Home of the niche

Lotus or Lazarus, 25, She/He. Self-indulgent writer that mostly focuses on platonic relationships for my very specific faves. I'm also on AO3 (same username). Art blog: lotusthekat

[wanderingcoasties]

“The LEGO Movie was my favorite movie of 2014, but it strikes me that the main character was male, because I feel like in our current culture, he HAD to be. The whole point of Emmett is that he’s the most boring average person in the world. It’s impossible to imagine a female character playing that role, because according to our pop culture, if she’s female she’s already SOMEthing, because she’s not male. The baseline is male. The average person is male. You can see this all over but it’s weirdly prevalent in children’s entertainment. Why are almost all of the muppets dudes, except for Miss Piggy, who’s a parody of femininity? Why do all of the Despicable Me minions, genderless blobs, have boy names? I love the story (which I read on Wikipedia) that when the director of The Brave Little Toaster cast a woman to play the toaster, one of the guys on the crew was so mad he stormed out of the room. Because he thought the toaster was a man. A TOASTER. The character is a toaster. I try to think about that when writing new characters— is there anything inherently gendered about what this character is doing? Or is it a toaster?”

— Bojack Horseman creator Raphael Bob-Waksberg commenting on how weird gendered defaults in entertainment are, and why we should think twice about them. Excerpted from this longer original post. (via 360degreesasthecrowflies)

[theregularwriter]

WIP: wheatfield with crows

Figured I might post pieces of WIPs here! Or drabbles overall.

FMA, Al-centric, Al & Ed bonding.

DO NOT SHIP THE ELRIC BROTHERS.

WARNINGS: depression, past death and mentions of death/dying.

--

Most days, Alphonse would wake up with a smile on his face. He would wake up to the irresistible smell of pie downstairs and greet everyone – Edward, Winry, Granny and Den – with a grin, no matter how sleepy he may be.

Today, it’s like gravity is pushing on him at full force. The smell of breakfast doesn’t lure him, so he’s bound to his bed.

He stares at the wooden ceiling. He squeezes and lets go of his own blanket several times. Al can vaguely hear conversations, no details. He sighs – even this requires effort. Even this crushes his body further.

Al knows he’s bored; he doesn’t want to stay here all day. At the same time, he can’t stand up, and it’s not like his body is in pain; not that he’s aware of. Al doesn’t feel… anything?

He has no idea how long he stays awake here. Time feels like it’s passing by so slowly and it bothers him deeply. Suddenly, Al hears someone going upstairs. Judging by how each step – each foot – lands on the ground, he can tell it’s Ed.

There are a few knocks on the door.

“Al? Are you awake?”

Ed comes slowly inside. Al can barely raise his head without giving up quickly.

“Hey, Al,” his big brother smiles.

Sadly, the younger Elric can’t return the same kindness and joy.

“Hi, Brother.”

Likely noticing that as well, Ed remains silent for a few seconds, standing still.

“… You doing okay?” Ed asks.

Al can only shrug. “Yeah.”

He lies in bed like he’s in a coffin. He can’t see himself properly, but the image reminds him of his mother, right before they buried her.

Al senses his brother approaching.

“Are you really feeling well?” Ed insists, sitting on the edge of the bed.

“I’m just… tired, I think.”

Alphonse looks at the window beside him, peeking through the curtains. The sky is blue with only a few white clouds. It’s such a nice day outside and Al can’t even leave the bed. Normally, he would go on a walk with Ed, Winry and/or Den. Instead, he’s mentally in a coffin.

Then, he feels a hand on his forehead and then his neck. Ed must be trying to figure out if Al is sick.

“Hmm, you don’t seem feverish to me,” the older brother mumbles, likely to himself.

“I’m alright, Brother. Staying here a little longer is nice.” Is it?

Ed is far from convinced.

“I’ll join you downstairs in a moment,” Al tries to reassure him.

His brother stares at him for what feels like an eternity. Ed looks sad and the sight is unbearable. Al can’t even smile to calm him down.

Ed slowly takes one of Al’s hands to squeeze it.

“Al, promise me you’ll come to me if you need, okay?” The former requests. He almost begs.

“Okay, Brother.”

Ed seems hesitant to release his hand or leave Al on his own like this. Whenever the latter gets sick, the former becomes intensely worried. Sadly, it’s to be expected after they lost their mom to sickness, without even knowing how much she suffered. The thing is, Al doesn’t even know what’s up with him. It doesn’t feel like normal sickness. He hasn’t caught a cold or a flu, or a stomach bug. He isn’t feeling any pain, considering he’s still relying on a cane to walk. Sometimes his body hurts, indeed. But now, he feels nothing, nothing at all, no desire.

“Okay. Take your time, Al,” Ed tells him. He squeezes Al’s hand one last time before finally leaving him alone.

The moment Edward leaves, Al realizes just how cold his own hands are. There’s no warmth in him.

Reminds him of when he was an armor. When he felt nothing, no exhaustion, no hunger, no warmth…

He knows it’s skin, not metal, encapsulating his soul.

So what’s happening to Al?

[lotusthekat]

lotus is my whole fanartist persona but uhh i'm also vibing with the name lazarus. you can call me that too if you want 👉🏼👈🏼

[gr8writingtips]

writing tip #4069:

stuck on a blank page? literally just put words on there. what are you doing

[snarehare]

Whumpee who cries out in fear in a dream = good, good

Whumpee who apologizes in a dream = Even better

Think about it for a moment. Whumpee asleep beside Caretaker, perhaps in the same bed. Caretaker wakes to the sound of some kind of dry, hiccoughing sobbing. They turn towards Whumpee and find them trapped in a restless sleep, face pale and contorted.

“…’m sorry,…” Whumpee slurs, sleep sticking to their voice.

And who are they apologizing to?

Whumper? “I’m sorry, don’t hurt me, I’ll be better?”

Or Caretaker? “I’m sorry, don’t leave me, I’m worth saving?”  

[homunculusalphonse]

Markus gives Hank a painting of Sumo - except Hank won't take it for free; he gives Markus money. It's the first time the android even gains any sort of money from his art.

"... What am I supposed to do with this?" Markus asks.

"I dunno, take Connor on a date or something."

"What??"

"Have fun!" Hank says, leaving with the painting, not elaborating further.

[theregularwriter]

i'm shocked that my undertale fic, "not a 'knife' feeling" (where papyrus remembers resets but he doesn't understand what resets are and suffering ensues) has reached 1k kudos on ao3, like oh my god! i feel bad not updating it since 2023, but i remember rlly loving to write it, i hope i can finish it soon 😭

[theregularwriter]

Don't Forget

Fandom: Fullmetal Alchemist (2003)

Rating: G

Relationships: Alphonse & Edward

Characters: Alphonse Elric, Edward Elric

Summary: It's a special date for the Elrics.

Word count: 717

AO3

A/N: Technically for October 3rd, but it's FMA 2003's 20th anniversary today, so I guess it still counts.

This takes place after Conqueror of Shamballa.

DO NOT SHIP THE ELRIC BROTHERS. P/roship DNI.

--

Al shouldn’t be feeling nervous, really. He and Ed have known each other since forever. Still, Al can’t help shaking a little, mostly as he leaves everything ready.

Either way, Alphonse makes his way to Edward’s door, hoping he’s not going to bother him.

He takes a deep breath and knocks.

“Brother?” He calls.

“Oh, come in!”

Al slowly opens the door, finding Ed’s desk filled with papers – all from the rocket science course.

“Sorry, are you busy?” Al asks.

“No, no, don’t worry about it.” Ed takes off his reading glasses – and Al knows Ed would hate him if he ever told him that Ed looks like their father. “What’s up?”

Al blinks, distracting himself from the thought.

Ed suddenly starts smelling something.

“Did you bake something?” He raises an eyebrow.

“Oh, uh… yeah, I got the recipe from Ms. Gracia.”

“Oh,” Ed smiles, “that’s great, Al.”

The younger Elric shouldn’t be this nervous.

“I-I made it for you!” Al blurts out.

Ed softens. “For me? Why?”

It does hurt a little to hear him sound so surprised. Like Ed doesn’t deserve good things.

“Come on, let me just show you.” Al offers him a hand. His brother takes it, confused, so he lets Al pull him out of the chair and towards the dining table.

There lies a cherry pie fresh from the oven… and the handmade card Al made. He’s confident that the pie is good, but as for the latter… He hasn’t really drawn in ages, and has only picked it up again in times of boredom.

Much to his surprise, Ed seems more awestruck by the card than the pie. He takes it carefully in his hands.

Al rubs the back of his own neck, unsure what to do.

Dear Brother,

I know today is not a good date. I know it meant that we lost what we once had. But I wanted to celebrate that you’re still here with me. I would never trade it for anything in the world.

Thank you for always looking out for me. I love you.

Al

The cover itself is, well, a sketch of Ed smiling genuinely, even if sadly. Something Al wishes he could see more often – just his brother being happy.

When Al looks back…

“... Oh no, Brother! I didn’t mean to make you cry,” he apologizes, hating himself for ever thinking this stupid card could make this day easier. “I’m so sorry.”

Ed appears to only then realize that he’s indeed crying. He touches his wet face in shock, as if he hasn’t cried in years .

“I just- I wanted…” Al doesn’t know what to say.

Suddenly, he hears a laugh.

“Oh, Al.”

Then, he finds himself in his brother’s arms. Al freezes, not expecting the reaction. Ed hugs him tightly, burying his face in the other’s shoulder, seeking Al’s warmth. It sometimes surprises Al, remembering he can actually feel his brother’s touch now. That Al is finally here, back as a human being.

It didn’t happen as they wanted it to… but just the fact Al gets to hug Ed again is more than enough.

“I love you, too,” Ed whispers. “I love you so much.”

Al can’t help it. His eyes are filled with water.

“Thank you for being here,” Edward adds

Alphonse smiles. “Of course, Brother.”

Ed doesn’t let go for a while… not that Al is complaining. He does whine when his brother decides to kiss his cheek multiple times, though.

“I truly have one talented little brother,” Ed compliments. “An artist AND a baker?”

Al rolls his eyes. “Come on, you’re exaggerating.”

“No way, this is beautiful. I’m keeping this forever. And I’m putting all your art on the fridge.”

He laughs. “Ugh, Brother!”

Ed snorts, ruffling his darker blond hair.

With this, they finally decide to eat the pie together. Ed finds it a masterpiece, of course. Al can’t help blushing; his brother can be so embarrassing.

Since today is technically Ed’s day off, the Elric brothers decide to go out in town. After greeting their friends, they head out to the park. At one point, Ed wraps an arm around Al and pulls him close. Al smiles and leans against him.

On this day, they lost everything.

But today, they have each other.

They’re home.

[theregularwriter]

sometimes i find myself reading ppl's bookmarks of my works, and it will genuinely make me want to cry 😭 seeing ppl value my niche, personal stuff like the steven & lars series surprises me but it fills me with so much joy

[comfortingcatharsis]

A sleeping character, curled up in some makeshift or temporary spot to sleep, is tucked in with great care beneath a companion's coat spread over them, or as much as it will cover, to serve as a blanket.

[comfort-questing]

"don't - worry. it doesn't hurt anymore. I - I can't really feel anything anymore now - "

"that is not in any way a reason not to worry!"

[ace-culture-is]

Ace culture is when your favorite relationship dynamic between two fictional characters is "Have not kissed or anything, but are definitely married, without a question"

.

[comfortingcatharsis]

The first minuscule shift and hint of a frown and faintest groan of a character regaining consciousness- all immediately noticed by their companion(s) keeping a watchful bedside vigil.

[theregularwriter]

They can't touch you, no ('cause they're all spies)

Fandom: Steven Universe Rating: G Relationships: Steven & Lars Characters: Steven Quartz Universe, Lars Barriga Summary: They’re here again. Steven hasn’t seen them in forever, why now? Why now that he’s catching up with an old friend? Why, on his day off of all days? They won’t do anything to him, right? Word count: 1.080 AO3

A/N: Forgot to post this here. I posted this right before they announced the Lars of the Stars spin-off, so you're welcome.

TRIGGER WARNINGS - panic/anxiety attack and hallucinations.

DO NOT SHIP STEVEN AND LARS. P/ROSHIP DNI.

--

They’re here again.

Steven hasn’t seen them in forever, why now? Why now that he’s catching up with an old friend? Why, on his day off of all days?

They won’t do anything to him, right?

“… What’re you looking at?” Lars wonders, confused.

“Oh, just- looking out for hungry seagulls who want my lunch,” Steven laughs nervously. “Me and seagulls? Total bad match.”

“Really?” Lars comments, amused, not noticing anything odd. “And here I thought you got were friends with every creature on Earth.”

“Haha, yeah, I’m a fraud.”

Lars becomes serious, hurt, even. “… Don’t say that.”

“I’m joking, jeez.”

Steven tries to break the ice by telling Lars yet another Little Homeschool story. Lars laughs and everything is okay again.

They’re watching. They’re watching him.

Gulping – and the gulp doesn’t seem to go down his throat –, Steven looks for a bench, now that they’re by the beach. He needs to relax. He needs to calm down. He should be having a good time, and he is, but his body won’t feel that way.

“Actually, can we sit for a bit?” Steven pretends he hasn’t been eyeing the bench just across them. “Ah, there, perfect.” He rushes to the bench without waiting for an answer.

He tries not to sigh in relief nor to tap his feet on the ground anxiously. His head feels like spinning, like that teacup ride that haunts Steven’s memories (and stomach).

“You, uhh, doing okay there?” Lars sits next to him.

“Yeah, yeah. Just a little tired,” Steven laughs, breathless.

He can tell Lars is frowning at him, but his friend decides not to pry just yet.

Steven thinks. Of flexibility. Love. Trust.

Love. Trust.

Love.

Love in the small, small things.

He’s okay. He’s okay.

Flap flap. Wings. White, bright wings.

No, he’s okay. Why won’t they go away?

He hears them, but he can’t see.

“Steven, what’s up?” Lars questions, softer.

“Nothing. I swear I’m okay.”

The wings are louder.

He flinches when they’re too close, instinctively clinging to Lars.

“What? What is it?” The pink teenager insists.

“Sorry, I’m sorry,” Steven retracts himself. “I thought I heard something. I-It’s nothing, I mean it.”

“Steven—”

“I’m okay!” Steven raises his voice, trying to internalize it.

Yes, truly convincing.

“… You don’t… have to be, you know,” Lars reminds him.

“But I am fine. I’m hanging out with you after so long, I’m having fun with you, I’m fine.”

His head doesn’t stop spinning, even as he’s sitting. His vision turns black for split seconds. But the white wings are there. They’re there. They’re always there.

Love, trust, flexibility, love, trust, trust, love, flexibility, breathe, breathe, breathe.

There’s a tornado there, and it’s so close.

Suddenly, it nearly stabs his ears, and Steven screams, bracing for impact.

He falls off.

Lars’ voice sounds muffled.

And it’s… pink.

The bubble.

Spikes.

The only way the white will stay away.

But Lars is pink, too, and Steven is pushing him away.

“I’m sorry! I’m sorry!” The latter cries.

“Just talk to me, Steven! You don’t have to put on a brave face around me, you know you don’t have to.”

“I know! I just wanted to have fun with you!”

“Me too! But I don’t want you to suffer in silence. You’re- You’re not going to ruin our time together. If you’re in trouble, just tell me, Steven.”

Instead of calming down, Steven starts sobbing.

“Y-You don’t get it, Lars. No one does. I see- I see things no one else does. I’m losing my mind, and I don’t know why. I thought I was fine. Why am I not fine? Why?” Steven weeps, not expecting any answer, because Lars won’t ever know it for him.

“What do you see?”

“You’ll think I’m crazy.”

“No, I don’t think that, and I never will. You think I don’t know what it’s like to be haunted by stuff no one else sees? You don’t think I’m crazy, right?”

“No,” Steven answers rather readily.

“Then you’re not crazy, either.”

The sixteen-year-old sniffs, quieting down for a moment, trembling.

The spikes are probably turning rounder, less hurtful and defensive.

“… Butterflies. They’re… white little butterflies. They’re so bright,” Steven describes. “T-They might seem harmless, but when they multiply… they become a storm, a loud one, and it’s- it’s useless to stop them. I tried breathing and it won’t help.” Steven sobs. “I shouldn’t be scared of them, but…”

“It’s okay to be afraid.”

That seems to silence Steven’s insecurities for once and for all. But not his tears, that keep falling. He hugs himself and hides his face.

“Butterflies, eh? I don’t like them, either. And a swarm of them is scary.”

“You don’t have to…” say that just to be nice.

“I would be scared if I saw that storm of butterflies, too. ‘Cause what if they get to you, huh? Like you said, it might seem useless to stop them. So all you gotta do is look for shelter. I can help with that.”

“How?”

“First… you gotta trust me. Do you?”

Steven looks up and nods.

“Yeah.” Lars sits next to him and tries to get as close as possible.

Somehow, he tries to…

Hug Steven’s bubble.

He’s not telling Steven to get rid of the bubble. No, he’s embracing his bubble, too. Because it’s part of Steven.

Even though it’s external…

Steven feels it.

He does.

As he stops hugging himself, to reach out to Lars, the bubble starts dissipating. The half-gem sobs again, but now, he’s hugging his friend on the flesh. Lars is embracing him tightly, shielding him from the storm, both sitting on a sandy floor, neither minding it.

Lars is also shielding him from strangers who might find them this way, but overall, he’s trying to fight off the butterflies for him, as afraid as he may be of them as well.

And all Steven does is focus on that. If he focuses on his aching breaths, his chest, his spinning head, it won’t be any help. So he focuses on Lars’ instead, his slow beating heart, his smell of butter and vanilla extract that has become his sole fragrance.

That’s what helps Steven breathe again.

It’s not all pink, not all black or white.

Steven sees the true colors again.

It’s beautiful.

He relaxes fully, sighing.

“Thanks,” he sniffs.

“No prob, Steve.”

Neither of them are in any rush to get up. For now, they just stay here and listen to the sea.

[theregularwriter]

so you're looking for lars content after they announced his spinoff series? pspspspspsps come with me and become a steven & lars enthusiast pspspspsps here you go

[theregularwriter]

lotusthewriter -> theregularwriter

[theregularwriter]

You're Steven Universe. There's no cure for that.

Fandom: Steven Universe Rating: T Relationships: Steven & Lars Characters: Steven Quartz Universe, Lars Barriga; MENTIONED - Greg Universe, Sadie Miller, The Cool Kids etc. Summary: “But you don’t want to be alone.” It’s not a question. Lars knows the truth. “No,” Steven confirms. “But it feels inevitable at this point.” Word count: 2.414 AO3

TRIGGER WARNINGS - suicidal ideation, underage drinking, hallucinations (possibly psychosis though not intentional)

DO NOT SHIP STEVEN AND LARS. P/roship DNI.

--

After the cheery potluck with Lars, Sadie, the Cool Kids, and Dad (as the manager of the band), the night has grown silent. If not for the crickets and Lars’ drunken laughter.

Steven is tired and drained from the party – or perhaps he was drained from the very beginning –, but somehow, he makes Lars laugh like never before. Then again, his friend is drunk.

Sometimes, Steven is tempted.

Tempted to drink.

Because you can at least laugh. You can feel more upbeat. More sociable. Steven was admittedly not very up to the party; he only came so he could see his friends and his father one last time before their tour. Either way, Steven has promised himself, and Dad in a way, he would not drink until he’s 21.

...

Steven raises an eyebrow as he analyzes one of the bottles on the table. This one is a white colored bottle. It is lemon-flavored. So, it’s like... lemonade? But in a beer-shaped bottle?

Lars seems amused by Steven’s interest.

“Wanna try?” The former asks.

Steven shrugs. “Yeah, why not?”

He opens the bottle rather easily, not needing an opener like the actual beers. Steven smells it. It’s odd. But there’s lemon indeed. With that, he takes one sip...

“... Blergh!” Steven winces. It might taste sweet but it’s so bitter, too.

Lars snorts. “Ah, first time trying alcohol... Little tip, though”– he takes a sip of his own –“you might try just swallowing it without savoring it slowly. It’ll taste better.”

Steven looks at the bottle again and follows Lars’ advice. It’s like his throat burns. But it does swallow better this time.

“Hm,” Steven snickers, not knowing what to conclude.

“At least it’s not beer, right?”

“Right. Beer smells.”

“Cheers to that.”

Steven and Lars do the famous “clink-clink”. He remembers when he and Connie pretended to be fancy and to drink adult stuff like wine – when it was just juice.

Now they’re grown. And now Connie is going away and he’ll stay here.

...

“Hey, why the long face?” Lars observes.

“Oh. Nothing.” He’s supposed to be fun, not sad.

“You look tired. Being principal of a school for aliens ain’t easy, huh?” Lars smirks.

Steven sighs exasperatedly. “Definitely not.”

“Having to be nice and smiley all the time really takes it out on ya.”

“I know,” Steven agrees, drinking more.

“I mean, I know you’re the boss, but—”

“Yeah, but they love leaving everything to me, and then they get mad when I don’t do things right.”

“That’s—”

“Shitty, I know.”

Lars laughs, genuinely surprised. “Was gonna say ‘uncool’, but that works.”

Steven continues the rant, “Somehow, I’m supposed to be more mature than those thousands of years old aliens.”

“Damn.”

A few seconds later, Lars leans closer to Steven and whispers, “You should sneak out sometimes. Go wild.”

“What?” Steven laughs this time. “You think a Diamond could just disappear and leave everything to everyone else?”

“Well, your mom kinda did that, right?”

“I am not my mom.”

Suddenly, Lars stops laughing all together.

...

“Sorry,” Lars finally says.

Steven sighs. He feels like he should apologize too, but he only says, “Don’t worry about it.”

He takes a bigger sip – so much so that he has ended the bottle.

So, he takes another one.

“Hey, take it easy,” Lars warns, but doesn’t really stop Steven.

“It’s fine, I feel great.”

Lars doesn’t lecture Steven, but he remains cautious.

Now, it’s quiet.

“I’m so great right now, nothing matters. Everyone is leaving and I’m doing *burp* great!”

Steven tries to see something. Any colors, light, life. He tries to feel any sort of joy thanks to the lemonade. But he gets nothing. Maybe Steven should drink more.

His head won’t feel light. He won’t feel happy or laugh at any dumb little thing like Lars does. Steven doesn’t feel better. He can’t focus on anything else other than the growing leak.

“There’s no point,” Steven vents, regardless of the fact it isn’t working. “Doubt I’m gonna make it to twenty-one. Or dare I say eighteen.”

“AAAAAlright, buddy, that’s enough.”

Lars takes the bottle – Steven, ironically enough, doesn’t try to stop him.

Even then, he still begs, “Wait, let me finish it—”

“You’re gonna get sick if you keep drinking like that. It’s your first time, too—”

“I just- I just want to feel something.”

“It’s not gonna help – it isn’t helping.”

“What? Now you’re gonna pretend you don’t drink to be happy?”

“I’m not happy because of the alcohol, Steven.”

Steven doesn’t argue anymore. Because he knows Lars is right. And he won’t explode at his friend, either. Steven won’t glow pink and cause major destruction.

No, instead, he sits there and does nothing.

Lars removes the other bottles while Steven tries to hear the crickets. They’re gone. They were killed. Steven must’ve killed them, even though he didn’t explode. Maybe Steven took away the stars, too. He must have absorbed all the light and euphoria so it might save him. Now the sky is black pitch. A big nothing.

He does this to people.

He has healing powers, but all he does is take life away and leave nothing behind.

The more Steven blinks, the darker everything becomes.

He’s not meant to be here. He shouldn’t exist. He shouldn’t exist.

“... Steven. Steven?”

Lars is talking to him. He put something on the table, in front of Steven. What is it?

“You’ll be okay,” Lars tries to reassure him. “Try to drink some water, okay?”

Water?

No, he doesn’t deserve it. He’s killing everything. He killed Lars once. Why does Lars want to help him?

Lars leaves.

... Briefly. He’s grabbed his chair and now he’s sitting in front of Steven.

“Hey,” the pink-skinned teenager calls him. “What do you see?”

Nothing. Nothing. Nothing.

“... You. I-I see you,” Steven describes. He hates that he’s looking at the scar slicing Lars’ right eye.

“I see you too, Steven.”

Lars must be trying to ground him. Steven isn’t sure what’s going on anymore. But Lars seems surprisingly calm about this. He’s certainly survived a lot.

“... Do you see the stars?” Steven asks him, curious.

Lars looks up. “Yeah.”

“I can’t see them.”

“Really?”

“Did I do something to them?”

“No,” Lars answers without any mockery in his tone.

“Then why did they leave?”

Lars takes a while to reply, likely trying to make sense of whatever Steven is saying.

“I’m... not sure. But you didn’t do anything wrong, Steven.”

“But they must’ve left because of something I did, right? How am I going to bring them back?”

“Steven—”

“I drove them away, Lars. If they show up to you but not to me, then I did something wrong!”

That’s the only intense emotion Steven feels. Confusion.

Then...

Acceptance.

He doesn’t even cry for the long-gone stars.

“I know I’m not... being good lately,” Steven admits.

“What do you mean by that?”

“I’m just... too angry all the time. Everyone is getting sick of me. The gems told me not to return to Little Homeschool until I was better. I was losing patience with some students. Like, they were pretty mean and immature, but I’m supposed to be better, right? Hell, I got through the Diamonds, but not those gems? Anyway, Dad didn’t find out because he’s been too busy with the tour, and Connie hasn’t visited or called me in a while. But maybe that’s better for them. I’m not good to be around them right now.”

Lars listens without saying a word.

“And what am I angry at? I’m not even sure. Maybe I’m just tired of everything, maybe it’s all too loud and nobody shuts the fuck up, so I get really, really mad. I know that’s terrible. I know I’m getting in the way. I’ve tried everything to get better, but it’s hopeless! I won’t feel better,” Steven vents. “I’m trying to be alone, so no one gets hurt.”

He looks up again. Still no sight of the stars.

“Lars,” Steven begins, “was I ever good, to begin with?”

His friend replies with silent heartbreak in his eyes. Yet he doesn’t lose composure.

“I’ve made so many friends and connections... I’ve united two different worlds... But I’m not part of either. I may have parts of both in me, but I’m not fully in either world. And with these episodes of- explosive tantrums, I really am a monster, right?” Steven laughs hopelessly. “I’m a hypocrite. I know that. I’m always telling you, ‘Be yourself’, ‘don’t care about what other people think’, ‘you’re an awesome person and you deserve love!’... but the truth is, I don’t like me. I hate everything about me, Lars. Because I know who the real me is. This thing filled with anger and confusion that gets in the way of more important things. I can’t handle anything anymore. Maybe I was just pretending the whole time. I’m just one big fraud.”

...

“Here we are in the future... and it’s nothing. There’s nothing. I’m beyond repair. There’s no cure for me,” Steven concludes. “I’m done hurting everyone else, I’m done being a monster. I’m just... done with everything.” He pauses. “When I go... I’ll make sure no one else is around.”

The wind blows. There’s only wind in this vacuum. Maybe it’s a storm. Maybe Steven created it.

However, Lars’ response...

“But you don’t want to be alone.”

It’s not a question.

Lars knows the truth.

“No,” Steven confirms. “But it feels inevitable at this point.”

He doesn’t cry. He doesn’t scream. He doesn’t panic. He does and feels nothing. He just stares at the abyss that he created, which is ready to claim him at any moment.

Steven has long known he’s no star. He only shines a pink light that isn’t his. He feels no comfort from it. It won’t save him from himself. His pink side has been consumed, too.

He’s the abyss. He’s the abyss.

It’s only fair he should get rid of it.

...

A hug.

Begging him to come back.

Lars is hugging him. Tightly.

He doesn’t say anything for now.

He just tries to hold on.

No, he won’t care to jump into the abyss to save him.

Lars has seen death. Fear won’t stop him.

It’s okay to be afraid.

“... Rest,” Steven lets out. “I just want to rest. I’m tired.”

Lars is crying.

That has Steven hug him back, even if he feels nothing right now. That’s really Steven’s instinct to comfort those who are hurting.

“I don’t want to wake up tomorrow, Lars. I’m tired. I’m tired...”

“You can rest here. You can stay here. I won’t leave you, Steven.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Nononono, don’t be,” Lars is whispering the entire time.

“Why is it so dark when I’m not even asleep?”

Lars inhales.

“... I’ll be here in the dark with you. Okay?”

I’ve been here before, Lars wants to add.

Steven, at this point, has laid his head against his friend’s shoulder.

“... okay.”

All he can hear right now is Lars’ low beating heart.

It gives Steven a strange sense of comfort. Because while he blames himself for Lars’ death and wishes he never lost his humanity… Lars never ceased to be human, either. He’s still Lars, the same snarky and grumpy guy that accepted himself and was able to open up to his friends and family. Lars openly cries and shows vulnerability and intimacy to those he loves.

“’m cold,” Steven mumbles.

Suddenly, he feels himself lifted off the ground. Lars is carrying him. Steven might try and protest that he’s too old for this, but he’s also too out of himself to say anything more coherent.

He’s lying down. Maybe on a couch. Lars tucks him in with a blanket.

Steven, somehow, grabs Lars’ arm instinctively. After so many dreams of being abandoned.

“Don’t go,” he begs.

“I’m not going anywhere.”

Steven opens his eyes, if they weren’t already.

He doesn’t see everything clearly, but he sees Lars and the vestiges of a warm, colored home. As well as the tears Lars cried for Steven.

“Hang on, just…”

Lars helps Steven raise himself enough so… Steven’s head is lying on Lars’ lap. The older boy caresses the other’s curly hair, his tormented mind.

All Steven does is breathe in and breathe out, likely trying to breathe in the physical contact. He has difficulty doing it at first, but it feels lighter.

Eventually, Steven asks for the water, which was already waiting for him at the center table. He drinks it slowly. It’s all silent.

Then Lars asks if he wants more, but Steven is good for now. He lies on the other’s lap again.

He’s leaving the real world…

“You’ll stay, right?” Steven asks again.

“Of course.”

He doesn’t say anything else, but Steven is scared of bad dreams. His dreams in particular can be awful. At least he isn’t entering anyone’s minds anymore. He wouldn’t want to do that to Lars again.

He still hears nothing else from the world.

Sometimes, he knows the emptiness will be forever. It’s always there.

He’s afraid he won’t be able to fill it one day.

He knows he won’t.

…

Steven cries. Silent tears.

Lars pulls him closer for a hug of sorts.

Either way, Steven makes no sound.

After all, that’s what the anger was trying to communicate. Now it’s lost its voice, and it finally rains.

Steven allows the rain. So does Lars.

Eventually, it ends.

And Steven drifts off to sleep.

His mind is a mess, he has no idea if he’s having dreams or not, if he’s just in the fog of his own conscience.

At the very least, Steven isn’t alone, either mentally or physically.

Although it’s very illogical, it’s like Steven is in the mane dimension that Lars shares with Lion. The pink meadows, Lars’ tree… It is not filled with any particular personal objects. Somehow, Steven is sitting there with Lars, both breathing. The wind is not scary, it’s very gentle and calm.

Nothing is made of clouds.

It’s real.

Perhaps the nicest dream Steven has had in a while.

And he won’t wake up with the daunting loneliness this time.

Of course, the morning won’t be easy. Steven will likely wake up sick from the alcohol. He knows he won’t be better. He knows he will be afraid of the emptiness inside him.

What will be different, however, is that Lars will be there for him.

He’s here for him now.

That’s all that matters.