#and of course steven’s guilt after all of his friends. Die. and just everything he must have best himself up over on Mechanus

[twojamie-o-clock]

Steven & Sara & Jamie should hold hands and dance in a circle over guilt of feeling like they’ve deserted idk

[truglori]

Homebody (Ch.9)

Summary: Amiyah is the younger sister of local drug dealer (Durkio). Shy and reserved she keeps to herself and stays out the way. But lately she began to find interest in his right hand man/ best friend (Erik Stevens). Wanting to get him to notice her she discovers that he already had her wrapped around his finger without even trying! There was only a few problems that kept her away from her fantasies , her brother that controlled almost every single breath she took and would kill anyone who looked at her that way and lastly Eriks girlfriend, Alexis , who they called the queen of the hood according to her lavish lifestyle as well as being with the next newest top boy in the making. While Alexis was his girl to the streets all Amiyah wanted to do was be his Homebody...

Pairing: Erik Stevens x Thick OC

Warning: Language, Smoking, Oral

���Nigga you wanna give me one fucking reason why I shouldn’t blow the bitch head off as soon as she step in my shit.” Durk stated calmly as he blew out the smoke of his blunt before knocking the ashes off of it.

Erik shook his head. “Cause nigga it’ll be too hot for you after you do that shit. We don’t know if she told someone she was coming here or not. So take your finger off the trigger and relax.” Digging his hands in his pockets Erik leaned on the desk looking at the office door.

Durk was on edge since he got the call from Alexis two days ago. Erik wasted no time coming down at the auto to meet him. When he made it inside he seen Durk laying on his leather couch relaxed. That’s when Erik knew he was heated for real. Whenever Durk got angry he would be silent before ticking like a time bomb.

So he didn’t take Alexis threat too kindly after making him aware of what she knew. He was even ready to send one of his shooters to her place but Erik had to stop him especially after he got a text from her saying that she wanted to have a meeting with just the two of them. It was hard to get Durk to agree to it but after talking some sense into him he finally gave in to see what she had to say.

Checking his watch it was going on five thirty in the evening. She was supposed to be here by now but Erik knew her to always be late. Out of his peripheral vision he seen Durk getting out of his chair to stand beside him.

“No disrespect but ya bitch is running late and I’m getting impatient.” He stated while readjusting his Rolex.

“I told you that’s not my bitch. She’ll be here.” Erik spoke quietly annoyed with the fact he kept associating them together.

As if on cue the door open revealing Moe,one of Durks lookout guys, and Alexis dressed down in a beige and black Balenciaga sweater dress along with the black trainers. Her hair now back to her natural brown curls with a side part that fell along her shoulders. It was Erik’s favorite look on her and she knew it. Erik started to check her out but averted his gaze when he noticed it.

Walking over to a chair she sat down.“Hello gentlemen. How are you guys-“

“Stop the bullshit and give me a good explanation why I shouldn’t out yo ass after calling me making threats you can’t keep.” Durk cut her off ready to get to the chase.

She laughed taking off the shades she had covering her eyes. “Well one I told a friend, who is by the way a part of law enforcement, that I would be here and that if she doesn’t hear from me within the next 24 hours...come here. Is that good enough for you?” She mocked his tone.

“Alexis why the fuck are you here?” Erik decided to step in before she made the tension in the room any worst than what it already was.

“I’m here because I have a proposition for you. I changed my mind about the $15,000. You can keep it. Because like the saying goes money makes more money.”

“Yeah well I got another quote for you, you can’t take it with you when you die so are you gonna keep wasting my time with ya bullshit ass TedTalk or you gon say what the fuck you got to say.” Durk folded his hands growing impatient.

Erik’s eyebrows knitted together trying to figure out why she was here. Alexis didn’t come to collect the $15,000 she supposedly was going to black mail him for, she came for something else. She wanted to do business..

“Let’s work together. Start us a team.”

Erik chuckled realizing that he was spot on. He knew her too well and knew that she would take on an opportunity like this to make it good for herself. Alexis was money hungry and was will to do whatever it took to get to it.

Durk laughed looking back and forth between Erik and Alexis. He walked over to where she was and pulled up a chair sitting directly in front of her.

“Now you wanna tell me why I would work with a scheming ass person like you? Please inform me.” Resting his hand on his chin, Durk was taking her for a joke.

Alexis rolled her eyes scooting her chair back.

“Because the nigga that you robbed the other night ain’t lose out on shit. You think that million dollars that you stole from him did anything? Nah, you didn’t even take a small portion compared to what he has hiding out in Upsate.”

Now she had both Durk’s and Erik’s attention. Durks because he wanted to know how much more money that Shawn had that he didn’t know about and Erik’s because he wanted to know where she was going with this.

“Why you think he was so quick to give it up without a fight? He got plenty more where that came from and I know where it is. But I want a fraction of whatever you’re able to take. I’ll help you if you could help me.” Crossing her legs Alexis let the information she gave to them sink in.

Durk looked back at Erik searching for any sign to see if she was telling the truth or not but Erik couldn’t tell himself. So he questioned her.

“How we know this isn’t a set up? How do you even know where his stash is? I mean didn’t you just meet this nigga.” He bombarded her trying to see what she knew.

“No it’s not a set up and no I didn’t just meet him. I’ve actually known him for quite a while.” She stated while inspecting her nails.

Erik took in everything she said. He began to wonder about how did she know all of this information and in such little time. He was with Alexis for at least nine months so that only meant that she had to been messing around on him with Shawn.

“So you must’ve have been fucking him after you met me then huh? How do you know so much Alexis.” Erik questioned hoping to catch her off guard not taking his gaze off her.

She turned her direction towards him. “No Erik I’ve actually been fucking him before you and I know all of this because he’s my ex-fiancé. We’re sometimes on and off.”

Silence filled the room for a full minute before Durk began to laugh. He got up from his seat and went to his desk. Taking a fresh blunt he sparked it up doing a long pull.

“I don’t know what’s more fucked up. You fucking around on your fiancé and made my mans here the side nigga or the fact that you want to rob the nigga for everything he got. You one grimy bitch shorty.” He blew smoke in her direction.

Erik stayed quiet.

Getting up Alexis stood in front of Durk. She took the blunt out of his hands before hitting it once herself.

“Listen I don’t give two fucks about him. I wanted out anyway. Now do you think this is something we can work out or should I take my offer somewhere else?”

“Hell nah we not accepting that shit.” Erik retorted with his anger coming out after hearing that she was sleeping around on him. If there was anything that he couldn’t stand the most in this world it was disloyalty.

“Hold on, wait a minute.”

Glancing over Erik seen Durk in deep thought meaning he was taking what she said into consideration. He shook his head with disbelief. Durk was no different than Alexis when it came to getting a bag. It was the power and money that controlled him and he would do anything to remain on top. Even if it meant being friends with the enemy of his enemy and right now Alexis was definitely fitting the description.

“How much does he have?”

She lifted her shoulders up and smiled. “22 million.”

“22 million fucking dollars. You gone make me a young rich nigga. Walk with me.” A huge smile was displayed on Durkio’s face.

Erik watched as Alexis smiled when Durk led the way out of the office. She gave him one last glance and a wink before disappearing.

______________________________

“Ladies I need to see more working and less talking please.” Rhonda shouted from the back room. She was watching the cameras again.

Kelley rolled her eyes silently mocking her. Amiyah laughed while going over to the register. Popping the lid off the tupperware, she dug in the freshly homemade fruit salad she got from Kelley’s house and ate one of the pineapple slices. Hearing the sound of her phone ding she looked down. It was from Cane.

Cane: Thinking about you. See you soon...6:23pm

Amiyah sighed as she clicked her power button leaving him on read. After he kissed her on their date two nights ago Amiyah knew that she made a mistake when she agreed to going with him. The image of Erik stayed on her mind the entire night. When Cane dropped her off after, the feeling of guilt over took her so bad that she cried in the bathroom. She knew she was wrong and wanted to make it right. She planned on telling Erik about the whole ordeal but she wanted to wait for the right moment.

This was the third text she had got from him today that she didn’t reply to and he just wouldn’t get the memo. Kelley noticing her mood change, walked over picking up a piece of fruit and popped it in her mouth.

“What’s wrong girl?” She covered her mouth chewing.

“It’s Cane. He keeps texting me.”

Kelley gave her a confused look. “Isn’t that what you want him to do though?”

“No, of course not. I’m with Erik now, remember?”

Nodding her head she smirked. “Yeah and you were also with him when you went out with Cane. So what’s your point?”

Amiyah slapped her hand on the counter out of frustration. “My point is if Cane wants to be more than friends then I can’t keep him around. I already made one mistake and if I continue to keep being naive then I’m going to fuck everything up with Erik.”

“Well have you told him that you’re not single? Did you tell him you just wanted to be friends?”

Amiyah avoided eye contact with her. “No.” The answer came out just above the sound of a whisper.

“So then tell him! People can’t read your mind Miyah. How is he supposed to know if you’re not making it clear? Sounds like to me you’re leading him on.” Kelley gave her a ‘you know what you’re doing’ glance before walking away.

Amiyah rolled her eyes as she wrote down the chores in the work assignment book. To her there was no way that she was leading Cane on. Yes she kissed him but it was only because he came on to her. Even after the fact ,her vibe had changed and made things awkward during the dinner. How could he not interpret that she wasn’t feeling him the way he felt her.

Feeling the breeze from outside, Amiyah knew that a customer was making their way in. She stopped what she was doing, getting ready to greet them but halted in her tracks. There stood Cane dressed in a Gucci tracksuit holding flowers. He walked up to her with a wide grin.

“Hey...told you I was thinking about you.” He lifted up the flowers and leaned over kissing her on the cheek quickly.

Shock but yet not wanting to be rude Amiyah accepted the roses. “Wow Cane y-you didn’t have to do this. Thank you.”

With his hands now in his pockets he gave a shrug keeping his gaze on her. “It’s nothing. I missed you.” He spoke truthfully.

Cane thought that the date between them went great. Better than he expected. At first he took her out with a motive, expecting to get sex in return but his outlook changed when he got to know her. She was sweet, caring, unselfish, and thoughtful. She was everything he wasn’t used to and the feeling of her lips on his didn’t make it any better. He was crushing on her.

“I remember telling you where I work but how did you know when I would be here?” Amiyah asked him curious to find out.

He laughed. “I had to call up here. A lady name Rhonda told me.”

Amiyah mentally rolled her eyes.

Bringing her hand up to her forehead she gently placed the flowers to her side. “Cane I have something to tell you.”

“Go ahead.”

“We can’t be more than friends. I have a boyfriend and I really hope that I wasn’t leading you on the other night. I’m sorry.” Amiyah was starting to feel bad.

Cane did a quick scoff looking down. “Why didn’t you just tell me in the first place? I would’ve understand.”

“It’s complicated and I just-“

“It shouldn’t be.” He spoke cutting her off.

“What?”

“If he’s ya man than it shouldn’t be complicated. Only simple. I know I wouldn’t let it be and I damn sure wouldn’t let you go out on dates with other niggas...If I was your man.” He stepped closer invading her space.

“I respect you Amiyah and if backing off is something you want me to do than I’ll do it. It might take me some time to get over not seeing your pretty ass smile anymore, but what can I say? You win some you lose some.” His thumb and index finger held her chin up.

Amiyah tried not to blush but failed. “Cane your a great guy but I can’t.”

He shook his head. “Well can I have one last hug?”

He sent her a sweet smile that Amiyah wasn’t able to deny. Giggling she opened her arms. He wrapped his arms over her neck and hers went around his torso. Amiyah inhaled taking in his scent. He smelled so good right now but she had to shake the feeling. They hugged for at least ten seconds before letting go.

“I’ll see you around.” Cane gave her one final wave as he walked out the door.

Watching the whole thing go down in front of her eyes like she wasn’t there, Kelley marched over to Amiyah.

“Sis that nigga was fine as fuck. Between him and Erik I wouldn’t know who to choose either.”

Amiyah gave a light smile. “Well I do.”

________________________________________

Eight o’clock had came around faster than Amiyah anticipated. Kelley had went home an hour ago and offered to wait for her but she declined. She had to stay behind to lock up but also had to make a stop before going back to her place. Amiyah was running low on clothes so since she still had the key to her apartment she figured she can get in and out grabbing her belongings before Durk got there.

It was still early so she suspected she had some time to get it done. When Amiyah reached the lobby to the apartment building the feeling of being homesick rushed over her body. It’s only been a little under a week but it’s the longest she’s ever been away from this place since her and Durk first moved in. It took less than five minutes before making it to their door.

Going inside Amiyah searched around. Everything still look the same besides the few clothing objects that Durk left hanging out in the livingroom. Whenever Amiyah was here she’d have to pick up after him so out of habit that’s what she did. She gathered his clothes and brought them to his room putting them in his hamper. Then she walked into her room. The smell of Glad Hawaiian Breeze automatic spray hitting her nose. She missed it.

Her bed was still made up the way it was before she left. Sitting her purse and phone down on the nightstand she slipped her shoes off and got in. Her eyes closed from the warm plush blanket and mattress she felt against her body. The couch at Kelley’s was starting to become uncomfortable so right now Amiyah’s body was getting the relaxation it yearned for. She was only planning on resting for a few minutes before she got her things and left but the tiredness in her eyes betrayed her as she drifted off to sleep.

Being a light sleeper was always a blessing and a curse for Amiyah but for this instance it was a blessing. With the apartment so quiet that you can hear a pin drop she was also able to hear the sound of keys unlocking the front door. Her eyes opened quickly as she sat up in her bed. Picking up her phone she checked the time. It was 11:52pm. She overslept.

“Shit.” She cursed softly. Walking to her dresser she grabbed three tops and some jeans along with fresh bras and underwear and put them inside of her Pink tote bag.

Her ears was finally met with the voice of Durks who was talking to someone. Even though Amiyah told Erik that she was willing to talk to her brother she didn’t think it would be this soon. She wanted some more time before she had a conversation with him. She felt that they still needed time apart hence why she tried to refrain herself from being here at the same time he was. But there was nothing she could do now but face him. Getting her things she slowly walked out her room.

“Damn nigga I can’t believe that bitch played you.” Durk laughed. He was standing in the middle of the livingroom with his arms folded where he could be seen from the hallway. His body was facing the furniture. That’s when Amiyah seen that he wasn’t alone and looking at the person from behind who was sitting she knew it was Erik.

The creaking noise coming from the floor gave her away. Durk quickly looked in her direction with a hand ready to grab the gun off his waist. His eyes showed that he was both surprised and confused.

“Amiyah?” He questioned to make sure he wasn’t seeing things.

The sound of her name coming from his mouth made Erik’s head flew towards him. He followed his gaze and stood up when he saw Amiyah holding a bag of clothes. Observing her he noticed that her eyes were a light red. Like she just got finished either crying or sleeping but when Erik saw the frizzy-ness to her hair he knew she had just woken up.

“Hey I just came to pick up some things. I’m leaving now.” Her eyesight averted between the both of them.

“Why? I mean where have you been? How are you doing?” Being the protective brother that he was Durk rushed her with questions.

Lifting her shoulders in a half shrug she answered. “I’m good and I been at Kelley’s. Which I should be going back to now.” Amiyah tried walking to the door but was stopped.

“Amiyah we don’t have to keep doing this shit. I’m sorry okay. You my lil sis and I love you. I was fucked up kicking you out the way I did but I didn’t expect you to leave for real.” Durk dropped his hands to his sides. He wanted his little sister back home with him.

Amiyah folded her arms snickering to herself. “Not only did you kick me out but you called me a bitch Derrick.”

“And I’m sorry. I was in the heat of the moment. Shit we both said some things that we didn’t mean but to hold grudges, that’s something we never do and you know that. Dad would’ve never let us go this long without talking to each other.” He walked in front of her putting his hand on her shoulder.

With the burning sensation creeping around her eyes Amiyah held back her tears. The reference of their father struck a nerve in her. Her and Durk never mentioned him that much since he was sentenced to life. So when he brought him up Amiyah became emotional.

“Listen Durk I’m sorry for the things that I said. Yes sometimes I speak without thinking and that’s something we both do. But it hurt having my own brother kick me out of a place where I am supposed to feel safe and protected. You gave me no choice but to leave so I did.” Amiyah paused wiping away the tears that fell.

“Look you’re my brother and I love you but I just need a little bit more time.”

Durk nodded before wiping her last falling tear. “Okay I understand but before you go I just want to know if you forgive me. I can’t go another day without knowing.”

Without saying a word Amiyah embrace him. He rested his chin on her head while closing his eyes.It reminded her of the hugs he used to give her when she was younger. Amiyah missed them.

Erik massaged the back of his neck watching them make up. It even gave him a sense of relief that he no longer had to wonder when it would happen. He was happy to be here to see it for himself.

“I have to get back to Kelley’s.” Amiyah separated from the embrace throwing her tote over her shoulder.

Patting down his pants Durk searched for his keys.

“Let me take you-“

“No it’s fine. I’ll take an Uber. It’s how I got here anyways.” She gave a small smile.

“Miyah you know how I feel about that. Just let me drive you there and that’s it?”

“Thank you Durk but I’m fine. Remember I still need some time?” She nudged him before it went quiet.

“I’ll bring her.” Erik stood in the middle catching attention from both of them.

Amiyah smiled in the inside when she heard him speak. Not wanting to be too obvious she faked declined his offer.

“No it’s okay.”

“Amiyah look I know you mad at me and all but Erik ain’t got nothing to do with what we got going on. At least let him bring you. I trust him.” He gave her a look hoping she agreed.

“Fine. Let’s go.” Amiyah did a false sigh while rolling her eyes. Walking past Erik to the door she gave him a quick glance with a smirk.

Erik had to hide his smile as he shook his head. He knew that she was trying to make it seem like she didn’t want him to bring her but he knew it was a front. Getting his things he gave Durk a dap.

“Aye man make sure she make it inside safely before you pull off.”

“Of course. I’ll catch you later to talk more about business.”

___________________

The hip hop station played in the background. Erik was trying to pay attention to the road but failed with the beautiful distraction sitting next to him. They were currently talking about how Amiyah had to fake an attitude just so her brother wouldn’t suspect anything. She couldn’t help herself from laughing as she talked about the look on Erik’s face.

“You did not know, liar.” Her giggles filling up the car.

Erik smacked his lips. “C’mon stop playing with me. I could tell you was faking. I know you ma.” Reaching over he picked up her hand kissing the back of it. He held on to it for the rest of the time.

“Whatever.” Looking out the window Amiyah noticed that they weren’t in Kelley’s neighborhood. They were driving for a while so they should’ve been there but weren’t even close to the area.

“Where are we going?” She asked fiddling with his watch.

“Uh I want to show you something. It’s a surprise.”

For the first time since knowing him Amiyah could observe from his body language that Erik was nervous. The repeated roll of his shoulders with the clutch of the steering wheel gave him away. It was cute to her being that she never seen him in this state before.

“Erik...are you getting nervous?” She teased leaning forward to get a better look at him.

He turned his head blocking her view. “Chill mama.”

Amiyah laughed as the car came to a stop. Looking around they were in a parking lot with a tall building next to it. From her point of view it looked like apartments. She glanced at Erik as he pushed the button shutting the car off.

“What’s this?”

He stroked his beard before answering. “This is where I live.”

Amiyah was taken back when the words left his mouth. She couldn’t believe that he brought her here. To his place. Knowing how Erik was a private person she didn’t think she would get this far at an early stage.

Erik noticed that she hardly said a word. It was making him rethink his actions. “You want to come in or should I bring you back to Kelley’s?” He began to gabble.

“No let’s go in. I want to see where you live.” Her smile was wide. She was curious and couldn’t help herself.

As they walked through the building Amiyah’s wandered everywhere. She was taking it all in. From the structure of the walls even to the boring art work that laid on them. It was the excitement in her that had her roaming everywhere. They reached the elevators and stepped in. He pressed the eleventh floor before closing the doors. Erik stood against the wall and pulled her in front of him holding onto her hip.

“Eleventh floor? You’re living pretty high and mighty Mr.-“ She paused realizing that she didn’t know his last name.

“What is your last name by the way?” She tilted her head looking back at him.

He chuckled. “Why you plan on making it yours or something?”

She blushed facing forward.

“Stevens.”The raspiness of his late night voice had Amiyah clenching her thighs.

“Erik Stevens. I guess it goes together.”

He wrapped his arms around her waist pulling her closer with her back against his hard chest. She could feel her ass pressing into his length. It made her jump from surprise as the throbbing in her kitty appeared. Moving her hair to the side Erik bent down putting his face in her neck.

“Just like you and me go together.” He spoke softly rubbing on her hips.

She panted biting her lip. She placed her hands on top of his not knowing what else to do with them. Erik heard a moaned escape her lips when he kissed her neck. Kissing over the faint hickies that were still there. When the elevator doors opened they walked out hand in hand as Erik lead them to his door. Taking out his keys he unlocked it and it open with his free hand.

When he flipped on the light Amiyah’s face lit up. Her eyes drifted everywhere. She was amazed with how he was living. He was doing good for himself and it looked like a true bachelor’s pad. An all black sectional with grey pillows. A sixty-five inch flat screen tv mounted on the wall. His kitchen was neat and clean which meant he probably doesn’t use it as much or he was just a clean person.

Amiyah giggled softly placing her things on the couch. “Babe you stay here all by yourself?”

Erik placed his keys on the counter before walking to his bar. He pulled out a bottle of Hennessy cracking it open and pouring it in a glass. The burn going down his throat when he took a sip.

He lifted his shoulders. “What you think mama?” He asked her sarcastically.

She rolled her eyes. “I think I want to keep looking around.” She dragged her nails across the couch.

The was a flight of stairs attached to the same wall that the tv was on. Amiyah strolled over glancing at them before going up. When she reached the top she walked through a short hall to be met with his room.

“Wow just wow.”

He was truly living like a king and she couldn’t believe that he was living in this palace alone. She heard footsteps coming up so she plopped down on the bed posing.

“How do I look?” Taking a piece of her locks she tucked it behind her ear.

Erik stepped inside sipping on what was to be his third glass of Henn. The liquor was doing its job as he already felt the effects of being tipsy. He sat the finished glass on his nightstand as he took of his jacket.

“You look like you supposed to be there.” He lifted his eyebrows removing his shirt next with his chain swinging from the sudden quickness.

Amiyah sat up from her spot. Her nerves going crazy when she saw his bare chest. The flex in his muscles whenever he moved his arms created a dampness in her panties. It was the littlest things he did that would always set her off.

“What are you doing?” Her eyes roaming over his body.

“Bout to take a shower. You wanna join?” The look on his face read that he was serious as he asked that question like it was nothing.

Amiyah scoffed with surprise. “No but I’ll take one first...without you.” She stood up walking towards his bathroom. He followed behind chuckling.

“I don’t know why you acting like that. It’s not like I ain’t see that pretty pussy already.” He leaned against his sink. The definition in his arms were showing.

The wetness between her thighs were flowing. She folded her arms glaring at him softly. “Just give me a towel Erik.”

He hung his head laughing as he went into the bathroom closet grabbing an extra wash cloth and bath towel. He handed it to her before going under the sink and grabbing a bar of dove soap.

“Here, hurry up. I want to get in next.” He tossed her the bar.

“And if I don’t?” She asked smartly.

“Don’t act surprised when I come in there with you.” He stated seriously and walked out.

_

It was easy for her to work the shower. The hot and cold handles were separate so there was no difficulty in trying to find which way it went. Amiyah allowed the water to cascade down her body. She gave a relaxed sigh as she foamed her body up with the lather. This was very much needed after the day she had. Being at Erik’s place was so peaceful. It was mellow and quiet. Something she could get used to. If this is what it felt like to live alone than she was definitely going to start putting in application for a spot.

Her shower ended after fifteen minutes. Since it wasn’t her place she didn’t want to be rude and take a long one as well as using up all of his hot water. Reaching her arm out of the glass door she grabbed her towel making sure it was secure before stepping out. She was so busy trying to hurry up and wash the day off she forgot her clothes downstairs.

Amiyah picked up her dirty clothes. She rolled her eyes knowing that Erik was going to see her in nothing but a towel at any moment. She did a light jog downstairs making sure she had a grip on the linen so it wouldn’t fall. Spotting her bag on the sectional she walked over to it. For a minute she thought she was alone until she saw Erik drinking a bottle of water standing between the doorway of the kitchen and livingroom. He cocked his head to the side staring at her as he drunk. Then he called her over.

“C’mere.” With his deep voice it was loud and clear.

Erik watched as she eyed him up and down. The way she looked in nothing but his towel had his dick on ten. How the bottom of her hair stuck to her back due to its wetness. The way her thick thighs had the towel rising up. He was ready to devour her. He was no where near drunk but the liquor was aiding into his horny-ness.

“What do you want Erik?” Her tone was teasing yet playfully annoyed. She grabbed her bra and panties but had no night clothes. She slapped her hand against her thigh when she noticed.

“Come over here and come find out.” His tongue hanging out before swiping it over his bottom lip. When she didn’t listen once again he began to walk over.

Amiyah studied his actions. Watching him draw nearer to her she started walking away going back up the stairs. He followed closed behind. Amiyah felt his stares on her ass. Making it back to the masters she stood beside his bed. She became nervous feeling him up her back. Not sure what to do she gripped the top of her towel to occupy her hands.

“Why you don’t listen ma?” He pulled up the pants that were hanging dangerously below his waist. Lightly grabbing her arm he turned her around. She was gazing up at him the same way he fantasize her doing in the shower the other day. He wrapped his arm around her pulling her in for a kiss but she put one between them creating space.

“What do you want Erik?” Amiyah asked softly for the second time and smiled blocking his advances. She was liking this game of making him work hard for it. This time he was yearning for her and she was in control.

Chewing on his top lip he told her straight up. “I want to eat ya pussy.” His tone was blunt.

When he stepped forward she stepped back which resulted in her stumbling and falling on the bed. They both look down at the same time to see her towel risen up just inches away from showing her treasure. She left it that way.

“You not gonna try and pull it down?” Erik leaned over her placing his hands on either side of her.

Resting up on her elbows she shook her head. “No.”

Amiyah reached up playing with his chain. The ring that accompanied it catching her attention. Erik admire her as he watched. Amiyah was just as horny as he was. She could feel the sticky wetness coating her lower lips. She never received oral before so she was willing to jump at the opportunity that was thrown at her. She leaned into him giving what he was longing for, a kiss.

Erik’s tongue swirled in her mouth. He followed her as she laid flat on the bed. Her legs opened inviting him in. He felt her small hands rubbing up and down his back before they started to tug at his pants. He grabbed her hands holding them down by her hips as he moved his kisses to her neck.

“Can I move this towel?” He asked coming up from her neck.

Amiyah’s eyes shifted down. She wanted this badly but she didn’t know if she was ready for Erik to see all of her yet. The thought of being completely naked in front of him caused butterflies to erupt in her belly. She still had insecurities that she was dealing with.

Erik noticed that she was overthinking it. He kissed her shoulder blade and the open area across her chest. “Get out your head mama. You beautiful.”

Even though Erik wanted to see all of her he could tell that she wasn’t ready. So he respected her wishes but he still wanted to show her how beautiful her and her body was to him. Leaving the towel in place he skipped down to her uncovered thighs. The dove scent being easily detectable. Getting on his knees he pulled her body closer to the edge making her shriek. He kissed the top of them causing her to shiver.

“Can I eat this pussy?” His breath touching her skin.

Leaning up on her elbows once more Amiyah nodded but Erik wanted to hear verbal confirmation. “Speak.” He demanded ready to open her legs and dive in.

“Yes daddy.” She bit her lip hiding the trembling in her voice.

Amiyah’s body shook lightly with every kiss he placed on her legs. He took both of his hands gripping her thick thighs before separating them exposing her wet bare pussy. He bit his lip inhaling her natural aroma. Amiyah was no longer watching as she laid on her back one hand already gripping his covers and the other covering her face.

Erik hooked her by the back of her knees spreading her wider. He gave her light kisses on her inner thighs getting both sides. He watched as they shook after each one. His eyes traveled to her middle finally coming face to face with her phat pussy. His mouth watered remembering the teasing taste that he had on his fingers last time. He’s been craving her pussy ever since and tonight he was going to take her for every drop.

“Hold your legs for me baby girl.”

She replaced his hands with hers and jumped when she felt his fingers spread her lower lips open. Her breath picked up as she felt the heat from his mouth get close to her aching core. Leaning up and looking down in time she watched as Erik gave her one swift lick from her hole to her clit. Her body jolted letting go of her hold on her legs.

“Don’t start that runnin shit.” He held her legs opened again this time her stringy lubricant showing when her pussy lips spread. “Damn ya shit wet as fuck.”

Erik took one hand separating her meaty lips. Using his long pointy tongue he flicked her clit a few times bringing it out of hiding. Amiyah covered her mouth moaning into her hand. The feeling of his wet tongue bringing the vocals out of her. When her nub was nice and perky he swirled his tongue over in a rotation before making a tight suction with his lips over it.

Amiyah ,not used to the feeling, clamped her thighs on his head. The involuntary whimpers left her mouth. She couldn’t stop them from coming. Sitting up she used one hand to try and push his head from between her thighs but couldn’t when Erik gripped them wrapping his arms around them.

“Erikkk...I can’t.” She moaned trying to back away.

He was going back and forth between sucking her clit and giving firm flicks. She wanted him to stop but keep going at the same time. She didn’t understand what was going on. But what alarmed her the most was when she felt her legs shake and muscle jerking from the inside. Amiyah gripped the covers searching for something to hold on to.

Erik continued his movements. Between clenched thighs he watched her make faces that she couldn’t fake. The taste of her cream coating his tongue made him almost animalistic. He wanted to ease up but he couldn’t. Bringing his hands to the back her thighs he snatched them from around his head as he pushed them all the way back. Now standing up he was bending down eating her pussy.

He paid attention to her body and noticed she would always start to jerk when he sucked her clit. So that’s what he did. Repeatedly. He was going to suck that pussy until he made it cum.

Reaching down Amiyah pushed his head into her pussy biting her lip. Tears producing in her eyes. A tight cramp feeling in her lower abdomen. Yet he kept eating her out. Her hips rocked up towards his mouth as she couldn’t explain why she still wanted it even through overstimulation.

“Daddyyy...” She whimper watching him flick her clit. Her toes curled from the feeling.

“Mhmm.” He moaned against her pussy causing a shake within her body.

“What are you doing to me?...daddy.” She whined in hush tone not caring about her towel that had started to come undone.

Erik repeated off and on sucking drove her crazy. He lifted up with a string of her wetness attached to his full lips and beard. “I’m taking care of the pussy. This what you wanted right?” He teased while sending one long slow dripping spit that landed directly on her bud.

Amiyah’s legs jerked when he went back to sucking her sensitive clit. “Mm I think I love youuu.” She threw her head back. The vibration of his laugher could be felt through her nub.

‘Got that ass!’

Erik thought as he laughed while remaining his assult on her pussy. He was ready to taste her nectar. Bringing his hands up to her tittes he pulled and twisted her nipples before flicking them with his index fingers. It took nothing but a few seconds for the double stimulation to have her pussy oozing out her juices right on to his tongue.

Her thrusting hips came to a stop as Amiyah placed her hands on Erik’s that was resting on her breast. Her stomach that was now showing caving up and down as she tried to catch her breath. Looking up at his ceiling she felt his light kisses traveling up her body stopping at her head. She felt exhausted and drained but very much relaxed.

Erik putting his nose in her hair inhaling her scent brought a hand up to her throat. He then moved his lips against her ear and spoke lowly. “You better not give my pussy up to nobody but me.”

He kissed her softly before getting up to take a shower.

____________________________________

Please excuse any mistakes!

Tag-List

@supersizemeplz @nahimjustfeelingit-writes @hearteyes-for-killmonger @curls-and-crosses @killmonger-dolan @killmongerkink @migosis @raysunshine78 @alookintohersoul @popcorn803 @just-juicee @mllover260 @kimmyblckswan2 @koriiii @tchallasbabymama @toniilaney @marvelmaree @mia-faith @adreamsublime @queen-b1 @mcdesij @vintage-pvssy @viewsfromrose @ceeverse @smuttywriter @harleycativy @callmemckenzieee @theblulife @bvssmob @everything-is-awesomesauce @xoxomyaah @19jammmy @tchallas-ikumkani-wam @suburbanblackhoe @allhailqueennel @admirehermind @themeirajay @asaanime @bellanay @skylahb @toni9 @iambabyharry @kiabialia @youlovetkay @lahuttor @kehlaniswifee @childishgambinaax @readingaddict1290 @sociallyawkward18 @iamching07 @sourbabynaee @unholyxcumbucket

[mimik-u]

Flower Child, Chapter 17: Fall

AO3 Link

i.

In defiance of every atom, of every primordial instinct that told her to run, Priyanka Maheswaran found herself in the slaughterhouse as the steel analog clock on the wall dragged her into the next minute.

5:55 PM.

But the hands of time were relentless. They kept moving, kept circling across the swath of smooth white. Seconds and seconds and seconds. Unthinking. Disinterested. Inexorable. 

Seconds and seconds and seconds.

They piled upon the altar like dry kindling. One spark, and they would smoke; they would simply burn, and the reek of charnel would suffocate her where she languished and sat in the slaughterhouse, where all dreams crumbled—embers becoming charcoaled dust.

5:56.

In approximately two hundred and forty seconds, in four minutes more, Steven Universe’s guardians would file in through the door directly across from the nephrologist. She would implore them to sit with a terse nod of her head. She would not tell them that the medical staff who worked on the Truman Ward colloquially called the conference room directly across the nurse’s station—this very room—the slaughterhouse, where doctors brought the family members of patients in and didn’t leave them unchanged when they finally came out.

I’m sorry, they would say to someone’s mother, father, sibling, lover, friend, daughter, son. 

We did all that we could, but the damage was too extensive.

We’ve tried everything, but your loved one is dead.

Your loved one is going to die.

I’m sorry, she would say.

She would adopt her best patient voice, which had only ever managed to be adequate. It wouldn’t be enough; her throat would strain against the sound, the crease between her eyes betraying that she was afraid.

They would see right through her.

I’m sorry, she would say anyway. She would plead. It would be the last defense against complete dissolution that she had.

She’d bring the cleaver down upon the smiles she’d wrought on their careworn faces only just that morning. 

It would be quick and brutal.

Barbaric even.

I’m sorry.

She had not intended to come here—not for any patient if she could help it.

Not for Steven Universe most of all.

But life was perverse, and it was so damn unkind; it knew nothing of intentions and hopes, dreams and childish wishes. It cared little for found families and fourteen-year old boys who needed kidneys.

5:57.

Priyanka sat at the head of the long table, her hands clasped in a rigid temple upon its smooth, gray surface, knuckles white from the simple exertion of clenching them. And then, as the seconds ticked by, as they smoked, as they gathered, as they burned, the room dissolved beneath her, stolen into nothingness by the snatch of a memory, an echo from a ghost who died nearly fifteen years ago…

She had possessed a beatific smile.

Her hair fell across her gowned shoulders in flowing, pink ringlets.

Rose Quartz went into labor two weeks before her due date.

It was a starless August night.

Balmy.

The world outside slept, lulled by the susurrant hush of the wind.

Though her contractions were coming steadily, Dr. Howard’s parenthetically lined mouth grew thinner each time his hawklike eyes slid towards the monitor which registered the twenty-six year old’s increasing blood pressure. She’d been admitted the week prior for severe headaches, a symptom consistent with her kidney disease, sure, but her blood tests indicated that she was hypertensive, too.

They started her on corticosteroids to help the baby’s still-developing lungs.

Dr. Howard took Priyanka off of all her other cases.

Made it her priority to stick to Room 11078 and to page him immediately if Rose’s blood pressure spiked to 140/90 mm/Hg.

“Because we’ll have to deliver the baby right then and there,” he stressed gravely,“if we want any chance of saving them both.”

He was talking obliquely about preeclampsia, a birth condition which began with high blood pressure and often ended with damage to the livers or kidneys.

And Rose Quartz’s kidneys were already shit, so there was that, and here was yet another sordid item to add to the ever growing list of what was wrong with the poor woman’s body.

Garnet, Amethyst, and Pearl had all gone back to the hotel room for the night—against their wills, protesting—but Rose had made them, had told them to go on ahead, to get some sleep. She would see them in the morning. She loved them.

Goodnight.

And Greg was in the hallway, making a call to an insurance provider, which left Priyanka alone with Rose, who was propped up against two pillows on her hospital bed, palming her stomach protectively as she idly watched whatever was playing on TV—some offbeat sitcom or another. Frankly, Priyanka neither knew nor care. Scrunched up in one of the hardback chairs off to the left of Rose’s bed, she scratched harsh notes on her chart for the want of something to do.

To combat the growing feeling clambering up the rungs of her constricted throat.

To drown out the laugh track.

Those nameless people, that detached crowd, they laughed and laughed and laughed.

She couldn’t see what was so fucking funny, and she intimated as much without ever realizing it, scoffing just as her pen decided to run out of ink.

(It wasn’t really about the pen.)

“You seem exhausted, Priyanka,” Rose Quartz said softly, and it was with a jolt that the resident realized that she had been caught out.

Discovered.

Seen.

She flushed as she felt rather than saw that familiar, dark eyed gaze settle upon her gently—like a blanket, warm and encompassing. She stared obstinately at her clipboard, trying to will her own scribbles to make sense in a world that had currently lost its ever loving mind.

“I’ve been working overtime all week,” she said shortly, shifting uncomfortably in her chair. The wooden armrest pressed stiffly against her back, an unwelcome hand upon her spine. “Of course I’m exhausted.”

“Then you should go home. Get some rest.”

“Dr. Howard assigned me to your case again.

“Excuses, excuses,” Rose clucked, teasing, fond, amused. “He can’t make you work overtime.”

Priyanka was simply furious with herself. 

With a final click of her useless pen, she replaced it in the lapel of her scrubs and finally met her patient’s gaze with a steeliness that she hoped would wound, cut, eviscerate.

But nothing, not even the possibility of her imminent death, seemed to faze the woman, who stared at her evenly, with all the air of someone waiting patiently to explain the turn of the seasons to a child who wondered where the leaves had all gone.

Change was inevitable.

Winter became spring became summer became fall.

I want to leave them with roots, Priyanka, she’d explained in that tiny examination room, so many months ago. She’d taken the resident’s hand and intertwined it with her own. A faint floral scent wreathed her hair. Strawberries, maybe. Wild and sweet. I want them to have the chance to grow…

“It isn’t looking too good, is it?” Rose asked, her voice so casual that they could have merely been discussing a chapter from a really sad book. 

And the princess didn’t get to live happily ever after. And the evil forces prevailed in the end. And Rose Quartz’s body was rapidly shutting down. And there was nothing they could do about it, or more accurately still, they were doing everything.

And nothing was entirely working.

Priyanka’s dark eyes flitted to the number she had just recently scrawled on her chart in stuttering ink.

132/90 mm/Hg.

“No,” she said flatly. She felt no need to sugarcoat a bush that was already burning. Her fingers were cold where they gripped the flat of her clipboard. Her entire chest ached. “Your blood pressure is too high. The antihypertensives aren’t working.”

“Oh, well… I figured,” Rose sighed softly, still rubbing her swollen belly. Her forehead was beaded with sweat, curly tendrils of pink hair clinging softly, like gossamer, to her pale temples. “That explains the headaches, doesn’t it?”

Priyanka stared at Rose Quartz incredulously.

Gaped at her wildly.

Like she’d never properly seen before.

(She’d seen her so many times in the past couple of months, flitting in and out of the hospital, Dr. Howard’s office, and then the hospital all over again; she’d done what she swore she would never do with a patient; she became attached; she cared; it would be her own undoing.)

“Of course it does,” she snapped. She didn’t care that she was breaking a hell of a lot of rules, all the studied lines of decorum. She slammed her clipboard onto her lap and couldn't bring herself to bring a shit that it produced such a violent sound. She wanted to shake this woman, wanted to break the calm in her face, wanted her to register the simple fact that she could very well die. “If you’re still suffering from headaches, then, of course , it means the medicines aren’t working. It’s common sense, Rose. Mere logic.”

Her shoulders heaved as though she had only just ran a marathon.

And Rose’s smile—that beatific, perfect, clandestine smile—slid, like melting ice, from her mouth.

Finally, Priyanka thought savagely, and she hated herself for it.

Guilt assaulted her, a new lump in her constricted throat.

“I’m sorry,” she said abruptly, dull color bruising her sharply drawn cheeks. “I shouldn’t have said that. I’m just… I’m—”

“No, Priyanka.” Rose brought one of her hands from the top of her belly, raising it firmly against the resident’s stammered apologies. If she was injured—if she was hurting—she didn’t very well show it, her expression as impenetrably smooth as the silver face of the moon. “Please don’t say sorry… not if you don’t mean it. You only said what you’ve been thinking, what all my loved ones have been thinking, really… what an entire fool I am.”

Her soft, brown eyes briefly flicked to the multiple IVs stemming from her lifted hand. The tubes swirled all around her arm, spiraling towards a multitude of brightly flickering machines.

“Crazy,” she laughed humorlessly, the sound without familiar melody. “Throwing my life away…”

A little less than nine months had elapsed since she had first announced her pregnancy, and now there was a grayness to her once milk white skin.

A lethargy behind that calm face.

The passion, the vivaciousness, the youth all gone. 

Priyanka was scarcely two years older than her.

“Priyanka,” she whispered, the name somber in the movement of that once perpetually smiling mouth, “would you believe me if I said that this ”—she gestured feebly at the hospital bed, at the medical apparatus all around her—“isn’t living? Would you understand if I told you that this isn’t who I am on the inside—all these needles and lines and medicines and awful machines?”

Without waiting for an answer, not seemingly needing one, Rose gently replaced her hand on her stomach, her palm tenderly cupping its curve.

“I know what living is, sweet Priyanka,” she continued, closing her dark eyes against some invisible memory, “and this isn’t it…  this isn’t all those days I’ve stood in endless protest for a cause that I so desperately believe in. This isn’t being able to play volleyball on the beach with my loved ones, watching Amethyst and Garnet and Pearl and Greg laugh in the sand. This isn’t the fish fries we’ve hosted, nor the long nights spent planning demonstrations on the deck. This isn’t the thrill of falling in love with so many people. Meeting Pearl. Coming to understand the strange cosmos of Greg Universe. Choosing to have this child with him. Choosing this path which may very well end in my own destruction… because this , Priyanka Maheswaran, from the moment I was first diagnosed at sixteen years old, was already my destruction. And I simply have been borrowing moments of living in the full acknowledgment of that terrible truth.”

Rose did not falter.

So strong, even to the last, she did not break.

But maybe, just maybe, she cracked… just a little, just enough so that Priyanka could see.

A single tear escaped the confines of her closed eyes, slowly slipping down her cheek and into the slightly rumpled collar of her paisley-studded gown.

“So would you believe me, Priyanka?” She asked again. 

She begged.

She pleaded.

“Please?”

She was asking a lot of the twenty-eight year old, to whom belief had never come easily. Priyanka was constantly interrogating her own values, checking and double checking them against rationality to ensure that they fit the meticulous schema she had constructed of the empirically observable world.

But just as there was no rationality in a twenty-six year old dying, there was no logicality in belief.

There was only a leap of faith, fingers crossed that she wouldn’t fall into the abyss.

Landing was not a guarantee.

And that was what so unfathomable to her, so cruel and so disgusting.

But what more could Priyanka say? What facts and statistics could she throw in this dying woman’s face to make her see reason that wasn’t exactly there.

The answer was nothing.

Perhaps it had always been nothing.

This student of science had no more protestations.

And in the absence of protestation, all that was left was a single choice: to jump or not to jump.

It was simple, really.

It was so damn hard.

Rose Quartz finally opened her eyes then. They were bright with her tears, and yet, simultaneously, the sheer darkness of them gripped Priyanka like the hands of a drowning sailor. The screen on the wall which measured her blood pressure had incrementally risen since they had started talking.

134/90 mm/Hg.

There was no time to waste anymore.

To pretend like they had ever possessed.

“What…” Priyanka began, her own voice hoarse, tight, strained, on the very verge of the precipice it hesitated to leap.“… what do you need me to do? Name it, and I’ll… I can’t promise anything… but I’ll try. ”

The word felt paltry, insufficient.

Trying was not an assurance, just as landing was not a guarantee.

“I’ll do what I can.”

Rose’s face simply collapsed, tears falling down both sides of her cheeks in gentle lines.

“Thank you, Priyanka,” she whispered, relief in every word, redolent in all the syllables of her spoken name.

But Priyanka did not want gratitude; she wanted an answer, something solid to latch onto, a promise she could keep.

“What you need, Rose?” She asked again, shifting her gaze her away. Her voice was abrupt—it was always abrupt—but somehow, it was not entirely unkind. “Tell me.”

The woman’s answer was immediate, unflinching; she had been obviously been thinking about it for a very long time.

It was the answer she probably would have proffered to anyone who asked.

Who took the time to wonder what exactly it was that Rose Quartz wanted.

What she needed.

What she had kept so carefully concealed behind that calm veneer of a facade.

“Take care of my baby for me, please,” she whispered. “Be their advocate when Dr. Howard and Greg will be mine… I’ll have so many people in the delivery room. I’ll have so many people rooting for me outside of it, too… but, my baby, Priyanka… I need someone in their corner, too… to root for them… to be their voice… please..."

All things considered, it was a pretty damn unreasonable request.

If Rose had to have a c-section, then Dr. Howard would need Priyanka’s steady hands to hold a clamp or provide suction; in the battlefield of surgery, her only allegiance was to the brusque orders that the old man barked to her behind his mask. The obstetrician would handle the delivery. Their own resident would whisk the baby away to the NICU.

And she and Dr. Howard would try to save Rose’s life.

That was Priyanka’s calling.

Her solemn oath.

Her duty.

But...

.... Unreasonable though it was—and it most certainly was so—Priyanka reasoned that it was likely not unkeepable. 

She could help keep an eye on the baby’s heart monitor.

She could even lend a hand in the delivery procedure if Dr. Howard didn’t need her.

She could try, dammit.

She could at least promise that.

“You have my word,” she returned tersely, dark eyes still averted. She played a little with her hands on top of her clipboard, twining and untwining them, as Rose seemingly sank back against her pillows, sighing softly.

“Thank you,” she murmured.

“Don’t thank me until it’s over—I haven’t done anything yet.”

“You heard me out,” Rose replied evenly. “That’s something.”

“No,” the resident heard herself say aloud. “It isn’t.”

The hands on the clock veered into 6:00 with all the bluntness of a collision and none of its explosiveness.

The door opened.

That was mundane enough.

And Amethyst and Pearl came in first, laughing about something that Garnet had apparently said.

And Greg followed, chuckling, lightly scratching his stomach.

And Garnet made up the rear, grinning, pleased with herself.

Oblivious.

They were all so happy, this extraordinary group of ordinary people—they had no idea where they were or what it all meant or what was about to happen to the smiles on their tired faces.

And Priyanka did not have time to recover her own face, to arrange it into some manner of professional acceptability, her mouth half-open, hands rigid upon the table.

And Amethyst caught her out first.

Because she was smart like that, perceptive.

And the mirth drained from her brown eyes as she perceived the nephrologist’s expression in the semidarkness of the room.

And the two women stared each other across its length.

They called this place the slaughterhouse.

“No,” she simply said. She croaked it. Panic violated the smooth youthfulness of her face, tearing it all asunder. “No, Doc.”

“I’m sorry,” Priyanka Maheswaran whispered. 

It wasn’t enough.

It had never been enough.

Garnet only stared at her, disbelieving. 

Her mouth hadn’t quite untwisted itself out of the ghost of its last smile.

“I am so, so sorry.”

She said it again anyway, though, like it counted for something, like it meant anything, as tears began to flow down Pearl’s cheeks.

Greg Universe made a sound that was half-horror, half-agony, bracing his hands against the back of a metal chair to steady himself against the blow.

ii.

A doctor, a washed up rockstar, and three Crystal Gems walked out of a conference room.

And the joke, the cruel punchline, was that the boy they all loved wasn’t going to get the kidneys he so desperately needed; he was going to go back on the list, which had always been more of a desperate gamble than a guarantee; he was going to degrade in that hospital bed for however many days, weeks, and months he had more.

Dr. Maheswaran didn’t think he had a year.

She was blunt about it. 

Professional.

But her eyes gave her away, the lines beneath them, the consumptive shadows.

(Mere hours ago, her face had been transformed by the simple action of a smile.)

There were no comforting words, nor bracing gestures between the coterie of broken people who limped their way back to Room 11037—injured, defeated, the wounds glistening across their bruised eyes, their shivering mouths. Greg took the lead, the rubber of his sandals snapping harshly against the tiled floor with each step, every guttural, convulsive movement. 

They silently decided that he should be the one to actually commit the words aloud, knew that it was for the best. He could be soft where Dr. Maheswaran was brutal. Comprehensive when Garnet couldn’t muster words. Sage when Amethyst’s youthful clumsiness sometimes made it difficult to find the right words. 

And he could hold it together long enough to actually say it.

Trailing behind him, pale fingers gripping the fabric of her sweater, Pearl’s horror took the form of sniffling that couldn’t quite be concealed. She was holding herself together—the news had cleaved her apart—and he wondered again, not for the first time since Steven’s diagnosis, whether or not she had been right all those years ago, when she had told him quite plainly, in that incisively logical way of hers, that she was better for Rose.

They’d come a long way since then.

They grudgingly tolerated each other now.

They coparented the best that they could.

Sometimes, he thought that they were even friends, sharing beers together on dusk lit balconies and spending so many sleepless nights side by side at the kitchen table, poring over bills and medicines and more bills because the bills, above all, were endless. 

And perhaps in the end, he and Pearl were even family in the way that they loudly and silently and entirely loved the same dying boy.

(That was how they had loved the same woman, too.)

But still, maybe she had had a point.

Pearl always tended to have a point...

The hallway was painfully short; Room 11037 arrived far quicker than any of them had ever anticipated.

His breath coming in hitched gasps, chest seized with a sudden tightening, Greg palmed the wood of the door, splaying his shaking fingers against its smooth grains as though to steady himself against an impossible reckoning. He was minutes away, possibly seconds, from breaking his own son’s heart, and that was on him.

Hell, all failures when it came to his son’s happiness were on him.

He was the kid’s dad.

He was supposed to protect Steven, shelter him, keep him safe from every quantifiable danger that he could.

And here he was, about to deliver another slap to his face and call it kindness.

The contradiction was not lost upon him.

The unfairness of it all stung.

It stung his eyes, and it stung his heart, and it stung all over, simply undid the man. He was a pincushion falling apart in all the places where he had been needled over and over again.

But he felt a hand on the small of his back then—gentle, kind.

He expected it to be Garnet or maybe even Amethyst; that had always been their sort of thing.

But when he looked back behind him, his mouth half-formed in an empty, perfunctory thanks, he saw that it was Pearl, her big, blue eyes still edged with the remnants of her tears.

Her sweater, neatly pressed, seemed to swallow her entirely.

She stood perfectly within the lines of one of the tiles on the floor, feet poised like a ballerina’s. Rose had once told him that she’d been trained to dance—once so disciplined in the art that she could stand upon the tips of her toes for as many minutes as her tutors required. 

Even when she was devastated.

Even when she was hurt.

“How… how do I do this?” Greg asked before he could stop himself. The words tumbled out of his mouth in an ungainly rush. “How do I… how can I… I mean… he’s just a boy… a kid, and I—“

And I don’t want to do this, Pearl.

I don’t want to see him go through this.

Pearl swiped delicately at her nose, and she swiped at her leaking eyes, but the carnage still remained. It was unlikely to disappear for a very long time. She wrung her slender fingers together and twisted them apart. She congregated them in a prim temple just above her stomach. She eventually let them fall to her sides. She glanced down. She failed to look back up.

Shoulders shivering.

Feet still in first position.

“I… I don’t think there’s any right way to do this,” she finally said. “Not really… but I—we’re behind you, Greg.”

“Yeah,” Amethyst agreed.

Garnet nodded her silent assent.

“We’re… always behind you.”

The weight of these words, the implicit meaning behind them, was not lost on Greg. He immediately understood how much it must have cost her to say such a thing to him, and yet, he simultaneously knew that she must have meant it—for Pearl rarely ever said things that she didn't mean.

She gave silent treatments, and she evaded tough emotional conversations with all the agility of a dancer; she shot people glares that she thought to be discrete from the corners of her eyes; she kept secrets to herself, kept them tucked away in the same places where she had invisible shrines to the woman they both loved.

But she rarely lied.

Or maybe, more accurately, she wouldn't lie now.

And so, choked, overwhelmed, grateful, he could only muster something like a vague sound of gratitude in the back of his throat that he thought she equally understood because she nodded at him primly.

And then, he turned to face the door again, palming the brass handle.

On the other side, he heard a snatch of laughter.

Steven.

Assuredly.

Perhaps he was watching one of his favorite shows, laughing at something a character had said.

Greg twisted his hand downwards and pushed lightly upon the door.

iii.

The door opened upon a scene that Yellow Diamond had always intended to flee before she could be caught out, but one anecdote led to another, and before she knew it, Steven Universe had started telling her about how he’d met Blue at the cemetery where their dead daughter lay. And the conjured image of her bathrobed wife, holding a hibiscus aloft in her gently curving palm, plucked an dusty chord in her chest. 

So this was the flower that had been on the nightstand for a couple of nights now.

This was the story of a boy and a woman and a cemetery and a handful—a lifetime, really—of aching, miserable griefs.

“She told me that she married you so her name would be a pun,” Steven had said, grinning mischievously.

“Something to that effect,” Yellow dryly returned.

And he pressed for more stories, more memories, more chords inside her chest. How did she meet Blue? When did they fall in love? Who proposed?

He asked so many questions, his brown eyes alight with curiosity, that she was reminded so much of Pink that it almost hurt to even look at him. But, just as she had done with her daughter, she sighingly indulged him, groaning and moaning and making it out as thought she was doing him a massive favor by relenting. And he only smiled at her teasingly—like he was in on the secret.

It was the other way around.

She was the one at his mercy.

And so she told him the story of the princess and the knight in less than fantastical terms, laying out the bare bones of her and Blue’s first meeting with a halting voice as the memories slowly came flooding back: Blue Montgomery’s sweeping ball gown, the spidery chandeliers, the waiters swerving in and out of the crowd bearing silver trays loaded with champagne, her ridiculously dramatic mother waltzing through the ballroom with all the radiance of a sun. 

God, how many decades ago was that now?

Years and years and years.

“Our daughter used to love this damn story,” Yellow murmured at the end, briefly flicking her eyes downwards. “We told it so many different times to her that she could repeat it word for word.”

“It’s a very good story,” Steven returned, laughing. “Did you really think about punching that guy?”

“Fleetingly, yes,” she almost smiled, “but—”

But then the door opened so abruptly, bringing reality back in with what appeared to be a collection of harried looking people. The businesswoman’s head sharply cocked towards the far side of the room to greet an assemblage of expressions that she was surprised to find in total strangers: anger and disgust.

Complete and total loathing.

Damn, at least buy me a drink first.

“You!” A slight woman in a sweater hissed furiously.

“Uh-oh,” Steven Universe said, shrinking slightly beneath his covers. “Uh-oh, uh-oh, uh-oh...”

But Yellow Diamond wasn’t listening to him anymore, instinctive indignation rising to her aid and defense as she stood up from her chair and mustered as haughty of an expression she could for a woman wearing silk pajamas.

“Excuse me?” She asked venomously, crossing her arms over her chest. “And you are?”

“Pearl…” The balding man standing next to the sweater-wearing accoster tried to plea, placing a big hand on her much smaller shoulder. “Maybe we shouldn’t… uh—?”

“No,” The woman named Pearl snarled, jerking her arm away from him. Yellow could see that her pale eyes were bright with tears, which seemed like an overreaction if she had ever witnessed one. She didn’t know these people from Jack, Jill, or Harry on the sidewalk! “I want to know what she’s doing here! She has no business—“

“Pearl, wait!” Steven tried to interject, jerking upwards from his pillows. “It’s okay! She just wanted to vis—“

But his voice got lost in the shuffle as the taller woman behind Pearl suddenly stepped forward, her powerfully muscled arms clenched into fists by her sides. There was an indefinable air of authority about her that Yellow only recognized because she, too, possessed it. Her bicolored glare was a weapon in and of itself; the harsh florescence of the overheads glinted off the sunglasses folded neatly across the collar of her sweatshirt.

“Leave,” the woman said. “You’re not welcome here.”

“Garnet! No! She wasn’t doing anything wro—“

“Well, frankly,” Yellow shot back before Steven could complete his thought, “I’d perfectly well surmised that without your help. But forgive me if I’m having trouble piecing together the context behind this unwarranted rudeness.”

“You know what you’ve done,” Garnet growled.

“No!” The blood inside her head churned, simply boiled. She had never known when to leave well enough alone. “I damn well don’t!”

“1999—Diamond Electric vs. Hutchings,” Pearl began to tick off names on her fingertips. “2005—Diamond Electric vs. Davis. 2011—Diamond Electric vs. Bach. Are these names ringing a bell? Unsafe factory conditions! Unconstitutional wage gaps! Leaking waste reservoirs!”

“All settled in court!” Yellow returned with a cruel laugh that she did not remotely feel, raking her cold eyes over each and very one of her newfound opponents in turn. It had always been her against the world for as long as she could remember—she the trapped lioness cornered by the angry mob. (But the mob always tended to forget one crucial fact about exchanges between lions and men. Lions had claws and sharp, gleaming teeth; she would devour them and gnaw on their bones for sport.) “What are you all? Lawyers? Reporters? Protestors? Please, spare no sordid detail as to why I’m being read case names for events that happened long ago.”

“Yellow Diamond, please—” Steven’s voice was tiny by her side; she could not hear him; or perhaps, she didn’t want to hear him.

She wanted to fight.

“We’re, like, the Crystal Gems,” the smallest woman to Garnet’s left said emphatically. Her lavender bangs fell over one of her eyes, but she blew them back with a small puff of air.

“Never heard of you,” Yellow replied flippantly and untruthfully.

Because she had heard of them—several times, in fact. 

They were some small activist group that had always been a vaguely minor nuisance at her side—especially a few years ago—but they’d never done anything more than force her lawyers to spend some time haggling in appeals courts. 

A waste of time and money for everyone, really.

“Never heard of us?” Pearl spluttered wildly, her complexion whitening. “Never heard of—“

“Enough, you all!” The doctor who had been at the back of the group finally seemed to have found her tongue, and a pretty harsh tongue it was because her exasperated voice clearly cut through the melee. “We’re in a hospital for goodness’s—”

But the doctor was drowned out, too, lost in the onslaught of noise suddenly coming from one of the monitors above Steven’s bed—a shrill beeping noise that put an effective end to all the squabbling. The neon green line measuring his heart rate was spiking in short peaks, the numbers climbing, climbing, climbing… and beneath it all, clutching his chest, Steven was struggling to breathe, gulping in shallow bursts of air, his skin paling. Sweat beaded at his pale templed, hid eyes wide with fear.

“STEVEN! Steven!” So many voices yelled his name; it was all a jumble, a blur, a dissonant symphony.

The white coated doctor shoved past Yellow unceremoniously, nearly knocking her to the ground in her haste to get to her patient’s side. She pulled an oxygen mask down from one of the receptacles behind the bed, placing it over Steven’s mouth and nose.

“Breathe, Steven!” She commanded, her voice tight with obvious strain. The man and the woman named Pearl scrabbled over to the child’s bedside. Tears streaming down his ruddy face and into his beard, the man placed an arm around Steven’s back, steadying him. Pearl clasped one of his hands, her shoulders shaking violently.

“In and out,” the doctor continued. “Breathe. One… two… three.  That’s it, honey. There you go…”

As Steven’s breathing evened out, the monitor’s beeping died down, nearly becoming regulated once more. Exhausted, overwhelmed, so quickly undone, the boy slumped against the man who was holding him, closing his eyes heavily as the doctor took the opportunity to more securely fasten the oxygenated mask around his face.

But what happened next, if anything happened at all, Yellow Diamond did not stay to find out.

Violently tearing her gaze away, the woman turned around and did what she should have done the moment she made the poor decision to come into this room in the first place.

Shoving past the remaining Crystal Gems, uncaring that she knocked Garnet in the shoulder, Yellow limped away as fast as her sore leg would allow her to go, nausea rushing up the column of her throat, her cheeks burning with shame.

What a pathetic creature she was.

A monster.

A lioness among men.

(The lioness always tended to forget one crucial fact about exchanges between lions and men. Lions had claws and sharp, gleaming teeth; she would end up destroying the people she cared about, too.)

iv.

Pearl only had eyes for one person in the entire world, and his name was Steven Universe. Both in the absence of Rose and in the lingering presence of her, he was the center of her universe, the sun which she orbited day after day after varied, sundry day. Weak, pale, cold, he shivered in his father’s arms, barely able to keep his eyes open as his heartbeat continued to regulate itself after that latest episode.

“Acute stress arrhythmia,” she heard Priyanka explain behind her. The nephrologist had her back turned to them as she read numbers on a nearby computer monitor. 

She didn’t elaborate.

She didn’t need to.

Everybody in the room knew exactly who was to blame for his acute stress.

Shame colored them all; shame welled up in the corners of Pearl’s eyes as she continued to hold on to Steven’s hand.

Garnet collapsed into the chair that Yellow Diamond had just vacated, placing both of her hands over her eyes.

What children they had been.

What fools.

Pearl closed her own eyes in a useless attempt to stem the tears that were flowing freely now, unable to hold them back any longer. Shame wrapped a hand around her insides and squeezed. 

Steven was… he was—oh, God, the word was too unbearable to even think, much less say aloud—and here they all were—fighting with someone who would never see reason.

How stupid.

How pathetic.

“Steven, wait, honey. You need to put that mask back—” But Priyanka’s soft admonition was apparently ignored; Pearl looked up just in time to see Steven feebly lifting the oxygen mask from his face, dropping it just below his mouth. Each movement looked like it took something from him; he couldn’t even lift his head from Greg’s chest.

So he stared straight at her.

Directly into her eyes.

He had his mother’s eyes.

Her dark and lovely eyes.

“S-she…” She had to lean forward to hear him, for his voice was barely a whisper, an echo, a ghost. “…she really wasn’t being mean.”

“Shh, Shtu-ball. We know,” Greg tried hoarsely, pressing a kiss into his son’s mass of curly hair. “Save up your strength…”

“Steven,” Pearl pleaded, barely able to discern him through her tears. She refused to let go of his hand; it wasn't as much for his sake as she would have liked to kid herself to believe.  “I’m so, so sorry. We shouldn’t have squabbled with her like that. We just weren’t… I mean… I wasn’t… I was stressed—I-I wasn’t thinking.”

“Stressed?” Again, his voice was so small that it struggled to be heard over the hissing of the various machines he was hooked up to, and the fact of it nearly undid her right then and there. Salt coated her lips. It lacquered her tongue. “Why… why were you stressed?”

No.

No.

It wasn’t supposed to be like this... the news wasn’t supposed to come from her. It was supposed to be Greg’s job to do this; he was the one who was good at emotions; he was the one who knew how to have these sorts of conversations without completely dissolving into nothingness and rubble.

(He was the better person.)

(The one who Rose chose.)

Pearl could yell at a tyrannical businesswoman for longer than she could hold herself together in front of Steven; she could protest wars; she could hold demonstrations; she could plan fish fries; she could keep herself together on a day to day basis, bound by Scotch tape and glue.

But for him?

For Steven Universe?

Her eyes refilled with fresh tears, and she finally withdrew her hand from his, placing it over her mouth in the quietest sign of her incapacity.

Useless.

Pathetic.

Childish.

Fool.

“Oh,” Steven only rasped, understanding immediately. He was so smart like that; he never missed a beat. “The… the kidneys fell through, didn’t they?”

“I’m so sorry, kiddo,” Greg said, wrapping his arms more tightly around Steven as gently as he could manage as Priyanka took the opportunity to replace the mask over his nose and mouth.

“The kidneys were damaged during the donor’s accident,” she explained dully, “and we couldn’t detect it until we were already in surgery… I’m sorry, Steven. I am.”

But Steven never took his eyes off Pearl, those dark and lovely eyes. 

They were wounded eyes.

Bruised eyes.

Goddamn exhausted eyes.

"I'm sorry, Steven," she whispered. "I am so, so sorry."

The mask prevented him from speaking.

In place of his reply, there was only the steady hiss of oxygen and the dark-cloaked presence of grief, the seventh person in an already crowded room. They sat on the edge of Steven’s bed, simply taking up precious air.

Pearl couldn’t breathe.

I'm sorry.

I'm sorry.

v.

Night descended upon the sky like a heavy curtain, unfurling its black velvet across the horizon with dark finality, the punctuation unmistakable. Sitting atop of the bulky air conditioning unit that stretched the length of the hotel room’s window, Amethyst gazed emptily at the spectacle, knees pulled up to her chest, her still-damp hair pulled over one of her shoulders. If she was back at home, there would be a roof to clamber onto and a vast canvas of stars to behold… but here, there were only skyscrapers that stretched their supplicatory hands upwards to an unhearing god. Here, there were stars made out of lit windows. Here, there was that familiar feeling of suffocation, of being cloistered in...

Cornered.

And unlike in a good alley fight, putting up her fists wouldn’t solve a damn thing.

Three hours had passed since they’d nearly given Steven a heart attack and then told him that he wasn’t going to get those stupid fucking kidneys. And still, the scene haunted her mind’s eye in the absence of anything else to think about, to obsess over, to grieve. When they had all left for the evening—Greg the only one staying behind for the night—he couldn’t even muster enough energy to tell them goodnight, simply blinking at them from over the top of his oxygenated mask before closing his eyes.

Merely twelve hours ago, they’d all been sickeningly happy because they had thought that the nightmare was over… but that sensation had long passed, a relic of time immemorial now.

Now, there was only darkness.

A feeling of falling.

The ground giving way beneath their feet.

Now, there was only Dr. M’s only consolation that wasn’t really a consolation at all.

He’s at the top of the list now.

The door opened and gently closed behind her. Amethyst swung her head around just in time to see Garnet come in, a towel slung around her corded neck, her white tank top damp with sweat. She’d gone to the hotel’s gym to obviously treadmill away from her feelings, which was a way more productive solution than Amethyst’s choice coping mechanism. She raised her half-empty bottle of wine in greeting—reckless, loose—accidentally sloshing a little over the top of the rim.

“Hey.”

“Where’s Pearl?” Garnet studiously avoided her gaze as she lowered herself to the carpeted ground, leaning against the wall. Her shoulders hunched forward, elbows braced on top of her knees, she almost looked like some kinda statue—still, beautiful, tragic.

“Tryin’ to drown herself in the shower, I think,” Amethyst shrugged before taking another hearty swig of Moscato. The tangy notes stung her tongue. “She’s been in there for an hour now, so you might not have hot water later.”

The gym trainer shrugged noncommittally as though this was all the same to her. 

And the two of them simply listened to the hissing of the water beyond the thin door to Garnet’s left for a handful of seconds; the serpentine sounds lashed the ground. Lashed their skin. Their ears. Their chests.

Amethyst sniffed and took yet another drag of wine.

There was nothing else better to do...

... but the silence was unbearable now that it was optional.

She turned her bottle upside down again.

Liquid courage.

“I met the old lady, y’know,” she said softly, her consonants a little rushed around their edges, a little tipsy, a little unsure. “Blue Diamond. It was… yesterday, I think? Hell, I think it was yesterday. God, I don’t even know at this point. But she was in the lobby, waitin’ for her valet to pick her up…”

Garnet didn’t say anything, didn’t even look up at her, but Amethyst knew she was listening from the way that every line in her body was rigid with attention.

“She’s kinda snooty, I think. Kinda looks like she’s got a stick up her ass… but she’s got a good heart, I guess. She cares about Steven…” Amethyst remembered the way her accented voice broke when she spoke of him, all of the syllables collapsing upon themselves in the throes of her gentle tongue. And she remembered the woman’s eyes, how startlingly blue they were, haunted underneath by the ravages of grief and time. 

“A lot,” she added. “That surprised me.”

“I… I shouldn’t have let Yellow Diamond get to me like that,” Garnet said, reaching up and gingerly holding her head. “I know. I know.”

“No, that’s not what I’m sayin’, G,” Amethyst immediately and fiercely returned, shaking her own head. “I mean, it’s kinda what I’m sayin’, but we all got caught up in her. She got under all of our skins. I’m just, I dunno, I’m trying to—“

But she broke off then, ripping her gaze away from her roommate and back towards the window.

To the darkness.

The absence of stars.

She raised the bottle to her lips once more but stopped short of taking another swill; the sickly sweet perfume nearly gagged her.

“It’s just… it’s difficult,” she continued, setting the drink down between her knees. “That’s all I’m sayin’. God knows why, but he likes the Diamonds, and the Diamonds like him… and we shouldn’t… I mean, we should try our best not to shit on him for that because—“

But Amethyst stopped short again as the natural end to that sentence reared its head off the floor of her stomach, striking just where it hurt.

Sick, ashamed, inconsolable, she covered her eyes with both of her hands.

“Because we love him,” Garnet proffered, her voice quiet, almost inaudible over the noises coming from the shower, “and we want him to be happy.”

That wasn't the end of the sentence.

That wasn't what they had both been thinking anyway.

“Yeah,” she croaked gratefully, wiping roughly at her eyes. “Yeah.”

They resumed their silent vigil together then, mostly because it kept them from commenting upon the fact that it wasn’t just the water they were hearing behind that thin bathroom door.

Garnet reached upwards and grabbed the remote from the edge of the nearest bed, turning the volume up on some stupid sitcom to drown it out.

The water.

The weeping.

And the weeping and the weeping and the weeping.

vi.

Blue Diamond had been on the balcony for hours now, long enough for the sky to bruise from peach to blue to purple, long enough to see the first stars ascend to their storied mounts, glimmering down upon the world in silvery, distant specks. 

Long enough that the tear tracks riveting down her cheeks had dried upon her long face in stiff lines.

Long enough that she wondered passively to herself if she had been here forever, a statue carved out of flesh and bone and misery and blood.

Long enough to reflect upon the fact that she wasn't referring to the balcony... but to something more abstract.

Metaphorical.

A state.

A cycle.

A condition of perpetual mourning.

Her phone laid facedown on the tiny table between her chair and Yellow’s empty one.

The last text she had received had been from Steven Universe.

It wasn’t even a sentence. 

Just a fragment.

No exclamation points, no abundant elaboration, no joy.

Tuesday, 7:09 PM:

Steven: kidneys fell through

Blue had seen the boy just this morning—dropping by after she had left Yellow’s room—and she could remember, quite distinctly, how radiant his face had been, utterly metamorphosed by its own happiness. 

She’d been drawn in by it, magnetized. 

Oh, how the two of them laughed and smiled and played. 

How many years had it been since she had last played?

It was before Pink died assuredly.

But even then, the details were murky to her; she’d been so wrapped up in her school, that she had forgot what it was to be twenty-one, and that twenty-one year olds were still children in a way, that they loved to have fun.

She’d been so strict with her sometimes.

Forbidding.

Cold.

(Her own mother would have been proud.)

But she and Steven Universe? They played, and they played, imagining all the things that Steven was going to do once he had recovered from the transplant surgery. Some of these plans were simply extraordinary in nature. He was going to run all day just because he would finally feel like it. He was going to make a massive sandcastle on the beach with all of his friends. It would be palatial, obviously, so they could live in it together, making seashell necklaces and seaweed crowns. He was going to eat all the donuts that he wanted—his diet had been so restricted since he’d taken ill—and then some.

“And if I get sick,” he had said proudly, “it’ll just be a normal sick, and that’ll be perfectly okay.”

But it wasn’t the extraordinary inventions which had touched Blue, which had moved her to the quick.

Rather, it was the simple things.

The mundane ones.

He would get to go to school with all the rest of the kids his age. He could go to a theater without worrying that his symptoms might flare up during the movie's climax. He could ride a bike through his charming, little beachside town. 

He could simply be a child.

And that would be enough.

That would be perfectly okay.

“And I could come over for tea and cakes on Fridays,” he teased as she had prepared to leave, running one last hand through his curly hair as she stood up from her chair. He smiled at her gently, his mouth tilting crookedly.

“Aye,” she returned warmly, returning the gesture with an almost easiness that still surprised her. “I would love that..."

But just as quickly as these fantasies had risen—entertained, explored, viscerally imagined—they had been wrenched from his hands just as immediately, and so Blue Diamond sat on her balcony for hours on end grieving for the poor boy.

But because she was selfish, because she was predictable, because she was broken, she gripped the arms on both sides of her chair, and grieved, too, for Pink Diamond.

(She was always grieving for Pink Diamond.)

Fingernails digging into the weathered wood, she thought herself a desolate fool for ever kidding herself into believing that she could go a day without being painfully aware of her daughter’s ghost.

She thought herself a masochist for inviting the same pain again in the form of Steven Universe.

She thought herself a coward for not daring to say three words to Yellow Diamond, three words that wouldn’t make everything between them right, but three words that needed to be said nevertheless.

And she couldn’t bring herself to utter them.

Not even when Yellow was in a hospital bed, covered in lacerations and bruises.

Because how could she say such a thing when she hadn’t said it in so many years upon years?

I and love and you.

And she kept thinking these things until they chased each other around her head in circles—dizzying, unceasing, senseless circles that gradually chipped away at the tentative hope she had held aloft in her chest ever since she had met Steven Universe.

Spirals and spirals and spirals.

Fool.

Masochist.

Coward.

Circles and circles and circles.

And somehow, every time, Blue Diamond concluded where she had first begun: alone in her own misery, drowning.

Fool, masochist, coward.

vii.

The walk to the parking deck that night was slow and laborious, one foot dragged after another, the styrofoam cup of shitty coffee in her hand doing little to perk her up for the long drive home. Priyanka couldn’t remember the last time she’d stayed past her shift so long, but she’d wanted to make sure that Steven remained stable… that he didn’t suddenly crash on them after such a long, hard day on his body… that she continued to try (and miserably fail) to keep Rose’s last request.

Take care of my baby for me, please…

Ever since his episode, Steven’s breath sounds had been decreased on the right side of his chest; she instructed the intern on duty for the night to keep him on a steady supply of oxygen and to page her immediately if his stats even shifted by a margin.

“Like, even a number or two?” Dr. Stephens asked, her brow furrowing.

“Yes,” she had snapped rather harshly. “Even a fraction.”

But somehow, even as Priyanka had said it, even as the poor intern had flinched, she had known to herself from the very beginning that she could quantify every little integer and it still all be for nothing.

Chronic kidney disease didn’t care about numbers.

It didn’t care about people.

“Hey! Priyanka! Wait up!"

Oh, hell and shit—she recognized that voice. 

Wincing, she tried to arrange her features into an expression that didn’t completely betray her entire disinterest with humanity before she turned to face her colleague Dr. Reed. Maisie Reed, an ER doctor, had been at Empire Regional for about a decade longer than Priyanka. 

She was a good woman and good friend, but frankly, she just didn’t know when to shut up, going off on long, rambling tales that were hard for Priyanka to weasel away from once she got rolling. 

This was vaguely annoying on most days, but tonight, the nephrologist simply wouldn't be able to bear it.

“Hello, Maisie,” she returned brusquely as the older woman caught up to her. Her curly, flyaway hair was tucked back in a messy bun, her wire-rimmed glasses perched a little crookedly on the bridge of her nose. “How are you?”

“Exhausted,” Maisie rolled her eyes. “Did you hear about my star patient?”

“I think I actually met her,” Priyanka said, resuming her brisk walk. Maybe if she made it to her sedan before Maisie started a story, she could make a narrow escape.  “She somehow made it to my patient’s room. Goodness knows for what reason. She and the patient’s family nearly got into a fistfight.”

“Ha! You're kidding! I didn’t think that part was true, but some of the nurses were saying—”

“It’s true,” she affirmed curtly, cutting across the woman. “All of it.”

They lapsed into silence then as they walked side by side on the harshly lit concrete. The nephrologist could see her tiny car near the end of the row. She pulled the key out of one of the pockets of her lab coat, clicked the unlock button, and hoped that Maisie would finally take the hint.

“I think we’re only parked a little ways from each other,” she said cheerfully, dashing all of Priyanka’s dreams.

Joy.

They continued to walk together, the heels of their shoes clicking reliably against the floor.

“I also heard… that you’ve got a bad outcome,” Maisie murmured, her voice soft, empathetic.

Pitying.

It was the pity that Priyanka hated most of all.

Her companion’s hazel eyes raked her over piercingly, like an X-Ray, and there was tenderness in her expression.

Understanding.

“I’m so sorry, honey.”

“It’s not a bad outcome yet,” she snarled, rounding upon the woman fiercely, not bothering with polite pretense anymore. Screw her. Screw everything. Screw this fucking day. “He’s still alive. He’s still got a chance. I’ve just got to find…”

“… kidneys, yes. I’ve heard,” Maisie finished gently.

Priyanka violently turned away again, increasing her pace so that she pulled ahead of the other doctor. Her entire body strained against the sudden burst of energy.

She was tired.

So fucking exhausted.

“Then don’t resign him to the grave yet, Maisie. I’m still fighting for him, dammit.”

“Yes, I know that, too… I’ve always admired that about you, dear. You never give up.”

“Yeah, well”—she didn’t exactly know what to say to that—“that’s what we do.”

“Mm, yes,” Maisie replied. “That’s what we do…”

She finally reached her sedan with no small feeling of relief, proceeding to the driver's side with the expectation that Dr. Reed would continue onwards to her little red Nissan at the end of the row, finally putting an end to this unpleasant conversation.

Infuriatingly, though, Maisie stopped, too, her eyes bright with kindness and warmth and all the other things besides that Priyanka simply couldn’t stomach at the moment.

“Yes, well, goodnight,” she said pointedly, making a motion to open the door of her car. She threw her briefcase in rather unceremoniously. It slammed against the passenger side door and fell feebly to the ground.

“What’s his blood type, Priyanka? I’ll keep an eye out for any patients that fit the description… you know what the ER is like. We get potential donors all the time.”

Yes, this was assuredly true, but Steven’s blood type being what it was, finding a donor so quickly would be a damn near miracle.

Priyanka exhaled harshly through her nose but relented anyway—anything to end this absurd conversation.

What the hell—it wouldn’t hurt.

“It’s a long shot… but O neg, so I need an O neg donor. Had any of those on your docket lately?” Her voice dripped with sarcasm.

And here was the part where Maisie’s kindly face would undoubtedly fall into dismay because of course she hadn’t seen an O neg patient in a while—only seven percent of the entire population had O negative blood, which was a startlingly rare number. So, of course, she would shake her head profusely and apologize and swear to keep her feelers out…

… but Maisie Reed didn’t exactly follow the quick script that Priyanka had constructed in her head.

In fact, her pink lips wobbled into a radiant smile.

“Honey,” she laughed, “sit down and take a sip of that damn black coffee of yours because you’re not going to believe this.”

[novantinuum]

Vulnerable (SU oneshot)

 Fandom: Steven Universe

Rating: General Audiences

Words: 700~

This is a canon-compliant short set during CYM, soon after Steven’s halves fuse back together. Steven and Connie seek each other’s comfort after their terrifying experience.

Read on AO3 (Support there with comments/kudos or here with reblogs highly appriciated!)

___

Vulnerable

Three words.

Steven almost can’t believe it. Three little words, and the intergalactic conflict he‘d been training his whole childhood to defend against was over.

“What’s your excuse?”

Any last fragment of resolve White might have had crumpled after that sass-filled retort.

Minutes later, she’s still sitting in a daze on the floor, her silver flecked irises clouded with an ample dose of bemusement and confusion as Garnet and the others fill her in on the corruption situation back on Earth. Blue and Yellow seem to be listening in as well, flanking her at each shoulder. It’s a sight probably none of the Crystal Gems ever thought to behold— rebels and diamonds, speaking peacefully side by side.

Steven sighs, his palm’s grasp instinctively tightening over the diamond in his belly. The thin layer of cotton between his calloused fingertips and the glossy surface of his gem no longer seems protective enough. He’s not sure anything will again. Absentmindedly nibbling at the inside of his cheek, he drags his knees closer to his chest, wrapping his arms around his body. His... frail, vulnerable, half-human body. Part of him really wants to join the rest of his family, to help explain to the Diamonds how they can heal all the corrupted Gems, but...

Pointed talons clutch at the edges of his gem, digging into soft flesh with a knife-like precision. He can only manage stilted, shallow gasps in the visceral shock of it all, hot, fat tears staining his cheeks as an unbearable pain blossoms from his center like a thicket of thorns that’s entombing him from the inside out. Below, Connie screams in desperation, but she may as well be a galaxy away. White gives one final tug. In but a heartbeat he feels himself unravel, and everything goes black.

...quite honestly, he feels safer sitting a healthy distance away, back against the wall. Inhaling until his lungs are filled to the brim, he allows himself exactly one last hatred-filled glare at the Gem who almost killed him before shoving all that messy, ugly emotion deep away where he’ll hopefully never have to deal with it again. Hate’s a strong feeling, and it’s definitely not what the corrupted Gems need right now. It’s not what anyone needs.

“Hey,” Connie says, and slides down the wall to sit next to him. Geeze, he’s probably never seen her with such deep eye bags before. My fault, he thinks briefly, before promptly shaking those tendrils of guilt away. No... Pink’s gone. He’s not his mom. He didn’t cause any of this. For once, what she’s stressed about isn’t his fault at all.

“Hey,” he murmurs, burying his face deeper between his knees. “I’m—“ tense fingers grip at the denim of his jeans as he tries not to think too hard about Pearl, white as ivory, Connie trapped and helpless within her hold— “I’m sorry you had to go through all that. Are you doin’ okay now?”

Her eyes widen in unquestionable bemusement.

“Steven, I’m- everyone should be asking you that!” she exclaims softly, and clutches at his shoulders. “Y-you... you almost...”

Her quivering words die out as she fails to stifle a sob. Tears budding, she throws her arms entirely around him. His body automatically stiffens in response, and for a lighting hot flash of a moment he resents himself for reacting this way when it’s just Connie, just a friend, calm down, Universe, you’re fine... you’re safe, of course she’s not going to—

“I- I really, really thought I was gonna lose you,” she blubbers into his chest, her tears staining the star over his heart. He relaxes into her hold. “You... y-you were so cold, an’, an’ so unfocused, and...”

“I thought I was gonna lose you, too,” he whispers hoarsely, holding her tight as if she might blow away at any second. “White, she... she made Pearl capture you, she could’ve done anything to you, she—“

“I’m still here,” she says, voice thick. “I’m okay. We…”

She pauses in the midst of her reassurance, either lost for words or reacting to the sudden sound of White's booming voice as she asks Garnet a question from across the room. The nightmare may be over, but the hurt...

He's not sure the hurt will ever go away.

Regardless, Connie nestles her dampened cheek against his. “We’re okay now," she promises. "I've got you."

[tranquil-space-ninja]

The Gray (Sanders' Sides)

Six: Drift Away

Tw: breakdown, cursing

"No," Remus whispered. "No, no, not again."

"Remus?" Remus turned to see Orcus staring at him and the boxes. "Janus is gone, isn't he?" Remus shook his head quickly.

"N-no, he said he'd be back. He promised--" Orcus turned and left. "No," Remus screamed. "You promised you'd be back!" He took a few deep breaths to center himself, wiping away his tears. He summoned his phone and called Logan, hands shaking. As it rang and rang, Remus covered his mouth to keep himself from crying. Then--

"Hello. You have reached Logan Sanders. I am unable to answer your call at the moment, but leave a message and I will return it as soon as I'm able." Remus laughed humorlessly as the tone sounded.

"H-hey, Lo. Janus's room moved. You probably already knew that, but.... Orcus isn't taking it that well, and I'm worried he's going to duck out again. I just wanted to let you know in case you and Virgil.... Just in case. Call me when you get this, or if you need me, or.... Whenever, j-just call me, okay?" Remus hung up and hugged his knees to his chest, rocking himself back and forth. He closed his eyes and breathed, trying to hold himself together. After a bit, he fell asleep.

He woke up to someone shaking him gently. "..emus? Remus?" He opened his eyes to see Logan standing over him, worried. "I got your call. I'm sorry I didn't answer. Patton doesn't allow phones during meals."

"'Salright," Remus mumbled. Logan gently rested his hand on his back.

"Are you doing alright? You sounded quite distraught in your message. Do you--"

Remus burst into tears. "I can't do this anymore, Logan," he sobbed. "I can't keep losing people!" He began to tremble, his breath coming out in short gasps.

"Shh, Remus, breathe," Logan said. "I'm right here, love. I'm right here." His voice was soft and loving, the way Janus, Virgil, Roman, and even Patton, once-upon-a-time, had spoken to him. It only made Remus cry harder. He curled in on himself, resting his forehead in Logan's lap with his thighs under his chest. Logan began to rub circles on Remus' back, whispering soothing words to the vounerable side.

"Why does everyone keep leaving," Remus asked when his tears finally slowed down. "Why do you all hate me so much?"

"We don't hate you," Logan murmured.

"Really? Cause years of evidence say otherwise."

"What evidence do you have to support your claim, Remus?" Remus laughed and wiped away a couple stray tears.

"Where do I start? Roman.... Roman left first. He ran off to join you guys because he thought you'd hate him if he hung out with me. And that says he'd throw me away in a heartbeat if he had to choose again. He came back last time to comfort me, but Mr. Perfect Prince can't have anyone upset with him, can he? And then, Virgil. Do or die, my best friend, besides Janus, of course. Then you all accepted him, and he just up and left, without a warning or another word. And now that he's with you guys, I'm suddenly a common cold. It's like years of laughing and daring adventures in the imagination and bugging Janus just..... Don't exist anymore. Like he wishes he never met us. And now Janus is gone, too. I did everything he wanted for months after Virgil left. I was quiet and calm and I never said or did anything normal, or, at least normal for me. It took months of him promising not to leave, months of him letting me sleep in a sleeping bag in front of his door so he couldn't sneak out, months of walking through the imagination with me while he subtlely convinced me to create new monsters and fight old ones for me to be myself again. Even my debut episode took a bit of acting on my part. The entire time, I was scared Janus was going be disgusted with me and leave, even though he's the one who suggested I go and stir things up. And now, it looks like I was right to worry. I was so, fucking right.... Why the hell couldn't I be right about anything else? Patton was grossed out by me the moment I opened my mouth. Shit, even Orcus ducked out again." Remus rolled over so he could breathe, closing his eyes so he wouldn't have to see Logan's face. He opened them out of shock when Logan's fingers relocated themselves to his hair. After a moment, he melted into the soft touch, one of the many things he missed about Janus's friendship.

"What about me," Logan asked. Soft worry, nervousness, and affection glimmered behind the cracks of his carefully neutral expression. "What makes you think I hate you?"

"A month ago, I'd say you told the others to ignore me so I'd go away. That you calmly treated me like an insignificant inconvinience to keep Thomas from taking me seriously." Guilt permeated the softness in Logan's expression, making Remus feel its itchy presence as well.

"Ah. I apologize, Remus. I was trying to do what was best for Thomas. I should have taken your feelings into consideration." Remus sighed.

"You didn't let me finish." Logan's hand left Remus's hair.

"Sorry...." Remus laced his fingers through Logan's.

"Ask me again," he whispered.

"Remus, what makes you think I hate you?" Remus smiled up at him, tears threatening to return.

"You're the only one who cares." Then Logan did something Remus never expected him to. He laughed, then began to cry and laugh at the same time. Remus sat up and tried to wipe Logan's tears away, crying again himself. Logan tried in vain to do the same for Remus and, after a couple of minutes, they stopped and just held each other tightly. They didn't move or speak until Logan's phone buzzed. He picked it up and checked it, keeping an arm around Remus.

"Patton's wondering where I am," he said.

"You should probably head back," Remus answered, leaning his face into the crook of Logan's neck. He didn't want him to leave, but he didn't want anyone to get upset with either of them.

"No," Logan said, thankfully. "They can wait. You need me more." He then silenced his phone and pushed it away from him, wrapping both arms around Remus. They stayed there for an undetermined amount of time before Remus's stomach growled. Logan frowned at him. "Haven't you eaten yet?" Remus shook his head, too tired for words. Logan stood up, still clutching Remus close to his chest. "Let's get you food, then." Logan carried Remus to the table in the kitchen and sat him down. He went through the cabinets and the fridge before grabbing a pan, some eggs and bacon, and a few slices of bread. He cooked everything methodically, like he was following a recipe in his head. Soon, Remus had a plate of eggs, toast, and bacon in front of him. And, because he was too tired for words, he pressed a light kiss to Logan's lips, a gentle, helpless thank you.

And Logan kissed back.

He smiled gently, one of the most beautiful things Remus had ever seen. "You should eat." Remus nodded and took a bite. He then inhaled the rest of the food. He felt better than he had in a long time.

"Thanks for everything, Lo." Logan caressed Remus's cheek.

"You matter, Remus." They leaned in at the same time and shared a sweet, short kiss, then another, and a third.

After that, they heard a smooth voice clear his throat behind them.

"I hope I 'am' interrupting something."

--------------------------------------------------

Taglist:

@kawaiikat54

@ninjacremepuff

[multi-fandom-imagine]

I'm Proud Of You || David Anderson ||

Summary: Those four words just kept ringing in her ears and she just wondered why her and not him.

Notes: Father Figure David Anderson x Femshepard [ light Garrus x Shep ] *Happy ending Modd for Mass Effect was in effect*

Staring out the window from the Normandy, watching the stars pass by Shepard continued to wonder why she was alive. She knew she should be dead; she should have gone down with the Citadel…when she destroyed those Reapers yet here she was alive. With a broken, burned arm leaning on a cane, the only reason why she knew she was even standing here was thanks to her crew and Joker for even going back.

When Brooke first woke she didn’t know where she was, the room was a blur and her body was protesting her moving from that damn reaper blast. She heard an accent first, followed by more voices and it wasn’t until she finally realized she was in what you would call a hospital room. Dr Chakwas and Michels where hovering over her frail body.

“Thank goodness she’s awake” That was Chakwas, the woman always worried over her. She then heard the voice over Joker, trying to mask the pain in his voice with a joke.

“Told you Doc. It takes a lot more than getting hit with a Reaper beam for our Commander to die” Though she knew he was worried, slowly turning her head she spotted her whole crew in the tiny room, she figured she must be somewhere in London since she spotted the Normandy, streaked with marks from the broken window.

She noticed Steven Hackett first, he had a bitter smile on his face though he looked tired but the man seemed happy she was alive. Shepard then let her gaze glance over to where Kaiden, James and Jacob where standing in the back silently. Liara was comforting a crying Samantha though she knew her friend was crying too. Wincing, she held back a gasp to push herself up as she waved the doctors off. “Im fine” she muttered but that was a lie.

Brooke then noticed Zeed and Samera as they were in the far back, she could have sworn the man held a concerned look in his face but that could have been the light, she knew Jack wanted to tell her off, scream at her for doing something so stupid since she was the first to walk over to her.

“You owe me Shep, shit you scared the crap out of me.” Jack whispered in her ear though she then left the room muttering about checking on her students.

The final pair she noticed was of course Joker, the man just hung his head low as EDI held his hand. Tali standing on his other side and Shepard felt a pain in her heart, since she knew her best friend was hurt because of her though feeling her heart clench she was going to ask where he was but hearing that familiar chuckle she turned he heard to see Garrus sitting by her side.

“I’m hard to kill.”

Sighing the woman let her body relax for a moment until she felt realization hit her, gasping her eyes scanned the room and missing was someone who she wanted to see more than anything. Anderson, where was he…h-he was with her, she remembered him being by her side.

“W-Where’s Anderson…I remember…” Brooke closed her eyes, she remembered him telling her that he made her proud, then that’s it.

“He’s in another room right? He’s fine” her voice sounded so weak, so dry though finally opening her eyes she didn’t understand why everything was blurry…why they were all silent.

That was when she knew, she was crying and David Anderson was not in the next room, he was not fine but he was dead and its hurt fault.

“Oh god” Chocking on a sob, her body started to shake as she heard Grunt scream something to the Chakwas, screaming about helping her.

Shepard didn’t even notice that she tried to sit up, she didn’t care about opening wounds up. “I need to…please he can’t be.” Feeling her body wrack with guilt she turned away from her team, her friends and the man she loved. She didn’t want them to see her like this, so broken and now she wished that she died on the Citadel, then at least she wouldn’t have to live with the guilt.

Garrus looked at the team though he didn’t have to say anything, they all slowly left until he was the only one. The turian slowly reached up and brushed the short blonde hair away from her bruised and cut face. He felt more tears it the talons, but seeing your steady breathing he knew you’d fallen asleep.

“You of all people deserve to be happy, don��t dwell on Anderson death. He would not want you to cry over him.”

Leaning over, Garrus placed a gentle kiss to your head as he then sat down holding your hand gently. He won’t leave your side.

“I’m Proud of you”

Shepard looked around, she looked down seeing her body was not broken anymore so that was when she knew it, she was in a nightmare and god’s. She prayed she wouldn’t see him, her dreams were already plagued with the deaths of Mordin, Thane and Ash, she didn’t think she could handle hearing Anderson too.

Though as she walked she noticed everything felt peaceful, the air felt light and it was beautiful. Looking around she noticed a bench followed by someone sitting on it. It did not take her long though seeing who it was her heart clenched, she was now looking at David Anderson and he had a smile on his face.

“How can you be smiling” It felt like a whisper as it slipped from her lips though the man chuckled shifting his body as she sat down next to him.

“Why shouldn’t I be, the Reapers a dead…you did it Shepard. You saved humanity.” Anderson looked out on the horizon.

“That’s a lie…so many people…I couldn’t. You died because of me” Shepard started to feel herself break down again.

“Now that is a damn good lie and you know it Shepard. There was a good chance that I wouldn’t be making this out alive. But you did! I’m Proud of you Shepard and I am happy I was here for you.” The man reached over and grasped her hand.

“Though I hate I won’t be walking this stubborn woman down the aisle.”

Feeling her tears slide down her cheeks, Brooke felt her lips twitch into a smile though she then laughed. “I’m stubborn…you…” shaking her head she felt him grip her hand.

“So you and Garrus huh?”

“Me and Garrus.”

“I always thought he was a good match for you Shepard…now do me a favor and stop mourning me. You have an Earth to rebuild. A lot of people are looking up to the woman you managed to survive a Reaper blast and take them all down…now live your life, be happy for once, you deserve it”

“I had help…but I will…thank you Sir”

Shepard did take his word to heart, after she was well enough to leave the hospital she started to help Earth, though she knew it would take a lot more to rebuild and now here she was. Standing on the Normandy in her dress blues looking out at the stars. Putting her weight on the cane she felt a body slip behind her, a familiar hand slip and place its self on the small of her back.

“Beautiful isn’t it…and the stars aren’t half bad either” Garrus chuckled though he pressed his mandibles to her head.

“He would be proud of you Shepard, you’ve done good.”

Nodding her head, the young woman smiled, she could see Anderson's own smile on his face repeating those same words.

“I’m Proud of You Shepard.”

[babysizedfics]

Back at it again with a couple more HC prompts, which imma just dump in one, and you can pick which ones you want. Puddles with the kiddos, family baking sessions when both are regressed, Ro wanting attention whilst Logan is reading, so climbing all over his book, how their reactions to new stuffies differ, regressed versus non-regressed birthdays.... Etc... 👍

okokokokok buckle up everyone

Puddles:

this is the only one where i have to be like .. i don't think so :0 see virgil can get very nervous when it rains because he's so anxious about 'is it gonna storm? will there be thunder? will we be hit by lightning? will there be a flood? what if one of us slips and hurts our head??' that he just cannot relax enough to be able to jump around in puddles because 'WHAT IF I SLIP IM GONNA DIE' and the wetness on his skin sets off the wrong sensory feelings so jumping in muddy puddles is a no for him (as much as he loves peppa pig)

and roman is a fussy little thing, he may not care as much for his appearance when he's small but i think he will still be conscious enough to notice if he gets wet hair and muddy clothes - plus i feel like roman's mood is quite tied to the weather, on dark days he tends to fee a little more gloomy, ao again not sure about this especially if he wouldn't have his baby brother there with him

Baking:

OH BOY so roman is a great cook okay? like chef level he has honed his skills so that he can make romantic meals for handsome princes, but baking? nu uh, too technical, he ain't got time for that. Patton is the baker of the house and makes cookies and cupcakes way too often for Logan's liking (but secretly he loves them of course, he's just concerned for everybody's teeths) but both CGs will cook dinner when the boys are little

When the boys are regressed they're not allowed much in the kitchen anymore. after roman tried to make breakfast in bed for his CGs and started a very small but very real fire he has lost some kitchen rights (ficlet coming to you at some point perhaps) and is not allowed in the kitchen without at least one CG. even if he can switch so quickly between headspaces, he ends up either 1) too stubborn to come out of little space, or 2) a kittle bit clumsy when he comes out of it

but to make up for roman being upset by this slight loss of independence (he is a big kid after all) patton and he do weekly baking sessions! and there's always a theme. most recently they had animal crossing themed cupcakes, a little mermaid themed jello (not technically baking but roman wanted to but little fish gummies in the jelly), and... the next one is a secret because i might put it in chapter 7 (: in fact chapter 7 will feature the first instance of this tradition!!

virgil has pyrophobia (fear of fire) and so is never keen to be in the kitchen while there's food preparation going on (but he was allowed to help with the under the sea jello!!) so roman and pattons baking sessions are an excuse for mama and baby bonding time! the tradition didn't start until after virgil's separation anxiety from patton had eased up a little so luckily there's barely any tears

mama baby bonding time consists of but is not limited to: sitting on mama's lap, doing puzzles together, (vee trying to suck on a puzzle piece and crying when he's told not to), mama reading baby books to vee, vee touching all the textures and flaps in the baby books, snuggles

Ro wanting attention while Lo is reading:

this is 1000% canon!! later in the series logan will often be at work in his room and have the boys with him because patton is busy with something or another. they realise they really do need to keep working for thomas' sake but manage to integrate the boys' littlespaces into it. Eg. logan dangling baby plastic keys from one hand to amuse girgil while he's typing with the other

but when it's quiet time, when patton is in virgil's room because the baby is having a nap and papa wants to watch over him, when roman hasn't been little because he's been working or simply not in the mood earlier that day, when logan is just chilling, just reading a stephen hawking book in the living room, when he's literally just vibing, roman can and will launch himself into logan's lap sending the book flying and logan isn't allowed to tell him off because 'I'm little now! i want attention now!! hi mom!!!!'

New stuffies:

AHHHHHHHHH this this this is so so cute!!

roman never used to care much for soft toys before okay? before he was ever a little sure he appreciated disney action figures (he used them to block out scenes he wrote for theatre productions and screenplays and fanfiction) sure he always had a soft spot for Mrs Fluffybottom his childhood toy, but she always just sat on a shelf, he never fet the need to cuddle her or play with her

but when he realises he's little, when he starts playing with vee, when he sees how much vee cares about his soft animals, when patton and logan buy him a present to welcome him to the littlespace family and it's a golden teddy bear (soon to be named Aladdin) with big brown beady eyes and a satin crimson bow around its neck? yeah big kids love stuffies too

and now whenever roman is gifted a new toy (soft or otherwise) he essentially gets the zoomies!!! his brain is going a million miles a minute with all the game possibilities and with the excitement of NEW PRESENT!!! and with the happiness that his caregivers thought about him and he's been a good enough boy to deserve gifts?? yeah he's so so so excited he canNOT stand still he runs around the house for a whole hour flinging his new toy around (yeah he's a bit rough with them and there's been more than one torn limp or loose eye but he doesn't care it just shows how much they're loved!)

Now virgil: this boy is very very very emotionally attached to his stuffies. when he was a "dark side" he couldn't have much soft stuff because it just went against everything the household stood for and he couldn't risk the others finding out about how not-scary he really was, but he allowed himself a single stuffed rabbit that was easy to hide and that he loved with all of his being. it was his security blanket and his one item that could offer him comfort in a oanic attack and his only posession that he felt was true to him and not true to the scary facade he put up to scare thomas and the "light sides" into listening to him

without spoiling anything, that bunny was left in that house when he moved to the "light sides"

and in his new home virgil started collecting soft toys whenever he needed comfort. everytime he felt unwanted, every time he had an anxiety attack, everytime there was a thunderstorm predicted for the next week he would get himself a new soft toy because that was the only way he knew to comfort himself. needless to say he's got a pretty big collection now. you might think he became desensitized to new toys because of how many times he had gotten himself a new one, and you might be partly right.

that is until for the first time ever he is given a stuffie by someone else... when logan buys him a soft toy in apology for accidentally revealing his regression to everyone ((yes i am writing this fic!))

it wasn't really logan's fault, virgil should have been more aware he should have been more careful he should have hidden it all better but the logical side was guilt-ridden nonetheless. virgil hadn't expected much to be honest, the sincere apology was enough for him

but when logan blushed and shyly opened a box and handed him a black cat stuffie? virgil had to fight very very hard not to outright sob on the spot. he simply took it, thanked logan shakily, and prayed that logan didn't point out the fact that tears were falling onto the fluff of his new stuffed friend Jiji

now whenever he gets a new toy it's different than before - it's not because he's upset and needs comfort, it happens less often now but it's more special, it could be for a holiday or as a way of saying he's been very sweet or just because patton simply couldn't resist this one because look at its cute lil eyes! but each and everytime he knows when he is handed a new toy by one of his family members it really means 'i love you'

and he buries his face in its softness - it used to be to hide his tears, but now he just can't help but squeeze it tight and close and let the feeling of love wash over him

Birthdays:

yknow that episode of steven universe where steven wears a regal cape and a golden crown? yeah that's roman whether he's little or not

seriously this kid is very much the 'it's my birthweek!' type

lots of singing, lots of 'but i'm the birthday boy!!' to try to get thtings he really shouldn't be getting (like a third cookie) (and yes patton caves every single time) (patton is eventually banned from making decisions on romans behalf during his "birthweek")

there's not much difference at all between little romans birthday and big romans birthday, he's just an excitable boy whether he's a kiddo or not - this may or may not make the caregivers question whether maybe he actually was a little before virgil's regression was revealed

(irrelevant but patton definitely makes the pun 'you're a little? a little what? finish your sentences silly billy!')

virgil hates his birthday. hates it.

too much attention, too many things that could go wrong, too much pressure on it being a good day. what if his anxiety is bad that day? what if he doesn't want everyone watching him open presents? what if he's genuinely terrified that people think walking towards him with a big grin, singing at him, and carrying a cakeful of literal fire is a somehow a fun activity??

when he first moved into the house he made it very clear that he does not have a birthday so don't even try to throw him a party

naturally roman and patton were devastated, but after a failed attempt at getting virgil to enjoy his birthday they obeyed logan's request that they not try to push the idea on virgil any further

but the first birthday after they become a little family, it's a bit different

they don't push it, not at first, but virgil does wake up to patton already in his room and cooing at him adoringly , immediately sending him into his regressed headspace

then he's given a new soft toy. that wasn't so bad

then roman let him choose what disney film they watched. that wasnt bad either

then logan cuddled him for an hour and they might have fallen asleep together not noticing the smell of vanilla coming from the kitchen

then there was a new paci, a new rattle, another new soft toy, and cake cut up into tiny squares so he could nibble on it with his fingers

there was no loud singing no big surprises no bright lights or fire or anything else that he hated about birthdays

there was only love and toys and comfort. so virgil really didn't mind birthdays much after that

[365days365movies]

January 26, 2021: The Expendables (2010)

I don’t think you understood how big of a deal this was when it came out, OK? Sylvester Stallone. Dolph Lundgren. Jason Statham. Jet Li. Terry Crews. Randy Couture. Mickey Rooney. In ONE MOVIE? Some of the biggest action stars of all time, in one movie, kicking names and taking ass?

YOU HEARD ME GODDAMIT, IT’S THE EXPENDABLES!

I chose this movie because it contains multiple action stars, rather than just a single one. And since this month started off with Stallone, makes sense to finish with him! Plus, I can also get Statham, Lundgren, and Li in this month! Win-win-win! I’m pumped, no rigamarole needed, LET’S DO IT!!! SPOILERS AHEAD!!!

Recap

It’s 2010, and our introductory villains of choice are Somali pirates! Yayyyyyyy. They’re holding hostage some shipmates, and haven’t received any money for them in a while. However, as they’re making a new demands video, they find themselves lit up by laser-sights. 

These lasers are from guns pointed by a group of commandos, sent to deliver the money and rescue the hostages. When they demand more money, one of them fires a warning shot.

JESUS FUCKING CHRIST

Well…after that, we get an INSANE action sequence, and some one-liners courtesy of the leader. At the end, one of the men, Gunnar Jensen (Dolph Lundgren), is particularly unhinged. He was the one to fire the warning shot, and he’s about to hang a pirate, which is a little much for this team.

The leader, Barney Ross (Sylvester Stallone) tells him off, and he’s taken down by Yin Yang (Jet Li), who...YIN YANG??? You CANNOT be serious! REALLY? WHO WROTE THIS???

Anyway, they fire Gunnar, and head home from the mission. Lee Christmas (Mickey Rourke) goes home, only to find that his girlfriend has left him for another, less secretive and murdery man. He catches up with Barney, who’s getting tattoo work done by an old friend, Tool (Mickey Rourke).

The next day, Barney accepts a mission from Mr. Church and Trench Mauser, played by...oh my God.

OH GOD, MY WORLD’S ON FIRE

Anyway, Bruce Willis hires Sylvester Stallone for a job which Arnold Schwarzenegger passes on. And I could use their character names, BUT I PHYSICALLY CANNOT TYPE THEM WHILE THEY’RE TOGETHER. THIS IS ALL I EVER WANTED.

Barney accepts the mission, and is confronted by Gunnar, who’s clearly on something. He wants in on the mission, but Barney can’t trust him any more. He leaves, but quite reluctantly.

The group gets together to discuss the mission. This includes Toll Road (Randy Couture) and...Hale Caesar (Terry Crews). Jesus.

The mission: overthrow General Garza (David Zayaz), corrupt dictator on the South American island of Vilena. They make their way to the islands, posing as ornithologists...and I can’t decide if I’m professionally offended by this or not. I’m, uh...I’m in that field. We’ll see how they handle that.

Lee and Barney go to meet a contact for more information, talking about women on the way. And who should walk in but Sandra (Giselle Itié), who I’m calling as an Inevitable Love Interest right now...although I’m not sure for whom. She describes how Americans came and supplied money to Garza, allowing him to ruin the island and take over.

This American is James Monroe (Eric Roberts), and his henchman...STONE COLD STEVE AUSTIN (Stone Cold Steven Austin). Sure, I could call him Dan Paine…but, nah, he’s Stone Bold, baby!

As tensions run high between Munroe and Garza, due to a lack of profit on Garza’s end. Meanwhile, as Barney determines Sandra’s guilt, military men come in to take them all in. It’s revealed that Sandra is the General’s daughter, and the group gets into a fight. The men are, of course, defeated handily, and our three escape before Munroe and Garza get there.

However, Sandra refuses to leave as Lee brings her to the chopper. After taking out some guards, Barney joins him...by jumping into the plane from the dock. But they go back, and Statham fires on Garza’s men.. from the outside of the plane. AND THEN THEY SPRAY PLANE FUEL ON THEM AND SET IT ON FUCKING FIRE

Is this...is this gonna be the whole movie? IS THIS GONNA BE THE WHOLE MOVIE

Anyway, they figure out that Sandra did this immediately, and unambiguously evil Munroe tells Garza to kill his daughter. He also brings in Gunnar, who OF COURSE betrays them. He’s brought in by Roberts, who BY THE WAY, is an ex-FBI agent.

Yup. Apparently, the US Government hired Mr. Church to hire the mercenaries to take care of Munroe, with the assumption that they would die in the process of the mission. So, in other words, they’re like a squad…

Upon learning all of this, the group returns home. Lee goes back to his ex, Lacy (Charisma Carpenter), who’s clearly in an abusive relationship with her current boyfriend. So, Lee does what he does, and BEATS THE EVER-LOVING SHIT OUT OF HIM AND HIS FRIENDS. Barney, meanwhile, goes to talk to Tool, where Mickey Rourke turns in some QUALITY ACTING, LEMME TELL YOU. He talks about a traumatic past mission, and you feel it, lemme tell you.

But back in Vilena, looks like they’re trying to get information out of Sandra via good old-fashioned water boarding! Yaaaaaaaay. It’s not particularly easy to watch. Luckily for her, Barney decides to go back for Sandra, out of guilt. Yang goes along with him this time. However, Gunnar’s been sent to kill them, and this results in a car-gun battle with Barney, Yang, Gunnar, and Monroe’s other men.

They end up in a warehouse, where they engage in a fist fight. As Gunnar’s about to kill Yang, Barney shoots him through the chest. With his last words, Gunnar tells him where to find Munroe. And despite Barney’s initial intent to go alone, the rest of the Expendables go along. 

Meanwhile, in Vilena, Garza now turns against Munroe. Y’know, AFTER the whole water boarding torture thing, which seems a little too late for your daughter, buddy. The Expendables storm the castle, so to speak, and they take out all of the men while destroying the drugs in the building, and…

...I am so bored.

No, really, I mean it! I am INCREDIBLY bored by this movie. I don’t know HOW I could be bored at this movie...but I am! Seriously! I feel...wrong. Like, this should be an amazingly engaging movie, but it just...isn’t.

OK, what’s going on? Right, right, Barney decapitated a man with a single knife stroke, saved Sandra, and then they both got captured. Uh, the other Expendables save him, and Barney’s fighting Stone Cold Steve Austin. Which, again...should be exciting? But somehow, the impact just...isn’t there. Is it me? Is this my fault? Why isn’t this exciting to me?

Garza gives Munroe his money back, sick of the death and destruction, apparently. He almost kills Munroe, but his blade is stilled...by his daughter’s heart? He goes outside, and blames everything on the Americans, which is totally fair. Munroe shoots him dead, then escapes with Sandra, Austin, and the money. And then, they blow up the building.

...Which is somehow boring. What...what is happening to me? WHY AM I NOT ENJOYING THIS?

As the Expendables continue shooting and blowing up the place, I slip into a meditative trance. I think on the nature of the action genre, as Terry Crews destroys three sentry towers with a single big gun. And as I watch these men take out everybody without a SINGLE SCRATCH ON THEM EVER...It dawns on me.

There are absolutely no stakes in this movie. I’m not worried about the Expendables, they’re gonna be fine! And even then, I barely know them! Nothing revealed about their characters has gotten me to root for them or even really LIKE them that much. And even then, I still know that they’re going to succeed.

And as Stallone jump-punches Austin in the face, I continue my meditation. The special effects in this movie are noticeably subpar, as is the fight choreography. The face that these guys are basically supermen is boring. And this is coming from a guy whose favorite DC Comics hero IS SUPERMAN.

As Stone Cold Steve Austin burns to death, it isn’t even Stallone who delivers the final face punch. Instead, it’s Toll, WHOM I DO NOT REALLY KNOW. And as they take down a helicopter using nothing but a single gun and Terry Crews’ muscles, I feel NOTHING.

As Barney confronts Munroe, and Munroe shoots him, I zone out as Munroe monologues, and is summarily shot and stabbed. As expected. And as Barney and Lee trade some more quipped lines, a line of Monroe’s resonates with me. He said that both of them are dead inside, and that’s how this entire movie feels: soulless, without substance or true purpose. It just. Feels. Empty.

Am I numb to the violence? Is it just that it was too much at once? Is it this month, or just this movie? And as Barney and Lee take off into the sunrise and head to Tool’s to celebrate, I...genuinely don’t care. And I also know that I won’t remember ANYTHING in this movie. And then, AND THEN, JUST when I think I couldn’t care less, JUST when I think there were no stakes whatsoever…

GUNNAR’S ALIVE?!? YOU GODDAMN KIDDING ME???

[faelapis]

"a chance to have a relationship with people she hasn’t hurt. “i’ve already messed things up with you”. this was the same thing blocking steven & the diamonds’ relationship" I found this point a bit strange though. Because, well, maybe Spinel does not know this but almost everyone Steven is close friends with has done something on the level of trying to kill him?

right so, i have a lot of thoughts on this:

firstly, the steven of the movie wants a vacation. he is tired. he doesn’t want to be everyone’s therapist anymore. i’ll go into why in a sec. spinel even calls him out on, as she sees it, him seemingly wanting nothing more than for her to turn the injector off. 

and indeed, his advice in “found” is pretty generic - it’s clear that spinel wants *him* to pay attention to her specifically (”i already feel found”). while steven himself - again, an extremely tired and worn down steven, who is still trying to be empathetic despite dealing with Yet Another Person who tried to kill him - wants to give her hope without having to commit himself to her.

like. the connection that’s there is very one-sided - for steven, it’s nice that he can help someone climb out of a self-destructive hole! but… well, this relationship doesn’t offer *him* anything. spinel doesn’t try to anticipate his needs or play therapist for him in turn. 

his only satisfaction is seeing her undo the damage she caused, and so the friends he’s actually made a connection with (and who have made an effort to connect with him!) are the ones he first and foremost thinks of. 

which… is normal. for instance, with peridot - yeah, steven had to initiate things, but it wasn’t long before peridot started not only following through on his advice, but actively helping him. this is apparent as early as “when it rains”, when the crystal gems try to admonish steven and peridot defends him. despite starting out as a truce, they really do grow to be friends!

that’s not to say steven only helps people for utilitarian reasons (such as being curious about the cluster w/peridot) - he really wants to connect with gemkind and humankind! he’s not all strategy, he wants to understand everyone and he’s principally against shattering. 

which brings us to why steven is the way he is - he’s grown up with strong feelings of guilt and responsibility. his mom was gone from Day One. everyone’s mourning her except him, and it’s messed them up in ways where he kinda-sorta felt that maybe this was “his fault”, even if he knows they love him. greg’s also taught him to be empathetic, because greg is great.

but anyway. these feelings of guilt & responsibility carry steven through a lot of his adventure - from thinking he gotta fix people to feeling like he’s gotta answer for everything his mom did + being unable to separate himself from her. s5 obviously plays this up heavily - him gradually losing his identity in the work of being what everyone wants him to be, tho that’s a theme of the whole show.

okay so. why is movie steven a bit different, even if he still wants to help everyone? why is it he may come across as feeling less self-sacrificial and not feeling like he’s personally gotta be everyone’s best friend?

because of “change your mind”.

this episode is just as much about steven as it is about white diamond. i’ve talked about white’s side a great deal, i’ve talked less about steven’s side. i wanna rectify that here.

this scene is absolute relief. it’s the world, the universe, saying that his very core is fully himself. it’s saying that he never has to take responsibility for his mother’s actions or feel guilty for being himself ever again. it’s the most absolute confirmation of his own personhood he could ask for. it’s saying that everyone projecting their feelings onto him doesn’t mean he has to accept blame for how they feel. he’s not just crying over being reunited with himself, he’s crying over what it means - “i’m me. i’ve always been me”. 

and that’s of course wonderful. steven shouldn’t feel responsible for everyone else. it leads to him being more confident, satisfied with himself, and being able to help people without feeling like he’s Obligated because of his mom.

but there is such a thing as being too self-satisfied. while steven BY NO MEANS is guilty for anything spinel did, and it’s completely reasonable for him to want a “happily ever after” after all this… it’s also true that steven just wanting everything to “go back to normal” leads to miscommunication and resentment with spinel. that’s on her, but steven, on his side, isn’t bringing his A-game. he’s not hyper-invested in her being okay. that’s not a criticism on him, it’s completely normal, but it’s something spinel notices that makes her spiral. 

so again, her actions aren’t his fault, but what he realizes is that he can never feel entitled to things going back to “normal”. life will always change, including himself. he’ll always have to keep trying, he can’t sit back and let the world sort itself out. that’s not how life works, no matter how much we might like it to.

it’s fitting that it’s spinel who makes the decision she doesn’t want to be on earth with steven. there are multiple reasons for this i’ve gone over before, but the most selfless one is her acknowledgment that she’s hurt him. he doesn’t send her away - she sends herself away, recognizing her need to grow as a person.

steven’s at a pretty bittersweet place, really. he’s grown towards feeling more self-assured. he’s not quietly resenting himself, but he’s also tired in a world that will never stop and wait for him. so the best he can do is accept that and keep moving forward with his friends.

i think this, more than anything, is something steven will have to deal with in s6. spinel’s story is in the movie, but his isn’t limited to that. i think and hope (thanks to zach’s comment on the most important message of the show not having happened yet) that steven will continue to heal and find balance in his life in s6.

if it’s also true that jasper is getting substantial focus on s6, these seem like they could mesh quite nicely. jasper, in a way, is also a “chosen one”, just on homeworld’s side. she was made to feel like she had this burden to bear that nobody else could do for her. she had to fix everything, or die trying - that was her guilt, having “failed” in the war the way steven lives with his mother’s pedestal & failures. overcoming that has been their lives. both out of guilt, and feeling like they’re the only ones who can fix this.

so yeah, there’s a bunch to be said about steven in the movie - it’s a balance he’s working out, being ready for anything while not expecting himself to take responsibility for everyone. he’s embraced life’s changes, and hopefully, he’ll continue to believe in himself while the world spins around him.

[nebulastarss]

So, in that post with the art of Rantaro and Kaito, I talked about an au in the tags but didn't go into much detail. This post is just, all about the detail. Keep in mind, had it been just me planning out this AU, it wouldn't be nearly as angsty. I worked on it with @miswritten-chronology

It started off with me just... Talking about the different fusions and their appearances, and how fusing works, so let's start like that here too!

In this AU, the fusing is kind of similar to Steven Universe. A fusion can be unstable, corrupted, or stable. A large difference is, these aren't Gems, they're still humans. In this AU, fusing is a normal thing that everyone can do. Also, you can fuse with a corrupted person without getting corrupted yourself.

Shuichi fuses with all but 2 of his classmates: Tsumugi and Maki. The reason is, when you fuse, you share memories. He accidentally fused with so many people, but he's so likeable that none of the fusions fall apart or get corrupted.

Two of them are already corrupted actually. Miu and Korekiyo. They both have small dots all over their bodies, and not a soul realizes this about Kiyo until he accidentally fuses with Shuichi and they see the (smaller amount of) skin dot things. Miu also fuses with Shuichi, and Kaede at one point, so I'mma talk about their appearances for a second.

The Shuichi and Miu fusion is really pretty, wearing a balance between Shuichi's very covering clothes and Miu's explosion to make a crop top and shorts (not booty shorts). Their hair is around mid-back and I haven't decided on a color yet. They do have Miu's eye color though.

The Kiyo fusion has really nice hair and a lot of accessories. That's all that I wrote down about it. The hair is a more saturated blue than either of their individual hair. That's all I can really say about it.

The Kaede fusion was also accidental but Kaede just shrugged and let it happen and Shuichi always panics too much to really do anything when accidentally fusing. Their wearing a medium purple striped skirt with the long sleeved white button up shirt they both wear. The hair is shoulder length and a desaturated blond.

Kaede still kills someone in chapter 1, so their fusion is Kaito's way of trying to cheer him up. It has Kaito length hair, but down with a galaxy-like gradient. They have a white shirt with red lines, a long blue jacket with a galaxy under side. The pants are a dark purple with Shuichi's shoes. They're also tall as all hell, being around 7-8 feet tall.

The next one I talked about before we got into the story element is Kiibo's fuse. Kiibs wanted to prove that he can do it too, and chose Shuichi because everyone trusts Shuichi. It was mainly a robot Shuichi but with some Kiibo attributes, like eyes and antenna. When he heard the inner voice, Shuichi startled so fiercely that he broke the fusion.

Their talents are also fused, depending on who's more... There's no other way to say it. I'm not gonna tho. Let's take the Miu and Shuichi fusion. The fusion takes after Miu more, along with her talent, making them a puzzle designer. You can figure out why without me having to type it again.

Of course then we got derailed by talking about a fuse that would never happen. Kokichi doesn't like memory sharing, and fights fusions like there's no tomorrow, making them very unstable and fall apart near instantly. The only person he fuses with is Shuichi, accidentally. They just sorta... sit on the ground, blue screening as they process all of the information. The whole class is gathered around, asking if their ok but they keep staring off into space. Because of the memory sharing, Kokichi doesn't do anything too stupid, and Shuichi is the only one who understands him. I'll talk about their appearance in a second.

We had been talking about a fusion between Himiko and Kokichi (Talent: Illusionist) because... Short. Kokichi is 5'1, Himiko 4'11, fused they would actually shrink, being around Ryoma's height. If Ryoma joined the fusion, they would be even smaller, around 2 feet. The size of a baby. Ryoma and Himiko do fuse at one point tho, being around 4'3. They have a witch hat with cat ears, a red shirt with a black and blue striped jacket, leggings with shorts over them, and Ryoma's shoes.

Back to Kokichi, his fusion with Shuichi is very feminine. They have Kokichi's hair length, but straight like Shuichi's so it looks longer. Long as hell eyelashes too, from Shuichi. They have a long sleeved grey shirt and a skirt on (neither mind it, but it's kinda confusing). The skirt is about knee length and very poofy. Also I'm pretty sure I saw that Kokichi has a belt so I'm using that. And chubby cheeks but shhhh.

Now, to the story!

The first one to kill is still "Kaede", but Rantaro had accidentally fused with Kirumi, shared memories, and he trusted her. He asked if she could check it out, and she died. That gives both of them enormous guilt but Rantaro has a small, sickening relief that it wasn't him that he ignores. Chapter one, Kirumi, Kaede, and Monokid die.

Chapter 2, we didn't talk this one out much, but Ryoma accidentally killed Angie. Everyone still thinks well of Angie when she dies, because she never got a chance to form the student council. Chapter two, Angie, Ryoma, and Monosuke die.

Next, our trio. The murderer is still Kiyo, and he kills in the same way. Chapter three, Tenko, Himiko, Korekiyo, and Monophanie die.

In the next chapter, Miu wouldn't go after Kokichi as he's close to Shuichi. She goes after and kills Gonta. Chapter four, Gonta, Miu, and Monotaro die.

Chapter 5 is the heaviest chapter because she went fuking HAM on the angst. We both agreed that Kokichi wouldn't do his mastermind plan so we had to figure out a whole new chapter 5 to pave the way for chapter 6. We decided that Rantaro and Kaito are a Chaos Duo and would absolutely blow shit up. Kaito hadn't fused since chapter 3 due to his illness, and Rantaro barely fuses, keep that in mind. They've been working together since a bit before the 4th trial, making things with the help of Monodam, who really doesn't give a shit anymore.

They get into the other Exisals, and blow up the inner wall of the dome, and a bit of the outer. There's defense mechanisms, obviously, but they're in the Exisals so they're fine. They stop outside one of the buildings with a satellite. They figure out that everything is being broadcasted and hijack Kiibo's inner voice to tell him

Basically, they give Kiibs a heart attack because they just heard a bunch of explosions and gun shots and now suddenly his missing friends are talking to him through his head. He relays the information, but at some point they start coughing.

At that point, Monokuma had locked them in and filled the building with poison. The two fuse, a small smile on their face as they cut off Kiibo's voice, lose oxygen, and die. The other explosives they had rigged start going off around the school dome as Kiibo, now free and traumatized, starts upgrading himself.

The first Danganronpa chapter to end without a trial. Feels kinda weird am I right?

The 6th trial goes as expected. They already know that it's being broadcast to the outside so Tsumugi can't shock them with that, and the outside can't take over Kiibo, as he's been permanently disconnected. Kiibs doesn't have to self-destruct as the dome is already in pieces with the combined effort of Kaito, Rantaro, and him, so he just blows up the school and lands. Tsumugi dies, but Maki, Shuichi, Kokichi, and Kiibo survive.

Tada

[youngblizzardglitter]

Remember A Few Months Ago?

"What?" Terry asked looking at his younger brother Ace stood intensely. "Yeah what of it?"

"You told me we were here for space. Was that a lie?" He asks looking up at him he hears he was angry but couldn't see it his eyes hidden by black glass.

"No." He said trying to sound as normal as possible. It wasn't a lie more of a half-truth as it was reason number two.

"Then what was that scene you made at the Fizzes party? You said you didn't know him."

"I don't!" Terry's mind completely slipped on the fact that Ace saw him out Fernando on his bullshit.

"You know Estaban!" He says annoyed that yet again Terry was treating him like a child.

Your always like this. They both thought annoyed.

"Steve." He corrects rubbing his head. He looked at the clock 1 pm. He can't send him to bed or even tell him to go do something.

"Look this is something we can't talk about because of-"

"Mom?" He says getting closer. "Did she die because-"

"She died of bad health." He snaps annoyed now. "And a lot of factors played into that."

"One of them was the Fizzes?"

"Ace-"

"Terry, please just tell-"

"Alejandro!" He snaps as Ace frowned. "Just let me take care if this okay?"

"Fine." He snaps leaving. "I'll just be left in the dark like always."

"Ace-" His door slammed like an angsty teen.

"This family." He says thinking back on Rose's words. 

"This family can be a bit much sometimes. More so now that you too are a part of it."

"I mean no offense." She said quickly realizing what it sounded like. "I just-"

"I get it." He had smiled knowing it was true.

"Ace am going out okay?" He said knocking on the door. "Leave a note and you can co do whatever."

He knew he was in there. He had shut the windows from the outside last night as they were leaving and didn't want something coming in like last year.

Terry quickly showered put on some clothes and took with him his bag putting his letters. He needed to know if he could move with all that's going on or if it would look bad and make sure he had enough money to move back.

The bank was a long walk and Terry felt like he could use it to clear his head on what went down earlier. He wondered how fast the news would flood to other people.

They were a hundred people at that party everyone saw it not doubts- His train of thought stopped abruptly when a realization bounced off.

Ace was at that party he saw me go off on them. The Fizzes house was a long drive that's why I flew they were having a party early to make sure everyone could come. Why the fuck did I not make that connection?!

He quickly took out his phone as he stopped a block or two before making it he need to make sure Ace was okay and well.

Fine. Am going to Valeries be back later.

He must be thinking that I lied. I have in some degrees but it was only for his best.

But who are you to decide that?

As that snapped him out of it Terry's ears heard something a few blocks away.

"Did Steve ever say anything?" A girl named Maxine asked. "Like he got slapped into a wall!"

"Isn't he mad?" Andria her best friend scoffed. "Of course he is. He just ruined his parent's marriage and slapped him for no reason."

"Terry's never reliable anyway he's always slacking off and being rude. He's bound to fight him." Andria said clicking away at her phone.

Like some over glorified child abuser can take me. He thinks ever since he came into the show the teens haven't won any awards he hasn't gotten.

"And it's so unfair how he so perfect for everyone else! All the villains love him and hate us! None of them know how shitty he is-"

Terry smirked as Maxine made eye contact with him.

"Oh really now?" He says looking them up and down. "What's Stevie boy gonna do?" He laughs when they don't say anything back.

"Funny." He says walking away he always hated the cheerleaders. Ever since Sara told everyone he broke up with her through a text they hated him he hadn't though. They hated him just like he hated his bank statement three thousand looked back at him mocking him.

It was enough to fly back home but not too to pay for anything relating to his case he needed to call his family lawyer and ask.

"Hey, Terry." Her voice proclaimed as papers were being moved. "Gald you phoned did you hear that your case is being challenged by Fernando Fizz?"

"Yeah. Just got the letters. You need those?"

"Yeah. And I need you to come here as fast as you can to work this out. Your case was already as tricky as it is. With Ace's bio father wanting custody and you being a teen he might win."

"Can't I sue him back? He says annoyed. "He owes thousands of child support-"

"Trust me I know but your mother never made a case she-"

"Died before she could make one." He finished somberly his ears started to ring.

"...Yeah." She answers back knowing it was a sore subject. "Does Ace know?"

"For the most part some of it yeah. I need to sit him down first."

"Okay then. We have two weeks before summer ends I think you should tell him and come deal with this."

"Okay." He sighs. He never thought he'd have to tell Ace like this he wanted to wait until he asked again or was eighteen.

"Okay, Terry just go bake a pie for something." He tried calming himself his mom use to do the same thing and he picked it up somehow.

He had enough food to spare for one plus he needed to talk about everything with Ace.

He has the right to know his family. Whether it not their bad people and I can't say much either.

The walk was shorter as he got the fruit and went to check it out. He should be back in no one swipe.

"Did you hear that Ferna has an affair kid?"

Oh my fucking God. He thinks knowing what was going on.

"No."  A make whispered hearing his wife.

"Yeah, some teen came up in the party about child support money he owes her."

"He cheated with a teen?" His mouth opened in shock. "On Rose?"

"She seems fine with it she spent a few hours talking with her. She threw him into the pool."

"Oh my goodness where did you learn this?"

"It's all the guests are talking about. My friend heard it from her daughter. All the girls won't stop talking."

"How's Steve the poor baby."

The only thing they got right is that he's a baby. He looks over as the lady scanned one last item.

"Don't know he did get slapped into a wall. He's definitely hurt psychically if not emotionally."

"Wow. What are they gonna do?"

"Next person sir." She said as the person in front left.

He got out of there quickly not wanting to know more. He didn't think it was spread so quickly it had only been four hours.

He breathed deeply when he got home Ace's door was open meaning he was gone.

Do I have to leave him here? He might choose to stay here.

No, he wouldn't.  He might Nigel is here he closer with the friends he has here.

Rose and Fernando could provide for him better than I ever could. They're loaded with money and have millions saved up I don't even have enough to challenge his case.

What if he does win? What would he do?

Ace might not want to see me after I lied he might hate me if he doesn't already.

Moms probably rolling in her grave. She must be pissed I didn't keep my agreement. Am handing him over to the people that killed her.

What if they kill Ace? What if he ends up hurt?

Stevens just like his father he might.

Then am going to be alone then am going to be responsible and then I have to live with that guilt.

Am I going to even have money to pay for the change?

"Please come to me if you need anything." Roses words came back to him.

"Could I really ask though?" He says to one he looks back to the clock 3 pm he heard something.

Ace wouldn't come back for an hour or more who the fuck was that?

He quickly went to get it hoping it was him he got the man of the hour himself.

Steven Fizz with a banged-up cheek.

He slammed the door. Not today no fucking way.

"Terry come on!" He says banging on the door. "Can we talk?"

"No!" He yells from the kitchen. "Get out!"

"Why do you have to be like this?! Can we not have a talk person to person?!"

"Fuck you!" He yells back. "Get the fuck out!"

"Terry." He says to the door he sounds more disappointed than angry.

"Estaban." He says rolling up the curtains of the window. He loved the way his face looked when he called him his real name he smirked like an evil character.

"Terry, can we talk?"

"We are aren't we?"

"Face to face."

"We are aren't we?" He says like a broken record.

"Fine. The boy I helped in the hospital was that Ace?"

"No."

"Your lying. I saw him at the party talking with Nigel. Is he in the knd?"

"No." That was actually the truth.

"Are you going to be like this the whole time?"

"Yes."

Steve sighed running a hand through his hair. "My dad won't say anything and my mom was the one who talked to you-"

"And it was confidential. It doesn't concern you."

"It kinda did when you-"

"Your father ruined everything, not me." He butts in knowing where it was going.

"Ruined the party by outing my BS." He continues. "I have a half brother?"

"Yeah." He confirms after a long pause. He looks at the clock ten minutes had passed he should get this done by then.

"How old is he?"

"He's not a baby." He sasses he noticed the way he easses up as if he was no longer stressed.

"Can I talk to him?"

"No."

"Terry-"

"He's not here. He's at his friends house." He didn't know if that was true Ace was all over the place sometimes.

Steve nodded thinking. He needed something to know his mom just said not to worry about it. His dad was worse

"When is he coming back?"

"Don't know."

"He looks nothing like my dad. He looks more like me surprisingly." He laughs trying to get Terry to ease up. "Your siblings it's natural."

"Do we have anything in common besides good looks?"

"Funny," Terry smirks looking for an exit.

"I got a pie in the oven you should go."

"Can you at least tell me when we could talk?" Terry opened the door surprised. Steve shifted back thinking he was going to get slapped only for Terry to walk past him.

Steve looked back and saw the boy he met in the hospital. He seemed perfectly fine from when he first saw him. He smiled seeing Terrace bend down and hug him Ace protested when Terry kissed his face.

"Wait here," Terry said as he brought the boy into the house.

[klunkcat]

tell me every terrible thing you ever did, and let me love you anyway

King Falls AM pairing: sammy stevens/jack wright word count: 5317

find it on ao3

There were five stages of grief, so someone said. All set up nicely in a row, like you were doing something productive if you moved from crying your eyes out every day to bleak numb stillness, like throwing things and tearing things apart was a step up or a step down from refusing to live in reality. Nobody had ever really explained to Sammy what they felt like, in practicality. The way they swung up and down, the way some stages past him in a blink, not even fully growing roots, while others took months for their thorns to die out.

Nobody really explained that they didn’t end, either. Some days you could find yourself mad as all hell all over again, feel like throwing things or just drinking until your thoughts unspooled from your head and the film reel of memories would finally be easier to manage. Some you'd wake up the next morning half thinking everything, all the horrible interwoven hells, that it was all a dream only to get sucker punched by the loss right there in your bed, because a part of you expected to roll over and see him again.

Sometimes you could feel more than one stage, all at once, or reach acceptance for the twentieth time in a month only to hate yourself viscerally the next for daring to be okay a moment later.

Nobody really explained to him, what the guilt was like. That part right after he let himself be angry, let himself be furious that Jack hadn’t listened, that he’d stuck his stupid nose in that stupid journal and let it spin him a yarn and pull him with it. When he’d stopped trying to convince himself he was furious at all in the first place, that it wasn't just a way of controlling all of it. That it wasn't just the part of him that kicked and clawed and refused to admit that it wouldn't have changed anything even if Jack told him.

After he'd finished tiring himself out pretending to be mad at anyone other than himself was when that little voice kicked in. The one that said things about seeing the signs, about betraying trust, the voice that told Sammy that Jack would never leave on his own. That was when it got the worst.

With Ben around all hours of the evening and a microphone sat somewhat questionably germ infested in front of each of him, it was easier to put that voice on hold. Put it under ‘lucky’ line 1 and file it with a ‘fuck this entire thought’, and just joke and let himself breathe for a second. Ben looked at him sometimes like he’d personally had a hand in fitting the constellations above the treeline, like he was worth something and maybe, if Sammy was feeling extra hopeful, no amount of bullshit from Sammy’s past would change anything. It got easier to push everything else aside then, live in a space in between stages without Shotgun, or any rings, or any locked up storage rooms with keys he never touched, just Sammy and Ben. Just the stars in the sky and their two microphones, and ‘hey caller six, what’s on your mind this beautiful night’.

The problem was always that it didn’t last.

The show would end, Ben would head home to his adorable little apartment in this adorable and double sided town, and Sammy would…

Sammy would just stop, really.

He’d shuffle into his cold empty room, with boxes he never intended to unpack, dishes he never used because that felt too much like staying, still living out of his suitcase like it hadn’t been a year, two years, two and a half whole years, and just.

Stop.

At first he’d tried looking around town, digging into the library archives after swearing Emily to secrecy, poking around the woods, following up on rumors of missing hikers. They’d all been dead ends of course, too much about things that went bump in the night, and not enough about where it put them back down. Maybe it hadn’t even been a dead end, really. Just another thing on a long list of roadblocks Sammy had taken as cement walls because he hadn’t wanted to see what was there. Couldn’t even give up his damn pride when Jack was- when Jack…

Sammy had known he wasn’t dead, somehow. Despite everything, he never believed Jack was gone entirely. His own mind wouldn't let him think about anything else, most days. Just Jack, trapped and alone, and Sammy would wake up screaming about him, big rounded out eyes, calling for help somewhere just beyond Sammy’s reach. The worst nights were the ones he woke up with Jack’s voice still ringing in his ears, repeating the awful things he’d snarked at him over his shoulder.

He'd known Jack- knew, Jack- for more than half his life. He'd been in love with him for almost all of that time. From the very first second Jack had walked in to their shared 8 AM class, coffee stains all over his shirt and wordlessly passed Sammy an extra cup. Jack had never once tried to hurt him the way he had those last few weeks. Not the Jack that fretted, that talked so softly at him in the dead of night about how proud he was to know Sammy, about how happy he was. Not the Jack that cooed at baby birds and spoke on air about love like it was nothing to ever possibly be ashamed of. It was hard, without Jack there to beat back the swirling mess of his brain, to remember what Jack could have possibly ever seen in him.

It was easy to feel guilty, then. Even easier to wrap himself up in it, like it was productive at all. He could pretend it was like having control, maybe, a way of keeping himself responsible for an entirely impossible series of events. Like somehow, if it was his fault enough that Jack hadn’t stopped for him, Sammy would be able to see the pieces that made up the whole fucked up picture. He could just blame himself for being happy for half a second, blame himself for not looking hard enough, blame himself for not having the god damned bravery to tell his best fucking friend that his fiancé was missing.

‘Hey Ben, Sammy Stevens is a radio host from the big city’ good, fine, easy enough. ‘Sammy Stevens used to be an asshole, on air.’ Little harder, but manageable. Anything laced with an insult tasted fine enough. ‘Hey, Ben, Sammy Stevens is a coward. He’s going to let you down. He already let his fiancé down and he’s not even brave enough to finish the job’. Yeah, well. Who’d want to hear that anyway.

The thing about the whole stages of grief thing, was that they didn’t really give you a manual for dealing with the fact that sometimes people were never actually dead. And sometimes, if you were beyond lucky and knew people with as much fire and tenacity as Ben Arnold, Lily Wright, and Emily Potter, they came back.

What was the reverse of the five stages of grief? Well, he could check the little box for denial off, probably. If pure shock counted. And the way he’d woken up leaning against Jack’s palm in the hospital room, woken up with the same typical split second of peace before crushing reality pinned him beneath the usual tide of emptiness, only to have another wave of overwhelming reality leave him completely shattered moments later when he processed who’s heartbeat had been lulling him to rest for the past three hours.

The panic attack after was a little disorienting, a lot more guilt inducing for confusing reasons, but at least Jack had been mostly unconscious still and missed the whole spectacle.

Bargaining was sort of sidestepped. A little less begging a lot more resolutely refusing to leave anywhere without taking Jack with them. Shadowmaker-Debbie-Whoever was a problem for another day.

Sadness? Nothing to be sad about, the love of his life was breathing, had woken up for a split second in the hospital to grin dopily at him before passing out again, had told him he’d loved him with a rasping voice and watering eyes and Sammy had struggled to say it back around his heart cracking in his throat but he was alive. Jack was home. Ben curled just there against his own frantic heartbeat, Emily squeezing the hand that wasn’t locked into Jack’s. Lily pacing two feet to the left, with Katie talking softly at her through her phone speaker. He had everything, more than he’d ever thought he’d get. A family. Jack was healing, too. Walking around after a few short weeks, remembering more and more, relearning how to be okay. And just the way he'd looked at Sammy, when Ben had practically launched out of his seat to volunteer their place as somewhere for Jack to recuperate. All wobbly legged and awed, like the kindness so inherent in Ben Arnold was the most amazing gift in the world, like he was so impossibly bursting with pride that Sammy had found him all on his own.

He loved Ben for everything he did, those first few weeks. For everything he'd been doing over the years. He just hated the way it made him feel so shitty. The way it made him realize, if he hadn't been so focused on making it to the big Air stations, about fitting in, how Jack could have had this all along. That Sammy and his cowardice had taken even more than five fucking years from the love of his life.

Anger. Check, check, and check.

He supposed he was at that stage sort of constantly. That’d been the hardest one to let go of the first time around, made sense it would be the last to leave.

Not that he was angry at Jack. Maybe he had been, once. A drunken night spent too long in an unfamiliar town with empty walls and quiet rooms singing back at him; maybe he’d been mad at Jack for not listening then. For daring to leave Sammy alone without him. For not walking back in and taking Sammy with him. Now, though. Now it was more of a miasma, a curled and wretched thing around his chest that he didn’t know how to breathe without anymore. The sting kept him focused, kept him here. Had almost swallowed him alive, but he’d pulled through somehow. Not by his own choice, to be fair, but the end result was the same.

Being unhappy with himself was sort of textbook Stevens at this point, enough wear and tear to nearly be a household joke. To be the sort of thing Lily could rib him with again. Or it would have, anyways. He’d tried to make it a thing for a bit, but Ben seemed to just, shut off whenever Sammy brought it up as breezy as you please. He’d get all round eyed and worried at Sammy, like it was personally his fault for not loving Sammy hard enough to make that part of his brain give it up and go home. Sort of took the fun out of it when Ben got like that, really.

It was easier to be unhappy with himself when Jack was missing, though, to be fair. And when he didn’t have a towns worth of people forcibly dragging him out to things like celebratory bonfires, or cook outs, or inviting themselves along to Jack and Sammy’s wedding plans, because of course Mary would be coordinating the reception, and of course Ben was the best man so that meant he’d be planning their ‘radio boys night’, and obviously Loretta made the best potatoes this side of Big Pine so she’d be supplying food and-

He just hated the fact he couldn’t seem to just, let himself believe he deserved it in the end.

Maybe if Jack didn’t have a limp now, or if there weren’t all these mottled scars lining his neck. If Jack didn’t have to lie down every few hours because his energy just wasn’t the same anymore, or if he could wrap his arms around Jack when he was cooking like he used to without it sending his fiancé into a strange catatonic panic attack state he’d have to lull him back out of. Almost six years was a long time to be stuck in the void, and it didn’t seem fully ready to let Jack Wright go. And that, ultimately, was Sammy’s fault.

If he’d only worked up the courage to tell Ben sooner, or been smarter, or believed in all of this faster. If only, if only Sammy was just…. Better.

“Hey,” Jack nudged him, dragging Sammy forcibly back into the moment. They were curled up on the couch, their selection (really, Ben’s selection) for movie night still playing quietly in the background. Emily whispered quietly to Sammy’s left, evidently trying to untangle Ben’s octopus arms from around Sammy’s waist and drag him back to bed. Emily caught Sammy’s dazed stare and smiled at him, reaching up to push his bangs from Sammy’s brow, "Get some rest you two. Don't stay up too late."

Ben grumbled incoherently, but finally got up to follow Emily out of the room with a sleepy ‘night, love you’ thrown Sammy’s and Jack’s way.

Wasn’t that in itself fantastic? Ben was always so open and easy with loving everyone around him and he’d loved Jack from the moment he’d known Jack existed, but now he knew him, too. Now Jack and Ben had their own text chat full of cryptid memes and exclamation marks, and they both ganged up on Sammy on occasion when he got to ‘dad friend-y’ or didn’t understand internet things, and Ben knew him. Wasn’t that amazing, Sammy? Wasn’t that enough?

Why the hell wasn't it enough.

“I can hear you thinking bad thoughts, you know,” Jack said softly, nudging his nose against Sammy’s temple and squeezing where his arm was looped easily around Sammy’s shoulder. His voice was light and teasing enough, but Sammy heard the implication, the underlying concern to it all. Sammy sighed.

“No new bad thoughts, I promise,” he leaned over, resting his chin on Jack’s shoulder instead and pecking him where he could reach the sharp line of Jack’s jaw. “Sorry for spacing out, seems like I missed a classic. With how much Ben drool is currently soaking into my shirt, must have been a real tear jerker.”

Jack snorted quietly. “He’ll be adamant that he saw the whole thing in the morning of course.”

“Mhmmm.” Sammy smiled back. Jack’s hand lifted, carding sweetly through Sammy’s hair. He’d mentioned he couldn’t get over how long it was now, before. Said he liked it with a sort of punched out awe struck look, like he was seeing a sunset for the first time again. Just for that alone, Sammy would weather an infinity of manbun jokes for the rest of his life. Jack called him a lumberjack looking Orlando Bloom impersonator, a high badge of honour.

“Not really like you to space out during a romcom, though,” Jack added, after a long moment. His hand moved to the side of Sammy’s cheek, rubbing his thumb in slow circles. Sammy sighed, and leaned more into Jack’s side. The downside to someone knowing him so well, arguably even better than Ben did, was the lack of deflection. Deflecting had been his only super power besides untold levels of snark in the past five years. The impenetrable Stevens Shield, shattered by one Jack Wright’s immense empathy and knowing smirk.

Damn.

“You know,” Jack’s hand stilled. “Ben told me something interesting the other day. Wondered if it might be bugging you.”

“Oh yeah? You know, they have a totally different name for Bigfoot here too. I bet he’s talked you up and down about their incomparable shoe sizes already, but the entirely different name thing they have going on here still gets me.”

“Mm,” Jack hummed, and Sammy knew Jack was an unmoving mountain in the face of Sammy’s infinite array of topic changing tactics, but damn again. “He did mention something about custom hiking boots, yeah. But uh, no. He…. Thanked me, actually. For something I’m not sure I remember doing.”

“Oh?” That wasn’t entirely uncommon either, Jack had memory issues on top of everything else these days. Yet another scar to carry back from the void, Sammy guessed. Chunks of days sometimes just sort of…. Fell out of place. Some got lost and some found their ways back but in the wrong places. They adapted.

Jack went quiet again. Sammy listened to the gentle thrum of Jack’s heartbeat beneath his ear, and played with the fingers of Jack’s free hand aimlessly. He’d never tire of being able to have this, never ever again. He’d never get enough of Jack Wright (soon to be Jack Stevens-Wright), as long as he li—

“Ben thanked me for keeping you out of the Devil’s Doorstep, actually. Said, um. Said he thought it might have been me. That I stopped it from taking you. Knew you were doing something stupid and just,” his voice cracked slightly, and Sammy’s heart lurched. “Kept you safe.”

Oh.

“Thing is,” Jack continued, voice warbling now. “I don’t…. I don’t know that it was me. I know that… I would have done everything. Everything I could to keep you from being in that place with me, but I- I didn’t. I couldn’t even see you, near the end. I couldn’t tell you were right in front of me! And- it’s too much if you- I don’t think I did anything. And you could have—” His voice broke off entirely, and Sammy twisted and lurched upwards, cradling Jack’s face in his hands.

Oh god, Sammy thought, he knows. He knows.

“Jack, I- no, you can’t blame yourself, I… I’m so sorry, okay? It was stupid, I—”

Jack was crying, silent tears creeping down his dark cheeks, and his hands had fallen to Sammy’s waist like he couldn’t make himself let go, like the world would have to fall apart entirely around them and the sun swallow them whole before Jack thought to so much as move. Like he was terrified.

Sammy felt horrible.

“It was stupid,” Jack sniffled, “Stupid of me to-to not listen to you. I know I wasn’t, at least I’m pretty sure I wasn’t in control near the end. And I would never have- I was so awful to you, sweetheart and I can’t even begin to know how much that hurt you, but then I left you. I didn’t want to, I never would have- I left you behind, Sammy, and I promised I’d never—”

“You didn’t mean to! It wasn’t you, Jack, I know it wasn’t. I’m, I’d never blame you for going when I know you never meant to, please-please don’t cry, Jack-”

Jack’s mouth pressed into a flat line, eyes desperately sad in a way that hurt to look at, hurt to have directed on him. “You did blame me, though. For a minute? You…. I went somewhere you couldn’t follow, and- and Ben thinks I stopped you from following me anyway.”

The image of Ben, with how quiet and shaken he’d been the weeks following Sammy’s… well, the ‘Sammiversary’, murmuring a far too sincere thanks with that classic wobbling smile of his. The idea that he’d thought Jack would have fought the darkness, fought the impossible for Sammy just as much as they were fighting for Jack, just to keep Sammy safe. It was a lot. A fondness he’d never have the words to name rose in him, made his eyes burn with how intensely Ben just. Believed in Sammy. Believed in Jack despite never having met him.

And yet Sammy hadn’t believed in either of them enough to want to stay, had he?

“I’m a coward,” Sammy felt the steel in him caving, the foundations he’d made into a shield folding inwards like the dying star in his center had finally gone supernova. The black hole that was Sammy Steven’s pulling everything down around with it. Nothing more to hide, right?

“I wasn’t strong enough Jack, I let… I let you rot there for five fucking years, and I couldn’t even ask my best friend for help for most of that. I let you just, freeze there, alone in that hell, because I couldn’t fucking tell anyone how much I loved you. How can you…” His eyes widened, and he cut himself off. Jack looked…. Devastated.

He remembered something similar, once, to this moment. When Sammy had spent a little too long ruminating in all his failures, in all his badly outlined ideas of love and how he’d never earned it despite everything he cut off from himself, despite the fact he’d made himself fit into a mould that was never his, until Jack. Always until Jack. Jack had come home from hanging out with Lily and found Sammy nearly catatonic, all bowed inwards and sliding somewhere in between planes of being here and being anywhere else. He didn’t remember Jack panicking, didn’t remember the frantic phone calls or the calm soothing tones that eventually walked him back out from himself. For as long as he lived though, he’d remember that quiet devastation in Jack’s eyes when Sammy blearily asked why Jack was home so early. (Because he hadn’t asked that, really. Because he’d been mumbling about the uncertainty of what he’d always deserved, about that space within himself he could never seem to shorn down the right way, the part with all the splinters still sticking out).

“I’m sorry,” he said immediately, hands coming up and fluttering somewhere around Jack’s cheeks. Wanting to push away the worry lines carving unfamiliar age across Jack’s face (or maybe it was Sammy, maybe it was Sammy forgetting. Five years was a long time, maybe he hadn’t thought about Jack enough). “Jack, please don’t, I-“

“Is that…. Is that what you really think? How can you- I… Sammy, you saved me,” Jack’s voice went funny, a sort of sideways trip into steel and uncertainty that couldn’t possibly exist together. Jack had always been good at that, making things he wanted real.

Sammy shook his head, there were so many ways he could untangle that. So many holes to poke. “I almost didn’t, though,” he said instead.

Jack winced and Sammy felt like slinking into the mud outside, just piling it on top of himself and taking a nap until he could spontaneously figure out how to fix this. Fix… all of this, his head, who he fundamentally seemed to be as a person with all the various anxieties and meltdowns. He didn’t used to be like this, he’d had problems they’d worked through and so had Jack, but now… It was like he was mourning a Jack that wasn’t here when Jack was right in front of him. Like he was mad at the Jack who’d left but not the one that came back and they couldn’t be made into the same person. It was like he was fighting not to lose someone who wasn’t leaving. Jack deserved better, he was back and everything should be perfect right? Except it was Sammy and those stupid stages of not-grief he wasn’t experiencing, just tossing everything around and making a mess of him.

“Oh, sweetheart, shh,” Jack moved in even closer, until their foreheads were almost touching, until Sammy’s whole world was those wide dark, kind, eyes. “I need you to breathe with me, Sammy.” Oh, Sammy blinked, not realizing he’d begun half trembling outside himself in the encroaching storm of his thoughts. Yeah, he could do that. He moved a hand to Jack’s chest, over his heart, and closed his eyes.

One of Jack’s hands slid around to the back of Sammy’s neck, slowly playing with the hair at his nape. Sammy breathed, shakily, then more grounded. “I don’t care about what you almost didn’t do, Sammy. Because, and I know you won’t let it stick in that beautiful head of yours, but I’ll say it anyways… You’ve always been stronger than you give yourself credit for. You’ve always been exactly what I need. I care about the fact you're hurting.”

Ben had said something similar to him once, too. Maybe he'd just been hurting the people around him all along, really. He focused on breathing out through his nose, on Jack’s heart thrumming under his palm, on Jack’s large, warm hand wrapped around his neck. Points of gravitational pull, enough to pull all his parts back together.

“You would have gotten me out,” Sammy managed, after a long moment. Jack’s hand paused, then resumed it’s gentle threading. “If it was reversed, you wouldn’t have given up.”

Jack’s laugh was a sad quiet thing. “The faith you have in me… wish you could have half of that for yourself sometimes.”

His eyes opened, something hot and fierce burning through his heart. “You wouldn’t have. You’re the most stubborn person I know outside of Ben. And he fuckin’ blew up a spaceship.”

The lopsided sad smile on Jack’s face faded, something three parts contemplative and one part tragic cresting in its place. Jack dropped his hands with a sigh, and bundled Sammy’s between both of his hands, just there against his chest. Like they were both finally on the same tempo, a ship finding the lighthouse. Something less god damned melodramatic, maybe.

“Sammy Stevens, without you I’d... I'd be lost, really.” Jack whispered. His fingers found the ring on Sammy’s hand, just resting there. “I wouldn’t know how to believe in anything if you weren’t around. You know you make me brave, right? If it had taken you instead- If I’d brought it into our home and you’d been the one to-“ Jack cut himself off, voice creaking into half remembered horrors. He closed his eyes for a minute. “It doesn’t matter what I would have done.” Jack said decisively. “Because you would have been too smart to leave in the first place.”  

“Well,” it was… hard to argue with that. Sammy wouldn’t have let Jack leave either if he’d known- no, if he’d been listening. Would have stayed up until the twilight hours and then beyond if he’d known Jack was planning to sneak out before the dawn hit. But if he'd been getting the phone calls? If he'd been the one planning in journals and late night notes? He wouldn't have been able to go to King Falls and leave Jack in their home alone. Wouldn't have even thought about it. Not because of smarts or anything noteworthy, just because the only parts of Sammy he liked were all Jack and he was never brave enough to do anything on his own.

“You would have got me out,” Sammy said instead.

“You did, Sammy. You found friends to help you and you got me back. You know me, I probably would have thought I could do it all on my own and ended up making it all worse.”

His chest felt too small somehow, like there was a key rattling just out of reach and something clawing to escape. “Five years,” he whispered. Jack’s hands squeezed.

“Think of it this way, babe. All the time left in the world to make up for it, hm?”

That… that was all Sammy wanted. That was everything, wasn’t it? Maybe that could be real, maybe he could stop mourning all the lost treasures they still had locked up in some dingy storage unit outside of town. Maybe it didn’t have to hurt to see the photos anymore, because Jack would be here to make more of them.

He bowed his head. “I can’t… I can’t stop feeling guilty. I was going to leave you there. I was gunna join you, but. There were all these times before that, when it was just so damn quiet in my shitty apartment, and there was nothing there worth giving a shit about. But then, Ben would call. Or he’d text some wild thing going on at town hall, or I’d just, think about how lost he’d be before he had Emily. How he needed me.” Sammy shrugged, eyes stinging finally. “I should have been able to do it for you, too. I just kept thinking about- there’s the storage locker where I put our bed and-and your favorite chair, and how if you’d never sit in them again they weren’t worth keeping. But I still couldn’t throw them out. I should have known you weren’t gone, shouldn’t I?”

Jack inhaled sharply, and let go of Sammy’s hands to pull him in closer, pressing his lips to Sammy’s temple. His lips felt dry, his hands on Sammy’s waist dug in a little too much. He was shaking just slightly, just enough to be out of focus.

Sammy had done that to him, too. He’d taken their quiet movie night and broken it apart into halves and quarters and left Jack scared, clinging on with everything in him like Sammy would just get up and walk into the Void now, with nothing to meet him there. Like Sammy was planning on leaving his bed in the storage locker, like Jack would have to toss Sammy’s things in with it.

Wasn’t he, though? Anger wasn’t acceptance yet, and the stages kept overlapping and cresting in strange strung out pale waves. Maybe it was reasonable to worry that Sammy wasn’t quite all there yet. Sammy, but a little to the left, and Jack with a little more scars than skin. What a pair.  

The thought was the closing line of poetry, in a way. That nice little footnote to tuck the whole climactic ending together.

There was still the Shadow Maker, somewhere out there. Still Debbie, still prophecies upon prophecies, but there was also Jack. And Ben, and Emily, and four walls around them with years upon years left to get to that last stage. Get to where it felt like he deserved any of it.

Jack leaned his head on Sammy’s shoulder, and pushed his nose just against the crook of Sammy’s neck. He sighed, it felt a little less panicked, maybe a little worried and a little hollowed out, but Jack had never been one to let pessimism drag him down too long. “I think,” He started, and Sammy lifted his hand to circle Jack’s head, holding him carefully against himself. They used to sit like this in their old place, back with those awful yellow curtains and the yard they’d dreamed about maybe having a dog to play around in, maybe some barbeque nights. The house they’d dreamed about a future in patches that never felt quite safe enough to make stick. And now…

“I think maybe it’s enough that I’m here, and you’re here. And neither of us is going anywhere, and Ben’s just down the hall. Maybe it’s enough we have this, just for right now.”

Now, there was a town full of people that knew Jack Wright and Sammy Stevens, and knew Jack and Sammy. There was a radio station with his best friend, and a forest where you couldn’t trust the signs, and absolute nonsense happening at least every other week. There was a house, with blue curtains and two bedrooms for four people, a yard, and a whole mountainside beyond that where things like futures could be made of concrete and big ideas.

Maybe there was room for this, too.

Jack’s heartbeat felt like it echoed his own, from how close they were. A fixed point on a horizon, blinking back into view. A lighthouse telling him where it was safe to land.

[princessbunnyblossom]

Broken but not Shattered Ch 4

Spinel could practically feel his warm not breath against her soft pink skin causing her to shiver lightly. Her face must've been burning a bright red.

"Okay, right keg yellow." Amethyst said.

Spinel managed to luck out and sighed, she had made it to the correct color yet something told her the worst was yet to come. She thought she could prepare for it, thought that she could handle whatever was thrown her way. She was sorrowfully wrong. She would never be prepared for something like this. Steven struggled to hold himself up and was so close to reaching the color he needed but unfortunately his luck ran out and it resulted in him crashing onto something soft below him. It was soft and faintly smelled like strawberries and flowers. Steven could feel his face glow red once he realized who it was. He couldn't look at her. Not now. He was sure he would've died instantly from embarrassment.

Spinel wants to die.

Everything happened so fast, once she had gotten to the right color she yelped feeling something fall on top of her. They were kinda heavy and there came this husky manly cologne that smells so pleasant. Then Spinel had realized who it was and wanted to die instantly. The young diamond hybrid had fallen on her in his attempt to try and reach the same color as she. Spinel's face could've been mistaken for a tomato of how red it must've looked. Steven was so close to her now and or course she had been close well,physically meaning when he....saved her from her own explosion from the injector. Spinel shuttered not wanting to think about those times. Spinel looked away flustered as she opened her mouth sputtering our nonsense.

"I-I...umm you're." She stopped and looked away again.

Muffled laughs and snorts were heard from Amethyst as she stared at the two. Now it was Steven's turn to get all flustered as his face flushed a pretty pink.

"S-Sorry about that." He replied sheepishly offering his hand to help her up.

"Th-that's okay." Spinel stuttered takings is hand and carefully sitting up.

"Well I think that's enough games for tonight. Steven, you should get some rest, it's getting late." Peel informed him.

Steven sighed.

"Alright." The teen replied getting up and headed up the steps to his room.

Spinel watched from afar watching as the young diamond hybrid headed up the stairs to his room his flushed face going down a little.

"You too Spinel." Pearl said calmly.

Spinel jumped at being called but nodded getting up and following Steven as she remembered what was to come next. Steven was going to teach her how to sleep. Spinel rubbed her arm nervously, she was both scared yet curious to see how sleeping worked. Once she had finally got to his room she saw that the young teenager had set up a bed next to his for the pink gem. Spinel swallowed hard, she could feel a pang of guilt wash over her, he didn't have to do something like this for her. Especially after what she had done to his home.

"Y-you don't have to do that for m-me y,know." Spinel said rubbing her arm.

Steven turned to her and smiled brightly.

"Sure I do, can't let you sleep on the floor. It gets cold at night and sides I want you to experience the best of sleep." He answered happily.

Spinel stared at the diamond hybrid and smiled genuinely at him.

"Thank you." Spinel replied.

The diamond hybrid stared back and smiled at the pink pigtailed gem..

"No problem."

Spinel chuckled heading over to her suitcase and gather her pajamas for the night while also making sure to hide her medication from Steven in the process and stood up. Of course as a gem she didn't need such clothes or material things but the feeling of cloth against her form felt very nice and soft and she'd figure it might help aid in her sleep.

"Well I'm gonna go change, be right back." Spinel said heading out of the room and downstairs into the bathroom and closed the door behind her.

Once inside the small pink gem sighed running a hand through her pink hair as she began getting changed the nightgown fabric felt so soft and silky and Spinel liked how it wrapped her body in warmth and comfort. It felt so nice. She hummed softly as she was getting changed in the earth night wear and the way it looked on her Also was an added bonus. The pale blossom pink went perfectly with her pink completion. It fell almost her her ankles but stopped midway due to the ruffled end of it and the small pink gem headed out of the bathroom and upstairs feeling nervous about the whole sleeping thing. Spinel just hoped that she didn't mess up or anything, she just wanted things to go perfect for her for once.

When Spinel made it back to Steven's room again she witnessed that the diamond hybrid had also changed while she was in the bathroom. When she caught sight of him staring at her face flushing a light pink she looked away her own face blooming a gentle red as she seemed embarrassed. She knew looking like hpthis must've looked weird. Maybe changing into theee earth nightwear was a bad idea. That was until she had heard him speak to her.

"Oh your already changed....you....you look nice." He chuckled face flushing a deeper pink as he tried to fill the awkward tension between the two.

Spinel could feel her face fumed a red and she looked away tugging on one of her pigtails.

"O-oh thanks." She stuttered and looked up again at the young boy.

"I'll be right back. I gotta brush my teeth." Steven said and Spinel swallowed hard.

She knew that he would be back but part of her didn't want him to leave, part of her wanted him to stay a little longer but Spinel fought the fear of having a panic attack right here in front of him. No! She wanted to be strong and she could do it. It wouldn't be that long she told herself. Spinel watched tearfully as the savior of the galaxy slowly headed out of his room and downstairs to do what he said he was going to do leaving the young pink gem all alone. Spinel sucked in a breath, her body shaking as her eyes began welling up with tears. She..just needed something to distract herself with p, yes that's it she just needed to do something until Steven came back. He.....he would come back....he said he would. Spinel's breath hitched as she remembered the garden and Pink....she bit her lip and turned around back to her luggage.

Spinel dug in there for a couple of minutes until she found her hairbrush and smiled weakly. She could brush her hair. Of course. That could take her mind out of having Steven leave for a couple of minutes. Spinel took the opportunity to brush her hair and the small pink gem pulled back her bands that held her pigtails and watched as her pink hair spilled and draped against her petite shoulders. She sighed running a hand through her pink hair as she grabbed her brush and proceeded to brush her hair. Spinel had to admit her hair from the last millennia had grown it was odd yet Spinel didn't mind it too much. Brushing her hair right now was actually keeping her calm and sometimes she could ask the pearls for help styling her hair.

Some of the pearls enjoyed doing her hair and Spinel was grateful for the help. The small pink gem could always find herself happy when Pink Pearl as her friend and felt like she could tell her all her secrets and stuff....but she would never speak about how she felt about Pink Diamond. It felt fat too painful for Spinel to talk about something like that with Pink Pearl especially since the pink thin gem adored Pink Diamond despite what her diamond had done to her. Spinel frowned, biting her lip. No she could never tell Pink Pearl or Yellow and Blue Pearl. Spinel cont is used brushing her hair and sighed softly not wanting to think about those memories right now.

"It's been a long time since I've seen your hair down." Came a calm soft voice.

Spinel stopped midway through brushing to see Pearl standing there a wistful look in her face. Spinel looked away from the thin gem. Pearl was her Diamond's favorite gem she knew once Pink Pearl had been broken and taken away by White Pink had been gifted a brand new pearl and her diamond very much enjoyed her new pearl. It was like she had forgotten her previous pearl due to how much fun her new pearl was. It made her angry it made Spinel very angry about the situation but she couldn't understand why she so upset about it at the time but now it made perfect sense why. She spent more time with her pearl then she had with Spinel and yet the small young gem felt a bang of bitterness and envy towards the pointed nose gem. Spinel was jealous, Pink had taken her to earth while she left Spinel in the garden rot rot away. However right now she couldn't be upset with Pearl even if her diamond left her for Pearl.

"O-oh...Pearl. I didn't see you there." Spinel said.

"I came looking for Steven but I guess he must still be in the bathroom." Pearl replied calmly.

Spinel nodded and turned away but listened as the thin gem was getting closer and the pink gem gasped feeling the gem intertwined her finger through her pink hair. Spinel shuttered st the gentle touch, she wasn't use to Pearl touching her like this, not even in the presence of Pink Diamond would she do such a thing. That was until....

"Spinel look what you've done, you've got flowers, leaves and twigs in your hair.." Pink Diamond pointed out.

Spinel smiled sheepishly as she had ran around the garden without a care in the world playing yet another game with Pink. Dying said game Spinel had managed to get a couple of cherry blossoms stuck in her hair as well as some small leaves as well as small thin twigs.

"How am I supposed to present you to my court when you're looking a mess?" Pink Diamond scolded glaring coldly at the gem.

Spinel looked down at her feet feeling shame rush to her as she rubbed her arm nervously. Pink Diamond looked away from Spinel obviously upset with Spinel's appearance.

"My diamond if I may." Pearl said calmly walking towards Spinel.

Spinel kept her face down, not daring to look up and see her diamonds angry and disappointed face. Pearl looked at the small gem and sighed softly placing a hand on the small gem's shoulder.

"Don't worry my diamond, I'll take care of it. You should probably head to the throne room now I'm sure the other diamonds will be waiting." Pearl stated.

Pink Diamond looked at her Pearl and smiled.

"Alright but please hurry." She urged her pearl

Pearl nodded and watched as her diamond left with a bright blue flash of the warp pad leaving both gems alone. Pearl turned to Spinel and took noticed that the smaller gem had been crying silently soft tears spilling down her face.

[pollylynn]

“Keep me close.” —Kate Beckett, Sleeper (7 x 20)

Title: Potboiler Rating: T WC: 1800

A/N: I’m sorry this is so long and so . . .  terribly project-y and fix-it-y. I really did try to write something else.

He’s not sure what he expected, and the problem—one of many problems—may be that he hasn’t expected. He’s been very pointedly not expecting for the last nine months, and now what he has is this: A wholly unsatisfying story, told in bits and pieces by people who, given  their chosen profession or penance or whatever they want to call it, really ought to be better at it.

Except maybe they didn’t have to be better at it. That's a possibility that just about knocks him down. He examines the elements of the story. He picks it apart, and honestly, it’s pathetic—a ticking clock, the one man in all the world who knew the details, the one . . . high school friend of the one man in all the world who was famous enough to ride along on a world-saving mission?

To call it pulp is an insult to one of his favorite genres, but he can see it. He can see how he’d fall for it. Hell, he has fallen for it. With Sophia, with his father—he’s fallen hook, line, and sinker for the idea that he’s the key to saving the world, and it hardly matters that it seems to have been true this time. Or at least it doesn’t matter enough.

It haunts me.

His confession to Burke feels slick and oily and false now. He may have been pointedly not expecting anything, but still, he’s asked himself countless times not just what could have made him leave, but what could have made him leave like that? Abandoning her at the altar—leaving her and his mother and his daughter to think him dead—what could have had him, just hours later, tossing a bag of money into a dumpster, a payoff for destroying the only evidence that might have led her to him?

An immediate, credible threat to them—Kate, Alexis, his mother. It’s the only possibility he’s ever considered, given that timeline. The only one, and it turns his stomach to think that, instead, he must have lapped up this dreck. It makes him reel with self-loathing to realize that they’d have had no time at all to really work on him—to really convince him—so he must have leapt at the idea.

You missed your wedding. But you also saved tens of thousands of lives.

Hearing a line like that and hopping right on board. Yeah, that sounds like him. It sounds exactly like the grandiose, egotistical, perpetual adolescent he is.

He doesn’t know what to do with it.

It haunts me.  

It takes on a completely different meaning in the days after all is revealed. After too fucking little is revealed. He tries, once again, to not expect. He becomes a mirror to Alexis, to his mother. They are satisfied. They are relieved, and he’s already put them through so much. He’s shut them out. He’s kept them from expecting anything—any kind of resolution—so he smiles back now. With them, he walks in the world as if a weight has been lifted.

With Ryan and Esposito, he plays the role. Sorry, boys. Need to know. He winks theatrically and struts. He wishes—and he knows it’s messed up—that Esposito weren’t satisfied at last by two and a half bodies and this stupid, byzantine plot. He wishes there were someone who saw him for what he is.

It’s hardest with Kate. Of course it is. His worst case scenario all along—what he thought was his worst case scenario—has been that he did something unspeakable. He sees now, though, that the idea is nothing but a soft landing he’d prepared for himself. He thinks about Douglas Stevens.  

I didn’t think you had that side to you.

Well, when it comes to the people I love, I do.

He thinks about what he would have done to Bracken or Vulcan Simmons without blinking, the way he calmly, methodically set a trap for Jerry Tyson that was only ever going to end one way. He hasn’t missed a moment’s sleep over any of that.

To protect them, to come back to them, he’d have done anything and lived with it. There is no part of himself—his soul—he would not have sacrificed. But it had nothing to do with them, except it had everything to do with them. He left them in the blink of an eye because some shadowy figures dragged him out of a burning car and told him only he could save the world.  

She believes it. Kate does, and he doesn’t know how to say that it doesn’t matter that it seems to have been true. He doesn’t know how to cope with this . . . crisis of character except to keep it to himself. He won’t make her a victim all over again, so he keeps it to himself.

He takes a sharp turn into the everyday, into the domestic. He breaks off from cases to cook elaborate meals that he keeps warm for her. He sets the table or a pair of places at the breakfast bar—with linens and candles and fresh-cut flowers—no matter what time she gets home. He puts her to bed and carries it in on a tray when it’s so late that she’s ready to drop and he cajoles her into a few bites before her eyes close on her.

He does laundry and plans date nights. He makes romantic gestures by the dozen. He devotes himself to their lives, day in, day out, and ultimately, he agonizes over the fact that it’s getting better. But it is. It does get better. The dreams fade. He sleeps . . . fine. Not great, but no worse than usual. He forgets for hours at a time that doesn’t deserve this life.

He starts writing again. He’s behind, of course. He’s always behind this time of year, and a glimpse of a Russian assassin for hire—one who was apparently bad enough at his job to get caught on camera—means it’s worse than usual. This wholly unsatisfying story makes it worse than usual, and still, it’s getting better.

His fingers itch. His brain itches, and he opens his neglected working document. He scans through it. He’s at the end—at the point where he left off—and it all rolls suddenly over him. It boils up and out, black and oily and slick. It blots out the world so completely that he cries out when she slides the plate in front of him. He jerks back and almost goes over in the desk chair.

There’s a smile frozen on her face. He watches it die. “Castle, what?”

“I killed him,” he says flatly. “Rook.”

“What?” The smile rises again, a brief flicker of it. She thinks he’s joking. “What do you mean you killed him?”

“The kidnapping. It wasn’t one.” He sees his own flash of teeth as though he’s standing behind her, looming over the scene. “He went—he left her. He bought some dumb fucking story and left her. I killed him.”

“You can’t kill him,” she says simply. She pushes the dinner plate all the way across the desk, navigating around the laptop. She balances on the edge of the desk, facing him. “You shouldn’t kill him.”

“I don’t know what else to do.” His head drops into his hands. “I don’t know.”

“Why won’t you talk to me about it?” She keeps her voice carefully neutral. She lets the silence stretch out. He feels her fingers sift lightly through his hair. “I’m not used to waiting for you to talk about . . . anything.”

A wet, ugly laugh rises up from the depths of him. “I don’t know what to say, either.”

“What’s so bad about it?” She traces the curving path of his ear, the sweep of his eyebrow. “Why is it so bad for you?”

It’s a terrible story he wants to shout. He wants to rant and rave and throw things, but he won’t. He’s done with dramatics. He leans into her touch. He lifts his head and looks up at her.

“Why would I go?” he asks. “Just like that. Why would I believe them?”

She doesn’t answer right away. She doesn’t rush into an answer, unconsidered.

“Maybe it wasn’t ‘them’.” She looks at a point somewhere behind him, somewhere slightly above his head, like there’s a murder board there. “Maybe it was him. Your friend.”

“Friend.” he practically spits the word. It’s kind of dramatic. “He wasn’t—”

“He was, though.” She tugs his chin up, none too gently. “You knew him as a kid. You knew him well enough, years later, to know that he worked in a foreign country’s intelligence agency. You knew him, Castle.” A flicker of sadness crosses her face. A flicker of anger for him—on his behalf. “They made you forget. You don’t even know how much.”

“Maybe. Maybe if they’d . . . knocked me out and threw me on a plane.” The words well up in him. It’s almost a panic, like he has to keep ahead of anything that might draw him again—anything that might assuage the guilt he feels. The guilt he deserves to feel. “Maybe if they’d locked me up and worked on me till I gave in, but its was hours, Kate—hours later—”

“We knew you weren’t dead.” Her voice drops low. She stares down at her lap. “Vinny Cardano? Castle don’t you think . . .” She gathers herself with a shaking breath. With a hard swallow. “Don’t you think that whoever ‘they’ are, they had a better way of making a car disappear than you—you, personally going to that dumpster—paying off a mobster we both knew? Haven’t you at least considered the possibility that you were trying to leave me whatever breadcrumbs you could?”

“No,” he says, something like a thousand years later. She’s reaching. She has to be reaching, but he wants so badly to believe there’s truth to it. “No, I hadn’t thought of that.”  

“Yeah, well maybe if you’d talk to me once in a while—”

“I’m sorry.” He pulls her to him and rises to meet her at once. It shoves the laptop aside, rotating the whole thing ninety degrees. The dinner plate sails over the edge of the desk. “I’m sorry.”

“Stop,” she says fiercely. “Can’t we just stop being sorry?”

“Not right away?” He presses his cheek into the crook of her shoulder. He’s ashamed and frustrated. He’s still fucking haunted by the stupid story and he’s not at all sure this isn’t just her enduring kindness. He catches sight of the laptop screen, the cursor blinking in the middle of Jameson Rook’s gruesome death. “I’m working on it. I’ll work on something better than sorry.”

images via homeofthenutty

[sontagfag]

a song by song explanation for this playlist

1. Shut Up Kiss Me by Angel Olsen

this screams macdennis to me, like just read guardians of a rare thing and you’ll get it. this is like s6 or s7 dennis bc they stopped fucking after s5 and he just wants to get kissed because he has big feelings but also refuses to say them out loud :( 

most macdennis line: “this heart still beats for you why can’t you see it”

2. I’m Not Gonna Teach Your Boyfriend How to Dance With You by Black Kids

ok so this is dennis being jealous as fuck because mac got a boyfriend and now he’s hanging out at the bar being tender w mac. dennis is the narrator and can’t stand watching them be together + the guy knows mac and him are close and asks him for advice....

most macdennis line: “one, im biting my tongue, two, he’s kissing on you, three, oh why can’t you see”

3. Green Light by Lorde

ok so this one’s about right after mac comes out and starts going to gay bars and so dennis tags along and watches him get hit on and gets super jealous so he just dances w him and kisses him but then pretends it didn��t happen....

most macdennis line: “did it frighten you/how we kissed on the light-up floor?”

4. Bastards of Youth by The Replacement

this is a young macdennis song, about when they were just starting to be friends and yknow they both have shitty home lives so they just sit around and get high and complain about their family in one of their basements and talk about opening a bar one day...

most macdennis line: “the ones who love us least are the ones we'll die to please/ if it's any consolation, I don't begin to understand them”

5. I’m Scum by IDLES

ok this song is basically just on here because dennis is a bastard man with no rights, but actually this could just be the paddy’s theme song? while it does have a lefty twist which is probably inappropriate for paddy’s, like, dennis is a bastard man and i just wanna put this one on for him and say to him “you have no rights go be gay you dumb fuck”

most macdennis line: “i’m a minimum wage job/ i’m a mongrel dog/i’m just another cunt/i’m scum, i’m scum”

6. I’m Beating My Head Against the Wall by Jeff Rosenstock

this one is just about both of them being dumbasses who cannot communicate whatsoever, pretty straightforward.

most macdennis line: “talk-talk-talk-talk-talking to you but you don’t wanna hear me speak”

7. Something Soon by Car Seat Headrest

this is a dennis post s12 song about being in north dakota and missing mac...he’s in a foreign place and he doesn’t know anyone except mandy and he’s trying to get a job but he can’t stop thinking about mac....like “only one change of clothes” sounds like someone who just decided to pick up and move to another state...there are so many good dennis lines in this like just listen to it

most macdennis line: “biting my clothes to keep from screaming/taking pills to keep from dreaming”

8. Your Dog by Soccer Mommy

ok, finally one from mac’s perspective! this is him being mad at dennis because he manipulates him all the time and whenever dennis explodes he has to clean up the mess... essentially just the scene from The Gang Dines Out where he says “say something nice to me for once in your life”

most macdennis line: “always talk to other people/ dart my eyes across the room/ forehead kisses break my knees and/ leave me crawling back to you

9. I Must Not Think Bad Thoughts by X

oh this is just pure mac repressed catholic guilt....he loves dennis but he knows he shouldn’t :(

most macdennis line: “walking down the road/ everybody yelling ‘hurry up, hurry up’/ but i’m waiting for you/ i must go slow/ i must not think bad thoughts”

10. Not in Love We’re Just High by Unknown Mortal Orchestra

absolutely about how dennis and mac compartmentalize hooking up when they were high and in high school...poor lil boys

most macdennis line: “songs we started left me broken-hearted/ i have been frozen in time, yeah/ roses on your mind/ will call you home”

11. Should Have Known Better by Sufjan Stevens

this is dennis beating himself up and honestly probably self-harming after doing something dumb to upset mac. he’s too fucking repressed to actually deal with his trauma so of course whenever he upsets mac and they stop talking it reminds him of his parents abusing him when he was young and him crying alone in his room...it’s also about him trying to explain to mac how he has no feelings (ALLEGEDLY) and hasn’t ever since childhood...

most macdennis line: “i should have known better/ nothing can be changed/ the past is still the past/ bridge to nowhere/ i should have wrote a letter/ explaining what i feel, that empty feeling”

12. Old Friend by Mitski

OKAY I HAVE A WHOLE SITUATION FOR THIS ONE. this is like beginning of s13, for one there’s line “we nearly drowned for such a silly thing” which, uh, i know is not literal but THE GANG GOES TO HELL YOU BITCHES. anyway this is exactly like one macdennis fic i read where dennis comes back and mac is dating rex and he’s really jealous but anyway this is them going to a diner and discussing everything that’s happened since he’s left... i can’t remember what fic it is so please help me but there’s an iconic line where mac says “it was always you” to dennis...im feral...

most macdennis line: “i’ll take coffee and talk about nothing baby/ at blue diner i’ll take anything you wanna give me, baby”

13. Doll Parts by Hole

fuck you, dennis absolutely loved Hole in high school because dee bought Live Through This on cd once on a whim and got obsessed and would always listen to it when he was in a crappy mood bc abusive parents though he would never admit it to anyone else...like this is just pure mentally ill dennis self-hatred, and now even tho he’s an adult whenever he is just jumping out of his skin he puts it on alone in the range rover and screams along with courtney love...also it’s about him loving mac so much but because he’s him it just comes out in intense outbursts of anger... 

most macdennis line: “i love him so much it just turns to hate/ i fake it so real, i am beyond fake”

ok i realized that most of these are from dennis’s perspective but like, he’s so easy to pin....dumb bastard man...anyway thank you for reading

[cmbynreviews]

"Call Me by Your Name" is an erotic film in every sense of the word. It’s also a masterpiece.

It is not easy to put Call Me by Your Name into words. Luca Guadagnino's new film, which adapts André Aciman's 2007 novel about a precocious 17-year-old who falls in lust and love with his father's 24-year-old graduate student, is remarkable for how it turns literature into pure cinema, all emotion and image and heady sensation.

You could call Call Me by Your Name an erotic film, then – and it absolutely, undeniably is. But I mean it in a way that's broader than our modern narrow usage of the term: not just sex but also love, which is bigger and more frightening. Eros is a name for a kind of love that's equal parts passion and torment, a kind of irrational heart fire that opens a gate into something longer-lasting. But it's love that also feels, in the moment, like hurtling headlong off a cliff.

I can't remember a film that better captures that kind of madness and heightened attention to not just the object of desire but also the world at large. Nor can I recall a movie that more directly appeals to all of the audience's senses to make them feel what's happening onscreen. It's undoubtedly a gay love story, though it's less about coming out than coming of age. Call Me by Your Name is a lush, heady experience for the body, but it's also an arousal for the soul.

· Call Me by Your Name drips with desire as it spins a story of first love Set "somewhere in northern Italy" in the summer of 1983, Call Me by Your Name lingers over six sun-soaked weeks in which everything shifts for Elio (Timothée Chalamet). Cocky and preternaturally sophisticated – but with a hint of the insecure teenager still hanging around him – Elio joins his doting, unconventional parents (Michael Stuhlbarg and Amira Casar) at their comfortable ramshackle Italian villa, where they prepare to welcome their annual guest, the latest in a series of graduate students who spend the summer working with Elio's father, a classics professor.

This summer that student is handsome, confident Oliver (Armie Hammer), who has a way of taking up space: He's very tall, for sure, but his very presence seems to fill the spaces he's in, whether it's on the court in a casual volleyball game, at a local bar, or dancing in a crowd on the town square. Whereas Elio affects a studied aloofness, Oliver plunges into everything, clumsily destroying one soft-boiled egg at breakfast the first morning, then downing another while murmuring his appreciation, a man of ravenous desire only sometimes held back by a veneer of gentility. He refuses another: "I know myself", he says. "If I have a second, I'm gonna have a third, and then a fourth, and then you'll just have to roll me out of here".

Elio looks on in wonder as this happens, both disgusted and fascinated by Oliver, who barrels out of rooms hollering, "Later!" Oliver's frank American confidence is an inverse of Elio's quieter impishness. The two couldn't be more different.

The chemistry between Hammer and Chalamet, and their performances, sells the relationship completely. (They're true starmaking turns for both actors, along with Stuhlbarg in a brief but key scene). But the spark between them takes a while to fan into a flame, especially since Elio has taken up with a French girl named Marzia (Esther Garrel) who's in town for the summer. Oliver and Elio's relationship starts out combative, with Elio navigating whatever's happening inside of him by feigning disinterest, playing coy, and watching Oliver from afar while taunting him up close. Eventually they become friends. But one evening his mother reads from a 16th-century French romance, in which a knight yearning for a princess with whom he's formed a friendship wonders, "Is it better to speak or to die?" And Elio decides he has to speak.

We know (and Oliver and Elio and Elio's parents know) that this can't last forever, but in capturing the burn, Guadagnino makes us feel Elio's desire, and thus his devastation. Every image practically drips with longing: a live fish someone's caught in the river, pages flapping in the hot breeze, water pouring from a tap into a stone pool, a table spread with breakfast preparations, the smoldering end of a cigarette. And, of course, the bodies of beautiful young people, which seem to have very little shielding them from the hot Italian sun.

In this film, as in earlier ones like A Bigger Splash and I Am Love, Guadagnino's sensual attention to the textures and smells and intimate noises of Italian life builds out a cinematic world that encompasses his characters but is much greater than them. (It's no accident that Heraclitus's The Cosmic Fragments, philosophical texts about the world rather than just man, makes a brief but pointed appearance.) The score mingles all kinds of music together – notably, John Adams's "Hallelujah Junction", the Psychedelic Furs' "Love My Way", and two original songs by Sufjan Stevens – and it feels like this movie is sparkling, as if you're watching it in 4D. It's intoxicating.

It's also pointedly Edenic, capturing a paradise that will inevitably be lost – but how pregnant with weighty joy and fullness the paradise is in the meantime; the inevitable loss seems only to heighten this. In A Bigger Splash, paradise falls when the snake of jealousy winds its way into the bliss; in Call Me by Your Name, it's the simple, inevitable parting mandated by the ways that age and culture and station will keep Elio and Oliver apart.

· Call Me By Your Name draws on ancient themes while mingling together deeply human experiences The name of the film, and a pivotal moment in it, comes from Oliver pleading in a whisper to Elio, after they've finally slept together, for him to "call me by your name, and I'll call you by mine".

It feels like an odd request at first, until you remember an idea that surfaces in Plato's Symposium: that in Greek mythology, humans were created as four-armed, four-legged, two-faced creatures, but split apart by Zeus and condemned to spend life searching for their other halves. In the Symposium's rendering, whether one searches for a female or male half has to do with the nature of your original being, and there are various means through which two halves who find each other might live in companionship.

But "when one of them meets with his other half", it continues, "the actual half of himself, whether he be a lover of youth or a lover of another sort, the pair are lost in an amazement of love and friendship and intimacy, and would not be out of the other's sight, as I may say, even for a moment". This is the highest form of love – "the people who pass their whole lives together; yet they could not explain what they desire of one another". This is, in other words, an origin story for what we moderns might call soulmates, and it hums through Call Me by Your Name like electricity.

Ancient sculptures of figures who, as Elio's father puts it, "dare you desire them" recur throughout the movie, strengthening the allusion to the ancients. And it mixes the pagan with the idea of a Garden of Eden – when Elio and Oliver spend their first night together, it's certainly explicit at first, but then the camera pans out the window to rest on a tree. And a piece of juicy, luscious fruit shows up in a key, unforgettable scene that weaves together the natures of desire and guilt.

But unlike the story of the Garden of Eden, there's nothing like sin in Call Me by Your Name's vocabulary – or at least, nothing puritanical. (One assumes, watching the film, that a puritanical thought has never entered Guadagnino's head). This isn't a film about wrongdoing and punishment; it is about love, loss, and piercing joy in the context of a gay romance.

Elio's father, speaking to him near the end of the story, lays out the movie's sense of what's right and what's wrong: "Our hearts and our bodies are given to us only once", he says. "And before you know it, your heart's worn out. And as for your body, there comes a point when no one looks at it, much less wants to come near it. Right now, there's sorrow, pain. Don't kill it, and with it the joy you've felt". It is worth wading into desire, the movie suggests; it's the only way to be alive, both in the good parts and the painful ones.

The way Call Me by Your Name intermingles lust and love, desire and selflessness, flesh and soul is fully in service of Eros, but it isn't just about sex, though that's certainly a big part of it. It's also trying to make us feel a mingling of souls that have found each other, and evoke the exhilaration of that meeting. It summons an erotic orientation toward the world with all its power, and then pours it onto the audience. It is, undoubtedly, Guadagnino's masterpiece.

ALISSA WILKINSON | VOX | 22 Nov 2017