#and he seems kinda embarrassed by the dissonance between the way he holds himself and his actual life

[orokana-bara]

i think hes a top because there doesnt seem to be a single thing in his life that hes legitimately got a handle on

[stellocchia]

Sooo, remember this: Platonic Soulmates AU? Yeah... I actually wrote something for Bee Duo based on it because I was feeling like it. 

It’s pretty short and kinda different from my usual writing style, but it was fun!

                                     Dissonant Melody

Tubbo and Ranboo have the perfect life. They have their big mansion, multiple houses, a son, more riches than anyone else on the server, and, most importantly, they have each other. They’re both seventeen and they already found their soulmate. Not only that, but they are both alive and their bond is as strong as can be with emotions flowing freely through it.

They’re lucky, they know they are.

They’re lucky, luckier than most, so they can never say otherwise.

They’re lucky, but why doesn’t it feel like it?

Why has the mansion stayed empty since it got built? Why are they still living so far apart, pretending that the distance will hide their distress from the other?

Tubbo lost a nuke a while ago. Tubbo lost his best friend not long before that. Tubbo lost so much and yet he hasn’t said a word. He doesn’t need to, of course, because he’s fine. He is perfectly fine and if his laboured breaths and tachycardia when he wakes up in the middle of the night were anything out of the ordinary he’s sure that Ranboo would tell him.

Ranboo hasn’t felt in control in a while. He’s not sure how often he actually sleeps compared to how often the… other him simply takes control. His experiments are supposed to be working. They are supposed to give him answers to give him control. They aren’t. But he can’t bother his family with his burden. He can’t look at his husband and child and admit to being nothing but a monster. He knows they would hate him, and they should hate him, really! He just can’t bring himself to be the one to spill his dirty little secret.

Tubbo and Ranboo are seventeen and they already figured out what soulmates aren’t supposed to be. Soulmates aren’t supposed to be the person you share your burdens with. They aren’t supposed to be the person you’re honest with. They aren’t who you go to, to open up about your past. They aren’t there to give you acceptance, they shouldn’t be. They aren’t there to confide in.

Tubbo and Ranboo also know what soulmates are supposed to be. They are the person who’s going to keep you company when you need some silly escapade to distract you from the real world. They are the person who knows you are lying when you say that you’re fine and will lie right back to you. They are the person you smile at and laugh with. They are the person that will let you be a kid around them and not expect something different, something more. They are the person who can perceive your feelings, but who’ll never call attention to them.

Maybe it isn’t perfect, but is it even meant to be?

Because the truth is that they’re young, both of them, and sometimes all they need is someone who’ll let them be.

So maybe it is perfect in their own imperfect way.

And maybe Tommy was talking out of his ass when he mentioned that they might need a “balance”, a suggestion from his therapist apparently.

Because Tubbo is happy. He may not have been home for a while, too busy with his newest project, but he knows that Michael will be there when he gets back and Ranboo is just one call away, ready to aid him when he feels like building another sandstone dick on the roof of the prison. And the outpost is not yet another way to run away from his problem. It’s not another manifestation of denial, it isn’t. And Tubbo sometimes really wishes that Tommy never learned all that fancy terminology, because now it doesn’t feel like they’re on the same level anymore. And Tubbo is fine with that, even if now he feels stupid when trying to talk to him. He didn’t need a friend to open up to anyway.

And it’s fine that Ranboo seems to get his best friend better than he does nowadays. And it’s fine that Tommy goes to him first when he needs something. It’s fine that they are close to each other and that they seem open with each other. It’s fine because it’s not what Tubbo needs and it’s not what he knows how to give. It’s fine, but sometimes Tubbo wishes that he could say it wasn’t.

Ranboo is happy as well of course. He is living with the men who destroyed the first home he’s ever known, but he moved past that. He doesn’t hold grudges really. It’s not useful, it only leads you to choose sides and he won’t, he can’t. If he does then it’ll be much harder to justify to himself why choosing his friends in the past was never worth it. Why fighting by their side for what was important to them was wrong. Why Tubbo’s resigned face, while Ranboo was letting his home blow up, shouldn’t haunt him.

But he was right, thankfully, so he is happy. And Dream is locked up where he can’t hurt anyone anymore, and there are only two deaths that disprove that. And Ranboo may not be in control of his actions or his mind, but he will be, once he figures out how to deal with his problems. And if he doesn’t well… he is sure that there must be a way to convince Sam to lock him up in Pandora’s Vault. He might not even have to convince him once the Warden finds out what type of monster he truly is. Before that though he’s gonna help Tubbo with his surveillance post.

This new project seems to have given a new rhythm to the both of them, a new purpose.

They aren’t working on it together per se. That would require a level of communication that neither of them is capable of. But they are still cooperating nonetheless.

This is the closest they’ve been in a while and neither of them really knows what to do with it. And that’s not right, they’re soulmates and they’ve been close for a long time now! So why is it that they feel more like strangers?

They see each other sometimes, on their way to and from the outpost and it’s like meeting and estranged family member more than their husband. It’s all polite greetings and embarrassed shuffling of their feet. One of them will ask the other what’s going on in their life, the answer is always kept vague.

Both of them can feel how much the other wants the conversation to end every time, but they still persevere because they shouldn’t want that.

It takes a few weeks for the awkwardness to shift into resentment.

It takes a few weeks before Ranboo comments on how distant and cold Tubbo has been. On how he feels like they aren’t close anymore. It takes mere seconds, after that, for Tubbo to yell about how Ranboo can’t speak when he’s still living with the man who murdered him.

Words they never meant to utter out loud fly freely then.

Suddenly it becomes apparent how little they knew of each other. Did they ever even know the other at all? Were any of the good moments real?

Is Tubbo really the uncaring, distant pushover that brought his country to ruin that Ranboo claims him to be?

Is Ranboo truly the self-absorbed, spineless traitor that Tubbo thinks he is?

They’re both panting by the end. Exhaustedly looking at the ground. 

That was what they needed supposedly, that’s what everyone said. A “balance” between sharing their burdens and granting the other the lightheartedness of youth. But it was too little too late I’m afraid.

There was nothing there anymore. That bond that seemed so perfect and strong came undone in less then an hour. Bitterness was left where that tentative sense of belonging used to be.

After all they were strangers now, it was well past the time for sharing.

[ficdirectory]

Blink (An AU Fosters family fic) Chapter 31

CHAPTER 31

 Steps have a rhythm all their own.  Eighth notes that crunch.  A syncopated staccato.  

Breaths puff, every other step.  Quarter notes too slow when he needs to just move.  

 His mind is racing, runs of sixteenth notes.  No coda.  No rests.  

 The sound he had left behind was all dissonance and clashing at a deafening crescendo.

 The distance between Grandpa’s and Pearl’s seems ridiculously long.  But he finally makes it, skidding to a stop outside Pearl’s cabin door and pounding on it as loud as he can.  Eighth notes in rapid succession.

 Jesus has got to be here.

 In seconds Pearl answers, armed with a can of mace and an expression that dares him to mess with her.  Instinctively, Brandon raises his hands.  This second shock jolts all the music from his body - from his brain.  How can Pearl think he’d hurt her?  But Brandon doesn’t have time to be offended.  He needs to get his breath.  Needs to say something.  Anything.

 “Jesus, you gotta come.  It’s Frankie.”

 It takes a couple seconds (that drag like the longest years Brandon had ever known - when Jesus himself was missing) for him to get what Brandon’s saying.  Jesus’s face changes as the words register.  He gets pale, but his eyes grow dark.  Intense.  His hands are clenched.

 It’s all he says.  All he needs to say for Jesus to be on his feet and out the door, leaving whatever else he brought behind.  Just like Brandon, Jesus hasn’t even stopped for his coat.  Brandon’s pretty sure Pearl’s right on their heels, because he can hear Gracie’s tags clinking together somewhere behind him.

 “What happened?” Jesus gasps, before the door even opens, but Brandon can’t explain.  He just opens the door.  Inside, he can still hear Frankie crying.

 But Brandon remembers the silence - the break before applause - preceded by a gasp.

 It was the only sound - the smallest of noises - that meant the ground was being pulled from underneath you.

 --

 Pearl stands back, and watches, adrenaline making her shake.  Nothing could prepare her adequately for the aggressive pounding on her door.  To find a teenage boy there - it hadn’t mattered that it was Brandon - when she wasn’t expecting anyone.  This assault on her senses has left Pearl unhinged.  Outwardly, though, she can’t show it.  She must keep it together.  If she’s going to be here now, she needs to be a help, not a hindrance.

 She sees Stef and Lena sitting with Frankie between them at the base of the huge wooden staircase.  She looks pale, dressed in cute black leggings and a pink tutu with a matching top.  Her hair is loose.  There’s a scratch on the back of one of her hands.  Jesus is there in seconds, and scoops her up.  She holds on tight.  She’s in tears, shaking, but has no other obvious injuries.  

 “Is she okay?” Pearl asks, as Callie walks over to stand with her.

 “She fell.  I don’t know if it was down all the stairs or just some.  Mom checked her out and she seems okay, just scared.”

 Pearl shakes her head.  Hides her own shaking hands under crossed arms.  Then, she bends down and unclips Gracie’s leash, pointing out Frankie.  “That’s Frankie.  Go see Frankie, girl.”  The truth is, she could use Gracie herself, but Frankie is scared, and she loves Gracie.  Pearl will have plenty of time with her once they leave.  Pearl tries to breathe as Gracie follows her command.

 Gracie walks over to where Frankie is, still at the base of the stairs but on Jesus’s lap.  Frankie wraps her arms around Gracie’s neck and buries her face in her fur.

 “Okay, guys,” Jesus calls softly.  “I got her.”

 Pearl watches, impressed, as the family takes him at his word, and leaves Frankie with them, and without an audience.

 “Gracie came to check on you.  Isn’t that cool?” Jesus asks gently.

 “Yes,” Frankie says, her voice shaking, still holding onto Gracie for dear life.

 --

 Frankie can’t stop crying.  Can’t stop shaking.  Her whole self got scared from falling.  She hurts a little on her back and her hand.  But the being scared part is the worst.  But Gracie came just for her.  That’s because Gracie’s the best.  

 When Frankie fell, even Moms got scared.  Everybody yelled at her.  They said: “Why didn’t you…” “What were you…”  It makes Frankie feel like she did a bad thing.  When she really just wanted to watch Tangled and she didn’t want the movie to start without her.  And so she got too close to the stairs before sitting to slide on her butt.  And then her body could only do forward not back, not sit, not stop. Her brain said, this is easy peasy.  So she didn’t say backup ‘cause she could do it herself this one time and not have to wait.

 Only that didn’t work out so good.

 She hangs onto Gracie tight.  Her heart is still beating like a big drum.  It’s still hard to calm down, even though she has Gracie and her best buddy, Jesus.

 “It was a long way….” she cries to Gracie.

 Gracie doesn’t say “Why didn’t you…” to hurt Frankie’s feelings.  She lets Frankie hold onto her.  That’s all.

 For a long time, Frankie holds Gracie and Jesus holds Frankie.  And they stay just like that.  Frankie can hear Rapunzel singing and doesn’t want to.  It makes her mad and sad.  Because if Rapunzel just waited or been patient Frankie wouldn’t have done the giant stairs so fast.  Backup taked too long, ‘specially when Jesus wasn’t there.  She wasn’t too good at waiting yet.

 It was all her fault she fell.

 --

 Jesus holds onto Frankie kinda tight.  She’s literally trembling.  This really freaked her out.  She keeps talking to Gracie super quiet, but he catches a string of things she says because she’s so upset she’s not watching her volume as much:

 “I’m such a dummy.  I can’t walk down stairs.  I fall all the time.  Nobody else needs backup to mean they get carried.”

 “You are not a dummy.  I don’t wanna hear you say that about yourself, okay?” Jesus reprimands lightly.

 “I was talking to Gracie, not to you,” Frankie pouts.

 Well, damn.  Jesus waits, trying not to listen in on all the stuff she’s telling the dog.  He meets Pearl’s eyes and sees she’s holding onto herself.  Watching them.  She looks worried.  But Jesus’s priority has got to be Frankie right now.  She’s not talking to Gracie anymore, so Jesus tries to talk to her some more:

 “Did you know I fell down stairs, too?” he asks quietly.

 “Nah-uh…” Frankie pouts sadly.  “You don’t got CP.  So you don’t fall.  Not on stairs.”

 “I did fall.  Everybody falls sometimes, even people without CP.  I fell down the whole flight of stairs at home.”

 “Why?” Frankie asks.  “Did you do all the wrong stuff too?”

 “Nope.  I didn’t do any wrong stuff.  Just like you didn’t do any wrong stuff.  I just lost my balance, that’s all.”

 “I just lost my balance,” Frankie whispers to Gracie.  

 Gracie licks her cheek.

 --

 Pearl is grateful for the distraction of the term she hears Frankie use.  It’s an unfamiliar abbreviation.  She’s heard of CT and MRI and all kinds of other abbreviations for medical equipment but CP isn’t one Pearl’s familiar with.

 She takes out her phone, glad that her hands have stopped shaking enough for her to use Google.  She types cp and trouble walking and falling into the search engine and clicks on the first result.  Phrases jump out at her:

 ...injury to motor areas of the brain…

 ...most common disability among children in the US…

 ...minor limp or uncoordinated walk…

 If Cerebral Palsy was the most common motor disability for kids to have in the country, why had Pearl never heard of it?  There was a list of other difficulties children with CP could experience and Pearl couldn’t help but wonder if Frankie would experience any of these, too.

 She thinks about her assumption that Frankie’s walk was mocking someone else, just nights ago.  How Jesus never shared his sister’s diagnosis, even though he obviously knew it.  She wonders if he’s ashamed of it.  If she is.  Or if it’s like herself and Jesus and their trauma.  Does Jesus view it as private information?  

 That would make sense, though Pearl has never thought about kids with disabilities in terms of their rights to privacy.  She turns off her phone, and as Brandon moves closer to check on Frankie, Pearl moves away.  Starts pacing in a back hall, away from everyone.  She doesn’t need to draw attention.  Doesn’t need everyone focused on her.  Especially when they should be focused on Frankie.

 “Are you alright?” Stef asks, scaring Pearl into next week.  

 She clutches a hand to her chest.  Tries to get her breath.  “Yeah.  I’m fine,” she reassures.  But that act alone has revealed Pearl’s tremor.  

 Stef studies her closely.  “Would you like to sit down in the kitchen?”

 “I’m okay,” Pearl attempts, but her voice is shaking now, too.  Tears are in her eyes.  God, this is so embarrassing.  “I’m okay.  It’s not you,” she hurries to reassure.  “It’s just a reflex.”

 She does not elaborate.  Does not offer that Brandon coming over and pounding on her door like a madman fit to murder them had directly caused this reflex.  That she’s feeling major amounts of stress and needs Gracie back to get a handle on things.

 Stef watches for only another few seconds before she goes through to the base of the stairs.  Pearl lingers, so she can see them, but not be seen.

 “Frankie, Gracie needs to go back to Pearl now.  She’s glad you’re okay, though,” Stef says, prying Frankie off of Gracie.  

 “I still need her though…” Frankie whines pitifully.  “I’m not all the way calmed down yet.”

 “Yes, but you have Jesus, and me, and Mama, and all the rest of the family to help you do that.  Pearl just has Gracie.”

 “Okay,” Frankie agrees finally, though Gracie is already at Pearl’s side.

 “Come with me,” Stef urges and walks Pearl down the hall where she opens a door.  “If you and Gracie need some space, you’re welcome to hang out in here.”

 Pearl expels a breath.  “Thank you,” she manages.  “I won’t be long.”

 “Take as long as you need.  No rush,” Stef encourages quietly.  “No one will bother you here.”

 --

 Frankie has decided that Jesus’s arms is where she wants to be until further notice.  Every time he tries to convince her that she could sit on the couch, or with Moms, or anybody else that isn’t him, she hangs on tighter.  So he stops trying to put her down.

 She obviously needs the security, even though he has no idea how Frankie’s decided Jesus is a safe person.  He scares himself sometimes.  Scares her sometimes.  But not right now apparently.  So, they walk around together, and it kinda reminds him of when she was a baby and how he used to carry her around everywhere then.

 He’s just making circles around the cabin, basically, stopping so Frankie can say hi to Mariana, or Callie, or Moms.  But Jesus has noticed that he hasn’t seen Pearl around.  He feels like he’d definitely know if she left, but maybe not.

 “Is Pearl still here?” he asks, on their third pass through the kitchen.

 “Yes.  Mom’s letting her hang out in our room for a while,” Mama explains.

 “Oh.  Okay, cool,” Jesus says, even though it gives him a weird feeling.  

 There’s no way he can go to Moms’ room to even check in and see how she is.  First because he’s got Frankie and second because it’s a bedroom, third because it’s an adult bedroom, and fourth because there’s actually an adult in it right now.

 “I wanna see Gracie again,” Frankie insists.

 “I know.  Gracie’s a good dog, isn’t she?”

 “Yeah,” Frankie nods.

 “What would you tell Gracie if you could?” he checks.

 Frankie buries her face in Jesus’s shoulder.  “Stop saying those words…” she whimpers.

 “Okay.  I’m sorry,” Jesus apologizes.

 “I wanna talk to Gracie not to you guys.  She doesn’t say I’m bad…”

 Jesus can just make out the words muffled against his shirt.  “Hey.  Who said my buddy was bad?”

 “Nobody,” Frankie denies, but she can’t look him in the eye.

 “Seriously.  I wanna know.  I wanna talk to them about this.”

 “I am bad at walking.”

 Jesus lets out a breath.  “Who says?”

 “Me and all them who yelled…” Frankie admits.

 “Can you whisper to me?” he asks.  “Just tell me?”

 “Everybody,” she obliges, speaking softly into his ear.  “When I fell, they all yelled and not their words but their loudness said it and their faces: You’re so bad Frankie.  You didn’t do the greatest choices and why didn’t you and what were you?”

 Jesus tries to breathe.  Tries not to let his anger show just now.  ‘Cause Frankie will definitely misread that and think he’s mad at her, too.  But how fair is it that Moms make the call that she sleeps upstairs and then it’s on her when she falls?  She could just as easily be cool down here all the time.  Sleep in the room downstairs.  Go up once in awhile.  Not regularly like she has to as long as she sleeps up there.

 “Listen to me,” he whispers back, hoping the temptation of a secret told will be great enough that Frankie won’t shut him out.  “You aren’t bad.  Not one bit.  You’re not bad at walking.  You walk all the time.  Lots of places.”

 “And fall…” Frankie sighs.

 “Yeah?  And what do you do after that?” Jesus wonders, still whispering.

 She’s confused.  Just looks at him.

 “You get up, right?  You don’t stay on the ground, do you?”

 Frankie shakes her head, her curls bouncing, too.

 “Getting up is the part that matters, buddy.  And you always get up.  You let people help you when you need it, too.  Like I’m carrying you right now.  But soon, I bet your legs are gonna be so bored from this, you’re gonna be ready to walk again, aren’t you?”

 “Not stairs,” she insists.

 “No, I agree.  Not these stairs.  But where it’s safe.  On the floors inside.  You think you might wanna let your legs not be so bored anymore?”

 “Maybe…” Frankie admits, but she’s still holding on tight to him.  So he carries her out to the kitchen and sits down across from Moms.

 “Listen.  We’ve gotta talk.”