#a little squishy underfoot but still solid enough

[bluemoonrabbit]

I tried covering my ugly scratchy carpet with a method I liked but thought wouldn't work, and it does actually seem like it'll be okay! I'm so relieved, I mentioned this before but the unfinished-task sense of not knowing what to do about the carpet was literally keeping me up at night.

[novantinuum]

Fandom: Steven Universe

Rating: General Audiences

Words: 1K~

Summary: An awkward interaction with his dad and Connie leads Steven to realize that he's now too Gem to all the humans in his life. Takes place after We Need To Talk.

Some mild Steven sad! If you read this and enjoy, I’d greatly appreciate your support through reblogs here, or kudos/comments on AO3. Thank you! <3

____

“And Connie? If you ever need to talk to another human being about this... you can always talk to me.”

Steven is still in the middle of processing what his dad just said, expression blank, as his best friend innocently hums in affirmative response.

Dad shines a kindly smile at her, holding his hand out for a high-five. “Human beings?”

“Human beings!” Connie chimes eagerly, and seals the deal with the clap of her palm against his.

But sitting immediately adjacent, the young half-Gem can’t help but feel some undefined facet of his soul deflate as he watches the two of them forge this new bond. Seeking some temporary form of solidity in response, his hand drifts towards the stone at his center.

“Human beings...” he echoes under his breath, his normally jovial voice ringing hollow.

_

It’s not too long after that conversation that Steven waves Connie goodbye at the bus station, thus closing their idyllic Saturday afternoon spent hanging out together. He idly bounces up and down on his heels as he watches the vehicle slowly disappear around the corner, turning onto the single lane road that leads out of town. In a lonely, childish fashion he desperately wishes she could stay longer, but she’s gotta get home in time for her dad’s home-cooked dinner, after all. She said he was planning to make cheese ravioli! Very tasty choice.

With his friend now safely on her way, he runs across the crosswalk to begin his journey towards his own home. Unlike her, he doesn’t have any guardians or home-cooked meal waiting for him. (He rarely does.) The Gems are out on an important mission they said they couldn’t take him on. Dad’s gonna be at Mrs. Miller’s house playing cards, spending time with other fellow humans. It’s just gonna be another quiet evening for him. Despite the frequency of nights like these, the realization pulls a quiet sigh from his weary body, his shoulders drooping ever lower as he contemplates what on Earth he’s gonna make for himself, grasps to remember what food they have left in the fridge that hasn’t spoiled yet.

As seems common lately, his fixation on one worry quickly acts as a stepping stone to another.

Which is how he finds his hand clutching at his shirt, right above the quartz gem at the center of his belly. It’s become a subconscious habit, these days. Probably a sign of ambient stress. But what does he even have to be stressed about? He’s got four guardians who love him, a house all to himself, two arms and two legs to cook his own meals, a best friend he loves very much, and he sometimes gets to go on magical adventures. He should have no reason to complain. His life is great! By all logic, he should be satisfied.

And yet...

“Human beings?” his dad asked, holding his hand out for a high-five as if Steven himself weren’t sitting right there, feeling tragically and unintentionally alienated as the two of them forged some exclusive pact of solidarity over a feature he always thought all three of them shared.

“Human beings,” Connie replied with a too-enthusiastic grin, and clapped her hand solid against his.

Steven swallows hard upon recollection of this recent memory, an insidious weight bearing down ever heavier on his chest by the second. Rough wooden slats creak underfoot as he finally reaches the beginning of the boardwalk, continuing his slow-paced voyage to the tip of the peninsula.

“But... I’m human,” he whispers to himself, the words tasting more like a desperate plea for belief on his tongue. “Or at least, part human. Right?”

His fingers dig into the sturdy cloth again with an intense grip, hovering directly over the glossy facets of his inheritance.

Am... am I... not human enough for them anymore?

An uncomfortable ache settles deep in the pit of his stomach as he considers this concept further. He’s always assumed that... even if he fails at being a Crystal Gem, at least he’s really great at human things like music, and video games, and drawing. At least he has stuff like that to fall back on. At least he has his dad, and his best friend, and everyone in town to hang out with. But the more he stops to reflect on everything...

If you ever need to talk to another human being about this...

Can he even count on them to accept him as he is?

All this time he’s considered himself human and Gem, but he’s slowly beginning to realize that everyone else doesn’t see him as either. He’s always too squishy and fragile to go on such-and-such dangerous mission, or his powers are still too unreliable, or he can’t survive underwater like “all Gems can.” He’s too human. Yet reflexively, to all the humans in his life it seems like he’s suddenly too Gem? And for what? Just because he’s starting to gain a better grasp on a few selected abilities now, like fusion, or his bubble? Just because he’s seen all these magical places, experienced all these otherworldly things? How is any of this fair? Can’t Connie still talk to him about all of this? Isn’t he still a human too?

Mostly...?

Sniffling, he wipes away the burgeoning tears threatening to trickle down his cheeks. In the end, he figures there’s no use crying about it. That’d be silly. It’s just... how things are, as of now. He’ll get through it, and by the morning he’s sure he’ll forget it was ever a problem.

That’s just how life works.

When he eventually reaches his house, he shuts the door behind him and kicks off his sandals. True to his suspicions, when he opens the fridge he’s not super impressed with his selections. There’s no leftovers, no eggs he can scramble, no vegetables that aren’t already in a state of decay, and it looks suspiciously like Amethyst’s been mooching on all the meats and cheeses again. He sighs. Usually the Gems take great care to ensure the fridge is stocked, but everyone’s been so busy scouting for any sign of Malachite or Peridot lately that they’ve probably forgotten.

He raises on his toes, and opens the cabinet above the counter to check on their stock of staples. A quick once-through shows that he does have all the ingredients for a peanut butter and honey sandwich, but to be honest his heart’s simply not into the idea of making food himself right now. Stars’ sake, he does that almost every night!

He’s tired.

He deserves a pick-me-up.

(He wets his lips, suddenly salivating as he pulls his phone out of his pocket, a tasty little dinner idea brewing within his mind.)

...he deserves a pizza.

It may not cure any of his anxieties, but that’s okay. After all, it’d be silly to expect such complex circumstances to change in one night.

[gothamincarnate]

[ grab something sharp, find some cover // zombie verse lara lor-van ]

gladsome rays healing center-- raoism in everything but name, trying to take after their child’s urge to help these porcelain doll humans. their human name is vannessa, and they’ve managed to live a quiet life heralding a fledgling “new age” movement.

it’s not quite a secret, but well- they haven’t had time to tell kal that they survived after all this time. they'd sent him here to be on his own. a new parent would just be a burden.

the screaming draws their attention. the little strip mall they’ve set up shop in has become chaos, humans screaming and running. pushing each other, trampling others underfoot.

the ghosts have risen. earth, such strange practices to bury the honored dead. now the bodies are a wave, bottlenecked in the complex.

lara lor-van walks like the royalty they are. kryptonian robes flow behind them in a storm of watery blues and golden suns. but there are monsters ahead, ones that must be put down. a red cape flutters in the middle of the throng. while these humans scurry away aren’t worth attention, their son is somewhere in the fray.

they leap, bounding in the air on the other side of the throng. they land, cracking the concrete between the humans and the damned.

“get inside. go!” maybe kal has a point. alright, fine. they’ll fight. they’ll save as many humans as they can. they see a streak of blue, kal’s own armor flashing in the sun. it looks like he’s falling, failing as a wave of bodies drag him under.

fabric in fists, they tear and discard the blue cloak. black armor shimmers in the sun. the surface looks metallic and shifting. golden spirals swirl beneath like water under glass. it is living crystal, molded in the forge after their final test.

a golden circlet unfolds into a helmet. the dome is ringed in golden tines and spires. the effect is something between hawk’s plumage and sunbeams wreathing their head. a hero’s halo.

they kneel and pull their weapon from a crystal on their thigh. it unfolds into a large golden stave. the tip is a stylized crimson sun. one of the sunbeams is golden, longer than the rest. it’s been sharpened and blessed by their own hands years before their planet died.

the warmth the crystal absorbs is electric. veins sear with warmth-- and they leap again. the stave hardly seems enough against the wall of bodies rushing forward. they shift into a more solid stance, half kneeling on the already bloodsoaked concrete.

a short prayer, a touch of lips to the staff and a call for protection. this fight would be in his honor. for their house, for their guild, for their planet.

arise, champion of rao.

they crash into the bodies swarming, shouldering as many out of the way as possible. defense should be kept up as long as possible. a trick instilled into them from a young age at the forge. offense takes too much energy. weather what you can and then strike when the enemy is exhausted.

harder when the enemy doesn’t stop. doesn’t grow tired, only claws and tears at them. they finally do attack-- superman’s strength, zod’s fighting prowess. lara’s own fury to survive. bones crunch and turn to dust beneath deceptively slender fingers. blood sprays, arcing into the air and catching the sunlight. the blade buries deem into chests, almost always striking true despite the chaos.

one grabs their right leg, arms wrapped around their thigh, trying to gnaw through the crystal. the high pitch scraping noise it makes makes their jaw hurt and echoes even above the screams of the damned. another bites at their left wrist, intelligent enough to try to pry the staff away. biting back the pain, they fly, gripping both bodies and swinging them back down at the earth. a quick scan of the horizon shows no one. not even their child.

another shockwave landing clears out a few more. enough to give them seconds of breathing room. a glance at the office. everyone is inside, secure in rao’s temple.

with a battle cry, they jump back into the fray. the circle closes and cages them in. they attack with ease. fluid-- arms and legs move loosely and slowly. the staff balances and twirls around each limb as needed, no distinction between arms and legs in zod’s forge.

they use the three dimensions to their advantage, attacking from below and the flanks all at once, dipping below the mass’s legs and pushing upward and outward. rao’s staff nimbly rolls from one wrist to the other, red flashing in the sun as they fight.

their son’s hand is buried beneath a mass of bodies and they yank hard, dragging him up into the sky. hanging in the clouded void with them, he winces in pain. a shake of his head, he recovers, smiles at them. gosh, he’s grown up so much, hasn’t he?

“thanks for the help. who are you?”

does he remember the stories they’d sent with him? does he recognize the voice that read fairy tales to him? the knight of vahkd, golden armor blessed by rao to never falter and never fail. the warrior for the people, who learned that while there was glory in the fighting and violence, there must never be glory in needless blood.

did he recognize their armor? the ethos and styling of the martial arts guild was based on rao’s heroes, living sunbeams that could shoot across space in seconds, burning fires that never died.

“i know you.” kal’s face looked-- open, more than the earlier shock. further questions were cut off by the strange skittish silence of a thousand bodies crawling over each other. there wasn’t anymore screaming.

“we’ll talk after, sunbeam.” a smile and a whoop of excitement, they dive back down. stave held ready, they begin to slash through the crowd again, throwing bodies to and fro, lifting corpses up in the air with the stave. again the attacks come from everywhere, no concept of gravity or ground. dancing around the enemy and ripping him apart.

///

lara’s heart was pounding in their chest as the final body fell. kal floated from above, blocking the sun. mother and son were exhausted. lara held themselves up on their staff, chin jutted out, shoulders straight and solid even as their legs wobbled. “you fight like an amazonian.” they smiled and nodded in approval.

“you do too.”

“no i don’t.” they laughed. amazonians would have been well respected on krypton, from what lara had seen of wonder woman. but it was an incredibly different culture. “amazonians use strength and power and full body throws. torq-vahkd is redirection of energy. a flowing movement followed by the killing blow. i would demonstrate but--” a soft laugh as their legs give out. kal rushes forward-- zippy little sunbeam, isn’t he?-- and helps lower them to the ground.

“are you alright?”

“i’m fine. i haven’t fought like that in some years.” they lean back, stretching out in the sun. they sheath the spear and touch the helmet. it folds back up into a circlet. they run hands through their hair, shaking it out with a sigh.

“you’re kryptonian.” it’s said in awe, fingers trace the air above their left shoulder, the red paldron over their heart bears the family crest. he brings the hand back to his chest. the sunbeam darkens, confused and lost. “you’re my family.”

“as you are mine, kal el-vahn.” they nod. “my name is lara lor-van, champion of rao, sworn to the house of el.”

“lara-- wait. mom? i mean, you’re my mother.” he’s elated, then crushed. “how long have you been here? alive? how are you alive?”

“since you were sixteen years old. i fled argos city just before the collector destroyed it. i didn’t mean to end up on earth--”

kal’s hands wrap around their shoulders, squeezing enough that they can feel it through the armor. “you didn’t even want to-- to end up here?”

“this is your planet, kal. your home. you had a family. we gave you everything you needed. i didn’t want to uproot the life you’d already built--”

“i did. i do, i mean.” kal sat down, running his hands through his hair and staring off into space. “i do, they’re great. they didn’t just abandon me to spend years of my life with no idea who i was or why i could do what i did.”

lara’s heart broke for their child. jor, damn him, must have gotten his way. he’d had some plan to turn kal into a symbol, a weapon. it was a defiance to everything rao stood for, and it would doom their son to a life alone and afraid and lost and--

well, how he’d ended up now. “i didn’t realize. i had sent stories with you, to listen to as you grew up. they were supposed to teach you about us. to let you understand where you came from. i cannot change what my husband did. but i am here now, little sunbeam.” they stand, placing a hand on kal’s face. their son leans into it, smiling. “i watched you, when you first put on the cape. i was so proud of you. i still am. you care for them, don’t you? humans?”

kal looks a little stunned. “yes. i do.”

“you showed me how wonderful they are. i’ve seen you save so many lives, and help so many people. rao has given us a gift here, and you’ve used it well. you taught me today, i saved people because... because i saw you doing it. it looked fun. it was. they’re so... squishy and vulnerable.”

kal raised an eyebrow at the word ‘squishy’ but they only shrugged-- it sounded better in kryptonian. kal looked at them and smiled. “vulnerable. yea. we have these gifts that we should use to help others. that’s what, uh, my parents taught me.” and he looked up at that, locking eyes with lara in a strange expression. it’s seeking approval but waiting for a challenge. (what did jor do to you, to make you think of us this way?)

lara simply nods and smiles at their child. their son, grown into a fine hero, a second champion of rao no doubt. “they raised you, of course they’re your parents. as for me, i’ll accept whatever title or role you want me to fill in your life.”

kal nodded, head bobbing a bit distractedly. “you weren’t in the fortress. it was just him. jor-el. he’s the one that told me about krypton, about myself.” he put a hand to his chest. “i tried to tell him no. he-- he seared the house of el into my chest so i wouldn’t forget who i was supposed to serve.”

lara looks, and sees, and god, they’ve never felt nauseous since the finals in the forge. they stand sharply, a hand on their son’s cheek. “krypton is not perfect, there are old and harmful patterns that jor still held onto. i thought my presence on the ship could temper it but--”

“but you weren’t there.”

“no. i wish i had been there to guide you with a steadier hand. i wish i could have told you who you were, to let you grow up with our stories alongside these strange earthling’s fairy tales. yet, i cannot change what has happened, kal. we can only move forward. i will go back to the shadows if you want. i will stay by your side if you want.”

“i--” kal frowned, torn. “i need to figure this out. for now, can we just go... get coffee and talk?”

“of course, sunbeam.” a pause. “is it-- okay to call you sunbeam?”

kal blinked, frowned for a moment before smiling. “yes.”

[trollhunter94]

Pairing: Gabriel x Hunter!Reader

Others: Katrina Lachlan (Witch)

Warnings: Memory loss, Character Death, Lots of angst (I mean lots. Be prepared, maybe grab a tissue).

Words: 4.1K

Summary: The case of Barry the accountant, who choked to death on dollar bills. It was the day before the Winchesters arrived in town and you’d already cracked the case. Things quickly take an ugly turn, leaving Gabriel to deal with the consequences.

A/N: Requested by the awesome @bungeewabbit. It’s a spin-off from 12.11 (Regarding Dean) and incorporates quotes from the movie Regarding Henry. Hope it was worth the wait ^-^

The whole day had been spent tailing Katrina around the town as she covered her tracks, only raising your suspicion of her and her siblings. The sun was beginning to set when you followed her back to the edge of their family estate, armed with Witch-killing bullets and ready to finish this.

Katrina was just 50 yards ahead of you when she turned the corner of the house, moving out of sight. Little did you know, that she had spotted your car tailing behind her on multiple occasions and was on to you.

She quickly stopped and pulled something sharp out of her pocket, slicing it deeply into her hand. Dipping her fingers into the blood, she proceeded to draw a symbol on the outside wall of the house before waiting with anticipation for you to catch up.

As you approached and turned the corner, she stood there with a left hand raised and slammed it against the wall, shouting “dearmad!” A wave of energy blasted outwards from the symbol, heading straight for you.

The next thing you consciously remember? Running.

Twigs snapped underfoot and branches of pine brushed your face as you manoeuvred through the woods under the cover of darkness. Your heavy breathing filled the silent night; the thick clouds of fog that lingered between the trees made you void of any spacial awareness.

You circled past a fallen tree for the second time and slowed into a walking pace, viewing nothing but endless trees. Staring at them too long, they began to wobble and sway, dancing as if they were alive. Something’s not right here.

You started to run once more, to get out of this weird place. But the track ahead of you was no longer solid. Thick mud lay in wait to swallow you up. And swallow it did.

Each step became deeper and more difficult to get out of, leaving you to take slow and strenuous steps until the task became too tiring. A forceful yank of one leg freed your foot, but left the shoe buried in the unforgiving natural landscape.

Stood still with your foot raised and a sock exposed, you surveyed the endless path ahead, deciding your next move. There are no moves left. Why even bother? This is how I die, alone and shoeless.

Your exposed foot lowered slowly, along with your hope, feeling the cold and squishy mud easily engulfing it. Seconds passed as you stood there, unable and unwilling to move anymore. Your gaze lifted upwards at the trees that canopy the starry night sky.

Your thoughts drift to the amount of times you had been close to death, the countless number of monsters that had tried to kill you or eat you. This snapped you out of this state of self-loathing. I don’t want to die. Not like this. If I can kill a Demon, I can get out of some mud.

With knees pressed heavily into the muddy ground, you pulled your phone from the back pocket of your jeans. Who to call? Only one person can get here quickly enough and have the ability to help you. Gabriel.

Pressing ‘call’, you try and lift the phone to your ear but you just feel too tired. The energy within you is fading at a powerful rate, making your body gravitate towards the floor. Your head rested against the muddy forest floor, eyelids feeling heavy, they began to close. The hoot of an owl was the only audible sound as you began drifting away, out of consciousness.

“Yellow? … Y/N? You there?… Y/N. What’s going on? … Y/N!”

Something roused you from a deep and peaceful sleep. What is that familiar scent that you just can’t quite put your your finger on? It’s a comforting smell, resonating a sense of something loving and homely.

Your body shuffled under a blanket, leg stretching outwards to touch against something solid and warm. Your eyes opened and focused on the golden-haired Angel staring down at you.

“Gabriel?”

A smirk held on his face, just thinking about what shenanigans you had been up to last night. He propped himself up on an elbow and questioned you with intrigue. “Hey short stuff. What happened to you? I found you asleep in the woods, knee deep in mud”.

You sat up and unconsciously scratched your head, trying to recall the events of yesterday. “Shit. I’m not sure. I think I was chasing someone”.

His eyebrow lifted with interest. You had travelled to the other side of the country for a case and didn’t even bother to tell him. He shook off the hurt, masking it with a sarcastic comment. “Well, stick to the soda next time, hot shot”.

You shook your head in disbelief. “I wasn’t drunk.” The glass of water on the bedside table caught your eye, making you unconsciously wet your lips in thirst. You reached for the glass and took a few small sips. “At least I don’t think I was”.

He rose to his feet as the feeling of doubt and jealousy took over. Walking around the edge of the room, passively inspecting the furniture, he spoke his mind. “Well, you were definitely on something. I’m also super touched that I’m the one you decided to drunk-dial, instead of Dean-o”.

You slammed the glass back down on the table in annoyance. Not this again. “How many times do I have to tell you Gabe! That was a one-time thing, okay? Stop bringing that up all the time".

Gabriel lifted his hands defensively at your denial. “If you say so”. His facial expression was full of disbelief and amusement.

An uncomfortable silence held the room as you both stared at each other. Now was not the time to talk about either of our feelings for each other. You broke the tension with an itching question. “How did you know where I was staying?”

He pulled a key from his pocket with a look of innocent defiance. “I kinda rummaged through your pockets”. He dropped the key on the bedside table before looking down at you with a cheeky grin.

You questioned him with a sceptical face. “What? Why are you smiling like that?”

His eyes drifted upwards as he confessed. “Well, I couldn’t possibly have put you to bed with mud-soaked clothes on. So, I changed you”. As your eyebrows shot upwards, he was quick to correct himself with raised hands. “Without looking, of course. I am a gentlemen, after all”.

Lifting the duvet cover, you saw that he had changed you into clean clothing. You threw the covers off and let your feet touch the soft carpet, leaning forward to rub the pressure that was building around your forehead.

Gabriel tilted his head, wondering if you were mad at him or maybe just hungover. He decided to push his luck and tease you a little more. “You feeling a little hung over there, sugar?”

“Uh, just sit down and shut up, you idiot. I need to use the toilet”.

You stood and barged your way past him, a fuzzy feeling in your head clouding all spacial awareness as you stumbled to the bathroom and closed the door behind you. As you emptied your bladder, your thoughts began to drift.

What did I do last night? … I must be here on a case… Should I call Garth? Nah, I should find my research notes, then I’ll know.

After flushing the toilet, you moved over to the sink and began washing your hands. The soapy water turned brown as the mud from behind your fingernails was removed. Your gaze moved upwards, catching sight of your reflection in the mirror.

Although you knew that it was yourself in the reflective glass, you failed to recognise the pale-faced person staring back at you. It looked tired and almost alien. Your hands reached up to explore the curvatures of your cheeks and chin before moving up to run your fingers through your hair. This was weird.

You soon snapped back to reality, gazing around the bathroom and wondering why you were even in here. Reaching for the handle, you opened the bathroom door to see a man on the other side of the room. He quickly took to his feet when he heard the movement of the door, watching your blank expression with intrigue.

“You’re not still mad, are you? Uh, come on. I could’ve done a lot worse than look through your pockets". You watched him curiously for a few seconds, thinking about the word ‘pockets’. Pock-ets. What are pockets. Do I have any? I wonder what they do.

Gabriel’s hands shot outwards with impatience, prompting a response from you. This snapped you from your thoughts, addressing the man with curiosity. “Can I help you?” His mood quickly shifted with a sense of anger and frustration at your question. “Don’t be smart, okay. You told me to sit. So I sat”.

You shook your head slowly. Did you tell him to sit? Who is this man? “Sorry”… you took a step out of the bathroom with a quizzical brow… “Do I know you?”

“Seriously?” The look of instant hurt and confusion plastered his features. He was dumbfounded, unsure of whether you were playing a trick on him or this amnesia was real.

“Y/N. It’s me, Gabriel. Are you sure you’re okay?” He took a step closer to you with raised hands, feeling protective and wanting to comfort. You slowly backed away from his approach. “I’m fine, but are you sure you’re not lost?” 

He had never seen this before; the way your eyes darted from him, to another part of the room and then back to him again. A look of complete unrecognition. It was true, none of your surroundings looked familiar. Was this your place or his? Maybe you should leave.

“I think I should go” you said timidly, heading towards the nearest door. “I need to find… Someone. Or something. I can’t remember”. You turned the handle to reveal an airing cupboard, nothing but pipes and a sudden waft of mildew. This was definitely not the front door. You closed it and began to rub your temples, frustrated at your lack of recognition.

Gabriel watched your actions with curiosity. Knowing now that this was definitely not a joke, there was no way he was letting you out that door, to be at the mercy of everything and anything.

“Y/N, please? I’m a friend. A really good friend. You can trust me”. His hands struggled to restrain themselves as the urge to reach out to you became overwhelming.

Oblivious of his struggle before you, a sense of panic began to stir inside your stomach. You shook your head and side-stepped past him towards the front door. Unlocking the bolt and opening the door, you turned back to reply. “I don’t know you. And I certainly don’t trust you”.

You followed your feet as the motel fell to the distance. The rain crashed against your face and diminished your vision as you kept moving forward, putting one foot in front of the other.

Gabriel quickly caught up to you, appearing on your right and walking alongside you with a small bounce in his step. “Where are you even going?” His tone of voice was gentle with a hint of humour at your innocent defiance.

“I, Um”… Your confidence and pace slowed down as nothing came to mind. You stopped and looked at the surrounding buildings, not even knowing where you were. “Home?”

“Your home is hundred’s of miles away, Y/N. The real question is what brought you here and where did you go yesterday?” He held onto your shoulder and turned you to face him.

Anger and panic now stirred inside, leading you to push against his chest with both hands. He stumbled backwards with a startled expression whilst you voiced your confusion. “I don’t know, okay? I don’t know what you want from me”.

You continued to express your feelings. “Look, we’re not buddies. So stop following me, okay? Just let me think for a second”. Gabriel watched with anguish at this display, saying nothing as you continued to turn on the spot, trying to locate yourself.

The truth is, Gabriel loved you. Deeply and with all of his heart. You weren’t just another Human to him, you were a shining example of why his father had created humanity. A beacon of hope for those in despair and a stubborn fighter, determined to save as many lives as possible.

And to see you in this position, so lost and unsure about anything, was crushing his soul. He had to get you somewhere safe, where you couldn’t come to harm.

He ducked down slightly to make eye contact with you; staring into your eyes with enough intensity to make you forget about anything else and focus on him. “How about we get out of this rain and back to your motel room? Eh sugar?”

The confusion that surrounded you seemed to drop at the mention of that name. Sugar. It sounded so familiar.

The soft expression that now befell your face gave Gabriel his signal to intervene and end this madness. His hand touched your arm and within one quick gust of wind, you were both facing a door with the number 4 nailed to it.

Gabriel opened the door and escorted you back inside, feeling relieved that your little memento act was over. You took in the decor of the room with child-like wonder. “So this is my place?”

He strolled into the kitchen area, heading for the kettle. “Yep. The manager said that you’ve booked the room for the weekend”. He walked over to the sink and began filling it with water.

“So I don’t live here?” You picked up a leaflet from the bedside table with a picture of the motel. Your eyes squinted as you tried to focus on the small print. Gabriel placed the kettle back down with an accompanying “nope” before searching through the cupboards.

“And you don’t live here either?”

Another “nope” came from behind an open cupboard, now joined by the sound of clunking dishes and cups.

Your attention focused on Gabriel, causing you to drop the leaflet and turn to him. “So where do you live?” His scoff could be heard, followed by a sarcastic response. “Why? Do you wanna come live with me?”

A long pause filled the room as you headed for a chair and asked yourself that question. “I don’t know. Do I?”

A loud thud came from behind the cupboard as his head collided with a shelf in a second of surprise panic. He reappeared with a teapot in-hand and a look of embarrassment and shock on his face.

“Aw, sugar. As much as I’ve wanted to hear that proposition, I was hoping it would happen when you were more… you”. He turned around and began filling the teapot with hot water.

Your palms rested against the table, head tilted and eyes creased in a lack of understanding. “More me?” He turned back to face you, lifting a hand to rub the back of his neck with caution. “Yeah, well… I mean, do you even know who I am?”

You face remained blank as you stared at him. “No, sorry. Should I?”

“I should hope so” he replied sharply, feeling hurt by that comment. “We’ve been friends for years”.

A long and slightly uncomfortable silence fell upon the room as you both stared at each other. He eventually broke contact to look downwards, letting out a heavy sigh.

He sat down opposite you and picked up the teapot, pouring the brew into both cups. “If we find out what did this to you, maybe we can reverse it. I’m guessing it’s some kind of hex”. He set the teapot back down and picked up the milk jug, hovering it over your cup.

“Say when”.

The milk flowed and mixed with the tea, slowly filling to the rim of the cup. Gabriel watched you curiously, wondering why you didn’t say stop. You were too busy, staring at this man before you, trying to remember him until you caught Gabriel’s intense eyes on yours.

He lifted the jug away and tilted his head with a look of amusement. “When you’ve had enough, you say when” he explained.

“Oh”, you replied blankly, looking down at the full cup. “When”.

He laughed a little, putting the jug back down and picking up his cup. “I hope you like it milky”. You followed his lead and picked up your cup, wrapping your fingers around the handle and sipping gently as he continued to speak.

“So, you have no recollection of what you did yesterday?“

You responded with a head shake, keeping the cup close to your lips. He hummed before standing up and scanning the room, looking for any evidence of research. Eventually, he spotted a piece of paper tucked under the bed.

“Aha!” He retrieved the paper and stood in front of you, trying to make sense of your shorthand writing. “I have no idea what this means. Do you?” He placed it on the table and sat down, waiting for you to remember something.

You stared at the three short bullet points, not even recognizing the words. You began to read it aloud, slowly and with hesitation.

“B… Bar..ry. Barry”. You looked up at him, still unsure of who Barry was. Looking back down, you continued. “Ch… Che… Check. R… Rec…. cords. Records”.

Moving on to the final bullet point, you grabbed the paper and held it closer for a better look. “L… La… ch… Lan. Lachlan?”

You looked up at him again. “Did I say that right?” He nodded supportively at you, still unsure of what it meant.

Your fists flew upwards in celebration. “Yes! I can read!”

You go to stand up, too distracted by your achievement to realise just how weak your legs were. They instantly buckled, letting your body tumble to the floor, alerting Gabriel from across the table.

“Y/N!” He leapt from his chair and reached out to catch you. Unfortunately, he wasn’t quick enough. He was forced to watch as your head hit the floor with an audible bang.

A noise of gut-wrenching fear left his throat as he threw himself downwards, wrapping a hand behind your head and pulling you up against his chest. “It’s okay, sugar. I’ve got you… I got you”. His hand gently caressed the crown of your head, attempting to soothe you.

The contact roused a whimpering ‘ouch’ at the sharp pain from his movements. He took the opportunity to wrap an arm under your legs and pull you against him as he stood up.

Carrying you with care over to the bed, he gently laid you down and moved a tuft of hair out of your face. Enough of this drama, he thought. It was time to fix this. Placing two fingers to your forehead, he passed his angelic grace through you to heal this amnesia.

His grace flowed through you, healing the bump on your head and the remaining traces of last week’s flu. Your eyes shot open at the feeling of his grace, making contact with the golden-eyes of a concerned Gabriel.

You blinked at him, giving a weak smile and swallowing to regain the moisture in your throat. His shoulders dropped in relief before he rested his forehead against yours. He waited a moment before leaning back and lifting a finger to scold you.

“Don’t you ever scare me like that again!”

Before you could react, he pulled you back into another hug, glad to have the normal, sarcastic and loving Y/N, back with him again. His arms squeezed around your ribs, leaving you short of breath and feeling weaker.

It wasn’t long before an involuntary force could be felt, pushing up from your throat, causing you to cough against his embrace, cheek pressed to his shoulder. He quickly noticed something wet trickling down his forearm. Looking down at the foreign feeling, he instantly saw the streak of congealed blood.

“Oh, no… Y/N?”

He leaned back and placed a hand on either side of your face, lifting your head up and watching fearfully as you tried to speak. “W… W… When”.

His face contorted in confusion. “When, what? What is it? What are you trying to say?”

You looked up at him, feeling dehydrated, tired and just desperate for this to end. ” H… Had… En…nough" was forced from your heavy chest. A sense of relief came upon you after getting those words out, letting your head fall backwards, eyes drifting closed.

“Oh, don’t do this to me. Please, Y/N? I can’t lose you, not like this. No. No. Please?” His grip tightened around the back of your neck, his other hand brushing long strokes against your hair.

An ache pulled deeply inside of him, hearing your heartbeat audibly fading, the beats slowing down softly as the rhythm of your blood flow decreased. He didn’t want to believe it. You couldn’t be dying right now. Nope. He was going to force his grace into you.

He pulled you forward to lean against him, allowing his hands to press against your back, moving up to your shoulders and then to your neck as nothing happened. Why isn’t it working? His grace should be fixing you.

The aching feeling inside of him grew heavier, almost painful. This was fear; an emotion that he hadn’t experienced in eons. But now, the thought of losing you was terrifying.

His arms reached around and clutched you against his chest, locking your bodies together in your dying embrace. Wanting to keep you close, to cherish whatever time you had left, he rested his chin on your head and shut his eyes.

He repeated a sentence in his mind to stop the volcano of emotion from erupting. I’m not going to cry. I’m not going to cry. I’m not going to cry.

An unfathomable amount of time had passed by before a chill washed over him. He took a sharp breath as the last traces of warmth left your body, leaving behind a stiff and hardened corpse.

Gabriel knew that as soon as he lets go and lays you back down, it becomes real. This wasn’t something that he was ready for. Not now.

He began to pray. Please Dad. Not this one. Not now. Not today... Please, save Y/N. Just let me fix this. Just... Do something!

He waited, hoping that something would happen; that you would wake up and smile at him the way you usually would. Waiting for a punch in the arm for being such a sap, or for you to yell at him for squishing you so much. Anything was better than nothing.

But nothing happened. The time had come to face reality. He slowly unfolded his arms, leaning you back against the pillow with a hand either side of your head. As he studied the paleness of your skin and lips, that aching feeling inside began to pull and knot again, causing him to rush to his feet in panic.

Gabriel turned to face the wall, hands clutched and pulling at his hair as the tide of emotion broke through. A yell of anger rose from his throat, arms swinging to knock the vase and telephone from the top of the cabinet, sending them crashing to the floor.

He spun around to assess the damage, deciding that he wasn’t done with this outburst. With a mind of their own, his feet began to move, taking him to the other side of the room. Reaching the table, he picked up a chair and threw it with a mighty force against the wall, reducing it to pieces of firewood. It still wasn’t retribution enough.

This anger was getting worse. He gripped the edge of the table and flipped it as another deep growl of fury left his throat. A loud crash filled the room and a pool of tea leaked across the tiled kitchen area, weaving between broken shards of crockery.

He looked down at the broken teapot. It reminded him of you, everything did. How could Humans deal with this feeling of grief. It was horrible, torturous and down-right painful.

Using his sleeve, he wiped the tears that ran down his cheek. Bending down and reaching for the handle of the teapot, he stared blankly at it. He knew that you were still lying there, on that bed. He couldn’t find the strength to turn back and look at you.

He had to leave this place, to go somewhere and scream at the top of his lungs. You were gone forever and he just couldn’t accept it.

The sound of fluttering wings was the last noise made inside of that room for the next three hours.

Thanks for reading.

Tags: @uselessace  @konankami

[golfnomad]

Norcal in September, Day 3: Sacramento Blitz

The third day of my recent Northern California golf trip turned out to be the busiest, as I ended up playing 63 holes in Sacramento. I visited two full regulation courses and three shorties, and I got started early as usual...

Wildhawk Golf Club • Sacramento, CA • 9/18/17

A friend and I played the two morning rounds together before splitting off to take care of our own course collecting priorities. We had a 6:52 time booked at Wildhawk, which was the first group out. They had us paired with another twosome, but we managed to split off and get off ahead of anyone else for the quickest round possible. The rack rate was $45 with cart.

The quickness of our round made Wildhawk a bit of a blur. I would say the course had a fairly familiar feel, as well. What’s funny is two of the local courses it reminded me of most were Wildhorse (Davis) and Wild Wings (Woodland). Apparently, Sacramento has an unintentional “wild” trio and they definitely fit together nicely.

Wildhorse is definitely a good comparison for Wildhawk. Both are somewhat modern style courses with some links-inspired elements (what I like to call a “farmland links” kind of style, for lack of a better term). It flows with the flattish overall terrain and the course is surrounded by a lot of farmland. Wildhawk is a relatively straightforward layout with tree-lined fairways and some undulations built in to keep it from feeling too flat.

The most memorable holes at Wildhawk come at the end of the round. The 16th is a fun short par-4 (319 yards from the tips, with all forward tee boxes playing under 300). Some aggressive hitters may try to drive this green, but it is very well-protected by a water hazard short/right. Going long could also put you in trouble because there is a wall of trees behind the green. Otherwise, it is a lay-up to the fairway and then a short shot in.

The 18th is a very strong finishing hole and easily the most distinctive hole out here. It is a double-dogleg par-5 that will make you think on each shot. The tee shot is fairly open and then the hole doglegs sharply left over a creek. That creek could cause problems for longer hitters, especially if trying to cut the corner to the second fairway. If laying up on the second shot, you are hitting over that creek to a somewhat narrow fairway that slopes left to right toward a big water hazard that runs all the way up to the green. Ultimately, the hole turns back to the right as you hit your final approach over the water to the green that slopes strongly from back to front. It is a great hole design that certainly offers longer hitters some risk/reward options, yet is also demanding enough all the way through for the conservative three-shot player.

Wildhawk was in nice overall shape, though playing pretty soggy first thing in the morning. The tee boxes were good. The fairways were mostly quite good. The rough was also pretty good throughout—not too deep with the ball sitting up most of the time. The bunkers were on the weaker side. I was only in a couple, but they were rather thin. The greens, like most of the ones encountered on this trip, were excellent. They were very wet and soft, so you had to fly it aggressively to the pin on approaches, pitches and chips. However, as squishy as they seemed underfoot, there wasn't a lot of moisture sitting on top (as in no rooster tails). The surfaces ran super smooth and quite quick on putts. I can only imagine how great they would be once dried out a bit more.

All in all, I would say Wildhawk is a very solid mid-level option in the Sacramento area. It’s going to give you a slightly more interesting layout and better conditions than the muni tracks, but it won’t offer the distinctive design appeal of some of the area’s more notable courses like Yocha, Apple Mountain, Darkhorse or Whitney Oaks. 

Some pictures from Wildhawk Golf Club (9/18/17):

We didn’t have any time to waste as we drove across town along the side streets to our next golf destination...

Bing Maloney Golf Complex • Sacramento, CA • 9/18/17

My friend and I have both played all over Northern California on separate trips, so when planning something together it can be tough to find courses that neither of us had played yet. Bing Maloney was not the most exciting choice, but it fit the bill and they had a 9:33 tee time available for us. We used a GolfMoose 2-player voucher for this to make it a really inexpensive round.

As one of the area’s most popular municipal courses, you can almost always expect Bing Maloney to be crowded. That was true on a Monday. The round seemed slower than it was (it didn’t help that our first round was under two hours in sprint mode). We were paired with another twosome and still finished here in a little over four hours, which wasn’t too bad. I can imagine this place being really slow on a typical weekend, so I am glad we played on a weekday.

Bing Maloney actually has two golf courses. There is the main Championship 18 regulation course and then the Bing Express 9, which is a 9-hole executive. I ended up playing both.

Championship 18

This is a fairly traditional old school parkland design. It is flat and tree-lined. What you see is what you get, and it’s just fine for what it is. There really isn’t that much to highlight about it. 

Easily the most exciting aspect of this round was that it turned out to be my 900th course played. Normally, I would pick something a bit more special to celebrate such a milestone. However, this is just how the trip worked out and it ended up being Bing Maloney. The way I see it, the whole trip was kind of a celebration of 900 and Silverado was the premier course of the trip to mark my personal achievement.

As a standard muni track, Bing Maloney is more than good enough. The layout isn’t anything that distinctive, but the conditions were above average.

I was actually pleasantly surprised with the conditions. Much of the "grass" from tee to green is a mix of different grasses, clovers and weeds. However, it is all cut down consistently and it plays fine enough. The tee boxes, fairways and rough were all pretty decent. I was in one bunker and it had nice sand. Once again, I was very impressed by the greens. I fixed a few stray ball marks here and there, but they were pretty well-maintained despite the quantity (and quality) of players this place gets. They were soft/receptive and rolling smooth at medium/fast speeds.

Bing Maloney is certainly not a destination course, but it’s a solid option for locals to enjoy. By the way, Bing Maloney was a war hero who served in some local government capacity. There is a little wall dedicated to him at the course, but I didn’t really take notes. I can’t find any information about him online, but most of Sacramento’s muni courses are named for various prominent figures in the city’s history including Bartley Cavanaugh, Ancil Hoffman and William Land.

Some pictures from Bing Maloney Golf Complex (Championship 18) (9/18/17):

Bing Express 9

The Bing Express 9 is a nice little beginner’s/practice course located at the Bing Maloney Golf Complex. It is a pretty basic par-29 layout with two very short par-4s and then a decent mix of par-3s ranging from 91 up to 177 yards. 

I would say conditions were comparable to the main course, with the greens on the short course being just as nice (maybe even nicer). They were smooth and fast with minimal ball mark damage. You just don’t expect to find greens this nice on a secondary executive course at a muni facility!

That’s about all there is to note about the Express 9. It sits next to the small executive airport, so you also get to see some jets and small planes taking off and landing next door. 

Some pictures from Bing Maloney Golf Complex (Bing Express 9) (9/18/17):

I played the Express 9 by myself as my friend went off on his own afternoon adventures. I zipped around there quickly and that started a mini “short course blitz” for the rest of the day...

William Land Golf Course • Sacramento, CA • 9/18/17

It was just a short drive up to William Land Park, where they have a pretty decent little 9-hole golf course in the middle of the park. It wasn’t crowded at all. I jumped around a bit to avoid slower groups, and I also happened to play a few holes with another SoCal course collecting friend that I ran into here. I knew he was in town, but it was totally coincidental that we crossed paths at William Land. Such a small world!

William Land is a 9-hole course that is just under regulation length. It is a par-34 layout with one par-5 and three par-3s. Otherwise, it does not play like your typical executive. The holes are all of pretty standard lengths.

I would say the course design is also pretty basic parkland style. There are a few slightly elevated greens and it’s more interesting than I expected it to be. Still, nothing overly exciting. It just seems like a friendly local short course, and that’s good enough for me.

The conditions were pretty decent. They had a bunch of small marker flags throughout the fairway that seemed to signify some kind of upcoming maintenance. I am not sure, but the fairways were fine. The greens were also in good shape. Not as nice as the others I played earlier, but still pretty nice for a course of this caliber. I think the price was $22 total for 9 holes with a cart.

Some pictures from William Land Golf Course (9/18/17):

Last but not least, I had enough time for one more 9-hole round. I called around, but couldn’t get any answers that late in the afternoon. So, I went with the one I knew was open...

Bradshaw Ranch Golf Course • Sacramento, CA • 9/18/17

It was the end of the day and I was pretty worn out, so I came into this round just ready to get it over with and check it off my list. It was windy and a little chilly at this point n the evening, as well. 

However, I ended up really connecting with Bradshaw Ranch. This is one that took me back to my own short course roots. This course is 9 holes of all par-3s. It was only $5 to walk after 5:00, so it was also a good deal. I kind of beat the after-work crowd, so the course was wide open ahead of me. 

The holes range from 84 yards up to 218, so you get a little bit of everything here. There are really only two long-ish holes and the rest are on the shorter side. Bradshaw Ranch is right down the street from Wildhawk, so it would also fit in that “farmland” course category. It’s a pretty simple layout, but there are a few fun holes. The most interesting is the 3rd, which plays over a small water hazard in the back corner of the property.

The conditions were also pretty solid here, at least for a course on this level. The greens were definitely slower than anything else I played that day, but still pretty well kept. Otherwise, things were fairly lush and green throughout. They had a few small bunkers that were really nicely conditioned with a spiral rake job that was kind of mesmerizing if you stared too long.

Again, just a little local’s course, but one that I could really appreciate. This is a short course I can definitely get behind.

Some pictures from Bradshaw Ranch Golf Course (9/18/17):