#Steven finds himself with no memories out in the middle of some random city which he will find out eventually is Gotham.

[harleyification]

Hey look, I finally got to write some Moon Son!!! I’ve been heavily inspired by Lollipencil to start seriously writing for this AU, and so I decided to start at the beginning…how I think it all began. However, heed the tags, because this starts really dark. This idea has been traveling around in my brain for several months now, a culmination of A. Letting Marc and the others become a fist of Khonshu early, B. Their mother being shitty and abusive like in the show, and C. The comics interpretation of Marc possibly getting DID due to almost getting killed multiple times in his life.

WARNINGS: Graphic Depictions of Violence (nothing too graphic but there is a lot of blood), attempted murder, attempted maternal filicide, hints of physical and mental abuse. Please be careful reading this, and enjoy.

It’s hard to breathe. His chest hurts, with every staggering breath making his collapsing lungs ache, each one sounding like a death rattle.

Because that’s exactly what it is – a death rattle.

Marc can’t remember how he got here tonight. The memories were blurry amongst the last few minutes, quickly fading away as blood loss settled in. Red pools dragged behind him in a trail as the teen desperately tried to crawl away from the monster behind him, trying to find help. But no one is around, it’s just the two of them, and she’s still looming over him like a predator that has caught their prey. Marc can see her shadow and the knife that she clutches in her hand.

Marc doesn’t look back around. The room is getting dizzy.. He needs to hurry, he– he doesn’t want to die, please– he’s only fifteen, and his life was shitty, and he hates his abusive mom and his neglectful dad who let it continue, but he never thought that she would ever go this far. He never fucking thought that she would ever take it this fucking far.

She’s saying something behind him, but the words hardly register. They sound shocked. There were repetitions of “...my god, my good lord, what have I done…”, but Marc doesn’t turn back around. He doesn’t care anymore. He’s so fucking scared, one hand clutching onto his wounds and the other grasping the wooden floor to slide himself away.

All of a sudden, the chattering from the monster came to an end. There was resolute silence for a mere second, the only sound being Marc’s labored and pained grunts. Then, the sound of shoes walking away, leaving him to die slowly and... alone.

But he doesn’t look back. He fucking can’t.

Not when the doors and the phone and help was so, so far away, and he’s losing himself rapidly.

“Help…” he calls out, but it sounds far away to him. One hand forward, pull his body with it. One hand forward…and pull…reach forward… and…

He’s slipping. He can feel it. It should be scary, but more than anything he is exhausted.

He comes to a rest at the foot of something hard. Gazing up tiredly, his blurry vision makes out the stone mask of some kind of bird-faced humanoid. It was small, miniature, meant to be a decoration for wherever they were. Funny enough, despite its uncanniness, Marc can’t look away. It was better to look at it than at his lonely surroundings, he kind of thinks…

He will close his eyes for a minute. Just for a minute…then he’ll…ask for help…

—

"Hmm… a little young to be a fist. A bit too young, maybe. But it has been centuries, and I require someone, anyone, to take up the role at last. What do you say, child? Would you like to live and get away from the ones who have hurt you most?

….

All I ask in return is that you shall fight in my name and do the bidding of the night. Protect travelers who walk underneath the stars, in every way that you must, no matter the deed. Whenever the shadows demand it, you must heed their calls. Protect the lost ones, as you were once before.

…

Good. Very well. This will be very interesting indeed. Now, sleep child. Your body must heal. I shall guide you to safety."

—

Wary eyes blink open to minimal light in a sea of darkness. He was dizzy, his eyes swimming momentarily as his hand reached up to rub his temples. The teen looks around, eyeing his surroundings with open confusion as everything registers around him.

He was in an alley. A dingy, fucked up one too, as it had trash everywhere and there were mysterious stains on the concrete not too far beside him. The sources of light were coming from street lamps that lit up the asphalt streets and illuminated the boy’s uncomfortable hidey-hole.

He gets up, grunting as his aching limbs protest. “What in the bloody hell…?” he mutters to himself as he cautiously steps out into the open, seeing no one in sight. The streets were empty, the city was silent, and there was no moon or stars to be seen in the smoggy sky.

And just as suddenly, the quiet was destroyed by the sound of distant gunshots. The teen looks towards their direction and makes a mental note to not fucking go anywhere near there anytime soon.

The boy steps further out into the light, and almost screams when he sees the sight of his own bloody hands and clothes. They were fucking caked in red, making the teen look down the front of his shirt to see where it was he was hurt.

But…there was nothing. He pulls up his sleeves, and his skin was still unharmed.

That just makes it worse though. He gulps, shoving his hands into his pockets as if it would hide the crime scene that he practically emits. If the blood isn’t his, and if he can’t remember where it came from…then that just makes things a hell of a lot harder to figure out.

Steven has woken up many times before in weird settings and situations, but waking up has never been like this before.

There was the sound of sirens now, police and ambulance alike. There was the gleam of a needle on the building’s corner that glowed in the streetlight, prompting Steven to walk even faster. There was even the distant resonant sound of hair-raising cackling, as if through a speaker.

“Sheesh. With this commotion, you’d think I’d somehow wound up in Gotham…” Steven grumbles as he hunches himself down lower, trying to be inconspicuous.

He doesn’t know where he’s going, or what’s going on, or what his plan is exactly, but…but there is always one thing Steve knows that he is good at and can rely on.

He can figure things out. He’ll be able to get through this and make his way back home, surviving on the streets if he has to. He’s sure of it.

[drifting-pieces-blog-blog]

Field of Marigolds

Summary: Marc has been having bad dreams and Jake has been depressed. Can Steven find out why? Can he find a solution that won’t leave them all in deeper trouble? Steven asks questions about a culture that they all lost. 

Warnings: Some depictions of child abuse/violence and panic attacks. 

Word Count:  4714

Word Prompt:   Reeds

-------

Golden. Quiet. Alone. 

Marc had many dreams about the field of reeds since returning from Cairo. None of them good. A nightmare of being left alone for all eternity. 

He would wake feeling despair as he crawled from the darkness, gasping out Steven’s name. There was always that moment of silence when he waited for Steven to wake up and respond. That moment of pure fear that perhaps this time he would be alone. 

Then he would get the tired sounds of Steven mumbling his hello. The relief would wash over him and he would sink back into the bed with a heavy sigh. 

When Jake made himself known and started to communicate with them, Marc had started to look back on his life and pick out the times when his memory gaps were most likely occupied by the quiet and over protective alter. Their memories were all still a mess, but some pieces were starting to at least make sense. 

On mornings when he woke up in a panic, he would always still reach for Steven. The one that had always been there when he needed comfort, but sometimes he would wait to see if Jake might reach back too. 

Fall had settled in and items of warmth and comfort were starting to make themselves more prominent in their flat. Steven insisted on filling his closet with oversized sweaters covered in patterns and colors that made Marc gag. Jake had switched out his lighter coat and gloves for something more solid and sustaining while Marc kept his usual attire, choosing to brave the cold and rain as he did everything else: Ignore it. 

They were getting used to one another. Arguments about what to wear or how to style their hair cropped up but usually were quickly settled. Sometimes they argued over food or what to drink. In the span of a few months they had only had a couple of full melt downs where Layla had been forced to step in and break things up before someone did something stupid. 

As fall carried on, Marc had noticed Jake becoming more agitated. He was quiet and clipped when spoken to. He shut them off when he fronted and sometimes Marc or Steven would front to find themselves in the middle of a park or somewhere random in the rain when Jake had decided he was done. 

“What the hell is seasonal affective disorder?” Marc huffed as he pulled off the gloves and shoved them into his pockets. It was the second time in so many days where he had come to the front in the city. He had found himself staring in at a bakery window with brightly colored rolls with swirls and lines on the top. 

“It’s exactly what it sounds like.” Steven chimed in from the window reflection. “The sun starts to go away and you get depressed. Maybe he needs more vitamins or one of those special sun lights?” 

“I doubt very much that Jake is affected by the lack of sun. The man works the nightshift for crying out loud.” Marc adjusted the cap and wished he were wearing his cubs hat. It had a better brim for keeping the rain out of his face. 

Steven shrugged and glanced inside the bakery, trying to figure out what had made Jake decide to run. “Wouldn’t mind a sweet myself, since we’re here.” 

“Not sure it’s vegan, buddy.” Marc checked his pockets for his wallet and keys. It was always so jarring to be left out in the cold by Jake. He never knew what he had on him or if he was supposed to go find the car or not. 

“Maybe Layla would like a sweet.” Steven smiled. “Those look real good. And colorful!” 

Marc sighed and went inside. Steven knew how to get Marc to do things he would normally scoff at. Steven loved grand gestures and buying Layla silly things that made her smile. 

Marc paused in the doorway and looked around. It was a foreign shop, which wasn’t odd to see in London. Marc shrugged, though he suddenly felt himself on guard. There was something about the place that twinged at the back of his mind. Some memory that felt fuzzy and not quite his own floated just out of reach. 

“Hola, Señor.” The shopkeep smiled brightly. A pot of bright orange flowers sat next to the register. 

Suddenly Marc was swimming as he felt himself become untethered. Steven blinked hard as he was slammed into the driver’s seat. A sensation he had not felt in a long time as he waited for the world to stop spinning. 

“M’alight.” Steven mumbled as he struggled to figure out what had happened. “Right. Uh… Hi. Sorry. Off day.” He nodded hello to the shop keep and smiled uncertainly. “I was hoping to get a few of those.” He pointed to the colorful rolls. “They are so pretty.” 

“Pan dulce.” The man smiled. “Sweet bread. Those ones are called conchas in some places because they look like seashells. Very popular for children and pretty ladies.” He winked. 

Steven nodded and picked out a couple in different colors. He hesitated as he saw an oddly shaped bread in the next display over. “What are those? They smell so nice! Zesty like oranges.” 

“Ah, pan de muertos. A seasonal bread for this time of year.” The man nodded. 

Steven looked up in surprise. “Muertos?” 

“Yes.” The man smiled. “For day of the dead. A little something to honor our loved ones who are gone.” 

“Oh…” Steven stared at the bread for a moment then shook his head. “Just the sweet breads, please.” 

He checked out, looking down at the pretty orange flowers curiously as he handed over the cash. “Marigolds? Right? The flowers I mean. Those are marigolds? They don’t grow so well over here. They do best in the sun.” 

It was difficult for Steven not to immediately info dump. He wanted to start up on Indian culture that used marigolds as a way to celebrate and worship. They were a symbol of brightness and the sun, placed around gods and goddesses and laid out in weddings and festive occasions. He was not as versed in this culture or mythology as he was Egyptology, so he made a mental note to freshen up a bit on it. 

“Yes. From Mexico actually.” The shopkeeper looked sad. “I do miss them. My mother had a talent for growing them. She sold them to families this time of year. Gave them for free if they were mourning a child.” 

“Oh…” Steven flushed. “That’s very kind of her…” He had gone for the happy use and completely overlooked the Latin American use. Strange how it had not come to his mind at all. Even stranger, how he had never thought to look any of that culture up. 

Steven nodded and collected his bread. “Thank you.” 

Leaving the shop he started the walk home. It took him a moment to gather what street he was on. Jake tended to wander into strange areas when out, while Steven liked to stay on the beaten path. 

“Marc?” Steven quietly poked around. “You alright? We’re out of the shop now. Did you need a minute?” 

He felt a rustle at the back of his mind and knew Marc was close enough to hear him but still unwilling to come out. 

“Marc, are we Latin American?” Steven flushed at how odd the question sounded. “I mean, I’m English. But I suppose that’s all in my head, innit? I wasn’t born over here. My parents weren’t English. I’m Jewish. I know that. I remember school and prayer and temple and Dad a bit. Those memories are mine. I’ve at least managed to sort those out. But…” 

Steven paused as he waited at a crosswalk with some other people. He liked to speak out loud. He loved the feel of using his own mouth and voice when speaking to Marc. It felt real if he spoke. It felt like he was a real person and not some voice floating in the void. He also understood what speaking out loud looked like to other people and often embarrassed himself. He was trying to get better at this part. 

He thought about his question again as he crossed the street. How else was he to put it? “The body is Latin American.” 

There was silence for a moment then Marc sighed and gave the smallest of shrugs. “Yeah. Really we’re from Chicago. You know that. The body is Chicago-ian.” 

Steven frowned and felt a memory stirr. From the fuzzy detail, he knew it wasn’t his. As soon as it started it stopped, pushed back and shut off as Marc fell silent again. 

Steven sensed Marc wanted him to drop it but a new curiosity had awakened inside him. This was something he didn’t yet know or understand. “Marigolds…” Steven looked up at the cross street names and took a hard turn as he made way for his favorite bookstore. 

–

Golden. 

So golden it warmed the very air. This time, it did not grow up around him, but spread out at his feet as if guiding him. Petals rolling gently past him and spreading out as if inviting him down a path. 

He was not alone this time. Jake stood before him. He spoke softly, his voice carrying on a breeze that Marc could not feel. 

“What?” Marc frowned as he only heard a garble of sounds he didn’t recognize. “I don’t understand.” 

Jake spoke louder, faster. The sounds moved past him, unobtainable no matter how he reached for them.” 

The wind picked up and a language he had long forgotten slammed into him. “I don’t understand.” 

Jake held out a hand, pleading at first then growing angry as the Spanish turned accusatory. 

“I don’t understand!” Marc yelled. He covered his ears. It was too golden here. Too warm. The flowers were glowing and blinding him. 

Something moved in the flowers behind him. Turning, he found a familiar boy. The boy smiled. “Hermano.” It started to rain. “Te recuerdo.” 

Marc jolted awake so hard that he shoved Layla and fell off the bed. 

He lay on the floor, staring up at the window across the room, watching the London rain pitter patter down the glass. 

“Marc? What the hell?” Layla mumbled sleepily. “Are you okay?” 

Was he okay? He couldn’t remember the last time he had been terrified of the rain. 

Something inside him clenched down in fear and he covered his ears to block out the sound. 

He heard Layla shift on the bed and felt her presence as she leaned over the edge of the bed to look down at him. “Hey? You alright?” 

His mouth moved on its own. “Perdí a alguien.”

Layla blinked. “What? I’m sorry, I don’t understand.” 

Marc shook his head and closed his eyes. “Stop it. Stop. I don’t want to hear it! I don’t speak fucking Spanish!” 

Marc could hear the sound of the rain flowing down the gutter and into the street. Washing everything away. Flooding the field of flowers. 

His eyes rolled back as he was overwhelmed. A groggy Steven blinked awake and stared up at Layla. “Hmnh? What are you doing up there? Wait… What am I doing down here? What’s going on?” 

Layla sighed and reached out to help pull him back up into the bed. “I have no idea. I think someone had a bad dream? I’m not sure who. There was Spanish and then Marc had a panic attack for about a second before you got here.” She gave an apologetic smile. “It happened really fast.” 

“Spanish?” Steven snuggled into her and buried his face in his pillow. “What Spanish?” 

“Pretty Alyen?” 

Steven turned his head in his pillow just enough to look at her with one eye. 

She flushed and looked away. “English is not my first language! I speak three other languages and Spanish is not one of them!” 

Steven groaned and buried his face back into the pillow. “I think Jake is upset about something. It’s upsetting Marc too, but I don’t think Marc understands why or what it is.” 

“And you don’t know what any of it could be?” She moved to gently stroke his back. 

Steven shook his head into the pillow. “Wish I did. Whatever it is, it’s between them. I have no memory of any of that. Being English and all…”  

He could hear her chewing her lower lip. It was something she did when unsure about something or thinking about something she wasn’t sure she wanted to bring up. 

He had to hand it to her, since coming back to London and staying with them, she had asked very few questions. Maybe she was worried she would ask the wrong ones. She had certainly learned a lot and taken in a lot in the span of a very short time. Especially with Jake entering the picture. 

Steven looked back at her and moved to take a hand, holding it gently to his chest. “Love, just ask. It’s okay to ask. I promise I won’t be mad. None of us will be mad if you ask.” 

“Why does Jake speak spanish?” She looked at him curiously. “I’ve never heard Marc speak Spanish. You certainly don’t. You know more French than Spanish from what I can gather. He must have picked it up from somewhere. You can’t just form as a person knowing a language. You have to be around it.” 

Steven lay there for a moment thinking about the question. He reached out, trying to see if Marc or Jake were near the surface. When he found both buried deep inside, he sighed. 

“Mom was Latin American. I don’t know from where or how many generations back. She spoke Spanish sometimes. Mostly on the phone to relatives. I think we must have met them at some point. I have no memories of this. I didn’t know I was… The body was… Hispanic, too.” He had gone through a complicated day of emotions when he had learned all this. Marc had refused to talk about any of it so he had been forced to coerce it out of Jake, which had taken him hours to get just this much. Jake had finally shared the memory of listening to her talk on the phone in rapid fire Spanish. 

Between the three of them, Steven still didn’t fully understand. He would have to do more research into it later. The hard part was that he wasn’t sure he wanted to do the research. It had been kept from him for a reason. It wasn’t part of his own backstory or memories. 

“I’m a fictive.” Steven didn’t like thinking about it. “My memories are… If it doesn’t fit my story to make me then I don’t have them.” He pulled the pillow down and hugged it for a moment, finding comfort in the weight and feel of it. 

“Hey.” Layla moved closer and hugged him. “We don’t have to talk about it.” 

“But I want to know.” Steven frowned. “I want to know why they are so upset. I want to help them.” 

Layla was quiet a moment. “Sometimes I worry I will forget my own language.” 

Steven looked at her in surprise. 

“When I left Egypt I didn’t speak Arabic for over a  year. Not even once. Not even when I was alone with myself.” She gently stroked his arm, tracing the familiar muscles and lines she found there. “When we went back I stumbled on my words. I spoke slower. It took me almost an hour before I got back into my normal rhythm. It was scary. I felt like I was losing a part of myself. Like I had let my heritage down. Like I was letting my father down. Like I was forgetting him.” 

Steven fidgeted with the pillow, trying to hide his distress. “You should never feel that way. He was so proud of you!” 

“I know.” She gave him a reassuring smile. “It came back to me. It just… For that hour I looked at myself and didn’t know who I was.” 

“Do you think Marc forgot? Do you think he used to know Spanish?” Steven blinked. “Is that where Jake comes from? But why? Why would he take it all? Why does he hold onto it so hard when it comes from such a place of hurt?” 

Layla shrugged. “Jake is complicated. So is Marc. I don’t understand what goes on between them. Something is upsetting one of them and the other isn’t exactly helping.” 

Steven nodded then remembered the flowers. “What’s today?” 

Layla reached across him to grab her phone from the side table. “October 31st. Happy Halloween I suppose.” 

Steven made a face. “I hate scary things. I’m the worst fictive ever.” 

Layla laughed and kissed him on the forehead. “You are fearless where it matters.” 

He smiled a little. “Thank you, love.” 

He squeezed the pillow then moved to nestle into her side. “I have an idea. I don’t think they’re going to like it. It might be a terrible idea, honestly. There’s a good chance it could backfire and well… If you thought Chernobyl was a meltdown disaster…” 

“You’re saying you want me as support just in case I need to intervene?” She looked at him curiously. 

Steven nodded. “If I upset Marc that much and then I also upset Jake, I might be flying solo for a day or two. They might never speak to me again!” He suddenly looked scared. “Maybe I shouldn’t. I don’t think I can handle that. I hate when they cut me out.” 

“Steven, do what you think is best to help them, but don’t worry so much. They love you and would never shut you out forever. I trust you to take care of them.” She smiled and wrapped her arms around him. 

He nodded and yawned. “What time is it?” 

“Three.” Layla sighed. “Marc always has his nightmares at this hour. It’s like he knows that this is the perfect hour to ruin a perfectly good sleep schedule.” 

“In the morning, I need to run to the store and pick up a few items. Then I need to do some more research.” This was going to take him all day, but he hoped it was worth it. 

–

The house smelled like warm bread and oranges. Steven had returned to the bakery and purchased some pan de muerto. He had also found a small toy in a shop that he couldn’t pass up. 

Sliding out a table, he placed a newly purchased children’s blanket over it then set out a plate of the bread. A cup of orange juice was set next to it. Something he thought might compliment the orange zest of the bread nicely. 

A small tea candle was lit and he placed the toy to the side, a little astronaut waving nicely. 

He had printed out a baseball pennant for the Chicago Cubs and carefully cut it out, taping it to the wall above the table. 

Lastly, he set a couple of marigold flowers on the table. He had explained the situation to the man at the bread shop and he had practically thrust the whole pot of flowers at Steven. Steven had politely declined but had asked for just a couple of clippings. 

Stepping back, he sighed. “It looks pitiful.” 

Layla shook her head. “I think it looks lovely, Steven. Go ahead. See if they are ready.” 

Steven nudged around. Of course he found Marc first, easily pulling him out of his deep sleep.

“What’s going on? What time is it?” Marc looked from Layla to the table. “What is this?” 

“It’s midnight. Steven wanted to try something. Don’t be mad at him.” She gave him a stern look. “He worked hard at this. 

Marc frowned and moved closer. A memory tugged, but it wasn’t his. Refused to be his. He pushed back from it and crossed his arms. “Why would he bother? Waste of time.” He moved as if to blow out the candle then stopped when he saw the little waving astronaut. 

His hand lifted in a returned wave. 

“Abuelita had one of these.” He gestured at the table dismissively. “Bigger. Better looking too. More flowers.” Marc crossed his arms and looked away. “We had to pay respects every year. It was Importante. Mom wouldn’t put one up.” He struggled to get the words out, fighting against the desire to shut down. “I asked dad… If I could. I wanted to… She threw the flowers…” His breathing started to grow erratic. 

His breathing stilled in an instant as Jake blinked in, looking around for a moment to take in the table. 

He picked up a flower and slowly spun it between his fingers, watching the petals rotate. He mumbled something in Spanish then set the flower back down gingerly. 

“Are you okay?” Layla asked softly. 

Jake inhaled deeply then slowly exhaled. “Yes. I think so.” 

“Is Marc okay?” She was always hesitant to ask. 

Jake took a moment. “Yeah. We always wanted an Ofrenda. Abuelita’s was so beautiful. The candles and the flowers… We loved the stories she told as she lit each candle for each person. When Randall died, we tried to set up our own. We thought he deserved to be with all the pretty lights and flowers.” 

Layla was quiet as Jake shifted on his feet slightly. He had a way of speaking of their bad memories like a casual observer. She knew he was far from partial to it all. There was always barely simmering rage just under the surface of them, waiting to smother out the pain that threatened to rise up. 

He put his hands in his pockets for a moment, remembering what Marc could not. The screams. The rage. The overturned table. The flower pot crashing into his head as it flew across the room. The bloody gash that needed stitches. The lies at the doctors office that he had told. It was not the first time Jake had taken over to protect them, but it was the first memory that he had closed off as his own. 

“We never had one again. Marc stopped speaking Spanish after that. Refused to do anything from her side of the family. I don’t blame him.” Jake shrugged and picked up the small astronaut, looking it over. He then looked up at the baseball banner and single candle. 

Realization hit him and he dropped the toy. “It’s not for him…” Jake breathed out. “It’s for us.” 

Steven slowly surfaced. “We died, didn’t we? We lost everything when we were so young. Don’t you think that we deserve to be remembered too? When we were one? One heart struggling to survive?” 

“Yeah… We did die.” Marc bent and picked up the toy, holding it tightly. 

“I read that an important part of today is to not just have pictures, but to tell stories. To talk about your memories and be happy for them.” Steven gave a small smile. “I don’t think I remember anything real. I just remember our room. Kinda like this.” He set the spaceman back down and lightly traced a finger on the Cubs banner. “I liked the colors. I don’t think I knew what they were for, but I liked the triangular shape and colors.” 

Jake smiled and realized the blanket on the ofrenda was a kid’s race car blanket. “We had a race car bed. We used to roll over and kick the side every night, but we refused to admit we needed a bigger bed. We colored a paper plate like a steering wheel and kept it under the pillow.” 

Marc nodded. “Yeah. There was a telescope. Thought we could be an explorer out there or something. Weren’t any good at remembering the names of the constellations, but we could find them.” 

“I remember that.” Steven smiled. “We found the Little Dipper every night.” 

“You know, we used to hate milk.” Marc made a face. “Or was that just me?” 

“Milk is right disgusting.” Steven made the same face. 

“You two are idiotas. Milk is wonderful! Prefer it in my coffee to creamer.” Jake huffed. “Do you remember the little candies Abuelita used to give us?” 

“Red hots.” Marc groaned. “Basically candy coated cinnamon pain.” 

“I keep a pack of them in my car.” Jake grinned. 

“I have a memory of getting into a jar of jalapenos once.” Steven shuddered. “Was that real?” 

“Oh god.” Marc chuckled. “Her homemade pickled Jalapenos. She hid them up on the top of the cabinet. DId we really eat half the jar?” 

“We ate the whole jar. We puked.” Jake nodded.

Steven cringed. “Is that why I can’t look at a pickled jalapeno without gagging?” 

“I’d do it again.” Jake smiled smugly. “Those were the best damn jalapenos I ever had.” 

They laughed softly and watched the candle flicker for a moment, remembering hazy moments that weren’t quite clear to them. Piecing together moments that some only had bits to and correcting memories that were almost forgotten. 

Marc turned to Layla after a moment. “Would you mind… Find us another candle?” 

She blinked in surprise and moved to get one from the kitchen. “Who is this one for?” 

“Randall.” Marc set it down next to the first one and carefully lit it. “I don’t have any pictures, but I think it’s time he was properly honored.” 

“We never got to attend his funeral or Shiva.” Jake whispered. “She made sure of that.” 

“Yeah.” Marc sighed. “I don’t know how much of him you remember… But I’d like to share…” 

“I didn’t even know I had one.” Steven looked down sadly. 

“I have some images…” Jake shook his head. “Not really connected with good things.” Memories that were locked away so completely that he made sure none of them had access to them. 

“Let’s fix that.” Marc moved to sit down and beckoned Layla over. Once they were all settled, Marc took a slow breath. 

“I had a younger brother named Randall. He was a pain. Always taking my toys and wanting to color. But any time I wanted to play pretend, he was right there with me.” Marc took Layla’s hand and held it tightly. 

They talked for hours and ate the bread together, telling stories of what he could remember of his younger brother and growing up with him. It was the most Marc had ever let himself remember before. There were a surprising number of good memories. 

Now and then, Jake would add in a detail Marc had missed. Something small that made the memory more real. Steven had even added in a detail he was surprised to remember, though he lacked the context. 

By the end, they were exhausted, curling up on the couch with Layla and fading in and out of sleep. 

“Thank you for sharing.” She whispered and kissed his forehead. “You should get some rest.” 

“I know it isn’t really your culture or anything…” Steven nervously looked up at her. “The holiday does last all day and ends on the second… If you wanted to… You could tell us about your father. Marc says it’s okay if you share. Jake says it’s okay to put his photo up if you like.” 

Layla thought about it for a moment then nodded. “It’s about honoring family, isn’t it? I think I would like that… Adding my memories to yours…” 

Steven smiled and closed his eyes. “A path of Marigolds to lead us to the field of reeds. I think it would be lovely if we could all be there together next time…” 

Marc dreamed. Gold and orange mixing in the silence. He wasn’t alone this time. The silence was broken by the sound of Jake humming softly, playing a guitar somewhere in the reeds. Next to him Steven looked around with wide eyes as he took in the colorful sky. He was buzzing and babbling about the history of the reeds. 

Marc breathed a sigh of relief. He hated the silence. Smiling, he sat back and closed his eyes, listening to the sounds of family. 

[mobius-prime]

134. Sonic the Hedgehog #75

I Am the Eggman!

Writer: Karl Bollers Pencils: Steven Butler Colors: Frank Gagliardo

We have a very important question to address here at the beginning of this story. Apparently, all this time, it wasn't Robotnik who was activating the satellites and tormenting the Freedom Fighters in secret. If that's the case… who was it, then?

So! Do you remember, aaalllllll the way back during StH#19, when I said that that issue would introduce a very important character, someone who would shape the course of the entire comic? Didja forget about that? 'Cause I sure didn't! Here he is, ladies, gents, and enbies - Robo-Robotnik, AKA the alternate, roboticized version of Robotnik from another zone! Don't worry if you don't remember - he gives us a nice rundown of exactly how this all came to be, just for those of us who may have forgotten him between then and now. But first, just to make sure no one escapes or attacks before his villainous monologue is over, he encases the Freedom Fighters inside an egg-shaped energy field, which knocks Bunnie out when she tries to punch her way out.

So here's how it went down. Way back when Robo-Robotnik was taken back to his own zone after his interdimensional defeat, his consciousness was stranded aboard a space station in orbit of his own version of Mobius. Then, as chronicled in StH#22, Robotnik Prime ended up aboard the same station when he was thrown out of his own dimension, and gave Robo-Robotnik just the pep talk he needed to get back to hunting down his enemies and taking over the world. However, what we didn't know until now is that at the moment Robo-Robotnik sent Robotnik Prime back to his own world, he tapped into his memories, learning of the scattering of the Giant Borg suit's pieces across all dimensions. Yep, that makes him the mastermind behind the Crossover Chaos plot as well!

I just have to stop everything for a moment to go over what Robo-Robotnik said up there again. He straight up nuked Mobotropolis and killed everyone within. If you'll remember in StH#22, the Sonic and Sally of his zone had already grown up, gotten married and had two kids at this point. Their world followed basically the same general path laid out in the Sonic in Your Face! special - everyone had grown up, the world was idyllic, Robotnik was thought to be long defeated, new families had been born and peace reigned. They had absolutely no idea that they weren't safe. That one day, without warning, a goddamn nuke would drop onto their beautiful city, killing everyone within. Sonic, Sally, their two kids, and everyone else they ever knew - dead. Vaporized. That is ridiculously dark.

So, as we can see, this version of Robotnik is even more terrifyingly evil than the previous one. And apparently, his whole extended gambit with the satellites and random disasters was implemented not just to test the capabilities of this world's Sonic and friends, but also, to finally lure them out of the city for the culmination of his plan…

Okay, Nate, why the hell didn't you use your badass laser-eyeglasses to fight back against the thugs who captured you before? He and Amy rush to the palace, where Geoffrey is informing King Max about the resurgence of the swatbots. The king has the cryo-tube containing the queen carried out of the palace to safety, and orders that everyone within Mobotropolis be evacuated to Knothole. However, before they can get much further, Robo-Robotnik contacts them from a screen in the med-lab, mocking the king and informing him of his daughter's current captivity aboard his space station. The king immediately takes a knee and offers himself in exchange for the safety of everyone on the station, which is quite a notable gesture considering how traumatized his stay in the Zone of Silence had left him, but Robo-Robotnik simply laughs at him as at that moment more swatbots - or shadow-bots, as he calls them - burst into the room demanding their surrender for roboticization.

The more we see of Elias, the more I like him. Back up in the station, Sonic insists that they have to get free to help the Robians, but Robo-Robotnik only mocks him some more, and brings forward none other than Uncle Chuck, Muttski, and Sonic's mom and dad to enrage him further. Sonic begins flinging himself against the energy field trapping them, which only injures him every time he does it, despite Sally begging him to stop.

Within the city, Geoffrey and the other members of the Secret Service focus on rescuing civilians from the shadow-bots' attack. Valdez stays behind to cover their retreat as they rescue Rosie and the children she's looking after, and despite Geoffrey trying to go back for him, Hershey insists that "the needs of the many outweigh the needs of the few or the one," drawing a pretty bizarre parallel between her and Mr. Spock. Up in the station, the energy field trapping the Freedom Fighters suddenly disappears, and they turn around in shock to see who released them…

Snively insists that he needs them to be able to escape this station, and Sally agrees to bring him along. She uses Nicole to order their space shuttle to dock with the station (seems weird that that wasn't their plan from the beginning, rather than exiting the shuttle and entering the station through a damn trash chute) before setting an explosive charge to blow the place in five minutes. Sonic pulls out a power ring that Nate gave him before they left the planet's surface, saying he's going to go find his family before they leave. Sally tries to insist he shouldn't go, since Snively already mentioned Robo-Robotnik was loading the Robians onto a transport back to Mobius, but Sonic heads out anyway. Come on Sally, you should realize at this point that once Sonic has his mind made up about something he wants to do, literally nothing, not even you, can change his mind. He speeds through the corridors, soon finding Robo-Robotnik loading the last of the Robians onto the shuttle, including his family. The door shuts, and Sonic attacks Robo-Robotnik, thinking that at least his family will be safe when this place explodes. However, as Robo-Robotnik pins him to the ground, a pair of voices startle them out of their fight.

Noteworthy for being the third panel in which Sonic visibly cries, which if you'll remember is something that Sega put strict limits on in the comic later on. Been a while since we've seen that, and it's the first time it hasn't happened in a somewhat silly scenario. He races back to the shuttle with his parents in tow, and they make their escape just before the place blows. Sonic asks how his parents maintained their free will, and they explain that they were in Knothole just hours ago when every Robian suddenly turned and began to mindlessly file out of the place. Their wedding bands made out of power rings began to glow, protecting them from being affected by Robo-Robotnik's bug, but they followed anyway, playing along as though they were also being controlled and hoping to find out where everyone was going. As they fly back to the planet, safe for this brief moment, dusk falls over Mobo- uh, I mean, I guess we have to start calling it Robotropolis again. And underneath the city…

I really can’t express how funny this page is to me. I mean, can you imagine if Robo-Robotnik transferred his consciousness into the one in the middle, and was just going around looking like a gay 80's biker dude for the rest of the comic? Regardless, this is actually a good way for the comic to justify redesigning Robotnik into his more modern Eggman style. He laughs to himself that an explosion won't be enough to do him in, especially now that he has this new body… and as a somewhat jarring conclusion to this story, Sonic and the others smile and pose happily on the final page as though nothing devastating has happened, promising to us that if we liked these last 75 issues then the next 75 will be even more exciting. I suppose this is actually somewhat noteworthy however, as from here on moving into the fourth era of the comic, the inclusion of specials and sister series abruptly taper off, leaving us with just the issues of the main comic for quite a while. Unlike the third era we're leaving behind, where over half the content came from issues of KtE and Super Specials, the fourth era consists almost entirely of the main comic. But for now, I suppose we must say goodbye to this era of peace, as now that Eggman has risen from the ashes, the world is back to being embroiled in war…

[kikyz]

Something like an Afterglow

Today is my birthday and I wrote something short and kinda dumb/self indulgent for myself lol. Its pretty random, starts off a little nsfw, and fits into the ‘Summer’ section of my fic Seasons In-between (which is also kinda self indulgent and VERY nsfw), but you can definitely read this without reading the fic (I mean, you might appreciate this nonsense more if you had? Mayhaps? But yeah, totally not required. But if you’re awesome and are already reading the fic, this would take place about a week after chapter 4).

----------

At this point, it’s all pleasantly familiar.

The pleasurable warmth of the joined bodies, the creak of his mattress, Sadie’s airy gasps in his ear, the rapid thud of his heartbeat knocking around his ribcage, the taste of salt on her skin, the softness of her supple body as his hand squeezes at her hips to help her move faster astride him, the sting of her fingernails digging crescent moons into his back, the arch in her back as she loudly keens with release...

“F-fuck, Sades,” Lars moans into the delicate curve of his friend’s neck as a shiver runs down his spine. The hot coil that’s been tightening in his lower abdomen springs loose. His teeth sink into his bottom lip, determined to stop any more words from slipping out of his mouth as he grunts his way through his own climax.

Their breaths are heavy, both making little noises of displeasure when Sadie lifts off of him to flop on the bed beside him. Lars rolls over onto his stomach, hiding his flushed and sweaty face in his pillow, and tossing an arm over Sadie’s middle. Unthinkingly he pulls her closer, their sides snugly pressed together. It’s only when his heart rate and breathing fully slows to a normal pace that it really registers that he’s trapping her in bed with him.

Cheeks flaming, he turns his head toward her to see if she minds.

Lars smirks at the sight of her. Her yellow hair is wild, her cheeks are still pink, and her eyes are lidded with contentment as she stares up at the ceiling. With a blink, her gaze shifts to Lars, and Sadie smiles. His stomach flips, his smirk widening to a full grin. Her hand comes up to rest on the slender arm draped over her. A fluttery sensation tickles his skin. Lars’ eyes drop to her tiny hand at the source, watching her thumb as it softly sweep over a small patch of his skin.

His gaze returns to hers only briefly before darting off to the suddenly very interesting looking wooden paneling on the wall. Her hand shyly falls away, and he swiftly removes his arm.

“So uh...happy birthday,” Sadie weakly offers as an icebreaker to the now awkward silence. “Don’t think I actually said it before.”

“Come to think of it, you didn’t,” Lars snorts. He shifts onto his side, hand reaching back over her to lightly pinch her thigh. “So rude. You didn’t bring me a gift or anything either.”

Sadie smacks his offending hand. Instead of retreating, Lars rests his palm on her thigh and caresses up to the curve of her hip and back down. There’s a split second where a flash of confusion crosses her face as he continues squeeze and touch her upper leg, causing the fluidity of his movements to stiffen. She makes no mention of it though when she curls onto her side to fully face him, inadvertently --or purposefully?-- giving him easier access.

“I already gave you your gift,” Sadie needlessly reminds him. He’s very aware that the vespa scooter that arrived a week too soon is sitting pretty in his garage right now with little to no juice from their day of aimlessly riding it around Beach City.

That had also been the day he accidentally said he loved her, which he promptly denied the moment she brought it up and… He really doesn’t want to think about how weird and awkward that particular work day had been. But it was just a little hiccup. She believed his lie, and they’re still friends (with benefits). They’re good. She had said so.

So Lars keeps caressing her from hip to thigh, occasionally roaming over her ample backside, as he pretends to think.

“You did? ...I hope you’re not counting you returning the jacket you stole as my gift. That’s just beyond lame, Sadie.”

She glares at him, and Lars is barely able to keep in a snort of laughter.

“Oh, right. The birthday sex,” he mutters, a crooked grin taking over his face. “Gotta say, it could’ve been better.”

“Oh, shut up,” Sadie huffs and shoves at his shoulder. Lars just laughs in response. “If anyone should complain, it’s me.”

“What do you got to complain about? You know I rocked your world.”

“Did you though?” she questions with an arch brow, staring him down with an inscrutable expression. His hand stills. His confident grin wavers. The embarrassing memory of their pathetically short lived first time floods his head, spiking his blood with panic, and he squirms a bit anxiously as he stares back at her. A devilish glint flickers in her eyes, and the corners of her mouth twitches upward. Lars frowns when a giggle bubbles out of her, but he quickly finds himself smiling again as he retaliates by tickling her.

“Geez, Sadie. Are you trying to ruin a guy’s self-esteem?”

“More like deflate that big head of yours,” she tosses out between giggles. Lars sucks his teeth at that, and doubles his efforts.

She squeaks and squeals out bouts of laughter, her naked body fidgeting as she attempts to move away from his onslaught. But he seems to anticipate her every move, avoiding her kicking legs and always managing to reach that sweet spot that causes her to cackle. Even when she tries to roll off the bed, his arms lock around her and swiftly pulls her into his chest.

Her laughter is soundless, her exhales come out jerky, her shoulders shaking and her chest bouncing as she tries to speak to no avail. Lars mercifully stops tickling her, wiping away the tear that leaked out her eye while he waits for Sadie to catch her breath.

“Are you sorry for your vicious lies yet?” Lars asks, waggling his fingers menacingly. Sadie chuckles and shakes her head, but when he moves to start tickling her again, Sadie jolts back.

“Okay, okay,” she laughingly shouts in surrender. “I’m sorry.”

“Admit I just rocked your world.”

“Yes! Totally rocked off its axis.”

“And my head isn’t big either.”

“Except where it counts.”

“Oh my god, Sadie,” Lars snorts and chuckles. His arms wrap around her, tucking her fully under his chin as he hold her more firmly to his chest as he flops them back into lying on the bed. The mattress creaks as it lightly bounces them.“You’re such a dork.”

Sadie shrugs, still giggling. He can feel her lips and the warm puff of her breath on his clavicle. A contented sigh slips through his lips as they both relax. Lars forgets himself for a moment, and presses a kiss atop her head.

“Thanks for my gift...and the birthday sex. In case I hadn’t said it before,”Lars mumbles into her hair.

Sadie scoffs, rolling her eyes as her muffled “you’re welcome” causes her lips to brush his skin. She feels him shiver, and smirks to herself when the meaty flesh pressed against her hardens.

“How was your birthday, by the way,” she softly asks. “Was kind of expecting a bit more of a ruckus when I came over.”

Lars shrugs.

For all Lars’ talk of raging parties and blowout splendors for the epic occasion that was going to be his eighteenth birthday, the actual day went by without too much fanfare. Which is mostly his own fault, seeing as he never got around to sending the invites to his big birthday bash…

But it was a nice enough day. Cupcakes for breakfast with his parents. Played and won a bunch of online video game matches throughout the afternoon. Steven dropped by with a present, as well as a crown and royal looking cape for some weird reason. His social media accounts had the most action it’s ever seen with people sending him birthday wishes. And then Sadie came knocking at his door, her hands clutching a light jacket as she greeted him with the tiniest smile gracing her lips.   

“Is that why you came by so late?” Lars chuckles out, scooting back just a smidge to be able to look at her face. “So you would skip out on most of my party? Some friend you are.”

“I wasn’t trying to...I mean, I guess I kinda was, but… Parties aren’t exactly my thing, you know?”

“I know.”

“Why didn’t you tell me you weren’t having one? And why didn’t you have one, for that matter?”

Lars shrugs again. He did have it all planned out, and had bought a good chunk of party supplies. Yet, when he started working on the invites, he couldn’t help but wonder if anyone would actually come. And if they did, would they think the decorations were cool? Or would they sneer and called him lame for having a themed birthday party at eighteen? Would alcohol make it seem more adult? He’s never had anything stronger than a hard lemonade, sneakily taken out of his parents’ mini-fridge. He couldn’t exactly supply a party without emptying the fridge, and he couldn’t just go out and buy some beers himself yet. And there was a million other things to worry about too, like is his outfit cool enough? Would they think he’s trying too hard if he got a fog machine?

It all could go wrong in so many ways. The pressure got to him, and Lars just decided to forgo it.

“Birthday parties are for babies anyway,” he mutters. “I mean, honestly, after like thirteen, all birthday parties are lame until you hit twenty-one. And after that it’s just another year closer to death.”

“Wow, Lars,” Sadie says as she shifts up a little. “I think that’s the most pessimistic thing you’ve ever said.”

“Name one good party post age thirteen!”

“Sweet sixteen!” she immediately tosses out, and Lars tsks in defeat as he recalls Jenny and Kiki’s sweet sixteen party. The whole school was invited, and though it was before Lars and Jenny were even close to becoming friends, it had been an awesome party. “And literally all other ages. Like, life is always worth celebrating. Your life is worth celebrating. I’m glad you exist.”

Lars blinks at that. Sadie blushes.

“Sorry,” she whispers, smiling shyly. “That was kinda sappy, wasn’t it?”

“No. I mean, yeah. Kinda. But not terribly so,” Lars chuckles weakly, running his hand up her back and down her arm to wiggle his fingers into the space between hers. “Uh, thanks. I um… I’m glad you exist too, Sades.”

She smiles at him, a pulse of warmth shoots through him, and Lars has to tuck his face away into his pillow to keep himself from blurting out that he loves her again.

They’re just friends. They’re just friends. They're just friends! Stop being an idiot, for this is as good as it gets and dropping the L word is only going to ruin this.

With a deep sigh and his feelings back in check, Lars faces Sadie again with a frown.

“What?” she asks with a soft laugh. “Does your pillow stink?”

“What? No.”

“Then why does your face look like that?”

“Look like what?”

“Sour. Grumpy. Like you got called in to take the morning shift on your off day.”

“I dunno what you’re talking about. I’m fine,” he huffs. “Maybe I got resting bitch face or something.”

“No, your resting face is more sad puppy than bitch.”

“Whatever, just...shhh.”

“Did you just shush me?”

“Yeah, ‘cause it’s my birthday and I say hush. When it’s your birthday, you’ll get to call the shots. Them’s the rules, so we’re gonna take a nap now.”

“We?”

“Yes, we,” he persists, squeezing her hand so she wouldn’t leave, though she hadn’t made a move to do so anyway. He snuggles closer, mumbling about how soft and cozy she is before muttering, “now close your eyes.”

She does, and he follows suit. They lay together listening to the other breathe for a full two minutes before Lars lets out an annoyed sigh.

“I’m not tired.”

“We could play a game,” Sadie suggests and starts to sit up only for Lars to huff and tugs back to him. She snorts out a laugh. “Or not?”

“I’ve been playing all day. I’m burned out.”

“Or you know that  I’ll beat you.”

“As if. Keep telling yourself that, Sades.”

“I will, because it’s true.”

“Pfft. If I wasn’t so comfortable, I’d get up and prove you wrong.”

“Sure,” Sadie scoffs playfully. “Whatever you got to say to help you sleep at night...or just lay here, rather...”

“Ha ha, so clever,” Lars mutters dryly.

“How about a word game instead?” she offers, circling back. “Like the alphabet game.”

“Ugh, fine. What’s the topic?”

“Hmm. How about you? Since it’s your birthday.”

“How the heck is that suppose to work, Sades?”

“Easy. A is for annoying.”

Lars gasps dramatically in offense, and sticks his tongue out at her. Sadie just smiles back him, her head nodding to prompt him to take the next letter. So he sighs and huffs, eyes darting upwards as he tries to think of a word.

“Uh...Birthday?”

“Fair enough,” Sadie says with a shoulder shrug. “C is for crummy.”

“That’s the best offensive C word you can think of?” he chuckles, and Sadie decidedly looks away as she suppresses a giggle. Obviously she’s just teasing him, but he plays along, looking haughty before smirking.  “Alright then, D is for devilishly handsome!”

“E is for evil,” she hisses playfully.

“F is for frickin’ amazing,” he fires back.

Sadie scoffs and they continue going back and forth, Sadie’s words always slightly insulting while Lars’ were overly complimentary to compensate. Though when she calls him a yardstick, they both crack up.

“Really, Sades?”

“It’s the best thing I could think of.”

“Yardstick, though? Like is that a crack at my weight, ‘cause dang. Pretty cold to do that on my birthday. Like, sheesh.”

“That honestly didn’t even cross my mind. It was just the first Y word to pop into my head.”

“Yeah, right.”

“It was!”

“So you don’t secretly think I’m too skinny?” he asks her, pretending to pout in feign insecurity.

“How could I?” Sadie laughs, playfully poking at his chest. “S stands for sexy, doesn’t it?”

Lars snickers, shaking his head at her. “I knew you loved me,” he teases, but the moment the words come out he wishes he could suck them back in. He feels Sadie stiffen next to him, and he bites his bottom lip in uncertainty.

Lingering in bed after sex to cuddle and talk? That’s all new to their little arrangement. It’s also not the least bit helpful in proving that he’s not hopelessly in lo… And he had just brought up the stupid L word again!

“It’s getting late,” Sadie blurts, sitting up. “I… I should probably get going.”

“It was a joke,” Lars finds himself saying, locking an arm around her.  “I didn’t mean anything by it.”

“I know, Lars” she mutters, her expression becoming impossible for him to read as she gently pushes his hand away with a soft sigh so she can crawl out of his bed. “I still think I should go...because it’s late.”

“Right,” he says a bit sourly, but a glance at the clock tells him it’s almost eleven p.m. This fact doesn’t improve his plummeting mood however.

“Right,” she parrots back weakly.

Lars sits up, watching her rush through the process of getting dressed, only to stubbornly glare down at his bed sheets when she turns to him after stomping into her shoes.

“I’m just gonna...you know, head out now.”

“Okay,” Lars responds, doing a pretty good job at sounding rather blase about the whole thing. If his mouth wasn’t twisted in such a deep frown, she might’ve believed he didn’t care one way or another.  “Be safe, or whatever.”

She nods, but idly stands in place for a few seconds. He notices her lingering, finally looking at her again with a gleam of hope that she truly didn’t want to leave him. But she’s shaking her head at herself, seemingly coming to a decision as she walks to the door.

“Night, Lars. Happy birthday.”

“Night, Sades.”

[jbhenwiler]

David’s Memories: The Day the Gems Invaded

David Memories 01: The Day the Gems Invaded

Author’s Note: This is going to be a bit of a departure from my other stories involving David.  These are basically flashback episodes, a window into life on David’s world before he got transported into Steven’s universe.  These are called “memories” but they’re not being told in first-person like real memories are.  Any of you guys ever played “The Legend of Zelda: Breath of the Wild?”  Having to go around Hyrule to specific locations where you could play a cutscene showing Link’s past life before the Calamity?  Those scenes weren’t being told exclusively from Link’s perspective, and in one case the scene kept playing even after Link was unconscious, plus the Zelda and the Master Sword memory in which Link wasn’t even present!  Anyway, this is the memory of the starting point of David’s adventure; the day Gems destroyed his hometown along with every other human settlement and enslaved humanity.  You may notice some differences in the events here and the ones that transpired in David’s nightmares in Redemption from a Dark World.  Those were nightmares, not David’s exact recollection of the time.  Therefore, these flashback episodes can be considered officially canon to the RFADW universe, or at least more exactly canon compared to the nightmares.  Enjoy.  Oh, one last thing!  Since this is David’s world we’re talking about, these stories are going to be much darker than the rest of the series.  This is basically an apocalypse world, after all, so expect lots of death and destruction, and a few very emotionally gripping scenes.

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

Waitress: Here’s your meatloaf, David.  (Sets a plate down on the table)

David: Thanks, Emily.  (Begins to eat)

In the background, the sky begins to darken, but nobody seems to notice.  David’s phone lights up and vibrates.  He looks at the text message from his mother.

SMS>> Mom: How did you do at your new job, David?

SMS>> Me: Fine.  Clocked out.  Having dinner at Maxwell’s now.

` ……………………

SMS>> Mom: OK then.  Come home soon, it looks like there’s a storm kicking up.

SMS>> Me: Got it.

David puts his phone to sleep and slips it into his pocket.  He continues to eat.  A faint rumbling can be heard outside.  Some people out the window in the front of the restaurant are running past.

Random Citizen: What is that thing!?

David looks up from his meal.  Seeing people running past, David begins to suspect something’s wrong.  At that moment, a colossal explosion shakes the entire building.  Everyone screams and David, his food forgotten, stands up, and runs for the exit.  Outside, the sky is dark red, and David looks up.  The camera dramatically zooms out behind David to show the sky.  Hanging in midair are two gigantic metal hands, green in color.  Suddenly, the hands begin to shoot things at the town.

David: Oh, shi--  (Runs for his house)

Panicking citizens are running away from the invading forces, the entire town’s population creating a tide that David must swim upstream through to reach his mother.  A laser blast hits a house nearby, causing it to explode into a cloud of smoke and splinters. David begins to search for his mother in the crowd.

David: MOOMMM!!!

He can’t find his mom.  More buildings explode, and fires can be seen raging all around; the famed Henleaf Woods are now engulfed in an inferno.  As David runs, he sees that some people are lying on the ground, bloody stab wounds visible on their backs and necks, awash in pools of their own blood.

David reaches his home street, and he continues to run until he sees something that makes his heart stop for a second.  A gigantic, red-bodied being with five red gems set into its body, is cloaked in flame and is setting homes on fire.

David: (Panicked voice) What the hell is that thing!?

Then he sees his house.  It is completely engulfed in flames.

David: Oh no!  Mom!!  (Takes off for the house)

Thankfully the creature doesn’t notice him as he races for the front door of his house, and throws it open.  Inside, the burning home is showing signs of beginning to collapse.

David: MOM!!

David’s Mom: David!!  Over here!!

David grabs a fire extinguisher from the kitchen and makes his way through the flames, shooting as he goes to the living room, where his mother is pinned underneath a bookcase.

David: Mom!!  (Puts down the extinguisher and struggles to lift the heavy shelves)

The bookshelf is too heavy.

David’s Mom: David… It’s okay.  Save yourself, get out of here!

David: No, mom!  I’m not leaving you behind!  (Pushes himself past his limits, but to no avail)

David’s Mom: David, this house has gas appliances; it’s going to blow any second!  Go, David, NOW!

David: (Soot and tears staining his face) Mom…

David’s Mom: It’s okay, David.  You’ll be just fine.  I’ll always watch over you, but you need to go now!

David: (Gives up on lifting the bookcase, gets up, and turns to his mother one last time) Goodbye, mom… (Tears are freely flowing down his face)

David races through the flames for the door.  He makes it near the sidewalk when the house he grew up in explodes violently.  David is knocked off his feet, and he flies straight into his mom’s car parked on the curb, cracking the side window where he crashed into it.  On impact, David blacks out.

…………………………………………………………………………………………………………..

The camera vision fades in and out, flickering a bit.  A heartbeat and the sound of ears ringing is audible.  The view focuses in to show David laying on his back, buried in a coating of ash.  His eyes flutter and he slowly wakes up, raising himself into a sitting position.  He checks his surroundings.  Everything is gray.  Ashes are slowly falling from the sky.  Nothing is left, Henleaf Town had been replaced with an endless and bleak landscape, completely devoid of life, punctuated with the charred skeletons of buildings and the jagged tips of tree trunks.

David: Everything’s… Gone…   …………………. ...Mom!  (Scrambles to his feet)

David runs down the ashen sidewalk to where his house used to stand.

David: Mom!  Mom!!  Mo--

He sees a bone jutting out of the ashes and rubble, in the middle of what must have been the living room.  David immediately has a flashback.

Child David: Mommy, where’s daddy?

They’re in a hospital.  Doctors and nurses are bustling about.  David’s mother, visibly distressed and on the verge of tears, looks at the young David, around the age of three, and runs over to him, her face awash with tears and sadness.  She picks up David and locks him in a tight, sobbing hug, her whole body shaking.

Child David: Where’s daddy?

David’s Mom: Daddy’s not with us anymore, David.  I-It’s just us now…  (Sobs)

Child David: Where’s daddy!?  (Begins to panic and cry) WHERE’S DADDY!?!?

The camera zooms out to show mother and son locked in grief and mourning, and the flashback ends, bringing us back to the ruins of Henleaf Town, showing a closeup of the bones in the rubble, which are being pelted with teardrops from above.  David falls to his knees, tears beginning to fall from his eyes in droves, his body shaking with sorrow.

David: No… Nononono…  MOM!!!!!  (His anguished cry echoes around the area)

David sits there sobbing his eyes out for what felt like forever, and when he has run out of tears to cry, he gets up.  With an empty look in his eyes, he strolls down what used to be the street.  With no clear destination in mind, he wanders the wasteland, his limping, ash-covered body making him look like a ghost.  He passes what’s left of Maxwell’s, the restaurant he had ate at just hours ago.  Nothing is left of it, except for the skeletons of the cooks and waiters littered around the foundation.

David: That’s it then, everyone’s gone…  Everyone I know is dead…

He continues walking…

David: T-This has to be a dream, no, a nightmare!  (Stops) That’s it!  I’ll just pinch myself, I’ll wake up, and everything will be OK again!

David pinches himself multiple times.  Nothing happens.

David: W-Why isn’t this working!?

About half an hour later, David reaches the site of the Forest Guardian’s Shrine.  With all the trees now gone, the charred but still standing monument now sits atop a hill overlooking the ruined landscape.  A gem of some sort, resembling a Pearl, lay in pieces at the foot of the statue.  Suddenly, David has flashes of vision, seemingly from another being’s viewpoint.  For a few brief moments, David is a wolf, running for his (Or her?) life through the burning forest, pursued by a group of mysterious humanoids with crystals on various parts of their bodies, all carrying weapons like swords and spears.  The vision abruptly cuts out.

David: (Holding his head) What… was that?  I better get out of here.

As David walks down the trail, he begins to have a feeling he’s being watched.

David: H-Hello?  Anyone there?

A shadow appears above him.  He turns around, to face a large, muscular gem-being wearing a crash helmet looming over him.

???: You lost, little boy?

David: W-Who are you!?  What did you do to my town!?

???: (Chuckles) The name’s Jasper.  And you’re coming with me.  I know just the place for you.

Jasper strikes David in the head with her helmet, barely avoiding cracking David’s skull but still instantly knocking him out.  She chuckles again and hefts the limp human over her shoulder as she made her way to the landed hand-ship.

End memory.

Author’s note: In the Gem invasion of Earth in David’s timeline, hundreds of millions of human lives were cut short.  And yes, the Jasper who captures David is indeed the same Jasper we all know from Steven’s Universe.  In David’s world, Jasper is one of the lead generals leading the invasion of Earth.  Her forces were responsible for the total destruction of Empire City and all the surrounding area, including Henleaf Town.