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nxrthmizu · 5 years ago

Text

-Lordbug, Robin and Kitty Noir- Chapter Ten: In Which Three Superheroes Becomes Four

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/Part One//Part Nine/

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[I’m back! With an update1 :D]

Description:

Warnings: Cursing! Loads of it, actually.

[As always message me if error spotted! Wasn’t sure if I missed something while proof reading once (1)]

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Marinette was actually, very surprised.

She wasn’t panicking at all. The Marinette of a year ago would’ve scrambled everywhere, screeching and breaking down at frightening degrees. Perhaps it was Plagg’s influence and the fact that the black cat miraculous rested on her ring finger. Perhaps that was what calmed her down. Or perhaps it was the knowledge that her two best friends of her life would be next to her no matter what. Or maybe... Just maybe, it was because she had a higher self-confidence. Her designs had been tailored and altered (Within 12 hours, mind you) to perfection and to her level of self-satisfaction, and she had hand-washed, blow-dried, and ironed then all, hanging them up in hangers, waiting for the great moment.

“Did you hear? Bruce Wayne is coming to Paris!” A student chattered to his friend. “The billionaire, Bruce Wayne!”

“Woah! I hope we’re lucky enough to catch a glimpse of him.” His friend replied wistfully.

“He’s done so much charity work!” Rose exclaimed, a wide smile of her face. “I hope I get to meet him!”

Lila gave Rose a bright grin. “What a coincidence! Bruce Wayne is my godfather- I could ask him to talk to you if you want!”

Damian rolled his eyes. “I thought Tony Stark was your godfather.” He muttered under his breath. Using his father’s name like that- Honestly, at this point he was physically fighting the urge to prove her wrong.

“Really? That’s so great!” Rose exclaimed, stars glinting in her eyes. “You really are the best, Lila!”

The Italian girl brushed it off casually. “I was best friends with his son, David Wayne, in primary. Before I left Gotham, he confessed to me.” Lila sighed dreamily. “Unfortunately, I had to leave Gotham, but he promised that if we ever met again, he would date me. He said it was meant to be.”

Damian was seconds from vomiting from sheer disgust.

“Wow!” Alya grinned. “How old were you two when you met?”

Lila flipped her bangs over her shoulder, a convincing, wistful smile on her lips. “We met when he was five.” She sighed, as if remembering a distant memory. “I used to play with his brothers, along with him. They were all so sweet and so nice to me.”

Damian made a gagging noise in his throat, which did not go unnoticed by the bluenette next to him, who elbowed him playfully, gesturing for him to keep quiet. She pointed to her phone, which he was delighted to see, had the recording app on. Every word of Lila’s was being recorded, word for word, lie for lie. His lips lit up with a wide grin, a slightly (Only slightly) evil spark in his emerald eyes. Chloe resisted the urge to do her evil laugh.

“What goes around, comes around.” Chloe sung in a sing-song voice, just loud enough for the three friends (Classmates, Chloe said) to hear.

---

“Alright, we have everything!” Marinette breathed, checking over all her emergency materials and her backups of backup plans. Plagg hovered over her shoulder, a camembert macaron in his hand. The bluenette had rushed home as soon as school let out, taking the few hours she had before the show preciously.

“Uh, kid, i think you’re forgetting something.” He said nervously. “Don’t you need a dress?”

Marinette froze, the gears in her brain realising exactly how correct the chaos god was. “God, you’re right.” Her gaze was fearful as she begin to panic (Habits die hard).

“Calm down, kid!” Plagg forced out as he swallowed a mouthful of camembert macaron. “Don’t you have that gown that you were working on for Clara Nightingale? You could use that.”

Her blue hair in between her fingers, Marinette shook her head. “No, I can't do that. She’s my client, I can’t possibly-” The sentence was cut off with the bluenette’s continuous pacing.

“What about the black dress you were working on a week ago?” Plagg reminded her. “You haven’t finished it yet, but there’s time.”

Marinette’s eyes lit up. “Yes! I can finish that, yes, yes, yes.” She murmured to herself, shuffling over to her table where stacks of designs and fabrics lay in one giant mess. With a wave of his small paw, Plagg sorted out all the fabrics and made the workspace clear, which earned him an impressed look from his holder.

“Hey, I can create chaos, but I can solve chaos too, kid. I’m more powerful than you think. And this batch of camembert macarons are really nice!” Plagg shrugged, taking another munch.

Marinette giggled. “Thanks, kitty.” She kissed him lightly on the cheek, dashing into her closet to dig out her unfinished dress- She had a fashion show to be at, and she needed to look stunning.

Moments later, Marinette emerged from her closet with a hanger- With a gorgeous- Even half-finished- Dress hanging from it. Black netting- Tinged with silver threads- Formed the collar, dipping into a dark, velvety, black fabric. A heart neckline, perfectly shaped, would show just the perfect amount of the wearer’s collarbone. The top half of the dress was made to hug Marinette’s curves just nicely while the bottom half blossomed into a full, perfect ballgown. The folds of the dress were all evenly distributed. The bluenette had spent hours after school hand-sewing sparkly pearls onto the dress to make it appear like a night sky- Unfortunately, half of dress was still without it’s pearls.

Marinette bit her lip, looking over the gown. “Alright, I can finish this. I have...” She glanced over at her clock. “Two hours until we have to start preparing for the fashion show...” She nodded steadily to herself. “I got this.”

“You got this, kid!” Plagg munched approvingly. “Also, I’m just going to discreetly go steal some more of your camembert macarons from downstairs.” This earned him a disapproving look from his holder, but the kwami teleported downstairs anyway.

---

Ding-a-ling!

A dark-haired boy stepped into the bakery, the familiar, sweet smell of the shop wafting into his nose. He had become accustomed to the sweet scent that came with the Dupain-Cheng’s bakery.

“Good afternoon, Mrs. Dupain- I mean, Sabine.” He smiled sheepishly as the shorter Chinese woman wagged her finger playfully at him, the playful grin on her lips identical to her daughter’s.

“Good afternoon, Damian. Would you like some macarons? Recently, Marinette’s been baking a lot of camembert macarons.” Sabine laughed, and Damian, who had no time to protest, could only thank her. The Chinese woman disappeared behind the shop for a while, emerging with a tray of pastel yellow macarons. Damian eyed the tray warily, and in a second, after he blinked, one of the macarons disappeared. He reared back, alarmed, but Sabine, apparently, didn’t notice and only offered him one of the macarons. He took it, looking around carefully. A black blur slammed into the wall, disappearing after that. He could’ve sworn that the black blur held a macaron in it’s hands- Or paws, whatever.

“Thank... Thank you, Sabine.” Damian said, swallowing the macaron. He coughed, trying to muster up his courage. “Since... Since Marinette’s got her fashion show tonight, I was... I was hoping you could show me how to bake something for her, so I can give it to her.” He was more than embarrassed about his request, and the short, dark-haired woman’s bright beam wasn’t helping the situation.

The woman nodded. “Ooh, so it’s a surprise? Of course, then! We should make some strawberry cream-puffs- Those are her favourite!” Sabine kept talking animatedly, leading him into the bakery as he filed the new information about his angel in a safe place in his mind. Strawberry cream puffs. Strawberry cream puffs. Strawberry cream puffs.

“Tom, guess who’s here!” Sabine lead the awkward boy into the bakery kitchen, where the large man Tom Dupain was retrieving a tray of freshly baked bahulu’s (I did my research on pastries okay) from the oven, with a dark blue mitten with a golden MDC embroidery on the side- The trademark of Marinette’s work.

“Hi.” Damian waved awkwardly, wanting to melt into a puddle right there and then. Maybe he’d been hanging out with Marinette too much- Her habits were rubbing onto him.

“Well look who it is!” Tom exclaimed with a bright smile, Damian backtracking with a horrified smile as the big man reached for a hug. Damian coughed, being nearly strangled to death as he got bear-hugged until Sabine tapped her husband on his shoulder, gesturing to the pale, oxygen-deprived boy. “Oops.” Tom chuckled, scratching his neck nervously. “Sorry about that.”

Damian coughed, catching his breath. “It’s- it’s fine. Um, can I learn how to make that...” He waved his hands around awkwardly. “Strawberry cream puff?”

Tom’s eyes lit up. “Of course! That’s our little Mari’s favourite since she was five.” Tom handed him an apron. “Let’s get started, then!”

---

“Yum.” Plagg licked his... Lips? Whiskers?- Patting his little paws together to get rid of the flour on them. Marinette was blasting music through her phone as she concentrated on sewing each, individual pearl down onto the ballgown. Each pearl was accompanied by a little spray of luminescent green sequins around it, dusted faintly to give a sort of glow around each pearl. She was about a quarter of the way down through within forty-five minutes. Things weren’t looking that bad.

But then Hawkmoth just had to be a bitch.

“Akuma!” The screech of a citizen had Marinette snapping up from her work, wide blue eyes alight with panic. She glanced between her skylight and her ballgown, biting her lip.

She groaned. “Fuck this, I hate Hawkmoth.” She grumbled, throwing down her needle, pearl, and string. “Plagg, claws out!”

Damian, on the other hand...

“Um, do you mind if I take this call for a sec...?” Damian coughed.

Tom hummed, not having heard the scream of ‘Akuma!’ (Or maybe he just chose to ignore it, he was in his baking zone and nothing would interrupt him). When the big man didn’t reply, Damian just awkwardly shifted out of the backdoor, berating himself for not bringing his backpack with his Robin uniform. With no other choice, he held up the small, faintly spotted ring that he had stringed around his neck with a black chain. “Tikki,” The kwami giggled as her holder sighed in potential regret. “Spots on.”

---

“Well look who showed up.” Kitty snorted as the spotted hero ran beside her.

Lordbug didn’t reply but only dashed ahead. He was determined to bake that strawberry cream puff for Marinette- He was determined to finish the entire process by himself. And if he didn’t want his cream puff to burn to bits, he’d better hurry up. “Let’s just get this over with. I’m rushing.” He told her curtly.

Kitty rolled her eyes. “Yeah, you’re always so busy.” Internally, she thanked him for not taking his own sweet time with the akuma. She needed to get to her dress.

“Any idea what it is this time?” Queen Bee asked as she joined the other two, flying alongside them. “And where’s bird-boy?”

Kitty shrugged and Lordbug only coughed. “Maybe he’s busy...?” Kitty said, an unsure tint to her voice. “Pity, kind of hoped to see him today.”

Queen Bee patted her shoulder reassuringly. “I’m pretty sure he’ll show up to the show.”

Lordbug’s ears perked up. The show? What show- Wait... The fashion show?

“Let’s just focus on the akuma first. Any plans, Mister Bug?” Kitty asked, and it didn't take a genius to sense how sarcastic she was being. “Since you show up for just about every akuma, you should have a plan, right?”

He shot her a dirty look. Then, to be fair, he couldn’t blame her. But the only reason he never showed up was because he was busy showing up in his alter-ego!

“LOLLIPOP!” Just ahead, a purple-green dressed infant stomped down the streets of Paris, causing destruction all around him.

“Is... That a giant baby?” Queen Bee stuttered as she stopped short, flying in place. “I’m out, guys. I hate babies. They’re utterly horrible.”

Lordbug squeezed his eyes shut. He wasn’t ready to deal with this shit- Heck, he’d fought so many Gotham villains, but none of them had the unpredictability of an infant! There wasn’t even any reasoning that could be done!

“We’ll need more of us to bring him down.” Kitty pointed out. “No matter how clever we are, we need as many hands as we can get.”

“Lucky Charm.” Lordbug murmured under his breath, blinking when a kettle dropped into his hands.

“Of course! How smart. Let’s all have tea while a baby destroys the city.” The yellow-black dressed superhero said snakily, sarcasm dripping off like venom. “What a wonderful idea, Lord Buggy.”

“Wait here.” He instructed. “Actually, don’t.” The baby was starting to approach them, if they stayed there they’d be smashed to pieces. “Try to keep him back, I have an idea.”

Down below on the streets, one man wasn’t running, screaming in fear like everyone else. Bruce Wayne watched the spotted hero with curious eyes, a nagging feeling telling him it was someone familiar.

---

“Have this.” Damian told Tikki distractedly, walking into Master Fu’s massage shop, handing her a sugar cube that he had bought from the grocery some time ago. They came in huge packs of 500 grams, and it was a great offer, so he had bought about ten packs. “What could possibly-” He caught sight of the large saxophone thing that Master Fu had in the middle of his massage room. “Could I... Recruit other holders?”

Tikki nodded. “Why not.” She shrugged.

“Chloe... Marinette.” He murmured.

Tikki panicked. Not Marinette! “There’s also a miraculous that allows you to, um, multiply yourself. You can go as both Lordbug and Robin!”

Damian grinned. “Good idea.”

The kwami of creation gulped. Master Fu was going to kill them both.

---

“How long do you think he’ll take?” Queen Bee asked, waving to the baby. “Here, you giant baby! C’mere!”

“Are we assuming he’ll even come back at all?” Kitty Noir scoffed. “And come with me, baby! Here, August!”

“No, look at me!” Queen Bee hissed. “I don’t know, I sure hope he comes back! Or else we’re going to die, and ‘Killed by giant emotional baby’ does not feel like a good way to die!”

“Doesn’t look good on a grave, either!” Kitty groaned. “Here, baby! Do you want, um,” She looked around, picking up a large, donut sign that had been hit down by the akuma. “Giant donut?”

The baby squinted at the black figure, but then concentrated at the giant, pink, circular thing she was holding.

“LOLLIPOP?” The baby grinned, reaching for it, crashing onto the building that Kitty was on.

“Shit!” Kitty cursed, but she was trapped. The baby’s arms were locked on both sides of her, and the baby’s face was less than three meters away.

“Kitty!” Queen Bee shrieked, her wings batting quickly to get to her friend, but someone else did before her.

Not the baby, of course. Thankfully.

A blur of green, yellow, and red flashed across the baby, who whined as both the black blur and giant donut vanished.

“I leave you alone for two minutes, and you nearly get yourself killed.” Robin commented, the girl safe in his arms. He set her down at a half-demolished building, Queen Bee buzzing over (See what I did there? hehe) to check on her friend.

“Alright, here’s the plan.” Lordbug, who swung by after kicking the baby in the eye, instructed. “Kitty, Bee, distract the baby. Robin and I will get the item where the akuma is.”

Both Kitty and Queen Bee looked a little skeptical of Lordbug’s plan, but neither of them said anything as they ran off to distract baby August.

“Here, baby!” Kitty whistled. “Come here, sweetheart!”

“Here, baby!” Queen Bee mimicked. “C’mere and let me sting you!” Kitty shot Queen Bee a dirty look, resulting in the latter to merely shrug. “What?”

“What, actually, is the plan?” Robin asked, a skeptical eyebrow raised. He had not realised how difficult it would be to deal with another one of him.

“We’ll lead August to the Eiffel Tower, which I can use my yoyo thing to surround, and we’ll make a makeshift play... box? Play something.” Lordbug said, ready-ing his yoyo. “Playpen.”

“I don’t like you.” Robin stated. “You’re... Weird. Not like me.”

Lord bug only smirked at his statement. “That’s because I’m your inner voice. The one you never use out loud.”

“Huh.” This had some raised eyebrows from Robin, but he continued with the plan. He let out a sharp whistle, catching the baby’s attention. “YOU WANT A LOLLIPOP?” He yelled. “Come here, then, you big idiot!”

Lordbug zipped off the to Eiffel Tower, which was just ahead now. The baby lumbered over towards the two males, a large grin on his face as he reached out for the bright, red... Insect? Doll?

“Almost there!” Robin ran along the roofs, seeing Bee and Kitty following after the baby, not far behind. “Come on!” He let out another piercing whistle, which the baby clearly did not like. “Shit!” Annoyed, baby August slammed his hand where Robin was, only for Kitty to swerve in, breaking the roof of the building with her cataclysm, causing both of the superheroes- One superhero, one vigilante, actually- To fall into the building.

“How’s it feel to have a maiden in shining armour save you?” Kitty grinned, a little breathless.

“Honoured.” Robin replied, picking himself up. “Thanks for the save, but,” He yelped, jumping aside as August’s hand came through the hole in the building, feeling around for the two. “We should probably get going.”

Kitty smashed a window with her baton (That destructive side coming out), and the two jumped out, careful to avoid to shards.

“Oh hey, you’re still alive, bird-boy!” Queen Bee grinned, flying quickly as she gestured to the baby with a mirror, which reflected the sun into the baby’s eyes.

“Bee, I think you’re agitating it.” Robin raised his eyes as the baby squealed angrily, stomping closer and closer to the tower.

The flying hero didn’t seem to care. “As long as it gets into that tower, it’s fine. Lord Buggy, you ready?”

A thumbs up from Lordbug was all there was before August stumbled into the area under the tower, Bee still flashing the light from time to time with the mirror. Kitty and Robin kept August busy when Bee wasn’t using the mirror, making sure the baby didn’t get out of the playpen that Lordbug was creating.

“Get the bracelet!” Lordbug hollered as the baby begin to screech angrily. August thrust his fists angrily at the ‘playpen’ a.k.a his prison, and with a heavy swat, the tower begin going down.

“Abort, abort! Get out of there, everyone!” Robin yelled, grabbing Kitty as he shot his grappling hook to... There was no near buildings to attach to.

“Shoot it to me!” Queen Bee yelled, catching the hook with an oomph. “Hold on, both of you!” Robin scooped Kitty up in his arms, the both of them flying just out of August’s reach. “I hate babies!”

The four superheroes gathered on the roof of a building. “Plan C, anyone?” Lordbug said tiredly. “That cream puff is probably already burnt.”

“Try your lucky charm one more time.” Kitty suggested. “Maybe-”

A large wrapper fell from the sky. “Ideas?” Lord bug said dryly.

Kitty’s eyes twinkled in mischief. “Yep. We’re going to need...” She looked around. “Robin, do you think you could distract August for a while? We’re going to do some wrapping.” Her ring beeped. “Aaaand we’ll have to do this fast. Buggy, help Robin. We’ve got this.”

The two boys ran off, grumbling while Bee flew Kitty to a lamppost. “This will do.” Kitty grinned. The two women wrapped the paper around the huge round, light of the lamppost, and Queen Bee adjusted the wrapper to look like a little bow at the end.

“Perfect.” Queen Bee grinned wickedly. “I think I know what you’re doing.”

Kitty shrugged. “I would cataclysm the bracelet, but I already used it, so...”

“I get to sting the baby! Utterly wonderful.” Bee clapped her hands in delight. “Boys! We’re ready!”

Robin swung off, narrowly getting missed.

Kitty whistled sharply. “LOLLIPOP!”

August’s head snapped up at the mention of his favourite word. “LOLLIPOP?”

“Yes, LOLLIPOP!” Queen Bee grinned from her hiding place behind the lamppost.

The baby stumbled towards them, and Kitty rolled out of the way as Queen Bee yelled, “VENOM!”, stabbing the stinger into August’s arm. “Bug, get the bracelet!”

Kitty pressed the button that held the bracelet in place with her baton, extending it to get momentum she needed. Robin smashed the bracelet with his bo-staff, and Lordbug caught the butterfly with his yoyo.

“Miraculous ladybug.” He mumbled, the swarm of magical ladybugs flying through the city to clear the destruction.

“August!” Kitty sighed, picking up the confused baby on the floor.

“Lollipop!” August squirmed, and the other three superheroes stepped back in disgust.

August’s mother ran towards the four, a relieved expression in her eyes. “August!”

“Here you go.” Kitty sighed tiredly. Her ring beeped for the fifth time- She was seconds from transforming. “Got to go. See you!”

She jumped off, using her baton to propel her into the air. “I should get going, too.” Robin and Lordbug said simultaneously, glaring at each other once they finished their sentences.

“Why do the two of you have the same necklace on?” Queen Bee asked, squinting at the mouse miraculous around the two’s necks.

Cue to the awkward laughter.

---

Surprisingly, the strawberry cream puffs were not burnt. A little overcooked, sure, but not completely burnt.

Damian wrapped them up delicately in a box before tying it up in a pink ribbon.

“Were you wearing that necklace just now?” Sabine asked as she helped him put the finishing touches on the cream puffs. “That silver coin.”

Damian glanced at his neck, cursing. He forgot to take it off!

“Yeah.” He said with a forced smile. “It’s a family heirloom.”

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/Part Eleven/

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I’m back with an update! It was super longggg

Also, side note: If you want to be added to the tag list, please comment on the latest chapter, or else I might miss it due to my forgetful ass :) I’m glad so many of you guys enjoy it~ Love y’all <3

(Tag list! @yin-390 @mysteriouslyswimmingfan-blo-blog@constancetruggle@the-navistar-carol @never-neverland @rayray384 @mystery-5-5 @black-streak@bluerosette23 @seraphichana @you-will-never-know-how-i-think@mikantsume @graduatedmelon @thebookwormfairy@crazylittlemunchkin@shizukiryuu @screamingtofillthevoid @serenacross200@zestyzealot@redscarlet95 @roseinbloom02 @beautym3 @resignedcatservant@sizzling-fairy-oil @tinybrie @worlds-tiniest-spook-pastry @lunar-wolf-warrior@northernbluetongue @dannyelric301 @daminett4life @loysydark @sparkle9510@erick-rose99-stuff @nataladriana9 @maya-custodios-dionach @myazael @sassakitty @clumsy-owl-4178 @emootaku-666)

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vitamx · 5 years ago

Text

the iron door: chapter 2

[ Also read on AO3! ] [ Chapter 1 ]

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the day went by swiftly as usual- mumbo tinkered with a few bits and pieces of sahara's tech and only slightly wondered if every machine he touched would start looking at him and screaming.

in all honesty, he didn't know why he was getting so worked up over a- over a broken machine that just so happened to activate on accident.

it happened all the time with countless other redstone projects of his.

there was absolutely nothing strange about it.

(of course, that's just what he told himself.)

soon the night befell him, and he wondered if it was really worth the trouble of going back over to the room with the iron door; to go back to that NPC, to go back to the chilling room it was kept in.

though he really had no choice, in reality.

grian was counting on him to keep it in check while he was gone, to make sure it didn't break down more than it already had.

he couldn't just avoid the task he had promised to do.

what would grian think if he came back to find he hadn't checked up on the thing all because it jump-scared him a bit?

well- he'd laugh, first of all. then would come the disappointment.

and frankly, mumbo wasn't sure he could handle that.

after half an hour of making up excuses to delay the trip over to the shipwreck, mumbo set off, the sound of rockets filling the starry sky.

---

grian's giant, awe-inspiring base came into view in less than a minute, still standing out like a blue sticker on a red wall despite the darkness of the night.

sucking in his breath, mumbo curved downwards, dunking into the icy, salty ocean water in a matter of seconds.

wincing from the cold, mumbo pushed through the water (thankfully coming into contact with the conduit's effects soon after), and squeezed through the gap that separated the water from the shipwreck.

the garden afront it was still lovely and charming, and the faint smell of wood soon greeted him.

he wasted no time in entering the ship itself, making a bee-line towards the iron trapdoor and ladder passage.

the trek down to bedrock was as tiring as it was last time, the temperature dropping more and more as he reached the end. a chill ran down his spine as he finally stepped away and into the room.

the iron door greeted him silently.

in the same spot as before, the communicator (which was likely grian's) lay untouched upon the cold stone ground.

leaning down, mumbo picked it up gently, wincing at how it felt like dry ice on his skin, with how cold it was on the surface. as the screen flickered on, he squinted his eyes at the bright light that accompanied it, quickly turning the brightness of the screen down.

on the screen was a new recording: "MCHECK_02.mp3".

rubbing his eyes, mumbo walked through the iron door, communicator in hand. the door clicked behind him softly, and all of a sudden he felt very small.

it's not like the room was unfamiliar- there wasn't much to be unfamiliar about at this point- but rather what was in the room still disturbed him.

a redstone torch was placed in the corner of the wall- right where he had left it last time. the NPC lay crumpled beneath it.

raising the communicator up, mumbo opened the audio file and played it, glancing back at the NPC frequently as it loaded.

"erm... so, uh, day 2, huh? thanks for coming back, i suppose! um... i- i really hope you're not too spooked about the whole NPC lookalike of me. but, it's harmless! ...mostly. um- the NPC, it can get a little violent at times, b-but only if you aggravate it! that's, uh, kind of why it got itself so messed up like that. i... really should have mentioned that in the last recording. oh well, too late to go back and redo it. but, hey! if you're listening to this, that means you did well last time! so, uh... yeah, good job, good job... ..."

a pit of dread grew in mumbo's gut as he listened to more and more of the recording. pausing it abruptly, he exhaled slowly, trying not to linger too much on a few parts of it.

"a few parts of it" meaning specifically the part where he mentions the NPC can get "violent".

what entails getting violent? does it mean more screaming and jittering? or does it mean the NPC could somehow get up and start punching him in the ribcage???

mumbo really didn't want to find out.

after a few moments of his thoughts swarming his own head, mumbo resumed the recording.

"that being said! this time i think it'd be best to do a sort of... audio check? i don't think that's the right word for it- like, playing a sound and writing down how it reacts... if you're up to that, then you'd better get a pen and paper out- i'll play about three different sounds. write down if it reacts or if it doesn't. reacting can be like- its voice-box activating, or its eyes flickering..."

pulling a face, mumbo reluctantly looked into his inventory, finding only a birch sign on him. he sighed, pulled it out, and figured it would have to do.

he'd make sure to bring a book and quill next time for sure.

(though he wasn't really sure he wanted there to be a next time, if he was honest.)

"okay... playing sound #1 in one... two... three..."

instantly, a sharp ringing noise filled the dusty room, making mumbo flinch.

it sounded like a dog whistle almost, though more screech-like.

the NPC did not move an inch- nothing had changed.

he scribbled down a "no" next to the first bullet point he had drawn.

"playing sound #2 in one... two... three..."

this time, the sound was pure white noise- white noise that filled mumbo's ears and nearly gave him a headache.

looking up from the sign, mumbo froze.

the NPC was looking directly at him, leaning forward ever so slightly.

its eyes glowed with a red ring styled pupil, flickering in and out.

a little shaken, and rightfully so, mumbo swiftly wrote down a "YES" in all capitals, his handwriting more messy than it usually was.

he glanced up at the NPC between every letter he wrote down.

"playing sound #3 in one-"

the audio cut into a quiet static, buzzing and humming in infrequent ratios.

slowly looking up, mumbo's blood ran cold.

"he is a liar, you know..."

the damned machine was talking- whispering to him.

its voice was mangled and scratched, raspy and barely coherent.

it was deep and guttural, but quiet and placid all the same.

absolute fear grabbed ahold of mumbo. he had to get out- had to get out fast.

but the machine kept whispering to him.

"he tells you i have broken myself."

the NPC lets out a soft, almost silent laugh.

"he lies to you."

mumbo tried to move his legs, tried to run like hell.

why weren't they moving?

he didn't want to listen to any more of what this broken-down, glitched machine was telling him, so why couldn't he move?

the NPC looks him up and down, its head barely moving, and the damn thing smiles at him.

"i am not mechanical. i am alive. i am waiting... breathing... listening..."

"...can you hear me? mumbo?"

mumbo resists the urge to hurl, and he finally gets himself to move.

he sprints out of the room, the iron door slamming behind him, and his hands are clasped over his mouth, his jaw clenched.

the quiet room suddenly fills with a loud BANG- mumbo trips, stumbling backward as he swerves around to face the iron door.

the NPC is banging and punching the iron door, and in between the sharp clangs and banging that filled the dimly lit room, mumbo hears the same whirred, desperate, and rasped breathing and heaving he had heard the moment he pressed his ear against that iron door.

he runs without a second thought, a lump in his throat and his hands shaking, and he flies upward.

his arms are scraped slightly by the ladders, but he could hardly care.

even after he shut the trapdoor and collapsed inside the shipwreck, he could still hear the iron door banging from beneath the world.

---

#hermitcraft #hermitcraft au #hermitcraft fanfic #mumbo jumbo #mumbojumbo #mumbo #npc grian #npcgrian #npc g #npcg #grian #grianmc #the iron door

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razielwriter · 5 years ago

Text

Lockdown - A short horror/thriller story

Recording date not found. Author Unknown. Located in the Chainwell Tor Research Facility Database. Log 1.

M: So… It looks like we’re in here for the long haul…

(Pause)

M: I think I heard somewhere that, to avoid going crazy on submarines, sailors get themselves into routines. It’s been nearly two weeks since… Well, it couldn’t hurt, I guess.

M: I started out slow. Ease myself into it, you know? Having breakfast, getting in some exercise, checking the security monitors. Still nothing. Not even cats. And cats get fucking everywhere. You know how long it’s been since I’ve seen a pigeon? Fucking… ages man. I mean not ages, but like… It’s crazy.

M: I did find a rat, though. Found him in a box of shreddies. He kept making this horrible scratching noise. It’s okay though. I fucking hate shreddies. I’ve decided to name him Jason, for obvious reasons. He now lives in a little cell I managed to rig together. He seems happy. Still likes to bite me, bloody nuisance.

M: I started going through the boxes. Some of the stuff was… Weird. I’ll say it, it was weird. I mean, who packs a Furby? In an emergency bunker? I mean who looks at Gods mistake of a children’s toy and thinks “yes, this will get me through the end of the world”. Its fucking creepy, is what it is. I’ve left it in a corner, next to the toaster. If it turns around, I’m out.

M: And now I’m talking to you. Like you’re a person. Like you care about any of this. Like you won’t outlive me by a decade, assuming, you know, the electricity stays on and nothing springs a leak.

M: But… that’s it. That’s my day. Fucking bollocks, that.

~~~

Recording date not found. Author Unknown. Located in the Chainwell Tor Research Facility Database. Log 9.

M: I decided to go exploring today. Started making a map of this place. Goes on forever. Found some cool shit, though. Greenhouse. Supply room. Hell, even found someone’s stash of porn. Truly, the essentials.

M: Coolest thing, though. I found a radio. Not one of the digital ones. Like, 80’s to 90’s shit. Looks like it was used to broadcast. Bit old school, but I think I can get it set up again. I’m hoping someone, out there, might have had the same idea. Maybe they’ll come rescue me.

M: Anyway, my day. Yes, that’s what you really want to know about. Um… Had breakfast, did exercise. Fed Jason. I swear, he’s getting fat. Picked out a book to read. “Lord of the Flies”, cheery I know. But it only seemed appropriate, given the circumstances.

(Sigh)

M: God, I sound like a dating profile. I mean, dating a computer wouldn’t be that bad but, I hate to say it, I just don’t think you’re my type. We can still be friends though. Get a pint from time to time, smile awkwardly at parties. Then you and your boyfriend will have a fight one night, and you’ll call, just wanting a friend, but we both know it’s more than that. We have one drunken night of passionate love making. But we never talk about it.

M: Ooh, that’s the timer. My steak and kidney pies ready.

~~~

Recording date not found. Author Unknown. Located in the Chainwell Tor Research Facility Database. Log 15.

M: God, that Ralphs a nark. All that “… eyes that proclaimed no evil” shit. He’s so preachy. I bet, if he had access to the internet, he’d be just as “innocent” as every other boy his age. Then we’ll see who’s so golden.

(Chuckles)

M: Same as usual. Breakfast, exercise, security cameras, tended to the greenhouse. The potatoes are coming along nicely, and the sunflowers. I’m surprised. I thought they’d need more, you know, sunlight. But halogen will have to do. I can’t exactly go and clean the windows from the outside.

M: Then I went to feed Jason… I don’t know if I should call her that anymore. Turns out he is a she. And she had babies. Tiny little pink bodies, all squirming and squeaking. Their eyes aren’t even open. Never seen a baby rat before. They’re kind of gross, but also kind of cute.

M: Went to check on the radio for a few hours. Calm my nerves a bit. It’s not every day you become a dad to five little rat shaped testicles. Thought I heard something at around seven, but it turned out to be nothing. I think it was just, like, a World War Two radio play, or something. Shooting and shouting, you know the sort.

M: But that’s it for today. Now for some good old-fashioned alone time… As if I haven’t got anything else.

~~~

Recording date not found. Author Unknown. Located in the Chainwell Tor Research Facility Database. Log 26.

M: Okay, lets get this shit over with. Woke up a little earlier than I would have liked. Damn scratching. I think Jason might be getting some cell mates soon, if I find the culprit. Had breakfast, did exercise, all that good stuff. Fed Jason and the Ratgonauts. Their skin has gone darker, so that’s good… I think… I don’t actually know. God, I wish I could ask someone. Anyway, tended to the greenhouse. Then I went to check on the radio. And, fucking hell, that’s when the interesting shit kicked in.

M: I heard someone. Out there. I’m sure of it this time. I wrote down the words. Hold on… Mm…

(Paper rustling)

M: Fuck, where is it? AH! Here. The signal was a bit shit, so I didn’t get all of it, but this is what I’ve got.

M: To anyone out there… Please… Keep… My name is Sophie. I’m in… To anyone still out there, if anyone is still out there, I am here. I am still alive. But I don’t know how long I can last. Please, if you can hear me, my frequency is… That’s where it cut out.

M: I knew it. I fucking knew it! I knew I couldn’t be the only one left. And if I’m picking up on her signal, Sophie can’t be that far away! I guess I’ll have to keep flicking through the radio signals until I find her again. But I’m gonna make dinner first.

~~~

Recording date not found. Author Unknown. Located in the Chainwell Tor Research Facility Database. Log 31.

M: She… She fucking ate them. I… I can’t…

(Pause)

M: It was normal. Breakfast, exercise, all that bollocks…

(Pause)

M: I thought it was quiet. I thought that was a bit weird. Usually, when its feeding time, Jason starts squeaking and running around… Fuck. Maybe I wasn’t feeding her enough. Maybe I needed to let her loose from time to time but… She ate them. They were gone when I looked in and I only realised when I found the tail… All five…

M: Anyway, yeah, did some gardening… Checked the radio… Nothing…

(Pause)

M: I don’t know why I’m fucking crying over rats. I kind of wanted to… But she’s the only other living thing here, except me…

~~~

Recording date not found. Author Unknown. Located in the Chainwell Tor Research Facility Database. Log 39.

M: It’s quiet without the babies. Fucking little bastards waking me up at three in the morning with their scratching but...

(Pause)

M: Got breakfast, did exercise. It’s weird. Never thought I would have, like, muscle and shit. I’m more beer belly and pork scratchings. Who would have thought it?

M: My sunflowers are doing really well. Never thought I’d like courgettes, but, you know what? They’re not that bad.

M: I think Jason got out in the night. Or maybe it was someone else that ate the rest of my lasagne. Yeah I’m looking at you, baby eater.

M: The Furby woke up today. I was just making some coffee and it fucking laughed at me, this demonic screeching noise and wiggled its fucking ears. So I did what any other self-respecting person would do. Took it and chucked it at the wall. It broke. I still have no idea how it did that. Couldn’t find a battery or anything. Gives me the creeps just thinking about it.

M: That’s… that’s not the only thing though. Fuck, I really have been out here too long. I… well, I woke up at about 1 am. Nightmares, nothing new there. I went to get myself a drink and… I think I saw something. Outside. It was sort of like a shadow, but not really. Too solid for that. And… teeth. At least, I think they were teeth. They looked like teeth.

(Sigh)

M: Fuck, I need a drink. I found a bunch of booze in the back. I know I promised… but he’s gone now. Who cares about soberness anymore, right?

~~~

Recording date not found. Author Unknown. Located in the Chainwell Tor Research Facility Database. Log 40.

M: The scratching. I think Jason’s getting kind of frustrated in the night. I keep waking up to the sound of scratching.

M: Ah… yeah, sorry. Day, yes. Um… Breakfast, exercise, feeding Jason. Sorry, I haven’t slept… at all, really. That damn scratching and… God, what was in those booze? Feels like my brain is being squeezed by an angry nun.

M: Anyway, that’s about…

(The radio is heard)

Prof S Taylor: Hello? Can anyone hear me?

M: What…? Holy shit… Um… Hello? I mean, fuck, yes! Me. I’m here! I can hear you!

Prof S Taylor: Oh my God. Finally. Hi.

M: Hello.

Prof S Taylor: I… Um… Right, no time for the gushy stuff. I’m Sophie. Professor Taylor, I should say, with the research team. Is Sargent Foster there?

M: Sargent Foster?

Prof S Taylor: You are in the bunker, right?

M: Yeah but, um, I’m not Foster and… Its just me here. No one else.

Prof S Taylor: What? Who are you, then? Name and rank, soldier.

M: Easy there, mate. I’m not a soldier. Its… It’s a little complicated.

Prof S Taylor: Whatever. We’ll talk about it more when I get there. You have supplies?

M: Yeah, sure. But not much.

Prof S Taylor: Fair enough. The higherups probably closed the whole valley in case... Has anyone attempted to contact you?

M: Nope. Only you so far.

Prof S Taylor: And its just you there? What happened to the others?

M: I… I have no idea. I thought you could tell me.

Prof S Taylor: Humm… Still, I’m on the other side of the valley. I’ll be stopping off halfway. There’s another bunker, there should be a few others there. I think their radios defective, though. Haven’t been able to get in contact. I should be with you by the end of Tuesday.

M: Wow, days still exist then? Wonder what else I’ve forgotten? Tell me, do people still shake hands anymore, or do we spit in each other’s general direction, or something?

Prof S Taylor: Oh, so you’re a comedian. That’s… something, I suppose. Listen, just sit tight. I’ll be there soon.

M: Okay. My names Matt by the way.

Prof S Taylor: That’s good to know. Nice to meet you Matt. I’ll be there soon.

(Radio is turned off)

M: … Wow. Just… Fucking wow… I should probably tidy up a bit.

~~~

Recording date not found. Author Unknown. Located in the Chainwell Tor Research Facility Database. Log 45.

M: Okay, I’m sure somethings wrong now. Jason… She’s gone missing. And that… I saw it again. I… I fucking saw it! I know I did! I’m not going crazy, right? I can’t be?

M: Jason got out. I was looking for her and… The window. I saw it out the window. Its jaw was huge, large enough to eat a German shepherd whole. And its teeth were wet and glistening. It looked like… like a cartoon skull. No lips. No nose. Just black, rubbery skin pulled back over that massive jaw and tiny skull. And the body was thin. I could see every rib and organ through the skin. And skinny legs. The arms were fucking crazy, though. Like, long and muscly. I think it walked on them…

(The radio is heard)

Prof S Taylor: Matt? Matt, you there?

M: Shit. Ugh, yeah, yeah I’m here. Where are you?

Prof S Taylor: At the other bunker. Matt… I’m not gonna make it.

M: What do you mean?

Prof S Taylor: They… They’re all dead. And I know it’s my fault. I shouldn’t have trusted it to behave. I should have stopped it.

M: What? Sophie… Are you talking about the thing with the teeth? And the weird arms?

Prof S Taylor: You’ve seen it then. The Scratcher. That’s what the office wits liked calling it. Stupid name. But… I’m sorry. I’m truly sorry. My suggestion is get out while you can. I’ll stay here, draw it to me. That should buy you some time.

M: Sophie... How far away are you? I’m sure I could reach you…

Prof S Taylor: There’s no time for that. I can see it through the trees. It shouldn’t be long now.

M: No…

Prof S Taylor: Just… Promise me one thing. If you get out, find Roshni Laghari. She’s a teacher in London. She… Tell her I loved her to. I never told her, but I did. Will you do that for me Matt? Please?

M: Y-Yes. I’ll do that.

Prof S Taylor: Thank you Matt. Thank you.

(Radio is turned off)

M: … Shit. I should never have come here. I… I really shouldn’t have… Where’s my bag?

~~~

Recording date not found. Author Unknown. Located in the Chainwell Tor Research Facility Database. Log 98.

M: I hear him. I hear him. He whispers to me at night, like the prophecies of an angry God. But I have not lost my way yet. I see him for what he is. A pig’s head. And I am the flies. I am the flies.

M: I found her today. He threw her through the greenhouse glass. My Jason. Poor Jason. I’ll tell you something, though. She was tasty. Can of beans and some whisky. Got to be careful. Don’t have too much left…

M: For fuck sake will you quiet. I hear you. I hear you all the fucking time you grinning bastard. I hear you when I sleep. When I wake up. Stop… Stop laughing at me! How you like it if I did it to you?

(Proceeds to laugh for one minute and thirty-two seconds)

M: See, I laugh at you devil. Scum. See how you like it. Because I’m not opening that door. Not for anything. Not for…

M: No. You… You can’t say that. It was… It was an accident. IT WAS AN ACIDENT! I couldn’t stop it. It wasn’t my fault. If anything, it was yours. All your fault, poor, pathetic monster. You’re the reason! You’re the reason they’re dead, not me!

M: What… What’s that?

(Gun shots)

M: Ha, they’ve come for me. They’re here for me. Yes! Take that fucker!

(The door is blown)

M: Yes! Aw man, you have no idea how good it is-

(Gun shots)

Unknown: All clear. Witness neutralised. Send in the clean up team. And send in the roundup team outside.

~~~

End of transcript. Report compiled by T. R. Fisher.

Professional recommendation that these files remained closed to public consumption for the foreseeable future under paragraph W, subsection 26 of the DPA of 1927.

Files not to be removed from The Vault without express permission, upon fear of grievous bodily harm or legal prosecution.

#horror #short story #thriller #short horror stories #short thriller

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impishnature · 5 years ago

Text

Feather Fall (Part 3/3)

AO3 Fandom: Good Omens Rating: T+ Summary: What is an Angel without a connection to Heaven? A/N: And now for the comfort in this hurt/comfort! I hope it makes up for the pain.

Warnings: Thoughts/talk of falling. Graphic violence. Panic attacks, blood, self harm.

"Aziraphale?"

Not now. Any when but now.

Without even thinking about the wound that he still had to deal with, Aziraphale found himself pushing his wings back into the ether. He ignored the almost screeching pain this caused, crushing, shoving them this way and that, to fit away nicely seemed to do. It did nothing for the feeling of warmth spreading across them, speckling and smearing between them with the strange awkward movements he was making them do to accommodate the inconvenience of it all.

But it didn't matter. What mattered was Crowley couldn't see.

He went back to scrubbing his hands, pushing them deeper into the scalding water as he tried to think on what to say and bypass the stuttering panic his friend had caused.

"Aziraphale?" The voice was closer this time. Too close.

"J-just a minute!" The words croaked out him, lacking all the reassurance he had hoped to contain in them.

"Angel?-" God, that nickname felt like another wound opening in his chest. "Are you OK?"

Oh god, he was terrible at this. "Of- Of course I am, dear. Nothing to worry about." He swallowed down bile, hoping to quell the tremor on his tongue. "I'll be out in a second." Once he could get this blasted blood off of his hands.

"You don't sound alright."

Aziraphale stiffened. Crowley's voice emanated from the doorway to the room, no longer hindered by walls or doors. He swallowed, turning his head to find his friend standing there, concern practically dripping from his languid body as he leaned against the door frame. He didn't deserve all of that worry. "N-No?"

"No." Crowley's mouth slipped further downwards, his sunglasses hiding his eyes in a way that made Aziraphale feel even worse. He couldn't tell what he was thinking- was it actually concern? Or disgust? Did he know? No, he couldn't know- "There's blood on the floor."

"O-Oh." Aziraphale swallowed, looking back at his hands, still scrubbing and scratching, red, raw and numb, even as they spoke. "Blood? That's- it's not mine. Nothing to worry about."

He could have hit himself.

Not his? How dumb was he to use that as an excuse?

"Uh-huh." He heard Crowley's solid footsteps getting closer, each one another gunshot to his already shot nerves. If he got too close, then he'd realise something was off, and then- then-

Aziraphale didn't want to think about what happened then.

"You been fighting, Angel?" There was a pained humour to the other's voice, like he was trying for comedy but couldn't bring himself to really feel it when the atmosphere was so tense. "I'd hate to see the other guy if you have." Silence reigned between them, awkward and heavy and it fell like another layer of sin on Aziraphale's back. "Shall we try that again?" The words were softer this time. Gentle and calming, placating even. "What happened?"

"It was just an accident." His mouth was dry as sandpaper, his hands still straining under the water as he refused to turn and look at the other again. He wasn't sure what he would do or say if he did. "Nothing to worry about." He was a broken record, an antiquated mantra of please stop asking, please stop looking, just let me be-

Crowley had never been one to do what he was told though. Always asking the questions no one else wanted to ask.

"Shit, Aziraphale." The words were louder this time, closer than he expected and he couldn't help the pulse, the flinch of fear as arms encircled his and quickly turned off the hot tap. Of course, from where he'd been standing he probably couldn't have known, and before Aziraphale knew it there was cold water running over him instead, and careful, pliant fingers running soft trails over his scalded flesh. He could feel him healing him with every soft run of movements, slowly stitching him back together piece by piece instead of in one hit to make sure he didn't miss anything.

"What were you thinking, Angel?"

Nothing.

The simple answer lodged at the back of his throat and stuck to his tongue. This all felt too good, too gentle, the heat had been something to latch on to, a pain that kept everything raw and jagged but alive all the same.

He didn't deserve this.

He tried to tug away but the other held him with surprising strength. He found himself glancing up, to snap something vicious in the hopes he would leave him to it but the words shrivelled up and died as golden eyes locked with his, pupils blown wide with fear and heartbreaking distress.

He'd caused that.

This was why he hadn't wanted him to see.

"Shh. Stop, Angel, it's OK."

Aziraphale hadn't even realised he'd been making noise, clamping his mouth shut on the stuttered nonsensical words as Crowley looked back down at his hands, gently pulling them back under the cold spray of water. There were gentle thumbs rubbing rings into the back of his palms, and even gentler words slipping through the stilted, hushed air around them. His breathing kept hitching, soft choked noises of distress and every time Crowley gave back a soft rumble of his own, sympathetic and concerned in equal measures.

"Ready to talk?"

"No." The word came out a lot stronger and clearer than either of them had expected, startling them out of the surreal bubble that had surrounded them.

Crowley's adam's apple bobbed as he swallowed, and Aziraphale hated how despondent the minuscule action seemed. "OK. That's OK. Whenever you're ready."

Never.

He'd bottle it all up again and hide away and sooner or later something would break.

It had to, this couldn't be all there was forever.

His attention zoned back into the room as Crowley gave an almost imperceptible hiss. It was just a soft exhale, a stuttered little thing but filled with so much emotion that Aziraphale couldn't help but notice. His eyes strayed back to Crowley's face, watching the yellow of his eyes grow ever brighter and leech out further. It was something he'd noticed a few times, how Crowley's eyes betrayed him no matter how hard he tried to pretend otherwise. And not in a demonic way, not in the visibly different way that he hid them for, but in the way they broadcast his emotions for the world if only they knew to stare deeply into them.

...Actually, the more he thought about it, the more he wondered if that was the real reason he hid behind dark glasses and sardonic tones.

But right now, with him, he showed all that vulnerability without a question, without a hint of shame or remorse. He wondered when he had been permitted to see this side of him, when the trust between them had grown to this level that Crowley would wear his heart on his sleeve and damn anyone who called him out on it. Perhaps, it was because it was just them against the world now. It didn't matter what the denizens of hell thought anymore-

Oh. Right. Crowley had lost his family for the second time. First, the Fall and now the apocalypse. What was he doing wallowing in self-pity when he should be helping his old friend instead? His pain couldn't even be comparable, not when he had yet to fall.

"Thanks, dear boy." The words felt like leaden weights on his tongue, characterisations of himself that didn't hit the mark. "I don't know what came over me, but I think you've uhh- you can let go now."

Crowley didn't seem to hear him. Or if he did, he pointedly ignored him, his hands tightening around Aziraphale's own, checking them over in detail as if he didn't believe his words for a second. Then again, why should he? Aziraphale had been blistering his skin to nothing, not minutes before, why would his opinion on how healed they were alleviate his concerns? So, instead, he watched his gaze, waiting for the moment when he deemed his ministrations complete. But for some reason, he couldn't get a read entirely on them as they flicked back and forth, processing, his mouth a thin tight line as if there was so much that wanted to spew forth and he was trying his best to control himself.

Aziraphale followed his gaze when he realised a response was not forthcoming. He traced the lines that he was navigating with his eyes. Took in the pink flecks of water that coated the inside of the sink- his stomach rebelled against him, he'd have to scrub that next, scrub and scrub until it shined brighter than it had ever shined before. Winced at the bright red hand prints that clenched tightly to the edge, holding on for dear life and smearing across the faucet in a line of desperation.

Of course the man was worried, wouldn't he himself be if he saw this sight?

That wasn't the worst of it, however.

It took a few more seconds, drawn out and slow as if his world was standing on the edge of a precipice and he hadn't quite realised he'd already fallen off long ago. As if the whistling winds had just managed to catch up with him and remind him that he had jumped, that he had taken the step and now all he could do was watch as the ground came closer and closer to greet him.

His hands trembled against warm soothing skin, catching him as he fell.

He realised what Crowley had hissed at now.

His eyes followed the pink rivulets of bloody water, getting redder and redder until they caught on the offending article from before.

The awful, hideous excuse of a feather.

It glared defiantly back at him, its jagged edge sharp and pointed as if it was ready and waiting to cut him to the quick and bleed him dry of everything that made him him, its bedraggled barbs proving that he was no more an angel than the man stood beside him.

You did this to me. It whispered insidiously. You tore me out and you only have yourself to blame.

"Angel, breathe."

Oh.

He took a shuddering gasp, eyes flicking back to Crowley though the other hadn't even looked around.

He always knew exactly what he needed. Maybe not always what he wanted, but what he needed nonetheless.

...He was beginning to feel lightheaded. Was it due to the outpouring of concern beside him? Or the fact that he kept forgetting to breathe as everything he wished to hide got closer to the surface?

"Is that-" Crowley's voice hit a pitch that he wasn't sure he'd heard before, or at least not in a very long time. It was high, stilted and it hitched with a choke that he wished to soothe in turn, wished to right whatever wrong had caused that much distress and hating all the while that it was him. He had done that. "Is that a pin feather?"

Oh no.

His wing ached against his back, burning with the loss as if recalled to existence by Crowley's words.

He knew.

He knows. He knows what you've done. He knows what's happening to you.

He'll leave soon. He'll leave you to fall, just like he had to, just like they all had to.

Why would anyone stay around to comfort you through that? Falling alone shows what you have become. It is a punishment, a grief you must bear alone.

"Angel, what have you been doing to yourself?"

The hands migrated to his wrists, pulling them back out of the water and turning him around, so that the pair now faced one another. The water still gushed from the sink, forgotten and unimportant in the whole scheme of things. He wasn't even sure the question had been for him, it sounded more rhetoric, more an utterance of pure disheartened dismay and it made his eyes sting with every unshed emotion.

Crowley didn't deserve this.

He shouldn't have to put up with all of this, he shouldn't even know about it.

"Aziraphale? Speak to me." A gentle hand cupped his cheek, the other still holding both his own as if to stop him from pulling away. And he did- he did want to pull away but he also wanted to hide in his embrace, hide from all the sorrow and fear, and just break.

But that wasn't fair. Not to him.

The hand tugged at his chin, pulling his face up until their eyes met and he watched as Crowley searched his face for something- anything, that would tell him how to continue, tell him how to help.

But he couldn't- he shouldn't.

"What's going on?"

No, it would be best if he could just fake it all until Crowley left and then- then he could get back to wallowing.

"N-nothing." The word finally slipped out of him, like a poison that dripped sweet and sickly down his lips. "It was an accident, you know me, so- so clumsy and all. I'd forget my head if it wasn't screwed on." He swallowed, the lump in his throat growing in size as if to suffocate him with his own lies. Crowley's eyes bore into him all the while. "Humans are so fragile, aren't they? Completely forgot that they can't take heat like that."

"Yeah?" The word was skeptical at best, and yet there was a soft humour mixed into it that he couldn't help but relax into.

"Yep." He popped the 'p' with a sheepish chuckle, tugging his arms out of Crowley's grip. He lamented the move almost immediately, the cold burrowing into the spaces where his fingers had rested. The hand dropped from his cheek, in return, leaving a cold burn that he held on to, keeping him in the moment, wishing it was there once more as much as he was relieved by its removal. "Thank you for your assistance."

"...Right." Crowley raised an eyebrow at him, fiddling with his sunglasses as if debating putting them back on. Aziraphale's heart sunk, there was something in the movement that left him feeling doubtful and on edge. "You still didn't answer my question, you know."

"O-Oh?"

"Yeah. Is that a pin feather?" Crowley stared down at his own hands as an awkward silence filled the air between them. His words were nonchalant, filled with a distant calm as if they were merely discussing the weather. He placed his glasses down on the kitchen side, Aziraphale softly exhaling in relief until his hand instead reached for the bloody, mangled remains in the sink. Red stained his fingers, and Aziraphale resisted the insistent urge to slap it out of his hands and rinse off the vile blood from him before it could corrupt him too. Instead, he watched as the other delicately span the chunk of feather, with no hint of concern to the situation or what it could do to him. "You realise that they don't stop bleeding, right?" Crowley's eyes flicked back to him for a moment, once again betraying the racing fear that his mouth was resolutely denying. "If you don't leave them to grow like they should or get them out entirely they just bleed and bleed."

Oh.

Perhaps, that was why he felt lightheaded.

His wings beat again with a swell of pain, warm and heavy and wet. He hadn't noticed the wet before, seeping through in bubbling patches, probably coating the ether as much as himself. The urge to cry was near suffocating, his throat hitching with the dismay of it all. Everything was ruined now, everything was worthless and soaked and he wasn't sure he'd ever be able to clean the stain of it away. He felt lopsided, heavy, like one wing was now a dead weight, fallen and useless at his side.

He'd gone and done it now, hadn't he? He'd started the process and there was nothing he could do. Caught in the middle, one wing lost and the other still trying desperately to keep him skyward.

And Crowley still kept flicking his gaze to him, a lightning strike every time, waiting for him to make the next move.

"I-I see." Damn it. Why did he say anything at all? It felt like he'd confirmed something he shouldn't have as Crowley nodded, placing the feather shaft on the side, causing another stain that Aziraphale desperately wanted to burn from existence. Why didn't he realise how much it meant? Why didn't he put it back instead of creating more mess? But for whatever reason, the other seemed unaffected by the disapproving noise, turning back to face him fully.

"We should deal with that then, shouldn't we?"

Time sped back up.

It gave him whiplash, pulling him back into the world with a violent thud. What could he do? What could he say? His mind was blank with the sudden change in pressure, and yet every second he waited was another push forward from the other, another moment lost to contain the situation before it got out of hand.

And it would get out of hand- Crowley couldn't- he wouldn't let him see- his wings were a mess, a state- there was nothing left to them that would give the other pause. He would take one look and he wouldn't be able to keep the disgust from his features, he'd laugh at the pathetic waste he was. He couldn't even fall properly, couldn't even be a demon without ripping out his feathers in fear of what was to come. He'd snarl at him. Did he hate the thought of being like him that much? Did he despise him that much?

No. No, he couldn't see. His world would crumble and he'd be left all alone again.

He needed to be alone, but only for a little while. Once he'd come to terms with it all, Crowley would be there for him, he'd understand.

He just needed to deal with this part by himself.

"N-No!" His voice cracked, loud and abrasive against the hushed air, both of them flinching at the boom of it. "No, that's- that's quite all right. You shouldn't have to deal with that. I can do it perfectly well on my own, thank you very much."

"I mean, the fact that you haven't yet would beg to differ."

"Just because I didn't realise, doesn't mean I'm incapable." Aziraphale's gaze hardened, his anger fuelled by utter fear and vulnerability. "I can look after myself adequately, I'll have you know."

Crowley raised an eyebrow. "Never said you couldn't. Doesn't mean you can't have help every once in a while." His other eyebrow joined the first, a knowing hint to his eyes that Aziraphale loathed. "And you weren't complaining a few moments ago when it came to your hands."

"Y-yes, well. That's different."

"Is it?"

"Yes." Aziraphale nodded as Crowley's mouth twisted down at one side, a thoughtful grimace as his eyebrows furrowed over an irritated gaze. "It's more- personal? Yes, that's it. Personal. I can deal with it myself." He swallowed as the other continued to silently stare, glancing away from the plaintive gaze. "But- thank you, for the concern, that is."

The silence stretched between them.

He hazarded a quick look over at the other and caught a strange glint of determined apology in his expression.

"How long have you been plucking, Angel?"

Oh, drat.

"Plucking? Deliberate- how could you think that, that's-" True, so very true, but how could he have cottoned on that quickly. Surely it wasn't that obvious. Indignation rattled through him, fake and nauseating but quick tempered in the heat of his sick shame. "Ridiculous! Abhorrent! Why would I- the nerve of you." He swallowed, plucking up the courage before taking quick strides past the other, ignoring how his face fell along with his heart. "I told you it was an accident. Now if you don't mind, I'd rather you left so I could deal with the- bleeding, as you called it."

"Angel-"

"Stop. You've done enough." Please. Please just go.

"Where are they?"

Aziraphale paused in the doorway, his heart hammering against his rib cage. He turned his head slowly to look back over his shoulder, hesitant and fearful that this would be the moment he broke- but the other hadn't moved. He was still standing where he had left him, facing the other way, his question light and soft, in contrast to his tightly clenched fists. "Where's-?"

"The feathers." Crowley turned then, freezing Aziraphale where he stood. He felt like prey, caught in the snake's sharp slitted gaze. His pupils had thinned to sharp points, taking everything in and leaving him feeling more seen that he would have thought possible. "Come now, Angel. I know you. You wouldn't get rid of them. Miracling them away would make you feel worse, so- what did you do with them?" He tilted his head, mulling over the question in his head as if he'd never actually meant for Aziraphale to answer him.

"I- whatever you are implying I can assure you, you're mistaken-"

"No... No." Crowley hummed, tapping his foot, cutting off his words as resolutely as if he'd struck him. "See, I can't imagine you getting rid of them. Not if you're plucking deliberately-"

"But I'm not-"

"And, there's no sign of them down here, well, other than the obvious." His eyes flicked back to the worktop as if the other hadn't spoken before locking back on to him. "So, where..."

Aziraphale sighed, shaking his head as he turned to leave again. "This is utterly ridiculous, Crowley. You should leave."

"So, they are here then." His voice carried, louder, musing, as if he had confirmed everything with his denial.

He hated it. Hated how the other could see through him like this.

"What?"

"Hmm... I'm going to say upstairs, you hardly ever go up there so why not?"

A bucket of ice water fell on to Aziraphale's head, slipping down his spine to leave him shaking with the sudden cold. "P-preposterous."

"Then you won't mind me taking a look."

He was far too serpentine for his own good.

Aziraphale blinked as he felt warmth beside him for barely a moment and then it was gone again, worming around him in that quick and yet unhurried pace than only Crowley seemed able to commit too. He slunk past, without even a second glance, and Aziraphale felt his lungs lock up at the path he had taken.

It was like watching a car crash, an inescapable catastrophe. His words caught in his throat, panic fluttering through him like so many of the rotten feathers he had discarded upstairs, all of them rattling and howling throughout his being, begging to be shown, begging to be released- and it felt like there was nothing he could do to sway the course of time.

The squeak of the first step was what it took to break the moment.

He slammed into the other room, ricocheting off the door frame in his haste. "Wait!"

The demon paused at the bottom of his stairs, poised to continue but waiting as he requested. It would have been ironic, a demon doing as he was told, in any other situation but this. "So?"

Aziraphale coughed. "S-So, what?"

Crowley sighed, his shoulders slumping. "I just want to help, Angel."

"I-I know that, Crowley, but you-"

"So they are up there then?"

No matter what he did, he couldn't get a handle on the conversation. Crowley saw right through him, every single time. "I- That is- Crowley, please don't go up there."

"OK."

Crowley took his foot off the bottom step, still staring into the dark abyss that was his staircase. Aziraphale could hear the whispers of his sins, like ghosts above them, but he ignored them, hidden in the relief that was the other staying with him.

"We really should see to your wing, Aziraphale."

He didn't know what to say to that.

"I can't help you if you don't let me." Crowley finally turned to him again, eyes sparkling wetly, making his stomach lurch with a new wave of remorse and guilt. "I know it's hard to let people help but- sometimes, you can't get through it all on your own."

Aziraphale swallowed, his mouth like sandpaper. "I don't know how."

He hadn't even meant to say that and yet it felt right. How could anyone help with this? Why should they? It was all part of the plan... wasn't it?

"That's OK. Let me try and we'll see how it goes, OK? Please, just let me try." Crowley's eyes beseeched him, his fingers once more finding Aziraphale's hands and the latter found that it was Crowley this time who shook beneath his grasp. "I thought I'd lost you once before. I'd rather not watch that happen again, only slower this time and without being able to help."

Oh, how could this man ever be a demon?

Or was this how it worked? Another temptation? Another insidious little wisp that drove him deeper on his path. Let me in, let me in, please, let me in.

...It didn't feel like a temptation.

In fact it felt like another punishment. Another sin against him. How could he hurt Crowley so? If he'd only been more careful, if he'd only thought more, then perhaps his friend wouldn't have had to watch the world burn on his own for a while.

I've lost my best friend.

God, those words stung. The care, the grief. He'd done that, all that time ago. He'd never have thought the other could care so deeply but it was clear as day when he looked at him, bright as shimmering gold and as painful as sharp glass.

Perhaps another punishment was in order.

Aziraphale found himself unable to disagree with those eyes. Those eyes that saw through him so easily and captivated him even easier.

He found himself unable to look any longer into those pools of molten gold, couldn't bear to see his expression morph into horror, into that loathsome repugnant expression he himself wore whenever he stared in the mirror.

He closed his eyes, felt the hands in his grip tighter in solidarity, proud and thankful as he coaxed him to continue. He took a steadying breath and let his wings unfurl. It was more painful than he expected, like dragging them back into existence pulled at every aching expanse of skin and barely held together feathers, each one a vibration of pain against the edges of the ether. He heard liquid splatter against the ground in a sickening thud once they were fully exposed, one hanging limper than the other. The scent of blood spread like miasma between them, like the battlefields of old or a hospital where he hoped to help with their pain the best he could and wept over what humans could do to one another.

What they could do to themselves.

It wouldn't be long now. He'd pull away from the carnage soon enough. He'd run from it all, run from the burden that was him.

"Oh, Angel."

The words were so plaintive, so filled with love and sorrow that his knees buckled at the sound of them. He'd expected disgust, revulsion, at best pity. But this wasn't pity, this was raw desolate heartbreak. It seeped into his soul, tightened constrictingly around his chest and made it hard to breathe. He'd expected him to yell, to scream, to tell him he was everything he thought he was. But this whisper. This soft hum of horror that wormed its way into his ears and tore him down piece by piece as if the walls he had built around himself were nothing but cardboard and paper.

"What have you done to yourself, my love?"

The words continued to break down the barriers he'd forced up, the simple soft term of endearment shaking him to his core. It was less of a question and more of an answer, dredging up every injury he had done to himself, every broken moment that he had tried to pretend had never happened whenever anyone came near.

He had done this.

Not Her. Not Them.

Him.

Had he ever truly needed anyone else to destroy himself so utterly and completely?

There were soft hands on his elbows now. He hadn't even realised they had moved, his legs giving out on him entirely it seemed, as he slumped forward into the other who was continuing soft lilting mantras as if he could fix the world with just his words. Perhaps he could. Aziraphale wouldn't have been surprised. So self-assured, so ready to take on everyone and everything- did he ever doubt himself? Doubt that he could achieve everything he put his mind to?

My love.

Why did those words sting?

Perhaps because he didn't deserve them.

"Hey now, it's OK. I've got you. Let me help you."

He felt himself get manoeuvred into a seated position, as comfortable as possible, considering the circumstances. The hands at his elbows vanished, leaving warm imprints where they had been, before bright hot fingers found his face, soothing and soft against his cheeks. He flinched at the contact ever so slightly, more unexpected than anything, confused by the wet trails that the man wiped away with light hands and even lighter murmurs, coaxing him out of the dark pit he had found himself in. He opened bleary eyes, blinking rapidly to try and form a coherent image as the flow of water pooled and receded with every blink.

"That's it. Look at me, Angel. I'm right here." There was a watery sheen to the others face, desperate bright eyes gleaming like molten gold, fiery red hair burning like the sun against the darkness he had let himself sink into.

He'd been drowning for so long, the air felt like it burned, the heat felt ice cold and prickled at his skin.

How long had he been depriving himself of the sun as penance for his sins?

How long had he lingered in the shadows waiting for the final step to plunge him headfirst into Hell?

"Shh, shh, it's OK. I promise you it's OK." He felt himself get engulfed, heard his own hitching sobs through a fog of static that was muffled further by cloth, as warm arms encircled him and began to rock him gently. When had he become so gentle? When had the abrasive edge worn down to this soft, warm being? "I'll get you through this, don't you worry. Just please let me help you."

It was like every word from the others lips made a journey through his ears and down his face, healing and breaking him anew with every stuttered gasp.

"I-I didn't mean to-"

"Shh, I know. I know."

"But-"

"It's OK."

Aziraphale felt more than heard the long sigh as he shook his head and buried it further into Crowley's chest. It wasn't OK, not really. Nothing was. How could it be?

"Alright, maybe it's not OK. " Crowley shrugged, bumping him ever so slightly in the process. "But it will be."

"How-" There was a lump of tar in his throat, solid and stifling. He swallowed, grateful when the other continued to rock him silently, waiting patiently. "How do you know?"

"Easy." Crowley pulled back enough to catch his eye, smile wobbly but there, if ever so painful and concerned. "When have we ever not done what we put our minds to?"

Aziraphale blinked at him, tears momentarily ceasing in his confusion. "Since Eden? I feel like there's many times I could think of."

"Fair. So maybe it took time, and more trial and error than I will ever admit- but we still got there in the end, didn't we?" Crowley's smile grew as Aziraphale frowned. "And sure, this isn't going to be as easy as miracling away a few feathers-" He tried to ignore the wince his words caused. "-but that doesn't mean you won't be back to your old self again soon."

Aziraphale's expression dropped further, hiding his face again before speaking. "I don't know about that."

"Of course not. Cause you're in there." Aziraphale squeaked as his forehead was flicked before the arm continued its journey and he found himself freezing as fingers threaded between feathers at the base of his wings. "Now then, I think we should get to the most pressing matter at hand, if that's alright?"

"I don't-"

"Come on, Angel. You can't do this alone."

He found himself unable to respond. There was so much in that short sentence. Not even a please and yet the plea was there, strong and anchoring, a prayer that the other uttered only for him, and only to him. He could only nod, sinking forward into the embrace and pushing his wings within reach. He felt the other relax beneath him, one hand continuing to create soft movements in the down at his back, reassuring, warm motions, tangling and untangling with a rhythmic pattern that drew his attention away from everything else. It wasn't until there was a sharp knot of pain that his mind snapped back to what was happening, as a hand found the offending tattered remnant of the feather he'd snapped earlier.

"Sorry." The ministrations of his other hand grew stronger, trying to counteract the pain and even as Aziraphale gritted his teeth he knew Crowley was trying his best to work as quickly and as painlessly as possible. The feather came out with a sharp tug, a squelch of liquid pain that he whimpered through without thought but the hollow numb pain afterwards was still a relief from the pinprick of before.

"There we go." A soft cloth was pressed against the wound, though he wasn't sure where it had come from. "That should do it. It can start healing now." There was a pressure on top of his head, heated lips against his curls that rumbled out sweet words straight into his skull. "You can start to heal."

Could it really be that simple?

Crowley laughed, a soft, strange noise but one that Aziraphale didn't find himself minding, even if he found it out of place. "Maybe not. But a start is better than nothing."

Oh.

He hadn't meant to say anything out loud.

There were hands at his elbows again, this time pulling him upwards, more an invitation, a hope, than anything forceful. "How about we continue the process?"

Aziraphale didn't really understand, his head was so full of cotton wool, questions that lay unanswered, events that he had foreseen that had never taken place, taking up the necessary space to function. All the reassurance was getting to him, it was a balm on his broken parts, though it stung, medicinal and cleansing in it's burning sensation. It left him hollow, exhausted beyond belief and yet he felt better than he had since the ordeal had begun.

The voices had been swallowed up, suffocated; strangled by the vines and flowers that were Crowley's words trailing into the spaces of his soul, pulling him back together and holding him there until he could stand on his own two feet once more without crumbling to dust.

He was alone, finally alone within his own head.

And yet the hand on his arm reminded him that he wasn't truly alone, no matter what Heaven decided for him.

How ironic, that a demons presence could soothe the aching hole that angels had left in him.

He jolted back to reality as he felt the back of his knees hit something solid and he fell into a seated position on his own comfortable couch. Before he could ask what was happening Crowley had vanished from his peripherals, propping his wings up over the back for easy access and to keep them in a relaxed position so that Aziraphale wouldn't have to stiffly hold up the worn out appendages.

However, that wasn't quite where Aziraphale's mind went, his heart plummeting into his stomach to twist nauseatingly in his own festering thoughts.

"Oh Go- dear, there's going to be blood everywhere. I should-"

"Stop."

Aziraphale swallowed drily as Crowley gave the command. There was no heat to the words, only that constant pressure of knowing support. He wasn't sure how the other knew what to do or how to do it and yet each utterance gave him pause instead of inciting him to anger or defence.

He wasn't sure why everything was tying him into knots but if Crowley knew the answer, then who was he to stop him?

"Just let me take care of it all." Crowley's head appeared upside down from above him. "All you need to do is rest."

Aziraphale gave out a choking laugh. "You make it sound like I'm ill."

Crowley pulled back, but his words still sent his thoughts racing once more. "You are ill, Angel. That's all this is. And once we find out what's going on, I assure you, you'll get better again."

Aziraphale slumped, though he straightened up once the other hissed in discontent and propped him back up to a better position for him to work. He felt deft hands begin to tweak at his blood soaked wings, repulsion and disgust beating through him in equal measures. "I already know what's caused this." Before Crowley could get a word in edge ways he derailed the conversation. "You're going to get blood all over you if you do that."

He could almost hear the eye roll he received, the soft sarcastic snort as Crowley ignored him and continued on. "I'm prepared for that, Angel." Aziraphale twitched, eyebrows furrowing as the parts that the other touched felt cleaner already, without anything being added. He wasn't sure why another's miracles felt more real than his own, but this- this didn't strike him as a lie like his own did. "Now, will you let me continue without any more interruptions?"

Aziraphale huffed, sniffing petulantly, not even realising the air of normality emanating between them. "Fine."

"Thank you." The words dripped with fake gratitude, sarcasm rolling off of his tongue to land in amongst Aziraphale's curls and he couldn't help but chuckle at the barbed tone. The silence became more bearable, more peaceful as he felt his rough edges get sanded down, soothed as each sparse feather was put back into its perfect place in a way he knew he'd never have been able to achieve. "So... what caused all this then? If you already know, that is." The words were hesitant, on tenterhooks as if with a gust of wind all of his efforts would be torn out of his hands and he'd only have himself to blame.

Aziraphale couldn't help the shame that bubbled up his throat at the careful manner he was being treated. He felt fragile. Raw and broken, and he wasn't sure he deserved for anyone else to pick up the pieces, let alone this delicately.

"I thought you didn't want any more interruptions?"

The words fell out of him with little struggle, a strange hysterical bubble of routine, a strange semblance of rationality that didn't quite reach his heart as it normally would.

Crowley however, laughed at the utterance, dropping his head down to knock it against the back of his. "There he is."

"I'm sorry?"

"There's the bastard I know."

The rumble of laughter continued, rattling through the back of him and he found that he couldn't help but reciprocate it. It wasn't quite right, more a release of energy, a burst of emotion that needed an outlet other than tears. It echoed and was shared between them, stifling everything else if only for a moment in a heady haze of relief masquerading as humour.

Perhaps things would be alright.

In the end at least.

"I can work and talk, you know that."

"Can you? I've seen you fall over air before."

"But I did continue talking, didn't I?"

Aziraphale's laugh grew lighter. "It's hard to get you to stop."

"Exactly. So, you know exactly what I meant by interruptions to my work. Now. Talk." Crowley's hands faltered, his words becoming less assured and worried. "That is- if you want to talk to me."

Aziraphale let his shoulders slump. He deserved this, didn't he? If he was doing all this work when he really should leave him to it, then he at least deserved an answer, right?

And if he was honest, it would be nice to have someone else's opinion, even if all it did was confirm his own suspicions.

"I don't know who I am anymore."

"That's easy. You're Aziraphale."

A bubble of unexpected laughter escaped him. "You know that's not what I mean."

"Then what do you mean?"

Aziraphale gave an irritated sigh. Why was this so difficult to formulate? "What kind of Angel am I? What kind of Angel doesn't have a link to Heaven?"

"Probably a very good one, if you ask me."

"Crowley."

"What? It's true. They're all up their own arses-" Another choked off squeal of Crowley gave him pause. "Alright, alright- but I stand by what I said." Aziraphale felt a rather itchy knot of feathers loosen and relax beneath clever fingers. "You're a better person than all of them combined. So I'd say you're a better angel than any one of them too." He sighed when Aziraphale didn't answer, fingers twiddling into another stuck together clump of down. "You care, Angel. A lot more than any of them have in a very long time. If She can't see that then She's blind."

"Crowley." He wasn't sure if he was reprimanding him or in awe of his spirit.

"I mean it. The world would have gone to shit with them in charge. Maybe She meant for us to do what we did- maybe She didn't. Doesn't mean we didn't do the right thing by the humans. And I'd like to think that matters."

Aziraphale sank back into the chair, his head falling back to watch Crowley work. "I'd like to think that too." The words were barely a whisper, more a breath of air with words dashed in between. A prayer, a promise, something unspoken that could shatter if given freely to the world around them.

"Then that's all there is to it."

He made it all sound so easy. Aziraphale closed his eyes, his body limp and tired from the array of emotions. It all sounded so simple, too good to be true, and perhaps that's why it was so hard to believe.

"But I understand, you know."

Aziraphale opened his eyes slowly, catching hold of golden orbs above him, face guilty though he wasn't quite sure why. "Hmm?"

"It must be hard to be... disconnected. Cut adrift." Aziraphale's stomach clenched in sympathy as Crowley glanced away, broke the moment. "No matter how much you hated them watching your every move, and how they treated you, they were still family, right? It still... hurts to be abandoned like that." He sighed, hands patting softly down the entire length of Aziraphale's wings. "No wonder you resorted to- this. The emotional strain must have-"

"Oh. Oh, Crowley, I am sorry."

Crowley's head snapped up, eyes perplexed and sharply determined. "Hey, you don't have anything to apologise to me ab-" The determination dimmed into furrowed bemusement. "Wait, what are you apologising for?"

"You- this- everything." Aziraphale sat up, though he still kept his head tilted towards the other, keeping hold of his expression. It wouldn't do now to stop watching, he needed to know what the other truly felt and thought about all of this. He may insist on helping but if it wounded him too much then he wouldn't hear of it a second more. "I keep getting so caught up in it all that I forget you've been through this- worse than this. They were your family too, once upon a time, and I keep trying so hard not to remind you of- well- and now your other family has abandoned you too and all I can do is wallow in this God awful self-"

"Hey, hey, stop." Crowley's hands were on his face again, holding him where they could both stare at one another, though mildly disorienting by their angle. The angel found nothing but resolution in the demons gaze, fond exasperated resolve with none of the bitter tang that he had envisioned there. "That was all so long ago, that wound has had so much time to heal. But yours is raw and new, its still bleeding."

Aziraphale felt tears prickling at his eyes once more. "Am I falling?"

Crowley's face fell like his heart had been shattered. Like the mere suggestion hurt him deeply. "No, my love. The fact that you think you've done anything to warrant falling is almost too much to bear. You're so good, Angel, so good, I don't know how you can't see that."

"But-"

"But nothing."

Aziraphale shook his head, eyes bright as he stared at Crowley's daring gaze. "But if I'm not falling, then why-" He swallowed, his mouth too dry to formulate the fear that was gluing his tongue to the roof of his mouth. "Why are you doing all of this? Why aren't you just-"

Crowley frowned, his eyebrows furrowing as if it were obvious. "Just because you're hurting differently to others, doesn't mean you don't deserve help."

There was a spark then. A fizzling strange sensation that started in his heart and pumped out through his blood stream. Crowley had set off synapses that had previously become locked off, nerve patterns that he hadn't felt in a while, seeping in comforting, well-intentioned thoughts to crush the straggling remainders of the doubts that still lingered in his head. He couldn't quite put his finger on it but it all sounded so desperately, honestly human. And for all their faults and flaws, their differences and experiences made them whole and breathtakingly unique.

There really was nothing like watching humans and random acts of kindness, with or without the fear of the Almighty to bend their way.

He resented it sometimes, that ignorance, that bliss, but it also gave him hope when he watched them look after one another in no ones namesake but their own.

It took him a moment to realise Crowley was still watching him, waiting for a doubt or two still refusing to be dissuaded to bubble up out past his lips in the hope of being quashed too. "Isn't it still raw for you too?"

"Falling? Sometimes." Crowley shrugged, though the tremor in his fingers gave Aziraphale a different message. "But it hurts a lot less now." His smile turned toothy, cheeky and bright though it didn't quite reach his eyes like it might usually. "What with an Angel seemingly able to stand the sight of me. Maybe I haven't fallen as far as I thought I had."

"You're not a bad person, Crowley." Aziraphale raised his hands to press them against Crowley's, revelling in the moment they never could have had before. "But that's not what I meant. I meant being disconnected from, well- Hell."

"Oh." Crowley's face twisted thoughtfully. "They were never family, Angel. I'm sure I thought of them as family once, while- before the Fall. But afterwards... it wasn't the same. None of us were." Crowley's thumb moved in soft circles as his smile turned nostalgic and sheepish. "You were always far more family than any of them were." His smile changed, his adam's apple bobbing as he gulped down a stagnant fear that flickered behind his eyes. "Losing you scares me a lot more."

The remnants of doubts shrivelled up beneath that remark. Losing Crowley... Losing Crowley instead of losing his connection to Heaven.

...He'd make his choice again and again and again.

Aziraphale tilted his head, brushing his lips against the palm of Crowley's hand and feeling the tremor in it once more. "Losing you scares me too."

Crowley sighed, relaxing into the sensation. Aziraphale could feel his pulse beneath his lips, could feel the feather light thrum that spoke of a quickening heart beat, all the fear, all the sorrow at his actions. But he could also feel that the other knew he had begun to get through to him, he could feel that heady relief that maybe he was making a difference.

"I didn't have anyone to help me after I fell, Angel. Let me be here for you. Let me make sure you never have to go through any of this alone, no matter the outcome."

Aziraphale knew he would let him. He'd let him do anything in that moment. He had healed him more than he ever thought possible in the space of minutes, whereas alone he had stewed and suffered and broken himself time and time again. "OK."

"Thank you." The words were punctuated with a kiss to his forehead, a warm breath of gratitude that lingered in his blood and sparked through his brain. "They never deserved you. You're too good for all of them."

Aziraphale let out a breathy laugh, closing his eyes as he finally let Crowley retract his hands from his grip and get back to work. It was obvious he didn't believe him, but he also knew that Crowley would repeat the words until there was a chance that might change and it filled him with a warmth that couldn't be quelled by cold thoughts alone. "How are you so good at this, my dear?"

Crowley's hands stuttered on his wings, like he'd been caught in a lie, or gotten himself tangled physically in feathers that were too sparse to cause such a reaction. "What was that?"

Aziraphale's eyes opened once more, taking in the man who now refused to meet his gaze, concentrating on his own hands and fiddling ever so focused as if their conversation had taken a turn he hadn't been prepared for. Aziraphale didn't know what had changed. "I just- you're so good at reassuring me and-" He gestured at his wings, the ache between them melting with every melded feather. "None of this has taken you by surprise."

"Oh, it did. The thought that you would-" Crowley swallowed thickly, his hands tracing patterns across outstretched wings reverently, apologetically. "If I was any good at this, I would have noticed the signs a lot sooner. I would have thought about what this could do to you."

Aziraphale frowned, trying his hardest to catch Crowley's gaze but failing miserably. He tried to sit up, to turn but Crowley tutted at him, tugging him back into position so that he could continue with only a quick mutter about interruptions. "I don't- that's not on you, Crowley."

"It is."

"There's no possible way you could have seen-"

"I could have. Because I've seen them before."

Their eyes locked then, Crowley's gaze more defeated than Aziraphale had ever seen it. But the words didn't quite make sense to him, there was a connection there that had yet to line up, to sink in and until then he felt like there were leagues and leagues of distance between them. "I- I don't understand."

Crowley smiled slightly, a sad smile, more of a grimace than anything mirth filled. It was a knowing expression, like everything that Aziraphale was going through made complete and utter sense to him, but he didn't see how. Not when he couldn't understand it himself. Not when every moment thinking on it felt like pushing through thick black tar and made his head pulse with bands of pain.

"You've helped someone else through-"

"No, Angel, guess again."

Aziraphale faltered, still struggling to break the surface of the mystery. Had he learnt from the humans? No, that didn't feel right. But if it wasn't another demon then-

I didn't have anyone to help me after I fell.

Oh no.

He couldn't mean-

But the look that he was giving him, that vulnerable gaze, the one that knew he had been seen as Aziraphale stared at him with wild pained eyes was all he needed to know that it was true.

"Oh- Oh, Crowley."

"It's all in the past."

"But your- your wings are gorgeous, my dear, why on Earth would you-"

"They weren't always." Crowley shrugged, eyes finding refuge back in his work. "Or well, they didn't always seem that way. Not when they burnt black suddenly where they had been white before. They changed so drastically, so quickly and they showed everything I hated about-" He took a deep breath, closing his eyes as his hands tightened their grip unthinkingly. "I hated them. And I tore them apart." The whimper that escaped Aziraphale's lips pulled him back to him, let his fists unfurl and his eyes return the devastated hopeless look that Aziraphale's held. "I thought if I pulled apart the pieces of me that proved I was a demon then perhaps- maybe I could-"

"Perhaps it would be penance enough."

Aziraphale finished his sentence for him without intention, the void between them filled with the fear, and the longing for Heaven's forgiveness. Crowley had long ago realised it was futile, however. Now it was just for him to come to terms with.

And wasn't the thought of Crowley tearing himself apart just enough for him to realise that this was not penance, this was just blind punishment for sins that had never truly been committed.

"Well, I love your wings, just as they are." Aziraphale raised his arms slightly, gesturing for Crowley to come closer, as if he wished to run his fingers through his wings as much as he was doing through his. To soothe any lingering doubts and pains until all the regrets from the past fell away in his molts and left the beauty inside to shine on through.

Crowley leant close enough for him to reach him, smiling softly as he did so. "Well, I think your wings are lovely too, Angel. White, black or any colour in between, I'll still adore them because they're yours."

Aziraphale's nose scrunched up. "Bald and broken and bleeding? Hardly lovely."

Crowley shrugged. "Feathers grow back. My wings are proof of that."

"You think it'll be that easy?"

"Easy? Oh, it's never easy, Angel." Crowley let his hands fall on to his shoulders, creating more distracting patterns with his ever moving thumbs. "It'll take good days and bad days and everything in between. But I'll be here if you'll let me. Hopefully I can make the process easier than if you were... alone."

Aziraphale ran a soothing thumb along Crowley's cheek, his mind caught on the thought of him alone and unsure at the start of the world, never knowing exactly what was right or wrong to do. "I trust you." He realised too late that he hadn't really answered the question, but the look on Crowley's face let him know that it had hit true.

"Good. That's all I need to hear." Crowley grinned, a slightly mischievous look that Aziraphale couldn't help but get suspicious at. "So, if it's alright with you, I'd like to do this again for you. I'll make sure you don't over groom or pluck out feathers whenever your thoughts get the better of you. All you have to do is talk to me instead."

Aziraphale bit his lip, eyes dancing around his face. "What if you're- I should be able to look after myself."

"Angel."

"What if I can't help myself?"

Crowley nodded, understanding plain and clear in his eyes. "Then I'll have to give you a deterrent." His smile turned cheeky again. "I'll make you wear mittens, that way you can't do anything to them."

"Crowley-" Aziraphale huffed, rolling his eyes. "I'm not a child or- I can take mittens off you know."

"Hmm, true." Crowley hummed, face turning thoughtful as he tapped a tune with his fingers. "How about a curse then? Every time you go to touch your wings, they'll appear on your hands to remind you not to touch them."

Aziraphale blinked at him before his eyes narrowed. "You wouldn't."

"I might." Crowley raised his eyebrows, as if daring him to ask again before his face softened considerably. "But I'd rather you came to me if you were struggling. And just for a little while, I hope you can let me take care of you."

He was just so perfect.

Aziraphale didn't know what came over him in that moment. There was something bold, something new, something that had been hinted at between them for so long but now it was broken and laid bare and it was so breathtakingly there for the taking that he couldn't help but dare to choose.

And if it all fell apart in his hands, perhaps he could blame the blood loss and emotional turmoil.

He pulled Crowley down towards him, getting a startled yelp for his actions that he swallowed against his lips. Another surprised noise escaped the other but he pressed back just as passionately, eager and bright, and filled with so much love, Aziraphale thought he might burst at the seams from it.

They broke apart quickly, a lull of giddiness that felt strange against the seriousness of the situation. Crowley chuckled against his lips, short puffs of air that he wanted to swallow once more but a hand held him down ever so slightly.

"Now, what did I say about interruptions?"

Aziraphale chuckled, letting Crowley's head go with only minimal dramatics. "That they prove I'm a bastard?"

"Of course that's what you take away from that." Crowley rolled his eyes, leaning down to give him a chaste peck before pulling away once more. "I guess I do love a bastard. Now for the last time. Hold still."

#good omens #Good Omens Fanfiction #crowley #Aziraphale #Feather Fall #hurt/comfort #tw: falling (religious)#tw: blood

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megalony · 6 years ago

Text

Big boy

This is a dad! Ben Hardy imagine that is part of my Little James series dealing with Ben’s son who has autism and ADHD. I have finally gotten back to writing for this series again. Feedback is always appreciated.

Taglist: @lunaticspoem @butlegendsneverdie @langdonzvoid @jennyggggrrr @rogmeddows @radiob-l-a-hblah @rogertaylorsbitontheside @chlobo6 @rogertaylors-lipgloss @sj-thefan @omgitsearly @luckytrashgooprebel @scarsout @deaky-with-a-c @killer-queen-ofrhye @bluutac @vousmemanqueez @jonesyaddiction @rogahs-drowse

Series masterlist

Enjoy.

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Turning her head, (Y/n) looked down at James who was sitting next to her on the bed. Her chest constricted when he suddenly clamped his hands down on his ears before beginning to shake his head as his eyes snapped closed.

They were currently having some chill time as part of a new routine for him that they had come up with.

After preschool he either did colouring or he sat and listened to some music or watched a DVD and after dinner he had quiet time where he either played upstairs in the den or he had a nap. Routines were important to James but at the same time, sometimes routines did annoy him if they made days feel like they were mushing together and he felt stuck. But for the time being this daily routine was working so they kept it up.

The last visit they had to the doctor showed that James was developing 'sensory overload'. Where either he was overloading his hearing by loud or quiet noises or gaining headaches from colouring or sometimes it was eating the same food repeatedly which made him go off the food. They had to make sure he had quiet time to stop this from happening because it was beginning to make him worse and more frustrated which they didn't want nor need.

"Baby, what's the matter?" (Y/n) had a suspicion what the matter was, he had been fidgeting more and more over the past few minutes and he hadn't been singing along either. They were watching Mamma Mia because James liked the songs and he could sing along with them.

"Too loud." He muttered, suddenly shaking his head from side to side as he looked like he was about to cry, even when (Y/n) turned the volume down on the tv. Sometimes he had just been listening to voices or to the tv or music for too long and it gradually upset him like it was now.

As soon as the volume was turned down James suddenly let out a sharp cry, his hands removing from his ears to tap and hit at (Y/n) to try and get her to make the noise stop completely. James had sensitive hearing, the tv could be on low and it would be too loud for him. He hated any noises too loud, especially people shouting but if the volume was on quiet so it was like a whisper it seemed to mess with his head. He hated muttering and he couldn't handle the quiet noises because when they stopped it still relayed in his head for a moment or two.

(Y/n) fumbled to pause the movie before she wrapped her arms around James and held him to her chest. Trying to shush him as she got to her feet. He needed some quiet time and that was always something he did when he was in the den. He sat with his teddies and blankets and calmed down, sometimes he started to read and other times he just sat and waited until he felt better.

"Alright baby, you can have some quiet time now." (Y/n) cooed, pressing her lips to his temple as he clung to her neck just a little too tightly. His knees digging harshly into her hips as he didn't seem to want to let her go or he thought she might drop him.

"No, I don't wanna-"

"Yes, darling you have to calm down now. No music or tv for a little while, you sit in here and try to have a nap." Entering James' room, (Y/n) bent down on her knees in front of the cupboard. Gently setting him down and watching him scurry into the cupboard that was one of his safe places.

James grabbed his Harry Potter blanket which he threw over himself before grabbing a teddy and putting it under his arm in a death grip. He glanced his baby green eyes over to (Y/n) before attempting to reach up for the small purple CD player resting on the lowest shelf in the cupboard. A whine mixed with a cry left his lips as he slapped her hand to try and reach for the player again.

James wasn't so good with quiet time because he hated absolute silence. Even though the music a moment ago had been too loud, he had been talking and listening to the tv for an hour, going from that level of noise to complete silence wasn't going to go well with him. But (Y/n) knew if he continued to watch tv or they chatted it was only going to overload his senses even more. And he hadn't had a nap today, he was due to have an hour sleep or just half an hour, he needed some time to calm down.

"No music." (Y/n) stated with a shake of her head, her tone gentle but stern enough to show she wasn't compromising on that.

"Mummy!" He cried, suddenly throwing the teddy in his arms down in front of him as he tipped his head back as he cried. (Y/n) closed her eyes for a moment to stay calm when James suddenly screamed very sharply as soon as she took the CD player off the shelf. Attempting to leave him in his room to calm down without the temptation of playing music and upsetting himself even more.

"Buddy, what are you doing?" Ben suddenly questioned, walking into the room with Lola in his arms. James seemed to be having a lot of tantrums lately but he did settle a little better with Ben. He clung to (Y/n) when he was doing activities such as watching movies or especially when he was colouring but when he was upset Ben had the ability to calm him down.

Ben rocked Lola in his arms in a failing attempt to get her calm enough to go to sleep. The two-year-old was recovering from pneumonia and was therefore coughing and wheezing a lot. He had her resting on his chest, her head on his shoulder as he had her fluffy Winnie the Pooh blanket tucked tightly around her to keep her warm. She had her hand gripping his shirt as she had her eyes wide open and staring at him to show she wasn't going to sleep just yet.

He moved and sat down on James' bed, his eyes glancing between his boy and his wife to see what the problem was. Sighing when he noticed the CD player in her hand implying she was trying to get him to have some quiet time.

"Why don't you play the raindrop CD for five minutes?" Ben questioned, seeing it was a compromise he used a lot with James. It was simply a record of the rain pattering against windows and against the ground and it was rather calming and it wasn't music. It did get repetitive but for now, it might just be enough for him. James nodded his head frantically, his hands latching on (Y/n)'s arms to try and get her to agree.

"Five minutes. Then you have quiet time and settle for a nap." He nodded again at her words, breathing in relief as he stopped crying when (Y/n) set the CD player back on the shelf. Scanning through the CD collection before finding the right one.

(Y/n) made sure it was on quiet, watching as James laid down with a few teddies hugged to his chest before she and Ben left the room. They needed to get James to have quiet time because the more he was around noises all day with no break the more it upset him. Especially at night when they couldn't settle him because it was either too loud or too quiet. He had to start having breaks to calm down or he would get himself worked up.

Ben headed back into the girl's room, sitting on the rocking chair next to Lola's cot to see if that would settle her down for her own nap as (Y/n) went into her and Ben's room for a while.

When (Y/n) headed back into James' room after a few minutes, he was bundled under a few more blankets with his teddies cuddled against him but she could instantly see he was no calmer than before. He was wriggling under the blankets and his breathing was laboured. A sigh passed through her lips when his foot suddenly lashed out and hit against the wall. They had set pillows around the walls of the cupboard so if he lashed out and hit or kicked he wouldn't hurt himself. Which was something that seemed to annoy him as he couldn't get his frustration out whilst kicking a pillow.

He instantly stopped kicking the pillow when (Y/n) turned the CD player off and took it from the shelf so he couldn't turn it back on. His ash-blond hair was ruffled as he pulled the blanket away from his head so he could look up at his mother. His face burning red from anger and tears before he suddenly wailed.

"Mummy no! I want it back... mummy!" He screeched and started to thrust his legs at the wall before bashing his hands against the blankets when she shook her head.

James rolled himself onto his stomach before bashing his fist into her leg which actually did hurt a bit. He started to hit her foot, not bothering to get up as he was either too tired or couldn't be bothered. When (Y/n) moved out the way he leaned further to try and hit her, managing to scratch his nails against her leg before he started hitting the floor again.

"That's naughty, we don't do that James. It's quiet time now, so you calm down and you stay here for a while." (Y/n) left the room, shutting his bedroom door as she took the CD player and left it in her and Ben's room. Sometimes when James had a tantrum they left him to burn out his energy and then they went to him when he was finally calm. It was only when he started to really kick up a fuss or was in danger of hurting himself that they had to intervene. If they kept going to him everytime he got angry and smothered him he would act up more when he thought it got him his own way.

Setting Lola into her cot as she was finally dozing to sleep, Ben quickly left the room when a rather loud crashing sound caught his attention. He followed (Y/n) into James' room again, both of them leaning around to look in the cupboard.

Bending down on her knees, (Y/n) moved so she was just on the threshold of the cupboard. Her hands reaching out to try and move James as he had realised he could cause noise and quite a lot of chaos by hitting the shelves that would creak and quite possibly break with the right force.

(Y/n) quickly reeled back and let go of him when he lashed out, hitting his fist against her neck. James never meant to hurt anyone and it wasn't very often that he did hit or kick but he didn't understand he could hurt people when he did that. He just knew that lashing out made him feel better and released the frustration he felt. He had noticed that when Ben carried him and he had a tantrum Ben sometimes let him thrash around in his arms but not always.

Leaning down, Ben quickly slipped his hands under (Y/n)'s arms and pulled her to her feet.

"Out." He ordered, nodding for her to stand out of the way. He knew James didn't mean it but Ben didn't like James near any of the girls when he got like this in case he hurt them by mistake.

(Y/n) stood a few feet back near the door as she watched Ben struggle to get into the cupboard that wasn't made for his frame and build. Leaning down as much as he could in the small space, Ben reached down and held James' wrists in his hands before effortlessly pulling his only boy to his feet. James thrashed in Ben's hold, trying to fall back down so he could curl up or continue to kick out but Ben held him up to his feet.

He shuffled out of the cupboard, pulling James with him who let out a scream, still not done with his tantrum just yet. He had his eyes snapped closed as he bent his knees to try and sit down but Ben wasn't having it anymore. He couldn't let James continue to thrash around because he would hurt himself if he tried to hit the shelves or kick the walls. The cupboard was good to let him sit and read or play or have a nap but it wasn't the best for temper tantrums because the size meant James could hurt himself.

Lifting his arms up, Ben lifted James from his feet and set him down on the bed. He grabbed the fluffy blanket neatly folded at the end of the bed as he knelt down in front of James and quickly wrapped the blanket around the little boy.

James tried hitting and thrashing but all he could manage was writhing his body side to side and bashing his fist against the blanket. Ben knew constraining him like this wasn't the best idea but it meant he couldn't hurt them or himself and he was hoping it would show him he couldn't lash out and would make him stop.

"Right. You're going to stop hitting out and either sit here and talk to me or you go sit back in the cupboard and calm down. Which is it?" Ben rose his brows when James slowly opened his eyes to see what kind of expression Ben had. He seemed to learn more and understand situations better by facial expressions and right now Ben was looking unhappy but with a certain calmness that showed he wasn't going to shout.

Ben took a chance and let go of James to see what he would do but the little boy simply pulled the blanket over his head and curled up on the bed. Writhing around under the blanket before kicking at the mattress.

"Temper tantrums don't work, James. They don't get you anything or make it better." Ben folded his arms over his chest as he waited for a response either verbal or action. His head turned to the side, nodding at (Y/n) that she was okay to leave when they both heard Lola begin to have yet another coughing fit. "Big boys don't have tantrums like this and they don't ignore their dads either. Are you a big boy or not?"

James let out a wail but he stopped thrashing around and Ben knew he had him there. James loved Ben referring to him as a big boy, he felt special and he liked being told he was doing something right or that he was like his dad. He continued to say nothing but he moved the blanket so he was looking at Ben. Waiting for him to continue talking as he was going to listen now.

"Big boy." James suddenly whispered, tucking the blanket tightly around him as he leaned his cheek against the mattress. Watching Ben fold his arms on the bed and rest his chin on them so they were level.

"I thought so. Now, what did we say when you get angry like that?" Ben watched his boy as he frowned in concentration, trying to think what Ben was referring to but he couldn't remember or be sure. "When you get angry you can throw teddies but you do not hit anyone. And we don't get angry around the girls, do we?" James knew it was okay to throw teddies, he could bundle up in the blankets or hit the blankets or some pillows but he had to at least try and be cautious around any of the girls.

"Wanted CD." He muttered quietly, refusing to meet Ben's eyes.

"Yes, but you don't hit your mum when you don't get your own way and you know that. If you're a big boy then you'll go and apologise when you feel better, okay?" If James couldn't help but lash out then he had to get in the habit of apologising after he did so because it would help him to learn that it was something he should try hard not to do but if he did it would then be okay to say sorry because he never meant it.

"Promise."

"Good boy. Now you still have to have quiet time because it helps to get you to sleep and you'll feel better. So are you going to have quiet time on your own in the den or do you want me to lie with you for a bit?" If James suddenly thought a tantrum stopped quiet time he would carry on with that and they couldn't keep going through this.

He had to have a wind-down time so he could get used to the peace and quiet, overwhelming and overloading his senses may be something he thought he should do because he didn't like silence but he had to have quiet moments every now and then. The more he got used to having these sessions in the day and learning to take naps during them it would make him feel better and it would help him get to sleep quicker at night. Right now it was taking them at least an hour or more to get him to calm down, try and ignore little noises he focused on and wait for him to stop jittering or tapping the wall or the bed and let his mind shut down.

"You stay with me." James responded before shuffling over so that Ben could climb on the bed with him.

He opened his arms to let James crawl into his embrace, tucking himself under Ben's arm as he kept the blanket tucked around himself. He fisted Ben' shirt in his hands as he let a few tears fall, burying himself further into his dad when Ben kissed his temple.

"No tears buddy, you're alright. Try and go to sleep." Ben slowly turned over so he was laying on his side with James tucked up against his chest. Clinging to him as if to make sure he wasn't about to leave. Ben could feel James slowly tracing his index finger over his chest, drawing a few patterns and tapping against him because he couldn't lie still with his ADHD. But Ben did notice his son's breaths evening out as he was beginning to calm down, clearly having used up a lot of his energy thrashing around.

James calmed down even more when he felt Ben carding his fingers through his blond locks that matched his father's except that Ben's hair curled more than James' did. He rhythmically ran his fingers through James' hair, brushing it back as he felt himself almost drifting to sleep too.

"Go to sleep, buddy."

#ben hardy #ben hardy imagine #ben x reader #dad! ben #imagine #little james #borhap

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adventuresloane · 6 years ago

Text

Love Was a Kind of Emptiness

Read on AO3

Relationships: Dani & the Quell, Dani/Aubrey, Sylvain/the Quell

Rating: T

CW for body dysmorphia, disordered eating, heavy angst

For Danbrey Week 2019

"You're her."

This time, she didn't run. In the days since she had started following them, she had always skittered back into the woods whenever she got spotted. With how bone-pale she was, she shouldn't have been able to disappear into the black shadow that quickly. But she had slipped into the penumbra the way sugar in hot coffee dissolved to become a part of the amorphous dark.

Now she was still, and not. She was the potential for movement, like a frozen deer primed to spring away. Potential energy herself. Felt for miles around.

"And you're Dani," she responded. Her head inclined slowly and smoothly to one side, just a little. As always, a waist-length swath of straight and shiny black hair moved as one curtain. "Am I just 'her' now? What are my names, that you know of?"

Dani couldn't answer that, and not only because of the way her jaw had begun to lock up in fear. She didn't know how. As far back as she remembered, everyone had been loathe to give a name to this, had acknowledged this at all only with reluctance. There were names she vaguely recalled seeing in schoolbooks, with Ancient Sylvan pronunciations she couldn't have wrapped her mouth around even if she did remember them well enough. These days, even after the crisis had been averted, still people spoke obliquely. The Quell. The Storm. Hardly names at all, really. They described something that one did, not something that one was.

Those titles had seemed appropriate enough when they were all simply talking about a natural force, something that acted, and acted violently. But that wasn't what stood before Dani now. This was a woman, just like her, and also not like her at all.

"I see," she said. Dani wasn't sure what she was responding to.

"You shouldn't be here." She surprised herself at the force of her own voice. She supposed that she had some practice in speaking with gods. Just that morning, she had talked the avatar of her planet's life force out of filling an old dried-up lake with maple syrup. But it was easy to forget with Aubrey. Aubrey, whom she knew as her love first and as Sylvain second, whose presence had felt as easy and natural as breath long before they had learned everything. It wasn't easy to forget when the waves of dark power radiating from this woman overtook her. Potential energy. A fault line, a land mine, a fragile slope before a landslide. She was all of these things and much more. Dani could feel it, and she wanted to run with all she had, but already her knees had ceased to bend.

"Yes I should. We have to talk."

"Why?"

"You..." The Quell hadn't made eye-contact all this time, something for which Dani would have been grateful if she were capable of feeling anything but anxiety at the moment. She had been focused on a spot somewhere just below Dani's eyes. Now she glanced away entirely. Her eyes flashed, and not in the way people normally talked about eyes flashing. Light glinted off them as though her gray irises were made of chrome. Or like there was lightning in them. "You are always with Her."

"No."

"You are Her companion."

"No. You're not getting near Aubrey."

"You couldn't stop me if I wanted to see Her, you know." The Quell still had her head cocked, out of...what? Curiosity? Scrutiny? Did she even have feelings? "You're afraid of me. Why?"

Dani couldn't bring herself to move her mouth, even if she had had a way to reply to that. She thought of the leveling of her world. For months now, she'd been traveling around to witness it. She'd seen forests of trees gone horizontal, prostrating toward the setting sun. She'd seen mountains smeared into flatlands as if they were wet clay under a thumb. Marshland where there had been fertile valleys.

And well before any of this, she'd seen, as a young child, the refugees surging through the gates of what was today the city of Chicane and what had then been the whole of Sylvain. People who had fled the other cities overtaken by the Quell's violence. She had watched them slump in, looking as though gravity affected them more than most, with their shoulders sagging and the very skin of their faces pulled down by frowns. Seeing them, she had felt dread for maybe the first time in her life--not for herself or out of fear of them, but at the idea that an entire existence could be so easily lost. Despite her parents' reassurances that their home was safe from the Storm, she still sat alone in her bedroom for ages, eyes closed, trying to imagine what it would be like if the whole house suddenly vanished with everything she'd ever known inside it, along with every other house on every other street she'd ever seen. She couldn't, back then.

"It's because you've seen what I can do."

"Stop it," Dani managed through tight teeth. This was too much. Her brimming brain could barely process the Quell's presence, let alone her words.

"What?" There was short pause before she shrugged. "I can't help that I get impressions of what you think and feel. I can do the same for everyone born on this planet. It's like asking me not to feel the wind."

And had she felt the desperation of those she had displaced? Had she felt the panic in the half-seconds before some had been utterly consumed by the Storm's madness? Had she done it all in spite of that?

"I do wish you wouldn't fear me, though." The Quell stepped closer again. There was a twinge of what might have been a smile on her face. The chuckle that came out of her sounded quiet and ragged as the crunch of dead leaves underfoot. Everything she said sounded like that. It was assault to Dani's ears. "You know, you're just as much my child as you are Hers."

"No." She forced just enough air through her slowly constricting chest to say it. At the Quell's words, anger had started up somewhere just behind her sternum and started to spread through her body like a drop of ink in water. The adrenaline was almost enough to break the hold her nerves had over her. "You just...you wreck."

"What of it?”

"I'm an artist." She pushed past the quiver in her voice, in her legs. "I create, just...just like Her and j-just like Aubrey. N...none of us are like you."

"Do not try to tell me about Her."

"Stay away from Aubrey."

"Don't tell me--"

It was only three words, but the three had been enough to knock her down. The quiet voice had exploded suddenly into a multitude. Some flat. Some screeching with static. Some so deep that they were more felt than heard. Some glitching and skipping like a scratched record. It hurt. Physically, it hurt. Dani felt the noise tear through her as it tore through the air, felt the cacophony.

Dani dropped to the ground, or, rather, her body finally went totally stiff and carried her down with it. She stared at the grass with her hands over her ears and her fingers in her hair, and she tried to regulate her breathing, but she hardly had control over even the expansion of her chest. She was a soul bumping around inside a sack. It felt as though she had pulled herself out of her limbs, that her consciousness had retreated to somewhere deep within the core of her body to protect itself.

"I'm sorry. I'm..." The Quell trailed off. Her voice had returned to normal, and yet had not. Her tone was more hushed. Frailer.

All the same, any sound right now made her shrivel deeper into herself. It was one more input out of far too many, and it made it harder to focus on regaining control of her body again.

And anyway, how dare she be sorry? There was plenty to be sorry for before now. So many lifetimes of things lost. Did she feel the weight of it? Did it bend her spine like a punishment, the way it did Dani's? Or was she even corporeal?

The color began to fade from her vision. By the time the mist had rolled in entirely, everything was blank and gray, blotting out the world. It wasn't too unusual--fog often rolled in among the trees of this forest. Except that this fog muffled not only her sight but her hearing. The whoosh of the wind in the leaves seemed less obtrusive now. Everything did. And while she likely should have been nervous, she couldn't help but be glad for this cloud cocooning her from her surroundings for awhile.

When she finally felt her heart beating rather than vibrating, she slowly glanced to her left to see the dark silhouette of a woman kneeling on the ground beside her. She, too, had not moved the whole time.

"Is that helping?" the Quell quietly asked. "Good," she said before Dani could reply. That should have made her angry, but she was too tired for anything beyond dull irritation now. Even the fear was muted.

"You would rather not speak out loud right now, I take it?"

Dani shook her head a little.

"May I say something, then?"

She waited for a long while before she shrugged. To her credit, the Quell waited for that.

"I..." She came to a halt. "I'm not good at apologizing."

Dani looked her way and felt her eyebrows raise before she could stop herself.

The Quell huffed and said quickly, "Thacker claimed that I shouldn't try to hold power over people or try making them afraid simply because I feel afraid, so I apologize that I did that to you. Is that right?"

She was too distracted to give an answer to that, as she questioned what could make the embodiment of destruction afraid.

"I've just missed Her," she murmured. The mist had nearly dissipated now, and Dani could see her arms crossed over her knees.

And if she felt any sympathy for the Quell in that moment, it left her like a dying breath when she thought of the tree that used to stand in the center of town when she was growing up. Itslong, willowy branches hung heavy with tear-shaped purple seed pods strung along them, she could sometimes see it from the window of her house waving at her in a strong wind. It had waved, too, when she had been kept at sword- and wand- and spear-point, backed up against Sylvain's gate. She'd seen the slow lift of the thread-like branches over the heads of the crowd gathered to see her disappeared for good. She didn't see her parents or her brother in the crowd. She hadn't known why, and she hadn't had much time to think about it before being shoved through the portal. Maybe they had just gotten lost in the throng. She hoped so. She hoped that they had at least shown up, that the moment she had been dragged from the house and arrested wasn't the last they had seen of her.

For the brief time between when she was brought into custody and when she was sentenced to banishment, they didn't really explain what it was, exactly, that had done her in--someone reporting her bad-mouthing the Minister of Preservation and his bad sideburns, is what she had always assumed, but it could have been something else. Maybe one of the new laws. There were new laws made all the time back in those days, so quickly that hardly anyone could keep track of them all. Ignorance of the law, naturally, was not considered an excuse.

"Sorry." The word was nearly soundless this time. Dani wasn't sure to whom she was speaking. The Quell's next sentence, though, was certainly directed at her. "How did you bear it?"

Stop asking leading questions, Dani thought at her in the most deliberate way she could manage. She focused on the words and her own aggravation, trying to keep the memory from creeping up on her. You know I can't help trying to think of the answer. It's not fair.

"I am not used to communicating with someone who can't hear my thoughts too. Even just speaking is still strange to me." She paused. "Your kind...Brightfangs, isn't that what you're called up here? You're some of the closest to Us, you know. To She and I both. I felt you come together in the soil from where I rested in the center of the planet, before you rose fully formed from the ground."

She didn't know what to think of that. Instead, she thought, My family used to tell me that. Though, to be honest, I'm still getting used to the term 'Brightfang' again. Humans called me a vampire for so long. And I think they thought we rose out of graves or something.

"Goodness," she said, with a soft sound that was suspiciously similar to a chuckle. She rubbed her foot through the grass but stopped just before the scrape of it became enough to bother Dani. "Was it difficult to put up with them? Humans, I mean."

No, she thought.

"That's not how you really feel. And don't be upset. I can't help it."

Dani felt herself frown. She wanted to think about anything else other than the early days in the lodge. Those memories came on anyway. She felt the approach of them the way one feels oncoming nausea, and she was back to the first moment that she had taken on a human form. She had looked down at herself, at this new body attached to her like a tick, and had not seen the familiar glow of her skin like the glow of the Crystal, and had felt blunt teeth behind her lips instead of the sharp points she had liked to tap her fingertips against, and it had felt too short and too warm and too much of everything after everything had already been too much.

She had cried, and sometimes she had screamed, and even though Mama never flinched while patiently waiting for her to calm each time, she had felt shame that only made the tears fall hotter onto the foreign flesh of that new body.

In the earliest days, she remembered wearing that form like an ill-fitting rubber suit. Maybe it wasn't as bad as she remembered, or maybe it was even worse. But looking back on it, she recalled hell. Everyone had said that there would be an adjustment period, and they had turned out to be right, but even two years on she had still felt how much it was not her own. This body needed food, and it felt a hunger that couldn't be satisfied by the hot springs or by Sylvain's light. At seventeen, she started skipping meals and would just wait to feel the scrape of pain deep in her belly, just so she could feel some measure of control over this form that she had been forced into. That was until Mama noticed and, after a drawn-out scolding, made her eat dinners with her for awhile. That might have saved her. She knew that, but still felt a twinge of bitterness nonetheless.

And if she were to be truly honest with herself, maybe some of it did have to do with how she thought about humans. She didn't particularly want to be one. There were their strange traditions, the rapid speed at which their lives progressed. Mama, at the start, trying to explain that humans assumed things like gender based on appearance--that while no one at the lodge would ever judge her for how she decided to look, Dani had to be prepared for strangers to do so, wrong as they were. And of course, everyone on Sylvain knew about the missing shard of the Crystal, but she had never really considered that if the piece were still where it belonged instead of on Earth, then she would still be where she belonged instead of on Earth. For the first months, on the rare occasion that she got out of the lodge or otherwise saw an unfamiliar human, she had to suppress the urge to hiss and show her now-blunted teeth. That instinct left her, slowly. Over time, the anger completely dissipated. Truly, it did, albeit more gradually than she would have liked to admit. But years later, she never stopped making excuses to stay and draw or garden whenever Jake asked her to hang out with him in downtown Kepler. Sometimes she looked sideways even at the humans she knew and trusted and loved, and she would feel only lonely looking at them, thinking that they would never quite comprehend what it was like. Not even Mama, and certainly not Jake's friends or the park rangers or Leo or Duck or Ned--

Ned.

Sometimes she had wondered whether she could trust Ned. Everyone had on some level, she guessed. Now, every night after Aubrey had gone to sleep beside her, she lay awake for awhile and shivered with the knowledge that she should never have wondered.

"You can't blame yourself for hating them.” The Quell had been quiet up until now. "You felt like they had taken your home from you. Like you wouldn't have been on Earth if it hadn't been for them destroying the Crystal." It wasn't a question.

I didn't hate them. I loved some of them. I love them now. She hoped the Quell felt a new force to her thoughts. What? Are you going to tell me that's how you felt, too? About Sylphs taking...Her away from you?

"I'm not saying it was right to think so." She stared at the ground. The mist circled her now, and her image wavered slightly. "But you tell me, mortal, what was I supposed to do when for centuries on end I had felt only Her absence? Of course I was going to want to feel anything else, even if it was anger, or hunger. What would I have done without anger, or hunger?"

It was still your decision to act on it.

"Was it?"

Before she could swallow it down, the thought of the sarcophagus bubbled up from her stomach. By the time she had emerged from that bright tomb, whatever small part of her had remained lucid felt only the fear. Felt her body hurtling unstoppably forward. And then there was the blood, and the bang, and the flesh giving way to her now sharp teeth. And through it all, hunger, hunger like an engine as she plowed into the man who had put himself in her way to save her, and not knowing what she had done, and then the terrible knowing after she had woken up again--

And then Aubrey. Aubrey being there even when Dani felt not all there herself, even when she couldn't bring herself to speak for hours on end. Aubrey never smothering her, but never far either. Aubrey warming her even when they were apart. Aubrey holding her when she finally broke and carefully kissing the tears from her cheeks. Aubrey murmuring against her skin, skin that had felt more sacred to her than it ever had before, because it had been touched in this way. Aubrey crying herself and still whispering to her, "You didn't kill him. I know that wasn't you."

Who are you, really?

For all the Quell claimed to know her mind, she apparently hadn't been expecting Dani to say that. It was some time before she answered, slowly, "I am this planet's force of destruction. I clear things away. It is Her role to create them."

That's what you do. Well, no, it's what you have done, I should say. Destroying, I mean. That doesn't have to be all of you. Wouldn't you rather be something else?

"What sort of a question is that?"

It wasn't the familiar feeling of home that had drawn her to Aubrey at the very start, though that sensation would come in full force soon after. Instead, she had seen this woman walk in and immediately thought that she was seeing someone who knew herself. She took up space--not just with her wide stance and the thick poof of candy-red hair standing high on top of her head, but also with the way her voice filled the room without her trying, the heat of the flames she made filling every empty corner. She was utterly herself, and she wanted everyone to know about it, to see her. And Dani saw her, alright.

How comfortable she seemed in her own skin. It was sort of contagious. The more she was around Aubrey, the more she wanted to feel that way, too. At times, she almost did. That was usually when Aubrey would do things like kiss her all over under the covers and count out each one, claiming she was giving her a kiss for every one of her freckles. She would never reach the end of the count--they would both either dissolve into giggles or into sleep, but either way, Dani would be left grateful for her form, for the freckles that covered it.

She had also thought, at first, that Aubrey would be the last person capable of understanding what foreignness felt like. It appeared that she, the traveling entertainer, could make a home anywhere she pleased, could be comfortable anywhere. And anyway, she just felt so familiar. Dani eventually found herself to be wrong about many things, of course. The knowledge of all she had gotten wrong started with the night that Aubrey sat on the bed, hands folded between her knees, speaking quietly about her mother and the empty lot where her house had been.

And it turned out that she didn't know herself as well as Dani had assumed, either. She didn't know how good she was. She spent so much time worrying about how her fire could destroy that sometimes she hardly seemed to see how much light she gave off. Dani wasn't sure how best to make her see it. She tried to show her anyway, where she could.

The Quell cut in, "Well, of course She was full of light. She is the Life-Giver. She is not capable of making anything that is not beautiful."

Sylvain is inside her, but Aubrey is herself. She's all human. She thought a bit more. Humans are all so different. They're kind of...flexible, I would say. They have to spend a lot of time thinking about the kind of people they want to be. I don't think that's a bad thing.

The Quell let out a hum.

By the way, is that really what you think now?

"What? Oh, about the beauty of the surface, you mean."

Yeah. You think so? After all you did to it?

The Quell faced the sky, eyes wide open. "I believe...before, I simply rolled over the surface of this planet. I saw all of it as only obstacles. Now that I'm made to just...just be, I see that it was all Hers. I was so busy searching for Her that I could not see Her in everything she had done, in front of me."

Dani hated to admit how much she understood.

"I...I feel ashamed." Her head snapped in Dani's direction as if she had just recalled something. Then she sighed once more. "You still don't want me to see Her."

"No, I don't." Dani finally managed to speak aloud, albeit shakily. "And I...I don't forgive you either, yet."

"I see."

"But I might, sometime. She might."

The Quell smiled, really, for the first time. "Then I will speak to you again."

I didn't say I wanted that, she thought. Talking to her, Dani found, was still sort of exhausting.

"You didn't have to." She did not move, but the long shadow of a tree stretched to blanket her, and she seemed to have never been there to begin with.

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cela-astral-projection · 5 years ago

Text

The poison came in liquid... It was all between the lines And I don't seem to trust anyone no more

Probably the last Nopal story. Cut because it’s wordy AF.

Celeste was up first. Muriel had disentangled himself from her at some point during their nap and was cradling Asra against his side with one arm, his other arm cast across his eyes. Their snores running counter to one another, one right after the other. She sat at the table, smiling over the top of her journal at them. They looked so peaceful, snuggled up together.

It was still morning. She knew Asra had to have been traveling most of the night to get there that early, and she wasn’t surprised he was tired. She made some tea and enchanted it to stay warm until he stirred, and had made a few sandwiches.

She thumbed absently through her journals. She didn't expect to get much out of them. They were more confusing than anything. Notes that repeated themselves. So little personal information. She didn't know what she'd get out of them at this point. She'd been over and over the pages.

She heard a change in Asra's breathing. He made a sleepy, contented noise, but he was waking up.

He slowly extracted himself from Muriel, who didn't stir. He stretched and located some trousers. Celeste divided her interest between her studies and him, eyes wandering back and forth. He came up behind her, wrapping his arms around her neck and pressing his lips to the top of her head. "Missed you." He muttered, still half awake.

She closed her eyes and laid down the book, bringing her hand to his forearm, stroking back and forth. "Love you," she replied, pressing her head against his chest. He didn't have to come, but she was so pleased he had. "Tea and sandwiches on the counter, love."

Asra smiled and squeezed her. "You are some kind of angel, you know that?"

"Says the person who came running because we started whining like children."

He chuckled, releasing her and walking to the counter, collecting his tea. He took a long, slow sip, eyes closed. He breathed a happy sigh. His favorite.

She smiled, glad that he was pleased. She had never been quite as good with tea as he had been, for all her culinary prowess. She had only just started understanding that not every variety had to be steeped in boiling water until it was dark. But, she had appreciated the fact that Asra never complained about it when she served him awful tasting, bitter drinks for years.

He came to sit with her, grabbing the plate with sandwiches. He offered one to her silently, but she declined. She had already eaten while they slept. A habit that came with the parenting territory. Eat while you cook or you won't get to eat at all.

"How are my babies?" She asked, leaning on the table, chin on her hand, watching him eat.

"Having the time of their life," Asra said between bites. "Imagine being the center of attention from dawn until dusk. Julian had them in the ballroom when I left, all dressed up, taking turns spinning them and dancing. You would have loved it."

She smiled, visualizing it in her mind. She knew Julian would come. He loved those girls like crazy. If there was a chance to play and dote on them, of course, he'd take it.

He gave her a brief rundown. Tea parties in the garden. They had their run of the whole palace. Nadia and Portia had let them stay in Celeste's old room, from when she was working for Nadia. She had new dresses run up for them. Anything they wanted, someone was there, ready to oblige.

Celeste shook her head. "Oh, they are going to be terrors." She laughed.

A week of sleeping on the floor next to the bed and playing in the gardens in the desert didn't hold a candle to being the Countesses' personal dress-up dolls. Something she had seen first hand when Nadia and Portia had wed, and they had asked the girls to act as flower girls. Celeste had been more stressed for that than their own ceremony. As things happened, Muriel ended up having to hold their hands and walk them down the aisle because they simply would not go without him. Helia had dumped all her petals at the end of the aisle when they got to the altar, and Vira never dropped a single one, clinging to her little basket all night.

"And your parents are okay with them staying?"

Asra cocked an eyebrow, incredulous. "Of course."

Salim and Aisha had taken to being grandparents like ducks to water. They couldn't get enough of the girls. They were such good allies and so loving. Asra had struggled a bit with that, initially. Torn. Having missed out on so much time with them, seeing them with his daughters had been difficult. He went through periods where he would be less receptive to their advice or assistance. Asra loved his parents but had spent most of his life fending for himself or working with Muriel. He simply didn't like to be told what to do with his family. Finding a balance between these two lives was not always easy, but they made it work, and it got better as time went on.

Celeste leaned back in her chair, under the table, sitting her feet in Asra's lap. They sat for a while in the quiet, listening to Muriel snore. She picked up the journal again and just stared at the cover.

"Nothing new?" Asra asked, his voice somewhat weary. He knew it was a sore point for her. But, she seemed so determined to make the pieces fit. They had all read the journals. They were just as much a mystery now as they had been initially.

"If there is I'm missing it entirely," she said with a sigh. "I don't expect to remember...I just...I thought I would have written it down. That's something I would do. At least, something I would do now. I always wrote things down. But...the details here are so few and far between. I can't believe I'd have been this clinical about everything."

Asra nodded. "Well...back then, you were being watched pretty closely. It's possible that you didn't want your notebooks to be read."

"Then why would I have bothered to write to them? I love writing."

Asra shrugged. That was true enough. She had always left notes and love letters for him and Muriel. She would usually get her thoughts down at some point during the day for her record. Milestones for the girls. Sketches. She had volumes upon volumes of little life snippets hidden in the house, in the shop, in the clinic.

He thought on it for a while, then extended his hand. She gave the book to him, and he ran his hand over the cover, studying it.

"A long time ago, you came to me after a long day and you said that Valdemar had the guards go through your things because you had been sneaking out at night. You were so upset and frightened. I suggested you hid anything that might be sensitive."

"What do you mean, hide?" she said, an eyebrow raised. She looked at the book in his hand. "Do you think I would have written in code?"

"No, not your style." He replied, then ran a finger down the spine of the book. It was faint, but there was a vibration. Magic. It clicked into place. "Cela, this is glamoured. That's why it doesn't make sense. You hid what you were writing so nobody could read it. You put in things...like what happened with Julian...to throw off prying eyes."

Her eyes went wide. Of course. He gave the book back to her, and she opened to the first page, closing her eyes and running her finger over the words. She opened them again, and she watched the letters shift. She dropped the book like it was burning, giving an excited screech.

Muriel jerked awake, sitting bolt upright. "What? Wha--"

Asra laughed, equally excited. "We figured it out, Muriel!"

"The fuck?" he said, rubbing a hand over his face. His heart was racing.

"The notebooks, Love! I glamoured them. That's why they didn't make sense."

Muriel was still bewildered, but he stood up and grabbed his clothes from the neat pile Celeste had folded them into on the bedside table, dressing.

Celeste was across the room in a flash, grabbing her bag and digging out the other notebooks. Asra right behind her, taking them from her hands and breaking the spells. Six books. One for each year she served in the palace before the plague.

They huddled up at the table together, passing the books back and forth, comparing notes. Even now, they were a bit of a mystery. She had a life before these notebooks, so not everything made sense. Names were still a blur without proper context.

Muriel's brow was knotted. Celeste looked over him. He was tracing the words with his finger, then going back, starting over again. "What is it?" she asked.

"The names change back and forth here. You said you were talking to Aric, but you call him Aedan. And you say he called you Lin, then Celeste."

Asra's face and hers were equally perplexed. Asra spoke first. "That would have been an odd nickname. Lin, for Celeste?"

As they moved through the books, certain things started clicking into place. But, the passages still seemed cryptic. Like she was still afraid to be discovered.

Celeste closed one book, and then went straight to the half-filled one. The last journal. She flipped through. This one was more frantic. Longer passages. Desperate. Each day more horrific than the last.

The last entry laid it all out in black and white. It was an introduction. It was a goodbye letter. The handwriting was different. Weak scratches. Stained with flecks of brown. Blood. Old blood.

Her village. Her parents. Her twin brother. The woman who came and sent them away, her father's cousin. To monitor her son. Morga. Lucio. She went pale, her heartbeat pounding in her ears. Her body tingled, numb. Shock shielding her from the pain. She couldn't quite breathe.

Asra felt it. Muriel saw it and moved to kneel at her side. He pulled the book from her hands, ignoring her protest. He handed the book to Asra. He didn't know what she'd read, but her reaction spoke volumes. He moved to touch her, to brush her hair away from her face, but she flinched, broken from her reverie, moving away from him.

"No, no... don't touch me. Don't."

Muriel held his hands up in concession, trying to fight his panic for her sake. "Okay. Whatever it is, it's okay."

"I feel...sick," she said. And she did. Her stomach was knotted. Her heart still fluttering madly.

"Sweetheart?" Asra asked, standing. Muriel also stood, slowly. They both moved cautiously.

She held her arm out, wanting them to stay back. She started retching, dry heaving. Her eyes watered from the strain, her face hot with a rush of blood.

Muriel shook his head and crossed the room to gather her against him. She struggled against him for a moment, but he shushed her, holding her tightly. She didn't weep or cry out. She simply let him hold her. It felt like her body was asleep. All pins and needles. Every inch of her stung. It was freezing cold and burning hot.

Asra opened the notebook himself, flipping to where she had been reading. His eyes darted across the pages. "Oh, no..." he said. It was addressed to him.

"They will take me to the Lazaret soon. I want you to know that I love you and that you were right. I am so sorry..."

His eyes stung, but he kept reading, wiping his hands across his eyes when the tears blurred his vision.

Muriel was still in the dark, but by their reactions, he knew it couldn't be good. He held Celeste's head against his chest, stroking his thumb over her cheek, whispering for her to breathe, taking deep breaths of his own to guide her.

When Asra finished, he dropped the book and made quick strides across the room. He reached up to grab her face, looking in her eyes. "Celeste...Oh, My Heart." He didn't know what to say. His mind was racing.

"He...was my family. He killed...everyone. And it's my fault. Because I was supposed to be making sure..."

"No. No, no. No. Sweetheart. No." Asra whispered, shaking his head.

"Lucio was my responsibility. Morga stole us from our family so we could make sure he didn't cause any more pain. He's my blood, Asra. He's...Oh, Gods." Her eyes were wide, frantic. Putting the pieces together.

Muriel stared at Asra. He wasn't sure what to do. Trying to connect the dots and failing. Asra was crying. Cela wasn't. She was, however, shaking. He decided to stay quiet, trying to comfort her.

Celeste turned, pulling away from Asra's hands, her face turned up towards Muriel. "She...she never said. All that time. She...Morga. She knew and never said."

Muriel looked down at her, then at Asra, imploring.

Asra looked up at him and took a shaky breath. "Lucio is her cousin. Morga sent her to apprentice at the palace with her brother...Aedan. Aric. The guard. Her twin brother. They're family. Lucio didn't know."

Muriel closed his eyes. The information did not strike him as particularly shocking. Instead, he was angry. That woman had put them both through such pain.

He had lost his family to Morga's tribe. Been orphaned by them. And she had done the same to his wife. Morga's own blood. His Celeste, another type of slave to Lucio. Just as he had been. And she dared to drag both of them to the place where they had watched Lucio wrench her heart from her chest. And then stole her body...His teeth clenched, infuriated. And he was still out there. Saved by Nadia's benevolence. Still wreaking havoc on them after all this time.

Celeste had always assumed that her family had died from the plague. She knew that there was a reason why nobody ever came for her. She thought of her daughters. Twins. Inseparable. She had that once, too. The fact that she couldn't remember him pained her in a way she didn't know possible.

She had thought that once she knew the truth, it would all flood back. That she would remember. But, it wasn't the case. All she had were the facts. None of the memories.

They all stood, reeling for a long while. There was nothing to be done. There was no going back and changing the past. There was no way to make it not be true. The burden of knowledge heavy on all of them.

"I need a drink," Celeste said. Muriel and Asra tended to agree. Thankfully, they were well provisioned on that front. Bottles on bottles of wine in storage.

They disengaged from one another. Celeste went to sit at the front of the bed, and Asra made open a bottle of wine, searching the cupboards for a glass. "No, just...give me the bottle." She said, exasperated. Asra knew better than to argue.

It had been a long time since she really drank. A drink every once in a while with dinner, or on a special occasion. But, this was an occasion where clarity seemed too much to endure. Asra and Celeste generally shared white wine, but Muriel preferred deep, heavy reds. Asra could tolerate them, but Celeste turned her nose up, saying that she couldn't chew her wine.

Asra and Celeste passed the bottle back and forth, sitting side by side. Muriel had his own bottle. Muriel's legs were practically hollow when it came to alcohol, so it would take some doing to get him truly inebriated. Celeste, on the other hand, felt her cheeks flush and her vision blur rather quickly. Out of practice. It felt like a blessing now.

Somewhat more relaxed, Asra slid his arm around Celeste's waist, drawing her into his side. "I'm sorry," he whispered. It seemed like the only thing to say. He didn't know how to talk about it. It was so big. None of them could wrap their minds around it.

Celeste gave a breathy sigh. "I'm okay," she said, quiet, taking the bottle and drinking deeply.

Muriel's eyes narrowed. "You're not. How could you be okay?" his voice was low, pushing his annoyance down.

She avoided Muriel's gaze, lifting her shoulders slightly. She felt truly defeated. "It's just easier to say I'm okay, I suppose. I don't know what I am...I don't know who I am, right now."

"You're the same woman you were this morning," Muriel replied. "You're my wife. You're the mother of our children. You're a woman who loves her work. Who loves her family."

"Yeah, my family. Who, apparently, includes Montag Morgasson. My children, twins. I found out I am also a twin, so that's a gut punch I wasn't quite prepared for. My work, which apparently kept me from my twin brother on his death bed because I was failing to find a cure for my fucking cousin. I'm not even using my actual name. I didn't know I had another name. I could go on." She shot back.

Muriel didn't flinch. There was nothing to say. It would not be resolved, not tonight. He took a drink, not engaging. They fell quiet again.

Celeste stared blankly. "What do I do, now?"

Asra blinked and shook his head. "What do you mean? What do you want to do?"

"Do I...go find him?" She asked, more to herself than either of her companions.

"Find who?" Muriel asked, already knowing the answer, but bracing himself against it.

"Nadia has him monitored, to make sure he doesn't come back to Vesuvia. She'll tell me where he is."

Asra's eyes went wide and he grabbed the bottle from her hands, putting it on the floor. "And, we're done drinking."

Muriel shook his head. "Speak for yourself." He quipped, going to take another long drink and finding the bottle empty. He stared at the bottle, irritated, before standing to retrieve another.

"I'm serious," she said, gesturing vaguely. Her head was swimming a bit. But, she was resolute. "I'm going to go...talk to Lucio. That's what I need to do. I need to tell him..."

Asra had disengaged from her, and had his head in his hands, rubbing his eyes, talking into the palms of his hands. "That is the worst idea you have possibly ever had. I love you, but...no. No."

"It's fine. I'm fine," she said, clearly not fine. "He deserves..."

Muriel aggressively removed the cork from his bottle and then brandished the corkscrew at her, cork still attached. "He doesn't deserve a goddamn thing. And he wouldn't care if you told him. You don't owe him a fucking thing." he spat.

Asra ran interference, knowing how easily they could go for each other's throats. "We are not discussing this tonight. There is a lot to unpack here, and this seems like a good way to end up burning the suitcase."

Muriel pressed his lips into a line, but nodded, conceding the point.

Celeste crossed her arms across her chest. She knew he was correct, but she wasn't happy about it. Then, she couldn't think of much she was happy about.

"Love, do you...remember anything? Asra asked, gentle. He had spent so long sheltering her from the potential pain that this could bring. But, she hadn't expressed any pain, like she used to have. No headaches. No fainting spells.

"No. I don't remember anything," she said, somewhat sad. "I feel like I should go back and read them again..but I'm afraid to pick them up."

"You don't have to do anything today, My Heart. You have all the time in the world. We will help you through it." Asra said, reaching out to put his hand over hers, reassuring.

Muriel came to join them, sitting on Celeste's other side, taking the other hand, bringing it to his mouth, kissing her knuckles softly. "You were there for us. You are always there for us. You still have us. We are going to take care of you."

For hours they sat, talking. Hashing and rehashing various points. Celeste finally broke down the weight of all that she had lost washing over her. It was true that she didn't remember much, but, clearer than anything else, she saw that sketch in her mind. Filling in. Becoming more and more real. She had a brother. She had a brother.

They lay together, tangled in each other's arms, Asra and Muriel trying to comfort her, but knowing there was no comfort to be found. She would have to grieve. Just as they had grieved the loss of their own families.

Muriel and Asra both had a perspective on the subject. Muriel's parents were also gone. He had also had to learn to reconcile the feeling of abandonment with the knowledge that it had been done out of love. Asra had been abandoned, but his family was recovered. As hated as Lucio was by all three of them, he understood her compulsion to seek him out.

And they both knew, that when and if she was ready, they would have to follow her to his door, despite their protests.

Hours ticked by. Muriel got up and made a simple dinner, then was right back at their side.

When the sun was low in the sky, Celeste decided she couldn't stay inside. They dressed. Asra brushed her long hair out for her and plaited it down her back.

They walked through the gardens, trying to take their minds off of what they had learned, to catch their breath. It had been such an onslaught of emotions, none of them could truly process it. Muriel and Asra tried to change the subject, talking about anything else as they meandered back and forth. Unsure of what to do with themselves.

When the sun was down, Muriel lit a fire in the pit, and they sat around it, watching the flames dance.

It had been so many years. She shuddered.

"I feel like I did the night he took my body at the masquerade. I feel like I did when I saw him coming down those stairs," she said, quiet. "I feel like I could get thrown into the tower and fall forever. Like I'm drowning. Like nobody can get to me."

"You aren't going anywhere," Muriel said, reassuring. "I won't lose you again. We won't lose you."

#the arcana #the arcana game #fanfiction #apprentice x asra #apprentice x muriel #apprentice x asra x muriel #count lucio #montag morgasson #morga eirsdottir #apprentice oc #apprentice celeste #celeste #asra alnazar #muriel #mc #oc

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raspberryparker · 6 years ago

Text

chocolate orange | two

Peter Parker x Fem!Omega!Reader — A/B/O Verse AU

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word count: 5,504 too long? what’s that? summary: peter’s acting a little... odd. and y/n is getting worried. warnings: see masterlist quick n*fw warning: mast*rbation. other than that, i think we good. i’m censoring the warning bc tumblr is dumb.

read it on ao3 add yourself to my taglist! like my work? consider buying me a coffee!

━━━━━━━━

He was wearing that… ridiculous telekinesis shirt again and, frankly, she was having trouble breathing.

Each breath kept catching in her throat, sticking to the back of her tongue and making her mouth go dry. She didn’t know when Peter had started going to the gym, but if she was being honest, it was more than working for him.

Despite the cold that seemed to permeate the halls of the school, Y/N was acutely aware of the beads of sweat lining Peter’s upper lip. She didn’t understand how that was possible. Before she’d left home that morning, she’d thrown on two sweaters and stuffed an extra jacket in her backpack just in case it got too bad. Across the table, it seemed Betty had already reached that point of ‘too bad’; she was wrapped in a comfy looking blue blanket and leaning into Ned’s soft side for extra warmth. Winter was tough in New York, but it was especially tough on the Omegas living there. The overwhelming urge to nest through the cold season was almost too much for them, and they ended up hauling around soft items to make themselves feel warmer during school. Thankfully, the rules of their small public school—despite it being a school for more gifted students—weren’t that strict.

It wasn’t just the omegas that felt the cold, though they felt it more intensely. Everyone was wearing more layers.

Except for Peter.

His usual garb of a hoodie or a sweater was replaced with just the thin grey shirt, one that Y/N was all too familiar with. The first time she saw it was when Ned had tossed it at her head when she’d asked for something more comfortable wear. MJ had offered to bring her something for the sleepover but, like the stubborn girl she was, Y/N declined the offer only to find her jeans and scratchy sweater combo incredibly uncomfortable as she reclined on Aunt May’s couch, MJ’s legs draped over her own. As she held up the shirt and looked at it, she couldn’t help the bubbling laugh that emerged from her throat at the words printed on it. Pulling it over her head, she had looked up to find Peter smiling sheepishly to himself, his cheeks and ears rosy.

“Hey, Peter?”

Y/N jumped when Peter did, but her eyes never left the spot where the seam of the short sleeve looked like it’d burst over the taut muscle of his bicep. Her gaze travelled down his arm to his hand, where his fingers were clutched tightly around his metal water bottle, knuckles white from the force of it. His eyes were wide and startled, the deep brown irises darting across the concerned faces around him.

Everyone was looking at him.

“You okay?” Ned asked, continuing his earlier question.

Y/N watched as Peter relaxed into his seat, the tension in his shoulders dropping. His tongue darted out quickly, swiping over his lips and removing the thin sheen of moisture from them.

“Yeah,” he said. His voice was strained and he furrowed his eyebrows, clearing his throat. “Yeah. I’m fine.”

Looking across the table, Y/N noticed the look Ned was giving him. His eyebrow was arched, head tilted one way in an obvious air of disbelief. But he shrugged, nodding quickly and turning back to his food. He had to use his left hand since Betty was clinging to his right, and he struggled to pick up his plastic fork comfortably.

“If you say so.”

“So, who are we all going to the dance with?” MJ asked from Y/N’s other side, her mouth chewing thoughtfully on a piece of her granola bar. “Anybody got someone special in mind?”

“Aren’t we going as a group again?” Y/N said. “I mean, we do every year. Why stop now?”

“Exactly!” MJ exclaimed. She threw her hands up as if in defeat. “We all go as one big group every year, but let’s be real here, we only do that so we don’t look like losers individually. Strength in numbers, or whatever. But it’s different this year, you guys.”

Y/N looked up at her expression and noticed the seriousness on her face.

“This is senior year,” she said, her voice lowering. “We all have to start… we gotta— fuck, you know what I mean.”

A silence fell over the table, heavy and stifling and suddenly Y/N was struggling to breathe for a different reason. Abraham’s bright eyes darted around his friend’s faces, his mouth unmoving around his fork. Ned was still, his gaze glued to the tufts of blue yarn that fell from Betty’s blanket and clung to his jacket.

They all knew what MJ meant. The words were right there, out in the open. They hung in the air between them and their weight was incomparable. It made Y/N’s mouth go dry.

They needed to start looking for their mates.

“Well.” Betty was the first to break the silence, her usually timid voice uncharacteristically strong and steady. “I was gonna tell you, but might as well say it now. I asked Ned to go with me.”

Y/N looked up, seeing Betty slide a little closer into his side and Ned’s cheeks rosier than they had been earlier. She smiled softly, a knowing look on her face as she regarded her friends.

“Don’t take this the wrong way, but I figured,” MJ said. Betty smiled and shrugged. “What about you, Abe? Anyone on your mind?”

“I was thinking of asking Cindy,” the Beta said, his usual easy demeanour back into his frame. “She is cute. And nice.”

“I think she might have a little crush on you, Abe,” Betty smiled. “You should go for it.”

MJ smiled widely, lips still pressed together and her expression smug. “Me, personally, I was gonna ask out Gwen. We have chemistry together. And I don’t mean the class, but we have that too.”

Y/N hummed to herself. She’d seen the way the blonde Omega acted around MJ, giggling like a nervous child with rosy cheeks and a playful grin. They’d be great together. She could see it.

“And Y/N? You got anyone special?”

“What?” She glanced up quickly, eyes wide at the sudden question.

Everyone was looking at her, waiting for an answer. She felt her breath catch in her throat, her mouth falling open and shut like a fish out of water as she tried to register what was happening around her. And there it was again.

That smell.

She looked around to try to find the origin of it but found nothing. It was warm and sweet, like melted chocolate and caramel. But no one had any chocolate with them, unless MJ’s chocolate chip granola bar counted, but she doubted she’d be able to smell it that strongly. It was sickeningly sweet, choking her from the inside out as if she were drowning in a chocolate fountain. She swallowed thickly and could have sworn the warmth of it slid down her throat as she did.

“I… I don’t—”

The snap of the green cafeteria tray as it broke in two made everyone at the table jump about three feet off their seats. Five pairs of eyes landed on the two halves of the once whole tray, both clutched in each of Peter’s hands. They shook with each shuddering breath he took, the beads of sweat running down the side of his face much more prominent. His eyes were wide and frightened as he looked around at the faces of his friends.

“I gotta go.”

His backpack was over his shoulder and he was walking across the crowded cafeteria before anybody could ask what happened.

Y/N blinked, watching his retreating figure as he stumbled into the corner of a table, cursing and clutching his leg as he left the room. She was too preoccupied with the shock of what had just transpired to realize that the smell that had been suffocating her was now mysteriously gone.

“He looked pretty sick,” Betty frowned. “Maybe he’s got a fever.”

“Are we just going to ignore that he snapped a tray in half?” MJ whispered, as if the idea of it was scandalous. “We all saw that, right?”

Ned shook his head. “Just don’t let the janitor see it and it’ll be fine.”

The rest of their lunch break carried on bathed in an air of discomfort. Y/N was acutely aware of the empty spot to her right, the warmth that had been radiating from Peter’s person now absent. She found herself missing it, the cold in the school seeping through the many layers she had on and bleeding into her skin.

She shivered.

But it wasn’t because of the cold.

━━━━━━━━

Too much. That’s all there was. Too much… everything.

Too much noise. He could hear Aunt May humming to herself quietly in the kitchen of their apartment, an old record scratching softly as she cooked. The cars outside his window screeched and groaned as they braked, tires rubbing against asphalt and making his skin crawl. His own breath was deafeningly loud, panting gasps stuttering past quivering lips and filling the atmosphere of his bedroom.

He didn’t know what came over him that afternoon. One moment he’d been fine, albeit a bit on the warm side but he’d brushed it off, opting to remove his hoodie. But then MJ started asking about the upcoming winter dance, and he’d felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end.

Too much emotion. His heart was hammering away, as it if was trying to bludgeon its way out of his ribcage. He felt angry with himself for acting the way he did. He felt ashamed. Peter tried to ignore the feeling of arousal that began below his navel and crawled its way through his veins until his very fingertips thrummed with the heat of it. But most of all he felt… jealous.

Then MJ had asked Y/N if there was anybody she was planning to take to the dance and the familiar flicker of anger that Peter had felt that fateful morning in the Tower’s training facility when he’d lost control returned. All he could see was red. He couldn’t understand it, why everyone was staring at him as if he’d grown two more heads, until he looked down at his hands and noticed he’d actually snapped the cafeteria tray in half during his moment of fury.

Too much going on. His back, pressed against the soft sheets of his bottom bunk, was sweating as he lay there. He raised his hands to his face, wiping at his eyes as he tried to compose himself, only to find them shaking. Where was Y/N right now? She must have been worried. Usually, they’d be sitting side by side in calculus, cracking jokes under their breath while their mousy teacher droned on and on with little regard as to whether her pupils were actually paying attention. He didn’t want to worry her. He wanted to be with her. He wanted—

One look at the state of him and the secretary at the main office had allowed him to call May, let her know he’d be coming home early. He didn’t understand what was happening to him. When he’d stumbled in through the front door, May was on him in an instant, her small cold hands pressing against his cheeks, his forehead. She said he was burning up. Pushing him toward his bedroom, she instructed him to lie down while she made some soup for him. He vaguely remembered her mumbling something about not being bundled up during the winter and getting a fever, but as soon as he was in his room, his shirt and pants were off and the window was pushed wide open. The cool winter air on his skin was such a welcome relief.

Too much… everything.

This time, he didn’t try to stop himself as his hand toyed with the elastic waistband of his boxers. He let out a breath through his lips. His tongue was dry as he pressed it to the roof of his mouth, the tang of ripe clementines mingling with his saliva.

God, Y/N smelled so good.

Like pink lemonade on a hot summer’s day. Like orange zest cookies. Fresh citrus. Tart and syrupy. If she smelled this good to him when they merely sat beside each other at lunch, he allowed himself to wonder.

What would she smell like during her heats?

Would the sweetness of it become too much to bear? Would her voice mirror the way her scent curled through the air, wispy and light as she pleaded?

Pleaded for what?

“Peter.” His eyes shot open. It was so clear he could have sworn she was there, beside him, above him, around him. He felt her breath on his ear as he heard her gasp. “Please.”

Scrambling for his backpack on the floor beside his bed, he dug through its contents until he extracted one of his webshooters. He slapped it onto his wrist and with one fluid motion sent a spray of webbing toward his door, over the knob and the wall adjacent to it to make sure he wasn’t disturbed by any nosy Aunts. And as quickly as it was on, he’d thrown it across his room with little regard as to where it ended up, his hand already too busy sinking below his boxers.

There was one image that wouldn’t leave his mind as his index finger swiped over his tip, his hand smearing the precum that had gathered there over the rest of him. It hadn’t taken him long at all to get hard. He would have been embarrassed, had the taste of blood orange not been coating his tongue.

She’d be so good for him. His girl.

“Peter.”

He imagined her every way he could. Above him. Below him. Her soft lips at his throat, the ghost of a touch against his Adam’s apple. Her hands on his abdomen, nails pressing into the creases between his muscles.

“Please, Peter.”

Oh, her voice would be better than any sound he’d ever heard. Better than any song, any orchestra, any symphony. The feel of a gasp against his chest, the rumble of a moan against his ear. He wanted to know what she sounded like as his tongue traced the dip of her clavicle. What noise she’d make as his fingers brushed her inner thigh.

“I— I need…”

He wanted to know what the skin behind her ear felt like against his nose. He imagined the sharp breath she’d take in as he mouthed the scent gland on her neck, pressing himself against her more intimately than he ever could have imagined. He’d give her all of him. Let her use him however she wanted if that’s what would make her happy. He’d do everything she asked and more. She’d be so good. So giving. So open and honest and he’d return it all tenfold, adoring every inch of her and then some.

“I need you.”

What would she look like spread over these very sheets, her cheek and chest against his pillow as she presented herself to him? The perfect display, the perfect view. His fingers spread over the skin of her ass, wide and firm as he gripped what was his. She’d give it to him. All for him.

That’s what she was.

She was his. His Omega.

He was panting as he tugged at himself, his movements rough and frantic. He was desperate for relief, his dick hot and swollen and he wanted nothing more than to bury it so far into her she’d feel it in her throat. Would she shake as she came around him? Would she bite him? Cling to him and beg for a knot?

Peter froze.

The taste of oranges was replaced by the bitter sting of lemon juice and he grimaced.

His hand stilled. Peter suddenly felt more turned off than he ever thought was possible, his length already softening in his grip. The realization came crashing over him as if someone had dumped a bucket of freezing water on his head. His skin prickled with goosebumps and he quickly pushed himself back into his boxers. The sour taste lingered.

Peter couldn’t give her a knot. He wasn’t an Alpha.

She’d never want to be with him during her heats, or any time for that matter, if he couldn’t give her what she needed. He was a natureless runt. Why would she ever want him the way he wanted her?

He suddenly felt very cold, the frigid air that bled through his open window making him shiver. He stood, the sweat over his body already cooling, and pulled on a pair of plaid pyjama pants and a sweater. Pausing in front of the mirror, Peter regarded his reflection. His hair was sticking up in so many different directions, one might think he was struck by lightning. His chest rose and fell with each easy breath he took, no longer panting.

Using the solvent spray he kept for emergencies, he removed the webbing from the door and stepped out into the apartment.

May was still humming and the air smelled of chicken noodle soup.

Peter shut his eyes, breathing heavily through his nose, before he plastered a smile on his face and set out for the kitchen. His bare feet stuck on the wood flooring as he walked.

Whatever it was, it had passed.

But Peter couldn’t tell if he was feeling better or worse. Only time would tell.

━━━━━━━━

Something was off, but she couldn’t tell what.

Peter had returned to school the following day looking healthier and less like a complete mess. He’d stuttered his way through an apology for making his friends worry about him and assured them that he was fine, and they’d all accepted it, happy he was back and feeling better.

But not Y/N.

No, she could tell there was something wrong. If not by the way his face was always pinched in a pained expression, then it was because of the smell that lingered wherever he’d go.

It was that scent she’d noticed before, chocolatey and warm, but this time it was too warm. It smelled burnt. Peter had never had a strong, defined scent of his own—he hadn’t presented yet after all—so when he sat down beside her in biology reeking of a campfire and charred s’mores, she was taken aback. He smelled… angry. Distraught.

It made her stomach flip.

He’d been like that for the last week. There was definitely something bothering him, but it was odd that Y/N would be able to pick it up. For everyone else, that was normal. Scents tell a lot about a person, including their emotions more often than not. But this was the first time she’d been able to pick up on Peter’s so intensely—before it had just been flickers of him whenever he got too excited. His loud laugh was always accompanied by the faintest traces of cocoa in the air. It reminded Y/N of cold winter nights and cozying up by the fire. It was always comforting.

Even though he hadn’t presented yet, his scent was there. Y/N found herself loving it, missing it when she was alone. She’d never admit it to anyone but there was always something at the back of her mind pulling her toward Peter. He was just… so good.

But lately, he’d been anything but okay, and it was worrying her.

“Have you… noticed anything about Peter lately?”

Betty glanced up at her, her brows furrowing as she thought about the question. Around them, their chemistry class buzzed like a swarm of bees, each pair of students busy working on their own assignments. Y/N was supposed to be writing notes on their observations, but instead, she had been too preoccupied.

“Other than that day he got sick, not really,” Betty replied. The safety goggles made her eyes look even bigger and bluer than they already were. “Why?”

“Nothing?” Y/N asked again. “Like, not even his scent?”

Betty stopped then, setting down the beaker in her hands and pulling the goggles up to rest on her forehead. She leaned back in her chair and looked over at her friend, eyes wide.

“Y/N,” she said. “Have you noticed anything in his scent?”

“I—I guess,” she stammered. Bringing a hand up to her forehead, she rubbed at the skin there as she continued. “He just… something’s wrong with him.”

“Isn’t there always something wrong with him?” Betty half-joked. “You know him.”

“Yeah but this is different.”

“How?”

Y/N wanted to throw her hands up in frustration, slam her head against the table in front of her and groan out loud. It was too hard to explain without telling Betty that she almost undeniably, incontestably, and inarguably had a crush on him and that was why she cared so much. Instead, she let out a huff and glanced around her. Each pair of students around them was invested in their own work.

“He—” she started, but felt the words catch in her throat. “God, it’s hard to explain.”

“It’s not that hard.” Betty was giving her a look that she couldn’t quite read and it made her stomach tighten. “I mean, what’s so complicated about you liking him?”

If there had been any liquid in her mouth, Y/N would probably have either started choking on it or she would have spit it halfway across the lab.

“Don’t give me that look,” Betty smiled. “You and Peter are probably the only two people in the world who are oblivious to the fact that you like him. Seriously, we all know.”

“How?” Y/N asked, her expression one of shock.

“If it wasn’t painfully obvious because of how you act around him, then maybe it’s the fact that whenever you’re around him it smells like summer vacation. Where do oranges come from, again? Oh right, Florida. You are what I imagine an orange grove in Florida smells like. I mean it probably smells way worse but whatever. You get my point. You’re lucky Peter hasn’t presented yet or he would have definitely been able to pick up on that by now.”

If there was any possible way that Y/N could have melted into the floor and disappeared from existence, she would have done it. But she was still there sitting next to Betty, the blonde Omega beside her giving her a soft smile.

“Oh, God,” she groaned, letting her face fall into her hands. “That bad, huh?”

“It’s cute,” Betty laughed. “Also Ned and MJ may or may not have a bet in place about when you two are gonna get together.”

“Oh, perfect.”

“In Ned’s defence, it was MJ’s idea.”

The bell rang then, shrill and loud but all the more welcome to their ears. Betty busied herself with cleaning up their supplies and Y/N started putting her books back in her bag. Once their shared desk was clean and everything was put away, the two girls stepped out into the hallway, students bustling past them in all directions as they rushed to get home.

“You should talk to him,” Betty said, bumping her shoulder against Y/N’s softly as they walked. “I’m sure whatever’s wrong, it’s not as bad as you think.”

“Yeah, I might,” she replied. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Betty was warm when she hugged her quickly, and Y/N watched as she waved and walked in the opposite direction.

Suddenly, there was a weight in Y/N’s stomach that hadn’t been there before. She swallowed the lump in her throat and walked toward her locker, where Peter would inevitably be waiting for her. His locker was on the other side of the school, but somehow he was always able to get to hers before she did. They got on the same train home every day after school, before inevitably parting ways once they got to their station. Every day she had to stand next to Peter on the crowded subway for twenty minutes, and every day she had to restrain herself from just wrapping her arms around his middle and nosing at his neck.

It would be a little inappropriate to scent him in public, but that wasn’t the only reason she never did it. They weren’t dating. As much as that thought pained her.

Peter was where he always was, leaning with his back against her locker and one foot propped up on the one below it, typing something on his phone as he waited. He looked amazing with the checkered collar of his shirt folded over the neckline of his pullover, but then again, when did he not look good to her? When he saw her coming toward him, his face broke into a soft smile.

It made Y/N’s stomach tug.

“You ready?” he asked her. She only nodded in response, her throat too dry to form words.

They didn’t say anything to each other until they were on the train. If anything, it was more crowded than usual. Y/N had to stand with her back to Peter’s chest, his hand raised and gripping the rail above them. He was so warm behind her, it was hard not to lean into it. Novembers in New York weren’t her favourite, but the cold also gave her an excuse to be closer to her friends, especially Betty. She only wished she could be closer to Peter, too.

“Hey, Peter,” she said, turning around to face him properly. They were a couple stops away from their station and she had finally steeled her nerves enough to ask him about what was bothering him. “Has everything been okay lately?”

For a moment she could have sworn the skin of his cheeks paled, his dark eyes widening only a fraction of an inch before he shook his head and furrowed his brows.

“Yeah,” he said. “I’m good. You?”

“I’m okay, I guess.”

“You sure?”

Y/N froze, her body tensing when she felt Peter’s warm hand grip her arm softly. He spread his fingers and squeezed gently, trying to get her to relax. She wasn’t sure if he even knew what he was doing, the effect it was having on her, but she allowed the pads of his fingers to press against her skin through the soft sweater she wore and her body relaxed.

“Yeah, I’m okay,” she sighed. “But I’m worried about you.”

The only tell that Peter had heard her was the way the tops of his ears reddened.

“Don’t,” he said softly, looking away. “I’m fine.”

“Okay.”

The air was colder than she remembered when they stepped out from their station. The street was shiny with black ice and they had to watch their footing whenever they took a step in case they slipped and fell. They crossed the road and Y/N turned to Peter, ready to say goodbye and wish him a good night, but she was cut off.

“Let me walk you home.”

Y/N pulled back, not expecting his sudden words.

“What? Why?” She didn’t mean for it to be as harsh as it sounded, she was just genuinely confused. At this Peter looked down at the ground, his own eyebrows furrowing as if he himself was unaware why he said that. He met her eyes again, still looking a little out of sorts.

“I don’t know, but,” he began. “I have to… I gotta make sure you get back okay.”

“Peter, I’ll be fine,” she said. “You live, like, ten blocks in the other direction. I can’t ask you to go so far out of your way.”

“I’m offering.” Now his expression was serious, no trace of confusion left in his eyes. “Let me do this for you.”

And then, as if by some cruel cue from the universe because it was most definitely out to get her, it hit her again. That damn smell.

She blinked rapidly, as if it were in her eyes. It wasn’t burnt this time. No, now it was strong and steady, like dark chocolate melted over strawberries. It was soft and velvety, wrapping around her and holding her in place on the sidewalk. She felt… strangely safe. Somehow very at ease when she looked back into Peter’s eyes and noticed his hadn’t left hers. His brows were furrowed, concerned at her reaction.

She only assumed he was going to ask her if she was okay as he opened his mouth, but it was her turn to cut him off.

“Okay,” she breathed. “Okay. You can walk me home.”

She tried to ignore the smile he gave her as they set off toward her parents’ apartment.

In all honesty, she was used to this kind of stuff from the rest of their pack. She and Betty were usually the subject of concern for everyone because they were Omegas. It wasn’t necessarily a bad thing; it was in people’s nature to want to protect them. MJ especially was very protective of her Omega friends, but Y/N knew it came from a place of love and respect for them. She never meant to demean them in any way, nor did anyone really, but given their status some Omegas found it offensive when they were babied and treated like they were fragile.

She knew Betty didn’t mind it, but Y/N actually found herself feeling very grateful whenever her friends showed that extra concern for her. It made her feel important. Loved. Like she was really part of the pack.

When she moved to New York, she was scared she wouldn’t make any friends and that she’d spend the rest of her high school years alone. Being alone had a huge effect on Omegas, and she was nervous for the first few days. But, thankfully, she met Betty.

So yeah, she was used to it. She just didn’t expect it from Peter.

He was usually indifferent to his friends’ classifications. He never tried to jokingly compete with MJ the way Alpha friends did with each other, he wasn’t level headed enough to be like Ned or Abraham, and he was never vulnerable like the Omegas. He never showed any sign at being affected by Y/N or Betty when they were distressed, compared to how the other three scrambled to make them feel better. He knew, or at least she thought he knew, that she was able to take care of herself. Just because she was Omega didn’t mean she was helpless.

Deep down, however, there was a tug at the back of her mind that wanted Peter to see her like that. It wanted Peter to love her enough to protect her from anything he deemed dangerous or unsafe. She knew it was because of her feelings for him and her biological instinct to find a mate. But, contrary to popular belief, instincts suck ass.

They’re nothing short of annoying.

As they walked together, their breath forming small clouds of vapour in front of them in the cold, that tug was stronger than ever.

Her mind was going haywire. She felt giddy, as if she were being courted by him, but wait, no, that was ridiculous. He wouldn’t… would he? Why was she so happy about the fact that he insisted on walking her home?

She told herself that her cheeks were red because of the cold.

When they arrived at the front door of her apartment building, she turned to look at him. His cheeks and the tip of his nose were rosy and she felt bad he’d have to walk all the way back to the station and keep going until he got home in the cold.

“Thanks for walking me home,” she said. “I appreciate it. A lot.”

“I know,” he smiled. His teeth were just as perfect as the rest of him, and she had to look away. “I’ll see you tomorrow, yeah?”

“Yeah,” she smiled.

He waved at her through the glass doors as she went through the first floor, unmoving until she was inside the elevator. Inside her apartment, her mother was already busy making dinner and she pulled Y/N into a hug, kissing her cheek and jokingly remarking about how cold it must have been because of how red she was. Y/N went straight to her room, shutting the door behind her and pressing her back against it.

Her heart was racing.

She didn’t know what, but something compelled her to move toward her window. As she looked through the glass down at the street below her, she saw Peter still standing there, looking up at her.

He smiled wide and gave one last wave before he spun on his heel and walked back the way they came.

She couldn’t breathe. But she was okay with that.

━━━━━━━━

A/N: do not look at me. also this is going to end up being four parts. it really got away from me.

part three comin out tomorrow!

read it on ao3 add yourself to my taglist! like my work? consider buying me a coffee!

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peter taglist and some mutuals: @fuckyou-imspiderman @naturallytom @loverholland @tomshufflepuff @peterstrainingwheels @marvelsswansong @themarauderstheoutsidersandpeggy @psychedelicmagnum @jazmins-main-hoe @spideypeach @neptuneparker @peterporkerpete @butwhyduh @girl-tips-from-satan @hollandroos @hollandsosterfield @neptuneparker @calumsendgame @scftholland @spiderrrling @lovelyspidey @stylemute

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norasmalakian · 6 years ago

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TWDG’S SURVIVAL GUIDE // OR LACK THEREOF.

This is my attempt (and late start) at NANOWRIMO, going off the TWDG drabble challenge prompt created by @stop-breaking-my-heart-telltale

character(s): Minnie, Mitch. brief mentions of Lilly and various others ship(s): n/a word count: 979 a/n: Quick disclaimer that I haven't actually done any real writing in a long time. So if please take it easy on me if this drabble seems a little rough! Hopefully by participating in this challenge, my writing will improve! I hope you all enjoy, and any feedback would be very much appreciated!

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1 // SCAR.

By the time she realizes what’s happened, blood is already dripping down into her left eye, partially blinding her.

She notices the blood before the pain hits her, and when it finally does, she’s powerless to stop the screech from escaping her.

The noise is enough to garner attention from both Ruby and Tenn from atop the watchtower, and in record speed, Tenn is rushing to her side.

“Minnie—!”

She’ll never forget the way the color drained from his face once he was close enough to really see what had happened; the way he fainted—

READ ON AO3

Music was supposed to come so easily to her, but today in particular, Minnie was thoroughly stumped. The notebook she wrote her songs in was filled with scribbles, had words scratched out, and whole pages torn out and crumpled on the floor. She needed a break; see if that would help clear up any writer’s block cluttering her mind.

With a sigh, she pushes herself back from her desk and stands, deciding that some fresh air might do her some good.

When she enters the courtyard, she sees that it’s a bit sparse with it’s occupants.

Brody, Sophie, and Violet had all gone down to the river to fish, Louis, Aasim, and Marlon had gone out hunting, Omar was preparing things for dinner, and Ruby and Tenn were on lookout.

Minnie’s eyes continue to scan over the schoolyard, only stopping when they land on Mitch and Willy sitting on a pair of couches. Mitch appears to be showing Willy how to make a knife of his own, and by the time Minnie gets close enough to see in better detail, Mitch is twirling his newly made knife between his fingers.

“Think you could show me how to do that?”

“Huh?” Mitch starts, having been so engrossed in his work that he hadn’t even heard Minnie walk up. Looking up from his knife carving, he regards her curiously. “Show you how to carve a weapon?”

“No, I mean the knife tricks,” Minnie clarifies, earning a risen eyebrow from Mitch.

“Why?” Mitch asks. “Run out of songs to write?”

Minnie rolls her eyes. “Well, I was writing something, but I needed a break, so…” A beat of silence passes between them before she’s letting out an impatient sigh. “Look, you gonna show me or not?”

Mitch seems to think it over for a moment before letting out a sigh of his own. “Fine. But be careful, will ya? Don’t need Ruby chewing our ears off if you fuck up and get yourself hurt.”

“I know how to be careful, Mitch,” Minnie insists bluntly, but is smiling in anticipation soon enough.

However, she quickly learns that she should just stick with writing lyrics and collaborating musically with Louis.

Mitch makes it look so easy, too.

So, when it’s finally Minnie’s turn, she has herself convinced that it’ll be a piece of cake, despite any nerves that swarm around in her gut.

Two sets of eyes — Mitch and Willy’s — on her isn’t exactly what she’d call ‘helpful’, however, and if nothing else, only proceeds to make the nervous feeling worse.

Still, she wants to impress them, especially when she can feel the two of them judging her with their stares. So, she tries to twirl it around her fingers just as she’d seen Mitch demonstrate before, only to nearly lose a finger in the process.

“Fuck—!” she hisses, dropping the knife on instinct, and moving her wounded finger up to her mouth.

Really, she’s lucky that the wound resembles nothing much more than a papercut, but much like a papercut, it stings. She quickly decides that she’s not gonna let that deter her from trying again, however, and before Mitch can say otherwise, she’s reaching back down to grab the knife again.

“Hey—” he tries, hand reaching out to her as she backs away. “Minnie, c’mon—”

“I got this!” Despite not really believing that she does, Mitch relents — at least for the time being — and lets his hand fall back to his side.

“Jesus, okay. Just— be careful like I told ya!”

Minnie rolls her eyes at him, before situating herself again, gripping the knife in her hand. Her eyes flutter shut for a moment, and she lets out a steadying breath before they open again and she proceeds to try the trick once more.

Somehow, she’s quick to realize, the second time is even more of a failure than the first.

This time, the knife slips out of her hand like before, but it flies upwards.

By the time she realizes what’s happened, blood is already dripping down into her left eye, partially blinding her.

She notices the blood before the pain hits her, and when it finally does, she’s powerless to stop the screech from escaping her.

The noise is enough to garner attention from both Ruby and Tenn from atop the watchtower, and in record speed, Tenn is rushing to her side.

“Minnie—!”

She’ll never forget the way the color drained from his face once he was close enough to really see what had happened; the way he fainted—

“Minerva!”

Suddenly, she’s ripped away from her reverie, realizing with a homesick sort of sadness that it’s all in the past, and that no matter how badly she might want to, she’ll never be able to go back.

Her head snaps back, attention directing itself into the cluster of trees where the voice had come from. She recognizes it all too well.

“Rockingham!” she calls back on instinct, same as she always does.

“Hurry up with that water! We’re leaving soon!” Lilly’s voice booms at her, no nonsense and cold as it always is.

“Yes, Ma’am!” She turns back to grab the buckets of water she’s collected, only to pause, getting caught up in her reflection in the river again— more specifically, the ever present scar on her eyebrow.

It will only ever serve as a reminder of the days she always took for granted and will never get back; the innocence she’s since lost; the monster she’s now become— a disappointment forever trying to prove herself to others. It lets her know that’s all she’ll ever be, regardless of anyone who might try to say otherwise.

Idly, a hand rises to run a finger over the risen skin splitting her eyebrow, and for a moment, she loses herself again. But only for a moment.

She’s got work to do, afterall.

#twdgdrabblechallenge #[ ;twdg ]#;;my writing #twdg #twdg minnie #twdg mitch

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edward-or-ford · 6 years ago

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We’re a Family

So here I go again with a new story. Been awhile, I know!

This one is once again set in my “Unexpected” AU. It’s a pretty direct sequel to the original story, taking place a little over two years after the end of the final chapter, and includes some flashbacks to events I had only alluded to previously. As such, it may be beneficial for you to have already read the previous story, but I don’t think it’s absolutely necessary. I think there should be enough detail in the narrative to let you know what’s going on, if you’re new to my writing.

(This story also takes place at Christmas, and I was hoping to have it finished a couple of weeks ago so it would have been topical. No such luck, but oh well!)

Completely SFW story here, but with the obvious Pinecest implications.

December 25, 2017 Westfield, New Jersey

Mabel Pines is roused from her sound sleep by music blaring out of the tinny speaker of her phone, a 90’s-pop rendition of “Jingle Bells” from the Sev’ral Timez Christmas album. She throws back her covers and bounds to her feet in the small bedroom, happy for once to be awakened. After a fast glance out the window to take in the cold but beautifully sunny morning, she does a quick stretch and she’s ready to go. Man, has she ever been looking forward to today! Adult responsibilities be darned! Today’s a day when she should be allowed to be carefree, like every other “officially-an-adult-but-still-wants-to-be-a-kid” eighteen-year-old!

With no consideration to taking the time to change out of her mismatched sleeping attire of holiday pyjama bottoms and an oversized t-shirt, she quickly tip-toes her way across the hallway to the closed door of another bedroom and cracks it open. A thick mop of brown hair and an adorable little face sticks out from beneath the covers at the head of the toddler-sized bed. Oh good, Cassie’s still asleep! Mabel would hate to have missed any of Cassie’s experiences this morning. Getting to watch her two-year-old little Mini-me on Christmas morning is the best thing Mabel can think of!

But as excited as she is, Mabel knows someone else will be just as happy as she is to share in the moment. She has to drag dear “uncle” Dipper’s sorry old bum out of bed before she can wake up Cassie!

Grinning happily, Mabel carefully closes the door and then scurries towards the stairs down to the basement of the modest bungalow. She picks up speed as she rounds the corner at the front end of the hallway.

She bumps right into an attractive woman in her early forties, who is coming from the kitchen. “Oof!” Mabel grunts in surprise, perfectly in sync with a similar noise of impact from her mother. Then they both make a short laugh and apologize at the same time.

“Well, now that we’ve run into each other, good morning! And Merry Christmas, Pumpkin!” Mom says brightly.

“Aw! Merry Christmas, Mom!” Mabel cries back quietly, giving her mother a firm and fast hug. “But shush! I don’t want Cassie to wake up just yet, not until I go get Dipper up.”

Mom shrugs. “I was just on my way downstairs to get the turkey from the refrigerator down there. I’ll wake him up.” She waves Mabel to the kitchen. “Could you go ahead and break up some more bread crumbs for stuffing while I head down there? Thank you,” she says, already on the second step down the narrow staircase.

Mabel pauses a split second, very much wanting to go down and wake her twin brother herself. Then she dismisses it easily. “Gotcha, Momster!” she replies with a genuine smile, heading for the sink to wash her hands before attacking the dried bread.

Cassie finishes ripping colorful wrapping paper from a box that comes up past her waist, then pulls the box over, screeching with delight as she peers inside.

“Unca DIP-pah! Unca DIP-pah! AAAAAAAAA!!!!!” Cassie cries excitedly as she reaches in and pulls out a large pig-shaped neon-pink fuzzy toy.

Dipper laughs from his spot seated on the floor, at the feet of Mabel who is sitting on the couch recording the scene with her phone. He glances back quickly at Mabel, then returns his attention to the toddler. “That’s great, Cass! What’re you going to call him?”

“WAH-dle! WAH-dle!” shouts Cassie, squeezing the stuffed animal securely and spinning around in a circle with her arms full of porcine plush.

“Atta-girl!” Mabel calls out. She playfully kicks her brother. “Like mother, like daughter!” Dipper snorts back with amusement.

The twins’ father smiles and rolls his bespeckled eyes. “Oh great! We just finished finding a proper home for the last pig, now we’ve got another one?” he moans sarcastically.

“Pay no attention to grumpy Grampy!” Mabel fires back, beckoning the girl to come over for a quick hug. “You’re gonna show your new pig to the real Waddles next time we go out to visit him at the petting zoo, aren’t you?”

“YAH!” Cassie jumps up and down across the living room. “Wah-dle Wah-dle WAH-dlllllllle!” In her careless excitement, the oversized toy causes her to lose her balance. With a high-pitched cry of alarm, she starts to fall backwards.

The twins’ mother, with her usual parental instincts, has anticipated this and neatly catches Cassie before she hits the floor. “Whoops-a-daisy! Grandma’s got you!” Mom says cheerfully, sweeping the tot back to her feet and giving her a pat on the bottom as she sets off to continue running around. Then the woman casts a smirk at Mabel. “Like mother like daughter, indeed! You were always way too excited on Christmas morning, too!”

“It is not possible to be too excited on Christmas morning!” Mabel replies haughtily.

“Definitely not possible!” pipes in a grinning Dipper, raising an open hand above his head with his palm facing behind him, which Mabel immediately slaps in a blind high-five. “Excitement today is required behavior, Mom,” Dipper proclaims.

“Oh, of course,” Mom acknowledges. “I suppose it wasn’t that long ago the two of you were tearing around like whirling dervishes when all of Santa’s presents showed up under the tree.” She turns to her husband with a smug look. “Surely it wasn’t my fault they were always allowed to be so crazy on Christmas morning?”

“Are you kidding?” he retorts, his “dad bod” midsection shaking as he laughs. “You loved letting them be off the leash for one day a year.” He glances over to his children. “I guess you guys are passing that little tradition on to the next generation.”

Dipper scratches his scalp as he smiles self-consciously. Mabel just wiggles in delight. “Yay to family traditions!” she cries with a quick pump of her fist.

The morning continues this way. Cassie has several gifts to open under the tree, mostly clothes and small toys. The twins’ parents open their inexpensive (but lavishly hand-decorated by Mabel) gifts from their children. They in turn give each of their children gift cards, which Mabel thanks them for but good-naturedly scolds them for their lack of imagination. Dad raises his hands and accepts this, while Mom says they don’t want to give either of their kids a bunch of stuff they don’t need. Ever the pragmatist, Dipper congratulates his “wise” parents while Mabel pouts comically. But then Mom excuses herself and emerges from the basement with a wrapped present for each of the twins. Everyone, including Cassie, laughs at Mabel’s delighted antics as she enthusiastically rips the paper from her unexpected gift.

As Cassie starts playing with some of the decorations on the tree, her grandmother pulls them out of the tot’s hands and places them back onto the branches, humming “Oh Christmas Tree”. Mabel picks up the tune and starts singing with her mother. Soon everyone is singing, including the men who are mumbling along, faking the lyrics they don’t know. More singing follows, a mix of hymns and modern holiday tunes.

Mabel’s smile is enormous as she picks up Cassie and bounces around while singing “Holly Jolly Christmas” along with her family. Cassie is hugging her back and squealing right along with the melody. Dipper jumps up and joins them, and together they joyfully belt out the last lines of the song. Their Mom and Dad applaud while Cassie reaches out for Dipper. Mabel hands Cassie over, and as he squeezes the girl tightly Mabel hugs them both and makes a “Cassie sandwich”.

Then Mabel waves vigorously at her parents to get up and come join them. They chuckle and indulge her, embracing their children and their delighted granddaughter in a big group hug.

Relishing the moment, Mabel closes her eyes in satisfaction. Happy family times are perfect! It’s been way too long since they’ve all been together like this. All of them have been so busy! For now, she’s determined to hang on to this moment for as long as she can.

Times like this are so much better than they were, almost three years ago …

March 13, 2015 Piedmont, California

“So what is this all about?” Mom asked briskly.

Mabel swallowed nervously as her mother sat down beside her husband on the sofa in the spacious living room. Mom was a bit stressed. So was Dad. Since they were all scheduled to be on a plane to the Caribbean early the next morning for their all-inclusive March break vacation, there was a lot to be done.

But now there was something else that was about to be dropped on their plate. A pretty BIG something!

Mabel sat down in the love seat that faced the large sofa. Dipper sat beside her. Mabel glanced at her brother. He was putting on a brave face, but she could tell her fifteen-year-old twin was afraid. She obliquely wondered if she looked the same way.

“Dad? Mom?” Dipper began. “You’ve always said we should just get to the point, right? That we’re just wasting time otherwise?”

Their father looked back at Dipper. “Yes?” he replied warily.

“What’s going on?” Mom prompted, also looking concerned.

Dipper turned his head to Mabel. His face was now struggling to mask his fear. He nodded curtly at his sister.

Mabel nodded back and took a deep breath. Then she turned towards her parents, but was unable to look them in the eye.

“I’m pregnant,” she squeaked.

There were two loud intakes of breath from their parents. Mabel finally glanced at their faces, and she could tell they were shocked and upset. Of course they were! And there was more! Now she was truly terrified, and instinctively she reached out and sought out Dipper’s hand.

Dipper grasped her palm immediately and squeezed. He also drew a deep breath.

“And I’m the father,” she heard him utter, his voice shaking.

She braced herself for the onslaught.

Mabel pushes the memory away. Now is not the time for stuff like that! Now’s the time for Christmas cheer!

Mom extricates herself from the big family hugfest to put the turkey into the oven. Then she announces to her husband that because she and Mabel have been preparing their big dinner since before either of the men got up, she feels that it’s only fair if he and their son prepare brunch for the family. Mabel wholeheartedly agrees. Following a brief faux objection, Dipper laughs and heads for the kitchen, his father following with a resigned sigh and a lopsided smile. The “girls” of the house start to clean up the carnage left over from gift opening, Mabel coaching Cassie on how everything needs to be tidied up. Soon the living room is clean and the table is filled with pancakes, sausage, and french toast. Everyone gets a kick out of watching Cassie play with her food as the whole family enjoys their meal.

The Pines family may have roots in New Jersey on Dad’s side, but there are no remaining relatives on the East coast to share the holidays with. And of course it’s impossible to open their home up to anyone else, given the very awkward “family secret” of Cassie’s paternity that might be exposed. As a result, they have no one to invite over to share their time with. In their busy everyday lives, the family’s isolation is easy to overlook, but on a day like Christmas it becomes more obvious. After finishing eating and tidying up, things noticeably quiet down.

As Mom finishes putting dishes away, brunch is settling in everyone’s stomachs, and it’s time to relax. Cassie is playing on her own, her attention alternating between a wooden animal puzzle and the big box that squishy Waddles came in. The twins share the couch, Mabel picking up her yarn and knitting needles to make another sweater for her little girl, while Dipper pulls out his phone.

Dad has plans to watch basketball all afternoon and switches on the television to the pregame show for the Sixers and Knicks. Mom asks if he really needs to have that on now? Dad suggests that maybe he can do without it for now, on the proviso he not get any complaints when he watches his beloved Warriors play the Cavs later that afternoon. Mom shakes her head and agrees.

After the television winks off, Dad looks at Dipper, who is engrossed with his phone. “What’re you reading there?” he asks his son.

Dipper glances up briefly. “Nothing important, I guess. Just a blog I follow, by this paranormal investigator who lives out west.”

“That BS again?” says Dad with an amused snort. “I thought you’d moved past that nonsense.”

“Oh yeah,” retorts Dipper, staring down his father with a grin. “I guess I should be concentrating on important stuff, right? Like basketball, I suppose?”

Dad chuckles at that. “Yeah well at least my interests are about something real!”

“Leave him alone, Dad,” chimes in Mabel with a giggle. “He’s got his weird conspiracies, you’ve got your dumb sports. As far as I can tell, you’re both pretty much even in this ‘waste of time’ competition!”

“Fine, fine!” says Dad to Mabel, smiling and waving dismissively.

Mom walks in from the kitchen. “Mabel, when’s your next shift at the hobby store? Were you able to get tomorrow off?”

Mabel grimaces. “No, I wish!” she says with disappointment. “I have to be there when they open up. They say the morning after Christmas is usually a really busy shift.” She’s determined to not be a sourpuss about her job, so she forces an upbeat attitude. “But hopefully I’ll get to see all the cool things the customers are starting to work on. That’s the best part of my job, helping people do their bestest and craftiest!”

“Yes, I know,” her mother replies. “I’ll watch Cassie tomorrow, so it’s no problem. I’m happy you get to work in a place where there’s things that are kind of up your alley.”

“Yeah, I wish I could just keep all the stuff that are on the shelves for myself!” Mabel sighs dreamily. “You know me, the master of arts and crafts! If only I’d-”

Mabel cuts herself off, not wanting to verbalize the end of that thought. She had just about said she wished she’d gone to art college. She knows that it should have been a perfectly feasible goal for her. If not for … Mabel glances at Cassie on the other side of the room, playing quietly. She loves Cassie so much, she’d never go back and change her mind. But still, she’d be lying if there weren’t a few regrets, as well. She tries to get back to positive thoughts as she looks fondly at her daughter.

Mom doesn’t press Mabel to continue, having sensed what caused Mabel’s sudden surge of melancholy. Dad, on the other hand, is oblivious. He turns back to Dipper. “I forgot to ask if you got your final grades for first semester.”

“You didn’t tell him, Dipper?” Mom says excitedly. “Go ahead!”

“Yeah, they were posted on Friday” Dipper replies, shrugging modestly. “I did pretty well, I guess.”

Mabel nudges her brother with her elbow, happy for the change of subject. “Pretty well? Dip, you said you received an email from NJIT that you got the highest average in your entire program this term!”

Dipper nods bashfully. “Really?” says Dad, raising an eyebrow. “Well, then! Congratulations, that’s an excellent accomplishment!” He leans forward in his recliner to reach over and grip his son’s shoulder. “I’m proud of you, son. Good work!”

“Thanks, Dad!” replies Dipper, a grateful expression spreading on his face. “I worked pretty hard this semester.”

Dad nods. “I know you did. You’ve developed a really good work ethic these past few years.” He leans back into his chair again. “You would have done so well at MIT.”

Dipper’s smile doesn’t waver, but his eyes fall to the floor. “Yeah, probably.” he says.

Mabel instantly feels for her twin. Darn it, why does Dad always have to make those little digs? The New Jersey Institute of Technology might not have the same level of prestige as that uppity place in Massachusetts, but she knows his college isn’t exactly chopped liver. She’s seen the projects Dipper has been working on, and although she doesn’t understand engineering, she knows he’s doing amazing stuff!

But before Mabel can say anything to that effect, her mother has chimed in. “So what about next semester, Dipper? What do your classes look like for January?”

“Okay, I think,” Dipper says. “There’s an introduction to biotech course that sounds really interesting, and everything I’ve learned up until now has been good. There’s just …” He makes a frustrated noise. “The only thing is the schedule! They’ve got me down for three evening classes. That means three days a week, it’ll be really late before I can get home.”

Mom sighs. “Oh, Dipper, I’m sorry. That sounds awful, you’re going to be on the train at all hours of the night.” She shakes her head. “You really should have taken one of the rooms in residence on campus. You would have been walking distance to all your classes.”

“Mom, we already talked about this,” Dipper moans. “It’s too expensive! My scholarship doesn’t pay for room and board. I can’t afford it, and you can’t afford to pay it for me.”

“We’d have found the money somehow, we tried to tell you that,” Mom scolds gently.

“Even so, it’s not that bad. If I catch the trains right, it’s only a little over an hour.” Dipper shakes his head. “I’ll be fine, even if it sucks next term.”

Dad looks intently at Dipper. “Of course, you had the opportunity to accept a full scholarship to MIT, including residence. Living on campus would have been no problem there.”

This time Dipper doesn’t look away, and he stares back at his father. He says nothing, but the temperature in the room seems to drop several degrees. No ones says anything for several seconds.

Mabel is about to try breaking up the tension with a funny comment. But Cassie stands up and looks around, distracting Mabel. Cassie looks tired, and she’s late to go down for her nap. She also seems to sense the unease in the room. Looking for someplace safe, she makes a tiny whining noise and toddles over to the nearest comforting set of arms, which happen to belong to her uncle. Dipper picks her up and holds her, giving pats on the back and letting her relax against his chest with her head resting on his shoulder. Everyone watches in silence as Dipper whispers soothing noises to the girl, lulling her quickly into sleep.

“She’s had a really big morning,” Mabel says to no one in particular, forcing a smile on her face as she watches her daughter snooze peacefully in Dipper’s arms. “All those new toys and stuff to play with, it was bound to tucker her out. I’ll bet-”

“Pumpkin … that’s enough,” Dad says with quiet authority. “I’m sorry, but please don’t change the subject. I don’t think it’s healthy to avoid what’s on everyone’s mind here. I didn’t want this to come up today, but …” he crosses his arms with deliberation,“ ...here we are! We need to address this whole issue of Dipper’s education.”

Dipper stiffens. “What’s the problem, Dad? You just finished telling me you were proud of me. I’m at the top of my class, but now that’s not good enough?”

“I am proud of you, Dipper!” responds Dad. “Clearly, you’ve done extremely well this term. And NJIT is a fine school, no doubt.” He straightens up and gestures emphatically. “But I think it’s time for you to admit that you are holding yourself back! You were granted a full scholarship to the Massachusetts Institute of Technology! You always dreamed of going there! It’s the best technical school in the country! And clearly you would have been brilliant there! You must realize how many more doors would be open to you if you’re an MIT alumnus, how many more lucrative and exciting opportunities might present themselves!”

“I get that,” Dipper replies, his voice measured. With Cassie’s ear right beside his mouth, he can’t get too loud. “But it doesn’t matter, Dad. Boston is just too far away! I thought you understood that when I turned down their offer.” He embraces the girl a bit tighter. “I don’t want to be so far away from Cassie. Going back and forth to school in Newark allows me to see her every day. She’s really important to me, you know that!” He gives the side of her head a gentle kiss. “NJIT is a good school. And I’m fine with going there.”

Dad exhales heavily. “It’s just a waste of your full potential!” he mutters with exasperation.

“Now, Honey!” Mom says, lightly admonishing her husband. “Think about how Dipper must feel. There’s nothing wrong with his university. And he can’t be expected to just up and leave his … niece …” she clears her throat quickly, “all at once and not be upset by it.” She gives Dipper and the sleeping child a fond look. “Going to a school near home and commuting to the city every day this year is a good first step for you. Maybe next year, you’ll be more comfortable and you’ll live on campus. Or at least in the city where you’re closer to your classes. You’d be able to come home on the weekends!”

Dipper refrains from saying anything, he just continues to slowly rub Cassie’s back as she sleeps.

“I think that’s a good idea!” proclaims Mabel suddenly.

Dipper casts a strange look her way as she puts down her knitting. Seeing that Dipper is under a lot of pressure from their parents, Mabel has decided to do something about it. She needs to get everyone off of this subject, and she has experience with the fact that sometimes she just has to agree with some of what her parents are saying to make them happy. Or just tell them what they want to hear so they at least leave her alone for awhile. No, it’s not the healthiest way to deal with conflict, but … this is Christmas, man! All this talk about Dipper leaving home can wait for a different day!

“Maybe Mom and Dad have a point, and you should start thinking about when it’s time to bein’ all foot loose and fancy free!” As she says this she turns to face her brother, away from her parents. She tries desperately to communicate to Dipper with her face that she’s not serious about the subject. Dipper nods subtly, telling her he understands. “It’s not like anyone’s moving out tomorrow, or anything. I know it’s weird for me, of all people, but we could stand to talk about it sometime!”

To Mabel’s silent dismay, the attempt to diffuse the conversation fails. “You know, it isn’t just Dipper, Pumpkin,” says Mom. “A day will come that you won’t be living here, either.”

A deer in the headlights has nothing on how Mabel feels now. She’s just put herself in the high beams. “Oh wow. Yeah!” she mumbles.

“It’s not that we don’t adore Cassie, or love having both of you here,” Mom reassures her. “You’ll be here as long as necessary. But someday you won’t be needing us anymore.”

“I haven’t, you know … really thought that far ahead.” She nonchalantly reaches over to Dipper and motions for the sleeping tot with her hands out. Dipper carefully passes her over to Mabel. “I mean … there’s been Cassie, and high school … and now work … it’s just been so busy …” she laments, shifting Cassie into a comfortable position on her shoulder.

“Well,” says Dad, “it seems to me that you won’t be moving out anytime soon.” There’s a long pause, then he continues. “Certainly not until you’ve found yourself some support. You know …” he raises his eyebrows, “support of a … significant other kind!”

Mabel flushes in embarrassment. “Daa-ad!” she groans.

“Oh goodness, Honey, stop being awful!” scolds Mom with a grin as she swats her husband lightly.

“Hey, this is a real issue!” Dad says. “She has a small child. She’s going to have a tough time finding the right fellow. Sure, there’s no hurry, but … why not start looking now? What’s the harm?” He looks at Mabel directly. “Aren’t there any nice young men around your workplace? You ever talk to any of them?”

Oh god, Mabel doesn’t think she’s had a more awkward conversation with her father in a long time. Aren’t Dads supposed to, you know, discourage their daughters from seeking out men? Then again, most fathers don’t have daughters who have been … biblical … with their sibling, either. Her gaze shifts involuntarily to her brother.

Dipper is already defending Mabel. “C’mon, Dad!” he says with a forced chuckle. “Isn’t it kind of old-fashioned to be pushing Mabel into finding herself a …” he pantomimes air quotes with his fingers, “... good man in her life?”

Dad appraises Mabel and her daughter on the sofa. “I’ve never been ashamed of being the old-fashioned type,” Dad responds. “I’m not telling her to go out and marry the first guy who looks at her, for pete’s sake! She should know she’s found the right man, and being a single mother that could take a lot of time. But I see nothing wrong with wanting to see that my little girl is going to be well taken care of. She just has to be open to the possibility.”

Then the man’s gaze shifts back to Dipper. “And that goes for you, as well, son. Sure, you’re in an engineering program, which is still dominated by men. But there must be some young ladies that you’ve met in school? You’ve mentioned several new friends. Why have I never heard about any girls?”

Dipper is stone faced, but Mabel swears she can see a thin film of sweat about to burst onto his forehead. “There are only a few women in my classes, Dad,” he manages to reply. “I haven’t really talked to any of them.”

“Well, don’t wait forever! Any girl would be lucky to grab you!” says Dad with a small laugh. “I’m sorry for being on you about MIT. You’re still going to earn a fine degree, and have a very good career. You’ve got a great future ahead of you! Don’t you think you should be looking for someone to share that future with?” He waves back and forth at the twins. “Both of you should be thinking about this!”

There are many things that Mabel would say to that, if she could. But it’s impossible. And nothing that she can say is coming to mind, with the way her heart is pounding from stress. The room is unbearably silent. Mabel can’t stop herself from looking to Dipper for support, and finds he is staring right back at her, looking as uncomfortable as she probably does.

“I see.” Their mother’s voice is cold.

Mabel’s heart leaps into her throat. Mom hasn’t said anything for some time. She’s just been watching and listening!

Dad looks at his wife, confused. “What?”

“Look at them!” she says curtly. “They have no intention of looking for relationships, and they never have.” She takes a deep breath. “They said that everything that happened in California was over. That they weren’t interested in being … together … anymore.” She fixes the twins with a withering stare, her voice sharp. “But that’s not true at all, is it?” she demands, daring her children to deny the accusation.

Dipper struggles to recover. “Mom, we … we haven’t … it’s not-”

“No, Dip,” interrupts Mabel softly. He looks wide-eyed at her, but with a glance she lets him know that the jig is up.

After a fearful nod of understanding from Dipper, Mabel turns to their stern-faced parents. Cassie now feels ten times heavier on her shoulder. She swallows down the huge lump in her throat, and confesses the obvious truth.

“Dip & I … we’re still in love.”

“What … WHAT did you say?” stammered the twins’ stunned mother.

“You’re PREGNANT?” demanded their father to Mabel, then he wheeled on Dipper. “You … YOU got her PREGNANT?”

Mabel offered the only defense she could. “We love each other,” she whimpered.

Mom looked to be in deep shock, making noises of incomprehensible hysterics. Dad was on his feet, his face wild. “You’re NOT serious! You CAN’T be god damned serious! PLEASE tell me this is a joke!!”

Dipper was just as scared as Mabel by the furious response. Speechless, the twins were rooted in place, unable to respond in any way.

“Oh my god oh my god oh my god,” chanted Mom, her voice squeaky and her face buried in her hands.

Dad was apoplectic, completely losing his composure as he stormed around the room. “What the HELL were you … how did … JESUS you two! WHY???”

Getting no response from two terrified young teens, he stalked over and loomed menacingly over them. “I asked you a question, and so help me god, you will answer me! WHY? How did this happen?” He focused on Dipper, an ugly snarl forming. “If you did ANYTHING to force this on Mabel, I’ll-”

“No, Dad!” Mabel cried as Dipper shrank back in fear. “It was BOTH of us! We …” Mabel had no other explanation, only the one she’d already offered. “We LOVE each other!”

“LOVE?” yelled Dad in astonishment. “You CAN’T god damned LOVE each other! You’re brother and sister!” He cut off Dipper with a vicious glare before the boy could respond. “And you’re only FIFTEEN! You don’t know what love even IS! Guess what, love isn’t FUC-” He stopped himself short, flinching violently. “Love isn’t having SEX with your sister!”

Mom began to cry loudly, distracting her husband from his verbal attack on their children. He sat and held her, both of them unprepared and angry, and trying to gather themselves. The twins cowered on the love seat in silence while they waited.

After the shock began to fade, Mom was beginning to get her sobbing under control. “Are you … are you absolutely sure … you’re pregnant?” she asked Mabel shakily. “How do … you know?”

“I … bought a test. It’s upstairs,” Mabel responded meekly. “And I … I kinda feel all the ways you’re supposed to feel when you’re pregnant.”

Her mother inhaled a stuttering breath. “And you’re SURE that … that Dipper is … he’s the …”

“Yes!” Mabel’s reply was almost indignant, as she was a bit insulted that her mother would think she had more than one sexual partner. It took her a second to realize that her mother might actually have preferred to think that she had slept around with other boys, at least in this case. She withdrew beside Dipper even further, watching her mother’s disappointed face.

Dad made like he was going to begin berating the twins again. “No, that’s enough!” Mom interjected firmly. “We have to stop this right now!”

“We can’t just DROP this!” Dad exclaimed, incredulous.

“Of course we can’t! But nothing good can come of any of this until you and I have a chance to calm down and talk about it, first. We’re done for tonight!” She sighed. “And clearly we’re not going anywhere in the morning.”

“Christ!” Dad groaned, remembering the vacation plans, and immediately agreeing that the holiday could not happen anymore. “That’s just great! Did we buy cancellation insurance?”

“I don’t CARE about that right now!” Mom grumbled back, irritated. “Let’s … let’s just go upstairs!” She frowned at Mabel. “You will go up to your room and stay there! And YOU,” she addressed Dipper sternly, “will sleep in the guest room down here!” She rose to her feet and pointed the way for her daughter. “Get going NOW!” Mabel bowed her head and started reluctantly for the stairs, her parents following closely behind.

Dipper needed to try to protect and comfort Mabel. “How is that fair?” he argued. “You both get to talk and everything … get support from each other. Mabel’s all alone! She only told ME less than two hours ago! She … we need to be able to talk to someone, too!”

Dad whipped around at the base of the stairs, clearly still agitated. “You listen to me!” he growled. “Apparently you two have already had PLENTY of time together, and doing a lot more than just TALK!” He turned his back to Dipper and continued up the stairs, giving Mabel no choice but to go up ahead of him. “One thing you’d better believe is that … THIS … is over!” he shouts. “The two of you will stop this! I WON’T let this continue!”

“I don’t believe this,” grumbles Dad with disgust.

For a moment there’s complete silence, interrupted only by Cassie’s light snoring. Mabel desperately searches for anything approaching sympathy from her mother or father. Dipper can’t meet the intense gaze of either of their parents.

“You both said over a year ago that you were over this!” Dad continues, his voice rising. “You assured us! This sick infatuation was done! And now you’re telling us it’s not?”

“Dad, please!” cries Mabel. “Just listen for a min-”

“Listen to why you’ve been lying to us?” shoots back her father, growing incensed.

Dipper pulls himself together. “Could we please just stop for a second?” he interrupts. “We need to put Cassie down to bed in her room.” He gently touches Mabel’s arm. “C’mon.”

Mabel sniffs and nods in agreement. The twins avoid looking at Mom or Dad as Dipper helps Mabel to her feet under Cassie’s weight. They make their way down the hallway to the toddler’s bedroom, and Mabel lays the girl down carefully. Although Cassie shifts and moans, she immediately relaxes as Mabel pulls up her blanket and returns to a sound sleep.

“I’m sorry Dip,” Mabel whispers shakily.

Dipper hugs her. “It’s okay, it’s not your fault,” he murmurs back, kissing her head. “I love you. That’s what matters, right?”

Mabel nods and wipes her eyes against her brother’s shirt. “I love you too.”

As they nervously return to the living room, their parents quickly abort a hushed conversation. Mom has a firm look of judgement on her face. Dad seems to be back in control of his emotions, but looks decidedly unhappy. His eyes narrow even further as he sees the twins holding one another’s hands. Mabel draws a breath and pulls Dipper to the couch.

“So …” Mabel begins, interpreting her parents’ lack of comment as permission to explain, “... me and Dipper … we wanted to try to move on from each other. We really did!” She glances with uncertainty at Dipper, and he nods reassuringly. “When we moved here, we were still hanging on to everything we were feeling for each other. And you knew that. But we stayed away from each other like you told us to, even though it was really hard.

“And then we got so busy after Cassie was born! I’d come straight home after school every day to look after her. Dipper had all his tutoring students. And we had all our homework! For five days a week we barely saw each other. And even on weekends or during the summer, anything we did that wasn’t work was with Cassie. We were just overwhelmed, we never had time for each other anymore, to even think of each other as a couple anymore. When you talked to us about our feelings last year, about if we had moved on … I thought we had! It was the truth!

“But then Dipper got that letter about the scholarship to MIT. And … I couldn’t stand it! I was sure he’d take the offer and he’d be gone! I expected to miss him a lot … but I didn’t know how much it would hurt to face that! It was devastating!” Mabel paused to wipe her eyes with her sleeve.

“We were both working so hard, just keeping our heads above water, I think … I guess I wasn’t thinking. But when I was faced with it, I just knew …” she turns to Dipper again, “... that everything he meant to me hadn’t gone away. I still loved him, more than ever!”

Both parents sit stoically, waiting for their son’s explanation.

Dipper clears his throat. “I’ve always tried to be what you’ve wanted me to be,” he says, sounding reluctant. “When we moved here, I really applied myself. I wanted to prove to you …” he squeezes Mabel’s hand, “... to all of you … that I would do everything possible to make the best of what happened to us. I’d earn money. I’d get good grades in school. I’d help out at home … and be a good uncle for Cassie. I’d do everything right!

“Last winter was when we were getting ready to put in college applications. I felt really bad for Mabel, that she was going give up any hope of going to college and would be starting work full time instead. You were counting on me. And I vowed to put my education first, so I applied to every big name school because it was … the right thing to do!

“When the package from MIT arrived, you were both so excited. I knew I should have been excited, too, but I wasn’t! Mabel had been acting happy for me, trying to cheer me on, saying I’d do great at MIT. But I looked at her … and knew ...” he blinks back a tear as he gazes at Mabel, “... I knew I couldn’t leave her. The tiny bits of Mabel that I’ve been able to hang on to over the past couple of years … I need that! I can’t live without that!”

He tilts his head towards where the young girl was sleeping. “I told you the reason I turned down MIT was that I’d miss Cassie too much, and I wasn’t lying. I might keep the secret from everyone outside this house, but she’s my daughter! I love her and I want to be near her, and that’s the truth!” He swallows hard and stares back at his twin again. “But she’s only half of it. Leaving Mabel would have been just as bad! With all we did for Cassie, it ended up just making everything I felt for Mabel even stronger. I had to stay!”

Mom finally speaks up. “That’s precisely the problem!” she exclaims, frustrated. “The two of you are still reacting to these … feelings you had! Reacting in ways that you can’t afford anymore! You were just children when this happened, but you aren’t any longer!” She gestures to Dipper. “Think for a second about what you’re giving up for this. How you’re not moving on to finding someone you can actually share your life with!” Then she waves at Mabel. “And you know Dipper can’t be the husband and father that you and Cassie need! It just isn’t possible!”

“Exactly!” grunts Dad in agreement, his arms folded tightly against his chest.

“You can’t function this way, you can’t exist this way!” Mom continues. “It doesn’t matter how painful it is, you have to put this behind you! Like any other brother and sister, you need to … grow up! Now that you’re adults, you need to face your problems as adults!”

Mabel is weeping quietly in despair. She should have known that they wouldn’t understand! Dipper had always said as much. They will simply reject any possibility that the twins could remain in love, that they could always be there for each other. The only options, in their parents’ minds, are that the twins move on to find other relationships, or the twins simply move on alone. To their parents, Dipper and Mabel remaining so close emotionally was an impossible outcome.

Dipper slouches forward, his palm over his forehead. “You don’t get it, Mom and Dad,” he laments. “We can’t just move past this.”

“You can’t be serious,” fumes Dad. “Of course you can move past this! You just don’t want to! But you don’t have a choice, you’re going to have to.” His neck twitches, his agitation growing even as he keeps his tone quiet. “What you and Mabel did was unnatural! It was immoral! And it was illegal!”

Mabel tenses, trying to psychically will Dipper to resist being pedantic at this moment. She fails.

“Technically, it wouldn’t be illegal now,” Dipper mutters. “There’s no law against, you know … adult incest … in New Jersey.”

“That doesn’t mean anyone would think it’s acceptable!” Dad snaps back, his voice dangerously low.

“That’s right,” agrees Mom. “Just because nobody could call the police on you, that doesn’t mean that even if you wanted to, you could ever be together!” She fidgets in irritation. “Imagine trying to live that way! You could never get to be serious. You could never be open. Don’t you ever want to be married? It can’t be with each other! That’s certainly not legal!”

Now Mom is really wound up. “And you know what else is never going to be legal, either? Children! And you already have one! How exactly does Cassie fit into any possible future you two might have together?”

March 14, 2015

The twins were seated at their customary spots across from each other at the big dining room table. Exhausted from lack of enough rest and fighting a bout of nausea, Mabel wasn’t allowed to be in the same room as Dipper all morning until this meeting. The nervous teen couldn’t help noting the location for this conversation, directed by their parents, kept her and Dipper physically separated.

Dad sat down at the table with the kids. His face was inscrutable, and he was avoiding looking directly at either of his children. Mom stood by the china cabinet, considering her words. The bags under their eyes provided evidence of their all-night private discussion.

“We’re VERY disappointed in you,” Mom finally said without preamble. “We’re not interested in how long this has been going on, and we will not be listening to any reason or justification you might have for why you have done this. What you did was wrong, and it will NOT happen ever again!”

The twins made no reply. It was clear that none was expected.

“But …” Mom continued with a deep sigh, “what’s done is done. Regardless of the mistakes you’ve made, we have to deal with what’s happened. Obviously, I’m talking about you,” she nodded soberly at Mabel, “being pregnant.”

Mabel was now very much alone under the microscope, feeling like her womb was an object that was isolated and under examination.

“Your father and I talked at length all night about what happens next.” She drummed her fingers on the surface of the cabinet, staring at her feet. “We have no idea what issues the fetus could have. From what little research we could do overnight, it seems there could be significant birth defects, or there might be nothing wrong at all. We don’t know.” She looked up at Mabel. “We also had to consider what this means to your future. How a pregnancy at your age could be devastating. For both of you,” she added, glancing sharply at Dipper, “if the truth were to come out about who the father is.”

She pulled out her chair at the table and sat down, pursing her lips and then interlacing her fingers in front of her. “We have always been of the opinion that life begins at conception. We haven’t changed our minds about this. But-” her voice broke for an instant, “in a situation like this, we understand how opinions sometimes need to be … flexible.”

After a long pause, Dad finally spoke. “What we’re saying is that as much as we dislike this, we think the best option for you is that you get an abortion,” he said to Mabel.

Mabel looked up to her father, then back to the other end of the table to her mother. Both of them appeared to be looking for acknowledgement from her. She could tell that they thought they had just made a significant concession, and that Mabel should be thankful to them. It was clear that they believed Mabel would welcome the opportunity to end the pregnancy.

Then she looked across the table to Dipper. He made a tiny, meaningful nod of his head, and she knew he would stand with her.

“I …” she swallowed hard, “... I don’t WANT to have an abortion,” she said, her voice squeaking.

Her parents were obviously thrown for a loop by her response. They stared blankly at one another, unsure if they had heard Mabel correctly. Both of them then turned their attention to Dipper, who gravely nodded his solidarity with his sister. Mabel sat silently on her side of the table, timid but trying to appear determined. For the second time in less than twenty-four hours, the twins’ parents were again unprepared to react to unexpected news from their children.

Dad was flummoxed. “So … you want to have the baby?”

“Yes,” replied Mabel, her gaze locked on the table.

He absorbed this. “And what, exactly ... are you planning to TELL anyone? About who got you pregnant?”

Mabel lifted her eyes to Dipper, who was already looking at her, scared but supportive. “We don’t know,” said Dipper softly.

“Well I think that’s something you NEED to know!” Dad demanded, his attention see-sawing from one twin to the other. “If you have no idea what you’re doing, how can-”

“Please, Dad!” exclaimed Mabel with sincerity. “I can’t do it! This isn’t the baby’s fault! I can’t k-” She took a shuddering breath as tears spontaneously leaked from her eyes, “I can’t KILL our baby!”

Mom sobbed and began crying, triggering Mabel to start as well. Mabel instinctively reached out for her mother, who rose and went to Mabel’s side in an instant and they hugged tightly. But the moment only lasted a few seconds. Mom pulled herself back away from Mabel’s grip, visibly struggling to control her emotions. “Keep it together, stay focused” she muttered under her breath as she stepped away. Mabel was hurt by the retreat, but she understood it. Her mother was fighting an internal war: sympathy for Mabel and her unborn baby on one hand, and despair for the baby’s conception and Mabel’s future on the other.

Dad held his tongue for the moment, doing his best to not let the discussion descend into an emotional powderkeg.

Soon his wife had composed herself again. She faced the twins from across the room, but her eyes were closed, her arms braced across her stomach. “Have you … thought at ALL about what will happen when the baby is born?” she asked tentatively. “Surely you must think that … that you can give the baby up for adoption?”

Mabel nods, again wordlessly receiving acknowledgment from her brother. “We talked about it a little, last night,” she said timidly. “But we’re … not sure.”

Dad exhaled hard, his annoyance bubbling up. “You’re not sure?” he repeated. “Mabel, of COURSE you’re going to go the adoption route! You need to think straight about this, and realize what you’re facing!” He leaned forward, elbows and closed fists on the table, closing in on his daughter. “You are in Grade 10! You’ll have two more years of high school after this baby arrives! How would you manage that if you’ve got a kid? And even if you did, how would you go to college? Or get a job? Or go travelling? Or ANYTHING else you might want to do? Keeping this baby will RUIN your life!”

Mabel sunk lower in her chair as her father continued. “This doesn’t even include the fact that this baby is a product of … incest! Can you imagine what it would be like if that gets out? That would harm this whole family even more!” Then he raised his chin. “And it could have health issues. Do you want that heartache? Do you want to put yourself through that? And think of the baby! What if you sentence it to a life of dealing with some awful birth defect?” He paused deliberately, letting his words sink in.

The ramifications were swirling in Mabel’s mind. Darn it, was her father right? How terrible would her life get? Would it be her fault if keeping this baby hurts her family? If the baby has problems because of genetics, would that be fair to it? Might it wish it were never born?

Her father sat back a bit, giving Mabel some space. “I don’t think we can dismiss ANY of the options.” He reached out and placed his hand on Mabel’s arm. “Yes, there’s still adoption. And … perhaps it’s really painful to think about, but … as your mother just explained, we still think that termination is what’s best for you.”

This was all very overwhelming to Mabel, and her father’s persuasion was extremely effective. Her gut was churning with reluctance and regret, but perhaps she needed to acknowledge her father’s logic. She felt herself starting to nod her head in agreement when-

“That’s not for you to decide, Dad,” Dipper firmly interjected.

The man’s attention was diverted to his son, his demeanor instantly less gentle. “I beg your pardon?”

Dipper steeled himself. “You’re trying to manipulate her. You’re trying to make Mabel feel guilty for not wanting an abortion.” He flinched as his father’s stare intensified, but he didn’t back down. “It’s her choice! You can’t make that decision for her!” he declared in a louder voice.

“Is that so?” Dad replied coolly, “Let me tell you something. Parents make decisions all the time for their children. This is no different.” He leaned closer to Dipper. “The two of you are only fifteen years old, and you’re too young for adult decisions. And by getting your sister PREGNANT,” he emphasized forcefully, “I’d say you’ve both definitively proven that you’re not ready for adult decisions!”

“Yes, we screwed up!” shot back Dipper desperately. “Yes, we were irresponsible! We should have used better protection!” His father started to respond, but Dipper kept going. “Or MAYBE we shouldn’t have been doing anything in the first place! All right!?” His breaths started coming closer together, nearly hyperventilating. “We’re SORRY!! Okay?!? We didn’t want this to happen!”

Dipper’s wide eyes found Mabel’s, holding them in determination and devotion. “But Mabel WILL be keeping this baby, if she wants to!” he declared firmly.

Mabel shivered involuntarily from the intensity of Dipper’s defense of her. She couldn’t imagine being capable of loving him more!

But then the question that immediately came to Mabel’s mind was what their father would do next. The product of old fashioned values, he had raised his children to respect his experience and authority and to obey their parents’ directives. The children had likewise been granted reciprocal respect through age-appropriate freedoms as they grew up, so they were always satisfied to comply with their parents. As a result, the twins had never needed to test what serious punishment might arise. Mabel had absolutely no idea what their father might do to them now!

Their father rose slowly from his chair, glaring with intimidation at his son. “Are you DEFYING me?” he growled dangerously.

Dipper managed to meet his father’s stare. He was plainly terrified of what could happen, but he didn’t waver.

“If you’re so set on making your own decisions, you think you’d like making ALL your decisions? Out there, all on your own?” Dad continued menacingly.

Oh my god, thought Mabel in a panic. Could their father throw Dipper out of the house? And her as well?

“Honey …” implored Mom uneasily, then was silenced by a severe scowl from her husband.

Dipper was shaking noticeably. His voice was quivering with fear. But his words were strong. “I’m sorry, Dad, but I don’t care! Last night, before we told you about all this, we talked about what we should do. We even thought about running away, but we decided to tell you instead. So just know that if you don’t want us here, I’m ready! If Mabel wants to have our baby, I’ll do whatever it takes to make sure she can!!”

A minute went by as father and son engaged in a silent war of wills. Dad made multiple wordless twitches, feints that implicitly made the twins believe that he could push Dipper and Mabel out to survive on their own, unless his son would back down. But Dipper would not yield.

And in the end, it was an empty threat. With a loud outburst of frustration, Dad turned and stalked out of the dining room. He may have been furious with his children for their actions and defiance, but was unable to abandon them.

The teenagers and their mother gasped repeatedly, their breathing slowly returning to normal after the tense standoff. Dipper reached across to take Mabel’s hands at the table, an action their mother saw but could not forbid, at least not at that moment.

Finally Mabel had collected herself a little bit. “Mom?” she asked uneasily. Her mother swiped at her eye with a finger, then nodded that she was listening. “Dipper and I came to you and Dad last night because we need you,” Mabel continued, pleading. “We don’t want to leave. We need your help to figure out what we can do. We want to talk about everything! Everything except …” she took a shuddering breath, “... everything except KILLING our baby! Can you please understand that?”

Mom couldn’t handle her own emotions any longer. Again she flew to Mabel and embraced her, despairing for her daughter. This time she didn’t pull back, and didn’t want to let go. “Oh, Mabel!” she cried as she and Mabel wept together. “I don’t know how to fix this!”

“I’m sorry!” Mabel sobbed back, devastated but determined again that she would bring this little life growing within her safely into the world.

“How is that little girl going to grow up in this rosy future that you’ve obviously not thought through?” Mom demands, her rant continuing. “It’s obvious to anyone that Dipper loves her, and he treats her like a father would.”

“So what?” Mabel cries, defending her brother. “There’s nothing wrong with an uncle who loves his niece! He’s allowed to be affectionate, and Cassie deserves it!”

“But if you and Dipper want to somehow be together again, because of your feelings, what is that little girl going to think when she sees you having … feelings … for each other?” Dipper tries to interject, but Mom just keeps going at him instead. “I suppose you’re planning on having Cassie call you ‘Daddy’, right?” she accuses.

“NO!” Dipper fires back immediately.

“Mom!” Mabel cries. “Nothing about the way Dipper and I feel about each other changes what we do with Cassie!”

“We’ve never wanted Cassie to know!” insists Dipper, nodding at his sister in agreement. ‘We still don’t!”

“Yeah, we know that she can’t ever find out that Dipper’s her father, or that I feel that way about him. It’s wouldn’t be fair to her.”

“She’s only ever going to know me as ‘Uncle Dip.’ That’s it!”

Mom is obviously unconvinced. “And if you continue the way you’re going, you can’t think you can hide those feelings from Cassie as she gets older. She’s going to see that her uncle and mother aren’t like other siblings.”

“Oh yeah?” fires back Mabel. “If that’s right, why didn’t YOU see it until just now?” Mabel is suddenly emboldened, feeling like she can make her mother see something her way. “Dipper and I have apparently been doing a pretty good job of hiding our feelings from you, until today! You had no idea until you started asking weird questions!”

“Plus you have the advantage of knowing what you already know,” Dipper adds. “Cassie doesn’t know anything about what happened in California between Mabel and I, and she doesn’t know who her father is. She’ll have no reason to be suspicious.”

Mom ponders this, and Mabel knows her mother doesn’t want to admit that her kids have a point. “We’ve had a lot of practice hiding our true feelings, Mom,” Mabel says gently. “We’re actually pretty good at it.”

For a moment Mabel sees her mother consider what she and Dipper have said. Could it be they’ve gotten through to her? Might she start to-

“Oh for GOD’S sake!!”

Mabel, Dipper, and even Mom jump at the sudden outburst. All heads jerk towards the twins’ father, the source of the angry exclamation. The man is obviously out of patience.

“I can’t believe I’m hearing this! This is god damn ridiculous! Are you actually listening to this?” he nearly shouts at his wife. “After everything that happened in Piedmont! What they did, and the baby! We pulled up stakes, gave up everything!” He spins towards his children, who are rocked back on their heels in fear.

“Why are having to deal with this again now?!?”

March 19, 2015

“We’re leaving Piedmont.”

Dipper had just entered the living room after being called by his mother. Mabel had barely sat down on the sofa herself when Dad had made his simple proclamation. “Huh?” she exclaimed.

“We’ll stay here until sometime in June, after you finish your school year,” Dad explained without much enthusiasm. “Then we’ll be moving East. To New Jersey.”

Mabel was dumbstruck. She had been kept in the dark the last few days after the big confession. The twins’ parents had kept a close eye on Dipper and Mabel, not allowing them to be alone in the same room together. For long stretches of time, Dipper was confined to his new sleeping quarters in the guest bedroom and Mabel in her own room, while their parents talked privately. They gave their children very little indication of what was up, though Mabel knew they obviously were making arrangements of some sort. But moving away? To New Jersey? She didn’t see that coming at all!

Dipper, on the other hand, seemed to almost be expecting the news. “Wow,” he muttered softly as he slowly lowered himself into the sofa. “You’re really gonna do this!”

“We don’t have much choice,” replied Dad in a matter-of-fact manner. Mabel noticed that Dad seemed to be less angry than he was before. She was certain that he wasn’t happy, either, but it was as much as Mabel could expect, she supposed.

Mom also seemed to have steadied herself in the intervening days. “When Mabel decided she’s going to carry the baby to term, we thought very hard about what that would mean,” she explained, looking at her daughter. “Have you thought about how you’re going to explain how you got pregnant?”

Mabel shrugged self-consciously. “Kind of, I guess … I just thought I’d say I had a boyfriend, and he dumped me when he found out I was, you know … preggers.”

“Yes, but WHO, Mabel?” pressed Mom. “That only works if you can invent a biological father, someone nobody will question! Here in Piedmont, the name of the father is going to be everyone’s question. If you can’t identify this ‘boyfriend’ then people will naturally be curious, or suspicious. The truth could then come out.”

“If there’s any question as to the identity of the father of the baby, then there’s a real chance someone will speculate about the two of you,” said Dad, cringing. “Particularly given how well you two have famously always … you know, “got along”.”

“We think we’ve broken down every scenario,” said Mom, “and there’s no getting around it. You being pregnant wouldn’t just be embarrassing, Mabel. It could be dangerous! For BOTH of you!” she emphasized.

“For ALL of us,” corrected Dad. “We’d all have a lot to try to explain if rumours start flying.”

“So the bottom line is we can’t stay here,” concluded Mom. “If we’re going to concoct a story of an unknown father of this baby, we have to do it somewhere else, and soon!”

Mabel let the implications sink in, trying to mentally counter the conclusions laid out by her parents. She couldn’t.

“Why New Jersey?” asked Dipper, ever the more analytical of the twins.

“The company has a branch office in Newark where I could do roughly the same job I have now,” replied Dad. “I went to my boss on Monday, spun a story about needing to move soon to the New York area because of a family issue. He got back to me today, and said yes.” He twitched, attempting to cover his frustration. “They’re cutting my salary because of this.”

“I’m sure I can get my real estate brokerage license in New Jersey,” Mom suggested. “I can pick up my career, we’ll be all right.”

“Maybe,” replied Dad, “but we can’t count on that. And housing there is about as expensive as the Bay area.” He glanced around the living room, already reminiscing. “Whatever place we find, it won’t be as nice as here.”

There was a brief pause as everyone thought of the memories they had of their Piedmont home.

“But until then,” continued Mom with reluctance, “we all have to act like nothing has changed. Other than your father’s coworkers, no one is to know that we are moving away. We need to leave as quietly as possible.”

“What?” cried Mabel suddenly. “What about my friends? I’ve got tell them where I’m going!”

“I’m sorry, Pumpkin. You can’t,” replied Mom sadly. Dad shook his head.

Mabel’s voice got louder. “But I HAVE to tell the gang! I can’t just-”

“They’re right, Mabel,” interrupted Dipper. She gaped at Dipper, who looked back at her with sympathy. “If we tell anybody we’re moving away, they’ll want to know why. And if we can’t answer, all the other questions will follow. Plus they might find out you’re pregnant anyways, if you stay in touch.”

Dad nodded. “Both of you have to finish your school year at Piedmont High, but you can’t mention to ANYONE about us planning to move away.”

“You might want to start knitting a few bigger, baggier sweaters,” Mom suggested. “You’ll … probably be starting to show by June.”

All of these changes hammered at Mabel, coming from every member of her family. The impacts to her life seemed to just keep coming, unrelenting!

“This next bit of information is mostly for you,” Dad said, addressing Dipper. “You need to know that I checked on my company benefits plan. I’m covered for my spouse and dependant children, but NOT grandchildren. We need medical insurance for the baby, not to mention all the clothes, diapers, furniture, and everything else that goes with raising a child.” Dipper gulped as he began to see where his Dad was going with this. “As this baby’s father, you have responsibilities. You need to help financially support your son or daughter. You will have to find a job, with every bit of that money going towards the baby’s expenses. And all the while I expect you to continue to get good grades. Do you understand?”

“Yes, Dad,” Dipper replied without hesitation, though Mabel could tell he was a bit shellshocked.

Mom gave Dipper a comforting hug, then went to kneel in front of her daughter, looking very compassionate. “I’m sorry, Mabel, but things aren’t going to be easy. I speak from experience when I tell you that THIS,” she put a gentle palm on Mabel’s abdomen, “is going to be uncomfortable, painful, and … just draining!” Mabel bit her lip and nodded. “The last month is the hardest,” her mother continued. “And … since your due date is around the end of September, you’ll be enduring that month while starting classes in a new school.”

At Mabel’s wide-eyed realization of this, Mom tilted her head meaningfully. “Oh yes! You still have to go to school, before AND after the baby comes! We’ll work out babysitting times, I’ll probably do all of it in the beginning at least. But you are NOT dropping out of school!”

“I … I don’t want to drop out! I just … I didn’t THINK about school!” stammered Mabel.

“You didn’t think about a LOT of things,” muttered Dad under his breath, drawing a stern glare from his wife. He sighed and raised his hands in surrender. “You’re right, you’re right!” he conceded.

“We don’t want to be discouraging, just realistic,” Mom commented, wanting the twins to know that they were trying to make the best of the situation. Then she turned back to Mabel. “When you told us that you’re determined to have this baby, your father and I really weren’t prepared for that. We reacted badly, and we’re sorry. As Dipper correctly pointed out, it’s your body and your child, and it’s entirely your decision. We aren’t going to pressure you again to change your mind. But … you DO need to deal with all the ramifications of your choice. We ALL do!” she added, looking at Dipper. The twins nodded back, nervous but more secure in knowing where their parents stood.

Mom straightened to her feet and went to her husband. They touched hands lightly, looked at one another and nodded with understanding, then turned back to their children.

“Before we talk about one final thing,” said Mom, “we just want you to really understand the enormity of what is about to happen to this family. Everything is about to change, and it’s going to be much harder than it could have been.”

“We do understand,” said Dipper, looking genuinely contrite. He shifts in place uncomfortably. “You’re … sacrificing a lot for us … so … thank you.”

As overwhelmed as Mabel felt, she couldn’t help but agree. “Yeah, thank you, Mom and Dad,” she said, then glanced at her brother. “‘All of this is our fault, and we’re sorry.”

Dipper nodded. “Yeah. We’re really sorry!”

Dad’s face softened. “We accept your apology, and thank you. We want to … just move forward, and take life as it comes from now on.” He gave each of the twins a small smile. “We forgive you. You don’t have to apologize for what happened any more. As far as I’m concerned, we’re done with this. It’s over.” Mom also smiled in agreement.

Mabel felt so good to hear those words, to know she’d been forgiven. She could tell Dipper felt the same way.

But then Dad’s voice tightened once again. “We’re DONE with this. This is OVER,” he repeated ominously.

As quickly as Mabel’s heart had begun to lift, it sank again. She saw precisely what was coming. And even though she already knew what he was going to say, it didn’t hurt any less.

“The final thing we need to talk about is about the two of you, and your relationship, Regardless of why you two seem to think you feel the way you do, what you’ve been doing is intolerable!” Their father was firm and unyielding. “You have to start living your lives as normal brother and sister again, from this moment forward. What you did was a mistake, and you will NOT let it happen again!”

Dipper tried to provide a meek explanation of his feelings for Mabel. “Dad, we-”

“No!” interrupted Dad curtly. “This is not up for debate! There is NO future for any … unnatural relationships in this family! I expect you to put those feelings behind you and focus on the welfare of the baby.” He crossed his arms. “I may have flown off the handle on Friday night when you told us about all this. But there’s one thing I said that night, something that is still ABSOLUTELY true today. You will NOT be allowed to be together like that again!”

“I’m in complete agreement, by the way,” added Mom succinctly, just in case the twins might have wanted to think that she was going to be easier on them.

Dad took a step forward, looming over the seated twins. “This rule is non-negotiable! We want to be crystal clear about this! Everything else, like your responsibilities and chores surrounding housework, or school, or even the baby … we know stuff will happen. You’ll mess some things up. That’s normal, everyday teenage stuff, and we’ll deal with that. But NOT! THIS!” he emphasized, pointing his finger in turn at Mabel and Dipper as his voice rose in volume. “I promise you there will be EXTREMELY unpleasant consequences if this happens again! All this, all the plans we’ve now been forced to make, all the things that are going to have to change …” Dad was almost wild, panting from the conviction he was feeling, “... this is AS FAR AS I WILL GO! … I love you kids! And I forgive you, I REALLY do, but …”

He paused for a moment. His face fell as he realized something about himself.

“... but I honestly don’t know if I could ever forgive you again,” he finished sadly.

There was total silence in the house. Dipper and Mabel had been good kids, and had never been on the receiving end of a threat anything like this before. They were given the “scared-straight” treatment, and it was very effective. Both of the twins were thoroughly intimidated.

“It’s the ONLY firm rule,” Dad said quietly. “Do we understand each other?”

The twins had no reply. Mabel suspected none was wanted.

“Good!”

“There was one rule that was not to be broken! ONE!!” Dad stands in front of the couch, yelling down at the twins. “Everything else, I could deal with! But not this!”

“Honey, calm down!” implores his wife, grasping the front of his shirt..

“Why should I?”

“Because we need to be fair! Whatever we think about what they did back then, I suppose it felt real to them.” She purses her lips and rolls her eyes. “I suppose it might still feel real to them!”

“So you’re going to ju-”

“What I’m saying is we told them that their relationship was over, and we forbid them to be together. I don’t think we can expect them to control the way they feel. But what we can expect is that they keep control of what they DO!”

Dad nods. “All right!” he acknowledges, and turns to face down the kids, doubt written all over his face.

Mom also turns, hopeful but worried. “You have kept that promise, haven’t you?” she asks them, almost pleading. “I might be able to understand if you still have feelings for each other. But please, please tell me you haven’t acted on them again?”

Oh jeez, thinks Mabel. She wonders what a person’s face looks like when they can’t answer a question with the truth, and they are unable to answer believably with a lie?

Mabel can’t turn her head to look at Dipper. But she actually hears him gulp.

A second is all it takes. Their parents know everything now. It is now painfully apparent that “feelings” are not the only thing that the twins have shared together since Dipper turned down the MIT scholarship.

His suspicions now seemingly confirmed, Dad scoffs dismissively and turns away, stalking away to the other side of the living room. Mom is aghast, fearing the implication of the twins’ silence. “You … you’ve had se- … you’ve been together again? Recently?” she stammers at her children.

Dipper hangs his head in defeat. Mabel looks pleadingly at her mother. “Mom … we’ve … it’s only been a few times …” Her mother makes a high-pitched noise of disbelief, her face looking horrified. “We used protection!” Mabel argues loudly.

“Oh yeah!” barks their father from the entrance to the kitchen. “I recall you were supposedly using protection three years ago, too!” he says with derision. “Look what happened then!”

“Dad, I’m sorry!” pleads Dipper. “I know that we screwed up before, but this time we …” But his father is already gone, waving a disdainful hand and marching back to the master bedroom. The sound of a door slam echos down the hall.

“I don’t believe this!” Mom is shaking her head, her mouth agape. ”How could you do this?”

The twins don’t try to answer. Mabel realizes in dismay that there is no correct answer.

“Do you fully realize the impact of what happened in Piedmont? Not just for you!” Mom is trembling with suppressed fury. “Do you know how much leaving the West coast damaged your father’s career? Do you know how deflating it has been for me to lose my career in real estate? To know I’ve probably sacrificed any hope of starting over again here because I chose to help you raise your daughter?” Her eyes narrow and her lips tighten into a thin line. “Your father is right! After everything we sacrificed for you, this is how we’re repaid? Lying! Sneaking around! Doing ... depraved things! Risking getting pregnant again! Betrayal of the only rule we laid down!

“A rule that wouldn’t have even been necessary if you both could just have been a NORMAL brother and sister! Like EVERYONE ELSE!”

The last invective hurts the most. Mabel bursts into tears. This is terrible! She couldn’t possibly think of anything worse that could happen on Christmas Day!

But then she hears something, and she knows it did indeed just get worse! The sound is the whimper of a small and frightened child, awakened by the angry and loud voices of a family who had forgotten that their youngest member was sleeping just down the hall.

Cassie doesn’t know what’s going on, only that there are loud noises, every person she loves and relies on is shouting and crying, and nobody is happy. Her security shattered and her entire world upside-down, she does the only thing she is capable of. She starts to bawl.

June 27, 2015

Mabel was crying. She couldn’t help it. She felt like she was losing her entire childhood.

She rushed back to her room. Her empty room. Her furniture was already loaded on the moving truck, and the boxes with all the rest of her belongings were stacked by the door with everyone else’s. She looked around at the room that used to be so comforting to her, and now it made everything worse! She cried harder, her sobs reverberating off the bare walls and echoing loudly in her ears.

Looking down, she cupped the bump around her belly button that had become more prominent the last month or so.. Why does she want to keep this baby so badly? Why did she let herself get pregnant? Why was she having sex with her brother? Why did she fall in love with him? Why was she even born in the first place?

Her mother slipped through the door and wordlessly went to Mabel, enveloping the teenager in a warm hug. Mabel clutched her mother desperately, sorrow pouring out of her. “I’m sorry, Mom!” she cried as tears ran down her face. “This is all my fault! I’m sorry!”

“Shhhh,” whispers Mom into Mabel’s ear, stroking her long hair. “What’s done is done, Pumpkin. Nothing will change that, no matter how upset you get. What matters is making the best of our lives as we go forward. Don’t look back.” She kisses her daughter gently on her hair behind the ear. “Now that you’ve decided you’re going keep and raise the baby, we’re not going to have the TIME to look back!” she muttered with a forced smile.

“But …” Mabel whimpered, her chin buried over her mother’s shoulder, “... everything is so messed up because of me … How can you be so … FINE … with everything I’ve done?”

“Oh Mabel! I’m NOT fine, trust me on that!” Mom sighs, hugging the girl tighter. “But I’m doing the best I can! And now, you have to do your best, as well! Your father and I, we are really counting on you and Dipper, so we can all pull through in our new surroundings.”

Mabel nodded, sniffing as she gathered herself. Mom pulled back and looked her daughter in the eye. “I love you, Mabel,” she said earnestly, “and your father loves you. And Dipper, too! Everything’s fine. We’re all going to stick together, and we’ll be okay!”

Mabel leaps to her feet the instant she hears the beginning of Cassie’s desperate keening. Through her own tears, she rushes past her now-silent Mom to scoop up the toddler. Dipper is right behind them as Mabel clutches tightly to Cassie and flees to the girl’s bedroom.

For many minutes, Mabel can’t stop the torrent of sorrow erupting from within her. This is all so unfair! She’s known that their parents wouldn’t approve if they ever found out their kids were still in love, and couldn’t stop themselves from acting on that love. But she didn’t imagine it would have been this awful!

She loves Dipper! And he loves her! Why can’t it just be that simple? And why can’t she ever imagine a time when it will be that simple?

Eventually she starts to collect herself, whispering comforting words through her own cries to Cassie, who is still weeping hysterically. She feels Dipper’s strong arms around them both, holding them all close together. The tight embrace seems to be working, as Mabel feels some of Cassie’s panic being released along with her own. The girl’s cries fade to hiccuping sobs.

“What’s … wong … Mommy?” Cassie manages to ask pitifully.

Mabel kisses her daughter’s head. “Nothing,” she whispers. “Everything’s fine!” Mabel idly ponders why she can lie to Cassie so much easier than to her parents.

She feels Dipper drawing a deep breath. “Mabel, we need to talk about all this,” he murmurs gently. “Can we go for a walk?”

Nodding in agreement, Mabel presses her lips to Cassie’s temple again to apply another quick kiss. “Mommy and Uncle Dip need a little time, Little Miss!” she tells the tot in a shaky voice. “You gonna be okay to stay for a bit?”

Cassie doesn’t reply, but doesn’t start crying harder, either. She is solemn and unresisting as Dipper picks her up from Mabel’s arms and purposefully carries her back to the living room, Mabel following meekly behind.

Mom is sitting alone on the couch, fingertips to her temples. She looks up as Dipper approaches, and in a brief glance Mabel can tell her mother has been crying as well. But like her daughter, she’s in the process of pulling herself together. Mabel turns her eyes away again.

“Can you please watch Cassie for us, Mom?” Dipper asks formally. “Mabel and I need to go out for a while.”

“Of course I will,” she responds instantly, her voice cracking. “Where are … h- how long will you be gone?”

“I don’t know,” Dipper replies curtly, then he forces an upbeat tone as he turns to his little girl. “You’re going to play with Grandma for a little while, okay?”

Mom also puts on a happy face. “Oh yes! We’ll play with all your new toys! Would you like that?” Cassie nods glumly.

Dipper kisses Cassie again. “Everything’s fine, Cass! Mommy and Uncle Dip will be right back.” He sets his daughter down and pats her on the back. “Go play now, okay?” he encourages her.

Mabel can’t look at her mother as she and Dipper pull on their coats and boots. The twins leave the house and into the chilly afternoon without another word.

August 31, 2015 Westfield, New Jersey

“Haaaaapy Biiiiirth-daaaay Toooooo Youuuuuuuu!!!” sang Mom happily, with Dad doing his best to sing along.

Mom had baked and frosted a cake for the occasion, topped with “1” and “6” candles that were burning brightly. She set it down in front of the twins, who were seated at the table in the small dining alcove. Unpacked moving boxes were stacked against the wall, a constant reminder of the fact that the bungalow just didn’t have enough space for all the belongings they brought from California, and there hadn’t been time yet to do any downsizing.

A very pregnant Mabel was beaming as she complemented her mother on how cute the cake looked. Dipper, sitting across the corner of the table beside his sister, teased his father on his singing voice. The man chuckled, telling his son to listen to his own voice sometime. Everyone was in an upbeat mood, a welcome relief from the chaos of getting ready for the start of classes in a new high school in only a week’s time.

Mom noticed that hot wax was threatening to trickle down the cheap candles onto the cake. “All right, hurry up, you two!” she ordered with a laugh. “Blow out the candles, quick!”

Mabel grunted and struggled to her feet, her belly getting in the way as she leaned partly toward the cake. Dipper made sure she was steady, then got into position as well. “Ready?” he smiled.

“Ready!!” exclaimed Mabel.

Together they leaned all the way forward and blew out one candle each. Dad applauded sarcastically, causing Mom to giggle. Still hovering over the cake, the twins turned to each other, grinning happily.

Their faces were only an inch apart, looking directly into each other’s eyes. And in an instant their smiles were gone. Mabel’s heart jumped almost painfully, and Dipper’s breath was unsteady.

They straightened up, still locked in an intense gaze, the electricity between them plain for anyone to see. For several seconds, no one said anything.

Mabel turned to her parents. “Mom, Dad, please! It’s our birthday! Can we please just have one kiss? Just this once?”

A few seconds passed without an answer. Their parents looked at one another, unprepared for the sudden re-emergence of this uncomfortable part of their kids’ relationship.

When she didn’t hear anyone saying she couldn’t, Mabel spun back to Dipper and pulled his head down to hers. Her lips pressed firmly against his as she moved her hands down around his back and hugged tightly. Dipper responded immediately, driven by instinct to push into the kiss heatedly, his arms wrapping securely around Mabel’s head and body.

The fiery passion of the moment lasted only a second, followed by only immense relief and comfort. The twins relaxed into each other’s arms, sighing out loud with contentment, their mouths delivering gentle kisses of months-long suppressed affection and love to their soulmates.

Mabel could have stayed there forever!

“All right, that’s enough,” muttered their father gravely.

Ripped back to reality, Dipper looked like he was in pain as he backed away from Mabel’s face. The twins reluctantly parted, Mabel not knowing where to look or what to do with her hands anymore. All she wanted to do was fall back into her brother’s embrace, back to where she felt like everything was the way it was supposed to be!

The cake was cut and served, but the household was quieter and far more awkward. The twins’ feelings were the obvious elephant in the room, but no one was willing to point it out.

Finally, Mabel couldn’t take it anymore. “I’m sorry,” she mumbled. “It’s just … it’s just REALLY hard!” She put her fork down dejectedly.

“No one is saying it isn’t, Mabel,” replied Mom softly, her attention focused on her plate.

“So you can try to understand?” Mabel was trying to be meek and obedient to her parents’ rules, but needed to try to express herself. “To feel the way we feel, to always be near each other … and not be able to DO anything about it?”

“No, we DON’T understand,” said Dad firmly.

Mabel sunk low into her chair, as low as her distended belly allowed. Dipper stared longingly at his sister, desperately wanting but not daring to go to her and comfort her.

Finally Mom cleared her throat. “Look guys, your father and I were serious when we told you this must stop,” she said, pleading for compliance. “It’s just … so WRONG! You might have these feelings now, but eventually you’ll move past this! For your own good we have to stop you now, and someday you’ll be glad we did!”

“What if we don’t, Mom?” Dipper sounded wounded. “What if you’re wrong, and we don’t move past this?”

The woman exhaled heavily. “Dipper … we CAN’T entertain this. Certainly not now, not with the baby coming just a few weeks from now!”

Dipper pounced when he saw an opening. “But you might, someday? If not now, if we still love each other, at some point you’ll at least consider changing your mind?”

Dad scowled. “Dipper …”

“A year from now!” Dipper pleaded, trying to make a reasonable case while he still could. “I promise we won’t even mention anything about it for a whole year! Just say we can talk about it on our next birthday!” He focused on his mother. “Okay?”

Mom stared back at Dipper, and then at her daughter. Mabel mouthed “Please?” silently, imploring to her mother to not reject the request.

After a long moment’s consideration, Mom turned to her husband. “A year,” she said simply. “We promise them nothing, other than that we will talk about it. Fair?”

Dad shot daggers with his eyes at his wife, but didn’t contradict her.

The sun is setting when the twins return to the house. As they open the door, the smell of roasted turkey and stuffing wafts over them. Mom is setting dishes on the table, and is relieved to see Dipper and Mabel come back.

Dad has come out and is in his chair with Cassie on his lap, reading his granddaughter a story. Cassie is happy again, and she squeals with glee when she sees her mother and uncle. Dad puts her down and watches the girl scamper over into Mabel’s arms. After the twins have removed their coats, he clears his throat. “What do you both say we … we all just have a nice Christmas dinner, all right?”

Mabel finally gives her father a timid look and nods. “I’d like that!” she says gratefully.

“Thanks, Dad,” adds Dipper softly, acknowledging his father’s olive branch.

For Cassie’s sake, the next few hours pass uneventfully. The twins and their parents tiptoe around the eggshells of their earlier discussion and mostly keep their focus on Cassie. The family eats a lovely meal, followed by watching a few classic Christmas cartoons on television.

By eight o’clock, Cassie is growing quite tired. She has never been a happy camper at bedtime, and tonight is no exception. Mabel had already given her a quick bath, and Dipper fights to get her into her warm sleeper. As the twins kneel beside her bed and perform a tag-team of storytelling, the girl finally stops battling her fatigue and falls into blissful sleep.

Dipper gently strokes Cassie’s back. “She’s beautiful!” he whispers, then turns to Mabel with a small smile. “Like her mother.”

Mabel’s finger brushes across her daughter’s forehead, lightly tracing the pattern of the Cassiopeia-shaped birthmark. “And her father,” Mabel replies, returning the tiny smile. Then she bites her lip. “I guess … we’d better do this!”

“Yeah,” Dipper nods reluctantly, pulling Cassie’s blanket up to her chin. Dipper straightens up and takes Mabel’s hand, giving her balance as she also rises to her feet. Their fingers intertwine, and Mabel looks up into Dipper’s eyes.

“I love you,” they murmur together. Their lips touch briefly.

Then the twins turn and make their way back to the living room. Their parents are still sitting in front of the television in their respective chairs, and they look up at the twins’ approach. Mom and Dad both silently note their children are still holding hands. Dipper self-consciously coughs, then leads his sister to the empty sofa. Their parents wait for the kids to start the conversation.

“Okay,” Dipper begins, “while we were out ... we decided we’re not going to lie to you anymore. It’s not fair to you, and getting caught was too hard for us, anyways. From now on, you’ll know everything.”

“We know that doesn’t mean a whole lot now,” Mabel adds. “I’m sure you don’t trust us anymore, and … I guess you don’t really have any reason to.” Mabel notes Dad’s small nod of agreement.

“Regardless,” Dipper continues, “it means that we don’t have the option of continuing to be together while telling you we’re not.” He shifts uncomfortably. “So Mabel and I have a choice. We either have to finally move on from each other, or we … we hold on to what we have and be open about it with you. And … and ...”

As Dipper struggles with how to articulate the next thought, Mabel gathers herself and says it for him. “And we can’t move on from each other.” she confesses.

Dad slumps in his chair, and Mom’s eyes close as she exhales heavily. “We really considered it, Mom!” Mabel cries. “We talked about everything you and Dad said. You’re right! Everything would be so much easier for us if we were … normal. But … we’re not normal! I love Dipper! I’ve loved him for years, and I don’t know how I could ever put that genie back in its bottle!”

“Mabel isn’t just my sister, she hasn’t been just my sister for a long time,” Dipper says with earnestness, staring his father in the eye. “She’s my soulmate ... she’s my love, and … she’s the mother of my child!” He swipes at his eyes. “It’s not possible for me to move on from that!”

The twins’ father looks like he wants to say something. Mabel doesn’t let him. “We know you don’t like this. We know we defied your rules! We even get that nothing came of that promise you made for our seventeenth birthday. You didn’t reconsider back then because you’re never going to be okay with it! We can’t expect that’s ever gonna change!”

“What we’re saying is w- … we don’t expect you to accept us,” Dipper says. “We don’t think you can do that any more than we can let each other go.” He feels Mabel squeeze his hand tighter in support.

“We won’t … we can’t wait for you to get so mad that you don’t want us here anymore.” Dipper continues, his voice heavy with emotion. “The best thing … for everyone, is for us to …”

Dipper takes a deep breath,

“... is for us to leave.”

Mom’s hands fly up to her mouth. “No-ooo!” she whispers.

Dad is taken aback. “Kids! You d- … you don’t have to just up and leave right this instant! You can-”

“We’re not,” Mabel interrupts, struggling to stay calm. “But we’re gonna start making plans. Tonight.”

Mom’s eyes widen. “Cassie!” she gasps. “You’re not going to …”

“Yeah, Mom,” confirms Dipper sadly. “We’ll be taking Cassie too.”

“You can’t- … you’re only eighteen … I mean surely …” Mom pleads, turning to her husband in near panic.

The man appears shocked, not expecting this news. “Maybe we … we can work this out,” he stammers. “I mean, you don’t have t-”

“Yeah, Dad, we do!” says Mabel desperately. “We love each other! We will be together, and be there for each other! Are you ever going to be okay with that? If we stay here, will you let us be in love?

He can’t answer. His tries to force himself to say he could live with that, but he can’t.

Mabel turns to her mother. “Will you?”

Mom’s mouth moves, but no words emerge. Finally, she also realizes that Mabel is right: she cannot condone her children’s relationship together. “Oh Mabel! … Dipper! … Please …”

“If we stay, this will only get worse, Mom,” Mabel says weakly. “But if we leave, we can be who we are.”

Dipper looks at his father, forlorn and apologetic. “There just isn’t any other way,” he sighs.

Resignation envelops the room, as everyone accepts the truth. Their family is shattered. The twins will be leaving.

October 2, 2015

Mabel was already exhausted. It had been less than a day since coming home from the hospital. But Sweet Sally, she was tired!

Cassie was being blessedly quiet at that moment, as Mabel tried to eat some breakfast. It was awkward, though. The only reason the healthy newborn infant was being quiet was because she was greedily suckling on one of Mabel’s breasts. Still, this was one of the first times since Cassie had burst out into the world that Mabel’s head was clear enough to think. Balancing a baby across her chest with one arm while eating with the other? Surely she could handle this!

Dipper and Mom sat eating at the table with Mabel and the baby. Mabel thought they looked about as tired as she felt.

Dad strode in from down the hall, pulling on his jacket and getting set to leave for work. “You almost ready, Dipper?” he asked. “I can drop you off at school.”

“Yeah okay,” replied Dipper, trying to stifle a yawn. He reached over to fondly squeeze Mabel’s fingers, and lightly stroked Cassie’s thin hair with his other hand. “I’ll be home as soon as I can, but it’ll probably be after dinner.”

Dad harrumphed and glanced meaningfully at his wife. She sighed, and then addressed the twins. “Kids, today marks the start of what’s going to pass for normal, from now on. I hope you’re ready, because right there,“ she nodded at the bundle in Mabel’s arm, “is the focus of everything you’re going to do for a long time.”

“Last night, after you got home, Dip,” their Dad said soberly, “your mother and I let the two of you have a little moment together. Don’t get used to that.” He stared at Dipper’s hand, which still held onto Mabel��s. Dipper reluctantly let go. “As much as Cassie is your daughter, that doesn’t mean we’re any more willing to let you two be together.”

“Besides,” added Mom, “you won’t have any time for each other anyways, if I’m right.” She exhales heavily, giving her children a look of pity. “Everything gets even harder now.”

“Where will you go?” Mom weakly asks.

Mabel looks to Dipper for strength. “We don’t know,” she whimpers. “Not yet.”

A long pause. Then Dad quietly speaks up. “There’s only so much we could do to help you out. How will you support yourselves?”

“We don’t know that yet, either,” replies Dipper, shifting uncomfortably. “but I’ll need to get a job. Maybe two. And as soon as possible.” He scratches the back of his head for a long moment as he stares at the floor. “I’ll probably have to drop out of college. At least for a while.”

“Oh my god,” moans Mom into her palms, as she collapses into her chair.

“Jesus,” mumbles Dad under his breath. Mabel doesn’t think she’s seen her father ever look so sad. Then she looks back to Dipper, an identical expression of sorrow on his face as well.

She rushes to her brother, wanting to be supportive, needing his support in return. They embrace as a tear threatens to begin leaking once again down her cheeks.

She has Dipper, but right now she needs Cassie as well! She needs to feel the warmth of both of them, her lover and her child, right now! She quickly drags Dipper to Cassie’s room and picks up the sleeping girl, snuggling her without waking her. Dipper pulls them both in securely.

Their parents watch from the doorway, trying to comprehend the bond of love that their children share.

“Are you sure you want to do this?” Dad asks, his voice as soft as Mabel can ever remember.

Mabel didn’t want to be discouraged, but the ominous lecture from her parents felt very heavy. The baby was still busily nursing, but Mabel was no longer hungry. Dipper looked pretty down, too.

Mom saw they state they were in and came around the table, bending over to hug her teenage children. “I’m so sorry for you two!” she lamented. “This is so hard, I know.”

Dad stepped forward as well. “But we’re all going to get through this,” he said, putting his palm on Dipper’s shoulder and gripping reassuringly. Dipper and Mabel both looked up at their father. His demeanor was authoritative, but encouraging. “And you know why?” He smiled warmly. “Because we’re a family!”

Dipper looks up at his parents, protective arms around the two most important people in the world to him. “We have to do this,” he replies, his voice firm yet barely audible..

Mabel raises her face and Dipper lowers his, their foreheads resting together. They gaze at each other with pure commitment and devotion.

“We’re a family,” Dipper whispers.

#pinecest #unexpected au #sfw

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sander-sides-stories · 6 years ago

Text

Chapter one

Chapter one is finally here! If anyone wants to review chapters for me before I post them, feel free to message me at this blog, @virgil-the-anxious-anxiety, @thomas-the-great, or @zeliahoutcast! I don’t have a name for this au yet. Meet the boys Logan and Virgil!

“Entry class P, subclass A, number 38. The fire appears to have given the soil nutrients for new plants to emerge. Small to medium sized animals have returned.” The android continues to report his discoveries to seemingly no one. Occasionally, when the android collects a sample, he beeps.

A small, feral boy spots the android. He sneaks up behind it, nearly silent, to watch the unfamiliar creature work. He wasn’t expecting the android to detect him.

With two beeps, the android stopped scanning various plant life and spun their torso around to face the boy who had set off his alarm, whirring as he did so. It’s eyes darting around until they rested on the creature behind him. Virgil had no idea what the android was doing. They beep as they scan him, eyes lighting up, and forcing a smile. "Hello, humanoid."

Virgil jumps back and hisses, mostly out of fear. He stills and remains tense, ready to fight or flee because this strange creature made unusual noises. These creatures that made strange sounds were usually trying to take him to places that had frightening barriers, food, and nests.

The android spun his legs around, taking a step back from the creature. "Need not be afraid. What is your number? I'm designation L064N. Or, ‘Logan’ for short."

The boy slowly relaxes and creeps forward. "... Num?" He tilts his head as he tries to mimic the unusual creature's words. He stops a few feet away, close enough to touch, but far enough away to run should the creature making familiar noises try to grab him. "Mmm... Loon?" He tilts his head more.

The android blinked, processing Virgil’s attempt to speak.. "No, not-" He played back the recording of what the creature had called him- "I'm Logan. Lo-gan. What are you?" he tried to ask again.

"Loo... Ain. " He sits down and looks entranced by the android. He lets out a happy sigh as he somewhat successfully mimics the creature's words.

Logan nodded once. "That was 64% accurate, so, as my mechanics like to say, close enough." He turned around again, making another loud whirr noise as he went back to scanning the area. Suddenly his arm beeped, and a transmission came through, telling him to return to the ship. "Yes, sir. On my way," he told the captain over the transmission before nodding at the creature. "One day you will be educated enough to say my name properly." He told the humanoid before turning around and walking back to the starcraft.

Virgil tilts his head as the strange creature walked away. He follows the android to the ship, keeping a good distance away in case the strange creature decided to turn around and grab him.

Logan entered the ship, nodding once at the human crew members in a practiced manner as he was taught to do before. He hadn’t noticed the creature following him as his mind too preoccupied with downloading information of the planet. He walked down halls, nodding at more crew members until he reached his own charging room, starting to type away at the super computers as he quietly muttered to himself.

Virgil somehow manages to sneak onto the ship and he wanders around, avoiding as many of the intimidating creatures as possible. He ends up finding himself in some empty, unused room. He explores it, and after finding the bed's unusual texture was nice, he falls asleep on it.

Logan had been typing away on the computer for less five minutes. An alarm went off on his arm, notifying him of a potentially hostile life form on board. He blinked in confusion, telling the captain that he would take care of it as he left his room, walking briskly down the hall. After turning left and opening the door to chamber 147, his eyes lit up to shine a light on the life form, blinking in confusion when he realized it was the same creature from earlier. "Humanoid? Why did you come here?"

He wakes and yawns. The boy rubs at his eyes and blinks sleepily at the android. "Mmm... Lo-ain..." He sighs happily and stretches before pushing himself up into a sitting position.

"It's Logan. Why are you- Well, I suppose it's useless to ask you that. I keep forgetting not all humans are educated properly." He walked into the room, reaching to grab the creature's arm. "You must leave immediately. You lack the required authorization to be in this area."

He hisses when Logan grabs him. The boy seems to fully awaken and try to free his arm from the now terrifyingly strange creature's grip.

He picked up the creature with both hands, carrying it by the waist as he walked out of the room, other educated humans glancing at the panicking child warily. "You are not authorized to be here," he said again, walking down the hall towards one of the exits. "You belong on your planet."

Virgil continues wiggling in an attempt to get down and away from the scary creature. He claws at the androids hands as he grunts, hisses, and screeches in fear. Eventually he resorts to biting down on the android's arm.

The scratches and bites didn't affect Logan in any way due to the inability to feel pain. He reached the back of the ship, letting go of the humanoid, before realizing that the creature was stuck on his arm, teeth sinking into the synthetic skin. "Please get off my arm." After realizing the boy didn’t understand him, he instead attempted to shake the human off his arm, his shoulder making violent whirring noises.

The boy refuses to let go and instead wraps his arms around the android. He starts crying. Virgil didn't want to leave. It would mean staying with scratchy and painful nests and struggling to stay warm during the cold seasons, and when the season’s grew colder, food was harder to find. He didn't want that. So he kept his teeth in Logan’s arm and tightened his own arms around the android's.

The android blinked, stilling his arm when he realized that the shaking wasn't working. He glanced around, scanning the empty storage room for something he could use to get the creature off of him, but there wasn't anything he could use. He looked back down at the creature, tilting his head slightly. "Why are you so intent on staying? I would think you would want to be at your own planet. Aren't you..." He paused, searching his databanks to find the correct word. "Aren't you content at your own planet?"

He sniffs and looks the android in the eye, freeing the arm of his teeth. He's still crying as he sadly calls out "Looain. " he headbutts the android's arms.

He stared at the creature for a moment, thinking of his options. The creature most likely wanted to stay because it didn't want to be at its planet, for whatever reason. He could kill the creature, but he wasn't authorized to, and that would result in repercussions. "Well, I suppose it wouldn't be trouble to drop you off at the next planet." He raised his arm, talking into the radio. "The life form is proving to be mildly difficult. Permission to hold until next planet capable of sustaining life?" He got a yes in return, and he began to walk back to his room, not making an attempt to pull the human off of him.

Virgil walks with Logan, refusing to let go of his arm. "... Loo-dain?"

"It's Logan," he said again, entering his room. "Lo-gan. Lo-gan. It shouldn't be difficult." He began to type away at the computers again, this time searching for information of the type of humans that lived on the creature's planet. He needed some insight on how to take care of the thing before it was released.

He tries to make the "g" sound but the only thing that comes out is a high pitched "Huhhh"

"No. I don't know what that sound was, but it almost reached over eighty decibels. Please be careful." He found old records of the planet the creature was found on, but instead of reading them like he normally would, he simply stuck his finger in the USB port and downloaded the information, his eyes displaying the words and his mouth mumbling them at a high speed.

He continues trying because he'll get it, damnit! He watches to Logan's computer screen and reaches out to touch it. "Loo-hain, Lo! "

Logan was unresponsive for a moment as the information downloaded, before he jumped to life once again. "No. Logan. It's Lo-guh-an." He didn't understand the struggle of speaking, he was programmed with the ability to move his mouth properly when he was built. "Guh. Your tongue should press to the back of your mouth, the air that escapes pushing through to make the sound. Guh."

He watches and mimics the tongue movement. "Gahh."

Logan blinked at him. "Close enough." He walked away from the computers, once again trying to shake the creature off his arm as he walked to his desk. "Assuming you haven't lived with any colonies, considering your inability to form a sentence, you must have been abandoned at birth. I need to find you a proper home that specializes in untrained humans."

"Edias! Edias!" He bounces happen and repeats "Edias" as if it held some sort of meaning. He shakes Logan's hand. "Lo-gah-ain! Edias!,

Logan looked down at him, squinting in confusion. "Edias?" He searched the phrase in his mind, looking for any sort of record, but either there was no record of an 'Edias' or the creature didn't enunciate it properly. "Explain. What is Edias?"

The boy frowns. "Ho-me. Edias! Edias! E-Edi-o-lan?"

The android only squints, replaying the different variations of the phrase in his mind, putting them together until he could figure out how to spell the word by it's pronunciation. "Edias. E-D-I-A-S. Is this correct?" he asked automatically, before realizing the creature probably didn't know. "Searching records for E-D-I-A-S. Edias." He became unresponsive, a few records showing up as he downloaded them all.

He whines and shakes Logan. He draws a shape in the air and says "Eddiolan. " he points in it and says "Ho-me."

He blinked in confusion, the creature's voice interrupting the search and download process. "Searching instead for: Eddiolan. Edias- Error. Scrapped. Uncompleted Command- RESTARTING... RESTARTING..." The lights in his eyes went dim as he slumped forward, before turning on again. "Welcome. Please wait while updates are put in place..."

Virgil screeches in fear as he lets go of the android. He runs to a corner and curls up in it as he silently watches the creature makes terrifyingly loud noises that hurt..

Logan stood there for a few moments, unmoving before he jumped to life again, looking around until he saw the creature. He gave a weak smile, scratching his neck as if he were embarrassed. Embarrassment? That was new, he must have been updated. "Apologies, human. What did you say again? Eddiolan? E-D-D-I-O-L-A-N?" He straightened up, eyes lighting up once more. "Searching for: E-D-D-I-O-L-A-N. Seven Records Found. Downloading..."

Virgil hisses as Logan continued to make weird noises. He curls up more and wraps his arms around his head.

"Downloading... Downloading... His eyes dimmed once more, and he looked at the human again. "Was 'Eddiolan' your colony? Did they abandon you, or did you run away? They don't seem to keep any records of their people... At least, not ones that have been found by any starcraft." He paused, realizing maybe the creature didn't understand. It looked afraid of him again. "Was 'Eddiolan' once your home?"

"Eddiolan! Ho-me! Hap ho-me..." He perks up and slowly creeps towards the android.

Logan sighed. "If Eddiolan was your home on your own planet, then why did you even come here? If you had a home..." He shook his head. This creature wasn't to be reasoned with. "Did you, erm..." What was the word? "Did you like it in the Eddiolan colony?" He didn't know why he kept asking the creature questions; he supposed it was because he was programmed to ask the nearest human a question if he wasn't yet programmed with the knowledge of something. A bugged habit, he supposed.

"Hap! E-Eddiolan ho-me, ho-me hap!" Virgil bounces excitedly and sits beside the android.

"...'Hap?' I don't..." He searched the records for a 'hap,' but nothing relevant showed up. "I don't know what that means. I suppose I could try to find this Eddiolan, but with hardly any records on the place, it would be nearly impossible to find. It's a large planet." He paused in thought, glancing at the creature again. Maybe these Eddiolan people would know what to do with the thing. He looked at the damage the creature did to his arm, furrowing his brow at the damage. "Well, I know one thing. You can't stay here with us. You might chew up the wires."

"... go ho-me?" He tilts his head and grabs onto the android's arm. "Go Eddiliolan?"

Logan shrugged, shoulders making a whirr noise. "We aren't too far away from the planet. I suppose I can scan the area. If there is any record of an 'Eddiolan', then the scanners should pick up on the place." He walked out of the room, briskly walking down the hall towards the minishuttles. He supposed it would be fine if he dropped the creature off quickly, it would take thirty minutes at the most.

He bounces in excitement. He follows quickly and chirps occasionally. He makes happy little noises and skips. "Home!"

He talked into the radio of his arm as he prepared a shuttle. "Keep going on path, don't travel warp speed just yet. I found records of the creatures home and will return in an estimated 23 minutes." He entered the shuttle, waiting for the creature to follow as he typed in coordinates. "I hope you have some idea of where Eddiolan is. There wasn't exactly any human life around when you found me."

The boy runs in before freezing. He lets out a quiet whimper and slowly backing out of the shuttle.

Logan perked up when he heard the creature run out, torso spinning around 180 degrees to face it. "Is something the matter?" He scanned the shuttle he was currently in, eyes lighting up. He looked back down, eyes dimming once more. "It isn't dangerous. You are safe. I thought you wanted to go back home."

Virgil freezes up and looks pale. He stays frozen for a few seconds before whining. As he whines he turns around and runs away from the shuttle in terror.

Logan blinks, not comprehending the creatures behavior for a moment. He raised his arm to his face once more. "There's a complication. The creature does not want to enter the shuttle for unknown reasons. Delay time expected at 4.6 to 10.3 minutes." He got a word of confirmation in response, and Logan activated the levitation feature in his feet, hovering at a fast speed toward the human. "I thought you wanted to go home. To go home you must get in the shuttle. I don't want to have to cage you, the free cages we have aren't exactly built for your size."

He wiggles into a small gap in the wall and cries. "...loo-hain..."

Logan froze as he watched the creature hide. Did- Did the human just hide in that open power cell station? "Don't hide there, that area is extremely radioactive! You're human, you should know this..." After he remembered the lack of education, the android simply reached a hand into the space, grabbing at the human's arm and attempting to pull it out. He would have to order a mechanic to make sure no important wires were removed. "This is why you can't stay here. If you don't get yourself killed, you'll kill all of us."

He cries harder and wiggles further into it. "N-not me!" He grew more terrified by the second. His breaths quickened.

Logan let go in surprise, flying backward a small bit. "Was that a sentence? Or, at least, part of one? I didn't know you were capable." He hovered there in thought for a moment before grabbing the creature with both hands, attempting once again to pull the human out of there. "You can't be in there. You're soaking up radiation, if you don't have cancer by now, I would be shocked."

He cries harder and grabs onto the android's arms. He lets himself be pulled out, and as soon as he's free, he hugs the android tightly. "... not m-me..."

Logan held the boy up, scanning it. Scanning... 18% Non-melanoma skin cancer. Well, it was nothing a bit of antibiotics couldn't fix. Nothing too serious, thankfully. "Don't do that again. And why are you..." Searching... "Why are you hugging me? I'm not programmed to provide comfort." He hovered back towards the shuttle room, before realizing that was probably a bad idea. He stood there, floating in the hall as he looked back down at the human. "Why don't you like shuttles? What does 'not me' mean?"

"... Not me..." he shakes his head and hides his face. He's still crying and his breathing is weird. "... home..."

Logan squinted. "I don't know what that means." This human has obviously had some negative experience with a shuttle. He turned, instead heading towards the med bay. "As I said, if you want to go home, you need to take a shuttle. We can't just turn the entire starcraft around just to drop off one creature. We have a schedule." He entered the med bay, trying to pull the creature off of him. "Sit down. You have cancer."

He sees they're in the med bay and tries to run out. "Not me!" The smell was wrong and bad and brought bad things and he didn't like that, so he wanted out. He vaguely recalls the cold, sharp pain and the unnatural fuzz that was in medical rooms.

Logan tensed in surprise, his grip around the creature tightening as it tried to jump out of his hold. He held the human by the wrist, staring at it incredulously. "Med bays are negative as well? Hmm. You must have had a bad experience with a starcraft. Surely not one of ours, we're sworn to protect all planet life. Maybe a goon ship? Or a black market seller." He connected his brain to themed bay door, making it close and lock automatically before letting go of the human. "Not to worry. No harm will come to you here."

He curls up against the door and claws at it. "Not m-me! Momma!" Memories started resurfacing, causing the boy to panic and get more frantic.

Logan blinked. Momma? That was a new word. He added it to his folder of words and phrases that the human seemed to know. "What is a ' Momma'? Please, don't claw at the door, you might scratch up your nails." He turned away, searching through drawers to find some antibiotics for the creature to take.

He continues scratching, and when he realizes it doesn't work, he hugs himself tightly. Virgil yells for "Momma!" And "Poppa" followed by "Not me!" Some syllables were extended and warped slightly from not knowing it was pronounced a different way.

Eventually, he wears himself down to the point of almost falling asleep from exhaustion.

"Hmm." Logan watched the creature tire itself out, perhaps that was for the best. He grabbed an injector tool, placing an antibiotic pill inside and walking over to the creature. He paused for a moment, studying the human. "Searching records for: keywords: Momma & Poppa. Searching..." His eyes lit up in understanding. "Oh. You're calling for your respective parents. I didn't realize you had parents. You are human, I suppose, so that would make sense."

He sniffs and rubs his eyes in an attempt to get the tears away. "... m-momma..." he yawns and refuses to look at the android.

Logan reached out for the creature's arm again, bringing the tool to his skin. "This should help with the cancer. Do not worry, it should only sting for 0.6 seconds." He wondered how the creature would react to being caged. Poorly, most definitely, but he didn't know of any other way to safely bring the creature home. He couldn't drug it, or else it wouldn't be able to help him find his home. "You are proving to be very difficult," he sighed.

He flinches and whines, but doesn't resist to the tool. "... home..." He looks up at the android and makes grabby hands towards him with a sleepy yawn.

Logan stepped back a bit, raising an eyebrow. Analyzing behavior... Human status: drained. "Oh, you're tired. Well, I suppose you can sleep in here. Would you like an, uh..." Searching... "Would you like a bed?"

He continues making grabby hands towards Logan. "... up?"

"Up? Oh. Uhm, sure?" He picked up the creature, slightly confused. "What is the purpose of this?" He didn't understand why the creature always clung to him. He wasn't exactly a comfortable thing to cling to, made of rough synthetic skin and metal.

The boy clings to Logan because it was the closest thing to physical contact he had in awhile. He snuggles closer and ends up falling asleep.

Logan sighed. "I don't understand this, but if you insist." He let the human cling to him, supporting the young human with one hand as he walked over to the computers, typing on the keyboard with the other. He had to find a way to deal with this human. They certainly couldn't keep him.

Virgil stays asleep, occasionally twitching his leg because of his dream. A quiet purr escapes him as Logan holds his small, thin form.

"Hmm... Humans don't normally make that sound." The android scans Virgil to check on his recovery. He looked back to the computers. "Well, I suppose that's good news." He sighed, other arm locked in place as his free arm made a whirr sound.

Tag list:

@royallyroman @dr-emile-picani @guardian-of-cookies@bestbluebouquet@mightyvirgil54 @virgilsandersakaanxiety@blue-fluffy-dragon @avocados26 @nirascharacterdump @amazable01 @imfadingfromtheworld @fandomrandomqueen @thatnoulguyorsomething

#logan sanders #virgil sanders #thomas sander star trek au

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