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thespianbooks · 4 years

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A Court of Nightmares and Starlight //Chapter 20//

Masterlist

tags: @thron3ofbooks, @df3ndyr, @courtofjurdan, @art-e-mis, @herondamnn, @the-third-me, @im-still-trying-here, @emikadreams, @paytin77, @mis-lil-red, @sleeping-and-books, @lucieisabooknerd, @amandaraey-sunshine, @easy-p-lemon, @azymondias05, @dagypsygirl, @makeshift-utopia) *bold tags don’t work ;-;

Posting a little earlier because last week I posted a little later than I meant to 😅

XXX

"Eris is High Lord of the Autumn Court?" Mor asked carefully, her warm eyes widened in subtle horror.

In the weeks that followed the news of the civil unrest taking place in Autumn, all the courts of Prythian had been on a collective edge. As our spymaster indicated in his reports, Eris indeed sent letters to every court—asking for aid in the fight against his father, and almost every one had begrudgingly sent a small contingency of their armies; Kallias being the only one to outright refuse. After bearing witness firsthand to Beron's insolence at the summit, they all were hesitant to trust that Eris would be any better—especially Kallias, whose heavily pregnant mate had been targeted by the older male. They were surprised, however, to see the legion of Illyrians that Cassian sent; realizing later that we were retaliating directly against Beron for not only his assault against me at the summit, but for his attack on Velaris as well. They also knew of the tenuous alliance Rhys and I had with Eris for his help during the war, and one-by-one they offered their support for the male in a fortnight.

Azriel nodded in response to Mor, taking a subtle step closer as she loosed a shaky breath. After meeting with his brothers, Rhys had called for the rest of us to gather in the library in order to disclose the information they received earlier this morning—that Eris had beaten his father and was crowned as the new High Lord of Autumn, while his despicable father rotted in their prison, for now.

"What now?" I asked as Mor remained speechless, her eyes still darting from side to side as she processed the news.

The last decade of peace hadn't lessened the hatred she bore towards the Autumn male, and I understood how it must've felt to learn that the male who caused her unbearable pain—had left her for dead, was now elevated to a high position of power.

"Now that bastard keeps a leash on Keir, until we and the other courts can pull back our forces and recuperate before tackling our next issue." Rhysand answered, keeping a watchful eye on his cousin.

"How long will that take?" Amren asked from her seat next to Mor, subtly moving closer and offering the blonde her glass of wine.

"Two or three weeks, give or take." Cassian responded as Mor took that glass and gulped down the remainder of its contents.

"How exactly will he do that?" Elain asked timidly, she hadn't been very involved in the meetings where we developed our plan of action—the war with Hybern still too fresh in her memory for her to actively participate as she had back then. She was finally in a good place, nearly recovered mentally, and talks of going to war again only gave her painful reminders of what she had lost then.

I placed a hand over hers gently. "Rhys has been writing back and forth with Eris over the last two weeks. Once he started gaining an advantage over his father, Eris received a letter from Keir offering to create an alliance," I explained.

"You mean renew an alliance," Mor said bitterly as she stood and crossed over to the set of windows, hands on her hips.

I frowned, sharing a look with Rhysand. "But Eris is our ally in this coup. I have already instructed him to keep Keir sidetracked with false promises of a treaty while we work together with the other courts and replenish our armies," he reassured.

"You really think we can trust him?" Mor asked, turning back to face us. "He's been biding his time until he could win his father's throne, using us as leverage, how do we know he'll keep his word now that he has it?"

"He is ruthless, cousin, there's no doubt about that. He also knows that he would be at a severe disadvantage if he paired with Keir in the coup. His court just underwent a civil war, it is in shambles and he now has to navigate how to deal with his father's supporters and piece his court back together. Partnering with Keir would be disastrous and result in his court falling apart completely," Rhys explained calmly.

"If for some batshit crazy reason he does decide to side with Keir, we outnumber them now." Cassian added. "With the other courts on our side, they can't win."

Mor still looked unconvinced as she turned back to the window without another word. I saw Azriel watching her, a flicker of yearning in those hazel eyes, but he looked away as Elain spoke up again.

"Is there any news of Vassa…?" She asked quietly.

"She was recovered and returned to her home in the Mortal Lands, by Lucien." He answered her just as softly.

A pall of silence fell over us—Mor's rage continued to simmer as she stared out the window; while my sister and the shadowsinger exchanged a prolonged look before she finally looked down at her lap. Whether or not she acknowledged the fact that it was her mate that rescued the mortal queen, or whether or not she cared, I could only guess.

Rhys cleared his throat. "In the meantime, we keep waiting while Eris keeps Keir distracted. During that time, the other courts will be steadily sending their forces until those who fought in Autumn are recovered and can accompany the rest. If all goes according to plan, we have approximately two weeks until we're hosting the other courts and High Lords," he continued.

"Where are we going to host five High Lords, their entourages, and armies? We can't use the palace above the Court of Nightmares, Keir will know." I asked, bewildered.

"We'll host them here, in Velaris," Rhys answered with a rouge smirk.

"And their armies will camp out in the Northern Forests of the Illyrian Steppes," Cassian finished, crossing his arms over his broad chest with a crooked grin of his own. "We'll give them a little taste of what it's like in those mountains."

"What if Kallon gets reports of those gathered armies? He'll alert Keir," I challenged.

Rhys placed a reassuring hand on my shoulder, squeezing gently. "They'll be stationed outside of Windhaven camp. Kallon is too busy rallying his rebels to bother checking in on his rival camp. We'll be setting up wards to shield them once they've become large enough; the other High Lords and I will take turns keeping them up."

I squeezed his hand back, leaning back against the cushion of my chair and running a free hand over my belly. Madja continued to assure Rhys and I that our son was growing at the expected rate and remained perfectly healthy. My recovery continued to improve, and the healer had alleviated some of the conditions for my confinement. I was now allowed out of bed for short walks around the estate; I could also paint and tend to some of my duties as High Lady, like writing letters and sorting through reports, but needed to maintain a light and easy schedule—nothing involving anything too strenuous. Since I was on the cusp of entering the last stage of pregnancy, only a few short months away from giving birth, she advised that I remain in the estate until my time came—when my period of nesting began, and Rhys would whisk me away to the Cabin in preparation for the birth of our son.

"Will there be fighting?" Nesta asked.

She stood beside Cassian; hands neatly folded in front of her as she turned a raised chin to the male. Though I couldn't see it, I knew the memories that flashed behind her fierce grey-blue eyes—of Cassian on the battlefield during the war; of the injuries he sustained.

"It's doubtful," Rhys replied for the commander. "We outnumber his Darkbringers and rogue Illyrians six-to-one. Once he and Kallon get word of the troops gathered in the Steppes, they'll come to meet us with their own. If they're smart, they'll realize sooner rather than later how ill-fated their cause has become and surrender."

Mor scoffed from her place at the window. "Like hell they will. You know that bastard won't go down without a fight."

"Then there will be a slaughter. Either way, they lose." Rhys said easily. "They'll be reminded of why previous coup attempts have been thwarted, and the Illyrians will be put in their place once again. As for Keir," he shared a meaningful look with his cousin as citrine and amethyst clashed. I pictured the paints I would use, emphasizing just the shape and fierceness of that shared look.

"So...we have nothing to worry about?" Elain asked hesitantly.

I took her hand again, "We're safe Elain. With our allies and this plan, the coup will fail. This confrontation is nothing like how it was with Hybern."

She nodded, her tense shoulders easing a bit. Amren crossed one leg over the other as a crooked grin lined her lips. "At least this time I won't be needing to sacrifice my life for you lot."

"We could always add you to the front lines. They don't know you don't have any powers; we could just use you to intimidate them to death," Cassian quipped.

"She's far too small for that," Azriel added.

Cassian roared in laughter as Amren glared at the spymaster. I half-heartedly laughed, noting the edge that lingered between my mate and his cousin; until Mor turned away and walked out of the library.

Is she okay? I asked through the bond.

As okay as she can be. She hates that Eris is High Lord, but I just informed her that I will be turning her wretched father over to her after this coup is over

Did that help?

Not as much as I would have hoped

Let me go talk to her. It's been a while since we've talked alone, maybe I can help her sort through her feelings.

Rhys only nodded in response before crossing over to stand in front of me and helped ease me to my feet. Despite my remarkable recovery, my growing belly still made my movements slower and slower. I was also beginning to notice that my balance was growing increasingly skewed but blamed it on the bed rest for now. The others hardly noticed as he escorted me to the door; their continued conversations and my departure a subtle indication that our meeting was over.

"How are you feeling?" Rhys asked once we were in the hallway, wrapping an arm around my waist as we walked.

"I'm fine. It's been nice to walk around again, even if I'm stuck indoors for now," I said.

A small frown came to his face and I quickly realized how my words sounded. The last time I had been confined inside an estate…

"It's not the same," I quickly amended. "I'm doing it for our little Bash," I said while rubbing my stomach for emphasis. "For both of our health. You're not locking me away and forbidding me from entering the city."

He took my hand in his free one, bringing it to his lips. "Never," he said. "Maybe in another couple of weeks Madga will deem it safe for us to resume our walks out along the Sidra. We'll get to enjoy the weather while it's still warm."

I smiled. "After this coup is over, and those responsible are taken care of, we'll get to enjoy it. We'll get to enjoy this," I said as I looked down at my middle.

Rhys's eyes softened as his gaze moved to my stomach, and I felt our son stretch in my belly. We stopped short of Mor's room and he pressed a kiss to my brow, his hands holding either side of my swollen abdomen. "Yes, we will."

I breathed in his scent and sighed lightly before pulling him in for a quick kiss. "You go take care of business. I'll talk to Mor and spend the day with her."

He nodded before taking a step back, "I'll be in my office if you need me."

"I'll be fine," I reminded him.

He smirked and kissed my belly goodbye before winnowing away. I took in another inhale before I stepped around the corner and approached Mor's door. Before I could knock, however, the door swung open with the blonde on the other side of it. She ushered me inside wordlessly and I followed suit, walking into her suite.

"You didn't need to come check on me," she said as she closed the door behind me.

"I figured you needed someone to talk to after hearing the news," I said as I worked to lower myself on the plush settee in the center of her room.

She sighed and plopped herself onto the seat beside me, helping me down and stared at her feet. "I knew it was bound to happen someday, especially after the deal Rhys made with him, but…" she trailed off.

"But it's different actually seeing it become a reality," I affirmed and touched her shoulder gently.

"I know, and you're completely entitled to your feelings. After everything that's happened, on top of this coup orchestrated by Keir," I shook my head and squeezed her shoulder. "I'm sorry Mor."

She continued to stare at the ground until her dark-honeyed eyes finally met mine. "I'm well over five-hundred centuries old, and yet any knowledge of the two of them working together—even under a guise for our sake just…" she shook her head, truly unable to voice the rage boiling underneath her skin, her elegant fingers curling into fists.

I touched one of those fists, levelling my gaze with hers. "Mor, I promise you, if Eris so much as looks at us the wrong way, we'll take care of him. The last thing we do is trust him, and I know Rhys wouldn't hesitate to rip him to shreds if he tries anything like his father did." I promised.

The corner of her mouth twitched upward slightly, and she sighed. "I know the alliance is necessary. I'm just not happy about it," she lamented.

"Neither am I," I assured, and she dipped her head in approval before uncurling her hands and bringing one to touch my stomach gently.

"How is he?" she asked.

Ever since revealing to my sisters that I was expecting a boy, the news hadn't remained a secret for long. Elain had been so delighted and shared the news with Mor and Amren during dinner that same night; Cassian then boasting that he had known for some time, which launched into a debate with the entire inner circle. I then sheepishly promised Rhysand that I wouldn't reveal our son's name until after his birth.

"He's good, moving a lot right now," I answered and smiled at feeling a kick. "Feel that?"

Mor's widened grin was answer enough as she continued to stroke my belly, encouraging my son to kick more and laughed as he responded to her movements and words.

"How does it feel for you?" She asked.

I shrugged. "It's hard to describe, the more he grows the different it feels. Viviane once told me that once I reach the end stages, I'll start to feel feet, fists, and elbows in there."

Mor cringed. "Does it hurt at all?"

I shook my head. "I think he's still too small. His movements are noticeable but not painful."

She nodded and studied my belly for a silent minute, caressing it lightly. "I can't wait for all of this to be over so we can turn all the attention on you, little one. Auntie Mor already has so many presents for you," she cooed.

I blinked, "Presents?"

She grinned mischievously, "Wanna see?"

I nodded with a laugh, but as she got up and crossed over to her enormous closet, a knock came at her door. Raising a brow, she walked over and opened it; a sentry waiting outside of it before she allowed him in.

"Pardon me, milady, but Lucien Vanserra is here to see you," the sentry informed me, albeit a bit hesitant.

I balked at him. "Here on the grounds?" I asked to confirm.

Lucien was about the only male welcomed in and out of Velaris; due to his connection with Elain, and his desire to be closer from time-to-time after the war, he had his own apartment in the city. However, since constructing the estate, he only visited on a few occasions.

The sentry nodded, "Yes. He arrived moments ago, insisting on an audience with you. Lord Rhysand greeted him, but he still maintains in meeting with you alone."

I paused to think. Knowing my mate, he was leaving the decision to me. "Is he alright?" I asked cautiously. "He isn't hurt, is he?"

The sentry shook his head. "He seems well, but unyielding."

"Maybe it has something to do with his swine of a brother," Mor offered. "I'll go with you. If he's angry, the last thing we want is for him to lash out at you in your condition."

"Lucien wouldn't hurt me Mor. If anything, he's probably hurting too. I have a feeling something else has happened," I said before motioning her to help me stand.

I grunted a bit with effort as she helped me get to my feet, a little wearier than I had previously been. Mor frowned, "We can send for him after dinner, once you've gotten some food and rest."

"I'll meet him in the sitting room attached to my suite. I can rest there and talk with him, and I know you all won't be far," I insisted and linked my arm with hers.

"Tell Lucien I will meet him in my sitting room in five minutes," I said to the sentry, who bowed in response and left the room.

"Are you sure about this Feyre? If he upsets you and puts too much strain on you and the baby…" Mor began.

"It's all right Mor," I assured her as she escorted me out of her room. "I think it's Lucien's turn to vent to a friend about the new High Lord of Autumn."

Mor cringed, recalling the cruel revelation Eris had unleashed on his youngest brother at the summit months ago. Still, as she led me back to the sitting room adjoined to my suite, she waited with me for Lucien's arrival. Moments later, my disheveled friend strode in, his russet eye wide while the mechanical one whirring as he took us in. He didn't so much as look at Mor as he cautiously approached me.

"Did you know?" He asked me by way of greeting. "About Helion and my mother? About-" he began but cut himself off as he finally realized Mor was standing beside the chaise lounge I perched on.

I turned a look at her and she understood my request. "I'll be down the hall," she said before leaving us alone.

"Did you know about their affair? That Helion is my-" he cut himself off again, unable to say the words as he paced the room.

I only offered a small nod, watching him empathetically. "Yes," I said softly.

"When?" He asked, still pacing back and forth across the carpet. "When did you figure it out? Or who told you? Was it my father? I mean, was it-"

"I figured it out after I first met Helion; before the war with Hybern started and we all gathered for the first time at Thesan's palace. He told me the story of what happened to your mother, her sisters, and how he rescued her during the first war." I answered, interrupting his rambling questions.

He stopped pacing and faced me. "Did Rhysand know?"

I shook my head. "Not until I figured it out myself. I made the connection; Rhys didn't realize it until I did."

His arms grew slack at his sides. "So, it's not some well-known secret that all of Prythian knows about and just hid from me?"

"No Lucien, it-" I began but then he interrupted.

"So why didn't you tell me, Feyre?" He asked, both of his eyes wide and bewildered. "You've known all this time and you didn't think to tell me? I thought we were friends!"

I frowned as he snapped at me, my hormones surging and causing tears to well in my eyes. It must have been evident, because he sighed and took a mild step towards me before turning away and running both hands through his bright auburn hair with an exasperated sigh. I quickly put my emotions in check, not wanting my irrational mood swing to interrupt Lucien's moment.

"I'm sorry," he said quietly.

"No, Lucien, I'm sorry. I'm sorry I didn't tell you. Honestly, I didn't think it was my place, and after what happened at the summit, I thought it was the last thing you wanted to hear." I explained.

He sighed heavily and crossed his arms over his chest, staring at the ground. "My father...I mean, Beron, told me. When he attacked the Mortal Lands and took Vassa. He...claimed I was 'no son of his' and said I was nothing more than a Day Court bastard. I was shocked, and then he started the attack. I tried to fight him off, to protect Vassa, but then…" his voice faded as his eye turned hazy, the other whirring out of focus as he recalled whatever details that occurred that day.

I slowly offered my hand, still seated, and it took a minute before he registered my movement and took it. I motioned for him to sit beside me and he did, his shoulders slumped over slightly as an invisible weight pressed on them.

"When Eris was crowned, my fa...Beron, imprisoned; my mother summoned me back to the palace. She broke down and explained everything, told me of her relationship with Helion and that he was my biological father. She never told him," he went on, voice barely above a whisper.

"She loved him, Feyre, and her husband kept her there. Imprisoned to serve as Lady of the Autumn Court, even while she carried another male's child," he pressed a palm onto his good eye, massaging the stress from it.

I placed a tentative hand on his shoulder, squeezing it softly. "How is she?"

He sighed. "Relieved. Eris is granting her a separation from Beron before he...finds a way to deal with him, but when she told me about Helion, she seemed...broken." He met my gaze again,

"You were almost her. All those years ago with Tamlin, when I didn't do anything to stop it. I almost let what happened to my mother happen to you," he said, a subtle horror laced in his voice.

"What happened to your mother wasn't your fault, Lucien." I said, moving my hand from his shoulder to his hand.

"I knew. A part of me knew she wasn't happy with my father," he cringed. "Beron. Yet I didn't try to take her away. I didn't do anything, and neither did Helion."

I sighed and moved a little closer to him. "Lucien, there was nothing you could have done. Beron had complete control over her. Even if you could, she probably wouldn't have left for fear of him and what he might do."

"But that's the point, I could have," he jumped back to his feet, pacing again. "I could have done something for her, for you, and I didn't. I couldn't protect her, or you, and I couldn't protect Vassa! I couldn't even protect your sister, my mate, from what Hybern did to her and Nesta. What kind of male am I that I can't protect the ones I care for, the ones I love?"

I frowned, "Lucien-"

"No, I...he took Vassa, Feyre. He managed to find that sorcerer that controls her and forced her into her firebird form. The way she screamed; it was...I couldn't bear it. Then learning what he did to my mother, and remembering what happened to you...to Elain, to even Jesminda, and how I allowed it all to happen. I...what…" he looked around frantically, his chest heaving a bit as he paced.

I did my best to rise as quickly and cautiously as I could before I approached him and threw my arms around him in an embrace. His arms were pinned at his sides as I held him, his body going rigid at first—until slowly he relaxed, his arms going limp before slowly wrapping his arms around me in return. Despite the complicated past with Tamlin, the one instance where he did have a say, he was my friend and had more than made up for it since. Beron had given him a life of turbulence; him and his brothers making Lucien's life hell until he found reprieve in the Spring Court. Then, once his closest friend had begun turning into a tyrant reminiscent of his father, those feelings of being trapped returned—unable to help me to the extent he wanted. After escaping that, after the war, he once again found solace with his human friends...until Beron's latest attack.

Lucien had felt so out of control in his own life, and every time little moments of freedom were offered—whether by finding a home in the Spring Court, then being welcomed to Velaris and the Mortal Realm, it seemed to crumble before him. Now with this latest truth revealed to him, it was no wonder that he was beginning to crumble next.

I wouldn't let that happen.

"Your mother is safe. I am safe. Elain is safe, and Vassa is safe," I said. "We are all safe now Lucien. Yes, we each endured some version of hell, but we survived. Just like you are doing now," I pulled back at arm's length to meet his gaze.

"You saved Vassa. As for me and Elain, who knows what would have happened if you hadn't done your part during the war; if you hadn't guided the Mortals, and Drakon and Miyram's army down the right path. As for your mother, you did what you could. Unfortunately, there was nothing you could do while she remained subservient under Beron, but now she is free of him. There is so much to look forward to Lucien," I took his hands again, squeezing them. "There will be good days and bad—don't let the hard days win."

Lucien blinked at me; his russet eye growing soft while the golden one whirred quietly. He continued to stare at me before he embraced me again, pulling me in a little too tightly and I cringed at the pressure on my stomach. He gasped and stepped back.

"Are you okay?" he asked

I nodded with a weary laugh, holding my stomach. "I'm fine, you just squished him a little."

He looked at my stomach, as if he just noticed it and helped me back to my seat carefully. "I almost forgot how far along you were. I haven't seen you since the summit."

"It's weird huh?" I motioned to my enlarged belly. "Sometimes I'm still a little surprised when I see myself in the mirror."

"Is he okay? I heard what you did...after what happened in Velaris," he asked with a frown.

"We're okay. We had a little scare, but my healer took care of us right away. I was on bedrest for a while, and technically still recovering, but I'm better now." I answered, resting my arms over my stomach.

He shook his head. "Rhysand must've lost his mind. I nearly did when Vassa was taken, and she isn't," he stopped himself with another shake of his head—as if trying to erase the memory of what happened to the mortal Queen.

I raised my brow at the tone in his voice, his worry for the fierce mortal woman. I paused as he loosed a long breath, finally cooled from his panic. "Do you want me to call Elain? I know she was worried about Vassa too, maybe you can assure her that she's alright?"

Lucien shook his head. "No, it's alright, I should get back to Vassa," he said, but paused when he met my questioning stare. "And Jurian; the mortal lands."

I laughed. "But…" he started. "Will you tell her I was here?"

"Yes. I'll let her know you're taking care of Vassa."

He dipped his head in a subtle nod and sighed again. "Thank you Feyre," he said softly.

"Anytime Lucien, just remember what I said okay?"

He offered a stiff smile before leaning down to give me a parting hug before escorting himself out. Rhys appeared in the doorway a second later.

"Well," he started. "That was intense."

I sighed, slumping back against the lounge and running my hands over my stomach. "He was upset. Beron told him about Helion and his mother."

Rhys released his own deep exhale and crossed over to the lounge, scooping me up easily and I wrapped my arms around his shoulders, resting my head against his shoulder. He walked us into our adjoining bedroom, laying me across the bed carefully and spreading out beside me. I rubbed my stomach lightly, watching it before Rhys placed a hand at the apex of my belly.

"He'll recover. It'll take time, but he will come to terms with the news," he said quietly as he ran his hand over the expanse of my stomach.

"Do you think Helion knows?" I asked.

"He probably suspects after the comment Eris made at the summit," he responded, voice still low. "Though I'm not sure what he'll do about it."

"What would you have done, if it were us? If I had actually married Tamlin, and in my time spent here to fulfill the bargain, you and I fell in love regardless? If we had conceived our son and I was stuck in the Spring Court, forced to name him Tamlin's…" I flinched at just the mere thought of it, of how easily it could have been me.

Rhys took my chin gently, tilting my head back to meet his violet eyes, sparkling intensely. "I would have torn the world apart for you, Feyre," he reminded me.

I smiled half-heartedly before he pulled me closer. "We don't know exactly how hard Helion tried to get her back, perhaps now they'll get the end they deserved," he said.

"Maybe," I mused, playing with the collar of his black tunic. "Did Eris...say anything about what he plans to do with Beron?"

"He's keeping him imprisoned until further notice. Said he might turn him over to us once we have Keir and Kallon in our custody," he said as his fingertips traced my side lightly.

I shivered at his touch, a part of me resenting Madja for deeming any sexual activity still too strenuous during my recovery. I hummed in response, "He'd actually let us execute his father?"

Rhys shrugged. "Beron will die regardless, along with Keir and Kallon."

"Mmm, what a fitting end for the three of them." I murmured, my eyes beginning to feel heavy as my mate's warmth continued to envelop me.

He noticed the fatigue in my voice and pressed a kiss to my brow. "All this talk of war and its lasting effects is wearing you down my love," he teased.

I rolled my eyes, closing them as I laid my head on his shoulder. "It wouldn't be if I weren't so busy growing a powerful high fae," I muttered.

I felt his dark chuckle rattle in his chest. "Sleep Feyre," he whispered as a hand ran down my back gently.

Sebastian must've wanted the same, because despite his constant movements and kicks just a while earlier, he was now calm—perhaps slipping into his own nap. I felt myself fading, too tired to respond with a witty remark and only stirred slightly when I felt Rhys move from my side and press another kiss to my brow.

I dreamt of Sebastian running through a pile of bright red and orange leaves, laughing and giggling as they crunched under his feet, Lucien standing at a distance with a content smile on his face—Vassa at his side.

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ice-cream-nekogirl · 4 years

Text

Descent into Love (Kirishima Eijirou x Reader)

I thought I posted this a long time ago but... apparently not? Weird but... i’m gonna post this again!! Hehe... it’s perfect cuz it’s April Fools day.

And... consider THIS like a sequel to the original fic~: https://ice-cream-kitsunegirl.tumblr.com/post/183939426324/april-fools-and-a-red-jockstrap-kirishima-eijirou#notes

You’re a tsundere in this one again~ And... a bit of a meanie... it’s OKAY to have the reader be a meanie btw, we don’t always have to be nice XD I know I’m not that nice... I mean I’m pretty nice but I like to tease every now and then too haha...

Yes I referenced one of my favorite horror movies of all time but it’s a REALLY good movie! Genuinely scary lolol and yes the title is partially from the actual movie ‘The Descent’

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=CSYg7Z1KS_I

BTW SORRY FOR ANY OOC-NESS!!

Featuring: Best Boy Kirishima!

Sigh

As you sat on the couch in the common room you rested your chin on your palm, sighing for the 10th time this afternoon. You were beyond bored. It was one of the few break-days and yet nothing interesting was happening, you stared at your classmates, some of them were just chatting, conversations about training, the cooler heroes or about how much stronger they had gotten. Although you only heard ‘blah blah blah’ every time one of them opened their mouths.

“Hey (Y/N)!” However, you heard one person, and just hearing his voice made you smile as you perked up from your palm with a rosey red blush blossoming on your face.

“Hee… oh Kirishima, hey there dude.” You greeted him, adoring the way he grinned at you with those shark-like teeth of his. Which you actually found really endearing, and when he began talking to you, you felt yourself getting lost in his eyes as his words trailed off as you got distracted by his cherry red orbs. They might have been red, but they were some of the prettiest, sweetest pairs of eyes you had ever seen. Kirishima was an enthusiastic and energetic guy, and yet he was so gentle too, each trait was only some of the million reasons why you loved him.

“You know Kirishima… now that I get a good look at you… I rather like your pointy teeth. I always have in fact…” You suddenly said, pointing right at his mouth as he blinked a bit and nervously grinned, feeling oddly flattered as a smidge of pink tinted his cheeks.

“Oh ya do huh? Thanks! I’ve always been a little unsure about em ya know? Not everyone finds sharp teeth very approachable.” He admitted, since despite his personality, some people have found him a little intimidating once they got a look at his teeth. However, you weren’t put off by his teeth at all. If anything, you found them cool.

“Yeah… I wish I had your teeth.” He started to blush at how much you were complimenting him, he’d never really heard this much positivity about his teeth before. “I mean, if a villain were to show up, I’d just bare those pointy things and growl at them. And when I REALLY have to play dirty, I’ll sink em into their jugulars and tear a piece of their flesh off!” You suddenly exclaimed with a slightly crazed look in your eye that made Kirishima perk up and flinch a bit, now feeling slightly dejected since you wanted teeth like his for such brutal reasons.

“Ha… you know I never even considered using my teeth as a weapon before.” He pondered, even though he wasn’t the type to play dirty at all. It wasn’t really something he considered ‘manly’, although he wouldn’t judge you for that, and in a strange way, he considered you fairly manly in your own way and he respected the hell out of you for that. Even if you kinda scared him sometimes.

“You should. If it were me, I’d go ‘Brienne of Tarth’ on a villains’ ass and tear their fucking ear off!” You added, giving Kirishima a very vivid idea of what you meant as he nervously smiled. You reminded him of Bakugou in many ways, except you were a little bit nicer and not so angry like he was.

“Wow (Y/N) I definitely never want to get on your bad side.” He said nicely, and that’s what you loved about Kirishima. He never judged you, always said something nice about you even though you were weird and just a little bit of a trouble-maker most of the time. And he never avoided your or pushed you away no matter how many times you would tease him.

“You could never get on my bad side Kiri…” You said in a softer tone, contrasting with your energetic one you used seconds ago as you blushed upon admitting that and when you saw Kirishima’s contagious smile as his blush deepened. “Awww…”

Why couldn’t this boy see that you absolutely adored him? You wondered. You were sure that the teasing and the jockstrap you gave him should have made him wonder or think that maybe you had a thing for him despite the way you played around with him. It made you pout a little bit because you really wanted to get closer to Kirishima, hug him, kiss him and hug him again til he couldn’t breathe. And maybe slap him a little bit after because he made you feel this way and it was eating you up like some sort of disgusting lovey-dovey parasite. Every time he smiled at you; you would melt a little bit every single time.

You were a human infected with this parasite people call ‘love’, it felt so gross yet so wonderful, he was so wonderful…

It was driving you mad!

But you were so mad for him…

How you hated it!

And how you loved him…

A part of you wished that this could all just be some movie, where Kirishima would be the right guy for you, and you would be the best friend and then he would fall in love with you in the end. The two of you be happily ever after or however those crappy rom-coms ended, but if it meant finally being with Kirishima you would gladly let that all happen and just be with him for the rest of your life with that lovey-dovey song playing at the end credits.

Damn you had it bad…

But at that moment it hit you. All this talk about pointy teeth combined with your raging flurry of feelings for Kirishima and thinking about movies gave you a brilliant and somewhat evil idea just to get your beloved redhead closer to you and to get back at him too for giving you this crush. A devious smile spreading across your lips that Kirishima didn’t seem to think much of. Poor sweet boy, you thought.

“Hey you know what we should do? We should watch a movie together. All together as a class.” You suddenly proposed, which kind of surprised him but just the thought of spending time with the whole class made him grin wide.

“All together? That actually WOULD be a great idea! Yeah… it’s been so busy lately, I think we could use the break. I’m up for it (Y/N)!” He gave you an energetic thumbs-up, looking like he was pretty amped for the idea. Kirishima was always one for palling around with his classmates.

“Great! Cuz I had a GREAT idea for a movie…” You smiled happily when he agreed to the idea, clapping your hands excitedly, but then you made your claps nice and loud to catch everyone’s attention.

“Everyone~! Everyone! I have an announcement and a proposal!”

“(L/N)! As the class rep making announcements is my job.” Iida reminded you, but you paid him no mind.

“Shut up Iida!” You suddenly screeched at him, ignoring the shocked, indignant look on his face as well as some of the other shocked looks from your other classmates because of how loud you could be. Iida attempted to scold you, but you didn’t let him get a word in. “We’re too busy! I say we all take a break since we got the day off, and instead of training, let’s all watch a movie together!” You quickly took on a cheerful tone, which made only the smarter ones a little wary.

“And NO! You can’t back away from this, spend some time with us! Cuz if you don’t I’m gonna kick your butt!” You then declared somewhat angrily, and of course, only Bakugou challenged you.

“Tch, forget it you pathetic excuse for a glowstick!”

“You’re just jealous cuz my light shines brighter than yo’ weak-ass explosions.” You brushed that off, and you laughed and pointed when Kirishima and Kaminari held him back from trying to attack you for the 4th time today.

“Anyhoo… I’d better see you at movie night biatch~.” You smiled smugly at the growling teen, who WANTED to just blow you up but he knew Kirishima had a thing for you. This would be the only nice thing he’d do for him for a while…

Speaking of which, Kirishima looked pretty damn happy about the idea of a movie night with the class, “So (Y/N)… what kinda movie did ya have in plan?” He asked politely, the same question everyone else had been wondering since it was your idea.

However, the others noticed your smile quickly turning into a smirk. “Let’s watch a good old-fashioned horror flick tonight… I have this one REALLY good one that I’ve been meaning to bust out to show my best friends so… yeah…” That little suggestion made a few heads turn, and a few eyes widened which made your smirk widen, especially when you saw Kirishima’s nervous look.

“A horror movie…?”

“Yeah! Nothing says togetherness like watching a movie so scary you might piss yourself and cry your fucking eyes out…” You clasped your hands together, your smirk turning darker as most of your other classmates looked hesitant, save a few who looked interested.

“That could be fun! I love scary movies! They’re so exciting don’t you guys think?!” Hagakure, your partner-in-crime had excitedly agreed with you and backed up your decision. And if she was being honest, these movies were fun for her because her invisibility allowed her to indulge in a little fun when she would prank some people when they were scared out of their wits.

“I enjoy those kind of movies. They tend to have some interesting story-lines, so I’m okay with watching a horror movie.” Tsuyu said, despite her blank expression she was up for it.

“I agree. I would watch one of those.” Tokoyami was quick to agree with her since he was very much an avid horror movie fan, befitting how much of a goth he was. “You may or may not have seen the movie I have in mind before.” You pointed out, since if there’s one thing you and Tokoyami got along with it was your fondness for horror movies.

“Surprise me.” He almost challenged you, which just made your grin grow, especially when you saw the other looks on your classmates’ faces, especially poor sweet Izuku and your dear Kirishima…

“I’m in! I ain’t afraid of no scary movie!” Kaminari claimed, since scary movies didn’t exactly bother him as much as it did for others, but not many of his classmates looked like they believed him. “Me neither!” However, he started a bit of a trend when Mina shared his sentiments, and now many of them started to feel the need to prove their bravery, and to just see how ‘scary’ this movie was…

“H-Hey now! Look if anyone’s not a fan of scary movies then maybe… you guys don’t have to watch it.” Kirishima wanted to be nice though, and make sure no one felt pressured to watch the movie, even though you could just tell what his ulterior motive was: He didn’t like scary movies.

“Heh… let em watch it Kirishima, it’ll give them a lesson in bravery… I mean… what are you really playing at bro? Are you chicken?” You smirked and crossed your arms, satisfied when Kirishima flinched at such a very ‘unmanly’ accusation.

“No! I’m no chicken! I’m just giving them a choice that’s all!”

“It’s okay if you’re chicken, I mean Tokoyami’s the bird here but I guess we just didn’t notice you wearing your chicken hat until now. Though I guess your hair looks chicken-esque enough.” You said, sadistically smirking at the poor guy, whose face was turning as red as his hair.

“H-Hey! Don’t call my hair chicken! This is peer pressure! Come on that’s such an unmanly thing to do!”

“You’re just saying that cuz you’re a big, FAT, chicken!”

“(Y/N)! This is so not cool! Stop saying that!” Kirishima’s blush darkened as you didn’t stop your taunting.

“Chicken~.” You sang-songed, poking him on the forehead to add to your teasing, even when he backed away, “Stop it!”

“Chicken!” You didn’t stop, you were loving how embarrassed he was getting when you started to poke at his hair and even pull a strand out purely for the hell of it.

“OW! I’m NOT a chicken!!” He cringed as soon as he felt that little strand plucked out as he gave you a rare look of mild annoyance which looked beautiful with his flushed cheeks. You almost felt guilty for being so mean to him, but the tsundere in you was telling you that he deserved it for making you love him so much.

But the guilt was winning as you took it down a notch, “Okay Kiri… I believe you…” Your voice softened a bit, and Kirishima wasn’t sure whether to feel comfortable or nervous since he’s learned to predict how unpredictable you could be. It didn’t help when you put your hand on his shoulder, “I suppose you’re only a chicken if you can’t fight against villains like you have… so… okay… you’re not a chicken… and you don’t HAVE to watch the movie if you don’t want to… and I’ll just make fun of you in private to the girls in the locker room.” You sounded a little bit gentle, and you smiled when you saw Kirishima perk up a bit when you took back the ‘chicken’ insult, but instantly he pouted at the last thing you said.

You always did this. But it’s not like he hated it, he actually liked the attention you gave him and you were nice to him at times, which he really liked because it proved what he thought about you. That you were actually pretty cool and that you had a heart underneath all the jokes. But, he couldn’t quite let you win, or get away with calling him chicken.

“Heh. There won’t be any need for that, I’ll prove that I’m no chicken! Scary movies are nothing! I mean… a real man isn’t afraid of a little movie… I’m man enough to watch this!” He was up for this challenge, well… not really, but he’d prove that he could be manly and take a scary movie! It was just a movie! Nothing in them were real… and he knew it!

But you couldn’t help but smirk when he was finally on board, and disregarded the fact that a few of your other classmates… particularly Izuku, Uraraka, Kouda, Jirou and Mineta weren’t really on board. And Sero and Kaminari finally succeeded in getting Bakugou to very reluctantly agree just so they would stop bugging him.

“Perfection…” You resisted the urge to do a ‘villain laugh’ as soon as it was all set in stone for tonight…

4 HOURS LATER at 7 pm…

“Okay…” You were getting the movie ready as you clicked on the remote, “I’m telling you guys right now. That this movie inspired me to pretty much NEVER go anywhere where there’s mountains in my life… after this, you’ll understand why I’m never going anywhere that’s too dark again.” You were kind of exaggerating, but at the same time you kind of meant what you were saying since… the movie kinda traumatized you when you were younger.

Only a few of your classmates took your warning seriously, but Bakugou thought you were being stupid as he scoffed. However, Kirishima sat beside him and he was already looking very nervous and appeared to believe every word you were saying…

What in the world was in this movie to make you stay away from dark places and mountains…?

“There can be revelry in the dark you know?” Tokoyami asked you, but you just chuckled a little bit, “Maybe for you… because the dark is your advantage but… I ain’t never stepping foot into a pitch black place again… not after this movie…” You gave your cryptic explanation, which did nothing to ease your more nervous friends.

“I-It’s that bad…?” Uraraka sounded concerned, and she was just as scared as Izuku and Kirishima was. While horror movies didn’t freak her out that bad, some of them still scared her. And you nodded as you turned the lights off, “Oh… it’s bad…”

Kirishima put his brave face on, even though everything you said wasn’t making him feel any less nervous, “I’m sure it’s not that bad… we can handle anything! Nothing’s too scary for heroes!” He declared optimistically, and you couldn’t help but smile, he was so sweet it was perfect that you chose this movie to scare the Mr. Bojangles out of him…

“Yeah, yeah just start the fucking thing already!” Bakugou was getting impatient though, and demanded that you start the damn thing as you scoffed and just started the movie, “All right already! Keep your panties on…” You muttered under your breath, but that didn’t escape Bakugou’s surprisingly sharp hearing.

“WHAT DID YOU SAY?!”

You had to cover your mouth to quell your snickers as Kirishima managed to calm down the blonde to get him to shut up when the movie started…

50 MINUTES LATER…

The claustrophobic setting was enough to unnerve your classmates as they watched rather intently and felt nervous for the women in the film.

Mineta at first was excited because there was mostly women in the movie, but as soon as thing were getting intense he was shaking like a leaf, and he practically fainted as soon as Holly broke her leg in a rather graphic manner.

But Aoyama actually fainted as soon as he saw Holly’s leg bone sticking out after falling and breaking it, which urged a rather frantic Iida to quickly to lie the boy down with his head on a pillow until he woke up. Similarly, Jirou had to look away as the graphic sight alone made her feel nauseous, and neither Sero or Ojiro fared much better as Sero covered his mouth and averted his gaze from the scene, and Ojiro nearly gagged the more he focused on the bone and blood…

Much to your immense amusement, even if you did feel bad for Aoyama. You certainly didn’t expect anyone to faint. Sick at best, but not enough to faint…

“Oh that’s nasty…” Kaminari didn’t feel as sick as Jirou or Ojiro did but it was clear he couldn’t look at it either, “Eek!” Mina had squealed and closed her eyes once that part came on and practically held a disgusted and mildly frightened Yaoyorozu, “I-It’s okay Ashido… it’s not real…” She tried to comfort the girl, and kind of felt really horrible for Holly even if she was just a fictional character. The injury looked horrible…

Izuku, shockingly wasn’t the most horrified since he’s suffered injuries not unlike that before, but seeing it on someone else was still alarming and frightening to look at. And Uraraka gasped and involuntarily hid her face in Izuku’s shoulder. But then they both gasped heavily at the sudden close contact and pulled away, averting each other’s gazes and blushing darkly. Beside them Todoroki didn’t seem disinterested, if anything he seemed pretty focused on the movie even if that injury was a little bit hard to look at.

“That’s inaccurate. You’re supposed to set the bone once before you splint it in place.” He stated what he knew about injuries based on his own training and what his shitty old man had taught him. “You’re never ever try to reinsert a protruding bone from an open fracture like that.” Yaoyorozu backed up his claim, which made you kinda giggle at how much these two knew.

“Heh… the least movies can do is use correct medical knowledge eh?” You wondered after listening to them, but you were distracted when you saw Kirishima shivering as he tried to not focus so much on how graphic that injury as he gulped hard and resisted any part of him that felt nauseous or sick after seeing… bone… blood… and Holly screaming when they tried to reset the bone…

He swallowed whatever was in his throat and tried rising back up, gagging quietly as you tried your hardest not to snicker at the poor thing. He was so freaked out…

And this wasn’t even the best part.

You heard a sharp gasp though from Kirishima as soon as Sarah saw some kind of creature in the cave, and he was trembling all over again. He knew what that meant, and he wasn’t looking forward to what was happening next, he knew a jump scare was coming soon.

“Y-You all saw that right…?” He asked nervously as many of his classmates made little mumbles of acknowledgement, “Who couldn’t have seen that idiot?” Bakugou rolled his eyes at how clearly scared his friend was, even if he wouldn’t admit that this movie was… surprisingly hardcore, the injury looked pretty real, so real it actually made him cringe the first time he saw it…

“Hehe… don’t worry Kirishima…” You smiled and placed your hand on the redhead’s shoulder, scooting closer to him even when he tried to stop shaking so badly and gulped hard. Was this your plan? To scare him? He was starting to wonder. He wanted to avoid watching any of the more unnerving parts, but he couldn’t since you were right next to him, and making sure he WAS watching it…

And you resisted the urge to snicker like a maniac when you saw that Kirishima wasn’t the only one trying to not watch the movie. Shoji averted his eyes every now and then whenever something disturbing showed up, he didn’t dare look at Holly’s broken leg and Satou was too frightened to eat the sweets he had in preparation for this movie. While Kouda was covering his ears and had his eyes closed as he trembled where he sat next to a rather calm, collected Tokoyami, who was clearly enthralled by the movie.

“How have I never seen this movie? The dark, suffocating atmosphere is frighteningly realistic in that setting…” He thought outloud, obviously approving of your movie choice as you giggled a little bit, “It’s different from other horror movies I’ve seen, but in a good way. It’s not cliché at all.” Tsuyu agreed with Tokoyami and looked just as interested as she did, and you couldn’t help but smile proudly. “Told ya it was good. And this ain’t even the best part.” That piqued some of your classmates interest and dread.

“W-What’s the best part…?” Kirishima asked you nervously, his form quivering as you gave him that insidious grin you were infamous for. “If I told you it’d take away from it Kiri…” You used a cutesy voice even though Kirishima knew better, especially at this moment where he figured out your evil plan…

He shouldn’t have been watching, he should have actually just said ‘no’ to this movie instead of pretending to not be scared. Even though he thought ‘what kind of man is too scared to watch a movie?’. It was conflicting and embarrassing, especially now that you were seeing him all freaked out over a little movie…

You almost felt bad when you saw how scared he was getting, but after 5 more minutes in you noticed just how dark the room was, thanks to the sun setting and making the room nearly black and only the light on the TV allowed you to see most of your classmates getting nervous as they focused on the scene involving the dead animal bones…

A wide grin found its way on your lips as the ‘best part’ came up…

At least 10 of your classmates let out shrieks of terror as soon as the ugly cave monster showed up, and a few had jumped out of their seats from fear.

“AAAAAHHH!”

“IT’S IN THE CAVE!!”

“RUN OUT OF THERE!!

“EEEEEEK!”

“WHERE’D IT GO?!”

“OH MY GOD!!”

“WHAT THE HELL IS THAT THING?!”

“OH SHIT!!”

You laughed outloud as your classmates all shouted almost as if they were in the movie and as if the women could actually hear them, and identified Mina and Kirishima as the loudest screamers when you saw Mina practically hiding behind the couch and Kirishima was shaking in his seat and you swore you saw tears in his eyes. The poor thing did not exactly have what you would call a manly scream and you were loving it. Sadistic as it was, you felt successful in ‘getting back at him’ for making you love him, and at the same time you felt kind of horrible…

“Are you okay…?” This time, you didn’t sound like you were teasing him, you were concerned since he looked pretty scared.

“I-I… I think I peed a little bit…” He said in a somewhat shaky voice, and you tried your hardest to not snicker in amusement as you tried to soothe his nerves and rub his back gently, “Don’t worry buddy it’s all a movie…” As much as you loved how this turned out, you were starting to feel a little worse by the moment.

“I nearly wet my pants…” Sero then spoke up as he trembled where he sat, and Kaminari promptly scooted away from him. “I guess… I wouldn’t blame you…” However, he was just as terrified as his friend was. If he were in that situation, he would have freaked out just like the women did.

But before anyone could relax, the creature showed up yet again and everyone was on edge yet again now that the monsters were there to make the movie all the more horrifying.

Aoyama finally came to from where he lied, sitting up and rubbing his head with a low groan, “W-What did I miss…?” He asked, and as soon as he saw the screen featuring Holly getting her throat torn and ripped apart, he fainted yet again much to Iida’s distress as he jumped a little bit at the scene himself.

Wow, it was that scary to everyone?

Well, Tsuyu, Tokoyami and Bakugou still looked pretty entertained. In fact, the latter was smirking and legitimately entertained as soon as Juno began fighting that ugly fucker.

Of course you expected those three to be comfortable watching a horror movie, but everyone else, especially Izuku, Uraraka and Kirishima looked like they weren’t going to get any sleep tonight. And it got worse as soon as Sarah was forced to watch the monsters eat Holly’s corpse in all it’s gory glory complete with the sickening sounds of flesh being torn and stripped by the creature’s sharp teeth.

Uraraka and Izuku practically squealed in unison as they trembled and turned away with their eyes shut, wondering why did they actually stay and watch this with everyone. Kirishima held back the scream creeping in his throat, at least until he thought bile was rising up and he gagged a little bit. You should have been amused but you weren’t…

‘Aww man… I can’t be happy when he’s like this…’

You thought guiltily as you sighed and put your hand on the redhead’s shoulder, which made him gasp sharply due to that sudden touch startling him, “(Y-Y/N…?”

“Dude… if it’s too much you don’t have to watch… I promise not to mock you behind your back if you do…” You weren’t playing or anything, and Kirishima could tell, “What…? Hehe… I-I’m all right really… it’s like you said it’s just a movie…” He nervously forced a small laugh and crooked grin, “I’m not a chicken after all…”

Kirishima claimed and tried to look brave… for about 5 seconds until he saw Sam and Rebecca get ambushed by one of the monsters in a jump scare that made him jump in his seat and let out a scream, “O-Okay fine I’m a chicken!” This time, he did turn away with his eyes downcast and looking miserable as he started mentally beating himself up and calling himself a coward for letting a little movie scare him. Part of him wanted to cry, but he refused, no way he’d look even more like a wuss in front of you.

He was such a loser. This was so unmanly in every way possible, and on top of that you were there to see him act like such a wuss. Kirishima always knew he was a bit of a wuss when it came to these kind of things, but he thought he could brave it, he really did…

‘What have I done?! Oh Kirishima… no matter what I do I can’t shake these feelings off, and now I feel horrible!’

“Eijiro.”

Kirishima perked up as soon as he heard you say his name, and your heart was beating at what you were about to do next, but you couldn’t stand to see him like this. “C’mere you doofus…” Quietly and discreetly you placed your lips on his forehead which made him perk up and freeze, his cheeks turning as red as his hair as he stared at you wide-eyed in extreme surprise.

“W-Wha… w-wha-what… w-was…?” He didn’t mean to stutter, but he definitely did not expect you to do that as you pouted and blushed heavily. “I’m sorry okay? I didn’t think this movie would freak you out that much…” You muttered and he blushed even more, looking away in shame as you put your hand on his face to make him look at you.

“Admitting you’re chicken is manly though… don’t feel so bad just because you find it scary. I’m still afraid of the freaking dark because of this movie… the only reason I’m not scared is because I’m so close to you…” That sounded kinda sappy, but you meant what you said as you tried not to smile when you saw Kirishima’s look of surprise.

He was touched though, and felt a beam of happiness beginning to blossom in his heart as he smiled wide, “You… you mean that?” He asked somewhat bashfully, and you rolled your eyes a little bit.

“Yes you mook… I really do. And the truth is… argh… dammit… I like you stupid…!” You whispered to him as your whole face burned, and your heart beating out of your chest now that you finally admitted it. Kirishima somehow looked even more surprised, part of him always thought that maybe you had a thing for him, but now this was confirmation that you definitely did…

And he couldn’t help the grin rising on his lips as he pulled you in for a hug, smiling that smile that you fell in love with, “Hahaha! W-Wow um... I... you know I have to be honest I... I like you too (Y/N)! I think you’re pretty awesome…. And seriously manly… to be able to watch a movie like this… and for other reasons too but… yeah I… I like you too…” He blushed and sounded a little shyer when he said the ‘L’ word to you, as he truly did return your feelings and you were just… so happy…

You almost completely forgot about the movie as you smiled warmly and hugged him back. “Good… that is exactly how I feel about you too… you’re the manliest guy I’ve ever met you know that?” Deciding to go soft, you smiled when you saw his smile brightening, but before he could squeeze you affectionately, he made the mistake of looking at the movie when a loud monster screech startled him and made him and his classmates nearly all scream and he did squeeze you… out of terror and he practically clung to you like a sloth to a tree.

At first you were shocked, but then you quickly snickered at his reaction and loved how his arms felt around you as you patted him on the head, kinda stroking the spikes a little bit. “(Y/N)’s got you…” A little condescendingly you spoke to him a soft tone, which made him kinda pout as he made sure to avoid watching the scarier parts while everyone was trembling in terror.

“A-Are you okay Ashido…?” Yaoyorozu asked Mina, who nodded despite her fear, “Y-Yeah… why…?”

“W-We heard you scream just now…” Jirou replied shortly afterwards, but was surprised at Mina’s confused look, “That wasn’t me…” Mina, for once didn’t scream at that last part since she had gotten used to the atmosphere. But everyone knew what Jirou was saying, because after seeing the jump scare featuring Rebecca getting her stomach torn and eaten alive by the monsters they heard someone shriek…

Very femininely and high-pitched…

“Huh? Then who screamed? Uraraka?” Kaminari looked to see the girls, but all of them were shaking their heads because they had held their tongues to avoid embarrassing themselves. “It was very girly sounding…” Despite not getting an answer, Kaminari just snickered a bit and everyone didn’t see Todoroki staring down at his lap and silently blushing as he made sure to avoid seeing anymore of the movie.

You saw. Because it was your job to make sure everyone was watching the movie, and you didn’t expect Todoroki Shouto to scream like a little girl, or Kirishima, the love of your life to hold you so tightly as his grip on you didn’t loosen in the slightest as you held him close and practically cuddled him.

Boy this night was turning out better than you thought…

25 MINUTES LATER…

The ending credits came on and you were a mix of amused, ecstatic and enamored as you didn’t let go of Kirishima, just in love with how soft yet firm he felt thanks to all those muscles on him that you found ridiculously attractive and tempting to just touch, and now you were feeling them up so close. It was like a muscular teddy bear you just wanted to sleep with in bed and never let go. And you had seen what he looked like under the clothes

However, his grip on you slowly loosened now that the movie was over but he still looked a little unnerved after everything he had to see.

“Soooooo… what did you guys think?!” You excitedly asked your friends and classmates, but many of them were rather… shell-shocked, with only Tokoyami, Tsuyu and Bakugou appearing the most entertained.

“That actually wasn’t a shitty movie after all.” Bakugou looked surprisingly calm as he approved of your movie choice, and you actually smiled. “Yeah I liked it a lot. It was one of the better horror movies I’ve seen in a while.” Tsuyu was next to say how much she enjoyed the movie and Tokoyami nodded besides her. “That was brilliant. I enjoyed every moment of it. I agree with Asui, it’s a lot better compared to the more modern horror movies.”

Their approval made you start to smile a little more smugly than you wanted to, “Hehe… why thanks~.” You giggled a little bit, but everyone else…

“T-That… t-hat… w-w-a-was… horrifying…” Izuku barely managed to get his words out as he and Uraraka were still trembling on the couch they were on. “I don’t want to go visit the mountains anymore…”

“I-It’s only a movie! It’s fictitious and there is no such thing as cave monsters!” Iida tried to make his friends feel better, but you just smiled at him.

“You don’t know that Iida… I mean not all caves are explored… who knows what’s in there? There just might be a cave monster somewhere around the world.” You didn’t help at all and added to the fear as many of the others started to tremble.

“She has a point…” Todoroki didn’t want to believe it, but this movie was… surprisingly and legitimately frightening. He didn’t want to imagine getting stuck in a mountain and suffocating from the lack of oxygen while something is potentially lurking in the dark.

“I-I’m sleeping with my lights on tonight…” Aoyama said what the rest of the Dekusquad was thinking, now that they had the wits scared out of them.

“Momo… can you please make me a night light…?” Mina asked Yaoyorozu because that movie seriously freaked her out, “M-Me too…?” Kaminari quickly asked right after Mina did, but the sweet Yaoyorozu did agree to make them some lights for tonight…

You didn’t know whether to be amused or kinda guilty. “Um… you don’t think this movie’s gonna scar anyone for life do you…?” You asked a shaky Kirishima, “I… I don’t think so…” He didn’t sound confident at all as you nervously smiled…

“BOO!”

Kirishima suddenly screamed and many of his classmates followed short when they heard him, and he jumped fearfully. But you had no idea who did that… at least until you heard your friend laughing.

“Hee-hee-hee! Sorry! I couldn’t really resist…” Hagakure was giggling, but nobody could see her so that definitely means she had stripped to be completely invisible. “Ahahaha! Nice one…” You approved of her little joke even when a few of your classmates were shouting at you for starting them, and Kirishima was trembling where he stood.

Smiling, you went over to him and held his hand to take him to his dorm-room, “C’mon…”

Kirishima let you lead him because he was honestly really scared now that he saw everything from that movie and some of the images and scenes weren’t going to leave his head for a while. He couldn’t stop thinking about it now… the blood, the cave-in, the monsters, the women screaming…

Even when it was time for him to go to bed he couldn’t really get them out of his head, and you knew this. So that’s why you were staying with him even when he got in his pajamas and lied in his bed, unwilling to turn the lights off and he almost freaked out when you were about to.

“Don’t!” He suddenly yelled, and you were honestly surprised…

Was he that scared?

Now you really felt bad. “Oh Kiri… I’m sorry… I’m so sorry…” You smiled a little sadly, turning off the light as he gasped and tried his hardest not to look so alarmed as you made your way over to him on his bed. “I’m sorry for calling you chicken…” You patted him gently on the back, and he blushed a little bit at how close you were but your comfort was making him feel a little bit better.

“Nah… it’s okay… you weren’t wrong, I should have just owned up to being a chicken…” Kirishima admitted to that, and felt bad for lying about since lying was not a manly thing to do at all. “You’re the cutest chicken ever. And besides… you’re not chicken at all where it counts.” You kissed him on the cheek, reminding him of the villains he’s fought against, and his bravery when he and Izuku went to go rescue Bakugou.

And Kirishima couldn’t help but grin shyly with a pink blush on his cheeks, “Awww… thanks!” He beamed as he actually kissed you on the forehead in return, which made you freeze and blush heavily as you let out a rather dorky, giddy little giggle…

“Uh… this might sound kinda lame but… do you mind… staying the night?” Kirishima then sounded shy upon asking you that, and you were still in a bit of shock from the kiss, but you nonetheless grinned and happily nodded. “I don’t mind at all~!” You said happily as the two of you exchanged big smiles and an equally big hug.

It took a while for him to actually go to sleep, but you were next to him in bed and the dark felt a little less scary.

You on the other hand, weren’t scared at all. You succeeded in getting the boy you loved close to you. Sure, you might have had to scare the pants off of him, but he was all yours now.

BONUS ENDING…

“Good morning cla-…”

Aizawa didn’t expect to walk into his classroom to see almost all of his students asleep on their desks. The ones who were awake looked a mix of exhausted and terrified with their eyes wide, droopy and bloodshot. And the only ones who were awake at all were you, Kirishima, Tokoyami, Tsuyu and Bakugou.

His eyebrow twitched ever so slightly in irritation when he picked up on what could have happened, “That’s it… no more horror movies on a school night…”

Little did you know, Aizawa planned on finding that movie of yours and confiscating it, as to spare his students from being traumatized any further…

You wouldn’t mind. You were finally with the boy you loved.

HAPPY APRIL FOOLS TUMBLR~!!!!!! :D <3 :3

#bnha kirishima #boku no hero academia kirishima #Kirishima Eijirou #kirishima x reader #mha kirishima #eijirou x reader #kirishima eijiro x reader #bnha eijirou #kirishima x you #kirishima is a good boy #my hero academia #boku no hero academia #mha x reader #bnha x reader #my hero academia kirishima #april fools #kirishima x reader fluff

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minijenn · 5 years

Text

Universe Falls Chapter 74

Merry Early Christmas, ya’ll! Here’s an early present for you, UF’s first musical chapter! As fun as this was to work on, its honestly just... ok. Some things about it could be better but eh I was already taking way too long to get it done in the first place so I figured might as well get it out of the way. Either way, I hope you enjoy it all the same!

Previous: https://minijenn.tumblr.com/post/189362205964/universe-falls-chapter-73

***

Chapter 74: Mr. Greg

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"From the moment the meat hits the flame, my stomach is growling without any shame!"

"And I know in my gut, it's been worth the $5.95!"

"Would you like a burger? From Pepe's Burgers?"

As the catchy, all too familiar jingle brought the commercial to an end, the TV buzzed to static once again, though that static was soon filled in by the flood of reactions to the ad itself.

"Whoa! Your song is on TV!" Steven exclaimed, looking to his father absolutely starstruck as he sat alongside the twins.

"Yeah, but is it just me or was there something sorta… different about it this time around?" Mabel wondered, curious.

"The words, Mabel, it was the words," Dipper pointed out, rather deadpan.

"Nah, that wasn't it."

"Well, I'll hand it to ya, Greg," Stan remarked, arms crossed as he leaned against the side of the van. "Looks like one of your songs finally accomplished something after all these years: it made me want a burger!"

The conman let out a joking laugh at this, one that Greg joined in on, just a bit more good-naturedly. "Ah, well, that wasn't the only thing it accomplished. You guys remember my old manager, Marty, right? Well, turns out he sold my song as a burger jingle. He sent me a letter explaining the whole thing, and included in that letter was this." The former rock star pulled a small slip of paper out his pocket, presenting it to the others. At first, none of them were really sure what it was until Stan happened to be the first to notice the one, followed by a very lengthy string of zeros, written on it. Topped off by a dollar sign, of all things.

"No," the conman gasped, eyes wide as he took the check to look over it himself. "No way… G-Greg, i-is… is this real?"

"Sure is," Greg nodded, grinning. "I honestly didn't believe it myself at first but it's true. Guess I'm filthy stinkin' rich now! Ten million big ones for something I wrote years ago! Crazy how things work out, huh? And-uh, Mr. Pines? Are you ok?"

Everyone turned to look at Stan, who was obviously beside himself with glee based on the massive grin on his face as he held onto Greg's check as if it were the most precious thing in the world. And, based on how much money it actually was worth, it might as well have been. "Greg," he began, his tone uncharacteristically pleasant and saccharine. "Have I ever told you that you were the best employee I've ever had?"

"Uh… no?" Greg raised a confused eyebrow. "But… thanks?"

"But Grunkle Stan, what about Soos and Wendy?" Mabel asked.

"This isn't about them, pumpkin, it's about Greg and his millions-o-of great qualities, that is!" Stan quickly saved himself with a tight laugh as he waved the check around. "L-like his generosity for instance! Always so giving and selfless. In fact, I'm sure that if you found a worthwhile charity or, oh, I dunno, former boss of yours to donate a few hundred or thousand or hundred thousand to, then you wouldn't hesitate, right?"

"Gee, Mr. Pines," Greg smirked knowingly as he finally took his check back from the conman. "You wouldn't happen to have anyone in mind, would you?"

"Well…" Stan began quite leadingly.

"Oh please, Stan, can't you think about anything other than money for five minutes?" Pearl finally spoke up, sending the conman a critical glance.

"Uh, I would, Pearl, if there was anything else worth thinkin' about," Stan shot back with a smug grin.

Pearl simply ignored him, rolling her eyes as she took another look at the burger commercial playing out on the TV. "I still don't understand…" she said, confused. "What exactly is this?"

"You know when Rose came to my concert?" Greg began with a wide grin. "The night we met? I was playing this song!"

"...This is what did it?" Pearl asked, baffled. "Burgers?"

"It wasn't about burgers back then," Greg clarified. "But she probably would have liked this too, right?"

"...She would have loved it…" the white Gem sighed, defeated as she turned to walk to the far side of the van.

Likewise, Greg also let out something of a dejected sigh as he turned the TV off, though none of the others really seemed to notice. "So what are you going to do with all that money, Mr. Universe?" Dipper asked, curious.

"Oh! I know!" Mabel enthusiastically raised her hand. "You could buy a swimming pool and then buy another swimming pool to put inside it and fill that swimming pool with jelly beans! Or you could buy a pet monkey and a fancy tuxedo for him to wear! Or-or… a rocket ship piloted by your pet monkey, with a jelly bean filled swimming pool inside another swimming pool to take you to your own personal planet!"

"Geez, Mabel, reign it back a bit, will ya?" Stan remarked, crossing his arms. "Besides, I thought we already established that Greg was gonna donate most of that money to me-I mean, a charitable cause. Yeah, there we go."

"Heh, well, you guys have some pretty… interesting ideas there," Greg said with a small smile. "But to be honest… I'm not really sure what I'm gonna do with the money."

Despite the bewildered looks the others gave him at this admission, nonetheless the former rock star took a seat in the back of his van, pulling out his guitar to strum a simple, relaxing tune. One that he was more than happy to sing along with.

"Bright sunny day, don't cost nothin'. Light summer breeze, don't cost nothin'. What do I do with all this money? When the only thing I want is you?" he smiled to his son in particular, who instantly perked up to hear one of his father's classic, off the cuff songs.

"Palling around, don't cost nothin'. Singing a song, don't cost nothin'. How do I spend all this money? I'd rather just spend time with you."

"You could buy a house," Steven piped up, offering suggestions through song himself. "And a car."

"I guess that I can, but I've already got a van," Greg noted, nodding back to said van, a loyal, longtime vehicle he had no interest in replacing any time soon. "I could put you through college."

"But I'm with the Gems all the time," the young Gem pointed out with a shrug.

"...Or I could buy you all the finest courses online."

"What if we took a trip?" Steven ventured after a moment or two of thought.

"Do you think?" the former rock star inquired, intrigued by this suggestion.

The young Gem nodded. "We could go somewhere new! We could take a vacation, and you guys could come too!" he finished, smiling brightly to Stan and the twins as they listened in.

"Woo! Yeah! Vacation!" Mabel cheered, immediately excited by the prospect. "I've been dying to get away and see somewhere new!"

"Mabel, we've just spent the past several weeks on end away at the barn," Dipper pointed out, reigning his sister's zeal in with a small laugh.

"Yeah, but we were there to work," Mabel countered. "This trip is gonna be for fun! Right, Grunkle Stan?"

"Hey, if Greg's payin', I'm all for it," Stan remarked. "What do ya say, Greg? Tropical cruise to the Bahamas? Or are you more of a luxury beach house in the Keys sorta guy?"

"Hm…" Greg took a moment to think over these vacation ideas, before he came up with a suggestion all his own. "I know a place that's always exciting! The shows and the sights and the lights that are blinding!" the former rock star's tempo picked up from his previous song as he rummaged through the back of his van for a postcard featuring his chosen destination. "Emerald City! I'm talkin' Emerald City!"

The kids exchanged an excited glance at this, immediately taken by the idea of venturing out to the famously beautiful northern city. Still, Greg sold the prospect of the trip to them even more as he jumped out of the back of the van, his upbeat tune continuing all the while. "The streets and the sounds and the buildings heightening! A place that's so bright it's like clear, white lightning! Emerald City! Let's go to Emerald City!"

This momentum continued as Greg and Steven began leading the way up to the temple so the young Gem could start packing for the trip. The twins joined in on this energy as they followed, with Mabel dragging a much more begrudging Stan along with them.

"I know a place that's always exciting," Greg began a refrain of his first verse as the group burst into the house, startling Pearl in the process as she stood near the kitchen. "The shows and the sights and the lights that are blinding!"

"We don't need money, but it could be funny," Steven harmonized under his father's melody, quickly throwing his things into his hot dog duffel bag.

"The streets and the sounds and the buildings heightening!"

"So let's go today-"

"A place that's so bright it's like clear, white lightning!"

"Just point me the way to-"

"Emerald City!" Steven and Greg finished together, with the young Gem bringing both Dipper and Mabel into this bold final lyric. Though perhaps not the final lyric as Steven tacked one more onto it at the last second. "And let's bring Pearl!"

"W-what?" Greg balked, caught off guard by the idea.

"Ugh, kid, what's wrong with you?" Stan scowled. "I thought the whole point of this trip was to skip town and have fun. And everybody knows Pearl doesn't know the meaning of the word fun."

"Hey! I do too know what 'fun' is!" Pearl protested, offended. "Why, just yesterday, I had an exceptional un time sorting and organizing every single pot, plate, and utensil in this kitchen. And if that's not fun, then I don't know what is."

"...Well then, I stand corrected," Stan said, absolutely deadpan.

"Aw, you should come with us to Emerald City, Pearl!" Mabel said, offering a bright smile to the white Gem. "I heard there's this magical wizard there, and to get there, you have to drive on this really pretty yellow brick road. Not sure how great that is for your tires, but still, it sounds really cool."

"That's a different Emerald City, Mabel," Dipper pointed out dryly.

"Wait… you mean there's more than one?!"

"Um… still, you gotta come with us, Pearl!" Steven made another attempt at convincing the white Gem. "You always work so hard, keeping the Earth safe, keeping the house clean; you deserve a vacation!"

"Er… I don't know, Steven…" Pearl frowned, clearly uncomfortably as she turned away slightly. "Past experiences have taught me that three is a crowd…"

The young Gem was rather confused by this, at least until his father interjected in an equally uncertain whisper. "Steven, me and Pearl haven't gotten along that well, since… uh, well, since I started dating your mother." Greg frowned, casting a brief, bittersweet glance back at the portrait of the aforementioned pink Gem hanging over the door. Almost as if she was still watching, even now that she was gone.

"Oh, come on," Steven pouted earnestly. "We're all one big family! So this will be a great family vacation! Featuring the Universes," he grinned as he wrapped an arm around his dad's shoulder before nodding over to the twins and Stan. "The Pines, uh… Pearl. And don't forget Mom!"

Greg and Pearl in particular flinched as Steven pulled his shirt up a bit to reveal his Gem. Or rather, what had once been Rose's Gem.

Pearl was still clearly hesitant, taking in a sharp hiss through her teeth as she exchanged a rather uneasy glance with the former rock star, neither of them really sure how to feel about this situation. Ultimately though, the white Gem folded upon taking another look at Steven's pleading expression, one that was accompanied by similar looks from both Mabel and Dipper alike. And under that sort of pressure, how could she even hope to resist? "Oh, alright…" she sighed begrudgingly. "I… I'll come…"

"Yes!" Steven and Mabel cheered in delighted unison, though as they did, Dipper happened to consider something neither of them had.

"Wait, so if this is a 'family' vacation," he began thoughtfully. "Then shouldn't Great Uncle Ford come with us too?"

"Oh yeah!" Mabel exclaimed. "It can't be a Universe/Pines family vacation without Grunkle Ford coming along! It just wouldn't be complete!"

"Uh, yeah, it would!" Stan interjected somewhat harshly. "Who says we need Ford to come with us? Heck, he'd be an even bigger killjoy than Pearl's gonna end up being on this trip."

"Stan!" Pearl huffed, annoyed, though the conman ignored her as he continued.

"Anyway, he's not coming," Stan concluded staunchly, stubbornly. "And that's final."

"But Grunkle Stan, this is a family trip," Mabel argued.

"And Great Uncle Ford is just as much a part of the family as any of us are," Dipper added much more firmly.

"Oh yeah," the conman scowled bitterly. "Well if he's really a 'part of this family' then why doesn't he ever act like it?"

Stan didn't give either of the younger twins a chance to respond as he gruffly turned on his heel and walked out of the house without another word. A somewhat awkward air filled the room at this, at least until Greg filled it with an apologetic frown. "Aw, sorry, kids. I guess it's just gonna be the six of us heading to Emerald City, huh?"

"Wrong," Steven spoke up, placing a reassuring hand on both of the rather dejected twins' shoulders. He offered them both a kind smile, one that was more than enough to tell them that he was going to help them bring their entire family together on this trip, no matter what it took. "It's gonna be seven."

"No. Absolutely not."

Steven, Dipper, and Mabel barely managed to hold back a shared sigh of disappointment upon hearing Ford's outright rejection of their proposal, one that came the moment they so much as mentioned Stan would be coming along on the trip.

"But Grunkle Ford, Emerald City is gonna be great!" Mabel urged, stopping the author in his tracks as he moved about his study by grabbing onto the edge of his coat. "We'll have an adventure in self-discovery and melt a witch with a bucket of water and sing a whole bunch of songs! It's gonna be so much fun!"

"Again, Mabel, that's the wrong Emerald City you're talking about," Dipper corrected, though he interjected once more after a beat of thought. "Well, aside from the songs part, I guess. This is a musical after all."

"Well then, you children are more than welcome to go and have a marvelous time," Ford remarked dismissively as he reclaimed the edge of his coat. "But I won't be joining you. I'm afraid I have far too much to catch up on here and besides, I have no interest whatsoever in going anywhere with-" The author stopped short, sparing a glance down at the trio of kids before he decided to cap his statement off on a seemingly different statement altogether. "I-I… I'd simply rather not go. I'm sorry."

While the twins exchanged a dejected glance at this, Steven wasn't about to give up so easily. "But Mr. Ford…" the young Gem began leadingly, grinning to the twins beside him to tip them off to his plan. His musical plan. "Wouldn't you like-a chance to escape and just break from that boring old routine?" Steven began, taking on a bright, optimistic melody, one that Mabel and Dipper were both quick to catch onto with their own additions.

"Wouldn't you like-a chance to go where you know there are things you've never seen?" Mabel sang brightly, offering the author a convincing grin.

"Wouldn't you like-to explore so much more than you ever have before?" Dipper added trying his best to match Steven and Mabel's enthusiasm.

"Cause wouldn't you like a chance to get away?!" all three kids harmonized, capping their first verse off well and aptly confusing Ford in the process.

"Why are you three singing?" the author asked, bewildered.

"Cause like Dipper said, it's a musical!" Steven grinned, though even so, Ford was still absolutely lost.

"...What? "

"Wouldn't you like-to try something new with a few of your favorite friends?" Mabel kicked off the next verse, slipping to the still-confounded author's side as Dipper did the same.

"Wouldn't you like-to be free, to go out and about to find out what's waiting 'round the bend?" he turned in with a hopeful shrug as Steven came in to finish off another verse.

"Wouldn't you like-to go searching and find everything you're looking for?"

"Cause wouldn't you like a chance to get away?!" the trio finished off in unison once more, briefly giving Ford another short-lived attempt at cutting through the song once again.

"Now, children, I-"

"Wouldn't you like-" Mabel interrupted, as vibrantly as ever. "An adventure with friends where excitement never ends?"

"Wouldn't you like-" Steven sang with a warm, brimming grin. "To go see what the world's all about, see what's flashy and brand new?"

"Wouldn't you like-" Dipper chimed in, joining Steven and Mabel as they came together for the song's grand finale. "To check out what you've missed while you gone for so long?"

"Cause wouldn't you like-" all three of the kids sang before splitting off to build up towards the end.

"Wouldn't you like-"

"Wouldn't you like…."

"A chance to get away!?" they all finished, presenting their case to the author with matching, earnest, almost pleading smiles. Smiles that even Ford was powerless to say no to.

So instead, he let out a long sigh, pinching the bridge of his nose before he finally gave in. "Fine. I… suppose I can spare a night away from my research." The author cracked a small, somewhat wry smile as Steven, Dipper, and Mabel all let out a shared, excited gasp. "But only because you kids asked in such a… unique way."

"Well, I've learned from experience that when in doubt, nothing works better than a song," Steven shrugged with a small laugh, one that Dipper and Mabel readily joined in on before they sang one final, triumphant refrain of their successful song.

"Now it's time to take that chance and get away!"

It was quite a lengthy drive in Greg's relatively packed van to get all the way up to Emerald City, though as the kids spotted the sparkling metropolis on the horizon, it soon became apparent that it was worth the trip. Emerald City certainly lived up to its glamorous reputation, with towering skyscrapers glittering against the deep night sky, casting an almost ethereal reflection upon the vast lakes and rivers and bays that surrounded it. These clean-cut, futuristic buildings became even more impressive up close as the van winded through its narrow, maze-like streets, allowing everyone a grand tour of the town, at least until they pulled up to their destination.

According to a brief internet search, Le Hotel was the fanciest, ritziest hotel Emerald City had to offer. And indeed, it fit the bill as it towered high as one of the city's tallest buildings, elegant and refined from the outside in as its grand lobby carried the same radiant theme. The group entered with various levels of amazement towards this sophisticated atmosphere, even if they did look quite a bit out of place in that atmosphere given their relatively normal attire and attitude. Even as Greg stepped up to the check-in counter, the clerk simply looked over him with a brief, haughty scoff. His manner hardly changed as the former rock star confidently presented him with his new business card, which colorfully read "Greg Universe: Bazillionaire". However, it was only as Steven peered over the edge of the counter and plopped down one of the many large stacks of cash his father had brought along that the mood of the entire hotel seemed to change. Staff passing by stopped dead in their tracks, the clerk eyed the money being presented to him with obvious shock, and all the while Greg stood by, grinning to the others about the upscale experience they were about to receive.

An experience that of course, kicked off with a song.

"Hey, shake a leg!" the clerk called the rest of the staff, who chimed in just as enthusiastically.

"Hey, shake a leg!"

"It's Mr. Greg!"

"And he's here to spend his dough all over town!"

At this, the staff mobilized efficiently, quite literally sweeping the Universe, Pines, and Pearl up to carry them off to the hotel's fine, five star restaurant. Without any hesitation, they sat them all down at the finest table in the center of the banquet hall, serving up the finest (most expensive) meal they had to offer.

"He's got the bucks!" the staff sang once again as Greg blithely answered them.

"I've got the bucks!"

"It's all deluxe."

"It's all deluxe!" Greg agreed, much to the excitement of not just the kids, but Stan in particular as he greedily began to tear into the massive, steaming steak placed in front of him. "When you're dining out with me, it's the finest steak and brie." The former rock star was clearly caught up in the somewhat manic, celebratory mood as he hopped up onto the table, catching the others off guard while he began to dance. "And if I break a table, it ain't no-whoa!" Inevitably, Greg did break the table, splitting it clean in half as he fell and knocked nearly all of the food off of it, save for Stan's steak, which the conman had wisely managed to save just in the nick of time. An awkward beat of silence passed at this as the surrounding staff looked to Greg expectantly, but all the same, the former rock star simply laughed his faux pas off as he pulled yet another large bill out of his pocket and handed it to the clerk. "Just bill it to my bank."

"A hundred bucks?!" the clerk exclaimed, amazed. "Gee, thanks!"

Before anyone had a chance to finish up their meals, the staff members led them off again, this time out of the restaurant and towards the elevator, which carried them all the way up to the building's hundredth floor. Its penthouse suite.

Said suite certainly rivaled the decadence and splendor of anything any of them had seen thus far. It was a massive complex, with several rooms, enough for everyone, all connected to the grand main room, which was completed by its very own full-sized swimming pool and slide. However, the lavish accommodations weren't the only surprise the hotel staff had in store. For after a quick round of measurements, they had managed to outfit everyone, kids and adults alike, in matching fine tuxedos and top hats, garbing them all in a look befitting the wealth they were all enjoying.

As elegantly clad as they now were, Greg and the kids alike didn't waste any time in indulging in all the penthouse had to offer, namely, its massive pool. Even despite the expensive, top line suits and ties, they all jumped right in, Greg taking the slide as Steven and Mabel canonballed into the deep end without any second thoughts. Dipper did hesitate for just a moment, that is, until the pair ultimately hopped up out of the water and pulled him right in along with them.

Yet, despite the fun the kids and the former rock star were all clearly having as they quite literally dived right into their vacation, not everyone was joining in. While Stan clearly appreciated his new upscale suit, Ford wasn't as taken with his, particularly the top hat and bow tie and the memories he couldn't help but associate with them.

"Well, these won't be missed," the author frowned, handing both off to the nearest staff member. His brother, on the other hand, gladly touched up his own with a wide, cocky grin, clearly enjoying what was perhaps his first real taste of a life of luxury.

"I could get used to this!" the conman proclaimed, barely even noticing Ford's annoyed scowl at all.

"Of course, you'd find this exciting," he remarked, arms crossed as he glared away.

"Better than your boring old writing," Stan jabbed back, reclaiming the author's top hat and pulling it down over his eyes.

"Would you grow up!?" Ford huffed, frustrated as he tossed the hat aside again.

"You first!" Stan taunted, helping himself to the penthouse's wetbar.

"Is it just me or are they getting worse?" Dipper asked, noticing this exchange from the pool as he exchanged an apprehensive glance with Mabel. Likewise, Steven spotted the obvious tension between the brothers, though that wasn't all he saw as he happened to spot Pearl, lingering quietly near the far side of the pool. Even compared to Stan and Ford, she hadn't engaged in the festivities whatsoever, instead opting to observe alone from the sidelines, seemingly unamused. That is, until Greg and Steven decided to get involved.

While Pearl didn't often change her attire, she was quite surprised to see how nicely her own suit looked on her as the kids came together to convince her to try it on at least. And from the moment she did, she couldn't help but finally join in on the lighthearted spirit of the evening. "I must admit-" she began with a growing smile.

"You must admit," Greg and Steven echoed happily as they posed alongside her.

"It's a perfect fit!" the white Gem grinned, adjusting her top hat gracefully.

"You look great in it!"

"And those fountains I found wasteful," she nodded over to one of the several elegant fountains lining the penthouse. "Are actually quite tasteful! This city's got its charm, unlike that termite-ridden barn. And any time with Steven makes for a delightful evenin'!" She laughed, falling in step alongside the young Gem for a spirited round of tap-dancing.

"You're having fun!" Greg exclaimed, pleasantly surprised.

"More or less," Pearl shrugged, grinning. However, that grin quickly fell the moment the former rock star grabbed her hand to pull her into another dance.

"So dance with me, just say-"

"NO!"

Pearl's stark shout echoed through the lofty halls of the penthouse suite, bringing both the song and the cheery mood to an abrupt end. An air of startled, awkward silence filled in for both instead, one that seemed to grow even more awkward and heavy as all eyes turned to the crestfallen white Gem herself. Pearl flinched, unsure of what to say at first, especially as she met Greg's sad, yet earnest expression. "I-I… I mean…" Ultimately, however, she let out a bitter sigh, turning away from the entire group as she sulked off to some other part of the penthouse just to get away from it all. "Maybe later…"

"Boo!" one of the hotel employees called after her, disappointed. "You ruined the song!"

"Er, uh… sorry, guys," Greg frowned, dispensing a handful of cash out to the staff to compensate them as they took their leave. "Thanks for singing with us."

"W-well, I guess our super fun city vacation could be getting off to a bit of a better start than this, huh?" Mabel asked with a fretful frown.

"Yeah…" Steven sighed, looking off in the direction Pearl had retreated to. "It really could…"

"Aw, don't worry about it, kiddo," Greg reassured his son, placing a comforting hand on his shoulder, all while hiding his own lingering regret well. "It's always been this way…"

"Hm… perhaps I should go talk to talk to her, Greg," Ford volunteered thoughtfully. "After all, I think it's safe to say I have just as much experience as you do when it comes to Pearl and this… particular problem…"

The former rock star offered the author a grateful smile at this, catching his drift all too well. "Thanks, Mr. Ford."

"Yeah, go on, Ford, while the rest of us have fun, you and Pearl can have your sad little nerd party of two," Stan remarked with an obviously teasing smirk. "See, kids? I told ya both of them would end up being nothing but a bunch of killjoys on this trip."

"Grunkle Stan-" Dipper began, shaking his head disapprovingly over such a tactless remark.

However, Ford was more than ready to intervene on his own behalf instead. "Oh, so now I'm a killjoy?" the author countered, turning back to face his brother. "Well, forgive me that I have no interest in losing my mind over a bunch of big-city frivolity."

"Tch, obviously," Stan remarked, rolling his eyes. "So if you aren't here for any of that, why'd you even come in the first place? 'Cause as far as I can tell, if ya ain't here to have a good time, then you might as well not even be here in the first place."

For a moment, Ford simply sent the conman a bitter scowl at this, much to the worry of the younger pair of twins as they watched this icy exchange unfold. However, what none of them, not even Stan himself, could have expected was what the author did next. He reached out, his expression completely unreadable as he placed a hand on his brother's shoulder… and abruptly shoved him right into the swimming pool behind him.

Ford was the first, and for a long time, only one of the group to break out into a heavy burst of laughter as Stan splashed into the deep end before floundering back up to the surface, completely flustered. "Well, I don't know about the rest of you," the author chuckled, beside himself with amusement, especially as he caught sight of the conman's dumbfounded face. "But I'm certainly having a great time now!"

At this, Dipper and Mabel finally let out a small, shared laugh themselves, one that Greg and Steven slowly joined in on themselves. With the tension in the air finally cleared, Stan couldn't help but crack a small, subtle smirk himself as he pulled himself out of the pull and wrung his hat out in the process. "Alright, fine," he scoffed playfully. "Consider this payback for that time when we were in 6th grade and I pushed ya off the diving board at the public pool."

"Please, Stanley, I'd hardly consider this payback," Ford remarked with a flippant wave of his hand, even though he was still chuckling somewhat. "Especially since you did that right in front of Cathy Crenshaw."

"Aw, c'mon, sixer, you always knew a square like you would have never been able to land a catch like 'Cold-Stone Crenshaw'," Stan jabbed, elbowing his brother wryly.

"True, though at the very least I never struck out with her like you did with Carla McCorkle," Ford retorted just as confidently.

"Hey! I never 'struck out' with Carla!" the conman protested. "It was that stupid hippie and his stupid bellbottom jeans that stole her away from me! I can still remember the day they rocketed out of the Juke Joint without me and she left me behind…"

"Believe me, so can I, seeing as how you wouldn't stop crying about it for at least a week after," Ford said with a knowing smirk. "Who was the 'sad nerd' back then, Stanley?"

"Pfft, you, sixer, 'specially after your dumb 'ol bust of-what was that guy's name again? Tulip? Toyla?"

"Tesla," Ford corrected pointedly.

"Sure, whatever, 'Tesla', fell off the shelf and broke that one night."

"Well, of course I was upset about that, Stanley, it was a collectible!"

"Oh yeah? Well so was Carla McCorkle!"

A beat of silence passed between the brothers at such a bizarre remark, but ultimately, the humor of just how strange it was wasn't lost on either one of them. At the exact same moment, they both burst until yet another round of bombastic laughter, one that was completely warm and genuine, much to the delight of the younger twins observing. As they shared a delighted grin with Steven, the young Gem offered them a supportive thumbs up before gently shoving his father away to offer the family some much-needed privacy.

"Wow! Aren't we all having such a fun time!?" Mabel chimed in with a bright, leading smile. "It's nights like tonight that just make you wanna forget all of the bad stuff back in the past and look ahead to a bright and happy future, don't you guys agree?"

"Try not to be too on the nose there, Mabel…" Dipper warned in a worried whisper. And yet, neither Stan and Ford's bright mood was dampened by this as they instead offered each other a relenting, yet lighthearted grin instead.

"You know… perhaps it does…" Ford said with a humbling sigh, noting his brother's growing relief and excitement. "After all, what else are vacations like this for than for… getting away from it all?"

Needless to say a line like this was more than enough to prompt another song, one that, much to Dipper and Mabel's continually elated surprise at this situation as a whole, Stan ended up starting off. "We came all this way to give us a fresh start," he began on a tune that was fittingly airy and easy. "And now I'm wondering how we even fell apart?"

"You know it's so strange, I can't help but agree," Ford shrugged incredulously. "Maybe its this city air, or maybe it's just me."

"We've been fallin' out for way too long," Stan sang, picking up a hint of an upbeat swing. "So let's forget who's right."

"And forget who's wrong."

"Ok!" Dipper and Mabel chimed in brightly, so, so happy to see their uncles finally begin to repair all that had been broken between them so long ago.

"And here I thought making amends would be our last resort," Ford added, this time gladly accepting the reclaimed tophat his brother was holding out to him.

"But life's too short!" they sang together, back to back as they shared a cordial grin.

"To always feel shut out, forgotten by the brother I used to know," Stan's smile dimmed only somewhat at this, remembering those nearly 40 years of bitter separation, as well as his own countless mistakes along the way that had brought that separation about to begin with.

"Life's too short!"

"To never let the pain and regrets that defined both our pasts just go," Ford did his best to hold back a sigh here, knowing that those regrets were far too many to name. And as heavy of a weight as they were, maybe it was indeed finally time to just let them go altogether.

"Whoaohoh!"

"I never understood," the brothers sang in harmony, both in tune and in spirit as they both came to meet each other halfway for the first time in a very long time. "But now I do! Life's too short-to miss out on a brother like you!"

The duet came to its apparent close with another strong laugh between the brothers, one that more or less solidified the newly-revived warm feelings between them. And as far as both Dipper and Mabel were concerned, considering the tense bitterness that they had always seen between their uncles before, this was more than a welcome change.

"So are things finally, you know, cool between you guys now?" Dipper asked, aptly hopeful.

"Well…"

"You bet they are, kid," Stan interrupted, catching Ford off guard by tossing an arm over his shoulder. "Well, at least they will be once this guy gives me the 'thank you' he's owed me ever since he got back."

"Thank you?" Ford asked, genuinely confused. "For what?"

"Uh, for busting my butt for the past 30 years so I could bring you back from wherever you were, duh," Stan remarked as though it was obvious. "Geez, and I thought you were supposed to be the smart one, sixer."

However, instead of providing the thanks the conman was expecting, the author instead looked to him incredulously, almost as if he was baffled that he'd even bothered to ask for it in the first place. Which, by most accounts, he very much was. "Thank you?" he asked, scoffing right off the bat. "Thank you? Why would I thank you when you were the one who got me sucked into the portal in the first place?!"

"Ugh, that was 30 years ago, Ford!" Stan groaned, annoyed. "You just said so yourself, it's time to finally let that go."

"How can I when you essentially ruined my life?!"

"You ruined your own life!"

This dig clearly struck an all-too painful chord with both of the older twins, calling back far to many agonizing memories from 30 years past to keep any of them straight. At the same time, their niblings exchanged a distraught, desperate glance, realizing that just as quickly as things had started to come together between their uncles, in much of the very same way, they were rapidly starting to fall apart.

"So we make up and hug? That's how your story ends?" Ford began again, his tune much more sharp and harsh than it had been before.

"Uh, yeah, it'll be just like it was," Stan countered, still somewhat hopeful that things could turn themselves around. Even though he knew the line clearly had already been crossed. "Ya know, when we were best friends?"

"So that's your big plan? To force me back in a cage?" the author accused, glaring his brother down coldly.

"Whoa, let's not freak out!" Stan countered, trying his best to ease the growing tension. "Let's get back on the same page-"

"Gee, thanks for telling me that to my face!" Ford's glare turned to a false, sardonic grin as he made an attempt at shoving Stan away. "And showing off your mastery of tact and grace!"

"No way…" the younger twins sighed, realizing just how south things really were going.

"Nevermind how you spilled my secrets, gave a full report!"

"Wait-" Stan attempted to interject, but Ford clearly was having none of it.

"Cause life's too short!"

"There it is! The door you love to slam in my face!" Stan immediately shot back, his tone every bit as fierce as the author's as he spun back around to face him. "You did well there for a spell but now we're back in the same place. Tell me off if you want, but I'm the only one who wasted 30 long years on trying to save you!"

"You can waste whatever you want 'cause I don't care!" Ford huffed crossly, throwing his hands up at his equally disgruntled brother. "You're a fool who opened the portal!"

"That is SO unfair!"

"I swear!" both brothers sang in a harsh, hardened lack of harmony. "I'm through with taking your unshaking brotherly support!"

"Support!"

"Ha! 'Cause life's too short!"

"To let you get off it all so scott free," Stan scowled, his hands in tight, practically shaking fists at his sides. "Without thinking about thanking me!"

"Life's too short!"

"To listen to a reckless fool!" Ford argued hotly, borderline hatefully even. "Who only ever sees what he wants to see!"

"You don't know-"

"You have no idea-"

"What I've been through! Because of you!" they both sang together, hostile and explosive and completely unaware of their niblings' immense dread as they helplessly watched all this unfold.

"Life's too short to waste another minute!"

"Life's too short to even have you in it!"

"Life's too short!" They finished fiercely, abruptly turning on their heels before they both walked away in opposite directions, their stance on each other very clear. And as they parted ways, they left the younger pair of twins behind, awash in the echo of their angry, bitter refrain.

"W-well that… didn't go great…" Mabel frowned, disappointed. "Heck, so far almost none of this vacation has… 'specially not with those two... What are we supposed to do, Dipper?"

Dipper didn't answer right away, instead catching the briefest of glances between Stan and Ford right before they both slipped into their own respective rooms on the opposite side of the penthouse for the night. In the end though, he sighed dejectedly, not even sharing any of the same sparse shreds of hope Mabel was still clinging onto. "I don't know, Mabel…" he admitted quietly before he turned to walk away himself. "I don't know…"

And with that, the younger twins parted ways, if not in words than in sentiment, repeating the very same empty, hopeless verse their uncles had before them.

Despite the upbeat excitement that had been going around as the group pulled into Emerald City earlier that evening, those celebratory feelings were in short supply by the time they all ended up turning in for bed. With the former levity drained from the penthouse in its entirety, its guests soon slipped into slumber instead, with just about everyone taking a separate room in the sizable suite, save for Greg and Steven who ended up bunking together. And it was as they lay on the luxurious king-sized bed, quietly snoozing away, that Pearl quietly entered.

After that initial song, the white Gem had made herself rather scarce, not really wanting to face anyone, the former rock star in particular. However, as she softly stepped into the room to stand alongside the bed, she couldn't help but crack a small, somewhat bittersweet smile, especially as she spotted the bouquet of roses resting on the nightstand beside it. Pearl let out an almost inaudible sigh as she plucked one of the flowers, holding onto it gently as she let her many mingled thoughts and feelings out in a soft, solemn tune.

"I was fine with the men, who would come into her life now and again." Men such as Ford and so many others even before him, all of whom had captivated Rose in some sort of way, be it romantic or otherwise. But all of them had come, in and out of her life in a constant flux all the same, always dwarfed by just how broad and brightly the pink Gem had always shined. "I was fine, 'cause I knew that they didn't really matter… until you…"

The white Gem's smile finally fell as she looked back to Greg, unknowingly slumbering before her. Still clinging onto her rose, she slipped her top hat back on and stepped out onto the nearby balcony, all the while unaware that she had awakened a certain young Gem in the process.

"I was fine when you came and we fought like it was all some silly game." It really had seemed so silly back then, so innocent, just like so many of the others had been. Just another human who would happen to catch Rose's fancy for a while before ultimately being left behind. Another human who would never be able to stay by her side for as long as Pearl herself had. "Over her, who she'd choose. After all those years, I never thought I'd lose…"

"It's over, isn't it? Isn't it? Isn't it over?" she sang sadly, mournfully almost as the dull lights of the sparkling city seemed to float and drift around her. "It's over, isn't it? Isn't it? Isn't it over?"

"You won, and she chose you," she admitted, knowing it was the truth. But even if it was the truth and it had been the truth for several years now, that never made facing it any easier. "And she loved you and she's gone… It's over, isn't it, why can't I move on?"

At this, Pearl performed an elegant leap onto the balcony's narrow edge, balancing skillfully between it and the city streets far, far below her. All the same, she danced deftly on that fine line, all the while reveling in both her memories and the grief that came along with them. "War, and glory, reinvention." She smiled discreetly down to the rose still in her hand, knowing just how much 'reinventing' both of them had done in their hidden, yet shared past. "Fusion, freedom, her attention." All things that she adored, that she only ever got a glimpse of, that they only ever had won because of each other. "Out in daylight, my potential, bold, precise, experimental." As she swung her rose out like a blade, once again she was reminded of just how different she had become, just how much she had broken away from everything she had ever been made to do. Then again, she supposed Rose had broken away from all she had once been before too. They both had changed, and the best part of it all? They had changed together.

But that was then. And this was now. And now… Rose was gone.

"Who am I now in this world without her?" Pearl lamented as she lay against the railing, her gaze cast up to the sky as she felt that all too familiar pain ring through her once more. A pain that she never seemed to be able to shake away, no matter how hard she tried. "Petty and dull with the nerve to doubt her." To doubt her decisions, her choices, be they good or bad. To fail to understand what she had done, what she had sacrificed even now, even still, years after the fact when she should have known, she should have understood. But… she didn't. And sometimes, she wondered if she ever really would.

"What does it matter? It's already done!" And it was. Done, finished, over. And yet… in so many ways… it wasn't. At least not to her. "Now I've got to be there for her son!"

Speaking of said son, Pearl didn't even notice as Steven quietly slipped out of bed in the room behind her, listening in on her mournful melody with apt sympathy. All the same, the white Gem slipped back onto the balcony with resignation, looking back to the city as she tried, so hard, to make it past this. To finally move on and just let it go. The only problem was, how could she let go of something as precious as the love she felt for Rose? The love she still felt for her, even now that she wasn't there?

"It's over, isn't it? Isn't it? Isn't it over?" She gripped the railing tightly, shaking her head at her own stubborn foolishness. While she didn't technically have a heart, she knew that if she did, it would be aching beyond measure. And it likely would have for quite some time now. "It's over isn't it? Isn't it? Isn't it over?!"

"You won, and she chose you, and she loved you and she's GONE!" On this, she tossed the rose, hoping to release it and everything it represented. And yet, try as she might, those feelings, bitter, painful, and agonizing as they were, still remained, just as they always had. Just as they very well always would.

"It's over, isn't it? Why can't I move on?" She wondered softly, a stray tear finally streaming down her cheek.

"It's over, isn't it? Why can't I move on?"

Slowly, Pearl turned away from the balcony and back toward the bedroom, only to find that her song had an audience. Steven sat on the near edge of the bed, looking to the white Gem with a sad, sympathetic frown. However, the one Pearl was immediately more concerned and alarmed by was Greg, sitting on the far side of the bed, his back turned away from her and his expression unknown.

"G-Greg!" the white Gem exclaimed, gripping the edges of her top hat tightly. "You were… a-awake?"

"Nothing's gonna fix this…" Greg sighed tiredly, standing as he threw a bathrobe on over his suit. "Is it?"

Pearl faltered, unsure of how to answer this question, especially as the former rock star began to sulk out of the room. "Greg!"

"I'm sorry you had to be around me…" Greg muttered dismally as he walked out, despite both Pearl and Steven's protests.

"Dad!" the young Gem called after him worriedly, though his attention was soon turned back over to Pearl as she let out a small, guilty sigh behind him.

"I shouldn't have come along…" she said, now more forlorn than ever before, this time entirely thanks to her own doing.

"No," Steven said, his devout, serious tone catching the white Gem off guard. "This is exactly why we brought you."

Startled and confused, Pearl looked to the young Gem, bewildered, but all the same, she followed his lead as he began heading off in the same direction his father had gone. Though as they passed through the penthouse's den, they soon discovered that they weren't the only ones awake at such a late hour of the night.

"Dipper? Mabel?" Pearl frowned, noticing the pair first as they listlessly sat together on the couch. "Why are you kids up so late?"

"Why do you think?" Dipper asked, clearly exhausted as he broadly nodded over to the other side of the penthouse. Even from the den, the sound of Stan and Ford's noisy bickering could be heard, something that had been a constant for at least the past hour or so now. A constant that had, in the process, was robbing the younger pair of twins of sleep all the while.

"Admit it, Stanley! All you've ever done is hold me back!" Ford shouted furiously from somewhere down the hall.

"Oh yeah?" Stan's challenge echoed just as loudly through the penthouse. "Well at least I've done way more for you than your old pal Rose ever did!"

"Don't you dare bring Rose into this!"

"Oh my…" Pearl muttered to herself, shaking her head. "It seems I'm not the only one having a hard time moving on…"

"They're still fighting," Mabel groaned into one of the couch's plush pillows. "Which is crazy cause it actually seemed like things were finally going to be ok between those two!"

"But who are we kidding?" Dipper shook his head in resigned defeat. "They've hated each other for this long, why did we ever think there's anything that could make them stop now?"

"You guys can!" Steven interjected earnestly, offering the hopeless twins a hopeful glance. "They love both of you more than they hate each other, I know it! Which is why if there's anyone who could get them to make up, its you two."

For a moment, neither Dipper nor Mabel said anything to this, instead simply meeting Steven's encouraging smile halfheartedly. Until they both decided to go out on a limb in the hopes that such an idea could possibly have some merit. "Well, at this point, I guess it's worth a shot?" Dipper ventured with a small shrug.

Mabel nodded in support of this plan with a reassured smile, though before she could speak to it, the sudden simultaneous slamming of two different doors thundered through the entire penthouse. Something that signaled the fight was over, but the "war" was far from done. "Uh… how about you go talk to Ford while I smooth things over with Stan?" Mabel suggested, figuring that splitting up might be able to help.

"Sounds like a plan," Dipper agreed, both him and Mabel exchanging a hopeful, solidifying nod with Steven before they parted ways. At the same time, the young Gem continued on his own mission, taking Pearl by the hand as he led her out of the suite on an equally important mission all his own.

Meanwhile, Dipper and Mabel wished each other a silent bout of luck as they turned to their respective doors and respective tasks. While initially hesitant, sure enough, Dipper did work up the nerve to finally knock on Ford's door, only to receive a very harsh reception from the other side of it.

"For the last time, Stanley, I'm through wasting my valuable time on your childish games!"

"Uh… actually, it's Dipper…"

Unsurprisingly, Ford didn't hesitate to open the previously locked door for his nephew, greeting him much more fondly than he certainly would have had it really been Stan instead. "Sorry about that, my boy," the author straightened the edges of his suit, calming himself considerably. "What can I do for you, Dipper? It's awfully late, you know."

"Yeah, I do…" Dipper frowned as Ford let him come into the room. "But do you and Grunkle Stan know that?"

"A-ah… so, you heard?" Ford said, somewhat flustered.

"Pretty sure the whole hotel heard…" Dipper said as he sat alongside the author on the edge of the bed. "Great Uncle Ford, I'm sorry, but… I just don't understand."

"Understand what?" Ford asked, confused.

"Why you and Stan won't just… let this huge grudge you guys have for each other go. I mean, I guess I get where that grudge came from in the first place but, who knows? Maybe it's time for the two of you to just bury the hatchet and... start over?"

For the longest time, Ford said nothing to this, instead letting out a long, tired sigh as he stood to face the room's large window overlooking the sleeping city outside it. When he did speak, however, his tone was surprisingly melancholy, perhaps even tinged with hits of both regret and worry alike. "We can't do that, Dipper," he said softly, simply. "And to be perfectly honest, I'm quite surprised that you don't understand why we can't."

"W-what do you mean?" Dipper asked, quite confused himself now.

"Well-and I mean absolutely no offense to Mabel in saying this, but-haven't you ever felt as though she's… weighing you down?"

"I… uh…" Dipper frowned, unsure of what to say to such an odd question.

"Uh… huh?" Mabel asked on the other side of the hall, sitting on a different bed as she watched Stan angrily pace around the room.

"Ford thinks that I need the two of us to make up and be best friends, but I don't, not anymore!" the conman huffed hotly. "I don't need him, I don't need anyone! From here on out, there's only one person I'm lookin' out for and its good ol' numero uno: me! And if you were smart, kid, you'd do the same."

"B-but Grunkle Stan," Mabel protested. "That's no way to be! Why would I only look out for myself when I have so many other people to care about, like you, and Grunkle Ford, and Dipper-"

"Ha! Good luck with that," Stan scoffed bitterly. "I really hate to break it to you, pumpkin, but just you wait. I bet good money that in 10, maybe 15 years time, Dipper will end up leaving you behind for some dumb nerd thing, just like Ford did to me. I love the kid, but let's face it, he's way too much like sixer for his own good."

"But… n-no… Dipper wouldn't…" Mabel muttered, suddenly distraught as her own mind echoed with a question she didn't dare ask aloud: would he?

"N-no, Mabel's never…" Dipper trailed off, unable to honestly finish the thought. For indeed, there had been more than a few times where Mabel's own wants and pursuits had come before his own. The all-too bitter, far too familiar memory of a certain puppet show that led to an ill-fated deal came to mind above all else. And try as he might to shake that memory so many times before, the thought of all it had nearly cost him, of what she had nearly cost him, it was a shadow he'd yet to step out of, even still.

"Dipper, you're a brilliant kid with so much potential," Ford said, turning to his nephew with absolute earnesty. "You shouldn't let anyone, not even your own family, hold you back from all you could achieve. Believe me, that's a mistake I let myself make far too many times in the past, and while it might be a bit too late for me to change that, it's not too late for you."

"Look, Mabel, I just don't want to see you get hurt," Stan sighed, placing a hand on his niece's shoulder. "Better to see it coming and be ready for it than to let it take you by surprise and knock you off your feet. 'Cause take it from me, that's a road you don't wanna go down."

"But… me 'n Dipper aren't like…" "You guys" was what Mabel wanted to say, though she didn't quite have it in her to speak it aloud. So instead, she went off on a different tangent entirely, all the while desperately trying to convince herself, perhaps even more than Stan, that it wasn't true, that it wouldn't be true, that it couldn't be true. Because if it was… she couldn't even begin to imagine just how painful that would really be.

"But… Mabel and I don't… w-we aren't…" Dipper took in a deep breath, trying to steady both himself and the newfound rush of doubts starting to fill him.

"I-I mean… sure, Dipper isn't always on board with my ideas."

"I mean, I know sometimes Mabel can come on a little too strong…"

"And yeah, sometimes he has a bit of a problem of trying to do everything by himself instead of asking for help when he really needs it…"

"And she does sometimes go way overboard and she can be kind of selfish every now and then…"

"And… And… I guess he is just a little, tiny bit-"

"A-and… and she's just so… so-"

"Stubborn." All four Pines said at practically the same exact time, acknowledging the dark thread that seemed to taint their family in more ways than one.

Ford turned back toward the window, shaking his head sadly as another song began, jazzy, yet melancholy in tune and tempo. "He listens, but doesn't hear, he looks, but doesn't see," the author closed his eyes, blocking out the sight of his own faint reflection in the window. A reflection that always seemed to remind him of his twin in some way or another. "I talk, but it's so clear. I'm talking to only me."

Stan scowled, crossing his arms after he finally removed his top hat, glaring briefly toward the door as he began an icy verse all his own. "He acts so smart, all of the time. I'm always wrong, he's always right!" He scoffed, knowing that's always how it had been, ever since they were kids, and even now. A common refrain that had been a constant all his life, one that he had always tried to break out of, but could never quite rise to the occasion, no matter what he did or how hard he tried. "Not worth the effort, and that's why I'm-Done, it's over. Hang up the fight."

Dipper couldn't help but let out a small, sad sigh, recognizing just how many unfortunate, almost painful parallels really did exist between him and Mabel and their uncles. And in light of seeing those parallels clearly for the first time, he was unable to avoid the practically crushing worry that their own usually close bond was just as similarly doomed as their uncles' had been before them. But if it was, then who's fault would that really be, all things considered? The answer to that, seemed so simple. After all, he knew very well whose fault it usually was whenever they ended up falling out with each other. "She acts out, for a response," he began, just a hint of knowing bitterness in his tone. "She acts out, and I don't mind. She always does just what she wants. I'm forced to act, like its just fine." But it wasn't, it never was, because whenever she ended up getting what she wanted, he was always, always the one to lose out in the end.

By this point, Mabel was practically holding back fretful tears, overwhelmed by fear and dread. All coming from the long, singular though that, perhaps even sooner than later, her and Dipper would fall away from each other. That the close bond they both had always known between them would be broken. That they wouldn't need or even want to be around each other anymore when they always had been. Or rather, that he wouldn't want to be around her. "Right by his side, I try to stay," she sang almost mournfully, pulling her knees to her chest as those tears finally began to well up in her eyes. "And it's ok, but it's a lie… He goes alone, on his own way, and when he does, I always cry…"

"And nothing changes," all four of them sang, sharing the same sentiment, the same sharp, yet dull ache ringing through their song and through their hearts all the while. "It's all the same. Despite the ages, it's like a game."

"It's in the family-"

"In the blood."

"It's never over."

"It's like a flood-"

"Of bitter feelings-"

"Of old regrets-"

All things running so deep in their family, so far that it was practically the foundation they were all built upon. A foundation that was crumbling, breaking until the day it would inevitably fall apart completely, taking all of them with it in the process. A day they all knew was coming, but couldn't bear to face.

"It's in the family…"

"Don't forget…"

"It's in the family…"

"We can't forget…"

While Le Hotel's grand restaurant never really closed, it was rather empty at such a late hour of the night. In fact, it's only current patron was Greg, who sat at the bar, dully, dejectedly snacking on a glass full of cherries in the hopes of easing his sorrows. That is, until his sulking was interrupted by an arrival he admittedly hadn't been expecting.

Upon hearing his son clear his throat from behind, Greg turned to find both Steven and surprisingly, Pearl standing alongside him. The white Gem offered him a pensive, awkward smile, though ultimately said nothing. Greg did the same as he stood, even as Steven offered both of them a silent nod, urging them to do what they both knew needed to be done. The only problem was, neither of them had the faintest idea as to where to start.

Which was why Steven decided to take the initiative instead. He marched dutifully over to the restaurant's grand piano, handing off a large stack of cash to the pianist to curtail his inappropriately upbeat ragtime tune. Delighted by the sizable tip, the musician hurried off, leaving the piano open for him to take over with a gentle, earnest melody of his own. One that he hoped would finally accomplish something that should have been done quite some time ago.

"Why don't you talk to each other?" Steven sang up front, catching both Greg and Pearl off guard by just how forward the question really was. "Why don't you talk to each other? Just give it a try."

Despite this soft urging, Greg and Pearl still averted each other's gaze, neither of them knowing what to say to finally break the ice that made up the frozen wall that had been built between them years ago. "Why don't you talk about what happened?" the young Gem continued with a small, yet sad smile. "I know you're trying to avoid it, but I don't know why."

"You might not believe it." The pair slowly, hesitantly turned back toward each other, sparing a brief glance over at Steven along the way as they listened to his lyrics and the warmth and care behind them. "You might not believe it. But you've got a lot in common-you really do…"

"You both love me and I love both of you."

It was true. A fact that neither of them could deny even if they wanted to: that they loved Steven, deeply and fully, just as they both had-albeit in a different way-loved his mother before him. And it was the realization of that fact that, at long last started to bring both of them together.

With tired sighs, Pearl and Greg largely ignored the rest of the restaurant, lying down on the floor as a conversation finally started to brim between the two of them. "Look, if I were you, I'd hate me too," Greg began, looking down fretfully.

"I don't hate you…" Pearl assured softly, earnestly.

"But… I knew how you felt about Rose and I stayed anyway."

"That wasn't the problem…"

"Then… what was?"

"She fell in love with you…"

"Well, you know Rose," Greg sat up, finally cracking a smile. Pearl couldn't help but do the same, sharing that same sort of fondness that they both had-and still did have-towards the pink Gem. Fondness that they always had always had in common, they just hadn't been able to see it until now.

"She always did what she wanted!"

"I know you both need it." On a bout of tearful laughter, the pair stood, and as Greg extended the offer to dance once more, this time, Pearl had no qualms about taking his hand and joining in. "I know you both need it. Someone who knows what you're going through…"

"And you might not believe it." The pair took to the floor, dancing slowly yet cordially along to Steven's song and enjoying it, and the newfound, much-needed solidarity between them all the while. "You might not believe it-but you've got a lot in common, you really do."

"You both love me and I love both of you."

"You both love me and I love both… of you…"

As both the song and the dance came to a close, Pearl and Greg still exchanged a warm smile, one that only grew as the hotel employees came out to applaud their performance. Still, both of them knew there was much more worth celebrating than that. Because for perhaps the first time ever, they could finally see things eye to eye. And the flood of good feels from that alone made both Pearl and Greg never want to return to the bitterness and shame of the past again in favor of embracing a newer, kinder future instead.

This newfound camaraderie was inevitably interrupted however as one hotel staff member came up to Greg with a silver platter, offering it out to him. "Le bill, sir."

As soon as Greg took the bill, he jolted, shocked by just how much of a hefty charge their one night stay had racked up. Of course, he now had more than enough to cover it, but that didn't make the high cost of the life of a nouveau riche any less startling. "Tailor made suits, those cost somethin'," he sang, frowning as he unfolded the lengthy bill to get a glimpse at its full scope. "Room with a view, those cost somethin'."

"Dancing with you…" Pearl interjected with a knowing, playful grin.

"Don't cost nothin'," Greg chimed in gladly, especially as the white Gem let out a small chuckle.

"Why'd we even come? We could have done this at home," she pointed out, eliciting a delighted laugh from Steven as he came over to join them. In fact, that delight continued as they returned up to the penthouse to pack their things, their expensive vacation having come to an end before anymore money could be poured into it. And yet, for relieved as Steven was by the newly cleared air between Pearl and Greg, he quickly realized upon meeting up with Dipper and Mabel again that they hadn't shared the same sort of success when it came to Stan and Ford.

In fact, if anything, all four of the Pines seemed quite forlorn as they prepared to head home, expressions equally downcast and words sparse as they all made the trip back down to the lobby. And as he took stock of this, Steven's own smile couldn't help but fade as well, even if things between Pearl and Greg were still every bit as bright as he had wanted them to be.

"Singing a song, don't cost nothin'," Pearl sang as she helped the former rock star pack up the van. "O-or was it, palling around, don't cost nothin'? Getting it wrong…"

"Don't cost nothing!" Greg cut in with an amused chuckle.

"I tried," the white Gem shrugged.

"I'm surprised you remembered any of it," the former rock star pointed out, still laughing.

"What can I say? Its catchy."

With their time in Emerald City coming to a close, everyone climbed into the van, Pearl and Greg taking the front as they kept each other entertained with reminiscent conversation-most of it focusing on fond memories of Rose-as they began the long trek home. Stan and Ford sat as far apart as they possibly could behind them, arms crossed and moods sour as they both tried to go to sleep to avoid any sort of further interaction. And then, in the back, sat Steven, wedged worriedly between Dipper and Mabel, who, much like their uncles, seemed uneasy at the very thought of so much as even looking at each other, much to the young Gem's confusion.

Steven hadn't the faintest idea as to what had transpired between the twins while he was gone, and at this point, he wasn't sure if he even wanted to ask. And yet, his unspoken question soon got something of an answer in the form of a morose, quiet, yet unwitting duet between the two, one that Steven listened in on with growing concern all the while.

"Tried so hard to fix it all, to let it grow…" Mabel started, her usual cheery tune currently anything but.

"From the ground up, but it wound up that now we know…" Dipper continued with a sigh, staring out the window as the cityscape passed them by.

"Life's too short…" the twins sang together softly, almost mournfully over an agonizing truth they'd never once considered before. And in the process of discovering it, indeed they were a bit wiser, though certainly much more sadder for it.

"To see there's much more out there," Dipper kept his sights on the window as Mabel slowly, fretfully spared a discreet glance past Steven over at him.

"To see that you don't care…" she lamented, fighting back tears.

"Was it them who were wrong?" they both sang, looking toward their uncles sitting in front of them. "Or was it us all along?"

"I wish I saw things clearly," Dipper closed his eyes, shaking his head in gentle frustration.

"I guess I'm not the sort…" Mabel faltered, barely letting a small sob choke out.

"Now all we know as life's too short…"

Silence filled in between the twins at this, striking Steven the hardest as he sat in the middle of it all. While he still didn't know what had really happened, he could tell that whatever had managed to harm them both. That it had broken something between them, even if there was no real telling what.

Which was why the most the young Gem could hope to do was to repair that break before it inevitably ended up tearing two of his closest friends apart.

"But… it's… not over, isn't it?" he sang to himself, echoing Pearl's own song with the same sort of woe and regret the white Gem herself had sang it with.

"It's not over, isn't it?" he sang, even as they left Emerald City and everything that had happened there behind. Or at least, that's all he could do to hope, even as he realized it wasn't true. For as one problem had indeed been solved on this trip, it was all too clear that an entirely new one was only just beginning in its place.

"It's over… isn't it?"

#ignore the lack of proper formatting on this #and just go read this on ff.net or a3 instead pls #jen writes #universe falls #steven universe #gravity falls #crossover #au #mr. greg #steven #pearl #greg #stan #ford #dipper #mabel #keyword is emerald city

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ask-jaghatai-khan · 5 years

Text

The Vampire of Cairn

// A story set on the forgotten Pariah Planet, Cairn. Entirely inhabited by the soulless human mutants known as “Blanks”, the world was settled before the rise of the Imperium and remains cut off from the rest of the galaxy to this day. But secret intelligence suggests that the world is not as safe as it seems, and that danger might still lurk in a galaxy lost to myth.

—

A fog bank was rolling in, though here in the city it wasn’t so prominent save for on the major streets. What few transports there were, on the roads or in the sky, made themselves sparse rather than deal with the lack of visibility, as people sheltered for a while in the shops and offices to avoid the damp chill. The misty pall seemed to run down the main thoroughfares like a wave. It would pass soon, but for now it hung over the alleys and side-streets, shrouding the tops of buildings and casting the whole world in a dull silver, both the neon signs and midday sun becoming faint and washed-out in the gloom.

Zhi’s destination was an alley downtown, by 26th and Baobeng. His personal transport, a sleek black sedan, navigated itself along the reflective guidelines of the ground-level roads as he went over his notes. He’d not been to this city before – if you could call it a city. It was more of a post-industrial town, now in the final movements towards establishing itself as a cultural center. He didn’t recall what Tianshi was known for and he didn’t much care. The compact little city was not much different from many of these other sparse population centers in the DB Jinkou Provence, but it was the pattern that concerned him. His last lead for his current assignment had been a whole city over, in the more remote Borios. It suggested the mark was not just on the move, but capable of long-distance travel without notice, maybe even without assistance.

There was a ping on the console as the ETA hit two minutes. The Investigator closed his documents and detached his holopad from its charge port, before the government-issue transport skidded around to the alley’s entrance and settled down on its unfolding wheels. There were several other cars there already, some civil service, some civilian, all clustered around the official cordon.

It was lowkey, which was to Zhi’s liking. No flashing lights, no big groups of reporters. One local Sentinel was speaking with a handful of private broadcasters, but all the emergency vehicles were running silent, their personnel milling around inside, maybe processing data. The whole setup made it clear that whatever had happened, it had passed. Zhi’s flat shoes made his approach noticeable as they snapped along the damp pavement, the dark surface of the road reflecting the point lights of the various transport vehicles.

He flashed his badge, but the Sentinel didn’t even try to stop him. He walked with the air of his profession, which was not to be cut in front of. Moving on, the Investigator moved into the alley, cast in long shadows by the spotlights that had been brought in to examine the scene.

There were a couple of sealed dumpsters, a storm drain, and not much more. The adhesive residue marked where posters might have once been put up, but nothing more remained. Compared to the streetfront, where neon signs, greenboxes, and other solar gatherers gave off color and brightness despite the fog, the alley felt quite barren. All grey ferrocrete and weathered service pipes.

The scene of the crime itself was obvious, and rather simple. One body, face down in the damp, looking pretty bloody as well. Dried blood was being rehydrated by the moisture in the air, and was doing nothing for the corpse, giving off a slight smell of iron and onset decay. Two more Sentinels - marked by their dark outerwear, utility harnesses, and subtle insignias – stood about the scene before one took notice of the approaching Investigator.

“Hello.” They said with simple but respectful affectation. Almost questioning, as if Zhi wasn’t supposed to be there.

He extended a hand as he approached, his own dark trench coat matching the local colors rather well.

“Investigator Zhi, Consensus assigned.” Introducing himself, he held up his badge once more. The little metallic chit marked him as under permanent internal security contract to the Consensus Sciences Service.

“Li. I’m with the local Sentinels.” Her precise vocabulary identified her as a woman, and a rather metropolitan one too, for a Sentinel in a northern industrial town. Her hair was styled into a tight pink stripe on her head, and her matching hued eyes suggested cybernetics. Such quirks weren’t common outside the major hives, “We weren’t excepting the Fed.”

“Yes, well we’re just checking all our leads right now and this was brought to my attention.” Zhi clarified. He was far more mundane looking in comparison, as fit a Federal Investigator. Not drawing attention was part of the game.

“And might I ask a little more?” she shot back, still with respect though her body language was unyielding, “This is under our jurisdiction, after all. Is there something bigger we should be worried about?”

Sentinels were local law enforcement, though not in the conventional sense of eras past. They were more like an office between a community watch and a militia. More ad-hoc and concerned with the protection and proper law enforcement of their districts than any higher loyalties. With the right moves they could be amenable, but they were very ground-level and had some of the strongest unions, making outright hostility towards them a bad idea for even Federal agents.

Zhi took off his wide-brimmed hat, making clearer eye contact with Li.

“There’s some suspicion this might be part of a larger series of murders. That’s—”

“You mean the Vampire?” the other Sentinel came up then, no longer content in the background, and with some verve in his voice.

“That’s all I’m at liberty to say.” Zhi’s face went dark.

“Sentinel Chaleb.” Li gestured, “Apologies, though it’s a legitimate question. It’s been around the stations. Could it be that killer?”

“Impossible to say either way until I’ve had a look, eh?” the Investigator tilted his head.

Chaleb. The man must have been from somewhere rural before becoming a Sentinel in Tianshi. His name, inflection, and appearance – paler and with sandy hair – had the twinge of Goth in them. Didn’t much matter, but it was an observation Zhi made.

“Here.” Li stepped aside, gesturing to the body that lay half slumped onto its face in the damp. Zhi got in close for a better look.

Man of about middle age, perhaps seventy-eight, as he seemed in good health. His hair was dark and short-cropped, messy now that the damp had worked through whatever gel it looked like he’d used. He was dressed in simple formalwear, with the open-front black jacket that went down to about his knees, and the black underclothes to match.

“Victim was a Mr. Jia Ming, as our first data responses have come through.” Li informed, “Local. Worked at a distribution firm for signage products, I think. We took his datapad and are seeing about getting permission to access it from next of kin.”

“Injuries?” Zhi asked.

“Broken collarbone and shoulder on the left side—” he could see it, the way the joint folded in on itself in an odd way, “Though the coroner scan didn’t think that was simultaneous with main cause of death. They’re still processing the data.” She didn’t need to point, as it was obvious the man’s throat was cut wide open. It was clean, yet broad, as if done by a swordsman in an action vid. The man’s skin had gone ghost pale in death from how much of his blood had flowed out onto the pavement.

“He was found around 2 a.m. this morning.” Chaleb interjected, “The owner of this sandwich shop was closing up and found him.” He pointed to the wall on their right, against which the dumpsters sat.

“You say the shoulder wasn’t simultaneous with cause of death.” Zhi stood back up, content in verifying the facts.

“No, but it wasn’t from a blow either. The blunt force trauma doesn’t seem to match up from what the scans show. The pattern looked more like—”

“Impact from above?” Zhi shot in. She was good. Maybe trained to be a Sentinel.

“How’d you know?”

“Oh that’s spooky.” Chaleb shook his head, “Absolutely the Vampire. Did you see that one clip online? They were saying they could probably scale sheer walls.”

“Yeah so can I, if you sweet-talk my quartermaster enough.” The Investigator cut him off, “Was there anything else of interest?”

“Possible cam footage. We can’t get it, though.” Li gave him.

“Why not?”

“It’s the security cam from the sandwich shop. The owner’s spooked, maybe drowsy. They didn’t want to give us access.”

“I’ll talk to them.” Zhi assured, gesturing with his hat in a vague direction “away” from the scene, “Do you want to be involved, then?”

Li nodded, signing off to Chaleb that she’d be leaving and that he should guard the area of the corpse. It might be good, if the Sentinel had talked to the storeowner beforehand, to have her there again. With luck, the civilian might be put more at ease by the continuity.

As they got out of earshot of the other Sentinel, rounding the corner of the alley side by side, Li turned towards the Investigator.

“Do you think it’s the Vampire, then?” she asked, though the look on her face told Zhi that she wasn’t keen on using the name, her pink eyes squinting.

“I’m getting sick of hearing that word.” Zhi walked forward another pace, annoyed at the stop, the sign and door of the sandwich shop visible just down the road.

As far as he knew, the nickname had been picked for the style in which the killer worked. Clean kills, along with the untraceable escapes. Still sounded stupid to him, but then most spree-killer nicknames tended to be.

“There’s been a lot of strange things in the news. People have been putting together all kinds of theories.” She continued, trudging beside him, “There were those signals they were talking about from the Jingshe belt that they said were nothing a month later. Then that meteor strike just a few weeks ago near Shuguan, and the murders in Shuguan they stopped reporting on after a week, and now these deaths going from city to city all the way here.”

“So what then, alien serial killer from outer space?” Zhi tried to sound as sarcastic as possible, wishing they could just pick up the damn pace.

“Maybe? There��s precedent. The Men of Iron came from space. We came from space.” She wasn’t wrong.

“Sounds like a fun story.” The Investigator just brushed it off as they reached the shop. The glass sliding door was barred with a shutter but knocking still produced a solid sound.

“I’m just saying, that’s what the theories have been online.” Li finished her piece, face flushing a little as if she’d been embarrassed at getting so caught up in the theory.

“Don’t believe everything you read on the net.” Zhi replied. The Sentinel glanced at his eyes – the man couldn’t have been much older than her based off looks, but his eyes – they seemed to be weighed down, drooping with some deep fatigue the rest of his face resisted.

There was a clanking, a latch-releasing kind of sound, and one of the individual panels that made up the collapsible door screen pulled away to reveal the eyes of a middle-aged individual. A woman, maybe, though as a city-man Zhi never made assumptions by habit.

“You’re back?” they asked.

“I heard you might have recordings that could help us.” The Investigator spoke up, while Li just provided aesthetic support, “Really all I’m interested in. Wouldn’t take a moment of your time, and I won’t cause any trouble.”

“Who are you?” their eyes were brimming with concern.

He flashed his badge, though he doubted they’d recognize it by training, “Federal Investigator. This might be important; you’d be doing us all a big favor.”

They shook their head, “I-I don’t want to get involved with anything. This is all really messed up.”

“Yeah, that tends to be the case.” He nodded, “May I ask your name?”

“Ling.” they gave.

“Your shop?” Zhi asked.

“It’s my shop, yes.” They answered.

“I’m not fully authorized for this, but I could promise you a degree of protection if you agree to help me, Ling.” Zhi tried his luck, “Maybe a vacation ticket as a gift? You can leave town for a little bit, and I imagine even if there is danger it’ll have blown over by then. Does that sound amenable?”

They seemed to mull it over for a bit, before their eyes conveyed a nod, and the latch shut. A few moments later, and the automated rails of the door screen were lifting the metal plates into the ceiling, and they were let inside with the accompanying ring of a bell.

“Sorry. I’m sorry.” Ling stammered, “It’s just this kind of stuff never happens out here. Maybe the occasional thief, but nothing like this.” They ushered the two inside.

It was quite a large shop, with a good amount of sitting room. Zhi suspected outdoor seating might not be so popular in this town, what with the fog drifts being predominant for most of the year. It was amazing the greenboxes on the buildings were in good order.

“Here, just follow me. I haven’t checked the footage. Just download it off, if you want. I’d really rather not look at it.” The shopkeep was rather short, old in appearance but with a youthful demeanor and a neat bun hairstyle. Altogether regular and tidy, and very out of place in any kind of trouble.

The duo was led back through the shop, past the kitchen, up a flight of stairs, and through a locked door to the second level. Their destination was one of several doors lining the hallway, like a janitorial closet. Ling gave them access with her datapad. It was a small room, though very neat and with an impressive computer setup, with multiple monitors and a decent unit from what Zhi could surmise.

“Pretty heavy-duty stuff. This all for security?” Li inquired.

“This building is actually bigger than just this shop. There’re some offices upstairs, a few other food places around the back, and uh, some apartments. Very compact. I live here too.” They explained, “It’s just I’m also the building manager, so I deal with ensuring most of the security and utilities.”

It wasn’t so uncommon. Zhi just didn’t know how they had the energy to run an eatery while also being the community in-between for the whole building. He’d be as high-strung if he had to deal with anything more than what his one job already dumped in his lap.

The civilian logged in and gestured to the chair, stepping out of the way of the two officers.

“Just, uh – do what you need to do and then you can just leave it. I’ll give you space.” They smiled, “Oh but uh, just the security cam footage please.”

“Of course.” Li assured.

“Yeah, I’m not looking for a lawsuit, I’ll just be a moment.” Zhi was a bit brusquer.

“Strange one.” Li commented once they were alone, as she leaned over Zhi’s shoulder to watch him at work.

“Overworked. Could’ve been anything, they’d have snapped from the stress. Just unfortunate it had to be a murder.” Perception was something of a trade specialty. Having dealt with all manner of civilians who had actual things to hide, he’d grown accustomed to sussing out the weird from the suspect.

Li watched with some surprise as the Investigator brought up one of his hands. She hadn’t noticed until now, but he wore a drab brown glove on just one hand, having done most of his gesturing with the other until now. He pulled off the covering to expose unfleshed augmetics – a silver and angular surrogate with many odd details about its surface. With a few internal adjustments, as the various components moved on their own, one prong stuck up from his index finger. He inserted the interface probe into the input port of the computer. At once, his operations on the monitor moved ten times faster, as he navigated as quick as thought.

“Cool aug’.” she commented, as one cyborg to another.

“Trade tool.” He said without much passion.

In moments he’d located the cam files and sorted through the different streams from the few sentries around the building to the one that sat at the edge of the rooftop, watching the alley. So much security. If he was a Sentinel he’d maybe be concerned that something unsavory was up in this commune, but it wasn’t his department. Maybe some kind of hedonist club. So long as it was nothing sketchy it wasn’t a problem anyways.

“Alright, and—” he muttered, as he spun back the hours to the night before, looking for the moment at which the body on the pavement would stand itself back up again.

“There!” Li pointed, as if he couldn’t see it. The man had been cutting through the alley, and a whirl of something fast had dropped him like a bag of rocks. Zhi did his best to zoom, but the resolution was lacking in the darkness.

“Someone over him.” He assessed, “Holding him down.” He pointed with his free hand. On top of the form of the victim was a hunched figure. Dark, though its head stood out by a faint glint in the shadows. It was stooped over the man, holding him there as he writhed, doing something. They waited.

There was a sudden flash of movement. The figure’s arm came up holding something in its hand, and the victim’s head jerked back with it. His throat had been slashed. Without pause, the killer stood and rushed with almost inhuman agility over to one of the dumpsters, vaulting off it, then the sheer side of the wall, and they were out of frame.

“What on Cairn?” Li muttered.

“Wait.” Zhi wanted to check something. He rewound the footage, back before the first attack. He played it slow, watching it unfold as the dark figure returned to the kill, and then shot up into the sky.

“Augmetics? How’d they fall like that?” the Sentinel asked.

“You’re killing me. Please.” Zhi shushed her, his gaze trained on the screen. She glanced at him in irritation but noticed something had come into those drooping eyes. They were locked on the monitor like a sniper’s scope.

“Here.” He pointed again. It was at a portion of the roof’s edge just caught by the camera. There was a shadow and – a foot. A black-clad boot, resting just at the very corner of the camera’s periphery.

“What kind of camera—? Ah.” The Investigator check the readouts in the corner of the footage, “Microreceptor. Explains the resolution as much as why our perp didn’t catch the camera.” Partial-3D microreceptor, a kind of microcam preferred for being very small and discreet in part, but also for its unique rendering pattern. You could “rotate” microceptor footage in three dimensions to some degree, making it easier to spot details in normal blind spots.

“The peripheries on these things are usually blurry.” Zhi spoke. Li had some familiarity, but she was more focused on the footage, “But if I uncrop the frame let’s see what we can get.”

He did so, as the whole edge of the recording pulled back to show the actual rendering of the scene. It was circular, the center in full clarity while the edges feathered out in the peripheral vision of the microceptor. Li gasped, while Zhi sat still as a dead man.

It was a humanoid figure perched on the edge of the rooftop, kneeling as if ready to leap. The outline was blurry from the recording technique, but the image was clear enough. Human, or humanoid, with a black skintight suit enveloping its entire body. Faint distortions in the silhouette suggested items strapped to the figure’s frame, though it was hard to tell.

What was clearest was the face. Inhuman, twisted, insidious. It was a mask, as far as Zhi could tell. He hoped it was, at the very least. It was made in the shape of a leering white skull, distended at the cranium into an elongated form that curved back over their shoulders. As if that was not strange enough, one eye was absent, instead being replaced with a much larger augmetic lens, which swept back with its own tube casing parallel to the side of the mask. The distortion gave them just the bare form – the stylized skull, the one odd eye, the freakish head, all set atop the otherwise sleek, lithe body. Zhi restarted the footage and watched the ghoulish shape leap from out of obscurity down into the alley, crushing the unsuspecting man beneath its weight. going about whatever it had subjected him to before the final cut.

Li didn’t say it aloud, but she thought it in her head. The word seemed right, for such a ghastly anomaly. “Vampire.”

Zhi wished he could’ve been happy with finding his mark. Instead his thoughts were flooded with threads, choices. There was going to be untold friction with the CSS, to say nothing of the matter of catching whatever this – thing was. Its skull face just leered with cold, unmoving expression as he rewound the footage again, staring into its empty mask eyes. The body of a human – and the visage, the movements of something else.

The world of Cairn did not yet have an answer for this.

#warhammer #40k #pariah planet #culexus #homebrew

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msephy · 5 years

Text

Upbringing chap 13/13

Chapter 1 - Chapter 2 - Chapter 3 - Chapter 4 - Chapter 5 - Chapter 6 - Chapter 7 - Chapter 8 - Chapter 9 - Chapter 10 - Chapter 11 - Chapter 12

Cross-posted to AO3

And here is the last chapter! I hope you enjoyed the story. If so, please let me know ;) Any comments are welcome!

###

Earth 53 - Jason Todd

Of fucking course Bruce would like this Jason Wayne. Weren’t they palls, smiling to each other and hugging each other? Bruce. Hugging someone. Who wasn’t Dick.

And Jason was not jealous. He didn’t need Bruce’s approval, he didn’t need anything from him. He was a grown man.

It was just… unfair.

He thought about hiding in the shadows, but too late. The Doppelganger noticed him on the top of the stairs and nodded at him, indicating his presence to Bruce as well. Jason smirked. They could both go to hell.

“We will stay the night and head back home in the morning,” Bruce announced suddenly.

Jason felt himself tense all over. His smirk widened. “What, already? And here I thought you loved it here!”

Bruce seemed taken aback by the comment, but the Doppelganger understood what he meant by it, and rolled his eyes.

“If you want to hug your father, go ahead. I mean, it’s not like he’d fight you.”

“I don’t need…!”

“Sure, I can see how much you don’t need his attention. Provoking him has nothing to do with it, either. Jesus, how old are you? You still communicate like a teenager which,” he added, turning to Bruce, “by the way, you do, too.”

Bruce frowned. The attack to the Big Bad Bat softened the one to Jason himself only so much, though. Communicating like a teenager? Seriously? As if Bruce ever listened!

“It’s not because he does it that you have to do it too,” the Doppelganger concluded, still aiming his words at Bruce but echoing Jason’s a bit too well. Damnit. And damn him, too, and his perfect life, his perfect personality, his perfect Gotham!

The Doppelganger and Bruce both turned to Jason, making him realized he’d shouted that last part out loud. The Doppelganger smirked, a smirk that Jason knew only too well for seeing it in the mirror every morning.

“Ooooh, poor little Jay whose life was hard,” he jeered in Jason’s own vicious tone. “That’s why he became a bad guy, because he had a hard life.”

“Shut up,” Jason warned.

“Yes, that’s right,” the Doppelganger kept going. “A hard life, like his old da’.”

“He wasn’t even your father!” Jason exploded. “What would you know about it?”

“So? Catherine wasn’t your mother yet you loved her, didn’t you? Our paths only diverged when Alfred found out about me, back when my biological father died, and by then, I was thirteen. You know how it was, being us at thirteen.”

Jason froze. The Doppelganger smirked. “Yeah, I thought so. And yeah, apparently, for you, it only became better later. And then you died. Buhu.”

“Jason,” Bruce tried to interrupt, but the Doppelganger didn’t take any of his shit.

“No, Bruce. He’s excusing his own behavior in ways he doesn’t the behavior of others.”

“I know alright?” Jason exploded. “I fucking know that what I do doesn’t get a pass, but someone has to do it.”

“Has to? Really? Because look by the fucking window, you unbelievable moron. Look at that perfect Gotham of mine, and take a good, hard look at yours. Do you really still think that you took a better path than Batman?”

Jason felt the words like a blow. Fuck him. Fuck him. He was taking the hard decisions, someone had to help the people who didn’t have anybody, the ones Batman wouldn’t help, wouldn’t avenge, someone who would stop those who would never, otherwise, be stopped.

“Some people don’t deserve help,” Jason finally managed.

The Doppelganger shrugged. “Obviously. Take the Joker, for example. Ah, is it him who killed you?” The fucking jerk nodded, as if understanding. Jason felt livid. “Of course. He tried to push Bruce toward his most extreme, and it worked rather well, too. So I broke both his knees.”

Bruce gasped at that. He hadn’t been looking too well, either, while the Doppelganger was talking about his way of doing things, now that Jason thought about it. Did he think he’d been wrong, too? To create Batman?

“His knees? But…”

“Bruce, I like you very much, but the Bruce from this world is my brother and no one hurts my brother. Considering the life he’s living, I consider myself rather restrained. Also, don’t worry, the Joker still manages to cause havoc all the same.”

But he wouldn’t be killing any Robin. Jason’s eyes went up to the empty wall of the cave, where the card would be hanging, back in his world. Maybe that would be an acceptable solution. He craved the clown’s death but… Justice, not revenge. Or maybe a balance between both. Batman already played that game, after all, ignoring the law where it suited him.

Jason didn’t quite relax. It was too late for him, for the Red Hood to be a good guy. He’d never be Saint Jason Wayne. And their Gotham would never be this Perfect Gotham, either.

Or would it? The Doppelganger had had to start somewhere. He’d had to face the Joker, and Ra’s, and all the other fucking lunatics who were attracted by the city and, even more, by Batman. Could there still be hope on their own Earth?

Yeah, no. It wasn’t Jason’s way.

He might still like to work at the Martha Wayne Foundation, though. He’d trusted those people, back when he lived in the streets, at thirteen. Would he manage to find a compromise with Bruce? Without the two of them going at each other’s throats?

“I don’t think I can stop,” Bruce admitted out loud, in a matter-of-fact tone that sounded like defeat.

“You don’t have to,” the Doppelganger said. “Just, you know, also invest in people? I’m sure you do. You have a huge family. All of you put together…”

“We could do it,” Jason heard himself say.

Bruce looked up at him, an indefinable expression on his face. Jason glared back. “We could do it. The replacement already works for Wayne Enterprises. The demon brat and I can take care of the streets.”

Bruce frowned. Of fucking course. He wouldn’t trust them. He…

“I’ll think about it.”

What? No, wait. He was going to come up with an entirely different plan, for sure. Or Jason would do something he didn’t approve of, and they would be back to square one.

And yet. If it had even a remote chance to ever work, if Gotham could even become a better place… Fuck. That would be so worth it.

He looked at his doppelganger, and nodded. Then back at Bruce. “Tomorrow? We can go back, like, now.”

“Bruce will be sorry to miss you,” the local Jason said, but he was smiling. “I’ll pass your excuses along.”

“Yeah, right.” Jason hesitated. “Tell him that, you know. The visit wasn’t too bad. I’m glad the kid is alright.”

“Thank you, by the way,” the Doppelganger said. “You know. For saving my nephew’s life.”

Jason shrugged. “Hey. He’s family.”

He doubted he’d even manage to produce a grin as wide as Jason Wayne’s while meaning it. However, that might be a goal worth aiming for.

###

Earth 53 – Jason Wayne

The next day was quiet. Jason stayed home, spent time with the kids. He asked them both to stay home, despite it being a Friday, pretending it was because he’d missed them. He had, of course, but he mostly thought Damian could use the break.

He did miss the other Bruce, though. The jackass of other Jason… He hoped he’d do well, but he wasn’t in a hurry to see him again.

Once the kids were suitably distracted, Jason grabbed the week’s newspapers and started reading. He wasn’t supposed to work but nobody back at Wayne Enterprise would believe it if he wasn’t up to date with everything that had happened during the week.

There were a lot of different newspapers, from The Economist to the Gotham Gazette, all showing vastly different levels of analysis and opinions. It was always interesting to compare, especially putting the points of views in perspective with the average reader of each. A nice exercise.

Then his eyes stopped at the small ads, specifically at the renting section. He didn’t need a flat in Gotham center, of course; they owned several. Until now, he’d never thought about moving there. Bruce needed him at the manor.

Except he didn’t, not really. Bruce was an adult. His choice of becoming Batman – well, if he needed help, he could call. He knew Jason would always come, if he needed him. Hell, Batman spent more time in central Gotham than at the Cave.

As for Bruce, as an entity apart from Batman… He was an adult. He had his kids here. He didn’t need Jason around. Besides, if he did, going out of the manor for visiting would do him good.

And there was also another point they should discuss.

Jason put the newspaper away and got up, heading for the library. Bruce was, of course, down in the Cave. From the look of it, samples of soil needed to be analyzed, maybe in order to determine where someone had been killed before their cadaver being transported elsewhere – or maybe to determine the amount of fertility, who knew.

“Hey. Everything alright?” Jason asked.

“Mh.”

“I distracted the kids this morning, you can take the afternoon.”

“I’m busy.” Bruce winced. “But I’ll come upstairs as soon as I’m done.”

“Good.” Jason hesitated. It was uncharacteristic enough for Bruce to actually look up from his Erlenmeyer.

“Yes?” he prompted.

“I thought about something.” Jason sighed. “Don’t be upset?”

“I can’t be if you don’t tell me anything.”

“I want to take over Wayne Ent.”

That got a reaction out of Bruce. He put away the pipet he was using to pour chemicals on the soil, and straightened.

“Explain.”

“Bruce, you’re the CEO, but we both know you don’t invest yourself as much as you should. Part of that is my fault. I took over most of your responsibilities when I became COO. More than I should have.”

“Mhn.”

“But you let me. You are not interested in Wayne Ent., not the way you should be. And that’s alright. I can take care of it. I actually like it, too. But the company deserve better from its CEO.”

“I could invest myself more.”

Jason snorted. “You could. Or you could spend more time with your kids.”

“I do…!”

“I’m moving to Gotham proper,” Jason announced. “I’ve been thinking about it for a while.”

Bruce carefully didn’t say anything. Jason sighed.

“You know I love you. You’re my brother. And I love Dick, and Damian, and Alfred, and the manor will always be home. But I need some room for myself, too.” He hesitated again. “Maybe adopting my own children, someday.”

Jason didn’t talk about a relationship. He wasn’t ready to let someone close enough to him to contemplate it. Not even thinking about all the secrets and baggage.

Damnit. Jason really meant what he said, yet he couldn’t help but to feel guilty.

“Would it be alright?”

“Yes,” Bruce said abruptly. “You deserve some place. Something to yourself.”

He looked like he wanted to say more, but he’d never been good with words. It didn’t matter; Jason understood what he meant. That Jason had worked hard to get where he was and should keep going. That he’d taken care of Bruce until now, and still would, but that he had the right to have his own life.

Bruce hadn’t wanted Jason to follow him, back when he’d went training. Back then, Jason had followed only for Bruce, even though he’d loved their trip, and learning how to move, how to fight, how to think like a warrior. He’d loved meeting Talia, and other men and women as dangerous as she was. It was part of him, now.

But he wouldn’t have gone, by himself. To be a vigilante was not his path. It was part of him, he’d always relish in flying over Gotham at night, and there was no fucking way he wouldn’t have done everything to be able to protect his little brother, even though Bruce didn’t need much protecting.

Yet he should, too, follow also his own path.

“You already have some things in one of the flats, I’ll have to put to your name,” Bruce decided.

“Maybe I can come back on week-ends?” Jason snorted. “Like a student, I guess.”

“That would be nice.”

Jason smiled. Bruce did the same, offering him one of his rare smiles, faint on his lips, shining in his eyes. Jason hugged him and felt his brother’s arm close around him, keeping him close. Bruce was a great hugger.

They separated only after several minutes, both smiling still. Well, Jason, at least, was grinning. Bruce was back to looking mostly serious.

“I’ll announce the change next week, to Wayne Ent. I mean,” Jason said. “The moving can wait a couple of weeks after that.”

“Good. You only just came back.”

Jason bumped into Bruce’s side, just to feel his brother close again. “I’ve been reading the newspapers. What about you tell me what happened in the more underground parts of the city? I’ve started reading your reports while waiting for you to come back with Damian, but a summary would help.”

“Sure.”

They sat at the Batcomputer, side by side, their faces reflected in the dark screen. The Wayne brothers. Jason knew, suddenly without doubt, that if he saw them now, their father would be proud of them both

The End

#my fics #byme #jason wayne #jason todd #bruce wayne #upbringing #batfamily

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webcricket · 6 years

Text

Looking Glass

Chapter 18 - The Good Soldier

Pairing: CastielXAU!Reader, AU!CastielXAU!Reader

Word Count: 1545

Summary: Conflicted and captivated by the reader’s affectionate attachment to Cas, sympathy stirred in affront to duty, AU!Castiel strives simply to be a good soldier.

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One broad hand fastened around your throat – the thumb poised perilously between jaw and jugular, your pulse pounding beneath the roughened pad – the other fist digging uncomfortably into the meat of your thigh to secure your squirming figure to the chair, sneering face suspended mere inches from yours, Castiel studies with macabre fascination the panicked astonishment dominating your demeanor in reaction to the callous caress of his lips that arose in such stark contrast to the fondness feathering your features only a moment ago as you remembered the other of him.

The inquisitive gleam of his blues diminishes, brow of his scarred eye twitching at a sudden swished onslaught of wings disturbing the dust-swirled firmament of the abandoned gas-n-sip where they hold you; this close, the minute muscular movement and the tenseness electrifying his fingers where they bite to bone conveys his unpleasant surprise at the unannounced angelic arrival.

“Cassie, Cassie, Cassie.” An angel suited up less tactically for combat and more for a Napoleonic era gala – sporting, as he does, a well-fitted navy waistcoat lined in crimson satin, capped in ostentatious gold fringe detail at the squared shoulders, streamers of useless buttons shining along every available seam, with neatly pressed crisp white jodhpurs, and polished black leather boots peeking out beneath spotless spats – dryly tsks your captor’s name from where he manifested in an unoccupied corner; evidently the officers comprising this angelic garrison are permitted certain liberties when it comes to their garb and mannerisms.

Unanticipated and unwelcome – thick lashes lowering in recognition of the tenor tone, Castiel subtly cringes into his coat collar; the unforgiving crush of his fingers constricts deeper into your muscle and neck in his effort to maintain a charade of composure.

“Cuh-cuh,” you choke on an airless cry of his name invoking mercy. Fringes of consciousness dimming, the cracked whimper vibrates and dies in your larynx where cruel reflex compresses blood flow and threatens to cave-in your windpipe.

Sniffing a sigh, blinking wide, something verging on abject agony tinted with a shade of pity – an expression defiant to his ruthless nature – bares itself to you.

At the brink of blackout, you see in that shift of stormy color something of your angel – the one who rebelled against Heaven at the cost of losing everything he knew, who endures unending doubt, who understands you can’t go home again, who loves humanity, who loves you, who struggles daily to determine what is right and good in the world and to do the rightest in a world of wrong.

You glimpse for a split second through the black barriers shrouding this angel’s heart what might have been and what is – an iteration of your Castiel who was denied choice; and in your heart, if it be the last thing you will ever do, purity of love forgives him of fault.

He feels that balm of forgiveness pall his skin as the life ebbs from your body. He feels . . . regret. Grip slackening, his grace diffuses through your offended flesh with enough reflected heat to sooth and save, though not wholly heal. It’s closer to an act of kindness than you would have thought him capable – closer than he thought himself capable.

Harshly coughing to garner Castiel’s obviously divided attention, swaggering forward a few steps into the naked wash of the overhead fluorescent bulb weakly illumining the center of the space, palm resting on the hilt of a sword hinged at his hip, the flashy newcomer glances about the grimy walls converted into an improvised interrogation chamber with a lip curled in unguarded disgust. “When they informed me I could find you in the trenches, I didn’t imagine you were in an actual pit,” he complains in a lilting French accent drifting on conversational. “This place is utterly abhorrent; I honestly don’t know how you manage.”

“Balthazar,” Castiel growls through a row of clenched teeth. The seraph’s benevolence, like the gentleness of his grace, slips ephemerally away. Nostrils flaring, mouth malignantly jolting into a smirk, he narrows his blue-lit focus on you in ominous intimation he is not done sifting through your memories – especially those memories concerning the him for whom your heart beats with curious rapidity. “Can’t you see we are occupied here?” Breaking backward to confront the angelic intruder, his grip on your body and mind dissolves leaving you dazed and gasping. “You disrupt my work.”

“Never one to waste time on niceties, eh?” Balthazar casts you a disinterested cocked glance.

Absent angelic influence, the dull hot ache of faded bruising throbs in your thigh. Burning air punches into your lungs through an abraded throat. If you could direct the lumps of jelly defining your legs into motion, you’d attempt to flee. As it stands, or rather, slumps, you sit secured by physical half-insentience. Judgement impaired by the shock of disorientation, you instinctively pray to Cas – your Cas – for help.

Hearing your voiceless plea to the other – the yearning of spirit, the faith you have in his ability to save you, the desperate need for him – the Castiel brooding before you stiffens as a surge of sympathy taints the blood bounding through his vessel’s heart.

Balthazar shrugs in affront to the stone-wall of seraphim silence. “As you prefer, all work and no play – Naomi requires a report.”

“And?” Castiel prompts in a rising clipped tone, covering for the fact that every sinew of flesh and fiber in his vessel revolts with rigidity in shield against the softness of emotion striking him from within your soul.

“And,” –Balthazar’s eyebrows arc askance and knot– “what?”

You pray louder – each contraction of your heart a deafening cry for Cas.

Overcompensating for and deflecting the impact of your prayers with a reminder of rank, demanding respect, concerned Balthazar hears and will betray even the quickly corrected course of compassion flooding his veins to Naomi, Castiel snarls, “And, what? What! Do you forget your place?”

Such intelligence would inevitably result in a reckoning all too familiar to the fragmentary framework of the seraph’s fundamentally rebellious and repeatedly reordered being – his countenance violently jerks to maintain forever slipping grasp on control, both of himself, and the situation. Jaw gnashing, he wishes you would shut up – would silence you himself, even, if it would not draw attention as to the motive. Or better yet, eying the door, he could drag you from this place, tuck you out of sight somewhere, plod through your memories one by one, take his time, just you and he alone.

Balthazar curtsies contritely. “Naomi requires a report,” he reiterates, bowing deeper to satisfy his captain’s abstracted scowl, adding a snide, “sir!”

“I see.” Circling the insincere emissary, Castiel stops to stare at his comrade’s crooked spine, asking, “And why did she send you? Any one of the soldiers here could have delivered this message and wasted less of my time.” Cold weight of celestial metal encumbering his sleeve, he ponders stabbing the pompous messenger in the back; peace descends upon his frenetic features as he runs through the probability of being able to smite the other two angels, too, before they realize what is happening in order to beat a hasty retreat with you in tow. They wouldn’t be the first kin he selfishly slew to serve subjugated desire.

“She felt you might be distracted by the latest … development.” Balthazar lifts his chin to fling the inflection of the last word at you. Obeisant bend deepening, he simpers in self-defense against the rumble of incensed thunder building within his superior’s chest at the insinuation of subversion. “Questioning a loyalist like yourself, of course, is absurd.” Nebulously recollecting his place in the battalion's pecking order, he mumbles a postscript of, “Sir.”

If Naomi suspects, then – stifling a shudder, Castiel stows his blade. “Let us resolve her concerns at once so I may continue my work here uninterrupted.” Prying a pair of gloves from his pocket and tugging them over his fingers, readjusting the snap of leather encircling his wrist, Castiel sweeps his glance over the impassive faces of the two other angels in the room. He wonders if they, too, perceive your continued prayers to him and read anything into his reaction; for in that insulated alcove of his angelic heart, your pleas touch and arouse an empathy buried time and again by Naomi’s reprogramming. Therein shelters ineradicable traces of a love for humanity which his Father nurtured at his creation – the foundations of fidelity to the purpose of protecting and serving mortal souls that even Naomi’s worst cannot rend to her will. There dwells the crack in his chassis where regret creeps out and choice sits for the seizing.

And yet, if Naomi has her suspicions, if any of these angels express a similar concern or contempt, Castiel is already damned – compliance exists as the only recourse. He is nothing if not a good soldier. “The Kommandant awaits,” he states sternly. Gesturing at Balthazar to commence with the winged transport, he flicks his attention upon you.

Looking up, you catch the unmasked sheen of remorse in his regard in the moment before he vanishes. Despite the fear and pain he caused you, an incongruous hope for his return flutters and sinks in the hollow of your stomach on his departure.

Next: Ch. 19 - A Real Dead Ringer

#castiel x reader #castiel x you #au!castiel x reader #castiel series #castiel reader insert #castiel x y/n #castielxreader #castielxyou #reader x castiel #you x castiel #cas x reader #cas x you #castiel fanfic #castiel fanfiction #spn x reader #spn fanfic #au!castiel #castiel x au!reader #cricket writes cas

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bloody-maiden · 7 years

Text

Stuck

(Source)

When I first saw him standing out there on the sidewalk, I thought nothing of it. I certainly didn't think he'd still be out there come September. I lingered at the window for just a moment, decided that the night-bound silhouette across the street was just some guy out for a walk, and went to my room and hit the hay.

As I stood blearily over the coffee maker the next morning, my eyes strayed up to the window over the sink, and a little shock of adrenaline removed the need for caffeine. He was still there, and still standing on the opposite sidewalk looking at my house. My roommates had all gone to work long ago, so I waited for my coffee, got dressed, and then approached the front door and peered through the peephole.

He was still there.

I took a deep breath, readied myself for whatever nonsense this was going to entail, and opened the door.

His gaze shifted to me as soon as I stepped out onto the porch, and he watched me as I walked across the grass. He tensed when I stepped onto my sidewalk, but then looked relieved when I crossed it and reached the curb. Stopping there, I kept the pavement between us. I didn't know exactly how to ask him what the hell he was doing. "Hey, uh, what's up?"

He looked a little bit nervous. "Nothing. Just hanging out."

From where I was standing, he didn't appear to be homeless or crazy. He was a man of about forty dressed in a dark blue robe, and I vaguely recognized him. "Don't you live in that house?" I pointed up the driveway behind him.

He nodded. "Yep, that's mine. Just came out to get the newspaper."

I glanced down at his hand, where he held an orange bag with the newspaper rolled up inside it. "Well, looks like you got it." I paused. Another orange bag was lying further up the driveway, as if the one he was holding was actually yesterday's.

He didn't say anything. He just stood there with a masked nervous expression.

"Did I see you out here last night, too?" I asked.

"Yep, that was me."

I looked down further, and saw that his feet were bare. "You weren't out here all night, were you?"

I expected him to laugh off the idea, but instead he replied, "I was."

"You've been out here all night in bare feet?"

Panic was oozing out from under his mask of calm politeness in a dozen different ways. "Yes."

Now I was starting to feel more than a little weird. "Are you going to stand out here all day, too?"

"I—" He strained to speak, but then seemed to change his reply. "I might. It's beautiful weather out."

Well, that much was true. It was a warm summer day, bright and beautiful. "Well, could you at least not stare at my house then?"

He began to give an apologetic shrug, but stopped halfway through the motion and tried to turn. His bare feet never lifted from the sidewalk; the attempted turn was more of a twist from the thighs up. That, too, stopped rather quickly, and then he said, "Um." His gaze moved in a circle before he finally looked directly at me. "Your house is nice. I like looking at it."

By then I was getting rather annoyed. "What's your name?"

"Russ."

"Russ? Nice to meet you." I shook my head. I'd never had to do this before. "If you don't stop being weird and staring at our house, I'm going to call the police."

His eyes lit up. "Yes, please do that."

That was a weird enough reaction that I actually got out my phone. I'd been raised to never involve the police for any reason, but this was abnormal enough that I felt I had to. I told the dispatcher we had a strange man standing outside our house and that he'd been there literally all night—yes, all night. She said two officers would be with us shortly.

Russ and I didn't talk much while waiting for them. He just stood there looking at me at random times and around the neighborhood otherwise. Ours was a quiet street populated by nice people who kept mostly to themselves; we'd never even had cause to really meet each other. If we had, I might have known more about Russ, but as things were he was just some man acting strangely. Although—his aura of masked nervousness calmed as a squad car turned down the lane and approached us.

Two uniformed officers climbed out and approached us with tired stances. One asked dismissively, "What seems to be the issue, gentlemen?"

Russ looked to me hopefully.

I told them, "This guy has been standing out here staring at our house all night long."

The second cop rolled his eyes, but he did ask Russ, "That true, sir?"

Russ gulped and stated, "Yes."

Both cops straightened at the unexpected answer. The first one asked, "Seriously?"

Russ nodded.

The second cop looked at each of us for a moment and then said, "Well, move it along then."

Russ tensed and stood a little taller. "No."

"What?"

"I said no." As the pair began walking toward him, he added, "Sir."

As one got out handcuffs, the other sneered and said, "Listen, asshole—"

But he stopped about two feet from Russ. His partner froze as well.

"Come on," Russ urged them. "What are you waiting for? Come on!"

The two men looked at each other with haunted expressions, then began to back away. The handcuffs were returned to their belt.

"No!" Russ shouted at them. "Do it, you pricks! You pigs! Ugly bastards! Come on, beat me up! Teach me a lesson! Knock me down!"

The first cop's face was pale. "You're fine, sir. You're absolutely right, we're pigs. Just do what you like; stand there as long as you want. You're on your property, technically, so this is none of our business." The second glanced at me with apologetic terror; both jumped in their car and peeled away.

Russ screamed incoherently after them, but did not move from his spot on the sidewalk.

I called the station a second time to ask what had happened, but after taking my address the dispatcher told me never to call again and hung up. The anger faded out of Russ as he saw me lower the phone, and I stood there awkwardly as the grown man across the street began to outright cry.

I'd never seen a forty-year-old man blubber from sheer hopeless terror. "Russ, what's going on?"

He couldn't answer past his tears.

Looking left and right first, I finally stepped onto the street and got near him. I had the strangest notion, but I couldn't articulate it. The words simply wouldn't come to mind. An instinctual awareness was the most I could manage.

I did reach the opposite curb right in front of him, and I was intent on pushing him back off of his spot on the sidewalk, but I changed my mind about two feet away from him. It would have been weird to touch a crying grown man.

I stepped back to the street. Confused, I tried a second time. At two feet away from him—literally within arm's reach—I changed my mind again. He could do what he liked; who was I to interfere if he wanted to stand outside on a beautiful day?

Each time I got close and then changed my mind, his tears and terror deepened.

I remember murmuring, "Alright, screw this," and I backed up to the middle of the street to get space for a running start. I couldn't articulate what I was doing, but I guessed that a leaping tackle might work. I braced myself and then launched forward, ready to spring up at the proper distance.

But as I went to jump at him, I changed my mind. There was nothing wrong and I was being silly. Who cared about any of this? I slowed and curved away.

His sobbing became a river.

Despite an overwhelming sense that something was very wrong, I turned and slowly went back inside. I could still see him through the kitchen window, and I began going about the business of my day with a muted horror that I could not acknowledge gnawing at my heart. Each time I looked, I would hope against hope that he had moved—but he was always still there, shaking, crying, and looking around for help.

That was June.

A pall hung over our neighborhood. Where once my roommates and I had held board game parties and had a dozen people over, now we ate meager meals in silence. Whenever one of us would think to talk about something that had happened at work or perhaps an event we were looking forward to, we would get out half a sentence and then be overwhelmed by a sense of hollowness. Who could care about a concert or a trip to a water park at a time like this? We would stop our sentence midway through and glance out the kitchen window as a group.

Always, always, Russ was still standing there.

He successfully avoided dangerous sunburns by lifting his robe over his head during the brightest hours, and he had a few nearby trees to shade him at other times. His bare feet took the worst of it, and were red and boiled over after a week.

During that second week, we gathered daily as a neighborhood. It was impossible not to have noticed him standing out there by then, and all the various residents of our street wandered out to speak to him and to one another about various polite topics with strained undertones.

"Terrible weather," a neighbor would say, her eyes fearful.

The weather was gorgeous and beautiful.

"Absolutely terrible weather," another of us would say. "Horrifying in fact. What the hell is happening with the weather?"

I remember the oldest of us, a woman who had lived through the Great Depression and was normally tough as nails, then cried openly and sobbed, "Why is the weather doing this?"

Russ stood through all of this, visibly hopeful and terrified.

The old woman screamed at him, "Why don't you just go inside?"

He could only shrug and shakily tell her, "I don't want to go inside. I like sunburns on my feet."

She approached with both hands up to throttle him, but changed her mind as she came within reach. "You're a man, you can take it. I shouldn't interrupt your enjoyment of nature." She hobbled away in tears, trembling violently.

Another of our neighbors stepped forward. "At least take these clothes." He held a folded shirt and a pair of jeans forward, but turned away before getting close enough to hand them over. "Eh, you probably don't want my old hand-me-downs."

"Right," Russ replied hopelessly. "I'm fine. Thanks though."

It was the rainy season in our parts, and it began to drizzle on our heads, so we retreated to our homes to gaze out the window and watch Russ thirstily hold open his mouth to the sky. Once the torrent was heavy enough, he could also lean down and scoop water from the flow running along the curb. That gave us an idea.

As a neighborhood, we began to wash our cars more often. The runoff from the hoses would flow past Russ, allowing him to drink and stay alive, but only for as long as was normal for washing one's car. None of us mentioned it to one another—we just saw others doing it, so we did it too.

The rainy season also brought worms up out of the ground, which he ate, and he learned to stand still long enough for birds to come near. He would grab them and eat them whole. The sidewalk near him became foul with waste until each new rain washed it clean.

One of the men on the street began building a long wood and metal contraption. For the first time in a month, we had something else to see outside our windows, and we watched him for nearly a week before getting a sense of what he was doing: it was a massively long Rube Goldberg machine full of levers, swinging hammers, rolling balls, and other assorted nonsense. From the two-by-fours he'd laid out, he'd planned for it to extend all the way down the street, around the corner, and out of sight.

My roommates and I took a few days off work and wordlessly began helping. The older women in the neighborhood brought out drinks and food for us; Russ looked on while we ate and drank, but he watched especially carefully while we worked. I'd never been one for tools, but I muddled through figuring out how to saw and nail things effectively, and the other men in the neighborhood joined us without a word when they saw how serious we were.

It took six days, but we finally finished the contraption on the eve of a big storm. As the sky was growing dark, we gathered around the corner out of sight of Russ and stared at the button that would activate the machine. If all the levers and hammers and contraptions worked, Russ would be knocked over by a battering-ram mechanism at the very end.

We stared at the button.

A jogger approached, and we stared at her.

She slowed and looked worried that thirty-odd people were watching her.

We backed up and glanced at the button repeatedly.

"You want me to push this?" she asked, cautious but concerned. "Is this for some sort of prank video?"

We looked at each other, and the old woman who had survived the Great Depression shrugged and nodded.

The jogger moved close and hovered her hand over the button—before backing up. "Nah, I'd rather not participate in a prank video." Her expression was fearful and pained; she jogged on as we stood in despair.

The storm came and destroyed most of the mechanisms; the man who'd started it took it down in grief-stricken silence over the course of the next week.

Russ watched that process with despondent eyes.

A moving truck pulled up one morning, and we gathered on the street to watch his wife begin packing things.

"Russ lost his job because he stopped showing up," she explained. "And now we can't afford the place anymore." She looked over at him with narrowed eyes and said hatefully, "I don't understand why he's doing this, but I'm not staying with an unemployed loser who would rather stand around all day than do some honest work."

"This is honest work," he called over, crying despite his words. "It's tough standing here without rest. I do get tired, but someone has to do it."

We watched her put Russ' son in the passenger seat and then drive off with most of the contents of his house.

We looked to Russ.

He gulped, wiped his tears away, and gave the flimsiest reasoning I'd yet heard: "It's more important that I stand here than go after my family. I didn't value them anyway."

He seemed to give up after that, letting the sun sear his flesh day after day and not even bothering to eat the worms that followed each storm.

That was July.

The first party our street had seen in months nearly sparked a riot. Our place was one of two on the street designated as off-campus housing, and the other house kicked off a kegger at about seven o'clock one night.

Outrage and anger flowed with us into the foyer of that house. The college guys therein turned down the music and had their friends hang back a second as the entire neighborhood crowded in.

The old woman asked, "What the hell do you think you're doing?"

"Having a party," one of the guys responded. "What's the problem? We're not being loud."

I was actually the one who spoke next. I remember my righteous anger vividly. "How can you have a party while things are the way they are?"

One of other guys who lived there protested, "So what? We're supposed to just stop everything and not live our lives because of the way things are?"

The guests looked at us in confusion.

The most painful part about that argument was that the guys were right: we couldn't just stop our lives because of what was happening on our street. The shouts and yells from each side were more about how we felt than any logical debate, and a fistfight broke out just long enough to knock over the keg and break two glasses.

We held each other back and retreated as a neighborhood, leaving the college guys to their party.

I was bitter, so bitter, and we all felt that bitterness together—until another neighbor had a party two nights later. A week after that, one of my roommates had our friends over for a board game night, and I had to admit that it felt like such a relief to return to normalcy. At the end of the night, I walked the last of our friends out, had one last joke and a laugh, and then waved after them.

Russ was just a silhouette in the darkness; always there, but no longer on our minds all the time.

Of course, the next morning the guilt hit me like a load of bricks as I stood over my coffee maker and studied the boil-covered red scarecrow across the street. His blue robes were growing tattered after months outside, and he looked like a burned corpse. Unfortunately, I had a stressful day ahead, and I couldn't afford to process my guilt at that moment.

I'm ashamed to admit it, but I was the one who did it: I closed the blinds over the kitchen window. It was supposed to have been just for that day—just so I could get through the big project at hand—but the blinds never came back up after that. As a house, as a group, we stopped looking out the window.

Just like washing our cars, just like working on that Rube Goldberg machine, and just like our reaction to the party, my neighbors took that as a cue. Within five days, all the blinds on all the windows on the entire street were lowered.

That first night that Russ was completely alone outside in the dark—with all the blinds closed, an absolute guarantee that nobody was looking out for him or at him—I laid in my bed staring at the ceiling and crying quietly. This was not like the other pains on this street, not like the ones that couldn't be articulated. I knew exactly what I'd done this time, and I could think and say the words since it was my issue and my guilt alone: I was the first one to close the blinds.

I wanted to be the first to raise them again, to look out upon our neighborhood problem and force everyone else to open their eyes and unite again, but I didn't have the courage. I needed to work; I needed to pay rent. I couldn't be the one, because raising my blinds would mean acknowledging the problem and I couldn't afford to be wracked by guilt and confusion and pain any longer. Each night, I prayed that someone else would be the first to raise their blinds. Surely someone would do it! It was the only conscientious path, and someone would definitely feel compelled to do the right thing. Then, we could all do it together.

I'd put the issue out of my thoughts for so long that I was actually startled when I saw Russ healthier than before. With nobody mowing his lawn or trimming his trees, and with an abnormally rainy season, the greenery around him had grown to shade him nearly the entire day. His skin was back to a decent color where crinkled parchment had peeled off, and a large number of crickets and other bugs had taken up residence in his waist-high lawn. On these, he fed, reaching down to grab insects at random and eat them when the urge struck him.

I'd looked because a car had pulled up, and I watched as a real estate lady got out and began pestering him.

"Hey!" I shouted from across the way, defensive over our issue. "You leave Russ alone!"

"This is ridiculous," she called back. "I need to sell this property, and I'm never going to get a buyer interested in a property with a weathered homeless man standing outside of it."

"He's not homeless!" I shouted at her. "That's his home."

"Not anymore. His wife got it in the divorce because he failed to show up to the hearings."

I don't know why I said it. "I meant the sidewalk!"

Somehow, at some unknown point, I'd accepted it as simply the way things were. The real estate lady glared at me and then at Russ—and then she got in her car and left. I knew what would happen next, and my roommates and I harassed the landscaping crew she sent until they got fed up and left too. If they mowed the lawn and pruned the trees, Russ would be in serious trouble.

We congratulated ourselves for a job well done and went back into our house for board game night.

That was August.

The derisive talk began earlier this month. As the first chill of autumn hit the air, I think people instinctively knew that the worst was yet to come for him. Whenever we happened to glance his way, someone would spit and call him an idiot for standing there like that.

"Why doesn't he just go inside?" someone would ask.

"Yeah, what a dumbass," someone else would say.

I just stared at them when they said things like that. I did wish it would stop, that he would stop, but—I don't know. I just don't know.

I was prompted to write this and share our situation because I saw it in myself. I saw my feelings turning toward blame and hatred. I asked the same questions: why was he doing this? Why wouldn't he just go inside?

But that strange dread notion that I could not articulate drove me to go outside and do something no one else had done in weeks: talk to him.

"Hey Russ," I said by way of opening, since I had no idea what else to say.

His hair was a mane and his beard was wild, but there was still a man under there. He coughed to clear his throat and then managed to say, "Hey."

There was really no beating around the bush. "You gave up for a little while there, didn't you?"

He nodded weakly.

"What changed your mind? Why are you eating and drinking again? Why do you fight so hard to survive?" I asked him, my heart full of compassion. I felt like I was such a great person for caring when nobody else did.

I will never forget his bemused angry laugh. He tilted his head and said, "To stick it to you assholes."

That was the one answer I'd never expected. We'd done so much for him, gone through so much guilt and angst and effort—but I guess I'd never thought about what it was like on the other side of the blinds, standing there night after night knowing the entire neighborhood was avoiding looking at you.

I don't have an answer. I don't have any answers. I wanted to tell him good luck, but it would have just sounded hollow. I nodded and went inside; this time, I raised the blinds and stood by the kitchen window. As the first flakes of snow for the season began to fall, I accepted his angry gaze. Would the heat of his hate be enough to keep him warm through the winter? Summer seems impossibly far away, especially without so much as a blanket.

And yet all the people who come over—all my friends and roommates and acquaintances—all just keep asking idly, "Why doesn't he just go inside?"

If only it were that simple...

#nosleep #m59gar #something something metaphor #homelessness #climate change #and other things #home

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