#//also pl check out doctor slate guys

[panickypeachboy]

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LIZ, I STILL CAN’T BELIEVE YOU’RE NEW TO THE RPING BUT YOU’RE TAKING IT SO FUDGIN NATURALLY LIKE A DUCK TO WATER OR SOMETHING.

Running a few good campaigns on the discords, and THEM THREADS ON @club-sugar, SERIOUSLY, I know you give yourself flack for taking so much time on the replies but, THE QUALITY SHINES BRO. Takes me back to my early rp days, aaaa

You’re also very sweet and kind and I love you, Love you lots! dokis

[dustingrayves]

clean slate (2/?)

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Pairing: (eventual) addcest [LPDE] & elsain [LKATh] WC this chapter: 2686  Rating: T+/M TWs: (past) abuse/(past) violence AU: modern/single parent Lusa (with his tiny son Arc) + runaway Esper Notes: wow lusa stammers a lot in this

"Where the hell did you pick up this guy?" Arme asks, brows set so deep into a scowl Lusa thinks they will merge together to create the single super scowl eyebrow.

Then again, Arme only ever looks like this when something is wrong. Very, very wrong.

"On the beach- I mean, in an alley- ugh!" Lusa growls, still strung high on adrenaline, his heart hammering. "He was on the beach wit Arc. I- I only punched and kicked him, and fuck, it wasn't much!"

Arme raises an eyebrow, standing up from where he's been kneeling by the couch, examining the bruises on the unconscious boy. Thankfully, nothing had looked broken.

The blow to the jaw would absolutely bruise, though, as would the blows to his chest.

The worst thing Arme had found - and the thing that made his expression be what it is - were all the other bruises. They ranged in age, some as fresh as yesterday or the day before, purple and red blotches on his face, chest, arms. And then some old ones, pale green and yellow littering the skin in random places, looking like they must've been much, much bigger to begin with, to stay like that even after so long.

And then the ones around the boy's throat - a set of too-clear hand imprints, already faded into a purple, peeking out from the top of the black turtleneck. Arme had been scared to peel the cotton away, and for good reason.

"Disregarding the fact that you punch like a pro boxer," Arme mumbles, "This guy had been hurt before, so most of this isn't your fault. The bruises, I mean. He looks pretty malnourished, so that coupled with the way he ran away, I assume, injured, caused his system to shut down. He should wake up soon, it's not much different than passing out from being awake too long. He can, however, press charges against you. You did assault him out of nowhere," Arme concludes.

"He had Arc, I thought he was kidnapping him! I didn't think!" Lusa defends himself, biting down on his bottom lip, worrying it between his pristine teeth.

"That's not the point. You still assaulted him." Arme sighs, places a hand on Lusa's shoulder. "The best thing would be wait until he wakes up, and then try to explain it to him. Maybe he will understand. Oh!" Arme jolts as if he'd remembered something, "And I will need him to come to the clinic when he wakes up, as soon as possible, at best. There's something with his ankle, but without an x-ray I won't know if it's just sprained or if it's broken and needs an actual cast."

Lusa nods numbly, the two of them moving to the kitchen where Lusa had prepared coffee before. Arc pops up at the staircase, slinking his way downstairs, quiet as a mouse. Lusa had told him to go to his room, but when had Arc ever listened?

"Will Es be okay?" the boy asks, huddling to the kitchen door frame, tiny and worried.

Arme smiles down and opens his arms in an invitation for a hug that Arc eagerly takes, settling down in the doctor's lap. "Don't worry Arc, he will be okay."

He turns to Lusa, bright hair jumping at the motion. "The guy's name is Esper?"

Lusa fiddles with his mug, the grinning cat face on the porcelain doing nothing to help his nerves. "Well, Arc says so, so I guess. He didn't have an ID or even a wallet or anything."

"I suppose he's running away, from somewhere," the doctor mutters. He'd seen bruises like that a few too many times times than he'd like. "Anyway, can't do much more until he wakes up..."

The first thing Esper notices when his consciousness returns to him is the pain throbbing in his cheek. He feels hi brows draw together, more on their own than a cohesive action, and he tries to remember what had happened before he'd passed out.

Did he mess up again? He must've, there's no other explanation for the pain. He must've missed a spot when dusting the furniture, maybe undercooked the pasta a little? He can't remember. The heavy haze is too much for his muddled brain.

His eyes flutter open, despite the pounding in his head. He moves his body a little, testing which movements hurt. Too bad for him, almost all of them do.

When he finally looks around, eyes falling from the ceiling down to the room itself, his heart speeds up, breath catching in his throat. This isn't his living room… The walls are painted a pale purple, though the ceiling is white. Dark furniture lines the opposite wall, and Esper catches a glimpse of himself in the surface of the TV.

He looks like shit.

But when was the last time he did not look like shit?

He doesn't dwell on it past noting that his whole cheek is swollen and there's a pang of irony taste on his tongue. Esper sits up, the small dark blanket that had been thrown over him sliding off to the floor, eyes following it before he looks around.

There's an open door to his left, and carefully peeking through it, Esper can see a pair of men sitting at a dinner table, talking. They're quiet enough that he can't understand their words. Or his ears decided to switch off again.

One of them has bright hair, blue and short, and looking at it for too long makes Esper's eyes hurt. The other, though…

It doesn't physically hurt to look at him, but Esper's whole body starts shaking, hands tightening into fists and nails biting into the skin, barely not breaking the frail skin. He tries swallowing around the lump in his throat, backing up. They didn't seem to notice him, and he didn't want to take any chances.

His backpack sits by the couch, stuff inside in disarray - even more than they had been before. He grabs it, slinging it over his shoulder as sneakily as he can.

He doesn't notice he's lacking his shoes until he steps off the carpet into the wooden floor leading up to the front door. He bites at his lip; it's fine, he doesn't need them, he just needs to get out.

The door knob is grasped in his shaking hand, twisting fruitlessly when Arc's soft voice pipes up from behind him, "Where are you going, Esper?"

Esper almost jumps out of his skin, twisting around so fast his sight blacks out for a moment, backing up into the heavy door until his back presses into it. Arc voice doesn't only startle him, but also lets the men in the kitchen know he's up. They pop up, cornering him.

Esper's breathing comes in short, shallow bursts, chest heavily painfully as he shies away as much as he can, which isn't much, honestly.

"I'm so sorry, pl-please let me go," he whimpers, trying his hardest to keep the tears in check. "I didn't do anything, I promise, please let me leave, I promise you will never see me again... Please..."

Lusa and Arme exchange a concerned look. The guy looks scared out of his mind, and it doesn't help when he crumbles to the floor, probably due to his ankle giving up on him.

He curls up into a tiny ball by the door, shivering madly. Lusa's insides twist, and then even more when he looks down at Arc, who's just about ready to cry again.

Lusa kneels down and ushers Arc into the kitchen softly, patting his hair before the boy runs off. Arme follows after him without a word, knowing better than anything to give the man some much needed breathing space.

"Hey, hey, calm down," Lusa says, wincing inwardly. Is he an idiot? It doesn't help the man, only makes him turn his wide eyes towards him.

Those eyes look wild, looking around for an escape route. Lusa raises his hands up, showing his palms to appear less threatening.

"I'm sorry, I won't hurt you," he says, lowering his voice. "I didn't mean to scare you, but you're hurt, you should be laying down. Arme is- he is a doctor, he says you will be fine, but you might have something with your ankle. Please, I won't hurt you, I sorry I jumped you, I- I saw you with Arc and I thought- I thought you were taking him. I'm sorry."

Esper sniffles, so Lusa shuffles back a bit on his heels. The lankier man keeps avoiding his eyes like the plague, instead staring a hole through the floorboards or the wall.

"I didn't do anything," Esper whimpers, "I swear, I swear I didn't do anything..."

"I know, Arc told me. I'm so sorry, I was scared about him," Lusa says, biting on his lip. "I should've talked to you, not- I'm so sorry."

Esper's still wide eyes run over the room, knees tucked up to his chest, toes curling together through his thin socks. "Wh-Where are we...?" he asks, finally daring to look at Lusa, though only for a split second before his eyes dart away again.

"Ah- This is my house. I found you in the alley, and Arme- the uh... the doctor said to bring you in since the clinic was already closed."

Esper doesn't offer a verbal answer, instead tucking his face into his knees, arms wrapped around them. Lusa stands up, making the man curl up tighter, jolting and looking up in distress.

"I can- I can make you tea?" Lusa offers awkwardly. "Arme says you shouldn't move, should rest and- and go see him in the clinic later. I-I can't keep you here if you don't want to stay, but uh- and I will totally understand if you don't wanna, but uh- uhh... You can totally stay here until you feel better, if you want. It's- It's the least I can do for you..."

Esper looks up at the man, worrying his bottom lip between his teeth. He wants out, he doesn't care that he's covered in bruises, doesn't care his ankle is most probably sprained or twisted or whatever. He wants to feel the serenity he'd felt alone on the pier, walking around alone and enjoying the view without any repercussions.

But the man would be angry if he said that, he's sure. His gut still hurts, he can feel the bruise from his fist forming already, and he absolutely doesn't want another like it if he can avoid it.

"I'll... stay, if you want me to," he mumbles finally, making sure not to stay quiet for too long.

Lusa moves back to the kitchen, telling Arme that Esper had agreed to stay at his place. It makes Arc positively ecstatic, the boy running out to the man.

The boy tugs Esper up, almost bouncing up and down. "You'll stay in my room, right, right? I have the coolest plushies!"

Arme tells Lusa to bring Esper over if his ankle doesn't get better, and then does a double take and says they should come over anyhow. Then he leaves, saying he'll leave his phone on, just in case.

That just leaves Lusa alone in the kitchen with the kettle boiling the water. He doesn't know how the man likes his tea, didn't even think to ask, so he just makes the fruit one, putting a spoonful of sugar into it before bringing the steaming mug upstairs.

Arc had practically pulled the man up the stairs and into his room, and Lusa finds them sitting on the boy's bed. Arc is excitedly showing Esper all his plushies - Esper's hands are already full, yet Arc doesn't stop handing him more plushies, telling their life stories to him in intricate detail.

Esper looks tired - though it might just be the lighting and the bloom of colorful marks on his face - but he still smiles at the boy, obviously listening intently. He even asks questions about certain stuffed animals, making Arc's eyes light up. The boy doesn't disappoint with his answers, giving a full five minute lecture on how Mr. Mittens lost his eye in a pirate fight with Captain Whiskers.

"I brought the tea," Lusa pipes up when Arc is done, pulling both their eyes to himself. He stands unsurely in the doorway while Esper visibly shifts backwards at the edge of the bed, eyes cast downwards. “It’s way past your bedtime, Arc.”

“I’ll sleep with you, dad!” Arc says, bounding up, plushies forgotten already. “Arme says Esper needs lots of rest, right? So I’ll take my nightlight with me too!”

The boy pulls the tiny plastic cat off the table, fiddling with the switch on its bottom for a moment before he holds the now glowing blue lamp against his chest triumphantly. He pads his way back to the bed and holds the lamp up, pressing its face against Esper’s less injured cheek softly.

“Good night, Esper!” he says, disappearing out of the room with a smile splitting his face from ear to ear.

“You forgot to brush your teeth,” Lusa reminds him as he passes. Esper can hear Arc’s upset grumble all the way from down the hallway.

When the sound of the tap running reaches Lusa’s ears, he steps into the room, slowly. Esper takes to placing the plushies Arc had left in his embrace along the shelf sitting right above the bed.

Lusa hands him the mug when he’s finished, Esper’s dainty fingers curling around the pleasantly warm ceramic. “I’m truly sorry for before,” he says.

Esper looks up briefly, the bags beneath his eyes even more prominent now. “It’s not your fault.”

“I will be gone for work by the time you wake up, probably. Arc will be in school, too,” Lusa rubs the back of his neck, “so you don’t have to worry about us in your hair. I get that you have places to be, and stuff, and you probably don’t want to be anywhere near me... just stay until you get better?”

Esper takes a slow sip of the tea; strong and sweet, he licks his lips at the taste. He’s gazing into the moving liquid as he twines his toes together again, a jolt of pain running up his entire leg and spine. He nods.

“Should I, uh… fetch you some clothes to sleep in?” Lusa asks, stepping from foot to foot. He takes Esper’s confused silence as a yes, and disappears into his room to grab a shirt and pair of sweats. When he returns, Esper gladly accepts the clothes. “They’ll probably be too big you, but I don’t have any other, sorry.”

Esper shakes his head, gripping the mug a little tighter to hide the fact that his hands are still shaking. “They’re perfect, thank you,” he says, and Lusa takes it as his cue to exit. He does so with a soft, hesitant ‘good night’.

After the door clicks closed and there’s silence for more than a few long minutes, Esper’s breath leaves him in a soft exhale. His shoulders slump and he sets the tea down after another sip. He stares at the clothes for a long while before he kicks himself to change into them.

True to Lusa’s words, they’re big - way too big - on him. The shirt hangs halfway off his shoulder and reaches to his mid-thighs. He doesn’t even try the sweatpants. He leaves them folded into a neat pile on the desk top, taking the tea to sip a little again.

He doesn’t like the way the shirt feels on him; it’s so big, it’s almost like father’s. Granted, it smells absolutely different (like flowery detergent) and it’s much less itchy, but still. Esper shuffles over to turn the light off, feet dragging over the carpet as he forces down hisses of pain from putting weight onto the injured ankle.

Bathed in darkness, he curls up into the bed, pulling the blanket up over his head and leaving only a small hole at his face to breathe. He doesn’t sleep until the early morning hours.