#you know how kid memories are weird and warped in your minds

[bleedingoptimism]

It’s a little after eleven when Eddie finally manages to get Tarja to bed. It’s hard for her without her plushie. And really, Eddie is very thankful having a hyper-fixation with her toy seems to be the only ‘consequence’ of having divorced parents Tarja seems to have right now. He always worries if having two homes and constantly moving between them is good for her or not. Especially with Tommy being Tarja’s other dad, but against all odds, he’s good to her. So their kid is doing just fine. She’s happy. And if she’s happy, Eddie is happy.

He’s getting ready to open a beer and relax when there’s a knock on the door. He smiles, assuming is Steve bringing Toothless over and almost knocks his beer to the floor when he opens the door.

Steve looks… well he looks amazing, dressed to the nines. Must’ve been date night. But his eyes are red and puffy, his face covered in dark blotches, and his lips are swollen like he’s been biting them too much.

He’s hugging Toothless to his chest and he smiles at Eddie when he sees him, but he looks so sad it breaks his heart.

Eddie throws the beer behind him, sure it will land on the couch and cradles Steve’s face between his hands, “What did that asshole do?

Steve leans into his touch and shuts his eyes for a moment before sighing and stepping away from him, walking inside and sitting on the couch still holding Toothless like a lifeline. 

“Nothing, he was just-” Steve shakes his head and chuckles darkly, “He’s just so mean,” 

Eddie drops to his knees in front of him and dips his head to look Steve in the eye just like he did that day in the park.

“Break up with him,” he says.

“I can’t.”

“Tommy doesn't deserve you, Steve. You are worth so much more than what that asshole makes you feel. You deserve better. More. Everything,” Eddie pleads, placing his hands on Steve’s knees and squeezing, “If it’s because of Tarja, we’ll figure something out, ok? Lots of people keep in contact with their parent’s significant other after they break up” He rushes, the speech he didn't have quite prepared last week coming out of him in a single breath, “We are friends, right? So you can still visit and see her. Visit me. You don’t have to stop being a part of our lives.” 

Steve is staring at him right now like Eddie just gifted him the moon and he’s so beautiful it’s kind of hard for Eddie to keep eye contact, but he squeezes Steve’s knees again to ground himself and does. Steve needs to know he’s very serious about this. About him.

Eyes shining, Steve takes a deep breath and nods slowly, a tear falling down his cheek that Eddie follows with his eyes and watches until it hides under Steve’s v-neck shirt.

“Hey, even I didn’t put up with Tommy's shit for Tarja’s sake and I birthed her,” he jokes awkwardly, trying to make him laugh and feels like doing a little victory dance when Steve snorts cutely,

“Okay,” he hiccups.

“Yeah?” Eddie smiles back at him, relieved.

“Yeah,” Steve sighs, “Fuck Tommy.” And drops back on the couch, looking exhausted, “Can I stay here tonight?” he asks in a whisper, like he’s afraid Eddie will say no. As if.

“Yeah, of course,” Is what he answers, and has half a mind to invite him into his bed but knows it’s a terrible idea. So he lends Steve his favorite flannel pajamas and sets blankets and a pillow on the couch and they say their goodnights.

And if he does a little dance when he closes the door to his room, no one is there to see.

In the morning, Steve stays for breakfast. And attempts to kill Eddie by making his heart explode, cooking it himself from scratch with Tarja’s help, who is so happy she won’t stop running around the kitchen making Toothless fly and sing about ‘happy family breakfast time’.

It’s actually hard to tell if she’s happier to have her plushie back or that Steve is there. Eddie, on the other hand, knows exactly what he’s happiest about. Death by tenderness. Is that a thing? He amuses himself thinking about a couple csi’s with sunglasses saying it, 

“He died because he witnessed something too cute,”

“Ah yes, death by fondness. I’ve seen it before.”

After, Eddie walks him to the door and Steve smiles sweetly at him, and holds his hand, squeezing it once before letting go, “Well, see you. I guess,” he says bashfully and there’s a moment there, a second where time stops and Eddie thinks he should kiss him. Wants to kiss him, needs to kiss him.

But he doesn’t. Because Steve is still dating Tommy, and just because he said he was going to break up with him doesn’t mean he wants to start something new with Eddie.

Eddie himself called him his friend for the first time last night for christ sake. ‘Fucking chill’ he thinks to himself.

🧸

And then a week goes by without hearing a word from Steve. But Eddie doesn't hold it against him.

At first, he figures he needs time to think but then he starts to wonder if he really is going to break up with Tommy. Four days in, he gets paranoid about it. Maybe Steve got brainwashed into thinking Eddie is bad for him. Maybe Tommy told him Eddie was putting ideas in his head, that he shouldn’t talk to him anymore… With him telling Steve to break up with his boyfriend and all... 

He’s well aware of how manipulative Tommy can be and has seen the way he belittles Steve to keep him around, so he knows it’ll be hard for Steve to actually go through with it.

And he can’t exactly show up at Tommy’s and steal Steve away, no matter how appealing the idea might be. The only thing he can do is just think of Steve, wish him well, and send him strength to do what he needs to do. At the end of the day, it needs to be his decision. His choice.

As Tommy’s week with Tarja approaches he starts getting more and more anxious, wondering if it’ll be Steve or Tommy who picks her up.

When the day finally arrives, and the doorbell rings, Tarja runs to open the door and Eddie peeks his head through the hallway.

“Daddy!” Tarja screams.

“Hey, Tata! You ready?” Tommy says and Eddie steps into the hall to greet him too.

“Not yet!” Tarja chuckles and Tommy smiles at her,

“Okay, go get ready. I’ll wait here,”

Eddie walks to the door and leans on the doorframe, “Hey,”

“Hi. Long time no see,” Tommy says and then adds, “You look great,”

“You don’t,” Eddie answers, because it’s true. He looks like shit. Greasy hair, bags under his eyes, chapped lips, wrinkles on his clothes, “What happened?”

“Steve broke up with me.” 

Eddie’s eyes go wide and he smiles, he doesn’t even try to hide it, “He did?”

“Don’t smile, fucker,” Tommy says but there’s no heat behind it. He knows he deserves it.

“Sorry,” Eddie says, not sorry at all.

“Stop,” Tommy whines because Eddie’s smile is actually getting bigger,

“Sorry,” he repeats and then clears his throat, “Did he tell you why?”

“Because I’m a horrible person,” Tommy groans.

“Hey, the first step is to ad-”

“To admit it, yeah, yeah. I know” Tommy interrupts him, groaning again.

Eddie sighs, and punches Tommy’s shoulder lightly, “Look, Tommy, I’m just going to say this because, well… you are pathetic. You need to do better.” And then he points to his back, to where Tarja’s disappeared to get her stuff, “She’s going to grow up and realize you are an awful person and she’s not going to want you in her life. And I’m not going to dissuade her from it, because I already don’t want you to be in mine, you know that, right?”

Tommy looks at him seriously and then nods once, fast and hard. Like he gets it. Like he agrees and is determined to change. And Eddie hopes for Tarja’s sake he is. But knows, deep in his heart, that either way, she’s going to be fine.

“Also, just a heads up. I’m in love with Steve and I’m going to ask him out,” he adds in a rush when he hears Tarja running up behind him.

“You are shitting me,” Tommy whispers, shocked and clenching his teeth.

Eddie laughs, “Nope,” he says, closing his lips loudly around the P.

“Eddie,” Tommy warns him like he’s waiting for Eddie to say he's joking.

“What? I hear he’s single,” Eddie smirks.

“You motherfuc- Hey Tata!” Gathering Tarja in his arms, Tommy drops the subject but he glares at Eddie as he kisses Tarja’s cheek goodbye and murmurs ‘unbelievable’ as he’s leaving. Eddie closes the door and starts laughing at the look on Tommy’s face.

He needs to call Steve.

He tries a couple of times but he doesn’t pick up and he starts worrying Steve might not actually want to talk to him, and then there’s a knock on the door but Eddie, too preoccupied with his anxiety, opens without looking, thinking Tarja forgot something.

When he doesn't hear her, Eddie looks up from his ‘ignored calls’ screen to see nonother than Steve standing there, looking nervous and like a fucking dream with a bouquet of flowers in his hands. A fucking bouquet of flowers. For him. For Eddie. All different shades of red, because he knows is his favorite color.

Eddie just blinks at him a couple of times and Steve flushes even more and drops the hand holding up the flowers, scratches the back of his neck nervously, “This was stupid, the flowers were fucking stupid. They are stupid. I’m stupid, right?”

A laugh bubbles out of Eddie and he grabs him by the scruff of his shirt and pulls him inside. He closes the door once they are both in and slams Steve against it, crushing their lips together. Steve circles his arms around Eddie and holds him close, instantly returning the kiss with fervor. 

They kiss as if it were fate. They kiss until it's hard to breathe and Eddie pulls away only to kiss him again, and again, and again.

“Not stupid,” he murmurs between kisses and feels Steve’s smile against his lips.

Eventually, Eddie takes a step back and lets Steve into his home properly, “Hi,” he says cheesily.

“Hi,” Steve says back grinning, then he lifts up the bouquet again, which is now completely ruined by him still holding it strongly while they made out like crazy, and his smile drops,

“Shit,” he pouts cutely, god Eddie wants to eat him. He laughs and takes the flowers anyway, putting them in an empty glass bottle, because he doesn’t own a flower vase, because he’s a normal human being. ‘Who the fuck owns a flower vase?’

“Come here,” he says, holding out both hands for Steve to take and follow him.

Steve takes his hands but doesn't move, instead swings them from side to side, “Wait, let's talk,”

Fuck, yeah. They should. That’s a good idea. Fuck. Damn, Steven Whatever-The-Fuck-Is-His-Middle-Name Harrington and his sensible and very logical choice…

Eddie huffs exaggeratedly making Steve chuckle and redirects them to the couch, where they sit still holding hands, “Alas,” he says dramatically, “You are right, we should talk. I actually wanted to ask you out properly, not debauch you the second you walked through the door. Sorry about that” he lies, not sorry at all, again.

Steve blushes and smiles, drawing little circles with his thumbs on Eddie’s hands, “Yeah me too. I wanna do this right. Ask you out. Go on dates. I think we should take this slow,”

Eddie makes a face and groans at that. He doesn't want to take it slow. He wants Steve to move in right now or something. Steve rolls his eyes amused at his interruption and keeps going,

“I came here to ask you out the right way because I want you to know I’m committed. But we should think about how this will affect Tarja… and Tommy too. We should go out a few times, spend some time alone, and I want you to meet my friends and my parents and I want to meet your friends and your uncle too and just do this properly and-”

Eddie interrupts him with a kiss, he can’t take it anymore, he’s been dying to kiss Steve for months now and he’s so sweet and thoughtful it makes Eddie insane, makes him feel like he needs to ruin him, but in a nice way, like with devotion and love.

Steve lets go of his hands to wrap his arms around Eddie’s waist and hoists him until he’s straddling Steve. Eddie leans his elbows on Steve’s shoulders, and buries his hands in his hair, pulling and messing with it.

“Okay but have you considered having hard, hot, wet sex, and then maybe we do what you said?” He asks panting against Steve’s lips and actually feeling how that punches the air out of him.

He hugs Eddie closer to his chest and whines, “Yeah okay, we can do it your way,” and gets up, lifting Eddie with him as if he were weightless. Eddie squawks and laughs all the way to his room.

🧸

They spend the week together, talking, eating, drinking, laughing and fucking. Except it’s more than that because when Eddie is inside Steve, with his tongue, his fingers, or his strap, it feels like more. It feels like love. Like fate.

Steve, still determined to take things slow, doesn’t stay there all the time, going back to Robin’s where he moved back to after breaking up with Tommy. He actually brings her over one day and the three of them spend the afternoon together. Eddie decides they are going to be best friends immediately because Robin is hilarious and merciless. When Steve gets back the next day he kisses Eddie so good and hard his knees almost give out on him and tells him he has Robin’s seal of approval. Something he knows Tommy never got.

When the week passes Eddie says goodbye theatrically as if they were cross-star lovers in a bad soap opera and Steve chuckles and calls him ridiculous but kisses him so passionately that Eddie drags him right back inside and they say goodbye again a few hours later.

They had decided to wait until Eddie talked to Tarja about her feelings over Tommy’s and Steve’s breakup and whether she still wanted Steve around or not before having him over again.

But when Tarja gets back home she’s gloomy and silent. She hugs Eddie in greeting when she arrives and then spends the rest of the day lying face down on the floor and occasionally sighing loudly, obviously trying to make Eddie ask her what’s wrong.

And really, Eddie shouldn't find it as funny as he does, but he thinks about calling Wayne and telling him he gets it now when Wayne used to tell him he had too much personality.

Eventually, he lies on the floor next to her and asks. Tarja looks at him with big sad eyes and says, “I haven't seen Steve in a million years! And Daddy said he is not his boyfriend anymore! So I’ll never see him again and I miss him”

Eddie coos at her, “I’m sorry you miss him little dragon, but you can totally see him again! Would you like me to call him? Since he’s my friend too?” Already trying to strategize on how to tell her they are more than friends.

Tarja lights up and jumps off the floor and onto Eddie, punching the breath out of him, “Yes! Yes! Call Steve! Steve smiles more when he’s with you than he did with daddy anyway. Why don’t you boyfriend him instead?”

Well… that was easy.

He chuckles and shakes his head, “That’s a great idea sweety, go grab my phone,”

Tarja runs and grabs Eddie’s phone off the table and hands it to him, he doesn’t bother getting off the floor so she kneels beside him listening attentively as he dials Steve’s number. 

“Hi, handsome, you talked with Tarja already?” Steve greets him after it rings twice.

“Yeah about that, turns out Tarja talked to me, actually,” he chuckles, “Hi, by the way”

“Hi,” Steve repeats lovingly and laughs, “What do you mean?”

“She had this awesome idea!” he says winking at her and she covers her mouth with her tiny hands to hide her giggles, “That, since you are not with Tommy anymore, you should be my boyfriend instead,” he continues, voice going soft and chuckles when he hears Steve's breathless ‘oh’ on the other side of the line, “Come over?”

“Of course, gimme an hour? I'm with a client” Steve hums and Eddie whispers he’ll give him anything he asks for and hangs up.

An hour later Tarja is still lying on the floor, only now it’s with papers and crayons spread all around her when the doorbell rings. She looks up at Eddie excitedly and he nods at her, “Go on then”

Tarja runs to the door and opens it wide to reveal Steve standing there as beautiful as ever, giving Eddie a deja vu of the first time he saw him.

“Papa Steve!” Tarja yells and jumps up to hug him.

Steve gasps and falls to his knees with her in his arms and looks up at Eddie with shocked wet eyes.

‘So much for taking it slow,’ Eddie thinks with a smirk.

Fin.

☝️first part

☕🥐💕?

[rheagodlywrites]

A Part of the Family

While not quite human at all. A robot trying to learn about why they were created, runs into Phil and his kids. They take them in and try to help her with finding herself while fixing her up.

[Part Two]

Checking Systems of Project #1076…

Arms…clear

Legs…clear

Optic System…Clear

Memory system..erRoR.

Memory Reset... ready for storage of new information

Low battery..Low Power Mode Activated

Voice module..clear

Activating…

————

My eyes open with alerts scattered on my screens.

“Where am I? Who am I?” My voice was horrid. I couldn’t speak well. An alert popped on my screen. It’s fixing my voice. Touch my neck and try again.

“Hello.” My voice was smoother. The sound of it was nice. I look at my surroundings as I open my eyes. I’m surrounded by green. I look at myself and while I hear silent alarms go off in my head..I look non metal. Interesting. I scanned my surroundings to understand. Grass..oak trees..the atmosphere and wind. I try to find any reason as to why I am here but nothing. I move my hand and slowly move my legs. It took a moment but it was easy to learn. I pat myself down. I felt the cloth on my body then the words came to mind. Clothes. I had an interesting outfit on.

“Words..are coming to my mind but why can I not remember?” I look and find a blue thing among the grass. Water. A lake? Pond? I look into it. When I lean over, long black follicles almost fall into the water. I push the hair back and stare at myself. I looked curious. Optics..eyes were brown. Hair was in several long… braids. My cover..skin was brown. A light brown but brown.

“Who are you..” I asked myself. Lift myself onto my feet and start checking all of my pockets. Nothing with a name. The only things on me are a handheld transmitter,a key and tons of gear. Whoever I once was, I was prepared. My only question is how do I mange to hold so much in such small pockets. I look into the forest as I had heard something. Just as I stare into the distance as a man appears with one other.

“Hey! You’re new to the server! What’s your name?” The man with wings said with a grin. I didn’t understand what he meant so I only stood up.

“I am Project 1076. Serial Code 198D7665392. I..don’t know why I’m here.” The man’s face warped in confusion. The boy with blonde hair smiled and suddenly got excited.

“I will call you, Y/n. Got that bitch?” He sounded confident so I accepted the new name.

“Yes. Accepting new name. Y/n. Given by Tommy. Son of Phil. New word learned.. Bitch.” The man with wings panicked for a moment.

“Tommy! Don’t teach her that!” Tommy looked cheeky as if he did something.

“Anyways.. I’m Phil. This is my son Tommy. He’s slightly…eccentric.” Tommy grins and grabs my hand. He pulls away almost instantly then he took hold once again.

“Whoa..your hand is weird!” Phil scolded Tommy again but I didn’t mind. I didn’t really understand what he meant. Phil offered to take you to his home and you accepted. I followed the two back to a house in a field. I stood behind them. I didn’t want any attention drawn to me since Phil told me that he had two more kids. The moment the door opened, Tommy grabbed my hand to pull me inside. But my hand simply came off with the force. He was so surprised that he dropped my hand in front of two boys that looked almost like twins. The one with fluffy brown hair with a yellow sweater picked up my hand.

“Is this yours?” He kindly asked. I took it back attaching it to my robot arm.

“Thank you. My name is Y/n. I am Project 1076. Serial Code 198D7665392.” I respond. He laughs with an odd look on his face. The other one with pink hair and small teeth growing from his lower jaw.

“Is that an orphan?” He looked at me with red eyes as if he were almost possessed.

“Orphan..please define that.” He thought for a moment before speaking.

“Kid without parents.” I processed that and nod as I take in the new word.

“Y/n. This is Wilbur and Technoblade. Techno has origins of piglin so it makes him naturally violent sometimes. Just warning you in case it surprises you.” Phil introduces me to the boys and tells me that I can stay on the couch till he can get a room for me. I deny the room offer since I don’t need that much space but he insists even if the room is small. This will be enlightening.

———————

It’s been years. They all grew up and left. First Tommy,then Wilbur and then Techno. Phil left too and I followed. I still stay at the house and clean things up but the place feels like tons of abandoned memories. When I finally arrived at the cords, the place seemed to be in flames. I run down and see a huge hole. I look and find Phil in a stand with a bloodstained sword in his hands with his wings damaged beyond repair. Wilbur..was right underneath him deathly pale. I scanned him over and tried to understand but I couldn’t. What happened? I look down and see Tommy and Techno but they’re facing each other angry. I run to them almost falling.

“Technoblade? Tommy? What’s going on?” My words fell upon deaf ears as Technoblade screamed at Tommy.

“YOU WANT TO BE A HERO,TOMMY?! THEN DIE LIKE ONE!” Huge monsters spawned and red alerts blared in my ears. A new emotion updated in my system.

Fear.

“TECHNO!” I scream. He turned as he was running away. His eyes could be read as sadness and surprise but he kept running. I jump out of the way trying t avoid being decommissioned. Why is this family falling apart?

———————

Three years. Three years and too much has happened. Ever since I came to join the others. Tommy and his friend Tubbo have rebuild Wilbur’s old land of L’manberg. Wilbur became a ghost and Techno went into hiding. Tubbo exiled Tommy almost in cold blood thanks to Dream. They hunted him down and tried to kill him. Failed. Dream is dangerous. My system tells me that much from the data I’ve gathered. Dream,techno and Phil even blew up the country beyond recognition. Tommy even sent Dream to prison. Upon visiting him Tommy died then got brought back. Ghostbur died and Wilbur came back. After all that’s happened. I don’t know if I want to remember my past. Tubbo runs a new country, Snowchester. It’s cold and I have to wear warm clothes since my body will freeze then break down. I currently sit with Phil tapping my fingers staring out the window.

“Phil,this family is broken and I’m not even a part of it.” Phil stopped brewing and sighed.

“Don’t say that.” I look at him.

“Phil. Evidence tells that Tommy is being manipulated by Wilbur and has learned to not trust his family. Upon visiting him with Technoblade in exile, Techno only mocked and made fun of him. Wilbur has forced his ideals onto him, Wilbur came back from the dead with vengeance, he hasn’t cared for whomever he hurts as he believes he’s always in power. Techno has his voices but he still does things completely on his own. Taunting Tommy, Blowing up the one place people care about with the biggest manipulative person here. And me? I was left to tend to that house in the fields. Besides, I’m not even related to any one you.” I tell him. Phil sighs and taps his chin.

“Family goes beyond blood. You don’t have to be of the same blood.” Phil explains half heartedly. I get up and look at him. His eyes were tired and confused as to what I was doing.

“I’m grateful then. I’m glad to be part of the family. I will be leaving now. Goodbye Phil. Give these to Tommy, Wilbur and Technoblade. Tell Tommy he’s stronger than he knows, Tell Wilbur that I will never forgive him for what he’s done to Tommy. And tell Techno..I hope his voices become quieter.” I hand him the letters, I gave wrote to them. I leave out the door and Phil calls to me. I ignore him. I need to know what’s happened to me before I met them. I will not find out being around them any longer.

It’s my turn to go ahead and leave them behind.

[nemorialex]

Stranger Danger?

The days were getting darker, smearing time and distorting it. Staying up all night meant staying up for days at a time and hardly noticing the difference. Traveling long distances through the strange shadows to take your mind off of the worries of home only succeeded in making you more paranoid about the journey ahead. How much longer until you were lost completely? Did you really want that? Did you trust the environment out here? When you drift asleep you’re greeted with a dark maze and the feeling of being watched and you can’t shake the feeling that you’re not fully asleep.

You turn and look behind you. Was that a noise? Your imagination? You start running from the monsters and memories. It’s so dark. You’re so tired. Tired of running. You want to give up, but could never forgive yourself if you did. You want to scream. To fight. To hide. You want to go home. Home. Home. Even if you don’t make it home, you want to get the hell out of here!

Wait… Maybe you can. You reach into your pocket and pull out a little trinket. A necklace with a charm the size of a quarter and the structure of a dream catcher. It hasn’t worked in a while, at least not like it used to, but it was good in a pinch. And if you just pushed yourself and focused…

The charm didn’t even need to be tossed into the air before it started spinning and expanding, warping reality around it until a light was in front of you. An escape. Maybe this nightmare truly was over!

You don’t gawk at it too long- seconds after the portal was formed you see the edges of it crumbling under the weight of your desire- You shoot through the bright light, letting it pass over you like a bucket of cold water after a long and hot day of work. Or, perhaps more accurately, like a solid mass of something hitting you in the face.

You, and whatever (whoever?) you just crashed into, tumble to the ground in a heap. After a moment of letting your eyes adjust you see- “Mom?” “Dad?”

The same time you said it, another voice behind you asked the similar question. The bright portal was gone, sealing you away from that endless void-like pit of terrors. In it’s place was a small girl with gray skin and curved, bright orange horns. A troll, if you remember correctly, and just a kid if you were to guess. She stared at you, wide-eyed, hands balling into fists as if she were ready to fight but terrified to do so.

“I-It’s alright, Deb. I’m okay…”

The person you ran into was standing up now, straightening that stupid coat. She was different than you remember. Shorter hair, cleaner coat, a few extra bobbles and jewelry, and a weird, scrawny creature puffing its fur to three times its own size perched on her shoulder and glaring defensively at you. But there was also a different… air, about her. A wiry confidence that you couldn’t put your finger on. 

Her shoulders were hunched slightly, and you know those itchy trigger fingers were hovering just in front of the opening of her coat, ready to stick you with deadly accuracy. You’ve seen that cold, intense look of a fighter many times on this face, but it was terrifying and jarring to have it directed at you for once. 

“So... May I ask, um…” a pause. “Who might you be?”

“You don’t… recognize me?” You can’t help the hurt that enters your voice at the question. “It’s Sami! Samantha? Your daughter?”

What?

At the mention of a daughter Alex looked past this stranger to Deb, who locked eyes with them. She was confused and uncomfortable and looked pretty lost. Which is pretty much how they felt too. This kid- pre-teen at best- catapults out of nowhere and crashes into them and claims to be their daughter? But she looked pretty rough, like she hadn’t had a good rest or a bite to eat in days.

“I’m sorry, but. I’ve never met you in my life.” They kneel down and offer a hand. “But you do look like you could use some help…?”

The stranger looked flabbergasted, almost offended at the offer. But after an extended, awkward moment of silence, she slowly reached up and took their outstretched hand.

[aspenforest732]

Bello Licentiae Chapter 20: Curiosities

Summary:

tw: trauma, ptsd, flashback, gang mentions, court proceedings, child abuse mentions, torture, psychological abuse A little fanart at the end 'text' JSL Text thoughts

The next day, Mad Banquet set out for Curio, a shop nestled in the midst of cafés and boutiques that comprised the historic district of Musutafu. Inside hung a variety of artworks and handmade knickknacks, and deeper in the shop lay crystals, stones, and a variety of paraphernalia for Christianity, Shinto, Buddhism, and what Akira assumed was Pagan. Out back, a small group of people dressed in autumnal colors stood around a cookout and drank what almost looked like honey.

"Excellent, you've arrived," Fumikage made his way over as Dark Shadow emerged to say hi to the group. He led them to where covered dishes spread across one of the tables and a few of the older ladies sat.

"Ah, are these your friends? Pleasure to meet you," an elderly woman wearing a flowing dress with drooping sleeves smiled at them. "My name's Den Ban, she/her. I lead our little group for celebrations. If you have any questions, please feel free to ask me or any of our members."

The group bowed in respect, and Fumikage introduced them to the other members of the community. Most seemed to follow different paths, although one of his moms also practiced death work. Some followed non-pagan religions in addition to their path, and others worked with deities from a few cultures. Overall, it was a pretty casual affair centered around celebrating the turning of the year, community, and the harvest. They were invited back for the group's Samhain ritual that was scheduled for October 30th so people could still go to costume parties.

"It still hasn't disappeared?" Yamada asked as the pair paused for water.

Akira tapped their crutch twice and rested both against one of the tables on the tea room's patio. The only changes they'd picked up on so far with Midoriya was that the clones took more energy to maintain the further away they were and didn't last as long. Eri had a doctor's appointment, so Yamada volunteered to be their escort off campus.

Since there wasn't much Akira could do to respond without text messages, Yamada shared stories of mostly the rooftop squad in his days at U.A. Akira snorted at the idea of Aizawa thinking he was terrible with kids, and it was fascinating to hear how Oboro was before All for One. After Akira warped their clone again, the pair walked for a few minutes past the tea shop when they felt it drop. They immediately stopped and sent a quick text to Midoriya with their coordinates including elevation.

"While we're out, do you need anything in town?" Yamada asked, eyes sparkling.

' What did you have in mind? ' Akira huffed, knowing that look.

Yamada grinned and launched into how winter was fast approaching, they didn't let the couple get them much last time, and blankets would be good. Akira sighed in exasperation, knowing from the past few months with the couple he mostly just wanted to spend time with them. Akira froze as he mentioned their upcoming birthday, memories crashing into them at the reminder. Yamada stopped a moment later, turning to them in concern.

"Mori, are you okay?" Yamada asked softly, crouching in front and a little to the side.

Akira's breath caught before they shook the memory back. Come on, you know him. After a steadying breath, they signed, ' I don't celebrate my birthday. Please don't bring it up. '

"Okay, little listener," Yamada said with a hesitant smile. "Would you like me to tell anyone else so they know to avoid it?"

After a moment's hesitation, they nodded. ' Sleepy Cat. ' Akira still went with Yamada to the small shopping center servicing this outer section of Musutafu. He did talk them into some admittedly practical long johns and grabbed a pair of fuzzy cat socks they looked at a little too long. It still felt weird that Yamada and Aizawa didn't want anything in return, but they were gradually warming up to the idea.

On Tuesday, Mad Banquet made sure Shoto knew they were available after his testimony, and Akira promised to check in after their patrol. Dabi's testimony was slated for the last slot on Thursday, although the recording should be enough. Fragments left of the gangs under Shie Hassaiki were still a concern in Esuha, comprising most of the blue-collar crimes.

Akira settled in front of the tv in the common area as the news switched to live at the courthouse. The defense had moved to dismiss Dabi's evidence and testimony if he didn't come in person to prove his identity, so the media was of course trying to get a picture of the elusive Toya. With Aizawa escorting him, he managed to avoid showing his face until they were almost at the door and an especially bold vulture got just the right angle.

Akira sighed as a plate smashed and the small talk stopped. They turned to the rest of their classmates in various states of shock and signed while Koji translated, ' I'm sure you have questions. One at a time. '

"Dabi is Toya?" Midoriya asked almost to himself. "That makes so much sense..." he started muttering up a storm.

' Yes, although his preferred name is Dabi, ' Akira clarified.

"You've been living with a villain?" Kirishima asked, hardening and unhardening in spots reflexively.

' On a technicality, yes, he's an informant. '

"Wait, did you know about this?" Mina turned to Mad Banquet and Katsuki in confusion and hurt.

' I only told them what I needed to based on their own observations and unfortunate circumstances, ' Akira quickly corrected. The others didn't deserve the suspicion they brought on themself.

"Were you ever going to tell us? Does Aizawa know?" Sato asked, anger and uncertainty seeping through.

Akira shifted slightly away and thought about it for a moment. ' No, I wasn't going to tell you unless I had to. Yes, Eraser knows. '

Yaoyorozu frowned, looking over Akira like seeing them for the first time. "Why were you living with a villain when you're an Inoue?"

Don't react. Don't react. Keep them safe . Akira carefully kept their expression neutral as anger boiled up at the name. ' I haven't been an Inoue in years. '

"Were they like Endeavor, ribbit?" Tsu asked.

' No. Any more questions about Wildfire or can I go? ' Akira stiffly signed. No one seemed convinced, but only Ida started to say something. Midoriya quickly jostled his arm, stopping him with a look. Akira retreated to their room, only stopping briefly and grabbing a blanket before heading back to the elevator to the roof. They shot off a text to Aizawa as they opened the door. Akira pulled the blanket tighter around their shoulders against the biting wind.

The cold helped keep them in the present, although after a couple hours, they had to stiffly get to their feet and head back inside as their chronic pain flared. A pigeon glided back down to Koji's balcony, making a small smile slip onto Akira's face. It turned into a full grin as they saw the news and sent congrats to Shoto and Dabi. Messages flooded in from Blue Fang members, checking in on the brothers and Akira with how close to home the trial hit.

' Gentler, ' Akira demonstrated rubbing along Eri's scars again while Yamada interpreted. ' You should be able to feel the movement of your fingers on your skin but not uncomfortably so. '

Eri frowned, trying again before realization crossed her face. "Like this?"

Akira nodded with a sad smile, ' Exactly! ' They helped her with a few more grounding techniques they'd found helpful during derealization episodes before their deconstruction scars faded. The burning tearing she felt was different from the burning vibrations Akira experienced, but they suspected that was just the different ways deconstruction-construction quirks manifested.

Akira, Togata and Hitoshi played with Eri for a bit longer before she was off to nap time. Togata frowned thoughtfully once she was out of earshot and mused, "The others affected by Overhaul didn't have lingering pain, and from what Sir has explained, that seems to be the norm."

' Oh it is, ' Akira clarified as Hitoshi glanced at them. ' The first thing you learn before you can use your quirk on people is how to construct with little to no pain. With their experience, it's absolutely intentional to leave the victim with pain around the scar. '

"Hey, Mori?" Midoriya shuffled over, fidgeting and glancing over his shoulder as the rest of class filtered out.

Curiosity piqued, Akira signed for Mad Banquet to go ahead to the changing room. He'd been full of nervous energy the whole day, and they couldn't see what set him off. ' Can I help you with something? '

"You've been hanging out with Aoyama for a bit, right?" Akira slowly nodded. "Does he ever... just give you cheese? Like out of nowhere?"

Akira laughed and nodded, grateful it wasn't anything serious for once. ' Yeah, I think it's his way of trying to make friends? Sparkles really likes cheese, and I think it's like Blank sharing their space. '

Midoriya sagged in relief and chuckled, "Oh thank kami. I was so confused and then he left cheese on my balcony last night, and...sorry, I'm rambling again. Thanks."

In Heroics, Akira focused on reaction time and doing different things with different hierarchy levels of clones. Progress felt slow compared to what most other students were already capable of, and Akira kept having to remind themself that they started much later than the others.

"We're going to have a school festival," Aizawa announced. As he went on to explain the importance of the event for business, gen ed, and support course students, and Akira bit back a chuckle as he "fell asleep." It seemed most of the class still hadn't caught on that he never let his guard down that much in the classroom.

Everyone had drastically different ideas, making Akira increasingly confused about what the festival was even supposed to involve. A quick search on the forums mostly turned up results for the other courses' presentations. By the end of homeroom, the list of options was a conflicting mess, and Aizawa threatened the class with a public lecture if they didn't figure it out by the next day.

As they were getting ready for patrol with Kirishima and Taishiro, Akira checked the class group chat and looked up at Kirishima confused. ' Was a concert one of the options? '

"Huh?" Kirishima finished attaching one of his shoulder cogs. After checking the chat, he laughed, "I don't think so? But it does sound pretty manly. Mina was showing off her dance moves earlier, and Jiro practically had a music store in her room."

"That sounds like fun, kiddos!" Taishiro beamed as he waited for them to finish getting ready. "It's too bad the festival's closed to the public this year; I'd love to see you in person."

' We can probably get it recorded if you want, ' Akira offered. Nezu had eyes everywhere.

"That would be great!" Taishiro grinned and swept Kirishima into a hug, offering an arm for Akira as well.

After a brief hesitation, they thought fuck it and stepped into the embrace. Surprised at the warmth, Akira relaxed further into his leg, grounding themself in the softness of the fabric and the smell of warm lavender to remind themself who they were with. All too soon, Kirishima pulled away, and Akira followed suit.

Mortis cringed back as people kept wishing them a happy birthday, forcing a pleasant smile on their face as they took the sweets and extra servings thrust upon them. Thankfully, Fat Gum caught on when their façade presumably cracked enough after the first several gifts and started intercepting the well-meaning civilians. Red Riot grew increasingly confused at their discomfort but tried to keep himself between them and the crowds. The occasional graffiti and murals they were able to ignore before now loomed over them, reds turning to blood and odd angles turning into ears and eyes.

About halfway through patrol, Mortis slipped into an alley to get away from the pressure while Fat Gum and Red Riot talked with a store owner. Leaning against the wall, they took a few steadying breaths while tuning the city out for precious moments.

A door slammed open as they heard club music pour out from where there had been no indication of such a place. Mortis went on high alert as they looked around and saw a drunk person stumble out, bottle in hand. Curious, they moved at the edge of his senses, counting on his lack of awareness to check through the door and see a dive bar through the open doorway. Before the door could swing back closed, Mortis sent a quick text to Fat Gum with their location and a pop-up or hidden club.

Slipping inside, Mortis winced at the pulsing bass and mass of people on the dance floor and the various patrons they wove through. They recognized a few from wanted posters of varying severity and others from the gangs Fat Gum worked with. No one had noticed them so far due to their height, but Mortis knew they couldn't rely on that for long.

The point was proven as they recognized an underground hero at the same time as she spotted them, her eyes widening for a moment before she signed ' Follow. '

Mortis cautiously followed Jinx to a quieter area, steering clear of her quirk's radius. ' Sorry if I'm intruding on something, I wasn't aware this place existed. '

' You're the big man's new intern, right? ' Jinx asked, respecting the distance and keeping an eye out towards the patrons. ' He's probably worried about you. This place has signal blockers. '

Mortis winced but nodded as they realized this was more than just a club. ' Does he know about this? '

Jinx chuckled humorlessly and tensed. Her eyes tracked one of the patrons Mortis had clocked earlier as he headed towards one of the private rooms. ' No, tell him Jinx sent you off and he can explain what this is. I have work. '

Mortis inclined their head and quickly signed before she stepped away, ' I'm aware. Thanks for your time. ' They slipped back through the crowds, narrowly avoiding the gaze of one of the bartenders before slipping back out. Their phone immediately started buzzing and dinging constantly as they quickly turned the sound off, grateful the alley was empty at the moment. They quickly activated their coms and said, "I'm back and safe. Same location."

"What the hell happened?" Fat Gum immediately replied, concern dripping from his voice.

Mortis exited the alley as they heard him approach and replied, ' Info Hub. Jinx sent me off. '

Understanding and fond exasperation passed over Fat Gum's face as Mortis deactivated their transmission of coms. Red Riot looked between them confused and started to ask a question when Fat Gum said, "I'll explain later, Red Riot. Of course you would stumble into one when Jinx is involved."

Mortis chuckled at the irony and turned to Red Riot. ' Jinx is an underground hero who has a constant aura of bad luck around her. She's learned to work with it, but it has given her a bit of a reputation. '

Eventually, they returned to the agency, and Taishiro walked Akira through the paperwork of unintentional interference with an information hub while explaining what they were to Kirishima. They were excellent tools for intel gathering and underground heroes due to being filled with underworld denizens. Info Hubs were viewed as safe spaces for anyone with information or money as long as they didn't bring twilights and limelights into the space and didn't make active moves against members in the hub. Information gained from the hub could be used outside at the risk of the individual. The hubs always had signal blockers to enforce the isolation and were usually nigh impossible to get into without a connection or leak.

Since Jinx was an underground hero, the best way to contact her was through one of her many dead drop locations spread throughout her territory and a little beyond. As Akira's mentor, Taishiro would be making the drop, but Akira did agree to give their number in case any complications arose from their presence.

Back at the dorms, there was a sign-up sheet on the wall with various roles and instructions for the work study students to write their name next to whatever role they felt comfortable with doing or learning. After a moment, Akira wrote their name under Keys, Dancer, and Interpreter while Kirishima added himself under Singer and Special Effects.

Before they fell asleep, a message came through from Dabi. "Doctor wants Hand Job to prove himself. We'll be off grid for a while."

Notes:

I work with Loki, Artemis, Apollo, an St Cyprian. Curio is inspired by a shop I found while exploring my neighborhood back when I first moved here. The grounding Akira shows Eri how to do is actually how I end particularly stubborn voluntary hyperphantasia episodes. Sometimes works on involuntary, but depends on the source. The timeline on the villain arc is really weird so figured I'd just go ahead and start it Is the art comment too weird? I couldn't figure out a better spot to put it and didn't want it to just suddenly be a thing in Libertias aut Mortis.

Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

[neo-shitty]

minute — s.jy

description. in which jake was given one minute to see his lover who didn’t recognize him anymore. (inspired by ricky montgomery’s mr. loverman)

pairings. not-so-human!jake x human!reader (to be clear, jake has a completely human physique but isn’t entirely human. also, mc is a barista.)

genre. supernatural/superhuman-ish!au, angst

warnings. none. except a very ‘what the fuck is happening’ plot. if you have questions about this, feel free to send an ask.

word count. 1k

writer’s notes. this is mostly shitty writing. i mean what’s new, my blog name says it all. this was supposed to be a timestamp but it ended up longer than i expected. now, i don’t know how to explain this piece of shit to you because i don’t understand it either. i just needed to write it down but upon doing so i realized that the idea was better in my head. too late tho. 

i also don’t know how i managed to write something for enhypen not even a week into stanning the group? 

+ @enha-woodzies​, thank you for choosing ‘i miss you’! mc lives to see another day.

“You have a minute,” Jay said the moment they successfully warped onto the sidewalk outside of the café. 

Thankfully, the place was devoid of people. There was no need to explain to a bunch of strangers how the pair managed to appear out of thin air.

Jake fixed his beret before turning to Jay with a raised eyebrow, “You’re kidding?”

“Every minute we’re here, we’re risking the chance that the higher ups will find out we’re here when they specifically told us not to be. It’ll only take so long for them to find out we’re gone,” Jay answered sternly, as if to scold the other boy. “So don’t waste a second.”

The conversation ends with a cold stare down between the two. Jake couldn’t hide his annoyance but he knew deep down that the other was just trying to keep the both of them safe. He was the first to look away, walking up the steps to the café. He heaved a breath in before he pushed the door open.

And as he expected, there you were—leaning against the counter with your back facing the entrance. You laughed at what another barista said before you turned your head to welcome the new customer that had just walked in. Like you were trained to, you flashed a smile that nearly makes Jake’s heart leap to his throat.

To Jake, you seemed like you hadn’t changed at all. Your smile was still as bright as it had been when you were with him and you still crinkled your nose before you went into fits of laughter. In every other aspect, nothing had changed—except you no longer looked at him with a glint of recognition.

You looked back at him with only professionalism, the type that a barista carried to leave good impressions on customers. Eyes-bright, wide-smiled and welcoming.

As he closed the distance between the both of you, his footsteps started feeling heavier. For a moment, he regretted that he didn’t let them erase his memories too. It was a burden to be on the remembering end of a (literal) half-forgotten romance, but it would’ve been a shame if he chose to forget everything too. He knew that if you had a choice, you wouldn’t have your memory wiped. But every day you spent with him, with you carrying the knowledge that his species existed, put both you and his entire kind at high risk.

How unfortunate it was that relationships between humans and the supernatural were still frowned upon long after the medieval times. As the sayings went, old traditions really did die hard.

It took a wave of your hand for him to snap out of his spiral of thought. Only then did he notice that he had spaced out in front of you, staring blankly (and frowning) at the marble counter.

“What would you like to order?” you asked.

“I miss you,” he blurted out the same time.

You flinched. The pen you were twirling freezes between two of your fingers. Jake wanted to slap himself for letting such a weird phrase slip out of his mouth. But his hands were glued to his side and he could only stare down at you with eyes that desperately tried to memorize your every feature. He was unsure when he’d be back to see you.

You felt the blood rush to your cheeks and suddenly, you were self-aware and conscious of everything—be it a crease on your apron or just your physical appearance in general. You expected him to take back what he said but he doesn’t. He just stood there, staring down at you with sad eyes—sad familiar eyes that seemed to be ones you’ve already seen before. But you just couldn’t point out when and where exactly. 

Confusion washed over your expression and you tried to hold back a laugh. Jake, on the other hand, chuckled a bit but he didn't backtrack on what he said.

So it wasn’t a mistake, you thought.

You stared back at him one last time before you turned around and shook your head. “How could you miss me when we haven’t met before?” you asked.

There was a long pause. You notice how he smiles, or at least attempts to, before he frowns again. “We‘ve met before,” he replied.

Though a part of you believed that he wasn’t lying, you really couldn’t recall anything about him. But there was a second of recognition when you stared back at him, almost as if you’ve stared at him intently that way once before. The moment felt like deja vu and with every time you tried to reach and grasp it, the memory slips out of your fingertips and into the back of your mind again.

“Okay,” you said, surrendering to your curiosity. “Whatever you say, what’s your name again?”

Your question was left hanging. Before you could even interrogate and pester him about how you’ve met before, the boy was gone when you turned around. 

“What the heck?!” Jake groaned, shoving the other boy the moment they warped back into the castle.

“A minute’s passed,” Jay answered coldly, brushing off the dust from his coat and vest.

“You could’ve waited at least until I could say my name!” the other boy shouted, his voice echoing down the empty hallways.

Jay stared back with disappointment, feeling his own rage rise at how irrational the other was getting. “Letting her remember everything eliminates the purpose of having her memories wiped in the first place. Do you really want all of us to die just because you’re in love with some human who seems different?” he snapped. “Do you remember each one of our kind who died thinking the same thing?”

Jake opened his mouth to say something back but the older boy had already started walking away, disappearing into the darkness of the endless castle hallways. 

The truth was as bitter as it had always been, even more so when it was shouted at you because it wouldn’t get through your head. Jake thought it was about time he let the words sink in; it was about time that he listened.  

For months, he hoped there was some way around it. Each time, your memory was wiped upon the Masters’ orders again and again and again. 

Maybe there really wasn’t a way around it and Jake had only been stalling accepting the truth for so long. Jay’s words echoed in his mind like a broken record and he lets himself slumping against the cold concrete as he felt the last of his hopes dwindled into nothing.

© neo-shitty, 2021

[jayoctodot]

The Silent Patient vs The Maidens

I will start by saying that I understand the appeal of these novels as page-turners. They are easy to read and if you want a twisty reveal at the end, you will probably be entertained and satisfied. That being said, I am SO CONFUSED by the near-universal adoration of The Silent Patient and the reasonably positive reception of The Maidens. The weaknesses of the two are strikingly similar, as well, which doesn’t give me much hope of seeing improvement from this guy, though I am intrigued to see whether he keeps repeating the same (apparently successful!!) patterns. These books were at least super fun to hate.

(For context, I read The Maidens for a bookclub I'm in, because several of the members had read and loved The Silent Patient, and one of them gave me a copy of the latter to read on my own time. I loathed The Maidens and then read The SP for comparative purposes. And because I'm a masochist, apparently.)

SPOILER WARNING! Do not read on unless you've finished both books (or unless you care not for spoilers). Sorry if it gets a bit shouty.

Here are the similar weaknesses I noticed in both:

PSEUDO-PSYCHOLOGY

-> Weirdly similar “group therapy” scenes early on where a cartoonishly unstable patient arrives late, disrupts the meeting by throwing something into the middle of the circle, and is asked to join the group after the therapist(s) speechify on the importance of boundaries (HA! None of these therapists would know an appropriate boundary if it kicked them in the ass) and debate whether to “allow” the patient to join. Both scenes are so transparent in their design to establish the credibility/legitimacy of the narrators as therapists, but instead both Theo and Mariana come off as super patronizing. The protagonists are less and less believable as therapists at the stories progress (though at least Theo’s incompetence is explained away by the “twist” at the end; Mariana, on the other hand, is confronted in the opening pages of the novel by a patient who has self-harmed PRETTY extensively, and rather than ensure he get proper medical attention, she essentially throws him a first aid kit and tosses him out the door so she can pour herself a glass of wine and call her niece... and it devolves from there).

-> Ongoing insistence throughout the narrative that one’s childhood trauma entirely explains the warped/dysfunctional way a character behaves or views the world, which is why the books go out of their way to give EVERY potentially violent character a traumatic childhood; when Theo insists that no one ever became an abuser who hadn’t been abused themselves, I wanted to throw the book across the room. (That is a MYTH, SIR. GET OUT OF HERE WITH YOUR ARMCHAIR PSYCHOLOGY.)

-> Female murderers whose pathology boils down to “history of depression” and “traumatized by a male loved one/family member.” Because, as we all know, depression + abuse = murderer!

-> The “therapy” depicted in both books is laughable and so so unrealistic, mostly because neither narrators function as therapists so much as incompetent detectives, obsessively pursuing a case they have no place pursuing (or skill to pursue - both just happen across every clue mostly by way of clunky conversation with all the people who can provide precisely the snippet of info to send them along to the next person, and the next… until all is revealed in a tired, cliched “twist”). Their constant Psych 101 asides were so tiresome and weirdly dated (also, the constant harping on countertransference got so ridiculous that at one point during "therapy" Theo literally attributes his headache and a particular emotion he feels to Alicia, as though the contents of her head are being broadcast directly into his mind... and I'm PRETTY SURE that's not how it works???)

CHARACTERS

-> Psychotherapist narrators with abusive fathers and pretensions of being Sherlock Holmes, which results in both characters crossing ALL KINDS of ethical lines as they invade the personal lives of everyone even tangentially connected to their cases (and, in Theo's case, violate all kinds of patient confidentiality. Yeah, yeah, by the end, that's the least of his offenses, but before you get there, it's baffling that NO ONE is calling him out on this).

-> All female characters are either elderly with hilariously bad advice, monstrous hulking brutes, or beautiful bitches (except for ~MARIANA~, who is Bella Swan-esque in her unawareness of her own attractiveness, despite multiple men trying to get with her almost immediately after meeting her. I'm so tired of beautiful female characters being oblivious to their own hotness. Are we meant to believe all mirrors and male attention have escaped their notice? If it’s to make them “relatable,” this tactic really fails with me).

-> All characters of color are shallow, cartoonish side characters, and most of them are depicted as unsympathetic minor antagonists (the Sikh Chief Inspector in The Maidens continuously drinks tea from an ever-present thermos, and his only other notable characteristic is his instant dislike of Mariana, whom he VERY RIGHTLY warns to stay out of the investigation that she is VERY MUCH compromising… the Caribbean manager of the Grove is universally disliked by her staff for enforcing stricter safety regulations at the bafflingly poorly run mental institution, because HOW DARE SHE. There's a very clear vibe that we're supposed to dislike these characters and share the protagonists' indignation, but honestly Sangha/Stephanie were completely in the right for trying to shut down their wildly inappropriate investigations).

-> "Working class" characters (or basically anyone excluded from the comfortably upper-crust, educated main cadre of characters) are few and far between in both stories, but when they show up, he depicts them as such caricatures. We got Elsie the pathologically lying housekeeper in the Maidens, who is enticed to share her bullshit with cake, and then a TOOTHLESS LEPRECHAUN DEALING DRUGS UNDER A BRIDGE in the SP. I kid you not, a man described as having the body of a child, the face of Father Time, and no front teeth, emerges from beneath a bridge and offers to sell Theo some "grass." I was dyinggg.

-> There are no characters to root for. Anywhere. Partly because they’re all so thinly drawn — and because we’re clearly supposed to view almost ALL of them as potential suspects, so they’re ALL weird, creepy, or incompetent in some way.

-> The flimsiest of flimsy motives, both for the narrators and the murderers. Theo fully would have gotten away with his involvement in the murder if he hadn't gone out of his way to work at the Grove and "treat" Alicia and his justification for doing so is pretty weak; his rapid descent into stalking and murder fantasy and his random ass decision to "expose" Alicia's husband as a cheater with a spur-of-the-moment home invasion and staged attempted homicide is ONLY justified if the reader hand waves it away as WELP, HE'S CRAZY, I GUESS (after all, he DID have an abusive father and a history of mental illness, and in Michaelides novels, that's ALL YOU NEED to become a violent psycho). I guess we're lucky Mariana didn't also start dropping bodies (because the logic of his fictional universe says she should definitely be a murderer by now... maybe that'll be his Maidens sequel?). But she especially had NO reason to randomly turn detective - and she kept trying to justify it by saying she needed to re-enter the world or that Sebastian would want her to (??), even though she had no background in criminal psychology... or even a particular fondness for mysteries (really, I would've accepted ANYTHING to explain her dogged obsession with the case. WHY were Sebastian and Zoe so certain she would insert herself into the investigation just because one of Zoe's friends was the first victim? WHY?). As for Zoe and Alicia, their motives are mere suggestions: they were both abused and manipulated, and voila! Slippery slope to murder.

WRITING STYLE

-> Incessant allusions to Greek tragedy and myth, apparently to provide a sophisticated gloss over the bare-bones writing style, which opts more for telling than showing and frequently indulges in hilariously bizarre analogies. Credit where credit is due — the references to Greek myth are less clunky in the SP, and I liked learning about the Alcestis play/myth, which I hadn’t heard of before - but OMG the entire characterization of Fosca, who we are meant to believe is a professor of Greek tragedy at one of the most respected universities on the planet, is just absurd. His "lecture" on the liminal in Greek tragedy is essentially the Wikipedia page on the Eleusinian Mysteries capped off with some Hallmark-card carpe diem crap. The lecture hall responds with raucous applause, clearly never having heard such vague genius bullshit before.

-> Super clunky and amateurish narrative device of interludes written by another character; Sebastian’s letter reads like a mashup of Dexter monologues and Clarice’s memory of the screaming sheep, but by FAR the worse offender is Alicia’s diary, where we’re supposed to believe she painstakingly recorded ENTIRE CONVERSATIONS, BEAT-BY-BEAT DIALOGUE, even when she’s just been DRUGGED TO THE GILLS with morphine and has mere moments of consciousness left… and even before that, she literally takes the time to write “He's trying the windows and doors! ...Someone’s inside! Someone’s inside the house! ETC ETC” when she thinks her stalker has broken in downstairs. WHO DOES THAT?)

-> Speaking of dialogue, the dialogue is so bad. Based on his bio, Michaelides got a degree in screenwriting, which makes his terrible dialogue even more baffling.

-> HILARIOUSLY rendered voyeur scenes where the narrators spy on couples having sex. Such unintentionally awkward descriptions. First we had Kathy’s climax sounds through the trees and then the bowler hat carefully placed on a tombstone before the gatekeeper plows a student. Again, I died.

PLOT/"TWIST"

-> The CONSTANT red herrings make for such an exhausting read. Michaelides drops anvils with almost every character that are so obviously meant to designate them as suspects in our minds. There is absolutely no subtlety in his misdirections.

-> The “crossover” scene between the SP and The Maidens makes no sense - when in the timeline does Mariana’s story overlap with Theo’s? They confer just before Theo starts working at the Grove, obviously (though Mariana appears to be the one who alerts Theo to the job opening there? Whereas in the SP, Theo has been obsessively tracking Alicia since the murder and had already planned to apply to work there?), but then are we supposed to believe that while Theo has been psychotically pursuing his warped quest to “help” Alicia, he’s also been diligently treating Zoe, so invested in her case that he repeatedly reaches out to Mariana to get her to visit Zoe and even writes Mariana a lengthy letter to convince her to do so??? And then a couple days after The Maidens ends, Theo is arrested???

-> But the thing I really did hate the most is how Michaelides treats his female murderers (who are both also victims themselves) as mere means to deploy a “twist”; there’s no moment spared to encourage our sympathy for Zoe, who was groomed and manipulated by the only trusted father figure in her life, and even after spending a decent amount of time getting to know Alicia via her ridiculous diary, where it’s so apparent that she’s been demeaned, objectified, manipulated, gaslit, and/or used by EVERY man in her life, she’s sent packing to spend the rest of her days in a coma… HOW much more satisfying would it have been for her to succeed in exposing Theo and reclaiming her voice? But no, she basically rolls over when he comes to finish her off (SPEAKING OF — ARE WE SUPPOSED TO BELIEVE THERE ARE NO SECURITY CAMERAS IN THIS INSTITUTE FOR THE CRIMINALLY INSANE????), writes one last diary entry, and drifts off forever. And then a couple pages of nothing later, the story is over. GOODNIGHT, ALICIA!

Both books kept me rolling throughout (by which I mean eye-rolling but also rotfl). Maybe I will check out his next effort — I’m morbidly curious what he’ll turn out. It does leave me wondering whether I should give up on thriller novels entirely, though. Are many of the weaknesses of these novels just characteristic of the genre? Maybe I'm just holding these books to unfair standards? I'm mostly only familiar with thriller films — many of which I think are amazing — but maybe you can get away with more in a film than you can in a novel.

...I really only intended to write a handful of bullet points, but more and more kept coming to mind as I wrote, to the point where subheadings became necessary. Whoopsie.

[novantinuum]

Fandom: Steven Universe

Rating: T

Words: 1.3K~

Summary: His family’s not present, the third time he runs away. They never see the creature he becomes.

Early corruption AU.

I’m back! Future updates are likely to be slower as I am starting a new job soon, but at very least I have now settled into my new home. I share some writer’s meta on the AO3 version.

If you read this and enjoy, I’d greatly appreciate your support through reblogs here, or kudos/comments on AO3 as well. Thank you! <3

____

“So, I’ve been doin’ a lot of thinking,” Amethyst begins one day, propping her chin against the raised lip of the lava pool as she lounges on the floor at the center of the temple’s burning room, which they’ve started to use as their meeting space again.

Pearl— standing beside one of the lower branches of crystal pipes— tiredly glances her direction, nodding for her to speak. Even Garnet’s head tilts in interest, which is quite an accomplishment given her recent uncharacteristic silence. She suspects that she’s been busying herself scouring through whole galaxies of possibilities, although she’s not sure what good that will do without any reasonable intel to guide that vision. It’s been well over a week and a half since Steven’s gone missing, and beyond the existence of what they suspect is a corrupted Gem and footprints leading towards the water, they have no further clues. No inklings as to where Steven might have disappeared to, no hits from Greg’s posters, not even any leading tips from Homeworld or any of the outlying Gem-inhabited planets. And as for this particular creature... they’ve only met a single eyewitness. A human, who briefly caught its silhouette against the backdrop of sunrise. Perhaps if it ran further inland it would’ve tripped one of their old corrupted Gem surveillance sensors, but they never placed any in the oceans. They barely have any means to survey the oceans.

“I’ve been talkin’ to all sorts of people the past few days, right?” Amethyst says, widely gesturing as she rolls onto her back. “All Steven’s friends. People in town who knew him pretty well. And pretty much everyone agrees that he was actin’ pretty weird these past few months. Sadie described him as overly-tense. I called up Lars on his ship, and he kept saying that he was genuinely worried about his mental health, or whatever. Greg told me the same thing. And Connie. And basically everyone else.”

Pearl rhythmically flexes her fingers in and out of a fist against her side, her features rapidly curling into a scowl. “And what does that have to do with his disappearance?”

“Uh, potentially everything?” she snips back, throwing her hands in the air above her. “Y’guys, you’ve been making so many assumptions, but we barely know anything! You can’t just blindly throw out the idea that the whole corrupted Gem thing and Steven are linked without at least considering it.”

She grimaces, not even bothering to filter out the full intensity of her bitterness in the audience of such a ridiculous, illogical notion. “Amethyst, we’ve talked about your little ‘theory’ already. And everyone agreed that it’s impossible.”

“And yet it’s true that Steven has defied the impossible before,” Garnet comments suddenly, adjusting her visor.

“Are you defending her?” Pearl gasps, turning towards her old friend with her mouth agape with shock.

She crosses her arms, evidently unbothered by the weight of her subtle betrayal as she lounges back against the entryway. “I’m not defending nor rejecting, merely acknowledging a possibility.”

“Yeah, see?” the younger Gem chimes right back in, quickly pushing herself to her feet to rise to her full height. (Which blessedly— if she’s aiming for intimidation— isn’t much.) “Garnet gets it! Steven’s different than us. Always has been. His powers just do what whatever the hell he’s feeling, right? He feels happy, he floats. He feels spooked, bam! Bubble. He feels like an old man, he literally turns into one. And recently, it seems like he’s been feeling pretty crappy, which probably wasn’t helped by us getting all up in his business after he crashed the van.”

She squints. “Is this going anywhere?”

“Yes,” Amethyst stresses, peering right up at her, her eyes flaring with an urgency and passion Pearl admittedly hasn’t seen her wielding in quite some time. “Because I also talked to Jasper the other day. And she gave me the last piece of the puzzle I needed.”

The quartz steps back to address them both, hands nervously fidgeting with the frayed stitching of her missing sibling’s wool jacket.

“I gotta admit, this isn’t easy news, but it has to be shared.” She inhales tightly, briefly closing her eyes as she does so. “I’m pretty sure the reason Steven had her in the bathroom is that he was trying to heal her with the diamond essences he keeps there. Because he shattered her, in a duel.”

Pearl freezes. The kinder reality she’s stubbornly nurtured within her mind ignites and burns to cinders in an instant, hard light thrumming through the thin circuitry of her extremities at such an unimaginable pace that her form barely manages to keep up with the strain. She nearly crumples to her knees upon the sheer anguish of the revelation, only narrowly catching her fall to remain upright. Across the room, Garnet appears to be on the brink of splitting apart. She... shards, her primary instinct screams for her to violently discard every last bitter tasting word Amethyst has spoken into the furthest recesses of her mind, to rot and decay there for the rest of this cursed eternity, and yet still her picture perfect memory chooses to taunt her with details of the recent past... with the hauntingly damning fact that— when she checked the bathroom after watching Steven warp away, the last moment any of them laid eyes on him— the bottles of diamond essence had indeed been sloppily spilled into the bathtub.

“Her words, mind you, not mine,” Amethyst continues, no amount of stabilizing calm in her tone able to mask the slight tremor under the surface. “You can ask her yourself, if you want.”

“No,” she whispers, hot tears budding in her eyes as she presses her hands to her mouth. “That’s not what happened, it can’t be...”

“So, returning to my theory, you have a kid who’s already feeling terrible, someone whose powers do whatever he’s feeling. A diamond. And then he makes the worst possible mistake: he shatters someone. Accident or not, it don’t matter. Because maybe then... he starts feeling like a monster. Becomes a monster.”

“No,” she shakes her head vehemently. “No, no. Corruption doesn’t work that way, you—“

“Like, think about it!” Amethyst interrupts, striding towards her again. “Really think about it! All we know for sure is—“

“Amethyst, you have to STOP, this—“

“—corruption was caused by the Diamonds, but besides tha—“

“—you have absolutely no idea what you’re talking abo—“

“—how it actually works is like a total mystery!”

“NO!” she explodes, plunging the room around her into a dreadful silence. “You weren’t there, but I WAS!!” The burdens of her personal history grow heavier still as she jabs a decisive finger square at the center of her chest, continuing her impassioned tirade with water trailing down her cheeks in thin rivulets all the while. “I watched as that horrid corrupting light slammed against the surface, nearly obliterating any living Gem in its path, I watched as my friends and allies lost all control over their forms and became a twisted shadow of their former selves, I watched all of that!! So you don’t get to tell me what I do or don’t know about corruption!”

Amethyst’s expression sobers considerably in the audience of her outrage. Pointedly, as if expecting rescue, she turns her gaze to Garnet, who has her arms hugged around her middle as if holding herself in one piece. Quite honestly, after the horrid news they’ve just become privy to, she probably is.

“We should move on to a new subject,” the fusion states frankly, once again avoiding any clear stance on the topic. “This is clearly making Pearl very upset.”

The quartz’s eyes alight in clear indignation. “Y’know what? Fine,” she spits, shoving her hands in her pockets and storming towards the doorway. “If both of you are gonna be that sensitive, I’ll take my ideas somewhere else. But just for the record?” she says, whirling back to face them mere inches before passing through the temple’s threshold. “The reason Steven keeps running away is staring back at us in the mirror. You just refuse to see it. And that’s not my problem.”

[franniebanana]

CQL Rewatch - Ep 16

This is actually really sad, because how badly do we want to see this kid actually shoot Wen Zhuliu? I mean, they even go into hearing Jiang Fengmian’s words echoing in his mind. It’s the perfect setup for some heroic act that just doesn’t happen. It’s weird how even though I know what happens, I’m like, maybe this time it won’t! I mean, it’s good all this happens, because I like what it does to the characters, but it’s still hard to watch. I think this part is probably the bloodiest part in the entire show. Don’t quote me, but it’s pretty bloody.

At the risk of sounding like a broken record, it’s also really sad that Jiang Fengmian has this heroic entrance only to be cut down seconds later. It’s easy to fall into a pattern of the good guys win, but that’s not how this story really works. The line between good and bad is thin and warped and blended together, and who we think is good doesn’t always come out on top. But again, if Lotus Pier hadn’t fallen, how would Jiang Cheng and Wei Wuxian have turned out? What would have happened to Jiang Yanli? I like how these events set into motion so much growth for these characters, and it’s not always positive growth either.

Ugh, I hate it. I hate it! Seeing all these men, women, children, who have been ruthlessly murdered by the Wen Clan—it’s just horrible. And from Wei Wuxian’s perspective, these people were his only family. This was the place that had taken him in when he was very young—it’s the only home he really remembers. And in a matter of hours, it was taken completely away from him. Obviously he’s angry—very angry—and upset. And whatever he feels, it’s only amplified in Jiang Cheng, who is already more emotional and quick-tempered. Not to mention, those are his actual parents, who he loves very much. Of course, his first reaction is to want revenge, which Wei Wuxian temporarily manages to talk him out of.

I like that we get Madam Yu’s perspective throughout this part. I like that she was the one who staunchly defended her home, and I like how she was the last man standing. As horrible as all this is, I get a warm feeling from seeing how she really does care about her family and her husband. I think it’s important that we get to see this before she dies, so that we can see that yes, there was some good in her. She loved her home, her clan, and her family enough that she would die for them. And I really like that she dies by her own hand on her own terms. She got to take that away from the Wens.

And we’re back to this again. It isn’t enough to have the Wen Clan to blame for what happened to his parents and Lotus Pier—no. Jiang Cheng seems to believe deep down that if Wei Wuxian hadn’t helped Lan Wangji and Jin Zixuan, things would be different: his parents would still be alive and Lotus Pier would be fine. Of course, that’s not true. The Wens would not have ever stopped. They wanted to lord over all the clans, even the Yunmeng Jiangs. But Jiang Cheng needs to blame someone and who better than Wei Wuxian? And after this point, he holds this grudge forever. Everything else just compounds upon this event.

And Wei Wuxian again just takes it. He doesn’t argue that the Wens would have done it anyway, he doesn’t try to defend himself at all. He must know that when Jiang Cheng makes up his mind, that’s it—there’s no changing things. I’m guessing by the time the morning rolls around, Jiang Cheng has already decided to seek revenge immediately, against Wei Wuxian’s advice. Again, we have a contrast of someone who is very analytical (Wei Wuxian) and someone who’s very emotional (Jiang Cheng), and Jiang Cheng ends up paying for it. And that’s his decision, even though he tries to place that blame on Wei Wuxian.

While Jiang Cheng is feeling sorry for himself, Wei Wuxian is the first to mention Jiang Yanli, who is still waiting for them. Of course Jiang Cheng has just gone through someone extremely traumatic—I don’t expect him to be on top of things, but I appreciate how level-headed that Wei Wuxian is able to be, given that the experience was also traumatic for him. Again, more contrast between the two characters. And not only contrast between those two, but look back at what happened at the Cloud Recesses and how Lan Wangji dealt with his own loss. He did not give up and shut down, like we see Jiang Cheng doing. He understood that life must go on. Was he upset that his brother was missing? Of course he was! Was he horrified by what happened to his home? Fuck, yes! But he didn’t get the opportunity to wallow in self-pity and depression like Jiang Cheng is. He had no one to support him like Jiang Cheng does. Jiang Cheng has a ton of people around him right now, in comparison, yet he behaves as if he’s alone. He lashes out emotionally, he recklessly goes back to Lotus Pier, abandoning his sister, who’s sick and alone. I don’t really care what he ultimately does to save Wei Wuxian, because I think it was clear that he was ready to die anyway. The outcome would have been the same for him, so distracting the Wen guards wasn’t really the selfless act that CQL kind of makes it out to be, albeit under the veil of Jiang Cheng’s memory.

Ugh, breaks my heart. Also irritates me that Wei Wuxian has to be the one to tell Yanli what happened. Like, can’t Jiang Cheng do it? Grow a pair and tell your own damn sister what happened to your parents and your home? Sorry, but I’m endlessly frustrated by him, no matter how realistic that response is. If I were Yanli, I’d want to hear that from my brother. But Jiang Cheng has basically checked out at this point. And I can’t imagine what’s going through Jiang Yanli’s mind. Her parents are dead, her home has been destroyed, her brother is distraught, and then she falls ill. She’s the oldest, she’s the one who should know what to do (whether or not she has any authority to do it)—this must be so difficult to feel like she needs to be strong for her two younger brothers, but to be completely falling apart emotionally.

Look at the physical distance here. It’s quite interesting, really, and good cinematography to show that chasm between them. It’s not just a physical gap but an emotional one as well. You have Wei Wuxian and Jiang Yanli, who just want to get out of danger so that they can figure out what to do next. And then you have Jiang Cheng, who just wants revenge. Even if it wasn’t obvious already, this scene shows how far apart they are from each other. It’s actually really cool.

I just feel that the only thing that was holding them all together was Wei Wuxian. He is taking his promise to Madam Yu and Jiang Fengmian very seriously. This is not a game to him—he will do anything to keep them safe. That is his only purpose right now. Prior to episode 15, I think Wei Wuxian brought up Lan Wangji at least once per episode, whether Lan Wangji was there or not. That name has not passed his lips even once. Jiang Cheng has said it a few times, I think because blame game, of course, but Wei Wuxian is not even thinking about Lan Wangji. His focus right now is to get Jiang Cheng and Jiang Yanli to safety. Imagine if it were only Jiang Cheng and Yanli right now—if you take Wei Wuxian out of the picture, how do you think they would behave? I mean, realistically, Jiang Cheng would already be dead, because no one would have stopped him from going back to Lotus Pier that night. So thank god Wei Wuxian is here, right?

Look at his vacant expression. Has he even heard Wei Wuxian’s instructions? Probably he has but he just ignores them. His sister has a fever, and he leaves her alone in the inn. He abandons them both. And for what? What does he hope to accomplish alone? His parents and the entirety of the Yunmeng Jiang Sect couldn’t take down the Wens, so how does he expect to? I understand where he’s coming from—I am protective of my family as well—but what he needed to do was step back and wait, and by not doing that, he ruined his own life.

Besides wangxian, I think my favorite relationship in this series is the one between Jiang Yanli and Wei Wuxian. There’s something so sweet and so beautiful and so loving about two people who aren’t quite family but aren’t not family either. There is so much unconditional love between them that no matter what either of them does, the other will continue to be there. It’s like the relationship that Wei Wuxian could have with Jiang Cheng, but Jiang Cheng does not love Wei Wuxian as much as Wei Wuxian loves him. For a long time, I think Wei Wuxian’s love for Jiang Cheng was unconditional, but he learns over time that it can’t be that way with Jiang Cheng. But his relationship with Yanli is so different. She treats him like family, treats him like a little brother, and she protects and defends him in front of those who would wish to harm him. It’s just very sweet and tragic, of course.

So, this is an important moment. For obvious reasons, of course, but also because Wei Wuxian could have killed Wen Ning, but didn’t. He immediately accuses him of participating in the massacre and goes on to say, “I shouldn’t have saved you.” And Wen Ning responds that he just got to Lotus Pier and was not a part of the massacre at all. And here’s the big part: Wei Wuxian backs off. He believes him and he lets him go. This is important because it shows that Wei Wuxian can see past the clan, past the outfit, past the bloodline. Someone who can’t do that is Jiang Cheng. This is just one of those moments that shows you what kind of person Wei Wuxian really is, and if you remember he made a big point of praising Song Lan and Xiao Xingchen for teaming up together and for not being affiliated with any clans. So here we can see how Wei Wuxian has a penchant for not conforming to the orthodoxy of any of the clans—of the very fact that you need to be in a clan at all. People are more than the clans they are a part of, people are more than their blood relatives. Everyone gets to prove their own worth, regardless of their social status. This isn’t a big deal to someone with modern sensibilities, but within this world, it’s a big deal that Wei Wuxian trusts Wen Ning to help him and Jiang Cheng here. And in the book, he allowed Wen Qing to help them, and he doesn’t even know her. Book!Wen Qing is more awesome in my opinion, and her entrance in the story is great, because you don’t know if you can trust her. You have to trust Wen Ning too, just like Wei Wuxian—you’re taking the risk as well, as the reader.

One more thought: you can see why they’d form such a strong bong—two people who should by all rights be enemies, but instead they choose to work together to stand up to what’s wrong. This is what Jin Zixuan and Lan Wangji were doing in the cave, what Wen Ning has already done when he helped Wei Wuxian out against the dog. This is a bond of brotherhood more than anything that the Twin Prides of Yunmeng ever had. It’s a really nice message, honestly. I often don’t appreciate Wen Ning, but they do have such a nice relationship that’s based on nothing but mutual trust and respect.

I find this oddly funny, because Wen Zhuliu is so resistant and doesn’t want to drink, but Wen Chao is so insistent that he ends up doing it. And of course that’s the thing that puts all of them out of commission for the next few days (I think), allowing Wen Ning and Wei Wuxian to get Jiang Cheng and his parents’ remains out of Lotus Pier. Such a simple decision, but if it had not been made this way, Wei Wuxian would have certainly been captured/killed by Wen Zhuliu.

The juxtaposition here is pretty extreme: the clean-clothed dancing ladies in the background, with the body of (I think) Madam Yu in the foreground, hanging there. It’s so disturbing to think about having this feast to celebrate a victory (massacre) with dead bodies hanging around you. Just very creepy and eerie.

I’m flying through these for good reason. Not a lot to say, just getting through plot, and I want to get back to my fave Lan Wangji. Biased? Why, yes, I am.

Other episodes: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 | 15 |

[yes-i-write-fanfiction]

Can I get a scenario where the LL stop at an alien planet only to find a very injured and half dead bot. Turns out, this bot is Rodimus's S/O that was thought to have died in the war. When she recovers she turns out to be a very attractive bot by Cybertronian standards.

When you’d dragged yourself out of the burning wreckage of your crashed ship, you knew you were going to stay here for a long time. The ship was completely destroyed, communications down and you were in an unmapped starsystem, light years away from the nearest spacefaring civilization. You had a distress beacon but the odds of anyone even coming close to its range was almost zero. The planet you had crashed on was uninhabited, desolate. Nothing but rocks and sand as far as the eye could see. The only good thing about this hellhole was the fact that there was an abundance of energon so at least you wouldn't starve to death. Lucky you.

Your entire team had died in the crash. It had been too late to get to the escape pods so the only thing you could do was wait to hit the ground. The last memory you had of them were their frantic shouting and how captain had yelled at everyone to brace for impact. How you hadn’t died with them was a mystery. With all the injuries you sustained, you should have died. If not at impact then later, after bleeding out. Most of your armor had been ripped off, and what remained was scorched and warped beyond recognition. The right side of your body was the worst. Your right arm and most of your right leg were gone and the right side of your head had melted, exposing parts of your brain module. You didn’t have a mirror but you didn’t need one to know that you looked pretty fucked up. A part of you wondered what your conjux would say if he saw you. He always used to tell you how handsome you were. Would he still like you if he saw you right now?

Powering off your optics, you leaned against the wall of your makeshift shelter. Hot Rod. You missed him. How long had it been since you had last seen him? It had been so long since you last heard his voice, saw his smile, held him in your arms. Your thoughts often drifted to him. Of how he was doing. Was he still alive or had he perished in the war? You so desperately hoped that he was alive. That he was happy. If anyone deserved to be happy, it was Hot Rod. Such a bright mech, warm and passionate, like a flame. Ah, you wished you had made him your conjux endura back then. But you thought you had plenty of time to do so, that you could take your time. That you and Hot Rod would spend the rest of your lives together. What a fool you were. Life was more fickle than that.

A flash of pain coursed through your frame and you winced. You didn’t have long to live. Without a medic to fix your injuries you had been left to die a slow, painful death. Hah, and you always thought you were going to die in the midst of battle or something. Quick, glorious. You didn’t want to die like this. If you had the choice, you would fling yourself off a cliff and end it right now but neither of your legs worked anymore. What a cruel fate. To just sit and wait to die. But if you were going to die like this, then you were going to do so thinking about the love of your life. At least then you could pass away in peace.

For how long you sat there, waiting to die, you didn’t know. You could no longer turn on your optics, no matter how hard you tried and you could barely even twitch anymore. Death was imminent and you had accepted that. Cold, alone, you would die. So when you suddenly started hearing the sound of faraway voices you assumed that you were just hallucinating. Your mind was just playing tricks on you. Still, it was nice to hear since you had been alone for so long.

“-sure it came from here? Seems like just a bunch of rocks to me.”

Wait.

“Yes, I’m sure. The distress signal clearly pinpoints this location. Look around and maybe we'll find something”.

It couldn’t be. It was impossible! If you still had any power left in you then your optics would have been wide open. These voices, they weren’t just a figment of your imagination! They were real! Someone had actually found you. Your spark, that had been slowly fading just seconds before, suddenly flickered with newfound energy. Here! You were over here!

“Sure, whatever. I doubt it though. Seems to me that the ship crashed ages ago and killed everyone. Don’t think anyone could have survived that.”

No, you are wrong! I were alive! I were right here! I could hear you, you were so close!

“You’re probably right. Still, what a shame. I wonder who they were?”

“No clue. Anyway, there’s clearly nothing here. Come on, let’s get back to the ship, I’m dying for some engex right now.”

No! No, no, NO! You could hear how the bots were preparing to leave and were gripped by panic. Salvation was so close, this couldn’t be how it ended! Something, you had to do something! You couldn’t talk or move but you refused to give up. And so, in a last ditch effort, you sent the command to open your spark chamber. It took a few tries but finally, it opened up, indescribable pain shooting through you like lightning as it did. It made a loud creaking sound when it opened and while you couldn't see it you could imagine the light it gave off. The bots stopped.

“Did you hear that? I swear I heard something.”

“There? Behind that boulder! There’s light!”

There was the sound of footsteps rapidly approaching and then a loud gasp. They found you. Thank Primus, they found you. The bots started to talk again but you couldn't make out what they said as the pain became too much and slowly you started to lose consciousness. Not knowing if you would ever wake up again, your last thoughts were of Hot Rod and the sound of his laughter. Then everything went dark.

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

When you came online again, the first thing you noticed was the pain. Or rather, the lack thereof. For the first time in you don’t even know how long, your frame wasn’t hurting. Then, there was the sound of machinery. A steady beeping, ventilators around you. The smell of medical grade energon. It took you but a moment to piece it all together. A medbey. You were in a medbay. Which means you were alive. You survived. You had been found and rescued.

Slowly, your optics flickered online. The light above you was almost blinding. Everything looked weird and for a moment you were confused until you realized that your optics must have been fixed. You had grown so used to missing one. Trying to move your limbs, you realized that your whole body felt numb, probably due to being sedated. Your arms and legs felt tons heavier than usual but you could turn your head without a problem. Tilting your head to the side, you saw a familiar back, one that you hadn’t seen in what what felt like forver.

“R-Ratchet?” you whimpered. Your own voice sounded unfamiliar to you. The bot turned around and just like you thought, it was Ratchet. Seeing you awake, he smiled and made his way over to you.

“Hi there champ. Didn’t think I’d ever see you again.” His voice was soft, something it only was when he talked to patients that hadn’t earned their injuries. “We were surprised when Whirl and Brainstorm brought you back and even more surprised when we realized who you were. You’ve been gone for a long time.”

“The- The wa-ar?”

Ratchet put his hand on your arm. “It’s over kid. No more fighting. A lot of thing have changed since you were gone and it will take some getting used to but don’t worry, you’re not alone.” You only nodded as you mulled over his words. The war? Over? It seemed so impossible in your mind but Ratchet weren’t the kind of bot that would lie about this kind of thing. But what were you going to do now? For so long, your mind had consisted of nothing but the war and- You gasped. Despite your heavy limbs, you tried to force yourself to sit up, only for Ratchet to stop you, so you settled for staring at him with wide, pleading optics.

“Ho-Hot Rod! Where is, where is Hot R-Rod?” Please Primus, let him be ok. Say he’s alive. Ratchet’s mouth twitched but he kept it under control and simply smiled at you.

“He’s alive and healthy, don’t worry.” Hearing that your conjux was alright was such a relief that you can’t help but sigh, closing your optics for a few seconds as your fear leaves you. Ratchet saw this and smiled a bit wider. “ Yeah, he’s fine. Still as daring and hotheaded as ever though. In fact, the moment he learned that it was you that we had rescued he tried to force himself into the medbay while I was still operating on you. It took the combined effort of Ultra Magnus, Drift and Skids to keep him from bargain in here and seeing you.”

You smiled at this and a light chuckle escaped you. “Can I- Can I see him?”

“Yes, of course. I’ll com him right away and tell him that you’re awake and ready to accept visitors. I have to warn you though. You were gone for a long time and some thing have changed and that includes Hot Rod.” You looked at Ratchet confused. He sighed. “It’s easier for you just to see it with your own optics and for he to explain it himself. But don’t worry, he might look a bit different but he’s still the same mech at spark that you knew all those years ago.” You nod dedand Ratchet smiled at you in reassurance before putting his finger to his com. “It’s me. Yeah, they are awake. You can-” Ratchet didn’t get the opportunity to say anything else though, as suddenly the medbay door were forced open. There was ruckus, voices shouting over each other and the sound of tackling metal frames. Ratchet rushed over to whatever was going on and joined in on the shouting.

“Release me! Ratchet said I could come in!” a voice shouted and oh, it sounded so, so familiar and you instantly knew who it is. Now that Ratchet was gone, you summoned all your strength to sit up and you saw-! Someone that looked kinda like Hot Rod. Except this mech was taller, slimmer and had just a more overall mature look. Ultra Magnus and a couple of other bots were trying to hold him back and for a second you just stared at this strange bot. But then his optics met yours and oh, you could recognize those optics anywhere. Bright blue and full of life. And that’s when you knew. This mech was Hot Rod. Your Hot Rod. And the moment your optics met he tore himself away from the bots holding him back and in a second his arms were around you, embracing you. “It’s you. It’s really you.”

It took a few seconds but then you were hugging him back. You leaned against his frame, so much bigger than he used to be, and takes comfort in how warm he is. Without any of you really noticing, Ratchet and the other bots left the medbay, closing the door behind them. You stayed in Hot Rod’s arms, unmoving, for what feels like an eternity but all to quick he loosened his arms around and leans back so he can look you in the optics. He’s smiling and you smile back at him.

“I have so much I want to tell you, so much that has happened, you’re not gonna believe it!” he said. “Optimus died, I became Prime, but then Optimus came back to life though I’m still technically a Prime and then Megatron decided to give up and stopped the war and now he’s the co-captain of this ship with me and Deadlock became an autobot and is now called Drift and he and Ratchet totally have feelings for each other and then it turned out Ultra Magnus wasn’t actually Ultra Magnus but a tiny bot named in a big armor pretending to be Ultra Magnus and we crossed over to a parallel dimension where we all died and then-!” Hot Rod suddenly stopped himself and just stared at you. “I thought you were dead. I tried looking for you but I never found even a single clue of where you could have been. I-I grieved.” Hot Rod stared at you and his optics told you more than his words ever could. All the hurt, the sorrow, the guilt. It was all so much. So you kissed him. For the first time in millenia, you kissed your conjux. At first he flinched but then he melted under your touch and kissed you back. Your arms circled around his neck, pulling him closer. And when you finally broke the kiss, Hot Rod looked upon you with nothing but love and joy. “I missed you.”

You smiled at him, bumping your forehead against his. “I miss you too.” Together you held each other in comfortable silence, simply enjoying each other’s presence. Until suddenly the medbay doors were opened again. Both of you looked up. A one-eyed, blue bot stood there with more bots behind him, staring at you. The one-eyed bot let out what sounded like a long whistle. “Wow Rodimus, you didn’t tell us your conjux was such a hot piece of aft!” Someone immediately started yelling at the bot and Hot Rod sighed.

“I should have guessed something like this would happen” he said while facepalming. Meanwhile you just sat there, confused as hell. Who the fuck was Rodimus?

[kyber-kisses]

What About Y/N?

Dean Winchester x Reader

Warnings: spoilers for season 14, blushy Dean, idk my dudes

Summary: When John is yanked into the future he sees that his oldest Son still hasn’t made a move on y/n.

A/n: this has been swimming around in my head for awhile so I’m finally writing it. I hope you guys like it! If you wanted to be added to the forever taglist, just hit me up.

When you returned to the bunker after a rare solo hunt, you had no idea what insanity you were about to walk in on. The only thing you were looking forward to was a much needed hot shower, a decent meal, and maybe enough time to get through an episode of Game of Thrones with Dean. But that was a long shot even.

Parking your car in the garage, you took your time gathering your things and walking down the hallway towards your room. Throwing your duffel onto your bed, you stripped the dirt and blood stained clothes from your body. Dean and Sam could wait. The hot shower was your top priority right now.

You knew you had made the right choice, ten minutes later stepping out of the shower and feeling like an entirely new person. And fresh clothes only made it that much better. Wrapping a towel around your hair, you ventured out of your room towards the library. It was good to be back. It was good to be home.

“Sam! Dean! I’m back from that Wraith hunt in Washington!” You announced, ascending the stairs into the library, busying yourself by rubbing the towel through your hair in an attempt to dry it quicker.

The brothers had been so per-occupied by the event unraveling in front of them that they failed to remember you would be returning tonight. Your voice sending them turning in unison to face you, revealing the figure partly hidden behind them.

And then things got weird.

You were stopped dead in your tracks at the sight of one John Winchester, standing very much alive between his two sons. Meanwhile your towel was still pressed against your hair.

“What- the- hell is happening?” You stated slowly, eyes darting between the brothers. Dean shot you a smile, beaming at the sight of you.

“Hey y/n! Our Dads back!” Dean grinned, bringing up the obvious. You dropped the towel, eyes still wide as you nodded slowly.

“Yeah.” You breathed out, “ I can see that.” You put your hand up in a half wave at their father, still trying to steady your breathing. “ Hey, John. How’s it going?” You tried, still looking very confused.

You were one of the very few that had been in the Winchesters lives long enough to have known John, hell, you met them when you were in your pre-teens. The point was, John knew who you were and you knew who he was.

John let out a light laugh, an amused look on his face. “ I’m doing alright y/n. Thanks for asking. Apparently it’s been awhile.”

You locked eyes with Dean again, silently asking for a explanation. “Yeah, you could say that.” Dean could see that you were dying for an answer so he quickly stepped forward.

“Y/n, I was just gonna go out to grab stuff for dinner, you wanna tag along?” He asked, grabbing his jacket off the nearest table along with the set of keys for Baby.

“Uh yeah- sure.” Your words coming out slow as you had trouble taking your eyes away from their father. This was too weird.

As Dean stepped down the stairs, you quickly forced your body into motion, following him down the hallway. Once you knew you were out of earshot you turned to your best friend.

“Okay, mind telling me what I just walked in on?” You asked, looking over at Dean who, if you were being honest, who looked happier than you had seen him in a very long time. A huge smile on his face as he looked over at you.

“I’ll explain on the way. Long story short, Sam and I found a pearl that can give you what you want most in the world- or something. One minute there was nothing and then all of a sudden, BOOM. Dads standing there with a shot gun pointed at the two of us.”

“Well that definitely sounds like your dad.” You nodded, sliding into the passenger seat of the Impala.

Over the next hour Dean filled your in on the entirety of the story. From the odd wishing pearl to the fact that it wasn’t a permanent thing. While John was here, time would continue to warp and change. They would have to reverse the wish after dinner. You could see the sadness in Deans eyes as he told you, and you wanted nothing more than to be able to fix it for him.

When you returned to the bunker, you helped Dean unload everything from the car, pausing mid way to the kitchen. Dean stopped when he saw you frozen in the hallway, adjusting the groceries in his arm as he walked back over to you. “ you alright?”

You let out a sigh, giving the green eyed hunter as small, faint smile. “ Dean, I shouldn’t be here.”

Dean let out a huff, giving you a confused look. “what the hell are you talking about?”

“This is a family thing Dean. You always talked about wanting this. I’m not going to intrude. I’ll just go back into town for the night.” You shrugged. Moving past him, you stepped into the kitchen, setting the groceries on the table.

“Okay, first of all-“ Dean corrected you, moving to set his own bags down next to yours. “ You are family and second, I want you here. You’re my best friend.” He turned to look over at you, a smile lighting up his face.

Oof. There it was again. That one little title that had you so conflicted. Of course Dean was your best friend as well, but you also wanted something more than that. And you were sure Dean didn’t feel that way about you. “Are you sure? What if they don’t want me here?” You questioned.

Dean gave you another annoyed look before turning to unpack the groceries. “ are you kidding me? My mom loved you from the moment I introduced her to you and my dad? Even though he would never admit it, he thought of you as his other kid.” He chuckled. “So in conclusion. Your staying and that’s final. Got it?”

“Alright fine.” You exhaled, smiling over at the older Winchester. It was good to see him happy.

*. *. *. *.

And that’s how you found yourself seated down at one of the library tables, wine glass in hand as you watched Sam and Dean retell an old story about how the three of you had to go digging through a pond when Dean lost the keys to the impala during a wraith hunt a few months back.

You smiled into your wine glass as Dean rolled his eyes. Another memory came to your mind, making you slap Dean in the shoulder. “You gotta tell em the story about the fairy!”

Dean whipped his head around to glare at you, wide eyed. “ I’m not telling the fairy story y/n.”

“I’m sorry- fairy story?” John questioned, leaning forward with a raised eyebrow and a light smirk.

“Oh yeah. It’s one of Deans greatest victories.” You nodded, a grin appearing on your face as you took another sip of wine. “ He fought a fairy.” You swiveled your head, sending Dean your growing grin.

“I haven't heard this one either. Now I’m interested.” Mary laughed, leaning forward in her chair and resting her chin on her palm as she looked to her eldest son.

Without much choice, Dean groaned, diving into the story about how he was abducted by aliens and then forced to fight a fairy. The whole time you were trying to keep a straight face, but with everyone else laughing it was terribly difficult.

“It was a little glowing, hot naked lady.” Dean sighed, looking down at his hands which were folded in his lap.

“And then what happened Dean?” You smiled, trying even harder now to hold in your laughs.

“And- and she hit me.” He mumbled in defeat, sending you back into a full fit of laughter along with everyone else at the table. You were laughing so hard tears were streaming down your face as you grabbed your stomach. The rest of the Winchesters not far behind you.

“Oh god, I’m gonna pass out.” You heaved,looking back over at Dean who was shaking his head, only this time he had a small smile on his face.

“Okay get your laughs out.” He sighed.

“Oh, we are.” You laughed again, wiping away the tears on your face. You looked over at Dean, eyes locking almost immediately. You gave him another smile, silently apologizing for teasing him. The smile was returned, which made your heartbeat quicken.

You didn’t see it, neither did Dean, but for a good portion of dinner John was watching the two of you, smirking at the playful and childlike banter between you. Sam and Mary had noticed it too, but they were used to it. You and Dean dancing around each other , both afraid to make the first move.

It reminded John of him and Mary way back when. When times were simpler. Just two young idiots very much in love.

As dinner finished up, you helped clear off the table, you and Dean maneuvering around each other in perfect sync. It was interesting to watch to say the least.

As Dean left with the last of the dishes, heading towards the kitchen, your eyes settled on John, who was leaning against one of the pillars in the library.

You ventured over, tucking your hands into the pocket of your sweatshirt. “ Is it weird? Seeing how much they have changed?” You questioned.

John turned to you, letting out a breath. “ it’s definitely weird, but I can still see somethings haven’t changed.”

You tilted your head, wondering what on earth he was referring to. Shaking it off you sighed, “ you should be proud of them. They have helped a lot of people and they’re easily the greatest men I have ever had the joy of knowing.”

“I am proud of them. Hell, I got no words to express how proud I am of those two. I mean, Dean is still stubborn as hell-“

You let out a laugh, turning your head towards the kitchen.” Yeah, and I don’t think that’s going away any time soon.” You agreed, also realizing there was still work to be done. “I should probably go help in the kitchen.” You ended, giving John a nod before walking away.

You passed Dean in the hallway, who sent you another smile and gave your shoulder a squeeze as he entered the library.

Once John knew you were out of earshot, he turned to Dean, raising an eyebrow. “ I can see you still haven’t told y/n how you feel?” He smirked.

“Is it really that obvious?” Dean sighed, dragging a hand down his face as he fell into one of the chairs. John sitting down across from him.

“Yeah, Son. It’s still insanely obvious.” John laughed, picking up his glass of whiskey. “ I just feel bad for Sam, having to go all these years watching you two dance around each other like a couple of kids.”

Dean let out a defeated laugh. “How do I know if she even feels that way about me?”

John rolled his eyes, leaning forward. “ You two really are blind arn’t you? Just tell the girl. You’ll be fine Dean.”

“How do you know that? Y/n is a loose canon, you never know what you are gonna get with her!” He exclaimed, throwing his hands in the air before letting them run down his face again.

“Just trust me on this.” John sighed, still mildly amused by how his eldest was reacting.

Dean was quick to lean forward, pointing his finger at his father. “Alright, but if this goes wrong, I’m blaming you.”

*. *. *. *. *.

This was not how you expected your night to go when you initially got home. You thought it would just be another night of microwaving takeout and watching some dumb show with Dean. And then you got the exact opposite. A full home cooked meal, a night of laughter, and a very happy Dean Winchester. Your heart was fucking full.

But slowly as the night came to a close, you could see Dean starting to sink, the inevitable goodbye he would have to give to his father drawing ever closer.

You eventually found yourself perched on one of the tables, the jade eyed hunter by your side. Mary and John were having one final discussion together, and Sam was leaning against one of the pillars in the library, clearly lost in his thoughts.

Turning your head, you looked over at Dean, a small sympathetic smile tugging on your lips. He looked so sad, and it broke your heart. Carefully you reached over, intertwining your fingers with his and leaning against his shoulder.

“It’s gonna be okay Dean.” You sighed, feeling his hand squeeze yours. You were keeping him grounded through this whole thing. Keeping him sane. He was grateful to have you in his life.

“I know- I just- I’m tired of saying goodbye to people.” He mumbled, going to rest his head against yours.

“Well I’m not going anywhere- you’re stuck with me till the end Winchester.”

“Good. I wouldn’t want it any other way.” He agreed with a light chuckle, eyes falling towards your intertwined hands.

It was unusual, he didn’t think anything of it at first, but now? He was only just realizing that you had never held his hand before. Sure there was the I’m grabbing your hand and pulling you with me while we run from this monster sort of hand holding, but this was different. This was gentle and loving.

You watched as his eyes stayed locked in your hands, slightly amused by how intrigued he looked by it. You smiled, taking your free hand and placing it on his face, before pressing a sweet and firm kiss to his cheek. The action surprising the both of you slightly.

And then something happened, that you never expected to see in a million years. A warm red bloomed across his face, his eyes quickly looking away. He was blushing. Dean Winchester, your best friend since childhood was blushing, turning into a rosy faced mess.

And it was fucking adorable.

The two of you out so caught up in the moment that you failed to notice the grinning Winchesters in the doorway.

*. *. *. *. *.

“You keep these boys out of trouble for me, you got that?” John grinned, pulling you in for one last hug.

You let out a light laugh, stepping back. “I don’t think the strongest power on earth could do that. But I’ll try.”

Moving back, you watched as one by one said their final goodbyes. The pearl that caused this all to happen, sitting ominously on the table next to you. Dean stepped forward, his father pulling him into a bone crushing embrace.

“She adores you, you know.” John stated slowly, low enough that you couldn’t hear it. “I can see it in the way she looks at you. So can Mary.”

The beginnings of what could only be a smile tugged on the corners of Deans lips as he slightly nodded. Yet at the same time he looked pained. Too much was going and he didn’t want to lose his Dad again.

“If you love her, tell her. Even if your scared it’s not the right thing. Even if your scared it will burn your life to the ground, you say it, and you say it loud. You got that, Dean?” John continued, grabbing Deans shoulder and pulling into another crushing hug.

All Dean could do was nod. His dad was right. You never knew how this life would play out- when your time was up. Life was too short to wait in fear.

“Now let’s get this show on the road.” John chuckled, pulling back with glossy eyes that matched everyone else’s.

You watched with a sad smile as the Winchester family collapsed into one last group hug. They all looked so terribly sad, but happy at the same tile that they got this at all.

“Get in here y/n. You’re our damn family too.” Before you could register it, you were being pulled into a massive Winchester sandwich, nestled snugly under Deans arm.

This was nice. To have a family. To have people who loved you. To have a home.

It took the strength of all of you combined to pull away from each other, Dean stepping back to the place where the pearl lay. Mary remained next to her husband, their hands wound tightly together.

You could see Deans own hand shaking as he picked up the bowl to smash the pearl. He was breaking. Doing what you could, you reached out taking his empty hand in yours once again. He looked down in surprise, before going up to meet your eyes in understanding.

“It’s Okay. I got you.” You assured him. He slowly nodded, showing you he understood.

You looked back towards John, who sent you and Dean both a wide smile. Who knew your lives could so quickly change in matter of hours.

And then Dean brought the bottom of the bowl down hard on the pearl, shattering it in one go.

You felt Dean slightly jump in pain besides you, his hand gripping yours tighter as he ignored the tears freely rolling down his face, eyes frozen on the spot where John had been standing just seconds prior.

You could tell he was heartbroken. Shifting the bowl from his grasp, you wound your arms around him, pulling him into you. “It’s alright. I got you. I got you.” You repeated, running your hand up and down his back in an attempt to help calm him. Though delayed, he moved to wrap his arms around you, chin coming to rest on your shoulder as he sank.

“Thank you.” He mumbled, attempt to regain his breathing.

Everything was going to be alright. He was gonna make sure of that.

(A/N: Tell me what you guys thought! this things been sitting in my drafts for ages and I finally finished it. If it gets enough notes ill write a second part.)

[itsaubreylmfao]

hey! i’m struggling today. as a lot of you probably already know i was in a severely abusive relationship in high school. i was beaten every day for about a year, got a restraining order against the kid, and then went behind my parents’ backs and CONTINUED to see him despite the restraining order blah blah blah like... abuse is a weird thing. anyway, i was also emotionally abused by the kid i was using with. he was my best friend in the whole world, we knew each other since we were kids and we were attached at the hip. and he ruthlessly degraded me and kept me addicted to heroin at all costs for YEARS and when i got clean i obviously cut him out of my life completely. i thought i deleted all the pics and vids of us but one came up on my snapchat memories today of us in the car completely cracking up at something and having so much fun and it just like fucking broke me and it’s STUPID how abuse does that to you ... like no matter how absolutely evil a person is your mind tries to warp it into something good and i really was like... just fucking upset and i HATE that because he’s literally satan like... i just want to hate him let me hate him brain please!!!!

[whiskehorange]

Vincent meeting an old childhood friend, who didn't care about how his face looked, after 10+ years? (And if you could also make it where she has vitiligo I'd be mad happy, but you can leave it out if you want) ily mom

Anonymous said: "What if I told you I've been in love with you since we were kids" prompt for my lovely man Vincent, preferably where he is on the receiving end of this lil thing (does that make sense? I feel like I worded it weird but idk how else to put it)

I love vincent so much

Vincent

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

Walking back into Ambrose was something you never expected to do. You left here to get away from all of the drama and toxicity, but here you are, back again.

It was the good people that you missed the most. A peculiar boy and his two brothers that you grew very fond of when you were younger had never gotten a proper goodbye. 

Hell, maybe the Sinclairs moved away. It had been ten years, after all.

The town seemed more... empty than usual. Lights in houses were on and you saw movement behind some curtains, even heard the church bells ring a few times.

As you pulled into the driveway your hear skipped beats as you debated on turning around completely and going back home, but in your mind, this was home. Bo’s truck sat in the driveway, which didn’t make your nerves any more calm.

A part of you hoped that they wouldn’t be here and this would be a quick and easy trip down memory lane, but you missed Vincent so much. The two of you were as close as ever, one of Vincents only friends growing up who didn’t care about his looks.

You were even there to help him and Bo sculpt when things didn’t work out with their parents too well. You were practically the 4th installment in the family, but Vincent was more than just a brother to you. You cared so deeply for him, it hurt you more than he would ever know when you left, but it was the right thing to do.

“Well I’ll be damned,” The voice made you jump at Bo’s knuckles tapped on your window. “Who wouldda thought I’d be seeing you back round here.”

You stared up at him for a moment, catching your breath before you opened the door. Bo hated hugs when he was younger, but you figured he’d get over it this one time. 

He returned the favor, stepping back to get a good look at you. The man hadn’t changed a goddamn thing since the last time you saw him. The same crooked smile with pearly white teeth that could swoon anyone. But Bo was more of a big brother to you than anyone.

“I, just figured I’d swing back by and see how ol’ Ambrose took to time, you know?” You gestured back around, smiling at how much you forgot about the place after all these years.

“Still a shithole, if ya ask me. Smells like burnt wood and a God damn candle,” He frowned at the idea, but let you inside anyways.

“I wasn’t expecting you to still be around, I heard the news about... your parents and all that-”

Bo shook his head, as he motioned for you to come inside.

“So, how are the other two?”  You really just wanted to ask about Vincent to see if he was still hanging on, but you’d be lying if you said you didn’t miss Lesters... personality too.

“Ah, Dumbfuck is out in that sink hole playing with dead carcasses somewhere, I don’t let him come in the house when he comes home smellin’ like shit. Vincent is... probably somewhere downstairs. He doesn’t come up to often now, only to bug me- Vincent! Ey, Vincent, come up here!”

You heart just about completely stopped when you heard quiet rustling downstairs. Creaky footsteps could be heard coming up some flight of stairs as you subtly started to shake out of pure anxiety.

What if he didn’t remember? Bullshit, Bo remembered.

“Vincent, look who it is,” Bo called out, side you rough side hug and a large, crooked grin. The figure in the doorway stood there for a moment; the lighting in the house wasn’t the best.

“Well, I’ll let the two of you catch up, if I see Lester I’ll let him know you’re in town for a bit, I’ve gotta run down to the shop.”

You nodded, still staring at the figure as he shut the door behind him, hearing his truck start and fade away.

“Vincent....?” Your voice was trembly, but soft. As he stepped forth, you could see his body, but not his face. That long, black hair of his covered it. He said nothing, but you could definitely tell by the posture that it was him.

A sigh of relief escaped your lips as you stepped up towards him and wrapped your arms around him; his arms trapped. His heart dropped, but he slowly wrapped his arms around your as much as his could, awkwardly.

A flush of memories warped themselves into Vincents mind. All those years ago of playing down by the creek, visiting him just about everyday, standing up for him against Bo, helping him create wax pieces. Those were the years Vincent felt loved.

As you separated, Vincent could only stand back and admire your flourishing beauty. The patterns on your dark skin hadn’t changed, but boy did everything else change. You still had that beautiful, bubbly personality, especially by the way you’re talking and gushing over him now. But, he wasn’t listening. He just needed to get a good look at you once again.

“Vincent I-,” You threw your head back in embarrassment and exaggeration, a smile spreading across your lips and you blushed madly as him.

You shook your hands, trying to dramatically get yourself ready and used to being in Ambrose again. Vincent smiled under his mask slowly, you really hadn’t changed. 

He could tell you had something to say, the way that you normally never got caught up on your words was a dead give away. 

You tried again, “Vincent- Uhhgh!”

You laughed at your jitteriness. “I rehearsed this about a thousands times in the car, yet I can’t seem to do it now.”

Stomping your foot on the ground and grabbing Vincent by the wrists, you shook his arms up ad down like it would help you spit out your words, but it seemed to work anyways.

“Vincent I love you. I have always loved you, I- I-, since we were kids, since the day I met you down by the creek up to the moment I just told you that.”

He didn’t have to say a word for you to know that he felt the same.

[magpiemorality]

Oh! It’s Saturday! I can send in a prompt! So way back when Altruistic Skittles did the first of the nightmare series, with Remus, you reblogged and said you might want to write something based on the picture. Last I knew, she said that people can write fanfictions from the pictures, as long as they’re properly credited. If that’s still something you’d be interested in, I’d love to see it!

This is very big, somewhat in honour of Remus’ birthday today, a very long and dramatic origin for him.

Check out the amazing art that prompted this fic here :) and thanks to @altruistic-skittles​ for making it and allowing works based off it!! 

Also thanks to @omgsomeonesomewhereonearth for giving this a glance over for me on very short notice :)

Warnings: unreliable narrator, Anxiety is viewed as a bad guy, Remus isn’t particularly friendly, long post.

AO3

***

Roman had been feeling off for a while. He was far from the only one; puberty was tough on every aspect of Thomas, including Logan who had been stretched to his limits trying to keep up with all the demands of an average American high school life. But with Anxiety suddenly in the picture things were even more complicated. Who was he? Where had he come from? And why wouldn’t he leave?

In all honesty Roman hadn’t actually known there were other sides. He’d sort of, maybe naively, assumed that the three of them were the sum of Thomas’ parts, and that they covered everything Thomas would ever need. Sort of like Inside Out, which had in no way at all influenced their existence; they were the pilots who tended to the world inside Thomas’ busy head, just… minus the less good parts. Maybe Thomas didn’t need avatars for those things; maybe he didn’t value them that way, or maybe he just didn’t view them as part of himself?

It was an unfinished theory, but Roman mostly left those sorts of things to Logan, and Logan was too busy for much introspection these days. Which was why Anxiety had gone unchecked for so long.

Sometimes it felt like only Roman was the target of his attacks. Logan faltered, sure, but he was stubborn as all hell when it came to his routines and priorities and Anxiety hadn’t managed to shake them too much just yet. Logan was too established in Thomas’ head to allow wiggle room for anxious thoughts to disrupt his work. Patton also seemed to get away with coexisting with the guy; they fed off each other, or perhaps Anxiety had seen Patton’s power and figured it was easier to work with him than against him, turning good feelings to worry and guilt.

Okay so maybe Patton wasn’t unaffected, but he was so good at putting on a brave face that Anxiety had evidently seen fit to back off out of pure pity, and that left Roman. 

Roman, Roman, Roman, trying his best to stay afloat on the sea of schoolwork and stress, to throw creativity into Thomas’ days so his smile wouldn’t fade. Until stupid, miserable, Despicable He, came along and took it upon himself to thwart Roman’s noble goal.

Their fights were spectacular, unfortunately often feeding into the influence Anxiety had clawed for himself over Thomas and leaving him feeling worse than before Roman had begun the battle. Not that Roman ever started things! He just kept trying to do his work, to do his best, and then Anxiety would show up and bam! Thomas’ hand would falter when writing his cathartic fanfiction, or his mind would blank as he searched for the lines to his latest monologue, or his voice would wobble and break on the notes of a song.

So things were weird, and that wasn’t all.

All it took in the end were a few cutting remarks from Anxiety that didn’t make any sense, and Roman was lost to that edge of paranoia, forever wondering what he meant. A jibe about Thomas not being a perfect person; a sneer laughing at how none of them had even known Anxiety existed before he’d appeared; a scoff that came with the bold assertion that just pretending you weren’t like that didn’t mean you actually weren’t. He seemed to reference someone else sometimes, with a vicious sort of victory that was at least in part tainted with misery, someone who- if Roman was interpreting the clues right- Thomas didn’t even know worked for him, who Anxiety had escaped from. 

And then there was the matter of the tower.

~

Roman stared out of the bedroom window. It was his bedroom, his own copy of Thomas’, and if he focused hard enough he could see the shimmering after-images of the original, with Thomas’ homework on the desk, his clothes on the floor, his posters not quite matching up to Roman’s. He wasn’t in his room like Roman was, downstairs at dinner with the family, and not thinking too hard with his creativity. It left Roman free to do what he so often did these days; stare out of the window. 

Spread out below him was the familiar, comforting sight of the backyard, with its play area and the patio and the grass, the treehouse in the far right corner looking shabbier than ever from its lack of use. Thomas’ dad had been talking of taking it down soon now the kids were too old to use it, but both Patton and Roman- and in fact Anxiety in a rare display of unity- had dug their heels in as Thomas instinctively balked at the prospect of losing just another tie to his childhood. Patton had discovered nostalgia recently and Anxiety had discovered how much Roman feared the term ‘growing up’ and the treehouse was just a big old symbol for all of them to cling to. A beacon of bad things; a final point of no return. 

Roman hadn’t been inside in years, in all honesty, but curiously Thomas had, and more than once. Whatever occurred in there Roman wasn’t sure, but he felt a sense of… something faintly off whenever he looked at the treehouse, that hadn’t entirely started after he’d stopped going inside. This time was no different, and he wondered what the slight churn in Thomas’ gut meant, now that Roman had inadvertently bent his thoughts in the direction of the bottom right corner of the garden. Why picking at the faint memories of the interior of that shadowy wooden structure made their creator push his food around the plate and focus extra hard on talking about his classes, shutting Roman out soundly. 

The treehouse was still there, still dark and foreboding and strange. Roman’s eyes started to water slightly, warping the image, until it flickered ever so quickly.

 He gasped, shoving his whole body forwards, pressing his nose to the glass as it fogged around him with his quick breaths, trying to see it again. 

It remained stubbornly as it always had been, leaving Roman to wonder if he’d imagined the flash of dark, crumbling tower that had blinked into and out of existence. 

But he hadn’t, because as he lay in bed that night, doodling ideas into his notebook while Thomas tried to fall asleep, the shadows outside his window lengthened and the light that should have fallen on his curtains was slowly, steadily blocked out. The darkness felt cool, and thrilling in the way watching a horror movie when you weren’t supposed to felt thrilling, with that edge of risk to it that got your heartbeat going and made your palms clammy. Roman could feel the moment Anxiety noticed it as well, because Thomas’ brain whirred back awake in an instant, the tossing and turning that disrupted him more and more often these teenage nights starting up yet again. Logan began gamely battling to get Thomas to continue on to sleep, Logic coming up against Anxiety for once, but Roman… 

Roman got out of bed, creeping out of his room and down the hall, sneaking carefully down the stairs one by one so Logan wouldn’t notice and stop fighting with Anxiety. The tiled floor was cool under his bare feet as he crossed it to the back door, sliding it open with a soft whoosh of the well-used mechanism. 

The tower awaited him, taller than the treehouse had ever been and far more foreboding. It was made of dark, black brick, slimy and badly worn, surrounded by thorns and with no discernible entrance. A real Rapunzel tower, straight from the Grimm brothers themselves. 

A fairy-tale come to life. And Thomas hadn’t imagined Roman in the image of a dashing Disney prince for nothing; so he started forwards, heedless of his lack of shoes or weapons or anything. He had his curiosity and that was a thousand times more powerful in that moment than anything else. He wanted to know, and whatever thing (maybe a monster? Roman had only vague theories but he was leaning towards trapped monster) was imprisoned within; it felt close to escape. 

Were he Logan in that moment, Roman would theorise that the tower held some kind of dark aspect of Thomas that he’d hidden from himself, and that in the darkness before sleep it was hardest to maintain the lie, confronted with the harsh truth of oneself. But Roman wasn’t Logan, and he didn’t think too deeply beyond thing bad- must know more. 

He got through the thorns with relative ease, considering how large and deadly they looked from across the garden. All it took was a stick from the pile they kept for a bug hotel, a brief flash of inspiration turning it to a shining sharp sword that sliced neatly through each thick tendril until they started to wither away from him as he approached and revealed a door with no lock nor handle, carved into the base of the tower. 

Curiosity won again as Roman kicked it in, crumbling the ancient wood. He gasped, coughing as a thick gust of stale air wheezed out. It left Roman’s stomach twisting with nausea, but the need to be the prince and climb the tower was too strong to be deterred. Inside the house Anxiety upped the ante and Logan turned too late towards his own window, missing seeing Creativity take a step forwards and disappear into the treehouse. 

~

It was dark inside, that was the first thing Roman noticed. It was obviously going to be dark, a tower with no windows, but the darkness felt more than that. It felt like it hid an endless number of bad things waiting to come forwards, to pounce at any moment. The walls were horribly slimy when Roman used them to find the winding staircase, and the smell… Better not to mention it at all. 

Suddenly, the sound of whispered movement from above. 

“Hello?” Roman called softly, hoping he’d imagined it. Nothing replied, but the darkness felt closer, and he hurried upwards with the sword ready. “Anyone there?”

A pair of yellow eyes watched, waiting, from below, but Roman never looked down, intent on reaching his goal. He didn’t see the way the door was repairing itself, or how the thorns had regrown. His only thoughts were for the top of the tower and what lay in wait. 

There was the tiniest crack of light when he got up at long last, feet sore and eyes dry from straining to see something. It was a sliver from under a door, faint silver light, the only hint there was a door there at all until he felt it under his fingertips. 

It didn’t budge when he touched it, and once again there was no sign of a handle. Roman kicked it with a frustrated sigh, only to freeze totally still when the whisper of movement came again, -only this time, closer and clearer- it sounded a little like rusted metal, sliding against itself. 

The eyes down below, having followed the prince’s progress, narrowed in thought, but before they could make a decision Logic gained the upper hand over Anxiety back in the house and for a brief, shining moment, the tower was lit up bright and the door clicked open. 

Roman threw himself in before it could close again, and just in time too, because the light faded not a moment later, the door sealing itself up again. How he was going to get out, he wasn’t sure. But that was a problem for later- the fairy-tale dictated he had reached his goal. This was the end of the story. 

So what was his prize? 

There was a shape, in the room. A figure, about his own size, sat facing the window. Roman blinked hard to clear the spots that danced over his vision in the wake of the sudden flash of light, and the figure came slowly into view in the murk. A boy, with poufy sleeves and an outfit to match the setting, staring out of the window back towards the house. Back towards Thomas, back towards where Roman had been staring out from. The boy yawned, stretching his arms up and it was then that Roman noticed the chains. 

He was chained to the floor. Was this the monster at the top of the tower? Or the… dude in distress?!

This wasn't actually a fairy-tale, so the former seemed exponentially more likely, and Roman gulped as fear took root. 

“I know, I know, come to shut me up again. I just wanted a bit of fun, D-“ 

The boy stopped, frozen as still as Roman’s heart as it skipped a beat. Two identical faces, two sets of identical eyes, stared in horror and dawning, dim comprehension at each other. 

“You’re Roman!” The other boy shrieked, loud enough to make Roman flinch back. It stopped the grin on the chained boy’s face in its tracks, and he tilted his head, eyes turning cold and calculating in a heartbeat. 

“Who are you?” Roman squeaked, barely able to get his voice to work. “Why are you locked up? Are you evil? Does Thomas have…” his voice fell to a whisper. “A Dark side?”

The boy cackled, a joyful sound that shouldn’t have been as unsettling as it was. The clanking of the chains as he doubled over only heightened the feeling that something was wrong, and Roman screamed when the boy darted forwards suddenly. 

He was yanked back by the chains, snapping his jaw in Roman’s face with a wild snarl and snorting with amusement when Roman’s back hit the far wall, sword out and shaking in his unsteady grip. “A dark side? Everyone’s got a dark side, Prince Perfect. If you think you don’t, you’re just not looking hard enough." 

"Thomas is good!" 

"Thomas is real,” the boy purred, moving back to sit at the window again, gazing back towards the house. The distant sensation of Logic and Anxiety fighting for the upper hand grew when Patton joined, his constant underlying guilt swelling support for their anxious antagonist. The chained boy laughed, fingers tapping against his face too quick for Roman to even see, lips moving soundlessly on words Roman definitely didn’t want to hear. “Have you come to defeat me, Roman? No, you didn’t even know I was here, did you. Locked in my tower, kept from my one true calling. It’s for my own good, you know? D- the dragon that guards me says so. It’s for everyone’s good that I don’t get out, most of all Thomas’.” The name felt reverent the way the boy said it, softly and sweetly, like calling the name of a deity. It made Roman wince. “It’s only right that a villain should be kept away.”

“Who are you?" 

"I’m you, but stronger,” the boy retorted, breaking into cackles. “I’m you but scarier. That’s what they thought, anyway. I think I’m just something else. I think I’m bad news. I think Thomas is bad news…" 

Roman wouldn’t stand for that. He held his sword out more confidently, raising his chin. "Thomas is a great guy! He’s the best! He’s full of good things and light and-”

“And darkness and wondering, wandering thoughts and impulses, just like anyone. Even you. You would kill me if you thought you should, if you thought it was your Disney story, wouldn’t you. Without hesitation, but Roman! Killing is wrong!”

“Not in Disney!" 

”Even in Disney!“

A howl of rage echoed around the tower, along with the sound of metal on stone as Roman brought the sword down on the window ledge beside the boy’s hands. The chained boy didn’t flinch, just beaming victoriously at Roman, cackling his disquieting cackle. 

"Who are you really?! Tell me!" 

The boy opened his mouth to speak, a hunger in his eyes that Roman didn’t understand, but the tower shuddered. His eyes darted to the door and Roman’s couldn’t help but follow. "Oh dear, Roman. You shouldn’t have come here. Curiosity killed the cat, you know, and the witch is on his way to toss you out of the tower…”

“I thought you said it was a dragon?”

“Dragon, witch, there was a time when there wasn’t any difference to you. Maybe you’re learning some nuance now though. That’s gotta be rough, buddy, you’re practically made from simplicity.”

Roman narrowed his eyes at the insult, and the tower shuddered again. The boy picked up his cackling again, louder and louder as the shuddering turned to heavy footsteps approaching up the stairs. And Roman wondered, if this was the monster that guarded this boy, what did that make the boy?

“He’s here.”

The door burst open, a hazy shape flying in and grabbing Roman, what felt like giant claws snatching him up and carrying him out of the tower, dropping him hard onto the lawn before it whirled back around and vanished back into the… treehouse? 

The tower was gone. The treehouse looked like it always had, dark and grim, but it was definitely just the same treehouse as ever. 

He fell back, sprawling on the grass as his limbs turned to jelly from the residual adrenaline, while inside Anxiety let up at last and Logan won the battle for the night. Thomas slipped uneasily into dreams.

The tug of unconsciousness grew heavy, dragging on Roman’s very being now his creator had finally fallen asleep. He just about managed to drag himself inside to bed before succumbing at last, glad to leave the whole strange night behind him. 

-

Masterlist | Buymeacoffee

[one-leaf-grimoire]

“triad”

Chapter 18: the rebirth of a world

uhhh so I cried like a baby while writing this so have fun!!!!

ao3 link

For two days and two nights, I forget everything. I sink deep into stasis, maintaining mana skin as I sit high up in a tree, where no one will find me. The clear air and the strong mana around me both sink into my pores, flowing through my body, and compounds itself upon the power already within me. The world dissolves away, taking my body and mind with it. All I am is a pair of lungs, breathing out and in, over and over in an endless cycle. 

Life and death. Death and life. There is joy in death, and despair in life. 

Breathe.

Who taught me how to breathe?

Mother?

No… not that woman. 

I taught myself.

There have only been three times in my life where I have been truly at peace.

The first- before I was born.

There was no life, there was no breath. There was only warmth.

The second- when I was One.

His warmth was joined with mine. The bliss of unity. I ceased to exist.

The third- Now.

Warm, golden light envelops me as I breathe. In and out. In and out.

There is nothing. I am nothing. I will never be anything again.

Either way, the world will end. Because of me. So I will become nothing. I will become hated.

I have destroyed myself before. And I will do it again. Because… maybe then I can be happy.

Not me… someone.

What happens to everyone?

They will be destroyed, just as I was. 

There was joy in that destruction. They will find joy in their deaths.

And there will be joy in their rebirth. The rebirth of a world worth living in.

I see nothing but a golden light up ahead. I desperately want to hold it in my hand.

I don’t see the bodies I will have to walk over to do it.

The light will outshine the blood that stains my hands.

And then I will die. I will burn in Hell for three eternities, but that will not be enough.

…

…

…

…

…

“I forgive you.”

I remember how William smiled at me when he said those words. 

Patri… will you forgive me, too?

Of course, he can’t answer. Because I killed him.

Why am I doing this? Why am I willing to go so far?

For a moment, I leave my body, and look into my own eyes. My own dead, cold eyes. What I see is something far from human. What I see is something that scares me. 

Don’t do it… you don’t have to.

She closes her eyes.

You’re going to die anyway. Is it really worth it to take everything down with you?

… 

Of course, I can’t answer. Because I already killed her.

There’s no hope for me. There is no more joy in this world, or love. I will atone for my crimes by committing the worst one of all.

What do you mean? What crimes? Haven’t I done my absolute best? Is there really no hope?

Yami and William are still alive. My two oldest friends. And even if they die… I have my family. I have Marx! And Nozel and Fuegoleon and Charlotte and Mereoleona… and all the kids… and Adeline… and…

My daughter.

Shouldn’t you spend your last moments fighting for a better world for your daughter?

Isn’t that a spark worth kindling?

…

Julius hates me.

The spark dies.

No… this is just a curse. Any curse can be broken.

Not this one.

Her eyes open, and they are glowing blue. The light is so bright that it drowns out all else, the entire world melting away under its burn.

You cannot escape fate itself.

She smiles, her mouth warping into a toothed grin. She starts to cry, the tears running in two mirrored streaks down her cheeks, black as the blood that flows from a pen. But she keeps smiling. 

The smile holds an emotion that I cannot even fathom. But somehow, I know its name.

Malice.

“I am your fate… and you are the world’s fate.”

They reach out. The two blinding lights no longer come from her eyes; they come from her wings.

Both of their hands glow with marks.

“Isn’t there joy in your shared fate? Isn’t that the closest two people can be? In life, and in death?”

But… there’s life after death! I’ve seen it- I don’t want to die! I want to be alive! I want to love.

“What is the point… if his love has been removed from this world?”

Her eyes bulge from her head, splitting into a sheet of thousands of tiny pupils… like an insect.

There’s other love in this world… I want to experience it!

It’s too late.

Either die alone, or die with the entire world. You have no choice.

Their hands close around my throat and finally break the cycle of my breath.

…

…

With a violent gasp, I’m jolted from my trance, and my eyes pop open. The sound disturbs the area around me, and four birds burst out of the leaves beside me, cawing angrily before flying away. The flutter of feathers subsides, leaving me alone once again in a comfortable silence.

The wind blows across the treetops, a quiet roar that bends branches and tears leaves. My hair flies out of my face, rippling around my head for a moment before everything becomes still once again. 

Sounds erupt as soon as the wind has quelled. Bugs and birds, appearing from nowhere, all raising their voices in a song. A dissonant, confusing song, but a song nonetheless. 

It’s peaceful…

Too peaceful.

After a long moment, I slowly stand up, my knees and back nearly creaking with effort after being stationary for so long. Despite my lack of activity, my body feels light, almost unhealthily light. Maybe it’s just the contrast from my recent pregnancy, but something tells me that my constant output of mana over the last two days may have strengthened some things yet weakened everything else.

Fine. I can still fight, though. I feel healthy-

Right as the thought crosses my mind, the left side of my mark bursts into agony once again. I squeeze that eye shut, simply gritting my teeth. Over these months, the pain hasn’t lessened; I just became better at bearing it. Fortunately, I can sense that I just burnt my candle down to the base, so I won’t have to deal with it for much longer.

“Come on…” I whisper to myself, feeling the pain finally start to dissipate. “I need to go… head out with the others…” Shakily, I take a careful step forward, farther towards the tapering end of the branch. “And then-”

Before I can finish, the world turns upside down. Like skates upon ice, my feet slip out from under me, numb and unresponsive. My eyes widen, and I don’t even have time to shriek before I fall, my limp body plunging like a rock to the bottom of the lake.

...what-

I don’t really realize what’s happened until the world fades back in, and the canopy of the forest looms high above. Did I just pass out? And fall out of the tree? What on earth-

Pain floods my body, each bone screaming in protest as I try to move. With a sharp inhale, I manage to roll over, one of my arms flopping uselessly beside me. Shit! I grit my teeth, not sure of what to do. I just fell out of the tree?! What on earth made me do that? My head feels fuzzy and light, as if I just woke up from a long nap, but there’s a familiar feeling of trickling blood down the side of my face and past my ear. Well, I’m probably just an idiot and misstepped… I don’t think I passed out. I hit my head pretty hard, I’ll probably remember what happened later. Anyway… 

Right on cue, mana within me activates. Bands of numerals start to circle my body, glowing a familiar, comforting blue. Chrono Anastasis. I let out a relieved sigh as the pain starts to disappear, slowly but surely fading into just a memory. My broken bones start to mend, and the blood dries up and flakes off of my face. I wiggle my fingers a little, delightly to feel that they aren’t numb anymore. Well, that was weird… time to go-

The fuzzy feeling in my head suddenly intensifies as I try to sit up. With only a hollow gasp, I flop back down, my strength leaving my body all at once. My fingers go numb again, and my toes, and everything else.

Panic starts to seep in.

What’s going on? Am I-

The light starts to get brighter. 

I’m… Dying…

All at once, I realize the problem: Right now, I contain the magic of three people; not just their magic, their memories. Shards of their very souls. I am a vessel for Julius and Patri, but my weakened body, a soul that’s already trying to die, is withering under their weight.

The moth is flying towards me again.

“N...n…”

A gargled sound escapes my lips as I desperately struggle to keep my eyes open.

Sleep.

“N-NO-”

There has to be something I can do- I’m not done-

 I can see a sunset. I see Patri. He’s grinning malevolently.

“Just you try and protect them now!”

 The moth flies closer. 

I have to protect them… all of them… I need to live and create that future!

 I ball up my fists.

The memory flashes along with the sunset. Patri flies far above.

Sealing magic… release!

That spell… it’s a forbidden spell, one that sealed up the necessary power to unleash patri’s ultimate attack- the one that Julius spent his final moments thwarting. Patri carried that within him, with the help of that spell… 

Forbidden magic… doesn’t that need a sacrifice or something? 

As far as I know, I’m alone. 

Either that… or something is going to change about me.

Like Nero, who used so much forbidden magic that her very humanity was warped. She was confined within the body of a bird for centuries, and even after she returned to a human form, she had horns. The mark of the Devil.

Great… 

The light starts to fade. I’m running out of time.

Patri… let me use these memories. Let me live just a little bit longer. Help me cast this spell.

Of course, he doesn’t answer, but I feel something stir within me. There’s a sound outside, a whirring, unearthly sound. Magic.

I’ll have to sacrifice part of my humanity, just to live a little longer.

That’s ok.

There was hardly any to begin with.

…

…

…

…

“Where on earth have you been!? And- WHAT THE HELL HAPPENED?”

Marx stands in my way, his face red with anger as he blocks the hallway. “Your mark- the other half-”

“Get out of my way.”

My voice sounds flat, the words alien as they leave my lips. I can’t recognize its tones anymore.

Marx…

His eyes widen, and his hands start to shake.

… I don’t even know who you are.

No… I don’t. This man is a stranger. I’ve never seen him before. I’ve never talked to him. There were no deep conversations, no commiserating about Julius’s behavior. I’ve never made him coffee, and I certainly don’t know that he likes it with just a dash of milk. 

This man is a stranger.

He is not my best friend.

Slowly, Marx closes his mouth. There’s a strange acceptance in the movement. He doesn’t understand what’s going on, but he is starting to get an inkling. Without another word, Marx steps out of the way. He doesn’t move, or even raise his gaze from the floor as I walk by, my eyes fixed on the hallway up ahead.

I don’t know him… I can’t know him.

I bite my lip as I turn the corner and start ascending the stairs. 

I can’t… look him in the eye.

My room is empty when I reach it, thankfully. Any unwanted visitors would have complicated things, since I need to leave quickly. I strip down and start pulling on a new set of clothes. A clean shirt and skirt, my usual uniform that I haven’t been able to fit into for months; tights; boots lined with fur; a thick grey peacoat with a high collar; and finally, my robe and my Crown upon my head. I unfasten the medals from the front, then turn to look at the empty chair by the window.

Julius’s robe lays draped over the back, still and dusty. Sucking in a breath, I step forward.

Here… these are yours.

Slowly, I place the medals and chain onto the fuzzy white fur, and let my hand stroke it for just a moment. Then, I step back.

I’m sorry… I couldn’t keep my promise.

The room is silent. The entire castle is silent.

I know you’ll hate me for this. But in the end… the future will be bright. I’m sorry I couldn’t be like you.

With one last look, I turn to leave.

Evening falls upon the castle as I make my way down to my usual exit. The candlelight on the walls flickers with my pitch-black shadow, broken only as I pass by a mirror. The sudden sight of my own reflection makes me pause for just a moment. 

That’s… me.

I look like a stranger.

I don’t know who you are.

The mark on my forehead has changed after that forbidden spell. When I woke up, I expected to have some sort of weg; horns, a streak of black over my cheek, or something in that vein. But no. All that happened was that a magic circle was burned into the grass around me, and both sides of my mark were filled in with black. It doesn’t feel any different, but it’s strange. But in the end… it doesn’t matter. I won’t have to worry about it for long.

The sealing spell will buy me just enough time to win this fight. To win and set everything right, at long last. And then… I’ll let go.

What will it be like, I wonder…

I turn away, and continue to walk.

But I’m not alone. Footsteps thunder towards me, and Marx bursts back into the hallway, out of breath. “S-Stop right there!” he commands, pointing at me. My pace doesn’t falter, and I continue to move as if I hadn’t heard him.

Marx grits his teeth as I advance. “I-I said stop! I need to talk to you.”

“No.”

Step. Step. Step.

“You’re different… something’s wrong, and you better tell me what it is! Hold on-” Marx stumbles as I brush by him, before turning to watch me move away. “Wait! Don’t just leave without a word! Don’t think you can just go out there and die for everyone! I won’t allow it!”

Not for everyone. With everyone.

“STOP!”

His desperate cry falls upon deaf ears.

“Wait-”

Someone else steps into the hallway ahead of me. They’re shadowed by the torches behind them, but I know that voice.

I keep walking.

Don’t look at her- Don’t look at her-

The torches flicker, illuminating her front for just a moment. 

I make the mistake of looking.

No… not at her. Not at her golden eyes. Not at her beautiful face.

No… my eyes are drawn to the thing she’s holding in her hands.

The bottoms of my boots scuff against the stone as I halt suddenly, my body freezing.

T-That…

…

…

"Once everything settles down... I... I would like to have a family."

Julius wanted her so bad. So… so bad. 

But by some cruel twist of fate, he fell in love with me.

Why…

My vision starts to blur.

… why would you look at something like me… with a smile?

He smiled at me… he promised we would be together forever. He promised that nothing bad would ever happen to me.

But that was a lie.

But there was one promise that he did keep.

One way or another… even if it has to be through sheer force of will…

Something wet starts to drip down my face. My eyes burn, and my heart weakens.

“Do you really think… my love is that weak?”

Slowly, Adeline walks up to me, her form becoming clearer. Despite everything that’s happening, she still wears that kind smile on her face. She comes to a stop in front of me. Slowly, I tear my eyes away from her face and down into the bundle in her arms.

It stirs slightly.

I see her face.

My love still exists in this world. 

A strange sound escapes my lips. It’s almost a sob, not quite a gasp. I can’t tell if it’s sad or happy, because I can hardly remember what it was like to feel either of those emotions.

But now… I feel them. I feel them like a million knives in my chest.

She rolls her head slightly. She has fat cheeks,and a tuft of dark brown hair on her mostly-bald head. 

And then, she opens her eyes.

You just have to find it.

They sparkle like amethysts, like lavender blowing in the wind. She stares up at me through those squinted eyes, but just that little sliver of color is enough to break me.

She… she…

“Do you… do you want to-”

I nod before Adeline finishes her sentence. She nods, then carefully places the baby in my arms. 

She closes her eyes again, but turns her head to snuggle into my warmth.

I stand there, still frozen, with this beautiful, precious thing in my arms. I hold her like she’s made of glass, because she is.

Julius’s love wasn’t something I had to find. It wasn’t something I had to fight for, or earn.

It was always there. Inside me.

You… you are proof of a love that no longer exists.

No…

I let my head start to hang over her, more and more hot tears bubbling up and streaming down my face. 

You are his love.

You are proof… that I am human.

Because Julius’s love was what made me human, in the end. I know that now, I feel that now that he’s gone. But this baby, this child in my arms, my daughter-

She is proof… she is proof.

“I…. I…”

A hushed, weak whimper finally leaves my mouth, barely able to form words as I crumble further and further.

“I’m sorry… I’m sorry…”

I whisper those words again and again, warped by my tears and by my guilt. 

“I’m sorry… I’m sorry-”

They raise in volume each time they’re repeated. 

I’m sorry- I’m sorry-

How could I be so selfish?

How could I be so foolish?

If only I had known… that you would give me more joy than anything in my entire life-

Joy.

Two pairs of arms are around me as I sink down to sit on the ground. I melt into a sobbing, shaking mess, but they are there. They are warm.

“M-Marx- I-’M sorry- and-” I finally look up, a pair of hands holding my face. Adeline is crying too, but she still smiles. “Adeline… I was so unfair to you-”

“Shhh…” She leans forward, and presses her forehead against mine. “It’s alright now. It’s alright.”

Slowly, I close my eyes, one arm holding Joy close while the other wraps around Marx. 

But… it’s not alright, is it?

I sit here, with forbidden magic in my body, with the blood of Patri on my hands, with an enemy knocking at our gates.

But even worse…

I let out another gasping sob.

I don’t want to die… I don’t want to die…

But even if I do…

We sit there for a long time, until my sobs finally calm. After a moment of silence, I take a deep breath before sitting up. Adeline and Marx both sit back, their eyes red and puffy. Even though they have no idea what’s going on, it’s as if they know… and they still want to help.

“Marx…. You’re my best friend.”

His eyes widen a little at the sudden confession. I let out a small smile, the most I can manage right now. “I…”

“It’s ok. But just know that I don’t deserve you.” I shake my head a little before redirecting my gaze to Adeline. “And you…”

Julius…

You could never hate me.

Because, no matter what… the two of us know that much.

We were one. I’ve seen your soul. I am your soul. 

You could never hate me. 

And you would be happy to see me love again.

I reach out to her, and she takes my hand. I give her another strained smile, fighting back more bitter tears.

“I’m so sorry… that you fell in love with me. But…” I sniff once. “I love you, Adeline. That’s the one thing I’m sure of.” 

Out of everyone here, I know that she and Marx are the ones I’ve hurt the most. But even now, they hold me. 

“I love you too... “ Adeline reaches up with her other hand to wipe her eyes. “I don’t know what you were doing… but I’m glad you’re back for now.”

My heart sinks.

For now.

No…

There is no “for now.”

That dark path might have consumed me, but I will fight against the end as hard as I can.

I am not the fate of the world… but I can still save it.

Joy squirms a little, letting out a little sob. My heart jolts out of my chest. “Oh- I-I don’t know what I did, is she okay? Oh god, she’s-”

I cut myself off when I hear laughing. I look up to see both Adeline and Marx chuckling at me. “What?! This isn’t funny!”

“Yes it is! Don’t worry-” Adeline reaches out to stroke Joy’s cheek with the back of her hand. “She’s hungry~”

“Hungry?” I frown, not sure why they’re both looking at me expectantly. Then, it hits me. “Oh… ah…” I let out a nervous laugh. “I probably shouldn’t feed her… I might not be healthy.”

Adeline frowns. “What? What do you mean?”

I can save the world… I will. I am the natural enemy of the Devil. I will destroy Qhlipoth and restore peace to this kingdom. And then…

I don’t answer. I just lean in to give Adeline a kiss.

I’ll spend my last days with Marx, Adeline, and Joy.

When I pull back, Joy is once again nestled in Adeline’s arms. I turn to look at Marx, giving him a sad little smile. 

“I still need to fight… I’ve done too much to prepare for this.” For some reason, I can’t help but chuckle. “It would be a waste to not go at this point, no matter what Nacht says. So… Marx… will you let me go?”

After a moment, Marx smiles, nodding his head. “Of course… go. You’re the Wizard King, after all.”

Wizard King…

Yes. There’s still time for me to be the Wizard King.

With that, I jump to my feet, sudden energy and vigour coursing through my veins. Maybe it’s blind hope, maybe it’s just joy. But right now, I feel like I could take on an army of devils. Adeline looks a little frightened, but after a moment the emotion fades from her face. “That’s right… you need to catch up with the others! The rescue squad left a couple of hours ago!”

“Oh! So the fight’s started without me? How rude!” I grin, giving the two of them a wink. “Keep the castle orderly while I’m gone… I’ll apologize properly when I get back.” I look down one last time at my daughter. Her eyes are open again, and I swear that she smiles, despite only being two days old.

“Take care of Joy… one day, you’ll tell her this story, I’m sure of it.”

Adeline nods, her eyes glinting with determination.

“Yes… both of her parents are Wizard Kings. She’ll hear more stories than this.”

Yes… yes she will.

Because Joy is the daughter of two Wizard Kings. The daughter of Julius Novachrono. She bears my hair, and his eyes. She is human… and if there’s one thing that I’ve learned, it’s that humans are an endless candle of potential.

I have no right to snuff that candle out.

With one last wave, I turn and run off towards the exit, already queuing up magic around me. Due to the forbidden sealing spell, this fight might be a little more… interesting than expected. But I’ve already vowed to not use the magic I sealed away. I no longer need it.

I don’t need to recreate the world in order to make it bright. Because now I can see for myself how bright it is.

Next time! The battle to rescue William and Yami is underway, and the first devils have emerged from the Qliphoth. Will our Wizard King get there in time? And will she be able to take on three powerful foes at once?

[luukeskywalker]

i see so many arguments about whether or not it's okay to like jiang cheng; whether or not he's abusive, whether or not he's deserving of a "redemption" or reconciliation with wei wuxian, whether or not his actions and pain are justified, etc. and because he's such a complicated person, and because we all interpret his actions differently, we are never ever going to come to a general consensus on him.

but i'll give my take on him, because i love him, and i really don't see a lot of, uh, more lenient takes on Why He’s Like That. also i’m putting this under a readmore bc this is literally just for me i don’t think anybody else in the world wants to read this rambling hahaha

anyways!~

the man has problems. lots of them. he doesn't know how to truthfully voice his emotions outside of a frame of anger. he was not raised to be a wife like jiang yanli, he was not taught to perform emotional labor for the sake of his future spouse. he was taught that he is the next sect leader, and that emotions are both his weakness (from his mother) and his strength (from his father). he was brought up from a young age under the belief that there was always an unattainable goal placed right in front of him.

of course that's not all officially "canon", but you can easily see it if you read between the lines. you really can't take anything jiang cheng says seriously. not when he was a kid, and not when he’s an adult, either. and i don’t say this to excuse his actions, or to say that he’s necessarily justified because he had a tough childhood. everyone in mo dao zu shi had a tough childhood, he’s not special for that! but the way he was raised, in my opinion, explains a lot about who he is as a person, and how he interacts with the world around him. again: it doesn’t justify his actions. it merely explains them.

i think he’s terribly interesting. every character reacts to their traumas in different ways - lan xichen covers everything up with a gentle smile, wei wuxian cracks jokes about his own mortality, lan wangji searched out evil as often as he could to make the world a little safer - hell, even nie huaisang adapted to trauma by creating an entirely different persona so that he could gather information and plot in peace. jiang cheng’s reaction to trauma was to take that anger he grew up with, all his frustration at never being good enough, all his worry about his family, all his rage at the people who have betrayed and left him - and he turned it into armor. 

he doesn’t know how to take the armor off. after years and years (thirteen or sixteen, it’s really up to the reader, i suppose), he’s worn it so tightly that he thinks that anger is all he is. everyone else thinks so, anyways, and when have the greater masses ever been wrong in mo dao zu shi?

oh, that’s right, literally every single time. 

call me an apologist if you must but i highly doubt jiang cheng ever actually tortured and killed demonic cultivators that reminded him of wei wuxian. the only time we have ever heard that was through idle gossip, and if mo dao zu shi has taught us anything, it’s that idle gossip is never to be trusted. he tells jin ling to kill wei wuxian in the beginning, but instead he decides he wants to take wei wuxian back to lotus pier. His first instinct is to feel anger, is to lash out. and he was still angry, but can you really blame him? he’s spent so many years with the weight of his family’s death weighing on him - practically all alone - and the man he considers responsible for it shows up out of the blue one night. 

and yes, wei wuxian’s isn’t solely responsible for jiang cheng’s loss. duh. but he had a pretty big part to play in all of it, and trauma can do weird things to someone’s memories. jiang cheng may know on some logical level that his brother isn’t responsible for all of it, but years pass and pain doesn’t really fade as much as it should, and feelings and memories warp into something more easily digestible - it gives jiang cheng something to feel besides conflicting mourning. anger is where he feels safest.

and that brings me to another point - his relationship with jin ling. now, this one is a bit of a hot topic (lol). there’s, afaik, a lot of discourse around whether or not jiang cheng is abusive towards jin ling. and i do understand and see why people would think he is abusive - for all the reasons i mentioned above. he’s a traumatized man who finds comfort in anger. he’s particularly strict with jin ling when it comes to night hunts, especially during that hunt in dafan mountain. he makes threats of physical harm and is pretty much always yelling. i can see why people see these actions and label him abusive.

but i really don’t agree. he is strict with jin ling on night hunts - he’s terrified something will happen to his sister’s child, at the same time he wants jin ling to succeed. who set up all those nets for him during that hunt? clearly jiang cheng. the whole “if you can’t catch something, don’t bother coming home” line dripped with “i have said this exact phrase a million times before and i’ve never meant it” energy, as does every “i’ll break your legs” comment. jin ling himself admits it - jiang cheng has never, ever laid a hand on him! the only uncle to ever smack him around is wei wuxian. 

of course abuse is more than physical harm. but i don’t really think he abuses jin ling at all. jiang cheng really loves jin ling, he cares for that boy more than literally anything else in the world. a scene that really sticks out to me is “who made you cry?!” - he does not admonish jin ling for crying. he wants to know who made his boy upset so he can go beat them up. jin ling clearly knows he’s not in any real danger from his uncle - if he was, why the hell would be continuously disobey him and do shit that directly pisses him off? the ONE time he was truly afraid of going back to jiang cheng was because he’d lied and disobeyed jiang cheng’s direct order. sure he wouldn’t be like, beaten for that, but he’d been nervous as all hell at koi tower, and i’d personally attribute that behavior to guilt. he knew he’d done a bad thing, but he’d done it anyways. 

this post is really insanely long so i’m just gonna try and wrap it up here: jiang cheng is a really complicated and fucked up dude. i get why people don’t like him but i don’t really agree with the sentiment. he’s fucked up and crazy and so is everyone else in mdzs, he’s just the most vocal about it. call all of this fanon if you want, idc, it’s just how i’ve perceived his character after experiencing mo dao zu shi like five times in different formats. his anger is his protection, because nobody else is gonna protect him. he tries to use it to protect jin ling, but to anyone who isn’t jin ling, it comes off as overtly harsh. love languages are hard to understand sometimes. jiang cheng’s love language is more complicated than the entirety of the fucking homestuck shipping chart.

if anyone has even read all of this, why, why did you decide to do that, also thank you? please don’t fight with me on this my mind will not be changed lol

[novantinuum]

Fandom: Steven Universe

Pairing: Steven/Connie

Rating: Teen Audiences 

Words: 2.6K~

Summary: In which Connie’s subconscious, innocent touch helps Steven realize just how nice the sensation of gentle fingertips gliding across the surface of one’s gem can be. (Just a bunch of teen romance fluff, + first kiss)

This is set like... a few weeks before Steven leaves Beach City. I imagine he’s been recovering from what happened in I Am My Monster for at least 6 months by this point.

His days aren’t always great- there’s a lot of ups and downs- but thankfully, today is a markedly pleasant one.

_____

His house is still for once. Impossibly so. No Diamond business, no new arrivals to Earth, no disgruntled Gems kicking down his front door. No more battles, beyond his own internal ones. Admittedly, a part of him is happy for the peace and quiet. He’s appreciative of the way all his family and friends rallied around him in support months back after... erm- after his breakdown, but every guy needs some space eventually.

‘Some space’ never has to mean alone, of course.

Steven sneaks a doe-eyed glance at the girl flopped next to him on the living room couch, her mind lost in the pages of her own fantasy world. It’s a new series, something about a human accidentally falling into the world of the fae. (It’s only been like, half an hour, and she’s almost a hundred pages in already!) A pliable smile teases his lips as he watches her eyes flicker back and forth, digesting each passage with a voracious hunger. Sighing in content, he turns his attention back to his own book, externally making as if he’s busy exploring the world of fiction to hide the sappy fact that instead he’s been thinking about her all along. Honestly? He adores quiet days like these. Even if they’re not doing anything special, it’s just nice to get to spend time alone together. It’s a comfortable together.

Connie shifts, instinctively curling closer, her free arm slung against his side. With a soft hum of content he leans into her welcomed embrace, trying his best (and— caught in her innocently bewitching presence— failing abysmally) to focus on the wandering lines of text.

Everything is peaceful.

No hard knocks, no frenzied phone calls, no family disruptions. The domestic warp hasn’t even activated once this whole lazy afternoon. In recent days, he’s pretty sure that’s a record.

At long last, his house is still... and yet in a flash, his hormone riddled teenage mind— ever foolish— is everything but.

Because Connie’s touch is tickling him.

It’s subconscious, almost imperceptible at first. At some point her free hand has roved so that it’s no longer pressed against his side, but against his midriff— which is currently exposed, his shirt bunched up at the waist from all his slouching. Teasingly, her fingertips dance upon the facets of his gem with the pinpoint expertise of a prima ballerina, encoding an endless rhythm directly into the sum of his being, the feather-light contact sending vibrations almost too faint to notice coursing through his hard light veins. But not too faint for him. Not now, not while host to this kind of silence. Not when the girl draped on the couch next to him unknowingly commands every shard of his attention with the slightest twitch of her index finger.

It’s taking all his willpower not to squirm at this ticklish contact right now. It’s so... weird when other people touch his gem. It’s certainly not something he’s used to.

(Steven promptly buries the memory of the last time someone touched it, refusing to let old terrors tarnish an otherwise pleasurable encounter. He can feel the pink threatening to rise in his cheeks, that instinctual rush of panic he’s grown so numb to over the past months rearing its ugly head. It’s so, so hard to wrestle away from its thrall sometimes, but thankfully his therapist has been teaching him ways to mitigate these sorta reactions. His eyes clamp shut as he breathes deep through his nose and focuses on the tangible, on what he knows: the plump, lumpy cushions of the couch under him, the slight scent of garlic and cumin in the air from the lunch he cooked a few hours ago, the rhythmic crashing of waves outside the house. The warmth of his best friend by his side—)

Tap, taptaptap, tap, taptaptap...

His cheeks bloom a human red as her lulling rhythm continues.

Like he said, it’s obviously subconscious. It has to be, right? It would certainly make sense. From his observations, Connie’s always been a tactile thinker. It’s part of what made her such a quick study in sword fighting. Whenever her mind is alight, those beautiful neurons firing back and forth like a firework display, her body is in motion. Sometimes it’s her foot, tapping impatiently into the dirt as she parses through memory to find the precise words to say. Or it’s like how she memorizes facts for tests easier if she’s jogging, listening to audio recordings of the test materials she made herself. And then there’s times like now, when Connie is reading. When her fingers tap and glide with an almost impish touch across the diamond gemstone in his belly’s center as her eyes— by all appearances entirely disconnected from both her hand’s motion and his reaction— skim effortlessly across the unfolding tale on her page. Her hands... oh, those hands... calloused, warm, digits lithe and curious in their movement. They’re always shifting, always tapping, always twitching to some identifiable rhythm. Is this just another example of her sway towards more kinetic-based thinking? Or... is it something else? A silent yearning that extends its roots from the heart into object reality, innocently unaware of the power of its call?

Stars, Steven thinks, mustering with all his strength to ignore his burning face, so maybe I’ve been thinking a little too much about her lately...

Eventually, it all becomes a bit too overwhelming to handle. If this continues in silence any longer, well... well, heck. He doesn’t even want to imagine what embarrassing things could happen. Mustering up all his courage, he flips his book shut and drops it on the cushion beside him.

“Um, Connie? By the way? That’s kinda ticklish,” he squeaks out, voice high and reedy.

Upon his words, she notices where her fingers are subconsciously tapping and immediately pulls her hand away, her cheeks flushing dark. “Oh, I’m so sorry!” she says, quickly tossing her book aside and shifting upright on the couch. “I didn’t mean to goose ya’! I wasn’t even thinking abo—“

“No, it’s okay!” he interjects with an open hand. “I’m fine, really, I am. I- it’s not like, uh- It isn’t like a bother, and- well, it just—“

Burning up with such a ferocity that he’s about one impulsive decision away from high tailing it out of this fraught social situation and dunking his glowing pink head right into the Atlantic, he forces himself to hush before he says something super stupid and humiliating in front of his best friend in the whole world that he’ll regret and replay in his dreams forever and ever for the rest of his days.

Okay, Steven, stop running your mouth like a lovesick fool for one second and think. How can you say this in a way that doesn’t sound entirely stupid and/or weird?

Watching him closely, curiosity written across every vibrant feature, Connie inclines her head ever so slight, a subtle, wordless gesture— one only a Jam Bud could understand— for him to keep going.

The phantom sensation of her fingers tapping against crystal rushes through his nerves like the physical analogue to a bad ear worm. He reaches up to itch at the side of his neck, unable to fully stifle his nervous laughter.

“Honestly, it uh- it actually felt pretty nice?”

“What, me touching your gem?”

“Yeah,” he manages to croak out, voice cracking like it hadn’t since he was freshly fifteen.

She isn’t able to fully stifle her giggle at this, pressing her hand tight to her mouth far too late.

His heart nearly plummets at the sound of her teasing laughter, the constant thrumming of his hard light veins steadily quickening as a flood of energy pulses just below the surface. He knew he shouldn’t have said anything, he knew it was far too much after every other recent misstep he’s made in their relationship! Why couldn’t he have just kept his trap shut?

“Aw, geeze,” he says, voice thick and his every muscle ready to bolt, “this is so embarrassing—“

“No, no! I shouldn’t have laughed, it’s okay!” she jumps in, pressing her hand to his shoulder to help ground him “It’s just bodies, Steven. It’s not weird. It’s just how skin-to-skin contact works. It’s supposed to feel good, because we’re meant to be social creatures, y’know?”

He hums softly in agreement, taking the offered moment to ease himself down from brink of panic. He focuses intently on the weight of her hand, resting feather-light against him. It’s a small gesture, but a powerful one. More than anything, more than words alone could say, it’s a promise. A reaffirmation, moment by moment. I’m here. We’re here. It’s a truth even the sobering reality of shared trauma can’t hope to erase: that even when the going’s tough, they have each other.

Connie brushes a stray stand of hair behind her ear then, shifting on the couch. Perhaps out of a sum of bashfulness, her eyes drift, not quite able to meet his.

“I- it’s silly, but I guess I never considered that you could even feel sensation through your gem,” she admits.

“Really? But you’ve had a gem before. Well, shared a gem,” he corrects himself, though in the end it’s all semantics.

“Well, sure, but when we’re Stevonnie, they don’t tend to think about stuff like that, because you’re used to it, and I’ve never thought about it. It’s simply... normal for them, I guess.”

“Hahah, yeah. It’s always been that way for me,” he says with a soft chuckle. “I never crawled like a normal kid, d’ya know? Dad says I always used to move around by scooting on my butt. When I tried crawling my gem would scrape against the floor, and apparently? I hated it.”

She laughs for real this time, (with him, not at him), her voice ringing true and beautiful and clear like a bell. His heart swells with joy.

And then...

Connie’s lithe fingers reach towards his midsection, hesitantly at first, before— in careful consideration of boundaries— pausing in their voyage entirely.

Her eyes lock with his, her shy expression wholly giving up the chase on what her request will be before she ever shifts her tongue to ask in words. “Is it okay if-?”

“Always,” he says, gently leading her hand under the hem of his shirt and towards the gemstone at his core.

He can’t help his sharp inhale when he feels her fingertips dance across his facets once more. Even when he knows what’s coming, knows to expect this contact, it’s funny. Not funny in a ‘haha’ way, funny in an ‘I’m not used to this’ way. After all, he’s never exactly made a habit of touching his own gem beyond periodic cleaning, and (almost) no one else has ever had a purpose to. It’s for this reason that a small traumatized segment of his mind still can’t help but spiral in panic about the mere concept of any external being brushing against this treasure, this tangible half of his very essence. Given the nightmares he’s been through, he’d have every right to deny her touch. But with Connie... beyond everything else, allowing her in this way is the greatest show of vulnerability he knows how to give.

It’s his proof to her that in this moment, he trusts her implicitly, without question.

Gracefully, she traces her finger around the edge of his gem, lines each individual facet in turn. It’s ticklish at first, much like before, but as she grows more confident in her gentle exploration he finds himself relaxing under her touch. He feels warm, a faint buzz of content flooding his system through his hard light veins. With her, he feels safe.

“It really is beautiful, you know that?” she says, a peaceful expression settling across her features. “Your gem.”

“Nah, you’re beautiful...” he murmurs bashfully, cheeks flushing.

“So are you,” she replies in swift measure, eyes soft with endless adoration.

His fluttering heart extends its gossamer wings and soars. If it weren’t for her nestled at his side, lithe fingers running across each facet in even measure, her tactile presence tethering him like an anchor to this present reality, he’s pretty sure he’d have floated halfway to the ceiling by now.

Daringly, his gaze locks with hers. He swears his heart’s beating its own drum solo within his chest, but this time it’s not because of fear, not at all.

It’s the feeling of freedom.

His fingers loop around a stray strand of hair that’s fallen in front of her eyes. That seems to happen a lot, he’s noticed. As delicate as he can manage, he hooks it back over her ear.

“Can I...?” he whispers, his warm breath brushing against her lips.

She replies in wordless affirmation, leaning forward to close the narrow gap between them. Hooded eyes drift shut. Her hand still rests on his gem as they finally move to cross that final barrier, that fuzzy, oft indistinguishable line drawn between childhood sweethearts and could-be couple, and kiss.

Well, attempt to, anyways.

To be fair, despite his schmaltzy roots, Steven only has movies and books to pull from as an example.

Their noses bump against each other’s at first. Both giggling, they tilt their heads to compensate and then mash their lips together, reveling in every ridiculous moment of their joint inexperience. It’s definitely sloppy, and he doesn’t have a clue where he’s supposed to put his hands or how long is too long, or how he’s supposed to move his mouth against hers, or— stars, did he even remember to brush his teeth this morning?? He sure hopes so— but because it’s with Connie all of that doesn’t matter. It’s perfect in every way.

“OoooOOOoo, looks like loverboy’s finally gettin’ some!”

He and Connie startle at the interruption, pulling apart from each other with equally flushed faces to match eyes with their surprise visitor.

It’s Amethyst, leaning against the kitchen table with a downright roguish smirk, probably thinking she’s the funniest Gem that’s ever emerged. Of course, who else would it be? (Though, which entrance did she come in from? When did she sneak past them? Were they really so involved with each other that they just... failed to notice??)

“Crude,” he says, brows creased with faint annoyance.

In return, she cups her cheeks and serves him the most ridiculous, schmaltzy expression she can muster. “Sap!”

Connie stifles a laugh at her exaggerated antics, but on his side he can’t help but be salty that her interruption yanked the two of them away from the blissful throes of blossoming teenage romance.

“Oh, get outta here, you,” he chimes back, and playfully tosses one of the couch’s pillow straight towards her face. “Shoo!”

The quartz Gem catches it out of midair and grins, no stranger to tests of reflex these days. Adopting a fake posh voice, she fires back her retort. “Your wish is my command, Sir Sappington...”

Tucking the pillow under her arm, she turns on her heels and skips up and over the warp pad’s platform, stalking towards her room with a victorious air. She doesn’t even try to mask her lovingly teasing snickers as the door splits in two at her command and she crosses the barrier into the temple’s dimension warping interior. The last they hear from her before the passageway shuts is an overly triumphant ‘whoop.’ Steven can’t help but raise a scandalized brow at this. What, were the Gems hosting a betting pool about him and Connie, or something?

But thankfully, in time, the beach house grows peaceful again. They’re alone together, and together they’re content.

“Geeze, sorry about that,” he says bashfully, scratching at the nape of his neck. “You know how Amethyst is, heh heh.”

Connie smirks with loving, mischievous intent, comfortably cuddling up against his shoulder. “She’s kinda right, though...”

“About?”

“You can be pretty sappy sometimes,” she says fondly, and tilts her head so she can smooch his cheek. “Just one of the many reasons I love you.”

____

Notes:

So, given that I’ve also written a fic wherein Steven wakes up feeling a hand against his gem and has a panic attack, a word of explanation with my headcanons-

Ultimately, I imagine there’s a very stark difference between a trusted individual like Connie touching his gem when he’s fully alert and it’s just them, alone, safe... and him waking up and being groggy enough to not immediately realize who it is next to him.

In the end though, I just hope Steven would be able to reclaim a once-terrifying experience (someone else touching his gem) as something that is also able to be loving and comforting when it’s done with consent.