#this is me in the art room aggressively showing you my paper covered in glitter

[scp-1296]

Time doesn't really... work on the Aurora. Every event sort of weaves in and out of continuity. Sometimes the Doc's already fallen out of the airlock, sometimes it's not gonna happen for forty years, and very occasionally it's the only thing that's ever happened on the ship. When each Mechanism joined the crew is usually linear, but once you're on the ship, "linear" goes out the window a bit.

Time only made sense for The Aurora once in the entire time since Jonny stole her, when the skies over Midgard opened up and the world was plunged into chaos and nothing was anything and everything and for one sick, horrible second, a minute was sixty seconds and an hour was sixty minutes and the clocks all told the same time.

And so in eight years ago Nastya does go out an airlock. But eight years ago was in the future, and for now she will always be on board, and on the Aurora, "now" can last as long as you want.

[unbridgeabledistances]

ok i have an inbox full of prompts, but i was making valentine’s day plans & all of a sudden felt very inspired to write some valentine’s day gallavich! featuring uncle mickey, homemade cards and a lot of domestic fluff- i’ll probs have a part two up sometime this week!<3

--

It was a lazy, slow-paced Sunday afternoon at the Gallagher house. Mickey had been lying on the couch passively watching trashy reality TV for god knows how long—and apparently at some point he’d fallen asleep, because now the TV volume was just a low hum, and he was being woken up to the startling crash of the kitchen back door slamming shut, and the rustling of shoes and coats being taken off and discarded by the front door.

“Alright Franny, let’s set this stuff up on the kitchen table.” Mickey heard Ian’s voice sail across the room, his eyes still closed to block out the cheery sunshine teeming in the living room.

Mickey tried to doze off again, attempting to block out the bright light infiltrating his eyelids, but it was no use— whatever Ian and Franny were doing, murmuring and clanging in the kitchen, there was no way for Mickey to escape the sound now and drift back into his sunwarmed sleep. He begrudgingly shoved the scratchy crocheted blanket off of his lap, stretching as he rose and stumbled into the kitchen.

He wasn’t expecting the carnage that he saw when he turned the corner; the kitchen table was covered in an explosion of sheets of multicolored construction paper, all reds and pinks and whites, with tiny multicolored stickers and tubes of glitter and shiny ribbons arranged and spread wide across the countertop, scattered with glue sticks and pairs of scissors and an exploded box of crayons. There was a small mountain of cut-out hearts piled high on the table, smattered with glitter-glue and blocky handwriting.

Mickey rubbed his eyes, taking in the scene. “What’re you two Picassos up to?” he asked drowsily.

Ian looked up, his eyes light. “Look who’s awake!” He gestured at the table emphatically, like it was Christmas morning. “Isn’t it great? Me and Franny grabbed all this stuff at the dollar store for less than ten bucks. The glue sticks definitely kind of suck, but I think it’ll get the job done.”

Mickeys eyes scanned to Franny, who was hard at work trying to cut a shape out of a piece of red construction paper, her brows furrowed in concentration. Ian kept chattering on as he unwrapped another sheath of the paper.

“Debbie left Franny with me since some rich lady called her with a weekend handywoman emergency that popped up at the last minute, so now I’m helping Franny make her valentines for school.”

Mickey scoffed. “Fucking valentines?”

Ian rolled his eyes as he contentedly started to glue together two pieces of paper. “Yes, Mickey, valentines. You know, those nice things that normal people give to each other on Valentine’s Day, along with a box of chocolates or some shit and a note about how much they love each other—”

“Yes, I know what they are, smartass. Don’t know why you didn’t just buy the little cardboard ones at the store though.”

Ian smirked, his eyes still focused on the paper beneath him that he was smudging glitter on. “Yeah, well. Franny wanted to make them, and I thought it’d be kind of fun.”

Just then Franny gasped triumphantly, raising a lopsided and crumpled paper heart up for Mickey to see. “Look, Uncle Mickey! I cut a heart! Uncle Ian showed me how!”

Mickey raised his eyebrows at Ian, who had a sheepish look on his face. “Didn’t know you had so many hidden talents, Gallagher.”

Ian flashed a grin. “I used to be really into art class in elementary school, what can I say.”

Franny looked up at Mickey with wide eyes. “Do you want to make valentines with us? We have to make twenty-seven, because that’s the number of people in my class.”

Mickey faltered. Sitting here gluing fucking glitter to pieces of paper was not exactly what he’d had in mind as his plans for the weekend…

“Uh. That’s okay kiddo. I think you two’ve got it covered.”

Franny seemed to readily accept Mickey’s answer, instantly looking downward again and grabbing a fistful of crayons from the table to continue enhancing her masterpiece. Ian, on the other hand, tore his gaze from his own valentine.

“Oh c’mon Mick, you don’t wanna help?” Ian asked, his voice goading and his eyebrows raised.

Mickey rolled his eyes. “Yeah, thanks but no thanks.” He turned, walking over to open the fridge and grabbing a beer from the top shelf.

“C’mon, just one valentine. Franny can show you how to cut out a heart shape, right Fran?”

Franny nodded vigorously. “Yes, I know how!”

Mickey took a swig of his beer and sighed. “Jesus, fine.” He pulled a chair between Ian and Franny, slowly scraping it on the linoleum, and then perched on the edge uncomfortably. “Alright Franny, show me what you’ve got.”

“Okay, so the first thing that you have to do is pick which color is your favorite. What’s your favorite color?”

Mickey had taken another sip of his beer, and now he sputtered slightly. “I don’t know Franny, you pick for me.”

Franny’s face melted into a pout. “But you have to pick, Uncle Mickey, it’s your favorite color!”

Ian bit back a laugh, his eyes still bright and cheerful. “Yeah, Mick, c’mon. What is your favorite color? We’ve never gotten this deep in our relationship before.”

Mickey gulped again from his beer can and flipped Ian off in the process. “I don’t fucking know. Never thought about it before.”

Franny held the stack of construction paper up to Mickey. “Look! There’s red, and yellow, and blue, and purple, and green—”

Mickey cut her off. “Uh, give me a green one.”

Ian smirked. “Green?”

“Fuck you, it was the first color I thought of.” Of course, that wasn’t really true—if Mickey needed to have a favorite fucking color, it was obviously going to be green, like the green eyes that met his gaze every morning and were the last thing he saw before he went to sleep at night— even if he would never be caught dead admitting that sappy bullshit to Ian.

Ian looked like he was holding back a smile. “Right,” he mused. “Hey, Franny, pass me a blue paper? Cause y’know, that’s my favorite color.”

Mickey gently shoved Ian in the square of his chest. “You’re being fucking soft.”

Ian let a crooked smile burst onto his face. “Yeah, I guess I am.”

Mickey leaned back in his chair, holding the piece of thick green paper in front of him appraisingly. “Okay Franny, what’s step two?”

Franny stretched her body across the table to reach for one of the strewn pairs of scissors. “Now, you fold the paper in half, and then you cut out the shape of half of a heart, like this.” She drew an example of the curved pattern on the backside of Mickey’s paper with the tip of her finger. “And then you unfold it and it’ll be a perfect shape!”

“Sounds easy enough.”

Mickey took the scissors from Franny’s grasp, and held them up to the paper. It was just a fucking half circle with a little indent at the top— this wasn’t going to be too difficult. Ian and Franny went back to being absorbed in crafting their valentines, while Mickey started to botch and slash at his piece of construction paper.

When he was finally satisfied he unfolded the shape, the outer shell of the paper falling away. It was… well, it was kind of a heart, with two slanted sides and a wonky top half. It looked more like a blob attached to an angle than anything else.

Ian looked up from where he was doodling on a glittery heart and snickered.

“That’s uh… that’s a good first try, Mick.”

Mickey slammed the piece of paper down onto the table. Fucking arts and crafts, he was never good at this shit even when he was little—he fingers were always too fumbling, too clumsy for him to make anything delicate and pristine. Ian’s hands should have been as ungainly as his, but instead they were quick and nimble, smoothly cutting perfectly-rounded circles and gluing neat lines of glitter.

Franny noticed that Mickey was done cutting his shape. “Good job Uncle Mickey! Now you just have to draw on it, and put on stickers and glitter.”

“Yeah Mickey, let’s see those artistic skills.”

Mickey aggressively flicked some flecks of glitter from the table in Ian’s direction, then picked up a crayon and gripped it with an iron fist. What the fuck was he supposed to draw? This was a valentine for kids at Franny’s school, the fuck did kids like anyways? He started to draw some sort of stick figure, but the arms were too long and the head was too small, so he tried to color over it and make some sort of tree or some shit…

As Mickey scratched at the paper, he looked over at noticed suddenly how content Ian looked—how blissed out and settled he was, just running a crayon over the colorful paper and shaking bits of glitter onto pools of glue. If Mickey was being honest, he hadn’t seen Ian this light and happy in a while; he’d had a hunch in his shoulders for months after the wedding and the pandemic and all the minimum-wage job bullshit, the shadows of expectation hanging over him and causing a deflated weariness in his gaze that was impossible to ignore. But right now, Ian looked like he was having as much fun as Franny was, practically vibrating with satisfaction as he put the finishing touches on his drawing and reaching to place his completed valentine in the growing pile.

Mickey snatched the paper out of Ian’s hand, slightly crumpling it around the edges. “Wait a second. How the fuck did you do that?”

The valentine was immaculate, the heart symmetrical and traced in a thin outline of glitter. In the center of the paper there was a perfect little cartoon of a dog in a top hat, with an air bubble that read “Happy Valentine’s Day.”

Ian shrugged. “Watched a lot of cartoons when I was little. And I’ve always kind of liked to draw.”

Mickey shoved the valentine back in front of Ian. Goddamn perfect fucking husband who’s good at fucking everything. He crossed his arms and leaned back in the chair, suddenly losing all motivation to play along.

Ian smirked, then reached to rest a hand on the back of Mickey’s neck. “Giving up already?”

Mickey rolled his eyes. “Fuck you, Gallagher.”

Ian’s smile just widened. “Here, how about I cut the fucking shapes and you glue stuff onto them. That’d still help me and Franny a lot, right?”

Franny nodded. “It’s okay Uncle Mickey, I was bad at cutting the shapes too at first.”

Mickey huffed. Okay, so maybe he was horrible at this shit, but the least he could do was suck it up for Franny’s sake. “Fine,” he muttered, and grabbed a glue stick and a bottle of glitter.

A few minutes passed and they settled into a comfortable silence, enveloped in the sound of the scissors gliding and Franny scribbling on paper.

Suddenly, Franny looked up as Mickey reached across the table to grab a pad of stickers.

“Hey Uncle Mickey, what do you and Uncle Ian do for Valentine’s Day?”

Mickey didn’t really know how to answer that question— he darted a glance over at Ian, trying to signal as much. Could you ruin the spirit of Valentine’s Day for kids in the same way you could fuck up Christmas? “Uh, nothing really.”

Ian chimed in. “We used to like Valentine’s Day when we were little like you Franny, but now that we’re big we don’t really celebrate it. Right Mick?”

“Yup.”

Franny’s brows were furrowed again, this time in contemplation. “But. You love each other, right?”

“Sure, Franny. But we don’t need a special day for us to remember that,” Ian explained.

Franny seemed appeased enough by that answer to resume her drawing. “You don’t give each other valentines or candy or anything?”

Mickey almost laughed. Of course he and Ian had never celebrated fucking Valentine’s Day; if he was being honest, he didn’t remember even really thinking about Valentine’s Day before now, other than it being a day when Mandy came home crying in middle school because the boy she liked didn’t ask her out, or buying all the half-priced chocolates in red and pink wrappers at the drugstore a week later with his brothers. With all the shit in his life the past few years, frilly fucking holidays like Valentine’s Day were just… not on Mickey’s radar.

But maybe— maybe this year was different. This year, for maybe the first time in his life, Mickey felt secure and steady in a way that he never had before, like the ground was solid beneath him and wasn’t going to cave in at any minute. He had a fucking husband that he loved—why couldn’t they celebrate Valentine’s Day like a normal goddamn couple? Ian didn’t seem to be too bothered that they both didn’t give a fuck about the holiday, which was all the more reason to catch him off guard. He kept pressing stickers down onto the construction paper, his mind starting to churn.

By the time they’d made the twenty-seven fucking valentines, Mickey had made up his mind; this year, he and Ian were going to celebrate Valentine’s Day.

part two here!

[magicalcreeks]

Happy Birthday, Stan

Summary: Kyle only wanted to throw Stan the perfect Birthday Party

Pairing: Style

It’s still Stan’s birthday here and since I can't draw I wanted to write a fic for his birthday with one of my favorite pairings. Enjoy!

...

Kyle was way over his head with an ambition greater than his ego. He, holding the title of Stan’s super best friend had to make sure his birthday went smoothly— and, with that same logic, it required Kyle to take full responsibility of the surprise party he wanted to throw him.

Premature chaos bubbles underneath of foundation of the Broflovski household, as the agenda Kyle set for the preparation of Stan’s surprise party went askew. He looked over the scene of Butters, Kenny, and Cartman sitting on the respective corners of the rectangular dining table with mounds of glitter glue and ribbon borrowed from Ike’s arts and crafts set resting on the floor, along with misshapen cutouts from their assortment of construction paper. Kyle’s red curls sprung over his eyes, they bounced along with his deep inhales. In the back of his mind, a feeling of leaving these idiots alone gnawed on him. Kyle placed two hands firmly on the wooden surface to see the progress being made between the three boys, again overhyping their artistic abilities since the art they created looked as if a dog chewed it, swallowed, and immediately spat it back up. The glue had already crusted along the edges of the paper, and the letters they cut out then pasted appeared lopsided. “What the hell is this?” Kyle demanded an explanation, noticing the time on the ticking clock hanging on his wall from the corner of his eye. This was no good. Cleanup wasn’t apart of the agenda. Stan was expected to arrive in less than two hours once he was done with therapy. Kyle knew his schedule like the back of his hand. Every week when Stan had his therapy session his father would pick him up and take him to Denny’s— for a painfully awkward conversation— then when his father dropped him off at his mothers house, Stan would text Kyle all about it until their conversation dissolved into them sending outdated memes to one another for the hell of it. Kyle has his hand balled into a tight fist on his side. He marched into the kitchen to grab the roll of paper towels and tossed it to Kenny in an aggressive pass, “clean this shit up, we have an hour until everyone arrives.” “Oh, Gee, how are we supposed to clean when we’re all sticky?” Said Butters, taking the towel sheet from Kenny’s hand and feeling it stick to his fingers. “Figure it out, Butters.” “Calm your Vagina.” Eric’s been snacking on the bag of cheesy puffs Kyle stocked on for this occasion. “Shut the fuck up, fatass,” he wrestled the bag out of Eric’s hands. It was upon retrieving it when he realized how empty the bag was, with his fingers clenching onto nothing but air and cheese dust. Really? Then he rolled his eyes, pressing down hard on the garbage pale to open the lid. He released the bag from his fingers and heard the plastic crinkle upon impact. “Um, about that,” Kenny pauses on his cleaning, unsure yet unnerved on what to say to Kyle in his current disposition. Instead, he reached into his raggedy bag and removed a stack of neatly, untouched, envelopes, “Eric never handed out the invitations.” “Kenny, you fucking sell out.” Eric hissed underneath his breath even though Kyle could hear him as plain a day. “And it’s not that I didn’t hand them out, no one wanted them. Apparently, we’re assholes but they’re all just pussies.” “Well, I don’t think you fellas are assholes.” Butters pepped up shyly, exchanging a smile with Kenny who, in the time they have been speaking, had moved over a little too close to him. “No one gives a shit, Butters, gosh.” Kyle rubbed soothing circles around his temples. Off of Stan’s own recommendation he had decided to practice with new ways to handle his anger— even though the steady foundation had boiled over with the immense fear of everything that could’ve gone wrong, going wrong, making Kyle the perfect candidate for bitching up a storm. For the sake of Stan’s birthday, he will try to work with whatever shit he had. “Okay, we have a little less than two hours to get this place cleaned up. Butters, do you know how to make a cake?” “Why sure, Tweek’s been showing me a bunch of new recipes—“ Kyle cut him off, “okay, okay,” next he turned to Kenny and Eric, “Kenny, you work with Butters because I don’t trust Cartman near the cake batter. Fatass, you’re with me. Help me set up the table.” Kenny did a soldiers salute and carried off into the kitchen to help Butters gather the ingredients required for making an edible cake. “Cartman, so help me if you keep fucking around-“ “Can you relax, Kyle? I’m not going to fuck up your chance with your puking boyfriend.” “W-What the hell are you talking about?” Kyle could not hide the red trailing across his pale, freckled covered cheeks. Boyfriend? Cartman being an asshole or not his comment shouldn’t have prompt such a reaction out of him. He was only doing this for his super best friend. Sure, sometimes Stan’s parents and his own joked about them being a little too close, but they were friends. Eric rolled his eyes, “you two are so fucking gay, even Cupid Me could see it.” “Cupid what?” A crash was heard in the kitchen followed by a series of apologies recognized to be Butters voice and Kenny’s string of reassurances. This party had officially downgraded to a complete clusterfuck. Kyle sighed. Perhaps he did bite off more than he could chew. ... “The cake looks great, Leo.” “Really? Do you think so?” Butters wiped his hand on his cheek, transferring a thin line of flour and chocolate icing onto his face. Kyle stood, amazed that they were actually able to produce something out of all of this. The cake looked amazing, with Stan’s name written on the top with bright red letters, “Yeah. Good job, Butters.” “Thanks, Kyle!” Kenny wrapped an arm around his shoulders, letting Kyle know of his cue. He checked his watch. Stan should be here soon. He stepped into the dining room to see the table had been completely transformed. It almost looked better than its original state, with the construction paper scraps thrown on the floor scavenged and made into a string decoration spelling out: Happy Birthday Stan. Eric secured the knot on the table’s leg. “I didn’t know you were artistic.” Eric stood up with an annoyed grunt. Of fucking course he was artistic. He just thought he would go the extra mile to appease Kyle’s man period. He grunted, then handed over the project they worked on prior— cleaned up and framed. “Don’t patronize me. I know Jews can’t do anything creative so...” he shrugged. Kyle was so happy with what he was seeing that he allowed himself to brush off Cartman’s anti-semitic remark. instead, he decided to keep it in mind in his vault of retorts for later. He felt the corners of his mouth twitch. They really pulled their shit together. The doorbell ringed. Kyle placed the frame back on the table and instructed them all to get into their places. Before he let Stan in he had to do something first. “Oh, hey, dude.” Stan was going to ring the bell again before the door opened. He offered a lopsided smile and stuffed his chilled hands in his pockets. It was so good to see Kyle after suffering through another lunch of his father pathetically ranting about not being able to move on. It didn’t help that he was drinking either. “Uh, you okay? Can I come in?” Kyle stepped out on the step Stan was standing on, leaving the front door cracked behind him and telling the others to stay quiet to that they wouldn’t ruin the surprise. “Happy Birthday, man.” Why did he feel so nervous? Kyle played with his fingers and various hangnails, his stomach twisting into a rather painful knot. Stan raised a brow then examined Kyle from head to toe to make sure he wasn’t suffering from any physical injuries. He couldn’t say much mentally. “Thanks. You know I don’t like to make a big deal about it...” Kyle nodded, “Yeah, of course, I know... how was your session?” He also knows how much Stan loathes anyone saying therapy aloud. It implied there was something wrong with him. Yes, while he was still figuring out ways to cope with his depression, the word made something within him stir. C’mon, spit it out Broflovski. Stan shrugged his shoulders and bounced on the balls of his feet, “it was fine, are you sure there’s nothing wrong? Are you getting the flu or something?” “No, I’m fine.” Kyle humored him with a light chuckle that eased the anxiety he felt. Looking at how far Stan has come he was proud to see someone he cared about healthy and happier than he had been before he started faking it. “Good. Because like, it can kill you. If there’s no quarantine can we head inside now?” Kyle stopped him again, receiving a strange look but saying nothing of it. He took in a big inhale of air, “Stan, I, um, I really like you. I like like you. I apologized before for not being there the way I should but being beside you know I’m proud to see your progress... I’m really fucking proud, dude. I don’t know if this is too gay or not but for your birthday I thought I would be the gift... I mean, if you feel the same way-“ A warmness pressed against Kyle’s lips, and before he had time to realize he was getting kissed, Stan had already pulled away. Stan had a smile matching the one he would give to Wendy when stricken with the love he thought he had for her. “I like like you too.” Said Stan, his red face matching the shade of Kyle's hair. He parted his lips to say something, until... The door opened, “Jesus fucking Christ, Kyle, can we get this over with already? Happy Birthday, Stan.” And Cartman went off, mumbling something about being friends with a bunch of homos. He left the door open enough that Stan could see Butters and Kenny waving at him, and the set up they had for him. “Yeah, of course, I know?” Stan imitated his voice. How he got so lucky to get decent friends and an amazing super best friend was beyond him. “Um, surprise?” Kyle rubbed the back of his neck. Hoping for another kiss. Stan leaned in for another kiss, “surprise!” Butters yelled, making the two boys flinch. Yeah, it was a surprise alright. Stan and Kyle fell into a fit of laughter. Happy Birthday, Stan.

[secretagentspydetectiveninja]

No Romo - chapter 2

Long overdue new chapter, and it’s almost the end of Aro/Ace August already, oops! Anyway have some more of the museum kids being best friends

AO3 | 1

“I’m pretty sure Juleka’s about to get akumatized,” Nathaniel said, sitting down on the steps in front of Alix. “Rose was telling me about it. Apparently Juleka missed the class photo because she got locked in the toilets. By Chloé, of course.”

He had opened his little sketchpad on his knees and taken a pencil out from behind his ear. Alix leaned over to watch what he was drawing – now that she was part of the art club, she tended to spend a lot of time watching Nath work on his art. Not only was it helpful to learn new skills, but it was an excuse to hang out with him even more. These days she used pretty much any chance she could get to talk to him.

“What kind of akuma villain do you think she’ll be?” she asked. “Juleka’s all gothy, right? Maybe she’ll be a vampire or something.”

“That’s exactly what I was thinking.” Nath was drawing a figure outline on his sketchpad, his red fringe falling over his face as he looked down at it. “Her eyes are already red. Maybe her skin will be deathly pale, though, like a sheet. And she’ll have those vampire fangs.”

“And a cape. Vampires have capes, right?”

“I think it depends on the vampire. But yeah, I’ll give her a cape.” He added a loose triangle onto the back of the figure. “One of those big collars, too. Wait… will she sparkle? Is she one of those vampires?”

Alix shrugged. “I have no idea what her opinion is on sparkling vampires.”

Nath paused to think for a second, before shaking his head. “Nope. No sparkles. I can’t be bothered to draw them.”

He had a grin on his face now, and Alix continued to watch him draw with interest. These days he was much more open with her than he used to be, cracking jokes and encouraging her ridiculous sense of humour. She hadn’t realized quite how attached to him she had become until she found herself paying attention to him even when he wasn’t interacting with her. More outspoken now, he talked to other members of their class fairly often, and it was all too easy to let her focus rest on them, all the way on the other side of the room, than on whatever work she was supposed to be doing.

Why did she even find him so cool in the first place? She couldn’t put her finger on it. But it was undeniable – Nathaniel was absolutely, definitely, 100% the coolest kid in her class. He had to be. Why else would she be so dead-set on being best friends with him? No one else in the class was worth quite that much effort, even though they were all pretty cool too.

“What kind of powers would she have?” Nath continued, head resting on his arm as he carried on sketching. “I guess there’s always biting people, like actual vampires do, but that would be kinda, uh… weird. Hawk Moth hasn’t been giving people overly weird powers yet.”

“Well vampires don’t have reflections,” Alix suggested. “And Juleka’s got that curse thing where she doesn’t show up in photos, right? So maybe she’ll curse everyone else to have no reflections or appearances in photos, something like that.”

“Hmm. That would make sense. Though it’s not a very aggressive power, is it? It’ll take forever for Ladybug and Chat Noir to notice something like that.”

“True…”

He suddenly held up the sketchpad at her, a sunny smile on his face. “Done! What do you think?”

It was a quick little sketch, unmistakeably Juleka, but seemingly dressed more like Count Dracula. Alix nodded, smiling back. “Perfect. I bet that’s exactly what she’s gonna look like.”

“We’ll just wait and see, then…”

At that moment there were shocked gasps from others in the courtyard. Alix and Nath turned to see that an akuma villain had just landed, one that was now making an announcement, and sure enough that was Juleka’s voice echoing through the school – a crueller version, but certainly her.

And she looked nothing like a vampire whatsoever.

“Welp, we were so wrong,” Alix muttered.

“Yep.” Nath ripped out the piece of paper and scrunched it up. “So, so wrong.”

“I wasn’t expecting a giant pink clown.”

“That’s the last thing I was expecting.”

“I’m gonna say it. She looks ridiculous.”

“Hard agreed.”

“Uh, she’s zapping people, do you think we should get out of here or…?”

“Shit, yeah. See you in art club later!”

Nathaniel leapt to his feet and sped off. For a second Alix had to restrain her laughter – she’d never heard Nath swear before! He had always seemed like one of those goody-two-shoes kids who wouldn’t curse if you paid them. But evidently all he needed was to be around someone he was comfortable with. Like her.

A shot from evil Juleka zoomed past her shoulder, jolting her out of her thoughts. Oh yeah, akuma attack. She needed to get away. Being turned into a weird pink clown clone was not on her to-do list today.

-

-

It was much later than usual when the members of her class finally made it to art club. After Reflekta’s attack, everyone had banded together to help take a proper class photo with Juleka in it, which took up quite a lot of time. Alix didn’t mind at all, though. Juleka was a pretty cool friend too, it just seemed right to help her feel better. Or maybe Alix was just getting friendlier in general these days.

“Alix, there you are!” Nath was already sitting at the table and waving her over. She hurried to join him.

“Dude, you didn’t wait for me at the park–”

“I had to get my surprise for you ready.”

“Surprise…?”

He tapped the little sketchbook that was on the desk. “I’ve been working on a new comic idea, and I think you’ll like this one.”

A new comic? Yes! Nath’s comics these days were always fun to read, now that they weren’t just pages and pages of self-indulgent Nathanette fluff.

“Is it another superhero one?” she asked.

“No, it’s… um…” He lowered his voice. “Look, I know I’m not really good at coming up with story ideas, and so much of what I draw is all sappy and lovey-dovey and you’re not into that stuff.”

“Who cares if I’m not into it? Just draw what you want.”

“What I want is to draw something you’ll like! So here, I did this…” Nath opened the sketchbook to show her the first page. “It’s a soulmate AU, but from the point-of-view of someone who’s aromantic.”

Just hearing the words “soulmate AU” had already set Alix’s brain to fight mode, at least, until the second part of that sentence registered in her brain. An aromantic character, in a soulmate AU? Surely those things were mutually exclusive. She looked at the page to see Nath’s artwork of the aromantic protagonist, a moody-looking girl with frizzy green hair.

“In this AU,” he continued, turning the page, “people see hearts when they fall in love, and red hearts if it’s their soulmate. This character has never seen the hearts, though, and it’s highly unusual to have reached her age without seeing them even once. She wonders what’s wrong.”

There were more sketches on these pages, fit into comic-style panels with captions over the top. The moody girl was even grumpier now, her peers all swooning over invisible hearts while she looked on from the corner, unable to understand what she was missing.

“But sometimes, when she looks at people, she sees stars. She doesn’t really tell anyone. Until…”

He turned over another page. The girl was no longer moody – all of a sudden her eyes were wide in surprise, and the panel around her filled with golden sparkles.

“…one day she meets someone, and for the first time, she sees bright yellow stars. It’s never happened before. And this person sees the yellow stars too when they meet her. They’ve seen hearts before, but never stars like this.”

Sure enough, the page was covered in glittering stars. It looked like Nath had got a yellow gel pen and just gone wild with it. The girl and her new acquaintance both appeared in awe of what they were seeing, stars around them everywhere.

“And then, uh… well I haven’t thought so much about this part but I guess they make best friends forever and live happily ever after. The girl realizes she can be happy without romance and the only reason she was miserable before was because everyone else was making her feel that way. Or something. You’re the aro one, you can help me with the inner turmoil bit.” He closed the sketchbook and turned to look at her. “So, what do you think?”

What did she think? Well, considering how much she was having to internally restrain herself from just glomping him in a hug and never letting go…

“It’s awesome!” She settled for giving him a little punch on the arm instead. “Seriously, you’re really gonna make a comic about that?”

“Yeah! I really need to branch out and draw comics about characters who don’t have love interests. Well… romantic love interests, I mean. Friendship is fine.” He blushed a little. “Actually, it’s kind of for me. I was really heartbroken for a while after the Evillustrator thing, and I need to remind my brain that it’s okay to focus more on friends, than on… Marinette…”

His voice had gone rather quiet, considering that Marinette herself was in the room.

“Are you still into her?” Alix asked.

“I… I don’t think so.”

“Then you should make friends with her too.”

He blushed even more. “I’m not really good at making friends.”

“Are you sure?” Alix said, putting an arm around him. “Because you seem to be doing an awesome job at making friends with me so far. I mean, convincing me to join art club? Drawing the aro comic thing? Nerf gun battles? Dude, you are top notch friendship material. Best friendship material. I really mean it.”

He seemed quite taken aback by her compliments for a few seconds. Alix herself was surprised too – she didn’t tend to say things like that directly to people’s faces, usually too wary that being overly nice might be mistaken for flirting, which was just… ew. But at least Nathaniel would properly understand the sentiment.

“Maybe you’re right,” he said. “If I could make friends with you, I can make proper friends with Marinette too.”

“Yeah, that’s the spirit!”

“Thanks, Alix. And…” He gave her a sunny smile and put the sketchbook in her hands. “Thanks for being my friend. You’re top notch friendship material too. Making this comic with you is gonna be so much fun.”

Top notch friendship material… man, it was so nice to hear someone other than Jalil saying that. Pretty much everyone else in the class already had their own top notch friend, and there was no room for Alix there except as an undignified third wheel, a hanger-on, uninvited and unwelcome. Now Nath had changed all that.

She watched as he got up and went to go compliment Marinette on whatever fashion thing she was working on. He still seemed quite shy, but at least Marinette was one of the nicest members of the class, even going so far as to organize Juleka’s rescheduled class photo earlier. It wouldn’t be difficult for them to make friends.

Alix flicked through Nath’s sketchbook, taking a closer look at the draft work for his new comic. He really was very good at art, wasn’t he? This green-haired girl looked real enough to leap out of the page any second.

You’re the aro one, you can help me with the inner turmoil bit. So he wanted her help with story advice. That, she could definitely offer. There were too many stories to tell, stories of angst, frustration, disbelief, confusion, tears… the usual run-of-the-mill depressing aro experiences. Plenty of those to pick from, unfortunately.

This green-haired girl, though. Something about her seemed familiar to Alix. Nath didn’t base the character on her, did he…?

-

-

-

-

Nathaniel worked hard on his comic. He worked hard on all his comics, of course, but this felt different. This time he wasn’t just drawing to cater to his own whims. This time he wanted it to be a present for Alix.

There were too many reasons to pinpoint just one. There was the fact that they were pretty much best friends at this point, true. There was also the fact that both of them being ace gave him a sort of connection to her that was hard to describe in words. Was “ace solidarity” a thing? It sure felt like it.

And she inspired him. It had been so long since he’d had a close friend that he was used to keeping to himself all the time. Even now he was still quiet, of course, but things were different. He could casually chat with the rest of his classmates without the nerves to accompany it. He felt freer to say what was on his mind, to share his true feelings.

He still wished he could be more like her. How amazing would it be to be as cool as someone like her? As much as he tried, he couldn’t do it. But then maybe that was a good thing. After all, she seemed to like hanging out with him just the way he was.

-

-

“How is it?” he asked as she read the finished comic in her room one day after school. “Is it good? Should I change anything?”

There was a spark in her eyes. “Dude, this is so cool! I love it!”

“You do?”

“Hell yes!” Within a second she had put down the comic and clung onto him in a hug. Considering how small she was, it was… kind of adorable, actually. Like a koala on a tree. “Listen, I’m… I’m not a huggy person, so don’t get used to this. But uh… if you ever need anything, like ever, at all, I will help you with it. Up to and including murder.”

He gladly hugged her back. “What, because I drew a comic for you?”

“Because you drew something that’s more relatable than anything else,” she said, pulling back to look at him. “It’s hard to get into stuff when everything’s so damn shippy all the time. But you went out of your way to do this for me, so yeah. Thank you. I will lay down my life for you in the skeleton war.”

Nath grinned and gave her hair a ruffle. “I forbid you from sacrificing yourself in the skeleton war. But I’m really happy you liked the comic.”

“The main character, is she based on… um, anyone you know?”

“Yes, that’s you.”

“I knew it! So the guy she makes friends with, is that you?”

He simply shrugged, though the answer was a resounding yes. From the way she was looking at him, he could tell that she knew it perfectly well. It had been pretty obvious. Maybe it would be best to keep this particular comic just between the two of them for now.

“Anyway, you need any help with anything?” Alix asked. “Not murder or skeleton wars, I know. But really, I’ll do my best to help.”

“Nah, I don’t think there’s anything I need help with right now, unless you can come up with an idea for a new comic…”

“The adventures of Alix and Nathaniel sock-sliding around the Louvre after hours and avoiding security.”

“Uh… was that a suggestion for a comic, or a suggestion for real life?”

“Both.” She had a smirk on her face now. “Don’t think I didn’t notice you drawing the Louvre in the backgrounds of all your drawings, you know.”

“Well, it’s easy to draw…”

That was only partially true. Yes, a quick sketch of the iconic pyramid was easier than bothering with a proper detailed background, but the truth was that this place was starting to feel like a second home to him. The art exhibits had always had a soft spot in his heart, but now this area did too. The Kubdel quarters.

“But yes, let’s go sock-sliding!” he said quickly.

“Yeah! And let’s not get caught this time…”

“I’ll be stealthier now, I swear…”

He kicked off his shoes and followed her out of her room, looking forward to this. Silly adventure shenanigans were a lot more fun than he used to think – but then maybe that was because he was with Alix.

-

-

It was a while before her offer for help was actually needed. Those several weeks were some of the best yet – Nath worked on new comics, became more sure of himself, made friends with more of his classmates, and even made friends with people outside his class. Like Marc, that blushy new kid in the art club who was even shyer than him.

That didn’t last.

It was all that diary’s fault. “Ladybug’s” diary. Marinette had given it to him, and she was friends with Alya, who ran the Ladyblog, right? She could feasibly have acquired such a thing, right? Nath didn’t have any reason to doubt that this was the real, legit diary of Ladybug. He expected it to be.

So when it turned out to be Marc…

It was strange how, when in a situation where Nath was not the shyest one around, it was so easy to become complacent. To lose his temper. To assume the worst. It reminded him all too clearly of his birthday, where Chloé had taken his sketchbook and made a fool of him in class, announcing his crush on Marinette to the world, followed by Evillustrator being betrayed by the girl of his dreams.

Was this Marinette’s revenge? Was she teaming up with Marc to make a fool of Nath again?

Please pick up, please pick up…

He held his phone to his ear as he strode towards the Louvre, having left Marc back at the park with that stupid diary. His brain still wasn’t working right – well, it didn’t seem to work right around Marc anyway for some odd reason, but that was beside the point. The blind panic that this situation had put him in, that he was being humiliated again, it was impossible to control, and he just needed to talk to–

“Hey Nath, what’s up?”

“Oh Alix, thank god you’re there!” He clutched the phone tighter, his pace increasing. “Are you at the Louvre right now? Can I come over?”

“Sure, what’s wrong?”

Could she tell from his voice? Maybe she could. “I need to talk about something that just happened, I… I’m scared I’m gonna get akumatized again, I’m just in such a bad mood…”

“Aw man, what happened?”

“I’ll tell you when I get there. See you soon.”

“Alright, take care of yourself…”

He hung up and hurried on. Even despite all his new friendships recently, they were all seeming so superficial right now. Any one of his classmates could suddenly turn on him, the way Marinette and Marc had just done. Taking advantage of his feelings. Playing a cruel trick on him.

And yet… he still trusted Alix. Somehow, instinctively, he found himself gravitating towards the Louvre – the one place where he always felt welcome no matter what, where he could let his guard down and just be himself without any worries clouding his mind. He used to wonder if it was the feeling of being in a museum, surrounded by art, that put him at ease. Now, he was beginning to believe it was more to do with the tiny little lifesaver who “allegedly” lived there.

Alix was his best friend. If there was anyone he could turn to for help, it was her. He never had been any good at letting his guard down, but for once in his life he needed to confide in someone. She had promised to help him, and he was counting on that.

[lindseyluvsdrag]

Knocked Up Ch. 9

TW: Smut, Transphobia, Violence, Angst and Tomfoolery 

I was much too lazy to edit so blame my low rent beta @xximagoddamnmermaidxx for any typos :)

Chapter 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6 , 7, 8

Violet secured her arms around Matt and giggled against his neck as the man carried her out of the hospital.

 When she saw them, Farrah’s expression instantly morphed into a scowl.  She hopped out of the car. “What in the name of Twilight Sparkle is going on here?!”

 “Nothing,” Matt said as he eased the pregnant woman to her feet.

 The petite blonde folded her arms and stomped her foot. “It doesn't look like nothing.”

 Violet knew that she had to work smart and not hard when it came to disposing her competitor. She gave a smug side smirk before turning to Matt. “Aww, now I see why you're dating her. You're getting all the practice you can by babysitting toddlers before your son is born.”

 Matt chuckled and Farrah gasped dramatically​. “That's not funnyyyyy! I'm not a toddlerrrrrr!”

 “Of course not, baby,” Matt assured. “The way you move is alllllll adult.”

 Farrah grinned.

 Two can play this game, Violet thought prior to turning on her heel and sauntering away.

 “Hey,” Matt said as he followed her. “What's up?”

 “Nothing. I'm going to walk to my hotel and order room service.”

 The man scoffed. “You'll do no such thing.”

 “Why not? I'm obviously the third wheel here and I don't want to intrude anymore. I'm cranky, I'm hungry and frankly, I'm tired of being blinded by your girlfriend's​ cheeks. She looks like she fell into a vat of glitter during arts and crafts time.”

 “Aww, I think she looks cute,” Matt defended. “Like a little sugar plum fairy or something.”

 Violet rolled her eyes. “I'm going to my hotel now, Matthew.” She began to walk away and was happy that her act was going as planned when he grabbed her hand to stop her.

 “Violet, no. You're not about to walk the LA streets in the middle of the night alone.”

 “So, walk with me,” she said with a shrug. “Remember that you said you would.”

 “I remember. But Farrah-”

 Violet snatched her hand away. “I don't give a fuck about Farrah! Your child and I are hungry, now!” She began to storm down the street leaving Matt torn in which direction to go.

 “Babyyyyyyy,” Farrah whined. “Am I just like Matilda or somethinggggg?”

 “What does that even mean?” Matt groaned in exasperation.

 Farrah burst into tears and it made the man's heart sink but when he saw Violet making her way towards a shady neighborhood​, it made his heart race. Matt quickly pulled his wallet from his pocket, retrieved a $20 bill and rushed it over to his girlfriend.

 “What's this forrrrrr?”

 “An Uber. Just go home for now.”

 “Are you kidding me?!” she sobbed.

 “Babe, come on. Just until I can appease Violet.”

 The woman buried her face into her palms and continued​ to weep.

 Matt pulled her into his arms. “Farrah, please don't cry.”

 “You're really hurting my feelingsssss. You're casting me off like I'm the side chick or something.”

“I'm sorry, but you knew how important Violet was to me before we even started dating. She's pregnant with my kid so ​I just have to make sure that she's safe and happy. Besides, it's only for tonight and after that, it'll just be us again, okay?” Farrah was still crying into her hands when Matt kissed her head. “Babe, I'll buy you more shiny powder if you stop crying.”

 The woman sniffled and looked up at him. “Highlighter?”

 “Yeahhh, that stuff that makes​ you all sparkly. I like it and I'll buy you as much as you want as long as you stop crying.”

 Farrah smiled and wiped her eyes. “I want the Unicorn Skin Rainbow palette from Anastasia Beverly Hills.”

 “Ooo, sounds pretty. I can't wait to see what it looks like on you.” Matt gave the woman a $100 bill and kissed her. “I'll see you later, okay?”

 She pouted. “Okay.”

 “Be safe.” The man kissed her again and sprinted after the pregnant woman. When he rounded the corner, he was relieved to see Violet perched on a low cement fence with a paper toilet seat cover protecting her dress from snags and dirt. She bit into her granola bar and sighed.

 Matt smiled. “You look like a perched bird.”

 Violet flipped the man off. He chuckled and sat next to her.

 “Where's Princess Bubblegum?” she asked.

 “I told her to go home.”

 The grin that spread across Violet's face was comparable to the Grinch. “Good.”

 “She's really not that bad.”

 “Oh, she's defintely adorable. I love children.”

 “She'd make a great stepmom,” he taunted.

 Violet scowled, pushed herself of the fence and began to storm off, leaving Matt to cackle at the toilet paper cozy that was still stuck to her butt.

 She turned around. “What's so funny?!”

 He stood and grabbed the paper. When his hand groped Violet's ass, chills shot down her spine.

 “What bathroom did you steal this out of?” Matt asked as he laughed before noticing the woman's expression. “You okay?”

 “Mhm,” she hummed.

 “Alright then. Let's eat.”

 “Really?” she exhaled. “I mean, in public? I'm  usually not into that but I'm ready.”

 “Huh?”

 “Wait...eat?”

 “Yeah...food. I thought you were hungry.”

 “Ohhh... I am. Are we going back to your place?”

 “If that's what you want.”

 She bit down on her bottom lip and nodded.

 “Okay. I'm sure my- fuck! I forgot to turn off my lasagna!”

---

Violet couldn't believe how turned on she was as she watched Matt frantically weave through traffic. The man burnt rubber when be whipped into his driveway, helping the frisky woman out of the car before rushing into the house to find the empty lasagna pan on the coffee table.

 Jake was the obvious culprit with glossy red eyes and parmesan crumbs all over his lap. “Sup, bro?” he lazily greeted from the couch.

 “Dude, did you eat that entire lasagna?!”

 “Yeahhhh. It was good.”

 “Ugh, that was supposed to be for everyone!”

 “Well, 'everyone’ wasn't here. Besides, without me, it would've burned to a crisp.”

 Matt groaned and turned to Violet. “Is there anything else you're craving?”

 “Yes,” she practically moaned.

 “What?”

 She glanced at Jake before leaning in to whisper in Matt's ear. “I'll tell you in your bedroom.”

 The man raised an eyebrow. “Um...okay. You actually might lose your appetite in there.” He turned and the woman followed him out of the living room, down the hallway and into a small bedroom that made Violet wrinkle her nose.

 “You don't make your bed before you leave the house?”

 “No? Should I?”

 “Yes. It's​ just therapeutic to come home to.”

 “Noted.”

 Violet cautiously​ stepped further into the room, being careful not to touch the clothing strewn about. “Have you ever considered painting?”

 “No... why?”

 “This color makes me think of snot.”

 “Nice! You know, I actually liked it because it reminded me of the Green Goblin who-” he stopped abruptly when Violet's expression made him feel like he was speaking a foreign language. “Well, I like it.”

 “It's a pistachio nightmare. And what are these bobbles?” she asked as she pointed across the room to the figurines that topped the man's television.

 “Oh, those are action figures. I've had them since I was a kid. Maybe they can be passed down to the baby.”

 Violet wrinkled​ her nose. “They look like a choking hazard.”

 “Well, they-”

 “Oh my God, is that what I think it is?”

 Matt followed her gaze to the My Little Pony nightlight. It was currently turned off, but the emasculating effect was just the same. “Um, yeah... that's a nightlight. It's Farrah's.”

 Violet gave him a look and Matt quickly elaborated.

 “She turns it on when she spends the night because she's scared of the dark.”

 “Are you hearing yourself right now? You're seriously dating a child. No mature, sophisticated woman would ever need a nightlight, let alone a My Little Pony nightlight.”

 “I never said she was mature or sophisticated. Not everyone can be like you, Violet.”

 Violet didn't know if it was a compliment or a read, but the words made the woman's heart skip a beat. “True.” She smiled as she approached the man. “There's no one like me.” She gazed into Matt's clear blue eyes​ before securing his face in her hands as she firmly pressed their lips together.

For second, Matt lost himself, melting into her touch, but he quickly remembered​ Farrah and pulled away.

 “Violet,” he panted. “What are you doing?”

 “What do you think?” she purred, pulling him close again, but the man jumped back.

 “I have a girlfriend. I'm not cheater.”

 Violet folded her arms. “So, let's clear the air on a few things. Do you think it's fair that you get to have a girlfriend while I'm pregnant?” When Matt opened his mouth to answer the question, she raised a finger to silence him. “It's not like I can go out, get a boyfriend and fuck him into oblivion.”

 “Okay? So, what are you saying?”

 “You've trapped me for nine months. No guy is going to want to have sex with a pregnant woman...unless he's the one who got her pregnant in the first place. So I think it's only fair that whenever I get horny, it's your obligation to fix it.”

 If someone would've held a tomato next to the man's face, they probably wouldn't have been able to tell the difference between the shades of red. Matt cleared his throat. “Violet... I can't.”

 “Because of Rainbow Brite? Matthew, you have dolls older than her. Get over it.”

 “First of all, I don't have dolls. They're action figures. And if you would've given her a chance, you would've seen how sweet she is.”

 “I don't give a fuck how sweet she is, she's not the pregnant one! I have needs, Matthew!”

 “Aren’t rubber penises a thing? Why don't you get one of those?”

 “I don't want a rubber penis, I want your penis!”

 Normally, the man would've been flattered but coming from an aggressive pregnant woman, the demand just wasn't the same. “Violet, I can't do that to Farrah.”

 “Give me your phone.”

 “What?”

 “Give me your phone. I'm going to call her.”

 “Why?”

 “Just give me your phone, Matthew!”

 The man was terrified of what the woman was capable of but refused to show it as he huffed, rolled his eyes and handed over the iPhone.

 “Ooo, you've upgraded.”

 “I needed a front facing camera for video chat purposes.”

 Violet made a face before turning her attention to the man's four contacts. “Work, Mom, Jake and Babe...why am I not saved?”

 “Because you're the only person who calls from a New York area code.”

 “But I want to be saved too.”

 “Fine, Violet. Because being saved in a phone is such a being deal,” he said sarcastically​.

 “It is!”

 Matt scoffed and watched as Violet selected Farrah's number. He couldn't believe that he was even allowing this to happen so he gnawed on his bottom lip to combat the anxiety over what the woman was going to say. The phone rang a few times before the blonde answered.

 “Hi, baby!” she chirped.

 “Hello, Farrah? It's Violet.”

 There was an awkward pause. “Ohh...um, yes? Is everything okay? Where is Matty?”

 “He's here and everything is fine. Listen, I'm calling you because as you may or may not know, pregnant women are notoriously​ horny. Since I'm in no condition to go out and find a man to fuck me silly, I wanted to collect your thoughts on Matthew and I having platonic sex.”

 Matt attempted to snatch the phone away, but the woman swatted at him.

 “Is this a joke?” Farrah asked.

 “No, I'm very serious, I'd never lie on my cooch. All I want is one night with him and I promise to make it worth your while. I'll take you on a shopping spree at Toys-R-Us.”

 “Farrah, don't liste-” Matt got out before Violet pinched his lips shut.

 “It's nothing personal, Bubbles. I just want sex.”

 “And I guess that's understandable,” she said in a broken voice. “Matt has really good sex.”

 The confirmation sent tingles through Violet's body.

 “Well, if Matt wants to keep you happy, I don't have a choice, do I?” Farrah sniffled. “But if we're going to do this, I want to negotiate.”

 Violet put the woman on speaker. “I'm listening.”

 “I want two Guerlain Meteorites Voyage compacts. They're really high end highlighters.”

 Matt took a step back. “Wait, what's going on?”

 “She's renting you out,” Violet casually informed.

 The man was shocked. “No! I'm not doing this! Farrah how could you even accept me being with someone else?!”

 “I don't knowww,” she whimpered. “How am I supposed to know what to say in this situation? You said that you wanted to keep her happyyyy.”

 “Yeah, by feeding her! I'm not going to fuck her so that she can buy you glitter!”

 Farrah burst into tears. “Why are you yelling at meeee? I'm not the bad guy here.”

 “You just put my dick up for auction! How strong is our relationship when all it takes is makeup​ to come between us?!”

 “I don't knowwww,” she sobbed.

 “Clearly! Find a fucking clue and then come talk to me! Hang that shit up,” he demanded as he snatched his phone away from Violet and ended the call.

 “Damn, Matthew. Did you really have to yell at Lisa Frank like that?”

 “She has clearly lost her damn mind.”

 “I'm confused, do I get her the highlighter or nah?” Violet asked.

 “No! I'm not for sell!”

 “Well, obviously​ not anymore since you just cursed her out. Now you just have to do me for free. No strings attached.”

 Matt scoffed. “I don't have to do anything. Especially not that.”

 “But I'm horny, Matthew!”

 “That's not my fault.”

 “It is your fault! This whole thing is your fault, Mr. I don't know how to use a condom!”

 The man had no idea how to respond to the accusation so he simply sighed. “Violet, I can't have sex with you. One, I-”

 The woman palmed her face with both hands and began to bawl.

 “Violet,” he sighed. “Please don't cry. It really puts me in a spot to see women cry.”

 “You don't careee,” she sobbed. “I can't help how my body reacts to this pregnancy and you don't even care. You don't want to help me.”

 Matt rubbed the back of his neck. “I do want to help you but... ugh- okay. What do you want me to do?”

 “I just want to feel good, Matthew,” Violet sniffled. “Is that too much to ask?”

 The man exhaled as he took Violet's face between his hands and gently pressed their lips together​. The woman's knees buckled but she didn't hesitate to stick her tongue in Matt's mouth. He was reluctant to return the bold gesture, but the urgency behind her kiss left him with no choice.

 Matt's hands moved from her face to her hair then to her face again, so Violet put an end to the childish moves when she guided his hands to her ass. The man gave it a firm squeeze causing her to moan into his mouth. She pulled him closer, yearning for more of his touch, but when Matt felt her belly against his stomach, he pulled away.

 “Violet, I can't,” he panted.

 “Shut upppp,” she groaned as she forced him onto the bed.

 When the woman kicked off her heels and straddled him, Matt yelped. “Why are you so strong?!”

 “I've been horny for the past month!”

 “Okay, but don't abuse me!”

 “I don't want to abuse you, I want you to abuse meee.”

 “Please don't​ say such things.”

 “Fine. Just do the deed.”

 Matt gently rolled her onto her back. “I’m not having sex with you.”

 “Matthewwww,” Violet whined before the man positioned himself between her legs.

 “Just accept what I'm willing to give you or nothing at all.”

 “Okay,” she sighed with a pout.

 The man slowly lifted the hem of the woman's dress until her thong was revealed. He couldn't​ believe​ how saturated the black lace was. “Whoa.”

 “What?” Violet asked, slightly self-conscious.

 “Is it Niagra Falls down here or are you just happy to see me?” he teased.

 “I'm definitely happy to see you. Especially between these thighs,” the woman said as she placed her ankles on his shoulders.

 Matt traced the edge of her lace panties. Violet didn't hesitate to lift her hips so that he could remove the thong, which he did slowly, letting the lace brush against her skin. It gave Violet goosebumps.

 The man grinned as he tossed the panties to the side. He wrapped his arms around the woman’s legs and pulled her closer. Matt left a trail of kisses along the woman's inner thighs, that made her shiver in anticipation.

 “Stop teasing meeee.”

 “Hey, you can't rush these things.”

 “Do you even know what you're doing?”

 In retaliation for the question, Matt gave the woman's inner​ thigh a firm bite.

  “Oww,” Violet whimpered so Matt accompanied the nip with gentle kisses; slowly working his lips from her inner thigh to her entrance before he wrapped his mouth around her love button.

 Violet let out a soft gasp and Matt did his best to ignore the fact that he was pleasuring someone other than his girlfriend. He took his time working his tongue over the sensitive spot while his index finger teased her eager entrance. The man was reluctant to enter so he settled on rubbing her vagina lips while he continued to massage her bundle of nerves with his tongue.

 “Oh my God,” the woman panted. She had been teetering on an orgasm all day and when Matt began to alternate from licking and gently sucking her sensitive clit, her​ back arched as she felt her body ignite in pleasure.

 “Fuckkk, Matthew,” Violet moaned loudly as she intertwined​ her fingers through the man's hair. “Matthewwww.”

 Matt smirked at the sound of the Violet moaning his name. And you didn't think I knew what I was doing, he chuckled internally. The woman's delicious sounds of pleasure encouraged him to keep going until she was writhing under his touch.

 “Oh...my...God,” Violet whimpered as she attempted to pull away but Matt clasped down on her hips and refused to let her go as his mouth gently latched onto her clit while his tongue practically traced designs on the sensitive spot. “Oh my God, oh my God, oh my Godddd,” rapidly tumbled on of her mouth before she squealed and tapped out.

 Matt finally released her. “How was that?” he asked smugly.

 “Amazing,” Violet exhaled.

 Before Matt could say 'duh’ his bedroom door flung open. He was prepared to curse Jake out for the lack of privacy, but when he saw Farrah, the man froze.

 “Matty!” the woman screeched. “How could youuuuu?!”

 “Farrah, it- I-”

 “You get mad at me for suggesting that you do what you thought you had to do and yet you do it anyways?! How is that fairrrrrr?!”

 “I don't know, babe. I'm really sorry.”

 “Don't call me babe! You have broken the rainbow unicorn code!”

 “No! I didn't mean to break the rainbow unicorn code!”

 Violet didn't have any popcorn, but she was highly entertained by the argument. She sat up and pushed herself off of the bed to retrieve her shoes while continuing to listen to the banter.

 “Rainbow unicorn scouts are loyal, honest and as pure as gold glitterrrrr,” Farrah sobbed. “And you are neither of those things!”

 “Babe, please. Tell me what I need to do to fix this! Do you want​​ makeup? I'll buy you makeup. Oo! Target is having a My Little Pony blowout sale! You can stock up on Twilight Sparkle merch!”

 “Don't you dare bring Twilight Sparkle into this!” Farrah snarled. “You don't deserve to even mention her name!” The woman stomped her rainbow jelly sandals over to her nightlight and snatched it out of wall. “You don't deserve to have her shine illuminate your room! And you don't deserve those cupcakes that I made yesterday!” Farrah​ stormed out of the room towards the kitchen.

 “Nooo, not the cupcakes!” Matt pleaded as he rushed after her.

 Violet cackled. “This is like the worst soap opera I've ever seen. It would be called, 'This Rainbow Ain't Big Enough for the Three of Us.’” She laughed again as she pulled on her heels. The woman thought about grabbing her panties, but she simply tucked them underneath Matt's pillow in hopes that they'd eventually start another argument between the couple. Violet adjusted her appearance in the mirror, smoothing her skirt and pulling her hair into a high bun prior to humming as she sauntered out of the room.

 “And you don't deserve to have matching unicorn onesies with me!” Farrah shouted​.

 Violet covered her mouth to smother her laugh as she tiptoed out of the house.

---

When Violet made it back to New York, her friends were there waiting for her.

 “Matthew is such an idiot. He let's that toddler bitch boss him around​ and it's really pathetic.”

 “Pfff, don't talk shit now,” Naomi chuckled. “The other day, you were literally crying because you missed him so much.”

 Violet rolled her eyes. “I was just horny and emotional.”

 “So what are you going to do when you get horny again?” Raven asked.

 “Like right now?” she groaned. “I have no idea.”

 “Are you stuck on Matthew being the only guy you're with?”

 “It's not that I'm stuck, what guy would want to fuck a pregnant girl?”

 “I may know someone,” Raven said.

 “Okay, let me reiterate,” she chuckled. “What normal guy would want to fuck a pregnant girl?”

 “He's just as normal as Matthew.”

 Violet wrinkled her nose before the three of them burst into laughter. The baby responded with two swift kicks and a jab.

 “Oh my Goddd. This kid is fighting me!” Violet grabbed Naomi's hand, placed it over her stomach and waited for another thump.

 “I don't feel anything.”

 Violet frowned. “You fickle little boy you. Just like Matthew.”

 The baby kicked and Naomi gasped. “That's so amazingggg​.”

 “I have a theory,” Raven said as she scooted closed and placed her hand on Violet's belly. “Matthew is gross.”

 They waited for a few seconds and but there was no movement.

 Violet exhaled in relief. “I was about to be creeped out if this kid reacted every time someone talked shit about Matthew.”

 “That would be crazy. Then I would be able to accurately say that you're impregnated with Satan's spawn.”

 The woman laughed. “I know right. Little boy, your father is not special enough to be that worked up about,” she loudly announced. The kicks and punches went into overdrive causing Violet to groan. “Fine! Fine! He's special!”

 The baby relinquished​ two more kicks before stopping.

 “What a bully,” Naomi chuckled.

 “Sssssh, don't talk shit,” Violet whispered as if she was a battered woman. “He'll hit me.”

 “Okay, we keep referring to the baby as a him, but when are we going to pick out names?” Raven asked.

 “I love the name Alister,” Violet admitted.

 “Oh my God, that sounds so olddd.”

 “Name him after your favorite fabric,” Naomi joked. “Chiffon.”

 Violet laughed. “That sounds like a hood name! Heyyyy, Chiffon. How you doing, boy?”

 Naomi laughed so hard that she snorted.

 “Would you consider naming him after Matthew?”

 Violet wrinkled her nose. “Never.” The baby gave her a firm​ punch. “Do you like that name, little one?” There was a long pause before there was another punch. The woman pouted. “Aww.” With all of the commotion surrounding the feisty fetus, Violet began to miss Matt all over again.

---

Raven and Naomi walked side by side to the parking garage.

 “Do you have any plans for tonight?” Raven asked.

 “Yeah, I'm going to the movies.”

 “With Bob?” she asked in a tone that Naomi was growing to loathe.

 “Yes,” she snapped back. “With Bob. What's your problem with him?”

 “He’s just a creep!”

 “Oh my God, come on Raven!” Naomi replied in exasperation. “You do this with every guy that shows interest in me! You're always pointing out the most ridiculous flaws and now that I've found a guy that owns fucking a pizza shop and you think he's weird. I'm honestly starting to think you're jealous!”

“Am not!” she said defensively. “I just think that you can do better!”

 “He's a successful entrepreneur! How does it get better than that?!”

 “Maybe it's not about money! Maybe love should be enough.”

 “I just met him! I don't expect him to love me.”

 “I'm not talking about him,” Raven exhaled.

 “Rave,” she sighed. “What are you talking about?”

 “I love you, Naomi,” she finally admitted. “Of course I'm jealous of Bob. He gets to wake up next to you and take you out whenever he wants. Of course I'm jealous! And I don't​ think he can make you happy like I'd be able to make you happy!”

 “I didn't know you felt that way. Raven, I'm not a lesbian.”

 “I don't label myself as a lesbian either, but I just know that I'm head over heels in love with you.”

 Naomi frowned and was snarky to combat becoming emotional. “If I wanted to be with women, I would've at least kept my penis.”

 “But if gender can be fluid, why can't sexuality?”

 “But my gender isn't fluid. I'm a woman.”

 “I know​ you are. As you transitioned, you became the most beautiful woman in the world to me. And I just want you to give me a chance.”

 Naomi could feel herself tearing up.

 “All I need is one chance,” Raven pleaded. “And if I can't make you happy then I'll leave it alone. But I know I can​, Naomi, please.”

 The woman bit down on her bottom lip. “I have to go.”

 “Naomi-”

 “Raven, no. I can't talk about this right now,” she sniffled as she made her way to her car but the other woman followed her.

 “Naomi, please don't be mad at me.”

 “Too late! You've been talking shit about all of my relationships for all these years because 'you’re in love with me’. How selfish! If you really loved me, you'd leave me alone.”

 “Naomi, no! I'm sorry! Naomi, please-”

 The woman slammed her car door and sped off, leaving Raven to sob in the parking lot.

---

By the time Naomi made it to Bob, she had composed herself enough to sit through​ Beauty and the Beast. They shared a large popcorn while the man snuck in kisses and sweet remarks until the infamous scene where one of the mobbing villagers out to kill Beast gets sucked into Belle's wardrobe only to be spit out, now dressed in drag. He wasn't disappointed with what he saw and batted his eyelashes at his reflection.

 “Ughhh,” Bob groaned. “Why are the queers infiltrating everything?!”

 Naomi was taken aback. “Excuse me?”

 “This is fucking children's movie. Why do we need a man in a fucking dress on the screen?”

 “Preach, brother,” the man behind him said.

 “Exactlyyyyy.”

 “So, what? You don't like gay people?” Naomi whispered.

 “No, I'm fine with gay people. I just don't think that children's movies should be subject to characters​ with a sexuality to begin with.”

 “Oh... I guess that makes sense.”

 The man stole a kiss from her tense lips before turning his attention back to the screen. “Kill the Beast!”

---

Not wanting to be judged by her friends just yet, Violet waited until the duo left to climb into bed with her cellphone pressed to her ear.

 “Hello?” Matt answered in a drab voice.

 “Hi, Matthew,” she chirped. “Are you okay?”

 “Kinda.”

 “What do you mean kinda? What's the matter?”

 “Farrah dumped me. I'm 'no longer a Rainbow Unicorn Scout and I never will be again’.”

 “Is that necessarily a bad thing?”

 “No not at all.”

 They both laughed.

 “How are you?” he asked.

 “I’m okay.”

 “Just okay?”

 “Yeah, I'm pretty sure you're going to be the baby's favorite. He kicks at the slightest mention of your name.”

 The man gasped. “You're kidding.”

 “I wish I was. He's a little​ jerk.”

 “Aw, don't talk about him like that. He's clearly displaying intelligence.”

 Violet scoffed. “Soooo...what are you doing?”

 “Watching The Dark Knight. You?”

 The woman was reluctant to say it, but she did. “Thinking about you.”

 “Oh, yeah? Cargo pants and all?”

 She cringed. “Okay, nevermind. You just annihilated my boner.”

 Matt cackled. “Sorryyyy.”

 “You should visit me sometime next week,” she slyly suggested.

 “I have to work all next week.”

 “What about the week after that?”

 “Work, work, work.”

 Violet frowned. “But you're missing out on crucial moments in the baby's developmentttt.”

 “Well after kicking, there isn't much that we'll be able to notice. But he'll be able to play peek-a-boo with a flashlight soon enough.”

 “How do you​ know?”

 “I read baby books​.”

 Violet resembled the heart eyes emoji as she pouted. “Awww, Matthew that's adorable.”

 “It's not adorable. It's research. I need to be prepared.”

 “That makes me happyyyy.”

 “Good, I'm glad. And Violet, I really do want to be there but I finally have a good job and I'm able to provide for you guys.”

 “Matthew, I want you here.”

 The man couldn't believe what he was hearing. Just a few weeks ago, the woman hated his guts. “Well, that's really good to hear, Violet. And I'll be out there as soon as I get enough money saved.”

 “Money saved for whattt?”

 “My own place.”

 “You can stay with me, Matthew. You know thatttt.”

 “But you are too pickyyy,” he mimicked in her voice.

 Violet gasped. “Am nottttt.”

 “You are though. If I wanna leave my dirty clothes on the floor overnight I should​ be able to without fear that you'll smother me in my sleep.”

 She laughed. “Oh my God, you're so dramatic!”

 “Not even. That night that I forgot to put the cap on the toothpaste, you gave me the most evil look- you would've thought that you were a mafia princess out to get revenge on a rival family or something, it was scary.”

 Violet cackled. “I'm sorryyyy. I just like things to be a certain way.”

 “I know! But it's cute.”

 “Aww, you think I'm cute?” she asked as she twirled her hair, goofy grin plastered on her face as if she was 15 again.

 Matt scoffed. “No. I said that your OCD was cute, not you.”

 She gasped. “Jerk.”

 “Whoaaa, you didn't even let me finish! Your OCD is cute but you're beautiful.”

 Violet bashfully buried head underneath​ her silk sheets. “Thank you.”

 “Huh? You're muffled.”

 She removed the blankets and sat all the way up. “Thank you, Matthew.”

 “Oh, you're welcome. But you already knew that.”

 “Did I?”

 “Pfff, yes. And you abuse it.”

 “Abuse knowing that I'm beautiful?”

 “Yes! You abuse the power of being beautiful by making people do whatever you want.”

 “What woman doesn't?”

 “Oh, true.”

 “Mhmm,” she said stifling a yawn.

 “Tired?”

 “Only a little.”

 “Then you should get some rest.”

 “But I’m talking to youuuu.”

 “So? I'm not that special. I'll be here tomorrow.”

 “Promise?”

 “Yes.”

 The woman smiled. “Okay.”

 “Goodnight, Violet Chachki.”

 “Goodnight, Matthew Lent.”

 The man hung up and Violet let out a giddy squeal as she collapsed back onto her silk sheets.

---

Naomi nervously​ sipped on her wine while Bob cut into his steak. She'd been seeing​ the man for a little over two months now and hadn't figured out a way to tell him that she was a transwoman. And ever since their movie date, the woman had felt on edge.

 “How is your steak?” she asked.

 “Succulent and divine.”

 She giggled before sighing.

 “What's wrong?”

 “Um.. I have something to tell you.”

 He froze. “Are you pregnant?”

 The woman raised her glass of wine as a reminder. “No.”

 “I don't know now, you're from the South. You guys probably drink until the baby falls into toilet,” he joked.

 Naomi wanted to be amused but her stomach was churning. “Bob, I really have to tell you something.”

 “I'm listening.”

 “I...I...I'm trans.”

 He gave her a blank stare. “What does that mean?”

 “I was...born male.”

 The man's expression didn't change for a few seconds before he laughed. “You're funnyyy.”

 “I'm not joking.”

 He placed his fork and knife on the table and stared her directly into her eyes. “Are you forgetting that I've seen you naked? And not only have I seen your vagina, it feels pretty damn good too.”

 Naomi couldn't believe how ignorant the man was. She frowned. “Haven't you ever heard of estrogen and plastic surgery? Look what it did for Kylie Jenner, or better yet Caitlyn.”

 Bob clenched his jaw. “You're completely serious…”

 She nodddd. “I'm sorry that I didn't tell you sooner. I was just too scared.” The silence that followed as the man stared at her instantly became overwhelming. “Please say something.”

 He smirked. “It's okay, Naomi.”

 The woman's​ eyebrows furrowed. “Really?”

 “Yeah,” Bob chirped. “Finish your pasta,” he said as he returned to cutting into his steak.

 Naomi exhaled in relief and took a big bite of her meal, saving her excitement for when she climbed into the passenger seat of the man's car. “Babe, you have no idea how happy I ammm,” she squealed as Bob followed suit. “Thank you for accepting me and I pr-” the woman was cut off by Bob's fist hitting her in the face. He punched her again. Then again, then again; relentlessly pounding his fist into her as she cried and attempted to defend herself which only enraged the man even more.

 “You fucking queer freak! How fucking dare you trick me?!”

 “I'm sorry! I'm sorry!” she sobbed. “Just please, st-st-st-” she wheezed and gasped when the man alternated between choking her and pummeling her face.

 “I fucked you how many times?! How many times?! You should've said something before! I'd never associate myself with tranny freaks like you! I'd never- fuck!” he groaned in agony when Naomi kicked him in the groin.

 She took the opportunity to claw for the door handle, desperately climbing out of the car and away from her attacker. Bloodied and bruised, the injured woman limped away as fast as she could, and when she heard Bob's car roar to life, the hair on the back of her neck stood up. When the bright headlights beamed from behind her, Naomi began to run for her life. The screech of the tires made her heart race and time seemed to stand still as she rushed into a nearby alley, seconds before the grill of Bob's car swerved past.

 Naomi sank to the grimy concrete, sobbing and panting as she grabbed her cell phone to call the first number that she saw.

 “Hello?”

 “Raven,” she bawled. “I need your help.”

 It's all Raven needed to hear before rushing out of her house. She made Naomi stay on the phone until she found the shell of a woman crumpled on the alley floor.

 “Oh my God, what happened?! Who did this to you?!” as she spoke, Raven attempted to cradle the woman but Naomi winced and whimpered. “I'm sorry. Are you able to stand?”

 She nodded. As Raven helped her friend to her feet, someone across the street started their car and Naomi flinched so hard that the other woman had to catch her so that she wouldn't fall. “Naomi, please tell me what's going on,” she sniffled. “Do you know you did this to you?”

 “Bob,” she sobbed. “He's transphobic.”

 “Are you fucking kidding me?! I'll kill him! I-”

 “Raven, no. Please don't involve yourself. It's over now and I won't see him anymore.”

 “Naomi,” she said sternly.

 “Raven,” the woman retorted.

 Raven stomped her foot. “That's not fair!”

 “Life's not fair.” Raven opened her mouth to reply but Naomi stopped her. “Let it go. For me. Please.”

The woman huffed. “Fine. Let's get you home.” Raven safety got the woman into the passenger seat of her car.

 “Raven, can I ask you for one more favor?”

 “Anything.”

 “Don't tell Violet. She's pregnant and doesn't need anymore stress.”

---

“Ka-pow!” Violet exclaimed as she read the Chachki Mutant Ninja Baby comic for the fourth time that night. After Matt had gotten off the phone, instead of going to sleep, the woman dove into everything that reminded her of the man. “I vanquish thee with my disinfectant! Ahhhh! Phhssshh!” She pouted. “Matthew just has to come back to New York ASAP. And I think I know how I'll get him here.”

[my-mystic-messenger]

Mystic Slice of Life: Ep. 2

Macaroni Make Men Smile

Fandom: Mystic Messenger Rating: General Warnings: Excessive cursing Categories: platonic/brotherly Relationships: Saeyoung/Saeran Word count: 1850

MC’s mentioned Masterlist

Saeran hadn't been to happy about the prospect of going to University. For one, he was twenty-one years old, therefore considered old to be entering just now. Everyone around him would be about three years younger. Secondly, he still didn't like people most of the time. They were loud, nosy and judgmental. Just the other day an old lady had ripped her kid away from the ice cream stand where Saeran had been ordering. His strangely coloured hair, tattoo's and piercings apparently weren't all too inviting. The RFA members accepted him - maybe a little too warmly for his liking - but Saeran was very aware that the RFA was a safe haven and the world wasn't as forgiving.

On top of everything he'd never felt passionate about anything other than serving Magenta, Mint Eye and getting revenge and possibly killing his brother. Rika was now gone to some mental institution far, far away, Mint Eye was dissolved and Saeyoung the loving brother he'd always yearned for. All his motivations had evaporated. He'd hoped for a rejection letter from the University, as Saeran had never even been to school, but due to some sort of miracle - and Saeyoung fiddling with the system - Saeran had gotten in. And not just any school, either. No, Saeyoung had gone all out, getting his brother into the same prestigious academy he'd gone to. Great...

Strangely enough, everything had been fine for the most part. The classes weren't too long, the people didn't stare nor question the younger Choi twin and the subjects weren't half boring either. By the end of the day Saeran hadn't yet made a friend, but at least he hadn't made a fool of himself either. Lucky for him though, his brother took over that task! Upon leaving the building, hood over his head, earplugs in and head bowed Saeran was greeted with the brightest, ugliest and biggest sign he'd ever seen, his brother calling his name and cheering loudly as he proudly waved it back and forth. "❤Congratulations on making it through your first day at University!❤"

Saeran stopped in his tracks, hearing his brothers shouts even with the music blasting through his earphones. His jaw dropped and his eyes widened as he took in the embarrassing sight. What the fuck was he thinking?! His head snapped around, taking in the people that stopped to stare at the lunatic with the sign, muttering under their breath and laughing. Glances were thrown his way as the whispers became louder and Saeran began to sprint, practically tackling his idiotic brother as he tugged him along to the car as quickly as humanly possible. To think that Saeran had actually hoped for a single, normal day in his life...

Saeyoung protested the entire way with poster dragging along the ground. He’d expected his brother to disapprove of the extreme action that he decided to proceed with, but hadn’t been prepared for such a negative reception. He truly was proud of Saeran’s accomplishment and was secretly happy that he had not done anything rash on the first day. Knowing his temperament and lack of basic social skills he could have easily lost his focus and gotten into some sort of disagreement. “Hey, slow down! The poster that I worked so hard to make is going to be ruined!” Saeyoung pouted as he finally forced the other to stop before rolling his creation up into a neat bundle.

“Did you like your teachers?  Do you have homework already? Did you make any friends?” He prattled off as an arm fell over Saeran’s shoulders. He felt like a proud parent more than a brother but who would blame him after all they had been through? “Today is your day! I’m so proud of you.  Anything you want for dinner I will get for you!” He smiled towards anyone passing by regardless of the looks they would give to the two. Reaching in his pocket, Saeyoung pulled out a ribbon and attempted to pin it to his brother’s jacket.  The words ‘I rocked my first day of school!’ were written down the edges in a puffy glittery glue, hearts and stars pasted all over the item.

Saeran slapped his brother’s hand away the second he saw the goddamn ribbon. "What the actual fuck are you trying to do", he hissed as his brother, pulling the hood over his head once more, so at least some people wouldn't recognize him. "Are you trying to ruin my day? ‘Cause if so, I can tell you that you're doing a mighty fine job, moron." Saeran glared at his brother, mint green eyes burning with rage while his heating cheeks betrayed the shame behind it. "My day was good and peaceful until you decided to make a goddamn freak show out of it. Can't you just for once in your life act like a normal human being instead of some alien?!"

Without giving his brother a chance to reply Saeran pushed past him, purposefully knocking their shoulders, and walked towards the car. With his aggressive stride, hands buried in the pockets of his hoodie and his head bowed low the younger twin was radiating defiance. What on earth he'd done to deserve such an idiot as a brother was beyond him, but he was set on making sure that Saeyoung would never embarrass him like that again. He walked around the car to the passenger seat and opened the door, frowned at his brother over the roof. "Get your ass in the car. I wanna go home before you degrade me even further."

“B-but!” The redhead ran towards the vehicle and threw himself into the driver’s seat after stuffing the poster into the back. “You won’t even wear the ribbon? I worked on it for hours! The glue stuck all over the table.” He held it near Saeran once more, hovering it the air instead of going straight for his chest. Saeran didn’t even bother replying, merely huffing angrily at his brother. Saeyoung’s arm lowered in defeat upon realizing his brother wouldn’t have anything to do with his attempts. “I’m not trying to degrade you, I’m just really proud that you got through the day”, he said, getting nothing in response again. Saeyoung was aware that his twin never gave into his ridiculous antics but he always hoped that one day he would give him the time of day.

“What would you like to eat? I still stand by my statement that you can have whatever you want!” He did his best to lighten the situation even if he felt the extreme disdain from the passenger seat. The hope that Saeran would pick something that would keep them away from the apartment for an extended period of time was ideal. If he reacted this poorly to the poster, Saeran wouldn’t be happy about what was waiting at home. “How about a nice restaurant? We haven’t had a proper meal in a while!” He turned his head and grinned. “How about we stop somewhere to buy you a present as well? I think buying you some new clothes for school would be a great idea!”

Saeran, who'd leaned his head against the window, turned to give his brother a murderous look, a literal growl falling past his lips. He liked his clothes the way they were, liked the black and the red. When he'd first gotten to live with Saeyoung his entire wardrobe had remained at Mint Eye. Instead he'd been forced to wear some of his brothers clothing from a couple of years back, since Saeran was quite a bit slimmer than his older twin. Not only were the clothes extremely ugly, they'd also been uncomfortable. He'd looked like an idiot for weeks until someone had finally taken mercy and gone to pick up his actual clothes from the castle in the mountains.

"I ate at the cafeteria", he replied, not humoring Saeyoungs idea of a shopping trip together whatsoever. "Just get me to your place so I can crawl back into that windowless shithole you call your home, lock the door to my room and not have to see you or your ridiculous macaroni art type projects for the rest of the day. Thanks to your idiotic antics I will be the laughing stock of the entire school come morning. I'm your twin brother, Saeyoung. Not your goddamn son taking his first shit. I don't need a medal for every time I survive a day and I most certainly don't want you cheerleading my life! Understood?"

“Be glad you aren’t my son, because the first thing I’d do is wash out that potty mouth with soap!” Saeyoung gripped the steering wheel tightly not necessarily out of frustration from his brother’s attitude but from the anxiety of how he would react to the surprise waiting for him. He parked in the garage and ran around the other side of the car to open the door for Saeran. “Now listen; I just want you to keep in mind that one day you will appreciate the time and love I put into everything I do for you.”  Instead of letting his brother walk at his own leisure he grabbed his arm and pulled him inside. Taking a deep breath, he smiled as he presented the living room. “Surprise!”

The entire apartment was covered in poster board. Hand painted messages reading ‘Congratulations!’, ‘You’re Number One!’, ‘I Believe In You!’, and ‘World’s Best Brother!’. An excessive number of balloons floated around the air with images of cartoons or other words of encouragement. Saeyoung laughed nervously as he waited for the eruption explaining, “I worked all day on this!” His expression fell, though, as he also remembered the mess he had made in Saeran’s room. Macaroni art, indeed. His brother would probably find pieces of the noodles in every nook for a few months. “I may have gone overboard. I’m sorry for…your room…”

707:

Madeleine: Oh no... ZEN: Let me guess: he hated it? Jumin: I did warn him not to do it. Yoosung★: But Saeyoung tried his best! I totally helped with the glitter Jaehee: What's going on, Saeyoung? 707: He isn’t too happy ;; He’s threatening to cook all the macaroni in his room, glue paint and all, and make me eat it. ;;

Saeran has entered the chatroom

Macy: Oh oh... Saeran: Listen up, dickheads! Whoever helped, whoever bought a single fucking macaroni, glue gun, snippet of glitter or piece of paper or whoever so much as knew about this and didn't try to fucking stop him better sleep with an eye open because I'm coming for all of you !

Yoosung★ has left the chatroom ZEN has left the chatroom Macy has left the chatroom Madeleine has left the chatroom Jaehee has left the chatroom Jumin has left the chatroom

Saeran: YOUUUUUUUUUU

707: Saeran~!

Congratulations on your first successful day at school!

Saeran: I'll stuff all that fucking glitter down your throat until you fart it for another month you son of a bitch!

Saeran has left the chatroom

707: Does that mean he liked it...?

[noramoya]

JORDAN CHANDLER'S SUICIDE NOTE . WHOSE SUICIDE WAS IT? Posted by Vindicatemj (Helena) "Some readers’ comments on posts in this blog are so profound that they need to be singled out into separate articles, and this is what I decided to do with the comments about the drawing known to us as a “suicide note” of Jordan Chandler. Initially it was meant to be a mere summary, but in the progress of it some new facts presented themselves and this eventually turned this post into a new big version of what happened in the 1993 case at all. Jordan Chandler’s drawing is found in the book by Victor Gutierrez. The book was published in the US in 1996 under a flashy but false title “MJ was my lover”. Those who know the author from reading his book or from information about him attending a NAMBLA conference in a capacity we can only guess of, will wince at the mere mentioning of his name. But on the other hand when writing his book Gutierrez worked in very close collaboration with Evan Chandler, so the general outline of the events described there may be quite correct. It is their interpretation which will be terribly distorted as the story is being told by Michael’s worst detractors with the additional twist added to them by a suspect boylover Victor Gutierrez. So if the general outline of the events is more or less true, Jordan’s drawing depicting someone falling off the roof of a high building may turn into an interesting document for us. Initially almost none of us disputed Gutierrez’s interpretation of the picture which claimed that it was Jordan’s suicide note in which he was warning his father against exerting more pressure on him or otherwise he would kill himself. VERSION 1. : It is Jordan’s threat to commit suicide Victor Gutierrez says that Jordan made this drawing the evening of the day when he and his father met Michael Jackson and Anthony Pellicano on August 4, 1993. The meeting was opened by Evan with the money thing – he thought that a tentative agreement had already been reached between his lawyer Barry Rothman and Michael’s investigator Pellicano. But to his big surprise Pellicano did not confirm any such agreement. When Evan realized that Jackson was absolutely “not eager to negotiate” he flew into a rage, shoved in Michael’s face the hypothetical psychiatric opinion of the case and left him and Pellicano in great fury closing his speech with a threat “I’ll see you in court”. Gutierrez claims that after that notable meeting Jordan was so depressed that he drew a picture of himself jumping off the roof of a five-storey building and landing in a pool of blood on the ground. Let us read Gutierrez’s text trying to distance ourselves from his pedophile-like interpretations and not paying too much attention to expressions like the “look of an assassin” attributed to no other but Michael Jackson. Considering Gutierrez’s own inclinations his account naturally starts with a tender scene between Jordan and Michael Jackson meeting each other: The meeting would be on Wednesday, August 4, at the Westwood Marquis Hotel. Upon arriving to the hotel, Jordie calmly walked in, but when he saw Jackson, he jumped into his arms as they both hugged and kissed each other on the cheeks. Jordie rested his head on Jackson’s chest. Jackson stroked his hair and asked him: “Are you okay, Jordie?” “Yes, but I miss you!” responded the boy. The pleasantries ended when Evan told Jordie to sit down next to him. He opened the conversation by asking Jackson about the offer he had made to Rothman. Pellicano surprised Evan by immediately denying that he had spoken to Rothman about an offer. Evan looked at Jackson and said, “You’re the only one who can help me!” referring to his Hollywood dreams. But Pellicano again denied making any offer. Evan briefly turned to Pellicano, and snapped: “Okay, then are you telling me that my attorney is a liar, or is there some kind of misunderstanding here?” Before Pellicano could say a word, Evan returned to Jackson, and showed him a copy of the psychiatric report on his son, and added: “I know what you have done to Jordie!” Evan looked at his son for confirmation. Jordie nodded his head as if to tell Jackson that his father already knew their secret. Jackson looked Jordie in the eyes, smiled and shook his head. “It was a cold smile, without feeling,” Evan said. “It was a look of an assassin declaring their innocence in spite of a mountain of evidence. It was then when I realized that Michael Jackson had not only sexually abused my son, but that he was also a criminal.” …. Evan and Jordie went to Rothman’s office to tell him about the outcome of the meeting. Evan told Rothman that Pellicano had reneged on the offer. This angered Rothman, who said “These people are incredible! They don’t keep their word. They lie. How can we negotiate with them?” Evan and Rothman thought that they would have to file a lawsuit against Jackson. Jordie was fearful and depressed about what had occurred at the meeting with Jackson, and about his father’s consideration of filing documents with the court. The idea that he would have to testify in court against his “first love” depressed him so much that, before going to bed that night, he drew a picture of a boy jumping off of a building and another person yelling at him to stop from behind. The drawing also showed a figure on the pavement covered with blood. This was a message. It was a suicide note. Evan found the paper the next morning. When he saw the drawing, he wrote on it the sentence “Don’t let this happen!” He thought that the reason for the suicide note was that Jordie had been sexually abused by Jackson. The drawing appears exclusively in this book. Jordie’s reason for suicide was not because he felt shame for his sexual acts with Jackson. He was depressed because his father had promised him that nobody would know. Now his own father was negotiating and planning to go to court to tell all. His father had betrayed him. He also understood that his relationship with Jackson would never be the same. At night, he had nightmares that he wouldn’t see Jackson. During the day, he took long naps, barely ate, and did not want to speak to anyone.” (Copyright © 1995 by Victor M. Gutierrez Prieto, 1st Edition: March 1996). Gutierrez’ interpretation is primitive, exaggerated and very specific in its tone, but in 1996 when the book was published and not yet banned in the US due to its pornographic contents, the public, media and police chose to fall for the story. Later on the whole thing was also plagiarized by Randy Taraborrelli who gave it the widest possible publicity by repeating it in at least three new revisions of his 1991 book (in 2003, 2004 and 2009). Gutierrez’s story must have been included into the 2003 version already and stayed there until 2009 from where I am quoting it now. Essentially it is the same Gutierrez’s story up to the “cold smile of a criminal” that Evan Chandler allegedly saw on Michael’s face: “‘Michael responded with a cold, mocking smile that you often see on the face of criminals who proclaim their innocence even in the face of irrefutable proof of their guilt,’ Evan wrote. ‘It was a chilling sight. He showed no sign of remorse for his actions and he was completely indifferent to Jordie’s suffering.’” …After his father’s show-down with Michael, Jordie was more depressed than ever before in his young life. The thought that he might now have to testify against Michael was more than he could bear. Before he went to bed, he drew what looked like suicide art: a stick figure jumping off the roof of a five-storey building, and then landing in a bloody heap on the ground. The next morning, when Evan went into Jordie’s room to say goodbye to him before going to work, he found the chilling drawing on the floor. Jordie was still asleep. Evan wrote on the top of the paper: Don’t Let This Happen, underlining each word. He then put the drawing back where he found it. Turning to leave he changed his mind and decided to take the drawing. It would become evidence of Jordie’s state of mind.” (Copyright 2003, by Randy Taraborrelli) Let us single out of this chilling narration the two points we need for our future analysis – they will be the focal points we’ll look for in all the other texts: the “suicidal” character of the drawing the claim that it was made by Jordan at home and on the same day as the August 4th meeting A slightly different story is told by Ray Chandler in his book “All that glitters” published a year after Taraborrelli’s 2003 version (in September 2004). The differences are minimal and may be easily overlooked, however there are some and this is where the devil is hiding. Ray Chandler also describes the August 4th meeting at Westwood Marquis but does it in somewhat quieter terms. The first thing we learn from his narration is that there was no tender scene between Michael and Jordan Chandler. The tender scene did take place but it was between Michael and Evan Chandler as the first thing Evan did was come up to Michael and warmly hug him as if he were his best friend: AUGUST 4 Anthony Pellicano played the gracious host, all smiles as he ushered them in and offered food and drinks from a buffet. Evan exchanged a quid handshake with the man, but Jordie wouldn’t go near him. He remained slightly behind but very close to his father. Evan then walked over to Michael and embraced the star with a big, happy-to-see-you hug, patting him on the back like an old friend. Jordie wouldn’t go near Michael either. “I was scared of him. I knew my dad was going to say that 1 told him what happened, and I thought Michael would get mad.” …”So,” Evan began, directing himself to Pellicano, “Barry tells me you have a plan to help Jordie and me reestablish our relationship.” “I never said that,” Pellicano replied, his voice suddenly taking an aggressive tone. The harsh response took Evan by surprise. “Well, either you’re telling me Barry’s a liar, or there’s some serious misunderstanding here.” Evan couldn’t figure it out. Barry had no reason to lie. Pellicano had made an offer and they had come to discuss it. Now he was denying it. Frustrated by Pellicano’s attitude, and Michael’s apparent condoning it, Evan turned to Michael. “You’re the only one who can help me now,” he said. “I know what you’ve done to Jordie. He told me everything.” Evan then asked his son to confirm that he had, and after the boy nodded affirmatively, Evan waited for Michael’s response.” The King of Pop leaned in close, looked Jordie squarely in the eye, and calmly said in a little-boy voice, “I didn’t do anything.” Let me note that in her article “Was Michael Jackson framed?” of October 1994 Mary Fischer quotes Pellicano saying that Jordan was surpised to hear his father’s statements and never nodded to “confirm” them. On the contrary the expression on his face was telling everyone present that he never said it: “When Chandler got to the parts about child molestation, the boy, says Pellicano, put his head down and then looked up at Jackson with a surprised expression, as if to say “I didn’t say that.” As the meeting broke up, Chandler pointed his finger at Jackson, says Pellicano, and warned “I’m going to ruin you.” At a meeting with Pellicano in Rothman’s office later that evening, Chandler and Rothman made their demand – $20 million.” http://www.usnewslink.com/framedjackson.htm Maureen Orth in her “Nightmare in Neverland” article published half a year earlier, in January 1994, gives even more details from Pellicano proving the same. Not only Jordan was surprised by his father’s allegations, but Pellicano was stunned to see Evan Chandler’s tender embraces with Michael. He was shorter than Michael and after hugging and kissing him put his head on his chest closing his eyes at that. Pellicano was amazed: Pellicano’s version of the August 4 meeting differs totally from that of Jamie’s [Jordie’s] side. Pellicano says that as soon as the father and Jamie walked into the room they both hugged Michael. “He’s shorter than Michael,” Pellicano says of the dentist. “And he’s got his head underneath Michael’s neck, and he kisses Michael, and he’s got his eyes closed.” Pellicano was astounded. “If I believed somebody molested my kid and I got that close to him, I’d be on death row right now.” http://www.vanityfair.com/magazine/archive/1994/01/orth199401?currentPage=5 But let us return to Ray Chandler’s account of the events as we still need to find out when that drawing was made: …After the meeting, Evan and Jordie went directly to Barry’s office. Jordie sat in the waiting room, doodling, while the two adults discussed what had transpired at the Westwood Marquis. …Barry was furious that Pellicano had denied making the offer. “These people are unbelievable!” he exclaimed. “How the hell can we negotiate ; with them?” They talked it over and decided there was no choice but to file for custody. Just as they reached that conclusion, Pellicano called. He claimed he never denied making the offer and told Barry that Evan was crazy and walked out of the meeting for no reason. Rather than waste time arguing over the phone, Barry invited Pellicano to his office to continue the discussion. …Evan and Jordie left before Pellicano arrived. When Evan returned the following morning he found Barry “in a state of ecstasy”. Pellicano had responded to the deal by saying he thought it was a great idea and would cheek with the accountants and look over Michael’s development deal with Fox Pictures to see how it could be worked out. ” Evan accepted Barry’s interpretation at face value, but doubted Pellicano had any intention of going through with the deal. As he left the office he handed Barry the picture Jordie had drawn while “doodling” in Barry’s waiting room the night before. He also gave Barry a letter with instructions on how to proceed. Jordie’s drawing showed what appeared to be a child jumping off a tall building. Contrary to press reports, the drawing did not represent thoughts of suicide on Jordie’s part, rather his fears of going to court and having to tell the world about his sexual experiences with Michael. Fears he constantly relayed to his father.” (Ray Chandler, Copyright 2004) The dictionary explains “doodle” as 1) drawing or scribbling idly 2) wasting (time) in aimless or foolish activity. So the gist of Ray Chandler’s version is that later in the day of the notable August 4th meeting Evan and Jordan went to Barry Rothman’s office where Jordan was “doodling” (drawing something) while the adults were talking, and the next day when Evan returned to Rothman he handed him the picture made by Jordan in that office the night before. Isn’t it interesting how the drawing allegedly made at home and at bedtime according to Gutierrez/Taraborrelli suddenly turns into a drawing made in Rothman’s office according to Ray Chandler? On the other hand what difference does it make? Indeed, this detail may not be that important – except for the conclusion that the above is proof that Taraborrelli was using Gutierrez’s book (and not even Ray Chandler’s, not to mention others), and for this alone we should be grateful to this short piece of information. Oh my God, Taraborrelli was copying from Gutierrez! And after that he is being quoted all over Wiki as the basic source! The second idea expressed by Ray Chandler in his book is that Jordan was absolutely not suicidal. Ray Chandler says that the boy was only reflecting on his fears of having to testify in court – since Evan had voiced the idea of taking the case to court only in the morning of the same day, this could indeed be a blow to Jordan and his drawing could be a way of expressing his fears of testifying. Fears can also be a reason for a suicide, however Ray Chandler clearly says that Jordan was in no mood for it, and this portrays him as someone more calm and controlling his feelings than we previously thought. This idea is very much different from Gutierrez’s theory, but is surprisingly in line with what we heard from Jordan in his October 6th, 1993 interview with Dr. Richard Gardner. No one can be colder and more detached than this boy, who is supposedly talking about his “abuse”: – “What about fears? Any fears of any kind?” – “No.” – “Sometimes people, after experiences of this kind, develop different kinds of fears. You have no fears?” – “Maybe of cross-examination but that’s all. I mean I have nothing to hide, it’s just the thought of it.” Ray Chandler’s words about his nephew and the boy’s own totally emotionless attitude go against Gutierrez’s story which was based on the alleged boy’s deep attachment to MJ. And though the suicide version proper is not yet fully ruled out, it is clear that the “love” reason for it, the one so dear to Gutierrez, is not holding water. If Jordan was ever suicidal the reason for it must have been totally different. It could have been the pangs of conscience as was my initial version, but since many of us doubted this very much too, at some point a new supposition arose and this supposition said that wasn’t a suicidal note at all. The first doubts appeared when we noticed the difference in the size of figures on the roof – the one standing at the edge was big and black and looked like an angry adult, while the one standing behind and shouting “no” was much smaller and looked like a child. So can it be that the figure at the edge wasn’t even the boy? VERSION 2. Jordan is angry with his father who is throwing Michael Jackson from the top of the world The non-suicidal verson was voiced by one of our readers (aldebaranredstar) who called the picture a homicide. The idea of this interpretation is that the darker figure standing at the edge of the building is the most destructive person in Jordan’s life, and this person is Evan Chandler. Evan is throwing Michael down from the roof of the building and he lands in the pool of blood (which he really did as a result of that fictional 1993 case). June Chandler and one of the minors (Lily or Nikkie) are depicted in the lower floors of the building and are therefore playing a secondary role in this situation. All they can do is merely observe the horror scene from a distance as they are unable to influence its outcome in any way at all. The person standing behind the assassin is his son Jordan who is screaming “No” trying to prevent his father from making the step fatal for Jackson. By the time this version arose we had already managed to rid ourselves of the spell cast on us by Gutierrez and Taraborrelli, and therefore started regarding this version as the only plausible one. Indeed it explains and rather convincingly so the disposition of forces on the eve of Evan Chandler’s character assassination of Michael Jackson. The assassination itself was nothing new to us as Evan actually voiced it himself in a telephone conversation with David Schwartz and promised a massacre if Michael Jackson didn’t oblige. In short the homicide interpretation perfectly fit and answered our questions about the Chandlers … except for a couple of things described by Geraldine Hughes in her “Redemption” book. Over there she tells us of her impression of Jordan Chandler. She saw him in the office of her boss, Barry Rothman who was Evan Chandler’s attorney. The first thing we need recall about Geraldine Hughes’ description of those events is that she saw Jordan Chandler in their office twice. The first time she accidentally entered her boss’s room and found Jordan sitting there alone with Rothman. She had not noticed him coming in and was startled by his presence in the same way as Jordan was startled by her unexpected entrance there too. The episode took place before the boy went to psychiatrist Dr. Abrams on August 17, 1993 (the one who later reported things to the authorities). Geraldine Hughes says about it: I was very surprised to see the boy in Mr. Rothman’s office unaccompanied by a parent. The boy, likewise, was surprised when I opened the door. Mr. Rothman snapped at me for entering unannounced. … The boy had a puzzled look on his face when I walked into Mr. Rothman’s office. … This meeting between Mr. Rothman and the Chandler boy took place just before the boy was taken to see the psychiatrist who later reported the sexual molestation charges against Michael Jackson. The second time Geraldine saw Jordan was after the allegations against Michael broke loose on August 23, 1993. She was asked to work overtime that day and was typing documents while Jordan was hanging about the office waiting for his father and Rothman to finish their business. Geraldine says that the very idea why they were staying in Barry Rothman’s office was mostly to hide themselves from the media frenzy, in addition to discussing their further strategy of course: The second time I met the 13-year old boy was after the child molestation allegations hit the media. Dr. Chandler and his son came to our office to hide from the media frenzy that erupted immediately thereafter. No one was prepared for the public’s response to the allegations. Dr. Chandler was afraid to go home because his yard was crawling with news media and the media was desperately trying to find Dr. Chandler and his son, who were both hiding in our office. Mr. Rothman demanded that I work overtime that evening to type some legal documents for them (p.45). So if Geraldine was present in her office on Wednesday, August 4th but didn’t see Jordan accompanying his father on that day, it means that Jordan did not return to Rothman’s office after their unsuccessful negotiations over money (and went home instead), and came to the lawyer’s office just before and then immediately after the allegations broke out not to stay at home alone when the media began spying on each of his steps. Given that the allegations broke out in the media on August 23 and this was the only time he was there with his father, Jordan could draw a picture only during his second visit to Rothman’s office. It won’t change much in terms of Ray Chandler’s description of Jordan’s fears – fears were fears no matter when the boy felt them. However if this was indeed the only day when Jordan was hovering about Rothman’s office Geraldine’s description of the boy will contradict the essence of the drawing he made there – the boy was calm and composed, and much more in control of the situation that his father Evan. Nothing in his composure betrayed any of his fears and concern, at least for Michael Jackson. In contrast to his son Evan Chandler produced the impression of a “nervous wreck” and it was actually the boy who was soothing him. He looked normal, undisturbed and in no way behaved like an “abused” child. This is how Geraldine Hughes describes Jordan the second time she saw him: While Mr. Rothman and Dr. Chandler were secretly hashing out details of their next move in the conference room, the boy kept walking back and forth between the conference room and my desk. I remember that he was amazed at my ability to type over 100 words per minute. He asked me, “how can you type so fast?” He kept staring at my keyboard with amazement. Once, while he was near my desk, I asked him how he was doing. He stated that he was doing fine. While he was observing me, I too, was observing him. He was playing with some toys while listening to a Walkman radio. He seemed to be enjoying himself. I am not sure if he knew exactly what was going on outside of Mr. Rothman’s office, but at least for the moment he seemed to be having a good time. From all appearances he seemed like a perfectly normal child interested in playing and listening to his music and was curious about everything. I observed the boy going in and out of the conference room where his father was nervously going round and round with Mr. Rothman. The father was far more nervous than his son. The boy seemed to just stay in his own imaginary world playing, having fun and not seemingly worried about what was going on with the outside world. I understood why Michael Jackson was fond of the boy. He was very fun, loving, warm spirited and cute. I found myself drawn to his warm and loving personality. He was not your normal bratty kid – he was very kind and had a gentle personality. He did not act or appear as though he had been harmed in any way. He was acting like any normal, well behaved 13-year old child. Although I do not have enough psychological experience to know how a child would act who had been sexually abused, I can say that there was nothing abnormal about his behavior, personality or attitude. In fact, he was the one who kept calming and consoling his father, who was a nervous wreck. If appeared as if the boy was protecting his father instead of vice versa. He was more concerned about his father’s well-being than his own. After observing the boy for a number of hours, I could not help but speculate, in my mind, what would cause a child to falsely accuse someone of child abuse? Especially someone he loved and valued as a good friend – especially someone like Michael Jackson! Most kids would give their right arm and leg to be close to the superstar. I could not stop wondering how this boy could be sucked into such as scheme as this. What could make such an innocent child part of such an evil scheme? It was obvious to me the boy felt a sense of duty towards his father. He kept walking back and forth checking on his father and asking if he was alright. When the father would have a nervous outburst the boy would soothe him and calm him down. (“Redemption” by Geraldine Hughes, p. 45- 46). This makes me wonder again. If Ray Chandler and Geraldine Hughes are describing one and the same visit, and it was Evan Chandler (and not his son) who was such a nervous wreck, and Jordan was so composed that even seemed to be “enjoying himself” then why did he make that drawing? Up till now it has been interpreted by us either as a suicide or a homicide note, which in both cases implies very heavy emotions, but over here the boy seems to be having very little if any at all? In fact the only feeling Jordan Chandler is expressing here is a huge worry about his father. And this brings us to the third version of the same events. VERSION 3. Jordan is worried about his father and not Michael The first to mention this drastically new theory was my compatriot Natasha. She wrote to me an email explaining that the picture could be about Jordan being afraid for his father (and not Michael). Evan himself could be on the verge of a suicide and Jordan could be screaming “No” to him to stop him from taking the dramatic step. The drawing could be made for Evan’s sake to show him that Jordan cared for him and didn’t want him to die. This idea was going very well with Evan being a complete nervous wreck and Jordan regularly going into the conference room to soothe and calm him down. The version was interesting and when Nannoris expressed the same idea I realized that since this theory struck two people on both sides of the ocean and quite independently of each other too, it had the full right to exist and be discussed in full earnest. Moreover this version looks like it might turn into the best and the most correct one too, since it explains every little detail the other versions are still unable to explain. First of all it corresponds with the fact that Evan Chandler was much more terrified than Jordan by the situation he himself had initiated. Evan was afraid to go to jail for extorting money from Jackson, especially since he knew full well that an extortion it was. Evan Chandler Evan Chandler could be nasty, but did not produce the impression of a strong and balanced man Evan Chandler was bipolar and what looked like a great prospect when he was in a manic state turned into the worst of his nightmares when the depression stage followed, especially after he finally realized the possible consequences of his plan. We remember Ray Chandler saying that when the allegations went public Evan was in so hysterical a state that his brother had to drop everything and go and live with him in his house. The version of Evan being on the verge of a suicide may also explain why he wrote on that note “Don’t let it happen”, meaning not to allow it happen to him (and not to Jordan). It could be an emotional blackmail where the father was saying to his son that everything was in his hands now and if he didn’t want the worst to happen to his father, he should better support him in his version and do his best to save him from jail. It will explain why Jordan took the side of his father after all. If Evan was openly threatening to kill himself, or if Jordan simply felt that his father was on the verge of a suicide, he could have agreed to say and do whatever his father wanted him to say and do, just in order to prevent the imminent tragedy. It will explain why Jordan took care of his father even after he had been formally estranged from him and could perfectly well live all alone, but never did. It could probably be a way to keep an eye on his father and monitor the situation further. It could also explain why Jordan forgave his father even after he had made an attempt on his life and did not insist that criminal charges be brought against the person who actually tried to kill him. Evan was ill and should be excused for everything he was doing. It can even explain Evan Chandler’s final suicide in 2009. In that year, several months after Michael Jackson’s death Evan Chandler simply did what he had been threatening to do all along since 1993. This version will explain Jordan’s double refusal to testify against Jackson and why prior to the 2005 trial he said to the investigators that he “had done his part” and if they insisted on his testimony he would sue them. Back in 1993 he was really playing a role and knew perfectly well that all of it was pure invention. The boy could reason that though Michael would have to pay some money eventually the whole thing would be forgotten, while his father would require medical help for the rest of his life and could do with a couple of spare millions – especially if those millions were taken not from Michael’s pocket but from his insurance company (as they really were). Blood is thicker than water, you know. And this version fits perfectly well with Jordan’s true feelings about Michael. He did not want anything terrible to happen to him and was genuinely happy when the criminal case against him was closed. Gutierrez describes how “strange” to others Jordan’s reaction looked when he heard the news that the case had been dropped against Jackson – Jordan splashed into a swimming pool in his clothes and said to his brother Nikki that “this was a good day”. This reaction is indeed so unusual and unexpected that Gutierrez could hardly invent it, so over here I am even ready to believe him: Soon Jordie would receive some news that would relieve him from some of the pressure of being the boy who changed the life of the King of Pop. A representative from the OA’s office telephoned him, and told him “Michael Jackson will not be prosecuted, but if some day you change your mind and you want to testify against him, the case will be open for another six years.” Upon hanging up the phone, Jordie felt “relief and peace,” according to what he told to his best friend. “No one would speak about it anymore.” Jordie went to the swimming pool at his house where his stepbrother and Nathalie were, and jumped in w ith his clothes on. When his brother asked him if he was crazy, he answered, smiling and hugging him, “You don’t understand, but this is a good day.” In short the theory that the drawing was inspired by Evan Chandler blackmailing Jordan with his own suicide is not that bad. Not bad at all. I hope you will agree that the above drawing can be interpreted that way. And though we cannot prove that this was really the case it would explain a lot about what was happening in the Chandlers’ camp."