#stoned + exhausted + late = whatever kinda post this is

[hauntedgarden95]

Loghain with his glasses perched on his nose. Loghain with his glasses in his hand as he rants. Loghain with the glasses pushed all the way up bent intently over a book or map.

Loghain in glasses.

[itsthesinbin]

Sins in Stardust (Bill Cipher/Reader) Chapter 2

teehee

the bitch himself is here! as usual i just pick up major speed on an idea for like 3 days.

i'll be posting it to ao3 too after this goes up! ill reblog both chapters tomorrow with the ao3 link :3

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

“Why the fuck are you screaming?!” The triangle jumped to his feet, trying to scramble backwards. He tripped over a piece of stone and fell back onto his… ass? Does a triangle have an ass?

“Why am I- Who are you?!” He reeled back, seemingly offended as you yelled back at him. He stood on his little legs, hands balled into fists. He pointed at himself with a thumb.

“My name’s Bill Cipher, fleshy, and I… I…” His rage morphs into confusion. He rubs the side of his head, eyelid furrowing. “I was gonna do something…” He suddenly felt a groove in his side he didn’t recognize. He followed the crack in his body for a moment, before looking down at himself. He went from angry-confused to angry-worried.

“What the hell happened to me? What kinda drink did I get at O’Sadly’s…?” Slowly, you both stood. You held your hands out to pacify the creature as you told him your name. He rolled his eye, waving you off.

“Yeah, whatever. Where am I? I think I’m late for something and need to hop on the next comet out of this backwater dimension.” You frowned, but pulled your phone out. You pulled up your GPS to double check your intended destination.

“There’s a town called Gravity Falls up ahead… We’re a couple hours out from town.” He seemed to pause at that. He rubbed his forehead, feeling a headache come on. He squeezed his eye shut in thought.

“Gravity Falls, huh…? That sounds familiar.” His eye relaxed, turning slightly up in a mouthless grin. He snapped his fingers.

“Alright, kid! You take me to Gravity Falls and I’ll handle it from there. I got a feeling I got a couple friends waiting for me.” He stood there for a second, then frowned. He looked down at his feet in confusion. He jumped, only to land on his flat triangle ass again. He grunted, eye popping open.

“That hurt-? I can’t float? What the-?” He stood up, jumping and trying to float again. You watched him for a minute, slowly going to pack up your campsite. He was laying on the ground, tired and panting, when you finally got fully packed. He grabbed his discarded cane, using it to haul himself up. The top half of him was a dull red, both from exhaustion and anger.

“Okay, clearly something’s wrong. FanTASTIC! YOU!” He jabbed the cane in your direction. You looked down at him, pointing to yourself in response. He hobbled over to you.

“My powers are gone and if I recall correctly, you said last night you’d take me with you!” He went from angry to chipper in an instant. You frowned. The guy doesn’t remember anything beyond his name, but he happened to remember that you offered to take him- as a statue, at least. Great.

You thought back to your weird dream. There was no way it was a coincidence- a triangular kid in your dreams, reaching out to you for company. A triangular man waiting for you when you wake up. Damn.

Even WITHOUT that dream, you couldn’t just leave an amnesiac in the woods. You may not be a good person, but you weren’t heartless. Maybe that Axolotl will come back and be like oh shit my bad, I’ll take that idiot back. But, for now, you gotta take care of… an alien? Whatever the fuck he is. You sighed.

“Alright, Bill. C’mon- we’ll figure out how to hide you from people in the car, but the roads have been pretty empty so far.” He crossed his arms as he walked over to you.

“That’s more like it! Once we figure out what’s going on, kid, I’ll make sure to spare you when I turn this place upside down.” Joy. You got stuck with a psycho. You made a non-commital noise in response. You hauled your bag onto your back and led him back to your car. Leading a stranger back to your car in any circumstance was stupid, but this was INSANELY stupid.

“So… what are you, anyway?” The little egomaniac puffed up even more, glad to be able to talk about himself freely. He fixed his little bowtie, pulling at suspenders that didn’t exist.

“Interdimensional dream demon, at your service! Originally two dimensional, but uh… that changed somehow, I guess!” His confidence faltered slightly at mentioning his additional dimension he didn’t remember gaining, but he didn’t sound disappointed in it. He scratched at one of the glitching cracks, staring off into space for a few minutes.

A sick crunching sound cut off whatever he planned to say. You felt your heart drop into your stomach. The two of you glanced at each other, before picking up the pace to see what was going on.

A large creature had ripped a door off of your car, and was now trying to fit into the seat to get at the leftover food inside. You would’ve thought it was a nearly-furless bear, until you saw hooves. Your eyes widened as you looked at Bill. He didn’t look scared. If anything he looked a little excited. The creature pulled its head out, eating part of your car’s passenger seat.

“That thing’s a little freak, isn’t it,” he laughed. The creature’s head snapped to you two, and you froze. Bill cackled.

“Well, good luck with that, meatsack! I’ll check in when you get eviscerated!” He snapped his fingers confidently. Then snapped them again. He cracked his eye open, looking around to see if he was still there. The creature growled in response. Bill opened his eye fully. You stared at him, mouth open and brow furrowed in disbelief.

“Right. Powers gone. Forgot about that.” The creature roared, and charged. You both screamed and, out of instinct, you scooped the short idiot up into your arms and ran. He struggled, going from freaked out to pissed.

“PUT ME DOWN RIGHT NOW BEFORE I RIP EVERY INDIVIDUAL TOOTH OUT AND PUT THEM IN YOUR EYE SOCKETS!” His voice grew deep and layered, his body turned a bright red and the colors of his eye inverted. You darted through the trees, hearing the huge creature break entire trees as it ran after you two.

“DO YOU THINK YOU COULD OUTRUN THAT THING? OR KILL IT?” “I COULD IF I WASN’T NEUTERED!” You wanted to shake him. To throw him at the creature as a distraction and run. But, you weren’t a monster. You couldn’t let the guy die, no matter how annoying he was at the moment. You had to remember the guy just, supposedly, broke out of stone and had little to no memory. He needed help.

You hid behind a large tree, trying to calm your wheezing. Bill was frantically snapping and staring at his hands, rage turning to horror. He was getting panicked and tried to hide it with fury. Okay, he was no help at the moment. You heard the creature getting closer. You looked at the trees, counting the branches above you.

You moved Bill, light as a feather in your grasp, onto your shoulders. He was confused, gripping onto your head. You told him to hold on as you pulled your belt off. You used it as leverage, pulling it over the branch to help pull yourself up. Bill’s grip on you tightened to the point you thought he was gonna choke you out. Or pull a chunk of hair out. You’d have to deal with it.

You hauled yourself high into the pine tree, sitting on a thick branch near the trunk. You coughed, trying to calm the burning in your lungs. Bill leaned over to look at the forest floor, seeing the creature sniffing around. Shit.

“Well, genius, what do you plan to do now?” He asked, looking back down at you. You ignored him, looking around frantically for something. Anything you could use to get the creature away from you. Bill huffed, yanking a pinecone out of a branch. He stared at it as intensely as he could, willing- praying- that it lit up with blue flame. His hands shook slightly when nothing happened.

“You got a lighter?” he asked, trying to shove down the panic. He wasn’t about to die here- not until he could get his powers back. You looked up to see the pinecone.

“Are you crazy? What if the trees go up!” “We can outrun a fire easier than that thing, meatsack! Give me a lighter!” You groaned, annoyed, but relented and snapped your lighter on. You blew on the pinecone, feeding the fire enough to get it lit. You grabbed a couple more, using the lit pinecone to set the others ablaze.

With grunts of effort, you both lobbed your makeshift firebombs at the creature below. One flew over its head, drawing its attention to it. The other two landed on its back, on the stripe of fur along its spine. Bill lit a couple more, chucking them as hard as he could. The creature roared as one got stuck in its fur, igniting the hair quickly. It ran off, slamming into trees to try and smother the burning pinecone. You two waited, holding your breaths to see if it’d come back.

You began to descend as you heard its roars and screeches getting fainter by the minute. Bill jumped down as you reached the ground, only to land on his mostly flat face. He grumbled as he stood, both of you hurrying back to your car. Much to his anger, he struggled to keep up with your long legs.

You arrived at your totaled car, shoulders drooping. You dug through the debris in search of anything that survived. All the food was gone, bags shredded to get the contents inside. Your passenger seat was destroyed, along with the dashboard. Your identification papers were either eaten, soaked with drool or shredded. Thankfully you had your important items like your wallet and phone with you, but damn… How the fuck were you going to explain this to your insurance?

Once you grabbed whatever you could- which wasn’t much beyond some unshredded clothing- you took pictures for future evidence. You could hear Bill tapping his small foot on the ground behind you. You prickled slightly as you turned to him. The two of you glared at each other, daring the other to look away. You sighed, tired, as you broke the glaring contest. Bill crossed his arms triumphantly.

“Good idea back there, Cipher. Thanks.” He blinked, before putting a hand on his hip. He smiled- best he could, anyway- and shot you a finger gun.

“Glad to finally get some appreciation! Maybe I won’t shove your teeth into your eyes, kid!” You rolled your eyes as he trotted up to your side. You popped your back real fast, grunting slightly, before looking down at him.

“Okay. When we get to town, I’ll look through what clothes I got left and… rig some kinda disguise for you. Just keep your… head… down, when we get there. At least til I figure something else out.” He huffed slightly, but knew he couldn’t do much in terms of hiding without his abilities.

“Just make me look hot, alright? I got a reputation to keep!” He jumped and grabbed onto your backpack, nearly pulling you down. Scrambling up your bag, he began to look for clothes that interested him. Your head throbbed- from exhaustion, from hunger, and from annoyance.

“You said you had friends in town?” you asked as you looked back over your shoulder. He currently had a scarf wrapped around his head, like a Babushka. He shrugged.

“Hell if I know! Feels like I should, so maybe if I see someone a lightbulb’ll go off,” he answered, going back to digging through your items. He pulled a couple breakfast bars out, handing you one. You mumbled a thanks. You paused mid chew.

“... Do you eat?” His eye turned into a mouth as he began to eat the bar, much to your disgust. He shrugged again.

“Usually no, but it seems like whatever happened to me changed that. I’m starving! You don’t happen to have a liver in here, do you?” You decided to let him figure out for himself that you, in fact, did not have a liver hiding in your bag. Guess you’d have to get food for two. That’ll put a dent in your savings.

One day at a time. You’ll get it figured out. Just gotta take it one day at a time.

[iguessweallcrazyithinktho]

𝑾𝒆𝒍𝒄𝒐𝒎𝒆 𝒕𝒐 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒏𝒆𝒊𝒈𝒉𝒃𝒐𝒓𝒉𝒐𝒐𝒅

Summary: you moved into a new neighborhood. Your neighborhood grew closer to you and you both starts to flirt with each other. It leads to you both sleeping together

Genre: smuts

Warning: NSFW, thigh ridding, lots of tongue in the kissing, sexual talking, porn with a plot? Starts fluff ends smut. Kinda implied

Pairing: Chris Evans x neighbor reader

Please don't post any of my content anywhere else without my permission

Read at your own risk! At least 16+

You placed the last box on the ground shutting the door of your car. You breathed out a sigh of relief as you looked over at your New home. You had just closed on it and it was exciting. You never thought you'll be able to buy such an amazing place, in an amazing neighborhood but here you were.

You picked up the box and began carrying it to the front door. As you walked up the stone steps you can see a man in the yard of the house next door with his dog. You looked over at him, he smiled and waved. He seem really nice.

You walked into the house placed your stuff on the floor in the foyer before walking back outside. You were going to greet home, you really needed a good relationship with neighbors especially since you're new to the neighborhood.

You walked through the lawn and stopped at your property lines. "Hi." Chris without hesitation walked over to you. "Hi, I see you're new here."

"yeah, I am. I'm y/n." You stuck out your hand giving him a bright smile. Chris stuck out his and shook your hand. "I'm Chris nice to meet you."

You nodded. "Ok well I'm going to go and put my things away. It was very nice meeting you."

you turned to leave, but Chris stopped you. He took a deep breath as you Turned around. "Yes."

"I was wondering if you wanna come over for a drink? Nothing weird just to welcome you into the neighborhood."

You chuckled softly making Chris question himself. Did you have a boyfriend? Did he jump to fast? Did he ruin this moment? His mind was racing in those few seconds and it was only cut off when you spoke.

"uh sure. Where do we meet?" "Uh in my backyard." Chris said happily. "Just come through the gate. 6?"

You nodded. "Alright sounds like a plan. I'll see you there." You waved goodbye to him before you made your way inside. Chris stood in the yard a little longer happy with himself over what he accomplished.

Around 5: 30 you got yourself ready. You didn't want it to seem like you were impressing or trying to dress nicely for him so you stuck on a graphic tee and some jeans with holes in them.

You grabbed your phone just in case before you walked over to Chris' house. It was starting to get dark out, but the lights from Chris' backyard lit up the place enough.

You softly sighed as you pushed the gate door open. You walked further into the backyard, you weren't going to deny your heart was racing as you got closer.

As you fully reached the backyard you can see Chris standing on his patio a beer in his hand. When he saw you he smiled. "Hey you made it." He walked over to you and hugged you.

"of course I did I live next door." Chris snickered at your sarcasm. "Alright do you a beer or some water?"

You walked over to seating area where Chris had a few lit candles for more light. "Uh beers fine." You said as you sat down.

Chris went inside and grabbed a beer from the fridge before returning to the patio. He handed it to you before sitting in the chair beside you. "So how are you?"

"I'm fine. Really exhausted from moving but I'm happy I'm here." Chris nodded humming. "Yeah. So are you from the Boston area?"

You were quick to shake your head. "No, I'm from California actually. I moved and because it's more calmer here on the east coast."

Chris agreed with you. He could definitely understand where you were coming from. "So.. what do you do?" You asked taking a sip of your beer.

"I'm a actor. You may have seen me in some movies, you may haven't I don't know." Chris chuckled lowly as he sipped his drink.

"Yeah I think I have, but I don't remember the movie." "Maybe captain America..?" Chris gave you wiggly eyebrows. "oh wait yes." It started to dawn on you he was the one and only captain America. "Hm Chris Evans?"

Chris nodded. He started smiling as you realized who he was. "You got it correct."

"that's pretty cool." You laughed and drunk your beer, all of it. Chris watched as you placed the empty bottles on the side table. He was kinda shocked with how fast you finished, he didn't expect it, but it was such a turn on to him.

"you want another beer?" Turning to him you shook your head. "No, I'm fine thanks." Chris nodded softly.

You both talked a little bit more before you started to notice it was getting pretty late out. You decided it was time to head home despite not wanting to leave.

You thanked Chris for his warm welcome before you made your way home. As you got in bed that night you started to think about how this move was a good idea. Not only for yourself but because you had a hot, sexy, neighbor that was kind as fuck.

**

As weeks went you and Chris grew closer together. He invited you over often. You both had a beer or two and talked. You noticed Chris grew flirty with you, you couldn't help Flirting back with him.

After a month of moving in you and Chris were close as fuck. It was no longer a platonic thing between the two of you, it was sexual tension. Chris wanted nothing more than to make you his and watch you breathless under him.

To cut the tension you decided it was time to act up and what I mean by act up I mean tease Chris.

Around 4pm you made your way over to Chris' place. You had on a short skirt and a button up shirt with no bra. You knocked on the door and waited for Chris to answer. A few seconds flew by before Chris answered. "Y/n, what's up."

"hi, I just wanted to come over and give you company." Chris nodded. "Ok, come in then." He moved out of the way letting you in. You walked through the house to the living room. You took a seat on the couch, Chris sat down beside you. He noticed your short skirt and tight, braless button up. It made his cock twitch in his pants just thinking about it.

"what do you want to watch?" He asked grabbing the remote. "Um whatever you want I'm fine with." "Alright."

Chris clicked on Rick and Morty. You both watched in silence. Chris peering over at you every few minutes didn't go unnoticed by you at all. You could see his cock straining against his pants and honestly it looked painful.

Now it was your time to act. You took your hand and placed it on Chris' thigh. you can feel him tense up under your hand. you looked over at him. "is there something wrong?"

chris looked over at you. "I know what youre doing y/n."

You decided to play dumb. "What do you mean?"

Chris crawled. His warm hand came to your thigh and pulled you onto his legs in one swift movement. You looked down at him, You can feel your panties soaking as you felt Chris hard against you.

"you know what you're doing." Chris placed his hand on your waist. "And I think it's time you do what you want to do."

Chris gripped your chin and kissed you. The kiss was rough making you moan. His tongue slipped into your mouth colliding with yours.

You began to move your hips against his thighs. You moaned taking hold of the couch behind you for leverage. Chris pulled away looking down between you both.

"fuck your so wet. Soaking my pants baby." You groaned throwing your head back. The feeling of his pants against your core made you grow closer to your high.

"you're close huh?" Chris gripped your jaw making you look at him. "So fucking dirty. You're going to cum for me?"

"yes." Your voice came out shakey. You keep moving your core against his thigh. Before you knew it you were cumming. You wailed into Chris' ear. Tingles ran through your Body as your orgasm ripped through your body.

When you came down from your high you looked at Chris. "You done?" He asked with a smirk. You laughed, "yeah."

"Chris brushed his finger over your cheeks l. "Well I don't think you're really Done. How about we go to the bedroom?" Chris lips brushed against yours. You hummed. "I think that's a good idea." You kissed him before getting up from your seat His lap. Chris got up and pulled you to his bedroom for a ton of fun.

--

Ok I'm done

[imaloserbbyxoxo]

Dabi as a dad. That's it. That's the post.

please keep in mind i suck at writing so im sorry if this his terrible i'm just trying to make myself feel better

♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥

It was late at night. Dabi wasn't sure what time it was, but he could only assume it was around two in the morning. He was unbelievably exhausted and worn out. So much work had to be done lately for the league and Shikaraki was running him ragged from all the orders and tasks he was assigned.

So much work had to be done, that he hadn't been able to sleep for the past day and a half. His body was starting to shut down, but he knew he had to keep on until the jobs were completed.

People in the league were the only ones that knew this secret Dabi had. He had a whole other life ever since three years ago. He had become a father. He never knew it would happen, he never even planned it. Honestly? He never really wanted to be a father, but ever since she was born, he was in love. A beautiful baby girl. Who would have ever thought? A son, maybe. But a girl? Whoa. That's a whole knew level.

Dabi and Y/N had been together for 2 years before the birth of their daughter. He really did love Y/N, but for some reason unknown to him, having a little girl made the love go even deeper. He never imagined he could love anyone, much less Y/N. His whole world was steadily changing around him, and he was doing all he could to cope with it.

The one thing hard about everything going on, was he had to be away from home. Away from his girls. Y/N knew he was in the league and everything that was going on in his life. She knew when they got together. She didn't mind it, really. Just as long as Dabi was safe. But she knew he would be. He was a really tough and tedious guy. He was constantly careful, no matter how big or how small the task.

But Dabi couldn't' help but stress about the girls at home by themselves. He had become so protective over them the past few years, and hated that they had to be alone most of the time. Nothing made him more relaxed than hearing their voices and laughs. It melted him, in a good way.

----

After walking down this street Dabi found himself on, he cut down an alley. Once he walked down it a few feet, he leaned his back against the cold, stone wall of a building, and slid down it until he collapsed on the ground. Automatically, his eyes started to feel heavy. He needed to rest so bad. Maybe just a few minutes wouldn't hurt. Leaning his head back against the wall, he slowly started to drift away into sleep.

Time had passed and he hadn't moved. It only felt like a few minutes, but apparently it was about an hour of him napping. He was awoken by a tune on his phone. Normally, he would have ignored it, but this particular tune was set to only Y/N's contact, so he quickly pulled it out of his pocket.

Before answering, he glanced at the time. Four in the morning. What was she doing up? Dabi's heart started to race. He couldn't help but think that something was wrong. He hastily answered.

"Hey, is everything okay?"

"...daddy?"

"Yes, baby? Are you okay?"

"Yeah. I had a bad dream."

Dabi hadn't noticed, but his muscles were tense. Once he heard the words 'bad dream', he softened. Everything was okay. He knew it was, because even though it's unfortunate, nightmares were almost a daily occurrence with his daughter. From the trauma of his childhood, Dabi had aquired nightmares and night terrors of his own. Unfortunetly, his daughter picked up that trait. On a positive note, he knew how to deal with them more than Y/N did, so whenever this happened, he was the one to go to. Thank goodness the kid hadn't had any actual night terrors. Yet. Just bad dreams.

Rubbing his eyes to get the sleep out of them, he tiredly smiled and spoke. "You had a bad dream, huh?"

"Yeah. It was about you this time."

Dabi's smile faded. Most of the girl's nightmares where just simple things that kids fear, but the ones about him and Y/N were becoming more and more frequent. It was becoming concerning, but he just had to shrug it off. For her. He was still knew to this whole father thing, but one thing he did know was that you shouldn't' show worry in front of a kid, or they will start to worry. So he did just that. He blew off the worry in his mind for now and just had to focus on the kid.

"About me, huh?"

"Yeah! You had died in it."

"Is that why you're calling? Where you scared?"

"A little."

Y/N shouted from the background. "Don't let her lie! She woke up crying."

Dabi scoffed and smiled. "My poor kiddo..." he thought.

"You? Scared? I thought you weren't scared of anything, just like your daddy."

"I wasn't scawed! I am just like you daddy! Big and strong!"

His heart melted in a mix of good and bad feelings. He hoped she would grow up strong willed like him, but...not how he truly was deep down. All the trauma, all the pent up anger, all the troubles he has caused.

"Be strong like me, but kind like your mother."

"Okay daddy. I will!"

"Okay, baby. Can you hand the phone to mommy, please? I love you. Go back to bed and don't be scared. I'll be home soon, okay?"

"Okay daddy! I wub you!"

Dabi smiled. "Love you too, kiddo. Good night."

"Night daddy."

Shuffling noises were heard on the other end of the line. A different voice came on.

"I'm sorry to bother you while your working, babe. She wanted to talk to you and wouldn't take no as an answer."

"It's alright, doll. I wasn't busy right now anyways."

"Are you doing okay? Staying safe?"

"Yes, of course. You know that."

After a few more minutes of talking, Y/N said her goodbyes. She had to put the girl to sleep now and try to get some rest herself. Dabi said his goodbyes in return, saying I love you, and hung up his phone. He stood up from his resting position, and gathered up the strength to continue his work.

"Alright, back at it I suppose."

He lazily walked out of the alley

and back around the corner. He was met by a familiar face.

His boss, Shigaraki. His silver hair was long, down to the base of his neck, and he was wearing his trademark coat. They all had been working so much lately, that they didn't have the time to take care of themselves. Shigaraki specifically. His scratch marks were getting worse from his scratching due to stress. His hair was getting to long, because he didn't have the time to take care of it. Dabi knew better than to say anything though. Shigaraki had been on edge lately, and probably wouldn't hesitate to take care of Dabi's attitude in his own way.

"What are you doing here, dusty?"

Shigaraki scratched his neck a little, looking up at Dabi. "I followed you to make sure you were doing your tasks. You were the last stop before going back to the base. I've already checked on everyone else."

"Save the best for last, huh?"

"Whatever, patchwork. I couldn't help but over hear your conversation."

Dabi looked at him with tired eyes. "Oh yeah?"

"Do you miss them?"

"Well, duh. Of course I do." He changed his tune to a sarcastic one. "But you have to have these missions done, right?" It might have been the exhaustion talking, but damnit Dabi just wanted to go home. He missed his bed. The way the house smelled like candles because Y/N had an obsession with them. The way his little girl would run to him when he would walk in the door. He missed cuddling both of them in bed, as his daughter would drift to sleep watching tv. He missed it so much, he couldn't put it into words. He wanted to go home more than anything right now. But work had to be done.

As Dabi was in thought, his face contorted into distraught and exhaustion, and Shigaraki noticed. Maybe it was something in the weather this early morning, but he actually got a kind bone in his body.

"Go home, Dabi."

Dabi looked at him in shock. "But I'm not done-"

"I'm not gonna tell you again. Go home. I can tell your getting exhausted, and I don't need you passing out on me. I need you at your full potential. So go home and rest. Take as much time as you need." Shigaraki started to walk away. "I know you'll be back when your done resting so I'm not worried."

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

Again, I am so sorry if this is bad. Also, I'm sorry for that ending. it's kinda shit, but I'm kinda afraid of writing more because I might ruin it. Anyways.... OTL;

@dabiboy @deviousspleen @toyas-wife

<3 IF YOU WANNA BE TAGGED JUST LET ME KNOW <3

[novantinuum]

Tides of Renewal (SU one-shot)

Fandom: Steven Universe

Rating: T (Mild TW for vague allusions to past suicidal thoughts.)

Words: 2500~

Summary: Now twenty years old and living on the other side of the country, Steven spends his morning relaxing on the beach, musing about his past, and having a chat with his dad.

Hi folks! This is actually my two-months-late “Happy Birthday, Steven” fic, ahah- amusingly, posted two months late to the day. I’m quite happy with how this short turned out.

If you read this and enjoy, I’d greatly appreciate your support through reblogs here, or kudos/comments on AO3 as well. AO3 link will be provided in the reblogs. Thank you! <3

____

Tides of Renewal

Steven rises alongside the sun, but not by choice.

As he abruptly stirs, jerking onto his side under his tangled blanket, he soon realizes that he has little lingering memory of the nightmare that shook him from his slumber. Nevertheless, his heart pounds so hard it feels like it’s hanging in his throat. There’s feelings, faint impressions— someone’s blood (his, or hers?), Connie’s screams, a bubble of terror boiling from within— but that’s all he’s left with. The young man clutches at his sheets, struggling to catch his breath as is the norm most mornings. Dim light sneaks in between the edges of the curtains, offering a rough estimate of the time.

Once it’s clear his chances of sleeping in have become null and void, he entices himself out of bed with the promise of buying himself a muffin at the local coffee shop later today, a birthday treat. His routine is sluggish, but precise. He uses the bathroom, throws on his swim trunks and a thin cotton shirt, downs the pills he forgot to take last night with a quick swig of water, carefully runs his fingers through his long curls to work out the tangles, and slips his feet into the flip flops he always leaves lying right at the foot of his bed.

The young adult only takes his guitar, phone, and keys with him as he walks the mile distance from his humble studio apartment to the public beach. Around him, the world is at peace. The only sound intermingling with the gentle ebb and flow of the Pacific at this hour of the morning is the chattering of puffins that nest on the large rock outcroppings in the tide pools nearby. The edge of his lip quirks up when he finally crosses that sacred boundary— the sidewalk meeting the shore— and removes his sandals, reveling in the satisfying, grainy texture of sand squishing between his toes. Hah... the beach. Funny, that. All his traveling these past years, from mountains, to prairies, to sprawling suburbs to wooded forest towns, and it only succeeded in deepening his childhood love for the familiarity of saltwater air and tourist-filled boardwalks. Still, the secluded, rustic charm of Haystack Cove is a far cry from the Beach City he grew up in. Different people, different sights, different types of seafood sold at the markets. This place feels like a home all his own, appropriately distant from the Gem influenced settlement he’d left behind.

He crosses the fine grained sands towards his favorite sitting spot, a hefty stone jutting out from the ground, its surface buffed to a glossy finish over the years by the high tides. The water’s still distant this early in the morning, glimmers of sunlight sparkling off of the foam and spray. Yawning, he plops himself down on the stone and lifts his guitar into his lap. He strums a few random chords as a warm-up before settling into an experimental melodic sequence.

As he plays, the early morning breeze teases at the ends of his shoulder-length hair, untied and let free in all its curly splendor. It’s still quite chilly, but with the sun peaking over the horizon behind him and not a cloud in sight, the air’s bound to heat up in no time. Steven inhales deeply, soaking in the salt and light and pushing away the shadows lurking at the periphery of his mind, that twitching, exhausting anxiety that never quite seems to leave him alone these days. Unfortunately, functional does not mean carefree. While far fewer in number then when he was a teen, he still runs into plenty of moments where he’s struck blind by particularly painful reminders of his past, his gem snapping into overdrive in an instant. He’s a bit better at coping in these moments now, and walking himself down from panic attacks, but deep-rooted traumas don’t simply melt away. With that in mind, at this point he suspects he’ll likely have to deal with a mixture of therapy and meds for the rest of his life. That’s fine, though. If that’s what it takes to be at peace. He’s thankfully reached a point in his recovery where he’s more than willing to work for it.

Startling him out of his roaming thoughts, his phone chimes to life, touting the same cheery ring tone he had as a kid. He gently sets his guitar down in the sand and fishes his cell phone out of his pocket, a silent bet as to who’s calling rising within his mind. Sure enough, his dad’s contact photo proudly greets him. Hah— he called it. Steven stifles a giggle as he hits accept and lifts the phone to his ear.

“Hey, Dad!”

“Hey, Schtu-ball!” his father chimes from the other side of the country, three hours ahead. He hears a faint shuffle over the line, and then the beginnings of guitar accompaniment as the man begins to sing:

“Happy birthday to you~!”

Dad ends the line with a resounding vibrato, and a few extra jazzy chords for good measure.

“Heh heh, thanks,” he says, bashfully blushing at the attention, and gazing across the loose sands as if ensuring the secret of his birth hasn’t swelled into a nauseatingly public affair like half of his birthdays had since the start of Era 3. “Gotta say, the impromptu guitar solo pushed that to a whole new level. You just get up?”

“Yep! Bright and early. Garnet said you’d probably be awake by now, so I figured I’d call and give ya’ a good greeting to start the day. Lemme guess, you’re down there at the beach already? I think I heard waves.”

Steven’s glance lifts to admire the slowly rising tides, and the promise of each tomorrow that lies beyond. “Hah, you know me,” he says softly, taking a deep lungful of that precious salt-touched air he’s always adored. “I live for the water. Might force myself to go for a swim later before all of you come. Not sure yet,” he says, shrugging as he turns and squints in the wake of the steadily rising sun. “But my therapist said I should probably keep as active as po—“

“It’s your birthday. You do whatever makes you happy, bud,” his dad promptly reminds him, slight concern sticking to his voice. And yes, it’s practically a father’s job to worry, but his chest tightens with lingering guilt for pressing that upon him anyways. Ugh, this is because he said ‘force myself,’ isn’t it?

“Doing my best to,” he lamely offers, hoping it’ll at least end that segment of conversation. He twirls a stray strand of hair around his finger as he scours his memory for something new to offer. Thankfully, his mind quickly lands on the exciting email he received last night. He grins, knowing for sure his dad’ll love this. “Oh, uh- topic change, but I got that last job I applied for, by the way.”

“Oh? The taffy shop one?”

“Yeah! I start on Tuesday.”

“Wow, that’s- that’s awesome! They responded fast, then.”

“Yup,” Steven nods, popping the ‘p.’ “Honestly, it’s nothing much, just stocking and working the register, but it’ll give me some cash to work with.”

Some cash to finally pay for his own food instead of continuously bumming money off his dad. There’s no way he can handle full month’s rent on his own with this minimum wage job, (who on Earth could in this economy), but it might be enough to cover the smaller things. Groceries, electricity, internet. That sorta stuff. Fidgeting on the edge of the stone outcropping, his bare toes dig narrow lines in the sand. He hasn’t really had this discussion with Dad yet, but the mere concept of being wholly reliant on other people steers his mind uncomfortably close to the I’m a Burden Zone. He’d far prefer to feel like he has a stake in the game.

“I know you said you don’t mind supporting me,” he continues in a hesitant tone, twirling his finger through one of his curls, “but I still feel kinda bad—“

“Don’t. I’d rather you not have to stress yourself to the bone about money like I did when I was your age.”

The line shakes for a second. He’s pretty sure he hears the faint clink of a bowl meeting the counter from his dad’s side.

“Dad...?”

“Sorry, bud. Just putting ya’ on speaker. Figured I’d make myself some instant oatmeal,” he says, his voice sounding a bit further away from the microphone. “Goodness, though. Twenty years. That still boggles the mind.”

He gives a soft laugh. “You’re telling me. Could’ve sworn I was twelve just yesterday. And to be honest, it’s... it’s kinda weird sometimes, you know?”

“What is?”

“Being another year older. ‘Cause... well, uh...”

Steven grits his teeth, searching for the most delicate manner in which he can discuss these emotions. The feelings of his past are a really hard topic to dwell on sometimes, even in therapy, and even though he and his dad have long since had scattered discussions about what a poor mental state he was in then, he doesn’t wanna upset him too much.

“There were definitely days I assumed I wouldn’t have a future, or didn’t want one to begin with,” he continues, throat thick. “Back during all the conflict, before Homeworld reformed. And even after that, when I was... you know. And things are better, now, they’re definitely a lot better. But the idea of a ‘future’... even if I’ve got a job, a home, a girlfriend... it’s still weird to think about, I guess.“

There’s a brief silence on the line as this vulnerable admission sinks in.

“Yeah,” Dad replies eventually, clear sorrow in his voice despite how careful he thought he was in phrasing these matters. “I hear ya’.”

With a quick nervous laugh, he scratches at the nape of his neck, fingertips brushing against the thin, wispy strands of hair growing back there. “Geeze, sorry for bringing the mood down so quick. Didn’t even know I had all that on my mind until it spilled right out.”

“No, no! No need for apologies, I’m always here to listen. And in any case, I’m glad you’re in a better place now.”

Steven nods his head to himself in full agreement (momentarily forgetting that his dad isn’t actually here in the flesh to see this response). Sixteen and seventeen really, really weren’t good years for him. And even though he’s put lot of work into himself since then, he can’t help but constantly fear the possibility of relapse. His therapist told him a few sessions ago when he expressed this worry that... relapses into old thinking patterns can be common for people living with C-PSTD, and that it’s important for him to be cognizant of any unusual changes in his patterns and routines so he can quickly intervene with his box of healthy coping tactics, but... geeze. The dark, traumatic destinations his wandering thoughts end up stagnating in when the concept of relapse brushes his mind aren’t fun to acknowledge. It makes him yearn with deafening hunger for a simple switch he could flip, some magic cure-all for his brain that would stop him from having to deal with any of this awful shit in the first place— but of course, cruel universe this can be at times, those don’t exist.

“Speaking of that,” Dad speaks up again after clearing his throat, “how are those new meds treating you? You said last call your doctor was gonna change them, yes?”

“Nah, not change. There’s no need to change types,” he shrugs. “It’s just a dosage shift. And it’s fine, I think. I’ve been on ‘em for a few days, and there’s no problems so far. Brain's been treating me a little better.”

Nightmares aren’t quite as bad.

His energy isn’t totally zapped by noon.

The whirling, panicked trajectory of his thought patterns is a little easier to wrest control of.

All in all, nothing’s perfect, but he certainly feels a good deal more stable than before. Now, if only he can remember to consistently take his meds before he goes to bed like he’s supposed to instead of totally forgetting like he did last night and having to scarf it down when he sees that forsaken capsule in his pill box the next morning. Tsk, tsk.

“That’s real good to hear,” his dad responds to his news.

He flexes his knuckles against his lap, gaze reflexively drifting back towards the welcomed distraction of the tides. “Yeah.”

“Anyways, I, uh...”

“So, party logistics,” he cuts in with an overly cheery tone, changing the topic from his boring mental health crap entirely. “We should probably hash this out now. I know Connie’s planning on dropping around about noon. What’s your guys’ plan? She can probably send Lion to you after she gets here, if you want.”

“Yeah, that’d be best. Pearl said there weren’t any convenient warps nearby. Well, there’s one- but apparently it empties out into an active lava tube. And that’s not exactly Dad-friendly.”

“Aww, you mean you’re not filled with the intense desire to dip your hand into molten lava and shlorp it up like it’s soup?” Steven retorts, only barely holding back his laughter as he thinks of this absurd text thread he had going with Connie a few weeks back, wherein she sent him a video of some volcanic flows and told him, verbatim, that 'despite all logic and reason sometimes I can’t help but look at super viscous lava and think... forbidden s o u p, mmmm.’

“Not particularly, no,” his dad says, sounding thoroughly confused. “I’m- why are you laughing? Is this some sort of weird internet thing I’m not familiar with again?”

He wipes tears from his eyes as he tries to catch his breath. “You, ah- you kinda had to be there, sorry. Anyways, yeah. I’ll have Connie send Lion. I’ll text you right before, how’s that?”

“Sounds great! Can’t wait to see ya’, bud. I’m gonna let you go, now, okay? I can talk your ears off later. Go enjoy your morning. Love you.”

“Love you too, Dad,” he says, grinning. “Bye.”

“Buh-bye.”

Once his dad hangs up he sets his phone beside him on the rock and takes a deep, steady breath, trying to capture the full nuance of each diverse scent in the air. He may just be imagining it, but he swears he’s able to pick out the faint scent of taffy intermingling with the ocean saltiness and the hint of cedar from the nearby state forest. In the end though, whether it’s real or not it’s a welcomed reminder of all the possibility the future holds for him.

He’s twenty now. It’s a brand new decade of life. He’s got a new job lined up, a stable and loving relationship, a supportive family, and plenty of courage in facing the shadows of his past. Sure, so maybe he’ll never know with certainty what will happen— maybe he’ll relapse a little, maybe he’ll still have some bad days sprinkled amongst the good ones— but as he watches the tides flow in to greet him, he smiles... and resolves to just take this year as a renewal of his vow to care for himself as best he can.

[lo-55]

Shattered Chains of Fate Ch. 4

Loss.jpeg

Night has fallen on Chaldeas. Though the globe still casts its red glow across the room, the doom of humanity, it’s too late and Ichigo has been awake for too long for the grief to wash across him like so many waves right now.

He’s summoned another servant today, with the help of technology and Saint Quartz and Cu Chulainn, of course. It was maybe  his fault that he now had two celtic servants. One a caster with vicious loyalty but a habit of hitting on girls, and another that avoided women like the plague and followed Ichigo like the most desperate of puppies.

So now he has four servants to keep up with, and so he’s  tired .

They go off to the next singularity soon. Somewhere in England, in the late nineteenth century. He should really be resting. Getting ready for the next fight. Letting Olga Marie try an fail to teach him even the simple but powerful magecraft that she and Cu specialize in.

Instead, Ichigo finds himself standing in the doorway to the Chaldeas observation room, looking not at the ominous depiction of their future, but the man standing in front of it.

Romani Archiman. Dr. Roman. His shoulders are tense and drawn and his hair is out of its usual pony tail. He looks as tired out as Ichigo feels. When no one’s watching, right now, his green eyes are dull and his humor has faded. When had he last slept? When had any of them?

Mash kept reminding him how important it was to get proper sleep, and maybe it was easier for demi-servants than it is for humans. He doesn’t know. He never thought to ask.

Ichigo comes to a stop beside him.

It is a testament to his exhaustion that Roman doesn’t even notice Ichigo enough to react until he’s been standing there for nearly a full minute. When he does he jumps, startling and in the space between breaths Roman’s demeanor shifts. His eyes crinkle with a smile and he turns to Ichigo, a dozen times more cheerful than he’d been mere seconds before. It’s a startling contrast. From one face to another in less time than it took Ichigo to even realize he’d seen him looking so serious.

Roman was not a serious man. He had a tendency to jump around and get overly excited over seemingly nothing at all. Like cake, and slacking off and a blog he’s obsessed with that is, somehow, still posting online even though the world outside is nothing more than ash and fading memory. Ichigo personally suspects that it’s a prank put together by Da Vinci.

That artist is something of nuisance.

“Ichigo!” Roman’s smile is hard to spot as a fake, when Ichigo doesn’t know to look for it. Now that it is, it’s still hard but he can see the slant to his eyes, the tiny purse of his mouth. Ichigo is no genius, but he likes to think Roman is his friend. And so he does his best to learn to read him.

“Did you need something?” Roman asks, peering curiously at him. Something under Ichigo’s skin hums and crawls. The hiding sets his teeth on edge. Maybe it's because Ichigo himself is such a straight forward person, but he doesn’t much chair for people who hide like this.

And maybe it’s hypocritical, but at the moment he, frankly, doesn’t give a shit.

“You need to sleep,” Ichigo says, his jaw set in a stubborn line.

“Oh! Ah, I just have a little more work to do here before I can do that. See, Sonya wasn’t feeling well earlier and-”

“Roman,” Ichigo grabs his elbow and watches the man jump, like he’s been shocked. He acts like no one’s ever laid a hand on him before in his life.  “Go to sleep. We’re not going to a singularity tomorrow. You can afford rest.”

Still, Roman’s smile turns, tilts, like he’s confused, and this close Ichigo realizes that he’s thrumming with anxiety.

  No wonder he can’t sleep.  

Ichigo is not a genius. And he’s not the best at offering comfort, especially not at times like this. This is a time when they have to step up, when there is no other choice for them than to stand together, and he can’t say he’s entirely sympathetic with the doctor.

But he pulls him, by the elbow, not giving him time to argue as he manhandles him towards the hallway that leads to the dorm rooms. Most of them are empty now, their occupants frozen in cryogenic coffins. Anyone who isn't working is frozen, in fact. All of the staff that had died during the initial explosion had been dragged out, sometimes in pieces, and laid in the snow and ice outside the facility. It would preserve them for the time being. And with Ichigo around, so too were the ghosts.

It had started with Marie, but by now most of the dead staff have started to drink in his reitsu, to supplement themselves. If they take enough, they can even interact with the world around them, though it leaves Ichigo exhausted if too many do it at once. It’s like vampires, but they're eating his soul instead of drinking his blood. And in any case, it keeps the chains in the chest from eating their way up.

Marie had explained, very vaguely because her family specialized in astronomy not ghosts, that if those chains vanished entirely they would have less ghosts and more ghouls. Which was bad.

They pass twelve of them on the way to their destination.

“Ichigo, please,” Roman tries to tug his arm out of Ichigo’s hand, but out of the two of them it’s no contest who the stronger one is. “I have work-”

“You’re no good if you work yourself to death!” Ichigo snaps. He closes the door behind them with a tap to the pad on the wall and tosses Roman bodily onto the bed.

Roman scrambles to sit, blinking at their surroundings in confusion.

It’s almost the same as the last time they’d been there, during their first meeting ever. The only difference is that there’s a pair of jeans in the corner and a picture of his sisters and his mom on the desk under the window now.

“This is…”

“My room,” Ichigo finishes for him. He runs his fingers through his hair, his customary scowl in place. This was probably stupid but-

“You said you come here to relax, right? To goof off and slack on your duties. Well, relax. Marie’s still around so it’s not like you’re the acting director anymore.”

Roman gapes at him like a fish.

“But- But-”

“Shut up,” Ichigo orders tersely. He’s already second guessing his initial reaction but he wasn’t gonna leave Roman there to stare at their doom and he doesn’t have the damn poetry of words to convince him that they’ll rise above their challenges. “And go to sleep. Chaldea will be here in the morning, and so will the past.”

Roman slowly gathered his limbs together underneath him. He looks at Ichigo, confusion written across his face and it’s all Ichigo can do not to snap at him. Roman is a doctor and grown ass man. He should know better than to neglect himself.

To be fair, Goat Face is also and doctor and grown ass man, and Ichigo doesn’t trust him to so much as feed himself.

“O-kay,” Roman says at last, drawing the words out and his face finally softens, with fondness and truth. Some of the lie slips away. “Okay. But what about you, Ichigo? You need to sleep too. You’re supporting multiple servants and multiple ghosts, now.”

Ichigo hadn’t even thought about that.

He shrugs, stuffing his hands into his pockets. “I dunno. I can just sleep in a chair or something.”

“No!” Roman shakes his head. “No, that’s not acceptable. As your doctor I have to advise against it.”

“ ‘as your doctor’? What the hell kinda crap are you going on about?” Ichigo scowls deeper.

“You need to sleep, in a real bed. Honestly. We can just share.”

“Excuse me?”

“Like a sleep over in a movie!”  

“... You were homeschooled, weren’t you?”

“Eh?!”

“Fine, whatever,” Ichigo was too tired to deal with this. In the morning he’ll kick himself, and maybe Roman, but for now all he can think of is turning the lights off and getting some sleep, at last.

And if it’s easier to sleep when the living are next to him and not when he’s haunted only by figurative ghosts instead of literal ones, no one will even be the wiser.

*

It’s not so much a house as it is a room where he can simply exist.

It’s small, single story and a basement that still smells faintly like lightning and copper and a strange magecraft. One that he can’t quite place, one that he’s never encountered before.

Ichigo doesn’t ask about the old owners and Waver Velvet, who gets pissed every time Ichigo doesn’t call him something stupid like Lord Elmeloi the fifth or whatever, hadn’t volunteered any information.

Ichigo spends a few minutes looking around. There’s a fold out couch in the living room and the kitchen is stocked with none perishables and frozen meats. The bedroom has runes carved above the door and the window, offering Ichigo a modicum of protection from what might be out there. There’s a bed big enough for his whole family and then some, and the closet has a few changes of clothes. Three suits, of all things, and a familiar mystic code.

White and black, it’s a body suit he’d been given early on. His Chaldea combat uniform.

The material feels like silk but Ichigo knows better than to think it is. It’s tough enough to hold up to arrows and fire and more than he wants to think of. He’d only taken blunt force trauma when he’d worn it. There were three spells woven into the fabric, and Ichigo wonders what it will be like to wear it again before he dismisses the idea.

Ichigo wonders just what Waver had thought Ichigo was going to be doing here, that he needed this.

He goes to the basement.

It’s bigger than he would have expected, and there are weapons lined on the walls. Spears, swords, and bows, and a range setup with dummies stuffed with straw.

There are no windows, to hide him from curious eyes. Any non-mags who finds out about magic is sentenced to death, and that is part of why Ichigo hasn’t told his family about his escapades. His wars.

Kon walks past him at the foot of the stairs. Along another wall is a shelf built into the stone foundations, filled with texts and materials that Ichigo can recognize instantly.

He’d never been good at spell work on his own, but he can use the magic equivalent of chemistry just fine. And, on top of that, after Babylonia a certain goddess had magnanimously taken time out of her ever so busy schedule to teach him the graceful art of gem magic.

Or rather, a stuck up deity who Ichigo had bribed to be his friend had taught him how to shove magic energy into rocks he could throw at people to blow them the fuck up.

Combined with the runes that Cu had spent years drilling into his head, Ichigo could survive a regular mage battle fine on his own, if he had time to prepare. And war has made him paranoid, so he starts taking stock of everything that he’d been given.

Evil bones, dragon scales, eternal gears, crystals of several types and a mystic gunpowder. A few feathers, and a jar of scarabs. Chalk, too, and strong thread that’s more like fishing line.

There’s also, definitely for the best, a fire extinguisher in the corner.

“What kinda place is this, Ichigo?” Kon finally asks. He pokes at a jar of red liquid on top of the thick desk that Ichigo has been given. It’s all and all not very personalized, but for Ichigo’s purposes it’s more than enough. Especially given that Ichigo’s purpose was to sit somewhere where his dad wasn’t. Where he didn’t have to think about the spirits or the hollows or the shinigami, however briefly that might be.

“It’s just a house, Kon. A… friend of mine owns it. Think of it as our secret hide out,” Ichigo waves his hand around, idly.

“A secret hide out huh… I get it!” Kon bounced towards him, his soft paws scuffing lightly on the concrete floor. “This is a place to bring girls!”

Ichigo snorts and punts the plushie towards the stairs. “What girl is gonna hand around a creapy basement with you, huh? What are you a serial killer?”

“More like a lady killer! Or I could be, if I just had a body to call my own. Hey, you said I could borrow yours, remember!”

“I didn’t forget. Sorry, we’ve been busy,” Ichigo steps over him and climbs back up to the totally normal looking house above, with Kon on his heels. He lets out a soft breath. It feels too warm above ground, but Ichigo opens the windows and lets the sunlight pour inside upon his skin, lets the wind pull at his hair and dance through the drapes. “I’ll let you have it tonight, okay?”

“But nothing in this town ever happens at night!” Kon whines. When Ichigo sits on the couch he climbs up to flop across his lap, pouting.

“Just try to stretch your legs, and you can have some time on the weekend, deal?”

Kon considers him suspiciously before he nods, once.

“Deal.”

They sit together in the sunlight, in the foreign house, with the spring air cooling them until his phone goes off. Rukia, of course, because work doesn’t give him much of a break.

It’s alright. Sometimes a few minutes to breath is enough.

* *

Rukia Kuchiki is  not the first Shinigami that Ichigo has ever encountered.

There was another, a man who had taken to following their group around North America.

They met in 1783. He was… strange. And admittedly, it was a strange situation that they had found each other in. He’s pretty sure Shinigami don’t normally hang around Alcatraz, but what does he know? The island is infested with all sorts of monsters and guarded by one of the oldest heroes of written legend.

Beowulf. Powerful and vicious, battle hungry but not necessarily cruel. He’d even let them pass into the fortress after just a ‘test’ fight against a dragon.

They, or rather Ichigo, find the Shinigami with Sita, sitting next to her in the deepest prison of Alcatraz. Florence Nightingale is somewhere above them, charging headlong after him with Rama strapped to her back. He’s in bad shape, his curse slowly consuming his body, and Sita is their only chance to save him. Even without Beowulf the prison is crawling with dangerous creatures of all types.

Ichigo finds Sita first.

But she is not unguarded and Ichigo curses himself for leaving his servants upstairs to handle the chaos there.

Ichigo is more than capable of handling celtic soldiers, who fall beneath his vicious attacks and his steadily strengthening magic. The more he uses it the stronger it gets, and his body is adapting quickly to the strain it puts upon him. It’s only been a year or so and he can already go toe to toe with most average mages. A simple soldier with a spear is well within his abilities.

This man, Ichigo can tell with a second of inspection, is not.

He doesn’t have the same energy as a servant. And he’s dressed in clothes that aren’t celtic or american. He’s dressed like he’s from japan.

A black kosado and hakama. All black, with curly brown hair that’s nearly past his shoulders and brown eyes that almost fool Ichigo into thinking that he’s harmless.

But people are more themselves when they aren’t being watched, and this man, older than Ichigo and, he realizes, most certainly dead, has no idea he’s been seen.

He looks at Sita like she’s some kind of puzzle, like some game that he doesn’t know all the rules to. Ichigo stays a moment, and watches him watch her until Sita realizes that she has a visitor.

“Oh!”

She leans forwards on the bed, and right through the stranger, who half turns to look at Ichigo over his shoulder. He’s not interested in him though, not really. He can see it.

Roman is hiding something.

Something important, and he doesn’t know what but he does know now how to recognize when someone is hiding something. Even if it wasn’t for Roman, it’s not only heroes he’s summoned. There is an assassin class, and his heroes have their flaws. Their secrets. Each singularity is it’s own mystery and they are full of liars and tricksters and more than ever before Ichigo has a bone deep appreciation for people who are plain and true.

Ichigo crosses his arms over his chest and stares right at the ghost.

“You’re Sita, right? Rama’s wife?”

“My Lord Rama? Is he here?” she rushes to her feet, all red hair and fire the flutters like an ember on the wind. Not like Rama, who burns anything in his path if he must.

Ichigo nods, once. He lets the stranger inspect him too. There’s the smallest amount of stubble around his chin, like he hasn’t shaved in a while. And he’s armed. Saber class.

“Yes. But he’s injured. We need your help to heal him.”

Ichigo finally breaks eye contact with the ghost. He steps backwards and points his fist at the lock on the door. Sita hurries to brace herself and he shoots it off with a vicious Gandr. When he uses them on living things, he’s lucky to stun them. On inanimate objects, they blow up. He doesn’t get it, but that’s his life. Becuase fuck him, obviously.

“Yes!” Sita agrees eagerly. Her smile is equal parts soft and fierce. “If I can be of use to him, then I’ll do whatever I can.”

“Okay,” Ichigo stands away from the prison door. “Stand back,” he orders, and she steps back into the cell, against the door. The ghosts watches him raise his hand, holding up his fist at the door. The mystic code hums across his skin and he feeds his own mana into it. There’s a flash of pale blue and red and the lock explodes in shards of steel, just as they’re joined by others.

Rama comes stumbling around the corner, his fine clothes stained with blood and his body frayed at the edges. He looks bad. The hold in his chest is starting to gape and glow gold at the edges.

Ichigo hears the ghost suck in a sharp breath and he takes a step towards Rama before Ichigo cuts him off, blocking him from his friends. Sita rushes to him.

“Sita!” Rama reaches out around him and Ichigo can’t understand how he’s even on his feet. How deep does his love for his wife run? “Damn it, my vision is blurry. I can’t see anything…”

“I’m here!” Sita falls to his side as Rama collapses, finally succumbing to his festering wound. Ichigo watches, his hands clenched at his sides as Mash explains about Cu Chulainn Alter, and his Gae Bolg.

Ichigo stands back, with his Cu at his side. The caster leans on his staff, watching Sita gently stroke her husbands hair. They will never meet, and it drives pain into Ichigo’s chest on their behalf.

“Well. Fuck.” Cu says bluntly.

Ichigo snorted. “Yeah. That sums it all up pretty well.”

The ghost tries to take another step, but Ichigo catches his hand.

He spins, his brown eyes wide. “You- You can see me.”

“Well yeah. No shit,” Ichigo says aloud. Caster peers at him curiously, but Ichigo just taps the corner of his eye. A ghost, and Cu nods and leans back again. Even amongst his heroic spirits he’s an oddity. Not all of them can see ghosts. Only the ones that attack them, and more than once has Ichigo had to forcibly guide them into striking true.

Cu is a bit better. He hasn’t told him explicitly but Ichigo suspects that Scathach is somehow related to the afterlife. The land of shadows sounds like it should be full of ghosts.

Ichigo let’s go when the ghost pulls at his hand, peering at Ichigo. It’s funny, watching someone pull a metaphorical mask onto their face. This one is a kind person, someone who’s harmless, but Ichigo can still see them. He is armed and his eyes betray him, as eyes so often do.

Sharp and intelligent. Like a cat watching him.

“I suppose you do have some reitsu. But to be able to see me, is still not an easy feat.”

Ichigo frowns. “I do? It feels like all of it’s being sucked out by everyone at Chaldea…”

“Excuse me?” he blinks at Ichigo a couple of times.

“Nevermind. There’s just some people who are sucking up my reitsu so they don’t disappear, you know?”

And now even the ghost was looking at him like he’s crazy. Great. Awesome.

The glittering glow of Sita’s body dissolving interrupts them, and Ichigo turns to face his servants with a hard clench of his jaw. Rama slowly sits up, sorrow over taking his features. Even in a holy grail war, he will never meet his wife again.

“We should go,” Ichigo says quietly. “We still have to go east. We have to finish what we started. Rama, are you ready?” Ichigo goes to him, and offers him his hand. Rama takes it and stands.

“Yes. My body does not falter. I renew my vows now, Master of Chaldea. I, Rama, King of Kosala, will fight at your side. I shall not be defeated again. This I swear!” He bows his head to Ichigo, this proud, powerful king.

“Yes,” Liz steps up, a noble countess with her chin lifted and her eyes defiant. “We will win, for you our master!”

“We will rip out the root of the infection,” Nightingale agrees, smacking her hands together. Her red eyes burn with a ferocity that would make lesser men tremble.

Mash nods, shortly and firmly. “I will put my faith in Master, and follow his lead.”

“You already know that I will strike down your enemies,” Medusa adds, her long hair swaying with the promise of poisons.

“Lead the way, Master,” Cu claps his shoulder and Ichigo looks each of the mover in turn. Finally, he speaks.

“I swear I told you to use my damn name. You’re all so dramatic.”

Cu laughs at him, and Ichigo starts the long walk. From Alcatraz to Washington.

Only now they have a tag along. The ghost insists on following them along, because apparently Ichigo and the singularity is dangerous enough to warrant his attention. Which is  great .

“What do I call you then,” Ichigo asks, side-eying his newest companion.

He tilts his head, sending brown waves spilling across his shoulders.

“Mmmm. Kyo,” he says after a minute.

“...That is  not a real name.”

* * *

“So, your friend, the Lord, how do you know him?”

Ichigo looks up at Rukia. She’s standing over his bed that night. Chad is asleep in the corner, passed out after a study session run long.

“Who, Waver? We met a while ago.”

Ichigo scoots back on the bed, until his back is to the wall and he can sit, criss cross, looking at her. Waver had come to town earlier, on business as much as to see Ichigo. They’d talked, briefly, in front of the school earlier until Ichigo had had to rush off. Not before Waver had extracted a promise to meet up with him a few days in the future. Apparently there was some weird shit going on in town that had nothing to do with Ichigo and his friends, but was now his problem because he was a mage.

A two bit one, but still.

“How?” Rukia asks, narrowing her eyes at him if only slightly.

Ichigo considers telling her everything, but it’s a bit too much to believe.

‘I time travelled for three years trying to stop the incineration of humanity and I met him as a demi servant and his old servant because he fought for a holy grail and oh yeah did I mention i punched god?’

Yeah, no. Even shinigami didn’t go time travelling. He’d checked. It didn’t help that most shinigami were so out of touch with the living world that even three hundred years ago they didn’t know much about human magics or the goings on. Before the fall of the age of gods humans and spirits had been closer, had almost lived together. Ereshkigal had told him some of how it worked, four thousand years ago, but he’s certain things have changed. For one, she is clearly not in charge of the afterlife anymore. Which begs the question of just where she had gone.

To the reverse side of the world? Or somewhere else entirely?

“After Chaldea,” he says instead, picking over his words with as much care as he can, “After the explosion of Chaldea, their patrons, the Clock Tower in London, sent someone to see what was happening. And to take stock in the situation. Waver was the one that they sent.

“Apparently he gets the ‘problem children’ a lot.” And that was what they were, really. He and Mash, they were just teenagers. Even now. Eighteen….

Eighteen is not enough years for what he’s seen, what he’s done. For the choices he’s had to make.

“No wonder they sent him for you,” Rukia snorts at him, but there’s a smile at the corner of her mouth and Ichigo fights not to return it. Instead he scowls, as he usually does.

“Yeah, yeah,” he waves his hand dismissively at her. “I’m going to get a drink. Do you wanna come with?”

“No,” she shakes her head and he stands and leaves her in his bedroom. His dad is in the clinic. He’s been avoiding Ichigo for weeks, ever since that day in the cemetery and Ichigo is fine with that. He’s still angry.

Yuzu and Karin are up in their own room, and the lower half of the house is quiet. Ichigo pours himself some water and takes a few minutes to calm himself. Waver has him on edge, and more than that…

Something is coming. He doesn’t know what, yet, but his instincts are hissing in the back of his mind, louder and louder ever since he took Rukia’s power as his own. Something is something. Something dangerous. Something deadly. Some change he has no idea how to see or stop.

His cup is covered in a thin layer of frost.

Ichigo stares down at it.

The cold spreads across the surface, white eating over the glass. Elegant swirls of frozen leaves spread out from his finger tips.

He pours out the water and puts the cup away, trying not to think about it.

Because even with Ichigo, even with magic and ghosts and all the other shit in his life, he’s never frozen anything. He isn’t fucking Jack Frost.

He goes back upstairs, trying not to think about it, and helps Rukia rouse Chad to send him on his way home. There’s work to be done. A smarter man would ask about the ice. Would mention it to Rukia. Would wonder if the two aren’t connected.

And Ichigo is not stupid, but he’s maybe a little too used to strange things happening and learning the why at a later date.

* * * *

The acrid smell of burning flesh sears into his mind. Into his soul. Choking him, smoke curled into his lung like an ash made cat that tears claws into the soft tissue.

It’s red. Red, red, red everywhere. Fire singes along the edges of reality. The earth hovers, red and burning and doomed from the start. Doomed from babylonia, doomed from the present and the now.

Mash lays in front of him. Crushed, broken. No shield, no armor, just a dead little girl, reaching for his hand.

Yuzu and Karin are sprawled apart from eachother and they never should be, never should be, because they are twins, they were born together nothing should ever tear them apart-

Isshin. Isshin and his mother, they lie beside a river that runs with fire instead of water. Bloody, broken, staring at Ichigo.

The air shifts and the glittering shine of gold spins around him with a scream. His servants, his friends, cut down and torn apart and left only as glitter that roars their betrayal at him. At his failure. He is the master, the center of power, but he cannot fight on his own. He is powerless in the face of the hulking monster that drags itself out of the rubble to kill him.

He takes a step back, fear clogging his throat. Lahmu crawl across the broken rubble of Fuyuli, of Uruk, of Rome and London and Camelot. His foot hits something. He doesn’t look down, he doesn’t need to. Orange and green and white. White and gold and black. Romani, laid to waste.

He is helpless. Powerless. His command spells are gone and he has failed. Lost.

Fire roars at his throat and-

He’s punched in the face by the smell of perfume.

Ichigo looks up at the sky. Pale blue, a few whisps of cloud floating across it.

He drinks in air. Air that tastes like flowers instead of ashes and death.

Something soft touches his shoulder and it’s only familiarity that keeps him from lashing out.

Lavender eyes peer down at him. It’s his hand on his shoulder. His Caster.

His Merlin.

“Wha- I’m in a dream?” Ichigo sits, slowly, and Merlin helps him up. A warm hand on his shoulder and guilt in his eyes.

“Yes. I’m sorry,” Merlin shakes his head, mournfully. “I normally call you here before they can set in, but I was distracted this time…”

“Distracted,” Ichigo repeats dumbly. “Wait. So every time you’ve brought me here, it’s because I was going to have a nightmare?”

“I did tell you, once. Incubi are made of dreams. And I, as half of one, gain my sustenance out of them as well. Bad dreams are sour, so I don’t want yours to-”

“Cut the crap,” Ichigo elbows him lightly in the side. “Just tell me the truth. We’re friends and you don’t want to see me suffering.”

Merlin can only stare at him for a second. “... I always forget how brazen you are, Ichigo. You never have minced your words. You really consider me a friend, do you?”

“Of course I do! And don’t try to give me any shit about we can’t be friends because I’m human. I’m not anymore, remember. I’m a shinigami.”

“Yes, yes. And isn’t that ironic? I, unable to die, and you a creature made of death.”

“You make a bad philosopher. Stick to being a dreamer, Merlin.”

Merlin merely laughs at him, a softness in the wind, and Ichigo sits with him until the sun comes up outside his bedroom window.

* * * * *

What was with people and coming in through his window?

Ichigo stares at the man, Urahara, that is sitting on his window sill. Kon is having a minor panic attack in his arms, flailing around. Rukia has left. Vanished with only a note to tell them not to look for her and if she thinks Ichigo will listen to it, she doesn’t know him very well at all. Ichigo has never been one to abandon his friends, even if they don’t explain what’s happening or why they’re in trouble.

Ichigo will go after her, but first he needs to figure out how to turn into a shinigami again. Kon is no help, he’s too busy running around for Ichigo to dig his pill form out of his plush body. And this man…

His timing is too good. Is he some kind of clairvoyant, like Gilgamesh? Or just a man with far too many cards in his hand to play?

Whatever the case, Ichigo is strangely glad that he’s here. Without Rukia’s glove and with Kon losing his mind, Ichigo needs help to get out of his body.

“So you’ll pop me out of my body,” Ichigo says, eying his cane, “Just because Rukia is a regular customer. Is your shop really that slow?” He definitely has too much time on his hands.

“That’s right!” the man practically sings and Ichigo could swear for an instant his eyes were lavender instead of grey. He’s like a strange mix of Merlin and Da Vinci.

And isn’t  that a scary thought?

“...Yeah, okay. I’d appreciate the help.”

Kisuke pushes his cane through Ichigo’s chest and he pops out the other side like a weasel.

Ichigo carefully lays his body in bed and covers it up. It’s almost two in the morning and normal humans are asleep, including his family. He picks a few small rocks out of his school bag, simple stones with straight lines carved onto them. He eyes Kisuke, still sitting in the window.

“When I get back from this, I’ve got a couple of questions for you,” he says, marching up to Kisuke, who flicks his fan out over his mouth. Only his eyes are visible and those are still hidden in shadow.

“Oh? I can’t imagine what you’d ask a simple shop keeper like me…”

“Plenty,” Ichigo says plainly. He plants his hand next to Kisuke’s head and leans over him. “But for now. Get out of my room.”

He pushes him straight out the window, and onto the lawn beneath. Ichigo figures that he’s probably tough enough to take a little tumble. He trusts Kisuke to be fine before he jumps out the window after him. He needs to get to Rukia. He can feel it. Something is happening.

His instincts hiss that he needs to  move .

He follows the feeling of coolness and wind and snowflakes that he can almost see. It’s joined by another feeling, something clean and pale and just a little bit angry, thin threads that wrap together to be stronger.. Uryuu.

He needs to hurry.

Ichigo sprints across the city, pouring on his speed. Faster and faster until he swears he’s running on the wind.

He turns the corner.

Uryu on the ground, Rukia not far. Two Shinigami. Red hair and black. The red head with his sword lifted above Uryu’s head, ready to strike.

Ichigo swings his sword off his back and the streets cracks and erupts beneath the sudden force of his power. It throws the shinigami, Renji Abarai, off of his feet.

“Huh? Who are you? Who’s orders are you here on?” he barks.

Ichigo ignores him. He touches Uryu’s shoulder, making sure he’s still in one piece, and pours Mana into his human body. It should be enough to jump start his own healing process. Mana transference is about all Ichigo is good for anyhow.

“What did you…?” Uryu looks up at him, bewildered.

“Later,” Ichigo says. He blocks the blow that comes from behind, bracing himself against the ground.

“I get it,” Renji pushes down hard, his eyes wild. He feels like fire and venom and bone. “You’re the one that stole Rukia’s powers! Because of you, she’s going to be executed!”

Ichigo’s blood runs cold. Rukia. Executed? For helping him? For giving him the power to protect his friends, his family?

No. He will not allow it.

“That’s bullshit!” Ichigo throws him back, power surging through him. His own anger and the energy that Rukia has given him. Cold coursing through his veins. “Rukia was just helping, she saved us! Isn’t that what your job is?!”

“She broke the rules is what she did. What’s a few human lives to a shinigami? She should have never done that.”

A few human-

Ichigo throws himself at Renji with vicious abandon. Renji is fast but Ichigo is strong, Rukia is strong, and it’s her power that lets him swing his sword with utmost surety.

Still, it’s hard to keep up when Renji won’t shut up. Something about menos and children and then he asks Ichigo’s swords name.

He frowns and racks his brain. That feels like something he should know. On the tip of his tongue. His sword. Rukia’s sword. Does it have a name?

Renji takes his silence for ignorance and he’s not wrong.

He puts his sword in front of him and it glows faintly red. The taste of fire and bone is stronger.

“A shinigami’s zanpakuto is the true form of their soul, it’s their true power. And this is mine! Now Roar, Zabimaru!”

Ichigo watches the sword change, grow fangs and cracks. A Noble Fantasm? No, it’s much weaker. He looks at Renji, looks harder at his power. He’s strong, probably stronger than Ichigo but is he stronger than Ichigo and Rukia together? This will have to be a battle where he can’t rely on brute strength.

The sword swings and the cracks pull apart until it’s a glorified whip with teeth and Ichigo jumps back to dodge it. The stones weigh heavy in his pocket and his mind whirls. No longer a saber, no longer capable of simply attacking and slashing until he’s won.

“Give up already! You’re 2000 years too young to beat me!”

And maybe Renji would be right. Maybe he would be too much for Ichigo to handle, in another life. Maybe if he really was just a fifteen year old kid, shihakusho more green than black, he would leave him laying in a puddle of blood without breaking a sweat.

But Ichigo is not fifteen. He is eighteen and he has fought eight wars. He has ended extinction and walked the land of the dead, and demons, and stood amongst stars. He has fought and bled and killed and died, and he has done it all for his family, his friends.

And now.

Now these two are trying to take another friend. They are trying to steal Rukia, to punish her for saving him and giving him strength enough to fight.

And he will not allow it.

His temper howls, blood rushing into his ears and battle fury washes over his skin.

Beneath it, beneath that hot fire that has driven him for so much of his life there’s something else. Something cold and foreign, frost on a window pane in summertime, snow floating around a campfire.

He lunges for Renji.

Renji is forced to release his noble phantasm, his zanpakuto. It lashes out, a segmented whip that bites the pavement with terrible teeth. Ichigo takes it in stride, catches it’s glinting teeth in his own too-long blade and twirls it like spaghetti around a knife. The teeth catch and hold, Renji’s eyes go wide and Ichigo yanks him forward with his zanpakuto.

He takes one hand off his own sword and drives it into Renji’s jaw. His teeth click and blood spurts between his lips before he drops like a lead balloon.

With Renji at his feet Ichigo turns to face Rukia and the man in the white cloak. He tilts his long blade, letting Renji’s zanpakuto slide off. On the ground it glows faintly red and returns to its original form.

“Are you next then?” Ichigo asks, his voice careful and calm even as the wrold inside him rages. Plans pick up and he reads this mans strengths. He’s leagues ahead of Ichigo but even still…

Ichigo is not the type to run. He is not the type to give up. No matter that Rukia is screaming at him to. He won’t-

He twists and blocks the blow he had barely ever seen, his sword moving faster than his mind.

Surprise registers on the man’s face, muted and little more than a twist of his mouth and a twitch of his eyes. Ichigo shoves him away, but he wasn’t fast enough.

Blood seeps out of his back. The cut it shallow, it won’t slow him down but the fact remains. He got hit.

Faster, whispers a voice in the back of his head. A memory, a premonition. He blocks the next attack but only just and under the force of the drawn sword, his own begins to crack. No. No, he will not lose, not like this.

He shoves the man back and flings one of the stones at him, shooting a burst of Mana through it. The man in white has to move fast to avoid the fire that erupts in front of him.

“Ichigo?” Rukia stares at him, her mouth open. “What was that?!”

“I’m not that great at magic,” Ichigo admits, tossing another stone up and down in his hand. He never takes his eyes off of his enemy. “In fact, I wouldn’t even call myself a real mage. I’m pretty second rate at this stuff. But this much… This much I can do.”

He shoots another stone at the shinigami in front of him, who’s name he never did get, and grins when he’s forced to release his own zanpakuto. He’s glad about it, but Rukia is screaming at him.

The air fills with glittering flower petals and Ichigo tastes steel, feels the weight of ‘Duty’ and ‘Honor’ and the scent of sakura blossoms wash across his skin.

They surge at him, a tidal wave of power, danger. Each one is a blade and Ichigo cannot dodge of block them all. Even still, he will not run. He will-

  Protect Rukia!  

Fine.

Cold chases through his body, Rukia’s power surges. Ichigo gives his strength over to it, pours his reitsu into the sword as he once did his saber’s and the sound of bells echoes around him.

A ribbon flutters graceful in front of his face and he swings, running on instinct alone.

The wave of flower petals is stopped in its tracks. Frozen in a circle of ice that reaches towards the sky.

Ichigo is aware, from the shock on the faces of the people around him, that he’s just done something impossible. Again.

Oh well.

He turns again to the Shinigami, bringing his blade in front of him. Not his, Rukia’s. He was going to save her-

“Rikujōkōrō.”

Ichigo shouted when light, six straight rectangles of it, slammed into his stomach. He froze, unable to move. The ice shattered and the blades inside of it floated back to their master, reforming into a single sword. This time, Ichigo couldn’t block. He could do nothing as the blade pierced him twice, and the light faded.

He tried. He did. He would crawl if he had to but-

“Stay alive, for just a little longer, Ichigo. And if you follow me, I will never forgive you.”

He can recognize what she’s doing. She’s drawing the man, Byakuya, and the newly awakened Renji away from him. She is protecting him, and the helplessness is acid on his tongue.

He was left, bleeding, dying, on the streets of Karakura.

* * * * * *

[thelostandforgottenangel]

Nightmare AU: Part 1 - Escaping the Ward

@under-the-scarlet-reign88 @fyreball66 @betelgeusessonajblog @blossom-skies @narwals14 @bluesakurablossom​ @kokokatsworld​ @midnightrebel669​ @lonelyheart-clubband​ @missbeautyandherbeast​​ @midnight-chocolate-turtle​​ @myheyheyheystuff​ @nikitaboeve​​ @mistyroselove​​ @waterstar2016​​ @nights-legacy​​ @janna-the-breaker​​ @missmagellanic​​ @darksaphire2002​​ @aurora-the-kunoichi​​ @moonlightflower21​​ @queendice98​​ @infintyfandoms @ravn-87​​ @bmntgirl​​ @vixie-chan233 

I will apologize ahead of time! My dreams are very fucked up sometimes and well - this might be a bit jumpy or unclear but for typing it in the middle of a panic attack after finally waking up from this I am just happy I survived this dream *Sighs* It was a bit traumatic so everyone enjoy

Also sorry it took forever for me to post kinda took forever to locate the folder a moved by accident with trying to keep up with kids

Place: New York City, Sack's Institute, Lab D6

Time: 5 a.m.

The small girl looked out past the corner before slipping out into the empty hallway, trying hard to be quiet so as not to draw attention to her. 

A grimy duffle bag was kept tucked under one arm and cradled close to her body while making several soothing sounds under every breath she took to keep her precious cargo quiet as she cried for the loss hanging heavily on her heart

If they wanted to live to see freedom, if she wanted to give the babies a chance to see something besides stone walls and bars the young girl would not be able to break down 

She did not have time or the privilege to stop just yet; her mourning had to be pushed to the back burner.

Still, the tears fell in silent streams while sneaking down the destroyed hallways of the only place she had ever known as home.

After what felt like an eternity of tests that had been run on her exhausted body the night before, she realized there was no more time to waste 

As night had fallen across the city none of them could sleep knowing something was wrong; the atmosphere in the building was wrong. The screams echoing down the halls had each of them nervous to close their eyes even for a moment.

The younger three finally took comfort she would stay awake curled up on her lap as she bounced the babies waited patiently until all the kids were asleep.

Gradually getting to her feet once she was confident the kids were out cold and safe in their nest, the small female turned to slip out through the wall at the back. 

Sneaking around outside wasn't too hard since it seemed quiet tonight, sticking to the dark cast onto the ground of the storm clouded morning until she finally made it to the garage.

There were no guards posted near the yard this early; most were probably at the meeting for the new specimen she had been hearing whispers about for days from the guards meaning she had a lucky break while starting the closest vehicle

It was a slight struggle figuring out how to get it to move but did what she could remember seeing the guards; finally backing one of the trucks just off the edge of the cameras after hitting the building and rolling forward once more, giving only enough room they could get in without being noticed

Now her plot was in motion; she was going to get away from this place if it was the last thing she did. 

Having been here for a few years after her family had sold her into the endless lapse of torture and testing they ran daily were more then enough motivation to make anyone want to run, and if she was going; there was no way she was leaving this place empty-handed

The girl was planning on getting out as many subjects as she could; once she was sure it was safe, she had ducked back under the overgrowth, squeezing through the hole that led outside from their cell only to find when she got through the hidden shaft the kids were gone from their nest 

They had been there when she left, now she worried they were hurting them and rushed out the now open cells to find the babies, not caring for her own life once she was out the cell door.

Entering the silent intersecting hallway made it very clear this was not a typical day within the prison.

The building she had known as her home was in ruins.

Paper files and the medical carts had been thrown about in whatever had ripped throughs rampage.

Noticing too late red gore pooled around the bodies that were being left in whatever had gotten outs murderous path, almost tripping over one as the lights flickered.

 On any other day, there would have been screams of pain from the experiments, the low buzzing of those awful machines; instead, dead silence had thickened the air so much oxygen no longer seemed to exist around her

The closer she got to the labs, the more blood seemed to be smeared over the walls or splattered across the floor from the victims that had tried to run, making it clear whatever had done this found her it had no humanity left and; if located she would be joining the dead at her feet

That only narrowed the list to everything in the building over the age of ten. No big deal!

She finally heard something but not what she wanted; the screech of a terrified woman in front of her made the girl dropped down behind a wall breathing slow as she pressed herself flat just wanting to absorb into the wall as whoever it was bolted past her only seconds later yelling for help, a large black silhouette followed and seemed to be gaining until the screams were cut off

Something akin to fear kept her there until she forced herself to take a breath before pushing her body up - then kept running, praying whatever it was did not hear her leave.

After being sure nothing was there inside the laboratory where she had been tortured since day one stepping forward inspecting the area before getting to the cages. 

This was still done in complete silence, hurriedly searching in a panic, pleading to an unearthly entity willing to listen to the discarded pleas that she was not too late before relief hit her

A sweet little face was at the front of one cage almost instantly “Daenery!” the smiling face through the bars was a welcome sight even as the girl rolled her eyes at the nickname the children had given her 

Since the subject tags were what they were known as she grew used to it, but in secret, they had given each other names to not become like the forgotten. 

It was a way to remember one another if they died-

The thin boy was squinting to see her better as soon as she grabbed his hand that reached between the bars, she knew even though they had messed up his eyes to the point he was close to being completely blind, the boy was still scanning the area watching her back

The mutant held tight to her arm as she jerked the door 

breaking the wrecked joints that looked to have barely held up to whatever was trying to get in after him.

He scrambled out the second she had it open, wrapping the little boy in a tight hug; her voice stayed low promising him it was going to be okay when she saw how scared he was.

He was a few years younger then her and still knew not to make any noise when usually, he was a chatterbox if scared or nervous but in the labs; they had never heard him speak once, their captors thinking the child was mute like a few of the other kids

They had two options here, and even at this age they both knew it was either: they got caught and locked back up in the cells or they would be killed 

Neither was an option.

His big honey brown eyes had started to look around them when she handed him his broken goggles to better his vision but blocked him from looking with her hands whispering under her breath so softly she was not sure he heard her “Eyes stay here – do not look away from me no matter what understand brainiac?” she waited until he finally nodded holding tight to her baggy shirt with his thin fingers while searching holding him close to keep the boy from seeing what she could

It took some time, but eventually, she found another cage still closed with a small form inside lying in a motionless heap with his back to her as she forced the grate open, snapping the lock then reaching in to flip him over; the girl started patting his sliced cheek even if it did her no good

The second boy was a bit bigger then the child she had just freed but still relatively small and looked to be heavily sedated; indicating when they came to take all of the children, he had put up a hell of a fight “Hey hothead… come on, I got you kiddo” the dulled golden eyes shifted a bit just to looked through her, she gathering him up in her arms whispering he would be okay a third child crawled into her view wondering if he had been on the tables when everything went down; like usual he just seemed way too calm “Fearless… oh thank god” happy to see him alive, both hugged him tight for a long moment; finally feeling him squeezing back when it dawned on the kid who was holding him

The third oldest tried to tell her what had happened, how the guards had come in to find she was gone then attempted to take them before she returned thinking one of the night guards had grabbed her but was silenced as she waved her hand consoling him quietly to sound hopeful that it was almost over

She could hear something outside looking up at the same time as the eldest boy grabbing them and pulling the three to hide until the noises were gone.

Her heart was heavy in only locating three of the seven lives she had been assigned no matter how much the girl searched the destroyed lab; knowing they were the last of fifty kids who had been punished for not raising to the expectation of the bosses at the final evaluation seeing the other cages were empty or had been ripped open violently

The only evidence someone had been in there were a few claw marks and streaks with blood.

They might be all that was left-

The last cage on the wall held a small baby – one of the two she had been searching for was long expired after what they had done while she wasn't there to protect the children, the guilt reduced the young girl into a sobbing mess

Gathering the children in the broken state took a minute while trying to pull herself together, hard as it was; there was nothing she could do for her baby sister except keep her promise; carefully wrapping the tiny body in a cloth forming a sling to tie the bundle to her

With the help of both boy's she got the second child upon her back, he was almost too heavy for her to carry they would never get anywhere dragging him down the halls "Stay close and no sounds" she got two slow nods before heading down the corridor hurrying past the breeding room hearing screams from within as something ripped through the room

Reaching the main floor for the building; they all skid to a stop when the girl held up one hand, at first it was just an uneasy feeling until heavy footsteps could be heard coming from somewhere in front of them, immediately pushing both behind the welcome desk before it saw them 

Kneeling to the ground; she somehow managed to keep the two boys focus on her as she waited for it to leave 

A deep growl shook the air right behind them almost pulling a whimper from the youngest before her hand was over his mouth, drawing him close as the other kid shifted silently to protect his back, just waiting until it either found them or took off in the direction they had just come from each of them letting out a shaky sigh when it did the latter moments later grabbing both making a run for it before anything else stumbled across the group

They could not stop moving even if when the thinner male started breathing hard, fighting to keep up as his body started to give in to exhaustion.

Realizing he could no longer keep up made the oldest stop checking for danger as he took him on his back then kept running, staying on her heels the best he could.

She swore she smiled upon getting them to the safe room unseen and undetected handing the keycard she stole off so they could all run in without being seen locking the door behind them 

As soon as she had covered up the boys with a blanket and placed the baby in a small crate, she pleaded for them to stay on the couch and rest; finding a first aid kit she started cleaning the deep cuts that now marred the second boys face, bandaging it to keep any infections from forming

Waiting would be hard; but once the sky grew dark enough for them to get out unseen she would tell them to run for it, there would be no looking back; they would have to be fast and keep going even if they lost someone

Leaving would mean getting out of the city for good and being they could probably not survive for long without food given they made it out - she had to find sustenance to hold them until they reached a safe place to stop

After dumping out boxes to carry everything in she started to gather supplies to run them; breaking the vending machines open, stuffing any food or drinks in sacks and boxes while feeding the kids at the same time letting them indulge in the sweets they were never allowed to have, placing each container close to the door to be taken out 

She felt a slight tug on her gown as she let a few tears fall for her babies looking over to find Leo at her side nuzzling her cheek as she cracked the tiniest bit; that was when the eldest told her the fate of the youngest boy, how they had left his in the far cell as bait after taking the rest of them

They had put one of her babies out there unprotected to draw away the creatures to save their hides even though it looked to have not worked in their favor.

There was no thinking it through, yes it was a stupid move but she just knew he was still alive; leaving him in-charge she made sure they understood that they were not to move from that room before the girl slipped out from the sanctuary of the break room making sure the door latched before taking off towards the cells 

That was the only reason she was out there now- 

If there was even a small chance he was still alive; she had to save him 

Every little sound had her paranoid jumping at anything

Turning one corner only to dropping back instantly, she slipped under a desk as someone came running down the hallway holding her breath when something followed them seconds later, hearing the horrid screams and crunch of braking bones left her trembling and not moving until she was sure it was safe

when she finally crawled back out she had to avoid stepping in the fresh streaks of blood heading back in the direction it had come being so quiet when she noticed it was feeding in the open

They were multiplying in numbers from the looks of things making it harder to not worry she would never make it to the cell or back for the others

She took a slow deep breath waiting until it was distracted before shooting across her steps inaudible as she bolted silently getting down the next hall in no time, her hands shaking when she ducked into the cage just before something passed staying there for what felt like a lifetime hearing it slow then continue on its way, slipping out she went to the furthest enclosure seeing the puddles of blood on the floor 

She was near screaming when she saw a something move in one tiny nest; shooting forward she found the small curled up bundle safe and sleeping soundly under several blankets where they must have left him as if nothing was wrong, gathering him close to her chest she started kissing his cheeks whispering so softly as he yawned then dosed right back off ever the heavy sleeper as always “I’m sorry – I am sorry I didn’t find you sooner Sunshine – but it's okay now I- I’m going to get you out of here”

She may have been too late to save her six-month-old baby sister but she had managed to get to him; finding her bag where she left it she noiselessly dumping out the collection of treasures that it held before making a nest with a blanket placing the four-year-old inside with his torn up bear somewhat happy he was so small even for his age zipping it up leaving a tiny opening to let air in and out before heading down the passageways  

The darkness could hide anything and everything in that moment her body staying low to the floor as a growling came from the left stopping only long enough to be sure it wasn’t coming in her direction before peeking around the corner seeing the figure was halfway inside the room towards the middle of the offices bolting immediately careful to avoid any small objects that could give away the child’s presence 

All the training they put her through; all of them through didn’t seem like much of a burden now, even if the overseers had nearly killed her and the kids each day until they knew each and every torturous lesson by heart

The shadows were her friends, never trust anyone besides the ones in your group, protect the young at all cost, the silence of mouth and body was the key to living, and you screw up once no matter how small; you died-

If only the grown-ups had learned those lessons, they might have survived the attack

Her pale ice blue eyes searching everywhere unsure if anything else had escaped when the cells opened after the alarms started moments after entering her cell; as she made it to the halfway point all the girl was praying for was the slayers were still in the runs out on the yard and not roaming free looking for an easy meal

It was a bit of a journey, but relief flooded her body upon finally making it to the door when she heard a whimpered cry. 

Being locked up there; experiments were trained to not have fear raised to not know safety or the luxury of a secure home yet fear still welled up thinking the tiny life she had grabbed from enclosures was waking up immediately she started to make the soothing sounds again as she peaked in only to realize it wasn’t the child she had just saved 

He was gone to the world - probably dreaming some kind of sweet innocent imagination with kittens and candy in a field of flowers and stuffed animals

Looking to the left as the sound came again she saw her friend Arya cowering down a hallway waving her to hurry and follow her but the girl wouldn’t move leaned on the wall as if something was keeping her cornered

Arya wasn’t one to cower she wasn’t afraid of anything or anyone; coming from a powerful family who ran part of the city after leaving India at one point, she had been raised to be completely independent, of course, that had been before the chemical attack 

She was from money so the woman always dressed nicely; lots of colorful fabrics to her intricate silk dresses, golden chains, and jewelry adorned her hands, her long black hair shined it seemed no matter how little light and her honey tanned skin was something to marvel at coming from somebody who rarely saw the light of day other then through the bars of a small window if she could climb high enough

She had worked there for a little over a year as an apprentice under the superior but was still a kid for being sixteen; sometimes, on her breaks between the experiments, she had come to the containment cells to play with the babies and give food to the caregivers who were never old enough to request simple supplies from the guards but considered mature enough to care for the younger collections

Better than being a breeder, way better than being one of the carriers in any book

She had to be the strongest woman she had ever met yet right then - she looked petrified, her eyes darting from side to side like she didn’t see the small figure, slowly weighing the options and looked behind her being sure nobody had found them the girl slowly left the door her fingers brushing its smooth cold surface scurrying fast towards the woman something in her gut telling her this was wrong but she needed to get to her

She might be the only one who could get her out with the set she had gathered 

She called out under her breath continuing to remain hidden until she could tell the coast was clear, slowly inching out into the light calling out again a bit louder gaining the woman’s attention but when she looked at her she saw something wasn’t right in her eyes swallowing hard as dread settle in her gut knowing she had just ignored several of the rules that had been beaten into her system for years

The woman’s body drooped as she stood up when the girl stumbled back before a small smile lifted the pale lips of her friend, the brown eyes shifted to white and her tan skin took on a sickly gray color as she screeched out a horrid wail

She was a carrier- they had gotten her like all the others

Spinning on her heels the child rushed back down the hall as fast as she could; hearing the thing behind her closing in she made the next mistake of looking back and seeing it was getting closer, realizing now she would never make it to that door but knowing the boys were in there waiting for her screamed she had to unless she wanted them to die right here 

Reaching for her hip she grabbed the heavy firearm she had stolen from one of the guards bodies when she had entered the building through the vent hatch 

Having only wielded one in tactical training she had seen it used on many of the older test subjects that had gotten out of hand if they survived the slayers in the hunting grounds and knew if used right it could hurt anything-

It could kill if needed. 

The young girl didn’t even hesitate when she turned to pull the trigger shooting what used to be Arya between the eyes seeing her friend hit the floor motionless 

Panting and shaking she only turned as she heard the howling bouncing off the walls getting to the door as the body started after her again having gotten on its feet 

The door lock disengaged with the swipe of the keycard slamming the door fast behind her before two heavyweights slammed into it before looking down into her duffle as something squirmed around

The youngest of the boys gave a small cry making her shush him while laughing to herself unable at that moment to believe she had just outrun two creatures while turning to check on the older three before seeing several scientists in the room – and her kids gone 

The gun was loaded and aimed before they could move; growling under her breath not letting them close to her “WHERE ARE THEY!?!” one of the males had started towards her before she fired

It was at this moment she found a fun fact and untold part of the humans who kept them as guinea pigs, they didn’t get up when she shot them, an intern that had hurt her several times tried to grab her having been standing behind by the wall but he didn’t count on her strength

The men never did when it came to her small stature but add in her protective mommy gene of the kid's she loved she threw him to the floor showing no mercy in putting him down hence leaving an older woman and two girls who had to be in their early adultage standing closer to the walls, looking around her wild eyes landed on the three trembling boys along with an older male she had never seen in her time there but it was clear he had been made a pet

Only the higher-ups were allowed to have them

The guy defiantly looked older and was quite clearly not entirely human given the larger size, the white hair, coal-black eyes, and the twitch of furry ears also gave her a clue; also meaning he had to be 

significant if he had not been killed when he reached of age, like most mutants, once you hit the rebellious stage; you were put down for their entertainment unless you were useful 

and usually, that usefulness wasn’t held for long

Being the only one with a gun gave her the upper hand moving forward two of the women in lab coats moved huddling to the side as she checked the kids over; the second oldest was now awake and very much aware of his surroundings growling at the women his nose bleeding from being struck but had stayed protectively in front of the other two boys

Jillian; or rather the blood queen as she had heard the older woman called by the older experiments was somebody the girl knew well and probably the one who had hit the growling boy seeing as his wild eyes hadn’t left her, the wife to one of the higher-ups she had tormented her many times in the darkroom and it was clear by her stance she still thought she had control over the subjects ordering the small girl to give her the weapon

All it got was her holding it higher as the boys pulled the baby from her bag keeping the youngest protectively in the middle of them as the girl drew back the slide; not wavering in her stance to keep her away until she backed down not too happy a freak was defying her orders

She didn’t show it but she was freaking out knowing there was no way to safely get out with the woman and her assistants in the way; going out that door would possibly result in one of them probably shutting her out either without the supplies or the kids, they couldn’t go back the other way without being ripped limb from limb 

Slowly reaching down, she set to undoing the collar around the teenager's neck hoping he wasn’t loyal to the woman; letting it drop to the smooth tiles giving him a small reassuring look before she was tending to the kids once more

Her hand was instantly lifting the darkest of the fours little chin looking him over, taking notice he was going to have a black eye; ripping her tattered gown the girl took great care in gently wiping the blood from his cut face, her cold hands cradling his cheek looking up to see the hard gaze he was giving her, it only made a smile break the corner of her lips knowing the look was not for him being angry towards her it was just the only expression he knew at this age 

This life hadn’t shown him how to smile but getting out had the hopes of that changing soon

Kissing his head the younger mutant shifted nuzzled into her arms, clinging tightly to the female; something he never did around the others nestling into her soft chest while mumbling roughly under his breath they thought she was dead, his voice was so low she was the only one who heard it making reassurances spew from her lips

She wouldn’t die when they needed her

She had to get them out of there and soon this place wasn’t safe at all looking back seeing one of the women knowing she was much kinder when nobody was around understanding kindness wasn’t accepted in this world but it made them trust her a bit more then they were comfortable with 

She had been nuzzling the boys assuring them it was all going to be okay when the male growled threateningly, attempting to push her behind him only to yelp as he was struck with a long stick being rectified for daring to snarl at his master, the girl stiffened pushing the kids back as the elder grabbed her by the hair yanking her away from them trying to grasp for the weapon

The pained cry that left the girl as she tried to escape resulted in the older woman getting her hand cut by the quiet boy looking over finding something she had not seen until now, yet he had to have been holding it the whole time 

A scalpel with a towel wrapped around the broken end he was clutching in his grasp; going for the most damage to make the woman drop their guardian 

the stick she had been clutching swiped at him catching him across the eye hearing the quiet boy yell out in pain; lowering to the ground holding his face as the teen yanked him back a bit too late

The distraction gave the young girl a chance to move even as she was almost grabbed again, feeling the hand tangling in her hair as she started to fall back made her lift the heavy pistol firing without ever looking up than hearing the pained scream as the boys grabbed onto her

The evil woman went down her leg bleeding from the bullet wound, but before another sound could leave her lips the wolf kid was on her; his now sharpened fangs sunk into her open neck, snarling like a wild animal ripping into pray as she screeched for help making the girl scramble keeping the boys from looking as he tore into his master staying over her until the woman stopped moving permanently 

The cold black eyes slowly came up until they were on the silver-haired girl as blood marred his jaws dripping to the floor in thick streams from his now soaked face; none of the children moved as she pushed them behind her when he moved forward, her breath gone from her lungs realizing what she hadn’t before losing her grip on the gun as her hands shook finding a small hand clutching hers the second the metal hit the floor

He was part slayer 

The male sat back down where he had been before not even remotely phased by his actions or bothered by her sudden fear of him leaning in he started nudging her shoulder much like a dog wanting pets and licking her cheek but didn’t speak as he leaned on her making her swallow down the terror gently placing her hand on his head rubbing behind his ears before looking back as the baby boy crawled over them to lay in the males lap giggling as he played with the fluffy tail that wrapped around his hip

If the youngest trusted him it was a sign they could relax her little sunshine had a great choice of characters but she was still on edge; having never been this close to one of the executioners and not almost been ripped apart picking up a shredded cloth she had dropped cleaning his face as he laid his head in her hands licking at her fingers 

Both of the women still standing there looked pale, the blond must have been new and not used to the carnage or had to be a lab tech in the lower building floors, but the other knew; she had seen it been forced to watch it as the young ones were tortured or killed during experiments moving slowly towards the door looking in the two heavily stocked creates of any food the female child could find her eyes lingering on the tiny bundle before starting towards the kids 

The gun barely stop her from approaching as she kneeled carefully pushing it to the side; shushing them as she looked over the six lives knowing what needed to be done before glancing at the other woman making up her mind “We have to go – run as far as we can before that door gives” 

“We will never make it out of the city on foot! Beth; that is suicide we’ll be killed-” the other woman tried to speak up but was quickly silenced as her colleague got to her feet 

Running over to the cabinets unlocking them with her key and pulling everything out “Chelsea; if we stay here we will die either by whatever they unleashed from the lab in that meeting or the boss when he realizes they escaped – I really don’t want to die..." placing it all on the counters in front of her; tossing the boxes on the floor after accumulating anything of use making smaller care packs that would reduce their load then stuffing it in a backpack after pulling out a change of clothes instructing the girl to put them on "Look we get the kids out, nobody will know it was us Everyone here is dead, we aren’t on the clock… we can finally get away from here and away from him-”

Weighing the options for a second longer realizing her friend was right again; the blond finally nodded moving over towards the huddled up kids giving them the blankets and picking up the duffle before helping the other woman pack up medical supplies, stuffing both of their computers in her side pack grabbing anything worth taking including the deceased woman's bag before sneaking over to the door barely pushing it open to look out noticing the outside was clear and that a vehicle was right there 

“We need to get all of this in the truck – Kids go last” the risk of going out now was higher given it was still light out but since she had parked the truck almost against the building it was going to be easy to load the stuff without being seen

“Beth – what if they got outside?”

That had been the whole reason for waiting until nightfall for the girl; in the darkness, she could hide easily but in daylight, she had no chance in hell “We have to take that risk – look just pop one door carefully, it will block you from being seen by the yard the metal door will cover your other side” once the supplies were ready to go the other woman was there helping climbing in the back she pulled it in further as Chelsea placed it in the van peaking around the door whenever she heard a noise being sure nobody had arrived to clear the building before finally placing the last create inside the back “Get the kids I’ll start the engine”

Looking behind her she noticed the kids waiting together; the girl keeping them in front of her after bandaging up the wound over the oldest mutants eye grateful it was just a fleshwound as the teenage boy staying a few feet back watching the metal door tensely; the youngest was clinging onto the eldest boy who scooped him up once she was waving him forward picking both up with ease pointing for him to get in a seat 

The girl shooed the other two forward just as something hit the door behind them hard, bending the metal in almost too easily the teen pushing them forward fast to load the kids in quicker

The youngest female crawled forward when she was shoved inside the van roughly, getting the kids strapped in after placing the cardboard casket beside her before hearing a feral snarl near the back looking out the tinted window seeing a huge fur-covered form before panic filled the woman’s face when a large clawed hand grabbed the side of the door trying to force it forward as she held it tight crying out in fear

“Get her in now!” she moved to help just as the teenager went to pull the woman inside only to see her yanked from his grasp and ripped under the side door having to grab him so he wouldn’t be pulled out too.

The agonizing screams as she begged for help echoed around them before hearing the slayer ripping into her, cringing at the gut-twisting sounds the wolf boy slammed the door before whatever was outside could come back just as the metal door in the room came crashing inward

A horrid screech shook the air before something smashed into the back door yelling for the woman Beth to drive before the truck was peeling out of the institution.

None of them dared to look back, keeping their heads down as she crashed through the gates speeding away from their prison into the barren streets rushing to now escape New York. 

She looked to the kids who instantly reached for her as sunlight flashed into the cab, her eyes momentarily closing from not being used to the brightness that met them.

When she looked back up the half slayer boy was crawling forward. favoring his right arm that was bleeding from several deep scratch marks

Ultimately he had managed to tear his eyes from the massacre on the streets; it was made clear the creatures had gotten out into the city.

She tried to shift going to assess his wounds yet he just curled into her lap as she sat on the floor between the seats so she could see each of the boys.

The last thing she remembered was warmth surrounding her as she leaned on a seat, instantly too tired to hold her head up any longer, then feeling one of the kids petting her hair as passing out

  Let me know what you think and when posted Part two will fill in the blanks and introduce you to the new creepy world!

[himbowelsh]

18 with winnix for the kiss prompts please!

sha-la-la-la my oh my, looks like the boy’s too shy  💋 (accepting!) 18.   kisses where one person is sitting in the other’s lap

this definitely...  escalated far past where you wanted/needed it to go, and turned into more of an exploration of their post-war relationship, when winters joins nix in new jersey...   i had fun with it, but oof, did it ever kinda spiral.  there’s definitely kissing towards the end, though, so i hope you enjoy!!

To be fair, Nix never promised him an enjoyable night.

His first pitch was “a party”. Dick, who’s had enough experience with the sort of parties that go on in Nixon, New Jersey, replied that he had paperwork to catch up on. It was a good excuse because it wasn’t a lie. Nix brooded for a solid thirty seconds before popping back up, smile bright, to declare, “an evening affair, then, and you’re my date. You have to be, since I need one, and I haven’t got anyone else.”

Dick raised an eyebrow. “What about that girl, the one with the — the red hair —?”

“Hah,” replied Nix, in a flat tone that suggested his redheaded girlfriend was ancient history.

“One of the lobby girls, then.”

“Hah.”

“Blanche?”

“Hah!”

“I’m sure your mother would be honored to go with you.”

Nix had to grip the edge of the table to keep from falling down, laughing.

By the time he regained his composure, Dick was pretty much resigned to accompanying him for the evening. He’s never been able to say no to Nix anyways, even during the war. Being home — Nix’s home — and seeing him in his element — for better or worse — just makes it harder. Something about Nix in the bustling atmosphere of the New Jersey social scene is beguiling, electric, and a bit haunted. Like watching a film noir, Dick can never look away.

He doesn’t expect to have a good time. Nix’s parties are not designed to be good times for people who don’t smoke, drink, or gamble. Nix was kind enough not to remark on the novel tucked into the inside pocket of Dick’s suit jacket as they strode up the walkway towards the roaring party. Loud music blared from open windows; lights and laughter twinkled from beyond the spacious French doorways. It was only nine o’clock, but Dick could feel exhaustion creeping up on him already.

“Come on,” Nix encouraged, guiding him into the townhouse with a proud hand on his elbow. “Let’s set you up on a nice sofa and find a Shirley Temple. Extra cherries, just for you.”

The one thing Dick will credit Lewis Nixon’s parties for — they’re never stingy with the cherries.

Now, three hours into the affair, he sets aside his most recent soda and scans the crowd. As the hours wind away, the raucous group has started to thin out. Either the partiers are headed somewhere else, or all have appointments to keep in the morning, because they show no signs of lingering into the early hours. Dick can be grateful for that much, at least. Those types of parties typically end with him dozing on a stranger’s sofa until he has to steer a very drunk Nix into the back of the waiting car at 3am. Dick has suffered through enough late evenings to never want to see another one again — though, time after time, he ends up coming out for Nix.

It seems like a quiet one tonight, though, thank goodness. The music has faded to a lull, someone thrumming out a thoughtful tune on the piano. The rowdiest partiers have taken leave, and all that’s left are Nix’s regular companions— the home’s owner, another Ivy League man Nix knows well, along with several of his mistresses; a few other Nixon Nitration folks Dick vaguely recognizes, and their dates; Nix’s sister Blanche, leaning languidly over the piano in a shimmering silver dress; and Nix, sprawled in a chair, top buttons of his shirt undone and hair disheveled.

He looks utterly debauched, and something about it thrills Dick. It’s nothing he hasn’t seen before, of course, but Nix in his sanguine element is magnetic. He’s like a panther — sleek and relaxed, dangerous under a veneer of nobility. No matter how much he’s had to drink, Nix’s dark gaze is always piercing; he always seems to know something the rest of the room doesn’t, and sometimes it plays on his lips like a hidden treasure.

He’s smirking like that now, and the smirk’s trained directly on Dick… and he can’t look away. It’s impossible. Even if he wanted to, Nix reels him in with that penetrating gaze. It’s all Dick can do to sit up straighter, pretending he is comfortable in this rakish crowd, the only one sober and the only one out of place.

“Speaking of saints,” Nix says at once — loud enough to cut in on whatever theological ramble his Yale buddy was in the middle of, “here’s one now. Sitting in front of us. Dick, come here. Show these fellows what a true Saint Augustine looks like.”

Dick would rather do anything else… but he’d cross a mountain for Lewis Nixon. Crossing the length of a trashed ballroom is only a bit more challenging. He comes to stand at Nix’s side, clearly uncomfortable, while Nix’s friends take him in as though seeing him for the first time this evening.

“You know I’m not Catholic, Lew,” he tries to quip, to break the tense mood. Nix’s hand catches his, squeezing lightly, and Dick’s own unease only grows.

“Neither am I, but we’re pretending for tonight. Gives all the sinning a bit more zest, you know?”

“Sure.” Dick’s hand comes to rest on the back of Nix’s chair, unconsciously craving something to do. One of the host’s mistresses, with bright red lips and sharp eyes, doesn’t miss it.

“Ohh,” she hums, like the word is a wave she must ride to the shore. “Don't say it, Lewis. This is your handsome date?”

Something about the way she says it has Dick’s shoulders tensing in instinctual alarm. Maybe Nix has had far too much to drink, or can read this crowd too well; he doesn’t even flinch at the implication.

“Afraid so,” he replies, a hand creeping up Dick’s sleeve. “Nice enough to hang around all night, even though he’d rather be back home pouring over...  productivity reports. Employee reviews? Staff... surveys?”

“Something like that,” Dick says.

“Something like that.” Nix’s hand runs up and down Dick’s arm, blatantly fond. It takes everything in Dick’s power not to tense up.

None of the assembled crowd seems bothered by such a display, however. Nix’s friends exchange knowing looks, smirking around lit cigarettes or crystal glasses. One woman languidly kicks her heels onto her date’s laugh, shaking her head. From the piano, Blanche runs a hand over her glossy hair, gaze sharp on her brother and his companion. “He’s out of your league, Lewis,” she chimes. Her smirk is catlike, voice like molasses dripping onto spring grass. At times, she looks dangerously like her brother, and Dick isn’t sure how to handle either of them.

Nix’s grip settles around Dick’s upper arm. “Isn’t that the truth?”

When Dick looks down, Nix is looking up. Something about his whiskey-bright gaze knocks the breath from his lungs. It’s too… soft, too tender. Too intimate for this party, to exist among strangers. Nix’s grip on his bicep is firm, and Dick has no desire to pull away. He doesn’t get the chance to question — not even a flicker of uncertainty, a breathless what's he doing — before Nix gives a tug, and Dick all but tumbles into his lap.

He regains his balance like a newborn colt, to the bubbling laughter of Nix’s audience. His cheeks flare, bright red; Nix’s touches, usually so welcome, now linger on his skin like a hot iron. He’s straddling his best friend’s knees, Nix’s arm wrapped around his to steady him, and it’s all Dick can do not to leap back to his feet to salvage whatever slim slice of dignity remains.

“Nix,” he says, voice low in warning.

“Relax, Dick,” he answers, equally softspoken. “It’s all a game. Don’t you see? None of it really matters.”

It matters to me, he wants to say...  because Nix has never held him without it mattering, has never caressed him without every sensation engraving itself permanently into Dick’s memory. Nix has never… not mattered to him. Some part of Dick, an small yet insidious murmur, wonders when he became insignificant to him.

The way Nix caresses his face is anything but meaningless, though… as is the way his dark gaze lingers on his lips, simmering for so long that Dick can feel its heat. Nix’s thumb grazes the corner of his mouth, and instinctively Dick draws back.

Something hurt flashes in Nix’s eyes. Dick cannot feel guilty. He doesn’t want this — can’t Nix understand that? Not here, not now, not putting on a show for an audience. Not when Nix is whiskey-soaked and careless, so far gone that Dick could get drunk off the taste of him. If this is a game, Dick doesn’t want to play.

“Father isn’t around for you to give a coronary, Lewis.” Blanche’s voice echoes as though from the other side of a tunnel, practically bored. “Save it for the next family dinner, at least.”

Gradually, Nix’s grip on Dick’s waist loosens. His touch pulls away from his face, finding Dick’s hand instead. He raises it to his mouth and lets it linger there — a sweet mockery of a kiss — before releasing Dick entirely. 

Dick pulls away, regaining his posture and his dignity. The eyes of the room are all on him now, as surely as they were on the jazz singer earlier in the night. He can’t take their weight, or their curiosity. Keeping his eyes fixed firmly ahead, he brushes himself down and murmurs an excuse to Nix. “Just going to get some air.”

Nix doesn’t try to stop him.

Stepping out into the cool night is like being released from prison. Dick braces himself against the stone railing of the townhouse’s balcony, gazing at the gravel drive only a few feet below. He could jump it, if he really wanted to — easier that than going back inside and leaving out the front door, wrangling Nix away from his clan. They’re not so far from home — he could walk it, in an hour or so. The fresh air would do his head good. At least in the dark, no one would be able to see him, to wonder and scrutinize…

His mind has gone to a strange place now, and is twisting itself in tangles. Recognizing his own impossible daydream, Dick sighs, slumping forward. A hand finds his hair, rumbling it. For a long moment, he only breathes, focusing on the autumn air filling his lungs and the crickets chirping in the night, to drown out the storm raging inside.

His nerves are too taut not to notice when someone comes up behind him… but the scent of perfume is familiar, so he doesn’t jump. She sidles up alongside him, inhaling softly in the night air; she blows out the same way Nix does, from deep within her chest. When Dick raises his head, Blanche is not focused on him at all, but looking ahead down the driveway.

“Planning your escape?” she asks lightly. Her mulberry lips curl upwards, without the chore of looking at him. “I don’t blame you. That was painful, in there.”

Dick arches an eyebrow. “You felt it too?”

She has a drink in her hand, but the glass is empty. As Blanche’s attention drifts to it, she seized upon the olive, still speared and languishing inside the glass. With delicate, manicured fingers, she plucks it out and scrutinizes the tiny fruit.

“You can’t let him bully you, Dick,” she says after a moment. The scent of wine may be heavy on her breath, but her words are perfectly sober. “He doesn’t mean to, but it’s instinct around these people. They all like to show off, and he’s proud of you.”

Dick’s brows furrow. He’s not some brand new car, or a gold-plated watch. “Why?”

“Because you’re nothing like them.” Blanche’s dark gaze flickers up to him; for the first time tonight, Dick feels entirely seen. Her lips purse, like she’s fighting back a smile, but something in her eyes reminds him of loneliness. “You don’t belong in this set… and that’s nothing against you, darling, only what you know as well as us. My brother prizes you so highly; he’s proud that you’re here, that you’re with him, that you give him your time and agree to accompany him to these parties, even though you’d much rather be doing anything else.”

Dick’s lips purse. Blanche waits a moment, as though expecting him to protest… but he has nothing to say.

“Rich little boys love their toys. You need to remind him that you aren’t one.” Her fingers drum against the rim of her glass; each clink-clink-clink pierces Dick’s nerves like shrapnel wounds.

“He doesn’t mean anything wrong by it,” he protests, because he knows Nix well enough to understand that. 

“Of course not. If he didn’t care about you…” Blanche’s words trail off, along with her gaze. She drifts back out to the driveway, painted lips pursing like she’s considering something far away. After another silent moment, she glances at Dick once more. “Last chance to run.”

Dick smirks. “I’m considering it.”

Blanche sighs into the night, pushing her folded arms off the railing and stepping back. Dick no longer feels inclined to stand out in the darkness, alone. As she steps back into the well-lit hallway, he follows her.

When they reenter the lounge, Nix is holding court, in the middle of an animated story Dick’s heard before. “— of course, I couldn’t have known there was a cat involved, otherwise I’d never have set foot in the apartment. So I sit down on the couch and the damned thing launches at me, yowling like a bat out of hell —“ He cuts off, mid-flail, gaze landing on his sister and companion. “Ah. Was wondering where you too made off to.”

“Nothing untoward,” Blanche drawls, slinking back towards the bar. “I offered, but Dick’s too upstanding.”

Nix locks onto Dick, and again, his gaze is painfully warm. Dick feels the same way, like a furnace is burning under his collar. Uneasily, he lowers himself onto a settee at the far edge of the room, back to the door so he won’t be tempted. So long as he’s in Nix’s sightline, his presence counts… but he doesn’t have to make himself the object of a crowd’s fascination again.

Nix understands, in that easy way of his. His lips curl up in the slightest smile, before he turns back to his audience. “As I was saying…”

His story winds on for a little while longer, before he grows bored with it. By then, the crowd has grown equally bored with its malingering, but still too languid to get up and do something about it. One of the women slips behind the piano and tries to start up a dancing tune, but no one bites. Her song devolves into something slower, more thoughtful. The host pours himself another drink from the bar, and doesn’t offer to serve anyone else; his mistresses chatter in an undertone, lipstick stained crystal glasses sitting beside them. Nix reclines back in his chair, perfectly debauched. His hair is a ruffled mess, bow-tie undone and hanging loosely around his neck. The top of his shirt is still open, carelessly displaying his collarbones and a flash of dark hair across his chest. 

You’ll catch a chill, a voice in Dick’s head that sounds too much like his mother chides. He’s seized briefly with the inexplicable, intense urge to cross the room and lean over Nix to close the shirt himself. It passes, of course, and he politely averts his gaze.

Perhaps he’s doing too good of a job not looking at him. “Dick,” Nix finally says, from right behind him. “Ready to go?”

A wave of relief washes over him. He hasn’t wanted anything so badly since his discharge papers. “Let’s go,” he replies, rising to his feet.

They pay polite goodbyes to their host; Blanche waves them off with an eyeroll for Nix and a blown kiss for Dick. Then, finally, they leave through the front door, and slip into the night.

While they drove here themselves, Nix is in no state to command the car. Dick is already prepared to take the wheel, when the valet steps up with keys in hand. “Do you require a ride home, Mr. Nixon?”

Dick’s surprised gaze swivels towards Nix, as if to ask do we? (He’s still so unused to the world of chauffeurs and butlers, and every encounter leaves a foreign, coppery taste in his mouth.) Nix dwells on the offer for a moment with lazy-eyed disinterest, before shrugging and gesturing the valet towards his car. “Why not? Roy likes to be generous. Let him do us a favor for once, huh?”

Dick, who has never personally done Nix’s friend Roy a single favor, just nods.

Nix’s car is sleek and expensive, a top of the line Plymouth Deluxe in glossy black paint and felt seating. Dick has sat in the passenger’s seat enough times that sliding into the back feels like a mistake, something to double back and correct before he manages to embarrass himself. Nix slides in right behind him, not giving him the chance. The scent of car freshener can’t disguise the stuffy air in the back of the car; there’s not much separating the back from the front, but the forward row of seats stretch up, practically creating a barrier to separate both ends of the car in half. Dick hears the driver slide in up front, but in the darkness, it’s hard to see.

“Turn on the radio, will you?” Nix requests as the car stirs to life. Obligingly, the driver turns a few knobs; what threatens to become an awkward silence immediately finds itself drowned out by a staticky love ballad.

“And when I kissed you, darling It was more than just a thrill for me It was the promise, darling Of the things that fate had willed for me…”

The timing is astonishingly poor. Dick slumps back against the seat, all but defeated. At his side, Nix chuckles.

When Dick looks over, it's impossible to catch his eye. The night is too dark, and these roads aren’t well-lit; shrouded by shadows, Nix’s eyes are two black holes, drawing all trace of light into them and holding it hostage. Dick catches a flash of something pearly, which must be the jagged cut of Nix’s smile; the silhouetted shoulders rise up and down, in what isn’t quite laughter.

After a moment, Nix goes still. Dick can’t see, but he knows he’s being watched.

“Well?” Nix finally says. “When are you going to tell me what an idiot I am?”

Dick turns his head, looking out the window nearest to him. “Never occurred to me, Nix.”

“Maybe not to say it, but you were thinking it. Come on, Dick.” A smooth-palmed hand finds his in the darkness. Dick allows it. “I knew I screwed up the moment you pulled away. Knew it as soon as I saw your face, really, but damn me if I know how to stop… come on, that’s what I bring you to these things for. To keep a leash on me.”

Dick thinks Nix’s social circle picked up on that, at least.

He doesn’t realize how tense he’s gone until Nix’s thumb strokes along the back of his knuckles; his hand, Dick realizes, has gone stiff as a corpse’s, gnarled with tension. When he looks down, he’s suddenly ashamed. He tries to pull away, but Nix holds fast.

“I’m sorry,” he says, sudden and sincere.

“You didn’t do anything,” Dick replies. “If I didn’t want to be there —“

“You don’t want to be there. You come to these awful things for me, even though you can’t stand it, and you’re a fish out of water the whole time. I’m being cruel to you. Downright uncharitable! And you know the reason why.”

Dick’s gaze is drawn back to him again. This time, as a flash of light passes through the car, he glimpses Nix’s face — eyes bright with drink, devastatingly earnest, his lips curled downwards and jaw tense. He’s handsome without trying… and cruel, too. More careless than he realizes.

Blanche’s words echo in his ears: rich little boys love their toys.

“It might be a game to you, Nix,” Dick says softly, “but it isn’t to me. Whatever show you were putting on in there… I don’t want to be part of it anymore.”

Nix is silent for a long moment. The air between them is thick as curdled cream. “I understand,” he finally says. “I… I get it, Dick, christ. I’m sorry.”

“I know.” Of course he knows. Doesn’t Nix realize he doesn’t have to put on a show for anyone, just do Dick will stand by his side? Doesn’t he realize the whole reason Dick goes to these parties, time and time again, is for him? Because he’d shatter the entire world and piece it back together, fragment by microscopic fragment, just to make Lewis Nixon happy?

“It’s never been a game to me, Nix,” he says softly.

In the darkness, Nix’s hand finds his again. This time, Dick squeezes tight.

He doesn’t know exactly how they come together, what magnetism pulls them or the way their bodies fit together. His shoulder presses up against Nix’s; his fingers find the threads of Nix’s hair; Nix’s thigh is a solid weight as it drapes over his own, his skin is warm, and suddenly Nix is practically in his lap.

It felt better this way. Dick likes the cover of darkness, is painfully grateful for it, just as he is of the way his hand fits over Nix’s hip. He likes holding him so much more than he likes being held… and something in the sigh Nix breathes against his lips suggests he likes it this way too.

“It’s not a game to me either, Dick,” he murmurs. “You matter too damn much”

The distance between them closes on its own will. Nix tastes like whiskey and coffee and August twilight; his lips are smooth, gliding over Dick’s own as though he’s wet them a dozen times since their conversation began. Their embrace is tender, but the hand gripping Dick’s shoulder is desperate. When Dick sighs against Nix’s lips, he utters a soft noise, almost like a whine. Dick’s fingers run along his scalp, soothing the dissatisfaction away.

“I much prefer this,” Dick mutters. “It suits us both better… privacy.”

“If it suits you,” Nix replies, “that’s all I need to know.”

It’s not perfect, and it’s not quite laid to rest… but they make it home at a reasonable hour, and Dick holds Nix in the privacy of their own home. He couldn’t ask for anything more.

[asgardlover75]

Wonderwall

So this is one of my favorite songs of all time.  I love the simplicity of it and the fact that everyone loves to sing it, regardless of their taste in music.  I’ve been thinking long and hard about how to write this one and had some ideas.  One day last week I just sat down and wrote.  Kinda nice when things flow like that.  I’ve decided to go ahead and post it because if I keep messing with it I’m gonna go crazy.  Lol  

Thank you @buckysforeverprincess for hosting this and congrats on the milestone!

Enjoy!

 Character Pairing – Steve x OFC

Triggers – some talk of foster care and neglect but nothing too crazy.  

Song – Wonderwall by Oasis

Since Shield had been rebuilt, much to Steve’s disappointment, the Avengers had created a program that allowed some sharing of resources with other agencies.  Those agencies were the federal and world wide governments and SHIELD of course.  Sharon Carter had become director of SHIELD for its reincarnation and she had been doing a bang up job so far.  Agents that Director Carter and a small group of trusted advisors thought were reliable and trustworthy could have a chance to work closely with the Avengers.  That could entail going on missions across the world or helping out at the compound or Avengers Tower.  In the last two years there had only been a handful of agents picked for this highly prized internship but Steve had to say he definitely had his favorites.  

Aribella Stone was one of those favorites.  

“Uh, forgive me Director but these stats are not as…they kinda suck compared to what you’ve compiled for us before.”  

Steve sat next to Tony, rolling his eyes as he blew out a frustrated breath.  Chastising the billionaire quietly, the captain gave his friend the stink eye and turned back to Sharon.  The director looked unaffected by Tony’s outburst and even had a trace of smugness in her smile.

“No, the stats aren’t as high as what we normally select but this one is special.  I think she will fit in nicely with your bunch.”

Tony froze, looking up at the woman across from him, puzzled.  

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means she’s good at her job and can hold her own with you assholes.”

Nine months later and the team joked about keeping her permanently because Sharon was correct. Aribella fit in so well with their group that it felt like she’d always been there.  No, she wasn’t the fastest agent they’d worked with.  Aribella couldn’t break down a weapon in record time or take down someone twice her size, but she was dependable and smart as hell. She also rivaled Stark in the snark department.  

Sam and Bucky enjoyed her ability to word vomit her thoughts.  She had no filter at all but no one complained because her insight was almost always valuable and her humor was on par with theirs.  Tony and Bruce would often drag her into the lab to pick her analytical brain and outside the box thinking.  Wanda and Nat just liked having another girl that they could just be themselves around.  

She wasn’t the only agent working with them at the moment, but there was more of a camaraderie with Aribella than the other agents.  Steve and Tony didn’t play favorites, each agent had their own strengths and helped contribute.  Aribella’s were just more well-rounded than some of the others.  The petite, 28 year old blonde had become an invaluable member of their team and none of them wanted her to leave, but her time was up and it was soon becoming someone else’s turn to learn from Earth’s mightiest heroes.  

Then, the illness hit. All around the world people were becoming sick and dying and there was a race to stop the mysterious illness. Quarantines were instituted all over, especially in the bigger cities.  New York was no exception.  Considering around 8 million people lived there the team made the decision to move back into the tower, hopefully temporarily.  Bruce and Tony would be working with scientists around the world to figure out the virus and try to make a vaccine.  The rest would be ready to help out wherever needed and they needed to be in the thick of it.  

Pepper was working on making sure all non-essential personnel made it home to their families safely and that they had what they needed during lockdown.  Aribella and Nat had worked alongside her to prepare as well as they could for not only their employees, but anything the team might need as well.  Tony and Steve had come to Pepper’s office to check on how things were going and share information.  Aribella and Nat were gone when they arrived, which was probably a good thing.  They needed to get working as soon as possible.

“We’ll need to keep a skeleton crew at the compound just in case.  Sam has a list of those that are volunteering to stay, a couple would like their families to stay with them as well.”  Pepper’s voice had a  tinge of exhaustion in it as she shared where they were with Tony and Steve.  

“Shouldn’t be a problem. The automated systems are enough to keep everyone safe.  We can always run over and check on them if need be.”  Tony responded, a bit distracted by the news on the screen in front of him.  

Steve was sitting on the couch, studying his Stark tablet when he heard the worry in Tony’s voice and looked up.  The banner at the bottom of the screen scrolled across with the numbers of those sick and infected and they seemed to climb every day.  He knew that Tony was using every resource at his disposal to try and help the World Health Organization and the CDC get ahold on this thing.  Sharing a quick glance with Pepper, Steve cleared his throat and tried to refocus his friend.

“Looks like all the agents on loan have been released to go back home.  Three of them have volunteered for anything we might need and are willing to come back should something happen that we need some help with.”

“Does that include your girl too?”  

Steve felt his face heat up at Tony’s playful tone but kept his eyes on the tablet.  It irked him being so transparent that his friends had picked up on his interest in Aribella.  Though their ribbing had been relatively gentle, Tony took every opportunity to goad him, especially when the lady in question wasn’t around.  

“Oh, she’s staying.”  

One dark and one light haired head whipped around to stare at Pepper.  Tony’s Cheshire grin seemed to engulf his face it was so wide and Steve…if Bucky were there he would remind his friend to close his mouth before he caught some flies in it.  The redhead’s face softened and she stood from her desk chair and walked over to her husband.  Learning into his side, she slid her hand over his chest and smiled sadly at them both.

“She offered to stay so some of the security guards could go home and be with their families.”

Brow crinkling, Steve rubbed his chest over his heart trying to soothe the ache there.  He knew why she had volunteered because he had stepped quite heavily into that minefield about one month after Ari  had joined them.  

“So tell us about your family Aribella.”  Steve’s words had been intended to continue the warm atmosphere of the night but seemed to have the opposite effect as he watched her face change. A small, sad smile formed on her lips and she took a drink of the beer before speaking.  

“Um, there’s not much to tell.  I actually grew up in the foster system.”  Her head came up to meet Steve’s gaze and saw the look of apology there as he opened his mouth to speak.  “It’s ok.” The hand not holding her drink was stretched in his direction, palm towards him as if to stop what she knew came next.  She continued, her voice taking on a softer tone.  “It’s not like I go around introducing myself as an orphan.  Please don’t feel bad about it.”  

Sitting next to her on the couch, Sam reached over and laid his hand on her shoulder, giving it a squeeze.  

“You don’t have to offer anything you don’t want to.”  His quiet, soothing tone bringing a smile to her face.

“I don’t mind talking about it.  Just seems to bring the mood down when I do so I don’t tend to volunteer information unless it comes up.”

For the next hour or so the team had asked questions and Aribella answered them honestly, her instinct telling her that the information wouldn’t leave this group and that there would be no judgement of her upbringing.  While she was open, she left many details to herself that night.  Steve however, knew a bit more than his friends due to the late nights he and Aribella seemed to find themselves having.  

Being a super soldier Steve didn’t need a lot of sleep and often found himself restless in the early morning hours.  About a week after Ari’s revelation he found her on the balcony outside the kitchen, a blanket wrapped around her shoulders and a warm cup of tea held in her hands. She was staring blankly out onto the city and before he could consciously make the decision his feet carried him outside.

Despite obviously being tired, Ari greeted him with a warm smile and a raspy greeting.  That was the first of many talks they had shared with one another and over the next few months she opened up to Steve about her childhood.  It wasn’t always pleasant.  Six different foster families before she finally graduated high school and the last one’s…well they weren’t unhappy to see her go.  Just the money.  

Steve thanked whatever deity existed that she never suffered any abuse in her homes but his heart ached at the neglect she found.  Her first family was the most caring and the one she had for the longest.  They had desperately been trying for a child and decided to foster in the meantime.  Ari was just seven years old when she arrived at their house but it was filled with love and warmth.  

A couple of years after her arrival the wife finally became pregnant and Ari feared she would have to leave.  The couple reassured her they wanted her to stay but when the baby was born things changed. He was so sick and had so many issues they couldn’t manage both children.  To this day she remembered how heartbroken they were to have to send her back.

“Melinda was nearly inconsolable in her grief.  I remember, despite all the strain she was under, she was still so patient and kind to me.  It was just too much for them.  I don’t blame them at all.  In fact, I still keep in contact with them.”

Steve turned his head to study Ari’s face.  Anyone could hear the warmth and love in her voice for her first foster parents.  He also saw the glassiness of her eyes and the way her shoulders pulled in as if to protect herself.  

“How did their son fare, after you left?”  His quiet inquiry brought a genuine smile to her face, despite the tear that fell down her cheek.  

“Pretty healthy considering all the heart surgeries he’s had. Nathan is getting ready to graduate high school this year.”

The other families though…Steve had to remind himself that he could not go and visit them to give them a piece of his mind.  He was better than that, despite every bone in his body itching to do so.  Ari’s stories ranged from having to fix one of her foster family’s dinner every night, before she could do her homework or eat herself, to having to lock her door because she never knew if someone would try and take out their anger on her in their inebriated state.  She definitely considered herself lucky to have made it to 28 years and still be a relatively sane and mentally balanced individual.

If anything the stories had only endeared her to Steve even more.  He saw a young girl, alone with not much support, tough it out and make the best of her situation.  It wasn’t easy but he felt a sense of pride to hear how she had taken care of herself after graduating high school.  Signing up for SHIELD, finding a roommate and a place to live and working a part time job on the side.  On the few missions she had been on, most locally, he witnessed her kind and compassionate nature along with her ability to protect those around her.  Hell, he didn’t know anyone who didn’t like Ari.  

While she wasn’t as lithe and skilled as Natasha, she definitely knew how to defend herself and work with a team.  She had earned the respect of the Avengers for her brains and kindness along with her strong belief in hard work.  Steve wasn’t sure when his feelings for her had started to change but it had gotten to the point of distraction lately.  Possibly because they were all locked in together.

Her curves definitely did something for Steve as well, who had been caught by Bucky or Sam multiple times staring at their charge.  Sam would just smile that canary eating grin but Bucky would give him crap when they were alone.  

“Why the hell don’t you just ask her out, Punk.  For a coffee or something.  You know how much she likes her coffee.”

“She’s our teammate Buck.  I don’t want to make her uncomfortable.”

Bucky snorted and pushed Steve into the wall as they walked to the elevator.

“I’m relatively sure she wouldn’t complain ya big idiot. She’s almost as bad as you are with the puppy dog eyes.”

Those words had caused Steve to stop in the middle of the hall as he stared after the super soldier in disbelief.  The shit eating grin covering Bucky’s face barely registered as he waved his metal fingers in a  good bye gesture, the elevator doors closing and leaving Steve bewildered.

 Present Day

Rubbing his face roughly, Steve felt the stubble starting to grow and wondered how the hell he hadn’t realized he needed to shave in the last few days.  They’d been so busy working their asses off that basic hygiene seemed to suffer for everyone, not just himself.  Setting the tablet down he sat back in his chair and spun around to look out over the city.  It looked strange, even to someone who had viewed it before all the technology and millions of people came along.  

Streets were barren of cars and people, an odd one of both things here and there.  Many lights that were normally blindingly bright were dimmed or off completely giving the city a bit of an eerie feel.  He definitely didn’t like it but it meant that people were doing what they should me.  Staying home and staying safe.  

It was past dinner when Steve finally made his way towards the common room.  He had been so involved in the current information collected that he had lost track of time once again.  Meaning dinner was over and everyone was probably back in their rooms already.  Frowning, he clicked the tablet in his hands off and thought about what he needed to accomplish tonight.  

As he neared his destination a soothing guitar sound filled his ears and he lost all concentration when he rounded the corner.  Sitting on the ottoman was Ari.  Her acoustic guitar was perched on her left thigh, eyes closed and he could hear her humming quietly along with the tune she played.  It wouldn’t be the first time he had found her practicing in the big room, though usually Clint was here coaching her or singing while she played.

He grinned as he leaned against the wall and tried to quietly watch her.  She had her hair pulled back into a bun tonight, one of his favorites only because she couldn’t hide her face behind her hair.  Feet were bare, as usual, one leg tucked under the other as she sat up straight to play.  The tune was repetitive but the notes soothing with a mood he couldn’t quite put a finger on.  She made a few mistakes but plodded on and he watched as a proud tilt came to her lips.

“You’re getting better at that.”  He offered quietly, watching as she turned her head to gift him with a smile but continued playing.  A slight blush rose to her cheeks and he felt an ache in his chest at the sight.  Man, he had it bad.

“Thanks.  Though this is a pretty simple melody so I should be able to get it with as much as I’ve practiced.”  Her statement didn’t hold any negative feelings about her ability to play.  She had worked really hard on this song because it was one of her favorites and seemed to speak to her more than usual.

Smiling, he waited a few bars before he pushed off the wall and made his way to the chair a couple feet  in front of her and to her right.  He sat down heavily, leaning back into the cushion as he watched her fingers pluck out the notes gracefully.  Her eyes slid closed, her right foot tapping out a quiet pattern to the notes she played.

“What’s it called?”  

“Wonderwall.  It’s by an English band called Oasis.  It’s one of those songs that everybody knows and is usually sung by a lot of people.  Sometimes drunk.”

Steve laughed at her words and leaned forward resting his elbows on his thighs.  Their gazes locked for a moment before Ari looked down to hide what she was sure were her feelings written all over her face.  

“I’m almost afraid to ask, but what’s a Wonderwall?”  There was a brief silence before Friday’s voice made them both jump, though his eyes didn’t leave Ari’s form while the AI answered his question.

“According to Urban Dictionary, a Wonderwall is somebody you find yourself thinking about constantly, and you are completely infatuated with.  Writer of the song, Noel Gallagher told BBC Radio 2 in 2002 “ It’s a song about an imaginary friend who’s gonna come and save you from yourself.”

Quietly, he thanked the AI and processed the information. It was just a song.  It didn’t mean anything, right?  She said it was popular and it sounded relatively simple to play.  However, Ari still hadn’t looked up and his stomach did a funny turn.  She obviously picked it because it meant something to her. Ari didn’t do things just because. There was always meaning or a reason for something.  Steeling himself for what could possibly be a mistake, he took a deep breath and gathered his courage.

“Will you sing it for me?” Steve’s soft request caused her head to shoot up and the air to catch in her throat.  Soft blue eyes met hers and she saw the compassion and genuine interest in them along with something else she couldn’t quite place.  Swallowing heavily, she nodded and cleared her throat willing her nerves to go away.  Fingers strummed nervously over the strings before she took a deep breath and started to play.

Today is gonna be the day That they're gonna throw it back to you By now you should've somehow Realized what you gotta do I don't believe that anybody Feels the way I do, about you now

Backbeat, the word was on the street That the fire in your heart is out I'm sure you've heard it all before But you never really had a doubt I don't believe that anybody Feels the way I do about you now

And all the roads we have to walk are winding And all the lights that lead us there are blinding There are many things that I Would like to say to you but I don't know how

Because maybe, you're gonna be the one that saves me And after all, you're my wonderwall

Today was gonna be the day But they'll never throw it back to you By now you should've somehow Realized what you're not to do I don't believe that anybody Feels the way I do, about you now

And all the roads that lead you there are winding And all the lights that light the way are blinding There are many things that I Would like to say to you but I don't know how

I said maybe, you're gonna be the one that saves me And after all, you're my wonderwall

I said maybe, you're gonna be the one that saves me And after all, you're my wonderwall

I said maybe, you're gonna be the one that saves me you're gonna be the one that saves me you're gonna be the one that saves me

It was comfortably silent in the room as she strummed the last few notes and Steve could see her fingers shaking against the strings.  Slowly, he reached over and wrapped his fingers around the neck of the guitar and pulled it gently away from her.  Ari’s eyes shot open and met his, a gentle smile coming to his lips at the vulnerability he saw.  Steve didn’t break eye contact as he set the instrument down to his left and slid to the floor on his knees.  His hands rested on the padded surface beside her thighs, not touching but ready to move in an instant if he felt any sort of alarm or resistance from the beautiful woman in front of him.  

He brought his hands up to cup her face, resting them gently on either side as if he held the most precious thing in the world.  Her pulse raced under his hands and he smiled, his thumbs feathering back and forth over her cheeks.

“Breathe sweetheart. I’m not sure I can handle it if you pass out on me.”  Ari gave a wavering laugh at his levity and took a deep breath, her eyes closing as he held her.  She felt his breath wash across her lips before he lightly skimmed his mouth across hers.  

First kisses were always special, at least hers had been.  This one though, was soft, sweet and short circuited her brain.  Every pass of his soft lips on hers, he increased the pressure slightly, sending her heart flying.  Her hands came up to rest on his forearms earning a hum from the sweet man who was kneeling in front of her.  

Ari’s lips parted and Steve wasted no time deepening the kiss.  He was still gentle, but his tongue slid across her lips then dipped inside to find hers.  One of his hands left her face to wrap around her hip as he pulled his body into hers, chest to chest, and tilted his head to gain better access.  

Neither knew how long they became lost in one another but finally the urge to breathe won out and Steve pulled back.  Resting his forehead against hers they both fought to catch some air, hearts racing in their chests.  Both remained silent, Steve’s eyes sliding open as he pulled back from her.  When she finally met his gaze he smiled, his thumb rubbing over her cheek softly.

“Since you haven’t decked me yet I’m assuming that was ok.”

Throwing her head back, Ari let out a belly laugh at his words.  Steve’s grin deepened as the sound of her happiness made the pace of his heart pick up again.  Her hazel eyes met his as they crinkled with her humor and she leaned forward to place a kiss to his lips.  

“It was more than ok. It was wonderful.”  

“It’s about damn time.” The baritone voice from the hallway surprised them, causing Ari to yelp and move quickly towards Steve. Unprepared for both their audience and Ari’s reaction, Steve lost his balance and wrapped his arms around her waist as he tumbled backwards with an oomph.  

Neither one of them heard footsteps but suddenly Bucky’s dark head was over them, hands on his thighs as he grinned in their direction.  

“How long have you been there?”  Steve asked confused, still trying to wrap his brain around what just happened.  

“Don’t worry.  I wasn’t spying on you two.  I came to get a drink and well, you didn’t notice because you were slobbering all over each other.”  

“Buck!”  Steve admonished his friend while Ari hid her face in his chest and laughed.  

“I didn’t say there was anything wrong with it.  I’m glad you two finally figured it the fuck out.  It was exhausting and frankly nauseating watching you two make eyes at each other.”  Bucky’s words might have been harsh but the smile on his face spoke volumes.  He was genuinely happy for his friends and glad he was the one that caught them, not Tony or one of the others.  “Imma go get my drink and leave you kids alone.”  With a salacious wiggle of his brows, Bucky turned to go into the kitchen while Ari and Steve stayed right where they were.  

Steve felt contentment wash over him, as Ari’s palm rested on his chest and her head settled on his shoulder.  He reached up to wrap her hand in his and felt sure that the smile on his face was going to be permanent.  The smile was gone with Bucky’s next words.

“You two might want to skedaddle in case one of the others come in here.  They won’t be quite so nice about finding you two in a compromising position as I am.”  As he was leaving the room he heard Steve’s snort and Ari’s giggle and found himself smiling almost as big as Steve had been just moments before.  It was good to see his friends happy, now he had to go and find Sam to tell him the good news.

 Thanks for reading!  

[aliceslantern]

Retribution, a Kingdom Hearts fanfic, chapter 3

Newly a person again, Ienzo is weighed down by guilt and his humanity. He's prepared to do whatever it takes to atone... only to find unexpected solace in a familiar face. With more insight into the bonds between people than ever before, Ienzo reaches for a dangerous element from the past to help Kairi and Riku in their search for Sora. What is his life if it means saving another, brighter light?

Chapter summary:  Ienzo has an unexpectedly insightful interaction with Demyx, only to fall ill.

Read it on FF.net/on AO3

---

After another fifteen hour day of getting nothing accomplished, of feeling Even and Ansem silently seething at one another… Ienzo walked. He needed some peace, some time to decompress. Perhaps he should take up meditating. He did so miss Zexion’s ability to simply push away negative thoughts.

Negative emotion is natural. Then why can’t you deal with it, Even?

It might have been years since he lived at this castle, but the muscle memory was intense; he took himself to one of his favorite childhood haunts without quite realizing. The crystal greenhouse had been abandoned and emptied even when he was a boy, forgotten in staff changeovers by the groundskeepers. When he needed to escape the others’ wittering over him, easier to come here than to hide in the library, because there they knew to find him. At one point he’d had it rather nicely tricked out, squirreling away blankets and pillows, favorite storybooks, the odd toy he’d found or been given. Just to sit in silence for a time might be enough.

But when he got there, to his surprise and indignation, someone was already there. A faint flush of rage brought the blood to his face. An enormous castle and my one space is desecrated. I suppose this is karma, isn’t it? Out of curiosity, or, he figured, apprehension, he took a few more steps towards the shed, trying to keep his tread light. (Ienzo was also much clumsier than Zexion. This made absolutely no sense to him--perhaps a defect in the inner ear post recompletion?)

It clicked, and he wasn’t sure if his irritation worsened or lessened. He could hear the soft, light, unique sound of Demyx’s sitar.

Some force seemed determined to shunt them into the same room. Why? And was it worth investigating?

He knocked on the closed crystal door. It needed a good cleaning, like everything else here. He couldn’t see clearly, just Demyx’s shape, the way he started a little at the unexpected intrusion. “It’s Ienzo,” he said. Always weird to hear that name, to say it. “Sorry to frighten you.”

Demyx stood and opened the door. He seemed loath to meet Ienzo’s eyes, his energy immediately and noticeably lower than it usually was. “How’d you find me?”

“Believe it or not--this used to be my childhood hideout.”

He considered this. “All that stuff was yours, then,” he said. He laughed a little. “Figured it was some gardener’s kid.”

“Out of curiosity--what did you do with it?”

He shrugged. “A lot of the books were waterlogged, the blankets and stuff moldy or eaten by bugs and stuff. I had to toss it. I’d say come in--but this is more your space than mine, right?” He turned away from Ienzo, settling back down onto a tasseled cushion. Arpeggio sat idly, nakedly, between them. He rested his hands on his knees.

Ienzo took it all in slowly. Demyx had left some things here too; a succulent, a lantern, a few books of staff paper, some more cushions, a threadbare rug covering the cold stone floor. He realized that he must have been coming here for some time.

“Sit down, if you want,” he said, in that same tired voice. “Might as well, if you came all the way over.”

Ienzo did so. The cushion was lumpy, but his feet were glad for the relief. “Why here?” he asked. “Out of all the places you could go? I’m… curious.” Ienzo noticed his eyes for the first time; namely, that they were red, damp, a bit swollen.

“Well… mostly, to find somewhere I could practice in peace,” he said. “Dilan told me off. Said he could hear me through the walls--the guy must have the best hearing alive. The stone is so thick. Anyway, I… started looking. Not much of anything better to do, and… exploring this place gave me something to look forward to. I saw this place, the stuff. So I sat down. Turns out crystal has pretty good acoustics. Listen.” He reached over and plucked one open string; Ienzo heard the sound ring cleanly in the small space. “And that was that. You could… have it back.”

He shook his head. “That’s not necessary. Why am I entitled to things after a long absence?”

Demyx shrugged.

He was almost loath to ask it, but then he thought of what Kairi said over their tea. “Are you… alright? You don’t seem yourself.”

“Kinda too tired to put on the happy-go-lucky act. Sorry.”

This only confirmed Ienzo’s suspicions. “So it’s an act. All of it?”

Demyx looked vaguely caught. “I guess… some of it must be me, for it to have been here so long. But lately things have gotten… harder. For no reason.” He wrinkled his nose. “Finding that energy to be who I was is… a lot. Especially after a long day of work.”

“Who are you now?”

A smirk. “I could say the same. If this happened this months ago, me in your space, you would have dropped some very choice dry insults and tattled on me to Saïx or Xemnas. Now you’re just sitting here talking to me.”

Ienzo felt something unraveling. Demyx knew all too well his identity crisis. Unlike Even, or Dilan, or Aeleus, they didn’t have the benefit of being alive until adulthood prior to becoming Nobodies. Demyx’s tenure might have been less than half of his, his misdeeds not nearly as egregious, but he could still relate. “Being Ienzo… is…” He didn’t want to get personal, but the words threatened like vomit.

“Being a person is a fucking nightmare,” Demyx said simply.

He actually laughed--not a chuckle, but a hard laugh. “Right you are.”

He smiled a little, the dullness retreating just a touch. “My feelings seem too big for my body,” he admitted. “At least I still have Arpeggio, so I can try and play them. But I’m not used to being a wreck.”

“What is it you feel?”

He raised an eyebrow.

“I really want to know. I wonder if our experiences might be… similar.”

He let out a long breath. “Honestly? I’m mad. I’m so angry.”

The last thing Ienzo expected. “At whom?”

He spread his hands. “Myself, mostly.”

Despite himself, he was fascinated. This was the first time he’d had any insight into Demyx’s mind--and it was a vastly different place than he’d expected. “Why?”

“Why--” He took a deep breath. “Any--any number of reasons, okay? Like. First of all, why did I just--do what I was told, in the Organization?”

“When you weren’t slacking off, you mean,” Ienzo said.

“You know what I mean,” he continued. “Why did I let him convince me to do all those awful things? Why didn’t I care? I could’ve just run away, and I… didn’t. That guy. All the shit he did, and he just gets to up and die without paying for any of it.” His voice rose and fell as he spoke.

“I’m mad at myself too,” Ienzo said softly.

“Looks like we actually have something in common,” Demyx said dryly.

“I… suppose we do.” He shifted his weight a little.

“And it’s just like… now what? I’m here. I’m alive. Does that mean anything? Is this just the fucking chaos of the universe?”

“I know I seek to… pay for what I did, as you so put it.” How odd he felt, confessing this. “I need to help people, however I can.”

“Is that what you want to do?”

Another question that threatened to gut him. “What I want doesn’t matter.”

He cocked his head. “Why not?”

“Well, frankly, after all the people I indirectly killed, seeking pleasure or fulfillment is completely mastubatory.”

He raised an eyebrow. “So being miserable all your life is going to make up for that? Thought you were smarter, Zo.”

Ienzo scowled. “As if you would understand the depravity.”

He flushed. “Why wouldn’t I? I made worlds fall too, you know. They don’t all become Heartless. And the ones that came back, were reborn, are going to be dealing with PTSD out the ass forever. Being miserable is like pissing on their graves.”

“So what, we live for them?”

“Sure as hell don’t make it all be in vain.”

“And how do you propose we do that?”

“I don’t know. I don’t know, okay? I’m still trying to figure out how not to cry at complete random.”

There was a tension in here too, elastic. Ienzo felt oddly exposed; vulnerable, he realized. They were both breathing hard, but he suspected they weren’t angry at each other.

“I can’t--understand all these highfalutin ideas you all spit out. I only know that for whatever reason I’m alive, so I’m going to live as hard as I can.” He dropped his eyes. “And if I can do good stuff, then all the better.”

“...I see your vocabulary has improved since you’ve been here.”

Demyx shrugged. “Got to. For survival.”

“If it… helps,” he said, “I know the restoration committee is always looking for extra pairs of hands. You’re already familiar in the town, given your work. That’s as good an inroads to helping people as any. Should my trials with Sora ever end… I may decide to follow suit. I’m educated. The least I could do is put that to use.” Should he survive the process.

They were both deflated now, exhausted. Demyx nodded once. Then, after a long moment, “Do you ever think about what we missed?”

“Beg pardon?”

“Our lives. What they might have been like without the Organization.”

“A masochistic thought experiment.”

“Maybe, but…” He bit his lip. “It’s also part of why I’m so mad. We could’ve just been guys. Had friends, gone to school, the whole nine yards. Hell, maybe we could’ve really been friends.”

Ienzo raised an eyebrow. “I… am not sure if I can withstand thinking about it.” It was a naked admission, one that made him feel that way.

Demyx canted his head again. “Oh? Why not?”

“It would mean writing off the majority of my life.”

He considered this. “How long were you a Nobody?”

He chuckled a little, darkly. “Twelve years.”

Demyx was quiet for a beat. Then, “Holy shit. Wait, wait, wait.” He spread his hands. “That means you were--when you became--you were eight ?”

“...Congratulations. You can do basic math.”

“How? I mean--well I guess I know how, but--” He seemed genuinely shocked. “Who would do that to a fucking kid? And--what happened to make you so strong willed?”

Ienzo bristled. He’d clearly said too much. Yet at the same time, this validation was… sweet? So why was he feeling moisture in his eyes?

“Didn’t the apprentices… willingly cast off hearts, or whatever?”

“I didn’t.”

He pursed his lips. “Oh,” he said, very softly. “Oh, Ienzo. I’m so…”

The lump in his throat tightened. “I don’t want your pity.”

“I don’t pity you. I’m angry at how royally fucked over you were. First Ansem… now this…”

He tried to blink it back. The last thing he expected was a conversation with Demyx to unravel him so. Didn’t expect him to listen , much less care. It was something he’d put off dealing with for too long--and now it was coming at him, ready or not.

This was going to hurt.

Ienzo felt oddly paralyzed, fixed to the spot. He should have gotten up, hid himself away, before this breakdown began in earnest. It was like all his energy was devoted to trying to hold it back, especially after such a long, long, frustrating day. He wanted to ask Demyx to leave him, let him make a disgrace of himself in peace. But the only noise that left him was a sob.

“Ienzo…”

Humiliation and pain washed through in in equal portions. He pressed his face against his hands. The tears seemed almost involuntary.

“It hurts more if you fight it,” Demyx said softly. “Believe me. Been there, done that.”

This, if anything, only broke him further. Such a bizarre thing, to fall apart so heavily and completely, shards of himself twisting painfully within. Guilt, anger, self-loathing, and sadness; emotions long staved off. He could no longer tread the tide and was pulled rather abruptly under.

Ienzo felt a hand on his back, the touch unexpected but not unwelcome. It felt so odd to cry, more than his panic-induced tears. Like he was not quite in his body but all too embodied. He found himself relying on the presence of Demyx’s hand, clinging to that tenuous connection. The boy rubbed smooth circles in an attempt to soothe him.

He wasn’t sure how long it took for it to stop. All he knew was that he had a rather awful sinus headache, and he was empty, weirdly numb, but the numbness was not as desirable as he’d thought. “I’m sorry,” he said. He sounded terrible, and the humiliation invaded. It would’ve felt bad enough to have this happen on his own, much less in front of anyone else, much less Demyx. “This is mortifying.”

“It’s okay,” he said. “All things considered I think you earned a good cry.” He handed him a handkerchief. “Here.”

At least it was clean, Ienzo noted. He patted at his raw eyes. He was feeling dizzy again. “Please do not mention this again.”

“Cross my heart and hope to die.”

Shakily, Ienzo locked eyes with him. “I suppose now you know truly how much of a disaster I am.”

He pursed his lips. “What do you think I was doing before you came here? We’re all a goddamn mess, Zo.”

“I guess that is true.”

Demyx stood and offered Ienzo his hands. They were rough to the touch, callused and work-hardened. Against his own soft skin, it was somewhat disquieting to hold, though why? He certainly hadn’t felt that way when Riku touched him. Perhaps he was just feeling unacceptably raw. Demyx helped him to his feet, made Arpeggio vanish. “Let’s get some sleep,” he said.

And Ienzo did sleep that night, though not so well, jerked awake by odd memories of the time before--walking towards Ansem’s quarters, a large tome in his arms, Xehanort holding one of his hands. The discordance between the taste of ice cream and darkness in the basement lab.  People screaming, begging for help, or mercy. Part of him had shut down, true, but part of him felt pleasure at making them this way-- “transforming” them for the sake of “the greater good.” Was it the positive attention he’d received, seeking the replace the love he’d lost from his parents, from the disappearance of Ansem? Was he simply evil to the core?

Ienzo sat up, nausea curdling his stomach. Very slowly, he went over to the bathroom, knelt over the toilet, and pulled back his hair. By the time he’d finished getting sick he feared he was dissociating, the world seeming a bit vague, a bit mottled, as though he were looking through a veil. He bumped into things, dropped his papers everywhere.

You don’t deserve to fall apart. Get it together. Kairi needs your help.

“...Ienzo?”

His head snapped up. Aeleus was in his guard uniform, ready to begin an endless round. “Aeleus,” he said in what he hoped was a neutral voice. “Good day.”

“You’re off to work, then?”

“Yes. As are you.” He stood, flinching at a crick in his back. Ienzo was fairly sure he felt less bitter towards Aeleus than the rest--even in the Organization days, the man had tried to protect him. Ienzo had no idea how involved Aeleus was in the plot to dispose of Ansem. He wasn’t sure if he wanted to know. “I hope you are well?”

“Enough, I suppose. Physically healthy. That’s all I can ask for.” The man’s face was so stoic. Did he feel as Ienzo did, all of these overwhelming emotions? He almost wanted to ask. At least, until Aeleus added, “You, on the other hand, look positively green. Are you ill?”

“Perhaps it is this poor lighting?” Ienzo suggested.

Something flickered in his blue eyes. “You mustn’t work if you’re unwell,” he said. “Always a bad habit of yours.”

Ienzo did not feel a swell of indignation, as he thought, but rather something like teariness. This man betrayed you , he made himself think. “Is it not curious how much poorer the human body is?” he said instead. “Some longed for humanity… to me it feels something like a great weakness. I wonder if you agree.”

Aeleus considered this. “It’s as though… I’ve lost parts of myself, but yet also gained parts of myself, if that makes sense.”

He sighed. “Well, on a literal level, you have.”

“I’m aware of the… uniqueness of your situation.”

He chuckled. “Interesting word choice.”

Aeleus cracked the slightest, smallest smile. Ienzo found himself missing their easy rapport, the way Aeleus never drove him into crazy spirals of thought as the others often did. He listened, he considered, he said what he meant. “You will come back from this, and be better than ever,” Aeleus said. “Unlike the rest of us… you have your entire life.”

���You’re merely middle aged--not old.”

“I find it… difficult, to grow.”

He was startled into honesty. “I… do as well.”

“This is our burden to bear… so to speak. At least we are all here, doing good things, and we have time.”

Did they? The longer Ienzo spent faffing about, the farther Sora could be slipping away… into darkness, perhaps, a darkness partially of his own creation--

(Basement screams, bodies dissolving--)

Ienzo heaved, and while he was not ill, the reaction was indeed very visible.

Aeleus took him by the elbow. "You need to get back to bed."

"I'll be fine--"

"Perhaps you can convince Even and Ansem with such faffery, but I won't stand for it. Come." He was significantly stronger than Ienzo; he could not fight the grip.

Ienzo knew he himself was not a small man, but compared to Aeleus he felt again a child. He shuddered, blinking back the sting of humiliation. "What do you propose I say, then?"

"That you are sick and cannot work."

Ienzo shook his head wearily. Which was worse; riding this out, or telling Aeleus he was not--physically, at least--ill? Each seemed equally emasculating.

Aeleus brought him back to his bedroom. "Change into something comfortable and lay down. I'll bring you something to settle your stomach."

Why did he listen? What would Aeleus do if Ienzo disobeyed him? The man had never raised a finger towards him, nor his voice; if Ienzo didn't do as he said, he'd likely only be disappointed.

How odd, to wear pajamas so late into the morning. He perched on the lip of his bed and rested his cheek on his knee. Before long, the door opened, and he was handed a mug which smelled of ginger. "I've made you late," Ienzo said.

"Dilan can handle it, I think."

He was shaking. Why? Was he truly ill, or was this yet more bizarre emotion?

Aeleus took off his glove and rested a large palm against Ienzo's forehead. "You are quite warm," he said, with a shake of the head. "Please tell me you won't run off the moment I turn my back."

He'd been planning on it, but instead he said, "Perhaps I will… work from here?"

He sighed heavily. "A compromise is better than nothing, I guess."

Ienzo sipped the tea. It warmed him, soothed the anxious ache in his breast. "You needn't stop for me," he said. "Thank you."

The barest flicker of a smile. "You may be grown now… but everyone needs to be cared for sometime. It is human."

"Is it?" He said, to himself.

A nod. "Quite. Get some rest. I'll check on you."

Ienzo drank down the rest of the tea. How odd, to be cared for. He bit his lip. He took out his tablet, with the intent to provide remote support… but found himself drifting.

---

The hand on his forehead was cold this time, not warm, and he started. "Sorry, child."

Ienzo blinked disjointedly, his vision blurry. "Even? What are you doing here?"

He cocked his head. "You're sick and I'm a doctor. I thought you'd understand as much."

He ignored the barb. "Kairi--"

"Is well and asleep. Ansem is working with her now. The fool is coding something again." A sigh. "Your temperature is back to normal. Must've been one of those short-term bugs."

Or intense anxiety, Ienzo thought, well aware that the symptoms were the same. "I see… I must apologize."

"Had you come down you could've given it to all of us-- including the girl. How do you feel now?"

He tried to curl his lips around the expected "fine" but instead said, "a little woozy."

"Could be dehydration. Or low blood sugar. Is your stomach settled enough to eat?" His tone lacked the stubbornness, the roughness Ienzo was used to from Vexen. Like that flicker of compassion he'd seen before. "Maybe some rice?"

"...Maybe…"

Even squeezed his shoulder gently. "It's alright, Ienzo. To be human… is to sometimes be ill." He sighed, then wrinkled his nose. "I've no doubt Demyx carried it in with him, and this place is a veritable vacuum."

"In an odd way… this is nostalgic."

He cocked his head. "You were of quite a delicate countenance, I admit. Though we never did teach you to take adequate care of yourself. Our bodies are not mere vessels--having been one, I can say it's a highly unpleasant experience." He sneered.

Ienzo instead looked at the buttons of Even's jacket when he said, "do you ever miss it?"

"What? That nightmare we got out of?"

He nodded.

"I'd like to be actualized enough to say… of course not." He pinched the bridge of his nose. "Yet… the challenges of this new life… are not to be underestimated. Are we not fools, if we do not rise up?" A tired sigh. "I do believe Ansem's waffling is getting to me. This is science--not philosophy."

"Perhaps a heart is one and the same," Ienzo mumbled. “It is more nebulous than we can ever hope to understand with logic.” Perhaps, then, with the intangible, with magic.

He chuckled; an odd, staccato sound, rarely heard. “Yes, but should I give up now, I’d be turning my back on close to thirty years of my career--and I’m loath to do so.”

Ienzo smiled. This was the first easy (in a manner of speaking) interaction he’d had with Even in weeks.

“What of you?”

He frowned. “You mean do I miss it?”

“Too sensitive a question?”

Ienzo rolled onto his back to look at the ceiling. “I miss the feeling of… stability, of concrete drive,” he said slowly. “Mostly the stability. I’m not sure if… well, I’m not sure if it were merely me, but… you know… All of that anxiety I had as a child… the trauma that came from my parents’ passing… it was gone. I could merely… be .”

Even put a hand to his chin. “That is very interesting… perhaps Nobodies’ minds not only reject the idea of a conscience, but also mental illness.” A pause, then. “Do you feel anxious now?”

Ienzo wanted to raise his hackles and snap or deflect. But he’d already opened himself this much. “Almost pathologically so,” he admitted. “I find it difficult to sleep as well.”

Something in Even shifted, away from the personal and more towards the clinical. “How often have you been feeling this way? Does it ever escalate into attacks?”

He exhaled. This was why he hadn’t said anything earlier; he didn’t want to get into it. “It is quite constant,” he said in a low voice. “Though I only ever panic when I wake from a nightmare.”

“Unfortunately nightmares are to be expected, all we’ve gone through.” A heavy sigh. “I’m hoping that… perhaps once you are used to humanity again, the anxiety will lessen. But you did have it quite intensely as a child. It may be… something to brace yourself for.”

Ienzo’s stomach was feeling sour again.

“I could give you medication,” he said. “Something to help metabolize all that excess stress. Is that something you want?”

He was plunged again into his ever-present well of shame. “A sign I simply can’t take the strain? The… weight of my own humanity?”

Even scowled. “Don’t be dramatic, boy,” he said. From “Ienzo, child” to  “boy,” he thought. “You were a Nobody twelve years--you can’t simply switch back and expect there to be no repercussions. Why be needlessly in pain?”

Ienzo bit his lip.

“A stupid way to repent, if I do say so myself. Suffering… ” He scoffed. “Suffering now will not negate what happened, Ienzo.”

Demyx had said much the same thing. And these two were such opposite personalities. Perhaps that meant they were right?

Even squeezed his hand. The touch was unexpected. “I won’t make the decision for you, Ienzo, but please consider it. A lack of anxiety may give you a clearer head. May make it easier for you to… not only work, but live. It’s purely medical. ”

As if Even had ever been the expert in psychology. “...Quite.”

He shook his head; he knew the conversation was over. “I’ll bring you some rice.”

[maybe-madej]

11 questions

i was tagged by @grandpaistoo and @yaboybergara  💖

RULES

1. always post the rules

2. answer the questions given by the person who tagged you

3. write 11 questions of your own

4. tag 11 people you want to get to know better

(i’m shy i’m just gonna answer the questions)

—

from grandpaistoo:

1) if you were to give a ted talk what would it be about?

i’d preach the psychological benefits of vocal exercises, then i’d get everyone in the room to scream with me

2) how many languages do you speak?

three: english, french and german

3) what was the best thing that happened to you today?

i had some really great coffee

4) how’s the weather where you are?

summer’s been over for a few weeks here and it’s cold, grey and rainy

5) what’s your favorite smell?

rosemary

6) if you were a popcorn flavor, what flavor would you be and why?

one of those salt and sugar mixed bags? every mouthful is a surprise and somehow also underwhelming

7) on a scale of 1 (everything is chaos) to 10 (i have planned out my underwear for the next 15 years), how organized are you?

when i was in school/uni i was a strong 8.5 and always kept on top of everything, but since i graduated? maybe a 2, idk what i’m doing in any capacity at the moment

8) favorite punctuation mark?

love a good comma

9) pancakes or waffles, and why?

i feel like whatever americans mean when they talk about waffles is something i’ve never actually experienced, so i’m gonna go with pancakes by default

10) what’s your favorite gif?

11) are you a loud sneezer?

i actively try to sneeze as quietly as possible

—

from yaboybergara:

1) How many pets have you had in your life?

three fish (kuzco, naboo and tim), one cat (polly), and a dog (susie), all since passed away, but my sister does have a hedgehog she brings home with her when she visits and i love him like a nephew

2) Do you believe in destiny? Why?

i do, i’m a spiritual person, it’s comforting to me to think that at least a few key moments of my life are set in stone even when i feel like i’m going nowhere

3) If you could chose one person on the great beyond, would you take the chance to talk to them?

as strange as it seems, there’s no one i’m desperate to talk to? i’ve never been the kind of person who wants to meet their heroes and i’m not sure i particularly want to know what my late relatives think of my life choices rn

4) From all your hobbies, which one would you love to make a living of?

strange to admit this is even a hobby, but i love editing people’s writing

5) What’s your favorite color palette to wear?

dark greens, blues and purples

6) What’s your opinion on queerbaiting?

it’s exhausting and these days i basically don’t even engage with films or shows that bring those vibes, especially if it ends in bury your gays, they’re not worth my money or my time

7) Is there a language you would love to speak?

i’ve wanted to learn gaelic all my life, i’ve been singing folk songs since i was a kid and i still have no idea what most of them even mean

8) Do you have, like, a dream so wild you think it’s impossible?

i’d like a wife and a dog and home in the hebrides, but all of that seems pretty outlandish right now

9) How many AUs of your own life do you have in your head?

oh boy, hundreds probably? every time i read a new book or watch a new show my brain sprouts another one

10) If you were to meet your younger self, do you think they would think you cool or not?

i think very religious younger me would be baffled by everything that i am but yeah, i like to believe she’d also think to herself that i’m pretty cool

11) Not a question, but please add something positive about yourself, something that you love about you.

i’m very thorough and when my mind is set on completing something i can be kinda unstoppable

[rainbowcolouredstudies]

How to get out of a phase of depression/burnout after studying too much

So I got an ask about this recently and I thought I would turn my answer into an organized post for y´all!

What I am talking about

I am not talking about chronical depression or a full-blown burnout diagnosed by a professional. In these cases, please get help from a professional and not on tumblr.

I am talking about working really hard all the time and then suddenly being exhausted all the time. Your motivation is gone, you are tired all the time, you feel like shit and your emotions, your mental health, goes down the drain as well as your physical health. But you have to get out of it because you still have to learn so much, you have finals very soon, a portfolio to finish, whatever. You cannot stop studying for a longer period of time now, but taking a day of simply does not help either. This is the situation I am talking about here and here is what I personally find helpful:

What not to do

Do nothing that harms you in any way. Self-harm is obvious but what I mostly mean is, do not force yourself to study if you feel really depressed. Do not work the whole night, do not skip hours of sleep, don´t start drinking large amounts of coffee just to be awake and being able to focus. (Huge amount of coffee actually can harm your stomach and heart permanently so please always be careful with that!) Don´t forget to eat regularly and at least kinda healthy (you can eat sweets and you don´t have to eat mostly fruit and vegetable and nuts, but don´t eat only junk food), don´t forget to go outside, move around. If you can do sports that would be the best, but if not, go for a walk. Don´t start laying or sitting around all day.

What you should do

Basically you have to leave this phase of depression behind you. This can be really tough and everyone needs different things to manage it, but over time you will figure out what helps you.

You have to start with little steps, you can´t just leap forward back into being hyper-productive. It won´t work and if it does, only for very short and afterwards you conditions will be worse.

I personally feel like there are three phases when recovering from these feelings:

Phase 1

Basics: Consciously decide that you now take some time for yourself. Don´t make any plans regarding studying. Here are some suggestions what you can do to start feeling better. You can do all of them as little first steps, or you can choose one of them or some of them and if that was effective, go on phase 2.

If you have missed a lot of sleep during the last weeks, sleep for as long as you can. Chose a day when you don´t have to get up at a certain hour, and don´t set an alarm. When your mind tells you to get up and work, but you still feel tired, keep sleeping. If you can´t sleep anymore, lay in bed, try to turn off all your thoughts and soon your body will win over your mind and you will sleep on. Really take the concious decision that it is ok for you to sleep as long as you need that day, or you´ll feel guilty and stressed and it wouldn´t help.

If you like music, and have the possibilty, go to a concert you like. Let yourself fall into the music, the lyrics, the beat. Scream and sing from the top of your lungs, jump and dance, forget about everything else, cry till you have no more tears, laugh till your body hurts. Experience yourself, the event and the emotions to the fullest. It will have a cleansing effect on you and you will feel so much better afterwards. (Of course this might be impossible to do that spontaneous, but you can book a concert ahead of time next time. Chose one that is during a stressful phase and really force yourself to go there. If you like concerts, you will not regret it, despite the loss of studying time.)

If you can´t go to a concert, or you don´t like them, but music and the lyrics mean a lot to you. In this case you surely know an artist, an album, a playlist, with songs that help you. That make you think opitmistic, that pick you up when you are down, that make you dance or at least want to move. (I don´t know about your music taste but for me The Cruxshadows are simpy the best in these situations (but only their new stuff)!) If you know the lyrics, sing to them. If you feel way too down to identify with the positivity of the songs, but you once did identify with them, force yourself to listen to them anyways. Sing along, as much as you can. If you don´t know the lyrics, listen to the songs on repeat, move to them, dance. You might feel like they don´t work because this world of positivity and light and hope and happiness is far away from your own world, but your subconscious will register them, and they will start to work in your subconscious. It may take time till you notice it, but it does work.

One important question is, if you still feel emotions? I´ve experienced two kinds of depression in such situation, one where I could cry all day and about everything, and one where I feel nothing at all. Another tip with music for both cases

 a) constant despair, panick, crying all the time: Of course under the assumption that you love music and that lyrics or songs can help you in hard times. Sort your bands/songs into three kinds: 

Sad, total despair, perfect for crying and being down and depressed.

Not really positive, but also not really negative. They are not really optimistic but there is some hope in the lyrics, or something that gives you a bit hope.

Optimistic lyrics, with lots of hope and light and happiness and positivity in them. 

Now start with number 1. Cry all your tears out, but make sure you know why you are crying. Think about what makes you cry. Is it the stress? Is it fear of not passing your finals? Is it something else that tears you down? Focus on these thoughts and cry until you don´t feel the need to cry anymore. Get up, wash your phase, chose songs from number 2. Search for songs that feel right in that moment. Search for songs that give you the feeling it can slowly get better. Listen to then, for hours, maybe days. Let the songs slowly be more and more optimistic,  but don´t overwhelm yourself because then you might feel you can never reach your goal. Once you feel like it, listen to number 3. Do this as much as you can. Now, this suggestion may take some days time so I would advise you to use one day for step 1, after you stopped crying use the time for yourself, don´t force yourself to study. Just make sure you are listening to bands from step 2. Starting with the next day, try to slowly start studying again during step 2 and 3.

b) In case you don´t feel anything at all: You have to start feeling again. WITH THAT I DON`T MEAN YOU SHOULD HARM YOURSELF. Just to make this clear: this is NOT the right way to start feeling again. But there are two healthier ways to start feeling emotions again:

You can try to trigger sadness and despair with songs from number 1. Find a song that truely breaks your heart. Or a movie, a book. It may sound brutal but it can really help you out of this apahty and tiredness. Then do the same as described about, let out all the emotions and then go to number 2 and 3.

Or you can try to trigger happiness and hope (which is way harder but it can work): Look at pics of your greatest memories, remind yourself of something beautiful in life. Watch your favorite music video, hug a loved one, stroke a pet. Just try to get a happy emotion.

If music is not so much for you, try something more physical. Go for a walk, do some sports, like yoga or running or whatever feels good to you. Make sure you are not to hard on yourself, your goal is not to work out really hard, loose weight, build muscles. Your goal is to get in touch with your body again. Start with short work outs and stop before you are totally exhausted.

Go out in nature and experience everything totally conscious. Breath in the air and feel how it fills your lungs. Breath out and focus on the feeling of the air leaving your lungs. Try different breathing rhythms, deep and long breaths, short and shallow, till you can really focus on your breathing. Feel the ground beneath your feet, the asphalt beneath your shoes, or the grass, stones, earth, moss. If possible, go into a forest or somewhere else calm and natural. Listen to the sounds of nature, focus on them. Listen to birds sing, or to a stream, to the wind, to the sounds of footsteps in snow, or the sound of leaves in a soft wind. Focus on them. It may make you cry or sentimental, but it will also help you. Touch as much as you can, grass, leaves, bark, cold water, snow, ice. Focus on the sentation, the texture of what you are touching, the feeling it leaves behind on your skin once you break contact.

Do something creative. I don´t mean you should decorate your bujo! This work related again and therefore the wrong thing. Draw, write, play an instrument. Not with the goal to be good, but with the goal to relax, turn off your thoughts, focus on the process of creating and that process alone.

Eat avocados. May sound weird, but they help against depression.

Drink green tea. It wakes you up and brightens your mood. But you should never do only that, do it to support other steps you chose or it will just be a short-time solution.

Phase 2

Basics: So you feel a little bit better now, more in touch with yourself, a little more hopeful. You now want to start studying again but not to much and not to stressful. Go easy about it.

Break down what your tasks are. Write everything down, every little detail, no matter how soon or how late you need it. Everything you don´t need very very soon, like within a week, you put away for now. What is left is what you have to do soon.

Make a list till which day the tasks are due. Write every little task down. If they are big tasks, like “I have to learn 3 chapters of maths till Wednesday”, break the chapters down into smaller parts. Start doing small, short tasks that take you only some minutes. Afterwards, tick them off, cross them out, realize you actually got something important done. Take a break, do something for yourself, like listening to music, dancing, some sports, going for a walk, reading. Don´t take too long, but make sure to take these breaks.

Once you feel you´ve been productive, try to do bigger tasks, focus longer. Slowly increase the amount of work you do and don´t overwork yourself. Don´t stress, don´t skip meals, don´t work late into the night. Make sure you take of yourself or you soon will have a relapse again.

Phase 3

Basics: You want to go back to normal studying, with hours of productivity each day, but without having a relapse.

Face your long-time goals again, but this time, try another perspective. I don´t know that much about school systems from other countries, but in my country it is like that: if you fail a final, you can try again 3 or 4 months later, and you have 3 of 4 chances.

Realize that you don´t have to get only As. You don´t even need good grates, as long as they are positive, everything is great! Remember, your own health is more important than your grades and more important than your reputation at school. Don´t think about people that might me better than you, or a teacher that might be diasppointed in you, if you don´t get straight As. Focus on your own health. Even if you don´t pass all your finals…what do you loose? Some months. Some months of probably 80 years of life-time. Some months, in which you can study without stress, without harming your own health. Some months, that might actually benefit your mental in physical health, if you don´t put too much pressure on you. Just because you failed a final, does not mean you are a failure or you will fail in life, fail when you try again or fail other finals. Accept the possibility of failing and put it into perspective with life. It really is not that tragic,although it might seem to you that way.

Now go to work again with a whole different mindset. You hopefully now overcame this phase of depression, but you have to be careful or you might have a relapse soon. If you realize that you start feeling worse again, stop immediatelly with the preassure and take some time for yourself. Maybe go back to phase 2 or even 1 if you need to.

You now might be studying many hours a day again but there are still some things you should include in your every-day life:

Eat kinda healthy. Eat avocados (not every day of course, but regularly)

Listen to music that helps you.

Remember to take breaks and use these breaks for yourself. Not for studying with a friend, not for your bujo or organizing something.

Make sure you always stay in touch with your body and your feelings and emotions. Let fresh air in and breath it consciously.

Go for walks regularly. Being in nature or if you life in a city, even out of your school, house or flat can help a lot.

Do sports, yoga, stretches, or dance to music.

Go to bed at a reasonable time. Reasonable does not mean when your work is done, but when you need to to live healthy.

Don´t block out the people around you. Talk to friends, not about school but about other stuff. Talk to family, spend some time with them, even if its only a phone call.

Let noone stress or preassure you. Tell them to stop if they do, or don´t listen to them.

If others are further in the process of learning for a subject, don´t let this get to you. You don´t need to be as good as them at school, you don´t need straight As, and everyones learning process and pace is individual. Don´t compare yourself to others but focus on making process at your own pace.

Don´t forget to reward yourself for the work you´ve done. This can be your favorite sweets or favourite food, a good movie or a nice book. This could be meeting friends or maybe just some alone time.

Don´t forget to track your progess. Just because you are in phase 3 and more or less back to normal again does not mean you can´t break down your work into small pieces when writing them on your lists. You can do more several small tasks in a row, and then tick off quite a lot at once.

Realize what you got done when the day comes to an end. Don´t focus on what still needs to be done, but focus on your progress.

And most importantly, believe in yourself and that you can do it. I believe in you and you should too! ✨

Another thing you can do, but only if you think it could help you and if you are fully comfortable doing this, you can go to the teacher you trust most and talk to them. I actually did this in my last year of highschool and she helped me so much!

[acabloe]

Soon Goodbye, Now Love: chapter six

new ppl who r just seeing this it’s a guardian angel A/U

find all the parts here ☟

Ao3   ff.net

tw’s: swearing, mentions of depression and anxiety, loss of memory

still based on this song lol

here is the moodboard for ambience purposes if you’re that kind of kid

a/n: its been very long yada yada please just tell me if you want the next chapter because im stuck in au land, if you would prefer a Jane Austin au literally ill drop everything 

once the lights go out

Higher City, Angel Habitat/Complex - 2:45 AM

Half an hour post-transportation and five hours after Chloe’s accident.

Beca stumbled on her footing as she grasped around the edge of the doorframe, looking for a switch or a pull to shed light into the pitch-black space that expanded beyond the doors of her residence for the next who-knew-how-long.

Her neck whined in an aggravating crick from sitting hunched over Chloe’s bedside for so long and her mind was mushed from the weight of stress, overtiredness, excessive adrenaline usage and above all else, of course--grief. The only thing keeping her from collapsing on the ground in the doorway of this small concrete hallway and weeping herself to sleep was the sentence she continued to recite to herself repetitively under her breath: “Chloe’s alive, everyone’s safe, you’ll be okay.”

She far from even entertained the possibility that the last part was rest assured, but the act of mouthing it repetitively had a numbing effect on her currently fragile mental stamina.

After fumbling for a few seconds, she huffed in exasperation and gave up trying to find a switch. Sleep was the only thing she had the brains to carry out. Deliberation over everything else that had transpired in the past four hours would be performed when her brain was a just little further away from falling apart.

The man at the front desk of the grey building had given her a small but heavy and lumpy grey drawstring rucksack before dropping her off alone in the dingy hall of her new quarters. She set it down by her feet now, using it to prop open the thick black door to let as much light into the room as possible.

Hands outstretched, she shuffled inside and waited until her eyes adapted to the murky black interior. It took a few seconds but eventually the slight outlines of shapes faded into view and she finally spotted what she assumed was a thin standing-lamp in the corner. She stepped blindly towards it and jumped backwards a little when it suddenly flickered on, sensing her hand in the air a few inches before it.

The space was little more than a closet. Beca had little mind to care, too exhausted to be grumpy. Besides, it was pretty comfortable considering her own size. The walls and ceiling were simply white-washed cement and there was a foot by foot square to serve as a window at the farthest wall from the door, though it had little to no effect at this time of the night. She wondered briefly about the concept of daylight here and if there even was sun or moonlight. The sparse furniture was a bed, an old wooden sea-trunk, and a tiny porcelain sink in the corner. Beca placed her rucksack in the trunk and sank onto the stiff but not wholly uncomfortable pallet, lacking any sufficient drive in her to take anything off, including her shoes, or even get under the soft linen sheets. Her eyes fell shut and the relief of deep sleep ebbed impending in her mind’s eye.

Yet her head pounded and her heart still fluttered at a sickening pace under her ribs. She found it increasingly difficult to keep her eyes closed; the image of Chloe, pale and fragile in such a battered state after the accident, had etched itself clearly behind her eyelids. Her breathing was difficult to regulate (she was unsure if this was due to her thinking so deeply on the act of regulating it, or an actual physical anxious reaction) and the room was uncomfortably cold.

She brought her knees to her chest and hugged them tightly. Everything was gone. Everything she and those she loved had worked so hard to build from so little was over and erased without trace. She had trudged heavily from wholly miserable to the happiest she had ever been without ease and certainly not in good time. All of that happiness. Up and gone like passing something eye-catching for its possible beauty in the sand on the beach, but upon running back to find it, its existence is nothing more than imagined.

A distinct memory faded into view. It was more of a moving image (a gif, so to speak) than a memory, but she could hear distant and muffled voices as if she were standing outside the door of a closed cinema to a movie she wasn’t familiar with.

The image was of her and Chloe in their late teens resting under a filter of broken apricot sunset through a canopy of birch leaves shimmering above their heads. Chloe’s head rested on Beca’s shoulder as she ripped up the grass beneath her, spreading it over Beca’s legs like dirty confetti.

She didn’t remember the scene as such. She only knew that it felt real. And that it ached her chest and throat and burned her eyes with the threat of tears.

Now she could no longer withhold the prickling tears and shuddering sobs and resolved that if tiring herself out would be the only route she would be able to take towards a somewhat restful night, she would charge down its’ course at a thousand miles per hour, foot stomped on the gas pedal.

She stretched and bided in the memory as deeply as she could.

Her sobs reverberated softly in the small stone room.

Underneath this, a soft irregular ticking noise sounded from above and outside her window. She ignored it. As it got louder she recognized it to be rain, heavy and sheeted. This prodded her curiosity just enough; still shaking, she stood from the bed and wobbled over to the hand-sized window. Sure enough, though it was dark outside, blue light from a nearby pathway lamp lit up tiny cascading waterfalls down the thick pane.

“How fucking ironic,” she whispered.

-

Chloe called in sick the next day to work. She wasn’t positive why, she simply knew that the exasperation of her most mundane course of existence would eventually wear whatever mere being she had left into the shell of a personality akin to that of a tired old cat.

The events of the past two days had stirred in her a sort of awakening for what it felt like to experience happenstances outside of her citadel of repetitive routine and emotional hibernation. Though it was not the most merry or enjoyable topics to mull over, she found herself wrapped in reflection often and began finding a need to force herself not to dwell on it so much as not to overthink to the point of obsession.

The urge to constantly check in on her odd rescue-project was difficult to quash but necessary. Chloe reminded herself that her relationship was barely visible with this human being--all she had done was let her stay the night and drive her into the city. They had barely even conversed. Still, the event had shaken her, and she had little else to think about. She convinced herself to only inquire into Beca’s situation in two days time when she was sure Beca had become a little more settled. She was confident that Flo was good hands and that she would care for her guest appropriately, especially since now she would be living above the cafe.

Except that Chloe found a bracelet resting on the coffee table by her couch that wasn’t hers. So she kind of had to go back to the cafe. Kind of.

-

It had taken the entire remainder of the day and most of the next to finally situate Beca into a somewhat habitable situation. After Chloe had left, Flo closed up early and she and her new employee spent several hours behind the counter and in the bakery as she showed her the ropes. Beca was happy to see how surprised and pleased Flo was at Beca’s natural agility and skill around the oven and the baked goods. Flo easily taught her to bake the four most popular pastries, specific to her family’s recipes, and how to make four of the simplest drinks on the menu to start out, as well as her way around the cash register. As the day came to a close, they left the cafe to rush their way through several more monotonous but still critical errands like setting up both a bank account and a small, temporary mobile phone. They stopped at Flo’s apartment a few doors down from the cafe before calling it a night and Flo piled Beca’s arms with enough food to last for a week or so. The following morning, Beca set out on her own to blunder her way through a T.J.Maxx and a shopping center to find some clothes that were--well, some clothes. Once she returned to the cafe they worked a little past 6:00 which came oddly fast (her orientation of time and its passing were still muddled and the work at Flo’s came naturally to her.)

Succeeding the whirlwind of toil they had conducted over the past two days, Flo expeditiously suggested that a trip downtown was in order and after twenty minutes of walking briskly through the chill of the celebratory evening, the pair dropped into two rotating stools in a colorfully-lit bar home to some very happy and boisterous company. It had been so long since Beca had had any alcohol, so she ordered the most obnoxious drink on the menu and four jello shots to split between them.

“So, first real day back! How are you feeling?”

Beca sipped her syrupy cocktail and grimaced at the unaccustomed flavor of alcohol.  

“I don’t know. Everything’s kinda’ blurry right now, but my brain is sort of slacking off a little in the staying-awake-during-the-regular-daytime department. The time difference is so much more insane than when you swap from different time zones on earth ‘cause there are an extra four hours of daytime and an extra two of night. There aren’t sunsets either, the sky just goes black for a while which is actually really depressing.”

“Wait, so, do you have, like, powers or anything? Can you fly? You don’t have a halo, right?” Beca again decided to refrain from divulging her distressing ordeal concerning her glowing appendages. She had blissfully forgotten about that situation until Flo had mentioned powers, which threw her in a temporary whirlpool of apprehensive unease.

“Not really, and no, I can’t fly. I mean, I can kinda’ tell when something is wrong with whoever I’m guarding, and I can slow down time by a couple of seconds, but that takes so much energy and I can only use it in emergencies. And you know about bringing the memories back, but that’s only if the memories have been taken away by heaven. They mostly spent time training us how to deal with any situation; so like, CPR, difficult-situation negotiation tactics, advanced martial arts and stuff.”

“Oh. That is boring.”

“Yeah, kind of.” Beca sipped her drink again which was less foul the second round, but still jarring.

“So how does this-” She gesticulated vaguely at Beca’s body which she understood as metaphorical- “work anyways?”

“Oh, well after you die, you can request to be a guardian and they put you through this huge crash course for protecting a human. After training you’re assigned one person to guard on earth for their whole life, starting whenever heaven thinks that person needs the most guidance. Sometimes that means bumping into them and becoming best friends with them or marrying and growing old with them. Sometimes you never even meet them in person, just help them from afar. You do what heaven dictates is best for them, so no complicated attachments. When they die, your memory is replaced in the mind of everyone you’ve ever met as someone else, so no one will recognize you when you go back to earth and you get sent back to heaven and reverted to the age you died to start with another assignment. You can never, um, retire or whatever, and apparently you can only stop once you’ve worn out your brain. And then they, you, know, cease you ‘cause you’re no good to them anymore.”

“Shit.” Flo had sat through staring at the dark brick wall behind the bar with a blank expression enunciating her contemplation of what Beca had revealed.

“‘Shit’ is right. I guess it sounds kind of cool when I describe it, but when I thought I was actually going to have to do it for, like, thousands of years, I was really fuckin’ bummed, dude.”

“Understandable. But you hacked the heaven system, how does that work?”

“Yeah, hacked, or something. I don’t even know if they’ll be able to tell. They’re supposed to be able to connect with their angels but I severed that attachment when I changed my assignment. I think they-” Flo brought Beca’s expatiations to an abrupt halt, holding up her palm to signify silence and raising her phone to her ear, an apologetic glance tossed in Beca’ direction.

“Chloe! Hi! What’s up?” Speak of the devil. Beca squirmed a little on her stool at the sound of Chloe’s voice on the other end. She couldn’t quite make out what she was saying, but she didn’t sound particularly troubled. Even so...

“Oh, okay. We’re at a bar downtown right now…uh huh. Yeah, she is all settled, we finished a few hours ago.”

Flo removed her phone from her ear and hid it under her chin to bring her attention to Beca. “She says she has a bracelet of yours?”

“Oh, um. I guess? I don’t really remember having one but-”

“She says it is not hers.”

“No, Flo, I said it might be.”

“Okay...it is hers. You can drop it off at the café. Anything else?”

Beca seized Flo’s phone from her grasp. “Will you give us a sec’ Chloe?” She placed it on mute.

“Hey! What?!” Flo scrambled and stretched, trying desperately to reclaim her confused friend on the other end of the line, but Beca held it out of her reach, exasperated.

“Flo, why are you being like this?!”

Flo sighed heavily off of an exaggerated voiced inhale and rested her hands on Beca’s arm. Beca grew uncomfortable with the sudden sincerity in her voice.

“Okay, listen. Beca, I know you did not come back for the Bellas. I know you just came back for Chloe. I think you really need some time to adjust on earth before you do anything rash. I don’t think you should be getting too close to her and I think that you are idealizing your situation. Por el amor de Dios, Chloe doesn’t even know who you are! You need to slow your ass down, girl! We have the Bella reunion soon. You can wait that long at least.”

Beca chewed on her lip thoughtfully. This was the first vocal confirmation of what she had been refraining from thinking over fully past the whispered voice of reason behind a closet door barely ajar in the very recesses of her mind. For the thousandth time that day she swallowed the reflection of how careless and hasty her actions had been.

Beca had never dwelled so long and hard over someone or something as she had over Chloe whilst in heaven. Only her mother’s death came as remotely close a subject to how ruthlessly Beca obsessed (Obsess - used very much in the dictionary sense; not lightly. See also; beset, consume, haunt, etc.) over Chloe and her accident. Considering this, a complete and detailed plan would definitely make sense in this context; however, obsession to this point considers little factual influence in a non-idealized, material world. Hence, Beca’s rash behavior and her reactions to Chloe in palpable physical situations.

“Okay... maybe you’re right. I guess I was really weighing everything on Chloe liking me for me, and not all the stuff we shared in the past, you know? Sorry about not saying anything about it, and I really am so happy to see you. I love you so much. All of you. Please don’t think I didn’t come back for you guys. You mean everything to me, we’re family. I just, you know... Please schedule the reunion soon?”

“Yes. Fine, I will.” Beca slowly retracted her arm and placed the phone in Flo’s expectant (but now softened and more sympathetic) outstretched palm. She unmuted the call.

“Hi, Chloe, sorry about that, drunk asshole was bothering us. You can bring the bracelet to the reunion. By the way, do we have some dates for that yet? Aubrey should be here this month, right? Yes. No, uh-huh. Okay great, perfect, text the group-chat about it? Okay, bye!” She hung up and grinned at Beca. “Two weeks, as long as everyone is free!”

“Ugh, dude what am I gonna’ do in the meantime?”

“Well, I know that you only came back for-,” Beca threw her a glare and Flo surrendered, hands in the air. “Sorry, right, a couple reasons, and it is all you have got your heart set on, but you need to take a few steps back. I have to say Beca, you really didn’t plan this very well. You need to establish a solid base here because this is your life now. You may be an angel, but if you think about it, I am, like, definitely a saint for doing all this for you.”

Beca flipped her off and returned to wincing down the copious amounts of fluid she had spent an annoying amount of cash on.

“For real though, you’re right. And I really... appreciate everything you’re doing for me Flo, it means a lot.” Flo smiled and nodded.

-

Perhaps if Chloe hadn’t felt so out of place, she would have asked Flo to let her join the girls at the bar. But for some reason, something about the phone call and the whole situation whispered a sense of exclusion -- well intentioned or not, she couldn’t tell. She hadn’t felt this socially anxious in a while. Her mental health was not even anything she had thought about in depth for a few years and she had long ago passively accepted the concept that with age came dampened emotions, and that such was a perfectly natural sequence. If nothing would ever give her real pleasure again, so be it.

Another walk. Another achingly familiar song. Another foot in front of the other. Another fifteen minutes later and she stood in front of a deep, deep dark pond, rocky banks powdered with grey-blue frost. The water reflected with the perfection of a mirror the nothingness of the ashy sky.

Chloe now stared into this nothingness -- the sort of staring where everything at once is what those who are staring can see, but they aren’t looking, just seeing and thinking. She stood, leaning slightly in a gentle trance as she remembered the time she had dived into this same water. She had choked and snorted through her nose as she had come up for air and swallowed some accidentally. A friend on the bank had been slumped over in hysterics at her fruitless efforts to cease wheezing and laughing and coughing and yelling at her friend to stop. In her mind she imagined that it was Beca who sat beside the water giggling at her. Stupid and weird that you’d think of her, she thought, but she couldn’t properly remember who it had really been, and the image of Beca fit comfortably well in the situation.

She closed her eyes and settled deeper into the memory, in place but outside of time. In vein, she tried to remember who had actually been there to witness the moment. She couldn’t even remember when it had happened. This was not a memory she had thought about in...well, truthfully, she had completely forgotten about it since it had happened. The age of the memory prevented her from remembering details. Only present, was the sweet feeling of the moment, a honey-like residue, resting delicately in her conscious.

She was now fully trying to convince herself, however, that Beca had not been there. She finally shook her head as if to dislodge the memory and sharply inhaled cold air, opening her eyes to see, hunched over on the side of the banks with chin rested on knees, none other than the subject of her specious nostalgia. Chloe blinked several times and recognized the figure to be but a log, dark and rubbed to clump from weather and wear. Now freaking herself out she rose swiftly and promptly speed walked for her home, holding herself firmly from looking around for fear of misreading another inanimate object.

She wasn’t there, obviously she wasn’t there. Just someone who reminds me of her, or looks like her. Obviously.

[erid-search-history]

Baby blues Ch.5

Hey guys! chapter 5 is finally being posted after my lazy ass decided it needed to be done-

there are mentions of past child abuse and other issues similar to this, alchohol mention, and a small mention of toxic masculinity--

you have been warned that these subjects may come up. please be aware and take care of yourselves.

ok lil monsters, here ya go!

and happy late/ early thanksgiving to you all

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

This was a stupid idea, but it was also david’s, so she guesses that was to be expected. A baby shower on thanksgiving was ok she guessed, if it hadn’t of been for the fact that her parents showed up. David’s mom was also here, albeit spending most of the time in the kitchen with david or watching the football game.

Max had made himself comfortable on the couch right next to his anxious mother. His nose buried in his DS, trying his best to ignore the stupid tv and christmas ads. Barf.

Gwens father dressed sharply for the occasion, and her mother had a nice casual looking dress on. He cleared his throat to snap her out of her daze, again.

“So, have you decided on a name yet? A young man needs to have a name that gets him somewhere in life.”

She sighed and put on a fake grin. “Dad, we don’t even know if they’re a boy yet. For all we know, they could be a little girl.”

He huffed, and placed a hand on his lap begrudgingly. Her mom put her hand over his.

“Well, i’m sure whatever they are, they are going to have the most beautiful eyes. The eyes you have are a trait that comes from your great great grandmother. She came here to-”

“To open up her own business as a women in America.’ I know, mama, you’ve told me that story about her at least a dozen times.”

Her mom only giggled and nodded, “yes, but stories are how we keep our lessons and passion alive.”

Gwen and her parents continued in idle chatter for a good ten minutes before David called from the kitchen. Gwen got up, fairly quickly, for a chance to take her leave. “I’m gonna go help david in the kitchen, why don’t you catch up with max? I’m sure he’s just itching to hear some stories about grandmama.”

Before he could even make an objection, gwen mouthed ‘sorry’ and ran off.

Max placed his DS on the side of the couch and scooted to sit up all the way. He put his hands in his pockets and waited. Gwen’s father straightened his back, making him look even taller in his seat than before. “So, maxwell,” “max. Just max..please.” He looks away from the man, slightly agitated. “Right, max. So, what do you do? Play any sports?”

He shakes his head, “no, i can’t.”

This perturbs the man a bit, “well, how do you know you can’t unless you try? You know, my grandfather thought once before that a single man couldn’t cut down a forest by himself, but you know who proved him wrong? My father. Yes, the man did it in a single week too. He was so proud of himself, even built our house out of the wood he used. He taught me that a man can do anything in this world if he puts his mind to it. Now, what about that?”

Max sneered at the confidence shown by this guy.

“Well, i still don’t think i can play any sports.” He frowns, “and why not!?”

“Well for starters, it’s kinda hard to avoid having an asthma attack when you’re pointlessly kicking a ball around in 100 degree weather.”

Gwen’s dad stopped right as he was about to argue again, and started to pout. Again.

Ricardo had always been strong opinionated wise, but somehow this little runt always seemed to damper his words. Natalie, his wife and gwen’s mom, on the other hand was very soft spoken, but always had a good family story to tell. They had met when he wanted to do a business deal with her father, and they fell in love.

“Don’t worry dear, i’m sure there are other things for you in life other than sports. I hear that cooking is a good practice to go into nowadays. Who knows, maybe it’ll be the thing that helps you find a little lady friend.”

She winks at him mischievously, this causes him to redden in the face and hide. “Yeah whatever, it’s not like anyone in my school would even give a sh- crap. All they want to do is look at their magazines and act like everything is ok, when i’m pretty sure the country is being run by psychos right now.”

He shrugs it all off, putting up a wall against the embarrassment.

Gwen comes back in and beckons for max, “hey squirt, Dad needs ya in the kitchen.”

Max grabs his game and hops off the couch. Anything to get out of here.

Gwen takes a seat on the couch again, now it being just her and her parents.

“So…” Natalie started, “i was going to wait until after dinner, but i think now is a better time. Dear?”

Ricardo nods and grabs one of the big bags they had brought inside. Gwen made a puzzled face, and only became more confused as her mother handed her a small red box. She cautiously opened it, and gasped loudly at what was inside.

“But, mama-”

“No buts, my angel. We talked about it and well, we decided it was time. Your father and i aren’t getting any younger, you deserve them. I believe that David, that man is the dearest thing to you.”

Gwen pulled out two rings. One with a purple stone, the other a pine green.

“You and papa have had these forever, i can’t just take them i-”

“Hush. i already told you. It’s a family tradition to pass these down. Every generation. You have someone you love, now the whole world can know that your heart is belonging to another.”

Gwen had already started crying at this point, and put the rings down before hugging her parents. They could be overbearing at times, even too dotey, but may her words be damned if she said she didn’t love them. These rings were always passed down, from mother to daughter, only when the mother felt that the love was true between her daughter and her husband.

This may have seemed like just a silly tradition to others, but to gwen, it was the world. Her parents were finally starting to realize that she could do things on her own. She was an adult, and they finally believed that. They let her go to david, and let her decide she was ready for children of her own.

Her mother laughed happily and returned the hug. “I knew you would make us proud darling, my angel. You will be an amazing mother to this baby. I know so.”

Gwen wiped her cheek against the back of her hand, smiling for real. “Thank you, mama.”

Davids mom, Shirley, had walked into the room with drinks in hand. “Oh, am i interrupting something?..I can just leave these for ya..”

She set the drinks down, and gwen chuckled. “No no, it’s fine shirley. We were just wondering if you have any embarrassing things you can tell us about david.”

She caught on quickly and took a seat. She grabbed her iced tea, and smirked. “We talking toddler years or preteen?”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Max sat on the counter, a bowl and whisk in hand. He midlessy, and quietly stirred the batter that lay in it. It was unusual to see him acting so shut in, maybe it was just the company and out of schedule things going on. For some reason, out of schedule things made him uneasy.

David placed his oven mit down after checking the turkey, and stood in front of max. The yellowish batter looked about done at this point, but max didn’t really seem to be paying attention. “Having fun there?”

Max snapped his head up, but recovered quickly with a tisk. “Tch, i mean it’s not pokemon.”

He haned off the bowl to david and shoved his hands to the counter.

“All right, spill. What’s eating at ya champ?”

Max rolled his eyes, “nothing’s wrong with me David. Geez, what is this, doctor Phil? I don’t need a therapy session.”

That was too defencive, wasn’t it? Shit now he might be more worried. There was no reason he should even know in the first place. Why was he always so shitty?

“Well, just know i’m here if you need to talk buddy, that’s kinda why i’m here.”

David swiftly patted max’s head as he picked up the bowl. He poured the mix into a cupcake tin. Cornbread was always on of the man’s favourite things.

“Yeah..ok.”

Max decided maybe it would be best if he snuck off to his room for some quiet. A house full of people always meant mental exhaustion for the poor boy.

It was pretty easy to slip past the talking adults. They were too distracted anyway.

Once he made it up to his room, he did what he always did when he needed a chill pill. He made a space in his closet, set up some pillows, and made a fort of sorts. The small space was always comfortable to him. He absolutely needed this if he was going to get through dinner.

He crawled into it, grabbing his bear on the way, and slowly rocked himself back and forth. The motion always relaxed his mind, and let him focus on the movement of the air around him.

He slowly slipped one paw of the bear between his lips, and nibbled at it. The soft fur pushing up against his lip eased his muscles, and he just needed to close his eyes...just for a second.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Max ran,and kept running. He had felt this adrenaline before, it ran through his veins like ice, and stung like a burn. He was nothing but a ball of fear at this point, and when he tripped, his heart stopped. This was it. His demise.

He was 5 again, and curled in on himself like an injured cat.

“You selfish, ungrateful, brat. You run like i’m some kind of monster. Look at you, you little fuck up, can’t even run right,”

The tall figure grabs his arm violently and max struggles fruitlessly.

The man laughs, and as he comes closer, David’s face is the only thing that can be seen.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Max snaps awake in a cold sweat. His bear is in his lap, and a blanket part way over his head. He grips his chest with all his strength, and lets out a soft sob. He squeezes his bear against his chest for comfort, and continues to let out his tears.

He could hear his pulse in his ears, and it felt like he had been choking on his heart. He took a deep breath, composing himself as best as possible, before curling back up. Cooling down and falling asleep really wasn’t the best thing to do at the moment. He always tended to get nightmares when he was anxious, this lead him to not get very much sleep in the past week or so.

He wiped his eyes quickly, and pretended to be asleep in the floor of his closet as he heard footsteps.

“Hey champ, you in here? You've been awfully quiet i-”

David stopped his question midway, and placed a hand on his heart at the sight. Max was curled in a tight ball. His face was sort of relaxed, and he clutched his bear tight.

David pulled out his phone, snapping a quick pick before placing his phone back in his pocket.

Once he was gone, max turned over to hopefully have some more quiet time.

David hopped down the staircase quietly, and looked at his mother and wife with a smile. “He’s fine, i guess he got a little tuckered out from helping this morning. Little guy fell asleep on  the floor.”

He chuckles, gwen following in suit. “I guess he just needed a moment to chill.”

Her parents and shirley all smiled, knowing exactly that feeling, of walking in on your kid sleeping in a weird spot.

“Oh yeah, that reminds my of the time i caught Davey sleeping in the dog bed with Moose. The little rascal thought the bed was so soft.”

“MOM PleasE”

Gwen snorted, and had to put her glass of tea down. “Of course you’d do something like that. Davey.”

David folded his arms and huffed, “really, I just don’t see why you always have to pick fun at me.”

“It’s fun.”

Gwen and shirley looked at eachother after replying in unison, and ended up laughing again.

Natalie shook her head with a chuckle, “well, since max is sleeping, I guess we can go ahead and give you two a little something that you should probably keep put away. Max certainly doesn't need to get into any of this.”

Natalie pulled another box from her stuff.

“Of course you're going to have to wait a while because of the baby, but we figured you could use a treat then.”

She hands Gwen a very expensive bottle of vodka. The bottle was in the shape of a skull, and had a red rose spiraling upward around the head. It wore the flower almost like a hair piece.

“Aww, thanks mom, i’m sure we’ll enjoy it.”

She gives her mom a quick hug, and hands the box to david. He places it on the table and smiles.

“Well, thank you mr. and mrs. santos! I think it would be a good time to bring out our gift then. How about it mom?”

She perks up with a grin, much like her son’s.

“I think that’s a great idea! Go grab the big boxes from my trunk!”

He gives a salute and heads outside.

“Aw, shirley you didn’t need to do that.”

Gwen puts a hand over her cheek and smiles as shirley grabbed her in a warm hug. “Aw you know it was inevitable. I had a lot of Davey's old baby stuff, y'all can use it more than me, that's for sure.”

They all laugh simultaneously, and David comes in with two big boxes in hand.

Gwen and David are given a nice green quilt, an old animal mobile, some clothes, and some toys. Gwen's parents also give her some baby clothes, and some dresses that Gwen can wear once she needs them to be comfortable.

The adults all sit together quietly, sipping on tea and watching football. Max comes out of his room, still drowsy and not entirely sure of if he should ask David for a coffee, but decides not to. He could stand not to be told that it's bad for his growth.

David goes back to the kitchen and finishes up the last of baking the pies and seasoning the turkey.

“All right gang, dinner's going to be ready in a few minutes!”

Dinner is nice, and since it's the second Thanksgiving max has had with them, he already knows that David has outdone himself. His food always seemed to make him feel a bit better. Max can only smile as he takes a scoop of homemade stuffing.

David smiles at how happy everyone is, and decides that it's a good time to share some good news.

He holds Gwen's hand and smiles brightly. “Mom, Mr and Mrs Santos, I'm glad y'all are here for me to tell you this, I've been terribly excited.”

Everyone smiles a bit, but max is a bit wary.

“I got a letter last week and, well, you're looking at the new owner of a very nice bit of woodland! It turns out, one of my old bosses decided he wanted to move to Europe, and with no use for it, signed it off to me! Maybe in a couple of years, I'll be able to open up a nicer summer camp, and we'll be able to work with children who want to learn about nature again!”

Everyone clapped, and max, well he only looked down to his plate with a nauseous feeling. For some reason, the thought of David paying mind to other, better behaved kids made him feel sick. He clutched his stomach.

David noticed and asked, “oh geez, what's wrong max? Are you ok?”

Max needed an escape, now.

“I just- need to go to the bathroom!”

He pushed himself away from the table quickly and ran down the hallway.

Everyone was quiet for a minute, until David broke the silence.

“I think he may have gotten nervous, he's not used to a lot of adults at once, let me go talk to him.”

Gwen and him shared an exchanged glance for a moment before he took his leave into the next room over.

[novantinuum]

Crack the Paragon, Chapter 9

Fandom: Steven Universe

Rating: General Audiences

Words: 7.2K~

Summary: In another world, he doesn’t have his mother’s sword or shield to hide behind when Bismuth lands her strike. The bubble pops.

Steven falls apart.

Chapter summary: In which a diamond is a girl’s best friend.

You can find the first/previous chapter and AO3 links in the reblogs! (I have to omit them from the original post these days to ensure this will show up in the tags.) If you enjoyed this, I’d greatly appreciate your support through reblogs here, or kudos on AO3 as well.

Chapter warning: There is a fairly in-depth depiction of a dissociative flashback. Nothing I'd consider particularly extreme or deserving of a ratings bump, but I figured it'd be courteous to make a specific warning for it anyways.

_

Chapter 9: Symmetry 

On literally any other day, folding laundry would be relaxing.

There’s something comforting about falling back into predictable rhythms, hands running on automatic through assorted piles of clothes as her thoughts take a wandering vacation. Chores are boring, sure, but compared to the non-stop drive of the rest of her life Connie can at least appreciate how mindless they are. In a world filled with things like honors algebra and violin recitals and sword training, falling into the arms of subconscious repetition every once in a while feels nice, like a much needed mental break from the rest of reality.

The only problem is exactly that: it’s mindless. It doesn’t force her to use an ounce of brainpower. It doesn’t block her thoughts from waltzing down dark alleyways, or taking sharp swerves into territory unknown. It doesn’t distract her from obsessively checking her phone every other minute to see if she’s gotten any new calls or texts.

It doesn’t stop her from worrying about Steven.

Normally steady fingers twitch as she folds a sock inside its proper pair. Her pocket nearly feels like it’s burning. Groaning, she tosses the pair into her suitcase and pulls her phone out. The lock screen illuminates, showcasing a photo of a pretty sunset she took from the hill above the temple. Her mouth tightens. Once again, nothing. Giving in to the distraction, she unlocks her phone and taps to reach his latest message. Tired eyes gloss over his photo and those words for the thousandth time.

Accidentally got separated from gem—

I’ll call later, some kinda scary stuff happened—

Please don’t worry too much.

Well, too late for that. She’s not fooled by his blasé, chipper attitude in this text, or the forced grin of the concerningly pale-faced Steven (one of two! How can he claim he’s fine when he’s literally lost a part of himself??) at the forefront of the photo he sent. No, no. She won’t be convinced until she audibly hears it or can throw her arms around him in person, which is harder said than done when he hasn’t returned her calls and Mom won’t let her take the bus over to his place for the morning because she’s supposed to be “packing.” Ugh. As far as she’s concerned, visiting extended family in India can wait its turn. Something terribly wrong must have happened in Beach City last night, and the suspense of not knowing is nearly suffocating her.

But logically, she knows worrying about it nonstop won’t be of help to her or Steven. He’ll call when he calls. She just hopes it’s before she leaves the country. Her dad's a bit of a tightwad when it comes to the idea of upgrading to international call and text, to her chagrin. If she’s honest, it’s the one part of this trip she dreads— having zero contact with her best friend for a week.

Connie hastily breathes in and out, attempting to forcefully will the stress to dissipate. Let it go. Stop thinking about it. She gently tosses her phone on her bed where she can’t reach it, and pushes herself back into the dependable rhythm of laundry folding.

Licking her chapped lips as she works through the pile of newly clean clothes, she folds the turquoise colored silk choli bodice her mom arranged for a relative to hand weave for her on her last birthday and carefully places it with its matching saree. The decorative border running the length of the saree is embroidered with little flowers and swirls in gold thread. Connie smiles faintly, reverently running her hand across the smooth fabric. She’ll be wearing her typical shorts, overalls, and blouses for most of this trip, but she’s super excited to have the perfect excuse to bring this outfit out of her closet for once. It always makes her feel beautiful, with her hair pinned back and the saree draped around her, but she still can’t help but fear she’s ridiculously overdressed whenever she wears it anywhere outside of family events. A shame. Maybe she’ll build the courage to wear it one day when she goes to Steven’s house for sword practice. She’ll change into her usual training clothes during the practice itself, of course— she can’t risk tearing silk or restricting her movement— but it’d be cool to share a piece of her own family’s culture with him like that. Her cheeks heat up as she imagines his reaction. He’ll probably think it’s pretty. Pearl, too. Her teacher definitely has a flair for artistry, after all.

...but of course, that’s assuming Steven and the Gems are okay.

Her previously giddy thoughts wane like a withering petal. Sitting with her legs criss crossed on her bedroom floor, she hunches over with a heavy sigh, propping her chin into her hands. How long is this morning going to last?

Muffled amidst the cocoon of thick blankets adorning her bed, her phone’s ringer picks that very moment to blare into existence. Her nerves electrify in an instant, though whether that’s more a symptom of surprise or anticipation is anyone’s guess. Chest pounding, she shoots to her feet and scrambles across the room to pick it up. She sighs a breath of relief as her eyes skim over the caller ID. It’s him. And he wants to video chat! Without thinking twice she jabs her thumb against the screen to answer.

A handful of seconds pass as her phone attempts to connect over her family’s spotty wi-fi, heart twisting painfully in her throat as she steels herself for whatever potentially bad update about her friend’s life she’s about to receive, but then—

The video pushes through, and her friend appears on the screen. His hair is notably mussed, (more so than usual, that is), with wild curly locks sticking up from his head at weird angles.

“Mornin’, Connie,” he says, exhaustion evident on his face but besides that, appearing physically well. There’s actually color in his cheeks for one thing, unlike in the photo he sent before dawn.

“Steven!” she exclaims, subconsciously gripping the sides of her phone tighter in the absence of an actual hug. “You’re okay!”

“More or less,” he says in confirmation, the corner of his mouth turning up for a glimmer of a second. His expression quickly becomes tinted in shades of remorse, however, his voice on the brink of cracking. “I’m so sorry I couldn’t call back earlier! My phone died on me, and then I forgot to plug it in, and then I got distracted by a bunch of crazy family stuff, and that’s probably not a good excuse, but—“

She tries to feed him a reassuring smile, pushing down the blatant depth of her worry for his sake.

“Hey, don’t fuss about it. It happens. And anyways, you’re here now, right? So all that doesn’t even matter anymore.”

Her friend deals her a noncommittal shrug in response, and slouches against the rough hewn stone she’s only now noticing in the background. If she has to guess, he’s sitting on the beach, leaning against the sheer cliff walls where they first met almost two years earlier. Interesting, she muses, her brow furrowing. Usually when they do video calls Steven makes a point to stay in his house because he gets better reception there. On top of that, there’s an undeniable melancholy brewing within his eyes that would be amiss to ignore. He’s not even trying to mask it for once, which speaks volumes in and of itself about how heavy a burden it’s become, whatever it is that’s bothering him. Geeze, what on Earth happened over there last night?

“So, your gem,” she starts, edging towards the topic carefully. “Are you still—?”

He shakes his head, seemingly already catching on to what she’s gonna ask. “Nah, we’re together again! Turns out I can still fuse even without without him.”

“Hmm, I—“ Connie pauses, mind fixating for a second on the specific way he referred to his gem half, ascribing an undeniable sense of individuality to him— “well, I’m super glad you figured that out. But I still don’t understand, how can you get separated from your gem in the first place?”

“It’s, uh- a pretty complicated story, fair warning.”

“Pshhh, that’s no problem, I’ve got all morning,” she says, and props her phone against her bedpost so she can continue packing while listening. Freed once more, her hands seek out more unpaired socks to join.

“Only if you’re good with it, then.” The boy sighs deeply as he begins to prepare his words. The infamous drama zone kicking in, he lets his head lull backwards at gravity’s command against the cliffside’s face. She can’t help but cringe at the audible smack of his skull against smooth rock. “Ow!” he whines, immediately jerking forwards again. He rubs the back of his head in clear disbelief, softly laughing at his own folly. “Well, that was a pretty dumb idea.”

“Not gonna disagree,” she says with a giggle, glancing between her clothes and the screen in intervals as she folds. “Now, tell me everything. From the beginning. I still gotta pack, but I’m listening, I promise.”

A soft smile brightens his face, sunlight glinting off his dark brown irises. It’s enough to capture her stare, to make everything else in the world freeze to a stop. Just for one magic moment. Her heart almost flip flops at the gentle way he gazes at her, his eyes filled with a shy reverence that honestly, speaks volumes to his nature as a person. Because while he’s grown undeniably strong as a half-Gem, he’s far more than that. He's kind. He’s sensitive, and caring. So, so caring. More than anything else he tries his hardest to be extra empathetic about the needs of others around him, and she adores this about him, she truly does. Her only wish is that he could be this receptive about his own needs all the time, too. With her firsthand knowledge of the stressful stuff he and the other Gems deal with on a weekly basis, she can’t help but worry sometimes.

He breathes in, chest rising and falling as he prepares to tell his story. “Okay. So it all started yesterday morning when I was playing video games with the Gems…”

______

“—and then that’s when I figured out I could still fuse, right after I texted you. So we did, and- and well, that’s pretty much it,” Steven finishes with a bit of a waver in his voice, absentmindedly twirling his finger around a short curl at the nape of his neck as he adjusts his grip on the phone with his other hand.

With his story more or less complete, barring a few recent occurrences he’s hesitant to speak of right now, he pays careful attention to the minute fluctuations of Connie’s expression as everything he’s told her sinks in.

(He intentionally left out some of the more intimate bits, of course— like softly crying himself to sleep before Dad warped back, or having a near breakdown on the beach, or his conversation with half of himself. Some moments simply aren’t for others to know.)

Her voice wavers as she finally makes to respond. “Wow, that’s… a lot.”

“Yeah. And like, I wanna believe it’s over now, but everyone’s still acting so weird.”

“Mmm, and then there’s everything about your mom, and Pink Diamond…” She balls her hand against her mouth as she mulls over this information, her sobered glance shifting from him to some unspecified point in her bedroom.

And at seeing the subtle aversion of her gaze, he frets for a second. He squirms in the seat of the cold metal chair he’s made his temporary home in, toes curling inwards much like the creeping dread that’s trying to inch its way ever further into his heart, stifling any last hope of peace or calm. Replacing it with fear. Like, what if his real talk is too real? Too honest? What if he’s freaked her out, or overloaded her with the sheer weight of everything that’s happened to him, what if she’ll wanna keep her distance from him because of all this, what if—

“I’m so sorry you have to deal with all this,” she says softly, slashing the cord that’s restraining him within his frantic thoughts.

His shoulders relax, tension fading.

“I- is there anything I can do?” his friend continues. “To help, I mean?”

“Nah, don’t think so. Not right now, at least. Honestly, just having someone to talk to about all this means a lot.” He begins to slowly swing his legs back and forth, and leans against the coffee stained table top. “Normally I’d talk to one of the Gems, but. Well, y’know.”

His friend bobs her head in the affirmative. “Mmm.”

“It’s just…” he begins, pausing with a long sigh as he tries to organize all his jumbled emotions into something remotely explainable. His eyes drift away from his phone, focusing instead on the soft, tantalizing glow of the ice cream freezer across the shop. “I think I almost died, Connie. For real. I was shivering, a-and scared, and cracked, and- and yet they couldn’t stop fighting about whatever happened in the past. I don’t know anything about Pink Diamond, or what terrible things Rose apparently did, but now it’s like… even if they don’t mean to, that’s all they can think about when they look at me?”

Steven groans in exhaustion, slumping forward so the side of his face is pressed against the table. It’s comfy, never mind how dirty the surface probably is. He shifts his phone in his hands so Connie’s image is still parallel to him. “I dunno. I should’ve never popped that bubble in the first place. If I didn’t let Bismuth out, none of this would’ve happened.”

“Steven!” a loud voice calls from across the shop. “Are you gonna buy a donut or what?”

“Whu- huh??”

Startled, he shoots upright in the chair— knowing all too well from the faint thrum dancing under his skin that he’s on the brink of summoning his bubble on sheer impulse— before realizing that no, it’s only Lars, everything’s fine, I’m fine.

The surly teen is slumped against the counter next to Sadie, (who’s counting the money in the cash register on sheer compulsion, as if rifling through it one more time might cause the cash to magically multiply), both employees marinating in the boredom of yet another low traffic mid-September day at the Big Donut. He pauses to catch his breath, in retrospect feeling super silly for his near freak-out. His two favorite donut people have been here this whole time, of course. How he managed to become so sucked in by his call that he forgot is beyond him.

“Are you okay?” he hears Connie ask softly, obvious concern in her voice.

Lars on the other hand, apparently wasn’t finished calling him out.

“You can’t just- loiter here all morning and not buy anything!” he says. Brow threading together in perplexion, he whirls towards his coworker. “Right? Isn’t there a law for that? Sadie, help me out here-!”

She rolls her eyes so far they almost disappear back into her skull. “Oh, leave him alone, he’s fine...” “Yeah, I’m not loitering, I’m having a nice conversation with my friend!” he chimes, holding up his phone screen to them as proof.

“Hi Sadie, Lars,” Connie says.

The young lady behind the register smiles warmly despite the bags under her eyes, and pauses her task to wave to the camera.

Unimpressed, Lars leans his chin against his balled up fist, elbow propped on the counter. His tired eyes narrow into thin slits, exaggerated by the squish of his cheek against his bottom eyelid. “A ‘nice conversation?’ You’ve been sitting there for half an hour rambling about the misfortunes of near death,” he says, deadpan.

“I—“ His eyes grow wide as he combs back through the— now that he thinks about it— admittedly dour mood of everything he’s recently said. “Is that really what it sounded like...?”

Is he just being a killjoy to everyone? He thought it’d be okay to be real about it with his friend for once, since he usually keeps his deeper issues to himself, but perhaps...

“No, just ignore him,” Sadie says as she diligently sorts the coins, cutting in right before his mind can continue its downward spiral.

On the screen, Connie nods in wholehearted support. “It’s just venting, I don’t mind.”

And despite everything else he manages a smile at that, small and thin but filling him with a needed burst of energy all on its own.

“Huh,” Lars mutters, scrutinizing him closely. “Well, whatever it was, dark and brooding is a surprisingly good vibe for you. We’ll make a teenager of you yet.”

Steven blinks in confusion.

“But I already am a teenager,” he says, perhaps a bit more defensively than he ought have.

“Yeah!” chimes his friend over the phone.

“Wait, really? Aren’t you like, nine or somethin’?”

He squirms in his seat upon reference to his inability to physically age, feeling the flush touch his ears. “Uh, actually…”

“Dude, he’s been a teenager,” Sadie says. She stuffs the last of the quarters in their slot and securely shuts the cash register drawer. “He turned fourteen a few weeks ago, don’t you remember?”

“N- no… I just—“ Lars lets out a scoff, shooting her a moody sneer. “Whatever, okay? I don’t have the time or the patience to remember everyone’s birthdays in this dead-end town.”

“Only twenty-nine people even live here year round.”

“So? Your point is?”

“My point is that it’s kinda common courtesy to look up and pay attention to your surroundings every once in a while?”

He turns up his nose. “Ugh, well you know what—“

Steven purses his lips as he watches the two of them devolve into yet another round of petty squabbling. (Why all of these fights lately…? What’s wrong with everyone, what’s in the air?) Suddenly feeling very much like high tailing it out of here, he shifts in his seat. He and Connie share a knowing glance, one that quickly lets him knows they’re on the same page. Originally, he came here to use the store wi-fi since he didn’t want to be at home right now, but he can probably still use it just fine sitting at the table outside. Without any overt announcement of the fact, he stands and makes his way to the door. Lars and Sadie are too caught up in their spat to notice him leave.

Only when the cool breeze greets him outside can he relax. He kicks back in one of the chairs set out front of the store, adjusting his phone in his hand. Gulls call loudly from the boardwalk in their endless search for trashed food. A handful of people he doesn’t recognize— tourists!— splash in the water or play in the sand, a pair of young men holding hands as they cross the public beach. Sunlight is finally breaking through the cloud cover, brilliant blue overtaking dreary grey. He smiles faintly. Despite everything, it truly is a beautiful morning.

“Sorry about all that!” he says to his friend on the line, glancing back at the doors of the Big Donut. “They really are cool people when you got to know ‘em, but they kinda disagree about stuff a lot.”

Connie stifles a laugh, her expression unreadable for a moment. “I know you keep saying they’re probably dating, but I honestly don’t believe you.”

His skin grows clammy all of a sudden.

Don’t… believe...

He's frozen. It’s almost like he’s with Sapphire, trapped again in that old motel room shivering amidst her frost powers. And yet simultaneously he’s not, ‘cause… because he’s burning up, hand clutching at thin air. He’s terrified. He’s completely alone, he’s—

He’s back in the forge.

Bismuth’s there, looming like a reaper above him, arm shapeshifted into some sort of curved saw blade and held aloft. Thick, viscous lava boils angrily in the pool surrounding the platform he’s on, and more than anything it’s a warning, a constant warning, and he’s stupid, he’s so unobservant and stupid, he should have paid heed to it when he came down here in the first place, why didn’t he—

Heat blasts almost violently at him as he shuffles away on hands and feet, scooting backwards on the blistering stone. He heaves for breath amidst his panic. Meanwhile, the channels of hard light running parallel with his veins buzz alongside the rush of adrenaline keeping him alive. Sweat beads on his forehead, sticky and unnaturally cool.

No matter how hard he tries, he’s too weak against her. His shield isn’t strong enough.

He knows this for a fact now, knows that Bismuth can dissipate both it and his bubble with enough force, and that’s a super scary thought but it doesn’t stop the primal instinct pulsing insistently at the back of his mind, pushing him to stand back up, to summon his weapon anyways and try to defend himself. It’s nothing but a lost cause, though.

Now, his only true shield is his words.

“Wait, I’m not my mom!” he cries in desperation, shielding himself with his arms. “I don’t know what she did, but I’m sure she didn’t want to hurt you!”

The stark shadow obscuring the rainbow haired Gem’s eyes grows darker.

“It’s too late,” she spits, preparing to swing her arm down. “I don’t believe you anymore!”

And then with a shallow gasp he’s here again, here at this dingy plastic table sitting under the bright and blue hope of morning, his phone clutched in a vice-like grip. Breath passes through his lips shakily. What the heck was that?? Was his gem feeding him old memories like what happened in his sleep, or something? Whatever it was, he’s genuinely not sure how much time has passed during the vision, a realization which unnerves him. Seemingly not too long, as Connie hasn’t moved to speak yet. Yet still her too-familiar words echo in his mind, pulsing with the thrum of inflamed blood vessels at an open wound, and without the blessing of inhibition he blurts out the first thought that reveals itself.

“That’s fair,” he says, voice cracking. “I probably wouldn’t believe me about a lot of things right now.”

Her brow creases with obvious concern. “Hey... Hey, I didn’t mean that personally. I was just messing around with ya’. You know that, right?”

“I know,” he sighs. “I’m sorry. I guess I just feel... really on edge.” Jittery fingers card through thick curls as his chest softly rumbles in the absurdity of it all. “Geeze, I’m being a real sad sack today, huh?”

“Well, you’ve been through a lot.”

“Yeah, but to be fair ‘near death scenarios’ are pretty much just an occupational hazard at this point. And I’ve handled that fine before, so…”

“Still doesn’t erase the fact that it’s impacted you hard this time,” she says softly, leveling her gaze squarely on him, her intuitive brown eyes disassembling his insecurities and then putting them back together like a puzzle.

He flushes, shrinking where he sits. He pulls his legs up onto the seat, clutching them to his chest. Intuitively he knows she’s right, he knows that all this has messed with him more than the danger of Gem stuff normally does, but he still can’t help but feel… ashamed? That he’s feeling this way in the first place? It’s bizarre. It’s completely dumb, and the more he fixates on it the more dumb it becomes. Eventually he decides he’s not in the right mental state to try and weave a halfway rational response to her and elects to swerve the topic.

“So there’s also another not-great thing that happened,” he begins, hugging his knees. “Should probably mention.”

“Yeah…?”

“Garnet unfused over all this. Maybe for good this time.”

She gasps, and in an instant her face shoots closer on his screen.

“Wait what? She- you mean that Ruby and Sapphire aren’t—“

“Yup.”

Connie covers her mouth in shock, eyes glistening. “Oh, no! Steven, I’m so sorry! And you don’t think they’ll be able to work it out?”

“No, they made it seem pretty permanent.”

“That’s… really rough,” she sighs in solidarity. “‘Cause I mean, at least since it’s fusion she’s still there in spirit, but- you grew up knowing Garnet.”

“Exactly,” he nods. “I love Ruby and Sapphire a whole bunch, but it’s still different, y’know? Like, it’s like I lost someone important to me. Maybe forever. And... it feels so awful,” he says, pushing past the lump in his throat that he wishes more than anything would go away. “All of it. It’s like everyone in my family’s falling apart. The moment she unfused, Sapphire immediately shut herself in her room, and then Ruby was so upset she ran away, and Amethyst and Pearl started yelling at each other about everything, so… I left. And called you,” he explains, gesturing at her. “And now I’m here, chillin’ at the Big Donut. And that’s pretty much it.”

“Gosh...”

“Yeah.”

“Again, I’m sorry you had to deal with all this. I mean, outright getting cleaved from half of yourself? I can’t even imagine…” She bites at her knuckles for a moment, deep in thought. “Makes me wish I had more than sympathy to offer.”

“Nah, just you listening to everything means a whole bunch. I really appreciate that,” he says. “I—“ his voice wavers a bit as he feels the heat of the blush blossoming across his cheeks— “I really appreciate you. A lot. You- you know that, don't you?”

She giggles, the sound a beautiful reassurance to his ears. “Of course I do! And anyways, you always take time to listen to me when I’m down. That’s what jam buds are for, right?”

“Right,” he says, the word reverberating in harmony in the deepest reaches of his heart.

“Steven!” a voice calls from the distance.

Connie’s brow furrows. “Is that…?”

He whips his head around, squinting in the sunlight to catch a clearer glimpse of the figure running towards the edge of the Big Donut’s patio, his long hair rippling behind him. At the sight of family, his eyes light up. He waves his free arm in greeting.

“Dad!”

“Hey, kiddo!” his dad says, crossing the last few steps to the patio chair he’s curled up in. Gasping for breath, he plops himself in the chair adjacent. “I thought I’d find you here. You doin’ better now?”

He makes a half grimace, and shakes his flattened hand in a so-so gesture.

Dad’s hopeful smile fades, quickly replaced with a compassionate sense of understanding that could only come from years of hard earned age and experience. “Yeah. Yeah, I getcha. Seeing people you love fight like that’s never fun. Do you wanna talk about it?”

He presses his mouth into a line as he contemplates. To be honest, after venting about everything to Connie, fixating on negative emotions more is the last thing he wants to do, but he doesn’t wanna be rude to his dad. Thank goodness he has a valid excuse to avoid it altogether!

“Uh, I’m kinda on the phone, here,” he says, showing him his phone screen as proof.

“Oh, by golly, so you are! Hey, Connie. How are you hangin’ in there?”

She flashes a smile. “Hi, Mr. Universe! I’m okay, thanks.”

“Heh, Mr. Universe, huh?” he chuckles softly, scratching at his beard. “Such formalities! You’ve known me for what, how long? Please, you can call me Greg.”

“Thanks, but my mom says I’m not allowed to call grown ups by their first names.”

“Dr. Maheswaran has all sorts of weird mom rules,” Steven chimes in, nodding.

“Hoo boy, do I know about those,” his dad commiserates in a flat tone. He makes a big show out of mulling this over, humming as he taps at his chin. “Well then, don’t think of me as a grown up, but more of a big kid with, erm… slightly bigger responsibilities.”

“Uh, okay!” Connie says, hesitantly glancing between him and Steven. “If it’s alright with you, then, Mr. Greg!”

Dad‘s mouth turns up in a fond smirk, and then he glances back at him. “Anyways, I wanted to let you know that the Gems have cooled down. I had… a bit of a talk with them, let’s say,” he mutters, clear exhaustion betraying his otherwise content demeanor. “Should be fine to go back when you’re ready.”

“Did Ruby return??”

“Nah, she’s still MIA. But Pearl and Amethyst are on the case.”

He sighs, disappointment flooding his heart. He’s not sure why he ever dreamed otherwise. She’ll come back eventually, of course. She’s gotta. According to Garnet, Rubies are very social Gems, which means they prefer sharing in the company of others over being alone. And even when she’s not fused with Sapphire, she’s still a part of his family. He dearly hopes she knows that.

“I hope her and Sapphire will be okay,” he mutters.

“I’m sure they’ll be fine in the end,” he says with a shrug. “They’ve come apart before, after all.”

Connie hums in agreement. “Yeah, sometimes even my parents need some quiet time away from each other. That’s totally normal!”

Dropping his legs to dangle from the chair again, Steven watches an orange spotted butterfly flutter between the beach umbrellas set up on the patio tables, meeting with its other half before both journeying away in the wind. His cheeks lift at their attempts at reassurance, and boy, does it feel so much more natural than frowning pensively.

“D’ya really think so?”

Smiling softly, his dad affectionately musses his hair. “All we can do is wait and see, bud. Wait and see.” He stands to his feet then, grunting as he uses the table’s surface to help push him up. Gaze growing somewhat weary, he peers with purpose towards the far side of the hill. “Anyways, your old man will be over at the car wash, scrubbing soap scum off the floors. Eughh, right? But hey, if you need anything… a hug, an ear, some classic fatherly advice… come and find me, okay? Take it easy this morning.” Grinning, he turns back to wave goodbye to the girl mirrored on the screen. “Nice seeing ‘ya, Connie. Take care.”

“You too!” she waves in return.

And with that farewell his dad begins his casual jaunt down the sidewalk, leaving the two of them alone once more. Except, he supposes that’s not true at all, is it? Even without Connie, even without Dad, or the Gems. Because if he can take away one good thing from this whole messed up experience, just one hopeful message, it’s that he’s never been alone a day of his life. That’s simply the nature of fusion, you see. Even in the darkest, scariest moments...

I’ve never actually been alone, he marvels. I’ve just been me.

______

Once Steven’s dad leaves to scrub down the floors at his car wash, their conversation evolves considerably from its bleak beginnings. Enough about all this Gem stuff, Steven says, what’s new with you? Besides, uh- folding underwear, of course!

Connie laughs, rolling her eyes at the visible blush on his face as she pushes the aforementioned undergarments out of frame. She eagerly shares some of the finer details of her India trip, telling him all about when she’s leaving for the airport, (late this evening, on a red-eye flight across the Atlantic), what area of the country she’s visiting, (Punjab, where some of her extended family lives), and how long she’ll be gone (just a week!). From there, the topic shifts between a variety of themes, ranging anywhere from her anxiety and excitement at starting school again when she gets back, the pride of finally figuring out a challenging song she’s wanted to perfect for a while on her violin, to this super compelling Unfamiliar Familiar fanfic she found where Lisa discovers she’s secretly heir to the throne of the corrupt society she’s always been vying to escape from underneath the authoritative thumb of.

“Wow, this is the story I never knew I always needed so badly in my entire life,” Steven says, brown irises turning starry-eyed in the sunlight. He’s sitting atop the hill now, resting content on his belly in the grass in front of the lighthouse.

“I know, right?? I’ll send you the link,” she promises, dangling her feet in the air behind her as she lays on the carpet.

He pumps his fist in the air triumphantly. “Woo, free infinite books!”

“Well, keep in mind, it’s not finished yet. Apparently it’s supposed to update bi-weekly, but I think the author got a bit boggled down by life stuff recently.”

“Aw, that’s too bad. I hope they’re doin’ okay.”

“Same… But hey,” she says with a soft laugh, “at least it’s a long fic, right?”

“Y’know,” he interjects the current topic suddenly, rising to his knees. “I wonder if I can see your house from here! D’ya think that’s possible, ‘cause I wanna see if that’s possible!”

He switches his camera’s view from front to back, the image of his face replaced by the scenic vista of the cozy beach town below, ridged by the peaceful waters of the Atlantic and Rehoboth Bay. She can see everything, from the gigantic pastry shaped facade atop the Big Donut, to the water tower clear on the other side of the peninsula. Beyond, lush green grasslands— dotted with clusters of small residences, humanity’s touch on the Earth— stretch as far into the horizon as far as a young dreamer can imagine.

Connie picks up her phone from the bedpost she leaned it against and squints at the screen, trying to map out the precise scale of the countryside between them in her mind. “Hmm, probably not. I think my town’s pretty hidden by the surrounding hills.”

“No silly, not from right here, here! I meant, from up here!”

She yelps as the view of Beach City on her phone screen jolts in a burst of sudden, rapid movement, shrinking smaller and smaller as the seconds tick by.

“Steven!! What are you—“

But internally, she finds the answer to this question before she can even finish asking it. Clearly, he jumped into the sky, so… so he’s using his floating ability. Even though she’s never seen him utilize it to leap to this extreme, it’s the only possibility that makes any ounce of sense. Her mouth falls agape at the picturesque view below, the town beginning to looking more and more like a blurred watercolor painting. Distantly, she wonders what it would feel like to be up there with him, her hands clutched tight in his, the wind dancing through her long hair.

"Consarn it! Your house is too small to pick out. Hmm..."

Or even as Stevonnie, can they float too? she wonders. Maybe one day she can ask!

“Oh my gosh, this is just like I’m on the giant slingshot they used to have at Funland,” she says, averting her eyes as her best friend continues his ascent into the shimmering blue sky. She lets slip a slight grimace, finding the stark contrast between the movement on the screen and the still permanence of her bedroom dizzying the more she watches. “And I’m starting to think there’s a reason they shut that ride down…”

“Hey, my floating powers are way better than The Comet,” he chirps playfully, having finally reached the apex of his leap. “Hah, maybe that means I should start my own attraction at Funland!”

“Doing what?” she says, unable to keep from laughing at the absurdity of the very concept. “Bubbling people on the tracks of the rollercoaster like the day we first met? I’m pretty confident that’d be a major health and safety violation.”

“Aww, but those are the best kinds of attractions!”

She hears him grunt with minor exertion, and suddenly the aerial glimpse of the countryside she’s watching on her phone drops out of sight, replaced in an instant with a sweeping panorama of the boundless sky, the line of the horizon with the sea, the ground looming ominously hundreds of feet below. Rinse and repeat, over and over. Everything is spinning, she realizes in alarm, and there’s no end in sight.

“Whoa-oH, it’s the Stevencoaster!” he cries in childish glee as he somersaults.

His lighthearted joy is so contagious she can’t stop the grin stretching wide across her face.

“Careful, you doofus, you’re gonna make me motion sick and I’m not even there,” she giggles breathlessly.

“Nooo! And the Stevencoaster makes everyone toss their cookies! Words truly cannot describe the culinary carnage left in its wake.”

She rolls her eyes in fondness at his antics, and sits up on her carpet. “No, but seriously,” she reaffirms, “that’s making me pretty dizzy.”

“Oh, sorry!”

Soon enough she watches him level out from his spin, his camera focusing for a moment on the ground a hundred feet below his sandaled feet before flipping to show his face once more, framed by wild dark curls. His irises are shimmering an unnatural pink she’s never seen before. It's enough of an unexpected shock that her smile fades, ever so slightly.

“Better?” he says, beaming at her as he continues on his slow descent to Earth.

They’re still pink. And his pupils… She’s not just imagining it, right? She blinks heavily.

“Y- yes, much.”

“Connie? What’s wrong?” he asks, landing upon the grass. His brow furrows.

Even more notably, his eyes are just as normal and brown as they ever were. Connie balls her hand against her chin as she deliberates this. Hmm. Curiouser and curiouser.

She shakes her head, silently mulling over how best to explain this. “Nothing, it’s just… I could’ve sworn your eyes were… different, for a second.”

“Different?” Steven‘s grin stretches so wide he looks like he’s about to burst at any moment. “Eye don’t know what you’re talking about!”

“Well, if you become my pupil I could explain it to you,” she giggles.

“I’m listening,” he chimes eagerly.

“Okay, so honestly it could’ve just been a trick of the light, but… it’s almost like they flashed pink for a second. And your pupils were all funny, kind of, uh- slitted! Like a cat’s.”

“Pink?”

“Yeah.”

His face goes shockingly pale. “Connie, when was this?”

“Just a second ago,” she shrugs. “You were still floating.”

“Floating,” he repeats under his breath, seeming haunted by the very thought.

“Steven?” she calls, a sudden twist in her chest at the sight of his clear distress. “Steven, what’s wrong?”

“I, I—“ he stammers, unable to even meet her glance. “I’m really sorry, but I gotta go. I’ll text you later?”

“Uh- okay. Thanks for calling—“

He hangs up.

“...back,” she finishes softly, shoulders sinking.

She sighs heavily, dropping her phone into her lap and sitting back against her bed frame. What did she say? What could be so scary about the idea of glowing pink eyes to make him react like that? Sure, it’s a bit strange, but it’s no more unusual than any of his other unique abilities. She only hopes she didn’t ruin his good mood all over again by bringing his attention to it.

Her mother knocks on the doorframe outside, signaling her presence.

“Come in,” she mutters glumly.

The door creaks open. Mom steps through, and leans against the wall with her arms crossed, glancing knowingly between her and the phone still clutched like a lifeline in her hands.

“Are you still worried about that boy?” she asks.

Connie can almost hear the capitalization inherent in her tone. 'That Boy.’ Even though she and Steven are just friends, she knows full well who her mother thinks he is to her. (Not that she’d complain if that were the case, but that’s simply not a thing with them, and really that’s fine, she’s fine, their status quo is comfortable how it is—)

“Yeah… I just got off the phone with him," she says, letting her head sink into the folds of the covers trailing off the side of her bed. "It sounds like he’s been through a lot lately.”

“Well, when a child spends all day fighting monsters instead of going to school like he’s supposed to, I can’t say I’m surprised,” her mom says under her breath.

“Mom, come on, this is serious!”

“Yes, sorry, you’re right,” she says wearily, pressing her hand to her temple. “Just because I don’t understand it doesn’t mean that it’s fair of me to say.”

She turns away, and hugs her knees to her chest. Like a storm on a late summer day, her mind brims with so many things she wishes she could admit, so many things that need to be released if she wants to find any peace about this. But how to start? How can she make her mother understand?

“I’ve really been looking forward to this trip, y’know?" Connie says, feeling oh-so vulnerable sitting on the floor just like she always would as a young child, eyes glistening as she calls upon her mother for support. "Really. And I know we gotta leave tonight, but just knowing he’s hurting and I won’t be able to text him at all makes part of me wish… that I could stay here."

Unable to dam it up anymore, a few tears spill over to roll unbridled down her cheek. Her chest quivers uncontrollably as her face screws up and she begins to cry.

"Oh, honey," she breathes, moving to kneel on the floor next to her. She rests her hand on her upper back, gently kneading the stress out of her tense muscles.

"He's always been there for me when I needed someone to talk to, o-or somethin' to feel better," she sniffles, wiping the damp from her eyes and nose. "A- and then- the moment he needs me, I can't be there for him at all, an' it's not fair!"

Upon seeing the trail of snot beginning to drip towards her upper lip, her mother grimaces. She reaches across her for the small square box perched atop her nightstand. "Tissue," she says firmly, passing her the box.  

She accepts the gift, pulling one out, and blows her nose hard.

As she's dabbing away, cleaning up the evidence of her tears, Mom's fingers shift to comb through the length of her hair. She twirls through long dark strands and pulls them out of her face. "Even if I don't get all this magic stuff you're both dealing with," she begins, voice brimming with compassion, "believe me, I understand more than most what it feels like to be cut off from the people you love. So... I’ll change your phone plan to international, how’s that? That way, at the very least you’ll still be able to contact him.”

Her eyes light up. “Wow, really?? But that’s super expensive!”

“Says your father,” she scoffs with soft laughter. “We can afford it. And anyways, I’d hate to see you miserable the whole trip.”

“That’ll be perfect!” she says, throwing her arms tight around her mother. And although she can’t see her face, Connie knows from the reassuring solidness of their embrace that every bit of the love she has for her is returned in full. “Thanks, Mom,” she whispers, her anxious heart finally finding a glimmer of peace.

[5typesoftrash]

Inhibitions - Chapter 2

Author: quicksilvermalec Artist: starfleetcadet1 Rating: M for swearing, mature themes, and minor sexual content Pairings: Sastiel, Castiel/Ezekiel, Castiel/Crowley Warnings: Rape/Non-Con (mentioned) Brief Tags: Angst, Pining, Drug Use, Minor Character Death Summary: So Castiel isn't the most - moral? Conventional? Call it what you like - attorney, but fuck if he isn't one of the best in the state of California. He's gone up against lawyers from all over and only lost a handful of cases in twenty years. So when a young up-and-comer beat him in a case he should have bagged, of course he was interested. But he wasn't expecting this.

[longer tags, link to art post, and fic under the cut]

Extended Tags: Angst, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Slow Burn, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - No supernatural, Alternate Universe - No Angels, Alternate Universe, lawyer AU, Lawyer Sam Winchester, Lawyer Castiel, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Implied Sexual Content, minor explicit sexual content, Drug Use, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, Minor Character Death, Offscreen character death, Getting Together, Getting Back Together, Falling In Love, Boys In Love, Boys Kissing, First Kiss, First Time, breaking up, Breaking Up & Making Up, Betrayal, Misunderstandings, Miscommunication, Grief, Trauma, Negative Religious Experiences, Religious Sam Winchester, Mentions of Corrective Rape, Gay Castiel, Pansexual Sam Winchester, Pansexual Gabriel, Black Lives Matter, Protests, Pining, Mutual Pining, Age Difference, Widowed Castiel, Sad Castiel, Hurt Castiel, Endverse Castiel - Freeform, Sad Sam Winchester, Hurt Sam Winchester, Angst with a Happy Ending, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Good Brother Gabriel, Protective Gabriel, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Implied/Referenced Abuse, Implied/Referenced Incest, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, POV Castiel, Castiel is a Novak (Supernatural), this story is all over the fuckin place, kind of a wild ride with plenty of twists, enjoy!!

Have a link to the art and you can read this story on AO3 as well! 🧡

~~

“Tea?” Gabriel asks in amusement as his brother sits down on his couch.

“That would be lovely, darling,” says an admittedly very high Castiel in his best impression of Balthazar.

Gabriel snorts, disappearing into the kitchen to make it. Castiel has always been one hundred percent positive that if not for the fact that he greatly enjoyed tea, especially when he was high, Gabriel would never have it in his house. However, thanks to the fact that Castiel very much did enjoy it, Gabriel somehow never ran out. It’s quite miraculous and wonderful.

Castiel laughs nigh hysterically on the couch until Gabriel returns. “Alright, crazy boy, get your stoned ass over here and drink this tea I just made for you.”

“But Gaaaaabriel,” Castiel chuckles. “Gabriel. Gaybriel. Are you gay?”

“No,” Gabriel says, sounding unamused but resigned. “I’m pansexual. I’ve told you this a thousand times.”

“Oh,” Castiel replies. “Well that’s kinda like gay.”

“No, you’re gay. I’m LGBT.”

He shrugs. “Whatever. Same difference. Ooh, tea!” Castiel reaches for his mug and slops some of the tea onto his leg. He doesn’t even notice in his hurry to drink it. “Ah! It’s hot! What the fuck!”

He puts it back down. “How dare you bring me something hot?”

“Did you want cold tea, Castiel?” Gabriel asks, sounding resigned and exhausted.

“I- yes? No. What’s the right answer?”

“I think you need sleep,” Gabriel mutters. “Here’s a blanket.” He tosses it at Castiel and it hits the younger Novak in the face.

“No,” Castiel whines. “I don’t wanna.”

“Jesus Christ,” Gabriel declares as Castiel tosses the blanket onto the floor. Gabe watches his brother stand up with hollow, miserable eyes.

Then Castiel looks down, then back at Gabriel accusatorily. “My leg is wet!” he shouts. “Why the fuck is my leg wet, Gabriel? What did you do? Did you spit on my leg?”

Gabriel takes a deep breath, dragging the palm of his left hand down his face. “No, Castiel,” he says as patiently as possible. “You spilled tea on yourself.”

“Oh,” says Cas. He picks up his tea again. “Still hot. I’m still mad at you!”

Gabriel groans and lays back. “Dear god,” he mutters to the ceiling. “Why does this always happen to me, and never to any of my brothers.”

It might be Castiel’s imagination, but he thinks he hears a voice reply, because Castiel actually trusts you.

He may be wasted and useless, but he knows the voice of God when he hears it.

~~

You’re a dick.

That’s all the text says. Castiel scoffs and shoves his phone back in his pocket after he reads it.

He knows he’s a dick. Gabriel has made himself quite clear on that on several occasions. Plus, Castiel is on a mission right now; a mission to recruit himself a new, brilliant attorney.

When he walks into Sam’s office, the other man is on the phone.

“Yes, Dean,” he’s saying. “I know you need me to cover the water bill. I’ll have it by the end of the month, I just don’t have it now. Yeah, I’ll get paid! I get paid in like two weeks. Okay? I’m gonna get almost three thousand dollars then and we’ll be able to cover rent and utilities. Jesus- yes, I can hear you yelling at me- oh my god. Dean- look, Dean, you know that attorney I ‘fangirl’ over all the time? Yeah, he just walked into my office. I’ll call you back.”

He hangs up without saying goodbye, then mutters, “fucking asshole.”

Castiel snorts. “Who was that?”

“Older brother,” Sam replies quietly. “Dean. He’s… kind of a dick sometimes. I love the shit out of him, and he’s a good guy, but he just doesn’t know how to be… not intense. He doesn’t know the meaning of the word ‘moderation’, I guess.” He trails off, then seems to come back to himself, snapping to attention. “Anyway, I’m oversharing again. What’s up?”

Castiel smiles. “I have an offer to make you.”

Sam blinks. “Hm?”

“Would you like to work for Novak Represents as a defense attorney? We’ll be paying you about seven thousand five hundred dollars a month to start off, you’ll be assigned regular cases, benefits, paid paternity leave, the whole shebang. What do you say?”

Sam worries his bottom lip with his teeth. “I don’t know,” he says honestly. “I’ll consider it.”

Castiel winks at him. “Get back to me within a week and we’ll be just fine.”

Sam flushes and stares down at his desk until Castiel disappears out the door.

He pulls out his blunt – he can’t be found almost anywhere without one in hand – and lights it as he walks back to his car. He’ll simply have to hope that Sam accepts his offer.

~~

He arrives at home safely – as always, despite Gabriel’s insistence that smoking while driving impairs him and that he’ll most definitely crash his car one day – and puts the kettle on, as is his routine. He sighs, falling into a chair and rubbing his forehead. It might just be age, but he’s more and more exhausted lately, as if every small thing he does expends three times as much energy as it did a decade ago. As if his life is perpetually making itself harder.

He turns on the TV, tosses his used blunt, takes off his shoes, and returns to the kitchen as the kettle whistles its warning. As he sets about making his tea, his mind wanders back to Sam.

Sam Winchester. The boy who could run the world if he set his mind to it. The boy who owns a firm at the age of thirty. The most skilled and talented lawyer Castiel has ever had the immense pleasure of meeting. Most people don’t have both.

Sam Winchester.

What is it about Sam Winchester that Castiel finds so fascinating?

It’s not simply his looks; looks have never been that important to Castiel, although he won’t deny that Sam is attractive. It’s not simply his competence in the courtroom, although that is certainly a major factor.

There’s something about him. Something… unique. Something that draws Castiel toward him, but he couldn’t identify it if he wanted to. Something-

“Ah! Fuck!” he shouts, pulling his burned hand away. “Goddammit.” He sets down the kettle and turns to the sink, running his hand under the cool flow of water.

Let this be a lesson, he tells himself. You cannot afford to get distracted in this job or this life. Not even by young, mysterious, attractive defense attorneys.

~~

“Castiel!” shouts an enthusiastic – if aggravated – voice from outside.

Oh, fuck.

That would be Kevin.

“Come on, Castiel,” adds another, this one reproachful.

Lovely.

And Anna.

“What do you want?” he yells in the general direction of the window.

Kevin and Anna are two young people who live on his block. (Fuck him for calling them ‘young people’, he’s forty, not sixty.) Kevin’s in undergrad, almost 20 (he’s half Castiel’s age. Half!) and Anna’s twenty-six and working on her doctorate. They like to come around and bother him. Sometimes they do his yardwork or repair things in his house, but mostly they yell at him or ask him questions.

Today is no different, evidently.

“Can we come in, Castiel?” Anna demands.

“Have you fallen down?” Kevin jokes.

Castiel rolls his eyes and lets them inside. “I don’t know what your problem with me is.”

“We don’t have a problem,” Anna says happily as she traipses inside. “We happen to be very impressionable, wide-eyed young people who find ourselves interested in the wisdom of a much older, more experienced person such as yourself.”

“Fuck you,” Castiel mutters, slamming his door. “Why are you really here?”

“Homework help,” Kevin admits. “I needed you to help me write this paper.”

“Jesus Christ, I have cases to prepare for!” Castiel exclaims. “I can’t just sit here tutoring you both all day every day.”

“Oh,” Kevin says quietly. “That’s fine, we’ll leave. See you another day, Castiel.”

Castiel sighs and rests his head on the coffee table. “Alright, get your ass over here. What’s the paper on?”

~~

Castiel only has one true friend, in the sense of another person in one’s peer group whose company one seeks out voluntarily for entertainment and without an ulterior motive such as requiring a service; a comrade.

Castiel’s friend is named Crowley.

Crowley is, by all accounts and all possible definitions of the word, an asshole.

However, as has been established between the two, Crowley is definitively Castiel’s asshole. They’ve even slept together on multiple occasions, although they’ve both made it very clear that they’re not interested in going anywhere else with that.

Castiel, for some bizarre reason that even he could never quite put his finger on, actually enjoys Crowley’s company, and they’ve managed to remain good friends for a number of years despite having fought and been very angry with each other quite a lot of times.

So when Crowley calls Castiel that night, he’s relieved. When Crowley calls Castiel, it never means anything more than ‘let’s go for a drink’ or ‘let’s have a snog’. On one rather (extremely) memorable occasion, it meant ‘let’s go on an impromptu trip to Hawai’i, wear floral print, get sunburned, and drink fruity alcoholic beverages on the beach for several days’. (They returned to quite the disasters in their respective places of work.) Crowley never calls for Reasons. Crowley calls for the exact opposite.

(When Castiel calls Crowley, it always means ‘I need something from you.’ Specifically, weed.

For some reason, Crowley doesn’t seem to have any problems with that. Maybe that’s because Castiel never argues and simply goes along with all of Crowley’s insane schemes.)

So Crowley calls Castiel. And Castiel feels immense relief.

“Hullo, Castiel!” Crowley says in his rough, sandpapery, Scottish drawl. “How are you, darling?”

Castiel laughs quietly. “I’m just fine, Crowley. How have you been?”

“Quite lonely. Can you imagine when all your friends are bloody pricks except for one who never calls, that might be a bi’ of a lonely existence?”

Castiel manages to muster a small amount of shame. “Well, propose something to me then. Make me come out with you and do something insane. What is it this week, busting a crime ring in Reno? Buying illegal substances and distributing them to college students?”

“Hm,” Crowley says softly. “What’s a fun and illegal thing to do? How do you feel about hijacking a classic car for a cross-country road trip?”

“What kind of classic car?” Castiel asks, intrigued.

“There’s someone down the street from me at the moment with a nineteen sixty-seven Chevrolet Impala. It’s black, sleek, positively gorgeous, angel. Want to have a go at it?”

“Maybe later,” Castiel laughs. “For now, I think I’ll just join you for some whiskey.”

“I’m already at our favorite meet-up spot.”

“I’ll be there in five,” Castiel says, and hangs up.

~~

Their favorite meeting spot is a bar on the corner of Nowhere Place and Who Gives a Fuck Avenue. It’s called Honeybee, which Castiel suspects Crowley knows is why he likes it, and they have strippers and hookers there, which Castiel suspects is why Crowley likes it.

Plus they have absolutely exquisite booze.

Castiel finds Crowley at the bar nursing a beer and sits down next to him, grinning.

“Good evening,” Crowley murmurs, taking a sip of his drink. “What’ll it be?”

“Vodka tonic,” Castiel requests of the bartender, turning in his seat to look at Crowley. “What heinous schemes have you been up to since last we spoke?”

Crowley scoffs quietly. “Oh, Castiel, you always think so little of me.”

“Not little,” Castiel rebukes. “Accurate.”

“Touché,” Crowley laughs. “It’s the same as always, angel, selling reefer to anyone who’ll buy and seducing barely-legals, what did you expect? I’m not going to suddenly change my evil ways because you ask.”

The sarcasm and sass are positively dripping from the emphasized words, but Castiel isn’t fazed at all. He simply takes a swig of his drink and replies, “I didn’t ask.”

“That’s true. And I’m glad you haven’t because that would complicate things quite a lot.”

“Indeed it would,” Castiel replies.

They drink and talk for quite a while, but ultimately Crowley passes over Castiel’s companionship for that twenty-two year old in the corner who’s been eyeing him up all night and Castiel goes home alone.

What else isn’t new.

~~

Balthazar calls him up next. It’s three days since he paid Sam that visit to his firm and he needs something to entertain him while he’s rolling in cash and no cases.

“Hello Castiel!” he says eagerly. “How have you been getting along?”

Castiel smiles. Balthazar always manages to make him smile. “I’ve been alright,” he replies. “How’s it going with you?”

“I’m just wonderful,” Balthazar says cheerfully. “But you sound bored.”

“Out of my mind,” Castiel confesses.

“Then come on over to mine and we’ll play a board game, shoot the shit.”

Castiel sighs happily. “That sounds amazing. When?”

“Anytime. I’m free all week.”

“Great. I’ll see you in forty-five minutes.”

Castiel’s relationship with Balthazar has always been better than anyone in his family besides Gabriel. Gabriel was never hard, seeing as how they were closer in age and interests and practically everything. Gabriel had also been kind to him when none of his other family was. By the time Castiel was ten, Michael was solely supporting them with what limited income he could scrape together as a nineteen-year-old high school dropout and Lucifer had gotten himself emancipated and moved out. Gabriel was the only who had been there with him for the vast majority of his childhood.

Balthazar, meanwhile, has always been the ‘hot cousin’ of the family. (With Castiel, obviously, as the gay cousin.) He was never awkward as a child, spewing sass like hot rocks from the tender age of four and his body never becoming gangly or disproportionate. Even now, in his mid-fifties, he’s beautiful in the sort of indescribable way that older people often manage to be, the sort of beauty that is utterly unattainable (and completely unfathomable) to the very young.

And Castiel always idolized him, when they were children together. They are thirteen years apart, so when Castiel was seven, Balthazar was turning twenty, and from practically the moment Castiel knew what a crush was, he had one on Balthazar.

As Castiel gathers his things to meet his cousin at his house, he sighs. He’s so tired, always. He swears it didn’t used to be like this. He hopes it gets better, but he knows that it probably won’t.

He forgets to lock his house.

~~

“So, tell me of this Samuel Winchester,” Balthazar says playfully as Castiel is setting up Sorry!. Castiel scoffs and knocks over Balthazar’s pieces as retribution.

“You know everything there is to know.”

“No I don’t,” Balthazar says teasingly. “And you know that I don’t. Don’t you couzie?”

“Screw you with a jackhammer,” Castiel replies.

“Oh, saucy today are we?” Balthazar’s light, cheerful tone never falters. “There’s the sassy Castiel I’ve come to know and love. Tell me, darling, what’s the behind-the-scenes? What are you feeling that no one else is privy to? As the kids say, ‘spill the tea’.”

“I hate you so much,” Castiel says with a totally straight face. Apparently knocking over tiny, translucent, colored pieces of plastic wasn’t enough to vent his frustration, so he takes Balthazar’s expression far too literally and knocks his cousin’s mug of tea onto the floor.

“You delightful bastard,” Balthazar exclaims, staring at him in awe. “You positively fabulous prick.”

“You pompous ass,” Castiel grumbles under his breath.

“Clean my carpet, you arsehole, but first, I really do need to hear about this Winchester character now.”

Castiel can feel his resolve wearing away and he sighs. “Fine, for Christ’s sake if it will make you shut the hell up, okay. What do you want to know?”

“Are you falling for him, Cassie dear?”

Castiel scoffs. “I’ve met him twice, Balthazar.”

But of course, that’s not an answer. The number of times he’s interacted with Sam has, in fact, very little impact on how he feels about him. And as it stands… he isn’t quite sure whether he’s falling for Sam. He’d like to believe he knows better than that.

Balthazar must be able to read his thoughts, or else they’re just very in tune with each other, because he replies, “time doesn’t always have an impact on how you feel about someone.”

Castiel groans and tosses his head back over the back of his chair. “Look, Balthazar, if you wanted a love confession or some sort of cheesy, romantic-as-shit speech you should’ve gotten me drunk or high – or, best option, both. I don’t have anything for you.”

Balthazar hums distractedly. “Alright, then, Castiel. But don’t think I won’t be checking in on him.”

“Dear fucking god please do not do that.”

“Too late!” Balthazar cackles. “It’s in my calendar already.”

~~

Castiel gets the call at 8pm on Thursday, six days after he paid his little house call to Sam’s office. Caller ID: Unknown Number. He answers it.

“Castiel Novak?” asks an all-too-familiar voice that really shouldn’t be familiar.

Castiel smiles. “This is he.”

“Hi, it’s Sam Winchester,” replies the voice on the other end.

“Yes, I figured that out,” Castiel replies. “Have you considered my offer?”

“Yeah,” Sam says, all breath and no voice. “I’ve… I’ve given it a lot of thought, and I just…” He trails off, and Cas worries for a moment that he won’t resume speaking, but then he says, “I’m sorry, Castiel, but I can’t accept.”

Cas freezes. “I- wait, what? Why not?”

Sam sighs. “Well, I just… I love my little firm. You know? And I don’t wanna become one of those selfish big shot lawyers who looks out for number one and has no morals. Uh, no offense.”

“None taken,” Castiel murmurs absently, barely aware of anything he’s saying. Not that it particularly matters, because Sam is just continuing on.

“I became a lawyer to help people, and by representing these economically disadvantaged young black protesters, I can actually do that. So… no, unless you’re planning to let me keep doing this, to let me keep not charging these people for the work I’m doing for them, I can’t take this position.”

“I understand,” Castiel replies softly. “Thank you.”

His phone falls to the floor and he stares at the wall. He might be in shock. He isn’t sure.

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