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writing-whump · 8 months

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Leader to equal

Summary: Something is wrong with Isaiah. Matthew wants to find out what. Contains heart problems, emeto and caretaking.

Something was wrong with Isaiah.

Matthew was sure, well, moderately sure, because it was honestly very hard to tell anything about the raven haired wolf.

Isaiah was good at acting consistently. Like he chose a face and stuck with it. Smiley and charming and suspiciously relaxed, like he was laughing at everybody with those sparkly green eyes and easy grin. Too easy for a wolf, stance too lax. No wonder he could move around the city without humans getting the slightest suspicion about his true nature.

Shadow wolves were usually easy to spot. The smell of sulphur, the barely held back aggressivity and tension, like a string a second before snapping painfully. The furrowed eyebrows or generally frowning face and a scary glare and the aura of shadow, burning and death. Yeah, quite easy to spot in a crowd.

But Isaiah fit in, something only the weakest wolves usually did. For him it wasn't a weakness, it was a strength, as Matthew came to understand by following him around.

Why was he following him? He wasn't sure. But Isaiah went to check on him in the morning, and Matthew was irritated by the attention and felt like he was owed some answers and stalking for being woken up and worried about like a helpless pup.

Seriously. Seline and Isaiah were ruining all his good reputation.

So Matthew followed Isaiah around as he went from district to district. Knocking on doors, climbing through windows, resting on verandas of friendly and not quite friendly packs and scary leaders and new groups and known witch clubs. The reactions ranged from enraged but fruitless attacks to resigned frustration to almost amicable acceptance.

Somehow Isaiah always came out of it as the victor. Proving he was the best, that he could look human one moment and raise his shadow the next, that he could put other shadows around him down and shake off the aggression with a shrug and a smile on his way out as if nothing happened.

Matthew stayed silent and followed and wondered if Isaiah's strength wasn't really in the quick absolute shifts between his human and shadow sides. As if they were in harmony instead of tearing at each other with opposite desires. He never saw or even heard of anything like it.

It didn't seem normal. He shouldn't have been surprised that it wasn't.

Because on the third day of following Isaiah around Matthew noticed something weird. His chest was hitching when he spoke. And he was out of breath quickly, after a short walk. Hell, after one visit, Matthew actually saw him disappear around the corner to lean down against the wall. Taking those quick shallow breaths, as if he couldn't get enough air in, with sweat glistening on his temples and upper lip.

Matthew stood there, frozen by shock that maybe his suspicions weren't so misplaced. That switching so easily and swiftly wasn't that easy at all.

The red haired wolf came behind Isaiah. Slowly and hesitantly, letting his weight fall heavily to warn him of his presence. Coming from the back was risky. That's how enemies approached. That's the place no wolf would appreciate anyone coming, if they weren't at least in the same pack.

Isaiah's head flicked towards him, giving Matthew a sideway glance before straightening up and looking away again. He didn't growl or stop him from approaching otherwise, not acknowledging him as a threat. Matthew had to swallow down a bit of disappointment and hurt pride, all the more that his shadow jumped unhappily, wanting to challenge the other wolf that moment to make him take him seriously.

But Matthew didn't want to fight. As weird as that sounded even to him. Something was wrong with Isaiah. It was subtle and small enough and Isaiah was an actor and a face changer enough, but Matthew saw it now.

Isaiah always wore his strength like his perfect black suits. Dressing it up and masking whatever was underneath with impeccable charm and unsettling calm. But just like with any suit, if you wear it too often, it comes undone. The seams start to show. The fabric begins to tear.

Matthew came up to Isaiah so they could get rid of the back tension, crossed his arms on his chest and leaned against the wall. The most relaxing stance he could manage was to wrap himself up in his own anger, containing it.

"So. What the hell is wrong with you?" Matthew meant to start more diplomatically and neutrally but eh. This was not his forte.

Only up this close did Matthew notice the black circles under his eyes. Weird. Werewolves can get hurt or sick, poisoned or angry or straight faced, but not tired.

"Wow. Straight to the point, I see." Isaiah raised one eyebrow at him. "Couldn't you start with a hello?"

Matthew grimaced. "Hello. What the hell is wrong with you?"

Isaiah snickered. "Aww. You are so worried about me you followed me around?"

"Pfff. Worried about you? Nonsense. I just think it's weird- I mean- Whatever stupid shit-" Matthew cut himself off abruptly, realising how unbelievably he sounded.

Isaiah smiled at that, eyes sparkling. "I'm touched, Matthew. Maybe some of my influence is finally coming through!"

"That's why you didn't mind me following? That's so-...so arrogant." Matthew scoffed.

Isaiah actually laughed at that, as if that was a compliment and not a complaint. The laugh got raspy at the end and turned into a cough.

Matthew blinked his eyes in surprise as Isaiah actually leaned forward, coughs wracking through him. His hand came to his chest, massaging the his left side as if it hurt.

This couldn't be normal.

Isaiah looked at him, something tired and sad flickering in his eyes before a smile smoothed over him on command and he straightened. It wouldn't be visible, if Matthew didn't watch out for it. But he held himself tightly now, shoulders stiff and eyes slanted slightly, breaths coming up a little faster than usual. Not over yet. He was still in pain. Maybe the whole time.

Why didn't he raise his shadow to take whatever discomfort he felt? If this was ordinary human sickness or an injury...

Turning here and back again. Like waves in quick succession, fast and swift and unpredictable. Not normal at all. Realisation snapped together in Matthew's mind. The red head narrowed his eyes. Isaiah lifted an eyebrow again, a sardonic look on his face. He was starting to take Matthew's stare as a challenge, showing him how unlikely he thought him to win.

Matthew suppressed the instinct to answer that reaction, biting his lip down hard. They were in the middle of a street. Probably out of sight of Isaiah's last visit to a pack Matthew didn't really care about enough to know by name, but hardly out of earshot.

He could not help Isaiah here even if he wanted to. Which he didn't, of course. He was not obligated to help him. Isaiah wasn't alright, but he was still way stronger and deadlier than Matthew, no matter how evenly their shadows looked.

Matt sighed heavily and then fished out phone out of his pocket. Quickly clicking on the green Bolt app, he found the nearest taxi just 3 minutes away.

"What are you doing?" Isaiah demanded. His voice was still nonchalant, but there was a hint of untypical impatience and exasperation.

"I'm going home. Since it's on the way, you can tag along," Matthew said, looking away angrily. These places weren't remotely close. Did it count as a lie, when they both knew the truth?

Isaiah looked amused again, which as Matthew now realised, was quite a powerful expression of power and control over the situation that obviously wasn't there. Likely more effective than scowling and glaring angrily like a petulant child. Matthew should probably work on it. Then again as masterful as Isaiah's facades are, Matthew preferred a more direct approach. He shoos Isaiah into the summoned taxi. Neither said a thing.

***

Matthew had been in Isaiah's apartment before, though his memories of the place and occasion were hazy. Between his shadow crazed anger outbursts and the way his body tears itself apart because of them, he didn't find it concerning.

He also figured that if Isaiah didn't want to come to his place uninvited, he wouldn't have shown him where he lived. It just wasn’t in Matthew's nature to worry about etiquette.

Matthew trailed behind the black haired wolf inside without a word. Isaiah gave him a puzzled look, but didn't comment, ever the polite one. Must be tiring to have to endure other people's audacity.

Isaiah lived in the centre of the city, high in the building. How he got such a magnificent view of the cityscape and such a great location to be just a few minutes to everywhere, Matthew had no idea. You could simply not find a rent here even if you were willing to pay those immoral prices.

But it was also just like Isaiah to want to be in the centre of things. The closest he could be to all the districts without favours - wolf packs districts with their giant parks along the river and their numerous sport squares; covens with their dancing and art studios and various shrines and gemstone markets, humans with their kindergartens, coffee shops and bakeries, museums and bike trails.

While Isaiah got his suit jacket hanging and carefully cleaned out his shoes Matthew looked around properly, trying to pinpoint what exactly made the apartment look rich. The surfaces were so bare and empty every kind of decoration pulled attention. Was it the minimalism? Maybe the furniture was expensive from those unusual shapes, but Matthew really wouldn't be able to tell.

The floor was so pristine white and cold he was just thinking of leaving, when he found Isaiah leaning on the back of the chair behind the dining table. He was bent over his elbows, breathing hard, eyes shut together.

Okay, maybe he would better stay a bit longer.

He shook off his shoes before stepping next to Isaiah. Sweat was clinging to his temples and collar and he also noted the wheezing sound he made with each breath.

"Hey man. What about you sit down?" Matthew suggested. He tentatively put a hand on Isaiah's shoulder. His whole back was shaking with these rattling breaths. This wasn't normal at all and Matthew was starting to have a serious suspicion.

Isaiah didn't answer or look at him, but he made a move away from the chair and let himself be guided to the couch. His hands clawed at his chest, rubbing angrily at the left side.

That's when Matthew noticed Isaiah' shadow. Trembling underneath him, but squished together, taking minimal space. As if Isaiah was afraid it would raise, as if it wanted to but he wouldn't let it.

"Why don't you let your shadow up a little?" He blurted out.

Isaiah leaned back suddenly, wheezing and grimacing, before his eyes focused on Matthew. His usually piercing green eyes were clouded over and dimm.

"I appreciated the concern, Matthew, but I believe you have troubled yourself long enough. I will see you tomorrow."

Oh. That's how you want to play it?

"You are good at changing the subject, that you are," Matthew said drying, crossing his arms and leaning back as well. "But I think I get the problem now. Everyone has to push their shadow down, but you are pushing yours up and down on will so much, it's actually hurting you. The changing states are putting strain on your human heart. You won't let it run wild nor let it rest. And it can't heal the damage it causes when you are making it leave."

Isaiah regarded him coldly. "Thank you for explaining. Next time when I want to hear something I already know, I'll call you immediately."

Matthew's head went back a little, but then he couldn't help the grin spreading on his face. He had never actually seen Isaiah without his trademark smile and smooth voice. But the stare he was giving him now was all steel and irritation. No, Isaiah didn't like it one bit he figured out this weakness.

Isaiah narrowed his eyes at that and straighted up. Even with his hand on his heart and pasty pale, Matthew felt the shift of weight and tension. Isaiah's shadow thickened underneath him, spreading lazily on the floor, engulfing Matthew's own. The pressure rattled him, as his own shadow vibrated with panic and unease. The air was suddenly thin and sticky and the room actually got dark and heavy.

Matthew hissed and moved back from the indignant wolf, pushing as far away from him on the couch as possible. But he wouldn't let his shadow raise. He didn't let himself react at all. Taking a few deep breaths, he lowered his eyes and put his hands in the air.

"Easy, pal. Easy. I don't want to fight you."

"As if you could," Isaiah answered evenly. But the pressure eased as Isaiah's attention dropped away from him.

Matthew's shoulders slumped in relief. He got the message alright. He was no match for Isaiah even in his weakened state. Somehow he may have forgotten who he was dealing with - Isaiah's easy moods and smiles, his comforting presence and his insistent help and perfect exterior... he had forgotten or let himself forgot how powerful and dangerous Isaiah was. That he wasn't ruling the neighbourhood was definitely a question of choice and not of ability. It would be easy for him to gain followers as well - shadow wolves were eager to submit to authority and power so much stronger than their own.

Matthew's own shadow was shaking with excitement at the challenge now, but the icy wave of fear he felt just a minute ago was alive in his much more rational human brain.

That Isaiah had let him this far into his space, accepting the taxi, letting him inside, letting him touch him at all for hell's sake. Felt much more like incredible show of trust, that was much more fragile than he realised.

"You should leave now," Isaiah said tonelessly. Matthew felt compelled to leave immediately, his instincts reacting to the command.

Matt got up, but rocked on his feet, fighting the urge by shoving his balled fists into the pockets on his jeans.

He felt dismissed, like he failed a test of trust and hot shame run through him along with confusion. But Isaiah had let him stay. Let him inside. Let him follow him around long enough to let him figure it out. They might not have been allies, not yet, but Isaiah obviously wanted them to be.

But if they were to be allies, maybe this was not the tone Matthew wanted to set on it. Not this submission and competition bullshit. Not their wolf dynamics and their shadows defining the way.

Matthew took a deep breath and turned back to Isaiah, looking deliberately left and away, hands still deep out of sight in his pockets. Keeping himself as unthreatening as possible.

"You can let your shadow up around me."

Isaiah blinked, startled.

"If this is something you can't solve on your own, why not use me? My shadow is blindly and brainlessly happy about any competition," he put his hands up in the air at that, before Isaiah could intervene, "even if I can't win I concede."

"Look, I know best how a shadow wants to run free," Matt continued. "It wants to stay, once it's drawn. It needs to be let loose and experienced, not shut down. So don't just drive it up for intimidation and cut it off. Go all out. Against me, I don't care."

Isaiah regarded him, poker face on so Matthew had no idea how his offer was resonating. The black haired man raised one eyebrow at him.

Yeah, Matthew knew alright he was pretty much volunteering to get his ass kicked. But hey, it wouldn't do his crazy shadow any bad, it could hardly get worse than it was. And he was willing not to let himself be intimidated. That he could work on. That he would very much like to work on.

"...I'll consider it. But there won't be any shadows running loose today." Isaiah's tone softened a little. "I still think you should leave."

At least this time he said 'I think'. The suggestion defused the command enough that Matthew took it as a good sign.

"So you are opting for all human pain tonight?" He dared to ask. Really really asking for a beating now.

There was a pause. "The damage is temporary. It will be gone by morning."

"In other words, one hell of a night in front of you."

Isaiah pinched the bridge of his nose. One hand sneaked over to his chest again, as if he hoped Matthew wouldn't notice. "Your concern is appreciated, but misplaced and entirely unwelcome."

"Don't 'unwelcome' me," Matthew snapped, eyes narrowing. "You are off your game playing human right now. I might as well stay." Matt was firmly decided now. Isaiah was too vulnerable like this, even if his scary reputation warned off the smart ones, there were plenty of stupid people around who couldn't count to three to realise the true danger of his control. Matt was not going to risk it.

They looked at each other steadily for a few long heartbeats. A proper clash of wills. Matt let his offer stand.

Isaiah frowned and opened his mouth to speak, only for a burp to escape him. He paled even more than he was before, getting a sickly green hue and leaned back against the couch, his free hand digging into the cushions.

Could heart pain cause nausea? Matt never heard of that one but he was probably going to get a front seat in practice.

"Isaiah?" He tried tentatively.

The other wolf squeezed his eyes shut, hand rubbing aggressively at his chest. His cheeks puffed out as another burp rushed out of him. He was trying to muffle them to no avail.

Matt sprang up back to the kitchen, locating an empty and clean trash bag and bringing it over, open and ready. He sat down beside Isaiah, watching as his jaw locked shut as he gulped.

He dared to put a hand on Isaiah's shoulder again. One green eye opened, eyeing him critically. "You should really-hhrrrk-" A hand shot to his mouth.

"Forget it. I'm not leaving you like this," Matthew said resolutely. He pressed Isaiah's shoulder then, feeling as he shivered, as his breath hitched, as he struggled for air.

He was starting not to take his words personally. Matt wasn't a people person, but he was trying and doing everything right as he could in wolf terms. So he figured this wasn't his problem, but something Isaiah was struggling with.

Isaiah swatted his arm away, but another burp turned into a heave and he leaned forward on the couch in panic.

"Playing hard to get are we?" Matthew smiled sarcastically, putting the bag under the other man's chin.

"I don't need-bluurh-you around-"

"You are acting unreasonably. That isn't like you." Matt held the bag with one hand and went to Isaiah's back with the other, patting it gently.

Isaiah wheezed and coughed then his body rocked and a torrent of sick rushed out of his mouth. Matt winced as it hit the bag. Then another wave. And another.

"Okay. You're okay, okay? Shit." What was he supposed to say in a situation like this?

Isaiah pitched forward all of a sudden and Matt quickly put his arm around his chest to stop him from falling. The black haired man's hands actually came up to hold on to Matt's arm for stability as his body arched once more and he spat into the trashcan. Matt balanced the filling bag awkwardly in one hand while he braced the other against Isaiah's weight.

They stayed like that for a few long minutes, heaves wracking Isaiah's body. He actually moaned once but otherwise held himself still. He was a relatively quiet puker, heaves ending in wet coughs between the burps.

The heaving paused. Isaiah spat into the bag last time and Matt helped him lean back. Isaiah was breathing heavily, but there was a hint of relief in his posture. He looked up at Matt, giving him a long stare and shivered.

"Yeah sure, here." Matt grabbed the blanket neatly folded at the corner and wrapped it around Isaiah's trembling shoulders.

Isaiah coughed against his hand and wriggled himself deeper into the blanket. He watched Matt flounder with the bag clumsily to wrap it shut and then get tangled in the second blanket that he threw over Isaiah's lap. His expression was cold and unreadable again, completely shut down into himself.

"Are you sure you still want to stay?" Isaiah asked ironically, voice raspy. A hiccup followed and his cheeks puffed out a little as he rubbed at his chest again.

Matthew sprawled himself back on to the cushions next to him, emotionally spent from this debate. But he managed a weak grin. "Not getting rid of me tonight, pal."

#sickfic #emeto #vomiting #emetophilia #whump #emeto whump #werewolf #whump writing #hurt/comfort #bromance #whump writinge #emeto writing #my writing #werewolf wip #really diving into Matthew's pov #but these are crucial emotional developments #Isaiah

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just-a-whumping-racoon-with-wifi · 1 year

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Hey! Asking various artists and writers, do you have a Playlist or specific songs you gravitate toward to help you get in the right headspace while creating whump?

Anon I'm so sorry but I wrote you a 1500 word essay on one specific album. I literally have no explanation for myself. Take Pity On Me.

TLDR: Listen to "The Draw" please it's my favorite for any type of turmoil, and just "Overjoyed" in general. Also this album is good for semi-dramatic dialog and ~vibes~.

Why ‘All This Bad Blood’ by Bastille 2013 is the best album to write to:

Oh my god it’s 10 years old.

This has been my go-to album for writing since I got a laptop and started writing. I’m 100% serious. Part of it is most probably because it’s nostalgic for me, but I’ve completed a full essay on why this is the best album (for my style) to write to.

Part 1: Just a couple reasons

The Accent.

This is 100% also just My Brain because when my formative creative years were incredibly BBC/British heavy. We’re talking Chronicles of Narnia on audio books, Dr. Who, Sherlock, Merlin, Robin Hood, Adventures of Sara Jane. I’m honestly probably missing some but you get it. To the point where there was a period when I was around 15 or so I’d use british words/cadence with an American accent. (I still do it sometimes it’s weird).

Honestly part of my writing process to this day is to speak dialog out loud, and more often or not it’s in a british accent.

The Aesthetic

It’s pretty piano heavy, along with a main singer and some background singing that’s very easy to get lost in. There’s this nice kinda ethereal filter for many of the songs, so it just kinda slides into your brain and into the background. It’s listed in the alternative section but it’s very pop so it’s very common denominator.

“Songs Write My Story”

I literally put this album on shuffle once and made a plot based off of the vibes of each song. To my recollection there were some pretty decent parts. I’ll see if I can find it.

Part 2: The songs.

My absolute favorite reason to write to this album is the fact that so many of the songs have these wonderful, dramatic dialogue lines. When the music rises to the surface long enough to catch the words, they’re often good for like, semi-dramatic plot points/dialog lines.

As requested by literally no one, in fact I believe they’re all begging me to literally write anything else, I will now go through each song and pull out some lines that I find specifically “semi-dramatic” that I would either want to or have used as inspiration for my writing, as well as rate them and give them vibes.

Pompeii - 6/10 Writingness. Good but Tik Tok kinda ruined it. However the concept of Pompeii itself is Very Vibes and helps save it. Oh where do we begin, the rubble or our sins?

Things We Lost to the Fire - 8/10 Writingness. Great Vibes. Very “our world collapsed and we’ve been living in the rubble and are numb to it.” We were born with nothing and we sure as hell have nothing now.

Bad Blood - 5/10. A bit too specific to be multifunctional. Great ‘Sarcastic Reunion with Adversarial Side Character.” And you said you always had my back Oh, but how were we to know? That these are the days that bind you Together, forever And these little things define you Forever, forever

Overjoyed - 10/10. Perfect semi-dramatic vibes. Is your character, sarcastic, genuine, dazed, prophetic? Resentful? Longing? This song works for all of them. Just the word “overjoyed” is not used enough. Oh I feel overjoyed.

These Streets - 7/10 another nuanced one, but not quite as wide a range as Overjoyed. I won’t show my face here anymore.

Weight of Living Pt. II - 3/10. Too good of a bop. I wanna jam I’m not writing. Do you like the person you’ve become?

Icarus - 8/10. Like a combination of Pompeii and Overjoyed. The concept of Icarus is such a rich creative one that it makes up for how much of a BOP it is (the “bop” index is a negative in this evaluation because it distracts me). This one is perfect for the “mentor trying to warn someone else of MC’s downfall. Icarus is flying towards an early grave. (also these are words but the vocal sections are just really inspiring on this one for me)

Oblivion - 5/10. Good, I was waiting for you to be great. It can be in the background but it’s not going to inspire anything. Are you going to age with grace?

Flaws - 7/10. I kinda can’t listen to this one without mouthing along to it like I’m in a self-righteous argument, which is great for my writing style. The more I can inhibit a character the better and more I can write for them. So it’s a little narrow of inspiration but it always gets me there. There’s a hole in my sole, I can’t fill it. Can you fill it?

You have always worn your flaws on your sleeve, and I have always buried them deep beneath the ground. Dig them out, let’s finish what we started.

Daniel in the Den - 9/10. Again, Daniel in the lion den is a great creative concept, gets me into the character, has emotion, it builds but i don’t find it fully distracting. Again not as broad as Overjoyed but I use this one often. Felled in the night by the ones you think you love.

Laura Palmer - 9/10. Another great general go to. Conviction. Motivation, direction. Feels multi-functional to me because of the variety from the verses to chorus to bridge. What a year and what a night, what terrifying final sights.

Get Home - 6/10. Honestly see “Oblivion”. Only got a little higher rating because the repeated “how am i going to get myself back home” is really good for inspiration. Still on the list, still great but nothing to write something home about (lol). How am I going to get myself back home?

Poet - 3/10. This is probably one my favorite “adoration” songs but I just don’t find it particularly inspirational - although that’s probably because I don’t tend to write love stories or the such. I have written you down, you will live forever.

The Silence - 4/10. Like Poet, a little too directly “adoration”, but I do appreciate it reminds me to use the term “my dear”. My Dear, it is not enough to be dumbstruck.

Haunt - 8/10 Yeah we’re back babey. I need the reminder to make my characters more ominous. All of your characters should haunt the reader (good or bad lol). It’s not like I’m above you.

Weight of Living, Pt I - 8/10. There’s something solemnly hopeful about this to me. Are they regretful as they counsel the MC? Do they believe they can find happiness or are they resigned to their fate? You get to decide if this song is encouraging them or is someone giving up. I’m also a sucker for songs that set up a premise and evolve it through the song. It good. Your albatross, let it go.

Sleepsong - 7/10. Feels dangerous. A little evil, perhaps? What are their intentions? Are they trying to help? If so, why? It scares you, being alone.

Durban Skies - 5/10. See Oblivion. Probably a little better vibe, but not wildly inspiring like some of the others. (honestly there’s isn’t a lyric that stands out to me in this one but I still like writing to it.)

Laughter Lines - 3/10. I am. Seeing a pattern. Songs that have a strong “love” element to them get lower ratings from me lol. (Again, not a lyric but the section talking about carving on trees inspired me to write a character who was illiterate but kept her “diary” by carving her emotions into a tree trunk. Her world didn’t have a lot of light, so she would often run her fingers across the carvings to relive memories.)

Previously on Other People’ Heartbreak - NA, it’s kinda a non song it’s just an intro to part II.

Of the Night - 3/10, See Weight of Living Pt II. Too fun, too boppy. I am bouncing I am not writing.

The Draw - 10/10. This one. This is one of the ones that I turn on if I’m having trouble writing anything. It just oozes conflict, specifically inner termoil which i just fucking eat up. I love it. This is my best writing song. So so so good.

(Oh my god just the entire song please just listen to it. Just this one).

What would you do - NA. I actually kinda skip this one for just Reasons. Again it’s a good song and I would write to it but I just don’t. This song has a TW for sexual assault and just. It’s kinda a lot to chew on.

Skulls - 8/10. This one escapes the “too good to write to” because oh god. The attitude of this song. It’s possessive. It’s threatening. It wants something… but, what? (However it is absolutely a bop which is why it’s not a 9 or 10) (Again it’s just the whole song)

Tuning out - 6/10. It’s a haunting rendition of Silent Night? So Lyrically it’s not too impressive but the vibes are good for writing.

Is this what you asked for? No not even a little bit. I did enjoy doing it tho that’s all that matters ...eheh....

#bastille #all this bad blood bastille #i'm not entirely sure what's wrong with me but there's gotta be something

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