his handler’s instructions, he turned on the device and waited while it glowed for a few moments. Quickly, he typed in the password when prompted and stared at the buttons on the screen. His mind worked quickly, drinking in the information. HYDRA had taught their soldier to be a fast learner and he would be good for his commander. Phone, access to the internet, details regarding his undercover operation present on the phone. He quickly found a button that looked like a map and tapped on it, bringing up an image of their current position.

“Two and a half minutes to trace a call,” the soldier repeated. He could remember that, he was certain. It was mission critical information and thus more important than anything else. Tilting the phone toward his handler, he presented the GPS on the screen. Was that correct? Bringing the phone back to himself, he listened in silence while his commander explained more about how he was meant to track this target. Following along with the device, he searched through the various apps and news outlets for information on their target. Public perception was generally favorable. The target was easy to track via Twitter and Facebook. These things were not good for keeping out of sight. The soldier decided they were unnecessary.

However, ‘Yasha’ used some of them. There were extensive posts dating back for some time about events he did not remember and people he did not know. Only his handler was familiar to him. What was the point of having such false information available to the public? There were no photographs of himself, rather food and places and objects. Still, he found the false details odd and silently went back to researching the target rather than his fake life. His eyes flicked to his commander every so often while he silently asked about the purpose of ‘social media’. Tracking became much easier when the target posted their whereabouts and those of their family.

When they pulled into the motel, the soldier retrieved their dinner along with the luggage, carrying everything into their room like a well trained bellboy. Setting the luggage on the couch, he turned around and waited for more orders.

“Consider it a public diary, as well as a method of sharing and flaunting personal opinions and gains.” Lise explained, adding on that not many believed themselves worthy of being tracked for whatever purpose. Then he continued to show the soldier how it could be used to propagate misinformation and leave false alibi, like Yasha’s own accounts and their current travel, becoming ‘passports’ - evidence against background checks. Like how the last posts were where ‘Yasha’ just bought a machine for his mechanic shop and Lise picked him up, a place just further up the highway before HYDRA’s exit.

Another highlight was when their target would actually arrive in Washington, but posted another air ticket that listed a later flight. But it was still usable, especially when photos betrayed locations and posts about people involved with a target.

When they finally got to the motel though, Lise had wanted to get his own luggage but the soldier was much faster. In the end, he let it be since he had to settle their payments with the counter anyway. Seeing the soldier waiting on him, he gestured to the paper bag meals. “Pick one of the sets and eat dinner. I’m showering first. We should be quite safe so just keep a light watch and relax till I’m out. Play with your phone if you’d like. Then you can have a shower if you feel grimy, or you can sleep. I’m taking first watch for the night and you take the second half.”

Regardless of their current safety, they still had to keep watch. It was easier for Lise to do work while keeping watch early and have a good sleep for driving on the next day. He fully intended on letting the soldier catch up on sleep in the car instead.

Picking a t-shirt and boxers from the luggage, he went into the shower. Minutes later, he came back out in them to hang and air the clothes he had been wearing. “How was the burger set?” He asked, feeling hungry. “Was it too greasy or dry?” Thus far, he was still getting used to working closely with the soldier. Their relationship was as rigid as before, with him maintaining much of his attitude as handler and giving the soldier instructions despite the status he set for them. The only difference was that the soldier actually spoke a few times requesting information without his prompt. At any rate, if their interactions remained like so, it would eventually give them away as not who they said they were and Lise felt at fault and responsible for it.

So he tried prompting more replies. “Also which shop would you prefer to eat at tomorrow morning? The donut place or the waffle house?” There were restaurants within the vicinity of the motel, precisely for the latter’s customers. There was also a gas station nearby, perfect for refueling before they continued on the road.

winter-soldier-asset-bucky‌:

The soldier was still lost as to why a human would want something like that. Such a thing would make them easy to track and would reveal details about their personal lives that were best kept hidden if they did not want to be found. Then again, the soldier also knew he was not human. How could he understand what people felt if he was not one of them? Nodding to his commander, he settled into once more looking through the phone. It showed a life he was sure he had not lived and yet there it was. There were posts detailing a shop he had never seen and people he had never met. Or perhaps HYDRA had taken those memories from him. The soldier was unsure. All he knew was that the phone was necessary for the mission and he began memorizing the information within.

Once he was finished with his own false history, he moved to the target. This one appeared real, although he was only experienced with one, his own. His handler said this one was true in the sense that it did belong to their target. He began doing as his commander instructed, cross checking the posts of his target with those close to him and weeding out what was false. Surprisingly, their target posted a good deal of reliable information. That was not wise. He needed more information on their location before he would be able to form any sort of plan regarding how to eliminate him. That could be done once they arrived at their final destination.

When the car pulled into the motel parking lot, the soldier stepped out and grabbed the luggage, his own and his commander’s. His handler was a busy person and should not be made to do unnecessary work. At least, that was what other handlers had told him. Standing and waiting for his handler to finish, the asset followed him to their room and set the luggage down on the farthest wall. If an intruder arrived, they would have to cross the whole room in order to steal anything. “Yes, sir,” he answered, turning his attention to the bags. Looking into each one, he found the one that seemed to have slightly less food and took it. A human was more important than a weapon and thus needed more food.

‘Playing’ with anything was a foreign concept to the soldier, but he took the words to mean he should continue to familiarize himself with social media and the device in general. Seating himself on the couch, he alternated between eating and scrolling through the information he could find on the target. When his handler finished, he turned to stare at him. If he was behaving improperly, he needed to know. His next orders were to shower or sleep. The soldier had been cleaned before being sent out so he did not think he needed to bathe again. There was no point in wasting water.

“It was adequate,” he replied, unable to remember if he had ever eaten a burger before. Without a point of reference, he had no idea what ‘too greasy’ or ‘too dry’ were. His handler was giving him more options and the asset could feel the familiar fear rising in him. He was not used to being asked for his opinion. Handler decided everything. When the mission began properly, sometimes he was allowed to dictate his own moves, HYDRA knowing they had trained him to be perfect. He knew how to take down a target efficiently. Waffles or donuts… Did it matter which? Was there a wrong answer? Yes, there was always a wrong one and the soldier was terrified he would upset his handler by choosing incorrectly. Looking away, he knew he had to obey and pick one.

Donuts could be taken in the car and easily eaten while driving. “The donut shop.” he answered, waiting to be reprimanded. In the end, they would go wherever his handler wanted. The soldier had no authority to pick anything; he knew that very well.

It wasn’t like Lise didn’t know his questions made the asset uncomfortable. Aside from his personal motivation trying to help the soldier regain himself a little and maybe enjoy what little pleasures he can extend during this short period which would likely not be wiped, the soldier needed to work on being able to respond more smoothly in conversation should they come up close with the target or someone related. While handlers took care of everything social before, social divide in hierarchy were less than ever. In many present situations, the soldier can no longer hide behind the excuse of being a bodyguard or just being taciturn anymore. Not if he wanted to give away his actual purpose.

“Well you can compare it with other burgers along the way.” Watching the rising fear in the soldier’s eyes even as he kept to protocol and maintained his gaze on him, Lise sighed gently while nodding. “Donuts it is. Friends are allowed to have their own preferences. And as long as I do not address you as Wolf, out here we are friends.” Reminding the soldier, he carried on with his own dinner, grabbing the bag to start eating. Mentioning nothing about his behaviour while he was showering nor giving any more further instructions, Lise waited to see if the soldier would proceed with what he told him earlier. The young handler also settled on figuring out what additional clauses to add to the soldier’s ‘friend protocols’ along the way, seeing as the weapon was still struggling between the different statuses.

If it wasn’t for his predecessors being so through on training the soldier into being inhuman… Lise signed once more in his mind. There was another option of bringing the soldier to the Dollhouse instead, using the new technology to ‘grant’ the soldier with new skills and experience just like a snap of a finger. But not only would it affect the previous training on becoming a weapon, it could also trigger the soldier into regaining independent thought, since the memories of those skills and experience belonged to someone else. Someone with individuality. Those assets were treated carefully and specially, controlled via hypnosis and triggers.

However, while those assets were in high demand by wealthy clients, the upper management much preferred the prototype instead. A thing they can treat carelessly, without fear of disobedience and unable to question or argue against their will. Hence the wiping equipment was never upgraded in function, only in user access and electrical consumption. Lise stared at the dipping sauce as he ate the fries. thinking about the soldier’s pitiable fate and his own.

[jjnonken]

TL;DR: Yeah, uh, bought one of these Because Reasons. Long story behind why I feel I need it. Short version: muscle memory sucks, getting old sucks, programmers suck.

So I’ve got this weird keyboard layout thing going on that I’ve been using forever, and I’m reluctant to change. Muscle memory of three decades (... OK, two-and-a-half) being difficult to retrain and all that. Especially at my age.

It started with the Doom layout and went downhill from there. At the time we were using Gateway 2000 Anykey keyboards at work, so I was able to use a cross-shaped cursor key arrangement (unlike the inverted “T” of other keyboards, which persists to this day). Since then the Anykey has gone the way of the dodo, though I snagged a few that were being binned, and still have at least one working one. For one thing, it doesn’t have a Windows key, nor any way to create one, so it’s of limited use. For another, it’s got an AT or PS/2 connector, depending on its age. My working one has a PS/2 connector; but you can’t really hot-plug a PS/2 keyboard. It doesn’t harm anything, but the system needs to be rebooted. Fortunately I have a PS/2-to-USB adapter (two of them, actually) and also AT-to-PS/2 adapters (fortunately just a form factor change; electrically they’re identical) if I want to make the other one work. Problematic, since I only have one full set of keycaps for some reason.

Yeah, so. What do I do? Well, I use the numeric keypad and reprogram the Num Lock to be “E” (and reprogram the Windows Menu key -- the one to the right of the spacebar, not the main Windows key -- to be “Num Lock”) using Keytweak. Which requires a reboot after a remap, so I can’t just casually re-tweak the keyboard layout and switch games.

Over the years I’ve managed to keep this layout by considering it a functional mapping. During my WFA years I was putting precise-fire weapons (sniper rifles) on one key; rapid-fire weapons (usually hitscan) on another; shotguns and other CQB weapons in a third; and melee in a fourth. Then there are the grenades. There’s more, including special layouts for TF-type engineer (whose emphasis is on building and maintaining machinery), but you get the idea. With a functional layout, the exact weapon that a specific player class uses for a particular purpose is unimportant; you simply determine which class it belongs to and map it to the appropriate key. If something doesn’t fit the standard then you come up with alternate mappings, but try to keep things as close to the standards as possible.

Of course, every game has its own way of doing things, and sometimes the weapons categories of a game (*cough*Killing Floor*cough*) don’t fit into my neat categories (tier 1, 2 and 3 weapons are about relative power), so over the last decade my system has been bent and beaten into various odd-looking shapes. But a few key, um, keys have always been the same.

But there’s a problem.

For most games that have a sprint function, the sprint key is a toggle. Tap it once while you’re moving forward and you start sprinting. Sprinting may stop when you a) stop, b) strafe (I don’t like that one), c) jump, d) tap the Sprint key again, e) any of a bunch of stuff, but usually reasonable reasons to stop sprinting. Killing Floor did something different, which was to let you run a bit faster when you switch to a melee weapon, which is why sometimes you’ll see me switch weapons when I’m running (I’ve got something over 2,000 hours on the game, so it’s a pretty well-ingrained habit, even years later). KF2, on the other hand, gives you a separate sprint key -- but requires you to hold it down.

Most of my other fingers are busy when I’m moving and shooting, so I tend to use the PG DN key, which is fairly convenient to my left pinky when I’ve got the rest of my fingers on the numpad home row. Which works great when it’s a tap to sprint. But when you have to hold it down with your pinky, suddenly a lot of maneuvers turn this arrangement into a game of Twister without any of the fun.

Well, I found this keyboard, a Logitech K330 (usually comes in a combo), which rearranges the home/end/etc. cluster to narrow the keyboard a bit -- and the PG DN key is suddenly next to the home row instead of a row above it. No more cramping positions!

It’s an unusual layout, though, and difficult to find keyboards that have it. So far I’ve found... basically just the K330, though there are a couple cheap wired ones out there. I think Dell or somebody ships one with their computers. Fortunately I was able to find a batch of four on eBay for cheap when my first one became a victim of the Pepsi Syndrome, so over the past few years I’ve accumulated a few extras.

Yeah, so that. But there’s another problem: not every game will let me map what I need. because everybody uses WASD, so of course I would use WASD. Only muscle memory and old age; remember those? So they’ll let me remap my keys, which of course they do, only the remapping is limited, because nobody is actually going to use the remapping function. I had a whole thing over the keyboard mapping in 7 Days to Die because they have a tremendous amount of function overloading plus fixed functionality, so I ended up having to completely unbind the mouse scroll wheel and I still can’t really use the mouse to steer my vehicles. 

Num Lock was a problem for a bunch of games -- either they simply won’t let it map or tapping it would toggle the Num Lock function and make the keys work sometimes, but not others. I resolved that by remapping it as described above.

Enter is another one. A lot of programs won’t let me map that, which is kind of awkward, because that’s my Crouch button. Motherfuckers. Mostly it’s games that assume that Enter is Enter and won’t let you map the main Enter key only. There are some, though, that will let me map the Num Enter but not the main Enter, which I can live with. Philosophically I dislike it, but it doesn’t affect me directly. (But still... it should be possible.)

I’ve never played Metal Gear Solid V: The Phantom Pain, though I own a copy. Why? Because the motherfucking ratfuck bastard morons won’t fucking let me fucking remap to the fucking num pad at all. I cranked it up, tried to map my keys, gave up and uninstalled it. Will my mapping make sense in a game that has a very different control paradigm? No fucking clue, because I’m not allowed to try.

Lazy fucking asshats.

Destiny 2 is one of the “can’t remap Numpad Enter” games. There might be one or two other keys, I’ve forgotten. I was determined to try, though, so I dusted off my Gateway 2000 Anykey keyboard and reprogrammed enough keys to get it working.

It’s awkward. I’m not used to the keyboard; it’s HUUUGE; it’s heavy; and it requires rearranging my desk a bit because I kind of need the other keyboard nearby, too. Actually it’s more convenient in one way: using the Numpad with my left hand means I have the keyboard pushed waaaay to the left, which is really inconvenient for typing normally. Entering text fields usually means shifting the keyboard back and forth. So I can put my regular keyboard in front of me... only now I have to change habits, because I’m in the habit of moving the keyboard, not changing to a different keyboard.

Yeah.

So for that and some other reasons I’ve not been playing; none of my friends actually want to play with me; I could use some guidance while I learn the game, but it’s not easy when all your friends have already leveled way past you. Especially when said so-called friends have communications and patience issues. S___ tends to say something; if I ask him to repeat it because I had trouble hearing, or because I didn’t understand, he shuts up and doesn’t say anything. (And I don’t mean Snarb. Different game; really great guy.) A great teacher never ever repeats himself because, you know, repetition isn’t the key to learning, or any such shit, right? Sorry, rant over.

Once in a while I try to find a standalone programmable keypad or keyboard that has buttons in what are blank space in a regular keyboard. In other words, I want a button in the home row, immediately left of the Numpad, because that will let me hold Sprint down without (as much) cramping. A week or two ago I found the one you see at the top and put it on my wishlist. I added a set of red-and-white keycaps because, well, I’ve inadvertently started a bit of a red-and-white theme with my equipment, which I won’t go into here -- this shit’s already too long. Also stuck on my Amazon wishlist.

Yeah. So. Destiny 2 is being shifted from Blizzard to Steam in October. Meantime apparently they’ve gone to a free-to-play model, which I should resent because I paid for it? Apparently? I dunno, when TF2 did that I figured I’d gotten more than my money’s worth out of the game. Here I feel a bit more cheated, seeing as how I haven’t played it more than a few hours. But still, whatever. I went through the motions of getting it transferred to my Steam account. It should show up soon. I guess. Beginning of October.

And now my friend Blacksix (another great guy, and one of my oldest current gaming buddies, hailing back to my Urban Terror days) wants to play. Last night he texted me and said he wanted to try it, was preloading it, and encouraged me to preload it too. I went ahead and did that, reasoning that my account should migrate into that if they didn’t fuck things up, but I don’t really have anything to lose -- never played enough to accumulate any resources. Like, any. Not like, any significant resources; no resources. Just the initial playthrough on a few characters. No money or manna or coins or credits or tokens (or whatever this game uses for commerce) or weapons or, well, anything. Blacksix is going to want to do an initial playthrough anyway.

And then I had to decide: am I going to follow through with this? I found this nifty keypad that should solve all my mapping problems. But it’s $90. But I can afford the occasional $90 purchase. It may even let me play Metal Gear if I really want to try. It’ll apparently let me set up specific mappings for specific games and swap them easily. 

So, I figured, what the fuck. Last night I put in an order for this keyboard (the 46-key layout, since it starts with the numeric keypad layout I’m used to and the left side is all individual keys; and Cherry MX switches) and this replacement keytop set. And while I was at it, a copy of Twice Upon a Time, because damned if it’s not one of the best movies EVAR and more than $25 entitles me to free shipping.

So now I’m all a-quiver with anticipation.

[canaryatlaw]

alright, well today didn’t exactly go as planned, but was still an overall good day. My alarm went off at 10:30, I got up and showered, then got dressed and Jess and I headed out to my first doctor’s appointment of the day. The two doctor’s appointments I had today was the original purpose of the trip (and to placate my family about the fact that I’m not coming back to some degree). We stopped for bagels, because New York, and it’s mandatory to have bagels at least once while you’re here. From there we kept driving since this doctor is pretty much an hour’s drive from my house. This was my pulmonologist who has been with me through the ups and downs of my lungs hating me since 2013 lol. I was especially grateful to him today because in May when I woke up hacking my lungs up, I was able to get in touch with the on-call doctor (it was a Saturday) who prescribed me the medicine I needed and I got it two hours later, and by 24 hours I was totally back to normal. Now compare that to what happened last year when I couldn’t reach him and I suffered through 4 days of misery coughing, and having to do my trial advocacy final trial (which was a legit full trial) with my brain totally clouded by cough syrup fog, to the point where I was like, questioning if my surroundings were real lol it was BAD. so after that nightmare I was soooooo happy it worked out so much better this time, because I never want to deal with that again. So we drive there and park, then take the somewhat sketchy elevator up to his office. Got called in pretty quickly cuz they’re good like that, did the whole breathing test I’ve done at least 100 times by now (like that is not an exaggeration at all, it’s definitely been at least 100 times) which always leaves my lungs hurting but also always shows they’re functioning at very high levels (which is, objectively, a good thing, but can also be frustrating when I’m having an issue but the test says everything is great). Doctor comes in a minute later and did some stethescope stuff, then we went into his office and just went over everything, as he seems to be of the opinion that it’s all somewhat related, so we talked about sleep and studying for the bar and acid reflux and all that stuff. His daughter is also currently studying for the bar so he gets what that’s like lol. He kept being like “you’re getting enough sleep right?” and I was like 😂😂😂, oh yes, I definitely am lol. So he called in the one prescription I have from him and we made an appointment for six months out (so January). From there we headed out, we encountered a bit of traffic so it took a while but we were home at like 2. From there we just relaxed for a bit, talking to my sister in our room and just having fun. I looked at train schedules only to discover the two main train lines had a massive gap between 4 and 7 pm, presumably because of the massive amount of trains coming east during that time, but like, that totally screwed us over, so I mapped out and planned to drive to a station a bit further away but that had more options time wise and I thought should work. We then headed out to doctor’s appointment number 2 with my psychiatrist, and then planning to go to Anastasia in the city. So we got in the car and made a quick pit stop at Target to grab the prescription my pulmonlogist had called in for me earlier, and then made our way to my psychiatrist’s office. I really like him so much. He’s been in the process of retiring for a while now but has agreed to still see me until I can get settled with someone else (assumedly in Illinois) and I appreciate that very much. Got called in pretty quickly and had some conversation with him, he wanted to know about bar stress and all that, and I told him that while the bar studying is stressful, when I’m not considering the external factors like that I am still very much enjoying my life, so that was good. We didn’t make any changes to my meds, but we talked about the tremor issue. He seemed doubtful that it was actually caused by the medication that had the listed side effect of tremors, but said that after the bar (because we didn’t want to mess with it beforehand, obviously) I can try going off that med for a bit and see if it helps, but I should probably consult a neurologist regardless which is like 🙄🙄🙄 I really don’t need another doctor in my life at the moment lol. But I’ll probably talk to the primary care doctor I have in IL about it and see if I can get a good reference, it’s easy when I keep it all in the Northwestern Medicine system, so the info can be shared easily as needed. As we were leaving I checked my email quickly and saw I had one from the ticketing site I got the Anastasia tickets from, which stated the performance was at 7, not 8 as I expected. Well, fuck. I looked at the train times and if we made it to the 5:13 train we could get there at like 6:25 and be in decent shape, so we did our best to dash out of there and speed to the train station, but we were thwarted by traffic and it soon became clear there was no way we were going to make it in time, and the next train didn’t get in till 6:54, so clearly that wouldn’t work. We tried looking any other station that could work but didn’t find anything. So we pulled over for a minute and tried to figure out what to do next, and I was like well, I guess we have to drive then 😐😐😐 which I was not excited about but I would do my best. So we plugged in the address of the theatre into the GPS and got going. Again, doing our best to make good time, but traffic was slow in many places, and when it said we had about 24 miles to go but the ETA was putting us there at 7:01, more than an hour from the current time, we agreed this wasn’t worth the stress because I was high key freaking out about driving in Manhattan, and we should just cut our losses and head back home, so that’s what we did. Jess was getting really bad motion sickness at this point so we got off on an exit and found our way to a parking lot, so she could breathe and calm down for a bit without moving, and then went to the pizzeria that was right there because one cause of her feeling sick was that we hadn’t eaten yet (the plan was to stop between the doctors appointment and going to the train, but we of course had to ditch that plan). So we sat down and ordered some food, we got cheesy garlic bread (because of course) and ended up getting the baked ziti pizza, which, yes, is pasta on top of pizza and smothered in cheese, and oh man, it was very good. So we ate our pasta pizza and then determined we were too full to stop for ice cream (sad life, I know) so we headed home. When we arrived most everyone was just chilling, and of course my parents wanted us to chill with them since we’re leaving tomorrow morning. So we all got into the den and did our various activities while talking. My older brother was being a giant pain in the ass tonight, which isn’t anything surprising as he is often doing that, but it’s still fucking annoying. He’s just like, such an asshole, I can’t take it. He’s an emotionally abusive sexist power hungry asshole, and it’s like there’s nothing I can do that he won’t find a way to make fun of me for and like, even with the small stupid shit, I mostly don’t care anymore but it hits something in me that has been there from being treated like that for all these years, and I once again got confirmation that there is no way I could ever move back into any arrangement that involved me living here on any basis other than like a few weeks, at most. And of course my parents do nothing because they never do anything and were completely ineffective in stopping my brothers from torturing me for years to the point where I became suicidal as an 11 year old. There’s just too much there, and I can’t deal with it when the jerks would never admit they did anything wrong because they truly believe that they haven’t, and none of this could ever be their fault, it was obviously because of because I’m stupid and broken and messed up. I tried to stop myself from getting too upset but I can only do so much. There’s also this whole situation going on at my dad’s office with the girls who work for him who apparently ganged up on another girl working there and got her to quit, so my dad’s been all mad about it and the three of them (two brothers and dad) are talking about it and they’re saying all kinds of misogynistic bullshit and when my brothers left I was just like uh you better not be listening to anything they said because they’re full of shit, and he said he knows but he’s always the “softie” boss and bringing my older brother in will scare them, and I’m like yeah but not because he’s a good leader, it’s because he’s an asshole and you’re likely going to have them all quit if you do that because he’s incredibly condescending and just flat out rude and is totally power hungry. Idk, we’ll see what happens with that. After that we headed upstairs since we need to be up early for our flight tomorrow (as I type this at 11:45 pm) and ended up talking to my sister and her friends for a while before actually getting ready for bed, and then I started writing this and here we are. I still feel like shit, and I hate that I feel like shit, I hate that stupid stuff can get to me like that but it just slices right through the old healing scars from childhood and reopens the old wounds just as fiercely as they were first made. But then I also doubt myself, thinking but other people had it worse, you’re probably exaggerating and want attention...and like all of this is playing out in my brain while all of this is happened. I could probably write more about it now, but it’s late and I’m mad tired so I’m going to call it a night instead, I may opine on it further tomorrow, we’ll see. Goodnight everyobe. Thank you all for following me and providing encouragement, it’s much appreciated. ❤️

[withabackpackandcamera]

February 11th, 2017

Day 23: Ice, Ice, Baby

- Woke up and chatted with Yoonju (Eunice’s friend) and talked about my experience in Iceland and about cost of living, etc. Then sneakily ate the hotel’s breakfast while figuring out my plans for the day and while waiting for Eunice and Yoonju to finish their breakfast.

- Headed to Jokulsarlon with friends. Got there just as the sun was starting to appear in the distant horizon. Went to the main spot with the gift shop and parking lot. Some cars upon arrival but not too many yet. Climbed up the hill to get a better vantage point of the lagoon. And as the morning started to wake up, the sun started to really color the sky and clouds in vibrant reds, pinks, and oranges. What ended up looking like a normal looking sunrise became a beautiful, colorful morning. I was awestruck and so happy that for once in my life, I got the chance to take a really nice photo in great photography conditions without having my hopes dashed by something else not planned for (time, weather, etc). This is because so many other times in my life, I have showed up at a scene for photos and things just don’t work out (I semi-failed when I went to Aspen to photograph The Maroon Bells last autumn). So, I took my precious time photographing the awesomeness around me. Eunice and Yoonju had to leave because they were in rush, so I was left on my own with my camera.

- Then headed over to other side of the bridge where the beach and ocean were. Didn’t see this area last time because I didn’t have time to look around with a tight schedule. The shore was NOTHING I had ever seen before, with big glacier chunks washed ashore on the black sand beach for a long stretch of beach. And along the beach was the extremely extremely fast-moving current from the lagoon. Usually, I see photos of water rolling up on shore and creating trails on long-exposure shots with ice chunks, but in this water, there was no way anyone could take pictures out there. So tons of tourists stayed on the shore to take photos of and with the huge ice chunks.

- Walked around trying to find a good shot of the beach but the sun, at this point in the morning, was high in the sky, leading to little opportunities for great photos. So, instead, I decided to walk around to take photos of glacier pieces (more on that in a later post!) before heading off.

- Ate lunch and snacks before heading out on my way towards Hofn with the next stop being Vestrahorn at Stokknes, which is a place I’d seen online but never been to before. Again, didn’t know about it last trip so completely missed it. It was right after Hofn on the 1 as you start heading north. And to get there, you had to drive through a gravel road that ran right beside the base of the Vestrahorn Mountain. Didn’t think the road would be so hole-y and that it would wind up and down for so long.

- Finally got to the entrance of the area and didn’t know I had to pay. But then saw the payment-needed sign and tried to sneak by (and play dumb that I thought it was pay for car only, not for walking (even though sign clearly said pay for walking too). So I paid 800ISK for admission into area. The guy who was running the cafe where I had to buy the ticket seemed like a businessman ready to rip people off. And strange to pay for a site in Iceland because most other places are free here. Weird.

- Paid and drove down toward lighthouse at the end of the peninsula. Was going to go to the lighthouse but found that it was too far and I had too little time to go down there. Then turned around and went other way, looking for a good photo spot. None. Walked through muddy and wet areas near the shore, almost falling on some slippery rocks, without finding much of a photo to take. Horrible time spent. Getting out was a pain too because I couldn’t find a shortcut back to my car without trekking through tons of water.

- Finally got to car and saw some photographers walking up from beach down the slope. Asked them if they found a good photography spot and they pointed down to the beach. So went down to the black sand beach and thank goodness I asked for their thoughts! The beach was pitch black with fine black sand with water rolling though at low tide. It took a while, but finally found the shot I wanted and ran in and out and in and out of the beach and water to catch that shot. Without much time sent on beach, I had to then hurry off because it was getting late and I needed to keep driving.

- Saw horses on the way out and stopped to see them. Met two Canadian girls, Amy and Alex, who actually got the horses to come to see us, so we spent time petting the horses and chatting about our trips around the country.

- And I was on the road again. Three years ago, I went through tunnel through the Vestrahorn mountains but didn’t drive that far past. But today, finally explored the area past the tunnel and drove through the gorgeousness of the East Fjords. Beautiful views with mountains to left and ocean to right. Wow!

- Didn’t stop much during my drive because felt I was behind in my schedule today and because it was hard to find pulloffs for photos. Despite less traffic here, didn’t want to stop in the middle of the road because it is dangerous. So continued driving and stopped a couple of times when the opportunity presented itself.

- The drive in the East was pretty windy but not as scary at this point as my Westfjords drive. And it was less scary because I could see where I was driving and what I was driving into. The water wasn’t as close to the road here, but the mountains were bigger it seemed and the roads wound up the side of the mountains, so more slopes than the Westfjords.

- Drove for 1-2 hours and watched the scenes as I drove through. Great to see it all but sad I had to rush through because I didn’t want to be stuck driving in the dark to the next destination like the situation I was in when I had to drive to the Westfjords.

- While driving, got to a point in the trip where I could go one of two ways to Egilsstadir, my next stop. GPS said turn left and I turned left onto the 939. And uh oh, didn’t realize it was going to be a gravel road and that it was going to wind up and through the mountains… for 17km!!!! It was one crazy road and driving experience and, for most of that trip, pretty dangerous for my little car. At one point, the car didn’t feel like going up and had to really press hard on gas for the 2WD to go. Super nervous here because of how narrow the road was and how steep the slopes were next to the road. Plus, the fear that running off the road was totally possible. Man, 17km of narrow road with holes, bumps, and gravel everywhere. All gravel. Some parts were super steep and had to take it slow. And at this point, light was starting to really go down and night was approaching meaning I eventually lost sight of my surroundings beside the trail. Probably a good thing because from what I saw up to that point, I was VERY VERY high up on the edge of a mountain. Darn GPS.

- So up and up and up I wound. Only me on the road. Kept going up and it was really really.. uneasy. And a difficult drive. Finally got to the top, where things were less steep but I still had to wind through the mountains for a little while longer at a slow paced. Finally connected to Hwy 1 and that was gravel too. Was wondering WTF is happening; it can’t all be gravel! But after another 7-10 kms, real road came back and the rest of the way was fairly simple to Stefán Þórarinsson’s house (he is an old friend of Sveinn’s).

-  Finally found Stefán’s place in Egilsstadir. Talked with him about what route I took and learned that I took a shortcut that saved me around 80km of driving, the distance I would have done had I taken Hwy 1 and continued to wind through fjords. Probably would’ve been better to do the longer road in retrospect even with the longer distance because both probably would have taken the same amount of time. One was more distance on a safer road and another was shorter distance on a gravel road with 2WD. Yeah, the other one next time.

- So, at his place, ate dinner with Stefán. It was a rice porridge dessert-type thing he traditionally eats with his family every Saturday. Ingredients are rice cooked in water and milk, with raisins. Then add some more milk/cream, cinnamon, and fruit preserve/sauce and eat cold. It wasn’t bad! Pretty good and homey!

- Then spent time talking to Stefán about roads and weather for tomorrow and where I should be driving, etc. Then saw photos of his extended family. Then learned about Icelandic root words for nature-y words and how those words are formed and the different sounds for different letters. Found that these are key words to know for landscape photography. Also learned that he was connected to Sveinn from healthcare stuff. He used to be CMO of eastern side of Iceland’s collection of clinics (and is essentially the father of the health system of today in Eastern Iceland).

- A fun night meeting new people and learning new things! Sleepy time now.

5 Things I Learned Today:

1. When the skies are not covered in thick, dark, rainy/snowy/stormy clouds, there is always a chance of. A beautiful sunrise or sunset in the winter. Because with the low lying sun most of the day and clouds speckling the sky, excellent conditions for beautiful skies. And in addition to nice skies, Iceland is reflections paradise! Again, the low-lying sun makes a huge difference.

2. Drones and GoPro time-lapses are the new selfie sticks this trip. Though selfies are still taken but more commonly just on the phone with no stick.

3. For whatever weird reason, the Vestrahorn is a pay-to-get-in area, and one of the few like that in Iceland. Of all the places too, I wonder why and how they did it.. hope that doesn't become the norm across the country.

4. There are so many small little waterfalls all throughout Iceland, and especially in East Iceland. I think I'll just name that one I saw Huyfoss. Rings a nice bell!

5. Driving through the East fjords is like riding a roller coaster! Thrilling with all the ups and downs and turns of the road. An absolutely crazy and adventurous road!

[womanonthe111]

DAVID. My story

When I retired, I volunteered at a day centre for the homeless. I was able to listen to the stories of the people who used the centre. David was skeletal when he arrived and in a great deal of pain from his arthritis. This is his story.

                                DAVID. My story

I moved to Collyhurst 6 years ago. I like it. It’s very quiet. You can literally hear a pin drop which is just the way I like it. I was fine until June 5th this year. I’m 59 and I’ve been unemployed for quite some time. I was a security guard until two and a half years ago. I worked for Initial in Salford. I left because they refused to pay me in cash. They said I needed a bank account. There is no law to say you actually need one but they insisted, so I had to leave.

They used to be called the Department of Work and Pensions but now it’s the Job Centre. I was getting job seekers allowance but they said I wasn’t doing enough to get a job so they suspended me for 2 weeks. After that suspension they still accused me of not trying enough to get work. They told me to go on this gateway thing, which I did, but because of one thing or another I couldn’t remember my password so I couldn’t log on. They said I wasn’t doing enough so they told me I was suspended again for five months. I was suspended from June 6th this year and it’s due to end Oct  6th.

For the first three months I was living on water. I had no food, they cut me off completely. I got no money whatsoever. I couldn’t afford gas or electricity as I had no money. The rent thankfully is already paid. I get housing benefit and council tax so the full rent is paid by the council. At least I had somewhere to sleep. I don’t know what I was to do to eat. You’ve got no money, you can’t buy food. I didn’t know about Cornerstone or the food banks. I didn’t know they existed. I heard about food banks on the radio when I had electricity but I took no notice. I was literally living on sips of water. Normally I’m 13 and a half stone, I must have lost 5 and a half stone in weight. I didn’t know what to do. I didn’t have a GP until a worker at Cornerstone twisted my arm and helped me to find a doctor. He has given me a form for an x-ray which I have to take to the hospital. I keep reminding myself to do it. I keep leaving the form at home. I’ve got a really bad hip which is very painful. It’s Arthritis. He gave me tablets for the pain. They work. I take two tablets now every 6 hours and now the pain is down to a dull ache.

I don’t talk to my family and I don’t have any friends so I couldn’t ask anyone for help. I have no heating, no hot water so I couldn’t keep myself clean. I was literally left in a void. The flat at the moment is cold and damp because I have no heating. I had a large electricity debt, I don’t know how much it was but I’ve tried to get the amount reduced which I haven’t been able to do yet. Through some arm twisting and help from Cornerstone I got the electric meter unlocked and I can now use the key.  They gave me £10 of electricity so at least I’ve got some electric. I still don’t know how much of the debt I have to pay but I hope it’s not too much. Until I came here a month ago I didn’t know about food banks. Now I get a food parcel once a week which is good. When I first had my first can of beans straight from the tin it was fantastic. I was surprised what a can of beans will do. I’ve got electric but I can’t use the stove because I can’t cook on it.  It’s gas.

I can use the grill so I can do sausages and things like that if I can get hold of them which I can’t very often. I can make toast now. I can make tea as I have an electric kettle. I have 9 pounds to spend onelectric plus Cornerstone gave me a £2 emergency loan of some kind. So now I can listen to the radio.

I’m a great reader but Central Library is still being redone and the building the library they are now using doesn’t have a general reader’s library so I can’t go there. I must have read all the books I’ve got at least 10 times. I like to read historical books. The local library is closed. It might have moved but I don’t know where.

It takes me an  hour to walk here to the Day Centre from Collyhurst. It takes me 2 hours to where I have to sign on. I’ve always signed on there. The advisers told me there is one in Newton Health but I don’t know where that is.

When I was being paid job seekers allowance I made sure I had my £2:20 bus fares once a fortnight. Buses are a luxury. I use 11Shansi’s pony". I walk everywhere .Touchwood, I get job seekers allowance again on Oct 6th. When I am reinstated I will be getting £143 a fortnight . When you are suspended you still have to sign on, so I have to walk.

Since I heard about Cornerstone I come here every day. It’s easier. I’m putting the weight on again. I still look thin but I’m getting better. I have put on three stone in weight in a month.

The food here is basic but it’s good because I have no gas. I can’t cook things like pasta. I tried soaking it in cold water which you can do but it’s horrible. So at the moment I’m eating out of cans, which is good. A lot of people say 11eeghh 11 but you can if you are hungry enough, definitely. If you’ve got some eggs and you have some electric, you can boil them in a kettle. It’s quite nice.

The initial feeling of starvation is that you are incredibly hungry for about 2 weeks and then that feeling goes. Then all you’ve got is a dull ache in your stomach. But if you keep hydrated it doesn’t really hurt or anything like that. I tried going to the dole and told them I was starving but they just don’t care. I know that the Salvation Army runs a soup kitchen. I worked for the Salvation Army for six years in the old hostel on Chepstow Street In 1972. It was a real dive. I was working there when they built the one on Wilmot street. I worked there for six years, washing up and security. I enjoyed it until I stupidly had an argument with one of the new residents. He was supposed to be helping, picking up the pots so they could be washed but he just stood there yapping. So I said do your job or else. He complained to the boss and I was thrown out. I was then on the streets. It’s terrible being on the streets. You are constantly hounded by the police. You have to keep moving all the time. If you do find somewhere to stay, you have to be sure the police aren’t anywhere around. I’ve never begged for food yet and I’m not about to start. I’ve seen a lot of people who are in a worse state than me begging.  I can’t do that, Begging keeps you alive but only for a limited time. If you can’t keep warm you start suffering from arthritis and things like that. Life expectancy on the streets is about 5 years roughly. It’s even worse in winter. It’s horrible.

I have this horrible meeting at CTEC this week. CTEC is a privately owned employment agency and they try and find you a job, any job .Their success rate is 1in 100 if you are lucky. When I arrive I sign the attendance book and use the computers. You can only use them for a maximum of 2 hours, because there are so many people trying to do the same thing. Thankfully that course is over. It didn’t help me find a job. It was a two year government course that you have got to attend   every Day,  whether you like it or not. If you fall sick you have to put in a sick note. It’s basically work search, like a job club. It’s ended for me and about a 1000 other people. They are given a lot of money to help people back to work but when I asked if they could help me renew my badge for security, they laughed at me and said “we don’t do things like that”. But they were getting paid to help me into work. That would have helped me. Where does the money go? Most of the jobs are below the minimum wage. It’s illegal to pay below the minimum wage but companies still get away with it.

They can literally send you on a job where you don’t get paid at all. It’s slave labour. I was listening to the radio about eight months ago. There was a woman who was working 5 jobs to get by. She was then sent to one of these jobs that don’t pay. She took them to court and won. I’m well enough to go back to work now but I can’t get another security job because my license has expired. It would cost me £250 to renew it. I’d have to take the whole training course again.

I come here to Cornerstone every day and get help with my job search. I have applied for over 10 jobs now so I’m hoping to get a reply. One job I would like is a reception/security job at the university. I’m hoping to get a reply within 48 hours.

Without Cornerstone I would be still sipping water, maybe dead. None of the neighbours noticed I was losing weight. It’s lovely and quiet where I live but the neighbours keep to themselves so I don’t talk to them very often. They didn’t notice how much weight I was losing.

I don’t remember who recommended Cornerstone. I think I met someone on the street. When I arrived I got a good meal, a bag of clothing and a food parcel and I have been coming here ever since. It’s brilliant. I can’t recommend it often enough.  There must be lots of other people who are in my situation. They don’t want to come because they don’t want a hand-out. They survive by begging or they steal to get heroin or crac or something like that to dull the pain, because you are in pain. I don’t take drugs ever, only the arthritis tablets.

I was born on Moss Lane East but I don’t have a mancunain accent. My father was Polish, my mother was from Devon. She was a dancer. My father family goes way back to 830ad. I used to speak polish quite fluently but I’ve lost it. I could do with learning a language again. My father died in 63 when I was 9 and I was sent to a residential school in Cheshire. I don’t know why I was sent there. I’ve got brothers and sisters, Tomny the eldest, Paul and Sue. I think I have got more but I don’t know about them. Just before my father died, my mother lashed out and gave me a good clout round the earholes. I’ve never known or found out why. I was thrown and locked in the coal hole. I never knew why. I spent a long time in the school. It was the longest and loneliest times I’ve ever had. It was not a very nice place. I had no education to speak of. If you were lucky you were given the basics, reading writing and arithmetic. That was it, if you were lucky. If you were really lucky you joined the brass band, which I did or the army cadet force which I was lucky to get in.

.At 16 I was I was boarded ,fostered in Matson. I stayed there till I was 18. At eighteen I don’t know what happened. I must have annoyed the foster mother or something but she told me to never darken her door step again. I can’t remember any good things there. I got a job in a canning company making cans. It was mind numbing but I stuck it out for two and a half years but I got bored and walked out. I shouldn’t have done. Because I’ve got no qualifications so as to speak so I couldn’t get another job for a long time. I’ve never been married. Never had a real girlfriend. I don’t think I’m cut out for marriage. I don’t think a woman would stay by me long enough.

My father gave me one of the old brownies cameras when I was eight years old and I’ve been doing it ever since. Photography was my first love, my passion. I can’t do anything now, my camera is broken. I haven’t got the money to get it repaired. I’ve got a medium format LEA 645 which is a very good camera. If I could get it fixed I would really love that. I specialize in portraits and anything that takes my fancy, landscapes, architecture, you name it except porn. I don’t charge for the photographs I take because I don’t think I’m good enough. Now everyone uses digital but that’s not photography, no way. The whole mystique of photography is that you never know how your image is going to come out when you develop it and print it. In digital photography this doesn’t happen. It can be manipulated and changed to how you want it. If I get a job, I could take photographs again.

I got an A level in Photography at the old Burley Education Centre . Since then it has been pulled down. They destroyed a whole community there. It’s now part of the Manchester Metropolitan University. Before they knocked it down the student association put in a plan to save it. We proposed we could refurbish the whole college for £250 .000 but they had already made their decision to knock it down. The university has built their own monstrosity there, just for university students. The local community has no access to adult education now.