#i don't know here take it before i psych myself out

[eclarinet]

same soup... different day

[foldingfittedsheets]

Before my beloved and I moved in together they were living with roommates in a place that didn't have a bathtub. Now, a reasonable person might conclude from this that baths would be out of the equation in a home with only one standing shower and no tub.

But these people weren't quitters. Naturopathic doctors and acupuncturists they were dedicated to treating their bodies well and one of the ways they liked to do that was hydrotherapy. Most people are familiar with this through things like polar bear plunges. You sit in a hot tub then jump in freezing water.

It's supposedly good for you and they were way into it. But again, no tub. They'd do hydro showers but it just wasn't the same. These people were not quitters, though. (One of them is the boob soap person, so it really isn't a surprise that she goes hard on everything). So they got what looked like two big metal old timey tubs but which were actually animal food troughs and set them up in the garage. They set up a water heater and god knows how they emptied the tub after, I think there was hoses involved? A pump maybe? I honestly can't remember. Anyway! Voila, hydrotherapy on demand.

I was not aware of this. So when I came over after a long day and my beloved said we should take a bath I was extremely puzzled. I only knew about the one shower. They showed me the garage tubs. I did want a bath and I wasn't really sure about the setup, but honestly I'll try anything once if only for the story, so I agreed.

Fun fact about me though. I haaaate being cold. I've been 0% body fat most of my life with skin barely keeping my bones enclosed. I'm always cold. My favorite activity at the time was sitting directly in front of space heaters. My shower temperatures turn me lobster red and make my beloved cringe. Willingly dunking myself into cold water is the antipathy of my entire deal.

On the night in question I happily submerged into the warm tank, pleasantly surprised by the big silly improvised tub. Which again was meant for livestock. My knees bumped companionably against my beloved as we soaked in the hot water. After a while they rose to go into the cold water. "You don't have to," they told me.

But I was haunted. I wouldn't be doing hydro if I just stayed in the warm tub. Maybe hydro was amazing. It has all these health benefits. I desperately didn't want to but I stood up with them. We were having this nice intimate evening in the garage, just us, I felt safe. I was gonna do it.

They stepped easily into the cold tub, dunking matter of factly into the frigid water. I went to step. I did. I really really tried. My foot went in and I started shrieking, my progress arrested by the total state of shock I entered when my warm toasty foot hit that smug arctic water tension. My beloved started laughing as my pitch ascended the deeper my foot went into the cold water.

I started loudly narrating my discomfort as my foot touched the bottom and I willed my other foot up to join it. "THIS IS VERY COLD," I yelled, "IT'S SO COLD I THINK I MIGHT DIE HOW ARE YOU JUST CASUALLY SITTING IN THIS FREEZING COLD WATER?! I'M DYING- I THINK I'M DYING! I'M DYING BUT WE'RE HERE, TOGETHER! I CAN DO THIS! I CAN DO THESE EVEN THOUGH IT'S SO COLD ALL MY MOLECULES HAVE COMPRESSED INTO A SOLID STATE!"

I ended up with both feet planted in the cold tub, water up to my shins, bellowing and panting while my beloved laughed so hard they couldn't breathe. I hunkered over the cold water, squatting like a frozen gargoyle.

My beloved was trying to psyche me up while I willed my body to obey me. In a sudden jerky drop like a puppet whose strings have been cut I plummeted my body into the cold and let out a shriek that I’m sure could have shattered glass and then leapt up out of the water at a speed relative to a rocket achieving space flight. I didn’t like it.

When we got back inside my beloved's roommates were collapsed on the ground with tears in the their eyes from how hard they'd been laughing. They and probably every neighbor down the block had heard my pterodactyl screeching and narration because the garage was not remotely soundproof.

[peachesofteal]

how’s clover going to manage that conversation next time she goes into his office..

or will she even go again?

also i think dr riley is so interesting as a character already.. i need to take a little look in your brain for a bit bc whatever’s cooking up there is good shit

psych au - 18+ - tw for mental health, ptsd, extreme suicidal ideation, Clover is a mess. Dr Riley crosses a line. Part One / Part Two / Part Three

You're kind of stuck to the floor, surrounded by beige walls, and beige carpet, the waiting room's obnoxious brown beige clock ticking on the wall.

All of it feels very loud.

You took the train again today, and stepped closer to the yellow line. You stepped over it, even, too aware of the man to your left's gaze, his beady, nervous unblinking eyes, calculating what exactly were you trying to do.

Yeah, kid. What exactly are you trying to do?

It crosses your mind again, for more than a split second this time. Throwing yourself onto the tracks. Closing your eyes. Letting your head go quiet, finally. No one talks about how easy it is. How they just come and scrape you up, load what’s left into a black bag, and clean up the scene. One second, one decision, and you’d be gone, eyes closed, mind empty.

No one would blame you. Another service member with PTSD. What a surprise.

"And did you hear what happened? I wouldn't be able to live with myself after that, either."

It's bad now. It's gotten worse. Therapy was supposed to help but you're not made for civilian life. You're not supposed to be here, and you've tried saying it over and over until you're blue in the face, but Dr. Riley doesn't budge. He asks you trust him, but you don’t know how. You can't think here. Can't sleep here. You close your eyes and feel fire, hear screams. The best you can do is go to the gym for hours and try to work yourself into exhaustion.

You sit in the chair with your feet flat on the floor, and try to breathe.

The shame, the stupidity of the other night is pressing against you, boxing you into a corner, burning you alive from the inside out. You’ve tried to blot it clean, black it out, but the single second of his lips on your lingers like an infection in your blood.

You didn't want him. You don't. He just... understands you. Makes you feel seen. It's his job. You're getting it mixed up.

Or-

You do want him. You do so badly it’s heavy, sticky in the air like summer heat.

Each time the second hand ticks, your skin itches. It burns. Something prickles. You're not trying to breathe, you're holding your breath.

You can't do this.

You're up and beelining for the door before you can talk yourself out of it. You can't do this.

"Clover." A firm voice calls from across the lobby, and you freeze. Stomach knotted in dread, you find him holding the office’s hallway door open. "My office."

It's first time you've heard him issue a command, and you can't help your response.

You snap to.

He settles in the chair across from the couch, laptop balanced on his thighs. He’s wearing dark khakis of some kind, and they stretch over his quads, long sleeve navy blue shirt tight across his chest. It’s… distracting.

You look away. Pointedly.

"I-"

"You will never put yourself in danger like that again." He grits, and you slowly blink. "You wandered off from a bar, in the middle of the night, nearly too plastered to stand. I asked you to stay put, and you-"

“Disobeyed a direct order?” You volunteer cheekily, his eyes narrowing.

“This isn’t a fuckin’ joke.” The curse straightens your spine into a steel rod.

“I… I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to… do any of that.” Your head hangs in shame, tears fighting their way through your control, your efforts to smother them, tamp down your emotions.

“I know,” his voice is soft, a blanket, a balm, and you close your eyes. “You’re going through something very difficult Clover. I don’t fault you for anything you’ve done.” The forgiveness doesn’t settle like you want it to, acrid in your throat, bile churning in your stomach as you try to digest it. Why? What did you want in its place?

Something else.

Even now, with him across from you, your heart trills like a hummingbird’s. It’s confusing, it hurts. You think of the yellow line, the one meant to forbid you from stepping to closer to the tracks.

The couch dips on your left, weight compressing the cushion, a large, heavy thigh just an inch from yours.“Can you tell me what you’re thinking about?”

Can you?

“I want to go home.” You whisper it away, trying to lessen the strain on your heart. “I don’t… I’m sorry, I should have cancelled. I’m not feeling very good.” Fingertips graze your shoulder. You rocket to your feet.

He stands and latches onto your wrist before you can step away. “Sit down.”

“I-“

“It’s not a request. Sit. Down.” He’s turned towards you now, crack in the cushions between your bodies, but he still holds your wrist. “I want to help you.” He says softly, holding your gaze without wilting. “But you have to let me, I can’t do it unless you meet me halfway.”

“I’m trying.”

“Are you? How long have you been drinking like that?” Shit. You turn your face away from him, blinking at an empty spot on the wall.

A palm presses to the back of your neck, his signature heat bleeding through cell and bone, shooting straight to your heart. The sliver of a wolf, a predator, gleams in his eyes again, for the first time since your first session, but this time it’s tempered with silk, easy calm, vibrating from him to you.

You stare at him. Dissect the scars, the fault lines, the weathered tissue, torn open and healed anew.

Healed. A novel concept. A foreign idea, so far away you don’t know what it looks like.

The hand at your neck slips away with a sigh. “Clover, listen. Normally in this situation… we’d assign you a new provider. We’ve crossed a serious professional boundary, and the appropriate thing would be for me to remove myself from your care team.”

“Wait… no. I mean, you didn’t do anything. It w-was me, it was my fault.”

“It’s not your fault. I’m your doctor, I’m the one in a position of power here. What happened-“

“I’m sorry.” Your vision goes blurry with tears. “I’m sorry, I was just d-drunk and I didn’t know what I was doing,” you’re gasping, lungs soaked with salt, despair, panic rife and cleaving through your chest, “I didn’t mean to, I messed up, I didn’t- I didn’t mean- captain, I-“ the height of your hysteria is turning dark, dredging up the things you tried to buried, the images you’ve tucked inside a black box and dropped to the bottom of an ocean. Suddenly, you can’t breathe. He’s talking to you, you can hear it, but the words don’t make sense, the scrape of your breathing too loud.

“You’re in my office Clover. You’re with me.” You shake your head, but it does nothing to calm you. “Try to breathe.”

“C-can’t.”

“Okay. Try to ground yourself. Tell me your name.” You spit it out, first and last, but it doesn’t help. Everything feels like too much. His fists clench, flexing open and shut, cords of muscle flexing before he grits something sharp under his breath and reaches.

He hooks you into his body, guiding you forward by the back of your head until your nose is in his neck and all you can feel, all you can see, or smell is him. It takes its toll, slowing your heart rate, breaths settling into a shaky pace in time with his, and you register the thumb stroking small circles against your neck, his nose in your hair.

“Just breathe.”

[ddaz3d-and-cc0nfused]

Hello, I have a request

One where the reader flirts with Spencer and asks him on a date, he is all blushing and stuttering.

Have a nice day!! 💖

༉‧₊˚. 𝐞𝐱𝐜𝐥𝐮𝐬𝐢𝐯𝐞 || 𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞𝐫 𝐫𝐞𝐢𝐝

— pairings: spencer reid x plus size burlesque dancer!reader

— summary: spencer has friends all over, but he chooses to visit his favorite who just so happens to be a dancer and completely out of his league.

— warnings: literally none! this is just a big fluff-fest!!

— wc: 648

⋆ a/n: HEYYY so i don't know if you guys can tell but i'm dabbling in all kinds of au's and stuff? they're just so fun to write and really shakes up my writing :]

masterlist | AO3

Spencer gives a shy smile to your co-worker at the ticket booth as he lets him in, bidding him a small but soft thanks.

Though the club had a few more hours until opening and he really shouldn’t be there, everyone knew the drill. Spencer tries to come and visit you before your shows just to get that one-on-one time with you before you’re all glammed up to go perform.

Perhaps Spencer should thank Penelope for choosing the BAU’s rare outing to be at a Burlesque club, because he met you, one of the prettiest dancers. It made sense that Penelope would frequent here, and now he found himself here often too.

He takes at the table he normally does when the bartender drying out glasses tells him you’ll be down in a second. Spencer takes the time to drag his eyes around the interior of the room. It looks so different during the day, the lack of lustful yet comedy ridden performances gives off the impression of a small theater.

Though you own the place, you don’t often sit on the sidelines, choosing to dance with your girls, though you try to limit the amount of dance numbers you give yourself so the others are able to have more stage time. You’re just selfless like that and it causes a swarm of butterflies to flutter around in Spencer’s stomach.

Spencer isn’t at all surprised when you approach him in a frilly robe, your face bare and hair pulled out of your face. 

“Spence, hi!” You always greet him like it’s the first time you’d seen him, your large smile on your face to match the excitement in your body. 

“Hey!” He says as he pulls you into a respectful hug. You make a point to deepen the embrace, giving him a squeeze. When you pull away, you almost melt at the sight of his cheeks blushed that admirable pink hue.

“Couldn’t wait until tonight to see me, huh?” You tease as you sit down next to him. “I wish I could,” He begins with a frown, “But I’m pretty sure I’m going to be pretty busy these next couple of days and I just wanted to tell you, y’know, so you don’t think I disappeared on you or something.”

You laugh that twinkling laugh that sounds like bells in his ears. “You’re such a gentleman, Spence. But thanks for letting me know, really. I look forward to our chats.”

“Yeah,” He admits bashfully, “Me too.”

“You know…” You began, “We don’t always have to meet here.” You’re nervous, it’s written clear as day all over your face and in the way you nibbled on your lower lip. “What do you mean?” Spencer asks with furrowed brows. 

“What I mean is, I'm asking you on a date and trying to not psych myself out of it.”

Oh God, Spencer’s heart was about to beat out of his chest.

“Y - yeah.”

“Yeah?” You asked in amusement. “Yeah, I mean no - I mean! I mean yes, I would like to go on a date with you.” His face flushes an even darker red through his stuttering, and a place of sickening endearment worms its way into your heart.

“Great!” You exclaim with a sigh of relief. “You know… I have a few hours to spare before the club opens. How about brunch?”

“That sounds good.” 

“Cool, just let me get dressed real fast and I’ll be back down in a sec.” 

He watches in admiration as you walk away and he smiles to himself, already thinking of ways to pay for your food before you do it yourself. You’re quite difficult when it comes to things like that, but Spencer feels like it’s a battle that he looks forward to, a fight that he wouldn’t mind having for the rest of his life if you would let him.

ೃ⁀➷ my lovely taglist!: @alina02 @louderfortheback @minervadashwood @their-love @fandomsarelifee @theendofthe70s @nomajdetective @mgg-theprettiestboy @phoenixblack89 @celtic-crossbow @hallecarey1 @bunnybabe-babydoll @alixwriter @dixonzzgirl @violettavirus @khxna @moonysreid

[stevie-petey]

episode two: the weirdo on maple street

Trying to ease the awkwardness, you hold up a poster and offer it to them, but Steve snatches it from your grasp. “Henderson, didn’t know you were also a little know-it-all. Why don’t you share your review sheet with the rest of us?” He says, casting a teasing look your way. It isn’t until he inspects the piece of paper that he finally notices that it’s a missing poster for a child, not a review sheet. “Oh, shit. I’m so sorry.” You snatch the poster back from him. “You’re an idiot, Steve Harrington.”

summary: you use your limited psych knowledge to help a bald girl, you force jonathan to accept $20 and he's later an ass to you, steve doesn't know what a "missing" poster looks like, and it's really hard being a single mother to now four kids.

rating: general, but there's cursing as usual and steve being... well, steve - but hes still season 1 steve so give him some time

warnings: cursing, fem!reader, use of y/n, and there's more angst in this chapter with some fighting between reader and jonathan, so fair warning.

words: 10.1k (the longest thing ive ever written)

before you swing in: i'm almost done with chapter 4, so here's a sweet treat as i cram for exams lmao. some housekeeping: should i do a tag list ? i got a few questions about it, so pls let me know soldiers. also, i feel the need to clarify that i adore nancy but for plot reasons - reader and her don't really get along (but they def will later, trust me). season 1 nancy and steve are just so silly. anyways, i hope y'all enjoy this loooong chapter. the rest definitely aren't as lengthy due to plot, but wow. i amazed myself. carry on !

-

Your jeans drip onto the Wheeler’s carpet, and you’ve definitely left a wet imprint on the couch cushion beneath you. The other boys are dripping as well, but all their attention is on the girl in front of them. 

After finding her in the woods, your motherly instincts kicked in, immediately removing your coat to place on her and gently ushering her to your bike and demanding that the boys go back to Mike’s. Your mom is home, so your house was out of the question, and it’s always been easy sneaking into the Wheeler’s, anyways. 

Once you all had made it back, you guided the girl onto the couch and sat next to her. You refuse to let her go too far from you, having no idea where she came from or why, but regardless you know she’s too young for any of it to have been good. 

Which leads you to now: wearily watching the boys stare at the girl as if she’s some science experiment, asking her a million questions a second.

Bless them and their little prepubescent minds. 

Lucas reaches out to touch her, and before you can nudge him away, Mike slaps at his hand. “Stop it! You’re freaking her out!”

“She’s freaking me out!” Lucas retaliates, which honestly? That’s fair. The girl hasn’t said anything yet, even after your multiple attempts to get her to do so. No matter how much you try, you can’t coax a response out of her. 

“I bet she’s deaf.” Your brother offers, suddenly clapping his hands to scare her, making both you and her flinch. “Not deaf…”

You roll your eyes at him. “Guys, she’s probably just really scared right now. We should give her some space,” you look at both Lucas and Dustin, “and time,” now you look at Mike. The three boys deflate a bit. 

“She’s probably cold,” Mike says after a moment of silence, and you nod at his suggestion. Seeing your agreement, he walks over to a basket of clothes and takes out some pajamas.

While Mike is away, thunder rumbles and the girl jumps, unconsciously getting closer to you. You wrap an arm around her reassuringly, making note that she doesn’t like loud noises. If anything, she’s showing more and more signs of trauma response, which makes you uneasy. You remember Hopper saying something about Will being in danger. What are the odds that this little girl was running from something as well?

“Here, these are clean.” Mike’s return breaks you from your thoughts, and you take the clothes from him and stand up. You thank him, then offer your hand to the girl. She looks at you uncertainly. 

“It’s okay,” you reassure her. “Let’s go get you dressed in some warm clothes. I’m right here, sweetheart.” 

“She’s super nice.” Dustin says, trying to help.

Lucas adds, “Yeah, you can trust her.” 

“She’s alright.” Is all Mike offers.

You give them all an appreciative smile, even if Mike is being a bit of an ass, and then you feel a small, cold hand wrap around yours. The girl stands up, looking around shyly, and you lead her to the bathroom. When you go to close the door, she stops you.

Mike has followed, seeing the interaction. “You don’t want it closed?”

Her voice is quiet, solemn. “No,”

You and Mike look at each other, and he voices what you’re thinking. “So you can speak.”

He looks excited about this new information, and you shove his head out of the doorway. She needs to get dressed. “We’ll leave the door cracked, okay?”

She nods at you, and you stand guard outside the door. It’s not that you don’t trust the boys, but Mike has only known her for ten minutes and he’s already been nicer to her than you’ve ever seen him with anyone else. The only other person he’s this soft spoken to is Will, so you’re protective of her. 

You can hear the boys discussing tonight’s events from the living area while the girl gets dressed. They sound scared, and a part of you can’t blame them. While you’re fairly certain that the girl isn’t dangerous, it’s still a creepy situation. Once again, Hopper’s new theory surrounding Will floats through your mind. This all can’t be some coincidence. 

Sighing, you approach the boys and catch a bit of the conversation. 

“Our houses become Alcatraz.” You hear Lucas saying, and you figure they’ve finally pieced together that there’s no way any of you can tell anyone about the girl. None of you were supposed to be out tonight. As much as you know you should tell an adult, you also need to be able to help Jonathan with finding Will. If your mom locks the house down, you’re doomed. 

“Lucas is right,” the boys turn to you. “We can’t go to anyone about this just yet, but I also don’t think it’s a good idea to hide her. She’s been through something terrible, it’s obvious. Tonight, I say she gets some rest. We can figure out what to do later.” 

Mike nods, for once agreeing wholeheartedly with you. “She’ll sleep here tonight-”

Dustin’s eyes widen in horror, “You’re letting a girl-”

You clamp your hand over his mouth, motioning for Mike to continue.

“Thanks, Y/N. In the morning, she sneaks around my house, goes to the front door and rings my doorbell. My mom will answer and know exactly what to do. She’ll send her back to Pennhurst,”

They think she’s from Pennhurst? You think, but don’t verbalize it.

“Or wherever she comes from. We’ll be totally in the clear! And tomorrow night, we go back out, and this time we find Will.”

You gotta hand it to Mike Wheeler, he may be a pain in the ass, but he’s a smart pain in the ass. The plan is pretty sound, so long as he follows through with it. However, it’s him following through with it that leaves you a bit unsure. 

He looks at you for approval, and you hesitantly nod. “It’s a pretty good plan, Wheeler. So long as you stick to it.” 

Lucas and Dustin nod along with you, there’s an unspoken sense of doubt that Mike will actually be able to turn the girl over to his mom. Then she walks out, dressed now in some of Nancy’s old clothes. She draws into herself when you all turn to her, shy. You walk over and offer your hand again, which she accepts. 

“Mike, go find her something to sleep on. Dustin, we gotta go soon before mom notices we’re gone.”

Both boys comply, with Mike searching for a sleeping bag and Dustin packing up his stuff. You crouch down next to the girl, so that you’re face to face, and give her a warm smile. “It was lovely meeting you. My name is Y/N, I hope Mike over there doesn’t give you a hard time tonight.” 

Mike flips you off, having heard you. “If he’s annoying,” you lean in close to her now, whispering in her ear. “You have my permission to pinch him.”

The girl giggles, finally relaxing a bit, and you warm with pride. She’ll be okay, she seems like a very resilient girl and you’ll oddly miss her. 

The two other boys are waiting for you upstairs. You all wish Mrs. Wheeler a good night and head out. Thankfully the rain has now stopped, so the bike ride home isn’t bad. You stop at Lucas’ turn to make sure he gets home safely before finally arriving at your place. As Dustin begins pedaling into your driveway, you don’t follow. 

“I’m going to go see Jonathan, he didn’t answer my calls earlier and I just…”

Dustin waves at you, not even bothering to turn around. “Yeah yeah, go see your boyfriend. If mom asks, you’re asleep.” 

“He’s not my boyfriend-”

“Are you seriously going to argue with me after I offered to cover for you?”

Your brother gives you a pointed look, and you know he’s right. “Touche.” 

Dustin goes to leave, but you quickly grab at his jacket. “Before I forget, swear to me that you’ll keep me updated if anything weird happens, okay?”

He nods at you, knowing better than to argue, and gives you a mock salute as he heads inside. 

The living room light is on when you arrive at the Byers home, despite the late hour, but you aren’t surprised. You knock on the door and wait. When no one comes, you knock again, a bit louder this time. After another few moments, the door swings open. 

Jonathan has a finger over his lips in a shushing manner, motioning to Joyce who is passed out on the couch. You nod, letting him know you understand. The two of you go to his room and when he closes the door, you finally get a good look at him. He looks worse than he did earlier, the bags under his eyes have somehow gotten darker. His hair is a mess, his eyes bloodshot. 

“You’re soaked.” Jonathan says. 

“Yeah,” he doesn’t want to talk about it yet, so you play along. “Got caught in the rain. Are some of my spare clothes still in your bottom drawer?”

He nods at you, going over and grabbing a t-shirt and pajama pants for you. You accept them gratefully and excuse yourself to the bathroom to change. Your bones are cold, the rain seemingly having penetrated the layers of your skin. In the mirror you see that your own eyes are bloodshot; you don’t look much better than Jonathan, really.

When you return Jonathan is sitting on his bed, so you join him. It’s silent between you, all you can hear is his breathing. You stare straight ahead, so does he, and you wait. You’ve only seen Jonathan like this a handful of times, where the stress and anxiety becomes too much for him. He shuts down, draws into himself, and all you can do is wait for him to return to you; he always does. 

“Mom got a call tonight.” Jonathan’s voice is hoarse, and he looks frail. You wonder if he ever did end up making the spaghetti you prepared for him.

“Who was it?”

He swallows heavily, taking a moment to respond. “She said it was Will.”

“Will?” You look at him now, searching for any signs on his face, his voice lacks emotion. By the way he stares blankly ahead, as if he’s not really present with you right now, you know that it hadn’t been Will on the other end. 

“She started freaking out, going ballistic,” his voice cracks a bit, so you take a chance and reach for his hand. He lets you take it, giving you a squeeze, before continuing. “She was screaming, begging whoever it was to give Will back.” 

Jonathan pauses again. You don’t say anything, because no words will help. He’s never been the type for comforting words, anyways. He takes a deep breath, closing his eyes. “It wasn’t him. Lightning struck and our phone got charred. It wasn’t Will.”

Now it’s your turn to squeeze Jonathan’s hand. He doesn’t deserve any of this. None of the Byers do. Out of the entire town, they’re the family who deserves the most that life can give. Will, too good. Jonathan, too selfless. Joyce, too loving. They’re the best damn people you know. 

“I tried calming her down, but she was hysterical. She’s only asleep right now because she worked herself up too much and passed out. I’m worried she-'' Jonathan shakes his head, as if ashamed by his own words. “I’m worried she’s going crazy, Y/N.”

He’s quiet again, but you can tell he’s about to break. His knee is now bouncing up and down and his breathing has become slightly ragged. Everything from today has been building up, it was only a matter of time before he snapped. You’re also worried about Joyce, a part of you skeptical to believe her, but the little girl you found tonight in the rain? Something was definitely weird about Will’s disappearance, but you’re hesitant to tell Jonathan just yet. For all you know, she could’ve simply been a girl who got lost and will be returned to her family tomorrow. 

You don’t want to worry Jonathan any more than you need to.

“I should’ve been there for him. I shouldn’t have taken that shift.” He gasps out, and like a dam the tears begin to fall. You’re quick to pull him into a hug and he crumbles into you. His body shakes with violent sobs and he clutches at you as if afraid you’ll leave.

“You can’t blame yourself.” You whisper, stroking a hand through his hair. He cries even harder, the force of it almost enough to knock you over, so you situate yourself so that you’re fully on the bed, laying against his pillows, with Jonathan crying into your chest beside you. 

“He’s g-gone.”

“We’ll find him, I promise.” Your own tears threaten to come out, but you force them down. You have to be here for him, he needs you. The only other time Jonathan has so openly cried was when Lonnie left years ago. He’s been holding everything in since then, all those years of looking after his family, taking care of his brother, getting harassed by assholes like Tommy Hagan. 

Neither of you say anything else, and you know that Jonathan needs to let it all out. You soothe him as best as you can, running a hand through his hair, stroking his back, reassuring him over and over again that none of this is his fault until your own voice becomes hoarse. You don’t know how long you stay like this, but sometime during the night Jonathan finally falls asleep, and you follow shortly after him. 

— 

Sunlight streams through Jonathan’s spare bed sheet that he’s pinned over his window, serving as a makeshift curtain, waking you up. You stretch, careful not to wake the boy beside you, and crawl out of the bed. You’re antsy, already knowing that today will be another long day. After grabbing some clothes from your designated drawer and getting dressed, you head into the kitchen and start making a quick breakfast. Just as you’re finishing up, Jonathan comes out of his room, dressed and ready for the day.

Neither of you say anything about the night prior, instead silently working around each other in the kitchen with years of practiced ease. He hands you the salt shaker right when you need it, you grab the pieces of toast that he popped into the toaster, the two of you never once get in each other’s way. You get deja vu, remembering all the times you’ve slept over with Dustin, you and Jonathan making the boys breakfast while they slept in. 

The only indication that last night really happened is a forehead kiss from Jonathan, his lips soft against your head. Out of the two of you, you’re definitely the touchy one, so it’s always a nice surprise when he initiates the touch, and his forehead kisses were a welcome rarity. 

When the plates have been made, Joyce gets up from the couch and stumbles over to the table. You quickly help her sit down, and for the first time since Will’s disappearance you’re able to really look at her. She looks like Jonathan, only worse. The bags under her eyes are darker, her hair is more matted, and you believe she’s still wearing the same shirt you saw her in the night that Will went missing. 

“All right, mom. Breakfast is ready.” Jonathan tries to place her plate on the table, but Joyce stops him, worried about the poster of Will. 

Jonathan gives you a look and you run over to the table, grabbing the poster so that he can set the plate down. 

Joyce gives you a tired smile, “Thank you, Y/N, but I can’t eat.”

“I just need you to eat, mom.” 

“Jonathan’s right, Mrs. Byers. You need to eat, we gotta keep your strength up.” You feel like you’re talking to a child, but in a way, you suppose you are. 

The woman lights a cigarette instead, and faintly you wonder how many she’s had within the last 48 hours; you’ll need to wash your clothes when you get home. She begins to ask Jonathan to go to Xerox to make as many copies of Will’s poster as possible. You sit down in front of her, silently eating, knowing there’s no place for you in this conversation. 

It’s not that the Byers are ashamed that they have little money, but you know it’s rude to listen in. They make do with what they have, and Jonathan has never felt embarrassed with you knowing it. 

“I don’t want you to go alone,” Joyce says, causing you to speak up. 

“I’ll go with him and help hang them up, it’s no problem.” 

Jonathan turns to you. “You have that chem test, remember? I’m not letting you miss that.” 

“Shit…” you bury your face into your hands. You completely forgot about that after finding the little girl last night and dealing with Jonathan. You’ve heard about how impossible the chem exams were, and science has never been your best subject. That was Dustin’s thing, your thing was more humanities. 

“You’re the smartest person I know, you’ll ace the exam,” Jonathan reassures you before turning to his mom. “And I’ll handle the posters, it’s okay.” 

Joyce has been lost in thought during your conversation with her son, only beginning to speak again when she’s asked how many copies will be efficient. Once she starts speaking again, it’s almost like she’s physically unable to stop. She begins to ramble, finally exposing the crumbling woman that you’ve only heard about, now understanding Jonathan’s fears for her. 

“Mom-”

“If we… ten cents-”

“Mom!” Jonathan raises his voice a bit, now grabbing at his mother’s hand. “You can’t get like this, okay?”

The look on Joyce’s face kills you. She looks so lost, ashamed of her behavior, and you cast your head down; this is a private matter. Joyce profusely apologizes to him and all Jonathan can do is gently reassure her that it’s okay. All of this is okay. 

Their tender moment is interrupted by knocking on the front door, revealing Hopper on the other side. His presence makes you uneasy, so you stay in the kitchen and begin to clean up with Jonathan while Joyce attacks him with questions. 

“A little bit of trust here, alright? We’ve been searching all night.” You hear the cop say. Your hand clenches the sponge, rubbing a bit harder at the plate you’re cleaning. If they’ve been searching all night, why are they here now?

“Went all the way to Cartersville.” Ever since Will disappeared, you’ve been building a wall of hope within you that he’ll be found safe and sound. However, with every passing day, with every new situation that occurs, you can feel a piece of the wall collapse. You can feel it now; the search party went all the way to Cartersville.

“And?” Joyce asks. 

“Nothing.” The cry that Joyce lets out causes you to drop the plate you’ve been cleaning, shattering on the floor. You curse, immediately bending down to pick up the pieces. Luckily it didn’t shatter into a million bits, but you still feel horrible for breaking one of their dishes. 

Jonathan bends down as well to help, and the commotion catches Hopper’s attention. He sees you scrambling to clean up the mess and sighs with annoyance. “Does she live here or something?” 

You and Jonathan look at each other, a slight smile on your faces, and only respond to Hopper with a synchronized shrug. You basically do live at the Byers’ at this point, you have been for years now. It was the same for Jonathan: if you weren’t at his house, he was at yours. 

Joyce wipes some of her tears away. “Y/N is family, she’s here to help.” 

Hopper ignores this, instead bringing up the phone call from the night before. Joyce leads him over to the phone, and you join them once you’ve collected the remaining pieces of broken glass. When you see the phone, you can’t help but gasp. Jonathan’s words from last night are accurate, the phone is charred. 

“Storm barbecued this pretty good.” Hopper says.

Joyce waves her arms out, disbelieving. “The storm? You’re saying that that’s not… weird?”

“No, it’s weird.” Hopper begins, but you cut him off. 

“It’s really weird.”

He glares at you. You mumble a quick sorry and back away a bit while Jonathan asks if the call can be traced. Hopper focuses back on the situation at hand, informing him that it isn’t possible and then questions if Joyce even heard Will in the first place. The question makes you cringe, knowing it’ll only make Joyce more agitated and hurt.

“Flo said you just heard some breathing.” 

It’s the way he phrases the question, the way he emphasizes the word “just”, that bothers you. This woman has just lost her kid, what kind of mother wouldn’t know her own child’s breathing?

“Even if it was ‘just’ some breathing, I’d know it was my brother. Will is her son, she’d know better than anyone.” You find yourself saying. The words weren’t meant to leave your mouth, but the appreciative look Joyce casts your way outweighs the fear from Hopper’s glare. 

“It was him. It was Will, and he was scared. Then something-”

“It was probably just a prank call,” Hopper tries to reason with her, causing you to roll your eyes at him. You respect the guy, you do, but could he at least attempt to listen to Joyce?

You excuse yourself before you say anything else, heading back into the kitchen to collect the two posters you and Jonathan made. While the others talk, you grab his things and pack his bag for him. You know he’ll probably skip school today to get the copies done in time, maybe keep an eye on his mom, so you make a mental note to inform him later that you’ll help with putting the fliers up the second you’re done with the exam. He needs someone there for him. 

When you’ve grabbed the last of Jonathan’s things, Lonnie’s name is mentioned. You freeze, standing right outside the hall from them, only a wall between you. If Lonnie is somehow involved in this, you’ll kill him yourself. He was always cruel to Will, even when you were around to witness it. You hate him more than anything in this damn world. 

“It’s been long enough, I’m having him checked out.” Hopper declares, storming out of the house. 

You count to three in your head, and the second you get to three, Jonathan is following after Hopper. You knew he would, hating his father the most out of everyone who has had the displeasure of meeting him. You follow behind him, heading outside to talk to the Chief. 

“Hey, Hopper. Let me go.” 

Hopper takes a drag from his cigarette, facing the two of you. “I’m sorry?”

“To Lonnie’s,” Jonathan says, looking at you for backup.

You do your best to try. “If Will’s there, that means he probably ran away. Cops will scare the poor boy, he’ll think he’s in trouble.”

“And he’ll hide. He’s good at hiding.” Jonathan finishes for you. 

Hopper stares at you both, inhaling more smoke from his cigarette and blowing it in your direction with a curious look in his eyes. “You two are sickening to be near, you know that?”

You and Jonathan share an annoyed look. A kid is missing, and you still have to clarify that you aren’t together? “It’s not like that,” Jonathan says.

“Sure, you know cops are good at detecting lies,” Hopper approaches him now, grabbing his shoulders. For a brief second you’re afraid he’ll hurt him. “And we’re also good at finding, okay? Stay here with your mom. She needs you.” 

Hopper punches at Jonathan’s shoulder before facing you. “And you,” you brace for whatever he’s about to say, knowing you probably aren’t his favorite person at the moment. He points at Jonathan, “He needs you.”

His words hang in the air several minutes after he’s gone. You glance at Jonathan, but he doesn’t meet your eye and instead he goes back inside. You sigh, following after him because it’s what you do. Hopper’s right, he needs you. 

Jonathan’s in the living room, speaking softly to his mom when you enter. You don’t disturb them but rather snatch Jonathan’s keys from the counter and wait for him by the door. Like Joyce said, Xerox opens in about thirty minutes and you have a chem exam to take. If you leave now, you’ll be able to make the copies with him and be back in time before school.

The ride to Xerox is tense, you know Jonathan is upset that he’s been sidelined by Hopper. You also know that he’s torn between wanting to help his mom and staying out of his house as much as possible. If it weren’t for your god damn chem test you’d offer to skip and hide out at your place, but you can’t. Jonathan wouldn’t let you risk your future for him (even though you would, in a heartbeat, a million times over). 

The man at Xerox gives Jonathan a look of pity, clearly recognizing Will’s picture on the poster. It’s your favorite photo of him, smiling with all his teeth and happy as can be. From what you’ve heard, the whole town has been conducting search parties for him. Jonathan ignores the look and asks for the 200 copies to be made. 

It’s just you and him in the store as you wait for the prints to be done. The guy said it’d be about a ten minute wait so you wander around the store. Jonathan clearly is in a no talking mood, so you occupy yourself with whatever you find. You wish you’d brought your backpack to Jonathan’s last night so you could at least study a bit while waiting, but you didn’t. It’d be a miracle if you pass this exam. 

Jonathan wanders around as well, so you give a quick look around and find the employee. He’s standing over the printer when you approach. “I’d like to pay for the copies, please.”

“You can pay after they’re done-”

“No, I can’t let him see,” you point over to Jonathan, who is now looking at some stationary. “Please, just let me pay now so he can yell at me later.” 

The guy gives you a shrug, clearly not getting paid enough to care. “Okay, it’ll be $20. Just leave the money on the counter over there, the prints should be done soon.” 

You nod and do as you’re told, leaving the $20 bill on the counter while Jonathan isn’t looking. He can kill you later, right now you want to make up for not being able to help with hanging them up. There’s literally hundreds to get through, he can’t do that all alone. 

When the posters are done and Jonathan collects them, you wish the worker a good day and then wrap your arms around him and use all your strength to drag your friend into the car. He doesn't fight back at first, too confused by your actions, and you’re almost out the door before he sees the man pocket the money and wave at you. The dots connect in his head and Jonathan begins to fight against you. 

“Y/N, let me pay-”

“Nope. Not happening!”

“We both know I’m stronger-”

“Debatable, honestly, seeing as how we’re almost to your car.”

“Let go!” He tugs harshly as his arm, which you’ve got a secure hold on, causing you to stumble a bit. 

You plant your feet more firmly against the ground and use all your weight to pull the boy forward. You’re a few feet away from the car, just one more solid pull should do the trick. “Stop fighting this, Byers. I’ve already paid-”

“Which you shouldn’t have!”

“Keep fighting and drop all the posters, I dare you.”

Jonathan looks down at the posters in his spare hand, realizing that you’re right. If he doesn’t give in soon, they’ll topple over. He lets out an agitated groan, throwing his head back, and then marches over to the car to unlock it and fling himself into the driver’s seat. “Just get in.” 

You do a small victory dance and hop in the car.

“I hate you.” 

“You love me.” 

He hesitates only for a moment. “God, I hate that I do.” 

You smile, buckling your seatbelt. Jonathan pulls out of the parking lot and begins the drive to school. He’s less tense this time, at least. The small little wrestling match between the two of you seemingly did some good, then. 

When you pull up to school, you once again apologize to Jonathan for being unable to help. He waves you off, understanding. 

“It’s okay, I promise. I can’t have you failing out of high school because of me.”

You roll your eyes. “One test won’t make me become a high school dropout, Jonathan.”

He ruffles your hair, which you slap him for. “You can join me after, okay? Good luck, bug.” 

“Fine, but I’m taking some posters with me so I can hang up on my way to my locker.” 

“Deal.”

You run to your locker, flinging it open and letting out a sigh of relief when you spot your chem cards. Honestly, you really should’ve prepared better for your little sleepover at the Byers. You glance at the watch on your wrist, noting that you have roughly fifteen minutes to memorize all the elements in the periodic table as well as some chemistry definitions. 

Just peachy. 

You tie your hair up so you can focus better and grab the note cards. If you review the cards as you walk to class, you can save at least three minutes of studying time. You tuck the few remaining posters of Will under your arm and begin to head to your class, getting absorbed in all the elements and words. As you’re skimming a card about protein being K, you run into Nancy and Barb, who also seem to have the same idea as you.

“Oh, hey Y/N.” Nancy greets you, Barb waving to you as well. 

They’re being nice, so you try to make conversation. “Studying for Kaminsky’s test?”

They nod at you and Nancy sighs, “Yeah, his exams are the worst.”

You laugh a bit, for once on the same page as her. “I know. I spent last night at Jonathan’s, I completely forgot about the test until this morning. I’m screwed.”

Barb raises her eyebrows at you while Nancy suddenly looks sad. “Oh, I’m sorry about Will. I know you and him are close.” 

“Yeah, it must be hard taking care of Jonathan right now.” Barb voices. 

You give them both an awkward smile. “Thanks, I guess? It’s just, there’s still hope, so…” 

The three of you stand there as your voice trails off. It’s painfully awkward. While you’ve known Nancy since you were 12, and at some point you even called her a close friend of yours, the second you entered high school she became distant. You never blamed her for it, people simply grow up and grow apart. Now you only ever interact with her if it concerns the boys. 

Trying to ease the awkwardness, you hold up a poster and offer it to them, but Steve snatches it from your grasp.

“Henderson, didn’t know you were also a little know-it-all. Why don’t you share your cheat sheet with the rest of us?” He says, casting a teasing look your way. It isn’t until he inspects the piece of paper that he finally notices that it’s a missing poster for a child, not a review sheet. “Oh, shit. I’m so sorry.”

You snatch the poster back from him. “You’re an idiot, Steve Harrington.”

His friends laugh, but Steve has a bit of heart to look guilty, so you count that as something. His shame doesn’t last long though and the goofy and sweet boy who made sure you were okay after almost hitting you with his car is gone. 

Steve plays off the situation as if it were nothing. “Let me make it up to you, Henderson. I know you’re probably stressed out of your mind dealing with boyfriend troubles because of Bill-”

“His name is Will,” you grit out, remembering now why you dislike Steve so much. Everything was about impressing his friends, and while you can sympathize with him, it doesn’t give him an excuse to be an asshole. 

“Right, Will. Anyways, I was just about to inform Nance over here that my dad has left town on a conference and my mom’s gone with him, ‘cause, ya know, she doesn’t trust him.” 

“Good call,” Tommy says, and you glare at him. 

Steve carries on. “So, are you guys in?”

“In for what?” Nancy asks. 

“No parents, a big house?” Carol says, as if Nancy is a giant idiot.

You feel bad for her being treated so poorly by her boyfriend’s friends, so you lean in and whisper, “A party, Nancy.” Then you look at Steve. “And no, I’ll pass.” 

Steve pouts. “Can’t leave loverboy alone for a couple hours?”

You scoff, shoving the poster against his chest, using more force than probably necessary, but the satisfying grunt he lets out pleases you. “If I didn’t know you I’d say you sound jealous. Unfortunately, I do know you, and that’s exactly why I’m not interested.”

“Meow,” says Carol as she and Tommy laugh. 

You ignore her and push past the group to get to class. You’ve wasted enough time, you have to study. Steve lets you, hurt by your words, but tries to play it off, instead focusing his attention on Jonathan up ahead hanging up some posters. You both see him at the same time and as you start to approach him, you hear Steve and his group mock him. 

“God, that’s depressing.” Steve says, and you’ve never wanted to hit a man more than you do right now. 

You glance at Nancy, trying to convey your disappointment in her. She’s a nice girl, she shouldn’t be with an idiot like Harrington. Who the hell makes fun of a guy with a missing brother? Nancy doesn’t meet your eye, which pleases you. She should feel guilty. 

As you near Jonathan, Nancy calls after you to wait up. You listen, mostly because you’re surprised she even followed, and together you walk up to him. “Hey, bee. I thought you’d be long gone by now.” 

Jonathan looks up at your voice, surprised when he sees Nancy next to you. He gives you a look that you conclude is a what is she doing here? look and you can only shrug as if to say I have no clue how I ended up in this situation. 

Nancy doesn’t see this exchange. “Hey,”

“Hey,” Jonathan responds, still confused. 

Nancy looks at you uncertainly, but you refuse to leave. Screw your exam, if she even considers voicing her boyfriend’s opinions to Jonathan then you’ll personally see that she fails alongside you. “I just… I wanted to say, you know… I’m sorry, about everything.” 

Oh, she’s being nice. You’re still unimpressed, but Jonathan motions to you to stop staring her down, so you reluctantly listen. 

“Everyone’s thinking about you.”

You all turn towards Steve and his group, who are clearly listening in, and you snort at her words. “Right, obviously.” 

“Y/N.” Jonathan warns. 

“Sorry.” 

“It sucks.” Nancy continues, and you have to give her some credit. You’re being a blatant bitch, but she’s still trying. You feel a bit bad now, which honestly makes you dislike her a bit more. Damn morals. “I’m sure he’ll be fine, he’s a smart kid.” 

The bell rings, ending Nancy’s little monologue. “I have to go, chemistry test. Y/N, want to walk together?” 

She really makes it impossible to be a bitch to her. “Sure, just give me a second.”

You lean close to Jonathan and lower your voice. “Good luck with your dad, bee.” 

“How did you know I’d go-”

“Because of course you would. Now go, give him hell for me, will ya?”

Jonathan nods, relieved you aren’t pushing the topic. You know that Lonnie is a sore topic for him, for the entire Byers family, really. You only knew Lonnie for a year or so before Joyce left him, but you’ll never forget his spiteful words and the bruises that Jonathan tried to hide from you. He needs to do this alone, father and son. 

You see Nancy watching, and just to spite her you kiss Jonathan’s cheek, relishing in the fact that she looks away, and you wish him luck once again before following her to class. 

The test isn’t as bad as you’d feared, and the rest of the day goes by with relative ease. You don’t see much of Steve and his group and you’re thankful for that. Nancy also keeps her distance, no longer attempting to be all buddy buddy with you. A part of you feels bad about that, because honestly the thought of someone thinking you hate them makes you feel physically ill, but as long as Nancy is with someone like Steve, there’s not much you can do about that. 

After school you stop by all of Jonathan’s classes and collect the work he’s missed over the last few days; he has enough to worry about, so you figured you could help do some assignments for him. It’s nothing unusual, truth to be told. There was a time you were out for two weeks straight due to the flu one year and Jonathan did every one of your assignments, so it’s about time you returned the favor. 

Once you have what you need, you hang up the remaining flyers in your bag and begin your journey to work. You’ve used up all of your sick days helping the Byers, and while Mrs. Waters has insisted on letting you have more time off, you figured the distraction would be good for you. Jonathan will want some space after confronting his dad, and as much as you hated Lonnie, something told you he had nothing to do with Will. 

Just when your shift is almost done, your coworker, this young kid named Alex who you’re honestly surprised can legally work, informs you that your mom is on the phone and wants to speak with you. You stack the remaining books in your hands and thank him, walking over to pick up the call.

“Hey, mom. Is everything okay?”

“Everything’s fine, sweetie! I was just calling to tell ya that Dusty is at the Wheeler’s tonight for dinner, so my plan for ribs won’t work without him. I was wondering if darling Johnny could feed you tonight? I know the two of you have that little sneaky food game.” 

Your posture, once slumped over and uninterested, now straightens out. Why the hell is Dustin having dinner at the Wheeler’s? They never do that. “Uh, sure mom that won’t be an issue.”

Your mom lets out a sigh of relief. “Bless that Jonathan! I’ve always liked him…”

Your mom may be the biggest Jonathan supporter you’ve ever met. “Yeah, he’s your favorite. I know,” you shift a bit to catch Alex’s attention, mouthing to him that you need to leave work early. “Hey, did Dustin by chance say how long he’ll be at the Wheeler’s? I can swing by and pick him up after my shift.” 

“Oh, I think he’s staying the night there. He mentioned something about Mike not finishing his part of their little science project?”

They’re calling the little girl a science project now? Boys are so typical. “Oh, I see. Well, I gotta get back to work, mom. I’ll be home late tonight.”

Your mom wishes you goodbye and warns you not to be out too late. You hum, already trying to figure out the quickest route to the Wheeler’s house. You can’t say you’re surprised that Mike didn’t follow the plan, but you also can’t say you were prepared for this either. 

Alex comes back with your boss and you quickly make up a lie about not feeling well. Mrs. Waters gives you a pitying look and tells you to go. You’re incredibly grateful for her, she’s like a grandmother to you and has always been so kind. 

You quickly bike to Mike’s house, going over a grand speech in your head for the boys. Logistically speaking, you’re not sure if they can even harbor the little girl in his basement. Would it be kidnapping? Could kids even kidnap other kids? You aren’t sure and you definitely aren’t willing to find out. 

You arrive at the house just as Nancy and Barb are pulling out of the driveway, presumably to Steve’s grand house party. They wave at you awkwardly and you don’t have it in you to wave back. You park your bike next to their doorstep and knock on the door. 

“Y/N? What are you doing here?” Mrs. Wheeler asks after opening the door. 

“Oh, I was just wondering if I could hang out with the boys tonight? Jonathan’s busy and I promised Dustin I’d help with their campaign.”

Mrs. Wheeler cocks her head at you. “But I thought there was a special assembly at the school for Will? Nancy and Barb just left for it.” 

You feel your blood boil a bit. There was no assembly for Will at your school, and it was really damn low of Nancy to use his disappearance as a cover story for her stupid party. She’s known Will since he was practically a baby. You have no idea how someone could be so unaffected by a missing child, let alone one who has been at your house every damn weekend for years now. 

“Oh, that!” You force yourself to remain calm; there isn’t time to snitch on Nancy, Mrs. Wheeler would only have more questions for you. “Yeah, I’m, uh, skipping it. Jonathan doesn’t want to go, so after he’s back from his errands I’m heading over to his place to, you know, comfort him?” 

The woman stares at you for a second, trying to determine if there are any lies to your words. You’ve never been the best liar, but being the oldest Henderson child has unfortunately prepared you for being quick on your feet when needed. 

“Well, come on then. They boys just went downstairs, and if you can please remind them to bring the plate of food back up here I’d really appreciate it.”

You thank Mrs. Wheeler and let yourself in. Her words have all but solidified your suspicions: Mike kept the girl. 

When you descend the basement steps, it’s almost comical how the kids scramble to hide the girl like little cockroaches. They run around and Dustin screams something about covering her before the poor girl is being manhandled into a sheet as Mike screams at Lucas and Dustin to calm down. 

“Guys! It’s just me! Jesus!” You shout, shoving past Mike to rush over to the girl and free her from the sheets. She looks more frightened than usual, but at least she’s alive. 

“God, why am I always the one you push?”

You shush Mike, smoothing back the girl’s hair and offering her a reassuring smile. “Remember me, sweetheart?”

The girl nods and softly says, “Y/N.”

“Very good. I’m going to scream at my brother real quick, so why don’t you cover your ears for me so you don’t get too frightened?” 

“Wait, what-”

The minute her ears are covered, you turn to Dustin and begin screaming. “Are you brain dead and not understand the words ‘tell me if anything weird happens’ or do you simply lack the appropriate empathy needed for a concerned sister?”

Dustin ducks his head in shame. “Y/N, look-”

“No! I’m all for helping you guys with your adventures and whatever, but Will went missing and then she appears and Mike,” you turn to him and he hides behind a frightened Lucas. “You said you’d stick to your plan. Now tell me, did you?”

Mike shakes his head, his eyes wide. Dustin looks no better as he cowers behind the others. Lucas simply shrugs, knowing that this would happen. You never, ever, yell at the boys; the few times you have in the past, all hell had broken loose. 

“Y/N-”

“Zip it, Henderson. I’m so pissed off at you right now and if you want to make it to thirteen I suggest you keep quiet.” 

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Good. Now, why don’t you guys catch me up on what you’ve so sweetly kept hidden from me.” It’s worded as a question, but the boys know better than to deny you. 

You sit on the ground so that you’re next to the girl and then motion for the three boys in front of you to start speaking. They look at Mike, giving him a nudge, and he hesitantly steps forward to begin speaking. “Her name is El.”

The girl, El, looks up at you and smiles. You return the smile and knock your shoulder against hers in a playful manner. “Nice to meet you, can I ask what El is short for?”

“Eleven,” she says, and you want to question the name further but the look on Mike’s face stops you. Now is not the time, you guess. 

“El, she’s… different.” Mike continues, looking around nervously. He’s acting as if someone could break in any second and snipe you guys, and a part of you doesn’t doubt it can happen. “She has these powers, like, mind control powers.”

You snort, unable to stop yourself. El looks at you, looking unoffended, seemingly expecting this reaction. However, Mike groans at you. “Y/N, this is serious. She-she knows about Will.”

At this, your smile fades and you feel an overwhelming sense of hope take over you. You find your arms wrapping around El before you can control yourself and you give her a tight hug. She stiffens in your arms and you immediately pull away. “I’m sorry, I just… sorry.”

She laughs a bit, softly saying that it’s okay. 

“Do you really know Will? Where he is?” You ask, almost too scared to say the words out loud. If she’s telling the truth… you shake your head in an attempt to dispel any false hope. You don’t know this girl, she could be lying. 

Before El can say anything else, Mike speaks for her. “She does, but there’s bad men out there who want to hurt her. I think they’re after Will, too.” 

You freeze. “Bad men?”

“Yes, this is why we didn’t want to tell you!”

“I wanted to tell her,” Lucas says, which causes Mike to glare at him.

You wave your arms at the two boys, breaking up their fight. “Mike, what do you mean by bad men? Honey,” you look at El, “did someone hurt you? Are you in danger? Should I call the police?”

“No!” All three boys shout at once. 

You look at them, at the genuine fear in their eyes, and sigh, “Okay, if you can give me a good reason not to call the cops, I won’t.”

“Did you not hear the part about El having powers?” Dustin asks. 

“Gee, Dustin. You’re right! It’s like her having powers is totally believable and reassuring to the situation at hand!”

“I can show you,” El speaks up. 

You all face her now. “You can?” 

She nods at you, getting up and grabbing your backpack that you threw on the ground when you walked in. She rustles through it while you and the boys look at one another. After a few seconds, El grabs one of your comic books and places it on the table. She looks at you and tilts her head, indicating for you to sit down next to her; you do as you’re told.

El straightens out your comic and then closes her eyes, going completely still. The air around you shifts and you can practically feel the static electricity encasing you; the hair on your arms stand up. The pages of the comic begin to flick up, fluttering as if someone is thumbing through them in rapid succession. You watch as the Spidey panels flash before your eyes, the pages flying faster and faster until it becomes almost frightening to be near. Then, once it gets to its last page, the comic flies up into the air and hovers for a few seconds, right in front of your face. 

“Holy shit,” you breathe out, your eyes wide. 

Just as quickly as it began, the comic drops back onto the table. You look up at El and see that her nose is now bleeding, which rips you back to reality. The chair scrapes against the ground as you get up to help her, dabbing at the blood with a tissue that had been laying on the table. 

“Do you believe us now?” Mike asks, a smug look on his face. 

You gently wipe away the remaining blood from El’s face, looking her in the eye and directing your words to her. “I’m listening, sweetheart. What can you do to help us find Will?” 

El smiles, pleased to have earned your trust, and you get the feeling that this little girl is the most powerful thing in all of Hawkins, maybe even the world. At her request, Mike places his DnD board on the table and arranges the pieces for El to use. She sits down and closes her eyes once more.

Lucas gives you a doubtful look. “What’s the weirdo doing?”

You flick his head, not enjoying the name calling. Honestly, you thought you raised these boys better than that. 

El seems to accomplish whatever she was doing and picks up the wizard piece, murmuring, “Will.” 

You feel your heart stop. Will always insisted on being the wizard whenever they played the game. He was Will the Wise, forever and always. El couldn’t have simply guessed that, and you know it’s her-

“Superpowers,” Dustin finishes your thought for you. The two of you exchange a glance and you notice the slight glee in his eyes. Under different circumstances, you’d also find this all pretty cool. 

Mike sits next to El and begins to ask some questions about where she last saw Will. She gives him a look that you can’t quite decipher before swiping her arm across the table and spilling the pieces onto the floor. She then flips the board over, having it now face upside down, and places Will’s piece back down. 

You knit your brows together, trying to follow along. El’s movements are methodical and carefully planned, being unable to find the right words due to her poor speech, and you try to piece together the information you’ve been given. 

“I don’t understand,” Mike says, being extra gentle with El. You’ve never seen him so soft spoken before and you’re grateful at least one of the boys doesn’t view her as some monster. Which reminds you that you need to have a conversation with Dustin about respecting women, but for now you’ll hold off.

“Hiding.” says El. 

He’s good at hiding, Jonathan’s words echo in your head. 

“Will is hiding?” 

El nods, now looking more nervous. You can tell that Mike is getting closer to information that she doesn’t want him near, which finally causes you to ask the question that’s been heavily on your mind. “From the bad men?”

Now El gives a slight shake of the head, and Mike presses on. “Then from who?”

Without saying anything, El places a second piece onto the board right in front of Will’s. It’s a piece you’re unfamiliar with, with two snake-like heads that loom over the small wizard piece. Whatever it is, you know it isn’t good judging the way Mike, Dustin, and Lucas look at each other in fear.

You turn to Dustin and whisper, “What’s that piece?”

Your brother puts his hands behind his head and sighs deeply, a new resigned look on his face. He looks as if he’s just aged thirty years, which you find a bit dramatic. “It’s the Demogorgon.”

“The Demo-what?” The name sounds familiar, but you can’t remember anything about it.

Mike looks at you and for once his voice holds no annoyance when he says, “There’s a lot we still have to catch you up on.”

– 

Your head is spinning as you bike to Jonathan’s with all the new information you’ve just received. Demogorgons, magical vortexes, kids with damn superpowers. It’s all a lot for you to take in, and while you fully believe that El is something entirely different from a normal little girl, how can you be sure that it’s connected to Will? While his disappearance still confuses you, it’s illogical to jump to supernatural conclusions. 

Dustin had begged you to let him spend the night at Mikes in order to keep talking to El, and you only agreed because you figured you’d be at Jonathan’s again tonight anyways. He’s been MIA all day and you’re worried as usual, but you made him and Mike swear to you that they’d stay put in the house. At least this way they’re in one place, so if they screw around they’ll be easier to find. 

When you arrive at the Byers home you notice that Jonathan’s car isn’t in the driveway, which only confuses you further. Where the hell is he? You gave him all day to deal with Lonnie and cool off, trusting that he wouldn’t do anything stupid for twelve hours, and yet… 

You fear he’s done something stupid. 

You don’t have time to think too much about Jonathan’s absence because a frantic Joyce runs out the door screaming. She runs straight past you and into her car, and the house begins to light up like a christmas tree. You can hear The Clash’s Should I Stay or Should I Go, a song that Will once had on repeat for three weeks straight, and you can feel the same static electricity in the air that you felt when El used her powers in front of you. 

Joyce suddenly gets out of the car and spots you, pointing towards her house. “You see that too?”

You swallow. “Yeah,”

She nods, as if your confirmation is all she needs to determine her sanity, and then marches inside. You stand in the yard, motionless. You’re terrified, and after learning about El tonight, you don’t have it in you to discover any other supernatural beings in Hawkins at the moment. Sighing, you follow after the woman because Jonathan isn’t home and someone needs to talk her down from whatever panic attack the flashing lights have inevitably caused. 

“Mrs. Byers-” 

“Y/N, you can’t tell me there isn’t something,” Joyce waves her hands in front of her face, almost grasping at the air, “weird about all of this. That was Will’s song, the lights were flashing in Will’s room, something came out of Will’s wall-”

“Something came out of his wall?”

“Yes! I’m not… I promise I’m not crazy, okay? You saw it, please tell me you saw it.”

You bite your lip, now thinking about El. You swore to Mike you wouldn’t tell anyone about her, and honestly you’re not sure that you should tell Joyce about her right now. You’re still unsure if El is being honest with you, and you can’t just give the woman false hope for her son. It’d kill you if you were wrong about El. But seeing the lights, hearing the music, the thing in the wall… There’s something that she’s not telling you. 

“Mrs. Byers… I’m not quite sure what I saw, but we just had a bad storm and it could be faulty wiring.” 

Joyce slumps her shoulders, frustrated that you aren’t conspiring with her. You just… you can’t. Not yet. Not before you figure out what the hell El is doing in Hawkins. You refuse to worsen Joyce’s already chronic anxiety and paranoia; Jonathan would never forgive you if you fed into her delusions, but it kills you to lie to her. 

“Look, I do think that something is weird about this entire situation, “ Joyce’s face lights up, but you’re quick to add, “however, there’s no proof. You, I mean-Mrs. Byers, you’ve seen things in the past. You’re stressed, and anxious, and all the other synonyms.” 

The woman lets a few tears drop from her eyes, now embarrassed. “Maybe you’re right. I-I’m sorry, honey. I just-”

You grab her hand. “I know,”

Her smile is brittle, a ghost of the once beautiful smile she’d give you, and your heart breaks for her. 

After your conversation, Joyce excuses herself to her room. She looks even more exhausted than before, so you leave her alone and hole yourself up in Jonthan’s room. 

You glance at your watch and note the late hour; you’re starting to worry now. Jonathan didn’t mention anything besides Lonnie and the posters, so you don’t know what else he could be doing so late. He wouldn’t go searching for Will without you. 

You wake up to Jonathan returning an hour or so later, apparently having fallen asleep while waiting for him. 

“Y/N?” His voice is gruff and surprised. 

You groan and rub your eyes. “Turn the light off, bee.”

He doesn’t. “What are you doing here?”

The tone of his voice wakes you up a bit, making you sit up and look at him more clearly. His shoulders are tense, his eyes are hiding something, and his overall demeanor is hard to read. “I had something to tell you, but is everything okay?”

“You couldn't have waited until tomorrow? Y/N, this is my house, just… just get out.”

“I’m sorry?” You’re confused by his behavior, now starting to become a bit defensive and hurt by his dismissal. 

“You can’t just let yourself in whenever you please.” Jonathan puts his camera on his desk, still refusing to meet your eyes.

“Jonathan, we literally have always let ourselves into each other’s houses whenever we please.” 

He rolls his eyes at you and rips off his jacket, throwing it at you. “Get out!”

You catch the jacket before it hits you in the face. “What the hell, Jonathan!” 

“Listen, I get that you think you’re a part of the family, but you’re not. You’ve been here for days now, it’s getting old.” 

His words cut through you and leave vicious wounds against your skin. He doesn’t mean that, he can’t mean that. You and him were family. He’s never, ever insinuated anything less. He wouldn’t dare. Your Jonathan would never act like this to you, and the only time he’s ever been this cruel to you was when he accidentally dropped Lonnie’s last beer in the fridge and was too embarrassed and ashamed to ask for help; he’d shown up with bruises later that night.

Then it hits you. He did something, something that makes him feel guilty; he keeps glancing at his camera. You soften your voice, “Bee, what did you do?”

He whips around, now yelling. “Nothing! Just get the hell out of my house! It’s getting pathetic!” 

You swallow back the angry tears that build in your throat. Fine. Whatever. Let him be a raging bitch after everything you’ve done for him these last few days. 

“Fine, I will.” Grabbing your backpack you snatch the assignments you were supposed to give Jonathan and slam them against his chest. “Here’s all your fucking assignments, by the way.” 

He seems to come back to himself, blinking away the anger and shame. “Bug…”

“You don’t get to call me that.” And with that, you don’t spare Jonathan another glance. 

– 

When you get home, the house is eerily quiet. Dustin is at Mike’s and your mom leaves you a note saying that she’s spending the night at your aunt’s. Great. Looks like it’s just you and Mews tonight then. 

After everything that’s happened tonight, you never found time to eat dinner, and your stomach is loudly growling. You drop your stuff in your room and then reheat some leftovers, feeling like a pathetic child. You know that Jonathan didn’t mean what he said, but the words had come too easily to him to have just been a way to dodge his guilt. There had been some truth to them. Maybe you were pathetic for always fretting over him.

Dinner is quiet tonight. 

You wait for the phone to ring, for Jonathan to call you and apologize, but the call never comes. 

You’ve never felt so alone before.

-

⌑ series masterlist

⌑ if you would like to be added/removed from my taglist, just let me know :)

[http-tokki]

you promised.- satoru gojo

~ satoru gojo x reader ~ tags/cw: break up, angst, satoru is an asshole ~ wc: 935

"You promised..." You feel your lips pulling further into a frown as you stare at Satoru sitting across from you. "You pinky swore that we were gonna try harder this time."

Satoru doesn't move an inch from his stoic position as tears roll down your cheeks. He does not attempt to reach forward and brush them from your cheeks or run his hand along your forearm the way he used to, there is no attempt at comfort; not anymore. You ache for his touch, for some semblance of warmth that once radiated off him, the heat that kept the embers within your heart glowing throughout the years-long separation between the two of you.

"I don't think it's fair to bring that up." He counters, the vacant expression still plastered across his face.

"I don't think it's fair that you said all these things and made me think it was going to be different this time only for us to end up the same." there is anger building within you, bubbling and roiling in the depths of your soul but you know you can never truly be angry with him.

Gojo sighs and drags his hands down his hands in frustration, the only emotion he has shown thus far. "I didn't know that I wasn't going to be ready for this, I thought-" another sigh. "I thought I was ready but I'm not and it's unfair for you."

"You don't get to decide what's fair for me, that's my decision." your jaw clenches, throat tightening as sobs claw their way up. "All you've talked about was how much I've grown and how you admire me making decisions for myself so here I am, making a decision for myself." you take a deep breath, calming the shaking in your voice as you declare. "I chose you. Always have and always will."

"You're willing to give up your entire life and be my second, third, maybe fourth priority, without a chance at a normal life? Am I that important to you?"

"Yes."

There is a beat of silence and for a moment, you think he will reach across the console, grab your face, kiss you, and seal your combined fate. He will feel the sincerity of your words, your unwavering love and devotion to him and the life that could be, and return your feelings. Finally, you were going to get the moment of your dreams with the man you had been yearning for for far too long.

"God, that's pathetic." Satoru huffs, rubbing at his jaw. "Is your self-worth that low?"

"Excuse me?" His verbal attack is just as sharp as if he were to slap you across the cheek.

"How are you so pathetic that you're willing to give up being your own person for someone else? For me? Do you have no self-respect?"

The words slice at your skin, flaying you open with each sneer. Bile rises in your throat, stomach aching at the devastating blow that he had just delivered to your psyche. Maybe he was right.

"It's like looking at a stray dog just begging me to take them home." Saturo sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose.

Bile rises in your throat, stomach clenching at the devastation he had just released upon you. You feel your heart break. A cracking that only you can hear fills your head, and blood sounds in your ears as your hands start to shake. Breathing becomes manual and the air is a little too thin, vision blurring at the edges and you don't know if it's the lack of oxygen flowing through you or the tears beginning to cloud your waterline. You inhale once, jagged but full, your head clearing slightly at the sudden rush of air and you know what to do. You've done this before. Been dumped by the great Gojo Saturo and you've lived through it, you can do it again but why did it hurt so much more now? There is no time to sit and think about that. You need to leave now, get out of the car so you can break down in the sanctity of your own company.

"Okay," you start, taking another breath and lifting your head to face the sorcerer. "Thank you for letting me know."

Satoru's face remains unchanged, staring at you unblinkingly as you clench your jaw to stop the quivering of your lips.

"We’re done. This is it.” your voice cracks despite your best efforts. “There won’t be any friendship; nothing. Ever again.” 

Gojo’s lip twitches, a slight downward tug at the corner of his lip before schooling his face into neutrality. 

“Anything else to add?” tone detached despite whatever emotion had slipped through his mask a millisecond ago. 

You think for a moment and debate whether or not to admit defeat. Confess that he had won the weird heartbreak competition there was between the two of you, that he had finally taken his prize of your whole heart but what would that achieve? So you take a deep breath and open the door. Cool winter air rushes in, replacing the familiar warmth that always seemed the fill Satoru’s car. Not another word is spoken between the two of you as you climb out, close the door and walk back towards your apartment. You freeze as you reach the door, hand frozen on the keypad to the lobby and you turn, a habit you had developed over the years together, expecting to see him waiting for you to walk into the building knowing you are safe but when you turn, the space is empty.

a/n: lmao inspired by an actual break up conversation with the same guy who broke me like 2 years ago (yeah, that's right I went back like an idiot)

[etherealily]

𝟡 𝕝𝕚𝕧𝕖𝕤 // Nate Jacobs.

Nate Jacobs + Fem!reader. Darker. SFW, but discretion advised.

Part 1 : Whiplash

Part 3 : Blessed

Part 4 : Shards

Part 5 : Eighteen

Part 6 : Sin

You do NOT have permission to repost and/or translate any of my fics.

Desc. : You should be grateful.

════════════════════ ⋆♠️⋆ ════════════════════

He wasn't supposed to text you. He was supposed to take the beating you'd given him for being a prick, like a man, and shut the fuck up about it.

But here you were, midnight, staring at the chat that had started it all.

'yo, u up?'

You rolled your eyes, going back to your scrolling.

'I hate seenzoners.'

You liked his message.

'That's so much worse.'

'The fuck do u want?'

Nate Jacobs sent a voice message.

You could have just ignored it. You could just block him. You could just… stop. But the allure was far too much. The urge of finding out what he wanted was too strong.

"Guess where I am."

He could've just texted that. No need for a voice message, but he was Nate Jacobs.

"I don't know, the psych ward?"

"You wanna know? You'll have to drive and follow my instructions, though. You trust me enough for that?"

Ha. No fucking chance. "No, I'm good, thanks."

"Oh, so you'll text me, but won't see me in person?"

His voice was oddly sultry, as if he'd either just woken up or hadn't slept for days. Most likely the second one.

"Bingo. Go to sleep, Jacobs."

And then he sent you a picture of him from the bleachers of your school's football stadium - how the fuck did he get in?

"C'mon, don't you want to see what our school looks like at night?"

Uh, yes. But with him? No.

"It's 12:05, ASSHOLE. No fucking way."

"This is the scene where you cave and meet me and we have a cute little nighttime school montage where we sit and talk about life."

You listened to that message a good four times before you stopped laughing.

"This is the scene where I block you."

"I will come over if you don't come to the school. Uh, y'know, if you want your parents to think you're fooling around with the QB."

"I will literally shoot you if you come within fifty feet of my house."

"Come. I'll make it worth your while."

Was it possible to hear smirks?

"I'm not coming, Nate."

No way he was actually at the high school. It was probably an insanely good edit.

"You will be."

The FUCK was that supposed to mean? Not like he could force you to show up.

"Wanna bet?"

"Sure. Fifty bucks says you show up to the high school tonight."

"Not blowing fifty bucks on anything, even if I do win."

"What's it going to take for you to come? Look, I-I know it's been weird, and I might've scared you, but that's… that wasn't my intention, I swear."

Yeah, his intention was just to show you what his blood looked like. You liked his message once more, rolling your eyes.

"Dude, seriously, I swear, I'm not like, a serial killer or anything. You can bring pepper spray, a taser, whatever, if it makes you feel better. I'm just- okay, fuck, you're right. Dumb idea, trying to convince you like this."

Wait, okay, good. That was good. He was getting the message.

Another voice message.

"I forgot who I was talking to. You leave me no choice."

"What?" No.

And then, you received a video. He was teetering off the edge of the top-most row of bleachers. With a gun at his head.

"Come on, Y/N, this is getting really sad, that the only way I can grab your attention is by almost killing myself."

"I don't care. Do whatever. Not falling for it this time."

═════════════════════ ⋆♠️⋆ ═══════════════════

"FUCK!", you yelled, as you found yourself running frantically through the school football field for the second time in two weeks.

You'd actually kept your word for a while, pushing out every Nate-related thought for a good night's sleep - you didn't fall for it.

Until McKay called and informed you that Nate wasn't picking up his phone - and that his last message was something along the lines of : 'Call Y/N if you don't hear from me in the next couple of minutes'.

He was deranged. Playing Russian Roulette with his own life was absolutely deranged.

"You actually showed."

GOOD, he was still alive, meaning you could kill him.

You didn't speak. That would simply complicate things, because then you'd have to look at him.

"Plus, you didn't flinch when you saw me. Think that's a win for me in the trust department."

You stood there, glaring at him as he jumped down from the bleachers, even doing that dangerously, as if he was a cat with nine lives, or he was playing a video game and would just respawn.

"You know, you could say something."

He wasn't getting impatient, though, like his tone was trying to portray. No, he was getting more amused. He liked this. He liked the fact that he got you to come to a basically abandoned-for-the-holidays-high school at midnight. He reveled in it.

"Like hey, Nate, thanks for convincing me to actually live a little for a change instead of staying cooped up in my house.", he suggested.

You punched him.

Yeah. You kept running across that field till you were close enough and you punched him right then and there.

You full-on punched him, shoved him back, slapped him, clawed at him. "Stop FUCKING doing this to me! STOP! You can't FUCKING do this to me!", you screamed, hitting him repeatedly on his chest.

He took every beating, and the fact that it seemed he was trying not to laugh just egged you on even more to actually kill him, make his nose bleed, make his head fall clean off his egotistical body.

Eventually, though, it seemed even Nate Jacobs had his limit. He grappled against your hands as he held them between both your chests, clenching his jaw. He wouldn't risk saying anything, seeing as your eyes were already burning with tears.

"You…", you cried out as he shifted his grip on your hands to only one hand, wrapping the other around you. "…Can't keep…"

"Shh, shh, I know.", he muttered as he rested his chin on your head. "Shh, I had to."

"No, you didn't."

He kissed your head, then your forehead, your nose, your cheeks, and stopped for a moment, hovering over your lips but not touching them, as though he was more scared than you were. "You know I did."

You wondered if he could taste the tears, whether he relished it. Knowing what little you did of him, he might have.

"I would've come."

"No, you wouldn't have. Shh." He was right, but there had to be some other way.

"You know what, sweetheart?"

It was sickening how he could do this to you and then use words of endearment against you.

"You should actually be grateful."

And that's when you noticed that he was actually gripping onto your hair, tightening it when your face didn't show any contortion due to pain (only contortion due to unbridled rage and the urge to stab him with your car keys).

"I usually hurt people to get what I want. With you, I'm hurting myself."

You fought the urge to say 'so fucking what?'

"You're not bleeding, baby, that's what you don't get. You're untouched, and safe, and not bleeding. Me, however?"

What was his point? That he was being a gentleman by scaring you half to death instead of having a normal adult conversation?

"I'm bleeding. I'm hurt. I'm in pain. But I'm still holding you."

He said it with exaggerated magnanimity, like he was doing you a favour, or something, like all your problems, trauma, worries, stress, had just disappeared because he was holding you in his 'big strong arms'.

"Then stop!"

"Neither of us wants me to stop holding you."

"I do."

He grinned, knowingly, with a subtle shake of his head. "No, you don't."

"Let me go."

"No."

"Let me go, Nate."

"Fine. Because you called me Nate and not Jacobs.", he nodded, letting go of you and throwing up his arms. "Don't hit me again."

"Was McKay in on this?"

He frowned momentarily, before realization swept over his face. "Shit. Yeah, no, he wasn't. I should text him, huh?"

Oh, now he was asking if he should be a courteous human being?

You watched him loathingly, as he typed out what you guessed was a half-assed apology.

'Sorry, McKay, I'm good, man. Chicks, y'know?' or some absolutely fucked up shit like that, to be sure.

"Done. Now, will you stop being so square and enjoy the fact that you're here at school at midnight?"

"What?" Enjoy?

"I'll bet this is your first time out at midnight period, let alone your first time out at midnight somewhere you're not legally supposed to be."

"Why am I here?"

The condescending look he gave you set your teeth on edge. 'Oh, poor, naive girl. Of course she doesn't even know why she's here. This is why I told her to stay in my grasp. She never listens.'

FUCKING ASSHOLE.

"You're my good luck charm. My good luck charm, but I heard you're fucking Shane. You can't be doing that."

The softness in his movements, the gentleness, it had either completely stopped, or entirely overshadowed the fact that he had put you through yet another nerve-wracking event that would raise your blood pressure.

Shane who, Shane who, Shane- oh. Shane.

Not so much fucking as went on one date with, but it was better for everyone if Nate thought you had already gone that far.

"Why not?"

"He's a punk."

"You're one to talk."

"Look, he plays defense. What if you're just, like, intensely fortunate? Can't have him sneak in a quickie before the game and then he's lucky."

It's like he wanted you to punch him again.

"He's on your team. You'll win anyway."

He shrugged, as though he could see where you were coming from, but was about to respectfully absolutely ruin your argument.

"I like to win."

"Not a team player, are you?"

"Never claimed to be."

══════════════════════ ⋆♠️⋆ ═══════════════════

He was so clearly getting frustrated with your lack of response - the initial dopamine and thrill of being a disgusting element of surprise by shooting/not-shooting himself in the head gone.

But what could you say?

You'd already ghosted Shane after the date had tanked, so technically there was no reason for you to still be here. The chances of a 'lucky quickie' were virtually zero.

And so, you just stood there, the two of you, with inexplicable rage pooling within.

Your senses were heightened, your emotions wilder than the crazed look in your eyes as he stood there, looking down at you like an adult looking down at their childhood toy. As if you were the naivest, most precious, pathetically adorable thing he owned, reminding him of a simpler time.

At this point, even a rabbit's foot had been treated with more respect than you.

And you hated every moment of it because it was thrusted upon you, just like the silence of the eerie, void-like field you two were in.

"Why are you like this, Y/N?", he groaned, with the nerve to sound tired.

You? Why were you like this? What about him?

"You're… so cold." His hands flexed as if they were about to move from your hair to your throat. "Just… let loose, please. You're the reason I'm winning, I'd at least like to get to know you!"

"Oh, so this is like, an interview? Is she good enough to be associated with me? You think you're hot shit? Dude, I- you gotta realize how fucked up all of this is."

You were practically pleading. Acknowledge your absurdity, Nate Jacobs, please.

"Hey, whoa, look, you chose to associate yourself with me. Not my problem, ok?", he spat back, clearly happy with the return of banter.

"I didn't choose any of this!"

"You requested to follow me after I followed you. You chose not to block me after I followed you."

"You're putting this all on me?"

That's what normal people do ; they follow people back! He was grasping at straws, but it still seemed as though he had an iron grip on them.

"There wouldn't have been a first time if you didn't care so goddamn much." Like he was mocking you. You almost screamed. You almost hit him. He was so nonchalant.

But that… rang true. However, the humanitarian in you was adamant that there was absolutely no one cold enough to shrug off a video of someone slicing so effortlessly into their palm and exposing their blood so unabashedly.

Well, except Nate Jacobs himself.

"But, y'know what, Y/N?", he said, clearing his throat, matter-of-factly. "That's all in the past. Because now, now, we're going to sort out this arrangement between us and everything will go back to normal."

Normal? Normal as in, both of you go back to being strangers? Unlikely.

"Arrangement?"

"How this thing is going to go. Before every game, you fist-bump me. You don't touch any other players whatsoever, Blackhawk or otherwise."

Great, he was policing who you could fist-bump now.

"I- you brought me here at midnight for this?"

"Uh, no, I brought you here at midnight for fun.", he replied, scoffing. "But since you wanted to be all violent and physical, I thought we should stick to business."

Did he mean to be this insufferable? Was it a bit? There was no way an actual human being could act like this, yes? There was no way anyone could think that this was a justifiable response to a genuine question. Right?

At this point, you didn't know anymore.

Nate Jacobs had officially stumped you.

"If I say okay, can I leave?"

"No, you cannot leave, but you definitely can go sit over there and think about your little attitude before I bring out the tequila."

He burst out laughing at your annoyed face, slinging a heavy arm around your shoulder in an oddly possessive display of 'familiarity'.

"Relax. Loosen up, like I said, and you'll be fine.", he snorted, and that was your only indication that he did not, in fact, actually wish to put you into time-out.

The insane man with a gun had a sense of humour, apparently.

"You brought tequila?"

"I told you, the whole point of tonight was fun and getting to know the reason I'm winning better. So, sit."

You sat, still glaring up at him. You must have looked absolutely fucking cute or something, because he pouted at you before reaching into a duffle bag you hadn't noticed before and whipping out two bottles of straight tequila.

"Body shots?"

"Jacobs…"

"I'm joking, I'm joking. You'll come around soon, though. They all do."

Great. That's brilliant. You'd been reduced from a stranger, to a bitch, to a joke, to now a stereotype. This was just spectacular.

"Why me?"

That question seemed to genuinely catch him off-guard.

Good. Now he knows what this past week with him has been like.

"Hm?'

"Why me? Why am I the good luck charm?"

"I don't know."

"You could just be a really good player. You don't know, you haven't gone a single game without it, so you assume you're winning because of it."

"The third game was the one you weren't there for. You must remember hearing about it, though? Most embarrassing game for East Highland, I swear. 34-nil? That was shameful. That's why I decided, fourth game onwards, I wouldn't have to risk it because I got you."

Shit. That actually made sense.

"Okay, now you tell me.", he began, slightly turning the bottle in his hand around and examining the contents, curiously. "Shane Crestin? Seriously?"

"What?"

He scoff-snickered, taking an impressively large gulp before answering. "Y/N, the guy's a tool."

Look who's talking.

"He asked me out after the game."

"So, he knows you're my good luck charm.", he said, quietly, like a king trying to figure out where his men's loyalties lay.

Did Julius Caesar have a girl who he gaslit in order to get her to watch him in battle because of superstition? If so, she'd have been the first to stab him.

"Of course he knows, you made a huge spectacle of it that first time."

"Oh, yeah. But still, what a bastard. Trying to steal my lucky girl and her luck like that."

You needed to do a lobotomy on this man, seriously.

It wasn't even like you could ask him what the hell that meant because that would just bring him immense amounts of joy.

"You're not drinking. Why?", he inquired, opening the second bottle and forcing it to your lips.

You frowned as you held onto it. "I don't drink."

"Oh, bullshit. Come on, drink, don't be a nerd."

"I said no, okay?"

"Wait, do you not want to drink around me?"

He was really going above and beyond to break the 'dumb jock' stereotype, wasn't he?

"I can't believe it.", he continued, leaning back on the bleachers as he watched your face. "After all this, you don't trust me."

After all this, he said, as if he had spent his entire life working solely for your benefit. Like a tired mentor.

"I mean, dude, this is like… such a bitch move, you know that? I'm just trying to be nice."

"I don't know what you want me to do, Nate."

"Uh, trust me? Thought we were cool now, Y/N. You think I'm going to get you blackout drunk then have my way with you? Rape you? Are you scared to be around me? At midnight? In a quiet, empty football stadium where no one would think to look for you?", he questioned, still holding your gaze as he lifted his bottle to his mouth.

The elaboration of that statement unnerved you.

"I don't think you're going to rape me, I'm just-"

"Just scared of the possibility?"

"Don't take it personal, but-"

"There's no other way to take it. You're all but accusing me of assault. I thought you were different."

Was that meant to make you melt? 'Oh, no, I'm just like everyone else in that I don't want to end up in a ditch somewhere, the horror!'

"Maybe I'm not.", you shrugged.

"But you came. Tonight. No one else would have. So maybe you're a judgmental bitch like everyone else, but you've at least got your stupidly huge heart going for you."

If you strained your ears, that almost sounded like a compliment.

"Uh, thanks?"

"Drink, Y/N. Please."

Oh, fuck it. You needed that goddamn tequila to shoot through you with a vengeance.

"There we go.", he mumbled, watching you. "Dude, look at you."

"Hm?"

"You're finally badass."

His eyes lit up as he saw your finger enter the scene. He chuckled for a moment. "I'm being serious. I mean, you've beaten me up, what, three times so far - once in front of the entire school - and now you're doing underage shots with me at night at school, which is like, two illegal things at the same time."

See, that's where the difference between the two of you lay.

He thought that was being a badass.

You thought that was being a dumbass.

══════════════════════ ⋆♠️⋆ ═══════════════════

"…So yeah. That's why I joined football, basically. Made me feel, like, stronger and more in control, I guess."

This asshole had just told the most human story, and now you had to see him as a person. The cunt.

You watched as he stood in the middle of the field, aiming and shooting at the banners that were strewn up all around the field.

God, he was so fucking terrifying.

How does he play Russian Roulette to bait you into coming one minute and then reload and shoot at banners like a child with his first Nerf the next?

"Control. Yeah, that tracks."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"You want everything to go your way. You get pissed when other people do things of their own will."

"Can't argue with that.", he shrugged, as he turned his back to you and shot another banner, impressively shooting right in the centre of the 'O' in a 'GO BLACKHAWKS!' sign. "You know how to shoot?"

"No."

"You should learn."

"I'll get right on that.", you scoffed, as you observed your tequila bottle intensely, ignoring him coming back to rest his feet on the bleachers from your peripheral vision.

"Open your mouth."

"What?"

"Humour me."

"I've humoured you enough tonight."

"Please? Pretty please?"

You rolled your eyes, but opened your mouth. You had no idea what you expected, but it sure as hell was not him stuffing the barrel of his gun in there. You suddenly felt the tequila evaporating from your bloodstream as he slapped your hands away after you tried taking it out, like anyone would. Shit, it hurt. FUCK.

"Just relax.", he whispered, so soothingly that he might as well have been talking you through a panic attack. "There's nothing to be scared of."

Besides the hot gun you've got basically lodged up my throat.

Suddenly, the amount of danger you really were in began to materialize in your head. He was right. It was midnight. It was spring break. It was at high school. No one would think to look for you there.

"Are you scared?"

Oh, God. He was one of those freaks who got off on these things.

You nodded, not really knowing what else to do.

"You think I'll shoot you?"

You shook your head.

"Kill you?"

You shook your head.

"Then why are you scared?"

Honestly, it was the fact that he wasn't going to do either of those things, and decided to shove a gun down your throat simply for shits and giggles.

"You need more tequila."

WHAT?

You frowned, but nodded. Anything to get the gun out of your mouth.

He poured it straight from the bottle into your mouth, watching with sick satisfaction as you swallowed, and you realized that he was psychotically drunk.

"How's that? I do it all the time, y'know? Hot metal plus cold tequila equals the best fucking night ever."

Um, ew. No. But that would be super unwise to say.

"You shove a gun down your throat then take a shot?"

"One of my more dangerous drinking games, yes. God, dude, look at you. Like, you're so fucking uptight, loosen THE FUCK up!"

You were unsure how much 'looser' you could get - you were already going along with his 'dangerous drinking game'.

"I am!"

"Not enough. Not even close. You need more."

"We're all out.", you said, (thankfully) pointing at the empty duffle bag next to him.

"Oh.", he sighed, slumping down next to you and using the duffle bag as a pillow. "Just- I don't get it. What is it about you?"

"That makes you get suicidal?"

He snorted, softly. "That makes me so mad?"

"You're mad?"

"Not like angry-mad. I mean like… crazy-mad. Like I go mad around you."

Five-year-olds could explain things better than him, but, to his credit, he was shitfaced.

"Really? Thought you were born that way."

"I mean, last week? When I kissed you? I don't do that shit. But it was the only way to shut you up. I-ugh. It's you, Y/N. Just fucking up my brain, one game at a time."

"Oh, oh, so you being a psychopath is because I didn't show up to one game?"

"When you're constantly worried about someone needing to be there, you do crazy things. Like cut yourself. I would have done it, too, seriously."

"I know. That's why I came."

"So, we weren't entirely strangers, huh? You knew me a little, at least?"

"Uh, no, we were definitely strangers."

"Now? What are we now?"

"Uh… friends?" You didn't mean that. You wouldn't be his friend if it killed you.

"No, I think I'd know it if we were friends." Phew.

"So, you tell me."

"What? No, you've been in charge this whole time, you tell me."

He just said you'd been in charge.

One offhanded, sweeping statement, and he'd shifted all the blame on you as easy as pie.

How did he do that?

It was obvious what he was referring to: the fact that none of these interactions would have happened if you just hadn't given a shit in the first place.

The fact that every single move of his had been linked to you, in whatever this weird everybody (except you) ante, sketchy poker game he was playing was supposed to be.

And it unnerved you.

Because in some twisted way, it was true.

"Acquaintances."

"But we've kissed.", he reminded, diligently and unwantedly. "Acquaintances - and classmates, before you suggest that - don't just kiss."

"Dude, then what do you want to be?"

Shit. That was what he'd wanted all along. For you to ask in exasperation, to give you his interpretation.

"You know, just… an average relationship between a man and his good luck charm." He inched closer, his hand loosening its grip on the railing as if it was going to do something, but there was no more tequila to reach out for.

There was only you.

And reach, he did.

First, his hands were on your cheek, like they had been a half hour ago. Then, suddenly, they were in your hair, and his tongue was trying to coax your words out of you directly from the source.

And you just let it happen.

If anyone knew why you let it happen, you'd have loved to start a suggestion box.

But you had a funny feeling that the only person who knew why was Nate Jacobs himself.

Fat chance he'd tell you.

[genderqueerdykes]

in honor of aromantic spectrum awareness week, i thought i'd take the time to talk about how much my personal life and feelings improved after coming to terms with the fact that i'm aromantic. before i accepted this, i found myself in several romantic relationships where i was deeply unhappy, uncomfortable, and made to feel like i wasn't a good enough partner because i just couldn't do or feel certain things.

i've never enjoyed kissing, and cuddling gets uncomfortable for me within the first few minutes of doing so. even hugs are deeply uncomfortable to me unless i really know and care about someone, and even then, hugs only come when that person asks for them. it never occurs to me to touch people this way, the most you'll get out of me is a pat on the shoulder, back or knee.

i ended up dating several people who were very much romantics, and heavily focused on that aspect of our relationship. it kind of felt like torture to me, i felt like i was being forced to live every day like it was Valentine's Day- every day had to be filled with hours of cuddling, kissing, and telling the other person how much i loved them. while not all romantic partners are like this, it wore on my psyche quickly to be paired with folks like this, because i understood how important it was to them, but i just couldn't keep up the performance.

i thought something was "wrong" with me for years and that i just wasn't in touch with my emotions, or that i was somehow embracing some toxic aspects of my masculinity without realizing. it took me ages to remember that i came out as aromantic when i was much younger, but after criticism from my friends, including a friend who was asexual, i stopped identifying with the label, because i was told that aromanticism wasn't real, and that that just made me an asshole.

nearly a decade and several uncomfortable romantic relationships later, it finally clicked that there wasn't something wrong with me, but there was something wrong with the situations i was getting myself into. sure, i love being partnered- i have a queerplatonic partner that i've known for a decade and have only gotten closer to over time. but we've never been romantic. we don't exchange romantic platitudes, and i realized; i've never been happier with someone else than i am with this person.

why is that?

oh. because they don't expect romance from me. they are also on the aspectrum and don't have a romantic partner, either.

this relationship has brought me more joy than any romantic partnership i've ever attempted to pursue. that doesn't mean there's something wrong with me- i was just looking for happiness in the wrong places. i was miserable not because i'm aromantic, but because i was getting into romantic relationships.

romance can be a source of misery. romance does not inherently make everyone happy. we are not all looking for romance as a species. in fact, chasing it makes many people miserable. too many people spend their lives looking for "the one" that they can kiss, cuddle, hold and say all of those mushy things to when they may not even want that to begin with.

i've never been more at peace with myself since finally, fully accepting that i'm aromantic. i love who i am, and i love how i love. i am not loveless, i experience platonic, queerplatonic and other forms of love. but loveless aromantics aren't miserable, either. we are all embracing ourselves in a way that's true to us. we are refusing to warp ourselves to a society that tells us that we all must have homogeneous feelings.

i am aromantic. i am here. my aromanticism is queer in a society that expects and demands romance of me, and this is true of all aromantics, cis, trans, gay, straight, bisexual, asexual, and otherwise. we are here, we are not going away any time soon, and we will not be silent because our identities make some people uncomfortable. we are happiest being who we are.

happy aro week, this goes out to every last arospectrum person out there, appreciate yourselves this week. you deserve it.

[macgyvermedical]

My Experience in Inpatient Psych

So I know a lot of people on here have talked about their experience in inpatient psych facilities, but I'd like to add mine just to give all you writers out there a writer-focused one. It's below the cut just in case you have to sit this one out for your own reasons.

To give you some background, I am 30 years old and have had hallucinations since about 16 and bizarre intrusive thoughts (someone living in my house that wasn't supposed to be there, somebody poisoned my walls, etc...) for about a decade, as well as very severe anxiety since I was about 3 years old. This is something not a lot of people know about me, even people I am friends with IRL.

The only thing I am actually diagnosed with is anxiety, which I'm starting to think is a failing of the psych systems I have been a part of. I have had counseling off and on and prior to this hospitalization I took escitalopram, aripiprazole, and gabapentin prescribed by my primary care doctor- all for the severe anxiety.

Quite frankly, I should have been in inpatient psych at least a few times before this, and it's by sheer dumb luck that I've survived to continue this blog.

On Friday, I was at home alone and made a few pretty bad decisions. I wont say what they were because frankly they're embarrassing, but they have to do with self-harm. I was scheduled to work Saturday and at about 9pm I realized that if I drove myself to work I would crash my car. Since my wife drives me sometimes, I figured I would just ask her to.

I told my wife and she asked- even if she drove me to work, since I was a nurse, would I be able to keep myself safe around insulin or other potentially dangerous drugs? I couldn't answer that question. We talked for a couple hours and came to the conclusion that I probably needed to go to the emergency department.

At this point I figured they would evaluate me and release me because I couldn't possibly meet the criteria for inpatient. I was wrong in this assumption. After telling them the decisions I had made that day, the feelings of wanting to die in a car crash, plus about a previous attempt, they recommended inpatient. Turns out, when you're a nurse, you can make some really bad life choices with the knowledge you have, and they didn't want to take any chances.

I was given paper scrubs to wear (so I couldn't hurt myself with my clothing or a hospital gown). I was also given a patient companion (someone who sits in the room and makes sure you don't hurt yourself).

They gave me the option of signing myself in voluntarily, or putting me on a writ of detention. A writ of detention is a piece of paperwork that allows a medical professional or law enforcement officer to hold someone for 3 days in a psychiatric facility against the person's will for the purposes of psychiatric treatment. Whether you sign the voluntary or get placed on a writ, you cannot sign yourself out. You need to wait until the psychiatrist taking care of you thinks you're ready to go.

I didn't believe at this point I needed to go inpatient, but I took the voluntary option because there are some perks, like being able to leave within 3 days if appropriate. At this point I was convinced I was probably going to have to call off work Saturday and Sunday, probably be out of the hospital Monday, have a few days to rest and be back at work on my next scheduled shift after that, which was Thursday.

Well, that's not what happened.

Because of some of the decisions I had made, along with bed availability, they wanted to keep me in the observation unit overnight before they sent me to psych. I stayed overnight in a unit that shares staff with the unit I work on, so I was taken care of by my coworkers. This was surprisingly not that bad. I like my coworkers and they were really professional about it.

Saturday I felt like I was in a fog all day. I couldn't watch TV. I couldn't color or write. I worked out some in my hospital room and paced the halls once or twice. Mostly I hung out with my wife and occasionally talked with my companion, but even talking was difficult. I had refused ativan because I felt like I had no hope of finding a medication that made me feel better, and I figured I didn't want to take the one medication that might actually work and then not be able to get it ever again.

Around 7PM I took a 45 minute ambulance ride to the facility. Getting my blood pressure taken is a big anxiety trigger for me, but my brain felt so scrambled that I couldn't express this well. They took it every 10 minutes on the ride there and by the time I got there it was in the 170s/100s (BP goes up when you're having severe anxiety). This was not their fault of course, but no matter how much I thought about telling them or refusing the BPs, I just couldn't do it.

When I got to the facility I was greeted by a tech who took my BP again (150s/90s this time), showed me around and looked through my personal belongings (basically just the clothing I came in with since my wife took my phone and wallet knowing I wouldn't be able to have them on the unit) to make sure I didn't have anything I wasn't allowed to on the unit. She showed me around my room and was really thorough with telling me how things worked, what the rules were, etc..

The rules included:

No patients allowed in other patients rooms

No personal belongings that had strings, belts, or laces, or that could be used as a weapon

No caffeine after lunch and no free access to caffeine

No personal electronics (including eReaders and watches). There was a TV in the day room and 2 phones mounted to the wall for patient use

A little later my nurse came into my room and asked me a ton of questions. Here's the thing about any hospital- you get asked the same questions over and over. By the time I'd gotten there I could give my story in under a minute. Or at least, that's what it felt like. There were only 2 clocks on the unit, at the nurses stations.

The unit itself was laid out in a "T" shape. There was a main nurse's station at the place where the two hallways intersected. At the end of the long hallway there was another smaller nurses station, a cafeteria/day room, and a "comfort room" which was a small room off the day room that had a collection of the oldest and worst donated books that have every come together on a bookshelf.

I did some pacing that night and then went to bed, but didn't sleep particularly well.

On Sunday morning the tech woke me up to take my blood pressure, which was, not unsurprisingly, still high. It was about 5 AM so I got up and paced the longer of the corridors for about an hour. Breakfast was served at 8 and the food wasn't that bad. The coffee was about the worst I'd ever drank, which I suppose helped with the no caffeine goals.

Just after breakfast I met with a psychiatrist on an iPad for about half a minute, and I'm not exaggerating there. The only questions he asked were whether I was suicidal and whether I would be fine with tripling my dose of aripiprazole in light of the hallucinations. I had had a 50-lb weight gain in the last year so I asked to switch my med. He switched the med to cariprazine. That was all.

I had a much longer meeting with my nurse later. All the nurses did an excellent job of assessing me, asked tons of questions, and it seemed like they really tried to figure out what was going on. That day I also met with a social worker, and a therapist, and a nurse practitioner. Each of them did an assessment to see what my needs were while I was there.

There was also a music therapy session where I cried my eyes out to Because of You by Kelly Clarkson.

I was really tired by the end of the day but I also didn't think I could sleep so I asked for trazodone. I should clarify that when I say "I" in this piece I really mean my wife convinced me to ask because I legitimately didn't believe I needed or deserved any of the things I asked for at this point. To my utter shock and surprise, they gave me the trazodone.

My first night on trazodone was amazing and I realized I hadn't slept well in a long time. With trazodone I fell asleep and stayed asleep until the blood pressure cart came rolling down the hallway at 5am. The second I got up on Monday morning I was wide awake.

I paced a lot Monday. I went to a goals session in the morning where I gave a goal to write 3/4 of a page. I didn't know if I could do it or what I was even going to write about, but I know I like to write and it might be a reasonable introduction to getting back to life.

I also was having kind of a rough day brain-wise. My brain was coming up with all the ways I could hurt myself in my room. There weren't a lot of them, but it was trying. I told the nurse during her assessment and she asked if I felt I could keep myself safe. I asked her what she would do if I said no. She said they could move me to a more secure part of the unit and give me more supervision. I knew what part of the unit she was talking about, and I didn't want to go there (no space to pace, and pacing was keeping me alive right then). So I told her I could keep myself safe (if anything, the idea of moving was good motivation to do stay safe in itself). I hallucinated some black and white blood cells falling from the ceiling and music coming out of my vents.

I also had another meeting with the social worker to figure out discharge plans. I voiced in the meeting that I wasn't sure that I could trust my wife, since it felt like at the time she was the one who exaggerated my symptoms to get me in here. The social worker said we had really good communication skills, since this was something I felt needed to be said in front of both of them and we both stayed really calm through the whole thing.

I finished the day with an art therapy session that really helped me turn a corner. The prompt was to draw the emotion(s) you felt right now on one side of the paper, and to draw the emotions you wished you could feel on the other side. For the first time I realized that my emotional state was actually really bad and that the suicidality hadn't come out of nowhere, and that I needed help.

When my wife came to visit later that night I was able to tell her about my breakthrough, even though I still felt a little bit like she had done something to get me in here and I still wasn't sure I needed to be inpatient.

Tuesday was a lot better. I felt like I had woken up out of some kind of fog and I had no idea how long I'd been in it. I went to goals group, a spiritual group, and group occupational therapy. My goal was to be more social and I made a friend and we paced together and worked out. I read a quarter of The Martian by Andy Weir (my wife brought it for me because the best thing on the bookshelf was Louis L'Amour). I wrote about how good I suddenly felt. Turns out, I thought, a few days of good sleep, lots of therapy, and a new medication or two will really change things.

A quick side note about The Martian. I highly recommend it to anyone who is chilling in a psych hospital but has the ability to read while they're there (I sure didn't the first few days). I don't really know why, but the first few times I read it, I felt like they had created this superhuman character in Mark Watney just so they could throw a ton of wild things at him for the story. This time reading it, as a suddenly not suicidal person, I realized anyone with Mark's skill would have done the same thing and not just died on Sol 7 to get it over with.

Wednesday I woke up not feeling nearly as good as Tuesday, but still like the fog had lifted. I was a little disappointed (I hallucinated my cat (thanks for coming to visit me, Corina), some spiders, and just felt kinda meh. But I remembered how good I felt the day before, and that really kept me hopeful about going home.

I saw the psychiatrist again and asked to go home. He joked a little about me staying till Christmas, but ultimately he said as soon as his note was in I could go. I ended up leaving at about 12:30 with my wife.

In the time since leaving I have required a lot of support from my wife. The medications are all locked up, so are the blades and anything I could use to hurt myself. My wife has me in eyeshot at all times. I can't drive due to intrusive thoughts, so she does all the driving now. I quit my job because I feel like it was a big part of why I ended up as bad as I was. As someone who has been a pretty independent person this is a big change of pace, but something that is really necessary to my healing.

Ultimately at the end of my hospital stay, I was prescribed escitalopram, gabapentin, trazodone, cariprazine, and then a few days later propranolol. I'm currently on a total of 5 psych meds and honestly I don't care one bit because its so much better than being not on them at this point in my life.

[theglamorousferal]

Persephone's Binding Part 6

AO3 Prompt Part 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14

Jason crouched into a fighting stance, mimicking Danny. They began to circle each other, making a complete circle of the training ring in the process.

"One of us has to move first, and you're the one who wanted to test me." Jason quipped. Danny lunged, intending to hit a spot of fabric visible between Jason's armor.

Jason dodged, then went to hit Danny in the middle of his back, only for him to fall through him. He tucked into a roll and popped up on on knee. "Okay, now that's not fair. Density shifting? Didn't think I'd be fighting someone like the Martian."

Danny paused. "Martian?" He shook his head. "Never mind, I can ask later. I'm already handicapping myself with like half, the shit I can do keeping projectiles outta the fight. At least let me keep my basics."

Jason looked at him suspicious. "What are your basics?"

"Oh just intangibility, invisibility, flight and super-strength." Danny grinned like the little shit he was. Definitely a younger sibling. Jason thought. He rolled his eyes and got to his feet, ending up in a fighting stance again.

"Yeah, but If I can't touch you at all how are you gonna gauge how I fight?"

Danny tilted his head and squinted his eyes at him. "You have a point." He pouted. "Fine, I need dodging practice anyway."

"Good, now come at me." Jason gestured. Danny gave up trying to obey gravity and flew straight at Jason's mid-section, intending to tackle him. He was not expecting Jason to flip out of the way and to the side, before landing facing where Danny now was positioned.

Danny growled and then leapt towards Jason swinging at his face; Jason did not expect the kick to the stomach. With the air punched out of his lungs, Jason swiped at Danny's head, intending to knock him over. He only managed to send him spinning towards the railing before Danny caught and righted himself.

"You good?" He asked as Jason wheezed a breath in.

"Yeah, I'm good, when was the last time you fought a human kid?"

Danny froze for a moment before a dark look passed over his face. "About seven months. And I was aiming to harm." He shook himself after a moment before a guilty expression flashed across his face.

"I'm good, I promise. Just maybe pull it back a little so you don't accidentally break a few ribs." Jason waved him off, jumping a bit and getting himself psyched back up. "Let's go."

They continued to spar for hours. Danny won the first match, then Jason. The third they got each other locked in a grapple that neither could break and called it a draw. They moved onto weapons after that, first with swords, edges dull for training, then staffs. After a bit they broke for some water.

"So, your sister mentioned you were attending IRU? What's that?" Jason asked after chugging half a bottle.

"Oh, Infinite Realms University. There were a bunch of entities, ghost and neverborn alike, whose obsessions are either teaching or have decided that to feed their obsession and therefore existence, that they would teach others about it. It started as a group of ghosts who manifested together and then slowly expanded to cover every conceivable subject or degree. Myself and a couple of friends are trying to put together a way to do online classes so the people in Amity can attend."

"Oh, so they take full humans?" Maybe I can get a degree if I'm stuck here.

"I mean, they take anyone at all if they can handle the ambient ectoplasm."

"Right, you have both mentioned that. What exactly is ectoplasm? I nebulously know it has something to do with ghosts, but nothing further. Ghosts aren't really a thing in my world as far as I'm aware."

"Right, Jazz mentioned you're new to literally all of this stuff. We grew up with it and then I have it as a lived experience. Here's this is a form of ectoplasm." Danny allowed ectoplasm to pool in his cupped hands. It was florescent green and giving off a glow that shone across Danny's armor.

"That looks like Lazarus water but not bubbling. Can I touch it?"

"Probably not until we get your soul looked at. I mean, I can see it if I look, but I won't know what I'm looking at."

Jason paused. "You can see my soul?" He asked, incredulous.

"Yeah, it's something I've been working on with some of my teachers. Kinda tricky to learn, and you need a proto-core at least to do it. It's taken me a few years to get it down right, now I gotta take more lessons on recognizing differences and classifications, I need to learn before I take the big chair." He chugged the rest of his water bottle and wiped his face with his arm.

"You nervous?" Jason asked.

"Wouldn't you? All I did was fight a dude like I always did to save my town and it resulted in being ghost royalty." He grumbled.

"I mean, I tried to steal the tired off a car and it resulted in me being able to summon mystical glowing swords."

"No way."

Jason smirked and stood, holding his hands out and willing the All-Blades to appear. Glowing flame-like blades sprang to life from his closed fists.

"Okay, that's pretty cool. I mean, I can do that with ice too, see?" Danny holds out his own hands and two swords made from ice appeared to grow from them.

They both looked at each other's weapons, then caught each other's eyes and smirked in unison. "Race ya to the ring!" Danny yelled then lumped high into the air above Jason who scrambled towards the ring.

[boizandgurlzinthehouse]

𝐝𝐢𝐝 𝐥𝐢𝐟𝐞 𝐡𝐮𝐫𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮?

summary: y/n didn't fell well in the last year... and she probably never will feel herself well again. word count: 2.832k trigger warning: SUICIDE, SELF-HARM (really, don't read it if it trigger you please please please), psych ward, signs of mental illnesses, heartbreak, hallucinating, screaming, farewell letter

count your fingers. breathe in, breathe out.

"are you doing this again?"

y/n sat on her bed, smoking a cigarette as she read the newest tabloids. others were watching tv in the lodge, but she preferred to out out some titles and interesting articles. the date stated 1995, may 3rd.

"you are no longer in the newspaper. they're dumb, never writing anything in these papers, fuckers."

scratching her neck, her nail broke at the end. it was weak ever since she got here, sleeping and eating was difficult also.

"but they were true about me."

she looked at him, pulling her knees to herself.

"fuck you, they weren't."

kurt sat at the leg of the bed, now the closest ever. he always stood at the door, sat by the window, or sat on the ground, facing her.

just keep counting. six, seven, eight...

"you look like you need a rest, love. dark circles doesn't fit you."

something constantly buzzed in her mind, like a radio band is always on, even if there's no music and no jokes. or the tv in the lodge at 2am, no shows were playing, she always talked with kurt at night, until the nurses didn't guide her back to her room. she was alone here, at peace, doing what she liked to do --writing her diary, reading books, painting her nails. he wanted to paint kurt's too, but he never came close to her, never let her touch him. he was distant, but in a comforting way.

"who do i need to look beauty for?" y/n asked, exhaling the smoke. kurt smiled, pointing at himself.

"for me."

"yeah, of course."

take your medicine. place a pill on your tongue, then swallow it down with a gulp of water.

the next dose of pills were laying on the plate, waiting for her to take them with a cup of water. they trusted her enough to take it alone, since she almost scratched her wrists from freaking out too many times. the clock on her nightstand ringed, it was time.

"you know i'll never disappear, even if you take those?" kurt laid back on her bed, reaching his hand to the ceiling.

brushing her hair, y/n turned away her head from him. she didn't want to hear this, and to turn to her sane sense.

"if you live only in my head, why can't i just make you go away?" she whispered, her eyes lingering on the lace of the curtain, forming an angel and a bunny.

"because you don't want to let me go."

looking at him again, the buzzing was so intense and it wasn't pleasuring. the voice wanted to tell her something, but it never could. it was a void. she was a void.

am i telling this to myself too? y/n felt tired, picking a pill, popping into her mouth. she ate more pills than actual meals, in the first two months, it was strange to even eat after only living on little pieces of medicine for so long. she looked at kurt, he was still here. ten more minutes and he'll be gone, but the pills only made her tired, they never sent him truly away. or, maybe it was easy to crawl into her mind. laying down, she used her boney arm as an extra pillow, dragging the comforter up on her body.

"when i wake up, piss off."

"can't promise, princess." kurt said, leaning on his elbow as he saw her closing her eyes.

days went like this --waking up before 10am, taking pills, skipping breakfast because the pills always caused her nausea, playing and talking with the others in the psych ward, talking with her own psychiatrist, eating lunch, taking pills, resting in the afternoon, reading the tabloids every wednesday, watching the telly or reading a book before dinner, and then, taking the day's last pills, and then sleeping all night, but she often woke up, sometimes two or three times even.

a knock woke her up from her deep slumber, making her shake. looking around, kurt was not around anymore --at least he kept his poor promise. a nurse, dorothy was standing in the door.

"good afternoon, y/n. you have a visitor."

it was strange. she broke her connections with most people, only dave and christ knew that y/n was still in here.

"who?" she asked, getting up to put on her shoes.

"his name is dave grohl. do you know him?" dorothy asked, making her nod. standing up, y/n went out on the door, seeing dave. walking up to him, dave smiled at her, but it was something uncertain in his eyes. y/n gave up for caring about other's feelings a couple months ago, since she couldn't even deal with hers.

"hello, angel! how are you?" he asked in the sound like you ask from a child, hugging her lightly.

"totally fine." really, she was in a psych ward almost a year from now on, what could she say?

"can we go for a walk? that girl... maybe dorothy? said that we can go for a little walk, i want to know what's going on with you."

stepping outside, y/n breathed fresh air only when she opened her window, and went for a short trip with the others once in three months. the air was calming, and the sun didn't shine too bright, flowers grow on the edge of the sidewalk. dave was so strange, like he also lived in her mind. but he doesn't have to know about that.

"so, what's up? hanging around, uhm..." he wanted to continue, but y/n looked at him.

"chill, dave. i know this place is a horror house. i'm pretty fine, dealing with my things and stuff... and you?"

"i'm fine also. me and jennifer talked about having kids, but i'm not feeling the time yet."

"i felt that." she and kurt had frances, y/n loved her as her own daughter, even if that crazy woman courtney fretted her for being in the baby's presence.

"i have some pictures about bean, do you wanna see them? courtney was against it, but... i thought you'd like."

"that's really nice from you, dave."

seeing the pictures, she felt like the whole universe laughed at her. the buzzing started again, she tried to smile. "how big she is!"

"yeah, well, she is just like her fath-"

dave suddenly silenced. because everybody knew. everybody knew that y/n got in here because kurt died, her mind couldn't comprehend the fact, and she began to see him. she began to hallucinate, and most of the time, she just laid on her bed and looked at the ceiling, not eating, not drinking. if she wasn't crying or screaming, she was sleeping or just being like a sack of potato. the most miserable sack of potato. almost a year, and she didn't even made the smallest progress. she clearly, medically went crazy because of her lover's death.

"look, y/n... me, jen, chris and his wife is going on a trip... you should come too. it's much warmer there in california, you could loose up a little bit, don't you?"

y/n scratched her arms, looking at the stop sign at the end of the road.

"it's a really nice idea, dave. thank you. it's just... what if kurt-"

"what? what about kurt?" dave asked, getting angry. "sorry, but what fucking about him?"

"nothing, just... nothing, really, i just don't want to go."

"because of him? y/n, i don't want to be mean, but did you look at yourself? his death caused all of us pain, but you literally got sick from it."

"what about me? what about me, what about me?" she yelled. "don't say that he's dead, because i fucking see him everyday, and i'm not gonna let it slip!"

"do you see him right now, huh? do you see him? because if yes, then you are just the same as those girls who get shocked to be normal just a little bit!"

"and what if i saw him? what if i saw him and he just could see that how big of a cock your are, fuck you, dave!"

he laughed like he doesn't believed what he just heard.

"here we fucking are again, y/n! because i'm a good friend of yours, i'm gonna tell you that nobody fucking sees him, nobody who's normal! i thought that it's just some aftermath of your depression, but..."

"but what? i am crazy? i am compulsive? i am fucking hopeless? because you know, every fucking day was a menace since things got fucked up!"

"no, you are fucking worse than you were when he died!" dave screamed, trying to reach for her arm to get her back to the psych ward, but y/n clawed at him like a cat, while from the tip of her throat, an enormous shriek came from her, and then y/n just snapped.

"HE MAY BE DEAD! AND EVEN IF HE IS, I WISH I COULD DIE EVERY DAY JUST TO FREE MYSELF FROM ALL OF THIS VOID!" her vocal cords almost teared up as she screamed, crouching on the ground, holding her head. this was the end, the waves crashed above her head, the endless sea of her depression caged her in.

like a switch finally turned down, y/n tried to collect her breath, but it didn't helped. she went too deep, and the last breath of hope was sucked out from her.

"are you okay? y/n, fuck, are you alright?" dave asked her. y/n stood up, brushing her hair from her face.

"yes, i think everything's okay." she felt her own voice static, but it didn't matter.

"okay, then... shall we go back? you must be tired."

"yeah. let's go back."

dave didn't even know that he saw her the last time alive.

"i hope you get a little rest. i think it wasn't a good idea to come, but... i care about you. we all do." he said inside, y/n pulled up the muscles of her lips.

"it's okay. it was good to see you, dave." giving him a hug, it lasted a little bit too long, but he wanted too, so it wasn't a problem. she just wanted to feel loved after so long.

"see you later, y/n."

"yeah, see you too, dave!" she waved to him from the window, dave got out his camera from his car.

"do this again! wave and say, 'hi everybody!'"

"hi, goodbye, good morning, good afternoon everybody!" she sang while faning with her hand, smiling. dave waved to her the last time, then he got in his car, riding away.

do kurt miss christ and dave just as she?

1am. 1995, may 4th.

not a soul walked on the hallways of the ward. it was peaceful, only the small droplets from the fountain harmed the silence. only one bathtub, filled with water, a hand hanging on the side of the white porcelain. little curls of steam floating in the air.

"are you sure about that?"

he was here again, with her. kurt leaned on the brim of the tub, looking at y/n as she collected the pills. she's gonna swallow all of it, with two gulps of water, and then... she didn't know what's going after this, but she couldn't handle it any longer. life was too heavy, she felt it on her shoulders, her spine, her head, it crawled it's weight into her guts from day to day, a new day, a new weight.

looking at him, she stopped in her movements.

"did it hurt?"

kurt only smiled at that, saccharine in his smile.

"did life hurt?"

"only when you weren't there." she replied, then, placing the first dose of pills into her hand. "i wrote a letter. i hope they find it. and i hope i'll find you."

because she hoped, really. she had hope, not for life, but for him. she felt dumb every time she saw lame romance movies about people can't live without each other, but it turned out that it was true. she literally died without him, and air got much more suffocating.

looking at the pills, she looked up to the cross on the wall in front of her. so this is the end.

"i'll look for you, kurt. i love you." she said, not even paying attention to the fact if he was there or not, even if he just lived in her head. downing the pills, chug, another doze of pills, chug. just a couple of minutes, and no days will be spent with agony and crying, screaming, watching shitty movies, trying to live.

somehow, it was comforting to her.

laying back in the warm water, she saw kurt coming closer to her. her vision began to get blurry, and she felt stomach churn, her heart and liver exploding, but it was only a little pain. her lover bend over her, and maybe he touched her, kissing her forehead, but she didn't felt it. there was no movie in front of her eyes, playing her whole life, there weren't any so special things from books the writers always talked about. it was just laying down and resting for awhile.

in her last moments, she felt nothing else but warmth.

dear everybody, or anybody who finds this,

i never wasted too much words about anything. maybe i should have done, but i'm not gonna change this, so please, don't judge me. it's rude to judge dead people anyway.

everyone who thinks that my actions is in connection with kurt, they're right. i don't want to brag about my mental state, let's just say, i didn't feel well in the last couple of months. people around you change you, taking you to a ride, and i guess that i wasn't ready for the end of the ride. in the end, i only want you to remember that how wonderful and gentle, unique and perfect creatures we are. i loved myself, always, i just didn't love the way i felt.

some words to the people, because i was too much of a scaredy-cat to talk with them in the last rounds: dave and chris. you two are truly wonderful, the best guys i could ever imagine. i'm sorry that you have to get to know about this in a letter, but please, never let kurt's memory die, and maybe, don't even let mine. i didn't do a lot of good things in my life, but i loved. i loved and cared, and maybe that can be valuable even for you. courtney, i know we've never been good friends, but maybe, we never could be. i just want to wish you strength and courage for the rest of your life, i've never invalidated your feelings. maybe i felt just like you, excluding the fact that i don't have a lovely supergirl. frances bean, you little star; you won't remember me, but i'll remember you. you are the most fantastic girl i've ever known, and you'll gonna rock the world, just like your father did.

i don't want you to be sad. i wasn't sad, just a little crazy. living our lives without our loved ones claims us to be strong and brave, but i'm not enough brave for it. you're gonna do it instead of me, and my gratitude will chase you forever.

never forget to love and care! i did the same.

y/n y/l/n

she opened her eyes, sun shining through her eyelids. where the hell she was? feeling something soft under her touch; she laid on sand. little rocks pressed into her palms as she sat up. she didn't know where she was, and she wasn't even certain if she did what she did. coming to her senses, the waves crashed in the ocean only a few foot apart from her. washing the shore, it almost get wet her too. it was peaceful and unusual.

but she was not the only one sitting on the beach.

a figure, 60 feet from her sat just like her in silence, looking at the ocean and the dawning sun. could it be...

standing up, she was unsure in her steps, but somehow, she managed to go closer. it was him. instead of screaming and jumping, she simply crouched beside kurt, looking at him, so she was sure that it's really him. the wind blew his hair, his lips surely were salty from the air. brushing through his hair at the back of his neck, the blonde curls felt like silk. he was an angel.

without saying a word, y/n leaned her head on his shoulder. she could touch him now, watching as the sun bleed through the sky. she felt something warm in her chest��

–sure it wasn't reality. but it didn't even needed to be.

a/n: this is my first oneshot in this genre, and to be honest... i don't want to write more. i just had a very depressed couple of weeks, and this just came into my mind. i won't write fics like this, it turned out that i like domestic comfort and fluff more. if you liked it, or want to request, write in the comments, dm me or write here

stay safe, love yourself girliez,

louisa

[strangersatellites]

ask and you shall receive !! part two of tarot-verse !! read part one here !!

⛓️🪄🔮

“Robs, do you really think this is going to work?”

“Well normally I would say yes. It's pretty straight-forward and I don’t think you’re leaving a lot of room for misinterpretation. But at the same time, Eddie has been demonstrating some particularly impressive levels of obliviousness when it comes to the way you go all goo-goo eyes at him.”

Steve opens his mouth to dispute her claim, he does not go all goo-goo eyes at him, but gets cut off.

“That and the fact that he’s all in his head over a scenario he literally made up. So I don't know, it might be hopeless.”

Steve just blinks for a second.

“Wow. Thank you, Robin, for that very motivating pep talk.” He runs a hand through his hair. “I am feeling much more confident now, that's really great.”

She huffs on the other end of the line. “Well, I just mean that-”

He holds up a hand even though she can’t see him. “No, no. I got it.” He perks up at the sound of a door slamming in the driveway. “Hey, he’s here Robbie. I gotta go.”

Robin's screech has him pulling the phone away from his ear. “Good luck, dingus!”

“Thanks Robs. I’ll call you tomorrow.”

He hangs up and wipes his, now clammy, hands on the front of his jeans and psychs himself up.

“Come on Steve. Be cool.”

A musical knock that Steve would know anywhere sounds through the foyer and he has to tamp down the smile threatening to split his face. This is serious.

He swings open the door just as Eddie’s hand is poised to knock again and cuts him off before he can even start to speak.

“Okay. I know I asked you to come over so we could smoke and watch that movie you like but can I show you something first?”

Eddie’s eyebrows furrow but his smile doesn’t drop.

“Course, Stevie. Why so serious? What did you do, rob a bank?” He asks, shouldering his way past and making his way to the living room and hopping over the back of the couch.

Steve knows the moment Eddie sees them. His shoulders stiffen up and his breath catches. Steve hurries to placate.

“Hey, I know. I’m sorry just-” If he runs his hand through his hair again it's going to go flat but he can't break the habit. “Just let me show you?”

Eddie settles back into the couch and gives Steve a quick nod.

Steve takes a breath and grabs his stack of cards from the coffee table and settles on the other end of the couch.

Okay, Steve. Just like you rehearsed.

Another deep breath.

“Two summers ago Robin told me she wanted to learn how to read tarot. She bought a deck and tried to learn on her own, but she had a hard time memorizing what all of them meant.”

Eddie huffs a quiet laugh. “No shit. Shit’s hard.”

Steve laughs too. “Yeah, I know that now. But, she had a hard time with it so I told her I would learn and help her practice. And I did. And she got really good at it and she brought them everywhere and she did readings for people constantly. But then she eventually got bored and stopped.”

Eddie shifts and uncrosses his arms. Finally looks less like he’s ready to bolt.

“What, do you just have like a rolodex of stuff you’ve learned for Robin that she doesn’t care about anymore?”

“I think of it more like an old toybox.” This gets a laugh out of Eddie. “But this one– this one stuck with me. I forgot about it for a while but a while back, a few days pre-vecna oddly enough, I pulled a reading for myself and I wanted to show you.”

Eddie’s eyes dart between his own for a beat. He tilts his head a bit.

“I would love to see it, Stevie. But I’m not understanding what was so urgent about this. I thought it was gonna be about the whole,” he waves his hand around while he talks, “you watching me make myself look stupid the other day.”

Steve hates the dejected tone his voice has taken on behind his false bravado.

“It is! I mean, I’ve never thought you looked stupid. But, I mean I kind of goaded you into it, just– just let me talk you through this and I promise it’ll all make sense.”

Eddie sits back again. “Okay sweetheart. Wow me.”

Steve takes a deep breath because this part is a bit like baring his soul to Eddie.

“So when I pulled this reading. I was feeling really confused about what was in store for me. I decided to dust off my cards and see what happened.”

He pulls four cards right off the top of the deck and lays them out face down. Flips the first one.

Judgement.

“I got judgement first. Now, I know you know what it means, but I’m going to tell you my interpretation.”

When Steve looks back up at him, Eddie’s got his chin propped in his hand and the stars back in his eyes.

“Judgement told me to stop looking for things in the same places I’d always looked. That I should look somewhere different. Now granted I didn’t know what that meant yet, but it was just the start.”

Flips the second card.

The Moon.

“You would think that maybe I would’ve taken the hint with this one. It’s the one that tells you, ‘Hey! Stop lying to yourself! Listen to your intuition!’ But still I didn’t know what that was supposed to mean either.”

He skips ahead and flips the last card and Eddie looks confused and goes to flip the third card himself.

“Call me crazy, Stevie, but I think you skipped one.”

Steve bats his hand away.

“Shut up. I know that, but there’s an order to this story.”

Eddie puts his hands up in a gesture of innocence and Steve taps the fourth card.

The Lovers.

“This one made me finally start to piece this one together. Maybe I needed to start looking for a different type of girl, ya know? Clearly I was gonna fall in love and I needed to start looking in new places for whoever it was.”

He brings his eyes up to meet Eddie’s.

“Maybe a farmer’s market.”

Eddie throws his head back in a laugh.

“But this last card had me so confused because it didn’t fit into this lineup at all. In my experience, when a card doesn’t really fit, it might need to be read more literally. And I found out later that this one was meant to be taken very literally. Like, very.”

He flips the final card.

The Devil.

“Because a few days later, I met you.”

Eddie squints at him, but he's smiling.

“That feels like an insult, babe.”

Steve can literally feel his cheeks flush at Eddie’s effortless flirting.

“Okay, well I can only think of one person who was accused of devil-worship in this town, so.”

“That’s fair,” Eddie nods.

“And I had this stupid big crush on you before I even remembered the reading. When I did it got so much worse. And then, last weekend, I saw your cards and I thought it would be fun to see what kind of reading you would pull for me. Thought maybe that would be my chance to tell you how I felt. I was going to wait for you to tell me about whatever you pulled and then tell you I knew that already.”

Eddie shifts to sling an arm around Steve’s shoulder and lets him finish.

“But then I saw those cards and I knew you were making stuff up and I thought it was because you didn't want it to be you.”

Eddie’s face falls for a second before Steve bumps their noses together.

“But then you were being so weird at the farmer’s market so I talked to Robs about it and she told me we're both stupid.”

Steve feels more than he hears Eddie’s laugh.

“I would have to agree with Birdie on that one. Steve, has anybody ever told you you have an insane poker face?”

Steve hides his face and laughs.

“No, that's a new one.”

Eddie puts on his most dramatic voice again.

“Well allow me to be the first. Because that was a phenomenal performance. I had no idea that you knew I was talking out of my ass.”

“Well you do that a lot anyway, so.”

Eddie squawks and shoves Steve to fall backwards until he’s in his space, looking down with a blinding smile.

“So, cards tell you anything about a first date?”

Steve’s hands settle around Eddie’s waist and his eyes dart around his face.

“We could ask. But I can think of a better way to spend our time.”

Eddie bends down and nips at the side of Steve’s jaw, hums.

“Yeah? Hm. I think it might be worth an ask.”

Steve huffs and brings his his hands to either side of his face to tug him down.

“Shut up.”

Eddie’s laughing the first time their lips meet.

He bites and tugs at Steve’s bottom lip to get his attention.

“I can’t believe you called me the devil.”

Steve’s eyes are hazy and his smile lazy.

“Yeah but you’re my devil.”

Eddie laughs and leans down to peck at the corner of his mouth.

“And you’re my magician.”

⛓️🪄🔮

tag list: @henderdads, @mightbeasleep, @gothbat99, @hotluncheddie, @steddie-there, @thefreakandthehair, @steddieasitgoes, @gayngerthings, @grapefruitgalaxy, @orangeandthefairroadkill, @hardboiledleggs, @corrodedcoughin, @punkharringtxn, @mackdaddyofheimlichcountyy, @ottokajiyehett, @toobluebrunette, @e0509, @booksandsience, @lohthus, @chaoticlovingdreamer, @4nemo1egend, @goodolefashionedloverboi, @adelicioustragedy, @wearelosersyoudumbfuck, @lightwoodbanethings, @trikigirl271, @initforthereadz, @dontwasteyourchances (if you got skipped or added, my apologies🫶🏼)

[starseneyes]

Loser Siblings - Morgan + Sasha - Nobody Wants This

First off, I do not condone or support infidelity. I actually have a big problem with it. I've rated films a full star down for infidelity before.

But the dynamic between these two and how it's written and performed is gorgeous. I don't get to watch a lot of television these days (surgeries, and work drama, and life stuff, oh, my!), so this was my introduction to both Timothy Simons and Justine Lupe.

They're both phenomenal actors, and I'm excited to see what they do with their material in S2 (just saw the renewal! Huzzah!!) especially after seeing how deftly and hilariously they handled S1.

Not gonna spoil anything before we get past the "Keep Reading" barrier, but I really wanted to do a breakdown of the Loser Sibling chemistry, the writing, the framing, and the weird little moments of symmetry that may—or may not be—intentional.

SPOILER ALERT: Yes, I am going to talk about the show in its entirety in detail. You are forewarned. Also, no judgement if you want to take a bathroom break first or just save this to your phone to read later. I have a lot to say.

Alright, everybody ready to dive into this tale of toeing the line on infidelity? Yeah, let's dive in.

"Is Esther cheating on me? Whatever, I'll stay with her."

This says so much about his psyche. From moment one, he thinks that he is not worthy of loyalty in a partner.

He would be unsurprised to find out his wife is cheating on him. And he is so resigned to that fact, that he would be willing to stay with her if she did.

Now, we all know that sentiment absolutely does not go both ways (not that it should), but it's a little heartbreaking to get this very early glimpse into how little Sasha values himself.

And, of course, these early scenes are designed to establish the relationships. That's why Morgan had to mention their mother to Joanne while at the ATM, and why Noah has to find some way to show he and Sasha are brothers.

But in these little moments of necessary exposition strung in as dialogue, we get to know our characters.

"You have to stop letting Mom cut your hair." "Is somebody jealous? I just don't look like myself when she doesn't cut it."

Identity is a big thing. How we see ourselves. How we see ourselves compared to others. How we interpret others see us. We've established that Sasha's mother is a big part of his identity.

"Sash, I tried to convince Esther to come over, but, you know, I lost her as soon as I said we were watching the game." "Oh, that makes sense."

We see right here that Sasha is unfazed that Esther doesn't want to join. And, honestly, husbands and wives don't need to be joined at the hip.

My husband loves horror. While I can do a good thriller, I'm not a horror girlie, in general. So, I send him on dates with other friends (male and female) to see horror movies.

We're completely comfortable with this arrangement. So, I'm not going to judge Esther for not wanting to be there to watch a game.

And we set up the dynamic that Sasha is used to doing things without his wife. It's not bad or good, just a part of the story.

"Why do we do this every year?" "Because some divorces are meant to be celebrated." "Like yours!"

And now we know a little bit more about Morgan. Now, we don't know a lot about this marriage, but we do know that her mom was glad when it was over, and Morgan seems miffed by her glee.

"Should we grab your sister? Or does that not matter." "She's right here with me." "Hi. I matter."

Right here. Right from the beginning we see that Joanne is seen as the decision maker, as the person who matters. And there's Morgan who is literally one half of the show having to stick up for herself.

The other thing that really stands out in this scene is that Kristen Bell and Justine Lupe crush it as sisterly chemistry.

It was there in the earlier scenes, but seeing them in the family dynamic, and then on the phone at the end, you really feel like this bond is lived-in and settled. And that is all a testament to the performances of these two phenoms.

"No, I'm coming with you!" "Fine! Just don't tell Esther." "I'm not gonna tell Esther."

This exchange tells us a lot about these two. First off, Sasha just invited himself to be the third wheel on a date. At this point, he knows a cute, tiny, blonde girl showed up and is now outside waiting for his brother.

He has no idea he is going to meet another cute blonde girl when he heads outside. He really invited himself to be the third wheel on a date, and Noah just said, "Fine".

And my heart kinda aches for Sasha because he really just wants to get out of the house and be around people. This is only episode two, but for those of us who've seen the whole series, this guy really doesn't go much of anywhere without his brother.

Like, they have their friends they play basketball with, but other than that, he spends a lot of time alone.

Also, as much as the scene before cements Morgan and Joanne, this one locks in Noah and Sasha. They really feel like siblings who are used to taking care of each other, putting up with each other, and trusting the hell out of each other. Adam Brody and Timothy Simons knock it out of the park.

Holy shit, this show has no weak links.

"What are you doing? What is happening? Why is he getting in the car?"

It's ridiculous, but this is peak romcom, folks. It's a misunderstanding. He didn't notice the meaning behind Morgan's "we" and he's committed to the night.

Some meet cutes are sweet. Some are funny. Some annoy the shit out of both parties. In this case, only one half is annoyed, but it's still pretty damn funny.

"Are these all sweaters?" "Can you please not touch my stuff?" "It's kind of hard not to. There's so much of it... I'll just hold onto these."

Something about this is so... Sasha. Like, he has inserted himself into the night and their lives. But he is also willing to hold onto her sweaters so they don't get smashed.

Like, it's the dichotomy of his awkwardness and social blindness combined with his inborn desire to be helpful.

Also, Sasha and Morgan are passing something back and forth in the car that I can't quite make out. It almost looks like they're passing her phone back and forth, but the dialogue doesn't match. Makes me wonder if the dialogue was ADR'd later to be something different than what it was originally.

Yes, I'm that nerd. But I also spent part of my childhood in booths doing voice over replacement for Anime and then commercials. So, my brain works this way.

"Okay, so we're going?"

And even though she's annoyed by "the brother", and she came with the intent of rescuing her sister, she's willing to go along with the night. Best wingwoman ever.

Sasha has already settled in behind Joanne, but Noah makes him scoot over so he's behind Morgan. And, thus, the romcom double date begins.

Oh, yes, this is absolutely a double date. It doesn't go particularly well for Sasha. But as far as Morgan is concerned, she is playing wingwoman to her sister and the Rabbi while she has to deal with the annoying brother who wants to glom onto her.

To be clear—Morgan honestly believed Sasha wants to get with her. And she is so annoyed by him and his presumptive behavior that she is immediately turned off by him. She isn't open to even considering him because of it.

Now, we—the audience—know that Sasha is married and inserted himself as a third wheel on a date. And, yo, Sasha, not cool. But, at the same time, he simply is enjoying being out with people instead of home in his basement alone.

"The brother is brutal. Ogre emoji. Vomit emoji."

Morgan and Joanne are in panic mode trying to get the phone to stop talking, but Sasha and Noah are pretty chill, honestly. Sasha even mouths, "Is that me?" to which Noah grimaces.

Seconds ago, Sasha was annoying Noah. Now, they're on the same team ready to gang up on the ladies for the mishap.

It's mostly playful and shows their dynamic in full swing. It even takes a second for Joanne to realize the brothers are torturing the sisters for fun and aren't even offended.

At the bar, Sasha hands everyone their drinks, and the four of them are standing in pairs, again. Now, Sasha knows he's the uninvited third wheel, so he is going to let his brother be nearest the girl he's interested in. But Morgan still thinks this guy is hitting on her.

"I've got this. I'm independently wealthy 'cause my family's rich."

Morgan thinks he's trying to impress her, but he really is just mis-speaking, which he is prone to do when he is excited.

It's another place where she is misreading the situation because she's convinced he wants to hit on her and definitely wants to sleep with her.

"What about 'Slutty Shiksas'?" "Ooh, now I'm listening."

It's the first time she looks up at him with a smile. And it's brief, because she and her sister are having a tiff, but that's the first time she looked at him with anything other than disgust or annoyance.

"No, no, no. Don't just leave me stranded with him!" "A lot of tension between you guys." "No, this isn't happening."

He tries to sit down and be conversational with her, but she walks away. Again, it's the misunderstanding. She thinks he's trying to hit on her and he is so not her type.

He just wants to chat. He wants to help. It's part of his DNA.

"Oh, we're going outside? Okay."

He really doesn't understand. Because he would never think of hitting on her, and he thinks his status as "married" is established.

"You a Swiftie?" "No. Just pretending to look at songs so we don't have to talk. I mean, didn't you go to high school? Our friends are hooking up. Be cool." "Listen, I know I have a thing about me that makes people want to elbow me in the jaw." "Yeah."

Up until this moment, she still thinks he is hitting on her. She still thinks she is warding off unwanted advances. But I do think she appreciates that he at least seems a tiny bit self-aware.

"My wife says it's just-" "Wait, I'm sorry. You're married?!" "Yeah." "God, you have, like, no husband energy at all. That's scary." "I'm wearing a wedding ring." "Yeah, well I haven't been looking at you."

Sasha tries not to be offended. Because, honestly, he is tough to offend. But something in him keeps pushing for the tiniest connection as he lists off Taylor Swift albums.

"Is somebody's mom here?"

And, right there, we have the dynamic of Sasha and Esther set up. And as soon as Sasha says it's his wife, notice how Morgan backs away from him.

Now, this could just be a director's choice for the framing so Joanne and Noah can stand between them, but it also feels like Morgan subconsciously does not want to be associated with whatever is going on with Sasha and his wife.

"It's a pleasure."

He says it to Morgan. Not to Joanne. He barely looks at Joanne as he leaves. But he does look to Morgan. She keeps her eyes down, not making eye-contact. But she does watch after he walks away.

"Rebecca knows about her." "What's there to know?" "Oh, just that you brought her to Temple and stood, like, weirdly close to her."

Remember this. Because everyone paying attention to Joanne and Noah noticed they stood close to one another, right? This'll come back in the Season Finale, but not in relation to Noah and Joanne.

No, in that Season Finale our Loser Siblings are way too cozy for "just friends" at his family event. But we'll get to that later.

"And you, Esther, allowing Sasha to out with them last night? She has a sister, you know." "Oh, I saw the sister. Not worried!" "I mean, she was clearly into me, but obviously I would never-"

There is so much going on here. First off, I feel bad for Esther because you can clearly see she's been delegated the role of her husband's keeper. She is trying to live up to Bina's expectation.

Sasha is self-aware enough to know that he was getting under Morgan's skin more than anything at the bar, but maybe not self aware enough to realize he was on a double date.

Also, we see Sasha behind Esther mouthing and waving his hands to let his little brother know he didn't sell him out. This positioning is so representative of their relationship.

"What he is doing here is throwing away a relationship with literally the perfect woman."

Projecting much, Esther? If she's so perfect, you marry her! I think you'd be a happier person.

"Breaking up the family? What the fuck. I'm so sorry, man."

Sasha already warned Noah that he was having to play both sides to try to protect his brother, but also protect himself.

We've seen it in his interactions with both families—Sasha tries to redirect and shield his little brother. He wants to help.

But he also isn't standing up to his wife, here. He's letting her steamroll his brother. And you can tell he doesn't like it, but he doesn't know how to fight it.

"...Joanne's more than fun."

I love this framing. So often in life, people try to define us by one thing. You can only be one thing and that's it. You can be "serious" or "Fun". You can be "Good" or "bad".

But life is made up of grey areas in varying shades that are far more interesting and realistic than those tiny, monolithic boxes in which people want to stuff us.

We can be more than one thing. We are more than one thing. And I think this is one of those things that this show really nails.

"We love fun. But do we end up with fun?" "Yeah, have you met Esther? She's not fun. That's why I married her."

This is telling. Yes, he loves her. He does! He's loyal and dedicated and obedient (for the most part). But he thinks that the way his parents raised him to think is the way it has to be.

That's the whole premise of Noah and Joanne rocking the boat—they're subverting every expectation. Morgan thinks her sister is losing her mind. Sasha thinks his brother is hoping for too much.

They're all baked into the expectations of life that have been foisted upon them.

And, to bring us back to our Loser Siblings, they are not what the other expected, either.

Morgan expects guys who meet her expectations of the world, who meet her "type". Sasha expects to be content in his marriage no matter what, to never be excited about another woman in any way.

And that's honestly why my brain puts Esther and Rebecca together—because Esther would battle against her own self to meet the expectations of those around her because she thinks if she follows that blueprint she will have a good life.

At the end, I'd like to see Esther just as happy as everyone else—no longer trying to fit in a box, but allowing herself to flourish.

I feel like we see the first touches of her rebellion at the Bat Mitzvah when she helps Miriam cut her dress. Esther is on her own path of self-discovery.

But, I'm skipping ahead, again...

"I just thought we missed our regularly scheduled Wednesday sex night-"

Hold the phone. They have a regularly scheduled sex night!? I have three young children with varying social calendars, but we don't have any bloody scheduled sex nights!

I feel like this was Esther's idea, and Sasha went with it... even though that guy would love more than once-a-week conjugal visits in his own home.

We transition from Sasha getting none to Morgan watching her sister getting ready for some.

I love that we go from Morgan on the left side of the bed to Sasha on the left side of the bed. It's giving me real flashbacks to Three to Tango in a sweet way.

If these two ever get together, that'll be something they have to compromise on—who gets the left side.

"You just need help... someone to help... oh no, that someone is me. Are you sure you want that?"

This actually breaks my heart a bit. Because while he shakes off the loser siblings label as inevitable but not unbearable, we get a peek into his psyche, here.

He knows his daughter needs help. He's the only help available. But he still worries he's not good enough.

"Do you wanna hang out here with me? Cuddle up and watch Mission Impossible?"

This takes me back to episode 2 when Noah and Sasha are heading out of the Temple. Sasha invites Noah to come back to his place to hang out, but when he realizes his brother is going out, he begs to tag along.

Throughout the entirety of the season, we get a sense of just how isolated Sasha is. His wife is always off with her best friend. He has the basketball guys, but that's about it, and they don't seem all that close.

And it's tougher on the Morgan side. She hangs out with her sister and shared friends only once at the gym. So, we don't really have a good scope of her social circle beyond her dates.

Hopefully season 2 will give us more to chew on for Morgan's social circle...

"Oh. I have to let you know before anything happens. I think I'm in a relationship with a teenage boy I met on the internet." "Oh, does he know about me?"

And this is why she would never think he would hide anything real from her. Because this is stupid, ridiculous shit and he still told her about it.

But, remember, at this point in the series, he has seen Morgan once on their not-double-date.

"This is just annoying because I can't miss my romantic weekend, but I really can't miss this dinner because clearly Morgan can't do it alone."

And here we have the words that have been beaten into her head over and over. Where Sasha knows that he isn't helpful or wanted (not good enough), Morgan has been told she isn't capable (not good enough).

"We're just in that, like, have to spend every single second together stage." "Yeah, Esther and I are there, too. More of a legal thing, though."

It's so sterile when he talks about Esther. Not in a derogatory way, but truly these are two people who are in a routine that isn't exciting or engaging. And they've both accepted that this is just the way it is.

For some people, a routine like that is comforting. For some, it's suffocating. And I get the impression that Esther is all about organizing and planning while Sasha would like to be a bit more free.

Now, this can work in the real world. But as the only non-ADHD member of my 5 person family, I can tell you it takes a lot of work and communication.

"You're great with powerful guys." "No, he's married." "Fuck!"

And this is where my whole "no married" theory with Morgan comes from. She's a gal who is confident in her sexuality, down for a hookup, but we also know that she was once in a committed, married relationship.

And everything in this show gives me the impression she doesn't fuck with married guys.

"Morgan, you cannot handle the entire podcast decision by-"

And, there it is, again. "You can't".

"Sasha can let her into my place. I'll text him."

So, at this point we know that Sasha and Morgan haven't exchanged numbers. I mean, when would they have done it, right? When he was rushing out to the car so his wife would stop honking and screaming?

But my bet is that this next scene is where they exchange numbers. And from his point of view, it's a completely practical thing—Morgan can't decide if she should take the laptop with her or leave it there (since Joanne will be returning to Noah's and it would be an extra trip to get it back from Morgan), and Sasha offers his number so she can text him if she needs to get back in.

Like, it is totally something I can see him doing. And then he has her text him right then so she's in his phone because he likes to fuck with scammers. I think that would charm her, honestly, and so she gives him her number... for practical purposes, of course.

But, I'm getting ahead of myself.

"Thank you. Thank you. Oh my God."

Morgan is so overwhelmed that she forgets to be snarky with Sasha. He does this little hand flip when he hands her things (check out the drink in the season finale), but it caught my eye immediately here. I just thought it was a fun quirk.

As she steps past him to the couch, his brow furrows as he listens to her.

"You know, I've got a guy who could wipe that in, like, an hour."

Where Sasha is afraid to offer his daughter help, and doesn't even attempt to offer his wife help, he is open with Morgan.

There's a selflessness she brings out in him, even here. He genuinely wants to help, and he doesn't think she'll immediately dismiss him.

"... my sister's ditching our work dinner to have sex with your stupid brother."

There's a beat here where he leans down to get his coffee and then stands back, still giving her space. It reminds me of how he stood to the side of her at the bar that one night. He didn't encroach on her space, didn't hover behind her, but simply wanted to be there in the moment with other people.

It wasn't a sexual or romantic thing, but just a person who wanted to be with other people, but without invading boundaries.

The last time he tried to sit near her, she got up and ran away. So, I get why he is a bit cautious, here, giving her space.

"Now the big boss guy is coming and I'm kinda freaking out because I need to show people I can do this alone."

Something in that breaks down a wall for Sasha. He crosses over and sits down on the couch with her, a full cushion separating them.

"Oh, I get it. You're the loser sibling."

That doesn't sit too well with Morgan. And if he hadn't jumped in so fast to respond, she might have been offended.

"What?" "And no judgment. I'm the loser sibling. I mean, it's hard to compete when your brother's the Jewish Jesus."

And then she gets it. It's not about "awful". It's about having this super, impossibly pedastled sibling to which everything you do is compared.

Morgan coughs out a laugh as she says, "Yeah". She gets it. She understands it. And this is probably the first moment where she understands Sasha.

Let's be real, she was ready to be offended over the "loser sibling" comment. But to see that he sees himself as one and the parameters are basically "compared to Jesus", it becomes super hard to be offended.

"It doesn't make as much sense with you, though."

And her reaction as he actually says things that coming from anyone else would totally be flirting is completely different from their first interaction.

But, also, she is in a really different place, emotionally. At their first meeting, Sasha was the interloper and she was already on-edge with her sister. This time, she is anxious and vulnerable. She needs him, and he helped her without hesitation.

But as he lists off her virtues, she softens. She smiles. She laughs.

And I think part of it is knowing this guy is married, is not remotely trying to hit on her or get anything out of her, and he's actually the one helping her out here.

Morgan saw in their first interaction that Sasha is totally stream-of-consciousness. He says what he's thinking. And, as we'll later see at the first basketball game Joanne attends, he's a little bit of a natural flirt.

Sasha is more of a people-person than he allows himself to remember. He likes talking to people. He likes being with other people. Yes, he can be alone, but he's one of those people who doesn't want to be alone all the time.

He's not looking for anything here with Morgan. Not a romance. Not a friendship. Nothing.

But what he's finding is an unexpected moment of connection. And I don't think how much either of them realizes they lack that in so much of their lives.

"And you're way hotter than your sister. I mean, she's too short." "Finally, somebody gets it, right? So short."

This is what allows her to move on. Shifting the conversation from her to her sister helps her re-focus on what she's supposed to be doing and she looks back to the screen.

It isn't long before Sasha wants to share something else helpful. I mean, the guy likes to help. It's hard-coded into him.

Just look at the apples in the Season Finale. He doesn't mind being the one on his knees in a good suit picking fruit up off the floor so everyone else can have a good time.

And he honestly wants to help Morgan. This isn't romantic. This isn't a seduction technique. This is literally Sasha just being Sasha.

"Everything in life is a hostage situation." "Okay..."

I love this. She is still flabbergasted by him. She still doesn't know what to make of him. But, she isn't outright dismissing him.

I do think a lot of it has to do with her mentality. When she first met Sasha and Noah, she was worried about her sister, in a bad mood, and stressed. Adding in the brothers was adding to her stress.

But in this episode, Sasha and Noah are the ones who are helping her, here. Noah reached out to Sasha, and Sasha is the one who actually get her in.

And while she's not sure where he's going with this, she's willing to hear him out.

"Holy shit, you're so good at that." "Thank you. It was a great tip."

And here we have the second positive memory in about two minutes associated with Sasha. First, he got her the laptop. Now, he's giving her tips to get through this meeting that's been stressing her out.

And having him affirm that she's "good at that" is exactly what she needs in the moment.

There's this episode of Quantum Leap (the original series with Scott Bakula) that comes to mind over and over for me. It's an episode where Sam leaps into a person who is mentally disabled.

And Sam, genius though he is, finds himself making mistake after mistake because everyone treats him like he is a buffoon. They treat him like he can't do anything right. And it says so much about how we see ourselves because of how others see us.

I wrote about a similar moment of realization in an episode of The Librarians where Jake talked about how people expected that he couldn't do things, so he started to believe he couldn't.

Both Morgan and Sasha know what it's like to have everyone expect them to drop the ball, to mess it up, to fall apart. And it sucks, because we learn through the course of the series that they are both very capable human beings who excel in their lines of work.

But the people around them enforce the idea that they aren't good enough. And that shit seeps into your pores and into your soul and it's hard to unstick.

In this moment, Sasha gets to help and Morgan gets to feel capable.

"Thank you for the tip. No, that doesn't work." "No, not as good."

He misspeaks. But this time is so different compared to any other time he misspoke or said something that didn't quite land. She isn't annoyed with him. Instead, she agrees with him that, yeah, that wasn't your best. And they move on.

He's growing on her. Not in a romantic way, but in a friendly way. And, as we'll later learn, that's untested waters for Morgan.

And this scene is less than two minutes long. Now, this isn't unusual in terms of scenes, but it's pretty remarkable that we witnessed the two of them bonding in less than two minutes.

All it took was Morgan being receptive toward Sasha. Not in a romantic way, but as a person.

"You were born in Canada?"

I love how smoothly she does is. She uses the tip from Sasha, and it actually works to help get the meeting started. And thus Sasha is associated with endorphins for Morgan.

Look, I'm not saying that at this second she starts to crave him carnally. All I'm saying is that little things build up over time, and though he is not mentioned in this scene, his influence is here and Morgan is certainly thinking a little about him, maybe wanting to thank him, again, for the tip.

"Hey, Zaddy. What's your job title?" "World's greatest lover." "Oh, I wish."

This whole interaction is so subtle and so heartbreaking for me. Yes, of course, there's her declaration that he isn't the world's greatest lover, but that doesn't bother me as much as the physical bits of his scene.

Look, some couples throw barbs. Sometimes Matt and I do! It's part of our dynamic that folks on the outside might not get. But what aches in this moment is how Sasha plants a kiss on his wife's head and she immediately smooths her hair back.

Sasha is something she needs to smooth away, in that moment. He displaced something in her that she needs to get back into place.

And I think the weight of expectation and perfection is heavy on Esther. I think that, more than anything, is what locks her into her Season 1 base personality.

Everyone starts somewhere and needs room to grow, and not everyone is going to grow at the same rate through the course of a season.

Joanne is our proxy in the world and she has the most growth to do as a person throughout the season. Noah is pretty static through season 1 besides the huge leap in the finale. Sasha and Morgan both have subtle growth. For Esther, I think we've planted the seeds of growth that can be explored more in Season 2.

But we all start somewhere. And Esther obviously still craves the approval of her mother-in-law, wants to have the perfect little life and family, and has that "good life" Noah's dad told him he could have if he married Rebecca.

I feel like Sasha and Esther have been "comfortable", but I really think she'd be happier with Rebecca. Oh, yes, I went there. Headcannon achived!

"Looks like you're on your way to the shvitz." "You know I hate the shvitz."

It's the only time I really see him look angry in this whole show. He is going to do what she says, because he always does what she says, but he doesn't want to.

And, yes, this leads to him getting the promotion. He stood up for himself, and that was good, and that was Esther pushing him.

I don't want it to ever seem like I am hating on Esther. I simply don't think they're a great match and that they want different things. But she does have her moments.

*Dipping in the water*

I just find it interesting that the episode where Sasha has to get into a pool he doesn't want to has Morgan dipping her toes into another.

It may mean absolutely nothing, but it's a television show and I'm going to dissect it all because this is how a gal who works alone from home every day and barely gets to have fun keeps from going mad.

*phone beep*

Joanne stops the recording and runs off to pee as Morgan's phone dings. She picks it up to see a message from Sasha: "Loser sibling alert."

She coughs out a short laugh as she responds, "Once again, I am not the loser sibling."

In seconds, the response comes in, "Me neither, cus I got a fuckin promotion"

A smile flutters across her lips as she rolls her eyes slightly. But then she leans forward, chuckling to herself.

And, oh shit, we are headed into dangerous territory. Remember, Bina had a key to her son's apartment for emergencies only. We can say that Sasha and Morgan exchanged numbers for completely practical, non-romantic reasons.

But this is a life update. This is something exciting for Sasha, and he wants to make sure Morgan knows about it. Morgan.

Obviously, Esther will know, as she's the one who pushed him to ask for more by shoving him toward his father. But Sasha wants Morgan to know about his life.

In the moment, he probably thinks it will encourage her as much as it excites him—that the loser siblings can still do well and accomplish things. But this opens a door that probably should've stayed shut.

We don't know if they've been texting before this. We're not privy to that part of their lives because then the show would be 24 hours long and a long succession of bathroom breaks.

But we know that when he texts her, her fingers hesitate over the screen as she considers how to respond. A dozen expressions flash across her face before she leans forward, leaning into this thing, with a smile.

And, at this point, neither of them are thinking anything romantic. But Morgan is well aware that this is outside her norm, even if it's not outside his. She doesn't usually text with married men.

Hell, since she finds most of her dates on apps, she likely isn't texting with unmarried men, either!

And I find it interesting that we started the episode with Morgan in hookup world and end it with genuine connection.

Look, no judgment, here! But themes like that are rarely accidental. Maybe since her husband she hasn't been looking for something that serious. We don't really know. We still have a lot to learn about Morgan.

But we're learning that she does like connection.

"Did you know that tall people die earlier than everybody else? So, enjoy me while I last."

I want to point this out because on the surface this definitely feels flirty. But, he is saying it to his brother's girlfriend, who he has no intention of ever trying anything with.

Sasha is just a little flirty. He's one of those guys.

And, look, being around theater people my whole life, I know these people! They don't mean anything by it, and Joanne clearly knows that. I think it adds a lens to how we view Morgan and Sasha because if he does come off flirty with her, it's likely unintentional.

"Hey, we're gonna head out for some victory drinks. You wanna go?"

He directs this to Joanne. Again, he is just that flirty, friendly, wants everyone to have a good time guy. He always sees everything as an open invitation to others, so I can see why he tends to read everything as an open invitation to himself.

Now, is that a bit problematic at times? Of course. The basis of his early interactions with Morgan is unease because he invites himself along on a date.

But part of Sasha's makeup is his openness.

"Wait... I have something insane to tell you."

Joanne's called Morgan to talk about the WAGs and her failure to connect, but even in the midst of her sister's spiral, Morgan needs to get something off of her chest.

And she has to tell her sister because she really can't tell anyone else.

"Wait. Wait. Are you ready to hear the insane thing I have to tell you? Okay, so, this is very weird and, um, kind of confusing, but I had a sex dream about the brother."

This is unfathomable. Morgan was so repulsed by him when they first met, and though she's warmed up to him, he is so not her type.

For a gal who is accustomed to more physical-based relationships, it's completely throwing her for a loop that she's having a sex dream about a guy she's never touched, and under normal circumstances wouldn't even consider touching.

She can't even say his name. In episode two when she texted Joanne in the car, she called him "the brother" and we know from the podcast where they nickname Noah "the prophet" that these kind of code names are normal for them.

But Joanne can say it.

"You had a sex dream about Sasha?"

She's incredulous. Now, sex dreams are not always indicative of anything at all. Let's be real. Some sex dreams are just dreams that are completely meaningless.

But this is a television series. Rarely is a sex dream meaningless.

Now, in the moment, Joanne is going to dismiss this and move on. She's more excited about how uncomfortable her sister is and doing that sisterly thing of delighting in Morgan's pain.

But depending on how they take the Loser Siblings dynamic down the line, Joanne is so gonna remember this moment.

"Yes. Yes. It's gross, right?"

She wants so badly for Joanne to tell her that. She wants to know that this is one of those completely meaningless sex dreams that she can just write off and never think about, again. But Joanne is speechless.

"Like, I don't get it. I'm not even attracted to him."

This one makes me chuckle. Because, I'm a demisexual with a hard ace lean. So, feeling sexual attraction for me is just not a real thing. I can feel romantic attraction and understand the appeal of sexual attraction.

But I wonder if Morgan is used to letting her sexual attraction lead her and doesn't realize that she actually has an emotional attraction to this guy.

I mean, just look at the way she was so soft with him in the laptop scene. He complimented her and she absorbed every one. But he also helped her, and offered her even more help, and she let him help her. They bonded.

I wonder if she's ever bonded with a guy emotionally before sleeping with them, before. And, no judgment! But I think that could be part of her block when it comes to understanding why she might be dreaming about "the brother" that way.

When Joanne doesn't say what she needs to hear, "Oh, that's weird. That's gross. So stupid!" she bounces off the call. She doesn't want to hear anything other than that because she can not be into "the brother".

"Oh, hi boys. Nice costumes."

Morgan looks to Sasha as she finishes the line, coughing a laugh. And, let's be honest, his neon yellow is a bit garish, but totally on brand for a character that constantly wears loud clothes to go for that.

Also, it makes sense that Morgan is trying to distance herself from thinking about him sexually by searing the image of him in that outfit in her brain.

And, oh! The. Framing. The framing! When they first cut back to the guys, it's the wide shot of everyone. But after the second half of the above quote, it's centered and focused on Sasha. Sasha is the one the camera focuses on as he looks at her.

Once he passes the ball off, he goes to greet her. Now, he's definitely standing a little too close. But they've connected and he feels less need to keep distance between them. I don't even think he realizes he's doing it.

He truly doesn't see anything but friendship in this relationship, and I'm not even sure he sees that at this point considering their conversation later in the episode. He's just not thinking it.

Morgan, though, fresh off a sex dream about him is very aware of how close he is to her.

It's not that she plans to do anything about that dream. But it's right there and he's right there, and that's a little too much Sasha near Morgan at this particular moment. She needs to purge the dream from her system, and having him so close does not make it easy.

"There he is."

One thing that really stood out to me on rewatch was how all the WAGs greeted their significant others. Drunk Joanne leapt into Noah's arms, of course. But if you look in the background, all the other WAGs embrace their significant others.

All except... Esther.

She doesn't even TOUCH him when she approaches him, and he doesn't seek it. He does seek emotional connection, though.

He asks if she wants to go out with him to eat spicy food (to take advantage of the fact that he is already sweating), but she turns him down to go be with Rebecca.

To note, this is at least the second time he has tried to connect with her (last time for a make-up sex night, this time just to go out together) and she has pushed him aside for Rebecca.

And this pushes him toward Morgan.

Think about it. If he'd left right then with his wife, they wouldn't have even seen Morgan loitering around looking for a ride. In a different type of show, this would've been the last time any of them saw Morgan alive. Yes, I know my mind's a little dark.

Instead, Sasha is shuffling alone when he runs into a super intoxicated Morgan who is still a little jumpy about him being too close to her.

"See. I'm telling you. We're the loser siblings. Think they'd forget about you if you were the winner sibling?" "Just stop with that."

And here he is looking for connection, again. And, at first, Morgan rebuffs him. She's still rejecting the Loser Sibling label, which is, to a degree, rejecting Sasha. It's not vindictive or cruel. She simply isn't looking for connection the way he is.

He longs for connection. She needs it more than she knows. That's why their combination is so damn dangerous.

In her, he finds someone who laughs (sometimes with him, sometimes at him), who lets him help and doesn't make him feel like a loser while he does.

In him, she finds a guy who doesn't expect anything of her. He offers of himself with no expectation of return. In that selflessness, she recognizes a softness in him that brings out a softness in her.

Neither of them is looking for love. Neither of them is looking for an affair. What they are both truly in want of is connection. Yes, they have their siblings, but in each other they find someone who truly gets it.

And I feel like some dialogue got cut here. It reads just fine the way it's edited together, but I'm wondering if the Uber would take a half hour or something. That seems like something Morgan would comment on while looking at her phone.

I just feel like a little something's been cut and I could be way off, but it throws me every time I watch the scene. Like, it actually pulls me out.

But, let's be real, most folks watching this aren't people who grew up on film sets, was an actress, the daughter of a makeup artist, and a film minor in college with two degrees in communications. I have no idea how to watch something normally.

I ruined one of Matt's favorite scenes in Raiders of the Lost Ark the first time we watched it together. I still feel bad about that one.

"Well, I'll give you a ride." "Why?"

And this is another clue that makes me think Morgan has never gone the "Friends to lovers" route with a guy. She absolutely expects him to want something from her. She doesn't expect him to do this because it's a nice thing to do.

I mean, note how she looks to his lips before meeting his eyes. She full on understands a world of sexual favors and unspoken expectations. But Sasha truly has none. He honestly just wants to help.

At every turn, he wants to help her. He helped her with getting into his brother's place to get the laptop. He helped her with the hostage negotiator tip. He's helping her by giving her a ride.

He truly likes to help. He just knows that those closest to him always expect him to be a screw up. With Morgan, he gets to be the hero. And I don't think he even fully realizes it, yet.

She crosses her arms over her chest as she waits for his response—a defensive move. And, honestly, I love every choice Ms. Lupe makes in this whole sequence because we can see Morgan's discomfort and distrust.

She's wrestling with wanting to believe he's being honest and selfless, but she just can't trust it.

"Because it's a nice thing to do and you need one."

That's it. It's as simple as that. It's the nice thing to do. Morgan uncrosses her arms (off camera, but it happens) as she accepts the ride.

"So, just so you know, we're gonna listen to my music, and I've been in a, like, Kris Kross phase."

The only reason I left this in is because once we get to the scene of them pulling up to the house... there is no music. My bet is that once they got into the car they started talking and just never stopped.

Also, once they pull up, he's wearing a hooded sweatshirt over his basketball clothes (yes, I know this is the real world and likely the actor isn't actually wearing all that underneath, but let's just go with the story here, people).

Note the biggest detail—he's no longer sweaty. He invited Esther out for spicy food "because he was already sweating". When he offered to give Morgan the ride, he didn't just take a detour on his plans—he changed them entirely.

Because it was never about the spicy food. It was about that want for connection. Sasha wanted to go out with his wife, but she had other plans.

So, instead of sitting across from Esther at a table eating spicy food and connecting, he's sitting next to Morgan in the car... connecting.

*Morgan laughs* "So dumb." "It's pretty dumb. Thank you, though. Thank you for laughing."

This. Is. Important. Look at how they are just laughing and relaxing together. I know we have no idea what they are talking about, but we don't need to. Those two lines are about the vibes of the Loser Siblings dynamic.

They are relaxed around one another. Where he once really annoyed her, now he makes her laugh. And he gets pleasure out of making her laugh. He laughs with her because it is so nice just to laugh with someone.

And maybe I'm biased, but that is one of my favorite things in a relationship—laughing together. Matthew and I have been through a lot in our 17 years of marriage (oh, gosh, has it been that long!?). But laughter is our biggest point of connection.

That and being positively ridiculous together. What other couple do you know who works the Swedish Chef into their goodnights?

"Haven't you ever had, like, a guy friend give you a ride home?"

And, while Sasha is trying really hard not to see anything weird about his and Morgan's dynamic, he's basically confirming my suspicions. Morgan doesn't do "guy friends". She just doesn't have that mode. And this is all new for her.

"But we're friends."

His reaction to this is so telling. He just realized that the only girl friend he has in his life is the woman he married who ran off all his other women friends.

My mom once dated a guy for three years. They ended amicably and stayed friends. Welp, once he married, his new wife made him mail my mother every photo of them.

Like, she couldn't just toss them, but had to go through the extra knife in the chest of sending them back to the ex, including all the pictures of me and my brother with him. So, I know these types of women.

And Sasha wants to be friends with Morgan (because what else can he be, right?), but he's sort of realizing that in being her friend and putting that label on it, he's risking Esther finding out and shutting it down.

For me, this is when it gets fuzzy for him. Morgan is already sex dreaming about him and giggling to herself about his text messages. Sasha's a little more oblivious in an adorable way.

But watch his face as he's considering a friendship with Morgan. This is when it goes from something that snuck up on him to something that he is going to actively keep from his wife. Because he's enjoying this friendship with Morgan.

To be clear, he has zero thoughts at this point of it going any further. He truly wants to be her friend. But some part of him knows this is forbidden territory, even if he isn't technically cheating.

Morgan, however, is relieved to have the "Friend" label out there. Labels are easy and they help her distance and protect herself. So, calling "the brother" her "friend" helps her distance from her subconscious that wants more.

"Well, thank you friend for the ride home." "You're welcome."

He's still mulling over the meaning of what just happened as she gets out of the car, flashing two birds at him as she goes.

"Two stars. Bye!" "Thank you. That's gonna bring up my star rating to two."

Where he runs from Esther or changes the topic with her, he bites back a little at Morgan, and I love that. He isn't running from her bitchy farewell (which is clearly another layer of protection for herself), but instead snarks back. More and more, he can be himself with her.

And it's all happening so gradually that they don't really see it coming.

He probably goes straight home after this, and later Esther will ask about the spicy food he ate, and that will become either the first skirting the topic (say he changed his mind) or outright lie (it was delicious!).

"Babe, I love you. You're my queen, but I have committed to being super hyped on tonight, so even if it feels like a betrayal, you're on your own."

Why include this? Because, once again, he is uncomfortably honest with Esther. But, also, it is one of the very few times we see him choosing anything over her. Here, he has made a commitment to his brother, and he is going to see it through.

Back in Episode 2 we saw him choose his brother over Esther when he lied about "shutting down" the "shiksa thing". Noah said, "Don't tell Esther" and Sasha responded, "I'm not gonna tell Esther". So, we know that these two have kept things from Esther before.

Siblings can be gray areas on those things. I have siblings with varying degrees of closeness (family is complicated, right!?) but there are some things you just keep between you—like spilling an entire gallon of sweet tea on the kitchen floor in the middle of the night when you shouldn't have been making tea in the first place.

We told Mom years later... when she had mellowed... a lot.

But, back to the honesty bit, this is another reason why I think his friendship with Morgan is such a shock to Esther when she finds out later. Sasha keeping things from her that extend to Noah isn't a shock. They're brothers. Brothers have bonds.

But Sasha is a very open person, on the surface. Yes, in episode three he talked behind Esther's back, "Breaking up the family?! What the fuck!? I'm sorry" to Noah. But, Esther doesn't realize that. He is so open and honest with her about so many things that she doesn't think he would keep a secret like that.

Yes, he went out with Morgan in episode two, but he didn't know it when he lied to Esther in the Temple. He was just going to meet the girl his brother was crushing on, so he thought. So, that is still a brother-protecting-brother thing. This moment? Another brother-protecting-brother thing.

These moments make sense to Esther. Her husband of probably 15 years having a secret woman friend? Yeah, nowhere near her radar.

"You know, I wanted to go elastic, but Esther wouldn't let me." "Honey, your sweats are gross."

This reminds me of the Rebecca and Noah first scene where she wanted plates and he wanted to just eat out of the container. And, of course, life has those little moments of disagreement.

But this is a television show. Almost everything has meaning.

Likely, Sasha is just saying it because he's sweet and wants to show solidarity. But, we also know that he does like to wear his sweats. We see him wearing several different hooded sweat shirts at Noah's. He wears the sweatshirt in the car with Morgan. He wears sweats when he's home alone on the couch. He's comfortable in Sweats.

What Esther is saying here is that Sweats in general are gross. There's no clarification about whether or not they're clean—it's just another thing Sasha likes and feels comfortable in that is a no-go for Esther.

"Hey, what's up?"

Sasha is sneaking into a freakin' bathroom to have a conversation with Morgan. This dude is not stupid.

I've seen some people say, "Oh, yeah, Sasha is totally clueless", and while I think he is to a degree during the season, by this point he knows he is is actively making a choice to hide Morgan from Esther.

So, yeah, I think he is fully aware that lines are getting blurred, here, but since he has zero intention of going physical and doesn't seem to understand an emotional affair anymore than Morgan, he thinks he is in the clear as long as he's not found out.

But what also sticks out is his face. Looking for Esther, he's nervous. But as soon as he sees Morgan's face, his brightens. He has no idea why she's calling, but he's happy to see her.

And can we talk about the fact that this is built into the episode description?! "Morgan asks Sasha for a favor".

There are only two episodes where these two make the description, and both of them are moments that move their relationship forward—in episode 5 when they bond over sibling dynamics, and here, when she calls him for the first time.

"I just haven't told Esther that we're friends, yet."

Because everyone involved knows this is over when you do. Yes, Morgan and Sasha have been living in this little, private bubble where nobody knew about their friendship but them.

Morgan didn't even tell Joanne. Sasha didn't even tell Noah.

Their best friends in the world—who also happen to be their siblings—have no idea that they are texting and chatting and becoming friends.

Morgan told Joanne about the sex dream, sure, but that's because she wanted validation that it was an anomaly and weird. She never said she was also texting with this guy.

I mean, hello, how much more cheating-coded can it be without them laying a finger on one another?!

"If I tell you something I need you to swear on your life you're never going to repeat it to anyone. Okay? Not Noah. Not Esther. Nobody." "100%. I just need to let you know I've never actually successfully kept a secret before. So, keep that in mind before you tell me."

He's protecting her. He's being honest with her. He doesn't want to let her down.

Yes, he annoyed the shit out of her the first time they met. But since then, he has a good track record of being helpful. He helped her with the laptop, with the mirroring, with the ride home.

And we know from the Season Finale that before this phone call he tipped her off to the best tacos in LA. He helped her, again!

But this is something he knows he could fuck up. And he's worried he'll fuck it up. And he wants her to know upfront that he might fuck it up.

But Morgan decides to trust him anyway.

"So, I ran into Rebecca last week." "Oh, okay, that is juicy."

Think about this objectively. Rebecca is his wife's best friend. He knows Rebecca. He knew Rebecca as his brother's girlfriend for three years.

He's probably known Rebecca forever, and yet he's about to take on this task for Morgan to help her.

Again, these two haven't laid a finger on each other, but this is where Sasha knows he's in the grey area (even if he wants to pretend he's not) and is in a position to continually choose Morgan over the other people in his life.

But, we'll get back to that.

"He tells me everything. I'm like his Rabbi."

Listen to that little bit of pride in his voice! But as he's talking to his friend who he has not told his brother about, he waivers on his certainty.

"Although, wait, what if he's hiding that from me?"

Because, my friend, you are certainly hiding something involving a girl from him.

"Yeah, I don't know, but you need to get to the bottom of it, okay? And just let me know what you find out."

There's something so casual about this, but it's another step in their relationship they probably don't realize they're making. Morgan is asking for help.

Think about it. When Sasha let Morgan into Noah's place, that was because Noah texted him asking for help. The mirroring tip was just something Sasha freely gave. Then, Sasha offered her the ride.

I've mentioned a few times that I think Morgan is well-acquainted with transactional relationships. But her relationship with Sasha is different. He doesn't ask for anything in return.

Still, she hasn't asked him for anything—until now. This is the first time she actively asks him for something. And he really doesn't want to fuck it up.

"I'm sorry. Why would I mention your name? "I don't know. It's just, you said it and it felt like I should say it back." "Okay. Bye. Thanks, weirdo."

Again, he misspoke. And she called him out on it. But she isn't upset. She understands this is one of his quirks. But, also, she still isn't calling him by name.

Names are special. I mean, X-Files knew it or they wouldn't have been specific and intentional about when Mulder and Scully called one another by their first names.

And while she also once calls her sister "weirdo" (see next episode) the "weird" label is definitely one she associates with her and Sasha. It is weird. There's no denying it from her point of view! But she doesn't want to stop it. And neither does he.

Again, neither of them see this as an affair. Neither of them see this as cheating. But they both are also aware that this is outside the norm.

But, then, how do you define it? Do they realize they're crossing these lines? It's so hard to say.

One thing's for sure—Sasha is no fool. Not only does he flush the toilet, but he runs the water after. He might be a bit of a buffoon, but he isn't an idiot.

He knows he shouldn't be talking to Morgan like this. He knows Esther would shut it down if she knew. But he isn't in it for sex or romance—he yearns for connection. And he's finding it where he shouldn't.

"I didn't hear it in a real sense of hearing..."

I'm not putting the whole thing, but you know the scene. When he tries to surreptitiously ask Esther about the whole Rebecca thing.

In the moment, it's read as Sasha just being Sasha—a little weird. But later, Esther is going to look back on this interaction and realize he "heard" it from the tall sister.

"Babe, you know what's actually really funny? Okay. Rebecca saw the dumb sister, pretending not to know who she was, then told her just like a bunch of lies about her and Noah just to fuck with her. It's amazing." "My God, women are scary."

So much to break down. First off, Esther calling Morgan, "the dumb sister". That's gotta sting for Sasha because he knows what it's like to be the Loser Sibling and have everyone expect less of you. He and Morgan share that, so there's a ping of sympathy for Morgan.

Then, he sees his wife's absolute glee at this fuckery. Like, I get that you don't like that life didn't go the way you perfectly planned it, but what the fuck, lady!?

"You need to promise me you are not gonna repeat that." "Yeah. No, no, no. Of course not. That's just, like, really juicy information that people would kill for and I'm just not gonna do anything with it or tell anybody."

Watch his face when she leaves. He was asked by Morgan to dig into this. She swore him to secrecy. Now, he has the answer, but his wife has sworn him to secrecy.

And in this moment, he chooses Esther. He does! He makes the choice to say nothing to Morgan because his wife swore him to secrecy.

Note how he doesn't warn her that he can't keep a secret. He just tells her he'll keep it, and then wrestles with it—because now he has failed Morgan.

To keep his wife's secret, he failed to help Morgan. Honestly, either way he chooses, he loses in some way.

"Text your sister. See if she'll come to dinner with us." "No." "Come on. I hate that you're in a fight."

That gets Sasha's attention. He literally backs up to join the conversation and Noah's head swivels up to him like, "What the hell?"

But Sasha being Sasha has its advantages, and this is one of those moments. Neither of them question why he wants to nose into their business. It's just Sasha being Sasha, right?

"What are you guys fighting about?" "Nothing. She's just a lying bitch who's trying to get in between me and my bubbeleh."

That same pained expression that crossed his face when he learned the truth briefly flashes across his features. He didn't know why Morgan was asking him for the information before, but now he knows that Rebecca's lies are actively doing damage.

"How do you know Morgan's lying?"

That's the first time I recall him saying her name.

See, Sasha distances the same way that Morgan does—with nicknames or placeholders. It's one of those places where they're alike and don't even realize it.

Names have intimacy attached to them. And though he doesn't realize it, he's crossed into a form of intimacy with Morgan.

They have their own inside jokes, memories, and now secrets. Those little things are what builds the strands of connection and strengthen them.

"If you knew the situation, you would get it."

And the crazy thing is that he knows more than either Noah or Joanne about it. Hell, he knows more than Morgan at this point.

"Okay. Well, I don't."

Because... what can he say? To any of them? He chose Esther, and that's the end of it.

"What does Morgan think about all this? I mean, is she cool with Joanne tribing up?" "I don't know, man. They're still fighting."

It's been days. At least days. Sasha has been sitting on this information, and now he knows that the sisters are still fighting.

And much as he chose Esther in the moment, that resolve is wearing thin. Because this isn't some little tiff.

He knows that Morgan ran into Rebecca a week before she called him. He knows they were fighting when Joanne came for lunch. They're still fighting.

And much as he wouldn't admit that he cares about Morgan, he does. He cares. Someone he cares about is being hurt—and he can help stop that hurt.

Sasha tries to unload his burdens with his brother, to tell him the truth. But Noah rebuffs the older sibling not even knowing what he's rejecting.

And, look, no judgment on Noah for not engaging in gossip (though he totally did with Joanne's friends about Amanda). Gossip is frickin' dangerous.

But secrets between the brothers are not new. We've seen it time and time, again. These two talk, and it's pretty assured that Esther would forgive Sasha for telling Noah if she ever figured it out because Sasha could redirect her ire to his brother.

Sasha could have told him everything and then let him tell Joanne and let her tell Morgan. That way, he wouldn't be directly betraying his wife. But, it doesn't work out that way.

And, again, Sasha is pushed toward Morgan.

He needs to talk, and there are only a few people in this world he talks to. I mean really talks to. Yes, he plays basketball with "the guys", but when it comes to hanging out, it's really only with his little brother. He talks to his wife, but that's its own thing.

But the only way to get rid of this burden is to tell Morgan. So, he does it. He makes the active choice to call her and break Esther's trust.

"Care to tell me why Sasha's calling you? ... Morgan, what did you do!?"

What does she think her sister did!? Like, last Joanne knew her sister was having sex dreams about her boyfriend's brother, but that was ages back and she has no idea that they are friends.

Like, I've thought it through a lot and I'm not exactly sure what Joanne thinks her sister did, here. And it does play into that "Morgan always fucks it up and I have to fix it" mentality that Joanne has about her sister.

But, do you know what is super fun? Watching Joanne's expressions during the phone call. When Morgan picks up, she's waiting for the shoe to drop—for something to be wrong.

"Hi, Sasha. Why are you calling? We barely know each other."

Babe, who do you think you are fooling with that bullshit? Anyway...

"Okay, look, I have something to tell you-"

Inserting my own break here just for Joanne's face. Look how she pulls her head back. Girlfriend is concerned about what is about to come out of that phone.

"I'm not used to keeping secrets, but I need some sweet release from these chains." "Alright, well, now is not a good time, so-"

Honey, what do you think he was going to say? Because, clearly you were trying to protect him from your sister. Maybe trying to protect yourself, too!

Like, she doesn't know what the secret is. But in that moment, she actually tried to choose Sasha over Joanne. It's a brief thing. It's barely there. But, she was trying to protect Sasha no matter what the secret was.

Those little things keep adding up... keep strengthening their bond.

"Rebecca lied. You were compromised the entire time. She knew who you were and she just wanted to mess with Noah and Joanne. Nothing she said was true."

Morgan's posture completely changes when she knows what the secret is, and Joanne has her light bulb moment as she gets to hear from someone else's mouth that her sister was telling the truth.

And, can we talk for a second here about how it had to be the Loser Siblings rescuing themselves, here? Sasha tried to tell Noah and get him to be the savior. Joanne wouldn't listen to Morgan. But Sasha really saves the day.

"Oh my God, that felt so good."

Alright, there, Sasha. Keep it in your pants.

"Look, I gotta go. Don't tell Esther I told you."

He gets that sweet release he needs, so now there's another endorphin response associated with Morgan subconsciously. And he made the choice of Morgan over Esther.

Yup. In the immortal words of Whoopi Goldberg: "Girl. You in danger."

Also, can we please talk about the timing of all this?! He is at his daughter's Bat Mitzvah! The ceremony probably just wrapped up and they are headed to the reception.

No doubt, Sasha sees his brother despondent because his girlfriend didn't show. He knows that Morgan and Joanne are still fighting. And he's powerless to do anything about his daughter's ridiculous Bat Mitzvah theme that is universally hated.

He doesn't know that making that call will bring Joanne to the party. He doesn't know he is also helping his brother out when he makes that call. But he knows it will help Morgan.

So he steals a moment between the ceremony and the reception to call her.

He rushes through the truth, partially because he wants to get it off his chest, but partially because he is pushing his luck making this phone call at all. He is with his entire family and can't risk anyone catching him.

This is another place where we see his thought process on display—he doesn't video call. It's audio only, and he doesn't use her name. Our boy is not stupid and not clueless.

And then he tells Morgan not to tell Esther he told her.

Now, Morgan and he have another secret from Esther, but this time Joanne bore witness. So, any worries she might've had about Sasha and Morgan having an active affair were put to bed (heh), but she definitely still thinks it's weird the two are talking.

"Why does Sasha have your phone number?" "We can circle back to that."

Because it's complicated. Again, I think the simple answer: "We exchanged phone numbers when you were boinking your boyfriend and blowing off business" is likely the complete factual answer.

But Morgan is still on full-on avoidance when it comes to her feelings for Sasha, whatever they are. And she doesn't want to talk about Sasha because then she has to think about Sasha.

And then she just might have to be honest with herself about Sasha.

Morgan is still going on dates. Sasha is still with his wife. Again, they don't think they've crossed any lines, here. But all it takes is one outsider looking in to burst that bubble.

Where before Morgan wanted Joanne to break a Sasha bubble, now she doesn't want that. Because what she has with Sasha is different than anything she's ever had with anyone else—whatever it is.

"Okay, so the real question is, is this bitch Rebecca really trying to break you guys up?" "Yeah. Everyone is. And they're all together at a Bat Mitzvah." "Then what the fuck are we doing here?"

And this is Morgan at her best. We've seen her at her worst—sniping and battling her sister, getting in her head about Noah. But this? This is Morgan at her best.

When Joanne is drowning with the WAGs, Morgan shows up. When Joanne needed rescues from bad dates, Morgan shows up. When Joanne second guesses staying outside the Temple, Morgan shows up. Even though Morgan was so frustrated with Sasha that first hang, she still plays her part to be her sister's wingwoman.

Morgan talks a lot of shit. Morgan can totally get it wrong. But when it matters—Morgan shows up.

In Episode 1 Joanne told Noah that Morgan was her best friend and worst enemy (to which he responded he had one of those in Sasha). Now, we see it on full display.

"I hate this dress."

Miriam tumbles in the dress she hates so much, and Esther is right there to help. She really is a good mom, trying to help her daughter through an embarrassing moment.

As she whisks her daughter away, who's there to drop to one knee and take care of the apples? It's Sasha. And he waves everyone else off, taking full responsibility for the tumbled fruit—because Sasha likes to help.

Then, his world gets rocked a little.

This whole sequence is about the Loser Siblings. Yes, of course, waves are made when the sisters arrive. It's part of the drama of the show that Bina is mad, Rebecca is shocked, and everyone else knows juicy drama when they see it.

But who do we see first as the music shifts? It's Sasha.

He isn't even at the right angle to see them first. He's around the corner from the door. But when they pieced the sequence together, they wanted us to see Sasha's eyes trailing from apples (which could be seen as "forbidden fruit") to the hot ladies walking in the door.

He straightens as his eyes land on them. And if you're paying attention, you can see where this shot of him might have been intended for later as the actor completes the same head movement at the edge of our view in another shot.

They edited it to be Sasha first on purpose. This is intentional. Someone, somewhere, made a call that this sequence would show that little world shift of Sasha and Morgan.

As they enter, Joanne and Morgan offer bitch face to Bina and Rebecca. And can we talk about Rebecca, the ex being with the family? Yes, she is Esther's best friend, but they are all clearly planting their flags on the "Noah is so getting back with Rebecca" plan.

While Joanne's eyes move into the crowd looking for Noah as they pass Bina and Rebecca, Morgan's find Sasha, still kneeling on the ground. And, oh, he is looking back.

She smiles into a small laugh that's just for him before her resting bitch face takes over. And as Joanne and Morgan split to either side of the camera, we're left with Sasha in focus, center frame, clearly watching after Morgan as she goes.

This is romcom framing, folks. This is clearly a moment of, "Holy shit, she's a smokeshow!"

And it's not that he didn't already know it. But in that moment he totally forgets himself and mentally acknowledges that sexy dress and that special smile meant just for him.

Yeah, these two are screwed.

Again, I am not condoning or encouraging infidelity. These are fictional characters who I hope get their shit together in Season 2 and find a way to be together without a cheating trope.

Only the writers know what's in store for next season. I can only comment on what's on the screen, now. And that sequence was intentional.

"I hope it's chill that I crashed. You know, I just, I love a DJ." "The more the merrier! Absolutely. I'm so happy you two made up."

And they look to one another with a smile. But I also note that they don't tell Noah anything about how it all went down. Now, Morgan escapes before there's really time to ask about that, but, looking back later, this could be seen as a time Joanne chose to shelter Morgan and Sasha.

And we know that Joanne doesn't know the full story, but she also knows they aren't sneaking off into the bathroom for a quickie (you know Morgan once led an episode of their podcast entitled "Public Places & Small Spaces").

Still... looking back.. both Morgan and Joanne kept the truth of their reconciliation from Noah... because they were protecting Sasha and Morgan.

"Hello, Joanne. My heavens, you came. And you brought an uninvited guest."

Morgan, I love you clinking those glasses together. Oh my gosh, girl, never change. But Mama Roklov has been warning since Day One about the "sister". Does she suspect something? I doubt it. But she definitely doesn't want her family having any more connections with Joanne's.

Oh, my sweet summer child, what you don't know!

And the dance sequence made me smile. I know there are a lot of character things going on, here, but it also reminded me so much of my wedding.

Wow, have I gotten this deep in without talking about my heritage!? Oy vey! So, my Dad's mother was raised by Catholic nuns in Barcelona, Spain. My mother's mother converted to Judaism when she married my Ukrainian grandfather, before they had my mom.

I was raised in a very weird mix of cultures and traditions. My mother rejected Judaism, so I had to learn everything from my cousins.

My mother also wasn't that supportive of my Spanish heritage from my father, so my adult life has been spent piecing together the pieces of who I am.

But my wedding was full of joy. 250 people of different cultures and backgrounds all conga-lining, doing the hora, and lifting Matthew and I in the air on their shoulders.

I had a lovely moment of remembrance watching the dance sequence in this episode.

There are so many pockets of life from my Jewish side of my family that are so special and unique, and while no media portrayal of a culture is perfect, I've enjoyed this show immensely.

Anyway... back to the show:

"Why are you here?"

There's a tinge of, "You don't belong here" in that. Bitch, why are you here!?

"Your dumb little lie really fucked up my relationship with my sister." "I don't know what you're talking about."

Flames. Flames coming out the side of my head. Yes, I know you're pissed, Rebecca, but you don't give a shit that your lie is impacting someone who has nothing to do with this!?

Listen, sugar, why don't you and your bestie lock yourselves in a closet and make out for a while since you clearly enjoy each other's company more than any of the men's anyway? It would save everyone a lot of heartache and I think make all y'all happier.

"Okay, don't bullshit me. Alright? Sasha told me everything."

No, Morgan, what are you doing!? Okay, technically telling Rebecca is not the same thing as telling Esther, but practically? Girl, the game is up!

No more coasting along for Sasha and Morgan. With Bina and Esther and Rebecca all united, seas are gonna be stormy in Season 2.

"Did you tell Sasha that I lied to the tall sister?"

Rebecca, you just got a small point for being nicer in your chosen descriptor than Esther. "Tall" is a lot less bitchy than "Dumb".

"What did the idiot do?" "He told her!"

Welp, she calls Morgan "Dumb" and Sasha an "Idiot", so maybe she'll come to see them as the perfect match. But, seriously, it was a bitchy thing to do.

Yes, Sasha is still in the wrong by Esther for breaking her confidence. Not glazing over that at all.

Narratively was it the right call? Yes, we needed Morgan and Joanne reconciled in case there wasn't a second season. But as far as his marriage goes, Sasha has definitely stepped outside the lines.

"No. Not possible. He doesn't even know her." "Pretty sure he knows her."

Now, in cannon Esther knows about that first night out where they literally got 20 minutes tops at the bar before she broke it up, and then she saw him greet Morgan at the basketball game. As far as Esther knows, that's it.

She knows nothing else about their dynamic, and now she's going fishing.

"I love Bat Mitzvahs. There's so much free shit! You know?" "Yeah."

Sasha was already facing the bar when she came up, so he's basically gone back to first position on this one. He's facing away from her. But she wants to talk to him.

And it strikes me that if we went a little wider in the shot, Sasha and Morgan are reversed in their positioning from the bar.

He's facing the bar instead of her facing a jukebox, but it's that same positioning. Only this time, she is open to him and waiting for him to open up to her.

"Hey, um, thank you, you know, for finally telling me the truth. My sister was never going to speak to me again."

She touches his arm as she speaks. Now, this isn't a big deal for Morgan. She touches people. She touched Rebecca while they were talking. She touches her sister. She's a tactile person.

But, I noticed it because Esther doesn't touch Sasha a whole lot. He is very used to a relationship without gentle affection. And I wonder what was going through his mind when Morgan touched him.

"That's alright. Happy to help."

Look. At. His. Face. It's blink and you'll miss it, but I can't recall ever seeing Sasha this... soft.

Like, Mr. Simons, I did not know your game!

He smiles a half smile that dimples his cheek. And on the reverse shot, you can tell that Morgan feels that softness because her smile fades as she looks from his eyes to his lips.

She doesn't realize that his wife made him promise not to tell anyone and that he broke that promise. But she knows that something is shifting between them. Even if she can't name it, now that Joanne is aware of their "friendship", she has to really think about it.

Why does he have your number, Morgan? Why is he so comfortable texting you? Why are you still texting him? Why are you calling each other? You know he has to hide in the bathroom, that he is literally hiding you from his wife the way your sister's ex who she was obsessed with and talked about in episode one hid her.

Are you really the one who is only interested in men who are emotionally unavailable?

And she's not quite ready to think about that. But she does have to acknowledge somehow that these blurred lines aren't going unnoticed.

"You know, she thought it was weird that we talk to each other."

And there it is. Morgan wanted Joanne to tell her that the sex dream was gross, and she didn't. But, clearly Joanne did express that it was weird that they talk. And now that it's out there, Morgan can't keep it in any more than Sasha can keep in a secret.

This is when Sasha opens up to face her. They are having a personal conversation, now, about them. Whatever they are... this is their first real discussion about it since they band-aided it with the "friend" label.

"I'm telling you, it's not weird-"

Because he still wants to hold onto the idea that he's on the right side of the line. He still wants to believe that they are in the clear.

Because he would never cross a physical line. It just wouldn't happen. It's not in his makeup. He's loyal and dedicated and willing to stay by Esther's side even if she cheated on him.

But Morgan is self-aware enough now that she's had to think about it to realize that they are toeing some pretty big lines, here. Maybe not in terms of physical affection, but in terms of connection.

"Okay, stop saying that it's not weird when we both know that it kind of is." "Alright, fine."

The bravado instantly fades. He's honest with her. He's open with her.

"It might be a little weird, but I enjoy talking to you. Is that so bad?"

And there he's redrawn the lines. Yes, it's "weird", but we're just talking, right? Talking isn't bad, right? We can talk, right?

A month or so earlier they sat in a car where she waited for him to affirm her label. "Friend". And he did. This time, he's waiting for her to tell him if this is bad or not.

It's not bad, right? Talking?

Except "talking" is the exact verb Morgan used when asking Sasha about Rebecca and Noah. She asked if they were "talking" again before sharing that Rebecca said they were getting back together.

But neither one of them is thinking about that right now. Honestly, they're enjoying the time together more than either would admit, and they lean into it.

"No. No. I'm fun to talk to."

She takes it back to their banter, and he is thoroughly charmed. Look at that smile!

"There we go. A little Stuart level confidence there."

He's smiling so broadly, so sweetly as he lifts his drink to his lips. She fixates on it, asking for a drink, then practically demanding it. He relinquishes it with a smile.

And as he's still smiling at her, she holds eye contact while drinking from his glass.

Freeze frame that shit and this is full romcom. Like, she is looking up at him drinking from his drink while he smiles, nearly in a daze.

And her holding his gaze is intentional. There's a sultry edge to it as they toe this line a little too closely between friendly and flirtatious.

The surprise on Morgan's taste buds shatters the moment.

"Wait, there's no alcohol in that." "Yeah, I told you a hundred times, I'm California sober."

A hundred times. A hundred times?! Just how many text conversations have you two been having!?

The barkeep apparently read her mind (or maybe knew her order from earlier) and passes over something with actual alcohol. Yes, it's television magic, but we're gonna roll with it, okay?!

"Are you high?" "Mmm-hmm" "Can I have some?" "Yes. 100%."

Seriously, if these two do have a future, "100%" is going to be one of those things that comes back as theirs. There are those little phrases or words that seep into the collective comprehension of a couple, and this one would be in the running for them.

But, also, he finally has someone who wants to share in these things with him. Morgan is actively asking to share in this with him. Where before she wanted to kick him out of her car and run across the bar to get away, now she seeks him out.

This scene of them drinking together is such a far cry from their first drink together, at a bar only a few months earlier.

There, she made a face at Sasha sticking a finger in his brother's drink, contaminating it. Here, she actively drinks from his glass.

There, she didn't want to look at him or talk to him. Here, she's the one seeking him out, and they are growing closer by the minute.

This guy she thought she was tolerating for a few minutes at a bar for her sister's sake is now someone she wants in her life, even if she isn't fully sure of the capacity. Like, what are they?

Dipping toes into an emotional affair, absolutely. But where does it go from here? Would they cross those physical lines?

Personally, I see more kiss and retreat than full-blown affair from these two, but I'm not writing the show. I'm just writing this ridiculously long Meta because these actors played these scenes so bloody well and I can't get them outta my head.

As Morgan and Sasha share in a moment, toasting to their future shared high, Esther and Bina look on in dismay. Esther scrolls through the text messages, and I'm going to write them out below (the ones I can read).

Sasha: Ughhh now I want tacos. Sasha: are you gonna go? send pics Morgan: [photo of three tacos] Sasha: Best tacos in LA, right?!?! Morgan: They're amazing! You're right. Sasha: Win for the loser siblings!!! Morgan: lol fine! Win for the loser siblings. Sasha: Have you seen Dune? Morgan: no?? should I Sasha: Are you going to see the sequel? Morgan: I wasn't planning on it. Sasha: Well, if you're gonna watch the sequel you should def see the first one. Morgan: hey, can I call you? Sasha: Yeah, give me two Morgan: Thank you for telling me the truth [heart emoji]

These aren't love notes. But they also aren't the sort of texts you expect a married man to send a single woman.

We see here that he helped her find some great tacos, that she finally embraced their shared "Loser Siblings" label after denying it for so long, that they were talking movies.

And those last few lines are where it escalates. They've been talking... and she sent him a heart emoji.

Emojis have meaning, right? Especially for Morgan. When she sent Joanne her first blush impression of Sasha, she included several unflattering emojis. This time, she sent him a heart.

And that's the last we see of Sasha and Morgan because this isn't their bloody show. And, to be clear, I adore Noah and Joanne. I'm just personally more drawn to what is going on over here.

I don't know if I'm a loser sibling, myself. But I know what it's like to feel like you can do nothing right, that you have to accept the path someone else chose for you, that you have to marry the "right kind of person" (tell you that story of the boyfriend before my husband another time).

Lupe and Simons are knocking it out of the park with their chemistry, comedic timing, and those micro-expressions that make metas like this so much fun.

Again, I'm not a fan of cheating story lines. It's just not my thing. But, I can see several paths forward that don't involve cheating.

Ultimately, I'm just a viewer, like you! I have no control over this wild ride. But, oh, it's a fun one!

Thanks for reading, loves. Can't wait to see what they have in store for Season 2!

[coldresolve]

Hi, I'm Elias, I'm a 26yo trans guy from Denmark. I write shit, I draw shit, and I get into unneccesarily tedious arguments with anons about torture apologia in fiction. I think that sums up my vibe

I've made a few posts about this already, but tl;dr: the Danish NHS has been refusing to treat me for gender dysphoria for the better part of a year now because they've deemed me "unstable." Unstable how, you ask?

I have depression.

No, that is quite literally it. Full context under the readmore.

Fighting to be heard and having the door repeatedly slammed in your face sucks peak ass, and I'm done now. The NHS is so lackluster when it comes to trans people, all of a sudden, it makes perfect sense to me why 31% of transgender Danes get HRT outside of the NHS.

And I'd rather not have to turn to the black market, so rn I'm hoping to get a prescription with GenderGP. The issue is, I'm poor as fuck and can't afford the start-up fees for the forseeable future - unless I do something like this. I hate asking others for money, and I hate it even more if I'm not in a place where I can give anything in return. But I also recognize I'm in over my head with this, so. If you've got a cent or two to spare, I'd be grateful as hell.

I've mathed it out, and my best estimate is that I need around 3500,- DKK / $500 USD. Again, this is just to cover the initial subscription as well as mandatory consultations/blood tests. I should be able to cover the prescriptions on my own, as well as further tests/consultations down the line, so I'm hoping this is a one-and-done sort of thing.

paypal: elimunpau@gmail.com

Also, important note. We're in a global cost of living/housing crisis and this isn't a strict life-or-death situation. If you're in a tough spot right now, don't send me anything, that'd just make me feel worse about asking. I appreciate the thought but you gotta take care of your own needs first. Peace and take care ✌️

So I've been dealing with major depressive disorder since I was 11. It runs in my family, and as you might imagine, after 15 years of living with this thing, I've learned how to manage it pretty well by now. I know what it's like to genuinely be unstable - and if I were in a place like that, no problem, I'd be open about that. I wouldn't be making decisions like this. I know myself. You kind of have to when you're dealing with a chronic mental illness.

Here's where I am right now: I've got no suicidal ideation, been clean from self harm for four years, no psychosis, no inpatient admissions for the last five years. I live on my own, take my meds, and I'm keeping my life in order. Depressed, yes, but about as stable as someone with my history can get, and ask anyone who knows me, me wanting to get on HRT isn't some spur of the moment decision. I've done a fucking decade of soul searching, and a few years ago, I finally (duh) reached the conclusion that living as a woman isn't something I can even fake being content with - believe me, I've tried. I'm well aware of the scope of medical transition, but I'm settled in who I am. And I just want to live like me now. That's the only thing I want.

If it counts for anything, my partner and family have supported me through this, which has been priceless obviously, but it also goes to show that me saying "I'm capable of making medical decisions" isn't purely a personal assessment. I'm pretty sure they'd speak up if they thought I was being unstable about it or whatever

But the CPH clinic for sexology, who have consistently refused to listen to me telling them all this, have somehow magically aquired divine knowledge on my capacity to make adult decisions about my own body, and on the basis that I have MDD, they're refusing to even set me up for a preliminary interview - one that would preceed a 6 month full-team psych evaluation before the prospect of HRT would even come up. They said in their latest refusal that they wont accept another referral from me until a year after my last in-clinic conversation with them, which happened on October 24th, 2023 - meaning that with the NHS, if they accepted my referral come October (which I don't have much faith they will), the earliest I could possibly get on HRT is April 2025. Arguing for my own sanity would've sucked enough as is, but it's made harder by the fact that they won't even talk to me. You're a trans guy who would like healthcare, but you have a mental illness? Good luck, you're on your own. Long live the Danish bureaucracy.

Dysphoria makes me fucking miserable. I'd rather not have to write a sob story here, and tumblr is like 80% trans people so I guess a good portion of you can imagine why waiting another year for the possibility of maybe-perhaps-if-all-goes-well getting on HRT would not actually make me less miserable about it.

So. I'm sitting down next week along with my mom to file a formal complaint with the patient's rights committee. I don't know what to call this other than some form of discrimination on the basis of mental illness, because nothing in my current situation would prohibit me from making medical decisions for myself. And I honestly don't think that a complaint is going to do much, but I intend to make it obnoxiously long, because by law, a specialized doctor and an attorney have to read through the whole thing. If you can't beat 'em, make 'em read 50 pages of you going into detail about why you think they suck, right

And yeah, like I said, in the meantime, I'm trying to go via GenderGP. It'd be nice if my poor ass could get HRT via the NHS instead of having to pay out of pocket, but apparently the bar for entry requires that you 1) have gender dysphoria to the point where it impedes normal function and 2) somehow aren't mentally ill. Who wrote these rules? Some 60yo cis guy in a suit in Christiansborg, I imagine.

Feel free ask about anything relating to this whole situation, I'll be as open as I can about it, cause I understand that if you're going to give money to someone, you want to know what it's going to. Though I hope you understand I'm not going to doxx myself more than I already have now, or give you my entire medical history - only what's relevant to my current situation.

I know Denmark is a welfare state and on a global scale we're doing alright, but I hope you don't mind if I say this: This shouldn't be happening as often as it does. Fuck the Danish NHS.

[tai-janai]

Reunite

Path 12: An End

(Chapter Select)

At the bottom of the stairs is the basement. Smooth stone walls and cobble flooring. A lone, barred window that lets in bright white light.

The Other sits at the other end. It does not wear a metal chain around its neck. Held tightly in its hands is a pristine blade. His form has changed somewhat; he looks softer than you remember, and a cape is wrapped around his shoulders.

It looks at you, and its eyes soften. Its lips turn upward for a sad, relieved smile. It is happy to see you. After everything the Echo said, you still feel like he is a part of You.

The Hero:

Hey...

His voice is weak. He tilts his head and watches you approach, but he does not move.

"Did you hear any of that?"

Something flashes in his eyes, like he hasn't figured out if he did or not. Then he scratches the back of his neck.

The Hero:

Yeah, I... The, uh, sound travels pretty well into here.

You sit on the floor in front of him. He seems a bit flustered.

The Hero:

I-it was... a lot of information. I'm not really sure... how to take it.

"How did you get here?"

The Hero:

Oh. I... got really worried after you got taken away by a pair of hands, so I kind of... followed you. It wasn't that hard, I know your psyche pretty well by now. But before this place was anything, I'd already been split from you. Then, I was put down here for... some time. I don't know, time is really weird here. It felt like forever but I know it wasn't.

He looks down at the blade in his hands.

The Hero:

And this thing was here. It's always supposed to be, right? One of those, uh, rules?

"What about the Others?"

The Hero:

Well, I finally reached the end of the last world, so they're probably all together. Knowing them, they're all probably looking for me. I'm only here, though, after I left that last world, there's no part of me left with them at this point. Not 'til I leave this one, too.

The Hero:

That world... At the end, you had been taken over by something, were you? The thing that wanted those Beings dead... The Princess?

You remember the way your body did not feel like yours. The way your mind conflicted with itself, wanting the Being dead, because it was meant to kill you. You remember that fear of death.

The Hero:

Are you okay?

You look into his eyes. Your eyes. His eyes.

"Do you know what you were supposed to be?"

The Hero:

Ah... The Long Quiet, He called it. If you're asking if I was ever that, I don't really know. Your memories are all I have, and all we know is that we woke up in a cabin.

"Did you know you were supposed to slay the Princess? And by connection, me?"

It laughs a little.

The Hero:

I only barely knew there was a Princess, mate. I had no idea what we were or what we were supposed to do. My only sense of purpose came when we saw that first Being, anxious and trapped. We felt bad for it, even if it was terrifying and hated us.

The Hero:

The... idea of killing you feels weird. You're so... me. But I've been doing it this whole time. It's something I was made for, like some... inevitability. It feels obvious until I take the second to think about it.

Its eyes trace the edge of the blade.

"What comes next?"

He thinks. His face contorts in frustration.

The Hero:

I... I never felt like the one making the choices here. He said I am choice, but I don't know how to make any, myself.

The Hero:

He made it sound like three options. I have qualms about each.

The Hero:

I could slay you, the way I was always supposed to. Death and change would be gone, and all of the other guys will get their happily forever after in the places they are now. Or ... We fix ourselves back up to being... what, everything? A god? And then... things will just... keep going?

"And the third option...?"

The Hero:

I stay here with you, and we don't do anything, forever. The cabin crumbles and it'll be just us. And... I'll never see the others again. Nobody will join back together, but, they'll eventually die. I, uh... don't think the guy upstairs would like that too much, though... Um. I... I don't know if I like that one, either. But it is... an option.

You think about these choices. Everything about them scares you.

"Do you have a preference?"

He looks to the side, flustered, and a hint of a smile he's trying to hide. He gestures vaguely at you.

The Hero:

Well, I'm not gonna lie, I-I liked being, y'know, Us.

With a pause, his gaze turns downward.

The Hero:

But I liked being with Them, too.

The Hero:

And... I hate to say this, but they would not like being anything but what they are now. Like, they love you, they really do, they're unbelievably grateful for everything you've done for them- But I... It wouldn't be... what they wanted.

He shrugs and leans his head to the side.

The Hero:

You could do it anyway, though, I guess. They probably wouldn't be able to do much once we're all in one piece.

He looks into your eyes, and his feathers droop.

The Hero:

After everything, would it still be freedom? Your choice, limiting theirs...?

"Why are you making me decide? I thought that wasn't my role."

The Hero:

I don't know? I didn't make the rules here. I'll go along with whatever you come up with. I mean, I am choice, right? The thing that gives you the options...? Not the one making the decisions.

"You clearly have a preference, and it's the one that means I get slain."

The Hero:

It's not like I want you to die. Just, out of everything so far, I don't want what we've given them to go away.

He sighs. You know be is conflicted. He fidgets with the hilt of the blade. He really is more them than he is you. But, you don't blame him.

"I'm scared. I don't know what being a god would be like."

The Hero:

I don't know, either, but this is it. The big ultimatum.

Decisions. You were never made for decisions.

You can die along with Death, and let the others be happy in what remains of the construct for all of eternity.

You can go against the others' wishes and reunite the way the Echo offered, with Death eradicated.

Or you can stay here alone with the Other, keeping him with you forever, while the worlds and the shattered fragments continue on, dying and reforming.

[swallowerofdharma]

So, what is Berserk about after all?

Please be considerate to me, don’t repost this, don’t share it outside of tumblr, don’t copy parts of it, thank you.

I have read really funny critiques and reviews of Berserk. Often they would refer to Miura supposedly saying that he didn’t plan everything out and they would use this statement to support their argument that after the Golden Age arc the story just looked like it dragged on. One, don’t ever fully believe what artists and writers say about their work. Second, without a proper conclusion it is impossible to make that kind of judgement and the story is ongoing. Then, not having a plan or having just vague ideas and taking inspiration here and there isn’t how manga works or how it gets published. When asked in an interview why he started creating Haibane Renmei as a doujinshi, Yoshitoshi Abe replied: “With mainstream publishing, it would've been difficult to do it with that avenue because of this particular approach with everything being adlibbed. I don't know how the story will be developed, how it's going to end up, or what the ending's going to be. If you go to a mainstream publisher, by their general approach, they have to know what the characters are, who they are, what the story's going to be, and how the story's going to develop so they know if there's going to be a serial, continuing storyline. They need to know how it's going to go”. Even though plans can be renewed and renegotiated, Miura still needed to make solid advanced plans and decisions and respect deadlines and page quotas. Even without considering this, the world building of Berserk seems too intentional and coherent to me to think that he didn’t really know how the story would go. Granted he created a reality that could be changed and bent by the human imagination and psyche, from the inside. This happened to be a brilliant choice for a long project like the Berserk manga.

I once read a review that pointed out the weakness of the later arcs and episodes, making the hypothesis that Miura was influenced by the success of stories like One Piece and Pirates of the Caribbean. I can’t really say that I share this opinion, either. Reviews like these make me smile, because they reveal how people missed a very big clue that Miura never really hid. Berserk was inspired by the story of Peter Pan as told by J.M. Barrie and reinterpreted in several different ways, not only visually. He went as far as dedicating to it the Lost Children chapters, immediately after the Eclipse, when the tension of the story was higher than it ever had been. We should read the Lost Children as an homage to the story of Peter Pan and Wendy that plays into the already disquieting themes of the original in darker tones and with much more horrifying elements; but we should also pay great attention to the Lost Children chapters as an important recontextualization of the events of the Golden Age arc. While I want to dedicate proper analysis and attention to this, I am going to add here that in Peter Pan we already had the pirates, the islands with hidden caves and the mermaids. The journey to Skellig island and Elfhelm had to be long enough for Moonlight Boy to make an appearance at least twice before the big reveal of his full identity the third time, and since he can only appear on nights of a full moon, Miura had to make the readers feel that time had passed. But Guts had always belonged in Neverland.

In my rudimentary outline of various elements that contributed greatly in building the world and story of Berserk, I actually ran out of space. And I want to properly address the various points and develop them more. For the moment I just really wanted to show that Miura had a very strong grip over the story and that he was really attentive to nuances. I said to myself, if I want to criticize the writing in Berserk at least I have to make sure I understand it to a sufficient extent.

Also I really wanted to at least give an idea of how important a role Shōjo manga had to Berserk. I hope to be able to fully explore this element soon.