#monstrous transformation angst is my jam

[thalia-amongst-the-thorns]

Whumptober No. 6 - Screams from Across the Hall

Back again for your daily dose of whump! Still chugging along with the supernatural story last seen in Whumptober No. 5.

For now, let’s see how resident werewolf Owen is coping...

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Pulse racing in his ears, Owen rolled up the right sleeve of his shirt to expose the scarred skin of his residual elbow and cautiously pressed it against the metal doorknob. Immediately cold electricity surged through him at the point of contact and Owen yelped, stumbling back. Definitely silver. Not just the knob, but the surrounding locking mechanism too by the looks of it. 

Owen stretched out his arm, trying to shake off the lingering pain piercing through it like needles of ice. The reaction was always worse the closer it was to a full moon. During a new moon phase he could even handle Signora Rottelo’s silver and mother of pearl inlaid jewelry box with only mild discomfort. But with less than three hours until the full moon rose, touching the stuff was like handling acid.

Sweat slicking his palm, Owen worked his way through the bedroom, opening bureau drawers, checking under the mattress, feeling for any mysterious seams along the bare walls that would hint at hidden cabinets or doors, but came up empty handed. Not that he’d expect a serendipitous key to be laying around, but it would be a shame to overlook one should it exist. Someone had also gone through the trouble of emptying out his pockets, and Owen shivered at the thought of unknown hands crawling over him.

A sudden queasy ripple passed through his body and Owen groaned, bending double as bones creaked ominously and meaty bits shifted around inside of him.

What should he do? What could he do? The bedroom door was sturdy, but not impossible to break through in his current state. It’d be easy enough to avoid the silver parts, and even if not, silver burns would heal with time. But if he broke through… then what? Assumedly this was a house of some kind, which either meant more people were inside it or there was a whole neighborhood full of potential victims outside the front doors. He did still have about two and a half hours before he Changed. Enough time to run away from civilization, to seclude himself in nearby woods and minimize the damage he could do. Maybe. Or maybe he’d run out and find he was at the heart of a city, a jungle of concrete and metal and bodies pressed in on him like so much penned sheep.

If he stayed put then his captor, assumedly the woman with the soft voice, was as good as dead. So would anyone else in the house. The thought scared Owen. Such certain brutality he would commit but be unaware of doing. But there was apparently a demon to contend with, one in his captor’s service if she was to be believed…

A scream sliced through his divided thoughts and Owen’s head snapped towards the sound. The voice was familiar, a painful rasp from somewhere in the depths of the house but which Owen’s sensitive ears picked up on at the edges of his hearing. Chest tight with dread Owen rushed over and pressed his ear to the opposite wall.

“Hello,” he bellowed, trying to be heard through who knew how many layers of wooden walls and furnishings. “Hello, is someone there?” He didn’t say a name for fear of fate taking his suggestion.

A moment of silence that wasn’t really, his ears picking up on the creak of shifting floorboards, pacing footsteps, a sticky thing being put down. 

Then, Owen?

“Val,” Owen yelled in surprise at his friend’s voice echoing faintly through his mind. Not who he had been expecting, and relief flooded Owen’s chest quickly followed by a different kind of fear. “Val, are you okay? Do you know what’s going on?”

There was an uncomfortable sensation of… something grasping at Owen’s mind, like a hand scrambling for purchase on a slick cliff’s edge, accompanied by a jumble of mumbled half words in Val’s voice and a sudden spike of sourceless pain in Owen’s throat, a burning thirst that made an unpleasant kinship with the pangs of the Change already tormenting his body.

“Val I- I didn’t catch that,” Owen called, pressing his ear more firmly against the wall as if that would help him better receive a psychic message.

Sorry, Val said, the word faint but giving the mental impression of being yelled through a long tunnel. I think you’re testing the limits of my range.

“Yell again, I’ll hear you!”

Ah, well, that wasn’t exactly me, Val clarified and again Owen felt that searing pain in his throat that wasn’t really his own. I’m in a room with Raquel and she’s… she’s lost a lot of blood. She tried to explain how to make a tourniquet but I fucked it up, put it in the wrong spot or something and–

Val’s voice warbled away into silence and Owen roared in distress. He’d known it was Raquel’s voice. He’d heard her scream in agony from visions enough times that the sound was etched into his memory. But now she was injured, bleeding out in a room with Val, and Owen thought of the pain in his throat that had disappeared along with Val’s projected voice and terror and sympathy clawed at his insides for what he knew Val was fighting against and what Raquel had no choice but to endure being trapped with.    

“Val,” Owen bellowed, aware of the sound of footsteps fast approaching his door and the accompanying red human smell tantalizing his nose again. “Val, what’s going on? Is Raquel okay?”

“What are you doing,” his captor snapped from the other side of the door, voice no longer soft and smug. “Knock that racket off at once!”

“You have my friends,” Owen continued to bellow, and there was something cathartic in the noise. “You’ve kidnapped my friends and one of them is injured!”

A moment of hesitation, perhaps as she wondered how he’d found out about this bit of information from a locked room, before she responded coldly, “That’s none of your concern.” 

Something inside of Owen snarled at her callous tone, drove him forward to pound on the door so that it shook in its frame and prompted a pig-like squeal from his captor just on the other side. The orange smell of fear mingled with the red. Was it Owen’s imagination, or were his teeth sharper as his lips pulled back over them?

“It is! And I may not know what you’re planning here, but I’m guessing it needs all of us to be alive to work. Otherwise we’d all be dead already.” Owen took in a steadying breath, let it out through clenched teeth, tried to make his voice calm and reasonable like his sister’s. Indisputable. “You need Raquel alive, at least for longer than she will be if only Val’s there to help her. Put me in the same room as them and I can help. Stabilize her until you don’t need us anymore.”

A pause wherein his captor’s heartbeat was like thunder in Owen’s keen ears. “I thought you wanted to escape your cage, beast? What happened to all the hollow words about getting away from here so you wouldn’t hurt anyone? Surely being in the same room as your friends of all people is the last thing you want.”   

On cue another spasm rocked through Owen’s limbs, twisting muscles so that he had to bite back a scream. Less than two hours now. Less than two hours until everyone in this house was dead. But Raquel already had less time than that. And Owen had heard the undercurrent of panic in Val’s thoughts, felt a hint of the unbearable thirst he was enduring. They were in trouble and if Owen could help then there was no question here. And if things got bad… well, then Val would know what to do.

“If I don’t help, Raquel will be dead long before I Change,” Owen reasoned. “If I’m with her to help slow down her blood loss she at least has that much more time. And so do you for whatever you’re planning.”

Silence. The sound of fingers tapping.

“I promise not to fight back or run away,” Owen begged, forehead pressed to the cool wood of the door. “Please, please let me help them.” 

More silence, every second grating on Owen’s already frayed nerves. Eventually there was a rustle of fabric, footsteps as his captor shuffled away from the door and stopped.

“I have need of you, Shuelat,” she whispered, and immediately there was a rushing sound of a high wind that came to an abrupt stop and her red human scent was joined by something smelling of orange interwoven with streaks of gold. Warm and vibrant, a living smell touched with the bitter notes of ashes from a bonfire and sun soaked sand. The same smell from right before Owen had been knocked unconscious.

“Yes, Mistress.” A clipped masculine voice. Smooth English accent in contrast to the woman’s American one.

“I want you to take the beast and put him with the others,” she said in hushed tones. A zipper being undone, something small being taken out. “If he tries anything, use all of it. There should be enough this time to keep him unconscious until the moon fully rises.”    

Owen imagined a syringe of ketamine exchanging hands and shivered.

“Yes, Mistress.”

“You didn’t tell me the woman was awake,” his captor groused, and Owen recognized the critical tone of someone who made sure to maintain a healthy distance between themselves and the “help”.

“I was unaware she was, Mistress.”

“Honestly, decades of service and you still can’t think past the nose on your face,” she muttered. “After bringing the beast to the room I want you to make sure all three of them are good and secure before you collect the necromancer. Kill the woman if you need to make a show of force, but only the woman. It won’t do for all of them to be dead before she gets here.”

Owen’s heart leapt into his throat.

“Yes, Mistress.”

“Very good.” She stepped back to the door, her voice returning to its normal volume. “I’m going to open the door and have you escorted to the others’ room. If you try to escape, if any of you try to escape or fight back or do anything untoward, you will be restrained again and the woman will be killed. Assuming your vampiric friend hasn’t already done so,” she added with that same undertone of smug relish, as if the notion amused her, and Owen had to fight down the urge to claw the door open and growl in her face.

Instead he nodded, head light with relief. “Yes, yes, I promise I won’t do anything, please just let me help them.”

“Step back from the door,” she commanded and Owen complied. About a minute passed before a key slid into the lock and the knob turned, opening the door to reveal a wisp of a woman, skin flimsy as sallow onion paper and covered in fine wrinkles that puckered her mouth and eyes. She barely reached Owen’s waist yet held herself with the domineering mien of one who was used to being catered to. Snow white hair was pulled into a tight pun at the crown of her head and she was dressed in a loose fitting day dress and fuzzy cardigan in complementing shades of pink and red.

“Come out slowly, arms up,” she continued and again Owen did as instructed, hand and residual elbow raised in submission as he stepped out into a musty hallway. 

He could now see that hovering just behind the elderly woman was a young man, perhaps a few years older than Owen himself, the source of the orange and gold smell. He was of a wiry build and a good deal shorter than Owen (although to be fair most people were), wearing a worn but respectable jean jacket and heavy boots, his long dark hair tied back to reveal eyes like molten gold in a chiseled, warm brown face. Heat radiated off the man in waves, and Owen’s gaze slid down to where he cradled a long syringe in one hand.

The woman tipped her head towards her companion. “He will escort you to the others and make sure you’re all settled. With force if necessary.”

Owen nodded, heart hammering against his ribcage. Raquel was running out of time and he had no intention of wasting what was left.

“Carry on then,” she demanded, waving a dismissive hand at the man. His lips pressed together into a severe line before he bowed slightly at the waist, golden eyes never wavering from the woman’s face.

“As you desire, Mistress,” he murmured before gesturing with his empty hand for Owen to walk in front of him towards one end of the hallway. 

Owen quickly did as directed, noting that the woman continued on in the opposite direction. The hallway was bare, without a trace of window or decoration to break up the uniform mahogany paneling. Their footsteps kicked up a cloud of dust from the threadbare carpeting, and the general design of the vaulted ceilings and intricate baseboards put Owen in mind of the lovely Queen Anne houses the cirque would see when touring through the New England area in America. DC wasn’t all that far away from New England. Perhaps the others weren’t that far away. But that was no doubt part of the plan if the necromancer they were after was who he suspected it was…

A wet tearing noise followed by a familiar shriek reached Owen’s ears and he almost bolted toward the sound before remembering the man (Demon? He certainly had the eyes of one, but the smell was off…) with the heavy syringe behind him, his presence an oppressive heat baking into Owen’s back. His body shuddered with impatience and discomfort from the coming Change, but Owen held on as the two of them continued their silent walk through a maze of corridors.

The wet sound was getting louder and more insistent when the man came to a stop, pointing to an unassuming door like the countless others they’d passed but which Owen could smell a strong current of scent wafting out from under. Deep human red and the light gray he associated with the undead, but with faint red threads spread throughout. Raquel and Val..

“One moment,” the man said, bringing up his free hand and tracing an intricate pattern in the air before the closed door. Sparks crackled under his fingernails, trailing behind his gestures to form glowing white sigils of blue tinged flame. The gold colored scent around the man intensified as the sigiled pulsed and smaller symbols flared to life in response at the doorknob and four corners of the door. It reminded Owen of the protective wards Val maintained at the entrance of his penthouse and Owen briefly wondered what would have actually happened if he had tried to break his way out of his room before.

Something moved on the other side of the door, and Val’s voice sounded in Owen’s head once more. I don’t suppose that’s room service?

The sound was much stronger than before now that Owen was closer, and given the man’s surprised expression it wasn’t limited to Owen’s mind.

“No,” the man said stiffly. “I’m bringing over your friend to help with the woman’s injuries.”

“It’s going to be okay Val,” Owen reassured him even as another spasm twisted his guts. “Just do what he says and we’ll be able to help each other through this.”

The man’s molten gold gaze cut to Owen before dropping abruptly to the ground, a muscle jumping in his jaw. His grip on the syringe tightened.

Owen! Val’s tone swerved between relief and panic, and Owen was overcome by the sensation of his friend’s mind pressing down on his own. Owen, I’m only speaking to you now. I’m hurt, no weapons, but still able to throw down as a meat shield if nothing else. Can we rush this guy and escape? Cough once for yes, twice for no, I’ll hear you from there.

“Both of you stand back from the door,” the man instructed at the same time, unaware of the one way mental conversation going on. “If any of you try to force your way out you will be subdued, and I have been instructed to kill the woman if necessary.”

Charming, Val quipped and the man flinched. Switching back to just Owen, Val asked, voice firm, Can we take him and get Raquel out? Yes or no?

If only he could swap places with Adrienne in this moment. His sister always had a plan, always knew just what to do. Instead everything was riding on Owen this time, his mind swimming with fear and panic as the Change agonizingly consumed his body bit by bit. There were only seconds to act but Owen couldn’t think beyond getting inside the room and tending to Raquel’s wounds. Val was always up for a fight, but could he hold his own against a possible demon? Owen certainly couldn’t, and if they lost then Raquel would go from wounded to dead and none of them could fix that.

Owen coughed twice, the man distracted as he kept talking. “Do you understand?”

Yeah, Val sighed in both their heads. Yeah, I understand. No funny business.

“Yes, I understand,” Owen echoed, both relieved and guilty at his choice.

“Okay.” The man gestured Owen towards the door. “Everyone inside the room keep back, your friend is coming in. I’ll be locking the door immediately after him.”

The man tapped a finger against the doorknob. There was another gold spark then an audible click as the lock slid back. After a moment of hesitation the man reached out and turned the silver knob, making eye contact with Owen as he pulled the door open.

“Time to join your friends.”

[fanfoolishness]

until the rain (SUF)

One week after the events of I Am My Monster.  Steven is impatient to get back to normal, but the rain reminds him it’s not that easy. Connverse, angst, a tiny smidgen of hope. 2800 words.

***

It had been a week.  The longest week he’d ever lived, and yet it’d slipped by in a flash, the days so brief and hazy he could barely remember them.  A week since he’d transformed.  A week since his sickness finally reared its head and roared its name.

He sat in his room at eleven AM, blinking sticky eyelashes and trying to convince himself to get out of bed.  If he could just get out of bed instead of staying here all day, he could tell himself he was getting better.  And that was what everyone wanted, right?

He was doing better, Steven thought stubbornly, rubbing his eyes.  He’d realized this morning, with a hint of pride, that he hadn’t glowed pink at all since the incident.  That had to count for something, didn’t it?  Maybe everything’s better now everything’s out in the open, he thought, remembering what he’d sung to Pearl once.  He could almost believe it if it wasn’t for the way he still felt so wrong.

It didn’t help that his body felt alien to him in a way it never had before.  His clothes fit, but they didn’t.  Shirts stretched weirdly over his shoulders.  His jeans felt too tight, but some days too loose.  He tripped over the bottoms more than once.  But when he undressed at night and looked at them closely, they seemed just the same as ever.  Maybe he was just getting used to being human-shaped and Steven-sized again.

Adding to his disorientation, he found that his internal clock was off.  Time had gotten smudged somehow.  Mornings bled into afternoons, faded into evenings and the middle of the night.  He slept long parts of the day away and lay awake at three in the morning.  Meals broke up the hours somewhat, but he wasn’t up to cooking anything more complicated than a protein shake yet, and sometimes the Gems would make him breakfast at noon or Greg would swing by with takeout at nine PM.  He couldn’t make sense of it.  Not yet.

Maybe it was just the time difference from traveling to Homeworld.  Or maybe he was still wiped out from transforming.  Yeah.  That was probably it.

Connie told him a schedule would help, that she would sit with him and make one up with him together when he felt ready.  Greg tried to rouse him for a daily jam session.  The psychologist that Dr. Maheswaran had referred him to, Dr. B., had also talked with him about starting a routine, but if Steven was honest, he barely remembered their first session the other day.  He’d talked a little, and the doctor had talked some, and mostly he had sat there in silence: it was all a staticky blur in his head.  He wasn’t sure if it was really going to help.

Especially since his memory was just as fractured as his sense of time.  He’d already lost track of how many times he’d wandered into a room just to forget what he was doing, or trailed off in the middle of a conversation, leaving Amethyst or Pearl looking at him in concern.  Part of him hated those looks.  

But part of him was grateful.  At least they can see how messed up I am.  He felt a twisted sense of relief.  This had to be better than bottling everything up, forcing it to explode when the pressure got too much.  If they already knew how monstrous he could be, then he wouldn’t have to convince them --

Yeah.  This was better.  His family knew he wasn’t okay, and that was most of the problem, wasn’t it?  Now that they knew, things were sure to get better.  He felt another flash of pride, looking down at his peach-toned hands, no hint of pink in them at all. 

Despite his weird sleeping habits, and the way the days felt stretched too long and over too quickly, and the way his skin didn’t fit him… he was happy about that.  It was proof that things could get back to normal, even if they still felt strange now.

Maybe he was going to get better after all, sooner than everyone thought.  He’d always bounced back from stuff before.  Maybe he’d just go to the therapist for a few weeks, and get everything figured out.  Heck, maybe he could do one better, maybe he could figure this out mostly on his own.  Dad and the Gems and Connie knew, and they all wanted to help, and maybe that would be fine.  

Maybe that was a lot of maybes, but he tried not to think about that.

***

Late afternoon found Steven laying back on his bed, staring up at the ceiling, idly petting Lion curled up on the floor beside him.  He hadn’t managed to get up out of bed after all.  

Beside him Lion purred.  It was a low rumble vibrating in Steven’s chest, drowning out the sensation of his own heartbeat.  It was comforting.

Distantly he became aware of the sound of rain against his window.  For a moment, it lulled him. He’d always liked the sound of rain, the feel of the cold droplets against his skin, what the weather meant for the grass and trees and flowers.  He adjusted his head against the pillow, getting drowsy, and the rain battered the side of the house --

Running in the rain, her shards jagged in his palm, his chest burning, what did he do what did he do --

He jerked out of his drowsiness, sitting bolt upright.  “It’s fine,” he choked.  “I’m fine --”  Beside him, Lion stopped purring and raised his head, letting out a whuff sound.  

Steven wavered, staring at Lion.  He could ask Lion to find Connie.  Maybe -- maybe he should -- but she was studying right now, wasn’t she -- wasn’t she busy --

He took a deep breath.  Remembered her voice, far away and so, so close at the same time -- Steven, you must have been so scared to show us this side of yourself.  Remembered her holding him later, just the two of them, when she whispered against his cheek to please stop hiding.

Okay.  Okay.  He could do this.  Needed to do this.

“Lion?” he mumbled.  “Can you see if --”

He hadn’t even finished the sentence before Lion roared and disappeared in a flash of light.  Steven slumped down belly first onto the bed, staring out the rain-smeared window.  He should have texted first.  Or even called.  She would probably send Lion straight back with a kind and apologetic text, telling him another time, telling him to talk to somebody else -- why would she want to talk to him when he was still so messed up --

“Steven?”

He blinked.  Somehow he’d failed to notice Lion’s return, lost in his own thoughts.  Connie sat down on the bed beside him, rubbing his back.  He shivered at her touch.

“I’m sorry --” he started.  Connie’s eyes flashed with sudden anger, and she leaned close to him, her eyes bright.

“Stop apologizing, Steven,” said Connie, and she looked so fierce and so worried he knew he couldn’t argue.  “You needed me, right?  You don’t have to be sorry about that.”

He gave her a quavering smile.  “I guess I’d better listen to you, huh?”

“That’s more like it,” she said, and the fierceness slipped away, replaced with a gentle look that made his stomach flip.  She swung her legs around, kicking off her shoes, and stretched out beside him, their shoulders and hips touching.  She rested her chin on her fist and gazed at him, only a few inches away.  “How are you today?”

He shrugged.  The rain blatted against the window.  

“Do you wanna talk about it?”

Steven closed his eyes.  Garnet, Amethyst and Pearl staring as he burst into the house -- where have you been when they should have been asking what have you done --  

“I don’t know,” he said honestly.  “It’s just… the rain… I didn’t want to be alone.”

Connie was quiet for a moment.  “I thought you liked the rain.”

“It was raining when I --”  His mouth stumbled, forgetting how to make familiar sounds.  He was tempted not to say anything at all.  But Connie met his eyes, and he felt a pang.  She at least deserved to know why he’d interrupted her studying and asked her to come all the way out here.  

He swallowed.  “When I fought Jasper.”  He didn’t say the other word.

She stiffened, just a little, and laid her head on his shoulder.  “And the rain made you think of that?”  

“Yeah.  It was raining when I --”  He took a deep breath, a question aching in his chest.  “Do you want to know how it happened?”

“I do, but -- only if you’re ready to talk about it.  It’s okay if you’re not.”  She stretched one arm out over his back, letting it rest against him, a small but comforting weight.

“I ran away,” said Steven, burying his face in his blanket. He spoke in a rush, his voice muffled by the thick fabric.  “I thought no one would look for me out in the woods where Jasper lived.  I mean, why would they, right?  But I thought maybe she could help me, and maybe if I could just control these Diamond powers, then everything would be better, everything would be fine.”  He tensed, his hands digging into the blankets.  The words tumbled out of him.  “And if I couldn’t control them, then at least the only person I might hurt would be -- would be --”  

Shards glinting in the rubble beneath the stormy sky -- his stomach convulsing, vomiting fish in the dirt on his hands and knees  -- shrinking back to himself again, the fantasy over -- running home -- running --

“Steven?” Connie asked, worry in her voice.  “You’re glowing again.”

“No!”  He jerked away from her, nearly rolling off the bed in his haste.  He leaped to his feet, backing away.  “I -- I thought I stopped!” he gasped, staring at his luminously pink hands.  “I thought it was over, I thought I was done after that day on the beach, I haven’t turned pink since then --”

Connie reached out to him and he recoiled.  “You shouldn’t be around me when I’m like this -- what if I -- what if I turn into that thing again --”

“Then we’ll help you again.  All of us!”

“But I don’t want to do that!  I don’t want to be that!” he cried shrilly, his fingers knotting themselves into his hair.  He bent over, trying not to be sick.  His flesh prickled -- it crawled --

Connie’s hand was light but firm on his shoulder.  He heard her words tinnily, as if from a great distance.  “If you don’t want to be… then you won’t, right?”

“I -- huh?”  It was so hard to concentrate, his heart was trying to explode out of his chest, his face swelled and shrank like a balloon -- no, no, he thought he was getting better --

“Listen to me,” she said, and her voice cut through the sound of his blood rushing in his ears.  “Before.  You said you were a monster,” she said softly.  “And then that’s what happened.  But if you don’t want to be one -- if you remember you’re Steven -- then you’ll be Steven, right?”

“I -- I guess --”

She reached up and took his hands by the wrists, slowly bringing them down to waist level.  She cradled his hands in hers as he breathed heavily, in and out, in and out, blinking back tears.

“You’re Steven,” said Connie firmly.  Her thumbs traced little circles on the back of his hands, and he focused on the feeling, soft aimless patterns against his skin.  His breathing slowed, a little bit, a little bit more.

“I -- I know, but -- I just wanna be okay, Connie, but I’m not --”  He faltered, his protests dying in his throat.  What was he trying to say?  Did he even know?  

Warily he remembered how he’d declared himself fine and shattered the glass in his door, and he kept his mouth closed, his lips pressed firmly together.  Don’t break anything, don’t mess up, not again --

“You’re Steven,” Connie repeated.  “And you’re not okay right now.  But you’re going to get better.  And if it takes time, it takes time, you know?  It’s hard… I’m not saying it won’t be hard.”  She frowned, searching for words, and he strained to listen, to understand her.

“Like, graduating from high school takes time.  Even when you cram.  And it’s hard and some days just don’t feel worth it and sometimes you just feel like you’re going crazy with all the stress and the expectations and --”  She managed a smile, blinking back tears.  “But I know I’m gonna get there if I put in the time.  So maybe think of this part of your life as… helping Steven school.  You’re gonna go to therapy and you’re gonna cram and sometimes it’s really gonna suck… but you’ll learn stuff.  And you’ll get closer to getting better, all the time.  Okay?”

He looked down at their hands.  His were still pink against her brown skin.  But they were the normal size, and they were steady, no longer trembling.

“That makes sense,” he mumbled.  He blinked back tears, glancing away and hoping Connie didn’t notice.  A memory from a few days ago flashed into his head.  “It sounds kind of like what the therapist said.”

“Did you like him?  Mom said she made sure to brief him on Gem stuff,” said Connie.  She led him back to the bed, and they sat down on the edge, still holding hands.  Steven laced his fingers into Connie’s.

“He was all right.  I’m supposed to talk to him again the day after tomorrow.”   

“What did he say?”

“He said…” Steven bit his lip.  “He said it’s gonna take time.  To get better.”  He hung his head.  “I just… I hoped he meant like two weeks, or a month… I could do that.  But if I’m still glowing and freaking out at things now… Connie, what if this takes months?  Or years?  What if I never get better?”

He started sobbing then, as the pink glow faded, as Connie swept him into a bonecrushing hug.  He cried into her shoulder until her shirt was damp, his chest heaving, his arms clinging around her waist.  He cried like he did seven days ago, beneath a sunny sky, the sound of waves in his ears.

He didn’t know how long it was until he settled down.  Connie was rubbing his back with one hand, brushing his hair away from his forehead with the other.  The rain pounded on the window, drumming louder than ever.  

“Thank you,” he murmured, lifting his head and scrubbing at his face with one hand.  

“For what?” Connie asked, smirking.  “You did all the work.” 

He snorted.  “If you call crying my eyes out work.”

“Well, it’s not easy, that’s for sure.”

He opened his mouth, then closed it again.  Huh.  

She was right.  It wasn’t easy at all.

“How do you feel?”

“Better, I guess,” Steven said truthfully.  He gazed out the window at the rain and the gray-black clouds, remembering what had turned him pink.  He folded his hands in his lap.  “I -- I don’t think I can talk about Jasper yet,” he admitted.  “I thought maybe if I just tried to talk through it, it wouldn’t be so bad… but I can’t.”

“Maybe it just takes time,” Connie said.  “You don’t have to deal with everything overnight.”

“But it’s already been a week,” Steven began.

Connie raised her eyebrows at him.  “Steven?  How long have I known you?”

He thought back, doing the math.  “Uh…. four years? Almost five?”

“And how long has messed up stuff been happening to you?”

“If you count gem stuff… about five years.  If you count living in a van as a baby after my mom died giving birth to me….”

Her brow arched even higher, and he had to laugh at himself.

“... okay, yeah, seven days might not be that much time to get better from all of that.”

“You see my point then,” she said matter-of-factly.  “So.”  She turned and looked out at the window, watching the rain.  “What do you want to do now?  ”

He hugged her again.  “I know I already interrupted your studying, but…. could you stay a little while?  Just -- just until the rain stops?”

“Yeah,” said Connie.  “I can do that.”  She kissed him on the cheek, her lips warm.  And he wanted to kiss her in a different way, but part of him knew he wasn’t ready, knew he wanted to get better for her before he tried.  

The thought struck him, warmer and more comforting than the fact he’d avoided turning pink for a few days.  It was a good thought.  A brave thought.  One that he held onto for a long, long time.

I want to get better.

They lay back against the blanket holding hands, glow in the dark stars on the ceiling twinkling in the dim light, the storm outside fiercer than ever.  And he remembered, just a little, how he’d always liked the rain.

[whoknowsbud]

Stand Mutation AU DiU

Again, this is FILLED with body horror and somewhat loose connections to the recent epidemic but they are there. There’s also a massive amount of angst around the Nijimuras.

See the first post & explanation here

Morioh is under a sort of quarantine. Due to not being contagious, it may be more of a research center, to keep research subjects in one place. When people start getting infected again (from the arrow, of course) there’s a pretty massive panic, from people assuming the virus must be evolving. So, aside from finding Josuke, the Speedwagon Foundation has Jotaro there to find who’s using the arrow.

Josuke is pretty much Crazy Diamond; his pompadour is basically a massive diamond helmet, with a heart-shaped front, a few thorny details from dad. Skin might be a little shiny, or sparkly.

Okuyasu begins as extremely feral and rather monstrous, but over time becomes more human. His form becomes smoother, until the infection becomes localized on his right arm. He has the common headlight eyes and his normal hair, but with the black mark covering above his eyes & reaching the tip of his nose, in addition to his scar.

Keicho is also fried, and is basically something of a human-transformer mix. Green camouflage body, bandages around his head, gun arm, helicopter blades in his back… Looks a little like something you’d expect to see if the Terminator had real flesh, with additional machine parts..

Koichi gains the common headlight eyes and starts turning green first. Following, not overnight but still fast, comes the beak, tail, and his lower legs become wheels. He does not lose any of his ability or evolve in the same way, but does change. As ‘act 2’, he regrows his legs (the wheels now his feet), his beak becomes more of a reptile snout, and he’s more armored. As ‘act 3’, he’s back to looking more human. The wheels are now just his heels (yes, heelys), and his tail is shorter.

Yukako… maybe fully made of hair? Or just the same as canon...

Tonio can just imbue his food with the sort of healing power. That or he grows the Pearl Jams on his body, which is very disturbing, so we'll probably go with the first. His power is extremely limited with this infection, which upsets him quite a bit. He can strengthen your body and all, but what can it do with stand shit? This isn't the flu.

Rohan’s arms are like heaven's door's hat; just the yellow lines outlining them. Depending on mood, desperation, & writers block, his sketchy-ness spreads more through his body.

Shigekiyo is a bunch of Harvests in a trench coat! Original Shigechi is essentially the ‘queen bee’ so to speak.

Mikitaka is an actual alien (cause fuck you, we do what we want). Planet was probably overrun by the virus, and he left to… either help other planets with it or prevent it or something… That or just. To find somewhere he can live a better life.

Tamami… probably just about the same, but creates locks on himself as well, for each victim currently affected - not because of guilt or anything, just to make sure they’re still in his control should they separate.

Hazamada is pretty much just Surface.

Akira is, basically, a toxtricity (amped, of course.) But yea, basically take RHCP, give it rocking hair and music ability, and there ya go.

Yuya basically sends his own feet, which gains a vague body to go with them.

Kanedaichi is SuperFly. A few bug decals on the tower maybe… He uses radio waves to communicate, and an unsettling doll to make himself known… Tickle me Elmo.

Terunosuke appears to be origami, with his face drawn on. Despite this, he can’t actually change his overall form.

Yoshihiro is probably the same as canon...

Kira’s mutation is much more subtle than most. His skin is pink, he has Killer Queen’s eyes, and very sharp and stiff ears. He hides most of this with makeup, contacts, and clips his own ears, to live under the illusion that he's 'just a normal guy'. When he feels stress, his face starts turning translucent, so you can see his skull - which reveals that his ears are more part of his skeleton. His hands frequently explode, and his sweat is explosive.

Stray Cat is just the same as in canon.

As mentioned earlier, the Nijimura’s story here is (I believe) even more upsetting than it is in canon. Though Angelo doesn’t happen, Josuke’s grandfather is dead.

Keicho finds the arrow, as he did in canon, but nicks himself in the process. He (somehow) hears the Speedwagon Foundation is looking for it and, realizing the arrow played a big part in the infection, panics. This makes his infection, which was already starting to mutate him, go wild. He turns feral in a different way than most; he guards the arrow, obsessing over it - like their dad over that ripped picture. Okuyasu, of course, tries to get through to his brother.

His body isn’t completely developed; the helicopter blades are half-stuck in his body and his gun doesn’t work. So, when Okuyasu tried to reach him, Bad Company only understands that someone is approaching the arrow, and attacks him… With the arrow. Fully aware of what the arrow did to his brother, Okuyasu is at peace with what’s going to happen to him. His only family is like this, and they don’t even remember him… How much worse could losing his own mind be?

The house is said to be haunted, so when Josuke and Koichi pass it, they stop to look. Koichi mentions, now that he understands a little of the infection, that he wonders if the ‘ghosts’ ‘haunting’ it are just more victims. Josuke realizes it's likely, and tells him to call Jotaro and wait outside.

Koichi calls Jotaro and does not wait outside; he goes in after Josuke, gets lost, and ends up finding the room Bad Company is in.

Meanwhile, Josuke’s struggling against Okuyasu, who may or may not be crying. Josuke realizes this guy really is a victim, and thinks he must be able to help. So, when he does take him down, he tries to fix this, only to feel terrible because this is another thing he can’t fix. But he can’t stay, because Koichi screams, so he has to run.

He finds the room, but it’s obvious that whatever attacked Koichi hasn’t left, and he’s worried this’ll go horribly wrong if he runs in, but if he doesn’t, Koichi’s probably going to die. This is when he hears the bass boost ‘bbbvvvrrrrrrrrr’ and he spins, ready to fight, but Okuyasu’s already erasing the space between them and Koichi, and now he’s in range for Josuke to heal him. Josuke’s not sure what’s happening, but it’s obvious Okuyasu isn’t going to attack. So, Josuke’s healing Koichi, and trying to figure this all out, “so do you… have a sibling here?”

He nods, looking at him with pleading eyes, begging for something. Josuke starts thinking aloud, “they must be infected, too… uh, you... want me to fix them?”

He's nodding so vigorously it looks almost painful, and this is when Koichi wakes up, and he shrieks because what the fuck is that. Josuke makes sure he's okay (Koichi's irises are turning bright yellow, but he can't worry about that right now), and has Okuyasu watch Koichi.

Okuyasu is surprised that he's being trusted like this; but Josuke's already ripping the door off the frame, holding it in front of him like both a shield and battering ram, and he's charging in.

Koichi is far, far too tired to move himself, so Okuyasu carries him away from the fight. But Okuyasu starts fidgeting, worried. He's hearing shots, explosions, and yelling, and there's a lot of smoke. Obviously Koichi's worried too, so they kinda sneak back over to get a look, and what koichi sees is... alarming, to say the least.

Uninfected, you don't see the full quality of his skin, and his helmet just looks like a weirdly solid block of hair. But now koichi's getting the whole picture, and… He's gorgeous.

His body is suddenly shining and sparkling from the armor, his skin almost glittery, and the massive diamond form encasing his head reflects light like a goddamn disco ball - it's all almost blinding

Sexuality crisis ahem so anyways

Josuke eventually gets Bad Company down, and he's trying to heal him, but the light suddenly comes on. They all know someone else is here, so Okuyasu - not wanting anything to keep his bro from getting fixed like he was - runs in to intercept the form coming fast, but Keicho's a little faster

But instead of going for the arrow, it's Okuyasu he targets.

Okuyasu and Josuke are alarmed at this; he'd shown that he only cared about the arrow, why do this? Why go after Okuyasu, before he even got the arrow back?

But Keicho's looking at him - even as this electric being's arm goes through his stomach, his eyes are focused on his brother.

"I act on my orders," he says, whereas before the only thing he ever said was "the arrow", "follow orders"... things like that.

Because Bad Company had been ordered to protect the arrow at all costs

But Keicho Nijimura did that to protect his brother

Which clearly worked against him but moving on

Okuyasu makes this cry, this wail, and Koichi can feel the hurt echoing in him and wishes he could've done something as the being takes the arrow into the light

But Josuke realizes there's a fuse box in here, and its being overloaded, and they need to get out right now, so he grabs the two survivors and jumps out the window.

He ends up being hurt pretty bad splinters of wood dig in his calves and his back, but he's gotta make sure these two are ok.

Josukes not sure if that actually helped, because he's crying so so hard now, and the three just sit there for a while

Okuyasu looks at josuke, crying, pleading... Josuke knows what he wants

"I saw it," he chokes out, "you should know.. Ididn't bring him back, I barely reached him… You did."

Jotaro spots the building when the room explodes and comes running, of course relieved to see these kids are sitting outside, safely... Well. Not dead. Josuke asks about Okuyasu.

"Yea that happened to me, he'll be fine. It's pretty common."

Then he sees Koichi's eyes are a little different and just fuckn grabs the kid and stares super close for a few minutes

Irises are yellow, but more important, the whole ball is getting kinda... segmented? Like... there are creases forming. W/e - they're slowly becoming headlights.

It's an uncomfortable minute for these children, until Jotaro lets him go and says (usual deadpan), "you've been infected."

Then jotaro sets him down and says, usual deadpan, "you've been infected." And Josuke freaks out, assuming he was the cause.

So, Jotaro has to explain that - no, the only way to become infected is if you or a (close enough) relative is injured by the stand arrow. Okuyasu jumps on the phrase, practically barking with desperation. Jotaro, having gone through a rather similar stage, figures it out pretty quickly, "you know about it… where is it?"

“Is that what that weird arrow was back there," Josuke wonders around, jumping when Jotaro focused on him, "well, uh… some electric thing took it… after killing this guy's brother."

Jotaro can't really do much with that, so he moves on, "alright, you three get to the Speedwagon building, I'm gonna do a walkthrough."

They agree, but Okuyasu's looking at the house & not moving Josuke & Koichi try to reassure him about keicho, while Jotaro just walks right in to investigate.

After a minute he comes out carrying Weird Frog Dad who's holding the ripped picture, "what is this." Okuyasu makes this "aa!" sound while the other 2 are Shook.

Okuyasu's looking at Josuke, though he's already moving, but Jotaro stops him, "this can't be fixed." Josuke's like "but i gotta try" and does, and newsflash it doesn't work, but he sees the picture and fixes that and at least that's sweet

So, nearly on the opposite side of the emotional spectrum, the next day we see Koichi skating to school. At first he's very weirded out, tries to hide it, but then he realizes "wait. The town's full of infected people, this isn't that bad." His mother and sister, of course, freak out, but Koichi knows enough to explain it all and put them a little at ease.

Also he does not end up with Yukako, they both deserve better. Like, yea she probably still has her obsession, but it gets handled after the first time. It takes a little while for her to adjust to... not.. doing any of that. But they're both way healthier for it. Not cool or healthy to date your fixation or stalker