#gus broken age

[lilac-5ky]

Father's Day (Toji xFem!Reader)

Summary: It's father's day and you forgot to get Toji his gift.

Tags: dilf Toji, babysitter reader, secret relationship, age gap (reader early 20s, Toji early 30s), daddy kink, breeding kink, lactation kink, spanking, mating press, mention of doggy style, cumplay, blowjob, gagging, deep throating, creampie, heavy usage of pet names (baby, sweetheart, angel, slut, etc), soft!dom Toji being a condescending piece of shit, Megumi being an absolute angel, hope i'm not forgetting anything, pls don't murder me.

Word Count: 4.3k divided between fluff and smut.

“That’s it, Megs! You did so well today!” You smiled, giving the boy’s spikes a little affectionate ruffle. “I’m sure your dad will be so happy to see how hard you worked on his gift.”

“Liar.” Megumi put the glue stick face-down against the table. “It’s not as good as the ones you make, Y/N.”

“That’s because I’ve put years into it, you know? When you get older, I’m sure you’ll be the one teaching me.” You promised, holding his drawing toward the light.

The pasta on the paper depicted the face of a silly-looking man; chopped lasagna for his dark hair, spinach-flavored shells for his green eyes, penne for the jagged scar on his fusilli lips, and broken spaghetti to help frame the sharp edges of his chiseled jaw. The inscription “World’s Best Dad” was written at the bottom corner by yours truly, Megumi being too young to know the proper spelling.

Admittedly, it looked nothing like Toji, but even if you got the man himself to pose for your DIY project, you doubted you’d get any closer to capturing his charms. At least it resembled a human being, and that was the core difference between based on and loosely inspired by.

Megumi jumped from his stool and waved his hands before you, his fingers stuck together as if he were a duckling. You chuckled, meaning to settle the drawing on the table so you could escort him to the bathroom when you heard keys twisting in the door lock.

“Quick, go wash your hands and I’ll take care of your daddy, okay?”

Megumi nodded, dashing upstairs in seconds while you browsed the kitchen for a hiding spot, panicking as a couple of macaroni were chipped off. You grabbed the glue and hastily pieced them back in place, but it was too late. A pair of strong arms snaked around your waist, pressing you flush against an unmovable wall of muscle.

“T-Toji!”

Your yelp was silenced by his lips, hungry from having to spend an entire day filling forms and sorting mail at a work he despised with every inch of his being— some of those very inches poking against your ass as his hips bucked into yours almost possessively. Coming home to the cute little babysitter he’d made his girlfriend was everything he needed to recharge his batteries.

“Meg-gu…mi will see us,” you panted in between heated kisses, trying and mostly failing to defend your body from his greedy palms diving into your shorts.

He felt your skin flare up, so sensitive for him even after countless days of the same ritual. His index pried beneath your panties —the lacy ones he’d gotten you for your birthday— to meet with your pussy’s puffy lips, gliding across the gathering slick as if he meant to say “Hello”. His thumb rubbed a rough circle over your clit, giving the nub a few teasing flicks that were enough for you to arch your back against his chest, a hushed moan bitten into his neck. He chuckled to himself as he retracted his fingers and gingerly licked them one by one.

“Missed ya so much, angel,” Toji coed in a low voice. “Y’always taste sweeter when I’m not around, know that?”

You giggled against his mouth, his tongue eager to share your essence. “How would you know that if you’re away?”

“I just do,” he smiled, putting an end to the unforeseen display of affection with a gentle kiss on your cheek. “Where’s Megumi?” he searched through the space.

You moved in accordance with his eyes, swaying left and right to cover as much of the table as possible. “He’s in the bathroom. Washing his hands for dinner.”

Toji hummed, thumbing his tie loose around his neck. He could hate his job all he wanted, but nothing compared to the sight of seeing Fushiguro Toji in office attire. His sleeves were rolled around his elbows, toned biceps popping under the tight fabric of his white button-up. He paired straight black pants with a plain black belt— nothing impressive on its own until he bent over the lower cabinets to grab himself a glass, and you stole a quick peek at his rare and the impossible way the fabric hugged his—

In any case, you were convinced Toji had somehow missed Megumi’s drawing, his primary interest to fill and then refill his glass with fresh tap water. You seized the chance to transfer his gift to a safer location, though before you could take another step, he grabbed your wrist and forced your hand into play.

He studied his own face harder than your art professors evaluated your semester’s projects, his nose scrunching up at the finer details of his farfalle ears. “That why I pay your tuition for?” He snorted at you snatching the art piece from his hands.

“Better act excited when Megs comes here,” you straightened the creased edges and stored it in an empty drawer. “He’s already doubting his talent.”

“His what?”

He assured you he was just joking when you shot him a mean glare, your voice strict as you ushered him to follow his son’s example while you hurriedly collected the art supplies and replaced them with cutlery.

In no time, the three of you were seated around the table— Megumi on your lap while you cut his pork into bite-sized pieces, and Toji on the other side, wishing that their positions would switch. You swore this man got ten times handsier after you got together, seeking excuses to touch you even in front of his own kid. Megumi had just turned four but at this rate, it wouldn’t take long for such a bright kid to put two and two together.

The decision to keep it a secret was mutual (read: one vote for, and another against). There was no reason to disturb Megumi’s routine or throw him off balance. You’d grown fond of the little guy, and with his dad being away 2/3 of the day, you were each other’s only company. No matter how well things with Toji were going, if you suddenly fell apart, the one to hurt the most would be Megumi and you didn’t want that weight on your conscience. Being his number 1 nanny was good enough.

A certain type of silence familiar to the Fushiguro household shrouded dinnertime, with Toji trying to engage Megumi in small talk, and Megumi constantly glancing over his shoulder at you as if you were his designated spokesperson. “Yes, Megumi had a lot of fun today.” “Yes, Megumi ate all of his veggies at lunch, even the icky red peppers.” “No, Megumi knows nothing about the neighbor’s broken window.” The boy was relieved with every blatant lie you told his father, his knees gleefully flapping against your own.

By the time their plates were emptied, your food had gone completely cold, the oil in the curry sauce encasing the cutlet in a greasy coat. You gobbled it up as it was and stacked the plates into a pile that you placed in the sink, signaling for Megumi to come over. You handed him his drawing, encouraged him with two thumbs up, and sent him off to his “unsuspecting” father.

Your lips stretched into a smile as Megumi presented his drawing, mumbling a strained “Happy Father’s Day” under his breath as if he had a gun pointed at his head. So stubborn, though you could definitely see where he took it from, Toji’s reply being an equally stern “Thanks, kiddo”. You rolled your eyes and rushed to the scene, praising a blushing Megumi over his artwork and exaggerating his achievements to Toji who just wouldn’t take a hint. How these two managed to survive by themselves, was a wonder on its own.

Eventually, Toji gave his son a more fatherly rub on the back and hoisted the boy over his shoulders to lead him to his bedroom. Megumi squeaked, planting his tiny fingers into Toji’s hair, and clasped his legs tight around his neck. You remembered a meek confession from a few nights ago, muffled out by the covers and the plush toy over his mouth, as he let you in on how fun mounting his father was, feeling like a real mecha pilot atop his broad shoulders. He could be such a sweet kid when he wanted to. If only he was more vocal with Toji, too.

You watched the two disappear up the stairs and picked the drawing from the table, pinning it in the middle of the fridge for the world to see. You rinsed the pots with hot water and shoved them into the dishwater rack, figuring it’d be best to get as much work done as you could in Toji’s absence.

“This is the last one,” you said once the sound of feet thudding against the stairs became apparent.

You made quick work of the glass, rotating the sponge inside out, while the man leaned against the door frame without saying a thing, content with being a bystander to your impromptu clean-up session. Many a woman passed Toji’s threshold, some older, others younger, and yet you were the first to worry about the state of his bundle-bought glasses. He couldn’t pinpoint what made such a mundane sight endearing to behold, but maybe it was because of the very commonness and familiarity behind it that he hesitated to interrupt.

“Meg’s asleep?” You caught his reflection nodding through the glass, your following questions answered the same way.

“You got him in his pj’s? The blue, not the green ones, right? Got him to brush his teeth? Turned on the night light for him? Gave him his—”

A sigh echoed as he stepped into the space with his hands lost in his pockets. “How d’ya do that?”

“Do what?”

“The kid, the house,” he paused to measure his words, “me. How do you handle all that?”

Your lips pursed into an affectionate simper as you wiped your hands against the towel, looping it around the cabinet’s handle. You turned to face him and lifted your forefinger playfully. “One, the kid happens to have a very attractive father. Two, the house owner himself is sexy as hell, and you? I guess you are pretty easy on the eye.”

“Am I now?” His raspy tone was set on confirming every last impression you had of him, his tongue licking his slanted scar into a smile that was all but coy. “Which one you prefer then? The father, the house owner, or me?”

“Hmm, if I had to pick just one then,” your cheeks burned prior to your admission. “The version of you I get to call daddy.”

Satisfied with your answer, Toji pinched your chin between two fingers, admiring how eagerly your mouth popped open as the pad of his thumb swiped against your bottom lip, pushing slightly in. “Smart girl,” he cooed, feeling out the flat surface of your tongue, hot, warm, and oh-so-perfect when pressed against his cock.

“So what did you get me?” he smeared saliva over your lips, making them all nice and glossy. You stood still, faded eyes caught in the motion of his other palm shamelessly cupping your ass, his question barely registering.

“W-what?”

“Don’t ‘what’ me, you know exactly what I’m talkin’ about.” His fingers dug into the fat of your cheek, a warning in his voice. “Where’s my gift?”

“S-sorry, Toji. Didn’t think I had to—” A light smack cut your sentence in half, the recoil forcing you to drop onto his chest.

“Mm? What is it that y’are sorry for, princess?” He mocked, squeezing your bum against the growing bulge in his pants. Your cunt fluttered in response, clit whining at the little friction he provided. You wanted more. Wanted to feel all of him. The weight of his cock dragging between your folds and soaking in your juices before being plunged inside, every ridge and every line you’d memorized finding their rightful place in a hole that was meant for him.

You bit your lip in brewing anticipation, mustering the courage to look into his hooded green eyes that shared the same lust yours did. “Sorry I didn’t get you a gift, Toji. Should’ve known better.”

His smile softened, head cocking to the side. “Don’t sweat it. My pretty baby knows how to make it up to me, doesn’t she?”

You nodded, standing on your tiptoes to whisper in his ear, “How about I gave you a second reason to celebrate today?”

As soon as the words came out of your mouth, you were being lifted into the air, both of Toji’s hands finding purchase in your plushy thighs, while his lips begged to hush whatever mention of Megumi before it was even conceived. He kicked his bedroom door open and shut it with his heel, tossing you against the covers of his made-up bed. (“Why bother if they gonna crinkle anyway?”)

He lost his shirt almost as quickly as he lost his tie, flinging both fabrics over his shoulder. No matter how many times you got to lay eyes on his naked body, you always managed to spot a new scar on his chest from his former lifestyle, the danger it packed serving as an additive to the wanton fantasy of having your guts rearranged by your boss.

Your legs spread quite the sight for him as he tugged off your shorts, your panties sporting a sizable wet spot right at the center. He forced the drenched fabric into your slit, drawing it taut around your hip bone. You moaned softly, mindful of the kid across the hall, while your hips rocked forward, chasing after the finger he pulled away.

“Taking care of my kid ain’t enough for you? Wanna be a real mommy now?” Toji sneered, yanking the belt off his pants.

“I want us to be a real family,” you confessed, bowing to help him with the rest of his clothes. You slid his pants down his briefs and let them drop to his knees, your cheek nuzzling to his clothed cock. You licked a strip over the fabric, thrilled to hear a breath hitch in Toji’s throat. “Let’s give Megs a sibling. One that is half me, and” you paused, wrapping your lips around the imprint of his balls, “half you.”

His cock sprung free the moment you lowered his underwear, the way his fat tip glistened with precum enough to make your mouth water. You wrapped a fist around his length, fingers barely closing around his hefty base, and gave him a languid, thorough pump. He watched intently, keeping all sounds to himself until your lips parted to fit his cock head, stretching around his thick girth.

“Fuck, baby—” Toji hissed, helping your hair out of the way while your throat molded back into his shape. You were taught how to take as much of him in as possible, yet no matter how diligent you were in your practice, you could never fit him whole. You bobbed your head up and down, hand stroking the parts you couldn’t swallow and tongue pitching in the action with sparse kitten licks along his shaft.

His fingers firmly gripped onto your hair, forcing your head to pick up speed as they traveled from your scalp to the back of your head. Your gag reflex protested with each thrust, hot tears gradually pooling in your eyes while you struggled to keep them open.

“Look so fucking good chocking on my dick.” His voice oozed sweetness that matched his stare, a look of utter adoration fluttering behind his pretty eyelashes.

If he thought you were the one to look good, then he should’ve seen himself; messy obsidian strands casting shadows over his darkened eyes, his pink lips agape more often than closed with all the unregulated profanities and praise that spilled out of them, turning up in volume the closer he got to his climax.

You felt him twitch in your mouth, the salty tang drooling down your jaw along with your saliva, though just when you thought he was about to cum, he pulled out, the string of fluids following after him. “Don’t want any of that going to waste, do we?” Toji smirked, pumping his length once or twice before letting go altogether.

He hunched over your body, his knees making the bed dip lower as his lips sought yours, jaw too slack to properly reciprocate. Rough palms slid below your top and ran over your sides, his fingers unhooking your bra with unmatched expertise. He broke the kiss to let you remove your shirt, his hands quick to wrap around your tits and fondle their way toward your nipples. He pinched at them, rolling the peaks between his thumbs until they stiffened.

“Can’t wait for them to get all round and full,” Toji mumbled as he lowered his head to suck a nipple into his mouth, suckling so hard that he just might draw milk. He wet it with his tongue, and then turned to the other, repeating the same motion. “Gonna get me addicted if the taste’s half as sweet as your pussy.”

Your fingers clenched into fists around the sheets, the sheer imagery of Toji feasting on your breasts enough to make your legs go weak. He was keen on sharing his fantasies with you, down to every last insignificant detail, but not as keen as he was on fulfilling every single one of them, and this one, was just a matter of time.

“T-Toji,” you said in a breathy voice.

A sexy smirk plastered on his scarred lips as he detached from your nipple with a soft pop. He left your call unanswered, instead spreading your legs further apart and settling in between. You saw him stroke his cock, and soon you felt the leaking head tap on your clothed clit. Only then did he bother to look up, taking stock of the little whines and pretty moans you selfishly withheld.

He couldn’t wait for his next leave to take you someplace nice and quiet, where the sounds of you crying his name at full volume would come in abundance.

“P-please,” you begged, fidgeting a lot more than before.

“Please what?” he played dumb, rubbing his hard cock along your entrance. “Use your words, sweetheart.

“Please f-fuck,” your voice cracked, too frail to handle his games. “Please, fuck me.”

“Aren’t ya forgetting something?” his thin eyebrow questioned.

“Please fuck me, daddy.”

Toji smiled slyly to himself, obliging enough to peel the panties away from your twitching cunt. “Don’t want a warm-up first? My girl big enough to take me without any prep?” he asked in a condescending tone, matching every beat of his voice with another slap against your clit. “Or is she that eager to be a mommy? That’s it, right?” he chuckled, your moan not going unregistered.

“You’ve gotten so greedy, Y/N,” he said after a series of little tsks. “Bet you also gonna ask to be my wife soon, huh?”

The air was knocked out of your lungs for a brief, albeit painful second as Toji aligned with your entrance and rammed his cock halfway in, his overwhelming size felt first as a sting in your walls and later as a tremor across your entire body. Even with how wet you were, it still hurt a lot more than your horny self thought it would— though it wouldn’t take long for the pain to melt into pleasure.

You didn’t realize you’d screamed until he hushed you, bending forward to press a sweet peck against your lips. “I’ll take that as a yes,” he gave your thigh a reassuring squeeze and gathered your wobbly knees onto his brawny shoulders, refraining to move until you stopped wincing and contorting. “Stay relaxed for me, okay?”

You shook your head and pulled him into a tight embrace, loving the contrast of his hard pecs against your squishy breasts. “Want you close, Toji. Please.”

And how could he possibly refuse when his baby begged him so well?

Your nails began raking at his back as he sunk himself deeper and deeper, the position he’d bent you into making it seem as if there were no limits to how deep his cock could reach before it was buried to the hilt. He stretched you so good, stuffing your pussy full of ecstasy and your mind full of dick as he started to thrust at a steady pace, never deviating from sealing the whimpers in your mouth with sloppy kisses.

“Doing such a good job, angel. Must really want that baby, hah— can feel ya really open up for me.” A calloused hand slid between your bodies and pressed against the tiny bulge in your stomach, appearing and disappearing with each slam of his hips. “Feel that? That’s how deep you’ve taken daddy.”

He dragged his cock out and pounded it back in, his heavy balls slapping hard against your jiggly ass. His hand lowered over your clit, flicking the nub in sync with his frantic thrusts until the coiling tension in your guts snapped, a shuddering orgasm washing over him as much as it washed over you.

“Love you s-so much, Toji,” your fingers slipped onto his neck, gradually hiking up to cup his cheek.

Specks of light glimmered in his eyes as they held your loving stare, the scarred corner of his lip curling into a cocky smirk as if to defy him. “Yeah? Is it me that you love or my cock? Came into my house so I can fuck you g-good, ah?” he stuttered along with his hips. “All that money I gave ya to watch my kid goin’ to that tight-ass pussy?”

“Answer my question, slut,” he insisted.

Your brain was going blank on answers, your eyes rolling to the back of your head as his cock found all the right places, hitting every single spot that led into your fertile womb until you were back to writhing below him. “B-both, Toji, fuck love your cock so much ‘s fucking me so well.”

A hand moved over your dampened forehead, swiping your disheveled hair so he could plant a kiss. “Love you too, sweets.”

You felt yourself drowning in love as the squelching grew louder, the four-bedroom walls too thin to contain the sounds of hips snapping against hips and of his husky groans as he closed in on his high a second time. “Gonna fill ya up real good. Gonna—fuck, give my pretty baby all my babies,” Toji grunted, and you repeatedly nodded, cute little sobs severing the chants of his name.

Sharp teeth dug into your neck as Toji buried himself in the crook of your shoulder, his sultry moans reverberating against your skin until they hit their crescendo when his cock began to throb, painting your walls with thick ropes of his creamy load. He slowed down, luscious thrusts shoving his cum further in while you held him close, snaring your legs around his torso.

When he finally lifted his head, you’d both regained a sliver of composure, your pants falling back into rhythm.

“You’ll be such a good mama,” he murmured, his voice silky smooth over the shrewd ringing in your ears.

“Think so?” Your lips stretched into a faint smile that he was quick to kiss.

“You already are the better parent. Kid likes you most. Bust my balls when you have your tests and needa study.”

You chuckled, tracing the outline of his scar with your thumb. “Why do I get the feeling it’s the other way around, hmm?”

A tsk twisted his lips into a scoff as he bit onto your finger. “Ouch! What was that f—”

Your voice faltered as he spun you around; face shoved into the pillows and back forced into an arch while Toji positioned himself behind your ass and dragged his cock between your swollen red folds.

“Don’t tell me you thought we were done here.”

The next morning found all three of you at the starting point of last night’s exploits, Toji sipping on a cup of black coffee and scrolling on his phone, while Megumi quietly sat beside him on the kitchen table, awaiting his breakfast to be served. Your body felt sore all over while you grilled his salmon, sand in the corners of your eyes. Normally, you’d be trying to keep everyone entertained with idle chit-chat, but with how often you yawned, getting a word out demanded serious effort— effort you weren’t prepared to put in.

“Say, Megumi.” Toji took the reins, setting his phone down. “How would you feel about having a new mommy?”

The spatula almost fell into the pan, your objection stifled by Megumi’s voice. “I don’t mind.”

“You don’t?” Toji cocked his head curiously, propping his chin onto his palm. “Then ya wouldn’t mind if it was someone you knew?”

“Mister Fushiguro, could you please help me with the fish a bit—” you pleaded through gritted teeth, only to be dismissed with a swift gesture as if you were a housefly.

“I don’t mind having a new mommy, but I don’t want to be a brother,” he declared, stomping his fork against the wood for emphasis. “Never!”

You glanced over your shoulder, first at Toji and then at Megumi, before serving the fish on a plate and kneeling in front of the child. “Why is that, Megs? Don’t you wanna be a big brother to a little sister or a little brother?”

His eyes stubbornly refused to meet with yours, all the while they shot daggers at his father. “Don’t want one if it hurts to make.”

You chuckled, tapping at his knee gently. “What are you talking about?”

“I heard you cry last night,” Megumi admitted. “Dad hurt you, didn’t he?”

“That’s not what—”

Toji smirked as he spread his legs apart, preparing himself for the show. “Kinda late for that, buddy. And don’t worry about Y/N. Adults can cry from pleasure, too—”

“Toji!”

And thus, your little house of cards fell apart.

[ineffable-opinions]

A Banned BL Series and A Banned BL Sub-genre

GaoGan (High Cadre, 高干) is a sub-genre of danmei, unique to BL from Mainland China. It involves characters who directly hold high position within the Communist Party (be it the political wing or the People’s Liberation Army) or are related to such characters.

Works belonging to this sub-genre was fairly common in the first decade of 2000. Now it's a banned sub-genre and we will get to the specifics of it and how that works.

A little bit about the society in which this sub-genre was created. Back then both Communist party members as well as military members could get away with pretty much anything. Society back then was a little bit more open to such practices and consequences for their actions were very limited. There was very little civilian oversight, so to speak. This meant that not only sons and daughters of high cadre but relatives including extended kin, held positions of power.

Naturally, it became a problem. For the State, I mean.

A lot of leaders now are kids of leaders from the past. They also hold in immense sway in all fields, both business and bureaucracy.

They can bag tenders and participate in those public private partnership projects and reap profits while outsiders would struggle. Laws could be bent and broken and no one could do anything to them. People suffer because of that. But you cannot really go to the police against them. Yeah, pretty messed up.

It is in this context that Addicted (你丫上瘾了) by Chai JiDan (柴鸡蛋) was first serialized. But it is in no way an extreme or a quintessential gaogan danmei. It's basically campus story in the first half with basic coming of age elements, highschoolers falling in love and lot of it is smut too.

But the threat of what their futures hold because of who they are especially Gu Hai, being the only son of his father who is a General, looms large even in first part. This is underplayed in the series compared to the novel.

Gu Hai grew up in that environment of power and reach. A lot of his rough nature is a product of such unbridled power that followed him from the cradle. His father is domineering. He is similarly domineering but with a holier-than-thou “kind” heart. He rebels against his father’s nature. He doesn't want to be the kind of person his father is. He is at the risk of becoming the monster he is fighting. He is extreme in his means, just as his father (and his late mother) and a bunch of other people such as Gu Yang and Gu Hai’s maternal uncle.

It is contrasted with how gentle and amicable Bai LouYin’s father and stepmother are, and how their lives are completely different. They don't really take any extreme steps and always pave path to reconciliation.

While Addicted sort of shows the contrast, it is not the highlight. There are novels which were written in the beginning of the millennium that showed extreme versions – focused on showing how bad it could get - be it of people getting away with that they should not get away with ideally and all sorts of bad things happening to people who have no control over their lives when it comes to people with power.

Corruption, nepotism and exploitation of power clearly are not good practices. The critique in Addicted is not on the face. It's very subtle. You need to understand what exactly is going on to understand the politics of Addicted. It is not just a random parent being despotic parent. It is because of very specific social setups. Gu Hai can coax, coerce and buy his way into changing public schools in the middle of semester, get Bai LouYin’s father a good job, treat officers on lower rungs as his personal servants and get things to work in his favour all because of the power he holds by just being General Gu’s heir. No one would dare to report his overreach because no one wants to offend General Gu lest he is less favorable to them in their time of need. Bai LouYin can avail benefits of switching schools and such since he is Gu WeiTing’s step-son.

What would give Gu Hai more power than being General’s son? Being a high cadre member himself. But doesn’t want that. From the beginning of the novel, Gu Hai rejects the military environment he grew up in. He doesn’t want to pursue his father’s footsteps.

Bai LouYin learns this when he pries into what Gu Hai wants to do with his life. Gu Hai makes it clear that he wants to pursue business. Bai LouYin dedicates his life to make that possible for Gu Hai. He does so by means joining PLA and thereby becoming his step-father’s protégé. In exchange, Gu Hai is free to live a free life. When he sets up his own manufacturing business, it is directly linked to supplying to the military and thus the exploitation of his connections that gives him a definite edge over his competitors from less privileged backgrounds continue – now as Bai LouYin’s brother too. So, he actually gets to become a rich man at a young age in his own right. It's not just Gu Hai whose business flourishes thanks at least in part to influence. Gu Yang and Gu Hai’s uncle (who seems to be powerful in his own right) too benefits from their connections.

It's something that Chai JiDan explores in a lot of her other works too, even though Counterattack and Advanced Bravely live action adaptations removed gaogan elements from turning characters into civilians.

That brings us to the de facto ban on gaogan. State doesn't want to encourage such kind of practices. It totally doesn't want it to be an aesthetic or a glorified romantic trope, especially in danmei.

Danmei actually have a mixed history with the State. Chinese government is notorious for crackdowns, jailing authors, shutting down websites, forcing self-censorship and purges that throttled danmei production and distribution. (More on this here.)

Lesser known is the part where State benefited from it. There was the shipping of real-life high cadre politicians.

Former Chinese President Hu Jintao and former Premier Wen Jiabao were shipped by fans. (source)

There were also the Little Pinks - groups of presumably (some critics argue that it is just a presumption) young women who are nationalistic verging on jingoism, who would endorse Chinese government and its policies on various platforms. They are called so because their brand of rhetoric first started in the danmei forum of JJWXC, a popular web-publishing platform. Little Pinks started out on this platform, scolding authors and readers who wrote what they didn’t agree with. They have pervaded other social media sites and are compared to the Little Reds of Cultural Revolution. Little Pinks captured public attention. They became quite an eyesore for the general public and other BL fans. But State machinery, especially its media, have showered them with praise on occasions.

State of things have changed over the years and there have been understandable public anger against the sort of behaviors high cadre politicians and their kin engaged in as well as the unfair advantage they enjoyed. The State had to curb nepotism and accumulation of power in the hands of those from political families. Exploitation of power couldn't explicitly depict or endorsed on media.  

The new rules are imposed through censors, self-censorship and editorial overreach and what not. Compared to earlier days of danmei, today’s BL production space looks very difference since sites have disappear. There used to be revolutionary potential, not just in terms of furthering the rights of the queer community but also in many other aspects of society. It has disappeared over the years through purging and authors growing tired. Popularization and commercialization of danmei actually did not benefit the way one would imagine. As BL fans’ grip over what they could say disappeared, a lot of new authors came in who from the very beginning were willing to adjust to these demands from the State and were writing to accommodate, if not outright support, what the State willed.

So, before the ban on gaogan, there was period where fics were written praising the high cadre and highlighting their goodness, generosity and patriotism while being perfect gentlemen, paragons of virtue, upright citizen who valiantly fought enemies of the State, both internal and external.

When it aired, Addicted was fairly popular. By his own admission, Andy Lau was watching it. While exact reason for the ban is not known, there is a lot of speculation. One of the most cited reasons is simply its popularity and how that attracting attention to queer people (through the pairing of a very masculine men who were unlike the stereotypical “sissies”) and queer rights.

Another was the substance abuse related words in title and ship name such as shangyin and hailouyin which is another topic that State scrutinizes. But then A Round Trip to Love had multiple criminal elements including spiking, confinement and sexual abuse that aired.

It's not like gaogan genre just died. Authors went interstellar on their stories. So now when you open Addicted in LCRead you will be greeted by an intro page which claims that the story is not set on Earth and is set in another galaxy blah blah blah. Lot of later authors actually decided to pursue the safe, sci-fi route and decided to stick to lanes that would let them tell these stories without actually irritating the State.

This work around method will last while it can.

Quite frankly, Addicted couldn't have been made in other countries with its very specific political setting. Its essence lies in Bai LouYin joining PLA to help Gu Hai forsake the path laid out for him and Gu Hai repaying with devotion while alternatively sinking and floating in high cadre life as son, brother and husband. This won’t work in countries with mandatory military service or where military and politics interweave in a dangerous manner.

Honestly, I am not knowledgeable about Thailand to interpret what it means for Hero to walk out of ror dor (army cadet) exam (thank you @pharawee for the explanation). Also, Thai government is fully dedicated to their plan of using BL as a soft power tool. I am not sure how to feel about the Thai adaptation, Heroin the series, given the production chose to situate the beginning of the story in 2018* (four years after 2014 coup d'état). Addicted becoming a propaganda tool in favor of military at the hands of any State is a disturbing scenario to say the least.

*There is a eight year break in the relationship between the main couple in the original novel.

Seems like second season isn't happening. Makes me wonder...

-

Link to novel translations.

[muridae3]

Cop Cutie | Harvey x Reader

After a little accident at the Spirit's Eve Festival, Doctor Harvey helps the Farmer recover from an injury.

Spirit’s Eve was not your favorite holiday.

It arrived at the crux of the harvest season– there were pumpkins to be picked, wine to age, hay to gather, and a seemingly endless amount of chores to get done before the snow hit come winter.

And yet, you found yourself dressing up to attend the very festival you swore you wouldn’t have time for.

The dressing up part was new– Lewis had insisted upon it, calling it an ‘opportunity for camaraderie’ between the townsfolk.

After rummaging through your closet, you decided to wear a blue hat, yellow and green shirt, red pants, and purple boots. Bam– you were a prismatic shard.

If nothing else, at least it would make a few people laugh. 

After checking on your chickens one last time, you left the farm, squinting to see in the dark. 

The town square was completely transformed for the festival: Gus had set out several tables absolutely heaping with food, Marlon had some sort of live skeleton exhibit, and Pierre had set up shop by the entrance of the maze, as always. 

“Hiya, farmer!” Marnie said, waving at you. 

“Hi, Marnie! Hi, Jas!” You smiled at both of them. Marnie was dressed in a feathered shirt, and she had painted a beak on her face. Jas was dressed exactly like Penny. 

“Oh! Are you Miss Penny!” You asked. 

“Mhm! And that means I’m a grown up! And that means that I can go in the maze!” Jas chirped, puffing out her chest. 

“No, Jas. You’re too young.” Marnie chided. “Come on, let’s go get some pumpkin pie.”

“Wait, I’ll take her.” You offered. “We won’t go far, I’ll keep her safe.”

“Oh, are you sure? Jas can be quite a handful…”

“Aw, I can handle her! C’mon, Jas,” You held out your hand, “Let’s go take on that maze!”

Jas took your hand and immediately pulled you into the maze. 

“Okay, okay, I’m coming!” You laughed as she tugged you along.

“Woooooow, the maze is so cool!” Jas gawked. 

“Slow down, Jas. There are a few obstacles—look, that gravestone almost blends into the shadow!” You tried to keep your balance as Jas tugged you faster through the maze, her enthusiasm contagious. Your foot caught on something solid. “Wait, Jas, watch ou—” A sudden jolt, and you found yourself tumbling forward, the fake gravestone scraping your leg as you hit the ground.

“Oh no!” Jas crouched at your side. “Are you okay?”

“I think so…” You sat up, rubbing the back of your head. “My ankle…” A throbbing pain shot up your leg. 

“I’ll… I’ll go get doctor Harvey!” Jas sprinted away.

“Wait, Jas, don’t go by yourself— oh, sweet Yoba…” You sighed, leaning against the hedge wall. 

Jas soon returned, a police officer behind her. “I’m baaack!” 

You were confused– Pelican Town had no police force. “I’m sorry, sir, there must have been a mistake…”

“Um, actually… It’s me.” Harvey said sheepishly, removing his hat. “Borrowed the costume from Pierre, heh. Pretty convincing, right?”

“I didn’t even recognize you!” You tried to sit up. 

“Easy, now. Go slow.” Harvey sat next to you. “Jas said you tripped?”

“Yeah…” You laughed awkwardly, gesturing to the fake gravestone. “I think I did something to my ankle.”

“Let me take a look.” He shimmied over to your ankle. “Mind if I touch you?”

“By all means, go ahead.” 

He gently palpated your ankle. “Does that hurt?”

You winced. “A little.”

“Can you try and rotate it for me?”

Though it was painful, you managed to rotate your ankle in a full circle.

“Thank you.” He turned to look at you. “Good news– It doesn’t seem broken, just a bad sprain.”

You sighed, leaning back onto the hedges. This would certainly slow down your harvest on the farm. 

“I can take you to the clinic and wrap it for you, if you like.” Harvey offered.

“Oh, um, sure.” You snapped back into reality. “Oh, Jas, are you okay?” 

Jas’s eyes were filled with tears. “I’m so sorry you got hurt! I’ll never go into the maze again, never, never, never!”

“It was an accident.” You said. “It’s okay, really.”

“You don’t have to stay out of the maze forever,” Harvey said, helping you to your feet, “But it is important to be very careful and aware of our surroundings.”

Jas nodded rapidly. 

“Go back to Marnie, now.” Harvey said, leaning your weight on him. “I’m sure she’s wondering where you are.” 

Jas turned back towards the entrance to the maze, slowly making her way back to her aunt.

“Okay, let’s try to walk. Let me know if there’s any pain.” Harvey said, slowly moving forward.

You became acutely aware of where Harvey's hands gently held your waist, his fingers firm but careful. A flutter of nervousness bloomed in your chest—strong, yet soft, and he held your weight like it was nothing. You glanced up at him, catching the faintest smile tugging at the corners of his mouth, and you quickly looked away, hoping he couldn’t feel the heat rising in your cheeks. Why was this making you so flustered?

“So… forgive me if this is rude, but… what’s your costume?”

“Oh, I’m… I’m a Prismatic Shard.” You said, a slight laugh in your voice. “I didn’t really have any other ideas.”

He brushed a stray curl out of his face, glancing at you nervously. “I’m definitely taller than Pierre…” he said with a sheepish smile, gesturing at the too-short hemline and his exposed ankles. 

“I think you look great, Harvey.” 

Harvey cleared his throat. “Um… Okay, here we are. That’s the hard part done.” He sighed as you exited the maze. “There are stairs, would you mind if I…” He cleared his throat. “Is it okay if I carry you down the stairs? Because of your ankle, I mean.”

A sudden heat rushed to your face, and you prayed the dim light hid the color spreading up your neck. “I, uh… yeah, sure,” you mumbled, trying to ignore the way your heart raced in your chest.

He lifted you onto his back, and the two of you quickly descended the stairs and entered the clinic. 

“Here we are.” He lowered you onto an exam table before retrieving a roll of athletic tape from a drawer. “Can I see your ankle?”

You swung your legs up onto the exam table. 

He quickly wrapped your injured ankle, and the pain quickly subsided. 

“It feels much better. Thank you, doctor.” You said, smiling.

“Of course, Farmer. I’m always happy to help you.”

“I guess I’m in here a lot, huh…” you said, laughing slightly.

“I believe your trips to the mines have single-handedly depleted my stock of saline and bandages for the month… I put in an order for more yesterday.” He said.

“I’m sorry you have to deal with me so much… I’ll try to be more careful.”

“No, no… I mean, yes, I do want you  to be more careful, but I don’t mind treating you. You’re my friend, this is the least I can do for you.”

You smiled. “Thanks, Harvey.”

“Now,” he said, standing, “Do you plan to stay at the festival much longer? Gus has some spiced apple cider that I think you’d love.”

“Well, I was planning to go home… but cider sounds good.” You stood, taking his offered hand.

Arm and arm, the Police officer and the Prismatic Shard returned to the festival, both a little happier and both unsure why.

[obsidiancreates]

Bad Day

Shawn Spencer, Head Psychic of the SBPD, doesn't have bad days. He had exciting days, setback days, annoying days- but never bad days.

Shawn Spencer, the ADHD and CPTSD riddled human man, does have bad days. He had them Fairly often from ages 0 to 8, Frequently from ages 8 to 18, and Near Daily from ages 18 to 28.

But he'd tucked the Regular Human Man away when the Head Psychic became a real, viable option, so if you asked him "How often do you have bad days?" he would put a finger to his head, smile, and say he never has bad days because he can see them coming to avoid.

At least, he usually would.

Today though. Today started with a groggy morning escape from a Greatest Hits Roll of his most upsetting moments in life posing as "dreams", then an empty fridge, his go-to cafe being closed for a health code violation, the office fridge being empty, and finally a voicemail from his dad scolding him about some thing. A case, maybe, Shawn doesn't know- he's already lived a full day, as far as he's concerned, and now it's time to lay in the empty office and reset.

So he lays down on the couch, closes the blinds, and lays his slightly-pounding head on the armrest.

Running through woods, sweating in a trunk, failing the math test and knowing the bully did too, gun to his face, gun to Gus's face, tape on his Mom's face-

"Shawn!"

Shawn's eyes snap open, taking a breath like a barb that stabs the back of his throat. Great, he slept with his mouth open and now his throat is sore and dry. Just what he needed today.

"The Chief just called me, she's been trying to reach you all morning." Gus picks up the office phone, and tsks. "How many times do I have to tell you which way the phone goes in the charger?"

"You could try telling me when I care." Shawn throws his arm over his eyes.

"Wha- Shawn!"

"Wha, Shawn!"

"You better knock that off before we get to the station."

"Sure, Dad."

"I'm serious, Shawn! Get up! She said it's important!"

"She always says it's important."

"And it usually is!"

"And sometimes it's her needing a babysitter!"

"Fine, then I'll go get the case, and keep your part of the check."

"... Fine."

The ride in the Blueberry is quiet. Gus keeps looking over at Shawn, and it makes his skin prickle. It's not the first time- Shawn loves attention, but sometimes someone looks at him in just the wrong way at the wrong time and it feels worse than having a weapon waved at him.

They pull up, and they walk in, and Lassie and Jules are already in the office.

"Gentlemen, nice of you to finally join us," The Chief says, her controlled tone the perfect example of Passive Aggressive.

"Sorry, Chief, it's just that we have lives sometimes."

She pauses her flipping through files, and looks up at Shawn with narrowed eyes and lips pressed thin. Out of the corner of his eye he can see Gus begin his Lamaze breathing, Jules's eyes widen as she dips her head, and Lassie smirk a bit at the oncoming trouble Shawn's surely just invited for himself.

"Well, Mr. Spencer, so do we, but-"

"But you're city employees, aaand we aren't." Gus elbows Shawn, hard, and Shawn just grits his teeth and pushes back.

Lassie looks at him with equal amounts shock and wicked delight, Jules with just plain shock. The Chief blinks, letting out a huff of what could be laughter, but probably isn't.

"I don't know what's got you in a mood, Mr. Spencer, but I suggest you sort yourself out now. This case is looking like a high-profile murder at the moment."

"Looking like?"

"We've got blood, a broken-in door, and a knife missing from the residence. The body is missing, but our victim was one of the top, tobacco production CEOs in the entire west coast, and he had enough enemies to fill the station and more."

Lassie whistles. "Impressive."

"And time-consuming. We need-"

"Me to get a reading on the suspects, right, can I see the crime scene photos?" Shawn grabs them without an answer. Jules gasps like she just witnessed a stabbing- or is about to, which she very well may, given the look The Chief gives him. If Shawn's head didn't hurt, and he didn't feel like every emotion he's ever felt in his entire life were all compacting into one horrible apathetic brick in his chest, maybe he would care enough to scale back a little.

He flips through. Standard crime scene, terrible photos, worse than the time the murderer was the one taking them. "You should fire whoever took these. I mean it."

"Shawn!"

"Shh." He waves his hand in Gus's face. Knife missing from the knife block, no evidence of it anywhere else in the house, blood on the bedroom rug, smearing suggests a body being dragged, but ooooh, what's that?

"Who checked this crime scene?"

"We did." Lassie looks at the photos over Shawn's shoulder- well, head. "Why?"

"We were really thorough."

"Do we both think that word means the same thing?" He doesn't want to say it, but it slips out, and Jules looks hurt instead of shocked this time. But he's not wrong.

"The victim isn't the victim, he's the killer. Oh, I see it." he half-heartedly waves a hand and closes his eyes. "Yeah, the blood spray, the victim was attacked by someone laying in the bed. And this one-" He flips to another photo in the stack, eyes still closed but knowing it's right. "-This one shows the knife block, I can see there are no grooves in that slot of the block, it wasn't regularly removed and returned but all the others were. I think our 'victim' knew someone was after him and probably slept with that knife under his pillow."

"We did find a journal with some paranoid ramblings," Lassie mumbles.

Shawn opens his eyes. "Seriously?"

"Well, they were written like a whackjob. Just pages of the same thing over and over."

"What thing, Lassie?"

"I don't know, some bull about being watched and being ready."

"Like maybe by an enemy? And being ready to kill to defend himself?"

"Geez, Spencer, what is wrong with you today?"

"You're right, I'm sorry. Clearly, we should throw out all the important evidence because it seems just too helpful!"

"Watch it-"

"That is the usual procedure around here, right? Just sort of miss and ignore evidence until I show up? Follow all your worst leads first?"

"That's it!" Lassie grabs Shawn by the collar.

"Detective!"

"Carlton!"

"Shawn, say you're sorry!"

"You've been an ass before Spencer but this is- CHRIST!"

Lassie yanks his hand away, and Shawn makes a face as he wipes at his teeth with his shirt. The fabric comes away slightly red.

Jules pries Lassie's good hand off the hurt one, and then looks at Shawn like she's never even seen him before. "Do you even know what you just did?!"

"Assaulted an officer!" Lassie growls, accepting tissues from The Chief to press to his bleeding knuckles.

"Not my fault you have thin skin. ... Literally."

Lassie reaches for his gun.

"Enough!" The Chief slams both hands on her desk. "Mr. Spencer, out. I am letting you off with a warning this time but if you ever, bite one of my officers again-"

"He won't," Gus says quickly. "Right Shawn?"

"Did everyone miss the part where he tried to choke me?"

"Shawn!"

"Right, sorry, I'm sorry, everyone, I forgot that Lassie gets special privileges when it comes to police brutality."

"That's a serious accusation, Shawn!" Jules is backing away now, standing closer to Lassie's side.

"Wow, I had no idea! It's not like I know everything about police procedure because I was drilled on it my whole life!" Shawn knows he's out of control now- he knows, he hates it, this isn't fun out of control, this is bad out of control, this is that Out Of Control that pushed him to steal a car and run away without goodbyes and try to just burn every bridge. It's building up, brick after brick of compressed bad days and weeks and years, and it's not fair to take it out here and now but he can't help it.

"Mr. Spencer, you are officially withdrawn from this case."

"Got it, uh, good luck, detectives, with actually arresting the right person."

"MCNAB!" The Chief's shout makes Shawn flinch even through the foggy, half-aware state he's slipped into. He's just... mad.

Buzz comes running in, almost slipping, barely avoiding hitting his head on the door. The laugh that sneaks out of Shawn is ugly even to him, and he hates it, hates everything he's said and done this whole day, but it happens away and Jules looks at him with unfiltered contempt and Lassie looks ready to actually kill him and Gus looks like he might help out.

"Escort Mr. Spencer out, of this station."

Buzz points at Shawn, mouth slightly agape as his eyes travel over to Lassie cradling his hand and Jules now refusing to look at Shawn at all and Gus holding Shawn like he's a misbehaving dog.

"Careful, I bite." He's not really in control of his own mouth anymore. He feels more like he's dreaming now that he did earlier. Is this the part that isn't real? Is this the nightmare? God, he hopes so.

"Oh, geez." Buzz hesitates for a second, and then tentatively puts an arm behind Shawn. Shawn smiles at him. The look in Buzz's eyes makes him think there's still some blood on his teeth.

He jerks at Buzz a bit. Buzz only startles, but Lassie, Jules, and The Chief all brace to get in the way. Why did he do that? This is getting dangerous. He should just stop.

"Um, just, this way." Buzz puts only a little pressure on his back, but it sends a shock through Shawn's system like a car battery. He has a full-body convulsion away from the touch, and in the shocked silence that follows it he shoulder-checks Buzz as he storms out the door through the station. Eyes are on him, prickling and stinging at his skin, brick on top of brick and-

... Ow.

He blinks at the blood on the rough wall of the station lobby, and looks at the mottled skin on his knuckles.

Gus catches up to him and takes in the scene. The whole station is probably staring too. A numb feeling in his hand starts to spread, but it's not numb-numb, it's pain-numb.

"I think I broke it." His voice sounds jarringly solid and steady to him.

"Yeah." Gus approaches carefully. "Are you uh... feeling better?"

"... No." Shawn clenches his fist and watches the skin stretch, fresh blood beading across the wounds. That should be bothering him. It should be snapping him out of it. It's not.

"Are you gonna do something if I try to touch you right now?"

"... I think so."

"So this is bad-bad."

"And I thought I was the observant one."

Gus tsks. "Will you go to the car? Without anyone making you?"

"... Maybe." He wants to say no. He's just barely holding back from saying no, from calling the car stupid and pointless like it's driver and he doesn't want to think that but he's barely here right now and it's just ringing over and over in his head and-

"Can you stop yourself from punch the car?"

"Yes!" It comes out a snap, a shout, and Gus backs up, and Shawn feels sick but he can't seem to do anything about it.

Gus is about to say something more but Shawn is moving and slamming the door behind him and he could get shot he could get shot but he does and he avoid The Blueberry and just walks. Away from the station, his apartment, the office-

His phone chimes and his hand is shaking as he rips it out of his pocket and throws it against a wall, gritting his teeth so hard as he walks away from it shattering that he breaks a tooth as well. He hears it happen. The phone is more of a good solid bam! while the tooth is a smaller crrrk!

The wandering is the most dreamlike he's ever felt. Just passing buildings and people and seething over nothing and going nowhere.

And then all of a sudden he's Back.

He blinks, and stops, and sucks in a breath, and it all crashes down on him.

The bricks blocking up his chest crumble, their dust clogging his lungs, and he can't breath as it all replays with a sharper clarity than he'd had in the actual moments. He sinks against a wall in some... somewhere, and stares at a tree while it all plays over and over and his head screams to go back and face it an apologize while his everything-else screams to just leave, just go and keep going and never look back-

It's nearly dark out when he sees The Blueberry come into view, but he just stays like he is, arms on his knees and head leaned against the dirty concrete wall. Gus slams the door as he gets out. Shawn feels a flinch try to make it's way to the surface, but now he's in a different dream. It's not so mad, but it's still not good. He's still not here. He was, for a few minutes, and then he'd sat down and... when exactly did he go away again?

"Dude, you have problems." Gus is sweating, breathing hard, eyes bloodshot. "You have serious problems!"

Shawn would nod, but his neck is stiff. He hadn't really noticed until now.

"... Get in the car." Gus's voice is a little softer this time. "I'm taking you to see someone tomorrow, I mean it. ... Chief's orders. It's that or we never work for them again."

"That's fine with me." It's not fine. It's not fine! Why'd that come out of him? He didn't say that.

"No, it isn't." Gus moves out of his vision. Shawn hears fabric against wall, so Gus probably sat down next to him. "... What is this, Shawn?"

Shawn swallows. His throat is dry. He hadn't noticed that, either. No, not hadn't noticed- hadn't been capable of feeling it. Like how he can't feel his body, really, and can't seem to control his words, and can't even control where his thoughts are going.

He has to try a few times, to be able to say anything. To even pry his dry, cracked lips open. To even wrestle back control of his vocal cords. To even identify the problem.

He licks his lips, and Shawn Spencer the ADHD and CPTSD riddled human man, speaks.

"... I'm having a bad day."

[mangoisms]

circle k (back to you)

summary: in which you're just the graveyard shift employee at circle k bombarded by vigilantes.

━ chapter seven: just get me through the night | read chapter six

━ pairing: tim drake x f!reader

━ word count: 4.8k

━ warnings: none

━ masterlist

Steph believes you when you tell her you tripped and hurt your wrist.

After all, it’s not exactly a lie. That is what happened. It just… happened to occur while you were being advanced upon by, you know, the Batman.

You don’t tell her that last part. It’ll just worry her, you think, and she was worried enough about you that following day, when you told her about how your shift was cut short and how you hurt yourself. She fretted about you coming back to your shitty apartment in Coventry on your own but you made up a lie about catching a taxi. 

(Technically, in a way, you suppose it could’ve been the truth but you don’t imagine Red would appreciate Redbird being referred to as a taxi service; though, at the same time, he drives like a literal maniac, so, it doesn’t fit.

And yes, he did name his car.

And yes, it is actually named Redbird.

He claims he gets around by motorcycle more these days but that obviously wasn’t conducive with the weather, so he used the car instead. A very high-tech, ultra-expensive car that you had to wonder how the hell he managed to get. He’s your age, after all. But you refrained from asking. It’s impolite, considering everything he did for you.)

After Steph’s shift, you both head to her mom’s house, where Crystal Brown, a nurse at West Mercy, generously takes a look at your wrist, as equally as concerned as her daughter when she hears the story. 

“It’s just a sprain,” she says, frowning. “I can’t be entirely certain without an X-ray but I don’t think anything is broken or fractured. No need for a brace, either, but if it keeps bothering you…”

“I’ll get it checked out,” you agree easily. “Thank you, Ms. Brown.”

“How many times do I have to tell you? Just call me Crystal.” 

“You know how she is, Mom,” Steph sighs, folding her arms over the back of the chair you’re in, dropping her chin to your head. 

“As hard-headed as you? Oh, I know.”

You smile bashfully as Steph snickers. Crystal rises from the table, stepping back to the stove, where she has dinner cooking. At their insistence, you agreed to spend the night. 

Crystal has always been kind to you. Both this summer and the previous one did she tell you you were welcome to live with her and Steph here at their shared home, since neither of you could live in the dorms unless you took classes during the summer. Steph abstained from them to get more experience and you abstained because your financial aid wouldn’t cover it, which left you grappling with a three-month lease at the shitty student apartments near GU. 

“No Tim?” Crystal asks, covering the pan, turning to look at you two.

Steph clicks her tongue, pulling away from you to flop into the chair beside yours; underneath the table, her ankle curls beneath yours, shin pressed to your calf. 

“Busy as usual.”

“He doesn’t know?”

“It’s not that big of a deal—” at the looks you get from both of them, you quickly backtrack “—I mean, I’ll tell him later… That new Mission Impossible movie came out a few weeks ago, so I was gonna see if we could watch it together…”

Crystal frowns. “But you don’t like those movies. Does Tim like those ridiculous movies?”

She probably wouldn’t be displeased if he did. Crystal isn’t overly fond of Tim. Steph says it’s because of their relationship when they were kids but sometimes, it feels far too deep for it to be just that. 

Still, she’s civil to him and he rarely says no when Steph invites him (and you) for dinner. If anything, you think Crystal doesn’t mind the opportunity to make him squirm. Steph probably doesn’t mind it, either. 

Steph stretches her arms above her head. “It would be on par with him but no. These two just like watching them and making fun of them. I’m good, though.” 

“I’ll tell him, then. He’d notice it, anyway, since my mobility is still limited, but yeah…”

“Well, be careful,” she says, mouth pursed. For some reason, it doesn’t feel like she’s talking about your wrist but about something else. 

Steph coughs. Crystal looks back to the stove. 

“Well, hopefully you two will see him soon. From what I’ve heard, it’s been a while.”

“Yeah,” you say heavily. “A while.”

Crystal doesn’t pay more attention as she focuses on the sizzle of the chicken breast but Steph does, giving you a lingering look that makes you look away. 

You… try not to give away too much to her. 

You feel horrible enough to be in love with her ex-boyfriend; pining after him in her presence is just the icing on the World’s Worst Best Friend cake. 

That’s why you avoided him, after realizing the culmination of your feelings in May. 

To see if you could shake the feelings, if you could get rid of them.

Considering how hung up you are on him still, it hasn’t worked. 

But you still want to see him again. It’s selfish, probably, to be okay with avoiding him for your own gain and then when he does it on purpose, you want to put an end to it. 

But you know now it wasn’t okay. 

You want to see Tim, want to hear his bad science puns, you just want him around. 

Your feelings won’t go away for a while but avoiding him was the wrong decision. You just have to handle it on your own like an adult. 

You would if you could see him more.

You hope you can. Even if it kills you to act normally, to be okay with being friends. By this point, you’ve started to realize having him in any capacity is more than enough.

It has to be.

newest mission impossible movie came out… i can’t believe they’ve managed five of them and this one is only part one of the fifth one. they need to put that series down already

anyway :D in that case, was wondering if we could see it together? on sunday? i’ll get the tix and you get the snacks? we can get ice cream after and talk shit about it

i can’t, sorry! family dinner on sunday, then some other stuff before then and on sat too. see it and let me know about it, alright? :)

You cry when the end credits start rolling.

Not because the movie is good or moving or even so bad that it makes you cry, you’re just…

So tired. 

Tired of him never having time for you, for you and Steph. 

One part of you wants to give up. What’s the point, right? 

His continued lack of time means you can’t even apologize to him, can’t even ask if your initial avoidance was what led to his in the first place. 

Mostly because it feels like it doesn’t even matter at this point. 

Maybe this is what you deserve and there should be nothing else to say on the matter. 

But that hurts even more. 

You sit far at the back—shitty seats, he would say—but it gives you the privacy to shed a few tears. 

You leave only when the end credits are almost done rolling and the theater is empty. You don’t care about the looks people give you, coming out red-eyed and sniffling from the Mission Impossible movie. You just want to go back to your apartment and hide away for the rest of the summer. 

You emerge from the cinema; it’s only eight, so the sun is still out, warming you up from the chilly theater. Sighing, you start for the nearest station to take the subway back to Coventry.

You only get a couple blocks before your eyes catch the storefront of an ice cream parlor. Wallowing deep in self-pity by now, you easily take the detour. The patio in front of it is busy with people and through the large glass window, you see the line inside is long, too. But since you have nothing else to do, you head for it, anyway.

You’re halfway across the patio when you see it.

Through the window, in line for ice cream, is Tim. 

Your eyes found him immediately, without intention or purpose. Poetic, almost, were it not for the fact of seeing him here breaks your heart.

Here, not just by himself but with friends. Friends you’ve never met but know of from pictures at his place. 

You try to rationalize it initially, still standing there in the middle of the patio, staring into the parlor. Maybe the dinner was canceled. Maybe they dragged him out. 

Maybe, maybe, maybe. 

But then it makes you feel second best. Second choice. That he didn’t think of you when his schedule freed up. 

That’s presumptuous, though, right? What gives you priority? Nothing, especially after what you pulled before. 

But the ache in your chest hardly allows for that much introspection or self-awareness.

Mostly… Mostly, you’re just hurt. 

Seeing him now, separated from you by thin glass, the yawning monster inside you that longs desperately for him is unleashed, because he is so close but he’s not here with you, for you. And that hurts. A physical thing, your chest tight, throat thick with growing emotion.

But then, he sees you. 

His head turns and you go rigid as your eyes meet his, which widen as he recognizes you.

It’s been long, so terribly long, since you’ve seen him. See the soft blue of his eyes, this lovely shade, like cornflowers. 

It makes this so much worse because you don’t think anything will change, even with this, so it’s like a taunt to see him, knowing this might be the last for a while. A long while. 

Another moment between you two, the surprise on his face morphing into something else and you look away before you can see what it is, turning on your heel.

You have to get out of here. 

The subway is across the street but the light just turned green. Too long.

The hiss of hydraulics snatches your attention. A bus, several feet away. One last person climbing on. You take off for it, scrambling for your wallet, ignoring how the rough motions make your wrist throb in protest.

You think you hear your name. You hope you don’t.

You barely wedge yourself in just as the doors close.

The bus driver eyes you with thinly-veiled suspicion but you pay the fare and take a seat at the far back, away from the windows.

You don’t even know where this bus is going. 

You don’t care.

You just have to get away. 

You bury your face in your hands, your tears flowing again as the bus pulls away from the curb.

The worst part about it, you think, is that he doesn’t reach out to you.

Neither does Steph, but you reason expecting that is irrational. Why would he talk to her? Why would he tell her what happened? 

You can’t do it, either. It’s for the best, maybe, that you don’t say anything about it at all. 

Instead, as soon as you get back into your apartment, you collapse onto your threadbare couch and take a nap. Only dragging yourself off it when you have to get up and get ready for your shift, accompanied with the headache throbbing in the center of your forehead. 

You trade off with the evening shift and things are quiet for the most part. To distract yourself (mostly to stop yourself from bursting into tears if you think too hard about what happened), you take on your night shift tasks with renewed vigor. Cleaning the floors, the machines, adjusting displays, doing inventory. 

Your wrist protests throughout it but you ignore it. 

Steph would scold you for it. 

So would Tim.

You pause in the middle of cleaning the counter near the Slurpee machine. Your wrist throbs at your side.

The sharp gust of wind and the sound of your name surprises you.

Shocks you, really, since you’re still a bit on edge from Batman’s visit last week and you yelp, turning around, throwing the wet cloth on instinct. 

Your visitor dodges it easily. It lands on the floor with a wet splat.

“Flash? What are you—what—?”

He tilts his head, grass-green eyes narrowing slightly, mouth pursing, and you get the unmistakable feeling of being scrutinized very closely.

“What are you doing here, Flash?” you question. 

He keeps making that face. “I wanted to see you.”

That surprises you. You blink. 

“Batman won’t like that.”

“Don’t care. I’m not here to cause trouble. Just here to see you. He can’t say anything.”

You don’t think that’ll stop him but you don’t say anything. Flash probably knows. He just doesn’t care. He’ll complain about it sometimes, go to lengths to avoid it, but other times, he just—doesn’t care. 

Flash continues to look at you. Scrutinizing you. 

You don’t bother trying to stop him from doing it. You’re too tired and the way your eyes are still red and swollen is telling, as well as the circles under your eyes. 

“You look like shit.”

“Thanks, Flash.”

His frown deepens and one of his hands comes to your shoulders. 

“Seriously… are you okay, kid?”

For some reason, that does it.

The smallest of splinters to your resolve first, your breath hitching, then it breaks entirely, emotion swelling inside you with tidal wave force, your vision blurring with tears.

Flash reels back in surprise at first, then softens, muttering, “Aw, kid,” and pulling you into a hug. 

It doesn’t feel perfunctory. Like he is doing this out of obligation at seeing you cry, like this is just another one of his duties as a superhero. It feels genuine, the way he holds you tightly against his chest, like you’re a child being comforted. 

That just makes you cry harder.

It takes a while for you to calm down. Then you get embarrassed, sniffling out an apology. 

He hands you a napkin, then pokes you affectionately on the forehead. 

“Geez, what do you take me for? I don’t mind. Besides, worse bodily fluids have ended up on me. Way worse. This is nothing.”

You laugh wetly. 

He squeezes your shoulder. “Seriously, though. Seems like you’ve got some stuff to talk about. What’s going on?”

You squeeze your eyes shut as a fresh wave of tears briefly takes hold of you. You take a deep breath, working through it, blowing your nose. 

Flash grabs two Slurpees, one cherry and one blue raspberry, and hops up on the counter, patting the spot beside him. You manage to wriggle up using just your right hand, your left still throbbing.

With plenty of breaks in between to cry a little bit more, you tell him everything that has gone on for the past month. Including the stuff with Red and the others, then your impromptu visit from Batman last week. 

“That how you hurt your wrist?” he asks, thoroughly displeased as he reaches for it with gentle fingers. It’s more swollen than before, irritated from you ignoring your body’s warnings, warm to the touch. 

“It wasn’t him,” you mumble. “Just me. I tripped and fell.”

He purses his lips but nods for you to continue, which you do, telling him about everything that happened today. 

“It just sucks,” you whisper. “I mean, what I’m doing to Steph, first of all, by feeling like that and then with the stuff going on with Tim. I know I shouldn’t have avoided him earlier because of my own feelings and maybe this is what I deserve for it but…”

He shakes his head, seemingly bothered by all of this. Really bothered. You expected some, along with the concern, but all of that seems tripled for a reason you do not know.

He says your name, solemn. “You don’t deserve any of that. Sure, it was stupid but… you still don’t deserve that.”

“I can’t change it,” you sigh, setting your cup down. Your fingers are numb from the cold of it. “I just… I dunno. Had to get it out, I guess, so thanks. Why did you really come here, though?”

He sips his Slurpee. “I really came here for you. I just had this feeling… I don’t know. But it paid off, didn’t it?”

“True,” you admit.

“You want me to talk some sense into this kid?”

“Absolutely not.”

“I don’t know,” he muses, his thoughtful tone bellying the tension that seems to permanently reside in his body now; he’s really annoyed by it. You’re touched, if not a bit confused at the depth of his feelings. “I think I should. Might be good.”

“It’s not totally Tim’s fault—”

“His reaction is his own entirely. You shouldn’t have done what you did but anyone with any amount of common sense would talk to you about it instead of turning around and avoiding you, too. It’s dumb. Don’t let him off the hook.”

“Don’t let me off the hook.”

“I’m not. But from where I’m standing, his offenses greatly outweigh yours, especially with what seemed to happen today and… everything else.”

“Flash…”

“I’m just saying. I am, admittedly, a bit biased but… still. I’m not wrong, am I?”

You sigh. “I guess not.”

“Exactly. And for that stuff with your other friend… she hasn’t said anything about it, has she? I mean, I told you what it’s like for me and Pipes. We don’t feel like that for each other anymore. If I had some friend who turned out to like him, I wouldn’t care. So, what makes you think Stephanie does?”

You throw up your hands. “Most people would! Flash, not everyone takes that approach to their exes.”

“True,” he concedes. “But they’re clearly still friends and just friends.”

“But that doesn’t mean she’s okay with that. That doesn’t mean it’s okay. I shouldn’t… it never should have happened.”

Flash sighs, watching you for a minute. “This is a mess, isn’t it?”

You laugh humorlessly. “You’re just now getting that?”

“I knew before but this is… a mess of epic proportions. Seriously…” he mutters the last part, shaking his head slightly. 

Before you can respond, the door opens. You can’t see it, the aisle hiding it, but Flash can; since he remains calm, you assume it isn’t anyone bad.

Then you hear your name, from a very familiar voice and—

“Steph?”

She appears around the aisle, her jean shorts and lilac purple t-shirt wrinkled and in a state of disarray, her hair equally as messy, frizzed from the humidity outside; a light sheen of sweat shines on her face. It’s like she rushed all the way over here. 

You hop down from the counter, concerned. “Steph, what are you doing here? Is everything okay? What happened?”

She lifts a hand, cobalt blue eyes on Flash, saying, distractedly, “No, it’s… it’s alright, nothing’s wrong, I just… had to talk to you… Am I interrupting something?”

“Nope,” Flash says breezily, hoping from the counter. “You can talk to her. I was just visiting.”

“Wait—” you don’t want him to leave quite yet but you don’t know how to say that.

“I’ll hang around,” he assures you, tossing your empty Slurpee cups in your next blink; the only indication he did anything is the way they disappear and the breeze that hits you and Steph.

“Batman—”

“Don’t care. If anything, I might like to talk to him.”

“Flash,” you say, nervous, not willing to reveal what happened to Steph but also trying to tell him to very much not do that.

“I’m still thinking about it,” he says, lifting a shoulder. “But I’ll be around. I’ll come back in a few.”

He lifts a hand, then he is gone, the breeze following him much stronger this time.

“I guess you two really are friends,” Steph says when it calms, sending you a small smile, making you relax.

“Yeah…” Though friends didn’t quite cut it for you. Silly, probably, considering you don’t even know who he is under the cowl, but you can’t deny it to yourself. It’s hard to quantify exactly what he means to you—a friend, a big brother, some kind of weird uncle. If anything, it feels like an odd amalgamation of all those things. You wonder if that’s how he feels, too. You won’t ask. You can only handle so much disappointment in one night.

“I’m sorry to come by so suddenly,” she says next, her words oddly formal in a way that puts you on edge. “But I just had to talk to you.”

“About…?”

“About Tim.”

You go stiff. You try your best to school your expression, to not give anything away. After all, concerning him, it could be anything. What happened today, maybe. What’s been happening. 

Or your feelings.

You really hope it’s not that. 

You’ve only just started to realize you might be losing Tim. You can’t lose her. 

You can’t.

“What about him?”

She says your name. Everything inside you tightens. 

“I know. I know how you feel about him—”

Your throat aches when you swallow. Everything seems to come bursting out of you in the next second. 

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, Steph, I didn’t mean—I didn’t want—I wouldn’t do anything—” you take a step back, your heart squeezing painfully in your chest.

Her eyes widen and she steps forward, quickly closing the space between you, her hands coming to cradle your face.

“No, no, no, it’s okay, it’s okay—”

“No, it’s not, I never should’ve—god, I’m so sorry, Steph—” your vision blurs with tears. 

She says your name again, keeping you in her grasp. 

“I’ve known for a long time,” she quickly says. “Okay? I knew, but it’s okay. I was never mad at you, never, it’s okay, I promise.”

“But—but—”

She shushes you gently. “It’s okay. Deep breaths, alright?”

A couple tears trace down your cheeks. She wipes them away, a small smile forming on her lips—for you, entirely for you, the warmth there reflected in her eyes. 

“Do you want to know a secret?” she asks, rubbing her thumb over your cheek. “It’s really easy to fall in love with Tim Drake. And this isn’t my roundabout way of telling you I have feelings for him. Those are long gone. I love him and he’ll always be my first love but that time has passed—for the both of us. But for you guys?”

“Stephie…”

“I don’t care that you have feelings for him. I really truly don’t. I just want you to be happy. I want you both to be happy. I think you two can do that for each other.”

“I’m sorry.”

“I’m not. I think… you’re good for him. He’s good for you. That’s all there is to it, okay? If you really want my blessing, you have it, but… it doesn’t matter to me that you like him. And I’ve known for a while but I just… I assumed you knew I was okay with it. Like it was the thing that was there but we never talked about. Stupid, I know. But… I just need you to know that. Alright?”

She hugs you. You bury your face in her shoulder, hugging her back just as tightly, unable to stop your tears from flowing. 

“I’m not just saying this to try and be the bigger person, either,” she murmurs. “Go for it. It’s been long enough.”

“I don’t know…”

“Why?”

“I mean, he doesn’t… and today…”

Steph pulls away, frowning now. “He likes you, too.”

“No—”

“He does. I know.”

“Then why has he…” You can’t keep going, biting your lip.

“‘Cause he’s an idiot,” she mutters. “In more ways than one. But… I’m going to fix it, okay?”

“No, no, don’t—”

“It’s okay. There’s… there’s other stuff going on right now and we need to take care of that first, then you can talk about your feelings. But I’m going to fix it, okay? I’m going to try.”

“You don’t have to, this is our mess, my mess, I was the one who started avoiding him in May after finally realizing my feelings and then he…” you trail off, sniffling. 

“There’s something else,” she says cryptically. “That’s… just take my word for it. But I’m going to fix it. He’s been an idiot long enough and I’m not going to keep tolerating it, not if he’s going to keep hurting you.”

You shake your head, confused. Is she talking about today? Did he tell her? You have no idea…

“He only did it because I did.”

“No, no, it’s… it’s complicated, okay?”

You snort despite yourself. “You think?”

She smiles finally. “I know. It’s… a lot. But don’t worry. I’m going to get him to see the light. Not literally, though I wouldn’t mind roughing him up a bit just for how idiotically he’s been acting but… another time.”

You’re still confused. Terribly, terribly confused. But Steph is so impassioned, so sure, you let it go.

“Let me help,” you say. “I should be the one doing this but—but let me help. I need to. It’s my mess, too.” 

“It’s all of us,” she sighs. “And right now, I’m in a unique position. So… let me, okay? Don’t worry about it. I’ll tell you more later, but hopefully, I can get something together soon. Just sit tight, alright?”

“You do too much for me,” you whisper.

“I’m doing what I should be doing,” she says, looking… guilty almost before the look is gone. “This has gone on long enough.”

She leans forward to kiss your forehead. “But it’s gonna be okay. We’ll make it better.”

You just nod, going along with it for now. 

You scrape yourself together after a few minutes, wiping your tears away and blowing your nose. Steph hangs around long enough for Flash to return, at which point she bids you a regretful goodbye, telling you she’ll talk to you tomorrow. You worry about her getting home but she brought her car, or so she tells you, and Flash generously sees her out.

After a couple minutes, he returns. 

“So?” he asks expectantly.

“You were right,” you mutter. “She’s fine with it. I’m not entirely sure why she had to rush out to tell me or what she’s planning to fix but… I don’t think I can stop her.”

“No, I don’t think so, either,” he agrees lightly. “I don’t think you should, either. It’s probably important.”

“I guess,” you sigh. “I still don’t think she should be doing it but…”

“There might be more pieces in play than you think.”

You send him a look. “I got enough cryptic talk from her. I don’t want any more from you.”

He holds up his hands, smiling. “No more cryptic talk. Got it. I do, however, come bearing gifts.”

“Where on earth—?”

“Well, I already had them when I came here. I wanted to check on you and give you this stuff, but we got interrupted,” he says. “Give me a second.”

You give him a second. 

He leaves and comes back in that time. You raise an eyebrow. 

“Check it out,” he says, holding out a box.

You take it from him. It’s a small thing, easily held in your hand. You pull off the top. 

And promptly blink as the shiny display of a phone greets you.

“Flash, what—”

He can’t wait for you to finish asking your question, apparently too eager to tell you.

“It’s a phone, for you. But it’s programmed with my contact info, that way you can talk to me, and you can move all the stuff on your old phone over, too. It really is just a regular phone. Well, it does have League-level encryptions on it, but you know.”

“Flash… this is too much.”

“Not really,” he says. “I couldn’t give you that info without making sure your phone was secure and it would’ve been a lot more work to get yours secured, too. Besides, let’s be real, your phone has seen much better days. I think it deserves to finally be able to rest.”

“Jerk,” you laugh.

He shrugs. “Not wrong, though. Anyway, it’s not just for emergencies. You can talk to me. Text me. You know.”

“Flash,” you say, suddenly overwhelmed with emotion, pressing a hand to your face. 

He looks like he wants to say something else but stops himself last minute and just gives you a small smile. 

“Come on. Let’s set it up.”

You agree, not wanting to continue to refuse since it would be rude and… you do want to have a way to talk to him. Not just for emergencies but other stuff, too. This stuff.

So much is still up in the air. 

But you can focus on the here and now, with Flash here to ease your burdens.

reblogs are appreciated!

taglist: @peachesona @knoxx-seresinbradshaw @kikis-writing-service @sweetistic @soundsfunbutno @ginevraxrogers @fridaenpina @skcj24 @bath1lda @omfg-its-tay @laughydaphne @fhrjrirj @iamthesimpmother @alittlelateforstars @thaliadoesthings @scarlett13 @zelabee @coffee-love-alltheabove @benstormy @sad-girl09 @lockofspades s @thereallchristine @thatonecroc @1lellykins @jelsafan0 @hearttjason @kno-way-home

[ask to be tagged! here or my inbox! ^_^]

[augustnugs]

OC Tag Game

Thanks @rooks-dagger for the tag!

The floodgates have opened. It's Yap o'clock.

GENERAL:

Name: Rook (Varric gives them the nickname and it sticks)

Alias: Min Aldwir, Blue

Gender: Nonbinary (he/they)

Age: 27-28? (Amnesia + poor sense of time means they only have a vague estimate of his age.)

Spoken Language: Trade/Common, Elven (mostly intuitive. If they try and think about the words it all falls apart)

Sexual Orientation: Pansexual/Grey-romantic, poly

Occupation: Bartender, busker, trader, veil jumper, world's okayest veilguarder

FAVORITE:

Color: Blue, brown, and gold

Entertainment: People watching, high-stakes gambling and low-stakes gambling

Pastime: Smoking elfroot and taking long walks to nowhere. Also playing/writing music

Food: A slut for a hearty stew and a not-so-secret sweet tooth. His favourite snack is chocolate-covered coffee beans.

Drink: Coffee with plenty of cream and sugar. Mead for fun times, whiskey for sad ones

Books: Would rather listen/tell stories than read them. Folk tales and history are some of their favorite subjects. Also likes to help Bellara with her writing by being a sounding board or her ideas.

HAVE THEY...

Passed University: No formal education here

Had Sex: So many

Had Sex in Public: Do ancient elven ruins count as public spaces?

Gotten Tattoos: Yes! They like getting tattoos to reflect places they've been/significant life events. Definitely gets something done for each of the Lighthouse Gang

Gotten Piercings: No, not big on jewelry

Gotten Scarred: Lots of scars. Notable ones include: claw marks across the back from a demon attack in their teens, a nasty cut to the chest from a templar (does not remember either of these events happening, probably for the best), and most recently they got their face blown up from busting an artifact whilst veil jumping. The explosion left them mostly blind and deaf on the right side.

Had a Broken Heart: Oof yeah. The first (and only time before VG) they fell in deep romantic love with someone it ended pretty disastrously. He was pretty depressed/never had a committed, long-term relationship and his partner had some bad relationships in the past and was starting to see signs that things were turning bad. Rook tried the old "let's get engaged! That'll solve all our problems" trick, which only served as a temporary solution to their problems before they broke up. To be fair, neither of them meant to hurt the other, they were both just young and stupid. But the whole situation severely fucked up Rook's perception of themselves/their ability to be in a relationship and he carries that with him into veilguard.

ARE THEY:

A Cuddler: Yes, prefers to be the big spoon

Scared Easily: Yes, but they get by through the power of bravery and reckless optimism

Jealous Easily: Nope

Trustworthy: Very much so. They wouldn't believe it about themselves but they work hard to be somebody others can rely on.

FAMILY:

Siblings: A sister. 4 years younger. Lives with their parents in a Dalish clan in the South. Typical sibling dynamics with Rook taking a more protective role with her.

Parents: Both alive. Had a pretty good relationship with Rook before he got a bad case of trauma-induced Forget My Whole Life. They were proud of the fact that he was a mage and wanted/expected greatness from him. On Rook's side, they tried their hardest to live up to those expectations while still with their clan. Most of the time they found pleasure and purpose in their role, but did sometimes wish their was less pressure on them to succeed. Overall though, they all loved each other deeply and Rook's parents were gutted when he went missing(presumed dead)

Children: Never gave it much thought. If they did end up having children it would probably be an oops baby

Pets: Befriended a spider that made a web in their window after Bad Breakup (they were very lonely and the spider kept the bug population low). They later adopt the tracker nug, Gus from the veil jumpers (it's a dream come true for Rook)

Dunno if y'all have been tagged in this(if so oopsie :D) but I'm gently tagging @starlit-rook and @blightedcrow

[bearded-iris-system]

Sys Abc's: G Day

O-o-O-o-O-o-O-o-O

Name: Gir

Age: 16

Pronouns: They/It

Accent/voice: Emo, kinda annoying

Typing quirks: 2000s Scene (similar to Conundrum)

Special role: Crafter (fronts to participate in crafts), Hyperfixation Host (Hosts when we get a new hyperfixation or participate in hyperfixation activities), Spin Holder (manages our special intrest)

Appearance: Scene fringe, black hair, green eyes, pale skin, snake bites

Extra Details: Always wears a hoodie and kandi, shy but funny

O-o-O-o-O-o-O-o-O

Name: Gizmo/Gadget

Age: Uh? Not human.

Pronouns: He/It

Accent/voice: Robotic, soft, kind

Typing quirks: Occasional binary code

Special role: Academic (handles school, mainly homework), Media Host (temporarily hosts when we use Google office apps, Google docs and gmail mainly), Nummica (Handles the systems finances, really enjoys it), Socializer (Handles the socializing of the system)

Appearance: A human shaped robot body, green eyes and mouth, computer monitor head/face, rusted bits

Extra Details: Very polite yet shy, doesn't front often, loves Personal Finance class and ECON

O-o-O-o-O-o-O-o-O

Name: Gus/Gully

Age: 3-5

Pronouns: He/Him

Accent/voice: Loud, Childish, light hearted

Typing quirks: Types like a young child (Spelling mistakes)

Special role: Age regressor, Core (link to the body's pre-plural childhood), Doekid (Trauma relating to broken family dynamics), Frijōn (Wants to be friends with everyone in and out of ourselves), Pacifier (Puts the body in a relaxed, regressed state)

Appearance: blonde hair, brownish blue eyes, toddler sized. Also, a golden retriever puppy but not as often.

Extra Details: Our main agere front. Very vocal, very bubbly. Very sad sometimes. Wants to be friends with everyone always.

O-o-O-o-O-o-O-o-O

[burnedxpoet]

Nobody’s Son, Nobody’s Daughter

TW: mention of drxgs

Read it on ao3

Two.

I don’t know how but I had successfully ran into everyone that lives in Pelican Town. The kid that Sebastian mistook me for, Sam, seemed cool. Bubbly, rocker, skater, reminds me of one of my good friends from college. His mother reminded me, of what I can remember, my mom. She mentioned that her husband was overseas– a soldier. The younger brother had an uncanny sense of whimsy to him. If I were to guess, it would be because my sister was like that when she was around his age. Now she acts more like one of their neighbors. A girl named Haley, a little snooty but drop dead gorgeous. She happened to be the blue haired girl's sister. 

Met my neighbor to the south who specializes in farm animals and animal needs. The other kid in town lives with her, I think she’s her niece or daughter? That I haven’t figured out yet. Her nephew lives with her too. He’s a little older than me, maybe by five years max, and he was gruff and stoic in a way that you couldn’t bring home to your parents. He intrigued me but didn’t talk to me much. 

An alcoholic named Pam goes to the saloon as soon as it opens. I can’t tell if she has a high tolerance or if the bartender, Gus, waters down her beer. She lives in the trailer by the river with her daughter, Penny, who teaches the young kids.  While I was in the saloon, I met Clint, the blacksmith. Now this man was awkward to all hell but seemed like a nice dude. He was maybe ten to fifteen years older than me and mentioned he had a thing for Emily. Little weird but he seemed like someone I would want to be nice too.

I somehow wandered up to the mountain where I met Robin, Maru, and Demetrius who happened to be Sebastian’s family. Up the mountain was where I met Linus. He shocked me at first and seemed weary of me but I admired his dedication to living amongst nature. 

The town doctor is a nervous, slightly awkward man but he was kind and lived on his own. Same with the local fisherman but he was strong and passionate. He wasn’t the only one who lived by the sea, a writer named Elliott sought solace by the sea. He reminded me of one of my English professors in college with long golden hair and a handsome jawline. We talked about books for a bit before my other southern neighbor, Leah, joined in. She’s an artist and also used to live in Zuzu city. She’s a little older than me and I swear we might’ve taken an art history class together. But I could’ve been wrong. 

Lastly, I ran into a boy around my age. Alex was his name. He was on a walk with his grandma when I met him. He mentioned gridball and lifting weights while his grandma mentioned that she took care of the flowers in the town square. They also lived with his grandfather who was wheelchair bound due to an accident in the mines when he was young. Linus, Clint, and Robin mentioned how dangerous the mines were but if I’m being honest it made me want to check them out more. 

My first chore for the day was getting rid of the overgrown weeds, chopping wood, and removing stone from the farm. Once I made a sizable dent, I made my way up the mountain to finally fix my broken kitchen issue. After meeting Robin yesterday, I learned that she’s the town carpenter. Maybe she could fix my kitchen. I enter their home and am greeted by a warm smile from Robin.

“Have a nice walk?” She asks as I walk up to the counter. 

“There was a nice breeze on my way here. I was wondering if you could help me fix my kitchen?” I ask. 

“Totally! All I ask is that you supply the wood and pay me of course,” she says. 

“Just chopped up a bunch of wood on my farm this morning. How much is it?” I ask. She does some math on a calculator.

“‘Bout… two thousand gold.” Well… that’s half of my savings. I pull my sack of gold out of my pocket and carefully count out two thousand. She takes it and puts it carefully in a safe behind her. “Thanks, I’ll start working on it tomorrow. Should be done in about… two days? I’ll try to make it less than,” she says. I thank her and as I turn to leave I bump into someone.

“Sorry,” I say quickly and as I look up, I notice Sebastian was the one I ran into. He was shirtless, showing off his lean figure with pajama pants. Is he just waking up now? It’s like noon. He mutters something that I think was something along the lines of “no worries” and then turns to go to the back of the house. Kitchen probably. I watched him go and I accidentally let out an audible sigh that Robin definitely heard. 

“He’s something alright, sorry for his manners. He spends all day on that computer of his and working on that death machine,” she says.

“Death machine?”

“Motorcycle,” says a raspy morning voice. Sebastian is back from the kitchen with a cup of coffee and a slice of cold pizza. “Talking shit again Mother? And to the new farmer, I expect better from you,” he scolds her but his tone is a little playful. Probably calling her out but making it like a joke, I used to do that all the time to Dad to avoid an ass-whooping. “See ya ‘round, Farmer,” Sebastian says with a wink and then trudges back down to the basement. I try not to blush and say bye to Robin as I duck out of their place. Okay, one issue down that’s progress at least.

I make my way down the mountain to Pierre’s General Store to buy some spring seeds. I found a couple of mystery seeds while I was getting rid of weeds this morning but not enough to make a profit. I entered the store and immediately I heard a voice, “It’s the farmer! How are you doing on this beautiful spring day?” Pierre asks as I approach the counter. 

“Just spent half of my money on fixing Grandpa’s kitchen and now I’m about to spend more on some seeds. Whaddya got, Pierre?” I ask him. He smiled and pulled out a variety of seeds from behind the counter. Blue jazz, cauliflower, garlic, kale, parsnips, potatoes, green beans, and tulips. 

“Love the variety. I’ll do two seeds of each,” I say. We exchanged goods and I made my way back to the farm. With the seeds I collected this morning, this should be enough to make a profit. Without animals, I’ll have to rely on my produce to make some money. As I approach my house I see someone standing on my doorstep. It was Willy, the angler I had met down at the beach yesterday.

“Hey,” I say as I get closer to him, “need something?” He turns to me, a little startled, but then gives me a smile or at least what I think is a smile. Old gruff men have a weird way of showing their facial expressions. 

“Hello Farmer. I was thinkin’ ‘bout our conversation yesterday and I found this in me backstock,” he pulls out a small fishing rod, “it’s not much but I hope this could get you started. Can’t forget fishin’ when yer livin’ off the land!” He hands it to me and I thank him. I watch him walk back into town and once he’s out of sight I start planting the seeds I bought from Pierre. I fished a couple of times with Grandpa as a kid. I didn’t have much patience but I remember how to attach tackle and bait. Willy’s right, it would definitely come in handy especially during the winter when I don’t have crops growing. 

As I’m elbow deep in soil, I seem to get another visitor. Sam, the skater boy musician. He’s got dirt and dust all over himself and is carrying his skateboard. He gives me a wave as he walks up my path and comes over to me.

“Man, you need to get your sidewalk fixed. I completely forgot that it turns into dirt back there,” he says, “I wiped out hard. If Seb saw he’d be making fun of me right now.” he rubs the back of his neck. I notice that his elbow is bleeding.

“I have some bandages inside, that looks like a gnarly scrape,” I said as I brushed some dirt off my hands. I was basically finished with everything I needed to get done for the day. He looks down at his elbow and winces.

“Yea, if you could, that would be great,” he says. We walk inside the cabin and I dig through my duffle bag and find a little Jumino bandage and some neosporin.

“What brings you to the farm?” I ask while wiping away some dirt and blood from his elbow with a damp cloth. Kitchen might not be working but thank god the old well still does. 

“Mom wanted me to bring over some casserole. I told her that if she wanted to be neighborly she should do it herself. That resulted in a knock upside the head and how here I am,” he says with a goofy looking smile. I get him all patched up and he hands me a little dish from his backpack. Inside his pack, I notice a Joja mart jacket.

“You work at Joja mart?” I ask. He nods.

“Lamest job ever. All I really wanna do is play music. I’m in a band, if you didn’t know,” he says.

“I didn’t. Lemme guess… Guitar and lead singer?”

“Obviously. Abigail’s my drummer and Seb switches from Keyboard and bass. We do it Doors style,” he says, “but heavier of course.”

“You guys didn’t peg me as a sixties rock group. Heavy metal seems up your ally but the question is, what kind?” I ask while setting the casserole down on the counter. 

“We’re in between thrash and nu-metal,” he says.

“You listen to Kittie?”

“Are you shittin’ me? Like my favorite band of all time. Chick singers are the best,” his eyes light up.

“I’ve seen them a couple times. They’re insane live,” I said. The only thing Dad and I could agree on was music. If I were to guess he was probably a mix of Sam and Sebastian when he was living here. I guess in a way he never grew out of his rebellious phase, even when he had kids.

“Dude, you just got so cooler.”

“Oh, I’ve been meaning to ask you. Is… is there a place where I can get some weed?” I ask. Sam smirks and goes into his backpack again.

“You’ve come to the right guy. You’re a farmer though, can’t you grow this shit?” he asks. I shake my head.

“You know how illegal it is here. Hell, in the city there were soo many laws and regulations. I have my medical card but I don’t feel like driving all the way to the city just for a high,” I say, a little embarrassed. Cigarettes I’m ninety percent sure I can quit. Weed? That’s for life man and after all this gardening on my hands and knees, I need some. 

“This is from my personal stash. I think you’ll really like this,” Sam hands me a little baggy with a couple nugs of purple weed. 

“Dude, thanks so much. You’re a lifesaver.”

“Anytime. I get it imported. Can’t find good shit in the valley like this. Seb’s my import guy since he’s got that damn smoking habit, I give him a little bit of my profit each week and he doesn’t seem to mind. Hey, we should smoke soon! Seb and I do some band practice at my place on Tuesdays, you should come,” Sam rambles. I chuckle.

“Doesn’t seem like much practice is going on if you’re smoking too,” I laugh. He shrugs.

“Abigail doesn’t smoke. Says the smell gives her a headache, whatever. Plus Seb and I have been friends since I moved here. We need some alone time from her every once in a while,” he laughs, “but pop on by when you can and welcome to the neighborhood.” He waves goodbye and puts his skateboard down to ride away but as soon as he pushes off, his wheels get caught and he stumbles. 

“Careful!” I say. He looks back with a bashful smile, picks up his skateboard, and walks away. I go inside once he’s out of sight. Sam’s cool, kinda info dumped on me though. Eh, it’s nice to talk to someone like you’ve known them awhile. I wonder if that was his tactic as he seems to be friends with most of the outsiders in the town. At least the ones that are my age, I highly doubt he speaks to Linus. I wash up a little with some of my well water. I feel like I’m living in renaissance times with my lack of electricity and running water. I haven’t contacted my Dad or sister since I’ve been here. Whatever… I’m getting the place fixed up, trying to start a new life, they should know that I don’t have time to call. All the kids my age in the town complain about their parents and honestly, I kinda wish I had their problems. 

[masked-umber]

What if Izuku Midoriya was put into class 1-B instead? Let's say Ibara Shiozaki took his place in 1-A. In this what if we can assume most of the plot points would revole around 1-B instead of 1-A.

The first two arcs would relatively remain the same(those being Izuku Midoriya: Origin, and the Entrance exam arc, and there wouldn't be a quirk apprehension test as only Aizawa did that)

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

He'd probably be nervous like in canon but I think he'd be less nervous when he finds out he's not in the same class as Bakugou or that guy with glasses, but I think he'd be disappointed that he's not in the same class as that girl with the gravity quirk.

When he enters the classroom he's sees Eighteen other kids his age, wait wasn't there supposed to be Nineteen.. or well twenty including him.

Thats when some one taps him on the shoulder, it's a girl with blue eyes, she doesn't say anything but she tilts her head to the side. She wants him to move, so he does, a bit flustered by that.

He walks into the room (I think he'd be in the seat that Shiozaki had in canon)

Some guy with a bright green mohawk has his feet on the desk and some guy with a braid is chiding him for it.

That's when a tall buff looking man enters the classroom and the guy with the braid hurriedly sits down, saying something in a different language.

The teacher introduces himself as Vlad king, and he says that he's their homeroom teacher, he starts talking about the Hero course and some other things, before they head to orientation (forgot what it's called in canon)

When they get back, Vlad king tells them to introduce themselves, by seat order.

A guy with spikey black hair and a zigzag headband syands up: Yosetsu Awase, Quirk Weld (he seems to have quite the foul-mouth)

A guy with half lided eyes stands up: Sen Kaibara, Quirk Gyrate (His quirk name seemed to cause some people to laugh but he didn't seem to mind)

The guy with the Mohawk was next and he introduced himself as: Togaru Kamakiri, and his quirk is called Razor Sharp

A boy with pitch-black skin stands up and introduces himself as: Shihai Kuroiro, Quirk Shadow(not calling it black in this what if, he also seems pretty mysterious)

A girl with bright ginger hair stands up and introduces herself as: Itsuka Kendo, Quirk Big fist

Then it's the quiet girl, she stands up and quietly states that she is: Yui Kodai, Quirk Size (she doesn't explain how it works she just sits back down)

The a girl with bangs covering both of her eyes stands up: Kinoko Komori, Quirk Mushroom

Then it was Midoriya's turn but before he could speak Bakugou burst through the door, yelling. "Deku! How the hell did a quirkless nobody make it into UA!." But before Bakugou could do anything else a capture scarf grabs him and drags him away, Aizawa pops in and half-heartedly apologies for that.

The class starts whispering to eachother, but Vlad king quiets them down and tells Midoriya to introduce himself.

Midoriya stands up he introduces himself but he doesn't know what to call his quirk since he can't give them his actual name.

A girl with blonde hair and horns pipes up and says something in really broken Japanese, which a guy with skeletal like teeth translates "Your quirk it's super strength right?, or thats what she was trying to say."

Midoriya nods and sits back down, bullet dodged, well not entirely as Awase pipes up and asks why that asshole called him quirkless, and Midoriya stampers out a reason before quickly sits down.

A guy with a glasses and lots of fur stands up next: Jurota Shishida, Quick Beast (he speaks all fancy)

A chubby looking kid is next: Nirengeki Shoda, Quirk Twin impact

The girl who spoke in broken Japanese earlier: Pony Tsunotori, Quirk Horn Cannon (She can say her name well enough, so the skeletal guy didn't need to help)

A very enthusiastic boy is next: Kosei Tsuburaba, Quirk Solid Air (He seems more nervous than Midoriya, he did not expect to get into the hero course)

A guy with sharp teeth is next: Tetsutetsu Tetsutetsu, Quirk Steel (He sounds so manly)

A girl with green hair and a pretty provocative stance is next: Setsuna Tokage, Quirk Lizard tail splitter

A short guy with a speech bubble head is next: Manga Fukidashi, Quirk Comic

The skeletal man is next: Juzo Honenuki, Quirk Softening (he told the class to just call him Juzo, as Honenuki is his father)

A gentle giant looking guy is next: Kojiro Bondo, Quirk Cemedine (He talks funny)

A cocky looking blonde is up next: Neito Monoma, Quirk copy(He was also taking notes on people quirks like how Midoriya was)

The girl with the grey hair is up: Reiko Yanagi, Quirk Poltergeist (She has a creepy aura)

Last but not least it's the boy with the braid, he introduced himself as Lin Fei-Long, before quickly correcting himself: Hiryu Rin, Quirk scales.

The day is over and just before Midoriya head out Bakugou is there and threatens him. "Look Deku, I don't know how you got here, but stay out of my way."

But the boy with glasses from the entrance exam shows up and drags Bakugou away.

When Midoriya is about to leave Rin, Tsuburaba and a very quiet Kodai stop him and Rin asks if they could walk home together(first three friends acquired)

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

What do yall think? This wasn't really a summary but the others will be :)

Next: Battle trial arc(part 1)

Table of contents

[hellowhoisthere]

The Guardianship of Gu Zi - The Crime -Part 2 - The Kidnapping

“MOVE OUT THE WAY!” Qi Rong screamed below to the homeless person sleeping on a pile of mattresses. 

The person didn’t argue, once they saw Qi Rong perched halfway out his window.

The windows in the 2nd floor apartment didn’t open all the way, so Qi Rong had broken the frame while Gu Zi packed his school bag with essentials only. 

Qi Rong already had a go bag ready. A habit he had never broken out of from his youth. Keeping anything important to him close to him, to keep things he would need to start new somewhere at the ready. 

The fall from the window wasn’t that scary when Qi Rong did it, but looking up from the ground to see Gu Zi on the window sill made him realize that it was insane. 

“Are you going to catch me?” Guzi was shaking too as his voice trembled.

“Only if you don’t fall out of my arms.” It was too mean of a joke to make and Qi Rong knew it once it was too late. “I’m going to catch you. Nothing is moving me. I’m right here.” It was a promise Qi Rong would keep with his whole life. 

That moment breaks down to the seconds once Guzi lets go of the window. There is no sound in the alleyway, no sound in the whole city until Guzi gasps once he lands in Qi Rong’s arms. Qi Rong holds him, just squeezing the very breath out Guzi and the kid doesn’t complain.

“Gods you are heavy. You’re about ready for me to eat you up.” 

“Am I going to live in your belly like a baby then?” 

Qi Rong makes a quick mental note to Google when is the right age to tell a kid about how babies are made. Right next to the mental note that said, OH MY GODS WHERE ARE WE GOING TO LIVE.

Qi Rong puts Guzi down to pace the dirty alleyway. Qi Rong should have thought about this before jumping from the window, but there isn’t enough time. 

Soon Guzi would be declared a missing child, and Qi Rong would be wanted for murder. It would be harder to travel then, and they wouldn’t get far with the few hundred bucks that Qi Rong kept in his go bag or the thirty bucks that he had until his next paycheck. A paycheck he wouldn’t get now. For now he needed to leave the state, the country to be safer. 

“We are going to go live in China. Change our names, live in a cave maybe. Don’t know yet, but I’ll figure it out.” Qi Rong said out loud, but could only keep thinking about How? How? How could he do this?

Qi Rong sorta felt when Guzi hugged him, he might have heard the kid say, “The other guy is gone, so you’re my dad now and I don’t have to worry”, but Qi Rong wasn’t really listening. 

Sometimes adults can’t be as attentive to children the way they should be, because they have adult things to think about. 

Like for Qi Rong who is muttering about not being able to use credit cards and how to flee the country with a minor and no money. 

Times like this is when one can only rely on family really.

.

Xie Lian didn’t greet Qi Rong when he opened the door out of shock. He probably wouldn’t have opened to Qi Rong at all. He had open the door without checking the ring camera, because he had been expecting the pizza delivery person or the magican, not his cousin

It was Qi Rong that spoke first, but not to Xie Lian.

“I thought you said she wasn’t having a party.” Qi Rong’s voice was heated like a kindling prepared to start a fire as he eyed the decorations and played children behind Xie Lian.

“Well umm I… Uhh. It's good I packed her present, and now we don’t have mail from China.”

Xie Lian had gently requested that Ban Yue not invite Gu Zi today, and guilt of it nearly swallowed him as the little boy pressed a present into his open hand. 

It was a perfectly wrapped gift with a gift tag that proclaimed, TO Ban Yue, best reading buddy ever. 

“China? You’re going to China” Xie Lian finally spoke through his confusion.

“Just like you, cousin, jump right to business. Let’s enjoy the party first.” Qi Rong said as he wormed his way passed the front door into the house. The kids were in the backyard in a bounce house.

“No. That’s rude.” Gu Zi said because he had manners and knew he wasn’t invited.

This is worse than the time I was run over by the shopping cart tram, Xie Lian thought as he pulled Qi Rong away from the rest of the party. Gu Zi obediently followed. 

“Why are you here?” Xie Lian hissed through his teeth which held a painful smile.

“I would say it was for the party, but I don’t have time actually. I need some money and a way out of the country tonight.” Qi Rong didn’t even have the decency to be ashamed of his request. Qi Rong had even rolled his eyes at Xie Lian!

“What did you do this time? What makes you think I can do any of that?” Xie Lian said in a hoarse voice which sounded more like a whispered scream. 

“I know what your hubby is (gay, gay, homosexual, gay). He came in once and trashed a restaurant where I worked, so I know all about his underground gambling ring. I know he is a cruel loan shark too. I know he has a private jet and a whole ass yacht. You know it too because you posted a pic in front of it on instagram. I know he keeps his dirty money for you to wash though your etsy junk journal, and eco-soap business like you wash his dirty-” 

Qi rong only stopped talking because Guzi grabbed onto his hand when Xie Lian slapped him. 

“Don’t talk about my husband like that in our house which you weren't invited into.”

“Don’t need to remind us about not being invited.” Qi Rong spat. “Nevermind. I don’t need shit from you. I’ll take care of Gu Zi on my own like I took care of myself.” 

Xie Lian didn’t owe anything to Qi Rong. He should just let him walk out of his home now and forever, but he saw Gu Zi following behind Qi Rong. 

Just a young boy, so innocent. True, Xie Lian didn’t owe anything to his cousin now, but he owed a small debt to the boy that followed him so desperately back then when things were different. The teen that had looked to him like a savior when Xie Lian couldn’t even save himself. It wouldn’t cost Xie Lian anything to call in favor anyways. 

“Wait. Don’t go yet. Let me make some calls.”

“Are you going to call the cops?” Qi Rong did stop, but didn’t let go of the open door yet.

Xie Lian shut the door with his hand. “No. I’m going to call a lawyer.” 

[thefcguy]

The Magical Doorman

Chapter 1: The Building

Hello, if you are watching this film, it’s because you’re the new doorman in your building. Your job is to determine whether the person who wants to enter the building is a doppelganger. As everyone knows, doppelgangers have the ability to transform into another person. and impersonate them.

But some are not too good at it and could generate imperfections. You have to play close attention to the appearance of your neighbors. Also remember to fill out the checklist for each neighbor.

You can’t miss any detail because it could mean death for you and your neighbors. This is the structure of your office. Now, we are going to explain how it works. Here is the security window, don’t forget to observe very well each individual who approaches. 

On the right you have the folders with all the data of each neighbor according to the respective floor. To fill out the checklist, take one of the lists in front of you. Receive documents from this hatch.

If you determine that the individual isn’t a doppelganger, then allow them into the building with these buttons. Otherwise, if you determine that it is in fact a doppelganger, press the emergency button and call 3312.

To communicate with the D.D.D or any apartment in your building, use the telephone in front of you. Your job is really important, so, make sure you do it right.

Finally, we congratulate the doorman of the month, Henry. It wasn’t that he did an excellent job, but he was the only doorman in the area who didn't get killed by doppelgangers.

Be like Henry… but better!

__________________________________________________

It was early in the morning and the streets were empty. No crowds or noises of hurried movements to get to work. The only sound that could be heard was the one of keys being shaken from side to side by a young 13-year-old…

Although he was focused on reading the book on his other hand, he knew exactly the path he needed to take to arrive at his new job. You might be wondering how he managed to get such a job at his age. Well, besides the law related to work rights being different in this time and period, this boy was no ordinary kid… and he had a way of getting the things he wanted.

He stopped moving when he arrived at his destination. He grabbed a sheet of paper that was in his pocket.

“Well, I guess here is the place” he assumed, comparing the photo on the sheet and the building itself. He turned the sheet around to remember the rest of the instructions.

“Use the keys to open the backdoor at the building. DON’T forget to lock it after your entrance. It’s very important” the boy read it out loud. He smiled soon after.

“Consider it done!” the boy exclaimed optimistically. He quickly unlocked the door, excited to start his new life.

“Wonder what my room looks like!” he beamed, opening the door with a lot of speed.

However, what awaited him on the other side was… disappointing.

“It’s… quite small” the boy stated, looking around at the tight place he was living on. It was a bedroom, with a small kitchen nearby. There was also a TV that seemed to be broken.

The door of the bathroom was open, and he could already see that its state was disgusting.

He put his suitcase on the bed, but the moment he did it, dust flew into his face.

“Cough… cough… okay, maybe my office will be better” he wondered, trying to look on the bright side.

The only thing between him and his new office as a doo, so there was no reason to postpone it.

But, if he hoped the office was any better than his new home, it turned out to be even worse.

“What is that!” he shouted, looking at a weird coffee mug where a plant had grown. There were also tons of spider webs scattered around the place.

“Has someone died here?!” he questioned, shocked at how that entire place was awful.

He should have assumed there was a catch. But there was nothing else to do now. He had to be there for the time being…

Luckily for him, he had quite a few tricks to make things better.

“Well… I guess there is no one else here” he assumed, after looking at his surrounding with care and discretion.

If someone caught him doing what he was about to do, he could put the entire mission in great danger.

“Here we go…” he tried to motivate himself. He closed his eyes to focus, as he felt the wind around him.

“Since there is no one else to see…” he started to say something, as he shook his hands.

“Make this place more like me!” he ordered, opening his eyes. The hand he was shaking was covered by a powerful blue light.

He shot it at the wall’s direction. It ricocheted in the room, going from place to place. Wherever it landed, it replaced the old, dangerous and dirty things with new objects, decorations and tools. “Now we are talking!” he exclaimed, happy with the changes he made. The place was still not perfect, but it was definitely more pleasant. The shades of blue that the protagonist loved had filled the place. All of the cobwebs had disappeared, and so did the dust. The Bed, the TV and the stove were all replaced by the new utensils, and he even had a name plate at his desk and a photo.

He didn’t have enough time to celebrate, however, because he stared to hear steps approaching him.

“Yikes!” he worried to himself, quickly sitting on his chair and trying to act casual. It ended up being one of the men of the DDD.

“I assume you are Ethan Universe, our new doorman, right?” the man questioned. The boy gulped, but managed to hid it.

“Yes! That’s me” Ethan replied with a smile, trying to look calm. His surname wasn’t Universe, but he was definitely an Ethan.

“You were already instructed on what to do, correct?” the man checked.

“Yes!” the wizard responded. The DDD man stood quiet for a while… just staring at the boy soul.

“Well, I will be going now. Remember, keep your neighbors safe” the man reinforced, before leaving on an ominous tone.

Ethan sighed on relief, grabbing the just materialized photo.

“Don’t worry dad, I will find you” the boy stated at the frame.

As you have probably already guessed, Ethan was not a regular boy. He was a wizard. And not any Wizard, but a wizard from a powerful family. He and his dad lived alone in peace. Both were happy, but it all changed one day…

_____________________________________________________________

Author’s note: This is just a small chapter for now to see what people will say. But, basically, what if the doorman of That’s not my neighbor had magic like in Grachi or Every Witch Way?

[badlytranslatingpostsintogaelic]

Halò agus fàilte! 'S e am bloga agam far an cuir mi Gàidhlig (bhriste) air postaichean.

'S e neach-ionnsachaidh a th’ annam. Chan eil Gàidhlig gu leòr agam.

Rinn mi am blog seo airson cleachdadh. Postachaidh mi gu slaodach. Cleachdaidh mi briathran cliobach. Nì mi mearachdan. Dèanaibh foighidinn ruim, mas e ur toil e!

Ma bhitheas sibh ag iarraidh gam cheartaich, dèanaibh e, mas e ur toil e - bidh mi taingeil ^_^

Is fheàrr Gaidhlig bhriste na Gàidhlig sa chiste! 💕

--

Hello and welcome! This is my blog where I translate posts into Scottish Gaelic (badly).

I am a learner. I am not fluent in Gaelic.

I made this blog for practice. I will post slowly. I will use awkward phrasing. I will make mistakes. Please be patient with me!

If you want to correct me, please do so - I will be grateful ^_^

Broken Gaelic is better than dead Gaelic! 💕

(You can probably judge from the English version of this post what my level of Gaelic is like!)

Some blogs that inspired this one: @textpostscymraeg, @translatingpostsintoirish, @badlytranslatingpoststoswedish

[unexpectedbrickattack]

Honestly i adore reading your rambles and headcanons, the way you manage to build these characters and like... Break them down and remake them from the ground up is just so inspiring.

Which is why I got a lil question for u!! Do you think Peppino and Gus would consume fiction (movies, books, etc)? If so, what genre do you think they would enjoy? 🥺

U are so sweet 🥺💜 It helps that ur supposed to do that for characters you make to help them feel more relatable and all that jazz. I just do the same to characters i like in any fandom (being in the k/h fandom really helps w this unfortunately 😭😭😭)

ANYWAY I think Peppino ‘War Vet’ Spaghetti does not enjoy loud games or loud movies. Lots of the most popular movies are Horror related or Action related and he wouldnt be able to sit through them for long without getting upset. Too many explosions, too many broken down buildings and overturned cars and guns and EXPLOSIVE GUNS. Just let him watch MASH or something 😭 I like the idea of him just watching sports in his free time as well. Its enough action (and violence) to get him excited and invested but with the important lack of Guns and Explosions and Death. Sports will often put him to sleep tho so does it REALLY count as watching if the tv is just watching him instead?

I write Gus (at least in my own free time) as a easygoing, freespirited kind of dude who will not turn down anything even remotely fun or exciting. Even before leaving the forest to go work with Peppino, he would often wander outside the forest and explore, rarely ever staying home for long. I feel like he would be someone who enjoys the escapism of movies and theater. Its cute to think of him as a hopeless romantic heehee he’ll sit and watch those cheesy lifetime movies for ages if hes lounging around Peppinos house. Romance films often double as adventure movies, or more like. An extensive Journey where ur life is completely upheaved for better or for worse. Its nice :) I would say hed enjoy what wed consider sci-fi, but is it really sci-fi in a world with actual aliens and wizards and talking veggies? Lmao

Peppino wont watch too many movies on his own time (too long; fell asleep) but he’ll try and sit through them if Gus is there watching it. Peppino goes to His Chair and Gus is like ‘oh dont do that; thats the sleepytime chair’ and Peppino is like shut the HELL up its not and then hes snoring like 15 minutes into the movie. HOWEVER. He will wake up AS SOON as the movie ends without fail. It does make him feel validated, though, to see Gus completely knocked the hell out, sleeping against Brick.

[phantomdoofer]

Tower Town, Chapter 34 - Fuggiasco

Peppino leaned over the edge of the baby bed, staring down at his sleeping son, a wistful smile on his face.

Fungo was beside him, of course. Ever since the little Mingle had been brought home, Peppino's Toppin companion had watched over the bambino like a hawk. Giuseppe's Sausage, Polpetta, was there, too, as was Gustavo's Pineapple, Raschi. Both of them had basically abandoned their people to watch over Peppino's son. Raschi was always away from the baby, though; they knew their raspy rind could hurt him.

Polpetta stood up and burred at the Italian, and Fungo squeaked softly.

Peppino simply looked down at the sleeping infant. My sweet little boy. Even now he could hardly believe that this little miracle was his. I never dreamed I would have this much. He reached down and gently stroked the boy's hair, and Tony stirred just enough to squirm.

Peppino pulled his hand back, reluctant to wake the boy just yet. The sun was barely over the horizon. No need to get him up yet. Soon enough he'd be awake, demanding his breakfast.

Peppino leaned back, chuckling as he quietly left the room. He ambled back into his bedroom, pulling open a drawer and grabbing one of his more casual shirts to put on. He'd taken the day off - he was taking Tony to see his grandmother. Margherita had been beside herself for days, wanting to see her grandson.

“It's been ages, Pino,” she'd chided him over the phone. “He's already a year old!”

Peppino had laughed. “You'll-a have plenty of time together, Mama,” he'd mused.

Margherita had not been as amused. “I know you don't wish to admit it, figlio mio, but my health is poor. I doubt I have much time left. I can't express how proud I am of you and Giuseppe both, but… I want to spend as much time with my nipoti as I can.”

And so, Peppino and Giuseppe had decided to meet up and take Tony and Sofia to see their grandmother, together. Sofia was barely more than a week old, still too young for more than admiration, but… Tony might put on a show. He could already talk, just a little.

Tony and his nonna were familiar, of course; despite his Mama's complaints, it was hardly the first time they'd met. But it has been a while, Peppino admitted grudgingly as he slid the shirt over his head. She has reason to fuss.

A squeak at his door made him turn - Fungo stood, hopping up and down… just as Peppino heard an angry wail come from down the hall.

Peppino laughed softly. “Va bene, I'm-a coming,” he told the little mushroom. Fungo squeaked excitedly and ran from the room.

Peppino shook his head as he went to fetch his hungry progeny. Boy's a bottomless pit, he thought smugly. Tony was far larger and more developed than most children his age, something Peppino was quite proud of.

Gustavo had commented on it during his last visit. “Well, John said he might develop differently,” Gustavo had said, holding the sleeping infant in his arms. “Didn't think it'd be this obvious, though.”

Peppino had been beaming. “Strong-a genes,” he'd said. “He has the blood of heroes in his veins, after all.”

Gustavo's mustache had twisted wryly. “Now, Pep, let's not get swelled heads, here.”

Peppino had shrugged. “Oh, let-a me have this, Gus. I've-a had little to be proud of in my life up til this point.”

Gustavo had quirked an eyebrow. “You have more to be proud of than you know, Pep,” he'd muttered. “But… I guess saving the world does give you an excuse to preen a bit.”

Peppino had pointed at the gnome. “The same-a goes for you, you know.”

Gustavo had resisted. “After how I've behaved… I don't think so.”

Peppino had frowned. “Cazzate, Gus. I know you-a feel you need to pay-a penance-”

“And I do, Peppino,” Gus had broken in.

Peppino had shrugged. “Se lo dici tu, Gustavo,” he'd replied, and said no more.

Looking back on the incident that had caused their schism, he knew he’d had reason to be upset. If nothing else, everyone else’s response proves that. But he realized now that he'd damaged his relationship with his friend and lover even more than Gustavo himself had. Now Gustavo was shy of even associating with his own son. Only that son's insistence on being with his father had broken through the gnome's reticence.

Peppino sighed and looked down the hall towards the room that had been meant for the gnome. Someday, my friend, you'll feel you're welcome in the home you helped build.

Shaking his head, he reentered Tony's room; the boy was standing, holding the sides of his crib, his head thrown back in a wail of hungry indignation.

Peppino scooped the child up and held him to his chest. “Dai, piccolina, cos'è tutto questo rumore? Ti comporti come se non mangiassi da anni!” He held Tony up, snuggling his face to the boy's chest, burbling and blabbering. Tony immediately switched from irritated grunts to giggles and shrieks.

Peppino laughed along with him. His heart never felt lighter than when he heard his son laugh. He pulled the boy in close again and tickled his belly. “Vieni, mia piccola palla di salsiccia, facciamo colazione prima di iniziare la giornata.”

~~~~

Peppino was just getting Tony dressed from a bath - the boy's breakfast had become a food fight, and both of them had needed cleaning up - when he heard a knock on his door. As he stood, the door opened, and Giuseppe came through, grinning and easing a baby carrier through, trying not to jostle its occupant.

“Sofie!” Tony yelled in excitement. He'd instantly fallen in love with his little cousin.

Peppino and Giuseppe both shushed the little boy. “Tony, piano!” They said simultaneously.

Giuseppe continued. “Sorry, bambino, but Sofie just went to sleep. Piano, per favore.”

Tony looked upset at first… then nodded. “Saaahee,” he said penitently.

Giuseppe sat the carrier beside Tony, sat down, and reached over, ruffling Tony's bright red hair. “Sorry to jump you, nipote. I know you're just excited. Go ahead, you can look.”

Tony's face lit up, and he gently leaned over, admiring the sleeping infant inside.

Giuseppe looked up at his brother. “And him only a year old himself. He acts more like a toddler.”

Peppino nodded. “That's-a my boy. I think he got some of-a Gus’s telepathy. He picks up on-a meanings amazingly-a quick.”

Giuseppe quirked an eyebrow. “That's handy.” He leaned back, sighing and closing his eyes.

Peppino smiled slyly. “Bambina keeping you up at night, eh?”

Giuseppe nodded without opening his eyes. “I'm trying to do all the night work. Anita already put in nine months, after all. But Mio Dio, the child is relentless.”

Peppino laughed. “Oh, sì, ho capito. I don't-a think I got more than three hours of-a sleep in a row until Tony was-a six months old. And even-a then, I just-a now started getting full sleep again.”

Giuseppe's face screwed up in a rictus of exaggerated pain. “You're not exactly filling me with confidence here, Pino…”

Peppino laughed heartily. “The perils of father-a-hood, sfortunatamente. You'll-a get used to it.” He chuckled knowingly and elbowed his brother in the ribs. “And you'd better, because I know Anita has no intentions of stopping at-a one!”

Giuseppe winced and sighed again. “Ah, Dio aituami, I've created a monster.”

~~~~

Peppino slid into the driver's seat as Giuseppe sat down in the back seat. He set Sofia's carrier between himself and Tony's baby seat, carefully belting it down. Peppino had laughingly volunteered to drive, since Giuseppe was exhausted.

“Everyone belted in back there?” Peppino called teasingly.

Giuseppe rolled his eyes. “Yes, Padre, all your children are safe. Let's go, fratellino.”

Peppino snickered as he threw the car into reverse, backing out of his driveway. “Now, what-a kind of fratellino would I be if I didn't-a tease mio fratello a little?”

Giuseppe grinned. “Just drive, stronzo.”

Peppino tut-tutted. “Language, fratello, language!”

As Peppino pulled onto the road leading or of nis neighborhood, he looked to the sides. Everywhere, children laughed and played; people tended lawns and chatted with neighbors. A place full of life.

Just a few years ago this was an empty field, he thought. He grinned. Glad not to be out here alone, anymore.

He looked up at the looming mass of the city before him; it would only take a few moments to reach the outskirts. So close, and so far away.

Shortly Peppino found himself wending through the winding streets of South La Crosta. Unlike the northern parts of the city, South La Crosta and The Docks were tangled, closely-built, and had a million million traffic signs. If I hadn't grown up here, I'd be terrified trying to navigate this rat's nest!

He found that, despite loving his new home and the reasons he had for building it, part of him missed the city. It was his first home. It was… familiar.

Giuseppe looked out the window, eyeing the dirt and grime. “They really should clean this up,” he said. “Biggest city on the East Coast, and it looks like a drainage ditch.”

Peppino grinned. “You were-a gone too long, Seppe. You got-a too used to clean, sterile corridors. You-a forgot where you came from.”

Giuseppe's lips twisted slightly. “I went plenty of nasty, dirty places, Pino,” he fired back, “I'm no stranger to grit and grime.” He sighed. “Maybe I just started liking not living in a cesspit.”

“Cesspit?” Peppino said in mock offense. “I have-a you know South La Crostans only suffer six months of-a respiratory distress a year! Practically nothing! And-a the rats only-a carry people off with-a their consent these days!”

Both of them laughed… and Tony joined in, happily yelling “wats!” in a giggly treble.

Giuseppe looked down. “I guess the little guy likes rats?”

Peppino nodded into the mirror. “Well, the Giant-a Rats, anyway. And-a they seem fascinated by him. Every time we go out, if we pass one, they have to stop and inspect-a him.” Peppino shrugged. “His Papa has a way with rats, after all.” He paused. “Seppe, can I ask-a you a question?”

Giuseppe looked surprised. “Always, fratellino. What's on your mind?”

“It's-a just… have-a you seen Brick lately?”

Giuseppe's bushy eyebrows rose. “Now that you mention it, no. I can't remember seeing her lately. I assume you haven't, either?”

Peppino shook his head. “No. I haven't seen her around-a town, or at-a the pizzeria. I haven't-a seen her as much since Gustavo's ristorante opened, but she's always come-a to visit. Gustavo hasn't-a said anything. I wonder if something happened?”

Giuseppe shrugged. “Hopefully nothing bad. Surely if something had happened, Gus would have told us. And besides, Brick can definitely take care of herself.”

Peppino nodded. “It's-a just… ever-a since the first-a Tower, those-a two have been joined at-a the hip. For her to have just-a disappeared, and Gus not to have said anything… it's-a strange.”

Giuseppe nodded. “Infatti. Perhaps one of us should ask the next time we see him.”

Peppino made a left, and eased gently into a parking spot on the side of the road, next to an elderly but well-kept red brick low-rise. Peppino looked out… and smiled. “Ah, casa dolce casa. Our-a first one, anyway.” He checked for traffic, then opened his door.

Giuseppe was doing the same. He stretched, and his back realigned with a cacophony of audible clicks. “Mio Dio, fratellino, that back seat is not made for men our size.”

Peppino chuckled, leaning into pick up Sofie’s carrier. “At-a least it wasn't a long trip.” Handing Giuseppe his daughter, he reached to unbuckle Tony, who was making anxious noises. “Sì, sì, Antonio, un attimo…” Leaning out, he handed the boy to his uncle, closed the door, and clicked the Lock button. He turned, taking his son back, and looked up. “She should-a be waiting,” Peppino said.

Giuseppe waved a passing car to stop, and the quartet hustled across the road. “I'm sure she is. She's probably anxious to see her nipoti. She called yesterday - she was practically frothing.”

As they climbed the steps, Peppino smirked. “It's-a been too long since Tony saw her. But you know how it goes…”

“I know you're busy, ragazzi,” a familiar voice called from above, “but you could make time for your poor Mama occasionally.”

Standing at the top of the staircase, leaning on a cane, stood their mother. She was smiling brilliantly, and she waved a wizened hand towards the open door beside her. “Come, come, ragazzi, let's go inside. It's cold out here.”

Peppino and Giuseppe looked at each other in amusement, then proceeded up the stairs.

~~~~

Peppino closed the door behind him and eased down the hallway after his brother, Tony babbling happily at no one in particular. Margherita was already in her recliner, reaching out as Giuseppe gently handed his daughter over to her. The elderly woman cooohed as she leaned back, gently cradling the newborn. “Oooh, she's precious,” she said. She gently reached up, brushing a lock of black hair away from her face. Margherita chuckled. “I see she inherited the family hair. You were born with a full head yourself, figlio.”

Giuseppe smiled. “Well, according to Anita, she was, too. And we both have black hair, so…” he shrugged. “Poor little bambina had no chance.”

Sofia cracked her eyes, and brilliant blue peeped out for a moment.

Margherita’s smile grew wider. “Ah, and the Spaghetti genes are strong, too.”

Peppino sat next to his brother, setting Tony on his knee. “I-a wondered if Antonio would-a keep the color he had when he was-a born, but I should have known that-a gene would persist.”

Margherita caressed her granddaughter's cheek with a touch light as a feather. “According to your Papa, that color has persisted for as long as the Spaghettis have existed. Even before the Old War.”

Giuseppe quirked an eyebrow. “Which is strange. Blue eyes are supposed to be a recessive gene. I wonder how it's persisted so strongly.”

“Obviously it isn't a normal gene,” Margherita said decisively. “Perhaps some sort of mutation. Or it might be tied to your power. Who knows?” She looked back at Sofia with a warm grin. “It makes for a beautiful sight, though. I never tired of looking into your Papa's eyes.” She held the baby out, and Giuseppe took her back.

She turned to Peppino with a roguish grin. “Now. Bambinas may be beautiful to look at, but I know a little mascalzone who needs some attention.”

Peppino and Giuseppe both smirked, and Tony reached out, kicking his legs.

Peppino handed the wriggling boy over, and Margherita immediately pulled him to her, rubbing noses with him. “Eccoti qua, piccolo mascalzone! Sei pronto a volare?”

Tony's giggles turned into shrieks of happiness as Margherita tossed him into the air, almost to the ceiling, catching him and tossing him again. Peppino leaned back, watching with only a partial eye. Even as old and frail as she was, his Mama was still immensely strong… and had decades of experience dealing with it.

His son was in no danger at all.

After a few minutes, Margherita gently put Tony in her lap. “Ah, I miei figli, it makes me so happy to know that you have such wonderful children with you. I was afraid you would age and die alone.” She stared wistfully at a picture on the wall… an image of their father. “I had you, at least.”

At that moment, someone knocked on the door.

Peppino and Giuseppe both turned, interested and a bit confused. “Cosa? Mama, were you-a expecting visitors?” Peppino said, mystified.

The older woman sighed. “Accidenti, he promised he wouldn't…” She looked at Giuseppe. “Figlio, get the door, please. We might as well get this over with.”

The two brothers looked at each other, even more mystified. “Va bene, Mama,” Giuseppe said, standing. “Should we be worried?”

As he crossed to the door, Margherita looked more annoyed than she had in years. “Worried? Non proprio. But I doubt you'll enjoy the experience.”

As Giuseppe opened the door, he beheld a large, round man, with a face much like his own. He had long, graying black hair in a mullet, a bushy mustache, and a thick, bulbous nose. He was wearing a baseball cap, and a baseball jersey open at the front, leaving the white tank top he wore out. He had a large gold cross around his neck.

The smile he had on his face was as insincere as he'd ever seen.

“Ah, cousin, we meet at last,” he said, reaching out and grabbing Giuseppe’s hand.

Giuseppe fought to not wrench his hand away. He'd dealt with people like this man for years, and knew on sight he wasn't trustworthy. “Do I know you, Signore?”

Margherita called from the living room. “Go ahead and let him in, figlio,” she declared. “He's famiglia.”

Giuseppe stepped back, letting the man squeeze by, who grinned even wider. “Thanks, cuz,” he said. Giuseppe was surprised. For someone who's family, he doesn't sound like he's Italian.

As Giuseppe closed the door, the man crossed over to the couch, flopping down next to Peppino.

Giuseppe pointedly stood behind Margherita's recliner.

“Peppino, Giuseppe, this is Maurizio-”

The man sat forward. “Hey, c’mon Margie, you know I prefer Maurice,” he exclaimed.

Margherita sighed explosively. “Yes, yes. Maurice. He’s your first cousin - my older brother's oldest son.”

Peppino's eyebrows rose. “Infatti? I didn't-a know we had any other-a famiglia here.”

“You didn't, until just a couple of years ago,” Margherita said. “Maurice moved here a few months before the Pizza Tower happened.”

Maurice laughed. “Man, that's was somethin’ to hear about! My baby cousin, tearin’ down a whole Tower with his bare hands!” He turned and vigorously shook Peppino's hands. “Only one of us could do somethin’ like that!”

Giuseppe scowled. “One of us?” He said.

“Maurice is of the Rossini blood,” Margherita explained. “As such, he has the super-strength found in our bloodline.”

Maurice looked a bit pained. “Yeah, I can rip up wood and sheet metal an’ all that, but I can't bust through metal blocks.” He turned back to Peppino. “Izzat true, though? You were bustin’ through steel and stone with your head?”

Peppino smiled hesitantly. “S-sì, it's-a true. I hadn't-a used my powers in-a years, but… when Pizzaface threatened-a my pizzeria… it's-a like something broke in-a-side me.”

Giuseppe smirked. “And then, at the top, you really snapped, I hear.”

Peppino blushed. “Sì. After-a all I'd-a been through in-a the Tower, the pain, the torture… when Pizzahead started-a taunting me, pulling the bosses out… I couldn't-a take it anymore.”

“And the rest is history,” Margherita finished. She bounced Tony on her knee, and the baby, picking up on the warm emotions in the room, chuckled.

Maurice laughed as well, looking up at Giuseppe. “Yeah, yeah, an’ don't think I haven't heard about you, Mr. Brigadier General. Went through all that shit with, what'd they call it?”

“The Partisan Project?” Giuseppe volunteered.

Maurice snapped his fingers. “Yeah, yeah! You got kidnapped! Fought in the War! Busted up that Inferno thing real good.” He grinned hugely. “Didn't know it was you, of course, but we were dancin’ in the streets when we heard.”

“We?” Giuseppe prompted.

Maurice scoffed. “Me an’ my wife at the time. Still livin’ back in Italy, then.”

Giuseppe nodded. “I was going to say, for someone from Italy, you don't sound like you are.”

Margherita coughed a laugh. “Oh, Maurice is in love with the culture here. Seems he's ashamed of his heritage.”

Maurice scowled. “You of all people ought t’ know why I wanted to break ties, Aunt Margie.” He snorted. “Why should I want t’ be associated with people who didn't want me?”

Peppino and Giuseppe both looked at their mother for an explanation.

Margherita cleared her throat. “Your cousin was in an arranged marriage, much like I was slated to be… before your Papa and I made our own plans.” She smiled for a moment, wrapped up in fond memories, then shook her head, coming back to the modern day. “He was married at eighteen - you two would have been sixteen - and shortly after, they bore a child.”

Maurice nodded, grinning… and Giuseppe noticed it was the first fully sincere smile he'd seen on the man's face. “Ah, Mauritzia. Only good thing t’ come outta that whole mess.”

Margherita nodded. “After his daughter reached her majority at eighteen, he divorced her mother. This caused quite a scandal, naturally - political marriages are not normally broken, for any reason.”

Maurice snarled. “I broke it off ‘cause she was a heinous, demonic bitch. Worst years of my life. Only stayed around ‘cause of Mauritzia.”

“You could have stayed with her, you know,” Margherita said quietly. “Been a father to her.”

Maurice squirmed. “I had t’ live my own life, y’know? Her Mama made sure she was tough, smart, ready. She didn't need me.”

Margherita frowned. “Sì, your sposa made sure. I suppose you were too busy attempting to talk someone into financing one of your hair-brained schemes.”

Peppino and Giuseppe's eyes went wide, and Maurice looked away. “Aw, c’mon, Auntie, you didn't have t’ put it like that…”

Carefully, Peppino turned back to his mother. “Mama, what are-a you saying?”

Margherita scoffed. “I'm saying that your dear, sweet cousin is a con-man. A grifter. A scoundrel.” She glared at the man.

Maurice waved a hand. “I'm an entrepreneur, Auntie! Just…doesn't always work out…”

Margherita laughed disdainfully. “Oh, sì, usually right before they figure it out.” She stared Peppino in the eyes, and reached up to touch Giuseppe's hand. “Don't believe half of what he says.”

Maurice frowned, but it was more pained than angry. “I, uh, didn't come here t’ try anythin’, Auntie…”

Margherita quirked an eyebrow.

Maurice threw up his hands. “Alright, alright, I give! I was gonna try t’ talk Peppino inta lettin’ me have a bit of cash for somethin’!”

Peppino leaned away from the man, his lip curling in disgust. “Ah. And-a the truth comes-a out. And you thought I would-a just… give you this? Out of consideration of our blood?”

Maurice looked down. “I woulda paid it back…” he muttered.

Margherita snorted. “Oh, sì, he's not kidding there. He does pay his debts… assuming it doesn't fall through. Which it usually does.”

Giuseppe looked down at his mother, a touch incredulous. “And you let him in? Knowing what he is, what the wants?”

Margherita shrugged. “He's not a total stronzo, figlio mio. He wouldn't knowingly hurt us… other than losing money, anyway.” Maurice looked up. “And you would have met sooner or later.”

Maurice blinked. “Ya talk like I'm th’ scum o’ the earth, Auntie.” He looked genuinely hurt.

Margherita sighed and leaned forward. “Maurice… if you would simply straighten up. The schemes, the plans…” she leaned back. “You do yourself a disservice, cugino.”

Maurice stood up, slapping his knees. “Can't help what I am, Auntie.” He turned. “Well, seein’ as yer all puffed up about this now, I'm gonna be on my way. Nice to meet ya both, Peppino, Giuseppe. Genuinely. I'll have t’ bring Jr. along sometime. He needs t’ meet some of his kin.”

Margherita's face softened a bit. “Despite your scoundrelry, you're still famiglia, Maurice. I believe you have good in you. Please, cugino… try to be better.”

Maurice blushed. “I, uh… I'll try, Auntie. For you.” He slipped down the hallway. “Later.”

The family sat in silence for several moments… until Tony broke the silence - the little telepath was picking up the turbulent emotions in the room, and started whimpering.

Immediately Peppino hugged the little boy close. “Ah, mi displace tanto, figlio. Here we are all aflutter with emotion and no thought of how it would affect you!”

Giuseppe walked back around, sitting beside Peppino. “I don't know how to feel about him, having met him. He seems as trustworthy as a scorpion, and yet… it's... unsettling.”

Margherita sighed and resettled Sofia back in the crook of her arm. “That's a good word for him, figlio. Unsettling. You're right, mostly. He's a scoundrel, a con, a cheat and a liar. And yet…” She turned, looking down the hallway. “I genuinely don't think he would actually hurt us. Not intentionally, anyway.”

Peppino curled his lip a bit. “E tuttavia… he came here with the intention of… of soliciting me. Having never met me before!” His face grew red…

Tony whimpered again, and Peppino looked down, his face cooling. He hugged the little boy to his face instead.

Margherita sighed again. “And he will again. But know this, I miei figli. He didn't try until he knew you were well placed. You have two ristorantes now. A home. A reputation as a hero. More businesses on the way. Yes?”

Peppino looked uneasy. “Sì…”

“And yet, he knew of you before. He knew you destroyed the Tower. He waited. As despicable as he may seem… he did not try to exploit a man who couldn't handle it.”

Peppino and Giuseppe looked at each other. “That's… one way of looking at it, I suppose,” Giuseppe said.

Margherita nodded. “It's just as well you two met him today.” She smiled, holding Sofia up gently. “He wouldn't dare try anything around me. Or around these bambini. Now… you're forewarned.”

Giuseppe sat forward. “Why didn't you tell us about him before, Mama?” he said.

Margherita smiled slyly. “I was hoping he'd show up exactly as he did. I warned him off of you when he first appeared. Besides,” she smirked mischievously, “it would have actually been a little funny if he'd managed to con you.”

Peppino and Giuseppe both looked aghast…. and Margherita laughed. “Ah, I miei figli, you know the world has people in it like him! You know this! And you need to remember… that people like him exist.” She bounced the sleepy newborn a bit, and she made a small, sleepy noise. “And having a mascalzone like him on your good side could be helpful.”

Giuseppe leaned back, looking thoughtful. “That's a good point, Mama.”

She nodded. “I thought you, of the two of you, would understand. No doubt you brokered more than a few back-alley deals in your day.”

Giuseppe blushed. “Infatti.”

Margherita smiled wider. “Now. Let's put all thoughts of shady cuginos and deals in alleyways out of our minds. I have a pair of nipoti to spoil.”

~~~~

The moon was well up when the little family set out for home. Giuseppe reached out in the darkness, steadying Sofia's seat, while Tony burbled happily on his other side.

In the front, Peppino sat, lost in thought.

Giuseppe leaned forward. “Still on your mind, fratellino?”

Peppino turned slightly, then nodded. “It's… strano. We have… famiglia here. Besides-a Mama. Besides us. A cousin, his-a son. We have famiglia back in Italia.” He shook his head. “I've-a always lived my life thinking we were… alone. Then you reappeared… I have-a Tony now…” he smiled, “and now… a whole family.” He shook his head again. “I don't-a know how to feel.”

Giuseppe’s grin seemed almost to glow in the darkness. “You had famiglia before, Peppino. You lost most of them. And, to save yourself, you put the feeling somewhere deep inside you. Now, it's back.” He leaned back again. “It's strange because it's familiar… and yet alien.”

Peppino turned slightly again. “Vero, ma… it's-a more than that. I don't-a know how I feel about-a him.”

Giuseppe nodded. “Having a con man… one who's not above trying it on his famiglia… as one of our closest relatives is going to be… interesting.”

Peppino nodded. “Sì.”

[childlikegoblinqueen]

NEW SCOM CHAPTER

I was broken from a young age, Taking my sulking to the masses

Amber spills the beans -- or a few of them at least to Gus (with Hunter and Willow in earshot)

And Hunter and Willow make a visit to a certain inmate.

[philtstone]

“shoutout to ice age fr” has my curiosity piqued 😂👀

im pretty sure i wrote about this one in the last wip meme as well and i havent made any more progress on it (rip) but "shoutout to ice age fr" is titled thusly because in my mind ice age is the quintessential road trip fic and this story -- as it manifested in zainabs dms like 6 months ago -- is a canon divergence road trip au in which pre-series post-college juliet o'hara gets cold feet about taking her detective exam & with the weight of her daddy issues on her shoulders flees miami with a backpack no destination to Avoid Her Troubles.

this of course overlaps with the canonical years of shawns Travels, so they run into each other at some random truck stop in savannah and make a pact to road trip together for 2 reasons: shawns bike has broken down and hes out of cash; juliet has cash but is getting increasingly uncomfortable accepting rides from strangers as a girl alone. she very tentatively decides to trust him (even a juliet who is actively fleeing her daddy issues is incapable of escaping her narrative curse) and shawn in turn accepts the sudden and new presence of a person who like. has expectations of him. he's also obviously on the run from his own daddy issues and also obviously incapable of escaping them. kismet or whatever.

where is gus in all this? you may ask. well, in this universe, to Prove He Can Make Something Of Himself gus did not take the obvious pharmaceutical job in SB but, post shawn departure, went out in the world to be an entrepreneur and has failed spectacularly. but he cant bear to return home in defeat so he is not fleeing from daddy issues per say but he is certainly fleeing.

they run into him in like, wisconsin or something. shawn convinces him to come along on their roadtrip and there are a lot of excellently-vibed montages of the three of them wheeling around shawns busted bike and waiting around to be picked up by passerbys and falling asleep against each others shoulders in the backs of pickup trucks.

THEN, in some random town in the middle of nowhere, theyre almost arrested for loitering. shawn gets them out of it by claiming hes a psychic.

suddenly

they realize

they can like. make money. by offering people "psychic readings". money that they need for food and motels and bike fixing. so they do.

what follows is a chaotic road trip of self-discovery and friendship and feelings! and learning how to be brave! also they run into lassiter in like fresno or something bc hes transferred there post-divorce and he doesnt come with them but juliet starts sending him post cards.

here's an excerpt from the 3 sentences i have written:

“You have no phone, Shawn! You’re basically unreachable!” “I am not!” “Functionally, you are unreachable. You are! I can’t call a pay phone!” “Who carries a cellular phone around on them at all times, Gus?” “Working professionals!” “Which neither of us are, clearly — ow —!” Shawn twists away from Gus’s – yes, Juliet is seeing correctly – pinching finger.  “It’s the principle!” “Those things are so ugly and huge! Where would I even put it?” “On your belt. It goes on your belt.” “I don’t have a belt.” “You are wearing a belt right now —”