#but what do we do to the guy who's constantly scrabbling for shreds of control just out of his reach? uh we OBVIOUSLY grab his chin

[kradogsrats]

squinting at my stack of WIPs simultaneously containing two drawings and three-four fics all of which feature chin grabs while quietly muttering to myself "three times, it's the author's kink"

[deadzonetourguide]

// This is a voice-acted version of a fanfic I wrote on AO3, Rainy Days! Go check that and my other posted romac fics if you like this!

---

Shelter is always a problem out in the wasteland, but sometimes you strike lucky. Sometimes you strike extremely lucky. A hotel, albeit not a huge one, resting somewhat intact close to what would have once been the coast, if there was any ocean left. Just a wide expanse of sand, debris, and the occasional giant, mutated crab amongst other monsters. And just in time too, it had started to rain. It’s not much of a problem, but it increases the risk of various hazards, so it’s usually better to find shelter and wait out the rain and the eventual pooling of irradiated and acidic water for a couple of days.

I trail along beside Engie, the two of us carrying all the supplies while Captain leads us into the building, Pilot already running ahead to check the place out. I’m not quite paying attention to what Captain’s saying about receptionists and bell-boys, but suddenly Engie comes to a halt beside me, dragging me out of my daydream.

“Hey, uh, Engie?” I frown, looking around at the other man, who had very suddenly become quite rigid with a slight shake to him. He’s panicking over something, I realise, sighing softly and putting down my own bags to go over and try to coax out what’s wrong with the guy. “What’s up?”

". . . Don’t feel well. I’ll be. . . outside. Fresh air. Call me when it’s safe." Engie almost whimpers, scrabbling to put down all the stuff he was carrying and head right back out of this hole in the side of the building that was probably once an entrance way.

I watch with an increasing frown. Fresh air? In this world? He probably got spooked by something, and I know I should stick around and watch to make sure he didn’t get into any trouble in the rain - from the safety of the hotel, of course, making my way over to another hole in the wall to look out from. Not even a minute passes before a high pitched screech reaches the ears of both me and Engie, the latter ceasing up in panic while I fumble to grab my gun, only for the source of the noise to reveal himself. Pilot sprints at Engie, yelling something about “playtime on the beach with Doctor Angie”, and in turn the poor doctor spins on his heel and runs in the opposite direction. I can’t help but laugh.

“Careful, Pi, don’t hurt yourselves!” I call out, watching them play this impromptu game of tag, mostly saying that to ensure that Pilot doesn’t inadvertently kill Engie somehow, and that both of them stay out of trouble. At least the DEX has turned on someone else for a while, I think to myself.

It’s a long while of watching them both sprint up and down the beach, stop for a moment to let Engie catch his breath, occasionally with Pilot coming up to gently pat him on the back or sit them both down in the damp sand, only for him to give chase again the moment Engie tries to get up and move away, before I realise that something is missing. Rather, someone. Where did Captain go off to? Considering the other two are busy, the job of finding zeer comes down to me. Not that I mind all too much in reality, but I’ll certainly make a deal out of it.

Turning away from the makeshift window I’d been watching out of, I proceed to start my search off on the bottom floor. I check the lobby, cringing a little at the decaying skeleton behind the counter, then checks what was probably a dining hall and joined kitchen (with some interest, but I find no edible food to speak of, much to my disappointment), and then finally resign myself to searching each and every room on this floor. Dammit. At least I won’t have to bust my shoulder breaking the doors down to look in the rooms, since, presumably, if Captain’s in one of the rooms zee would have already opened the door.

It’s some time into my search until a harsh, discordant sound reaches me, accompanied by a distant grumbling. For a moment I wonder if it was some kind of monster, but the grumble sounded just a bit Captain-like, and I’d have to check it out anyway, just in case. I head in the direction of the sound, only just pushing the door of the room I thought it came from open when a sound - music - suddenly fills the air. Actual music. . . it’s rather soft and light. When was the last time I heard anything like that? It takes me a moment to register the actual room before me, seeing the source of the music as a slightly battered record player with a somehow intact record spinning around on it, and next to the table it’s resting on is a very familiar trench-coated figure.

“SNIPPEY! LOOK AT WHAT I HAVE FOUND!” I can hear the smile in zeer voice, as if zee’s mask didn’t constantly convey a smile anyway. Softening just a little, I walk over as zee gestures excitedly at the record player.

“How did you even find this?” I ask, frowning softly. “I thought these things were made obsolete ages ago, and if there were any left they’d be in pretty bad condition. And to find one in a hotel, of all places?”

“SHUSH-SHUSH-SHUSH. A GOOD WIZARD NEVER REVEALS ZEER SECRETS!!” Zee gently presses a finger against my mask as zee shushes me, resulting in a slightly confused frown from me. “AND, A GOOD HOLIDAY ALWAYS NEEDS GOOD MUSIC!”

“We’re not. . . this isn’t a holiday.” At this point, I should find it useless to dispute Captain’s logic, especially since I typically give into the narrative anyway. It’s at this point I spot what probably would have been glass doors at the back of the room facing the ocean front, leading to a little boardwalk with steps down to the beach, but the glass has long since been blown in. Through them, I can still see Engie and Pilot running around outside, to which I sigh. “Oh. . . those two are still at it? They’ll be soaked through.”

Captain turns to see what I’m looking at, delightedly clasping zeer hands together and sighing softly. “AH! MEINE FAMILIE. PILOT IS ALREADY PLAYING ON ZEE BEACH WITH GRANDPA ENGIE!” While I’m trying to figure out how Engie is a grandpa and how the rest of us would supposedly fit into a typical family dynamic and just how flustered I am about the conclusion I get to, Captain waltzes over to the doors and dramatically throws them open. “WE CAN WATCH OVER THEM FROM THE STEPS! AND WE WILL STILL BE ABLE TO HEAR OUR MUSIC!!” Zee announces, before stepping out into the rain and pretending to take a deep inhale of the sea air, then goes and sits on the steps. “GO GET HIM, MEIN PILOT!” Zee calls once down, alerting both runners to zee’s presence and stopping them in their tracks. There’s a faint "SIR YES SIR!" from Pilot before he begins to chase again, with a newfound vigor, much to Engie’s presumed dismay.

In the meantime, I was trying to inspect the record player to ignore the fluttering feeling in my chest, trying to figure out how on earth it’s still able to function. Did Captain really luck out? But finding not only an intact player, but also a record to go along with it - the odds had to be impossible, right? But the proof is here, right in front of my eyes. . . Sighing deeply, I decide that I shouldn’t think too much about it. What song even is this? I feel like it should be familiar, and it is, vaguely. When and where I would have heard it, I don’t know, but that feeling in my chest doesn’t go away as I listen to the lyrics.

“Fill my heart with song,     And let me sing forevermore,         You are all I long for,              All I worship and adore. . .”

I walked away to the doors before those feelings could get even more bothersome, looking out into the rain to squint at Pilot and Engie running, then to Captain sitting on the steps, now looking back at me and gently patting the space next to zeer in a silent invitation. “I’m not sitting out there. It’s raining.” I grumble, crossing my arms.

I can almost feel the pout in Captain’s slightly disappointed stare, but then, zee seems to light up. “AHA! BUT, DEAR! I HAVE AN UMBRELLA!” To which zee promptly pulls an umbrella from seemingly nowhere, and to which I have to pretend very hard that my face isn’t reddening under my mask, arms crossing tighter in an attempt to hide just how tender being called “dear” made me feel.

We stare at each other for several moments, until I sigh and shake my head, reluctantly stepping out and walking over to sit next to Captain. Usually I would ensure that there would be a respectable distance of a few inches between us, but since it’s raining and I’d really like to not get wet, I sit right next to zeer, gently bumping shoulders. There’s no harm in this, is there? No, I convince myself, this would be fine. So why is my heart beating so hard in my chest? Is it the lyrics of the song, the fact that Captain chose it, the fact that we’re both sitting so close to one another now, or a combination of the three? I know that it shouldn’t bother me so much, there’s no way that zee means it in the way I think zee does, it’s just another layer of eccentricness. And besides, we’ve been closer at times, and there was no absolute confirmation then. . .

The music stops for a moment, dragging me out of my thoughts enough to lay them to rest. Whatever I think, it doesn’t matter, there’s no use being nervous over it when things like this will happen again. So, there’s no use in worrying over daring to get a little closer, daring to relax, to space out a little watching my friends run about in the closeness and warmth of someone I like with music playing gently in the background. And so, I dare to. Exhaling a soft sigh, I rest my head on Captain’s shoulder, inching just a little closer. This is allowed, I won’t be rejected, I’m allowed to do this, please please don’t reject me--

And then Captain gently curls an arm around my waist, and immediately everything feels okay. Not around my shoulders like a friend would do, no. Around my waist, like a. . .

Huh. I really do talk myself down, don’t I? I should really stop letting my anxiety control me. Especially when I feel every shred of worry melt away as Captain pulls me just that little bit closer with a content hum, resting zeer head against mine in turn. Was zee just waiting for me to realise, or have we both been drifting closer without noticing until now? How long have we been this. . . gentle and tender in each other’s company?

Whatever the answer is, we were both happy to stay here like this, watching the rest of our small family play in the rain gently drumming around us all, music of forgotten eras playing with lyrics of putting heads on shoulders and holding someone close, of kisses goodnight and of you and I falling in love, gently playing us away into the slow approaching night. And maybe the songs that play for us will come true, one day.

[rainoverthemountains]

Twist story chapter 12

Twistfell and everything associated with it belong to @itsladykit

These guys really get away from me. We haven’t yet gotten to some of the events that were originally planned for chapter 4. Meanwhile, they insist on having some pretty strong feelings for what’s probably still a gen fic, or at least gen-ish. But eh, why do relationships always have to fit into neat categories, anyway? I doubt any of these guys would be terribly concerned about it.

Summary: There’s a cure for LV (probably). It’s completely safe (probably). It’s a highly unpleasant experience (definitely). Twist only cares about that first statement. He probably should have paid a little more attention to the other two. But what does it matter? He’s getting what he wants, and he has the best friends and family in any universe to help along the way.

chapter 1, chapter 11

Chapter 12

Either the pillow wall works or Twist remembers that moving is a bad idea, because he actually manages to stay in bed this time, to Cash’s relief. He smiles when Cash enters the room but doesn’t say anything, also to Cash’s relief. Twist is reasonably content and not saying ridiculous things that hit Cash in all the wrong places, so everything is as good as it’s probably going to get.

“the kitchen’s cleaned up and i got you some more water.” Not that it was a mess in the first place, but at least the dirty water bottle is in the dishwasher. He hands the refilled bottle to Twist, who again smiles at being able to hold it himself.

“Thanks, sweetheart.” He takes a sip. “D’licious as always. Could sell this stuff.”

“not that i’m opposed to taking advantage of the gullibility of the general public, but i think it would take more marketing than either of us want to deal with to convince anyone to buy the water from your kitchen sink.”

“I don’ know ‘bout that. I’ve got a great sales pitch; ‘Guaranteed ta make ya feel like yer soul’s not meltin’ fer at least 15 seconds after ya drink it!’ Sales’ll go through the roof!”

“i suspect it needs some work before it’ll appeal to a general audience.”

“Yer probly right. Might only int’rest a specific type a clientele.” He finishes the bottle, so Cash teleports to the kitchen to get more. He’s not going to be caught unprepared with something as easy to keep on hand as water, especially with this new revelation that Twist’s soul apparently always feels like it’s melting and water makes it go away for a few seconds. It’d have been nice to know about that earlier, but far be it from Twist to ask for something he needs.

Twist accepts the fresh water gratefully, but doesn’t drink much, so maybe he’s feeling better now. “Whatcha rushin’ around so much for, anyway? Tha’s not like ya.”

“have to make sure i’m here to rescue your stupid ass the next time you decide to fling yourself to the floor instead of staying in bed and going to sleep like a normal person.”

“Aww, sweetheart, if I’da known you were so attached ta my ass I’da taken better care a’ it.”

“it’s not so much that i’m attached to it as that i’m tired of picking it up off the floor.”

“Oh come on, it was only one time! An’ it’s a great ass! You should be honored ta be the one ta pick it up!” This is ridiculous, but Twist is grinning, and not that vague, confused smile from earlier either.

“anything to do with your ass is an ‘honor’ i could do without. how about you keep it in bed until you can pick it up yourself?”

“But darlin’, that’d-” the breath catches in his throat as his body goes rigid. His face tightens and his eyelight rolls up into his skull as a strangled whine escapes.

“what’s wrong? twist? fuck.” Another attack? They’re probably lucky to have made it this long without one. But then all the tension leaves Twist’s body. “twist?” Twist blinks.

“Wha?”

“what happened? is it over?”

“I… I don’…”

“what was that?” Surely it wasn’t an attack. Nodes don’t dissolve that fast. Do they?

“Dunno… it… I – hnnn!” His back arches and his face twists in agony. Then he collapses again, panting.

“what’s happening? i haven’t seen this before. has it happened before?”

“Dunno… felt… it felt like when… like a node thing, but FUCK!” His claws dig into the blanket underneath him, then relax again. “I think this’s new. Wish it’d stop.” Head dropping limply to the side, he lays panting for a few moments while Cash watches in concern. Maybe it’s nothing to worry about. If it lasted even a little longer, he’d say it was definitely a node. Iggy reported a wide range of variation in node dissolution time. Maybe even a couple of seconds is normal, what does he know? And she clearly never bothered to inform Twist about what to expect, so it’s not surprising that he wouldn’t know either. But three times in a row? That’s not in any report he’s read.

Twist screams, then whines again, hands curling up against his ribs. Ok, this is definitely not normal. He’s almost sure of it. Except how can he be sure about anything? For all that he’s studied the reports and Twist’s personal experience with it, they know next to nothing about this treatment. They need more information.

“Patches, uh, sweetheart, uh, I think… sumthin’s wrong. I don’ think this’s normal. ‘s all kinda a blur, and it’s hard ta tell when one thing stops an’ another starts. But I think it’s s’posed ta last longer ‘n that an’ I don’ think it starts again so fast. But maybe not? I… I don’-” Then the pain comes again. Then it leaves. Then again, and again, as they soon lose count. It’s not a completely regular pattern. Sometimes there are only seconds between bursts of pain, sometimes nearly a minute, but they never stop.

Not knowing when the next one will start is almost as bad as the pain itself. During the first of the longer pauses they both start to relax, thinking it might be over, before a wave of pain hits hard enough to briefly knock Twist unconscious until the next wave drags him back to awareness. Now he’s constantly tense, curled up in anticipation of the next wave even when they pause long enough for him to speak somewhat normally. Neither of them knows what to do.

“Dunno what’s happenin’. I don’… is sumthin’ wrong?” How’s Cash supposed to know? Everything’s wrong, but is this more wrong than normal?

“do you remember anything at all like this happening, or iggy mentioning anything? anything at all?”

“Dunno. Don’ think it’s done this before, don’t know hhhhhhg,” scrabbling at his ribs, one hand finds its way into his ribcage and gropes blindly for his soul. Cash grabs the hand before it does any damage, and Twist clings to him until the pain recedes.

“Thanks, sweetheart. Hate ta think what it’d do if I got ahold a my soul like that. ‘s just what I need shit,” his hand clamps down on Cash’s, claws digging into the joints. Cash yelps but he won’t pull away because he decided back in the lab that he won’t do that to Twist again and he still won’t. And what if Twist goes for his soul again? He’d shred it if he held it like he’s holding Cash’s hand, so Cash can’t pull away, but if it doesn’t stop soon Cash might end up with a few less fingers.

Twist’s eyes blink open then dart to where he’s crushing Cash’s hand, which he drops like a hot iron. “Sorry,” he moans, “so sorry darlin, didn’t mean ta, didn’ even realize.”

“it’s fine. i’m more concerned about you. what can i do to help you?”

“Dunno. Can’t… jus’ don’ touch me cause I can’t…” Is that because he doesn’t want to be touched or because he’s afraid of hurting Cash? And what’s happening? He’s only seen one example of a node dissolving; is this normal or has something gone wrong? Should he call Iggy? Hours after telling her off and taking Twist away to take care of him himself?

Twist’s back arches and he digs his claws into the bed. He falls back to the bed and pants in exhaustion, then tenses again and bangs his skull against the pillow hard enough that the bedframe shakes. Cash grabs his skull to stop him, but lets go when he moans and pulls away.

“stop that. you don’t need brain damage on top of everything else.” The headbanging doesn’t return, but this time Twist doesn’t relax at all as they wait for the next attack.

“Please don’ touch me. Don’ wanna hurt ya, sweetheart.”

“i’m not the one getting hurt here, idiot. just let me help you.”

“How? C’n ya make it stop?” Why does he have to sound so hopeful? Of course Cash can’t make it stop! Cash can’t do anything, and why did he ever think he could help with this? He doesn’t know anything about this treatment, and even if he gets all of Iggy’s reports, how does he know any of it applies in Twist’s case? Fucking idiot, signing himself up for a treatment that’s only been tested on monsters with half his LV. If Cash had to start caring about someone, why couldn’t it have been someone with a halfway-decent sense of self-preservation? And why can’t Twist have someone to look after him who has half a clue what he’s doing? Instead all he has is Cash.

Twist screams again, and then he’s reaching for his soul again, and there’s no way Cash is letting him do himself irreversible damage just because he’s a self-sacrificing idiot who thinks Cash is too fragile to hold his hand. He grabs the hand that’s trying to grab Twist’s soul and grits his teeth at the claws that inevitably find his joints, wiping the expression from his face when Twist’s eyes open so the idiot doesn’t decide he’s breaking Cash’s hand or something.

“So sorry, darlin’. Just please don’ touch me. Please? Don’ know what’s happenin’ an’ I don’ wanna hurt ya.”

“i’m not letting you hurt yourself. the worst you’ve done is scratch me. i think you’re pretty harmless at the moment.”

“But what if ’m not? This thing keeps lettin’ me get better in between so I’m stronger than ‘m s’posed ta be, an’ I keep fergettin’ that I gotta stay in control now, so I don’ know what I could do when I don’ know what I’m doin’.”

“what do you mean, you have to stay in control now? 

“Haven’t had ta worry ‘bout it since the medicine fucked me up too bad ta hurt anyone, but when it started I was a mess. ‘s part’a why Iggy had ta tie me up. Every time I got free, I did sumthin’ bad, even though she was jus’ tryna help me. Didn’t mean ta, but I kept doin’ it anyway, an’ I don’ wanna hurt ya, sweetheart.

“are you saying you want to be tied up again?”

“No! Or, or if this keeps goin’ on, maybe?” He shudders, but presses on. “It screws with my head, darlin’, it really… ghhhhhhhh, shit… really, really screws with my head, and I shouldn’t be able ta move by now, but I still can, so I don’ know what I’ll do, an’ the whole point was so I don’ hurt anyone but now I’m so fucked up I might anyway an’ I can’t-”

“are you trying to hurt me?”

“No! Sweetheart, no, I’m tryin’ not ta but I ferget an’-”

“then stop worrying about it. i’m not going to dust from a few accidental scratches. you will dust if you crush your own soul. i don’t know what’s happening to you, but you hurting me is the least of my concerns.”

“Ya don’ know that, darlin’. What if I ferget who ya are? I do that sometimes, an’ what if mmmmm…” he trails off in a moan and tries to pull his hand away from Cash. Tries and fails, of course, because he’s weak as a babybones and about as much of a threat as one, too, whatever he might think.

Cash holds onto Twist through several more short attacks, eventually holding onto both hands as Twist seems determined to get to his soul. The first time Twist regains awareness with both hands restrained, he panics, so Cash lets go. After that, Cash makes sure to keep away from his wrists and Twist stays calm. Having solved the immediate problem of keeping Twist from hurting himself, Cash turns his attention to the bigger problem of what’s happening to Twist. Unfortunately, he’s no closer to an answer, and a glance at the clock shows it’s been going on for nearly half an hour with no sign of ending. What would a sign even be? He doesn’t know enough about this, but he so doesn’t want to consult with Iggy.

Twist looks and sounds completely fried. He never relaxes for fear of the next attack, which come at random intervals and with random intensities. He’s stopped telling Cash not to touch him, and just looks guiltily at any new scratches that appear on his hands. Mostly, though, he stares at the ceiling. He’s done that far too much since the treatment started.

“Wish it’d stop.” That’s an understatement if Cash has ever heard one. He’s rarely felt more helpless.

“maybe i should call iggy.” He hates to even suggest it, especially when the breath catches in Twist’s ribcage and his socket widens in fear, but what if something is really wrong and he doesn’t know how to recognize it, or what if there’s something he should be doing, or-

“Ok.” Shit, Twist sounds so resigned. Why won’t he argue when he doesn’t like something? Is he resigned because he doesn’t want to see Iggy but agrees they need her help, or because he doesn’t want anything to do with her but doesn’t think Cash will listen to him any better than she did?

“i don’t trust her, but she knows more about this treatment than either of us, and this can’t continue.” Twist’s face falls, and he looks away with an expression of… guilt? Wait, why’s he guilty?

“Ok. Sorry.”

“what are you sorry for? you didn’t do anything wrong.”

“Sorry ya went ta so much trouble ta get me outta there an’ it didn’t work.”

“it didn’t work? seems to me like it worked just fine, considering that this is your bedroom and not a lab.” He’s got to get better at interpreting Twist’s disconnected statements. There’s always something he needs to know in there, but it’s hard to find.

“Yeah but now ya gotta take me back.”

“what!?”

“Sorry, I know ‘m too hard ta take care of, I don’ blame ya an’ it was real nice ta be away from there fer awhile, but I already hurt ya an’ yer too nice ta tie me up an’ my self-control is shit an’ I’m too much trouble ta take care of and now there’s this new thing goin’ on an’ I don’ know what it is either so I know ya gotta take me back an’-”

“shut the fuck up. i’m not taking you back there. after everything she did, you think i’m going to just leave you there again? what kind of an asshole do you think i am?” Twist is stunned into silence.

“she did a terrible job of taking care of you. it was her job and she didn’t even try, and don’t give me that bullshit about it being your fault or it being worth it to get rid of your lv. she should have done better and there’s no excuse, and i will never leave you back in that lab. if i had a problem with anything you’ve done, i’d have said so. do i look like a pushover to you?”

Wide-eyed, Twist whispers, “no, but sweetheart…”

“but what?”

Twist briefly whimpers and shudders in pain, but then pushes through it. “Patches, I…” he clears his throat. “I don’t… but you said…”

“i said we should call her. to ask what’s going on. not to send you back. you’re not going back.”

“Oh.” His sockets close in relief. He actually thought Cash would take him back to that lab and leave him there. Cash honestly can’t decide if that says more about Twist’s non-existent sense of self-worth or his opinion of Cash. He knows he’s an ass, but does he really come off as the kind of person who would do that to his friend? Yeah, they’re friends. Just because he doesn’t advertise it to the whole world doesn’t mean he’s not attached to the idiot, and he thought the idiot knew that. On the other hand, he’s pretty sure Twist doesn’t consider himself to be worth much of anything to anyone, and the way that bitch kept blaming everything on him can’t have helped, so maybe he really did think sending him back there was something a reasonable person would do? What the hell is Cash supposed to do with that? He’s not the one to help someone else with their psychological problems. Even if it is Twist. Fuck he wants to be good enough to help Twist.

The attacks just keep coming. Twist is completely drained, and also terrified. He won’t say it, but he is. He’s constantly shaking, and stopped talking soon after the conversation about calling Iggy. He’s also getting weaker. Whereas at first a bad attack could leave deep scratches on Cash’s hands, now it barely causes Twist to tense. This can’t go on. Cash is calling Iggy.

Twist probably doesn’t have the strength or coordination to hurt himself anymore, so Cash gently lays his hands at his sides to go get his phone. Iggy answers on the second ring.

“Hello?”

“this is cash. i need information about twist’s treatment.”

“Oh good, I’m glad you called, because you left way too quickly and I didn’t get to tell you more than the bare minimum, which really isn’t enough for the condition he’s in. If you’d just bring him back by the lab I’ll look him over and give you some more thorough instructions for treatment and monitoring-”

“he’s not coming back to the lab except on the schedule we already agreed to. if you need to ‘look him over’ you can come here. right now, i need you to tell me whether what’s happening is a problem, and if it is, i need to know what to do about it.”

“That would be a lot easier in the lab-”

“he’s not going.”

“But if you’ll describe his symptoms, I’ll see what I can tell you.” Don’t piss her off. They need her help, so don’t piss her off, however much she pisses him off.

“it’s like some extremely shortened version of that attack i saw in the lab, only a few seconds at a time, but it’s been happening for the past,” he checks his watch, “40 minutes, with pauses between five seconds and one minute.”

“Oh, yeah, it’s definitely good you called me. It sounds like there’s a buildup of corrupted magic somewhere-”

“what?!”

“Oh, it’s not as bad as it sounds, don’t worry, it’s just a byproduct that his soul shouldn’t have any trouble dealing with, even in its current condition, except that it can build up in one area beyond what that part of the soul can deal with and start causing problems. It’s relatively rare, but I should’ve expected it with him because of the amount of LV we’re dealing with. It would normally clear on its own but it might have gotten concentrated enough to disrupt the primary mana flow, which would interfere with the normal repurification process.”

“and that’s what’s causing his symptoms?”

“Yeah, probably, I mean it would be easier to tell if I could see it in person and we won’t know for sure until you examine his soul for the dark spot where it’s built up, but it’s definitely the best explanation for what you’re describing. The concentrated corrupted magic tends to send shocks through the whole system, which probably feel a lot like a node dissolving because they follow the same mana pathways. You really should have called me earlier, that could be really dangerous.”

“how was i supposed to know that when you didn’t tell me?”

“This is why you shouldn’t have taken him out of the lab. You don’t know enough to recognize a problem and his high LV means he’s almost guaranteed to experience some problems that were rare in my other subjects.”

“then tell me what to look for, like you should have done when i told you i was taking him.”

“I’ll work on writing up a list of warning signs and what they might mean, but it’s hard to classify every possible problem, so it’s really best if you just call me whenever anything seems even slightly odd. It would be even better if you’d bring him back here where he’d be safe, but since you won’t do that, at least keep in phone contact.”

“fine, i’ve called you, and you’ve told me what the problem is. now what should i do about it?

“It’s pretty easy to fix as long as that’s what the problem actually is. You’ll just need to take out his soul and find the dark spot. If there isn’t one, you’re going to have to bring him in, because that means something else is wrong that I can’t diagnose over the phone, but if it’s there, you just need to massage the affected area to break up the corrupted magic and get his circulation going again. His soul should take care of the rest. It’ll be oversensitive so you might get a negative reaction. I’d say restrain him but you’d probably get all offended so at least get out of reach of his claws. You might not care about him clawing you but I bet you’ll care if he makes you drop his soul.”

“i’ll handle it.” Stars, she talks about souls like they’re just some random object, like anyone can just pick them up and fuck around with them and not like they’re something that shouldn’t be touched except under specific circumstances in the kind of relationship they do not have. He’s reminded of Twist’s minimal reaction when she switched him to the smaller monitor. It was like he’d been desensitized to having his soul screwed around with, probably because he had. Cash wants to kill her. He wants to kill her so badly, but they need her, and right now he’s wasting time.

“You’d better get on with it,” she echoes his thoughts. “He should be perfectly fine if you fix it soon, but if it goes on too long it will kill him.”

“what?!” That sounds like something she knows from experience, which means this has killed someone before. Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck. “why didn’t you tell me this could kill him?!”

“I thought it was obvious.”

“how could it be obvious when you were talking about it like some minor scientific curiosity?!”

“I was not! I was just giving you the facts – no, this is stupid. I’m not letting an argument kill my patient.” Now she’s going to act like the one trying to look out for Twist?! Where does she get off – no. She’s right about that, this is stupid, and it’s wasting time.

“so i need to get his soul and look for a dark spot? i’m putting you on speaker phone.”

“Yeah, it should show up pretty clearly against the color of his magic. Tell me when you’ve found it before you do anything; I want to make sure it is what I think it is. Actually, can you text me a picture?”

“sure.” Now he has to take out Twist’s soul. He knew he’d have to do something with it when he took over the treatment, but now that he has to actually take it, it seems horribly invasive. He’s not the kind of monster who would touch another monster’s soul without their permission. That’s just an absolutely disgusting thing to do. It’s different in a fight. That’s using magic against an opponent, not the same thing at all. Not that Twist is going to object to saving his life, but it still seems repugnant, especially with him barely conscious and unresponsive. Stars, if he’s not going to be able to agree to this then it would be easier if he was completely unconscious instead of vaguely staring in Cash’s direction and twitching every few seconds.

“Have you found it yet? Don’t tell me you’re getting squeamish. If you can’t do it, you’d better bring him back here right now because he’s not going to survive living with someone who’s afraid to touch his soul.”

“fuck off.” Twist isn’t going to die because Cash has developed a sudden, inconvenient respect for personal space. He reaches into Twist’s ribcage and forces himself to gently close his hand around Twist’s soul, a task made both easier and harder by the complete lack of a reaction from Twist. Taking care not to bump into any ribs or apply any unnecessary pressure whatsoever, he draws the soul into the open air and then cradles it in both open hands to examine it. Most of the surface is the same as the first time he saw it in the lab, off-colored and raw with pieces scooped out that he now knows are from however she scraped off all of the calcification to make injections easier. He has to turn it over to find what he’s looking for; a darkened area about the size of a penny. He takes a picture and sends it to Iggy, despite reservations that it’s probably not good to send around pictures of someone’s soul.

“if i find that all over the internet tomorrow, i’ll know who’s responsible.”

“Are you seriously implying that I’d post my patient’s medical information on the internet? What kind of doctor do you think I am?”

“a scientist, not a doctor, and it would fit in with the rest of your ethical standards. now what’s the diagnosis? is it what you thought it was?”

“Definitely, and it’s getting pretty bad, but we caught it in time. All you need to do is gently rub the discolored area until the discoloration goes away. It shouldn’t take long. Don’t press too hard because bruising will just make it worse.”

Fantastic. Now not only is he holding Twist’s soul without his permission while Twist stares at him blankly, he has to massage it. Could this get any worse? Well, yes, of course it could, he could stand around whining about it until Twist dies. That would be worse. So stop complaining and do what needs to be done.

“sorry, twisted, i’ll put it back as soon as i can.” Not that Twist seems likely to hear him, but Cash explains his actions just in case he can as he begins to rub the affected area. “i’m sure this feels strange. i’m not sure how much you heard of what iggy said, but the reason i’m doing this is to fix your magic circulation, which will make you feel better.”

“He can’t hear you. He’s got to be too far out of it by now.”

“you have no way of knowing whether that’s true, and i’d rather risk talking to someone who can’t hear me than him being aware enough to know someone is doing something to his soul but not knowing why.” She must not have a counter argument for that because she doesn’t respond. Cash never does see the negative reaction she warned him about, but then, Twist isn’t reacting to anything. 

Gradually, the color of the dark patch fades, at first diffusing into the surrounding area and then disappearing completely over the next couple of minutes. “i think the color is gone. i don’t see it anymore.”

“Good. He’s probably fine now. If it’s faded enough to no longer be visible then it’s at a low enough concentration that he should be able to deal with it. Is he conscious?”

“his eyes are open but he’s not reacting.”

“Any signs of more of those mini-attacks?”

“no, but i’m not sure he’d react to one if it happened at this point.”

“Hmm. He’s probably fine, but it’s hard to be sure while he’s unresponsive. Maybe hang on to his soul for a minute or two to keep an eye on the color, and then if nothing’s happened you can put it back. You shouldn’t need me unless something changes so I’m going to get back to work. Call me if the color changes again or if he has another mini-attack, or if anything else happens.”

“ok. when can i expect the more detailed set of care instructions and warning signs?”

“I’ll get it to you as soon as possible. Like I said, it’s hard to write everything out because so much of it is just things I recognize from experience, and he’s going to be different from the other research subjects anyway, but I’ll see what I can come up with. I really need to get back to work now, unless there’s anything else you need?”

“no, just get me that information.”

“As soon as possible, yep. Bye.” She hangs up, leaving Cash with nothing to do but sit staring at Twist’s soul in his hands. It’s not doing anything, but he’d hate to put it back too early and let the whole thing happen all over again. With the urgency gone from the situation, it has become incredibly awkward. He really hopes Twist is too out of it to know what’s happening and that he stays that way for a while longer.

Of course, he can’t have that kind of luck. Twist blinks at him, and then his blank stare turns to one of confusion.

“Hey, uh, watcha doin’, sweetheart?” The hoarse whisper makes heat rise in Cash’s cheekbones. No, no, absolutely not. This is all part of a medical treatment, nothing weird about it at all. Just act normal.

“there was a problem with your magic that disrupted its flow in your soul. i had to break it up manually to get it working again.”

“Oh, tha’s fine, then. Havin’ all sorts’a problems with my magic.” They both stare at each other for a moment. “C’n I have it back now?”

“huh? oh, yeah, here.” Cash returns Twist’s soul perhaps a little more quickly and less carefully than he would like, but Twist doesn’t seem to mind. He seems very relieved.

“Thanks, sweetheart. Yer always… yer so… thanks.” That sounds like more than thanks for ending an awkward situation. Why does he feel like he’s being thanked for giving it back at all? Twist is never going back to that lab. Except his agreement with Iggy was to bring him back once a week, so that’s not really possible. That’s for later, though. For now, focus on what Twist needs now.

“do you remember what happened?”

“Yeah, most’a it, at least. Not really sure what happened towards the end. Sorry ‘bout yer hands.”

“my hands are fine.” Actually, they sting pretty badly, but there’s no way he’s telling Twist that.

“Don’ look fine.”

“it’s just a few scratches, nothing to worry about.”

“If ya say so.” But he looks absolutely miserable about it. Why is he more upset about Cash’s hands than the fact that his own soul can randomly decide to torture him in new and creative ways that may or may not have the potential to kill him, with his only line of defense being Cash, who has no idea what he’s doing?

“i talked to iggy.”

“Kinda remember that. She told ya how ta fix me?”

“how fix this particular problem, at least. it seems there’s a lot she didn’t get around to telling us. she’s supposed to send more information soon.”

“Tha’s good. Be nice ta know wha’s happenin’ ta me sometimes.”

“you should already know what’s happening to you. she should have warned you about everything that could happen.”

“Not like I’da changed my mind, though. Ain’t gonna give up a cure just cuz’a sumthin’ like this.”

“but you could at least have known what to expect so things like this don’t hit you out of nowhere.”

“Probly woulda fergot, anyway. Pretty much had ta accept that I ain’t got a clue what’s happenin’ ta me most’a the time now. Ain’t so bad now I’m home.” He smiles reassuringly at Cash.

“would you stop trying to make me feel better?! you’re the one who’s hurt, not me. and stop justifying everything she does. she treated you terribly and you just keep repeating her excuses!”

“Eh, she’s as Fell as the rest’a us, an’ she never claimed ta be the motherly type. Ain’t none a us with clean hands, an’ I don’ expect ‘er ta make an exception fer me. I’ve got my cure an’ she kept me alive. ‘s ‘bout all I expected.”

“maybe you need higher expectations.”

“Could say the same fer you.” What the fuck is that suppose to mean? “Look, sweetheart, ‘m real tired. I think that kinda fried me. Think I could try ta get some sleep fer a while?” Cash takes a moment to actually look at Twist, and realizes that he looks as bad as he did in the lab. Shit, what’s he doing? He’s arguing with Twist after Twist just spent nearly an hour in agony, and now he’s keeping him awake when he might have a few minutes to actually rest.

“of course you can sleep. you don’t need my permission. just tell me to shut up if i’m keeping you awake.” That gets a weak smile in return. “do you want some water first?” It’s surprising that he’s doing this well without water.

“Yeah, that’d be great. Thanks, darlin’.” He needs help holding the bottle, but gulps down the whole thing. Shit, has he been thirsty the whole time Cash was arguing with him? Why didn’t he say something?

“tell me when you’re that thirsty. don’t wait for me to ask or for a good time or whatever it is. it’s not that hard to get you water. you’re not making anything easier by ignoring what you need.”

“k. Jus’… we were busy talkin’.”

“we can talk after you’re not dying of thirst.”

“Wasn’t dying.”

“fine, when you’re not thirsty enough to drink a whole water bottle. and a few minutes ago you were dying, so maybe think about that the next time you decide to ignore what you need because you don’t think it’s important enough to inconvenience someone.”

“That ain’t got nothin’ ta do with bein’ thirsty. Shit like that comes outta nowhere, an’ there’s nothin’ we c’n do ‘bout it so-”

“we don’t know that. we don’t know what causes any of this, and we don’t know what might make the difference between shit that leaves you laughing about it a minute later and shit that leaves you dust. you can brush it off and claim it’s all worth it, but if I considered your death an acceptable outcome i’d have left you on the path you were on before i paid for this fucking project.”

“Aw, Patches. You were really worried, weren’t ya?”

“of course i was worried! there’s an experimental medicine dissolving parts of your soul, and you don’t seem to care! and neither does your doctor! and i’m the only one here to take care of you, and i can’t rely on you to tell me what you need, and i’m trying to figure it out but i don’t know what you need because this isn’t the kind of thing i do. so don’t tell me everything’s fine and don’t ignore what you need.”

“It jus’ don’t seem like that big a deal.”

“none of your problems are ever a big deal, are they? you just keep smiling like nothing’s wrong while secretly planning how to kill yourself when you can’t pretend everything is fine anymore, like you could somehow make it ok for you to just be gone and like you’re the one to decide that you don’t matter enough for anyone to put the slightest effort into keeping you around.”

“I didn’t want to! I jus’ couldn’ see how ta…”

“how to solve the whole problem yourself without letting anyone else realize how bad it was? how there could possibly ever be a solution to a problem that you knew people were already working on solving? what would have happened if i hadn’t found that list? i knew the lv project existed, but i’d never paid much attention to it because as far as i knew, everything was fine on the surface so we had plenty of time for someone else to figure it out. i didn’t know that you, of all people, were giving up.”

“I didn’ give up! Fuck, sweetheart, ya act like I was ‘bout ta off myself tamorrow! Ya think I wasn’ tryin’ ta hang on? I had a pretty good life goin’ fer myself, an’ I wasn’t in no hurry ta leave it. I toldja that. Jus’ didn’ want ta leave ever’thin’ up ta chance an’ risk waitin’ too long an’ doin’ sumthin’ I’d hate myself for. Jus’ wan’ed ta make sure I’d always be me! An’ it don’ matter now anyway, cause you fixed it! Stars, darlin’, ya fixed it, so sorry if I don’ seem too worried if things get a li’l painful er a li’l dang’rous, or even a lot painful an’ dang’rous, cause I’m gettin’ my whole life back an’ I don’ really care what happens in between.”

“but you’re still doing the same thing. you’re still pretending everything is fine when it’s not and ignoring what you need.”

“I’ve asked ya fer plenty’a things!”

“but you’ve also not asked me for plenty of things, and that’s a problem, because i don’t think you take problems seriously enough when they’re your problems. do you really think it causes me more trouble to pause our conversation and get you some water than it causes you to not have water when you’re thirsty enough to drink the whole bottle?”

“No, but, ‘s just… I dunno. Think ‘m too tired fer this, sweetheart. An’ that is sumthin’ I’m askin’ for. C’n I sleep now? Ya said I could.” Fuck. Now he’s kept Twist awake just to yell at him. This is why he shouldn’t try to take care of people. He doesn’t know what the fuck he’s doing. How does Twist do it when Cash is too caught up in his own bullshit to function? Not by yelling at him, that’s for sure.

“yes, you can sleep. sorry for keeping you awake.”

“Nah, ‘s fine. I know yer just worried. An’ maybe ya got a point, ‘bout askin fer things. Jus’ don’ wanna be too much trouble.”

“you’re not too much trouble. you’re plenty of trouble, but not because of asking for things, and do you know how much i just paid to keep you around? would i have done that if i thought you were too much trouble? have you ever known me to throw my money away?” That gets a smile. A small one, but it’s there.

“Nah, you never waste money. Can’t say I always see the point in what ya buy, but ya never throw it away.”

“then what does that say about you?”

“That there’s no accountin’ fer taste?” Cash glares. “Yeah, yeah, it means ya wanna keep me around. Ya ain’t gotta worry, sweetheart. I wanna keep me around too. Jus’ still comin’ ‘round ta the idea that that’s sumthin’ I c’n actually do.”

“well it is, and i don’t intend to let my investment go to waste, so i expect you to help out by telling me when you need something.”

“Ok. I really am tired, Patches. C’n I sleep now?”

“yes, go to sleep. are you comfortable? do you need anything else?”

“My blanket, maybe? Startin’ ta get cold.” Cash untangles the blanket from where it’s wrapped itself around Twist’s feet and lightly lays it over him. Twist snuggles up in the blanket, which is absolutely not at all adorable except somehow it is, and falls asleep. Cash brings an armchair over to the bed and settles in to keep watch.

chapter 13