#oh shit i just remembered my therapist told me i should stop saying “its fine”

[astarryon]

Another Lifetime: Shouldn’t Have Gotten Shot

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Description of war and battle injuries, mentions of blood, gunshots, language, etc.

Summary: Bucky doesn’t like talking about her, but Dr. Raynor isn’t an easy person to argue with. And now that it’s summer –– now that he’s living through the months they’d shared together all over again, only without her by his side –– fighting the memories becomes all the more difficult.

A/N: Listen, I really don’t know what’s gotten into me but ever since tfatws started I have been INSPIRED! Hoping to update this fic sem regularly, but we’ll see where the new school term takes us. As always, I hope you enjoy, and feel free to let me know what you think!

Bucky Barnes has never been overly fond of the summer.

One aspect was the fact that he could remember what it was like to be a miserable kid living in a cramped Brooklyn apartment with no air conditioning and three baby sisters who never stopped whining about the heat. Of all the jumbled, foggy memories bouncing around the confines of his skull, that one is clearer than most. And though he still finds it difficult to picture the faces of his little sisters –– can’t hardly remember arcs of their noses, much less the colors of each of their eyes –– a nostalgic, brotherly feeling washes over him all the same.

There’s also the little detail that he’d received his draft notice in the summer months. That Bucky remembers perfectly, one of the few memories strong enough to remain unmuddied by all those years of shitbag scientists rooting around his head and picking his brain apart. The heat that year had been sweltering, and once his mother found him in her kitchen with that damned letter clutched between his fingers, he felt it burn right through the strings of his heart. 

The first week of July delivered the news. The last saw him shipping out to bootcamp. 

He guessed he didn’t mind the sunshine. That part had always been nice, and it helped to calm him on occasion these days, to remember that the golden rays licking comforting heat up his skin were the same ones which had shone down on him back in the 40s, before and during the war.

Before Hydra had condemned him to seventy long years of dark and cold.

To that end, logic said the season he really should hate was winter, but he’d never felt any ill will toward the colder months, and found now, in the present, that he’d only grown fonder of them. When the rain came down from the sky in sheets, or when snow fell so thick it resembled white, puffy clouds blanketing the ground, he took walks. Partly because no other soul would be idiotic enough to trudge through a borderline natural disaster at three in the morning, meaning he wouldn’t have to put up with prying eyes and conspicuously pointing fingers, and partly because experiencing said natural disasters in solitude did wonders for the soul.

Steve thought it was strange. Hated that Bucky did it, kept insisting that he at least take a goddamn jacket, there isn’t any actual proof he can’t get pneumonia. But Bucky always shook his head and declined, rolling his eyes and muttering beneath his breath about how apparently the tables have fucking turned.

But, no. The winter, the rain, the cold –– none of that could ever draw half as much ire from him as did the gentle beginnings of June, the scorching heat of July, the fading light of August. Because those weren’t the things which served as reminders from before.

Reminders of her.

“James. Did you hear me?”

Bucky blinks hard, freeing his gaze from the wall calendar tacked up and viewable just over his doctor’s shoulder. Glancing down, he sees the familiar green of the velvet armchair –– one of three options for patients to choose from in her office, and Bucky’s personal favorite on account of the way its textures did something to sooth him as he gripped its arm anxiously with his flesh hand –– and the worn, fraying knees of his black jeans against it. He doesn’t bother meeting his therapist’s gaze. He already knows which of her expressions he’ll find her leveling at him, if he does.

“Sorry,” Bucky mutters, sucking his teeth. He hopes his voice isn’t quite as strained as it sounds –– though, judging by the way Dr. Raynor clucks her tongue as her fingers twitch toward her pen, it definitely is. “Guess I’m a little scattered today.”

The sardonic hum Raynor gives in response as she knowingly tilts her head nearly makes him open his mouth to finish the silent argument she’d started, but Bucky knows better than that. The moment he starts up, she’ll feign innocence and inquire as to why he feels the need to defend himself when no verbal accusation has been made. God damn, it would be just his luck to end up with the one government assigned therapist actually capable at her job.

“That’s what you said yesterday,” Dr. Raynor offers. “And the two days before, if memory serves me right.”

Bucky shakes his head and tsks, tapping a metal finger against his temple. “Not a funny joke, doc. Remember the audience you’re dealing with here.”

“‘Deflecting.’”

The word drops from Raynor’s mouth with a simpleness that puzzles him.

“‘Scuse me?” he prompts when she only goes on to stare at him owlishly.

“Oh, that’s what I’d be writing in my notebook,” she explains simply, folding her hands together in her lap and leaning back in her chair. “If we were using it right now, that is.”

Again, Bucky rolls his eyes, and has to make an active attempt not to cross his arms like a forlorn child. The threat in her words is easily recognizable, not that she’d really bothered trying to conceal it. She knows that damn notebook irritates him more than any other aspect of their current arrangement, and he knows she’s not bluffing. If he doesn’t start talking, Raynor starts writing –– and if Raynor starts writing, he gets tailed by government watchdogs to ensure there are no imminent incidents lurking in the near future.

He sighs dejectedly and meets her gaze. “What was it you asked me?”

“What it is about the month of June that makes you so uncomfortable.”

Bucky blinks, red alarm bells shrieking in his head. Fuck, he can’t help but think. Fuck, fuck, fuck. Caught red handed.

“June’s fine,” he tries, but even to his own ears the assurance sounds weak. To think, he’d once been the most prolific tool of espionage around –– now he can hardly deliver a lie with a straight face. “Don’t have any feelings toward it one way or the other.”

“Strike two,” Raynor quips, glancing one again toward her pen.

Fuck!

Exhaling sharply through his nose, Bucky sits a little straighter in his seat, searching for any semblance of comfort to be found while already knowing he was bound to come up short. Damn it all. She wasn’t going to let him out of this one.

“Alright, hold your horses,” he sighs, waving a halting hand. Raynor’s expression doesn’t shift. She simply continues peering at him with her dark eyes, waiting patiently for his next few words to come. “Why do you assume I’ve got a problem with June?”

“Because you didn’t start staring at that calendar until it switched over from May,” Raynor supplies. “Like I mentioned, today isn’t the only day you’ve been scattered. Seems like something we should consider talking about.”

“No,” Bucky answers quickly. Too quickly. Shit. If she thought he’d been deflecting before, he didn’t even want to know the words running through her mind in regards to his behavior now. “I mean–– well, no. I don’t think it’s that important.”

Raynor arches a brow. “Funny,” she tells him, “the way your eyes keep drifting back to the word ‘June’ tells me otherwise.”

He sighs, worrying the inside of his cheek with his teeth. Caught between a rock and an even bigger, weightier rock. The universe really wasn’t one to take his side often.

Bucky knows there really isn’t any choice here. Either he does what Raynor asks and elaborates on his suspicious behavior, or he risks facing the repercussions of those notes she’ll be jotting down in her notebook. Which of the two evils is more definitively the lesser, he can’t rightly say, but he knows which of the consequences he’d prefer to suffer through. And they’re certainly not the ones which see him robbed of the ability to walk freely down the street without a detail of armed babysitters.

So he figures that, maybe for once, being honest can’t be the worst decision to make.

“A few years ago, back before the blip,” Bucky tries, “I spent a summer in Wakanda.”

“Housed by the royal family,” Raynor nods, tone soft. “We’ve spoken about that before. You said you found it peaceful there. That you liked it.”

He did, and still does. On the nights when his mind isn’t quiet enough to let him find sleep but his heart feels light enough to forego the slideshow of horrors he’d been made to suffer throughout the years, Bucky’s thoughts often return to the bliss which life in Wakanda had offered him. He’d remember the farm he kept there, the little children who would come to sing and play and dance in trees to keep him company in the afternoons. He’d remember Princess Shuri –– Just Shuri, James, come now –– and the kindness she’d displayed in deactivating the deeper, most concerning parts of his programming. The day she’d told him it was done, turned off, that he’d never be forced to revert back to the Soldier against his will again, he’d rushed her and caught her up in a bearhug so relieved and forceful that her Dora Milaje detail had actually pointed their spears at him. He’d remember the tranquility of it all, the simpleness.

The peace.

There’s no hope of him being able to return to that place any time soon, much as he’d like to, but the memories sit resolutely concrete in his mind. The first of a new set which he’d never have to worry about being stolen away from him by the currents of an electric shock.

“It’s a nice place,” Bucky affirms, sighing wistfully at the thoughts swirling up in his head. “I bring it up because back then, that summer… I started remembering a few things. From before.”

Raynor keeps her face smooth and composed, but Bucky notices the twitch in her cheek that says she’s got a question. “When you say before,” she asks, voice gentle, “do you mean your time as the Winter Soldier?”

He shakes his head, swallowing thickly. Ironically, things would be easier, were that the case. He might not be so miserable in the present, seeing the month of June start all over again. The melancholy might not be so strong. “No, not then. I mean from before. From the 40s, during the war. I don’t know if it was Wakanda’s heat that did it, or that my programming was officially deactivated. But one night I went to sleep in my hut like normal, and then the next morning I woke up, and… and I remembered.”

Raynor clasps her hand together in her lap, the pen, the notebook, the hesitation all forgotten. Bucky sees it in her expression, the shock at the fact that he’s speaking, that she’s actually making progress in getting him to talk about things so painful he often wonders if they aren’t better left in the past. He’s still trying to figure that one out. Miserable as he’s been for the first four days of June, he figures nothing good or relieving or positive can come from retelling this particular tale. It’s all behind him now, and there isn’t anything to be done to change the ending in any significant way.

But… but he figures he owes it to her. As painful as the memories are, they can’t be anything in comparison to what she must have gone through in the aftermath of it all.

Slowly, Raynor crosses one ankle over the other. “What was it that you remembered, James?”

Bucky sighs, closing his eyes and inhaling as deep a breath as he can pull. He lets it loose after counting to six, then opens his eyes again and crosses his arms over his chest. “It started back in June of 1944. I got shot.”

––

June 1st, 1944

It was damn lucky you weren’t sleeping much these days.

A funny thought, really. One which brings a sarcastic, bitter smile to your lips as you bend your neck to get a closer look at your handiwork. Wasn’t it just two nights ago that you’d been laying in your cot, staring up at the moon through the flap of your tent and counting all the reasons it wasn't fair that the bliss of unconsciousness evaded you? Wasn’t it three that you’d considered sneaking into the med tent and downing a few of the sleeping pills meant for the soldiers? You hadn’t, of course –– god only knew the sort of trouble you’d get in if it came to pass that you were caught –– but the consideration had been there all the same.

“Fuckin’ shit!”

The foul language, mixed with the rough jerk of the body beneath your dexterous hands, was enough to steal your attention back from your jaded inner monologue. Nearly two years back, when you’d first signed on to work as a field nurse, the pained outburst would have sent you flinching. Now, the swearing isn’t anything new, and thankfully for the soldier whose leg you were currently stitching up, it was no longer anywhere near enough to give you pause.

“You better hold still unless you want this to scar even worse than it's already going to,” you tell him matter of factly, gently tugging the thread the rest of the way through your current stitch.

The soldier –– Matthews? Moore? You can hardly remember the name he’d gasped at you in pain, but you’re sure it started with an ‘M’ –– rakes his dirty hands over his even dirtier face, brown eyes squeezing themselves shut as his fingers quake with agony. “Sorry,” he rasps, skin paling. “Just… Jesus, shit hurts so bad!”

You cluck your tongue, guilt racking your heart as you push the needle through his skin once more. “Shouldn’t have gotten shot then, genius,” you murmur, shaking your head disapprovingly.

It works. For a moment the soldier’s face twists in disbelief, and in the next, a shuddering, wheezing gasp of laughter expels itself from his throat. The sight is bleak, but it’s enough to twist your heart with warmth as you once again pull the thread through the stitch. You’d learned in the first few months of working as a nurse on the frontlines that the last thing these men wanted or needed was to be coddled along over their injuries, especially by a woman. Vulnerability was more averse to them now than ever before.

Personally, you don’t much understand it –– but your work isn’t, and has never been, about yourself. 

“Look, why don’t you tell me something,” you start, glancing up to… Morrison’s…? face in apology before sticking him with the needle yet again. He jerks, but not quite so violently this time. Another one down. Only about a thousand more to go tonight. “How’d all this happen? I thought you boys weren’t meant to scope the new territory until tomorrow afternoon. Y’know, in the daylight? When you can actually see whether or not someone in the distance is pointing a gun at you?”

“Unit leader was gettin’ jumpy,” the soldier coughs out, groaning against the pain. Guilt stabs your heart like a knife. You’d have given him something for the pain if you had it, something to numb the wound. But shipments of med supplies were behind, and it would be at least a week before you got your hands on anything like that again. “Said going at night would be better, that we could get the drop on them before they even knew we were coming.”

“Yeah,” you scoff, rolling your eyes. “Never mind the fact that their soldiers know the land better than ours do.”

So, the unit leader had jumped the gun. You’d figured as much, when two of your nurses had run into your tent with messy hair and sleep addled expressions, panicking about the oncoming slew of injured soldiers who needed immediate medical attention. That had been two hours, six patients, and about one hundred and ninety seven stitches ago.

Again. It was lucky you weren’t sleeping much these days.

The soldier whose leg you were currently stitching up opened his mouth to speak –– whether to snark along with you at the poor choice made by the unit’s leadership or to blindly defend his superior’s decision, you couldn’t be altogether sure –– but before he could even fix his mouth to properly shape the words, a sudden roar of someone else’s agony effectively cut him off.

Steadying your hands, you carefully turn to peer over your shoulder, searching for the source of the commotion. All night, you’d been surrounded by a cacophony of screaming soldiers, but that yell of pain is one you’re certain hasn’t yet met your ears. And, as you watch the flap of the med tent swing back before admitting entry to three people –– one of your nurses and two soldiers, one leaning bodily against the other –– you discover that your assumption is correct.

“We got a bad one,” the nurse –– Sally, curly haired, nearing twenty four and a bit more capable than the other girls when met with the sight of blood –– shouts. Her eyes scan the tent, searching and searching until her gaze finally lands on you. She pauses only a moment to turn and direct the uninjured soldier to drag the one he’s supporting over to an empty cot before barrelling in your direction. “Gunshot wound to the abdomen. I haven’t really had the chance to get a good look at it, but he’s–– well, to be frank, that man has lost a shit ton of blood.”

A gutshot. Poor guy would either go through a sickening amount of pain just to die, or he’d survive, and end up having to endure even more pain. Either way, in light of your depleted supply of painkillers, ‘excruciating’ didn’t even begin to describe it.

Oh, damn it all.

“Take over here for me,” you command, gesturing with your chin to the needle perched between your fingers. Sally’s already moving to pluck it from your hand before you’ve even finished speaking. “He’s got about fifteen to go before we even think about sending him back to his tent. Don’t let him convince you otherwise.”

“You don’t think I know better?” Sally remarks drily, but you don’t have the time to come up with a witty comeback. You’re already on your feet and rushing toward the soldier writhing in pain across the tent, reflexively grabbing a collection of gauze, thread, tweezers, and rubbing alcohol along the way.

This isn’t going to be much fun for either of you.

The first thing you do is excuse the uninjured soldier, the one who’d carried him in. For one, there isn’t any need to keep him witness, and for another, you work better when an addition of unnecessary eyes aren’t tracking your every move. Besides. You doubt the poor soul laying on your med cot is at all interested in one of his peers –– one not sick or out of his mind due to his own pain, that is –– see him in this state. So, you simply thank the young man for his assistance and shoo him back in the direction from which he’d come, waiting until he’s passed the tent’s entrance before turning your full, undivided attention to your newest patient.

He’s got his eyes screwed shut tight in pain. You can hardly blame him. Of all the wounds to suffer through, a gutshot has the potential to win least desirable. It’s easy enough to see why, as the young man’s handsome features carve themselves into an expression of despair. A slick sheen of sweat coats his pale forehead, dampening his dark hair and sticking it to his skin. He’s biting down so hard on his bottom lip in effort to swallow his screams that you’re genuinely shocked he hasn’t drawn blood.

Though, part of you wonders if there’s even enough blood left in his body for his lip to bleed. Deep scarlet blooms stain his green shirt, so thoroughly soaked through that the fabric has turned almost black. Swathes of red cover his torso, his pants, the pale skin of his arms. It’s everywhere, already leaking onto the white sheets of the cot.

Sally wasn’t kidding. He really has lost a shit ton of blood.

“Hey there, soldier,” you start up, setting your collection of medical supplies down before taking a closer look at his torso. Shirt sticking to his skin the way it is, you aren’t going to be able to get much done until it’s out of the way. And, given that this man is certainly in no state to shrug it off himself, you’ve got no choice but to cut it. Lucky that you’d thought to grab a pair of scissors too, you suppose. “Don’t suppose you might be able to help a girl out by telling her what year it is?”

His jaw works for a few moments, teeth grinding together so forcefully the sound is audible. You think he might be gearing up to let loose another scream before he shakes his head a single time. “I got–– got shot,” he wheezes, whole body shaking, “not concussed. Don’t–– ah, don’t really… get how the year’s relevant.”

You exhale a bemused scoff through your nose, considering your response as your scissors work their way through the bloody fabric concealing his wound. You’re working as gently as you can, and so far it seems to be doing the trick. The soldier hasn’t flinched once since you started, though it’s hard to tell if that’s more due to the fact that he hadn’t noticed any difference one way or the other, or if it’s because he’s dedicating what strength he has left to keeping his head screwed onto his shoulders.

“Fair point,” you reply, still carefully cutting through his shirt. “How about a name, then? Little more relevant to the conversation, I’d say.”

It takes a few moments of silence for him to respond –– almost as if he’s trying to remember that he’s got a name –– but eventually, it comes.

“James,” he tells you, the single syllable leaving his mouth in a pained grunt.

You nod, cutting away the last of the fabric. “Nice to meet you, James,” you tell him, carefully peeling the tatters of his ruined shirt from his abdomen. “You just hold tight a little longer for me, alright? We’ll fix you up good as new.”

It isn’t a pretty sight, what you find beneath. Under all that red is a nasty wound, jagged and swollen at the edges, punched into the flesh just beneath the southmost edge of his ribcage. Thankfully, no bones have been hit –– a shattered rib would be immediately evident, both in the pitch of his screams and the deformed shape of his chest –– but the wound is more than a little inflated. There’s a puffiness to it that you can’t comprehend, a stiffness to its perimeter that doesn’t click in your mind, until––

Until you see the small, dark center, and suddenly it does.

You swear beneath your breath, a filthy, ugly word that you’d picked up a few weeks back from one of your patients. You don’t even know what it means, not really, but speaking it feels cathartic enough that you don’t altogether care.

Oh, sweet, holy hell.

James cracks an eye open, muttering, “Darlin’, you rea–– you really gotta work on your bedside manner.”

“Alright, listen to me, James,” you tell him, forgoing a witty response. You don’t have the time, not considering what you’re now dealing with, and you figure James will appreciate your working hands more than he’ll appreciate your shitty attempts at banter. “There’s… there’s something I need to do for you, before I can start patching you up. Now, normally I could give you something for the pain, but we’re out of the anesthetic I need. So this isn’t gonna… it’s not gonna feel very good.”

James looses a labored sigh, oddly calm for the clear anguish marring his face. “Shit, well good news,” he mutters, swallowing thickly, “it already doesn’t.”

His lashes flutter in a telltale manner, one which lets you know he’s getting closer to the brink and you’re running short on time. It’s easy enough, not to give in to the panic this incites in your chest. You’ve been doing this job a long time now, know that what James needs is your calm, your level-headedness. Those things have a higher chance of keeping him alive, of seeing to it that he comes out of this on the other side. Scarred up, maybe, and without the ability to breathe as deep as he once could, but still alive.

You shake your head, grabbing the tweezers from where you’d set them down before planting your forearm against an uninjured section of James’ bare chest for leverage. “Alright, big breaths, James. You scream as loud as you want or need to, but just… try and stay as still as you can, okay? I won’t be able to stop until it’s done.”

The only answer he gives in response is a shaky nod, the thick black fringe of his lashes brushing his cheekbones as his lips begin to move at a speed with which your eyes can hardly track. A prayer, you figure, or a plea for a quick end. Whichever it is, it helps him to relax just the tiniest bit more, slightly smooths out the lines of pain and suffering etched into his face.

Until you start digging with the tweezers, that is.

Then it’s all white hot screams of pain.

“I’m sorry,” you whisper beneath his cries, words drowned out by the sheer volume of the howls ripping out of his throat. But you don’t stop working, don’t withdraw the tweezers from his bloody wound. You hadn’t been joking when you told him starting meant you couldn’t stop until you finished. Abandoning the task now meant leaving James to bleed out in a matter of seconds. “I know it hurts, I’m sorry. You’re doing good, though, alright? You’re doing amazing. I’m sorry.”

It takes a moment for the tweezers’ edges to find the metal bullet lodged in his skin. At first, all you can feel is a mess of flesh and muscle, shredded and frayed from the impact of the gunshot. For a few short seconds, you wonder if your eyes hadn’t been playing tricks on you, if it would have been more wise to search for an exit wound on his back than to simply jump straight in without taking the time to stop and think.

But your worries are unfounded –– proven two seconds later when your tweezers make contact with the tiny, foreign object threatening James’ life. Carefully, you maneuver the tweezers into the correct position to properly take hold of the bullet. Then, with one last whispered apology, you slowly and carefully begin to pull.

James’ legs buck hard against the cot, arms straining at his sides where he’s got both his hands fisted into the sheets in an attempt to hold on for dear life. His teeth chatter against each other, knocking and clacking as he tries to get ahold of the screams pouring freely from him, and that thin sheen of sweat coating his skin has turned into a full on tidal wave.

But his torso doesn’t move –– not a single inch.

“We’re almost done,” you assure him, keeping your hand steady as you continue gently easing the bullet up, and up, and up. You can just make out the silver edges of it now, slick with blood and dented. It won’t be long now, before it’s out and you can start working on staunching the blood leaking from his body. Maybe you can lift his spirits with a joke or two then, a witty comment to ease some of the pain. Maybe––

The bullet slips from the tweezers, catching you off guard and jerking your hand to the left. It’s only by a centimeter, not a huge distance, but given that you’ve got edges of metal inserted into this man’s wound, to him, it makes all the difference in the world.

James throws his head back and screams, loud enough that you can instantly hear his vocal cords go raw beneath the strain of the volume. A single word leaves his lips; it sounds like Ma, only it’s warped, strangled. Much as you detest the fact, you know the sound well. A soldier crying out for his mother while under the thrall of delirium and pain isn’t exactly a rarity around these parts.

Guilt twists your heart with the razor sharpness of a cruel knife.

“Stop,” he gasps, voice hoarse. “P-please–– please stop!”

“I can’t,” you tell him, already repositioning your tweezers and going back in. Luckily, the bullet is much closer to the surface of his wound now. It only takes a second before you find another grip on it, instantly deciding to forego gentleness in favor of speed. “But the good news is––” With a slight bend of your wrist and a soft, wet pop, the bullet comes loose from his wound. “––we’re done with the shitty part.”

James’ eyes, glassy with pain and pupils blown wide, fall first to the bullet you hold up for his perusal, set against a backdrop of lowlight and your blood covered hand, before wandering their way up to your face. It’s then that you notice his irises are water blue and clear as crystal. You’re not sure why, but their color fascinates you.

“I wanna keep that,” he mutters weakly.

Then, his lashes flutter rapidly and his head lolls to the side, his lungs expelling a great, big breath before shuddering to a halt.

Your heart lurches at the sight. For one, awful moment, you think you’ve just put the poor man through all of that pain and agony only to end up somehow killing him in the process –– never mind the fact that this isn’t the first time you’ve extracted a bullet from a soldier’s abdomen, and certainly isn’t likely to be the last. But then his chest starts up moving again, at a much less worrisome pace. It’s slow, and his breaths are shallow, but they’re still breaths.

Unconscious –– not dead.

The realization is enough to make you send a mental note of thanks to whichever being was kind enough to have shown James mercy.

You allow yourself the shortest of moments to bask in the relief –– that you’d successfully extracted the bullet, that James hadn’t died during or after your attempts to do so, that you aren’t now left to set in motion the process of another condolence letter being shipped across seas to his family.

And once it passes, once you’ve inhaled and exhaled and wiped your hands on a cloth, you grab a cloth and press it to James’ wound, setting to work on stopping his bleeding –– but not before wrapping the bullet you’d just dislodged from his body in a pad of gauze and tucking it into the breast pocket of your uniform.

––

Chapter Two: Someone Good

[fuck-customers]

When i was the cash office associate at WalShart, one of the CSMs decided I was his therapist. He would come in to start his shift and when he would see me he would say stuff like "goody the doctor is in", then begin to vent and info dump so much to me. I told him several times very nicely that I had to do my work, that I did like "our talks", but that he had a job to do and so did I. He didn't take the hint and continued just venting so much to me. Its not that I didnt care, but for starters, he never checked if I was in the right headspace for the stuff he told me. Second, I barely knew him, like literally 90% of the shit he told me you don't tell someone you only knew for a few weeks. Third, he always spoke, i never said anything and when I did he would make it about himself. Finally. I just got tired of it. It was disrupting my work and just way too much for my mental health. He told me stuff like how he had so many problems with his wife. I'm not sure why, but he was flat out so racist towards her, Idk even know why they were married. He was very islamaphobic too and she came from an Islamic background. I'm going to not let out some of the stuff he said because i know it'll upset people, but keep in mind I was never okay with any of those comments and told him to stop and he would continue regardless. One day he got into a fight with his wife cause his 10 year old daughter bit his 2 year old stepson. He apparently had a rule that his wife cant discipline his daughter since she's not her daughter and vice versa. He said that he was just going to take away TV privileges, but his wife argued that it wasn't enough and that his wife didn't have the right to tell him how to discipline his daughter. Idk. I found it messed up because by age 10 a child should know that they shouldn't bite a toddler and his wife did have every right to be upset since I did see a picture of the bite and I'm honestly shocked the baby didn't need stitches. Then his wife got pregnant and get this, his wife was allowed to have boyfriends (like other intimate partners) and she said she didn't think the baby was his. So my co-worker texting some girl she didn't like and oh my god. It all happened during work and he was crying and i told him to go home and settle things but he refused. She called his parents and told them everything and they called him at work and oh my god everything was extreme and just too much. She apparently wanted a divorce and yadayada and during that day he didn't do any of his CSM stuff, he just cried in the cash office and i tried confronting him and he should be thankful our GM was off that day. Then the next day everything was apparently fine? He just wasn't allowed to text girls anymore. Then they got rid of the cash office associate position so I moved to another part of the store and i was so glad. But he would come and again info dump so much to me. Ugh! It was so annoying. Then one week when I had finals his wife's baby was born (yeah I don't think the baby was his, sorry) and i remember being so sleepy and he came and basically yelled at me how I had no right to be tired cause he had a newborn keeping him up and how dare anyone besides him be tired. He finally got fired and i was so thankful. Im sorry, I know that was probably hard on him and his family, but he had no right to mentally exhaust me the way he did and then to go look for me and treat me like a therapist especially after I attempted to establish boundaries several times was so annoying. Also, I'm sorry, his marriage was garbage. He should have just divorced her, they didn't even like each other's kids. He always brought his home problems to work and took them out on people uninvolved who tried helping. I'm just so glad I don't see or talk to him anymore.

[rosy-cheekx]

from the dialogue prompts! 6: “go away” “no, not until i know you’re okay”

Oh boy this one was hard to write for whatever reason, but she’s done! just in time for us to pretend a world in which Jon or Martin’s lives are ever in real danger doesn't exist....right?

AO3 Link in source on OP

-

On Being Fine, Absolutely Well-Adjusted, and OK

Martin supposed he should count himself lucky. He hadn’t needed to go to the hospital after the Prentiss attack, had come out with only a few worm scars to show for it, god especially when he thought about Jon and all the worms he and Sasha had had to corkscrew out of him, his face and neck and arms and legs—

See? Martin shook his head, clearing his mind’s eye of the silver and crimson kaleidoscope. It could have been worse. He scratched at his calf, where a close trio of scars had begun to heal, skin-tight and shiny, and, at last, remembered he was supposed to be washing his hands. He was glad the unisex Archive lav didn’t have a mirror by the sink; he didn’t need a reminder of how tired he must look.

The return to work had been difficult, but not as bad as he had expected it to be. Knowing Prentiss was dead had made it easier to return home, though he had immediately spent his first pain-free day rearranging the furniture, as recommended by his therapist. (He had lied to her, of course, claimed an attempted break-in + assault had traumatized him. It wasn’t that far off from the truth, anyways.) So Martin had been spending his evenings repositioning, redecorating, cleaning; anything he could to erase Jane Prentiss and those horrid things from his mind. It wasn’t easy, and Martin still spent nights awake, hyperaware of the smallest sound of squelching or the smell of rot. But he was alive, he reminded himself at home in the mornings, concealing eye bags and trying to reassemble his appearance into some approximation of normal, and shouldn’t that be enough? He hadn’t been seriously injured, like Jon or Tim, hadn’t had to risk a lonely end save them all like Sasha. He should be the most well-adjusted of the three of them.

So why was he here, in the Archive toilet, gripping the edge of the sink so hard he might crack it?

Martin released his grip and watched his blood flow back into his fingers, flexing them. He should really go do...something. Work, probably, if Jon ever decided to stop speaking to him like he was a jigsaw with too many pieces. He splashed some water on his face and exhaled deeply. He was fine, he could-

 “Oh shit!” Martin yelped as he turned to face the door into the bullpen. In the reflection at the corner of the mirror that hung on the back of the door was a shiny, squat, silver worm. “Fuckfuckfuck!” Martin cursed, backing into the door and pulling his shoe off with one hand. He patted for his beltloop, where had taken to keeping his corkscrew, and huffed to find it gone. Of course. He was trying not to be paranoid.

Picking up his shoe, he threw it at the worm, half-hidden by the rubbish bin. It bounced harmlessly—or, maybe it hit? Martin couldn’t tell. Either way, the worm moved, and that was when Martin’s vision greyed dangerously, heart leaping to his throat. Oh god, he couldn’t breathe? Why couldn’t he breathe? Was it the carbon dioxide? No. The fire alarm wasn’t going off. Martin’s thoughts raced and he desperately jiggled the door handle, only to find it turning against him. Oh god, it was her. It was-

“Martin?”

It was Jon.

“Jon? Jon, fuck, hey, don’t come in, okay? There’s a worm and I don’t want any of you getting hurt.”

…is what he would have said if he could catch his breath. Instead, all he could let out was a raspy, strangled “Jon.”

“Martin, are you alright in there?” Jon’s voice was too calm, too casual for the bile rising in Martin’s throat.

“W-worm.” Martin sputtered as he heard a click of a cane through the door; probably Jon taking a step backward at the word. “Got-gotta kill it,” he babbled, more to himself than to Jon. He could try with the shoe again, but it hadn’t worked the first time, and that would leave him unprotected if he wanted to step on it.

“No! Martin, don’t-”

Oh, he could step on it. Seized in a moment of something, a peculiar blend of bravery, fear, and plain exasperation, Martin crossed the few squares of lino between him and the worm and moved to step on it with precision. To his great surprise, it rolled out from under his foot, glinting against the overhead lighting.

“What?” Martin mumbled aloud, and the realization hit him all at once: this wasn’t a worm at all. Cautiously, he picked up the metal tube and spotted a small label on the bottom. The thin silver tube contained MAC #239: Not Like Other Girls, according to the reddish-brown sticker.

“Lipstick?” Martin whispered to himself, slumping against the wall of the bathroom and letting out a relieved sob. He had been terrified of lipstick?

The realization that should have calmed him down instead sent him spiraling. Martin Blackwood wasn’t always the calm one, but he was always the shoulder to lean on. He couldn’t do this, not have a breakdown in the middle of his workplace, not with—

Tapping came from the door outside. “Martin? Do I need to break the door down?” Jon was still outside, Martin realized with a start.

“Uh-” Martin choked back a sob. “No, no, it’s alright, Jon. I’m fine.”

“You certainly are not.”

“It was just a-a bloody lipstick tube, Jon, I’m alright. Just leave me alone.” Martin shuddered a breath as he swiped at his eyes with the hem of his sweater, praying to anything and everything that for once Jon would just do as he was told.

“No.” Of course not. “Not until I know you’re okay.” Jon’s voice was softer now, a part of Martin realized. The gentleness of his tone struck Martin and he found himself shakily standing and moving to the door. Unlocking and opening it, he saw Jon, leaning heavily on the medical cane he had been given after the incident, eyes a mix of panic and concern, like the way one might eye a wounded animal. Somehow, that look managed to make Martin feel small, protected, loved, and it warmed something in him.

It was that look that broke something in him and Martin felt a taut string inside him snap loose. Tears welled up in his eyes and he desperately swiped at them with the sleeves of his sweater, leaning against the doorframe. “I feel so stupid,” he mumbled, choked laughter mixing with his tears. He held up the lipstick tube, which he had pocketed earlier, and held it up to the light. “It doesn’t even look like them, not really, I-I-I just saw the squat and silver and panicked.”

Jon’s hand was on his arm, but he was quiet, not saying anything until Martin had collected himself, heaving sobs to hiccups to shallow breathing as he brought himself to baseline again. “Martin,” Jon said quietly, flexing the fingers that held his bicep, “I know you’ve had a rough few months.” Martin scoffed. “Fine, okay, maybe rough doesn’t begin to cover it. What I mean to say is, well…” Jon’s mouth floundered for a word properly, lips forming a few different shapes before settling on, “are you, you know, getting help?”

“Yes, Jon, I’m in therapy.” Martin surprised himself with his own honesty. “But there’s not really much I can say, you know? Not without getting carted off to a sanitorium or getting doped up on meds of some kind or another. I mean, evil worms haunting my house and my workplace? A worm woman determined to kill me and everyone I care for? Not exactly something cognitive behavior therapy will fix.”

Jon sighed in assent, nodding. “That’s fair, I suppose. I just-Martin.” The hand squeezed his elbow and Martin felt a jolt of electricity run through his skin. “You’re allowed to hurt, you know?” Martin’s eyes must have given away his thoughts because Jon continued, voice soft and gentle. 

“We all suffered, Martin, but you were the one who was locked in your home, and then the basement where you work, for months on end. Just because you’re not-” he shifts to wave his cane idly, “-doesn’t mean you haven’t gone through hell alongside us.” Jon’s voice has taken on a hardness to it, an insistence Martin last remembered seeing when they were locked in Document Storage together, when Jon was so afraid of being forgotten. It made Martin shiver, not from fear but from something in the way Jon’s eyes bored into him. He was determined to make Martin believe him. Who was he to refuse The Archivist’s words?

So Martin listened, letting Jon’s insistence settle in his chest. He had suffered; he had lost months of his life to Jane Prentiss, he couldn’t sleep without a fear of worms crawling into his skin and mouth at night. He didn’t feel safe until he was in the Archives at his desk, the one that surveyed the whole room and had two fire extinguishers still tucked into the drawers. As Jon spoke, Martin let his muscles relax slowly, until he was leaned up against the alcove in which the door to the toilets stood, helpless under Jon’s gaze and yet feeling the strongest he had in weeks, if not months. Tears welled in his eyes and he heard Jon hesitantly break off. 

“Ah-Martin? You-ah shit, I’m sorry.” Jon’s voice had lost the severity it had previously held and was back to its quiet insistence. “I’m sorry, you-you didn’t ask for a soapbox.”

“No, no,” Martin shook his head, raking his nails through his hair. “I...I think I needed to hear that.” He smiled; a shaky, fragile thing. He scratched the back of his calf awkwardly, trying not to dislodge Jon from where he was precariously balanced between the hand on his arm and the hand on the cane. “Thank you, Jon, really.” 

Jon smiled and shifted his hand from Martin’s arm to his hand, squeezing gently before releasing it and sliding the lipstick tube from his hand before turning to the bullpen. “Anytime. C’mon, let’s see if this is Sasha’s or Tim’s. I think it’s more Tim’s color, hmm?” 

[yukipri]

Marco’s Bauble Part 7 - a One Piece Mermaid AU Text Story

I ended up spending most of this past weekend setting up the Mermaid AU on AO3, so I do hope y’all will check it out over there!

Please note that on AO3, this Marco’s Bauble story is going under the title On the Courtship of Monkey D. Luffy. I didn’t really know where this series was going when I began writing it, and “Marco’s Bauble” was most definitely a starting point, but it’s expanded well beyond that now, as you’ll probably see in this update ^ ^; I haven’t decided yet whether I’ll rename all the parts on Tumblr or not.

BUT in the meantime, I’ll continue posting updates in advance here on Tumblr (and on Patreon even further in advance ;D), so here’s an update for this week!

In which Sabo confronts Koala.

Continues off of, and should be read after:

👒🐟Marco’s Bauble Part 1

👒🐟Marco’s Bauble Part 2

👒🐟Marco’s Bauble Part 3

👒🐟Marco’s Bauble, Part 4

👒🐟Marco’s Bauble, Part 5

👒🐟Marco’s Bauble, Part 6

~~

Hmm, Koala thinks. So this probably counts as a "kabedon."

A kabedon, according to the young new recruits who'd explained it to her, is a situation in which one person, ideally tall and attractive, leans over a second, ideally smaller person, boxing them against a wall with their arms, essentially pinning them in place. Koala thinks it sounds like menacing posturing, but the recruits insisted that if done by the right person, it's a terribly titillating scenario, the kind you'd find in romance stories.   

It happens to be the situation that Koala finds herself in now, with her back against the side of Merry's cabin as Sabo looms over her, effectively blocking all exits with his arms braced against the wall on either side of her.

Sabo, Koala grudgingly thinks, probably not only qualifies, but is likely the recruits' very definition of tall and attractive.   

Right now, he's doing that thing where his eyes are half-mast, dark and unreadable as they peer down at Koala through the curtain of blond locks that have fallen across his face. It's a look that Koala knows has half of Baltigo swooning, and she's heard people call it Chief's Sexy Look.   

Koala feels very strongly that those are a poor choice of words, because from personal experience, she knows it's a look that's usually followed immediate, brutal interrogation that often ends in screams and excessive bloodshed. 

"Koala," he breathes, in that voice that has stolen the hearts of half the Revolutionary Army, and has convinced more than one unfortunate soul that perhaps, they might survive this encounter after all.   

But Koala knows better.   

Because his next words are, surprise surprise, "What are you hiding from me about my Luffy?"

He smiles then, and it looks misleadingly gentle, and Koala can see why strangers may mistake him for a benevolent princely gentleman.   

But Koala knows Sabo. And all she sees is the manic sadism behind the oh so very fake expression.   

She cringes, because no, there is absolutely nothing romantic or exciting about this situation at all. All she feels is Doom.   

"Hmm?" she says, keeping her hands behind her back so he can't see them twist. In these situations, Koala's more than well aware that the more she talks, the more she incriminates herself.   

Many who observe their partnership are under the impression that Sabo's just the overpowered guy who beats people up and destroys shit, while Koala provides intel. And while it's true that Koala has intel, Sabo's the one who often personally extracts it from their most stubborn sources.   

In other words, what Sabo wants, he usually gets. It's usually a comforting thought, but not today.   

"Hmm?" Sabo parrots back, eyes lazily tracing over her face, and Koala frantically tries to keep her expression neutral as he searches for an opening. 

It's like when they were children, Koala thinks, when they played interrogation games with each other as assignments for Inazuma's class. Except this time, it's not Koala's grade on the line. And while Koala knows that her partner would never actually hurt her, he's also very capable of making life pretty miserable for her if she doesn't spill.   

And right now, she has a secret she'd really, really like to keep away from Sabo.

The secret being, y'know, the fact that someone proposed to his dearest baby brother.   

And even though it's extremely unlikely that Luffy understands the significance behind the gesture, she considers the gift hers, which, for all points and purposes...means she accepted.   

Koala does not want Sabo to find out about this, from her, at least right now, before she has more information.   

But, Koala glumly remembers, she's never actually managed to win any interrogation games against him.   

"You know," he says, voice deceptively light, and Koala wants to groan because here we go. "Luffy and Ace mean the world to me. They're not just my past, they make me who I am. Even when I didn't remember, they were with me, and I was with them. They're everything to me."   

Koala won't break. She tries to look for an opening without shifting her eyes, but Sabo's not an amateur and there are no escape routes.   

"It would truly be terrible, if something happened to one of them, something that should be stopped, that I could have prevented if only I had known."   

He's poking her defenses. He wants her to say, you're blowing this out of proportion, it's not that big a deal, or maybe you're overthinking this. Possibly even lie, I'm not hiding anything, or even counter, what makes you think I'm hiding something?   

Koala knows better. Those are all traps, all openings that he'd pounce on, and she's seen him rip people apart for falling for them. Koala won't give him the chance.   

He leans in close, and whispers in her ear, voice low and dark in a way that would make his fans cry, and his enemies cry too but for an entirely different reason. "You wouldn't know something that'd prevent me from fulfilling my duties as Luffy's older brother, now would you, Koala?"  

Well, Koala thinks snidely, depends on what you consider your brotherly duties, and whether they include homicide and starting a war with an Emperor.   

She says, "Mmm."   

Sabo, or rather his mouth, smiles. His eyes are a void. Koala's not used to be on the receiving end of this particular stare, and she isn't enjoying a moment of it.   

"Alright. If that's how you want to be. Let's figure this out together, now shall we?"   

Sabo's voice is calm, exaggeratedly patient, like a therapist. He never talks to Koala like this, but Koala still recognizes this particular tone, and cringes as she realizes which interrogation pattern he's chosen. It's one she's ill equipped to counter at the moment, and he no doubt knows it.   

Koala braces herself. Blank face, she tells herself, even breathing. He's using his stupid over-powered Observation Haki to keep track of your pulse.

"Well," he begins, "I know it's already about Luffy, because you're more nervous about me talking about her than Ace." It's stated as fact, and Koala blinks rapidly to moisten her eyes because she knows the real deal's starting now, and she'll have to avoid blinking when it might give her away.   

"And it must be something you found out during your Fishman Karate sessions, because you don't have any other time together, at least when I'm not watching."   

Koala isn't remotely surprised that he's monitoring everyone; after all, she's been doing the same. She wants to sigh but keeps it in.   

"It's probably something physical, because Lu can't keep secrets if she thinks of them as secrets, so it might have been something you saw...a scar, or a mark on her body? No? Then an object she has on her...Ah, there we go."  

Fuck you, I didn't give you any tells, Koala thinks indignantly, but she knows that expressing any annoyance will only confirm his guesses, and continues to refuse to speak.   

"You've been going to the kitchen more often than usual, but not during meal times, or even prep times, but rather lulls...times that you have no business in the kitchen, and times where only cooks are present, cleaning up or otherwise doing tasks that don't require their full attention...the perfect time to chat."  

Maybe I wanted a snack, Koala thinks, but keeps her mouth shut, because Sabo already knows when and how she snacks. This interrogation really isn't fair.   

"And as for the cooks in question...well, if it were Sanji, I'd just ask him myself, but you knew I wouldn't do that, right, Koala? You know I could get it out of him, so if it was him, he wouldn't know anything of value. But I don't think he's involved at all."   

Sabo looks at Koala expectantly. Koala stares right back at him, though her eyes feel very, very dry.   

"So the question now is, why would my dearest partner want to protect Thatch, Fourth Division Commander of the Whitebeard Pirates and temporary first cook of the ASL Pirates?" Sabo talks as though he's asking himself, but he isn't, and Koala's not fooled. She keeps her face blank. "I doubt it's a personal thing, after all, his intentions towards Luffy couldn't be more obvious, he announces it at least once a day. And given my partner's obvious little lesbian crush, it doesn't seem in her best interests to help him, no?"   

This does get a reaction from Koala, and her breath leaves her in a whoosh. Fine, make it personal. If he's figured out this much, it's only a few more steps till the answer, and at this point what does it matter. Koala glares, relishing freeing her face from its mask, and for a moment Sabo's back to his usual self, giving her a cheeky wink as though to say told you so. But then Interrogator!Sabo is back, because he's not quite done yet.  

Whatever. She tried, alright. It's not like she owes the Phoenix anything. She leans back against the wall, bringing her arms in front of her chest, and scowls, hoping her expression projects exactly what she thinks of Interrogator!Sabo at the moment. Sabo likewise drops his arms, because he knows she's no longer going to escape.   

"You're not protecting Thatch himself, because if you were we could solve it here, and it never needs to get out of hand. So you're protecting someone connected to him. The fact that you're being so stubborn, tells me that it's not just a personal thing, but something that could cause an incident, that would likely affect the Army. Which means, obviously, a Whitebeard pirate.   

"But I don't think it's just any Whitebeard pirate. They're someone high profile enough that it would be a big deal if I were to confront them, possibly jeopardizing any potential future alliances the Army forms with them, or drawing the eyes of the World Government. Which, they're already watching us, which makes me think it's gotta be someone even bigger than Thatch..."   

Which, of course doesn't leave much.   

"It could very well be old man Whitebeard himself," Sabo says, but he's shaking his head. "But something tells me it's not. And I know that some very interesting little blue birds have been stopping by the Merry, likely with letters for Thatch, but possibly also with unsolicited deliveries for my baby brother..."  

Your baby brother, chill with your possessiveness, does rubbing it in feel that good? Koala sniffs.   

"And as for why it's a big deal...you wouldn't be so secretive over a crush. Everyone on the crew has a crush. That can be dealt with. This is a few steps beyond, something you think would make me mad, right, Koala?”

Sabo pauses a moment, but it's for dramatic effect, because Sabo knows that Koala knows that he already has an answer.   

"So tell me, Koala. What did Marco the Phoenix give Luffy to try to claim her as his bride?"   

And well, there you have it.

"Bravo," Koala says dryly. "I see you're qualified for your position, Chief. I'll be sure to inform the Boss."   

Sabo tips his hat, and even though she allows herself to relax, Koala keeps her eyes trained on her partner.   

He's taking this calmer than she expected, to be honest. Interrogator!Sabo still hasn't fully faded from his face, but he's no longer giving off sadistic vibes, and has that little frown that tells Koala he's still sorting through his thoughts. His ability to remain composed is likely affected by the fact that they're still in Paradise, and the Whitebeard Pirates and the New World are still quite a ways away.   

Which is good, because it means Sabo can't just impulsively cause a massive incident on the spot. But it's also bad, because it means he's got more time to plot, and Sabo can come up with some pretty devastating things if given the opportunity.   

"Sabo, I barely know anything myself, and neither does Thatch," Koala says, finally willing to speak. "I'm working on getting more information. Don't plan anything rash yet. It could all be a misunderstanding."   

Sabo slowly nods, still quiet. Koala sighs.   

This might be a good time to bring up a certain topic, she realizes. She'd been thinking about it for a while now, but had wanted to give him more time.   

She first thought about it when the night after he regained his memories, she sees Sabo slip away from the Merry to pursue the ship that's transporting the slavers who tried to sell Luffy at the auction house. The slavers have already been passed in the hands of Army agents, all of the enslaved have been freed and are on their way to safety, and Luffy's back with her crew. Their job should have been over.   

Sabo comes back before dawn, accompanied by Ace who had likely transported him with Striker. He seems calmer than the night before, but Koala doesn't miss that his gloves are still damp from recently being washed.   

There've been other incidents too, in the short period they've traveled together. Koala's seen Sabo dangerously close to snapping (and actually snapping) more during the past few weeks than their entire decade together. And on one hand, it's understandable, but on the other...   

"You know," Koala begins, as gently as possible. "she's no longer the child you left behind. She's an adult. Even if this ends up being nothing, she may still find someone, one day. What are you going to do then?"   

If Luffy's in physical danger, protecting her is one thing. But what if it's something that she chooses?   

The change is subtle, but Koala notices when the last of the Chief of Staff fades from Sabo, as his head tilts downward ever so slightly. And all of a sudden he reminds Koala all too much of the tiny, battered child who stared at himself in the mirror when he thought everyone was asleep, touching his scars and asking, Who are you?

"I can't lose her, I can't lose either of them," Sabo says quietly, and he overlaps completely with the lost child, and ah, Koala thinks, because she gets it.   

That child, that self who was missing for so long, is back now, inside Sabo where he always belonged, where he always existed but couldn't be recognized. That child now takes up so much space, too much space, and still hasn't been fully reconciled with the adult that Sabo's grown up to be. Simpler, childish emotions and desires that feel too vibrant and raw, clashing with the adult's more weathered world view, aggravated further by all the darkness that Sabo's seen in their line of work.   

Sabo's less concerned about Ace, Koala knows, because even though Sabo loves both his brothers, Ace is like his other half. They don't protect each other, but function seamlessly as a single unit, a unit with one priority that stands above all else.   

Luffy.   

Luffy, who as a child, Sabo was able to protect from anything and everything in their isolated microcosm. Luffy, who as an adult, Sabo knows all too well is more vulnerable than ever, as proven by the very situation in which they reunited.  

A gilded glass tank, hidden away behind dusty curtains, with a dark, motionless shape crumpled at the bottom. Chains, chains, and chains upon bruised skin, and bubbles rising from parted lips, getting smaller and smaller as she slowly fades...

That was bad enough, but Koala doubts Ace or any of the others know exactly what the fate of a captured mermaid is, at least in the way that Koala and Sabo do.   

Koala understands, she really does.   

But she also knows the importance of freedom, not just to Sabo, but likely to Luffy and Ace as well.   

"Would it be losing her?" she asks, and child!Sabo flinches.   

"We vowed to be free," Sabo says, and he still sounds lost, like he doesn't know what the word means anymore. "And we will be." His hat shadows his eyes, and Koala can't imagine how they look at that moment. "But I don't want her to go where I can't follow."   

"Then follow," Koala says, because what else is there to say? "Follow, if that's your freedom. But you can't stop hers."   

"I know."   

She couldn't have known how Sabo would take her words.

~~

Part 8, we see more of Thatch.

Thank you so much for reading, and I hope you enjoyed!

As always, any comments are immensely appreciated and help motivate me to create more for this AU! ;A;

❀ ❀ Send YukiPri an Ask! ❀ ❀

~This ask has been added to the Mermaid AU Text Headcanons Compilation post~

[bitterlikesweets]

Love Bites Ch 19

This is the nineteenth chapter of a modern/vampire AU ereri fanfic. You can also read it on Ao3. 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 | Special | 15 | 16 | 17 | 18 | 19

Next

It would be a stretch to say that Eren and his older brother ever got along well. Zeke hated him. He had since the day they met.

"Met." Because Eren didn't know Zeke existed until he was ten years old.

When Eren was a little kid, he didn't know anything. His parents were the epitome of being in love. Every time they were together, his father would shower his mother in kind words and affection. He always made her smile. He would even bring her gifts every time he came back from his monthly family reunions.

His dad never got Eren anything, but that was okay. As long as he got stuff for Eren’s mom. As long as his parents loved each other, Eren didn’t mind. That was enough. Because it made his mom smile. And Eren’s mom loved Eren no matter what. Eren loved her no matter what, too.

She loved Eren more than usual during his dad’s family reunions.

When Eren asked his father why he never brought Eren and his mother along, Grisha Jaeger just said it wasn't time yet.

They never really explained to Eren how it all happened. Why things with Grisha's first family didn't work out. Zeke just showed up one day, Grisha's hand on his shoulder as they stood in the doorway.

"Eren, this is your older brother. His mom's very busy, so he'll be staying with us over the weekend."

It took Eren awhile to wrap his head around it. How was it possible for Zeke to be Eren's brother but have a different mom? Why was Zeke not living with them?

Why did they look so different?

Eren's mom was very patient. She explained about falling in love. About falling out of it. And how sometimes people are left behind when that happens. She told Eren he could still believe in love. That sometimes it ends, but a new one could start in its place.

"I might not be his first love," his mother said, "but I am his favorite."

His favorite? Eren believed that for a little bit. But he always wondered why his dad kept going back to visit his first love if that was really the case. It wasn't to visit Zeke. Sometimes their dad would still go to see Zeke's mom, even if Zeke was staying with them, babysitting Eren.

"If it wasn't for you," Zeke always used to say, "he would still be with us. He would be my dad, not yours."

Why? Why was it Eren's fault?

When did his parents start arguing in the middle of the night?

Zeke started getting nicer to Eren eventually. When Eren was thirteen and Zeke was sixteen, Zeke started to be almost kind. Saying that it wasn't Eren's fault after all. They just needed time, and everything would work itself out.

Turns out, everything "working out" meant Grisha going back to his first love. Which meant Carla Jaeger was not his favorite, after all.

It made more sense to Eren that love just didn't exist. Romantic love was stupid and fake and wasn't real.

His mom finally agreed with him when Grisha moved out.

When Eren was fifteen, he saw his brother for the last time. He dropped Eren off at his house after school and told Eren he wasn't going to come back anymore. That Zeke no longer had to pretend they were really family.

Eren and his mother got the news a few months later. Somebody broke into the Jaeger household—the other Jaeger household—and now everyone in that other family was dead. The police told them it was a burglary.

That's what they said about Eren's mom too, in the official reports. A burglary; a mother dead, and a son injured, but otherwise fine.

Eren should've realized it then. A burglary with nothing stolen. A report he'd already heard once before. He should've recognized the similarities.

But he didn't connect the dots because things were different then, with his dad. When it happened to Eren and his mother, it wrecked him. It still wrecks him now. It didn't feel real at all. And now he misses her so, so much.

When Eren was fifteen, finding out that his father and older brother were gone for good, he doesn't remember feeling wrecked or sad or missing them.

He doesn't remember feeling anything at all.

Seven years later, knowing who killed them, Eren feels…

Eren feels exactly the same.

Maybe he's been a little monstrous since way back then.

~ ~ ~

Eren wakes up to moonlight, rain, and the smell of smoke. He blinks up at the unfamiliar gray ceiling, unconsciously fiddling with the fleece blanket loosely draped over his body. He's too big for it; it's pulled up to his chest and his ankles stick out the bottom. It's strange though; he remembers dropping onto the couch with nothing but his sweater as a makeshift blanket. The curtains too. He swears that he closed those last night, and hey—Eren can hear rain, so why is everything so dry outside?

Eren sits up slowly, his eyes scanning the room with narrowed eyes. There are a few more things different from how Eren remembers them. The wooden knives and stakes he remembers putting in front of Levi’s small closet are nowhere to be seen, and there’s a light on in the kitchen. The rain sounds seem to be coming from there too.

When Eren gets up to investigate, he finds Levi sitting at the kitchen counter, a mug in his hands as he stares blankly down at his steaming drink. There’s a candle in front of him, and a little speaker by the wall at the edge of the counter.

Eren knocks on the wall, and Levi looks up, his gray eyes brighter than before, a bit more alert.

“Good night,” Eren says with a nod.

The corners of Levi’s quirk up for a moment.

“Good night,” Levi says, moving his mug up to his lips.

“It looks like I turned you nocturnal,” Eren says, pulling up one of the tall chairs beside Levi’s.

The smell of smoke seems to be coming from the gray candle in front of Levi—its label says “Fireside”—and when a single tap of Levi’s finger against the speaker causes the rain to stop, all of Eren’s questions are answered.

...All of his more trivial questions, anyway.

“I should make a midnight shift at the Kitchen just for you as revenge,” Levi says.

“Hmm…” Eren drops his chin into his hand, stroking an imaginary beard with his fingers. “Doesn’t sound like too bad of a deal, honestly. How much do you pay?”

Levi scoffs instead of answering, and Eren smiles, moving his chair closer so that he can bump shoulders with Levi. Levi leans against him in response.

“Thanks,” Levi says quietly. “For yesterday.”

Eren’s smile softens, and he presses his face into Levi’s shoulder.

“Anytime.”

“I…” Levi clears his throat. “I was pretty out of it. If I had known that you—”

Levi clears his throat again.

“You didn’t have to sleep on the couch,” Levi says, his ears getting a pink tint. “If I had known you were staying over, I’d have told you so.”

Eren’s face burns. He’s immensely grateful that his head is tucked against the fabric of Levi’s shirt and out of sight.

“O-oh. I, uh—Yeah, I’ll keep that in mind, f-for next time.”

“Yeah,” Levi mumbles. He’s leaning more heavily onto Eren, though his head is turned away. “Good.”

And then things are quiet for a moment. Eren absentmindedly shifts his face from Levi’s shoulder to Levi’s neck, a deep sort of relaxation pooling in his chest and shoulders when he does. Something about it sets him at ease, even despite the slight throb in his fangs that comes from his close proximity to Levi’s veins.

Though his bite scars do start to itch a bit. Again.

“Eren,” Levi says.

“Hmm?”

“I’ve been… thinking about some of things you said yesterday.”

An image of his blond brother’s face flashes through Eren’s mind, and he stiffens. One of Levi’s hands immediately finds its way to Eren’s back, resting hesitantly there.

“We don’t have to talk about it though,” Levi says. “If you’re burnt out.”

“No,” Eren says quickly, raising his head out of the crook of Levi’s neck and pulling away slightly. “No, that’s, uh… We can talk about it.”

Should Eren tell him? He really doesn’t want to tell him. It’s probably hard enough on Levi with that family as strangers with no other connection to him. If he finds out that that man was Eren’s dad—that the Feral King is Eren’s brother—

“Alright,” Levi says, though he sends a confused frown Eren’s way. “Just tell me if it’s too much.”

“I will.”

It’s not like it changes much for Eren either way anyway. They’ve been dead for seven years already—he thought they all were anyway—and he was never angry at that anonymous killer. His mom was devastated, and that made him sad, but…

Shit, it’s fucked up that he didn’t care, isn’t it? He was fifteen, and on TV, people were always telling their parents to go die, so, at the time, he thought it was just one of those “hormonal teenager things” that every adult in his life was always going on about. It wasn’t like he was relieved or happy when they died! He was just… indifferent.

...Maybe he should’ve taken his mom’s offer when she told him she’d take him to see a therapist if he needed one.

“That thing you said,” Levi says, though Eren’s only half-listening, “about people changing. About how not everyone does. I think that… helped a lot. For a while, I didn’t think I…”

Eren tries to redirect his brain. It’s far too late to be over analyzing his teenage brain. He thought his dad and his brother were dicks, and he never knew Zeke’s mom, so he didn’t give a fuck when they died. Is that awful? Probably. But that’s not the thing Eren’s worried about right now.

Should he tell Levi? Now that he’s thinking about it, it might be worse to keep it from Levi. If they go and try to kill those vampires who turned Eren, they’ll probably run into Zeke. Zeke will probably recognize Eren, and springing that whole “yeah, this asshole is my brother” thing onto Levi in the middle of a life or death situation is a terrible fucking idea. So, Eren definitely has to tell him. Should he tell him right now? How is he even going to explain—

“...Eren.”

Eren blinks, green eyes wide as he looks over at Levi. Levi just sighs, setting his mug down on the counter.

“I told you we didn’t need to talk about it.”

“No, no,” Eren says quickly. “That’s my bad. I don’t mind talking about it. I just… Have a lot in my head right now.”

Levi’s expression softens a little, and he reaches up to rest his hand against Eren’s cheek, the tips of his fingers settling in his long brown hair.

“We’re a fucking mess,” Levi says.

Eren can’t hold back a laugh, covering Levi’s hand with his own.

“Good thing you like cleaning,” Eren teases, and Levi rolls his eyes.

A pale thumb gently sweeps back and forth across Eren’s cheek, and Eren leans into the touch, his mind clearing a bit. His thoughts are no longer quite so fast, so frantic. It’s a bit easier not to focus on them with Levi there as a physical distraction, pulling Eren out of his own head a bit.

“What’s in there?” Levi said, shifting his hand to knock his knuckles against the side of Eren’s head. “I’ll help clean it up.”

Eren’s smile wavers, his gaze lowering.

“It might make your own head messy again.”

“That’s fine.”

Eren takes a deep breath.

“Furlan… Yesterday, when I called him, he told me the name of the Feral King.”

Levi nods.

“Zeke.”

“Zeke Jaeger,” Eren says.

Levi frowns slightly but nods again.

“I’ve… never told you my full name,” Eren says. “It’s Eren Jaeger.”

Levi’s eyes grow wide, his hand falling away from Eren’s face, but Eren hurries to grab hold of that pale hand before it can fully retreat.

“Eren—”

“Just wait,” Eren says. “Please. Let me explain.”

Levi scowls, but he keeps his lips pressed shut, even as his hand fidgets in Eren’s grasp.

“He’s my brother,” Eren says. “My older brother.”

“But I—” Levi clutches his head with his free hand. “Your… your mother—”

“No,” Eren says quickly, leaning towards Levi. “No, Levi. Not my mom. Zeke’s my half brother. We only share a dad. My mom was killed by ferals, just like I’ve always said.”

“You—” Levi shakes his head. “You talked with Furlan—You’ve known this since yesterday—why are you still here?”

“Levi, that doesn’t change anything for me—”

“Why the fuck not?” Levi snaps, yanking his hand out of Eren’s grip. “Eren, I—I killed your family!”

“Levi, no—”

Eren tries to reach for Levi’s hands again, but Levi abruptly moves them out of reach, his chest heaving.

“Don’t.”

Levi tries to wipe off his hands, his black eyebrows pulled downward into a deep scowl. Eren clenches his hands into fists, struggling to get air into his lungs.

Levi’s angry—not at him. Eren has to fix this. Levi’s hands—where are the paper towels? If he turns away, will Levi run? Does Levi even want his help? He wants to touch Levi. Levi doesn’t want that. He needs to finish explaining. He doesn’t want to go into detail about that time. Zeke, his dad—they’re haunting him like unruly fucking ghosts. He didn’t want to make Levi spiral again—He feels fucking sick, like his stomach is boiling—

“I don’t get you,” Levi snaps. “Why—knowing what I did—did to you—why are you still here?”

“Because I love you—”

“Why? Why are you siding with me over them?”

“Because they never fucking did!” Eren exclaims. “Always—it was always only my mom, just my mom—my dad never—Zeke never—”

Eren’s eyes are burning. His throat aches. He hates this. He doesn’t want to yell at Levi. He’s not yelling because of Levi. It’s because of his fucking dad, because of Zeke, because of those bastards that he was finally able to not think about after all these years—

“Why would I choose them over you?” Eren’s hands are clenched into tight fists. He feels a sharp pain in his palms and ignores it. “They never loved me. You do.”

Eren looks over at Levi, who’s staring at him, practically frozen.

“...Don’t you?”

Levi’s mouth opens and closes without words for a moment before he manages two words in a quiet, hoarse voice.

“I do.”

Eren’s eyes are still burning, aching. When his eyesight blurs, he wipes at his wet eyes. Pale hands are retreating from him when his sight is clear again—Levi reached out to him but is already pulling back. Frustration burns in the pit of Eren’s chest, and he’s reaching out before he can think better of it.

“For fuck’s—I don’t care, Levi, just get it on me,” Eren snaps, grasping Levi’s hands and covering them with his own. “It’s not like it’s going to fuck me up even more—I’m already—”

Eren goes stiff when he catches a glimpse of Levi’s face. It’s flat, masked, emotionless. Whatever anger that was in him cools immediately, and Eren quickly releases Levi’s hands, internally cursing himself for his insensitive, stupid mistake. Has he learned nothing from everything that happened yesterday? This is it. He’s fucked up absolutely everything—

“You…”

Levi’s eyes are on Eren’s hands.

“You don’t make any sense,” Levi says.

“I… I’m sorry.”

“You really… don’t care?”

Eren winces, his gaze dropping to his lap.

“That’s not what I—it was a bad choice of words—”

“It doesn’t change how you feel about me?” Levi asks, his voice a little louder, more insistent.

“N-no,” Eren says. “It doesn’t.”

“Even though it’s your brother.”

“My brother’s a murderer.”

“So am I,” Levi says, shifting his gaze from Eren’s hands to Eren’s eyes.

“Yeah, and I will be too, soon,” Eren says. “But I love you and my brother runs a murder cult that lead to the death of my mom.”

Levi stays silent, and Eren bites his lip.

“...Does it change things for you?” Eren asks. “The fact that I’m not bothered by it?”

“No,” Levi says immediately. “I just… don’t… It’s hard to believe. For me.”

“That I don’t care about my brother?”

“That you love me,” Levi says. “Because when I did that, I… I still don’t… Trust myself.”

Eren’s shoulders lower slightly, his expression softening.

“Do you want me to prove it?”

Levi frowns.

“...Can you?”

Eren holds out his hand. Levi just continues frowning at him.

“What do you see?” Eren asks. “When you have to clean your hands off like that?”

Levi’s mouth opens and shuts once before he answers.

“Blood.”

Eren's breath stutters a bit. He'd been wondering about that...

Slowly, he reaches out to grab Levi’s hand again, pulling it closer until Levi has to lean forward. Eren keeps pulling until Levi’s hand is flat against his chest, right over where his dead heart lies beneath the surface.

“Levi,” Eren says, smiling slightly in spite of everything, “I’m a vampire.”

He slowly raises Levi’s hand higher, pressing his lips against Levi’s knuckles.

“It’ll take more than a little blood to scare me away.”

“That…”

Levi lets out a deep sigh, getting out of his seat.

“That’s the cheesiest fucking shit you could’ve said.”

Eren’s face grows hot at the unexpected insult, and he drops Levi’s hand, unable to make anything more than incoherent noises of offense in his current headspace. By the time Levi has stepped closer, all Eren can manage is—

“Wha—I’m out here trying to prove my love to you, and that’s what you—”

Eren is interrupted by Levi dropping his entire body onto Eren, and Eren wraps his arms around the man’s back to stop them both from falling off of the chair.

“Levi?”

“Sorry,” Levi says. “It’s… habit.”

“You need to work on that,” Eren grumbles, burying his face into Levi’s neck again, the action immediately setting himself at ease. “One of these days I’m seriously going to get offended.”

Levi nods, still leaning heavily on Eren and showing no sign of trying to hold up his own weight.

“I hope…” Levi says quietly. “...Nothing’s able to scare you away.”

Eren smiles, holding Levi tighter.

“Nothing will,” Eren says. “I promise.”

Not the blood on Levi's hands, not Eren's dad, not the Feral King. Nothing's going to scare Eren away. He's certain of that now.

Levi sighs, and Eren’s fingers curl into the fabric of his shirt.

“What about you?”

“Hm?”

“Is anything going to scare you away?”

Levi scoffs, pulling back just enough to look Eren in the eye.

“You’re going to wish something could.”

Eren grins, leaning in to press his lips against Levi’s.

“No, Levi, I don’t think I will.”

[platypanthewriter]

The Prince and the Pauper (Who Drives An Uber) Ch. 5

(Prince Steve flees his wedding, and asks his Uber driver to take him bowling...and on a date.  WIP)  Part One | Two | Three | Four | Five

Billy stumbled into his room, wishing he'd drunk a little less, and flopped onto his bed—then slapped around beside him for where he could hear Steve’s muffled laughter, and found his phone.  “Steve,” he mumbled.

“You sound sleepy,” Steve told him, and Billy growled.  

“My dick isn’t,” he muttered, and Steve laughed again.  “It’s not,” Billy snarled, yanking his jeans open.  “Heard your voice.”

“Ohhh,” Steve said.  “...that happens to me, too.”

“Your dick likes me?” Billy asked, feeling kind of fuzzily like it was a weird question to ask, but Steve sounded like he was smiling when he said “Yeah, Billy, it does.”  

“What about your hands,” Billy asked, sliding his shirt up to his chest.  “They like touching me?”

Steve muttered something that sounded like vlakoss, or vlakas, maybe, and Billy mouthed it to himself, so he’d remember.  “All of me likes you,” Steve said softly, and Billy rolled sideways into his blankets, laughing into his pillow as he flushed.  

“...lemme put you on video,” he whispered, feeling kind of like they were hiding, together in his bed. 

His face warmed further as Steve whispered back, “Show me.”

Billy’s fingers were clumsy, but finally he could see his prince, leaning back on a shiny green overstuffed chair kind of thing, in a soft yellowy robe, his skin lit with warm morning light.  He was smiling, his hair bed-ruffled.  

“...oh,” Billy said, biting his lips together, and hoping Steve couldn’t really see the taco stains on his shirt, or the Thomas the Tank Engine twin-size sheets Max had picked up as a joke at Value Village.  

“Want to turn another light on?” Steve asked, and Billy snorted a laugh, shaking his head.  

“You can see more than enough,” he said, grimacing, and Steve frowned.  

“I can barely—”

“Shut up, it’s fine,” Billy sighed, suddenly exhausted.  “Look, I’m—I’m going to bed, actually.  I’ll—I’ll call you tomorrow.”

Steve blinked back at him, wide-eyed, and Billy hung up, yanking the pillow over his head with a groan.  

His text alert—it was the treasure chest noise from one of Max’s Zelda games—made its ting ting ting noise, and he lifted the pillow to look.  Sleep well, Steve had sent.  I miss you.  

Billy nearly called him back, staring at the words, and then sat up and yanked his stained t-shirt off.  He flung it into the corner with the other dirty laundry, and then sighed, and stumbled out of bed to gather it all up and stomp downstairs to the laundry room.  When he got there, he had no quarters, and he sat heavily against a washer, wiping his eyes, until the door creaked open, and it was Max, carrying the box of detergent.

“What gives,” she said suspiciously, and he shrugged.

“...just thought I’d do some laundry, y’know,” he said, laughing.  “I’m such a fucking slob.”

“Did he say something,” she bit out, shooting him a glare as she fed quarters into the machine.  

“...he didn’t,” Billy sighed, rolling his shoulders, and frowning around the laundry room.  “Stinks in here.”

“It’s apartment 312,” Max growled.  “She washes and lets it rot.  All the time.”

“Once I have my degree I’ll get us somewhere better,” Billy promised, wincing.  “Once I get a real job.”

“It’s not so bad,” Max told him, grabbing his wrist and hauling him back out.  “Come on, you don’t need to watch, that washer knows what it’s doing.”

“...didn’t look all that smart to me,” Billy told her as she drug him back upstairs, not because he desperately wanted to stick around smelling the sour, heavy funk of rotting laundry, but because Max was handling him again, like she was the adult.  “I bet I’m smarter than that washer.”

“I sure hope so,” Max told him, shoving him inside their apartment.  “You, uh…” she said, glancing up at him, and then frowning, and Billy tried to stop being an asshole.

“I’m fine, Max, play your game,” he told her, and she narrowed her eyes at him.  He opened his mouth to try and argue with her cutting look—proving he was actually not smarter than a washing machine, really—and his texts chimed again.  It was just a red heart emoticon, but Billy’s whole body warmed again at the thought of Steve sitting there for so long, typing and then deleting.  He started to send back a kissy face, and then realized it’d be obvious he wasn’t asleep, and Steve would call, and Billy groaned, mashing his face against his phone.  

“...is he being a dipshit?” Max asked, reaching up to grab his phone, and Billy stuck it in his pocket.  

“Get one out we can both play,” he told her, waving at the Xbox and dropping on the couch.  She grinned, delighted and a little evil, before rummaging around and returning with a selection of five.  They looked like little kid games, he thought, all bright colors, but it wasn’t like he needed to murder zombies, so he decided to let Max cheer him up.  He hummed thoughtfully, and let her lean in and advise—ruffling her hair to make her yell—before sitting elbow-to-elbow with her until nearly midnight, yelling insults at each other and at the screen.  

 Over the next few weeks, his most royal prince-ness kept texting, sending pictures of everything from a frog he found in a downspout licking its own eyeball to pictures of plasticine-covered dead people in a museum exhibit.  There were rows and rows of people posed like they were playing tennis, or crouching, their skin peeled back to show musculature.  

I’m in Germany…said the text, with a picture of Steve posing with a horse whose skin and muscles rippled out like its mane.  “#notaserialkiller” he sent, immediately after.  

tell that to the horse judge, Billy sent back, grinning.

“Who is this guy,” Max asked, leaning her sharp little chin on his shoulder as Billy flipped his phone so she couldn’t see the screen.  He tried to tuck it into his Trig textbook, and it slid out.  “Your Uber fare?”

“He’s, uh, he’s not the kind of guy I usually date,” Billy said, swallowing, and thinking about his last ‘date’ before Steve, who he’d never seen in daylight.  Billy’d awoken—hungover, late to class, on the floor, with his head pillowed on the remains of a half-eaten six-foot Subway sandwich, and a used condom stuck to his thigh—to Max’s unimpressed glower.  He tried to imagine Steve’s clothes on his apartment floor.  A crown on his bedside table.  “He, uh.  He’s a good tipper.”

“That’s a good sign,” Max told him, blowing into his hair as she sighed, her weight against his back, watching the microwave rattle its way through heating her Hot Pocket.  She leaned to flip the phone over—My Prince, it proclaimed.  Three missed calls.

“He’s a nice guy,” Billy told her, trying to grab his phone back.  “He’s too nice, probably.  Calls me his bad idea.”

“If he calls you a bad idea,” she enunciated carefully, through gritted teeth, “—he’s not nice.”

“No, he’s—it’s not—” Billy groaned, then scrambled to try and snatch the phone back from his sister as she hit redial.  “Give it back,” he growled, and she raised her eyebrows, knowing he wouldn’t so much as step towards her angry, since—since they’d written everything down, how much he’d drink, and when, and how often he’d see his therapist, and came up with rules about when he was angry.  “Max,” he hissed, through his teeth, and she smiled her widest fake smile and turned away to talk on the phone.

“Yeah, hey, it’s Billy’s sister,” she said.  “Oh, gee, did I wake you up?”

“No, no, no,” Billy muttered, trying to block her in around the table, so he could grab the phone, but she paced away, keeping the table between them.

“Your bad idea has a sister, didja know?  Oh?  Huh.  Yeah, shut the hell up now.  How come you’re giving my brother shit when he calls you his prince, huh?”

It sounded like Steve just said “Uhhhh,” and Max growled just like her brother.  

“You got money?” she asked sweetly, and Billy slid across the table and grabbed for the phone.  She grabbed his little finger and bent it, making him spin in place to face the wall, cursing the self-defense he’d taught her.  “Yeah?  Okay, how come you’re snogging my brother in bowling alley bathrooms?  How come he’s secret, huh?  You in the closet?”

“Max, stop,” Billy hissed, but she’d frozen in place, and dropped Billy’s hand to grab the phone with both of hers.  

“...I don’t know!” she sort of whisper-yelled, and he started laughing.

“What,” she whispered, and Billy started to snicker.  “What are you—what?!”

“Give him back!”  Billy whispered.  “He’s a prince, right?!”

“I don’t know where he wants to go!” she hissed into the phone, waving Billy off.  “But you should ask him!”

“Give him back,” Billy begged.  “Max!”

“Fine!” she yelled, slapping the phone into Billy’s hand.  

He could hear Steve laughing.  Billy took a relieved breath, and held it to his ear.  “Glad you’re still there.”

“Your sister loves you so much,” Steve told him, and Billy glared after her.

“Loves making fun of me, maybe—”

“She’s right, no, she’s right, pick somewhere you’d like to go, okay?  I should take you someplace nice.”

“I don’t give a shit,” Billy told him, with a snort.  “I seriously don’t care.”

“No, no, look, I found this restaurant, it’s like.  There are knights.  They fight each other.  On horses.  We could bring her?”

“...what,” Billy mumbled, blinking.

“It’s, um, it’s a medieval...kind of thing.  Would she like it?”

“Death-match dining?  Fuck yeah.”

“Okay,” Steve took a slow breath.  “Okay.”

“...why you so worried, Prince Harrington?” Billy laughed.  “You want my little sister to like a restaurant, Mister Royal?  My Stevie Wonder?” Billy asked, feeling over-warm again, even next to the air conditioner.

“What?!” Steve laughed.  “She’s important to you,” he said, sounding a litle confused, and Billy started laughing, not even because anything was funny, just his stupid feelings leaking out everywhere.  

“Okay,” he whispered.  “Okay, yeah.”

“I, uh,” Steve said, and cleared his throat.  “Um.  So.  Nancy and Barb are having their honeymoon later, next—next year, they wanted to know if, uh.  Uh, um.”

“Want me to suggest words?” Billy laughed.  “I can just say words, tell me when I hit the right one.  ‘Chickadee’ is a word, is that any help?”

“Shut up, dickhead,” Steve said, but it sounded like he was smiling.  “Darn you.  They wanted to know if we want to...drive and meet them.  Road trip.  Thought I’d be your Uber fare again.”

“...you...what?” Billy mumbled.  “You want me to…”

“We can fix it so you don’t miss too much class,” Steve wheedled.  “They just need to know your schedule.  Max could come.”  There was a pause, and then he talked really fast, all in one breath.  “Lot of Uber fare, there.  I mean, if you’re—if you’re afraid of missing work.  You don’t have to come though, it’s okay—”

“No, I—” Billy swallowed, dry-mouthed, imagining—how long?!  At least a week?!  Of sharing hotel rooms with his prince.  “I—yes.  Yeah.  I wanna go, yeah—”

“Hey,” Steve said, and stopped, and Billy shut his eyes.

“—if you want me to,” he said quickly, wiping his suddenly-sweaty hand on his jeans.  “—if you’re not just—you don’t have to—” he tried to take a silent deep breath.  “Don’t have to see me if you don’t want to—”

“Babe, babe, no,” Steve told him.  “Come on, take a breath, okay?”

“Yeah,” Billy nodded, and did, holding his phone with both hands so it wouldn’t shake.

“Billy Hargrove,” Steve said, “—you know you’re not a bad idea, right?”

“I’m your bad idea,” Billy told him, laughing, and wiping his nose.  

“No, no, no—no, I didn’t—I never meant—you’re a good idea.  Billy.  You’re such a good idea.”

“Bullshit,” Billy whispered, laughing.

“Shit,” Steve muttered, and the phone went kind of staticky, like he took it away from his ear.  Billy could hear his voice speaking...some language.  He’d have to see whether they offered Greek or Danish classes at the college, he thought, listening.  When Steve’s voice came back, he was still mumbling in definitely-not-English.

“Need to call me back?” Billy asked.

“What?!  No!  I need to—I just didn’t—augh,” Steve groaned.  “Look.  Puttemus.  You are a good idea.  Leaving my wedding to go bowling without calling anyone was a bad idea.  Taking a stranger to my hotel for sex was a bad idea.  I—ag—argh, Billy.  I did—I did that because I was upset, and—”

“Are you...swearing at me?” Billy asked, fascinated.  

Steve’s end of the call went staticy again, and Billy heard him roar—kind of pathetically, like a baby predator at the zoo.  “No!  You aren’t listening!”

“Oh, I’m listening,” Billy told him.  

“I’m so glad I met you,” Steve said hurriedly.  “Not someone, you.  I’m so—thank you for being there.  You made me feel better, I—” he started mumbling again, incomprehensibly, and Billy listened, smiling.  

“Need to learn more languages, don’t I?”

“...how will I mutter about how stupid I am if you can hear me,” Steve huffed.  “I’ll have to make up words.”

“...speak English,” Billy told him.  “I can’t tell you if you’re being a dumbass right now if I don’t understand.”

Steve took a deep breath.  “I—I think about you all the time.  Not just—not just you naked, I—I want to take you on a boat.  I want to watch you out on the water, let you relax.  In—in the sun.  I want—” he stopped, taking a shaky breath.  “—I want you with me.  I want you here, I know that isn’t—possible always, but I want that—”

Billy was doing his breathing exercises, holding it in for a few seconds, letting it out, not because he felt bad, but he was feeling a lot.

“I’m yours,” he laughed.  “I-I mean, as much as you want me.  I need to be here for Max, but…”

Steve groaned.  “I want to see you.  Damn it.”

Billy trotted to his room, and hit video call as he dropped to lie back across his bed.  “Hey,” he whispered as Steve answered, frowning intently at his phone in a flurry of feedback noises.  

The tall white arches around him blurred as he walked quickly down a hall, then sat against the wall under some huge portrait with a gold frame.  He sighed.  “No, this is worse, look at you.”

“I can’t see my own face, my eyeballs don’t work like that,” Billy said, licking his lips—he could try to be sexy, he thought, running his fingers slowly down his face to try and look seductive while checking for mustard—and Steve leaned out of frame, muttering in a language Billy didn’t understand.

“I want to see you, not just...see you,” Steve muttered, and Billy snorted a laugh.

“Well, I can’t fly to Europe,” Billy told him, “—so this is what you get.”

“I can’t kiss you like this,” Steve huffed, and Billy laughed, punching the pillow up behind his head.

“I could put on a show,” he offered.  “Probably nothing that great—”

“Holy shit,” Steve breathed, then bit his lips, and frowned away.  “Uh.  Do—do you want to?”

“I got a couple hours,” Billy told him, trying not to squirm as his dick woke up in his jeans, and started feeling squished.  “You wanna watch me get off?”

“So much,” Steve groaned.  “Um, just a second, okay, I—I gotta make something up, I’ll be right back.”

“Wait, Steve—” Billy shouted, but the line was dead, and Billy had the sinking suspicion he always got with Steve Harrington, that Billy’s overeager dick was causing a war someplace.

The phone rang again, and Billy answered with “Don’t bail on your job just because I’m horny, christ—”

Steve laughed, his face lit mostly by the phone.  “Lynn’s covering for me,” he said, as Billy squinted.

“Are...are you in a storage closet, or something?”

“No, I am not in the closet, I told public relations about you, and they’re figuring out what to say,” Steve said cheerfully, as Billy stared at him.

“...what...what did you tell them,” he whispered.

“I told them I had a boyfriend, and they should be prepared for somebody taking pictures, or something,” Steve said.  “Why?  

The idea of being the boyfriend was new to Billy, and he stared back.  “...you tell people about me?” he asked softly, and Steve bit back a weird little spluttered laugh, grinning at him.  

“I tell everyone about you,” he whispered.  “I pick up my phone and everyone laughs and rolls their eyes, because I’m checking how long until I can call you, and if you’ve sent a text, everything stops until I send you hearts back.”

Billy, who’d been feeling a little dismissed when he’d ask a question, get a string of hearts, and no answer for five hours, groaned, smacking his hand over his face.  “Kinda thought you were telling me to fuck off,” he mumbled into his hand.

“Wha—no, I—why?!” Steve yelped, waving his hands, one of which contained his phone, so everything whirled.  

“You didn’t actually answer, I dunno, I just—”

“I can answer faster!  I’ll answer faster,” Steve told him, grimacing.  “I’m sorry—”

“No!”  Billy laughed.  “No, now I know what the hearts mean, I mean—you’re just busy.”

“I’m busy and I l-like you,” Steve told him, a little clumsy over his words, for somebody who probably had a speech coach.  “And I wish I wasn’t busy.  But I’m checking my phone, because if you need me I’m not busy, not for you, I just don’t know whether—”

“Relax, your highness,” Billy told him, grinning.  “It’s cute.”

“I’m never ignoring you, you’re too distracting,” Steve said, his eyes narrowed, and Billy laughed.

“You still wanna see me strip down?” he asked, cocking his head against the pillow, and Steve laughed.  

“More than almost anything, I just wish I could touch—” 

“Mmmm,” Billy said, taking the zipper of his hoodie between two fingers, and dragging it slowly down his body, his hand flat.  “Maybe you better hurry back and do that, then.”

“God, I wish I could,” Steve whispered, as Billy reached back up to slowly pull one side of his open sweatshirt off his chest, revealing his grotty t-shirt, washed until it was the greyish color all t-shirts eventually ended up.  “...you look so soft,” Steve whispered.  “Is that t-shirt as soft as it looks?”

“...what,” Billy said, having frozen at the word soft, because he’d been drinking less beer, and he’d thought he’d prevented his developing beer gut, but then Steve looked at his stomach—“My...t-shirt?”

“Your t-shirt,” Steve breathed, “—and your hoodie.  You look so soft, I want to squeeze you.”

“Soft,” Billy repeated, unimpressed.  “Soft?!”

“Oh, he thinks he’s hard,” Steve laughed.  “Only your dick, babe.”

“The man who was that disappointed he couldn’t get a buffalo wings plushie does not get to lecture me about being soft—” Billy told him, growling, but Steve laughed.

“I just wanted a souvenir.  I kept a coaster.”

“...you what,” Billy muttered, disbelieving.

“I kept a coaster,” Steve said cheerfully.  “From our first date.  At the bowling alley.���

“You what...took it back home with you?” Billy asked, sneering a little, but he could feel how wide his eyes were.  

“If I can’t drink my Billy, I’ll at least—” Steve began, slyly, but Billy started laughing so hard he stopped.  

“If you’re so thirsty, how come you’re telling me I’m soft instead of seeing the evidence otherwise,” Billy asked, still snickering.  He held the phone out to show the lump of his dick in his jeans.

Steve shut up quite respectfully after that, and Billy got to finally tease him with the slow zipper reveal.  “Put your hands everywhere,” Steve whispered.  “Pretend they’re mine.”

“You’re gonna have to be more specific,” Billy told him, waggling his fingers.  “Where d’you want to touch me...your highness?”

“...everywhere,” Steve said again, his brain taking a second to catch up, and then, “Oh, ah, touch—push your jeans down, I can’t see.”

Billy snorted softly, thinking maybe he needed to try and get...something sexier, to have on already, when this kind of thing happened.  He couldn’t always be wearing stained, stretched-out cotton.  He sat the phone aside—Steve yelped—and shimmied out of his old saggy jeans, and then grimaced down at the holes along the elastic waistband of his briefs, and yanked those off too.  The threadbare t-shirt went next, he pulled it off over his head, and then ran his fingers through his hair, wishing cologne worked through the phone, or that he’d shaved.  “Prince tames wild jungle beast,” he muttered, glaring into the mirror over his dresser in the dim light.  “—suspected to be time traveling caveman.”

“Billy?!” came Steve’s voice, laughing, and Billy groaned, scooping it up, and dropping back to lie on the bed.  

“Should I get like a...g-string, or something,” Billy blurted out, angling the phone so Steve could see his hard dick, which was looking stellar, he thought, surrounded by the red marks from his jeans, on a body that hadn’t gone tanning in recorded history.  

Steve bit back a laugh.  “A  what?” he asked.

“You know, those stripper wedgies,” Billy said, frowning.  “Instead of my stretched-out gray cotton undies…”

“Are they comfortable?” Steve kind of wheezed, and Billy rolled his eyes.  

“I feel like I need to up my game, what with all your...everything,” he said, waving at his prince’s gleaming medals.  “Look, my dick’s sprung a leak,” he growled, pointing at it smearing pre-come over his belly, and feeling his face flush as Steve made a weird swallowed moaning noise.  

“I’m honored,” Steve said, in a strangled voice, and Billy couldn’t help it, he started cackling.  “Billy,” Steve said, softly, and Billy’s dick bounced.  Billy smacked his hand down over it, blushing hotter.  “...you don’t need a G-strip,” Steve said, and Billy laughed harder.  “Billy,” Steve whispered again, and Billy’s cock jerked again, and Billy curled onto his side he was laughing so hard.  “Billy,” Steve groaned, but he was laughing too.  “I love your clothes,” he said, and Billy tried to shut up and listen, shaking with snickers, and wiping his eyes.  “You feel good.  My clothes are scratchy—”

“Your clothes are fucking silk,” Billy told him, grinning.  “Don’t try and tell me you’re always in that stupid uniform, highness.”

“Every time I see you in your soft shirts I want to hold you,” Steve breathed, and Billy swallowed back a soft grunt at the thought of the crown prince of anywhere wanting to put hands on him.  “I want to slide my hands up underneath.”

“Now you’re talking,” Billy said, grinning, rubbing his thumb over the wetness at the tip of his dick.  

“I can’t touch you from here,” Steve said, softly, and Billy sighed, then, reluctantly, took his hand off his cock, and scraped his fingernails down his chest, and up his abs.  Steve sounded like he choked.  

His big brown eyes looked deeper in the shadowy light of the storage closet, and Billy watched him stare, licking his lips.  Billy rolled back onto his back, smoothing the flat of his hand up his thigh, and over his belly to grip himself on the ribs in a one-armed hug, and Steve made a soft noise in his throat.  “Cristos,” he muttered.  

“You’re so easy,” Billy laughed.  

“Only for you, malaka,” Steve laughed, and he sounded so fond Billy flushed hot, staring at his face, and repeating the word in his head, wondering what he’d just been called.  “...with only the light from your mobile, it looks like candlelight.”

Billy laughed, feeling a little gooey, like one of those chocolate cakes that were melted inside.  He tried not to squirm, panting as Steve’s eyes narrowed.  “Yeah, sure, blue candlelight—”

“I wish I could kiss you,” Steve said softly.  “Lean over you, slide my hand down to thumb over your cock.”

“Jesus,” Billy panted, gripping himself as instructed, his dick hard as a rock in his hands.  

“If I was actually there I’d put my mouth over it,” Steve huffed, and Billy groaned, licking his hand so he could jack himself.  His feet started to cramp, he was clenching them so hard, trying not to just jizz all over himself at the sound of his prince’s voice, and he shifted, trying to take deep breaths.  “Suck you down,” Steve whispered.

Billy came over his fingers, panting, and Steve sighed.  

“...I’ll be back as soon as I can,” he said.  “Sorry I had to leave, I mean, I’d...I’d just met you, and—thanks for waiting for me, Billy.”

“...there’s not really a long line of people beating down my door,” Billy mumbled, curling up, and pulling the blanket over himself as the breeze from the fan over his sweat made him shiver.

“Thank you for waiting,” Steve said again, softly.  “I want to kiss you as soon as I can.”

 Two months later, Billy was paying bills, while Max hovered around saying things like “I don’t really have to go on school trips, they can’t make me,” and “These sneakers are fine.”  When he was done, there was just enough money to pay rent, the water bill, and send Max on the trip with some food money, and Billy folded forward on the table, dropping his face with a thud among the envelopes.  His heart was pounding.  “...maybe some new shoes next time,” he mumbled, and Max kicked his chair.  

“These are fine,” she said stoutly, and he eyed the frayed, greying converses where they sat next to the duct tape.  She’d started just wrapping the whole shoe every couple of weeks, and they smelled horrible in the summer heat.  “It’s so hot the tape kinda sticks to the sidewalks,” she said, like that wasn’t depressing, and then, “—and I know they’ve got no traction now, so I’m more careful on the stairs,” which was worse.

“...yeah,” he sighed.  

“...this prince of yours,” she said, and he smiled automatically.

“Yeah?”

“...you trust him, right?”

Billy opened his eyes, frowning at her, and she shrugged, biting her lips.  “...yeah, I trust him,” he said, feeling his stomach twist a little—he trusted Steve to act like Steve, but Billy couldn’t help wondering at what point his life would wear Steve to the end of his patience.  “What d’you mean, Max?”

She stared back for a long moment, then bit her lips.  “...nothing.”

“Why are you asking?” Billy asked, trying to think of what she could have seen, passing through while he and Steve played League of Legends.  

“Nothing, moron, shut up, he’s so into you, stop freaking out.”

“O-okay,” he said, burying his face in his arms to hide his grin.  

“God, stop,” she sighed, but she was gentle as she punched his shoulder on the way by. 

My other Harringrove stuff

[angrylizardjacket]

Run to Paradise {Nikki Sixx} Part 34

34. it’s time we danced with the truth

Summary: lola and the band go to rehab, and lola has to confront her past, her fears, and her reality.

Warnings: discussions of drug and alcohol abuse and rehab, also angst

ragtag bunch of misfits: @starlalove @toofasttofallinlove @xrosegoldwolfx @obsessivesky @lovehelpmewrite @marvelismylifffe @lilytalebi @glitterdreamsz @freddiessmallnipples @crazysaladchopshop @dramatique-moi @calspixie @aryssav @catsoo12 @sweetshutter @silvertonguedserpent @shamelessobsessions @lavenderbones22 @keepcalm-and-beyou @scarecrowmax @nicholeh7 @unknownoblivion @sighsophiia @fruitinthebottom @misscharlottelee @local-troubled-writer  @redlipscrystalskies14 @kaitieskidmore1 @the-specific-oceans

{ MASTERLIST }

"I want you to picture your addiction sitting in that empty chair across from you."

Lola, who'd just come out of a week long detox, and had finally stopped feeling like death warmed up, stared at the empty chair in the unbareably beige office of the rehabilitation center's therapist.

"Can I get some water?" Lola rasped, craving a cigarette and knowing she wouldn't get one. The therapist, an aging woman a kind smile and a clinical stare, obligingly passed her a bottle of water. Lola really did want to take this whole thing seriously, but picturing her addiction as a person sitting across from her made her feel like an idiot. There was no-one there. No-one else had made her do any of this, why should she try and blame someone who doesn't even exist.

"At least you've acknowledged that this is self-driven, that's good, that's very good; self awareness is key. You are in control of you life, Lola," the therapist's voice is sweet, and Lola can't help but scoff.

"I wish I was less aware of myself, that's why I do all this shit," she snorted, and it's meant as a joke, but it's too honest by half, and the therapist frowns.

"Is that why you don't want to picture your addiction? Are you afraid to picture yourself?"

Lola knows she's not in the best shape, currently eight weeks pregnant and terrified of what to make of it, dead sober - pun intended - for the second time in six months, painfully aware of every terrible decision that has lead her to this exact seat.

"What do you see in that seat, Lola?"

"Nothing," Lola says flatly, and takes a long sip of water. The therapist sighs deeply, and Lola scrunches her eyes closed for a moment, forcing herself to play along, "I see myself."

"What does she look like?"

"Like me," with an implied eyeroll and obviously, Lola sits a little lower in her chair, trying desperately to ignore her growing nausea. She takes another drink.

"Like you now, or does she look like a different version of you?" The therapist asks, and Lola hears the scratch of a pen against paper. Lola takes a deep breath, another drink, and stares at the empty chair. If Nikki were here, he'd roll his eyes and make some sort of snide comment, and Lola would laugh, and her discomfort would ease. Maybe that's why they're in seperate facilities.

Except when she looks, when she really tries to see something, she can't see just one version of herself. She sees the night she was drugged while out with Vince and Razzle, sees herself that night, weak and crying to Nikki, making a vow to try and get better but not sticking to it. She sees herself chain smoking in Tommy's dressing room the night she tells him she loves him, so afraid of the pyrotechnics in the show that she tries to escape it by drinking, by letting herself focus on anything else. She sees herself, fully dressed in a hotel swimming pool, unsure of how she got there, halfway through a bottle of vodka, hoping she'll forget how and why she's telling Mick about her scars.

She sees a kid in a Queen crop top, asking for her first taste of alcohol instead of explaining, when Nadine looks at the scars on her back with concern.

"Younger me, I guess," Lola's voice is soft.

It had been escapism without having to go anywhere, because Lola was never using to escape her reality as much as she was escaping herself.

"What's she saying to you?"

"That it's easy," Lola doesn't realise there's tears in her eyes until they start to spill. She's looking at herself, laying on the pavement in her own sick, and blood from her broken nose, as the paramedics are hauling her into an ambulance, and she can't remember how she got there, which kind of makes it worth it, even if she's dying. In her memory, she's smiling, "it's easier than anything else in the world." Lola's voice cracks.

"Why are you here, Lola?" The therapist asks gently, and Lola's lip trembles.

"I keep hurting the people I love," she admits. Her voice catches in her throat and she has to look away from the chair. She thinks she's going to be sick, and its mostly the pregnancy induced nausea, but part of it is the painful self-awareness.

"I need to go-"

"Lola -!"

"Or I'm going to throw up on your nice carpet," Lola snaps, getting to her feet, stumbling from the chair, from the room, out to the nearest bathroom. The therapist calls to her again, but at least she doesn't try and stop her. Lola hates it here.

The facility is somewhere in Washington state, with more medical equipment than a rehab center is usually known for, but the patients here need extra medical attention, like Lola and her pregnancy. They take care of her, give her everything she needs, make sure she's eating healthy and drinking enough water and exercising, with daily therapy sessions, and weekly group therapy that she's kind of coming to dread.

One of the girls in the facility, another one of the patients, remembers Lola, but Lola doesn't remember her. She'd spent the night with Lola and Tommy in New York, and she won't stop apologising, even when Lola tells her she has nothing to apologise for.

"It was one night, it's okay, it happens to the best of us -" Lola brushes her off, but the woman is still apologising, almost crying.

"I smashed a bottle over your head, I tried, oh Lola, I think I tried to glass you, I was in such a bad place, I'm so sorry -"

Lola doesn't even vaugely remember what she's aluding to, but it also definitely sounds like something that would happen to her. All she can do is say that it's okay, and pretend like she cares. She's doing that a lot lately, pretending like she feels remorse. She'd probably need to feel guilt over the things she's done to feel remorse, but seeing as how she barely remembers her worst offenses, she can't bring herself to feel remorse for them. But her therapist ends up catching on.

"You told me you're here because you keep hurting the people you love," the therapist says with a level patience, "so if you're not sorry for the things you've done to the people you don't remember, would you change to stop hurting the people you love?"

"For them, I would," Lola agrees easily, which surprises her therapist with it's certainty. And then, unprompted, "but if they don't want me when we're all sober, that's - dude that's the nightmare scenario." She laughs, but it's devoid of humour, and her gaze is glassy as she contemplates. There's a lot of fears that Lola had been running from, that she's terrified to voice, and it's all she can do nowadays to distract herself from the reality of her biggest fear growing inside of her.

"Do you love them because of the drugs and alcohol?"

Lola falters, shaking her head quickly.

"And Nikki, you've told me you've loved him since..." the therapist checks her notes, "since you were fifteen; was it because of addiction back then?" Again, Lola shakes her head, and the therapist asks, "then why do you love him?"

It takes Lola a long time to finally find the words for her feelings, the things she's known for years but never been able to voice.

"He never gives up; he's never given up on me, and I love him for that, but it's... it's more than that, of course it's more than that. He's the most talented man I've ever known, and I mean no disrespect to the rest of the band, but Nikki... his mind is unparrallelled, and I'm always in awe of him. I really mean that; the music that lives in his head, the ideas and stories and everything, I've never in my life heard anything like it."

"I didn't ask what you love about him, I asked why," the therapist says quietly, and Lola's eyes go wide and uncertain, and she falls into a contemplative silence. When she finally speaks, it's hesitant, it's quiet, it's so unlike herself.

"Because..." she pauses, looking at her hands, "because he's the only person in the world who understands me, honestly,  like really understands me," she fidgets, pushing back her cuticles with her nails, "I miss him," she adds, a quiet aside, and bites her lip, but the therapist knows to keep quiet, that Lola's not done, "I love him because he's the soft place I land when I fall, every time," she hesitates, a smirk tugging at the edge of her lips, "which I know is sappy as fuck, but despite everything, he still loves me, he still catches me. He's my home, you know?" She nods, bringing her hand to her mouth to chew on her thumb nail, finally looking at the therapist, "he's my home."

"Will those feelings change when you're both together and sober, do you think?"

"My feelings won't change," Lola says, specifically, and the therapist gives a gentle smile.

"I'm going to play you something," she says, and Lola watches as she pulls a cassette tape out of her desk drawer, along with a small cassette player, "you're aware that I record all of our sessions," the therapist reminds her, and Lola nods, chewing her thumb nail, intrigued, "well I recieved this from the facility that's been treating the band -"

"They're together?" Lola asks, eyes wide, incredulous, as if almost relieved, "are they okay?" And the therapist seems pleased that that's her first reaction, her first question, and reassures Lola that they're fine.

"I'm worried about her, of course I'm worried about her, I miss the fuck out of her, the rest of us are here, she should be too -" Nikki's voice comes filtering out of the cassette player, and Lola almost bursts into tears at the sound of it. The unfamiliar voice that joins his must be his therapist.

"She's in a medically-focused facility that's giving her special care and attention -"

"Because of the baby," Nikki sounds like he suddenly understands, and there's a sudden knife-twist of guilt in Lola's chest, but she stays silent, "I just don't want her to be alone through that, family's always kind of terrified us, so I don't want her going through that shit alone." Tears are welling in Lola's eyes, only made worse when Nikki admits; "I'm just kind of fucked, because what happens when we both get out of here and she realises I'm just the piece of shit who ruined her life -"

"You didn't," Lola sniffles, cutting in even though she knows he can't hear her, but thankfully, the therapist gently tells him that he didn't. Nikki tries to protest, but the therapist cuts him off quickly, won't let him dwell in that sort of negativity, and instead asks why he loves Lola, just like her therapist had asked her only minutes ago.

Nikki is quiet.

"Like, the real answer?" He sounds hesitant, too honest and too raw, and the therapist prompts him with gentle affirmation, "I could say anything; you wouldn't know if I was makin' shit up."

"Why would you lie? Who would that help?"

"The real answer... I don't like talking about that shit with people I barely know. That's my shit."

"Nikki, you don't have to say anything you don't want to."

Nikki's silent for a very long time, and there's the sound of shifting, like he's trying to get more comfortable, and then he clears his throat.

"She puts up with our shit better than anyone else," but his heart's not in it, "even after all these years, she still loves all of us bastards, and..." he sighs, but his voice turns soft and gentle, "and she makes me feel safe, okay?" Finally, he sounds honest, and sounds like he's mad about being so honest, "when I'm with her, I feel safe being myself, no bullshit, no stunts, no fear, just... it's just us, and nothing else matters. And I'm fucked if she doesn't want me after everything, but I wouldn't blame her, fuck, after everything she's gone through I wouldn't blame her one bit."

"You're his home too," the therapist tells Lola, who's covering her mouth with one hand, tears streaming down her cheeks.

"Does he... does he know I'm hearing this?" She asks, choking on the words. The therapist nods.

"Once he'd said it, and his own therapist suggested sending the tape for you to hear, he seemed more than accommodating -"

"I need him to hear what I said too, I need him to know- I need him to know," she was sobbing, though the guilt from his earlier words, and she hears herself babbling, "but there's - oh fuck - there's only one problem, and you can't - you can not - send this part, please. Turn the recorder off, please." And the therapist sits up straight, on alert as she hesitantly turns off the recording device on her desk, and Lola's trembling hands find her stomach.

"Lola, what's wrong?"

"I love Nikki so much," Lola's adament, "but the baby's not his."

[bigskydreaming]

remember when devin grayson wrote about green arrow flirting with teenager dick grayson and then bruce and dick have an incestuous relationship............................

Listen, I have no idea what this ask says, I just see a string of random letters followed by dot dot dot. 

In completely unrelated matters, the only dynamic between Dick and Ollie I abide by is one where the nicest thing Dick’s ever said to Ollie is something like “hey why does your face look like you killed a squirrel and glued it to your chin, is that what you were going for or do people just not like you and so nobody ever told you til now that that’s what it looks like.”

And even there, that’s still just the best Dick could manage (or was willing to even aim for) after Bruce gave Dick a totally and one hundred percent genuine and sincere Talking To about how he needed to be more polite to Ollie. Cuz the way I envision it, all that’s after Dick initially opened with something like, idk, “hey wanna hear a funny joke, it goes “what do you call a known Errol Flynn fanboy who thinks putting on a domino mask when he fights crime with a bow and arrow like, magically makes his goatee invisible? A dumbass who doesn’t get how secret identities work, that’s what. Get it, its you, you’re the joke.”

LOL for the record, I don’t actually hate Ollie and have no really strong opinions on him one way or another, it usually just depends on how he’s being written in whatever story or issue I’m reading with him. Its just canon that Ollie is like, one of the few people that Dick just openly can not stand, pretty much, with this stretching back far enough that personally, I like to headcanon it goes all the way back to even before Ollie took Roy in and has absolutely nothing to do with Roy whatsoever.

Idk, its just really fucking funny to me to picture that like, for whatever reason, ten year old Dick Grayson decided upon meeting the Justice League that they were all awesome except for Oliver Queen. Dick doesn’t know why, he doesn’t care why, he just knows that like, “I do not care for that Oliver Queen guy, not one bit, and no, I am not open to constructive criticism on this matter, UGH BRUCE STOP TELLING ME I SHOULD AT LEAST TRY AND BE NICER TO HIM, I SAID HE WAS A BUTTFACE AND I MEANT IT, WHERE’S THE CONFUSION.”

Because see, while Ollie is not Actually The Worst, he IS one of the League heroes who is prideful and petty enough to like, absolutely take offense to someone hating his guts for no discernible reason, while considering this more than reason enough to hate their guts right back. Even if that particular someone happens to have both miles and years left to go before they hit either puberty or the top side of five feet tall, and thus in the meanwhile, Ollie must literally lower himself in every sense of the word in order to return fire at his pint-sized and prepubescent critic.

Like, if Dick for whatever reason decided he just doesn’t like Superman or the Flash and he’s not gonna and you can’t make him, then I mean, Clark or Barry or someone else along those lines would just be like, oh, okay, that’s fair I guess. No, its totally fine Bruce, the adorable little human incarnation of glitter, cotton candy and all things Cute and Precious and Wee that you just took in is allowed to hate me if he wants to, its absolutely *wheezing sob* not a big deal. I’m a big boy, I don’t need you to intercede on my behalf with him. Now if anyone needs me, I’ll be wallowing in my room for the next 84 years, trying to figure out if I was some kind of monstrous puppy-kicker in a previous lifetime and that’s why my fate here in this one is to be despised by a ten year old with the superpower of Absolute Preciousness. Its my punishment, clearly, for being just the worst kind of monster to ever exist, the only kind that could actually be hated by someone like your adorable little Fun-Sized sidekick of joy and sunshine and l-l-laughter......no, don’t look at me, I’m hideous! *bursts into tears and scurries away to hide from the light*

But see now, Ollie, on the other hand, like.....he’s not a monster but he’s not about to let even some paragon of preciousness go around painting him as one. Why the fuck does he spend so much money on publicists if he’s just gonna roll over belly-side up the first time one of the people bad-mouthing him just happens to be like, a toddler instead of the usual TMZ?

So Ollie’s not about to admit that he’s actually miffed and even a little bit wounded that this cherub who seems to like even most supervillains more than he likes Ollie, just like, can not seem to be in his presence longer than sixty seconds before drawing his weapons and stabbing Ollie with words that hurt, dammit, because he has feelings too, y’know, he spent a lot of money on pricey therapists figuring out that yes, those are feelings he’s feeling and he can even name some of them.....

Like, he’s not quite on board with actually ACKNOWLEDGING that hey this stings, and that he really just wants to know what the hell this kid’s deal is and why don’t you like me, tiny human, what did I ever even do to you??? But all of that is like......Advanced Level Therapy stuff that he hasn’t quite gotten around to finishing yet at this point in time. Like yeah he’s already dropped a mint on the A-list of the head-shrinking world by now, but apparently he was supposed to keep coming back or something like that, they all keep making a really big deal about that for some reason, and look, he’s been busy. So he really just hasn’t had the time to finish up the course on How To Make Peace With the Fact That Sometimes Tiny Humans Don’t Like Me Even Though I’m A Fucking Delight, Dammit.

But even if the why of this kid getting under his skin so much eludes him for the nonce, Ollie is perfectly clear on one thing: he doesn’t typically go around making enemies of the twelve and under set, but if you prick him, he doth in fact bleed, you little prick. So if this knee-high nightmare is gonna keep coming at me and trying to start shit, then I am more than willing to throw down, is basically Ollie’s take here. 

“He wants to dance? Then c’mon, let’s do this thing. We can dance if he wants to. I’ve got the time,” Ollie says to himself and any other nearby Justice Leaguer who might be looking at him with that swiftly-becoming-familiar expression of mingled judgment, pity, exasperation and something a bit more ambiguous but which probably lands somewhere in the ballpark of “We honestly don’t know what to make of all of this but we’re all a little concerned This Is Not A Good Look, Bro. And also, we would like to formally request by way of this petition with all 200+ signatures of Leaguers and auxiliary members and support staff: please don’t escalate this into something where Batman might actually kill you, because that’s definitely not gonna make any of this less awkward for the rest of us, and uh....not to be indelicate here, but all those times we’ve all said things like no Ollie, we don’t think Bruce is a better fighter than you and we absolutely agree with you, you could totally maybe take him in a fair fight if you had your bow and arrows on you and he had the flu probably.....like. Umm. How to put this....Okay, soooooo....here’s the thing. There may, perhaps, ever so slightly be a possibility slash definite hardcore certainty that there were fib-like qualities to those conversations. A little bit. Oh hey, look at the time, we gotta run, there’s a fire somewhere, hopefully. Lol wait whoops did we say hopefully, that’s so weird like where did that even come from. We definitely meant to say probably. There’s a fire somewhere, probably."

But look, at the end of the day, the thing is, Headcanon Ollie is not like, proud of any of this, but he’s not unproud of it either. He is hashtag justified and he wouold appreciate some validation of that Ugly Truth, even if it might go against the grain and not ever exactly be a POPULAR opinion with the “please don’t tell the ten year old that nuh uh, his face looks like a hairy butthole, nobody wins there, that is not the victory you are looking for” crowd.

Honestly though, at this point Ollie’s list of Big Asks is quite small. Miniscule, even. All he wants, all he really really wants, is for someone, anyone, to join him in grasping the one essential corn kernel at the heart of this whole clusterfuck. The thing that nobody but Ollie seems to get and that Ollie’s pretty sure would be enough to allow him to die happily, if he could just manage to find one other person to sign on to the one single extremely obvious observation he keeps trying to point out to everyone, with a whole lot of nada to show for it:

Because see, the one thing about all of this that drives Ollie just absolutely up a wall, is that for some reason he can’t seem to get anyone to understand that like.....this whoooooole ridiculous mess, just like, even in terms of its very existence in the first place?

None of it is Ollie’s fault.

Dick started it!

Mere moments after frustratedly trying to convey this to Dinah for the umpteenth million bajillionth time:

“Okay, could you at least say something?” Ollie asked exasperatedly. “Anything? Seriously, I would take you counting to ten in Cantonese as an acceptable response at this point.”

“I’m just trying to decide which concerns me more,” Dinah said at last. Several epochs and the equivalent of the entire Jurassic Period later. But whatever, its not like Ollie was holding his breath at this point or anything. “The fact that you are genuinely trying to find and occupy the moral high ground in your feud with....a ten year old. Or that you actually think you’ve found it. That this is it, this is what that looks like. ‘The ten year old started it.’”

That was apparently all Dinah had to say. She fell silent again, and said silence lingered through a recreation of now the entire Cretaceous Period, before continuing into a revival of the whole Paleozoic Era from start to torturous finish.

“Well?” Ollie said with a patience that belied the urgency of the many pressing matters he had to attend to. Like the vanquishing of a ten year old archnemesis most foul.

Dinah just continued to frown pensively.

“Hang on, I’m still deciding.”

[nubnubblr]

If You Do. 30 Game Night

SAM

         "Did they fight again?" I frowned.

"It wasn't loud enough for them to fight," Jae shook his head.

"Thea probably told him to leave," Charlie added.

"Can someone please give me a hand?" Thea asked hobbling down the hallway. Jae started clapping.

"I have no problem throwing the rest of the food in the bin," she warned.

"Are you okay?" Jackson asked.

"I'm fine," she nodded.

"I'll help you," he smiled at her.

"Clearly, BM opened his mouth again," Jae commented.

"When does that idiot speak when he shouldn't?" Charlie commented.

MARK

         It was pretty clear that Sam had a huge thing for Charlie, I wasn't sure she had any idea about it though, I think she might have been to preoccupied with her jealousy over the girl Sam had brought over. Whether that meant that she also liked him back or just didn't like to share her toys was another story.

"You should see how much she cooked," Jackson stated bringing in plates of food, followed by a hobbling Thea who also had plates of food.

"You think this is a lot of food?" Sam raised an eyebrow.

"Cooking is basically the only thing she is good at, next to causing harm to herself," Jae shrugged.

"I'll hurt you in a minute," Thea frowned at him.

"Scary, what are you going to do? You're crippled and tiny," he seemed to be baiting her.

"Dude, stop," Charlie frowned at him. I think maybe she noticed the uncomfortable face Jackson was pulling.

"You're so lame," he sighed but stopped making fun of Thea.

"So," Jae stretched the word out once everyone was finally seated.

"What?" Charlie raised an eyebrow at him.

"Did you really make BM leave?" Jae asked.

"What?" Thea asked.

"Is that what he said?" she frowned, clearly confused.

THEA

         "No, he just said he was leaving, but I assumed that you two had another fight," Jae shrugged.

"Well, you know what they say about assuming," I shrugged.

"I also know that BM has been an ass lately and no one would really blame you if you did kick him out," Jae retorted.

"Ew, are you siding with me?" I pulled a grossed-out face.

"What? Gross,"

"Sure sounded like it," Charlie muttered.

"I was just saying, you know what? Whatever," he rolled his eyes.

"Look, I didn't kick him out, I told him that he was welcome to stay, all I did was tell him that I was done with fighting and that I was tired of putting you all in a situation where it seemed like you had to choose sides. So, maybe it was better if we just stopped talking to each other," I said, even as I was saying it I was regretting it, it made me sad to think that BM and I were no longer friends, it was upsetting that we ever came to this point, but it did and this was the better choice than destroying the group completely.

"You broke up with BM?" Sam sounded shocked.

"We're here to eat and play games not discuss my relationship with BM,"

"Okay grumpy," Jae rolled his eyes.

"What should we play first?" Jackson stepped in before I could make a retort.

"Your mum," Jae retorted.

"What?" Jackson frowned.

"Ignore him, his mouth isn't actually connected to his brain,"

"And what's your mouth connected too?" he shot back at me.

"Jenga!" Sam stated, I think he was just trying to resolve the bickering, probably for the sake of his new side piece which he hadn't noticed was missing yet.

"You want to play Jenga?" Charlie frowned.

"Why not?"

"Maybe because your shoulder is still in the recovery stages and you're probably going to be the first to lose," she shrugged.

"No way, Thea has terrible hand-eye coordination, and we don't know how well the newbies play," Jae took the opportunity to attack me again.

BM

       "So how long did it take you to figure out Sam's in love with Charlie?" I asked breaking the silence.

"Almost as soon as we walked in, you can tell by the way he looks at her,"

"Most people can," I corrected.

"Most? It's not like he's doing a good job at hiding it,"

"Charlie is oblivious to his feelings,"

"Seriously?" she frowned.

"Yeah, or at least that's the way it seems. Honestly, I think she knows exactly how he feels but she likes the attention and doesn't want to share him with anyone but at the same time she doesn't want to date him so she just strings him along,"

"That sounds a little harsh," she continued to frown at me.

"Her and I have never really seen eye to eye," I shrugged.

"Is that because you have a little thing for her?" she raised an eyebrow.

"What? No,"

"Right, she looks like that, if you haven't had a thing for her at least once you're a liar. Hell, I think I have a thing for her,"

"I don't have a thing for Charlie,"

"Oh come on, you have issues because of unresolved sexual tension, I think that maybe you don't want her and Sam together because you're mad that there is more of a chance of her dating him than you, it's probably been sitting just under the surface since you were in high school," she tatted matter-of-factly.

"Do you mind if I call past the bar before I drop you off at home? I just have to make sure my sister hasn't destroyed my business," I ignored her statement.

"And that is called avoidance," she commented.

"Who are you?" I frowned.

"I work as a phycologist," she shrugged as if it were nothing.

"Seriously?"

"It's not that different from being a bartender,"

"How?"

"I mean, you're basically a therapist, but you don't get the pay. But therapy and phycology aren't that different,"

"You never answered my question,"

"I think I could use a drink,"

CHARLIE

         "This is really good," Jackson commented on Thea's cooking. Again.

"Why don't we change games? This one is getting boring," Sam stated at the same time.

"I think it's quite entertaining," Jae shrugged, I could hear the smirk in his voice.

The rest of the group was feeling a little tense, we were still playing Jenga, Thea had given up after the first round after she lost and Jae made fun of her, Jae lost next, of course, that could have had something to do with Thea sabotaging him but the only proof of that was him saying she bumped him and our knowledge of her personality. Jackson was the next to go followed by Sam. Which, just left myself and Mark who were not in an intense one on one and I refused to lose to this trust fund douche bag.

"Yeah, come on guys, it's just a game," Thea said cautiously.

"I'm not going to lose to this trust fund douche bag," I spoke my insult aloud.

"Charlie," Sam frowned.

"I don't have a trust fund," Mark roll his eyes.

"Sure you don't," I shrugged.

"I work hard for my money," he retorted.

"What's that supposed to mean?" I frowned.

"It means exactly what I said, my job requires actual work,"

"You don't even know what I do for work,"

"I can only assume,"

"You know what they say about assuming," Jae commented.

"Can one of you just lose so we can stop playing this stupid game?" Thea sighed.

"You only think it's stupid because you lost," Jae stated.

"So did you,"

"Yeah, but you lost first so," he shrugged.

"Are you two always like this?" Jackson frowned.

"Yes," we all said at the same time, well, all but Jackson and Mark.

"Why?" Jackson asked.

Jae and Thea launched into blaming each other, I'm pretty sure they don't even remember why they attack each other anymore. I know the rest of us don't. Mark pushed out another block, the Jenga tower was basically a skeletal structure at this point, I held my breath hoping that what was left of the tower would fall down because I had no idea how I was going to remove a block without losing. I had to bite back my frustration when his stupid dainty little fingers managed to remover the block without so much as swaying the tower.

"This is the most intense game of Jenga I have ever witnessed," Jackson commented.

"You're an intense game of Jenga," I rolled my eyes.

"That doesn't even make sense," he frowned.

"You don't make sense,"

"Just lose already," someone mutter, I wasn't sure who it was but it only made me more determined to beat Mark.

I held my breath again as I slid a block out from the tower, it shook slightly and I swear I almost threw up, I finally relaxed when the tower steadied, there was a small jolt of victory when I saw the flash of irritation through Mark's eyes. He wasn't sure he was going to be able to beat me.

My phone buzzed in my lap and I figured that it was Thea texting me telling me to stop being an ass. Instead, Doobin's name flashed across my screen after the notification of a new message.

Doobin: How's game night? Fallen asleep yet? ;)

Charlie: I'm busy winning at Jenga.

Mark just sat there staring at the tower for a while. I was getting impatient.

"There is no harm in forfeiting, I mean you're going to lose anyway," I baited.

"I'm not going to lose," he stated without looking up from the tower. I watched as he pulled the block slowly the block was halfway out when my phone buzzed again.

Doobin: I have a tower you can play with ;)

I quickly closed my phone and turned my attention back to the game. Mark was sitting on the other side of the table with the biggest smug grin I have ever seen on a douche bag. He was holding the block he had been removing before I get distracted by my phone.

"Your turn," he smirked.

"Tool," I sighed.

I decided on a block and started to pull it from its place, I was almost there, I almost had it and I was sure that there was no way that Mark was going to be able to pull another block from this tower without it toppling over. Then, my phone buzzed again and the nervousness and let's be honest, excitement that Doobin brings me, hit me all at the same time and I jumped, block still in had. The sound of the blocks crashing on the table replaced the nerves and excitement with pure irritation and the look of triumph on Mark's face had me seeing red.

"Shit," I heard Sam and Thea mutter.

"Well, that was unexpected," Jae commented.

"New game?" Jackson suggested.

"I win," Mark gave a small shrugged like it was nothing but the smirk on his face said something else.

SAM

         Charlie glared at Mark and looked like she wanted to leap across the table. She opened her mouth to speak, I was sure that when she started it would only escalate and then it would be likely that the night ended early.

"Hey, where did Oliva go?" I frowned. I hadn't noticed she was even missing until that point.

"Dude, she left with BM," Thea stated.

"Yeah she's been gone for over an hour," Jae nodded.

"Seriously?" I frowned.

"Yeah,"

"Why would she just leave without saying anything?"

"Maybe because your attention was elsewhere?" Jae suggested.

"I was just talking to you guys," I shrugged defensively.

"Sure," Thea nodded.

"Who cares why she left? She's gone, BM's gone, and there are a few other people I wish were with them," Charlie glared at Mark.

"Are you leaving?" Mark raised an eyebrow.

"Okay, enough," Thea sighed.

"He cheated," Charlie muttered.

"How exactly did I cheat?" Mark looked amused.

"Because of your dainty girl hands," she shot back.

"You have actual girl hands, so would that just even out the odds?" he questioned.

"You're girl hands," she huffed.

"Right," he rolled his eyes at her.

"Okay, seriously, new game," Thea interjected.

"Like what?"

"Umm," Thea took a deep breath then made a pop noise. She froze, Charlie, Jae and I looked at her as she continued to hold her breath and think of a word.

"Hurry up, you don't want to pass out again," Jae commented.

"What is she doing?" Jackson frowned.

"Thinking of a word that starts with pop," I stated.

"Why?"

"Because she just made the pop noise,"

"I'm confused,"

"Shh, if she doesn't think of a word she has to keep holding her breath and she'll pass out,"

"Padom," she finally breathed.

"Poppadom is not a word," Jae frowned.

"Yes, it is,"

"No, it's not, you just made it up,"

"Look it up, it's a word, maybe you should expand your vocabulary," she shot back.

"What does it mean then genius?"

"It's Indian flatbread," she stated matter-of-factly.

"You're Indian flatbread," he rolled his eyes at her.

BM

         "I don't think that is really your fault," she agreed with me.

"That's what I thought!" I almost yelled. Finally, someone was on my side.

"But it's not her fault either, and honestly it sounds like you were kind of a jerk about it. I mean it's one thing to attack her for sleeping with your friend and keeping it from you, but I mean he was also her friend so it wasn't really as bad as you make it sound. Also, the second friend she slept with she didn't know he was your friend, I mean if you really think about it, it kind of sounds like she has fallen victim and that your friends have a habit of manipulating her into bed," she continued.

"She doesn't really need that much manipulating," I shot coldly, I hadn't actually meant it but I was sick of people defending her and attacking me.

"Yeah, see, saying stuff like that to someone who is supposed to be your best friend, I'm not surprised she doesn't want to be your friend anymore, and I'm also not that shocked that everyone is siding with her instead of you,"

"I liked you better when you were agreeing with me,"

"I'm not disagreeing with you, I think that it's possible that you have other things going on in your life and you're using this as a way to get all of your frustration out,"

"You got all of that from this conversation?"

"No, I got that from the flash of guilt that goes through your eyes when you insult her," she stated downing half her beer.

"How do you know it's guilt? You don't even know me," I raised an eyebrow.

"I've seen enough guilt in my life to recognise it," she shrugged.

"Here," I handed her another drink.

CHARLIE

         "Ew, no I'm not playing that," I frowned when Thea brought the box into the room, well she tried, Jackson had gotten up to help her which she had tried to avoid but gave into.

"Come on it will be fun," she stated.

"I'm not stopping you from playing it, but my idea of fun isn't eating something I don't like the taste of," I shrugged as Mark scoffed.

"What?" I shot.

"I don't think you like the taste of everything you put in your mouth, I mean unless you do," he commented.

"I think maybe you should stop talking now," Jae warned.

"And what are you going to do you, twig bitch?" Thea shot, I think it was more to ease the tension in the room rather than actually attacking him,"

"I'll use our handy little pocket hulk,"

BM

         "You can't drive home," I frowned at both of her, both of her?

"Well you can't drive me home," she giggled.

"I'll call you an uber," I blinked to try and get her to morph back together.

"Ew, no, I don't want some creeper taking me home," she stubbled backwards, I reached out to stop her from falling but I reached for the wrong her.

"Ow!" She frowned up at me from where she had landed on her butt.

"Well if you would just stay together I would have been able to grab you, how am I supposed to know which one of you is you," I huffed defensively.

"What the hell are you talking about?" she brushed herself off.

"I'm talking about the fact that I can see two of you, no wait, three, now there is three of you,"

"You're drunk," she laughed.

"Coming from you?"

"Which one of me?" she winked.

"Come on, let's get you upstairs," I laughed.

"I am not that type of girl," she gave a flirtatious smile.

"And I'm not asking you to be, that you may be," I joked.

"That's a little forward," she raised an eyebrow.

"I was only kidding, Let's just get you upstairs so that go can sleep off some of your drunk and not put yourself in danger getting yourself home,"

"And you don't think me coming upstairs with you would be dangerous?"

THEA

         "Seriously? What are we? 12?" Mark frowned.

"If you don't want to play then don't," I rolled my eyes.

"He'll play," Jackson stated.

"Says who?" Mark turned his frowned towards his friend.

"Say's me, stop being a party pooper," he huffed.

"Can we just stop bickering with each other an enjoy a nice night?" I sighed.

"Doubtful," Charlie was glaring directly at Mark who was frowning back at her.

"Okay fine, think of it this way, playing 'I Never' will give you more information to attack each other with," I reasoned.

"I'm pretty sure he can't become much more of a douche," Charlie shot.

"Funny, because I'm pretty sure I can't imagine you being more of a,"

"Stop," Jackson frowned at his friend.

"Fine, we won't play," I shrugged sinking back into the lounge.

"Now look what you've done, she was nice enough to cook you food on a broken foot and all she wants to do is play 'I Never' and you've upset her," Charlie shook her head disapprovingly.

"Fine, whatever," Mark huffed.

"Way to guilt trip," Jae muttered.

"Who wants to start?" Sam asked.

"Does everyone know the rules?" Charlie raised an eyebrow are Mark.

"Are you asking because you don't?" he retorted.

"Aright, either play nice or everyone can go home," I snapped.

"How about we get you a drink," Jae commented.

"How about you bite me," I sighed.

"Doesn't the whole playing nice thing apply to you two as well?" Jackson questioned.

"No," Charlie and Sam commented.

"Why?"

"Because if these two start being nice to each other the whole world will implode," Sam stated.

"He's not wrong," I agreed.

"Whatever, so are we going to play or not?" Mark asked.

"Sure, why don't you go first?"

"Wait, are we going with 5 or 10?" Jae asked

"5," everyone said in unison.

"Okay,"

Everyone held up their hand, all finger straight.

"I've Never had pink hair," Mark was directing the comment at Charlie, but Jae and I also put a finger down.

"You've had pink hair?" Sam frowned.

"Yeah, after Thea attacked me with bleach, the first time, and my brother decided to fix it," Jae nodded before going quiet, which wasn't abnormal for him after mentioning his brother.

"Sam, your turn,"

"I've Never had a job I needed to wear a suit for," he stated nonchalantly but at least three of us knew that it was a subtle stabbed at Mark for his attack towards Charlie. Mark sighed and folded a finger down, but so did Jae.

"You know what a suit is?" I raised an eyebrow.

"Some of us know how to dress up,"

"Oh, I bet you dress up," I retorted.

"Jackson," Charlie encouraged.

"I've never been in a band," he said slowly after thinking for a few moments. Charlie, Sam, and Jae all put a finger down.

"I've Never ripped of a ninja turtles head and flushed it down the toilet," Jae looked directly at Charlie.

"It was your own fault for liking a lame ninja turtle and for hating on Michaelangelo," Charlie defended herself but folded a finger down anyway.

"Donatello is clearly the better turtle,"

"You're right, he's a great turtle, but he's a sucky Ninja Turtle," She retorted.

"You're mum is a sucky ninja turtle,"

"No shit," she rolled her eyes.

"I've never, been arrested," I interjected, Sam sighed folding a finger down, Jae also folded a finger down but unfortunately for everyone else wasn't capable of also keeping his mouth closed.

"You liar, you've been arrested," Jae was looking directly at me.

"No, I haven't" I frowned.

"Do you not remember last year? On BM's birthday?" he stated.

"I was brought home by the police, I wasn't arrested," I rolled my eyes.

"Only because you somehow managed to talk your way out of it," Sam stated.

"She cried her way out of it," Charlie added.

"Either way, I wasn't arrested. Your turn Charlie,"

CHARLIE

         It would have been so easy to target Jae so that he lost, but my pride and some of my stubbornness decided it would be a better idea to attack Mark instead. In hindsight, I probably should have just targeted Jae and been over with it, but I didn't want Mark to win again and he only had one finger folded. The only problem was that I didn't know him that well.

"I've never, left the country," I was looking directly at Mark but out of my peripheral I noticed Sam, Jackson, and Jae fold a finger. I had momentarily forgotten that none of them were actually born here. I just registered that Mark was American.

"Thanks, bro," Jae frowned at me

"My bad," I shrugged.

"Do you want to reset or just continue on until we have a winner?" Sam asked.

"Let's just continue or we're going to be playing this gave all night," Thea stated.

"Easy for you to say, you only have one finger folded," Jae commented.

"Yeah well you're out so shut up," she retorted.

MARK

         It was clear that she was out to make me lose, so I figured it only fair for me to target her anyone else was just collateral damage. I thought back to her Instagram and tried to remember things about her.

"I've never quoted Lord of the Rings," I stated. Her face went from shock to looking more than pissed off.

"How do you even know that?" she frowned but folded a finger.

"You look like those geeky types," I shrugged. Honestly, she kind of looked like one of those girls who pretended to like something because they thought it was cool, or they heard someone talking about it so she clearly knows everything about it. But I figured if I said that she would just get all pissy again. Not that I think she actually stopped.

"Sam," Thea stated quickly.

"I've never owned a piece of jewellery that cost more than the average of a first car,"

THEA

         Sam was clearly targeting Mark. Though I'm not sure how he would know that, anyone would tell you that he was going to take Charlie's side no matter what. Mark frowned and folded a finger, so did Jackson which surprised me.

"And you're not a trust fund douche?" Charlie raised an eyebrow at him.

"I earnt every cent," he shrugged not taking any offence.

"I'm sure you did," Charlie stated sarcastically.

"How did you even know that?" Mark turned his attention towards Sam.

"Because there is no way that bracelet didn't cost more than my car," he pointed at the diamond-encrusted chain bracelet that Mark was wearing around his wrist.

"Some people have more sense when it comes to money," Charlie commented.

"Thea can you just ask your question so that Charlie over here can lose. Again," Mark asked not breaking eye contact with Charlie. If I asked a question that had Charlie lose I was a little worried she would kill me. So rather than facing her wrath, my brain decided to expel the only question I could think of that she wouldn't have ever of done. In the process though, I didn't think of the fact that Sam might be the only person to fold a finger.

"I've never harboured feeling for a friend for years without telling them how I feel,"

[brinesystem]

lol

glad were retriggered and retraumatized lets have somef un here i guess

should we talk about kik and the grooming?

or the OTHER time that happend?

how about the OTHER TIME?

oh or daddy dearest destroying our room? that was fun

totally didnt mind at all that he broke one of the only surviving items from our great great grandmother

oh wait he did that wtwice lulz

oh or the time he told us to punch him?

how about sneaking aroundh imo r being yelled at for eating?

or beingt old hed lock the fridge up?

getting threatened that we couldg get kicked out at nany moment?

oh or the time he almost DID doth at and we had to have an emergency plan of “if i dont text you come to this address”

oh or the ffact thath e threw our dogs againts the bricks?

almost drowned us and then we got in trouble for it?

oh what about him not ‘remembering’ any of it

oh and of COURSE we forgive him mom thanks for asking :) :) :)

glad its a question and not just you know, a nicely worded command

cause youk now

not a dog

oH WAIT LULZ

might as well be right :)

oh or the time we had to save our sister from drowning

while UNDER A LIFEGUARD AND ACROSS FROM ANOTHER ONE

thats fun right

not trauma ata ll?

oh and shcool thats fun

gun fight? first day? SURE WHY NOT

threatened and fearing our life? obviously its cause youre acting weird stop doing that and they wont lulzzzzzzzz

thanks teach for being a racist piece of shit

also nice used condom on your deskr eally classy

oh lets also just stea  my shit thanks teacher AND SCHOOL COUNSELLOR FRIENS

thanks for warning and helping us withou r classes by the way real glad we got tahtiwarning in time oh wait

oh thanksmomsure dont have trauma responses thatd be dumblolz

youre totally fine too dont worry TOTALLY doing great and absolutely true that all therapists thik youre doing perfect and dont need help

totally tre and we’re the proof huh??? :) :) :)

thanks for sayingi  dont even look human btw real nice when im saying i dont look white

v classy love that totally dealing good with your own trauma though thnx

OH or how about running a suicide prevention blog at 13, 14,15, 16, 17 because we were too afraid to stop doing it :)

that was fun right

totally fun to think your friend died

thanks teach btw for yelling at us about our phone while trying to watch for a suicidal friend

really made me care about you

alsothe  time i lost part of the bone in my leg andy ou yelled at me in front of thec lass

loved that

lvoe  the grooming gone past just grooming but cant be csa event hough they were 30+ at the time because itw as online

supes fun there too thankzzzzzz

OH can we talk about being suspended forr.r.....

stopping someone from stealing!

not allowing myself to egt beat up!

not sitting down and taking someone hitting me with a book

real funzies

ALSO THNZ MOM glad you helped out sister out but notme  over the same shit

EVERY TIME SOMETHING CAME UP

super glad bout that thnx

not like i had visual self harm for years 

but oh she said she cuts one time and gets help and a therapist and love and ishit

when shesb een beating me up and ive been getting in trouble for that for years because you dont doa nything

real funsies thanks love 10/10

oh 9/11 is fun too right gladi  was there for that

lvoe how it felt like an earthquake

and great grreat grandma dying glad you brought me along but its blocked out loooooool

oh andl ets not forget the SEVERAL DIFFERNT ASSAULTS IN MIDDLE SCHOOL glad you put me back in school after those instead of homeschooling me where i was learning faster and less stressed!!!!!!!! thanks!!!!!!!!!!

love the holiday trauma too

oH or the time you called us a liar after we complained about beingin  pain and it wtrned out our foot was swelling to twice its normal size due to a psider bite

THREE TIMES INOU R LIFE

that was fun too thankssssssss

oh orthe time we got relentlessly bullied by several kids and nobody did anything

that wasf un too

also what happened before we were 7 that made us think all adults were pedophiles?

would LOVE to know what that was about

or why someone tried to get us kidnapped by flashing drivers around that time to see if any would pull over and take us with them

thatw asf un too right

or the sex dreams

i was seven lolz glad i had tose definitely normal

oh or should we talk about marissa and her beating us up? glad you let us play with her all thetim e too!!!! real funsies glad it happened

or our friend leaving us because who fucking knows lolz glad you just stopped talking to us cold turkey

oh or our friend dying thatw as fun too what a fucking GREAT year :)

or our other friend being adopted and leaving us permanently because her parents didnt allow her to contact use ver :) :) :)

OH OR SHOULD WE TALK ABOUT THE DOCTOR TRAUMA

HI that wasf unr ight

having a kidney infectiontha t young? super funsies lol

glad i knew whatw as happening and wasnt just put under there and unable to move

totally not traumatizing thanks

totally not at all

OH OR THE FUN TIMES WITH BEING TOLD WE’RE ‘naturally different’ or ‘deal with thingsbetter than whoever’ 

thanks lbuddy glad you think that we have trauma andw orked our wholes lives to deal with itan d then got fucked over AGAIN but whatever its totally natural thanks for acknowledging all our hard work and also totally not absolving yourselfo f any effort you might have to put in at the same timeeeeee

orfindingo ut our bio grandfather is an abusive stalker and OH HE SHOWED UP AT OURH OUSE TO DROP SHIT OFF EVEN THOUGH HEL IVES IN TEXAS AND WE DONT

LOVE THAT THANKS FOR THAT INFORMATION GLAD HE HAS ACCESS

or our super abusive famly on te stepdads side glad we met thEM

loved being suicidal too that was fun glad everyone we knew helped us out and didnt just shut us outo r call us attention seeking that was coolioz

good luck whoever has our old house dont mind the suicide notes we hid under the carpet or in the vents lolz theyre totally fine

oh should we talka bout how daddy dearest stillpr efers a dog to us?

glad bout that too thanks

totally fine doesnt hurt at all and YES MOM YOUR EXCUSES FOR HIMARE TOTALLY HELPFUL AND DONT JUST REMIND US YOURE ON HIS SIDE MORE THAN OURS COOLIOS

but yeah youre totally perfectan d fine its fine cause you neverh urt us directly you just didnt do anything atal l in fact!

ever!!

thanks for that!!! love the inaction!!

ohor t hat fun thing which is apparently aform  ofe motional incest THANKS FOR THAT DADDIO

GLAAD THAT AFFECTED US FOR LIFE its great :)

im not eveng oingto  TOUCH on geneartional traumathat sawho  le other thing

[thelightofthingshopedfor]

well, if my first ADHD-related appointment with a therapist was kind of validating in confirming that I have this thing I think I have and yes it’s a problem, today’s appointment with a nurse practitioner who can actually prescribe stuff was...kind of invalidating? not even materially so, I mean she said I meet the criteria for ADHD and she wrote me a prescription for Adderall with instructions to start at a very low dose and gradually increase to see what happens, and she scheduled another appointment with me in a few weeks to check back, and it basically all seemed fine at the time, but--

well, she also said it didn’t sound like a severe case, and that at least some of what I was describing was just kind of what modern life is like for everybody, and when I said I figured my ADHD is at the root of a lot of my anxiety and depression she was pretty quick to tell me that’s not how it works until I explained the--in hindsight pretty fucking obvious--connection that a lot of my depression stems from feeling like a failure in ways that are probably caused by ADHD, and a lot of my anxiety stems from how I’m constantly forgetting things and sometimes I can’t hold onto a thought long enough to write it down and I get overwhelmed easily because I can’t prioritize, etc. etc. etc.

and like, again, I don’t think it really...matters? she’s not the one I’ll really be talking with, for the most part, and they’re in the same office so if my actual therapist is picking up on things that the nurse practitioner isn’t, they can, should, and probably will discuss my case between themselves. all I really need from the woman I saw today is the willingness to write prescriptions and work with me to find the right dose/medication and I have that, I literally have an Adderall prescription now and she perfectly willing to do medication management with me. so that’s all good. 

but basically as soon as I left the building, my brain started chewing on it and wouldn’t let go, because shit, I didn’t really emphasize my procrastination and perfectionism enough, did I? especially with examples from college and grad school? I mean I talked about it but did I talk enough about how my brain just kind of divides things into “now” and “not now” and if something either can’t be done now or isn’t due now, I can’t feel the urgency needed to make me actually do it? or the self-loathing spiral I get into every time I fuck up? or how I do fuck up, all the time, except now I can’t think of concrete examples? I said I had a hard time falling asleep and staying asleep and I never feel rested but did I say that it’s at least sometimes because my brain won’t shut off? or how something relatively minor but negative will happen and my brain sinks its teeth in and won’t let go? or how slow I am at work? did I emphasize enough how much I need to externalize my brain or I completely forget things, I mean I know I talked about it but apparently it sounded somewhat normal? I should’ve told her how often I get hit with interest charges and late fees on my credit cards because I can’t remember to pay them, or...how I got this character in a game and I had two entire months to level her up but doing so involved active playing so I kept putting it off and when time was running out I really sincerely meant to do it and then I just kept forgetting, and obviously that wasn’t a genuinely important thing but maybe it still would’ve been a good illustration? or how my room is a disaster and part of that is because of the earthquake way back in Nov. 2018? or how I keep buying posters and prints but never putting them on my walls, and starting projects I never finish even when they’re relatively quick and easy? (wait, I did talk about that though, didn’t I?) or how I have to write everything down in my planner but there are times when I still somehow forget to look at it, or how I write tons of to-do lists but never cross off most of the things on them and after a little while I forget the to-do list exists in the first place unless it’s constantly in front of my face? or how sometimes extremely basic shit just straight-up doesn’t occur to me until it’s too late? or how I think I don’t regulate my emotions very well? or how miserable it makes me that I feel like I never finish anything or accomplish even very basic goals? or how I am almost never on time, ever, in part because my sense of time is just kind of terrible? or my executive dysfunction, fuck, that’s definitely a thing and I never used those words either, I mean I talked about how I can’t get myself to fucking start things but maybe if I’d used the term...? and fuck, maybe she’s right and my brain is actually not that fucked up, it’s actually way closer to normal than I’ve been thinking, which I guess just means I’m a lazy piece of shit who can’t accomplish anything...but she said I meet the criteria for ADHD, and I keep reading all these articles and posts about it and going “oh shit that explains so much about my brain,” and obviously I’ve had like two decades to figure out some coping strategies so my various dysfunctions don’t completely ruin my life all the time, and sure I haven’t been fired because of things I can confidently blame on ADHD but that doesn’t mean it isn’t negatively affecting my life, and it’s not like she actually said “nah you’re making this up, fuck off” or anything, she said I meet the criteria and she wrote me a fucking prescription for Adderall, but if she thinks it’s a relatively minor case and a lot of the things I struggle with sound normal to her, then maybe I’m making a big deal out of nothing and I need to just suck it up and be better somehow, and maybe medication isn’t even going to help because there’s nothing that wrong in the first place except for me being a fuckup—

and around and around it goes. it’s...I mean, again, it’s probably not really a huge deal. I have another appointment with her for medication management, and I have the prescription, and I have more appointments with the therapist who did seem to take it more seriously. and this one did say I meet the criteria. but honestly the way my brain has been chewing on this for the last few hours is...well, probably indicative of something.

oh, you know what else was funny actually, she also informed me that if I was prescribed Adderall in grad school then I had to have been formally diagnosed, because otherwise it absolutely couldn’t have been prescribed to me. and I guess when the original dose didn’t seem to do much for me I just...stopped taking it and didn’t go back for more, and we didn’t really revisit the issue, and the records probably didn’t get transferred to my next counselor because I guess it never occurred to anybody to ask, and she eventually thought maybe I’m on the autism spectrum because I said I don’t like eye contact but ADHD didn’t occur to her either, and I just. fucking forgot? that I was formally diagnosed with ADHD probably an entire decade ago? so over the past 2-3 years as I’ve become increasingly convinced that ADHD hellbrain causes a lot of my problems, I was coming to it as brand new information because I literally fucking forgot that I had already been diagnosed? like...fuck, man, I’m no expert but that seems like kind of a weird memory thing too! which she definitely knew about because I was surprised when she told me I had to have been diagnosed! so I mean! if we’re talking about a disorder that involves memory issues, forgetting about an entire diagnosis because it wasn’t right in front of my face seems like pretty fucking good evidence that I have memory issues!

[florrickandassociates]

TGF Thoughts: 4x02-- The Gang Tries to Serve a Subpoena

Under the cut.

This isn’t the first episode of season 4, but since it’s the first episode that doesn’t take place in an AU… it’s basically the first episode. 

Reddick, Boseman, and Lockhart has been rebranded as “RBL: A division of STR Laurie”. Remember when Will tried to rebrand Lockhart/Gardner as “LG”? At least RBL isn’t a well-known appliance brand. But I think this might be the same “sleek” font as the LG rebrand.

The acquisition of the firm has led to a remodel. I enjoy how every season RBL looks a little bit less like the LG set.

This remodel makes the offices look like a spaceship/villain’s lair/cyberpunk nightclub. There is a giant spiky cocoon thing (nope, I don’t have better words to describe that) coming out of the ceiling in the conference room and a new spiral staircase near the name partners’ offices. It looks ridiculous and intimidating (and it is supposed to). 

There are also dogs roaming around off lash.

And neon lights and a giant fucking GARGOYLE outside of Adrian’s office. It’s so huge it looks like it was taken from the Harold Washington Library. (This may be the most authentically Chicago thing in this episode.)

Much like the last episode, the first thing we see after the teaser is Diane arriving at work and being greeted by Marissa. And, also much like the last episode, Diane is disoriented.

As it turns out, there’s been a bit of a time jump since the end of the last episode-- Diane’s been traveling/resting (doctor’s orders), so this is her first day back to work in 9 months. “What happened here?” Diane asks. Does it make sense a name partner would be so out of the loop on major renovations? Nah. We are not meant to spend much time wondering why Diane/Adrian/Liz would agree to an acquisition or how the talks played out. This is the premise for season 4 and we’re just supposed to accept it. I’m usually wary of this kind of re-premising, but this doesn’t bug me too much. We saw last season the firm had no identity (bc when the firm had an identity in season 1 it was ALL BC OF BARBARA KOLSTAD) and we saw them lose their top clients. Diane’s been on leave so she probably wasn’t that involved in conversations, Adrian probably welcomes acquisition because it’s more money, and Liz… has always only been idealistic to a point.

My point is: our heroes aren’t actually, and have never been, heroes. Sure, they’re the underdogs dealing with a big corporation… but also, they sold to the big corporation.

Marissa says the cocoon spike thing is a sunset. K.

Jay’s never been up to STR Laurie’s floor. The dogs running around, however, have been upstairs. Monday and Wednesday are pet days, but the pets always come through the RBL floor instead of the STR Laurie floor. 

The name partners can bring dogs. (How many name partners are there if there are this many dogs and STR Laurie is at most 4 people and RBL is 3 and none of the RBL partners brought in dogs?)

JUSTICE FOR JUSTICE! (Poor Justice is probably not still around 11 years later but I had to say it.)

In the partners’ meeting, even the food everyone’s eating looks more upscale. Adrian officially welcomes Diane back. One of the non-name partners is not so happy to have her back. Or, rather, he’s not so happy the name partners got a ton of money in the deal and the non-name partners got screwed. Fair point.

I guess neither Lucca nor Rosalyn got the partnership.

Adrian expositions that they were acquired because they couldn’t survive after losing ChumHum, and STR Laurie is the 7th largest firm in the world. Got it. 

Diane’s check from the acquisition of the firm is so huge it stuns her. You would think she would have known these details. But we’re here now and this show works better if you look at the themes instead of wanting all of the character motivations to always make sense. I’d probably be chewing this plot out if it happened on TGW-- why would x make y decision!? Why didn’t we get to see it!?-- but with TGF I have an easier time accepting radical changes in tone. 

And TGF did need a change in tone. You can’t get that much mileage out of episodes about 45 (whose name might not even be mentioned this ep? I will try to look out for that as I watch) and clearly no one on the writing staff is interested in small, character driven intraoffice power struggles as the primary plots. If the writers have something to say about massive corporations, I’d rather sacrifice a few scenes of character development for a season that has a POV than sit through a season as uninspired as s7 of TGW.

(Perhaps this is why I’ve always liked TGW season 6 more than others-- it’s messy, but it’s INTERESTING. I like the Kings’ work best when it has energy and say what you will about season 6, but it’s not lacking for energy.) 

There is a dog peeing on Adrian’s office door and he is NOT happy about it (no one would be, but he is ESPECIALLY fed up). One gets the sense he’s not just appalled that it’s happening but tired of the dogs altogether. 

Diane is summoned to go upstairs to meet with the overlords. According to Adrian, Mr. Laurie isn’t bad, but Mr. Firth might be. 

Upstairs, there is a very long, very white hallway. It looks like it’s out of a sci-fi movie. 

I see TGF has finally leaned in to their tradition of casting British actors by just… having STR Laurie be a British firm. 

The set decoration of Mr. Firth’s office looks like it belongs on Evil. It’s over the top, has a piece of art that looks like horns (much like the therapist monster thingy… just watch Evil okay) and light fixtures that are clearly crosses. 

Mr. Firth asks Diane what she wants to do and she says she wants to get back to work. “What work?” he asks. Diane wants to get back to her clients and Mr. Firth tells a story about a poor man who wanted to give everything, even the moon, to a thief. Neither Diane nor I understand. Mr. Firth says this story is about how he’s giving Diane her “moon” by having her head up their pro-bono cases because she shines when she has a goliath to face. True, but what does this have to do with the story!? I legit thought that story was going to be about how Diane gives too much of herself and should learn to accept high pay checks while doing no work and getting out of STR Laurie’s way. Maybe I missed something?

Anyway, Diane is getting the pro bono department with 22 lawyers and 40 cases. This is to keep her happy and to make STR Laurie look good. Feels too good to be true. Diane gets investigator time and partner billable hours, and she’s told this is fine-- make the firm a good citizen no matter how much it costs. WTF is going on here? Is this a trick?

Diane walks downstairs, happy, as Lucca heads up the stairs. Maybe she’s not a partner, but she’s important enough to be summoned upstairs. 

Mr. Firth explains to Lucca that he is “the sorting hat of lawyers.” Lucca explains she’s never read Harry Potter because she doesn’t “like wizard shit.” Impressively brave to say that to your new overlord, Lucca. I have missed you and your give no fucks attitude. 

“Yes, fuck wizard shit,” Mr. Firth responds, somewhat stiltedly. 

Mr. Firth wants Lucca to work on a divorce case for one of their top clients as the client has a personality clash with their head of family law. Their head of family law is, of course, David Lee. Welcome back, I guess. At least David Lee happening to end up at this firm that acquired RBL makes a ton more sense than all the ways they found to keep David Lee relevant to TGW in its last two seasons. 

David Lee hasn’t changed a bit.

Diane’s first client is XIOMARA VILLANUEVA!!!!!! 

But in this universe, she’s a restaurant owner whose restaurant is about to be torn down because of eminent domain. Diane tries one of her usual tricks- asking Xo (I’m sure she has a name on this show and once they say it again I will stop calling her Xo) to bring her food truck outside of the courthouse so everyone can smell how great her food is and be more sympathetic to her case. 

“You’re not the lawyer I expected,” Xo tells Diane. Diane responds, “I’ve changed.” Diane, I am pretty sure that’s not what she meant, but ok!

Lucca and David Lee’s first meeting with Bianca Skye, the high profile client, is a bit awkward, but Bianca instantly takes a liking to Lucca. (“I didn’t know this firm had any black lawyers,” Bianca notes. “Oh, they hide us,” Lucca jokes. But it’s not really a joke when all the black lawyers are the RBL staff and they’re on a different floor…)

David Lee has Bianca tell Lucca her whole case-- which is fairly straightforward-- with way too much detail. Before Lucca asks David if he’s just trying to run up billable hours, it’s clear he’s dragging this out on purpose.

“Oh good, the Angry Black Woman has made an appearance,” awful human being David Lee says after Lucca calls him out. 

David Lee plays rank on her and tells her to watch and learn. Yes, making a racist comment and then being condescending without explaining your strategy is DEFINITELY the way to get the lawyer characterized by her complete lack of interest in being a cog in a machine on your side. 

Adrian, Liz, and Barry are all helping Diane do a mock trial before her first day back in court. It’s fun. 

Adrian is SO over the dogs. His face when a pack of them run past is priceless. 

Diane’s mock trial strategy goes well; the evidence is on her side. And Julius, as luck would have it, is the judge on this case. (Why this is in federal court I don’t know.)

Julius is very happy to be a judge. 

Canning is back. Feels weird to have him here without Alicia. But, honestly, I was prepared for worse. As we’ll see as this scene progresses, Canning is the PERFECT person to have as opposing counsel. If there’s a new rule to exploit, he’d be the first to know about it. If there’s a slimy strategy to use while playing innocent, that’s his schtick. If there’s a corporation doing bad things, he’s your guy. 

Canning tries to explain his condition to Julius. I guess Julius must have been in the New York office when Canning was at LG in late season 5. Diane laughs, knowing that Julius can’t be tricked by Canning. 

Canning probably also knows it won’t work, because he’s already prepared to ask Julius to recuse himself. I feel like this is entirely reasonable. Diane isn’t just an acquaintance… they were partners at the same firm for over a decade.

Diane is TOTALLY the type of white lady to overdo the pronunciation of “chorizo”. 

The delicious smelling food seems like it’s going to work, but we quickly learn that what used to constitute tricky is now just child’s play. The CEO of Rare Orchard, who has been subpoenaed, has decided not to show up. He doesn’t have an excuse. He isn’t delaying. He’s just not going to show up. Like, remember when we thought it was egregious that the CEO Canning was defending in 4x11 kept putting off depositions and Alicia calling the judge was an effective strategy? HA! (Anyone know if this case is based on something or if it’s the writers taking some creative liberties for the sake of plot? My fear is that aspects of it are real because I can’t see the writers being this interested in a plot point they invented.)

Canning says he thinks the CEO doesn’t recognize the legitimacy of the subpoena. Julius reminds Canning that he is a federal judge and his subpoena is legitimate. Canning is all, “yes, I know that’s your position” as though laws are opinions. AAAAAAAAA.

This show loves this kind of thing, just totally taking the basic assumptions away and letting chaos reign. 

This CEO sent Julius a memo telling him to “go fuck yourself.” Eeek.

Diane doesn’t even get to do much lawyering.

Then there is a random cut (which I hate) to a scene of a massive set falling apart during a battle scene. Why the fuck is this here? And what is this from? If I ff to the credits will it tell me? Nope. Dammit. Someone help me out here. 

Credits! Things are exploding again, yay! Aside from the images on the TV, these credits look really similar to S3. I think they may have increased the saturation on the color of the liquids exploding but I could be making things up.

Julius’s outrage at the situation continues after the credits. 

David Lee tries to get Lucca to agree to just be comforting to the client. Lucca is like, no, because I was brought on for a reason I am going to do my job. 

DLee calls this “PC shit” and says something else racist. Bianca answers the door and asks to do the depo prep on the run. What this means is that they’re all getting on her private jet and going to St. Lucia. 

David Lee is TERRIFIED of the private jet. I would be too since I hate small planes (and all planes, but particularly small ones), but I am still enjoying watching him squirm. Lucca is too. 

Lucca DELIGHTS in reminding David they’re in a small metal tube with nothing holding them up. It’s fantastic. 

Bianca offers David Lee a CBD cocktail, because of course she does. This episode is doing a good job of reminding me of why David Lee and Canning were both once really effective characters, so if the writers can use them this way moving forward, I’ll be happy.

Bianca googled Lucca and demands to see pictures of her very cute baby. She then takes Lucca’s phone and starts up Tinder. This is a strange dynamic because it’s friendly but also sudden and also Bianca is paying Lucca for this time. But both of them could use friends, so I’m just going to be cautiously optimistic a real friendship could grow out of this. 

David Lee chugging a CBD cocktail is most definitely something I needed in my life. Thank you writers! 

Our characters are wealthy but everyone they deal with in this episode is ultrawealthy. Like, disgustingly wealthy. Bianca seems nice but holy shit no one needs to fly to St. Lucia for lunch. 

Court stuff happens. This episode is more interesting than just “court stuff happens” but the point is pretty simple-- Julius gets increasingly outraged at the breakdown of the system he believes in, and things keep getting more and more bizarre. 

Julius turns to the corrupt judge Adrian is sleeping with (I think the writers need to tell me what I am supposed to think of her because… I just don’t understand who she’s supposed to be, unless “corrupt judge who creeps me out yet for some reason Adrian is still into” is the point OR unless I am supposed to see her corruption as somehow excusable... ) for advice. She calls their job “shadow play” and says the system is all fake. That would explain why she’s open to bribery, then. She agrees to help Julius get the CEO into court, but I think she’s just helping to illustrate how futile this will be if he tries to resist again.

David Lee also doesn’t like the food on the island. It’s so funny. 

Lucca’s dress is really cute.

Bianca says Lucca must think she’s crazy for flying just to get guava for lunch. Lucca says, “No, it’s just a very different lifestyle from mine.” That’s an understatement. Bianca’s life changed in the last few years, and she’s worried it’s all going to go away (so, it’s implied, she’s living it up now). It seems she has some sort of skincare/cosmetics empire. 

Bianca is worried that in the next recession (oh look at that timely comment), her products will be the first thing people cut back on. Curious to know if this is happening. 

Bianca’s other concern is that she has no friends now because she’s rich. Everyone wants something. “You’re so full of shit,” Lucca says, refusing to pity Bianca. This makes Bianca like her more. 

Bianca talks about a service to matchmake friends. She found it weird, but she doesn’t find “this” (befriending Lucca, even though she is probably paying Lucca WAY more than the friend matchmaker fee) weird. Lucca is always entering into friendships so formally! Okay it’s just two scenes (this one and the one where she and Alicia become friends) but still.

Lucca reminds Bianca she’s also her lawyer.

Bianca asks if DLee is drawing out the case. She’s not stupid. Lucca says David isn’t drawing it out, but I think they both know the answer.

(Question based on what happens later in the ep- if David actually has reasoning, then why in the world would he not tell Bianca OR Lucca about it? And why do they need to have overly long meetings to draw things out? Can’t they just schedule them with large gaps? Idk the whole thing is weird and if David isn’t going to share his strategy that’s on him.)

The CEO finally shows up in court and Julius thinks he’s won. He hasn’t. He says he’s asserting privilege he can’t reveal because it is privileged. The CEO acts like Julius is in the wrong, which pisses Julius off. The CEO gets held in custody and Julius says that the restaurant can’t be bulldozed until the CEO complies. 

Then Julius gets the mysterious MEMO 618. Dun dun dun. 

I know there must be more but I feel like we know what Memo 618 is? Like, no we don’t know who sent it or exactly what it means, but we know the effect of what it does. What is the mystery? Who sent it? 

At night, Julius takes the mystery memo to Judge Hazelwood. She plays dumb because-- as we find out later-- Adrian is within earshot. Adrian’s jacket is apparently very recognizable because Julius spots it. I believe it; Adrian has a distinctive style. 

Adrian talks about taking their relationship public. So Judge Hazelwood bribing people didn’t end the relationship? 

Adrian also asks about Memo 618. He knows she knows what it is. She distracts him by getting on top of him.

Depositions for Bianca’s divorce get contentious but she has the upperhand. Lucca suggests that Bianca settle now and get the ex out of her life-- “balance money with psychological wellness.” Sounds reasonable to me!

At work, Judge Hazelwood is more forthcoming. And Julius did recognize the jacket. Judge Hazelwood tells Julius to let the CEO out and stop asking about the memo. Julius wants to get her on tape, but instead she tells him to get in an Uber and go to an address. She also warns that the court has a program if you break your phone. Sounds like a threat…

Julius finds the Uber easily and then goes on a long journey to the countryside. The driver, it turns out, is a former federal judge who didn’t comply with a mystery memo and he warns Julius to just do what they say or he’ll end up an Uber driver barely able to support his family. (THINK OF YOUR SIX CHILDREN, JULIUS.) 

Lucca wearing heels at her standing desk is… just silly, why would she do this? She wouldn’t take off one heel to stretch her foot; she would have a pair of flats to wear in her office. (This episode is written and directed by men, just fyi.) (Do women actually do this? I hate heels so I would never even consider it, but I feel like everyone hates heels??? Even the people who wear them all the time???) 

David is all mad at Lucca for encouraging Bianca to settle because it has tax implications. Two things: One, if there’s this obvious reason to delay, I feel like Lucca would have figured it out. Two, LUCCA IS ON DAVID’S SIDE. And if he’s allowed to say this out loud now, he could have said it earlier. So… no pity for David Lee. This is why you cooperate with your colleagues instead of antagonizing them. 

Liz-- who has been quite underused in this episode-- is also fed up with the dogs. She and Adrian storm upstairs to say, in Adrian’s words, “they can’t use this floor as a toilet for their motherfucking dogs.” 

They bust through the doors to the long hallway (which in real life would DEFINITELY have a key card reader on it) and push past the receptionist. 

Mr. Firth is holding a very cute dog named Avenger. Mr. Firth also refers to Liz as “Elizabeth”. 

Liz asks that the dogs stop “shitting” on their floor. After all, this was supposed to be a partnership, not an acquisition (does anyone believe that? I think Liz is just using their BS corporate talk against them). Mr. Firth says he will find a way to deal with the dogs. Adrian takes the opportunity to mention that the equity partners need their money. “How do we want to satisfy this?” Mr. Firth asks. “Give them money,” Liz says. Mr. Firth agrees to meet about this next week. He also gives Liz and Adrian access to the executive elevator. He’s just trying to appease them so they’ll be more on his side.

Liz and Adrian both recognize that was too easy, but decide to take the win. I feel like this problem is going to come back…

Julius apologizes and releases the CEO. He recuses himself but says that in the meantime the restaurant will stand. 

Diane knows something’s off and confronts Julius. She’s furious but Julius asks her to leave. I wonder what Diane would’ve done in Julius’s situation. It’s very easy to become complicit…

The restaurant is torn down anyway, making Diane even angrier. She tells Julius it’s on him and he reminds her that he is a judge.

And this is how systems are perpetuated.

That’s the end of the episode, save for the message about the two week break before episode 3 from the cast and crew. I appreciate that they included this, and that they included the whole crew rather than just the Kings and the cast. 

I don’t even recognize most of the crew! I recognize the cast (duh), Dan Lawson (the costume designer), the makeup artist (I think I’ve seen her in various instagram posts), Brooke Kennedy, and the Kings. 

Jonathan Coulton is in the video too (he’s totally a part of the TGF family at this point-- and is one of few people to be on TGW, BrainDead, TGF, AND Evil) to lead everyone in an adorable (but somewhat out of sync) singalong. Awwww. 

[thealternateuniverse]

EST (Part 1)

word count: 2204

WARNINGS: Drugs and Language 

Please bear with my typographical and grammatical errors. 

"Hello Colson, it's nice to see you again. How are you?" Dr. Martin greeted but my mind is somewhere.

"Colson?" She waved her hand and that's when I am cut off from my train of thoughts. "Sorry. I'm....good." She gave me a troubled smile.   Dr. Martin is my therapist and will be my only therapist. She's Pete's therapist when he was in rehab and he recommended me when I came to realization that I need to get my shit together. I was hesitant at first cause she is a female but Pete convince me to try trust another female aside from Ashleigh and other close girls from my circle. Dr. Martin was patient since the start, she understand how fucked up I am. I've  been trying to get help but after one session I give up. "So what happened?" She look at her charts. Our sessions were smooth. She got me to trust her and I've never felt relief than ever. "I.....well I tried being sober for a day. No alcohol, weed, coccaine, just cigarettes." I tried. But the day felt long without my poisons. "Okay, how did you feel?" I spaced out for a moment. "It was horrible. It felt like a year but it wasn't so bad. I felt myself " Dr. Martin nodded. "Uhuh. I know it's hard to get out from those habits Colson, but take it slow, the process is not overnight. For example, make a list of those habits and cross one out if you haven't done or take one in a day." I really wanted to be better so I'll give it a try though I can't live without those sometimes. "Okay. Next how about you? I mean you? Not your habits." Me? How am I really? "I......don't know doc, yesterday when I was sober I realized how lonely I was. All I want is a someone who understands me. Sees me as Colson not MGK. Someone who stays despite how fucked up I am. Listens to me when I rant. Takes care of me when I'm sick, holds my hand when I'm fighting my demons, tells me about her day. And loves me unconditionally." I sighed. Fuck this mommy issues. Dr. Martin put down the chart she's holding. "You know what, I remeber the nun said to me before. We are so focused and fixed to what we want  that we didn't realize it was already given to us but in a different package. Anyways, that's all for now. I'll see you on thursday." I shake hands with Dr. Martin and left her clinic. What does she mean by that? I shrug it off.

I got home with groceries. It's me being sober cause I realized I don't have anything in my fridge but booze. "Colson, where have you---ohh." Ashleigh was shock to see me holding a bunch of grocery bags. "Uhm need a little help Ash." Ashleigh helped me with some, putting all the bags on the kitchen counter. "I can't believe this." She mumbled but I heard. "What? Is it bad? I don't have anything in my fridge." Ashleigh shook her head in disbelief. "Whatever. Okay, I already arranged your schedule the whole off tour is yours and then I booked a trip to Germany. We're all having a break." I look at her intently. Ashleigh's been my manager for almost 10 years and I couldn't be who am I right now if she didn't let me stay in their home. "Thanks Ash. You're the best." I hug her she hugs me back. "Colson, you're creeping me out. Are you dying?" I laughed. As in laugh hard. "No....oh my god. I'm just sober." Ashleigh smiled in relief. "This is me saying thank you for staying." A tear dropped fron the corner of her eye, she wiped it off and slaps my arm. "Stop it. Of course I know how fucked up you are and you can be. We're family here." I hug her again and we begin to put the items in place.

--------- "Ash. It's okay, I'll do it." Ash is everywhere with her phone calling everyone to cancel my appearance in redfest.

"Dude. You can't even get up. It's your health that matters." Slim scolded me. All of the EST family are here.

"I feel better now. We didn't travel overseas just to cancel." I force myself to get up. When I can manage they all nodded. Ash is on her phone again.

"Dude. Are you sure?" Rook taps my shoulder. "God damn it, it's just sore throat and fever." But it's not just sore throat and fever. It's my body reacting without drugs. I am tempted to take some line of coke but I remember I'm clean for 3 days. "Rest dude. We still have 3 hours, don't worry about everything we got it." Slim patted my back. "Thanks." I slept the whole afternoon and Nicole my PA woke me up when its. "Na ah. Chill, don't get up yet. There's plenty of time." Nicole is a very efficient assistant of mine, she's the longest assistant I had so far plus we don't have that sexual tension unlike my past assistants. She's nice and chill so we don't have a problem getting along, she's more like a sister to me.  "I'm fine, I feel better now."  She just shook her head. "Ashleigh strictly told me to take care of you while they take care of everything. So chill." She left the room and comes back later with a tray. "And you need to eat stubborn ass or you won't have energy for later." The tray contains a mac n' cheese, fajita and a soup.  "I'll eat, now go away."  She didn't budge and stayed on her place. Whatever, I let her be and I feasted on my food. The food tastes bland, maybe because I'm sick but I force myself to eat. Nicole played mother hen and took care of me, she even gave me an energy drink.  "Drink this, instead of snorting some angel dust later." I uttered thanks and drink the drink. I feel better afterwards but I'm still sick and I think I'm going to puke. "Okay time for your make over." I got up from bed and went to backstage to change, the show is starting at 8 so I make it all quick. Everyone's busy in the backstage since it's not just me but Noah, Thugger and the others are also here too. "Kells! You okay now?" Noah went to me and greeted me with our handshake. "I feel like shit but I'm good."

The show started and Thugger hyped the crowd, thank god he's here and the crew or I'll be damned. Noah appeared also after Thugger and then it's my turn.

The show was hard and I almost forgot I'm not feeling well. I ran backstage after the encore, hyperventilating and nauseous, Rook ran after me and help me through the way. One of the crew placed an oxygen mask while I'm half running to the comfort room. I relaxed my breathing before removing the mask and puke my guts out.

"That's nasty." Rook commented but I just flip him off. I puke all the contents I ate in dinner and everything is yellow. Drei massaged my back while I puke and I couldn't thank him enough for that.  "God damn you Colson and your stubborn ass." I really wanted to lay on my bed. I feel  sicker every minute.   "Kells. I got you." Didn't knew Noah followed us here. She has towel already and some wipes. She helped me clean my self and wrapped the towel around me. I'm half naked by the way. "Where the fuck is Nicole, you aren't supposed to be here." Noah just rolled her eyes. "Shut it. Just be glad a lot of people cares for you." Everyone went to an after party that night while me I chose to stay in my bed and sleep.

---

"Colson! Thank god you answered!" Halsey called the next morning. I feel better now. "What? Are you scolding me too?" I can imagine her rolling her eyes. "Of course! You should take care of your self! And I know you're stubborn and won't listen so I won't make anymore fuss about it. Anyways I'm in Australia with Evan. And guess what???? We're official!" I giggled at her enthusiasm, it's good to hear and see that she's happy with him. "Oh really? That's good to hear. We'll see each other when we're in LA. I'm happy for you Ash. Really." My past with Ashley/ Halsey was rough at the start, we're good now though and that's how look for each other telling about our days. "Okay when are you coming back?" We're on our flight to LA now. "Well we've check in already. I'll text you when I'm at the states." Our flight's being called and everyone settled already. "Okay cool. Bye." The flight from Dubai to LA took 16 hours and I realized I hated flights.

-----

We arrived at LA at 12 noon the next day, everyone was exhausted and went to their own places. I was left alone in my house. I just lay there on my couch thinking of what happened these past few days when my doorbell rang. For sure it's just Slim or Rook forgetting something. They have their own keys so I don't know why they use the doorbell. "I swear to god Rook if you're just going to ann--" I opened the door but no one is outside. I shrugged it off, maybe someone from the neighborhood just messing around. I'm about to close the door when someone popped out from nowhere. "Hi....hi oh my god wait." A girl maybe around 9 or 10? I dunno she's tall for 9 or 10, maybe 11? "Hello. Uh sorry can't entertain fans right now. I'm not in the mood. Does your parents know you're here?" Tsk young fans can be agressive sometimes. This is not the first time.

"Uhm no. Actually one of my parent lives here. " I look around if her parent's house is just around. "Uh from what block?"  I asked again. The kid might be selling girls' scout cookies. "Right in this house. Hi dad." She lunged me with a hug. "I'm Casie by the way I'm your daughter." She said happily. I pulled her away from me. "Hey dude. I don't know who your parents are but I'm sure it's not me. " I laughed awkwardly. This kid is crazy, no one pops out of nowhere proclaiming they're my child. Man I should get used to this. The kid pull something out from her bag. An envelope.

"What's this?" I asked when she hand it to me.  "That's the proof that I am your kid." She shrug as if it's not a big deal. I open the paper and read all it's content searching for any discrepancy to prove she is not my kid. But there's nothing, it was stated in the document that I am the father. How the hell could this happened?  "Is this a prank? Am I in some tv show or what?" I asked and scanned the area if there's any camera hidden. You gotta be serious, this ain't funny.  "Do I look like I'm kidding? Okay, my mom is Emma she's from Cleveland and you two met at a Blink 182 song concert. Then poof! You had me."

Emma?? Wait what the fuck? Emma? As in Emma Cannon? "Shi----Shoot. Get inside kid." I let her in before someone sees or hear us. "Wait here and eat that." I offered her the pizza we brought home. I went to the kitchen to call Ashleigh. "Ashleigh! Oh my god I know we're all tired but what I will tell you will make your tiredness go away." I heard a baby's cry on the background, must be Ashton. "What is it kells? It's better be important." Ash sounds like she just woke up from a nap. "I have a kid. A daughter." Silence.  

"What the fuck is that a joke? You called just for that?" I can tell she's pissed off but I am not joking right now. "I am not joking Ash. A kid showed up with documents, plus she's claiming Emma to be her mother." I heard her sigh. "Are you sure it's not some fan? Or a prank? Are the documents legal?" I rolled my eyes. "I'm stupid but I'm not dumb. So get your ass here and tell the others." I hang up before she can answer. I went back to the living room and the kid is still sitting there. "How did you got here?" I asked.  

"Does your mother know you're here? And how old are you?" I met Emma 11 years ago so this kid must be around 10. "I'm 10, my school is just around here in LA, I'm in a boarding school by the way." She didn't answer my question but that explains why she's in LA. Why the hell Emma let her in a boarding school? She's just 10. "Mum visits me weekly, so no worries." Damn now I have a kid.

[antecedentlypod]

EPISODE 3 TRANSCRIPT

-opening music-

LORRIE

Alright- [soft movement sounds] recording time. Reeecording time. One, two, three. [flip through the book, door opens]

Ah- fuck-

FISH

Oh! Shit- sorry- were you in the middle of something? Uh...sorry. I made lunch. Bahn mi! Y’know, the one I begged my brother for the recipe of? Uh- do you want some? I mean, I can’t guarantee it’s gonna be great ‘cause...it’s me...but it is getting cold! So...

LORRIE

I was just about to start recording, but lunch sounds...awesome, actually! But before we go, do you want to introduce yourself to the mic? I decided I wanted to keep the extra recordings and stuff, just for… me, I guess? Like- kinda like a journal. [brief pause]

My therapist did recommend I start journaling, but writing out my thoughts is hard as fuck. Talking into a microphone is much easier.

FISH

Oh. Okay, so just like...lamer scrapbooking- Yeah! Yeah, I guess. [taps the mic] uh. Check check? ...Right, okay. So, my name is Fish. Just- just Fish. I picked it out myself, actually, ‘cus i really like fish? Y’know? Uh, stonefish specifically but...I think sharks are really cool- are sharks fish? Anyway! [drifting off] I like she/her or they/them pronouns...um...that’s about it. Anyway, I’m here to make sure that Mr. Skeptic over here isn’t going haywire, given all the bullshit I’ve been hearing recently.

LORRIE

[soft laugh] That’s...enough, that’s good. Maybe I should do one of those myself. [pause, deep breath] Okay, uh. Hi, I’m Lorrie. I also picked that name out, sounds like a bird name. There is a bird named Lorrie, but it’s spelled differently. And it’s really colorful, which is the opposite of me! Um, I mainly use he/him or it/its pronouns, they/them is okay sometimes, but it’s best to stay away from it? And I’m not going haywire! Things are just… a little bit weird. It’s probably just hallucinations, it’s nothing.

FISH

A little bit? With all- [sigh, in a sarcastic tone] Okay, fine. Reaaaal convincing. Yeah! Believe that, 100%. ‘Kay, anyway... [laughter]

LORRIE

[sigh] Listen- just. Just shut the fuck up. [more laughter] I’m excited for lunch, though, I don’t remember the last time I ate, actually-

FISH

That’s...not ideal, but kind of the point. So...oh! Well, hopefully you ate before getting that tattoo, did uh- it looks...new. When did you…? [sigh] Okay. What’s with the eyes?

LORRIE

I think they’re cool. I got the tattoo a couple days ago, I’m pretty sure I got something to eat before it? Not a big deal.

FISH

[pause, dumbfounded and concerned] A couple days? Okay, holy shit, Lor. Let’s go get something to eat, okay? Lunch is getting cold, so.

LORRIE

Y-Yeah, that sounds good. Let me ju-just- [muffled movement, recording stops]

LORRIE

Aaaand we’re back. Lunch has been eaten, I feel- a lot better, honestly, and I think it’s a good time to record? [papers rustling] Um...where…? [collects himself] Uh, Fish left for work a little bit ago, which means the only idiot in the house with me is my dog! I’ll be able to work now, I think. Even if reading it makes me feel all- fuckin’ weird. It’s not a- not a great feeling. Not a great feeling at all. Fuck. Okay. Um. Take one of Rumpels-

[cut]

[weary] Take...five? I think? Of Rumpelstiltskin.

[cut]

Take nine of Rumplestiltskin. Read by Lorrie Adams.

RUMPELSTILTSKIN

Once upon a time, there was a miller who was poor, but he had a beautiful daughter. Now it happened that he was talking with the king one time, and to make himself seem important he said to the king: "I have a daughter who can spin straw into gold."

"That's an art that pleases me;” the king replied, “if your daughter is as talented as you say, bring her to my castle tomorrow and I will put her to the test." 

When the maiden was brought to him he led her into a room that was filled with straw. There he gave her a spinning-wheel and a spindle and said: "Now get to work, if you don’t spin straw into gold by morning, then you must die." Then he locked the room himself, and she remained inside all alone.

 The miller's poor daughter sat there feeling close to her wit’s end, for she knew nothing of spinning straw into gold, and her fear grew greater and greater. When she began to weep, the door suddenly opened and a little man entered, saying: "Good evening, Mistress Miller, why are you weeping so?" 

“Oh,” answered the maiden, "I'm supposed to spin straw into gold, and I don't know how." 

The little man then said: "What will you give me if I spin it for you?" 

"My necklace," the maiden said. The little man took the necklace and sat down at the wheel, and whizz, whizz, whizz, three times round the spool was full. Then he put on another one, and whizz, whizz, whizz, the second one was full; and so it went on until morning, until all the straw was spun and all the spools were filled with gold. The king appeared right at the sunrise and when he saw the gold he was surprised and pleased, but his heart grew even greedier. He locked the miller’s daughter in another room, one that was even larger than the first, and he ordered her to spin all the straw into gold if she valued her life.

The maiden did not know what to do and began to weep; then once again the door opened and the little man appeared and said: "What will you give me if I spin the straw into gold for you?" 

"The ring from my finger," answered the maiden. The little man took the ring, began to work away at the wheel again, and by morning he had spun all the straw into shining gold. The king was extremely pleased by the sight; but his lust for gold was still not satisfied. So he had the miller's daughter brought into an even larger room, and said to her: "You must have all this spun to gold tonight, but if you succeed, you shall become my wife." To himself he thought: Even though she’s just a miller's daughter, I’ll never find a richer woman anywhere in the world. 

When the maiden was alone the little man came again for the third time and asked: "What will you give me if I spin the straw for you once more?" 

"I have nothing left to give," answered the maiden. 

"Then promise me your first child when you become queen." 

"Who knows whether it will ever come to that?" thought the miller's daughter, and since she knew no other way out of her predicament, she promised the little man what he had demanded, and in return the little man spun the straw into gold once again. When the king came in the morning and found everything he had wished, he married her, and the miller's daughter became a queen.

After a year she gave birth to a beautiful child, and the little man had disappeared from her mind. But now he suddenly appeared in her room and said: "Now give me what you promised." The queen was horrified, and offered the little man all the treasures of the kingdom if he would let her keep her child. But the little man replied: "No, something living is more important to me than all the treasures in the world." Then the queen began to grieve and weep so much that the little man felt sorry for her. "I'll give you three days time," he said, "if you guess my name by the third day, you shall keep your child."

The queen spent the entire night trying to recall all the names she had ever heard. She also sent a messenger out into the country to inquire high and low names there were. On the following day when the little man appeared, she began with Kaspar, Melchior, Balzar, and listed all the names she knew, one after the other, but to all of them the little man said: "That's not my name." The second day she had her servants ask around in the neighboring area which names people used, and she came up with the most unusual and strangest names when the little man appeared. "Is your name Ribs of Beef? Or Muttonchops? Or Laced Leg?" But he always replied: “That’s not my name.” On the third day the messenger returned and reported, "I couldn't find a single new name, but as I was climbing a high mountain at the edge of the forest, where the fox and the hare say goodnight to each other, I saw a small cottage, and in front of the cottage was a fire, and around the fire danced a ridiculous little man who was hopping on one leg and screeching:

“Today I'll brew, tomorrow I'll bake,

Soon I'll have the queen's namesake;

Oh, how hard it is to play my game,

For Rumpelstiltskin is my name."

And you can imagine how happy the queen was when she heard the name. As soon as the little man entered and asked: “What’s my name, your highness?” 

She responded first by guessing: "Is your name Cunce?" "No." "Is your name Heinz?" "No." "Can your name be...Rumpelstiltskin?"

"The devil told you! the devil told you!" the little man screamed, and he stamped so ferociously with his right foot that his leg went deep into the ground up to his waist. Then he grabbed the other foot angrily with both hands and ripped himself in two.

LORRIE

[yawn] There’s another number for me to read. [stuttering] Another story. I didn’t- say this in my personal introduction, but I’m [trying to snap himself out of it. literally] working for like, something akin to an audiobook company? These are my- story recordings. Not perfect, by any means, but they’re alright enough, and not really ever my final takes. Um. I like this job. Fully remote, surprisingly good pay for it being paid by commission mostly- I don’t know...why people would want these stories read out, but that’s beside the point. I make enough to get a pretty nice apartment, for me and Fish. They sent me this collection of stories to read from, it’s in this [stuttering and snapping again] big book- this big paperback book, um, and they...they- I get emails with the story numbers that they want me to read? Because they’re all numbered in this book. And the stories are never more than a couple pages at a time, which...is kinda weird because the recordings end up being pretty short that way? I don’t know if they want...more from me for it, but that’s also beside the point.

Anyways. Take 1 of Briar Rose, read by Lorrie Ada-

[very tired] Take 3 of Briar Ro-

Ppppbbbt. [hyping himself up] Okay. Okay, you can do this, Lorrie. It’s not that hard, you’re just talking into a fucking microphone. Okay. Okay. Hm. [drinks something. water..?] Take 13 of Briar Rose, read by Lorrie Adams. 

BRIAR ROSE

In times of old there lived a king and queen, and every day they said, "Oh, if only we had a child!" yet they never had one.

Then one day, as the queen went out bathing, a frog happened to crawl ashore and say to her: “Your wish shall be fulfilled. Before the year is out, you shall give birth to a daughter.”

The frog’s prediction came true, and the queen gave birth to a girl who was so beautiful that the king was overjoyed and decided to hold a great feast. Not only did he invite his relatives, friends, and acquaintances, but also the wise women in the hope that they would be generous and kind to his daughter. There were thirteen wise women in his kingdom, but he only had twelve golden plates from which they could eat. Therefore, one of them had to remain home. The feast was celebrated with tremendous splendor, and when it drew to a close, the wise women bestowed their miraculous gifts upon the child. One gave her virtue, another beauty, the third wealth, and so on until they had given her nearly everything one could possibly wish for in the world. When eleven of them had offered their gifts, the thirteenth suddenly entered the hall. She wanted to get revenge for not having been invited, and without greeting anyone or looking around, she cried out with a loud voice: “In her fifteenth year, the princess shall prick herself with a spindle and fall down dead.” That was all she said. Then she turned around and left the hall.

Everyone was horrified, but the twelfth wise woman stepped forward. She still had her wish to make, and although she could not undo the evil spell, she could nevertheless soften it. “The princess shall not die,” she said, “instead she shall fall into a deep sleep for one hundred years.”

Since the king wanted to guard his dear child against such a catastrophe, he issued an order that all the spindles in his kingdom were to be burned. Meanwhile, the gifts of the wise women fulfilled themselves in every way. The girl was so beautiful, polite, kind, and sensible, that whoever encountered her could not help but adore her. Now, on the day she turned fifteen it happened that the king and queen were not in the palace, so she wandered all over the place and explored as many rooms and chambers as she pleased. She eventually came to an old tower, climbed it’s narrow, winding staircase, and came to a small door. A rusty key was stuck in the lock, and when she turned it, the door sprang open and she saw an old woman in a little room sitting with a spindle and busily spinning flax.

“Good day, old granny!” said the princess, “What are you doing there?”

“I’m spinning,” said the old woman, and she nodded her head.

“What’s the thing that’s bobbing around in such a funny way?” Asked the maiden, and she took the spindle and wanted to spin too. But just as she touched the spindle, the magic spell began working and she pricked her finger with it. The very moment she felt the prick, she fell down on the bed that was standing there and was overcome by a deep sleep. This sleep soon spread throughout the entire palace. The king and queen had just returned home, and when they entered the hall they fell asleep, as did all the people in their court. They were followed by the horses in the stables, the dogs in the courtyard, the pigeons on the roof, and the flies on the wall. Even the fire flickering in the hearth became tired and fell asleep. The roast stopped sizzling, and the cook, who was just about to pull the kitchen boy’s hair because he had done something wrong, let him go and fell asleep. Finally, the wind died down so that not a single leaf stirred on the trees outside the castle. Soon, a briar hedge began to grow all around the castle, and it grew higher each year. Eventually, it surrounded and covered the entire castle, so that it was no longer visible. Not even the flag on the roof could be seen. Eventually the princess became known as “beautiful, sleeping Briar Rose,” and a tale about her began circulating throughout the country. From time to time, princes tried to break through and get to the castle. However, this was impossible, because the thorns clung together tightly as though they had hands, and the young men got stuck there. Indeed, they could not pry themselves loose and died miserable deaths. 

After many, many years had gone by, a prince came to this country and heard an old man talking about a briar hedge. Supposedly, there was a castle standing behind the hedge and in the castle there was a remarkably beautiful princess named Briar Rose, who had been sleeping for a hundred years along with the king and queen and their entire court. The old man also knew from his grandfather that many princes had come and had tried to break through the briar hedge, but they had got stuck and died wretched deaths. “I am not afraid!” said the prince, “I intend to see the beautiful Briar Rose!”

The good old man tried his best to dissuade him, but the prince would not heed his word. Now the hundred years had just ended, and the day of which Briar Rose was to wake up again had arrived. When the prince approached the briar hedge he found nothing but little flowers that opened of their own accord and let him through, like a hedge. In the courtyard, he saw the horses and the spotted hunting dogs lying asleep. The pigeons were perched on the roof and had tucked their heads beneath their wings. When he entered the palace, the flies were asleep on the wall, the cook was still holding his hand as if he wanted to grab the kitchen boy, and the maid was sitting in front of the black chicken that she was about to pluck. As the prince continued walking, he saw the entire court lying asleep in the hall, with the king and queen beside the throne. Then he moved on, and everything was so quiet he could hear himself breathe. 

Finally, he came to the tower and opened the door to the small room where Briar Rose slept. There she lay in her beauty, so marvelous that he could not take his eyes off of her. And then, he leaned over and gave her a kiss, and when his lips touched hers Briar Rose opened her eyes, woke up, and looked at him fondly. After that, they went downstairs together and the king and queen woke up along with the entire court and they all looked at each other in amazement. Soon, the horses in the courtyard stood up and shook themselves. The hunting dogs jumped around and wagged their tails, the pigeons on the roof lifted their heads from beneath their wings, looked up and flew off into the fields. The flies on the wall continued crawling, the fire in the kitchen flared up, flickered, and cooked the meat, the roast began to sizzle again, and the cook gave the kitchen boy such a box on the ear that he let out a cry while the maid finished plucking the chicken.

The wedding of the prince with Briar Rose was celebrated with great splendor, and lived happily to the end of their day. 

LORRIE

[with a bad taste in his mouth] Reaaaally can’t say I’m a big fan of the whole, like...lack of consent thing? Like, who just kisses some sleeping 115 year old? Like jesus fuck, get some manners! Like, why didn’t the prince just...try shaking her? Why did he just immediately kiss her- what the FUCK- 

Anyways, I couldn’t stop yawning during that recording, if that says anything about my thoughts on it. I hope I didn’t put you to sleep, at least. Whoever ends up listening to this. I think I need to go to bed. Goodnight, end recording.

[panic-and-procrastinate-writing]

Chapter 7: 3am Conversations

The air was thick and hot, your open windows doing nothing for the stale summer air that was suffocating your apartment, and instead just filling it with restless noise from the street below.

You were sitting on your living room floor, trying to ignore the sticky and uncomfortable sweat covering your entire body, and instead trying to focus on pricing the small but grotesque paintings surrounding you.

Nevaeh left at around half 6, when you started getting out your nightmares and pricing them. She never liked seeing them more times than she had too.

But you had too. You didn’t have the luxury of pretending they didn’t exist, and instead had to stare and judge how much each one might cost depending on the detail and horror in each painting.

You had more, larger paintings stored in the tiny storage closet open in front of you, but you wanted to work your way up. If you were doing a big sale then it was best to start small and reel in a crowd of buyers, that way when you sold the larger ones, they would be sold quickly by strong horror fans.

Which was great because you were struggling for money lately, and had several bills due.

But you couldn’t keep your mind focused on anything. The unbreathable air, the maddening noise from outside, the never-ending stream of thoughts and worries inside your head.

Nevaeh told the police.

Yeah, sure, they barely believed her, but what would happen when they got desperate and came knocking? A part of you was screaming they would, and you couldn’t tell if it was just plain old anxiety or actually your sixth sense, which made you worried more.

And what would you tell the Red Hood? How would you tell him that your supposed best friend that you thought you could trust with everything just sold you out? You knew she felt bad, and you understood why and forgave her, but you were still bitter and scared.

How would you tell him? You were still struggling to wrap your head around it yourself, and the anxiety was eating you up.

You sighed and got up from the floor, walking to the bathroom to splash some cold water on your face to wake up and get your bearings. You couldn’t spiral now, you hadn’t slept in at least 24 hours, and you had had a good lunch, if you were to spiral and panic now, then you would probably throw up all the nutrition you desperately needed and then pass out.

And the vigilante was supposedly coming back, so the thought of him catching you in such a vulnerable position sounded awful and terrifying.

You had to stay calm and get your shit together.

*

“Hey! Hey, wake up!”

“Hmm?”

You blinked your bleary eyes open to see what was shaking you and shouting in your face, and squinted them in confusion, trying to process what you saw.

The Red Hood was kneeling in front of you, dishevelled and distressed, holding your shoulders with a tight grip in worry. His blood splattered jacket had fallen off one shoulder, and his helmet was chipped a little.

“M’ fine.” You grumbled out as you swatted his hands away, pissed that he had woken you up and touched you again, even though you had told him several times not too.

He let go of your arms hastily once he realised what he was doing, and said “Sorry, I thought you were in trouble.”

“No, I was just tired. Accidently fell asleep.” You explained whilst yawning and stretching.

You motioned for him to get out of your way so you could stand up, and the vigilante backed away to take a proper look at all the horror filled paintings surrounding you.

“So, are these new or…?” He asked, his aura tainted with concern.

“They’re old.” You said whilst stepping over the piles to tread towards your kitchen and get a cup of coffee. Preferably an expresso. With the Red Hood here, you would need to be informed on the case, and you couldn’t do that when you felt like you were going to fall back asleep.

“What happened to your legs?” His mechanical voice called out.

Shit.

You froze.

Your legs were covered in bandages, and they were plain to see with the shorts you had put on earlier. You would have kept on the joggers that you wore when Nevaeh came to see you, but it was unbearable with the humid night air.

You stood there, half way in the kitchen and half out of it, your eyes darting around looking for any kind of excuse.

And then they landed on the kettle.

“Uhm… I, spilled hot water on them. Kettle water. I dropped the kettle. On my legs…” You cringed as you stared at the Kettle to the side of you, hoping to god he believed you even though you were a terrible liar.

“You’re a terrible liar.” He remarked.

Fuck.

“I, uhm, may have gotten… emotional, earlier today. Or yesterday. What time is it?” You quickly asked, trying to change the subject so you wouldn’t have to admit to a guy that you were sure was more messed up than you that you self-harmed.

“Emotional?”

“Umm. Yeah. Emotional. I took it out on myself.” You regrettably explained as you stared at the clock on your living room wall, trying to ignore the Red Hood staring at you with intense worry, and instead trying to process that it was 2:46 in the morning, and that it was in fact yesterday morning that your hurt yourself.

“Why?”

“Huh?” You turned around to look at him in scrutiny, because what do mean ‘why?’

“Why would you take it out on yourself? Why not something else?” You frowned harder at his questions, getting agitated at him and his prying questions.

“Because…? I don’t know. I said I was emotional, I wasn’t thinking, I just hated myself and I was panicking and I thought the pain would ground me? Why am I telling you this?”

“Because you’ve been waiting for someone to ask.” 

Because you’ve been waiting for someone to ask.

You stared at him, your mouth slack and heart doing something that it really shouldn’t.

How the fuck would he know?

You wanted to be angry, at his arrogance for saying something with such confidence, to assume that he would know you.

But he did know you. Or at least the feeling. He understood. Again.

Fuck.

How could he say something so casually like it didn’t just throw you into the pit of unintelligible feelings?

“Whatever, just, do whatever you came back here for.” You said with a frown, walking back into the kitchen to actually make your coffee.

You heard him grunt and walk into the Kitchen, and sit at your dining table.

“I came back to ask if you had anymore visions, and inform you on where the case is going.”

Shit, he did say that before he left.

Sighing, you turned around to face him. “I haven’t had any more visions, or trances. Just a bad night’s sleep.”

“Hm, why?”

Again? Why? Who did he think he was? Your therapist?

But it did make you feel kinda warm and gooey that he cared. Oh God no your ears were getting warm.

Disgusting, you were feeling loved.

But he did deserve to know about what Nevaeh did.

Sighing, you began. “After you left Nevaeh called, and she said she wanted to talk, but didn’t tell me why. All I knew was that she did something bad and it kept me up. I spiralled and got emotional and thought the worst and ended up hurting myself. But she came around yesterday after work and we had lunch and spoke about it.”

“What did you speak about?”

You started playing with the hem of your shirt in worry, not sure how to tell him other than to just say it.

“She told the police, about me. Being a psychic.”

You let it hang there, the worry and anxiety that you had bottled up into a simple sentence, and let him process it.

“Did they believe her?”

“No.”

“Then you have nothing to worry about.”

“Mmm.” He was right. “But what if they get desperate and have no other choice but to talk to me? I can’t tell if my sixth sense is telling me they are or if its anxiety. Sometimes when things are too far in the future then I can’t tell what it is. And that makes me think that we won’t catch the bad guy as quickly as I thought we would because it so far in th-”

“Hey.”

You stopped and held your breath, not realizing that you had been rambling.

“It’s going to be okay.” He said gently, and you breathed, calming enough to listen to what he was about to say.

“We usually leave the police a trail to keep them busy,” He started “either to make sure they actually get evidence or just to keep them out of the way, so they won’t come to you when they get desperate because we keep them busy. Besides, they’re looking for me remember? They won’t bother you; I promise.”

You listened and nodded along to his words agreeing as they made sense. The police wouldn’t come knocking.

The coffee machine behind you beeped, and you jumped a little, the noise scaring you out of your thoughts. Calming down, you turned around to make an expresso.

“So, what about your day?” You asked him.

“Hm, same old, same old.”

“The blood on your jacket isn’t old. What happened?” You inquired, wondering why he was being less open now. Did something bad happen?

“It’s from patrol. Felt angry, so I took it out on some thugs.”

Something bad definitely happened. He was slouching in the dining chair, legs spread and tapping his finger against the table. He was trying to act like he didn’t care, but the frown on his face showed that he did.

Good thing he didn’t know that you could feel his facial expressions.

“Why were you angry?” You asked in a soft voice. You wanted him to open up, and doing it gently would probably be the best option.

“It was nothing, just some stupid family drama. Anyway, that’s not why I came here. We should talk about the case.”

He was really trying to keep you out, wasn’t he? But then again it was probably for the best, if it was family drama then hell knows you should walk in the opposite direction. What did you know about family?

“Uh, yeah, so what did you find out?”

“All the plants and gowns were ordered online and delivered, you were right, he bought in bulk. He has 14 gowns left from that one delivery, and he ordered more plants. You were right about the serial killer thing. He will kill again.”

You hummed and contemplated his words whilst sipping your coffee. Sometimes you really hated your gift.

“Go on.” You prompted.

“We’re not sure where he’s getting his weapons from. There was nothing in the police database about stolen spears, and nothing about stolen weapons at all. And he didn’t order them, because they were antiques, no serial number on them, so no place where they were manufactured. Do you have any ideas?”

You hummed as you thought about it, but didn’t get any particular helpful feelings. They felt close to the murderer, but that was about it. Nothing helpful at all.

You shrugged your shoulders and apologised, explaining you couldn’t feel anything.

He sighed, but continued to tell you what he had discovered about the case. “We found out that he had it delivered to an apartment in the narrows, and we thought he might be lower class like you said, but It costs a lot of money to buy everything he did, and the middle class would struggle to afford what he bought, so we still can’t rule anything out.”

“Sounds like he’s trying to confuse you. He’s probably new money or upper class, and he’s using the narrows to lead you on a wild goose chase.” You suggested, still not sure what to feel about the bad guy.

“Maybe, his methods are extremely detailed and he’s planned out every step, but he also wants to brag about his murders, so I was right to assume he’s a psychopath, since those are psychopathic symptoms. That’s one motive at least. What are senses saying about him?”

You sighed and sipped your coffee, trying to hone your feelings a bit more and see what they said, but it still just came up with nothing but a foggy feeling.

“Nothing. I get nothing when I think about him. Just, fear and pain. There’s like this fog, this cloud of something in my head, my chest gets tight and it seems harder to breathe, but other than that I can’t feel anything. Like he doesn’t exist.”

He listened and nodded his head along with what you said, thinking.

“What does the name Anthony Brand feel like to you?” He asked rather abruptly.

“Anthony Brand? Mmm, stupid? It sounds made up. Why?” You placed your expresso down and leant on the table, closer to the vigilante, interested in what this new guy had to do with things.

“That’s the person who owned the apartment, where the stuff was dropped off to. The guys gone now, but he owned it when it was dropped off. He disappeared two days after, like he just, never existed.” 

“You think it might be the bad guy? That he used an alias?” You leant a little closer, getting really interested.

“I don’t know. What do you feel?”

You sat back and thought about it, closing your eyes and focusing on the name, Anthony Brand.

It was difficult, the fog was still there, but… maybe a little clearer? It was still painful and tight in your chest, the more you thought about it the more you felt your arm hairs standing on end, but it was easy to see.

Anthony Brand.

It was close, the name was similar to the bad guys…

It felt like it was almost pronounced the same…

Anthony Brand…

Anthony Brand…

A…. B….

Your eyes shot open as you exclaimed: “They’re the same initials. A.B. He used his initials for his alias.”

“You’re sure about this?” He asked, sitting up straight, looking you dead in the eye to make sure that you weren’t playing around.

“Mhm. It feels right, it feels scarier, but I know it’s right. The closer I get to feeling who he is the more scared I get. I know I’m right.”

He nodded his head and pulled out his phone, sending a quick text to somebody before putting it away and sitting back again.

“Good, that gets us closer. Good job.”

You looked away as you felt your face heat with the praise. Being useful really did feel good.

“Is there anything else?” You asked, wanting to chase the feeling of usefulness.

“Not really, we already checked out the apartment just to be sure, but found nothing. After that we just patrolled as usual.” He said, shrugging his shoulders.

“Hmm” You hummed as you listened, but tapped your nails against your mug in contemplation. Deciding to just go for it, you asked “Um, why do you keep saying we?”

He had been saying it the whole time, like he was working with someone else, and it made you slightly nervous. You didn’t want to meet anybody else; this shit was scary enough as it was.

“Oh, I have contacts that are helping me get information. Don’t worry, you can trust them. They’re… good people.”

You pondered his words as you picked up your expresso and sipped it, thinking. If he can trust them, a vigilante whose job is to literally not trust anybody, then surely you could too right? Besides, he wasn’t lying, you would have felt it if he believed any differently.

“Uh, cool, I guess. Who are they?” You asked. If they were going to be working in the case, and he said you could trust them, then it would be best to know who they are right?

“Oh, you wouldn’t know them.”

“Obviously, that’s why I’m asking.” You smirked over the top of your mug as you sipped it, looking at him as his face broke into stupid open mouth grin. He was shocked, but found your sass funny, thank god.

“One of them is a behind the scenes person, she hacks and watches the whole of Gotham through the cameras in the streets.” He explained, the grin fading to a small smile.

“She sounds badass, what’s her name?”

“She is, her names Oracle.”

“Oh, like the Greek thing where they see everything?” You asked excitedly, putting your cup down as he hummed in agreement.

“I didn’t know you knew anything about Greek mythology.” He asked curiously.

“Only a little. When I was younger, I was obsessed with magic and fantasy and all things mythological, so I always read stories and stuff about it. Sometimes I thought I could find an explanation for my powers in stuff like that.” You explained fondly, holding your cup and smiling at the memories of the actual good times in your life.

You heard him hum as his listened, clearly engaged in your story. Sighing, you asked him what he was interested in.

“What do you mean?”

“Oh, come on. You gotta have some hobby besides beating the shit out of people.”

He chuckled at that and then inhaled, contemplating telling you.

“I like literature.”

“Oh? Interesting. What’s your favourite book?” You asked, curiosity eating you up.

He sighed as he thought about it, his eyes drifting through your apartment, deep in thought.

“Frankenstein, maybe? I’ve always been a fan of Shakespeare though.” He said fondly, relaxed and comfortable with the conversation.

“Oh my god, you’re a fucking theatre nerd.” You said with an open mouth grin, shock and awe consuming you.

“Hey! Its thespian actually, and I take it as a compliment.” He said back, his joy just as bright as yours.

“You would, wouldn’t you?” You chuffed. This was nice. Comfortable and calm, you didn’t need to worry about thing else other than getting to know each other. It was good.

“What’s your favourite play?” You asked, finishing the rest of your coffee.

“Hamlet. Macbeth is a close second.”

“MM!” You agreed enthusiastically as you swallowed your drink. “We did Macbeth in high-school. I don’t remember much, but it was better than Romeo and Juliet.” You grinned at the memories, understanding why he liked it.

“Hmm, yeah. I prefer tragedies over romance. What school did you go to?” he asked, his mechanical voice becoming somewhat of a calming thing to you.

“Technically Romeo and Juliet is both, but yeah, romance isn’t the best unless you’re in love or something. And I went to the high-school a couple blocks from here, on Frazer street.” 

“Seriously? You live that close to your old school?” He asked questionably.

“I never moved.” You said, shrugging your shoulders, starting to get a bad feeling about where this conversation was going.

“You mean this is your childhood home?” He asked, looking around. “You didn’t move out?”

“I got agoraphobia before I could.” You said solemnly. Did the conversation really have to go this way?

“Oh.” Was all he said. Great, you killed the perfect mood you had going on.

“So, it’s just you living here?” He asked quietly, obviously trying to be gentle, but also wanting to know more.

“Yeah, it’s just me.” In a childhood home that didn’t give you much of a childhood.

“What about the rest of your family?” He asked gently again, but it could only go so far with his helmets voice moderator.

You sighed, tapping the side of your empty mug. You should be open with him. He would probably figure it out on his own anyway, with that Oracle he’s got on his side he would be able to find out everything.

And suddenly it was a really bad idea to be open at all.

If he found out what happened… You held the mug tighter, panic starting to bubble in your chest, squeezing the life out of what little happiness you just had.

No, you couldn’t bear the thought of having to explain yourself, to rip open that old wound.

She was nothing but a voice in your head now, and it would stay that way. He wasn’t allowed to know anything. Nothing at all!

“Hey.” He called out, gently but firmly. “You don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to.”

“I don’t want to.” You said shakily, still gripping your mug with a death grip, enough to turn your knuckles white.

“Then you don’t have to. Let’s get back to the case. Here.” He pulled out a memory stick from his jacket and placed it on the table, along with a burner phone. “Oracle digitized all your notes and findings, along with more evidence and leads. This way you don’t have a bulky case file you have to open every time you want to look back at something. All you have to do is plug it into your computer and it’s all there, along with a connection to Oracle herself should you need to speak to her.”

You listened intently as he explained, and your ears became warm as you calmed down.

“And this a burner phone,” He clarified, picking it up to show you. “It’s to contact me if you’re in danger, or if you have another vision. The only contact in it is mine, and I can also use it to call you if I need too. That’s both me and Oracle you can speak to at any time should you need too, okay?”

You nodded as you listened, your ears almost steaming, feeling so incredibly cared for it almost hurt. They actually took time out of their day to make all your findings more accessible and then both left forms of communication should you need them.

You didn’t even know this Oracle woman! And she was already there if you needed her.

God, you wanted to cry, ugh.

Taking a deep breath to get your bearings, you said “Thanks, I’ll call you if I need you. And please thank Oracle for sorting out my notes. It was kind of her.”

“I will.”

You smiled as the Red Hood started talking again, asking you about how long you’ve been friends with Nevaeh and what she does, trying to keep you distracted from the brief thoughts of your hellish past. He was good person, and you were happy that you got the chance to be friends with him.

You could really get used to this. To him.

[seadragonjade]

Chapter 2: Festivals and Fireworks

After they infiltrated the palace, the next day, the group went to Leblanc after their school activities to talk about their next plan and to have a talk about the new teammates. As they walk over there Jaden-Drake gets a little nervous. God I hate this. What if it’s going to be like what happened in America? What if one of them turns out to like that dick? Great, I'm overthinking things again. Jaden thinks as he sighed. “Relax Jaden,” Xander states as he slaps his back. “I ensure, you that this will be like a new chapter in our lives. A fresh start.” He smiles down at his friend. “He’s right. It’s not going to be like it was last school year.” Draco tells him with his bearded dragon smile. “*sighs* You guys are right. I shouldn’t really worry.” Drake tells them with a smile. It doesn't mean I won’t though. The smile then falls again once they look away. He sighs again. He really didn’t like to think about what happened to him last year. It was a bad memory that he’d rather forget about. The bearded dragon saw this action. “What’s wrong Jaden?” Draco asks looking up at his saddened friend. “I’m fine, don't worry about it.” He tells him.

“You don’t look fine. Are you sure?” Akira asks, coming up from behind Drake. Drake looks up a little at him. Dreading being the shortest friend just like he did back in America. “Um, no I am not. Truthfully, I don’t really want to talk about it right now since we have a job to do and I don’t really want to worry people right now.” He tells the black-haired boy who nods at him. “Really that’s no excuse why you shouldn’t tell us why you are upset.” Morgana, from what Jaden understands, meows at him. Jaden sighs as he looks at the feline. “Trust me. I’ll tell you guys when I’m ready. Just...not right now.” He tells the black feline. He nods as they continue to walk to Leblanc. As soon as they entered Jaden, Xander, and Draco saw the barista. “Eh, you got some new friends here with ya?” the barista asked Akira as he entered the door. “Yes, they're also new to Japan so we decided to stop by to have a discussion.” He told the black-haired barista. He nods and gets back to work. “I wonder if they got any tea here.” Jaden mumbles to himself. “Alright, so what should we put on the calling card?” Ryuji asks as he sits down at a barstool. “Well how about this. ‘Sir Jonathan Brademire the prideful tyrant, we can see that you have stolen artworks of others just for your own sick and sinister desires. We shall steal your distorted desires and make you confess your sinful deeds. This will be done tomorrow, hope you have prepared yourself. From The Phantom Thieves of Hearts’.” Morgana said. “So how are we going to send this?” Xander states as he looks at the cat. 

“We usually have either Ryuji or Morgana go be the deliverer.” Ann tells him as she sits down at the booth. “But we’re going to have Morgana deliver it to him.” Makoto explains. “That’s a smart idea if I am honest.” Jaden-Drake states as he pulls out his art book and pencils to start drawing. “Alright, so all we need to do is make the calling card.” Yusuke states as he watched Drake drawing one of his OCs. “You are also fond of art?” Yusuke asks him. Drake looks up and smiles. “Yeah. I really like to do art since both of my parents loved doing it as a hobby and I got the talent passed down to me. I posted a lot of it online when I have the chance to.” He tells him. “Wow, I received the talent from my mother. Maybe we can draw together sometime. If you’d like, of course.” Yusuke said. Jaden looked at him and smiled. “Sure. I’d love that.” He writes something down and gives it to Yusuke. “Here is my number so that way we have a way to contact each other for that.” He smiles at the shorter green-haired male. “Thank you. I’ll be sure I will.” 

*Time Skip: Evening*

“Okay, so Xander what level is the treasure on?” Akira asks Xander looking straight at him. “Fifth floor in the northeast section of the castle.” He tells them, “Alright, so we go to the fifth floor and head in the direction Xander goes to get the treasure. If anyone or anything gets in our way we fight it. Like usual. Don’t forget the safe rooms. They could help us a lot.”  Everyone nodded. “Hell yeah! Let’s get this done tomorrow.” Ryuji yelled out. “I hope we can get this done.” Makoto said. “Remember everyone, it’s all or nothing.” Morgana states looking at everyone. They all nodded in acknowledgment. “Right. *sighs* let's do this.” Jaden said as he looked at everyone. “Since this is our only shot let's make it count, all or nothing.” Akira looks at him and nods. “Alright everyone, see you tomorrow.” He said to every one of his teammates. “Make sure to get a good night's rest, you're going to need it.” Draco tells everyone as he jumps into Drake’s book bag. “Let's end this meeting.” Xander said. They all looked at him and nodded. “I’ll see you guys tomorrow then.” Makoto said to everyone as she got up and left. “Right, see you guys later.” Ryuji said as he waved to his friends as he walked out the door. “See you guys tomorrow then.” Ann said as she leaves like the other two. “I’ll see the rest of you then. Oh, and Drake.” Yusuke said. “Does this Saturday work out for you?” He looks at him. Drake looks at him and nods. “Yeah. It’s a perfect day.” He tells him with a sweet smile. “That’s wonderful. Well, I’ll see you later then.” He says as he walks away. Jaden-Drake smiles as he watches him walk away. Well, he is really nice. He thought as he started to pack the rest of his stuff. “Going on a little play date?” Xander said as he waited for his friend.

He looks at him and blushes a little. “Really mate, really?” Drake said as he eyed his friend. Once he walks up to him and Xander pinches his arm while saying. “Come on you know how much I like to tease you.” He chuckles as he rolls his eyes. “We’ll see you tomorrow, Akira-kun.” He tells Akira as he walks out with Xander right behind him. “Hmm, what nice kids those two seem to be.” Sojiro says as he watches them walk out. “Yeah...yeah they are.” He says as he walks behind the counter. 

*Time Skip: Next Day; After School *

“*yawns*” 

“I told you to get enough sleep last night.” Draco said, glaring at Drake who seemed to be very tired. He rolled his eyes as the bearded dragon was giving him a little lecture. He closed his eyes as he sighed out, “Alright, alright. Can you quiet down so that way no can know that your-OOF” He was cut off by bumping into someone...again. He fell on his butt. “Crap. Oh, crap sorry...oh, hi Akira.” He said looking up to see who he bumped into. Akira just chuckled as he helped him. “We gotta stop this literally bumping into each other right away before this becomes a habit.” He tells him. “Yeah, I agree.” He chuckles a little bit. “I also agree.” Draco states as he pokes his head out of the bag. “Oh, Akira, so nice to bump into you. How is Sojiro fairing alone?” Xander said as he walked up. Akira looks at him. “Oh, He’s doing just great.”  While they were talking Jaden takes his hair out of its small ponytail and reaches in his bag to grab his brush. He begins to brush his hair seeing that he messed it up when he fell. “Hey Drake.” Ryuji said as he walked up to him. “What’s up?” He said as he put his hair back into a small ponytail. “Hey guys.” Ann said as she ran up to the group of boys.

“Hello Ann, how was your day?” Xander said looking at Ann. Ann looked at him and smiled. “My day has been going great, thanks for asking.” Ann said to Xander with a smile on her face. Jaden sighed as he smiled watching the interaction. Maybe it will be different. He thought. “Oh, that reminds me. Jaden, since you have been in a downward situation, Shujin has a school therapist. So if you want you can go talk to him. He’s a really nice guy.” Ann said looking at him. “Yeah, he is. He’s also really helpful.” Ryuji added in. “Huh, I might have to go check him out tomorrow then.” He said, looking at the two of them. Akira nodded in agreement with that statement. “His name is Dr. Maruki. Since you're planning on seeing him tomorrow.” He told him. “What’s this about Jaden seeing someone tomorrow?” Makoto asked, walking up to the group. “We were telling Drake about Doc.” Ryuji told her. “Ehh, afterwards I might just go to the velvet room.” Xander said to the group. “Alright.” Drake said looking at Xander. Akira looked at him and nodded. “Sorry I’m late, I was talking to one of my teachers about my last project.” Yusuke said as he came up to the group. “Alright since all here let's head over to the Palace.” Morgana told the group. They all nodded and started heading towards the museum. 

Once the Phantom Thieves got inside the palace, they started their plan. “Alright everyone let's do this.” Draco said as he started running. As they ran, they bumped into one of the guards. “Shit.” Ryuji said as the guards transformed into their true forms. “PERSONA!! PHOENIX!!” Jaden shouted right away as a burst of blue fire came around him. The persona above him was human-like with fire like wings. “Woah.” “MARAGIDYNE!!” He shouted at the top of his lungs. Watching the guard burst out in flames. “Jack frost! Ice Age!” Xander yelled right after Jaden. Everyone watches the guard disappear. “Come on let’s go.” Xander said as he walked ahead with Jaden right behind him. Draco followed in tow behind them both.  “Damn that was cool.” Ryuji said as he followed. Jaden chuckles as the rest of them follow. More guards showed up but the team took care of everyone that came and went into safe rooms a couple of times to level up and to regain lost sp. Then they went into the room where the treasure was. The room was massive; it looked like a throne room with statues of Jonathon’s family. “Wow, this is weird.” Ann said looking at one of the statues. “Tell me about it.” Makoto said. “I thought…” Jaden began as he looked. “I thought...I thought we weren’t important to him but I guess I was wrong.” 

“Let’s not worry about that now. Quickly find the treasure.” Morgana said. Everyone nodded. They all looked around the room trying to find it. “I wonder where Jonathan’s shadow is lurking?” Xander states while observing the area. “I don’t know but we better hurry.” Akira states. Yusuke looks around at the thrones. As he was observing them he looked up to find a painting. In the painting it showed a family with a child no older than four, a baby with blond hair growing on his head and a pair of very happy looking parents. “Do you think this would be the treasure?” He asked while looking at it. “It is the treasure if Mona starts going crazy for it.” Ryuji said as he looked at it. “Huh, let me see.” Morgana said as he walked up with the rest of the group. “MEOOW!” He said, causing Drake to jump a little out of surprise. “I think you scared uh, we never got your codenames did we.” Ann said looking at them. “Nope. We didn’t get yours as well.” Drake chuckled out as he rubbed the back of his head. Xander looked between Morgana and the painting. “Mona, that is not catnip.” He told him. “Uh-hum. Um, sorry about that.” Morgana said. “I lost my cool for a second.” 

“It’s fine since now we know that it is the treasure.” Jaden tells him with a calm expression. “Alright, let's grab it and get out of here.” Ryuji states. “Hey, Fox, give me a hand this shit’s kinda heavy.” He tells Yusuke as he tryings getting the painting. “Right.” He said as he went to help Ryuji. “Halt, stop right there thieves!” A booming voice came out. “Well, shit.” Ryuji said. “If you want the treasure you're gonna have to get through me.” As the group turned around to see the shadow turning into a giant bat-like creature. “Looks like he’s gone batty.” Xander jokes. “Pfft. Dude, really.” Jaden said with a chuckle. 

“Yes.” 

“Geez”

“Guys, focus!” Morgana told the two of them. “Mmmh, right.” They quickly got into their fighting positions. “PERSONA! LUNGE!” Ryuji shouted. Getting a good hit on him. “PERSONA! MABUFUDYNE!” Drake shouted. “EAGLE BEARER! SWORD DANCE!” Xander shouted out. Watch him freeze and get crushed by swords. “CARMEN! MARAGI!” Ann shouted out after the three boys. “JOHANNA! MAFREI!” Makoto shouted. “Wow, that’s one cool looking persona.” Drake said looking at her in awe. “Jaden, please pay attention to the battle. GOEMON! BUFU!”  Yusuke shouted. "DO YOU KNOW WHO I AM?!” Shadow Jonathan yelled at the top of his lungs. “Oh, Skull watch out!” Morgana shouted at Ryuji. “Ah, shit.” He said as a giant gust of powerful wind hit him and he fell on to his butt. “EEE!” Drake screeched as a giant wing hit him. “My children, come and help your dear family member.” The shadow said. “Right away uncle.” A little boy came running in. The little boy looked like the one in the painting. 

“Ah little Damien, just in time.” 

“Oh, no this can’t be good.” Ann said right as Damien gives Jonothan an item that healed him up. “Oh, come on!” Ryuji said. “Looks like we just have to attack him more. JACK FROST, DIAMOND DUST!” Xander shouted. “Hmm, you guys do that.” Jaden said as he looked at the boy. “DRAGON MAZIODYNE!” He shouts as his attacks hit the little boy. “EE, sorry ‘little’ brother. Heh.” He said as the boy fell. “Um, was that a smart idea?” Akira said looking at him. “Well, he did heal him before, who says he won’t do it again? Also, be careful cause he might have another up his sleeve.” Drake explains to him. Akira nods at his explanation. “WHAT?! NO!” Shadow Jonothan yelled as the little disappear. “ARSENE, EIHA!” Akira shouted. “PERSONA, GARULA!” Morgana shouted. “Ugh, my youngest come on out!” “Hmph.” A little boy from the other day came running out. “There’s more!” Ryuji said. “EAGLE BEARER, MARAKUNDA!” Xander yelled. The wings from shadow Jonothan started flapping his huge bat-like wings and started to make a huge gust of wind. “What the hell?” Jaden said as he put an arm up to cover his eyes from getting dust in them. The rest of the group is doing something similar to that. “YOU CANNOT DEFEAT ME THAT EASILY!” The shadow yelled as a gust of wind came hurtling towards the group. Knocking down a few of them. “Oh no, Scarcen, Fenikkusu was knocked down!” Draco shouted at Xander. “Huh, very interesting code-names.” Fox states looking at Scarcen. Scarcen pulls out his gun trying to dew Shadow Jonathan. “Who is up for an All-Out Attack?” He said, looking to the others. Joker, Panter, and Fox all nodded. All four of them pulled out their guns pointing at Jonathan’s shadow. As the all attack and Scarcen did the final blow and land he said. "Another feather to add to the collection.” 

“Gaah.” Shadow Jonathan grunted. He reverted to his regular form. “If I couldn’t deft you in that form then I’ll kill you in this one.” he shouted as he grabbed his sword. “Quick we got to get the other back on their feet.” Morgana shouted as he summoned Zorro. “PERSONA! MEDIA!” He shouted again, restoring a little bit of HP to his teammates. Scarcen braces himself. “PERSONA! RECARM!” Morgana shouted as Fenikkusu got up. “Thanks, mate.” He said as he got back into his fighting stance. “Your reign of pain ends here! PHOENIX! MAZIODYNE!” He shouted and pointed to Jonathan. Watching him get electrocuted.   

*Time Skip: After the Battle*

Once they won the battle, Shadow Jonathan cowered in fear in front of the group. “No, don’t kill me!” He said in fear. Fenikkusu just looked at him and anger appeared in his eyes. “Please, please. don’t ki-AAAA” he was interrupted by a blade being thrown at him and landed above his head. “I’ve seen how you people appear all defenseless at first and then strike your enemies down when their backs are turned.” Scarcen stated as his mask started glowing red. “That is not going to work.” He begins as he lifts Shadow Jonathan by his shirt, slamming him to the wall. “We are going to leave with your treasure. And you are going to confess all your sins to the public! Is that clear?!” He yelled in his face. Jonathan meekly nodded. “Good.” Scarcen said as he threw him down on the floor. As he looks up from the ground he locks eyes with Fenikkusu. “Drakey. Please help me. Please, I am so sorry.” He started as he crawled to him. “Please.” Fenikkusu looks down at him. “You think that after years and years of you lying to everyone. Lying to your family. Lying to my mom.” He begins to tear up looking away. “You left after threatening my family to take me away over 13 years ago. I just want to know. Why? WHY?!” Jonathan flinched after hearing that. “Let’s just get the treasure and then get out of here.” Panther said as she was looking at Fenikkusu. “Yeah...alright.” he agreed with a sigh. Draco ran and grabbed the painting. The palace started shaking and falling apart. “Let's get out of here. Mona, you know what to do.” Joker said as he looked at Morgana who just nodded. “R-right.” as he turned into his car form. “Come on Fenikkusu.” 

“Even though I am angry at you for what you did. Just so you know...I do forgive you for what you have done.” He said to him as he began to grab Draco and Scarcen. Getting into Mona with them. “Let’s go NOW!” He shouted as they drove away and out of there. “Are you okay or at least going to be, Drake?” Akira asked Jaden as he huffed. He looked at him and sighed. “Yeah. I’ll be fine.” He stated, while he turned to Akira and smiled. “Are you sure? You went pretty deep back there.” Ryuji said. “Yeah. It was almost kind of scary to watch.” Makoto chimed in. Drake looked at them and chuckled. “We have been in similar situations with our friends.” Xander said looking at the group. “Yeah, so it’s something you get used to. Also, it’s not like it’s going to be our last rodeo if you get what I mean. Also...I forgive him.” He said to them. Everyone in the group except for Xander looks at him in confusion. “What do you mean you forgive him?” Ann asks. “Didn’t he do your family wrong? He doesn’t deserve the forgiveness that you're giving him.” Yusuke said, looking at him. He looks at Fox. He just chuckles. “You guys don’t really know me that well since we just met, but I learned that there are things you just need to let go and forgive.” He tells them with a little smile. Draco titled his head in confusion. “Even after what he did to your family?” He asks as Jaden picks him and puts him in his bag. “Everyone deserves a second chance to redeem themselves. Even if they did you wrong in the past.” He said to him. “Well over time they deserve a chance unless they really did something wrong then it would be very tough for me.” He explained to the rest of them. “Think about it. What we are doing is essentially giving them a second chance by stealing their distorted desires and letting them start anew after they suffered the consequences for their sins.” Xander told them looking at them. “Even if you don’t forgive them we’re still giving them a second chance.” He continued. Drake nodded in agreement. “Yeah. Even though we have the memories of them doing wrong we can still have hope that they have changed.” He said looking at them with a smile on his face.

Everyone looked at the two speechless. They all stopped and agreed with what they were saying. “Anyways the painting is on the floor. Whoo, it looks like it did in the Palace.” Ryuji said as he looked down at it. “It does. Weird...” Ann said. “Huh, would you look at that. He really did still care about my family...even after all this time.” Jaden-Drake stated as he picked it up. “It’s a really beautiful painting. I wonder who painted it.” Yusuke said, looking at it. “Well, hard to believe but, Jonathan painted it himself.” Drake said looking at him. “Really? I didn’t think he was able to be a good painter.” Morgana said. “Well, he is, it's just that the fame went to his head. Anyways we’ll see all of you tomorrow. Xander and I gotta get going. Also, I need to give this back to my family.” said Drake as he was holding up the painting. “Wait, you’re not going to-oof” Ryuji got cut off by Akira shoving his elbow to his side. “Let us know how your family is going to react to it.” Akira told Drake as he adjusted his glasses. “Right. Well, bye.” He said with a little blush on his face as Xander and him walked away with Draco in his bag.  

 Xander smirks as he pokes Drake. “Seems like someone else’s heart was stolen today.” He stated. “Sh-shut up, mate.” He states as he pushes him away. “It’s not like that. I mean we just met. I can’t have a crush on him right away.” He blushed really red. “Do you think he is of the Lovers Arcana?” Xander continues to tease him. “What the hell man?!” Jaden whisper-yelled at him. Xander chuckles at his blushing friend. “Ugh, I hate you sometimes you know that.” He glares at him. “I know.” “Will you stop teasing him for once Xander? You can tell he is redder than a tomato.”  Draco tells him. “All right, all right I’ll stop. However, it applies to you two as well.” Xander tells them as he walks a little bit ahead of them. “Fine.” Jaden sighs out as he follows him. “Hey, it’s not like I tease you guys!” Draco hissed out. The boys laughed out at Draco’s complaint. 

*Time Skip: At school* 

“Mr. Kurusu, stop daydreaming when you are in my class!” Yelled a male teacher as he threw a piece of chalk at him. Akira dodged the piece of chalk and it ended up hitting a sleeping Drake against the head. “Huh, Ow.” Drake states as he wakes up and rubs his head. “Crap.” The teacher said as the students whispered about what Jaden was going to do. He just looked around in confusion. Looking for what hit his head. “Are you okay?” The teacher asked. “Um, yeah. Does anyone know what hit my head?” He answered the teacher. Everyone just started to snicker at the situation. Jaden fixes his seating position and starts looking down trying to find it as the teacher goes back to teaching. Once he found the chalk he got very confused. “Who threw a piece of chalk and why?” He whispered. “Oh, well.” He thought after not caring for an answer at that moment and time. A little while later class ended and Jaden grabbed his bag with Draco in it. “Hey, Akira do you know where Dr. Maruki is?” He asked him while catching up to him. “Hmm. Oh, Yeah. I can take you to him if you like.” Akira told him. “Sure. I don’t mind.” He said flashing a bright smile. C-Cute. Akira thought. “Hmm, Akira you good?” Drake asked him, looking a bit concerned. “Um, what yeah no I’m fine, come on let’s go.” They began their journey to the nurse’s office. They chatted about their lives and the Phantom Thieves. “Well, I’ll chat with you later then.” Akira told him as they were right in front of the nurse’s office. “Yeah. You too, mate.” He waved to him as he walked off. Drake sighed then knocked on the door. “Ah, yes come in!” He heard a young-sounding male call out from the other side. He opened that door and walked in to be greeted by a brown-haired young man with black glasses. “Oh hi, you must be one of our new students. Jaden-Drake, I’m guessing?” Dr. Maruki said as he walked over and bowed. “Um, yeah. And you must be Dr. Maruki. I heard a lot about you from a few of my friends.” He said bowing a little bit. “Go ahead and take a seat.” He motioned to the chairs. As Drake sat down the messy-haired doctor asked. “Would you like some tea?” The green-haired boy nodded at the question. As the doctor got him some tea and himself an apple juice the teen boy looked around the room. 

“Here you go. Do you also want some snacks?”

“Um, no thank you.”

“Alright, so what brings you here?” Dr. Maruki asks while he hands Jaden-Drake his tea and sits down on the couch right next to him. “Well. I just have a lot of stuff on my mind.” Drake began. “Really, like what?” He asks. “Well, since I just transferred here with my friend and a lot of problems that happened last year just came into my mind. It hasn’t really affected me in my school work thankfully. It’s just the fact that it’s hard for me to fully trust people because of last year. *sighs* Though, I’m not going to let my past affect me from making friends though.” He explained to Maruki. Maruki nodded as he listened to the green-haired teen. “May I ask you what happened last year?” Dr. Maruki asked. “Um, well. Basically, there was a kid I met last year that joined my friend group. We all thought he was a good guy but he ended up tricking us and we didn’t notice it but the people around us did. He tricked a few of my friends into kicking me out of the group.” Jaden stated as he rubs his sides. “I felt more...happy when I left the group. It was even shown when I was talking to my family. Turns out he affected my attitude itself. I got better friends after that and I learned my lesson. I thought about this from time to time, but I really wouldn’t want anything to be changed. Cause if that situation didn’t happen then I wouldn’t have the friends I do now and I wouldn’t be able to see who was my true friend and not. Well, I had a lot more situations in my life that taught me that same lesson. Like one of my early guy friends, from when I was 12, sexually harassing me and asking me to have sex with him. And friends turning on me and abusing me emotionally for a few years in elementary school.” Drake finished it up. He looked at the doctor who seemed a bit surprised. “Well, that’s a lot that has happened to you in your life. And you wouldn’t want to change a thing even if you had a chance?” 

Jaden shook his head. “No, because I believe everything happens for a reason. And I believe I wouldn’t be here today if I didn’t go through my trials in my early childhood, fighting my next trials in life. Since life isn’t always sunshine and rainbows. There’s always going something that life will throw at you.” He explained. He nodded right after that explanation. “Hmm, you do seem like that type. Very cheerful too. I bet you will make lots of friends here too.” He chuckled at the comment. “I hope I will. Well, it was nice meeting you Doc. Thank you for listening.” He said as he got up and bowed. “Hmm, your welcome. It was nice meeting you as well. Come again if you have any other problems or you just want to talk, my door is always opened.” The doctor tells him with a soft smile. Drake nods and walks out the door while waving to Doc. “Wow, you kinda went deep back there.” Draco said as he pokes his head out of the bag. “Deep in what?” a voice came from behind them. Xander comes up from behind while adjusting to his glasses. He looks at the two with a bit of a confused expression. “I kinda went too deep when talking to Dr. Maruki. I basically gave him a short version of the story of my life.” Drake explained while rubbing the back of his neck. “Well, it is good to have an adult who can vent out your problems too.” Xander stated as they walked off. “Well, that is true.” Drake signed out, walking next to the taller male. “The thing is I already do. It’s just that he’s always busy so...I guess this is one way to vent if I can’t vent to him.” he continued. 

Xander gave him a confused look. “What do you mean? Do you have someone that lives in Japan that you can vent to?” He asked looking at his friend. Jaden-Drake automatically stopped in his tracks. “Shit.” he whispered to himself. “You know that you can’t lie to me. I can differentiate truth from lie. I can see emotions. Feel pressure and hear expressions. My sixth sense is impossible to hide something from it.” The dark tan boy turned to his friend relaying the true powers he had received from his persona. Drake sighed looking at his friend. “I know that I can’t lie and the same goes to you buddy. I can sense when people are lying. Just more on an animalistic level though. *sighs* He’s a dude I know that had come to visit in America when he was a kid and my family got to know his family and in turn we visited him here in Japan. And he is always busy nowadays. Not like he wasn’t busy before when we were kids.” He mumbled the last part to himself. “Look, one of these days I’ll introduce you guys. Not right now.” He finished off with a sigh. He started rubbing his neck again. “Ok then. Just be glad that I am unable to pry into a person’s memory.” Xander told him. Drake looked at him and laughed. “You're making it sound like he is a bad person when he is like my older brother. Bawha. Dude trust me. I’ll get you guys to meet him. But like I said he is always busy. You can just ask me what he does mate.” he told his friend as they began walking again to meet up with the others to hang out. “I know, you seemed rather joyous whenever you mentioned him. It’s hard to notice but it is there.” He chuckled as his friend laughed. They both just laughed as they walked on. 

*The news on the television*

A man with short, black hair walked up to the podium in front of all the news reporters and his audience with cameras showing live footage for everyone at home to see. He is shown to be breathing in and out as everyone wonders what he is going to say. “Everyone, I have wrong you all for a very long time. I am not the artist you think I am. I have taken others' work for my own self-gain. I have even stolen my own art pieces from people that I have given said pieces to.” He sighs as he looks at everyone with teary eyes. “I have also hurt those that were closest to me. By letting someone in and letting them tear into me and being rude and hurting the people I love in the process. To those that I hurt, stolen from, and never seen in years because of my actions... I am sorry *Sobs* I am so so very sorry. There are no words to describe how sorry I am.” He sobbed out. He kept on crying on camera. Everyone watched as he kept on crying. Some were angry while others felt bad for this man. “I let my pride overshadow me. I stole others’ work so my work was the only one people would see and I would brag how good it was. So after this, I will make this right by giving the artworks back. From those I have stolen, to those I have taken from. I have already given back a painting that belonged to my family. *sniff* I hope that you all can forgive me one day. And to those that I love...I hope that you can come and visit me so we can talk and have a spot of tea or just have something to eat. Thank you.” Just like that, as soon as he finished his speech the reports, just like a swarm of wasps, started asking him questions. He ignored them as he walked away from his podium. 

*At Leblanc*

“Damn, I didn’t expect him to be crying in front of the cameras.” The spiky-haired blonde said while watching the small TV on the wall. The Phantom Thieves were all at Leblanc’s hanging out for the day while the TV was on. “Once a person’s distorted desires are taken away they will start to confess their sins since they realize how bad they are. The worse, or the more sins they made, the more burdened the person feels.” Xander explained to them. “No, I’m fine...yes...bro trust me...yes I am watching it...no I didn’t threaten him...let’s just say I am apart of a new team...yeah...love you too...yes I’ll let you know if the school does anything stupid...yeah talk to you later to...bye bro.” The green-haired teen talks on the phone in the background of the others. “We, understand that bit...but it’s strange just watching it,” The blue-haired teen stated. He sighed then looked at Xander. ”I’ve been meaning to ask this, but how long have you two been doing this? Since you two know so much about this stuff and seem to be very knowledgeable in this sort of thing.” Yusuke asks while looking between the two as Drake hangs up his phone. Drake came over to the others and both of them looked at each other. The multicolor-eyed teen rubbed the back of his neck. “I think the 18th of July marks 10 months since we had gotten our Personas and started this journey.” Xander stated. “Yeah, we’ve been doing this for a while so, if you guys have any questions you can ask us.” Jaden told them with a smile. Draco nodded as he tried to bite Morgana’s tail. “Yep. I also got a lot of knowledge about a lot of situations.” Draco stated as he was still trying. “That reminds me, have you gotten any of your memories back since we’ve been here?” Jaden asked, looking at the bearded dragon, moving the feline's tail in the process. The dragon glared at him once he said that. “Bits and pieces but nothing I can make out.” He sighed out. “Huh, you don’t have all your memories either. I guess I am not the only one.” Morgana said looking at Draco with a smile. Draco’s eyes widened as he looked at the blacked-haired feline. “You lost your memories too?” he asked with his pure black eyes that were full of life.  “Wow, you guys lost both your memories...you know what, you guys could most likely be brothers.” Jaden said as he finally sat down. “How can a cat and a lizard both be related when they're not a part of the same category of genetic species.” Yusuke said looking between the two creatures. “Well, they're unlike the creatures that they are based on. I mean, they can eat normal human food without getting sick, so there could be a chance.”  Drake said as he petted both creatures. 

They all nodded in understanding. “Oh wait, Xander, don't forget that we have to get job applications. And don’t you say the shadows in the Metaverse can give us enough yen! We both know that’s not true. So please get my computer out while I go wash my hands.” Jaden-Drake told Xander as he walked to the bathroom. “Ok, how about that beef bowl shop?” Xander asks Drake as he comes back. “Are they hiring for two people? Cause we don’t have to do the same thing. I mean as long as it’s not you know what. I’m cool with it.” Jaden tells him. “Well, they said that they need as much help as they can get, meaning that both of us could work there.” Xander told his green-haired friend. As the two teens talked about their job hunting, they didn’t notice Akira and Sojiro listening in on their conversation. Akira looked at Sojiro with a knowing look and Sojiro nods. “Hey, if you boys want, I can have one of you work here. It’s if you want of course.” The older man said to the two. Both boys looked at each other. “I mean if you're okay with it. Then sure I guess that is fine.” Jaden said looking at him with a smile. “Sure, Jaden would LOVE to work with you and Akira.” Xander stated with a little smirk on his face. Jaden’s face turned bright red after he heard that statement. “Well, I guess that settles it then. You’ll start tomorrow. Akira will teach you the basics.” The older male with glasses told Jaden as he smiled at him. The green-haired teen nodded in agreement while still blushing red. Everyone chuckled a little as Jaden started to calm himself down.

*Time Skip: July 17 Sunday*

Jaden-Drake groaned as he walked with the three other boys and two creatures to a festival Ryuji had been talking about for a few days now. It was really hot and Drake was sweating from wearing a black jacket and light blue jean pants. I should have stayed home. Or agreed to work with Sojiro today. He thought as they got there. He really didn’t like the heat but learned how to get used to it because he grew up in California, both central and southern. Once they got there, the shortest boy heard the blond complain. “It’s so hot.” He stated. “It’s as if we’ve walked around in an enormous sauna.” Jaden rolled his eyes at Yusuke. “Mate, you shouldn’t be wearing dark colors then. It makes it worse since the dark colors absorb the heat.” Jaden told Yusuke, who was wearing dark-colored clothes. “I have experienced walking kilometers through deserts, this is nothing.” Xander told them with a bit of pride in his voice. “And I grew up in the hottest parts of California and trained in hot weather. Still learned wearing dark clothes was/is a very terrible idea.” Jaden explained. “Whose bright idea was it to come here again?” Ryuji stated as he turned to his friends. “Yours.” Morgana stated as he popped out of the bag. While the boys were bickering a bit, a female news reporter was recording the festival. “And just look at that crowd. Smiling faces everywhere you look.” She exclaimed. “Huh, didn’t really expect the news team to be here.” The multicolor-eyed boy said looking over to where he heard the voice. “With that, let’s move right into asking some of the visitors here for their comments.” She finished off. “A TV crew, hm?” Yusuke stated. “I don’t really like the sound of it.” Jaden stated. “We better not stand out then.” Akira stated. “Hmm, I agree.” Drake with his friend. “We should grab our kebabs and get outta here.” Ryuji said with a smile. “Ah, let’s interview those five.” The female reporter said gesturing to the group. “Is she talking about us?” Yusuke asked. “I don’t know but I really don’t like the sound of it if she is.” Draco said hiding in Jaden’s bag still. “What the-” Ryuji exclaimed. “What do we do, Akira?” Morgana asked the messy-haired teen. “Let’s just stay calm.” He told them. “Right.” 

“Good point. We’ll look even more suspicious if we panic now.” Yusuke said looking at his leader. “They got us.” Morgana said in a nervous tone. “Oh, no.” Draco said as he ducks back into the bag. “Aw, hell...okay, I’m gonna start making some real cringey comments so they can't use any of the footage.” Ryuji told them. Jaden facepalm and shook his head. “Idiot.” He mumbled under his breath. Akira chuckled at his friend's comment. “Wait, where did Xander go?” Xander was still standing right next to them however he was hiding under the Shadow of Nyx whilst silently laughing at them. “Dang it, is he using that Shadow-thing again?” Jaden stated as he looked around. “Hello! It sure is hot today, huh?” The lady said, looking at Ryuji. “Yeah, for sure!” He stated. “And if it’s this hot in July, can you imagine just how insane the weather’s gonna be in December?” “Ah, anyway...since you’re here for the festival, does that mean you and your friends there are meat lovers?” She asked him. “Uh...I’d say that we’re really lovers of fruit! Oh, and sweets! Sweets are just to DIE for!” He told her. The lady looked at him and then started to chuckle nervously. “Well, ah...thank you very much for your time!” She said to him. As soon as she walked away Ryuji relaxed. “Phew, that was too close.” “That was truly cringe-worthy, but are you certain that they won’t air any of it?” Yusuke said, looking to his blind friend. “That wasn’t that bad. You should see the stuff back in America.” Drake told Yusuke. “I’m pretty sure she thought that was a broadcast disaster. We oughta be okay.” Ryuji answered his blue-haired friend's question. “If you say so, mate.” 

“More important than that, though; it’s time to get some MEAT!” Morgana purred out. “Oh, right! My kebab!” Ryuji said. “Can I just have some tiny pieces of whatever you're gonna eat, Drake?” The bearded dragon said, popping his head out. “Yeah.” After the group got in line they got their food. “The lines for the food stalls were even more insane than the heat!” Ryuji whined out. “Standing around in this sweltering heat was rather trying.” Yusuke sighed out. “If you think that's bad, how about standing in line at Disneyland. That could be way worse. And trust me I would know.” Jaden told the two of them. “And almost all the good stuff was already sold out.” Ryuji sighed out. “I didn’t eat breakfast this morning. I’m starting to get light-headed…” Morgana said. “Geez. Even though I didn’t eat for a different reason and I ain’t getting light-headed...well then again.” Jaden said. “Even still, an occasion like this seems to make everything taste delicious.” Yusuke said with a small smile. “That’s because the food is cooked here and not at a fast food place.” Jaden said with a smile. “I go to a lot of places like this with my dad or older brother. They're always so good.” Jaden stated while drooling. Xander nodded. “Yeah, this is good food.” He smiled out. Akira sighs. “I really wanted a kebab.” He said, a little disappointed. “B-But look, Akira-at least we have shaved ice.” Morgana told him. “You can have some of mine. I don’t really mind since I’m not a big kebab person and only really wanted to try it.” Jaden said holding his kebab up to Akira. “Really? Right, if you're giving me some of your food you can have some of my shaved ice. If you want some.” He said to the shorter male. “It’s fine, mate. You don’t have to give me some. Trust me on that much.” Jaden replied with a smile. “Welp, we came all the way out here, so we might as well go check that thing out.” Ryuji mentioned to his friends. “What thing?” Yusuke questioned. “I heard they’re building some kinda huge-ass stadium or somethin’ nearby. Wait, was that what it was?” Ryuji questioned himself at the end. “You don’t know what you’re talking about, do you?” Morgana asked him. “Oh, I heard that the last time I was talking to my older brother. He believes it is a stadium.” Drake stated as he was being handed Akira’s snow cone by Akira himself. “A stadium…” “Oh yeah, I kinda forgot about that.” Xander mutters out. “Well, such buildings often have intriguing architecture; I’d love to see it for personal reference.” Yusuke stated. “Yeah? Let’s go then!” Ryuji said to the group. 

They got to the construction area only to see that they barely started working on it. “Oh c’mon, that’s it? They barely even started!” Ryuji exclaimed. “We seem to be premature spectators.” Yusuke stated. Drake looked at it. “Huh, I thought they started a week ago.” He said looking up at it. “I guess this is what people call ‘jumpin’ the gum.’” Ryuji said. “Jumping the gun.” Mona corrected. “Say, isn’t that Kasumi?” Xander said, pointing to a very saddened girl with red hair that was in a ponytail by a ribbon. “Hey, I believe that is. Why does she look so sad?” Jaden said looking at her. “Well, anyway; hey Ryuji, I’m up to grab a bite with ya.” He said looking at the disappointed blond. “What really?” He stated in surprise. “Yeah, I’m kinda still hungry since I ate very little.” The teen stated to him. “Well alright. C’mon, let's go then Jaden-Drake.” Ryuji said, walking off. “Well, I’ll leave you two to go talk to Kasumi to see if she's okay.” Jaden said following the blond with Draco still in his bag who seemed rather happy as well. Xander and Akira walked up the teen girl. “Hello, Kasumi-san.” Xander said. Kasumi jumped a bit in surprise. “Auditore-Senpai, Kurusu-Senpai?!”  She said to both of them. “What a pleasant surprise.” Akira said to the red-haired girl.  “It is also a pleasant surprise to see you here as well,” Xander states while looking at Kasumi. “Y-Yes. Did you two come to see the stadium too?” She asked them with a fallen expression. “We decided to visit the stadium out of curiosity,” Xander explained to her. “Same here, I needed to give myself a pep talk.” She told the two boys. “Is something wrong?” Akira asks. “Sometimes, when things get me down I come here.” She states with a small smile. “Although that doesn’t really answer your question does it?” She says after thinking for a bit. “I know this may get in the way of your guys' plans, but would you two be willing to join me for lunch?” She asked with her eyes looking rather red and puffy. “Sure, we don’t mind.” Akira said, thinking it was best to accompany her.  

*Time Skip: Dinner*

“Phew! That was delicious.” She said happily, stretching out her arms “What did I just witness?” Akira said with a worried look. “I always like this after a meeting.” Kasumi said with a little smile. “In all honesty, I’d like to keep going...but any more will end up harming a performance.” “Next time let’s go to an all-you-can-eat buffet,” Xander chuckled out. “So the meet was done?” Akira askes.  “Simply put? It was a disaster.” Kasumi sighed out. “I’ve been feeling like I’m getting back into the natural flow of things, thanks to you two.” Kasumi said to both of them, still being a little sad. “Smile my dear! You know you’re never fully dressed without one!” Xander smirked out. Thinking no one would get where that’s from. Kasumi looked at the tan-skinned boy and then laughed a little. Her smile had fallen when she stated. “But when the moment of truth arrived, my body still wouldn’t move the way that I wanted it to…” “Is it more of a mental thing?” Akira asked her. “I think… that’s a big factor” She told them. “Something similar happened to me in middle school-but back then, I had someone by my side that kept me going...” “Who do you mean?” Akira asked her out of curiosity. “...” Kasumi sighed. “I… have a younger sister.” Kasumi told the two boys “We promised each other that we’d win international gymnastics  together...competitions.” She explained. “But this spring, she... died, in an accident” Her expression was not the best at this moment and time. “I promised her we’d take the gold for our routines across the world. But I can’t stop worrying about my lack of improvement lately. I’ve really been throwing myself into practice, but I wonder if even that won’t be enough...” She explained to them.  “It’s not over yet.” Akira told her. “Agreed.” Xander nodded. “After all, if you feel like you hit rock bottom, just know this. There is only one way to go and that is up.” He said confidently. “If you ever need help with anything my friends and I would be willing to help out during your time of need.” Xander finished off with a small smile. “Thank you. And you're right, Kursu-Senpai, I can’t let it end like this! You guys just keep on rescuing me, don’t you?” Kasumi stated as she smiled. “Okay! No more brooding! There are still more meets left this year. I’m going to start from scratch and train as hard as I can.” “That’s the spirit,” Xander told her while Akira nodded. “Thank you guys so much for listening to all that! Now I feel like I’ve been recharged, mind, body, and spirit-” she cut herself off. “...Well, at least my mind and spirit are recharged! The best way to stave off hunger is with some vigorous activity! I’m going to jog home, take care!” She got up and walked away from the two boys. “After eating!? Talk about an iron stomach.” Xander said as he watched her walk off. 

*Time skip: Evening*

“Woo, I’m beat.” Jaden-Drake stats as he flops down on the couch. “Hey, dude how was the whole lunch thing with Yoshizawa?” He turned to his friend who was leaning out to the kitchen counter. “It went well, she just needed someone to cheer her up,” Xander said, looking at his friend. “Alright.” He sighed and turned on the T.V. then began to start laughing. “I knew it. See they should let me do it.” He shook his head as the news from earlier showed his blond friend. As soon as he was about to change the channel his phone chimed. Thinking it was the group he checked his phone. “Shite…” He said under his breath.  “Glad that I used that stealth tactic.” The tanned boy said while looking at the T.V. “I’m glad I was in the bag.” Draco said as he sat on the couch right beside Jaden. “Hey, can both of you be quiet real quick, my brother wants to call me. Also, Xander, you saw the text Ryuji sent us? Glad I gave him my kabab still while I got to catch his shaved ice haha.” The green-haired teen stated as he got on his phone and started to dial his brother. “Hey...bro...what’s up?” Jaden started. “You saw it...What?...Oh yeah...I know I told them I could make it way worse than that….Yeah...Next time I’ll do that...Yeah love you too bye.” Jaden sighs as he hangs up. “Phew. I thought that was going to be way worse than that.” “How worse can you make it?” His friend asked him. “Oh, I was talking about the phone call. The news thing I would have just answered the questions in English but pretend I don’t understand what she is saying or just told her not to record us cause we didn’t want to be on TV.” The older teen explained. “Oh, that kind of method. I would have spoken in a language that I learned from the bleeding effect.” Xander stated. “Oh, I thought of something else at the time that is something you know I would do...or I could have spoken in Greek.” 

*Time Skip: July 17 Monday*

[Phone convo]

Ryuji: Tomorrow’s the fireworks festival! Let’s meet at Shibuya at 5!

Ann: Hey, Makoto. Are you going to wear a yukata?

Makoto: I’m planning on it.

Yusuke: Yukatas are a great part of the summer tradition... They truly heighten a woman’s beauty.

Yusuke: I think I will wear mine as well.

Xander: I made sure to bring one, I will also make sure that Jaden does as well.

Ryuji: You three got one…? How about you, Akira?

Akira: I don’t have a yukata.

Ann: Hey, I know! Why don’t you come without your glasses?

Makoto: What’s the point in that?

Ann: I dunno, you don’t get to see fireworks everyday, so it’d be sad just wearing normal clothes!

Ann: I was just thinking he might want to go for a change of pace.

Ryuji: That sounds great! You should totally come without glasses!

Ryuji: Welp, you guys better not be late tomorrow!  

“So can I wear a little bow tie since you guys are gonna wear your yukatas?” Draco asks as he watches both boys start trying to look for their clothes. The two looked at each other in confusion. “On your tail?” Xander questions. “No, around my neck like a human.” He said. “I don’t know if we have one your size mate.” Jaden stated as he looked through a box. “Aw, man.” He said. “Sorry little buddy.” They continued their search for their yukatas. “I wonder what Akira would look like in a yukata though...” The green haired teen mumbled while blushing. “Looks like love is in the air.” Xander stated as he watched his friend’s blush turn darker. “God, I hate you sometimes dude.” The older teen said looking at him. “I know. Anyways, let’s go check our closets?” “*sighs* Alright then.” 

*Time Skip: Daytime*

The boys finally found their yukatas and started to put them on. Drake was blushing a little bit as soon as he was done putting it on. The yukata he wore was mint green with a dragon design with a bird on it. “Maybe I should wear something underneath so that way I feel less exposed to the world. How about you Xan-man?” He asked his friend who was still putting on his. His yukata was white with a design of a silver-colored eagle with the eye of the eagle containing a blue flame in the iris. “You should always wear something underneath.” He replied as he finished trying it on. “True.” He paused for a moment. “Well unless it’s a quilt.” Xander looked at him with a confused look as he went off to his room. “Wait what?” he asked. “Ask my dad.”  He heard him shout. When both boys were finished, with Draco in the bag, they went out the door and headed straight for Jaden’s car. “Alright. Okay so let’s head to Shibuya...forgot to ask you. Wanna take the car or do you want to take the train?” He asked, looking at his friend. “Train is faster.” Xander told him. “Right, let's go then”

Once they were on the train they were pushed together since the train was really crowded. “I hate this.” The shorter of the two sighed out. He really hated being in crowded areas sometimes. This time being one of them. “Now for today’s Train News. Today’s headlines are…’Fireworks Festival Tonight’, expect roads and transportation to be congested for the entire day. ‘Sudden Weather Changes: Imminent!’ Be careful of sudden shifts in climate from afternoon to night.” The train monitor announced. “Huh, so that means most of these people are going to the firework festival.” The green-haired teen stated. “Great.” The black-haired teen stated while sighing.  

*Time Skip: Evening*

The group of five boys were all standing around waiting for the girls to arrive. “Uuuugh, It’s so hooooot…” Ryuji groaned out. “I feel like I’m being baked.” Morgana whined. “I think it feels good. Since I was stuck inside the apartment for most of the day today.” Draco growled out. “Those girls are way too late.” Ryuji complained. “It must be taking time for them to put on the yukata.” Yusuke explained. “Or maybe it’s traffic. Since it is an event going on and a lot of the roads are blocked.” Drake explained to the blond. “Why aren’t you two wearing one?” Yusuke asks the boys in normal clothes. “I don’t got clothes like yukata. But man, you look way too normal in that.” Ryuji said while looking at Yusuke. “I have to agree.” The shorter male said “People often say that to me.” Yusuke said. “Well, then again, depending on the person I meet I would say the same.” Drake told them. Yusuke nods. “That makes a little bit of sense.” “Ah, by the way...the exams…” Ryuji mentioned. “I bet you got a big fat F on them.” Morgana joked. “Shuddup! We- We don’t know that yet.” He glared at the blue-eyed feline. “That was very rude to say Mona. Even by my joking standards.” Drake told the feline. “Wait until our grades come in.” Xander stated. “Really. Don’t make him even more stressed.” The multicolored-eyed teen stated. Right after Drake stated that, two young ladies came up to them. One was in a pink yukata and the other wore a black yukata. “Are you going to the fireworks festival?” The lady in the pink yukata asks them. “That’s right.” Yusuke answers. “Us too! Wanna go together?” The one in a black yukata asks while coming close to Drake. Drake backed away from her and went next to Akira. “Are we…getting hit on?” Ryuji said, stunned. “I would rather not get involved with this.” Xander stated while backing away a little. “C’mon, let’s go together.” The pink yukata lady suggested. “Do you happen to be a model? You look great in that yukata.” The one in the black said to Yusuke. “Is your friend in the green yukata shy or something?” She asked point to Drake who is currently hiding behind Akira. “He doesn’t trust new people that well.” Akira stated to the ladies. He goes back to looking at Ryuji. “Waitin’ around’s a pain, so can we just go with these chicks?” He asked. “No way.” Akira answered, shaking his head. “We’ll all apologize to the others later!” Ryuji smirked. “This is a dishonorable action, what would Ann and Makoto say to this?” Xander asked, looking at Ryuji. “Who cares?” He told him. “That’s enough! You’re disgracing your yukata. You should be more aware of your womanhood.” Yusuke told the ladies. They both looked at each other, then walked away. “That kinda was a bit mean there, mate.” Drake told Yusuke as he got out of his hidden position.  “They were being disgraceful. What else can I say?” He asked. “How could you?!” Ryuji said with disbelief. “Why don’t you go after them then?” Ann said. Both her and Makoto walked up to the group. “So those are the kinds of girls you like, Ryuji.” Makoto said. Xander and Drake chuckled at that comment. “Uh, well… That’s…” Ryuji began but could think of anything to say. “...You know, Yusuke’s a pretty boy, but he is really missing out because of what he says.” Ann stated. “I guess, but he’s more likeable since he stays true to his ideals. Definitely more than somebody I know.” Makoto stated while eyeing Ryuji. “I have to agree with both of you on that. But then again we are high schoolers so we’re going to think differently now then when we’re adults.” Xander said with a little chuckle. “I heard that Ryuji’s pretty much failed his exams.” Morgana chimed in with a little smirk. “Oh?” Makoto looked at the black-furred feline. “Mona, you little-” Ryuji began but got cut off. “Hey, it’s gonna get crowded if we don’t get going.” Ann said. “Agreed.” Yusuke said. The group had begun walking away right when Ryuji started talking to the ladies from before. “But man, you both look amazin’ in yukata! Talk about Japanese beauty…” When he was done he opened his eyes just to see the group walk away. When he got to them Drake made a little remark. “Dude, don’t even try at this point.” “H-Hey!” 

Once they got to a convenient store, the show had already begun. “Oh… It started already…” Ann sighed out. “Ah!” Jaden heard some people say. “I see it.” Some lady shouted out as people looked up and saw huge fireworks lit up the sky. “Wooh.” People started cheering as the group was watching a few raindrops come down. “Oh, no.” Drake said in disappointment. “Why now…” Makoto said while Ann groaned. Draco jumped a little as soon as he heard thunder. The group got under the convenient store’s header roof to dry off. Jaden-Drake wasn’t really too pleased as they were drying off watching Ryuji, Akira, and Yusuke, who were right next to him, watch Ann lift up her yukata. So that she can get the water out of it. Xander, in the meanwhile, wasn’t paying any attention to what was going on. But as soon as Makoto pointed it out to Ann they quickly looked away. “Come on!” She said a little loud. “Looks like you need help…” Ryuji stated while still looking away. “Then why don’t you go and buy me a towel already then, huh?” She said as she grabbed Ryuji and shook him a bit. Drake looked at them and shook his head while Makoto sighed. Right before he could sit the two up the speaker stopped them both. “Due to the sudden change in weather, a heavy rain and flood warning has been issued nearby.” It spoke. “Since the festival cannot proceed in this weather, we truly apologize for canceling today’s fireworks show.” Right as the speaker was speaking this information the group watched a woman about their age with a few people standing by get into a black car. 

They soon went inside to get out of the rain even more. “Ack… We’re just trying to get outta the rain, but look how crowded it is…” Ryuji said. “I guess everyone had the same idea.” Ann sighed out. Drake sighed. “I knew we should have brought the car.” he stated, shaking his head. Makoto was still staring outside while the three of them had made their statements. “What’s up?” Ann asked her. “Mm, I think I just saw someone I know…” Makoto stated to the group. “You mean the girl in the black car?” The blond female asked. “Well, she’s got a ride...” Ryuji huffed out. “The rain seems relentless. Might be a while before it stops.” Xander said as he looked outside. “I have to agree with you on this one mate.” Jaden sighed out. The short male sighed out. “Time to show off your skills, Mona! We need you as a car!” Ryuji exclaimed to the cat. “It’s not possible in the real world.” Morgana shouted at him. “My feet hurt…it’s cold…the festival’s been canceled…this sucks.” Ann complained. “You know if my mom were here she would say ‘suck it up buttercup’. So is everyone else but you don’t hear them complain.’” Drake said at Ann's comment. “That’s a mean thing to say.” Makoto said, looking at him. “My mom is brutally honest.” He said looking back at her. “We made such a commotion with the public, and this is what we get? Laaame...” Ryuji said with a sad look on his face. “Aren’t heroes that lurk in the shadows boring?” He looked to Akira. “I like the shade.” Akira told him with a little smile. “What are you, moss?” Ryuji asked. Drake giggled at the conversation. “Well, it’s much better this way.” He giggled out. “Even Drake agrees with me.” Akira pointed out. “Whatever, you two are weird.” The blond sighed out. “I want to change the world with a loud bang, like a huge firework!” Ryuji complained. “...Then again, we aren’t gonna find anyone bigger than Kaneshiro that easily.” He continued on, looking disappointed. “We will just have to wait for another criminal to reveal themselves.” Xander told him, shaking his head a little. They all nodded at Xander’s comment. “The rain is letting up. Though it’s regrettable, we should go our separate ways for today.” Yusuke told the group as he was looking outside. “Yeah. Let’s go home.” Morgana said in agreement. 

Words: 10956

Sorry for the long wait pictures for this chapter are coming soon. 

Posted: 05/07/2020