#main v;

[platanc]

worst case scenario : it was all a lie.

After Lysandre had died, Augustine had gotten a chorus of apologies. Everyone was sorry.

He couldn't blame them for saying so - it wasn't their fault for seeing that it was a topic that made him go strangely quiet.

I'm sorry, you two were friends, huh?

The Professor would sadly smile, and nod, and say thank you.

But he was sorry that they had been friends too.

He attended the service they had for him, against his best judgment, and quite a few protests. He'd talked with a few others about how Lysandre had been before- but it felt empty to him. It felt like they were all talking about a man that never existed, a man they had all idealized for different reasons. For all he knew, that Lysandre was probably a lie, too, so he said nothing about how he'd missed how kind Lysandre could be, or how much love he'd shown his Pokémon, because that could have been a lie, too. Something shiny and dear to his heart to distract him from his vile nature.

Were the signs so obvious? Did everyone see the wool over his eyes except for him?

When he did break down and cry, someone rubbed his shoulders and said they would miss Lysandre too, and Augustine just buried his face in his hands.

Because no, he would not miss Lysandre.

He was crying because it was like being stabbed.

Because Lysandre had successfully lied his way into Augustine's life, into his space, into his closest-knit group of friends- all for him to nearly take it all away.

He'd introduced his students to this man. He'd told them not to judge Lysandre's harsh words, and shown his approval because he had been lied to.

He was supposed to ensure their safety - not lead them straight to the lion's mouth.

Everything that had happened to them never would have if he hadn't pressed. It felt ridiculous now. Consider the feelings of this predator.

Later that night, he'd drank so much that he could barely leave the floor without feeling like he'd vomit, or cry, or both.

[circuitboardskin-aa]

“You and, uh, Dana? You guys know to, uh, I mean, if you’re doing anything, you know to, ummm, use protection right?” Big sis Darcy here to ask the hard questions.

@zzapzzaptasers // in which Terry internally screams

He stares at her as if she's an alien from outer space. Or maybe she has two heads. He really shouldn't be surprised considering it's Darcy--her usual quality is to say whatever odd thing she thinks, at least that's what he feels is the case. Terry isn't sure how to respond. He doesn't talk about his and Dana's relationship much, and definitely never ever about that.

First of all, Darcy was far too much like a big sister and second of all: he didn't talk about sex in general. Because it was off the table (and Dana understood to some extent because he'd told her to some extent what his issues were and. Not important).

Except it is kind of is, because he's nineteen and some stupid idea of masculinity has him thinking they should have already, but.

Why does he talk to Darcy?

So, he's kind of flustered at the question. As much as she is on asking it. Somewhere his usual irritation is lost under his embarrassment (or confusion?).

"Uh... yeah?" He holds back a wince at the questioning tone of his voice. Not the right way to respond to that. "Yeah. Yeah... no kids f'er me, thanks."