#because it was atrociously distracting… But even concentrating on it I still blinked too much

[theres-whump-in-that-nebula]

Did anyone else used to lie on their bed or the ground and stare directly into a lightbulb and/or a ceiling fan when they were a kid?

[wlw-lovestruck-fiction]

Can we get a fluf fic where Mc tries to keep up with goofy/funny/silly/playful/sleepy/naughty Vivienne? Please I miss my babe😢

Pairing with: PLEASE ANY VIVIENNE X ZOE X MC FLUFFY WOULD BE APPRECIATED 🥺

PLEASE may I request ANY Vivienne x Zoe x MC fluff? Pretty please?…

...

In hindsight, you should have seen it coming. You didn’t even stop to think about where Vivienne had gone off to, used to her random disappearances in the morning and far too distracted with the newest episode of a show Zoe and you liked to wonder about it for long.

Almost buzzing with excitement, you enter Zoe’s room, dropping in the moving chair she has by her side and eagerly watching the screen.

“How much is left?”

“Half an hour, but I think we’ll manage.”

With nothing else to do but wait, you quickly dissolve into excited theorizing, while Zoe just sits there and listens, adding the occasional ‘uh-huh’ here and there. You both had worked out what the twist might be the other week, so you limit yourself to wondering about the characters themselves. That eventually turns into a discussion of ships.

Zoe isn’t much of a shipper, you’ve noticed. She keeps to the margin and analyses everything objectively, acknowledging character interactions but never focusing on them. You were the complete opposite, and a crack shipper to boot, which often clashes against Zoe’s logical side and sparks some amazing debates.

You’re in the middle of one right then when Remy interrupts, knuckles lightly tapping against the door’s side as he peers in, face blank as he looks at the two of you on your respective chairs, cocooned by a blanket, popcorn sitting on your laps. “I’ll never understand what you like so much about that show.”

“Excuse you,” Zoe huffs, angrily grabbing her soda and giving him a sour look. “It’s an amazing show.”

“Amazing!” You echo, as you have done many times before. “I am appalled you don’t see its genius, Remy! Appalled!”

“Right, sure. I remember you both were hysterical over the last cliffhanger. Did you figure out who the murderer is already?”

“Oh yeah,” you wave your hand around, as if dismissing the subject. “Last week. What we are discussing right now is why the prosecutor and the assistant are such a good pairing–” Zoe turns to look at you as if you had just proclaimed the sky was purple, and she looks so baffled you dissolve into a fit of giggles right then and there.

Remy smiles, shaking his head fondly, and stepping out without another word.

“Leaving that atrocious pairing aside…”

Zoe nudges the discussion into another direction and you allow it, satisfied with the reaction you got from her earlier. You’re both stealing anxious glances at the screen, excited to see that only a few minutes are left.

“This is it,” Zoe mutters softly. “The end of this case. The next one is going to be so weird.”

“We’ll probably find out what happen to the firefighter, right? Honestly, it just looks like they got abducted by aliens–”

“MC!” Rings a voice. Zoe scowls immediately, as if that was her standard reaction to Vivienne – or yet another interruption. Probably both.

“Hey babe, where were you?”

Vivienne’s smirk softens at the petname, quietly pleased. “Oh, you know, getting some things ready…”

“Huh? What, for the heist?”

“Something infinitely better.”

“What could be better than the heist?”

Her eyes gleam, dark pools of chocolate drawing you in like a sailor entranced by a siren’s call. “Why don’t you come with me and find out?”

Zoe groans.

“Can you stop being horny for–” her gaze drops quickly to the clock, “–24 minutes? It won’t kill you, will it?”

“You are always invited to join us, darling.”

“Pass.”

“Your loss,” Vivienne says, with a small shrug. “Then, MC–”

“Huh? Oh, yeah, sure babe, just gimme 24 minutes.”

“Twen– what?” Her eyes follow yours, locking onto the screen. “…Ah. Today is Monday. I forgot.”

“Prepared a whole ‘romantic’ outing for no reason, did you?” Zoe grins. “Sucks to be you.”

A light frown appears over Vivienne’s face. “It’s… only half an hour. I can manage that much.” She finally says, body turning slightly, as if she were on an internal war over leaving and staying.

“Great. You’re making progress, Tang.”

Vivienne rolls her eyes, most of her good mood visibly diminishing. She hesitates a second longer before turning in your direction, pursing her lips. “So– a show. I’m getting cockblocked because of a show.”

“A great show,” both Zoe and you say, nodding solemnly.

“But you already know how it’s going to end. Who the murderer is. MC, you told me that last week!”

“I mean, it’s only a theory Zoe and I have. We still need to see if it gets confirmed.”

“It surely will.” Zoe says, smugly. “The signs are all there. He won’t get away with it. The scarf will be his undoing, no doubt.”

“Wait, you’re still with that? It’s the statue! It’s too fishy! If they check it and–”

“MC, you can’t be serious–” Vivienne tries to interject, but Zoe quickly cuts her off with her own rebuttal to your argument, and the seductress gets this strange look on her face, gaze flicking between the screen, Zoe, and you, stunned for all of two seconds before she shakes her head, schooling her expression.

You distractedly wonder if she’ll leave, your attention quickly taken by the beginning of the opening notes of the show. You enter than zone where nothing else matters, nothing else exists but the screen and you are positively buzzing, mind racing with all the things that could possibly happen until a red blur passes in front of you, something heavy landing so unexpectedly on your lap it takes your breath away.

“Wha–”

“Ow! Hey! Vivienne?!”

It takes you a moment to understand what happened, snapping out of the concentrated state you were a few seconds ago. Vivienne has perched herself on top of your lap, curled there like a smug cat, her arms loosely wrapped around your neck and her gaze is so intense it sets your whole soul alight, consuming every thought you had previously.

You have the same reaction any person would have in this situation, which is, to have a full gay panic.

She– she feels so warm and she’s so close and oh god those eyes–

“Vivienne, what the hell!”

One glance to the right reveals what has Zoe so pissed: Vivienne has her legs high up in her direction, blocking her view of the screen. You don’t even know why she’s so mad, it’s a very nice view–

“The show just began! Are you really that salty?!”

Show? What sh– Ah. That show. Right.

You try to maneuver around Vivienne’s head to look at the computer, but one of Vivienne’s hands instantly grabs your chin, forcing you to look at her with a gentle but firm gesture. Barely, you catch her move her legs to block Zoe too.

“Eyes on me, partner.” She all but purrs, commanding, and your brain short-circuits when she presses herself against you.

“Really? Really?!”

Vivienne gives Zoe her best smoldering smirk. “Oh, I know that look. It’s okay, dear, you can go first… maybe bend me over the table–”

“I’m going to throw you out of the window–”

“Is that your kink, Zoe? Press me against the window, giving everyone full view of–”

“Oh my god–!”

Taking advantage of the situation, you try to peek at the screen again. Vivienne’s grip tightens, making you whimper slightly, her blazing brown eyes meeting yours again.

“Ah ah ah, what did I say? Do not disobey me.”

“Viv…”

“Keep looking at me, sweetheart. If I catch more wandering eyes, you’re going to regret it.”

“Ah… but I…”

Her eyes flash, her thumb tracing the lines of your lips roughly, effectively shutting you up. Vivienne looks pleased, all dark passion, grip softening. She starts tracing a line down to your throat, leaving a trail of tickling heat after the touch.

“Suffering from success, aren’t you, MC?” Zoe dryly states, maneuvering around Vivienne’s outstretched legs with a scowl that could give Nikolai’s a run for his money. She reaches for the back of the moving chair you had borrowed, beginning to push you. Vivienne makes a chocked sound of surprise low in her throat, tightening her hold over your neck. “That’s it. All I want is to watch my show in peace, no interruptions-”

“Um, our show-”

“-and no Vivienne being Vivienne for the next 20 minutes.”

“What am I supposed to be then?”

“Be a doormat for all I care, just do it outside my room!” She punctuates her statement with one final, fully determined push, sending you skidding towards the hallway. Vivienne thrusts her legs to the right, managing to use her weight just so to spin the chair in time. The back collides against the wall with a dull thump, and you barely see Zoe’s deadpan expression before she closes her door. “You better return my chair later!” Is all she says, presumably heading back to her computer.

“…aw, I wanted to see this episode.” You finally mumble, shoulders dropping dejectedly.

Vivienne blinks owlishly at you. “Isn’t the episode going to be available later?”

“Well, yeah, but I’m curious to see how the arrest will go. I don’t think I can wait another day.”

“Arrest. Such an ugly word, when you are a thief.” Vivienne hums, pressing into you just slightly, eyes alight with mirth. “You are quite taken with it regardless… Is it the thrill?”

“Uh…”

“You know, partner, if you want to be in cuffs so much, all you have to do is ask.”

Color spreads over your cheeks like spilled wine, sweet, impossible to hold back. Vivienne leans forward, eager for a taste, that smirk of hers firmly in place and you briefly wonder if you’ll just burst, too filled with surprise and frustration and a little bit of heat.

“Think only about me, MC.” Vivienne mutters, breath ghosting over the skin of your ear, coaxing a shy shiver out of you. The vibrations of her voice send ripples of emotion through you, make you groan slightly. Smirk widening, not caring one bit that you are still on the hallway, one of her hands drops down, down-

“20 minutes! Just 20 minutes!” A flash of gray. Vivienne’s startled squeak. Her grip loosens and she goes tumbling down your lap, the floor receiving her with its cold embrace. Zoe’s door slams shut – again – and your gaze drops, discovering the slipper resting by Vivienne’s hand with an amused snort.

“She got you good, huh?”

“She – just took me by surprise, is all.” Vivienne says, after a pause. You giggle, pushing yourself to your feet and offering her your hand, which she takes gratefully. She doesn’t let go, instead pulling you in the direction of the apartment’s exit, and you throw a longing look in the direction of Zoe’s room before accepting your fate.

You’ll have to watch that episode tomorrow, it seems.

[oleanderblume]

Antivirus

I can't help myself so I'm going to subject you to my terrible sense of humor and post this fic.

Hope you like it!

-----

You ready? It's a tough one." Steven asked as he shifted in his seat to share his new computer with Spinel. 

Amethyst and Connie had had their turn trying to beat the level he had been stuck on for ages, both turning up with failure, so Steven imagine the gem made to play games couldn't possibly fail at a computer game.

Spinel nodded and took the mouse in her hand, scooting into the chair as Steven moved aside, she had never even touched earth computers, let alone these 'video games' Steven seemed to enjoy- despite having so much trouble with them.

"You just move the mouse to move the camera, and then press these buttons here to move the character- and this one to fire your tears." Steven explained leaning over her to point out the jumbled eath letters on the keyboard. Made enough sense.

The pink gems eyes trailed from the keyboard to the screen as she slowly maneuvered the character through the computer glancing back at her friends for slight reassurance. It wasn't long before Steven noticed that familiar shine in her eyes the moment she got the hang of it. 

He had grown to notice when Spinel was entirely engaged in an activity, particularly a game- especially a game, it was a similar look to when her eyes spiraled, but instead of anger it was concentration. He particularly enjoyed the moments where she became so engrossed in whatever she was doing that she would half mindedly stick her tongue out as though it somehow doubled that concentration. 

"You got this." He smiled, sitting back on his bed to watch alongside Connie. Spinel was already far to emerged to even provide an answer aside from a soft mumble.

It wasn't an easy level, Waffle was the player character and they had a tendency to be slow, and even though their tears were sticky with syrup it didn't make this Broccoli boss any less formidable. Spinel on the other hand had grown increasingly determined, it was amusing and exhilarating all at once, her quiet audience growing inches closer as they hovered over her while she ruthlessly fought the broccoli.

There was a soft noise, an alert of some kind, but it was drowned out by the sound effects of the game, that is, until the computer began growing increasingly warmer as Spinel began to wear down Broccoli.

A small window popped up in the corner of the screen, temporarily distracting Spinel from her ongoing stalemate with the vegetable, in a quick attempt to rid herself of it Spinel did what she knew would work and temporarily overided the tiny warning with her own gem.

It did the trick.

Everyone was on the edge of their seats, watching as Spinel dealt the final blow to Broccoli and the vegetable broke down in tears preparing to hug the Waffle in reprieve. Then there was a noise, a very loud, angry electronic noise that erupted from the computer and several windows popped up into view, cutting away from the final cutscene in leu of atrociously designed advertisements.

"What's wrong?!" She gasped pulling her hands from the controls, did she break it?

Connie squirmed her way in front of the computer to evaluate.

"Steven? Where did you get this game?" She asked slowly as more dings sounded from the computer and even more ads popped up. Steven laughed a little nervously, rubbing the back of his neck.

"It's free on breakfast101.com?" He answered, hoping it would suffice. 

Connie shook her head, already having the feeling that Steven inadvertently destroyed his computer.

"Free to download?" She questioned, only hoping he would say no, but the boy sheepishly nodded as he realised his mistake.

"I think you just downloaded a virus." She explained, "we gotta get someone to  get it off now, or you won't have a computer."

Spinel leaned back in the computer chair, huffing in disgruntled frustration that she couldn't officially beat the boss, she had enjoyed this game, now it was gone.

"I think Peridot can fix it?" Steven mentioned, hoping the green little gem would be savvy enough with earth tech to do such a thing for him.

Connie shook her head.

"I still think going to an actual computer repair shop is better." Her slight push didn't do much to change Steven's mind, he only shrugged with a small smile.

"Doesn't hurt to ask though?" And that was that.

"A virus huh?" Peridot gleaned over the broken computer as it continuously spewed pop up after pop up until the whole thing was hot to the touch and slower than molasses. "I think I can work with that."

"Great!" Steven beamed, glad that Peridot could come through once again with her superior technological skills. He smiled back at Connie and Spinel, though Spinel seemed slightly less excited than he had expected, she still provided a small smile through her tired eyes.

Connie bid the two of them farewell at the warp pad as they dissapeared, only to go the short distance from little homeworld to the beach house.

"When we get rid of the virus, I can show you some other fun games I have!" Steven exclaimed to Spinel as she trailed a little slower behind him.

She didn't reply.

"Spinel?" Steven turned back to face the pink gem, but she wasn't exactly as pink as he last recalled. More like a dull pale  with a slightly pink hue. Spinel hazily nodded, not entirely sure why she felt so slow all the sudden.

Steven's eyes quickly turned from releif to worry in a near instant at the sight, he hadn't ever seen a gem lose their color in such a way, and was immediately disconcerted by it.

"Are you okay?" He asked, taking a step closer.

"Yeah, I'm fine." Spinel replied with a far less convincing smile than she had intended. Her voice was nasally, almost like she was congested. Could gems even get congested? Steven didn't even remotely believe her. Spinel also happened to be an abhorrent liar. A shudder ripped through her body and she felt far colder than a few moments earlier, but brushed it off with another smile.

"I think you're sick. Can gems get sick?" Steven asked, looking her up and down once more. She definitely didn't look normal, and she almost looked like she would pass out on the spot if she stood there long enough, lackadaisically swaying back and forth in a small attempt to remain upright. 

Spinel shook her head quickly, trying to make her brain work a little faster than it preferred to at the moment.

"I'm fine really." She objected, raising her hands meekly to try and get the boy's growing worry to settle. 

Steven raised an eyebrow and pressed his hand to her forehead, he wasn't entirely sure if gems could have a fever but he wasn't about to grope her gemstone so he hoped a hot forehead would suffice. 

Spinel blinked, well, it was more alone g the lines of one eye closing at a time, before she registered that he was touching her and she backed up slightly.

Sure enough, she was warm, and not it a condensed body of light kind of way.

"Steven, I really am-"

"Sick." He finished her sentence before she could and promptly sat her down on the couch, pulling a spare blanket from the shelves and draping it over her and moving into the kitchen, leaving her to slowly comprehend his actions.

"When I get sick, Dad always makes me grilled cheese and chicken noodle soup, and then brings medicine to make me feel better." He explained from the kitchen. Spinel turned her head toward his voice but remained on the couch, suddenly feeling far too exhausted to move, so instead she relaxed until her limbs were stretched into a small pile on the floor. 

Steven sifted through the cabinets and pulled out bread, a can of soup and small bottle of viscous flu medicine before preparing the meal for his friend. He hadn't ever had to take care of a sick friend, but had plenty of experience being sick.

"This will make you feel a little better, and you just have to wait it out- it usually only last a few days." He returned with a hot bowl of soup and a neatly sliced grilled cheese as well as the medicine, though he wasn't entirely sure what help it would do. Spinel meekly rejected the offer, it was bad enough that she broke his computer, and now she was taking his attention. Granted, she enjoyed it somewhat. 

The way he immediately dropped his train of thought just to make her feel better, it was a welcome occurence, though still tinged with that ever present burdensome feeling.

Spinel had all but sunk into the couch, quietly sipping on the fourth hot tea Steven had provided while she lazily watched more reruns of the Crying Breakfast Friends. She felt somewhat better, maybe because her stomach was full of various soothing warm treats Steven had consistently provided her, almost waiting on her every whim. It was hard not to take advantage of the boy and his seemingly endless compassion.

"Good news!" Steven called as he came in through the door carrying his computer under his arm. "Peridot got rid of the virus, so you can play some of those games while you get better."

Spinel nodded slightly, but she saw the way Steven's brow furrowed with more worry. It had been three days, and she looked noticeably worse off than before. Spinel clearly was trying to hide it, but he could tell she was even slower moving and more pale than before.

"How...long...is...this..su...pposed...to last?" She asked, Steven couldn't even hide his cringe at her dreadfully slow cadence. It was almost as if he were talking to the fusion Flourite, except this wasn't any sort of pleasantly drifting voice that reminded him of a grandmother.

Steven sat down the repaired computer and rounded the coffee table to check her temperature once more.

"You're getting worse." He whispered, usually after three days something like this would clear up for a human. Spinel wasn't a human though. 

Spinel looked down into her might of tea, unable to look at the fear in his eyes. She just wanted whatever this was to be over.

"When...do...I...TRY OUT OUR NEW BACKSCRATCHER BUY ONE GET ONE FREE!" Steven jolted, taken aback by Spinel's sudden and very loud interest in back scratchers. The words were so disconnected from her voice that she couldn't tell if they actually came from her mouth. It wasn't what she intended to say at all.

Steven stared at her for a moment, still unsure if what happened actually happened at all. The surealness of it all had completely thrown him off. Spinel's face twisted into a shocked frown before she opened her mouth to speak again.

"YOU JUST WON 1 MILLION DOLLARS, CLICK HERE TO RECEIVE IT!"

What?! That wasn't what she wanted to say at all! How could her mouth betray her so suddenly. She blinked, glancing at Steven before her face contorted into confused horror. It took a moment, before Steven registered what was going on. He quickly tore the blanket off of her and grabbed her hand, pulling the spaghettified gem from her spot and dragging her up the stairs toward the warp pad.

"YOUR ACCOUNT HAS BEEN HACKED!!" Spinel shouted, though she fully intended to say 'Steven, I don't know what's happening!' Obviously, that didn't work the way she hoped it would.

Steven would laugh, if what was going on wasn't so viscerally terrifying. Somehow, she had come down with the same malware that his computer had.

Steven hauled the snailpased gem toward Peridot's home as soon as they left the warp, Spinel screetching vocally  obnoxious ads with growing distress as they neared. He had absolutely no idea what she was saying, and the nonsensical audible pop ups only seemed to worsen as they approached.

"PERIDOT!" Steven cried, bursting through the door with Spinel's hand flopping in his grasp. The rest of her was a good twenty feet behind, still very slowly running behind him. 

Peridot spun around in astonishment at his sudden and frantic return.

"Spinel has that virus I need you to fix it!" He explained, stepping outside for a moment to pull the noodled gem inside.

"What?" Peridot shrieked in reply, half out of confusion and half out of distress. She hadn't ever heard of a gem getting a virus- aside from corruption. 

Steven quickly planted the pale pink, sick gem in front of her to inspect.

"HOT SINGLES IN YOUR AREA!!" Spinel exclaimed, slowly waving her overly stretched arms in attempt to convey her  stress. Peridot stared at her, unable to make anything from what she said before turning to Steven.

"How did this happen?!" She asked.

"THE PRINCE OF NIGERIA WANTS TO SEND YOU MONEY!" Spinel replied, despite the enthusiasm of her voice she slumped forward and whimpered softly, tears brimming in her eyes. 

This was her fault. She knew it. And she couldn't even come clean about it.

"I don't know, she was sick for a few days- I thought she'd get better but I don't know how to fix it!" Steven exclaimed, glancing worriedly at Spinel who was very clearly on the verge of an emotional breakdown.

"BECOME A CERTIFIED PASTOR IN EIGHT DAYS!" She sobbed.

"I don't know what you're saying!" Steven cried, beginning to pace as he tried to think of a solution, this wasn't normal, not for people, and definitely not for gems! What if he couldn't fix her?! What if she could only ever yell obscenely obnoxious advertising for the rest of her life?! What if he broke her forever- all because he wanted to play a stupid free game?

"And you came to me?! I'm not a gem what is it- repairer! I don't know how to fix this!" Peridot joined him in his frantic pacing, trying to think of some kind of solution.

"MAKE A MILLiooonnn dollars in....siiiiixx.........mmmmmooooooonnnnttttthhhhhssss...." Spinel's loud rambling advertisement slowed to a creeping still as her form began to glitch compulsively, the heat of her gemstone radiating through it and causing a noticeable shift in temperature. Peridot screamed in terror at the sight of the pink gem flickering through gaudy bright colors.

"Do something she's overheating!"

Steven had to think fast, as fast as he could make himself with his jumbled and racing thoughts, and quickly spat in his hand and slapped the burning heart shaped gem. It nearly scalded his fingers and almost evaporated his only option of fixing her.

Spinel's form slowed its terrifying glitching, intermittently flickering until her form slowly resembled itself again and she stood there staring at Steven whose hand was still firmly pressed against her gemstone. 

Her eyes flickered down at it, noticing how red and blistered it had become upon contact. He retracted it almost as quickly as she looked at it, licking it himself to heal the burns.

Peridot's screaming stopped and she lowered her hands from her head, loosening the grip she held on her hair.

"Did you fix her?"

They stared at Spinel, who looked far more full of color now, waiting for her to speak. Spinel persed her lips in anticipation, hoping that what she wanted to say would be said.

"I don't like computer games."

The three of them made an audible sigh of relief at her words, the relief of the innocuous sentence washing over all of them at once and allowing them to relax. 

Steven couldn't hold back the tears in his eyes any longer and if he had been less accosted by the potential- literal burnout of his friend, he would smacked himself in the head for being so blind to his own ability to heal. 

Instead, he grabbed Spinel and pulled her close, ignoring that she was still cooling down from a solar level fever.

"Spinel I'm so sorry, I'm so so sorry- I should have just healed you, I should have-" he was cut off by her arms slowly wrapping around him, clutching him tightly. It was okay. She was okay.

That's all that mattered.

[thekitchensnk]

and the spider lilies bloomed in the fall (chapter 5)

Rating: T Warnings: Violent imagery, trauma, allusions to potential sexual violence Pairing: Gin/Ran Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4, Chapter 5 “They say that lovers doomed never to see each other again still see the higanbana growing along their path, even to this day.”

A girl collapses on a dusty road one day. A boy takes her home.

The girl lives.

—

(The boy doesn’t.)

Teaching him to read and write went better than teaching her to use her power.

Neither went particularly well.

Some afternoons, he would sit, his tongue poking out from between his teeth in concentration, and he would copy out in a shaky hand the characters that she had written out for him. She would ask him to recite back to her how each character was pronounced, and he had quickly gotten into the habit of inventing the funniest and rudest misreadings he could, just to see the veins bulge on her temple and her fist clench in frustration.

He was a bad pupil. Even progress towards the simplest of paragraphs was weeks off. Having been naturally talented enough to learn whatever he had put his mind to with little effort in the past, he was unused to having to sit and exert himself, and it showed. His penmanship was atrocious, and the deliberate misreading was, at heart, a bid to distract her from noticing how much he was struggling. When she inevitably tired of his mischief (and she always did) he would leap up instantly, fearing that she would press him to continue, and bound off to the river, and she would run after him, crying out “Wait for me, wait for me!”

It was only when she was out of the way, busy with some other task, that he would apply himself with a ferocity which would have startled her. His pride would not let him fail at anything.

She was every bit as restless in her lessons as he was, and her attempts to evade lessons were even more shameless. She would point up at the trees and yell, “Oh no! Look! A bird is eating your persimmons!” and when he turned to look at the tree in confusion (it was winter- there were no persimmons), she would let out a laugh of triumph, jump up with her arms in the air, and run off into the trees.

He would always carry her back hoisted over his shoulder, and dump her on the ground, ready to continue his lessons. She would whine and rub her behind and call him rude names, but he would press on with a wide grin, entertained by her complaints but merciless all the same.

One time, to his frustration, when he was attempting to guide her through his own impromptu meditation method, she had fallen asleep. He had taken one look at her, and quietly marched off to the river. She had woken with a screech to a bucket of ice cold water in the face and an unapologetic grin.

She struggled, he knew, in the same way that did with writing and reading. Too much pent up energy, too much pride to bend and allow it to be recognised that they were finding it difficult. He found it funny that she and he, though different in practically every other way, would both have this iron streak of pride in them, this refusal to bend.

(He liked it, sharing something with her.)

The day came when she finally managed to materialise her reiatsu outside of her body, and he had known instantly that something was wrong. He knew she was strong- not as strong as him, maybe, but still strong, stronger than anyone else he had met. He could feel it mysteriously, like a sixth sense was at work, like an unknown vibration which set his hairs on end and sent goose bumps racing up his arms.

The expression she wore was not one of intense concentration, but rather a gentle and level calm. Her eyes were closed, and there was no tension in her face. She looked at peace. That had been his first mistake as a teacher, to assume that she just needed to try a bit harder, or reach further, to force and pry and push her in ways which felt unnatural to her. Success had come when she had stopped worrying about it and let instinct guide her to where her power lay.

There was a ball of light, shining and thrumming like a living thing, resting in her palms. It fit just within the bowl of her hands, a decent size, but it flickered and crackled violently, disappearing and reappearing and shuddering and buzzing like a saw. It was volatile in a way that his instinct knew was wrong, like there was some vital component missing which prevented the whole from gaining stability.

He kept that thought to himself.

He moved quietly behind her, and put his hand gently on her hip, just to let her know that he was there. Any sudden surprise and she might lose it, or worse still, set the woods alight.

“Rangiku,” he spoke softly into her ears, his mouth scant millimetres away, “open your eyes.”

She did.

“Oh,” she said with a hushed astonishment. She turned her eyes quickly from the shining white energy in her hands to look at him. “Look at that!” she whispered in awe, and he watched her fondly. She quickly looked back at her hands, and then it was as if she couldn’t look away. She was mesmerised, and so proud of her efforts. “I made that,” she murmured delightedly, and she beamed at him.

He grinned too, and it was a goofy thing, a smile of pride and fondness and relief all wrapped up in one.

“Ya’ did.”

He closed his eyes and concentrated, and suddenly had one in his hands too, silvery white and pristine. He could not help but want to show off a little.

“Hey,” she said annoyed, and pushed him with her shoulder. “Stop trying to one-up me, you big show-off.” His grin just widened. Her hush resumed.

“Why does mine flicker like that?” she asked, concentrating on the ball in her hands.

His smile faltered.

“It’s ya’ first time. It’s lack of practice, s’all,” he lied smoothly.

“I’ll get better, right? When will I be able to make a ball like yours?”

In truth, he did not know whether she would be able to. That she had struggled to produce her energy in the first place, and then that it had been as rough and jagged as it was, potentially signified that she would not be able to use the full extent of her power. In a way, he thought, it was like scar tissue- like her reiatsu was trying desperately to patch up a wound, like certain pathways and channels in her were blocked with cartilage.

In a way though, that was a heartening prospect. Time healed all wounds, scars faded, and scarred tissue could be made mobile again.

“I don’t know, Ran-chan,” he said honestly. “I was able to do it perfectly the first time I tried. Things are just different for ya’. I don’t see why ya’ wouldn’t be able to do it with practice.”

She groaned then, realising what that meant. “More lessons.”

He grinned wickedly. “More lessons!” he agreed in a sing-song voice. “I got ta say, Ran-chan, ya’ don’t sound very appreciative of ya’ old sensei.”

She screwed up her eyes and stuck her tongue out at him.

“So fetchin’,” he said in a deadpan voice, and extinguished his ball of reiatsu.

“I don’t even know what that means,” she said scrunching her nose up, and she tried to copy him. Nothing happened, and she looked at him sheepishly. “Gin? How do I get rid of it?”

He blinked owlishly at her for a moment, clapped the heel of his hand to his forehead and then swore viciously, realising what a bad idea it had been to teach her how to set stuff on fire as the first lesson. 

----

Winter still had not relinquished its iron grip over the land, though the snow had cleared from the ground. The biting smell of ice still lingered yet, in the frigid mountain air that swept down from the hills.

Signs of spring were creeping in at the edges, however. Winter could not win forever. The snowdrops had bloomed already, and it would not be long before the air was thick with the indolic, syrupy smell of plum blossom, and after, the cherry that would follow, and after that, the gentle breath of the rains.

The night before had marked six months to the day since Gin had found Rangiku and insisted that she stay with him.

It had occurred to him that they hadn’t celebrated her birthday since they had started living together, and so he had asked, in what he had hoped was a subtle way, when it was, his mind already bent on finding something nice to surprise her with.

Her face had fallen, and she had looked down at her small, rough hands.

“I don’t have one,” she had said quietly. And she hadn’t- there had been precious few days worth counting before she had met him. He had watched as she had withdrawn into herself at the question.

His smile had dropped and his face had grown stony as he watched the sadness creep back into her eyes. That sadness did something to him, something inexplicable- it twisted something up inside him, something hot and slithering and uncomfortable- and he did not know why.

He had found himself wishing that he could have met her earlier- that they could have been together sooner, that he could have spared her some of that loneliness- and then his mouth had twisted, because he had learnt early on the futility of wishing for such things. No good ever came of making wishes.

But he had done what he could to set things right. He had given her a birthday right then and there, as if by divine fiat, so that she wouldn’t ever have to do without one ever again.

“Then the day you met me is your birthday. How about that, Rangiku?” he had asked determinedly, his small hands curled into fists by his side.

She had looked up at him, her mouth an 'o' of surprise, and a small, watery smile had crossed her face.

Her eyes had been bright. She had looked at him like he hung the moon and stars.

He had that effect on her.

Six months of kindness had done a world of good to her. There was meat on her bones now, when previously she had been stick-thin and starving. Smiles and big, ringing peals of laughter came easily now, more easily than they did for him, even. Her night terrors and crying fits were no longer nightly battles, but had started to diminish in frequency. When they did occur, he was right there next to her- and he slept lightly.

She shone, and it had been his kindness that had allowed her to do so. The swiftness of her smiles and the ease of her good nature were his creation, and they sent strange, hungry pangs coursing through him and sometimes made his mouth go dry.

(For the first time in his life, he had shown kindness. For the first time in his life, he cared about something beyond himself. He was greedy with it, full with it, and utterly possessive of her. But then, she was starved of affection herself, and craved whatever attention she could get, no matter how strange or lopsided. Even a selfish, consuming affection was better than none at all.)

They had a good thing going, he knew. For the first time, perhaps the first time ever, he was happy- not just passively pliant and content, but actively, thoroughly happy, a happiness which cut straight down to his bones.

The sterile cold of winter was fading from the world, and spring was on the horizon; change was in the air. But he felt the comfort of one who knew with certainty how his future was laid out. While the world changed around them, he would still wake up in the morning with Rangiku's hair in his face (if he was lucky- if he wasn't, it would be her feet or her elbows), he would still sit patiently with her and teach her how to use her power- or she would sit and practice writing with him. They would play in the river and he would grow plants in the garden and they would they would stay eternally the same, Gin and Rangiku, in this quiet place removed from the rest of the world.

She would be safe, and she would be well and they would be together.

The thought was sweeter to him than the thought of spring.

There was a chill in the air, but the air was still. When he looked up from the crackling hearth which he was tending, he could not help but smile softly at the sight that greeted him. She had claimed to have just been resting her eyes, but lo and behold, she had fallen asleep, the lazy thing.

Her mouth was drawn in a concerned frown, and he wondered what she dreamed about, to put that expression on her face.

She snored lightly, and that was endearing too, and funny besides that.

He imagined waking her, and how she would react if he were to tease her, lying about her making big, earth-shattering snores that could be heard from miles away. Would she guffaw and smack him on the shoulder, refusing to buy what he said? Would she turn red and hotly deny ever having snored in her life? Or would she turn it round on him, and claim that she might snore badly, but at least she didn't fart in her sleep unlike some people she could mention?

He could not guess, and that was part of her endless appeal.

A sharp crack and snap from the fire drew his attention. It was in need of feeding, and he knew that he could not put off going in search of kindling any longer. It was a job which he should have given to the lazy, sleeping Rangiku, but he could not bring himself to wake her. In any case, he figured, it would do him some good to stretch his legs and ease the pain in his rear. He had been sitting far too long in contemplation.

He stood, and as he did so, sneaked another long look at her, his eyes lingering for a few moments. And then he left, keeping the door slightly propped open to let out the smoke, which he knew from experience would start to fill the room and prickle at her nose and eyes if left unvented. He wouldn't be gone long.

The woods were quiet and the leaves of the trees were picked out in the silver thread of lunar light. The moonlight beat back the shadows, and illuminated the path for feet ahead of him. He had to walk a little while, having picked clean the ground around the house during the cold winter. The only wood to be found there would be green and young, new growth which would spit and smoke on the fire rather than producing heat.

He had no fear. He knew that, ordinarily, there was nothing more fearsome in the forest than himself, and so he walked with an assured tread, confident in his ability to kill anything, man or beast, that might threaten him.

Ordinarily, he would not have been wrong.

(But he was this time.)

He had bent over to pick up a gnarled stick to add to his collection when he felt it - a sinister, discomfiting wave of energy which washed delicately, yet sickeningly over his skin, like the prickling heat which precedes being sick. He had stilled then, stilled like a deer which scents a wolf-pack downwind, and slowed his breathing until he could barely hear it himself. For a ludicrous moment, he feared that his heart, battering his ribcage as if crying to be let out, would be heard and get him found out. He trembled to think of looking at whatever monster lurked only feet away. He willed himself so desperately into silence that he almost felt something draw over him, like a curtain, masking him from sight, and it was this and this alone that gave him the courage to peek through the leaves.

(And so the future was decided, on the spur of a moment.)

A rough, ugly face framed with lank black hair- a face so common it could have belonged to any impoverished inhabitant of Rukongai- but a face he had imagined a hundred times over the past six months-

A face which had etched itself onto his soul with the violence he had seen it perpetrate, in the rearranging of a girl's clothing and the tender caress of her cheek and a mocking, cruel slap, and an arm buried deep in her chest, and the rough, oafish plundering of her soul-

The poisonous cause of so many tears and night terrors, of so many sleepless, trembling nights-

The reason why she could not use the beautiful, graceful power she had the natural born right to use-

Outwardly, there was little sign of his anger, but he could have shaken with the immensity of it. But still waters oft run deep and powerful, with speed and strength enough to crush a man. In that moment, he knew with certainty, as if granted the eerie foresight of god himself, that that man would die for what he had done, and he, Ichimaru Gin, would be there in his dying moments, to see the filthy light in his wretched eyes extinguished.

In his anger, it took him a few seconds to realise what it was that he was seeing, but the moment he did, he felt as breathless and appalled as if he'd been sucker punched.

The man, the one who had reached inside Rangiku's soul, was on his knees, as if in supplication before some mighty emperor, and his face was illuminated in brilliant yet gentle light, in shades of rose and pink, the colour of the cherry blossom still to come. And in his hands, raised to that lord, a man in glasses, was a beautiful light.

Gin would have known that light anywhere.

It shone in her smiles, in the way she smacked him when he was mischievous, in her attempts to cook lunch and in the peal of her laughter when she ran off into the woods when he was trying to teach her. It shone when she had ran out into the snow after waiting up hours for him to come home, and in the softness of her sleeping face.  It shone when she had scrawled his name and beside it the word "friend", and he had seen it written down for the first time.

It had shone into his world and chased away the shadows from its corners- in that light, he had begun to learn something of kindness; in that light, he had learnt to care.

The man in glasses held it tenderly, as if it contained the secrets of the universe.

And in an instant, that light was gone.

The world tilted in shock. For a moment, Gin could not even think.

It had been right there. The portion of her soul that they had ripped from her had been right there. A couple of feet, a leap, a bound, and it could have been his. For a moment, a slim, sliver of a moment, he could have had it. For a moment, he could have had her.

And this man, this bastard, this demon, had taken that pure and shining thing, which was her, and-

He wanted to scream.

Gin opened his eyes; they burned with a loathing greater than any he had ever felt before. His anger before had been bright and hot. This was anger of a different kind. It was black and poisonous, and he felt it settle in his soul like a knife.

He had been naïve. The thief who had stolen from her had not been working alone- he had been a grunt, a weakling following orders, the orders of this man who currently stared rapturously at the glow in his hands.

Inevitability stole over him.

(It was part vow, part prophecy, and it resonated down in the furthest reaches of his soul.)

He was going to choke the life from that man, and there would be no rest for him until he did.

He would die trying.

---

There could be no turning back.